By A.W. Tozer
"Break up your fallow ground: for it
is time to seek the Lord, till He come and rain righteousness upon you" (Hosea
10:12).
Two kinds of ground
Here are two kinds
of ground: fallow ground and ground that has been broken up by the plow.
The fallow field
is smug, contented, protected from the shock of the plow and the agitation of
the harrow. Such a field, as it lies year after year, becomes a familiar
landmark to the crow and the blue jay. Had it intelligence, it might take a lot
of satisfaction in its reputation: it has stability; nature has adopted it; it
can be counted upon to remain always the same while the fields around it change
from brown to green and back to brown again. Safe and undisturbed it sprawls
lazily in the sunshine, the picture of sleepy contentment.
But it is paying a
terrible price for its tranquility: never does it see the miracle of growth;
never does it feel the motions of mounting life nor see the wonders of bursting
seed nor the beauty of ripening grain. Fruit it can never know because it is
afraid of the plow and the harrow.
In direct opposite
to this, the cultivated field has yielded itself to the adventure of living.
The protecting fence has opened to admit the plow, and the plow has come as
plows always come, practical, cruel, business-like and in a hurry. The shouting
farmer and the rattle of machinery have shattered peace. The field has felt the
travail of change; it has been upset, turned over, bruised and broken.
But its rewards
come hard upon its labors. The seed shoots up into the daylight its miracle of
life, curious, exploring the new world above it. All over the field the hand of
God is at work in the age-old and ever renewed service of creation. New things
are born, to grow, mature, and consummate the grand prophecy latent in the seed
when it entered the ground. Nature's wonders follow the plow.
Two kinds of lives
There are two
kinds of lives also: the fallow and the plowed. For example of the fallow life
we need not go far. They are all too plentiful among us.
The man of fallow
life is contented with himself and the fruit he once bore. He does not want to
be disturbed. He smiles in tolerant superiority at revivals, fasting, self-searching,
and all the travail of fruit bearing and the anguish of advance. The spirit of
adventure is dead within him. He is steady, "faithful," always in his
accustomed place (like the old field), conservative, and something of a
landmark in the little church. But he is fruitless.
The curse of such
a life is that it is fixed, both in size and in content. To be has taken
the place of to become. The worst that can be said of such a man is that
he is what he will be. He has fenced himself in, and by the same
act he has fenced out God and the miracle.
The plowed life is
the life that has, in the act of repentance, thrown down the protecting fences
and sent the plow of confession into the soul. The urge of the Spirit, the
pressure of circumstances and the distress of fruitless living have combined
thoroughly to humble the heart. Such a life has put away defense, and has
forsaken the safety of death for the peril of life.
Discontent,
yearning, contrition, and courageous obedience to the will of God: these have
bruised and broken the soil till it is ready again for the seed. And as always,
fruit follows the plow. Life and growth begin as God "rains down
righteousness." Such a one can testify, "And the hand of the Lord
was upon me there" (Ezek. 3:22).
Corresponding to
these two kinds of life, religious history shows two phases, the dynamic and
the static. The dynamic periods were those heroic times when God's people
stirred themselves to do the Lord's bidding and went out fearlessly to carry
His witness to the world. They exchanged the safety of inaction for the hazards
of God-inspired progress. Invariably the power of God followed such action. The
miracle of God went when and where His people went. It stayed when His people
stopped.
The static periods
were those times when the people of God tired of the struggle and sought a life
of peace and security. They busied themselves trying to conserve the gains made
in those more daring times when the power of God moved among them.
Bible history is
replete with examples. Abraham "went out" on his great adventure of
faith, and God went with him. Revelations, theophany, the gift of Palestine,
covenants and promises of rich blessings to come were the result. Then Israel
went down into Egypt, and the wonders ceased for four hundred years. At the end
of that time Moses heard the call of God and stepped forth to challenge the
oppressor. A whirlwind of power accompanied that challenge, and Israel soon
began to march. As long as she dared to march God sent our His miracles to
clear the way for her. Whenever she lay down like a fallow field He turned off
His blessing and waited for her to rise again and command His power.
This is a brief
but fair outline of the history of Israel and of the Church as well. As long as
they "went forth and preached every where," the Lord worked
"with them... confirming the word with signs following" (Mark 16:20).
But when they retreated to monasteries or played at building pretty cathedrals,
the help of God was withdrawn till a Luther or a Wesley arose to challenge hell
again. Then invariably God poured out His power as before.
In every
denomination, missionary society, local church or individual Christian, this
law operates. God works as long as His people live daringly: He ceases when
they no longer need His aid. As soon as we seek protection out of God, we find
it to our own undoing. Let us build a safety-wall of endowments, by-laws,
prestige, multiplied agencies for the delegation of our duties, and creeping
paralysis sets in at once, a paralysis which can only end in death.
The power of God
comes only where it is called out by the plow. It is released into the Church
only when she is doing something that demands it. By the word "doing"
I do not mean mere activity. The Church has plenty of "hustle" as it
is, but in all her activities she is very careful to leave her fallow ground
mostly untouched. She is careful to confine her hustling within the fear-marked
boundaries of complete safely. That is why she is fruitless; she is safe, but
fallow.
