I speak the truth in Christ - I am not lying, my conscience confirms it through the Holy Spirit - I have great sorrow and unceasing anguish in my heart. For I could wish that I myself were cursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my people, those of my own race, the people of Israel. Romans 9:1-3
If you are a Christian I am pretty sure that there will be people close to you who are not. And I am sure too that you will pray for them regularly, and look for opportunities to be a witness for Christ in word and deed.
In a word, you care. But here’s a question: How much do you care? On a scale of 1 to 10, where 1 is “hardly at all” and 9 is “with red-hot passion”, how would you estimate the extent of your caring?
Sorry if that’s a rather crude way of making the point, but it’s a question worth challenging ourselves with. I certainly find it so, anyway. There are people close to me, people I love very much, who are not believers in Jesus, and I certainly do care. But... if I probe further, and if I’m totally honest - well, I’m not so sure how much.
Thinking along these lines makes Paul’s words at the beginning of Romans 9 all the more striking. This is Paul at his most emotional; real agony of spirit oozes out of his words.
He is writing about the Jewish people, his people, the people of Israel. Remember that Paul was a Jew - and he never ceased to think of himself that way, even after he came to faith in Christ. And he is heart-broken that so few of his fellow-Jews have recognised in Jesus the long-promised Messiah.
So what does he say? Here are his striking, almost frightening, words: “I could wish that I myself were cursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my own people...”
Sometimes, when people see someone they love suffering, they say, “I would do absolutely anything to help them...” Perhaps donate a kidney to heal a disease, or come up with a large sum of money to pay a ransom, or adopt a child the other person can no longer look after. They mean it too - there are wonderful stories of people going to such lengths: “absolutely anything”, indeed.
But... forfeit your own salvation? Now, wait a minute...!
The fact is that Paul here is saying nothing less than that: he would be willing to be “cursed and cut off from Christ” if only that led to the Jews accepting Jesus. I’m not sure I could say such a thing regarding my non-Christian loved ones. Could you?
Is Paul deliberately exaggerating in order to make the point? Possibly, I suppose, though if you read the whole passage it doesn’t sound much like it.
Is he perhaps consciously echoing the feelings of Moses nearly fifteen hundred years earlier?
Moses, remember, led the people of Israel out of slavery in Egypt and took them to Mount Sinai. He goes up the mountain in order to receive the law from God’s hand, but when he comes down he is appalled to find that the people have started to worship an idol, a golden calf, and to have a wild, riotous party.
Furious, he smashes the tablets of the law in front of them and gives vent to his horror. But then he prays: “Oh, what a great sin these people have committed!... But now, please forgive their sin - but if not, then blot me out of the book you have written” (Exodus 32:32). Does that remind you of Paul?
His passionate words trigger two thoughts in me.
First, and most obviously, they prompt me to pray for a softer, warmer heart. It’s easy to become lukewarm to the point of indifference, isn’t it? I love the little Graham Kendrick song: “Soften my heart, Lord,/ Soften my heart./ From all indifference/ Set me apart,/ To feel your compassion,/ To weep with your tears;/ Come soften my heart, O Lord,/ Soften my heart.” Amen!
Second, they remind me that our evangelism - the business of seeking to win people to faith in Jesus - must always be motivated by love. This may seem too obvious to need saying - but I think it does. Why? Because it’s possible to evangelise out of wrong motives.
Sometimes we, in effect, see evangelism as a recruitment drive, an activity designed to “keep the church going”. Or we do it to make ourselves feel better - to chalk up good numbers in the church’s members’ list so that we can boast about how “successful” we are. Or we do it purely out of a sense of duty - because the Bible (or the preacher) tells us we should.
But all that is wrong. If we are keen to spread the good news of Jesus, let it be because our hearts ache that people are missing out on the greatest thing that can ever happen to them: receiving the forgiveness of God, being reconciled to him, and being made a new person in Christ.
Could it be that our efforts at evangelism are so often unfruitful because we have an accountancy mind rather than a compassionate heart?
