Personal testimony of the converted priest
I was born blind, not physically, but spiritually, in 1899 in one of the most mountainous and inaccessible regions of Asturias rightly called "Spanish Switzerland".
My parents were devout Roman Catholics, who had the faith of the "coal man" mentioned by St. Teresa of Avila; namely, they implicitly believed everything the Roman Catholic Church had learned and believed. They did have a blind faith, a faith they passed on to their 17 children. I was born in a house where Roman Catholicism permeated the individual's heart, mind, and even body; where the infant, together with the mother's milk, was cared for and nourished with love and devotion to Mary and the Saints; where the child was later impressed by the values of medals, beads, holy images, etc. And where the word of the priest was law to be obeyed.
I remember from an early age that I had a penchant for everything connected with the church and the priest, which I was taught to look upon as a superman, devoid of daily human needs and weaknesses.
My greatest pleasure was to serve as a minister at the altar; I considered it a privilege and an honor to wake up early in the morning, to walk more than two kilometers through the snow, through the mountain terrain, to attend the priest's Mass. At the age of seven, I was able to answer Latin prayers during Latin. Family devotions consisted of reciting the rosary and the long litany, of prayers to all the saints, every night without exception. The whole family, including small children, gathered in the kitchen, which also served as a living room. We have formed a fairly large assembly! When Dad took the berries out of his pocket, it was a sign that we were all kneeling on the empty concrete floor, ready for what was to come, which usually lasted 40 minutes. The recitation of the rosary consisting of the "Creed of the Apostles", 53 "Rejoice Mary," six "Glory to the Father," five "Our Father," one "Rejoice, Queen," and the Litany of the Blessed Virgin, were enough; but more than that was what followed the Rosary, namely, an endless series of prayers to various "Virgins," angels and saints remembered for their special defense and protection in all circumstances, and the vicissitudes of life.
My father, in particular, was a man of blind faith in everything the church taught. I will never forget the day he worked in the fields, August 14, the eve of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin, the patron saint of the village, a day of fasting and abstinence in the Roman Catholic Church (Roman Catholics are not allowed to eat meat or anything prepared with meat). Because my father 's field was about two miles from home, I brought him lunch in a basket. When he sat down to eat, he noticed that the lunch (a Spanish specialty) was prepared with meat and did not touch him. He worked without food until late that evening. Then he told me: I should have bought "Bula" but we can't afford it. "Bula" is a document sold in the Roman Catholic Church in Spain, which allows the buyer the right to eat meat on days when the consumption of meat is not usually permitted by church law. In fact, there are four such documents as the "Bula" for sale in the Roman Catholic Church in Spain: the "Bula" for the Holy Crusade (which guarantees many indulgences to the buyer); "Bubble" for meat (allowing the consumption of meat products on certain days); Bula Composition (allows the owner of such a "Bula" to retain property, which, being obtained by fraudulent means, can not be traced to the rightful owners); and finally the Dead Bubble (for the benefit of the dead). The "bubble" for the Holy Crusade (which guarantees many indulgences to the one who buys it); "Bubble" for meat (allowing the consumption of meat products on certain days); Bula Composition (allows the owner of such a "Bula" to retain property, which, being obtained by fraudulent means, can not be traced to the rightful owners); and finally the Dead Bubble (for the benefit of the dead). The "bubble" for the Holy Crusade (which guarantees many indulgences to the one who buys it); "Bubble" for meat (allowing the consumption of meat products on certain days); Bula Composition (allows the owner of such a "Bula" to retain property, which, being obtained by fraudulent means, can not be traced to the rightful owners); and finally the Dead Bubble (for the benefit of the dead).
