Our student minister, Curt, preached this morning. The challenge was to count the cost and take up your own cross. In the Voice of the Martyrs publication, I read of people persecuted for their faith who have counted the cost and continued to carry the cross. I have friends who are with Wycliffe Bible Translators in Papua, Indonesia. They and their 5 children have had multiple cases of malaria, endured the flooding of their town, and many other hardships such as not being able to be stateside as their parents age. They have counted the cost and continue to carry the cross. The day may come, sooner than we probably think, when serving Christ in America will be more costly than it is today. If I cannot follow Christ in the relative comfort and ease we have now, how will I possibly remain faithful to Him when times get tough?
I wrote the following poem many years ago after a sermon series by Jimmy Draper, then pastor of First Baptist Church Euless. I once shared it with a group of singles gathered for a Bible study. We were meeting in the one bedroom apartment of our poorest member, seated on the floor for lack of furniture. I turned out the lights, had two guys "confiscate" Bibles as the group came in, and asked everyone to pretend we were meeting in secret. I then read the poem. Afterwards, I asked everyone to share memorized Scripture, hymns, choruses, and personal testamonies all without Bibles or notes.
WHAT IF?
Karen Sue Hale
1986
What would happen if an army came
and conquered our country and changed its name;
and suddenly all of the laws had been changed,
and it was now a crime to speak Jesus’ name?
What if they took our Bibles away;
made it a crime to worship and pray;
and we’d have to guard every word that we’d say?
Imagine it happened just yesterday…
Imagine the sorrow. Imagine the fear.
perhaps you might muster at least one small tear.
Imagine we’re meeting in secret here,
afraid of losing the ones we hold dear.
How would we comfort each other tonight?
Who has a word that would help in our plight?
Do you know some Scripture? I hope that we might
encourage ourselves in the spiritual fight.
I hope that we have Scripture memorized.
I hope that God’s word is part of our lives.
I hope we know songs and hymns line by line.
What is stored in our hearts, God would now bring to mind.
What if this nightmare were reality?
Would there be enough hope stored within you and me?
What if our Bibles were taken away?
What if it happened just yesterday?
But you say, “This couldn’t happen!” And I pray it never will.
Yet I tell you there’s a greater danger still…
Karen Sue Hale
1986
What would happen if an army came
and conquered our country and changed its name;
and suddenly all of the laws had been changed,
and it was now a crime to speak Jesus’ name?
What if they took our Bibles away;
made it a crime to worship and pray;
and we’d have to guard every word that we’d say?
Imagine it happened just yesterday…
Imagine the sorrow. Imagine the fear.
perhaps you might muster at least one small tear.
Imagine we’re meeting in secret here,
afraid of losing the ones we hold dear.
How would we comfort each other tonight?
Who has a word that would help in our plight?
Do you know some Scripture? I hope that we might
encourage ourselves in the spiritual fight.
I hope that we have Scripture memorized.
I hope that God’s word is part of our lives.
I hope we know songs and hymns line by line.
What is stored in our hearts, God would now bring to mind.
What if this nightmare were reality?
Would there be enough hope stored within you and me?
What if our Bibles were taken away?
What if it happened just yesterday?
But you say, “This couldn’t happen!” And I pray it never will.
Yet I tell you there’s a greater danger still…
What if the Christians just didn’t care?
They ceased to stand up. They ceased to be wary
of atheist creed and humanist teachers
and dozed apathetically before godly preachers.
What if the church were content to be
just one more wave on philosophy’s sea;
placidly drifting, not stirring the waves?
Not cold, nor hot, “lukewarm,” Christ would say.
What if we saw this sea full of sin
then comfortably watched as our neighbors fell in?
What if we heard the Word preached each Sunday
then promptly forgot it on the way to work Monday?
What if our church were really so dead
that the words of this poem drift over your head,
and you look at the next guy and say, “It’s his fault”?
Yet we’re all so lukewarm we’re neither light nor salt.
Perhaps, it would be better if an army came,
made it a crime to speak Jesus’ name,
and shocked us into the spiritual fight.
Please, brothers and sisters, pretend it could happen tonight.
They ceased to stand up. They ceased to be wary
of atheist creed and humanist teachers
and dozed apathetically before godly preachers.
What if the church were content to be
just one more wave on philosophy’s sea;
placidly drifting, not stirring the waves?
Not cold, nor hot, “lukewarm,” Christ would say.
What if we saw this sea full of sin
then comfortably watched as our neighbors fell in?
What if we heard the Word preached each Sunday
then promptly forgot it on the way to work Monday?
What if our church were really so dead
that the words of this poem drift over your head,
and you look at the next guy and say, “It’s his fault”?
Yet we’re all so lukewarm we’re neither light nor salt.
Perhaps, it would be better if an army came,
made it a crime to speak Jesus’ name,
and shocked us into the spiritual fight.
Please, brothers and sisters, pretend it could happen tonight.
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