Saviour of men, our humanity sharing/ Give us a passion for souls that are lost./ Help us to follow, thy gospel declaring;/ Daily to serve thee and count not the cost. Amen. (R D Browne)
If you are a Christian I am pretty sure that there will be people close to you who are not. And I am sure too that you will pray for them regularly, and look for opportunities to be a witness for Christ in word and deed.
In a word, you care. But here’s a question: How much do you care? On a scale of 1 to 10, where 1 is “hardly at all” and 9 is “with red-hot passion”, how would you estimate the extent of your caring?
Sorry if that’s a rather crude way of making the point, but it’s a question worth challenging ourselves with. I certainly find it so, anyway. There are people close to me, people I love very much, who are not believers in Jesus, and I certainly do care. But... if I probe further, and if I’m totally honest - well, I’m not so sure how much.
Thinking along these lines makes Paul’s words at the beginning of Romans 9 all the more striking. This is Paul at his most emotional; real agony of spirit oozes out of his words.
He is writing about the Jewish people, his people, the people of Israel. Remember that Paul was a Jew - and he never ceased to think of himself that way, even after he came to faith in Christ. And he is heart-broken that so few of his fellow-Jews have recognised in Jesus the long-promised Messiah.
So what does he say? Here are his striking, almost frightening, words: “I could wish that I myself were cursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my own people...”
Sometimes, when people see someone they love suffering, they say, “I would do absolutely anything to help them...” Perhaps donate a kidney to heal a disease, or come up with a large sum of money to pay a ransom, or adopt a child the other person can no longer look after. They mean it too - there are wonderful stories of people going to such lengths: “absolutely anything”, indeed.
But... forfeit your own salvation? Now, wait a minute...!
The fact is that Paul here is saying nothing less than that: he would be willing to be “cursed and cut off from Christ” if only that led to the Jews accepting Jesus. I’m not sure I could say such a thing regarding my non-Christian loved ones. Could you?
Is Paul deliberately exaggerating in order to make the point? Possibly, I suppose, though if you read the whole passage it doesn’t sound much like it.
Is he perhaps consciously echoing the feelings of Moses nearly fifteen hundred years earlier?
Moses, remember, led the people of Israel out of slavery in Egypt and took them to Mount Sinai. He goes up the mountain in order to receive the law from God’s hand, but when he comes down he is appalled to find that the people have started to worship an idol, a golden calf, and to have a wild, riotous party.
Furious, he smashes the tablets of the law in front of them and gives vent to his horror. But then he prays: “Oh, what a great sin these people have committed!... But now, please forgive their sin - but if not, then blot me out of the book you have written” (Exodus 32:32). Does that remind you of Paul?
His passionate words trigger two thoughts in me.
First, and most obviously, they prompt me to pray for a softer, warmer heart. It’s easy to become lukewarm to the point of indifference, isn’t it? I love the little Graham Kendrick song: “Soften my heart, Lord,/ Soften my heart./ From all indifference/ Set me apart,/ To feel your compassion,/ To weep with your tears;/ Come soften my heart, O Lord,/ Soften my heart.” Amen!
Second, they remind me that our evangelism - the business of seeking to win people to faith in Jesus - must always be motivated by love. This may seem too obvious to need saying - but I think it does. Why? Because it’s possible to evangelise out of wrong motives.
Sometimes we, in effect, see evangelism as a recruitment drive, an activity designed to “keep the church going”. Or we do it to make ourselves feel better - to chalk up good numbers in the church’s members’ list so that we can boast about how “successful” we are. Or we do it purely out of a sense of duty - because the Bible (or the preacher) tells us we should.
But all that is wrong. If we are keen to spread the good news of Jesus, let it be because our hearts ache that people are missing out on the greatest thing that can ever happen to them: receiving the forgiveness of God, being reconciled to him, and being made a new person in Christ.
Could it be that our efforts at evangelism are so often unfruitful because we have an accountancy mind rather than a compassionate heart?
Saviour of men, our humanity sharing/ Give us a passion for souls that are lost./ Help us to follow, thy gospel declaring;/ Daily to serve thee and count not the cost. Amen. (R D Browne)
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