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HIRED GUNS FOR JESUS #3
“JUST TELL US WHAT YOU SAW”
What makes a great courtroom drama? Clever attorneys, surprise witnesses, unexpected rulings from the judge, and of course, the 11th-hour “smoking gun.” We think of great Hollywood moments where Tom Cruise faces down Jack Nicholson – “Did you order a code red?” – or Humphrey Bogart, rolling his little steel balls in his hand as he sits in the hot seat, is upended by Jose Ferrer in The Caine Mutiny.
We have a book here in our offices that literally has the pages falling out of it, but Profiles in Courage, authored by a young senator-soon-to-be-President named John F. Kennedy, has some marvelous courtroom stories. He describes a nondescript senator from Kansas named Edmund G. Ross, who might single-handedly have preserved our constitutional form of government here in the United States. Ever heard of him? Most Americans never have. But in 1868, just a few tumultuous years after the end of the Civil War, America’s 17th President was Andrew Johnson, who took office when Abe Lincoln was shot to death at Ford’s Theater. Johnson had been the only congressman from Tennessee not to secede along with the South, and he was determined to follow Lincoln’s generous policy of reconstruction, of healing the wounds and bringing the South quickly back into the Union.
Most of Congress, however, and ironically, the Senate was dominated by what was openly known as the “Radical” Republicans, was determined to persecute and squash the former Confederacy, to stick the knife in and twist it. So for the past two years, the Senate and the White House had been at each other’s throats. The “Radical” Republicans were determined to get a two-thirds majority in the Senate, so they could override all Presidential vetoes at will. What’s more, if they could concoct any flimsy excuse to introduce an article of impeachment, the same two-thirds bulwark could get rid of Johnson once and for all.
The chance came soon enough. In 1867 Congress shoved – over a Johnson veto – a new piece of legislation through, called the Tenure-of-Office Bill. It gave Congress the right to approve or disapprove the President’s removing from office any person whose appointment required their confirmation. All of a sudden, the Chief Executive of the nation couldn’t even fire members of his own cabinet. Johnson knew the bill was unconstitutional. What’s more, he already needed to release Edwin Stanton, who you may remember had been Lincoln’s Secretary of War . . . and who was an openly disloyal cabinet member, a pawn for the “Radical” clique in the Senate. Johnson asked for Stanton’s resignation, Stanton wouldn’t give it, Johnson installed a new candidate named General Ulysses Grant in the spot, the Senate said “no way,” Grant gave Stanton back his office, Johnson fired Stanton again, Stanton barricaded himself in his office, and the nation went crazy. The House voted to impeach Johnson, and every single Republican in Johnson’s own party voted “yea” on the articles.
And for 72 days, from March 5 until May 16 of 1868, it was one of the high trials in American history. And speaking of witnesses, I don’t know how many were called to stand in the well of the Senate chambers, with the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court presiding, but most Senators weren’t really that interested in the evidence or the testimony anyway. They just had one question: out of 54 Senators, did they have a two-thirds vote? Did they have 36 “guilty’s”?
Strangely enough, even though Johnson was a Republican, not one Democrat was going to vote for his conviction. It was a “Radical” Republican effort from start to finish. And out of 42 Senators in the GOP, 35 announced at the get-go that they were going to give Johnson the boot. Talk about a “kangaroo court”! At a preliminary caucus where they counted noses, though, six courageous Republicans stood up and said they didn’t think there was sufficient evidence. That meant they had 35 votes, 6 no’s, and one person they didn’t know about: the brand new Senator from Kansas: Edmund G. Ross. Kansas was a rabid “hang the South,” Johnson-hating state, but Ross wasn’t saying how he was going to vote.
In his book, Kennedy describes how the weight of all public pressure, the telegrams, the mail, the voices in the street, the back-room threats . . . ALL landed on this one quiet man. People offered him money. Others tried to make hay of the idea that maybe someone HAD offered him money, and threatened him over it. He was catching heat from all sides. He got a telegram from back home, informing him that “Kansas repudiates you as she does all perjurers and skunks.”
