What Is Faith: The Man Whose Faith Cornered Lincoln

I remember, as a kid, rolling my eyes out of my head as my Dad and other tie-wearers behind the pulpit attributed every accomplishment to God.

Good sermon, pastor.
Thanks, praise the Lord.

The new building addition looks great.
To God Be the Glory.

There were days I’d had all I could take of the finger pointing to the elusive heavens (while no one mentioned all the people who woke up at 5 am to nail shingles onto roofs).

As I type that, it of course seems like adolescent moodiness with a side of heresy to be annoyed at someone’s insistence that God is the one doing things.

It wasn’t that I was trying to rob God of, you know, all his To God Be the Glories. It just seemed like an incomplete story when communicated so simply with no caveats. It allowed little to no room for human choice and work ethic and sacrifice–all things that seemed to be part of the whole process.

But, as I got older, I met a new breed of leader. And there were times, and are times, I fall in line with them for both good and bad.

People who were and are chronically, pathologically cool (I’ve never quite nailed that part down). It doesn’t matter whether they wear retro glasses and Urban Outfitters shirts or whether they rock giant beards and shop at Goodwill. None of that makes anyone’s faith rise or fall.

So take that out.

They were avid readers too. Leadership junkies. Sucking up books and conferences and technology, spinning faith fast and savvily–much of which was good and all of which could be used for good. Although, let’s face it, it isn’t always…used for good, I mean.

So take out all the latest, edgiest books and conferences and tech-gear.

And what you have left, after you subtract all the costumes and props is just people, their story, and their take on how things got done–in their lives, in their events, in their churches.

And I’ve just gotta say…there are days when I would rip my right arm off to hear one hipster throw up a good old-fashioned To God Be the Glory.

(Supposing it could be re-attached.)

I think most of us know where the glory belongs. But I’ve decided–and I hope I’m not the only one–that sometimes it’s not such a trite or robotic thing to heap credit where credit is due.

This is why I’ve been writing some posts about faith from time to time. About remembering it. About what it’s like to know–really know and hold onto knowing from one scheduled, calculated moment to the next–that we are magnificently dependent on God for his favor.

You can read some of these recent posts inspired by the life of D.L. Moody here. Or you can read my simple observation about what faith looks like from this week’s reading below.

* * *

In 1860, President Abraham Lincoln was persuaded to visit the city school that D.L. Moody ran.

But he had agreed to come to this poor neighborhood on one condition: he would not give a speech.

Mr.Lincoln came, good to his word, and sat through the morning prayers and songs as the students gathered. Then he got up to leave.

This is when D.L. Moody’s faith struck.

“Mr.Lincoln has come to the school on the condition that he not be asked to speak. But if he wishes to say a word before leaving, we all have our ears open.”

Lincoln took the stage and described how he related to the poverty and challenge ahead of each kid in the audience and challenged them to devote themselves to the schooling provided by Mr.Moody to one day be men and women of greatness as well.

Faith is plain out bold.

Because a gloried God is no match for even the elitest of men.

Can you relate? Leave a comment and tell me your thoughts by clicking the comments link by the title of this post.