My early religious life was centered on a major event during the year: the Festival of the Virgin of the East, the commemoration of the Ascension of the Virgin Mary to heaven on August 15. The Virgin of the East was the Patroness of the region. According to a legend, the Virgin appeared to a shepherd on a nearby mountain called "Alba, or Răsărit". In that place, a shrine was erected to commemorate the apparition. Every year, a religious carnival is adopted, and the chapel is visited by thousands of pilgrims from far and near. The statue of the Virgin, wrapped in splendor, is carried in procession through the mountainous region, to acclaim the veneration of the devotees who came to pray for a miracle, or to thank them for the miracles already performed. Every region in Spain claims such a miraculous Virgin.
Although Roman Catholic Theology distinguishes between the statue and the person who represents it, in practice this distinction is only in the book. Despite the theoretical teaching of the Catechism, there was no doubt in my mind that I and those simple people on the mountain really worshiped that image. A supernatural power was attached, in our belief, to the physical part of that figurine, because it was not even a statue in the true sense of the word. The figurine consisted of several sticks arranged to procure the structure on which the face will be placed. After that, the figurine was dressed in silk and gold. I was shocked beyond words when one day I saw the ladies at the altar undressing the statue, and I noticed that the virgin of my dreams was just a mannequin. Since then, that image has remained in my mind all the time. Observing my religious inclinations, the parish priest approached me with the idea of studying for the priesthood. Guided by the high opinion I had for that profession, I gave in easily to his conviction, much to the joy and satisfaction of my deeply religious father, and to the dismay of my mother who was just as religious but opposed to the idea based on maternal instinct. and out of love.
Monk and Priest
At the age of 12 I left home, father, mother, brothers and sisters, I never saw them again. The glory of the priestly life, the charm of the monastery, and the salvation of my soul, foresaw in the horizon of my mind, and overcame the natural sadness that had come upon me as I left the family and scenes of my childhood. I was sent to a college located in the Valladolid region. The college was run by Dominican priests in order to train young boys, already set aside by their parents for the priesthood. For four years while there, I studied only college subjects, but I became proficient in the great Roman Catholic catechism. Here Romanism captured my body and soul; here was sown the seed of intolerance in my soul,
"The Holy Roman Catholic Apostolic Church". Here God was presented to my young intellect as a harsh judge, ready to give us according to our sins; an angry God who had to be at peace with good works, penances and torments.
It is very well understood that the Roman Catholic Church has a hold on the soul of the Spanish people, especially on the candidates for the priesthood, being raised from the beginning of childhood in such an atmosphere and with such ideas. This fact explains why, in the past centuries, Protestants were burned at the stake, and now persecuted in my country, Spain. In the first two years of training, my life was exemplary in observing each law and in my perseverance in studies, being honored on several occasions with a special award.
From the "Apostolic" school I was sent to the Dominican novitiate in Avila, in the famous monastery of St. Thomas where, at the age of 16, I was invested with the black and white dress of the Dominican order. An entire year was devoted to the intensive study of the Law and Constitution of the Dominican Order: its rigid observance, the singing of the office of the Virgin and the day, and the close and constant vigilance of Master Novice. It was a year of trial and trial, where only those with the strongest character will survive.
Fasting and abstinence was prescribed from September 14 until Easter. Letters sent or received were carefully censored by the superior. Any contact with the outside world was forbidden. No conversation or communication could be held with the priest and members of the monastery.
Auditory confession was obligatory every week, it was usually held on Saturdays, and had to be given to the same novice master who was at the same time our constant superior and supervisor.
It is not difficult to imagine the anxiety and mental torture of these ruthless practices, since they were corrected by the Canon Law of the church, and induced by the young novices, who were frightened by the approach of Saturday. But the dream and anticipation that one day I would become a perfect monk gave me the courage I needed to stay and successfully complete that year of probation and absolute renunciation.
The day of partial release came on September 8, 1917, the feast of the Nativity of the Virgin Mary, when I made my profession as a member of the Dominican Order. The next four years were spent at St. Thomas College, near the novitiate.
From the age of 12 when I left home until I finished college at the age of 21, I didn't talk to a woman. Femininity has been presented to our young minds as something bad, and many times our religious instructors have told us stories about saints who never looked before their mother, citing this as an example of chastity that we should we imitate him.