Look around today
and see where the miracles of power are taking place. Never in the seminary
where each thought is prepared for the student, to be received painlessly and
at second hand; never in the religious institution where tradition and habit
have long ago made faith unnecessary; never in the old church where memorial
tablets plastered over the furniture bear silent testimony to a glory that once
was. Invariably where daring faith is struggling to advance against hopeless
odds, there is God sending "help from the sanctuary."
In the missionary
society with which I have for many years been associated I have noticed that
the power of God has always hovered over our frontiers. Miracles have
accompanied our advances and have ceased when and where we allowed ourselves to
become satisfied and ceased to advance. The creed of power cannot save a
movement from barrenness. There must be also the work of power.
But I am more
concerned with the effect of this truth upon the local church and the
individual. Look at that church where plentiful fruit was once the regular and
expected thing, but now there is little or no fruit, and the power of God seems
to be in abeyance. What is the trouble? God has not changed, nor had His purpose
for that church changed in the slightest measure. No, the church itself has
changed.
A little
self-examination will reveal that it and its members have become fallow. It has
lived through its early travails and has now come to accept an easier way of
life. It is content to carry on its painless program with enough money to pay
its bills and a membership large enough to assure its future.
Its members now
look to it for security rather than for guidance in the battle between good and
evil. It has become a school instead of a barracks. Its members are students,
not soldiers. They study the experiences of others instead of seeking new
experiences of their own.
The only way to
power for such a church is to come out of hiding and once more take the
danger-encircled path of obedience. Its security is its deadliest foe. The
church that fears the plow writes its own epitaph. The church that uses the
plow walks in the way of revival.
If we are to
advance we must have power. Since "power" is a word of many uses and
misuses, let me explain what I mean by it.
I mean that
effective energy which God has, both in Biblical and in post-Biblical times,
released into the Church and into the circumstances surrounding her, which made
her fruitful in labor and invincible before her foes. Miracles? Yes. Answers to
prayer? Special providence? All of these - and more.
It is summed up in
the words of the Gospel of Mark: "And they went forth, and preached
every where, the Lord working with them, and confirming the word with signs
following" (Mark 16:20). The whole book of Acts and the noblest
chapters of Church history since New Testament times are but an extension of
that verse.
By power I mean
that divine afflatus which moves the heart and persuades the hearer to repent
and believe in Christ. It is not eloquence. It is not logic. It is not
argument. It is not any of these things, though it may accompany any or all of
them.
It is more
penetrating than thought, more disconcerting than conscience, more convincing
than reason. It is the subtle wonder that follows anointed preaching, a
mysterious operation of spirit on spirit.
Such words as
those in the second chapter of Hebrews stand as a rebuke to the unbelieving
Christians of our day: "God also bearing them witness, both with signs
and wonders and with divers miracles, and gifts of the Holy Ghost, according to
His own will" (Hebrews 2:4).
A disinterested
observer, reading without the handicap of doctrinal prejudice, would surely
gather from the Scriptures that God desires to advance His work among men by
frequent outpourings of the Spirit upon His people, as they need them, and are
prepared to receive them.
We make this
statement with the full knowledge that some teachers will hotly challenge it.
"It is not scriptural, " they say, "to pray for or expect an
outpouring of the Spirit today. The Spirit was poured out once for all at
Pentecost and has not left the Church since that time. To pray for the Holy
Spirit now is to ignore the historical fact of Pentecost."
That is the
argument used to discourage expectation, and it has been successful in damping
down the fervor of many congregations, and silencing their prayers. There is a
specious logic about this objection, even an air of superior orthodoxy; but for
all that, it is contrary to the Word of God and out of harmony with the
operations of God in Church history.
The Bible does not
sponsor this chilling doctrine of once-for-all blessing. Rather, it encourages
us to expect "showers of blessing" and "floods upon the dry
ground" (Isa. 44:3). The Spirit must fill not only that first company of
"about an hundred and twenty," but others as well, or the blessings
of that experience would cease with the death of the last member of the
original band.
All this seems
reasonable enough, but we have a more sure word of Scripture: come time after
Pentecost a company of believers met to pray for strength and power to meet the
emergency then facing them, and to enlist the help of God on their behalf.
"And when
they had prayed, the place was shaken where they were assembled together; and
they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and they spoke the Word of God with
boldness" (Acts 4:31).
Some of these were
of the original number filled at Pentecost. It is hardly conceivable that God
acted contrary to His own will in filling them again after Pentecost. Still
other outpourings are recorded in Acts 8, 10, and 19. All these occurred some
years after the original act.
In brief, the
teaching of the New Testament is that the outpouring at Pentecost was the
historic beginning of an era, which was to be characterized by a continuous
outpouring of the Holy Spirit. Through the prophet Joel, God had promised that
He would, in the last days, pour out His Spirit upon all flesh. That God's
promise of poured-out power is meant for the Church for the whole time of her
earthly warfare is confirmed to us by the recorded experiences of 1900 years.