Finally, when the day came, in front of a packed gallery, Edmund Ross gave his answer: “Not guilty.” By that one vote, the constitutional crisis was averted. A Justice of the Kansas Supreme Court, white with anger, telegraphed Ross and informed him that while the rope Judas Iscariot had hanged himself with was gone, “Jim Lane’s pistol is at your service.”
Just a P.S.: every single Senator who bravely voted “not guilty” lost his next election. It was 20 years before newspaper editorials in Kansas, in hindsight, admitted that Ross had “saved [the nation] from calamity greater than war.”
Well, friend, thank God for courageous jurors and for reliable witnesses; what do you say? But for just these few moments today, let’s ask ourselves this question: what really IS a witness? In terms of Law & Order reruns on NBC or TNT, we know that it’s a person district attorney Jack McCoy puts on the stand because he or she has seen something. Or heard some pertinent details. Or because the court-selected shrink, Emil Skoda, can give expert psychiatric testimony based on interviews he’s had with the defendant out at Riker’s.
Let’s go then to the arena of Christian witness. Whether you’re a missionary in South America, or just a believer walking the same New York streets as Detective Lennie Briscoe, you’re a witness if you have in your head and heart any news or information or details about what it means to be one of God’s adopted children. And we’re basically on trial all the time, 24/7. It’s as simple as that.
In his first letter or epistle to the Church, John puts himself in the witness chair with these plain words:
“We proclaim to you WHAT WE HAVE SEEN AND HEARD, so that you also may have fellowship with us. And our fellowship is with the Father and with His Son, Jesus Christ.” Then he adds the reason why he is a witness: “We write this to make our joy complete.”
In other words, to pass along the good news. But he’s essentially saying: “We know. We saw it. We were there. We experienced Jesus. We know His claims to Messiahship are genuine. We saw the healings; we were transformed by His teachings and His love; we stood with Him both before and after His resurrection. We saw Him go up into heaven; we heard Him say He’d come back.” I like how the Message paraphrase has John swearing to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. It goes like this:
“We saw it, we heard it, and now we’re telling you so you can experience it along with us, this experience of communion with the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ. Our motive for writing is simply this: We want you to enjoy this, too. Your joy will double our joy!”
Back in Acts, chapter three, Peter takes the same tack. And he was a man who knew what it was to face a hostile jury and some highly paid attorneys from the other side. In verses 14 and 15 he doesn’t mince words. Listen:
“You disowned the Holy and Righteous One and asked that a murderer be released to you.”
Remember Barabbas, who was set free instead of Jesus? Then this:
“You killed the author of life, but God raised Him from the dead. WE ARE WITNESSES OF THIS.”
Did you know that by some biblical definitions, an “apostle” is defined as a person who literally was with Christ and saw Him, was commissioned personally by Him? Peter and John qualified, of course; Paul, by virtue of his experience on the Damascus Road, claimed the same title. And the same rule applies to us that applies in Jack McCoy’s courtroom: we can only be called as witnesses if we’ve seen and heard something, if we have first-hand knowledge about Jesus Christ.
My friend Morris Venden imagines the ludicrous scene where a lawyer asks a witness: “Where were you at two a.m.?” “I was at home.” “Doing what?” “In bed, fast asleep, with the shades drawn.” “Did you see anything?” “No.” “Did you HEAR anything?” “Not really.” Pause. “Well, what are you doing here?” “Beats me.”
And the reality is that we often want to be witnesses for the Body of Christ . . . without putting ourselves in a position where we will have seen or heard or felt or tasted or known anything about the goodness of the Lord. And if I’m not in church hearing Christ-centered sermons, if I’m not reading my Bible, if I’m skipping my prayer life in order to get to the tennis courts sooner, then I’m not going to be much of a witness. Like we said yesterday, I’m going to sit on an airplane and shrink away from talking – if I don’t have much to talk about.
I know that lawyers sometimes talk about “preparing a witness.” Friend, it would mean the world to us here at the Voice of Prophecy if these 15 minutes we have with you each day help to do exactly that for you.
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