After four years of college, 17 seminarians were ordered to come to America to study theology and learn English. Dressed in the clerical attire worn by American Roman Catholic priests, we walked the streets of Madrid for the first time in nine years, looking at the charming Spanish senoritas, and our young faces blushing whenever our eyes met. a young lady. As we walked the streets, the crowd stopped to look at us, dressed in bizarre clothes, and whispered to each other, "There are priests getting married," a rude remark to Protestant priests in Spain. I was 21 years old, and I never met anyone who was not a Roman Catholic, because everyone in Spain at the time declared to be a Roman Catholic. I have heard and read about Protestants, but I could not believe that such people existed. The first time we had the opportunity to meet someone who was not a Roman Catholic was on our journey from Spain to America. On the ship was an American gentleman who spent several years in Spain, and who was returning to America with his charming 17-year-old daughter, who spoke fluent Spanish.
Human nature was the same in the monastery, one day the three of us got involved in a conversation with her, to discover to our horror that she was a Protestant. Driven by a burning but reckless zeal, we immediately began to work on putting into practice everything we had learned about converting from Protestantism to Catholicism. The first topic I addressed was about the Blessed Virgin Mary.
I asked her, "Do you believe in the Blessed Virgin Mary?"
She replied, "Yes, but not as you think."
We were horrified by this new answer, and added, "Don't you know that we must pray to Mary in order to be saved?"
"No, I didn't know that," was her quick reply.
Towards the end, I said in despair, "Don't you know that ladies like you should pray to Mary to protect their virginity?"
She started to cry, ran up the stairs and told her father, who after two minutes went down the stairs holding a pistol (revolver) ready to shoot us. And he would have shot us if the ship's captain hadn't intervened.
This was my first evangelistic effort. Since then I have always been afraid of Protestants. I spent three years at the Dominican Theological Seminary in Louisiana and some time at the University of Notre Dame. Not long after I was ordained to the priesthood in 1924, I was sent as an assistant priest to one of the largest Roman Catholic Churches in New Orleans, Louisiana. I served in that role for nine years. And in 1932, I was appointed pastor of the same church at the tender age of 32. For six years as a priest, I worked tirelessly and zealously, and to be honest, with great success. The church has grown in numbers in membership, participation in religious celebrations, receiving the sacraments, and even materially. When I became a priest, the parish school had 450 students enrolled; two years later
The Dominican Order honored me with the position of Superior of the Dominican House related to the church. My community consisted of five priests and two lay brothers. I was also the confessor of several nuns' monasteries; deeds that prove the high respect in which I was held by the Archbishop, the congregation and my religious superiors. I was indeed the "Pharisee of the Pharisee," who needed a personal encounter with the living Christ on my spiritual journey to Damascus!
A repentant soul
In the last years of my pastorate, I began to doubt the validity of some doctrines of the Roman Catholic Church. The first thing I doubted and rejected was the priest's power to forgive sins in the confessional. At the same time, I could not believe in the doctrine of transubstantiation, or the real, physical, corporeal presence of Christ in the host and in the chalice. My faith in the Roman Catholic Church has waned. I felt like I couldn't be a hypocrite anymore. I was thinking of leaving the priesthood. God intervened and provided me with an opportunity, again through the instrumentality of human agents. This time it was the Master General of the Dominican Order, who issued orders from Rome, that the Spanish Dominican priests in Louisiana must leave the churches and entrust them to the American Dominicans. Some received orders in Spain, others in the Philippines. I decided to leave the parish without any protest, feeling that the hand of God was present in this series of events. But I refused to leave the country of adoption, where I learned to love. I left the priesthood, and embraced the path that leads to the pit of sin. But somewhere along this road God took pity on me and saved me from a disastrous end. For a year and a half, a terrible struggle took place in my soul. I was tempted to turn my back on God and anything sacred. But then I remembered the words that came from the depths of Peter's heart: " in which I learned to love. I left the priesthood, and embraced the path that leads to the pit of sin. But somewhere along this road God took pity on me and saved me from a disastrous end. For a year and a half, a terrible struggle took place in my soul. I was tempted to turn my back on God and anything sacred. But then I remembered the words that came from the depths of Peter's heart: " in which I learned to love. I left the priesthood, and embraced the path that leads to the pit of sin. But somewhere along this road God took pity on me and saved me from a disastrous end. For a year and a half, a terrible struggle took place in my soul. I was tempted to turn my back on God and anything sacred. But then I remembered the words that came from the depths of Peter's heart: "God, who should we go to? You have the words of eternal life. ”