Powerful moving
called "reformation," rushes of missionary activity, sudden breakings
out of revival flame over communities and nations - have been the sign of the
fire to indicate the goings forth of God. In these days in which we live there
are evidences that God is still pouring out His Spirit upon men. These mighty
works can be explained only as new chapters in God's unfinished Book - the Acts
of the Holy Ghost.
Now if God wills
to pour our His Spirit upon us, why do not more Christians and more churches
receive an experience of power like that of the early Church? That some have so
received is joyfully admitted, but why is the number so few? When the provision
is so broad and the promise so sure, what doth hinder us?
One obstacle to
the reception of power is a widespread fear of our emotions wherever they touch
the religious life. This has gone so far that it has become a phobia with many
serious-minded people. Men who should know better will kneel for an hour beside
a seeker, all the time warning him against his emotions as against the devil
himself.
Bible teachers
declaim against feelings till we are ashamed to admit that we ever entertained
anything so depraved. Feeling and faith are opposed to each other in modern
teaching, and the listener is given to understand that any exhibition of
emotion is indelicate, if not carnal, and should be avoided at any cost.
This
anti-emotionalism, though it is sponsored by some good people and travels in
pretty orthodox company, is nevertheless an unwarranted inference, not a
Scriptural doctrine.
Where in the Bible
are feeling and faith said to be at odds? The fact is that faith engenders
feeling as certainly as life engenders motion. We can have feeling without
faith, it is true, but we can never have faith, without feeling. Faith as a
cold unemotional light is wholly unknown in Scriptures.
The faith of those
bible heroes listed in the Book of Hebrews invariably aroused emotion and led
to positive action in the direction of their faith. A statement, a promise, a
warning always produced a corresponding excitation of feeling in the heart of
the believer.
Noah was
"moved with fear," Abraham "rejoiced" and
"obeyed." The Book of Acts is almost hilarious with joy. Perhaps Paul
when writing to the Romans makes the best summary of the whole matter,
"For the kingdom of God is not meat and drink; but righteousness, and
peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost" (Romans 14:17). And Peter says,
"Believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory" (1
Peter 1:8).
Another hindrance
is fear of fanaticism. Instinctive revulsion from fleshly excesses and foolish,
undisciplined conduct on the part of some who profess lofty spiritual
attainments have closed the door to a live of power for many of God's true
children.
Such victims must
be taught that the Holy Spirit is the Spirit of Jesus, and is as gracious and
beautiful as the Savior Himself. Paul's words should be kept in mind:
"For God
hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound
mind" (2 Timothy 1:7). The Holy Spirit is the cure for fanaticism, not the
cause of it.
Another thing that
greatly hinders God's people is a hardness of heart caused by hearing men,
without the Holy Spirit, constantly preaching about the Spirit. There is no
doctrine so chilling as the doctrine of the Spirit when held in cold passivity
and personal unbelief. The hearers will turn away in dull apathy from an
exhortation to be filled with the Spirit unless the Spirit Himself is giving
the exhortation through the speaker!
The hearers sense
the lack and go away with numbed hearts. Theirs is not opposition to the truth,
but an unconscious reaction from unreality.
Then I would
mention another thing, which clearly hinders believers from knowing the power
of the Holy Spirit: it is the habit of instructing seekers to "take it by
faith" when they become concerned with their need of the power of the
Spirit.
It is a fact written
all over the New Testament that the benefits of atonement are to be received by
faith. This is a basic in redemptive theology, and any departure from it is
fatal to true Christian experience. Paul teaches emphatically that the Spirit
is received through faith, and rebukes anyone who would teach otherwise. So it
would seem, on the surface of it, to be sound procedure to instruct a seeker to
"take it by faith." But there is something wrong somewhere.
One is forced to
wonder whether the words "by faith," mean the same thing when used by
modern teachers as they did when used by Paul.
A sharp contrast
is observable between Spirit-filled Christians of Paul's time and many who
claim to be filled with the Spirit today. Paul's converts received the Spirit
by faith to be sure, but they actually received Him! Thousands now go through
the motion of taking Him by faith, but show by their continual feebleness that
they do not know Him in real power!
The trouble seems
to be with our conception of faith. Faith, as Paul saw it, was a living,
flaming thing, leading to surrender, and obedience to the commandments of
Christ. Faith in our day often means no more than a mental assent to a
doctrine.
Many persons,
convinced of their need of power, but unwilling to go through the painful
struggle of death to the old life, turn with relief to this "take it by
faith" doctrine as a way out of their difficulty. It saved their face -
and enables them to march along with the true Israel.
But it is they who
constitute the "mixed multitude" which slows down the progress of the
Church and causes most of the trouble when things get tight. And unless they
see it differently and decide to go through the hard way, they are fated to
spend the rest of their powerless lives in secret disappointment.
Let it be remembered that no one ever received the Holy Spirit's power without knowing it. He always announces Himself to the inner consciousness. God will pour out His Spirit upon us in answer to simple faith, but real faith will be accompanied by deep poverty of spirit and mighty heart yearnings, and will express itself in strong crying and tears.
"HERALD OF HIS COMING" July 1997 Vol. 56 No. 7 (667) International Edition