There was a moment in a recent sermon when I said something completely unplanned and unexpected. I was talking about how the crowds in Jerusalem had been cut to the heart with conviction (Acts 2:37). It’s an apt phrase, because the truth is that our hearts often become hardened and calloused. Perhaps we’re trying to preserve our pride. Perhaps we’re trying to preserve our self-sufficiency. Whatever it is, we build walls and defend ourselves against any suggestion that we need help or correction. And as I spoke to this, a mentor of mine who passed away suddenly a couple of weeks ago came to mind. His name was Don Lewis.
Don Lewis
Don was one of my professors at Regent College. He took a lot of men at Regent under his wings, and I was one of them. He was one of the most kind-hearted, encouraging, generous people I have ever encountered. So many future pastors were discipled by Don and spent time being prayed for in his office. He was beloved by so many, not primarily because of his teaching, but because of his caring.
After hearing of his death, I went back and read some of the emails between Don and myself from years ago. There was one email in particular where Don had written some difficult things. He had challenged me to alter some of my thoughts and behaviours. He encouraged me to assess my priorities and to take action in some areas of shortcoming. The whole message was couched in love and affirmation. He made it abundantly clear that he was not being critical, that he thought highly of me but was nevertheless concerned for me. But at the time, I couldn’t see that. I was convinced he was overreacting. I felt rejected. My pride was wounded. And so I pulled away. He continued to message me, to check in with me, to pray for me. But I kept him at an arms length. Our relationship didn’t end, but it was never quite the same afterward.
The great tragedy in this, again, is that I can see now that his intention was nothing but genuine love. There are people who are critical, who seek to tear you down with their words. Other people issue correction from a place of self-righteousness. Still others don’t really know you but still feel free to “speak into your life”. But that wasn’t Don. Not one bit. I should have known that then; I know that now. And so I am cut to the heart, especially now that he has gone to be with the Lord. I have sorrow about how I responded to a friend and mentor who only wanted to see me grow in my likeness to Jesus. I have sorrow because I don’t have the opportunity to make things right.
What am I to do with this?
In Acts 2:38, Peter tells the crowds, “Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins. And you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.”
In line with that, repentance is in order. I need to change my thinking regarding correction, especially when it comes from those who know me and love me. I don’t want to repeat those same mistakes again! Being cut to the heart isn’t a lot of fun. But it creates an opportunity for life-giving change.
In line with that, I need to bring this to Jesus. There is forgiveness in his name. He can forgive me because he bore my guilt and shame at the cross. He can also empower my repentance by filling me with His Holy Spirit. Without him, there’s no release from the burden of sin.
And in line with what Peter says in Acts 2:32, I can move forward with hope because of the resurrection of Jesus. While death has temporarily taken hold of Don, it will not have the final word. Jesus was raised from the dead as a promise that all who trust in him will be resurrected as well. I believe we will see each other face to face and we will be fully restored, fully reconciled. I do have sorrow because my own actions cost me a closer relationship with him in this life. But I have hope knowing that because of the power of Christ over death, this is not the end of the story.
And perhaps something in this speaks to you. May the Lord lead you as you seek wholeness in your relationship with others and with Him.