The whole world, with all its pleasures and attractions, could not fill the void in my soul. After trying in vain to find happiness in the things the world offered, and wanting to save my soul, I took the path that led to a convent in Florida. This was my purpose in consecrating my life to God, in the solitude of monastic life, to bury myself in the four walls of this sacred precinct, and to work and earn my own salvation. In the isolation of the monastery, I believed that God would surely give me that assurance of salvation, and the happiness of the soul I was looking for. That was my goal; but God had another plan for me. From this moment the hand of God manifested. While in the monastery, I learned about evangelical Christianity. For a while I worked in the monastery library. In this library was a closet with the inscription "Forbidden Books." Curiosity overwhelmed me and one day I took the key, opened the closet, and saw six or seven books. I read them all one by one. These were religious books that dealt with evidence against the Roman Catholic Church as the true Church of Jesus Christ.
On the other hand, I started reading the Bible. Until then, the Bible meant nothing to me personally. It was indeed the inspired Word of God, but I was taught that the mind of the common man is not able to understand the true meaning. A higher mind, an infallible authority, we thought necessary to give us the meaning of what the Holy Spirit thought when he inspired the sacred writers. I preferred to read the Word of God understood by this infallible authority, which was found in the Roman Catholic prayer books. Gradually, reading the Bible became a source of comfort and inspiration in the solitude of the monastery, and I began to understand the true meaning of certain passages in the Bible that I had not paid much attention to in the past. I was especially impressed by the following verses,For there is one God; and one mediator between God and men, the man Jesus Christ, who gave himself as a ransom for all, a testimony at the proper time. ”
Ephesians 6:24: “ Grace be with all those who love our Lord Jesus Christ with pure love. ”
Acts 16:31: "Believe in Jesus Christ and you will be saved, you and your household."
1 Timothy 4: 1-3: “The Spirit clearly says that in the last days, some will stray from the faith.” to those who believe and know the truth. ”
Then was the seed of the Word of God planted in the garden of my soul; it is true that I tried to suffocate her, but this little seed will grow and bear fruit at the right time.
Teaching the history of the church to young monks, I became acquainted with the corruption of the Roman Catholic Church in both doctrine and practice, and in my heart I felt a deep admiration for the courageous leaders of the Reformation.
After two years in the monastery, I found neither the peace of mind nor the happiness I was looking for. What to do next?
American soldier
Not wanting to live in this environment, eager to be useful to humanity in any way, and knowing that my adopted country was at war, I did the most honorable thing: I enlisted in the US Army as a private person. In this movement, Divine Providence guided me again. Whole books could be written about my experiences in military life, at my age and with my past, as a private person during the war.
The army is a wonderful institution and I enjoy the rich experience of the three years of my army's life. The worst thing I found in the army were the captains and sergeants "two by four," usually found in tidy rooms; corporals and sergeants, who assumed so much authority that they considered themselves a reproduction of Hitler, Mussolini and even Tojo, and who made the life of a private person very difficult.
After basic training, I was sent to the Military Intelligence Training Center in Camp Ritchie, Maryland. The men selected to attend this School of Intelligence were very educated. We had to take orders from these captains and sergeants, who, for most of their civilian lives, did nothing but, perhaps, sweep the streets or wash the dishes, but who could use strong language, and with the stronger the language, the more beats. But I thank God for these people, for they have prepared me for my future Christian ministry because they have taught me humility, obedience, discipline, and spiritual democracy.
Moreover, I have been appointed to the chaplain's office for some time. It so happened that Mr. Chaplain was a minister of the Dutch Reformed Church, with a brilliant mind and a heart of gold. His name was Chaplain (Major) Herman J. Kregel, who, after serving three years as Division Chaplain with the Occupation Forces in Japan, was named Post Chaplain at the West Point Military Academy. I enjoyed listening to his sermons on Sunday mornings, being a fluent and interesting speaker.
Under his guidance, while my mind responded favorably to his full and lucid explanations in doctrinal matters, my heart was captivated by the example of his behavior, his kindness, his altruism, his open thinking, and his naturalness. For the first time I realized that a Protestant minister could be happy and sincere in his faith and work.
In the US military, unlike other places, the proselytizing of members of another faith by a chaplain is not done. The relations between the Protestant chaplain and me were cordial in the usual relationship between the chaplain and the soldiers, but no more. Not had no objection to my participation in Protestant assemblies. After all, the right to worship, when and where someone has pleasure is one of the things we fight for.
One Sunday, he preached about salvation by faith alone, basing his arguments primarily on the teachings of St. Paul. Until then, I had given up virtually all the doctrines and practices characteristic of the Roman Catholic Church, but I clung tenaciously to the faith in salvation by works. After the service, I went to his office to tell him how I felt about his "heretical" statements. Armed with the text in James 2:24, "See then that a man is justified by works, and not by faith only ." I told him arrogantly and ignorantly: “If what you said is right, then Jacob was wrong; if Jacob is right, you and Paul were wrong. Otherwise, you have to admit that there is a contradiction in the Bible. ”
With a smile of compassion on his face, the Chaplain asked me to take a seat and "take it easy." In a calm, humble and dignified way, his voice sounded with affection for the spiritual well-being of this soldier who questioned his theology, he explained: “José, there can be no contradictions in the Bible, because the Holy Spirit is the only one its author, and the Spirit cannot contradict Himself ”. With this, of course, I fully agreed.
Now, "he continued," when Paul says that salvation is by faith alone, he speaks from the point of view of God, who reads our minds and sees our hearts. As for God, we are saved when we believe. But this faith, please note, is a faith of total trust and not just a mental consent to a few doctrinal statements. ” I have never heard faith defined in this way. “On the other hand,” continued the Chaplain, “when James states that salvation is by works, he speaks from the point of view of men, who, unable to read minds or see our hearts, must have something visible and tangible. by which to judge whether we are saved or not. As for people, we are saved when we produce good deeds, because"Ye shall know them by their fruits" (Matthew 7:16). But good works are not the root, they are the result of salvation. "
The explanation was unique; I never heard her. I fully agreed with that. The last mental barrier had been removed. I became an "intellectual" believer and promised the Lord to give my life to Protestant ministry after my separation from the army. But I was not yet ready for this work. My mind had been converted, but my heart remained untouched. A true conversion must cause a change not only of the mind, but especially of the heart. I believed in every fundamental truth of the Bible, but I did not surrender my heart to Christ.
During one of my absences on a temporary duty away from office, I was visited by a representative of the apostolic delegation (the Vatican's system of checking his people). I was told that if I returned to a monastery for a period of time to do penance, he would give me a parish again. But the wheels in Rome were moving too slowly. Too many doubts and questions, which could not be resolved by Rome, were allowed to ferment from the moment I was assigned to the chaplain's office.
Sinner saved by grace
I prayed for the light, studied to be informed, and on my days off visited the various churches in Maryland and Pennsylvania to find out which one would attract me the most from a biblical perspective.
During one of my visits to the churches in Baltimore, I met someone who would be my life partner, a deeply religious lady of Baptist communion. He had a winning personality, a delightful sense of humor, and a beautiful Christian heart. Our short courtship ended in a happy union brought by a Baptist minister to a Baptist Church. Since then, I have loved the Baptists. Good lady, she could not give me this experience, but the merciful Lord guaranteed it to me six months after our marriage. The Bible teaches believers not to marry unbelievers. I did not know this biblical command when I got married.
In the fall of 1944, I was appointed as an interpreter for South American officers studying the military science of mechanized cavalry at Fort Riley, Kansas. While recognizing the army, I also engaged in spiritual reconsideration. It was the period when I was looking for the truth.
One Saturday night, I attended the Rescue Army open-air service on a street corner in Junction City, Kansas. At first, my attitude toward the meeting was one of indifference and even contempt. But as the meeting went on, I was led by a supernatural force to pay close attention. My effort was rewarded.
A young lady wearing the Salvation Army uniform gave the message, a wonderful, moving message, which she concluded by appealing to those who stood, to believe in the full sacrifice of Christ, in response to His grace. Then he quoted the words of Jesus as recorded in John 5:24: “Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that heareth my word, and believeth on him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation; but it is passed from death to life . "
At that moment, I felt the transition from death to life, and under the influence of a supernatural force I knelt down, confessed Christ as Lord of my life, and received him as my personal Savior. What happened, how it happened, I can't say; all I can do is repeat to the blind man of the gospel, "I know that I was blind, and now I see" (John 9:25).
In the face of transformed life, there can be no denial of the power of the Holy Spirit. Something happened in my life; I'm not the same man. I like the things I used to hate and I hate the things I loved. To the unregenerate man and woman, this may seem mad because “the natural man does not receive the things of the Spirit of God, for they are madness to him; nor can he know them, for they are spiritually understood ” (1 Corinthians 2:14). My life back then was a public witness to the transforming power of the Holy Spirit. I was saved by the grace of God.
Again, to be sure
From the moment I became an intellectual believer, six months before this glorious experience of being born again, I was frequently overwhelmed by doubts and fears, and nightmares became nightmares. But as soon as I became a believer at heart, and surrendered completely to the extended hands of the crucified Savior, I experienced nothing but peace, tranquility, and the perfect guarantee of those who trust in Jesus. Life for me started at the age of 44!
The servant of the gospel
Blue Ridge Summit is a summer resort located on the mountain range that divides Maryland from Pennsylvania, 15 miles west of Gettysburg and just half a mile from Ritchie Camp, my permanent military post. Shortly after our marriage, my wife and I lived in that community, where the Presbyterian church was the main church. His pastor was Rev. CP Muyskens, a classmate of Chaplain Kregel and, like him, a former minister of the Dutch Reformed denomination. Worshiping regularly in his church, we became acquainted with his sterling qualities as a preacher and pastor. Visiting him at home, we were impressed by his Christian family life. He did not leave his religion in the pulpit, but took it home with him. In him I found inspiration,
I had just begun to take instructions from him when I was sent to the Fort Riley detached service. When I returned, after four months, I was the happiest man in the world. I had two great possessions with me: Christ in my heart and a quote in my pocket from the commander of the Cavalry School.
On April 24, 1945, while still in the military, I was ordained a Presbyterian minister at the Hawley Memorial Presbyterian Church at Blue Ridge Summit. Two months later, I was given that piece of paper, which I had so eagerly awaited - an honorable release from the United States Army! That same fall, I attended Princeton Theological Seminary, where I studied and earned a Master of Theology degree. My year at Princeton was without a doubt the happiest of my life. There I found spiritual ascension, Christian fellowship, intellectual growth, and a deep religious experience. It was indeed, as in the case of the Apostle Paul, an "Arabia" to me.
In addition to the physical beauty of the surroundings, I was particularly impressed by the solid and clear doctrine of my teachers, the radiant lives, the freedom in the Spirit, and the young men and women whose lives were entirely devoted to Christian service. When I compared the conditions here with those of my previous days in the Catholic seminary, the difference was striking. Fear, regimentation, and constant supervision gave way to the love, joy, and freedom of God's children.
His witness
Having confessed the saving power of Jesus Christ in previous chapters, the final paragraphs should be devoted to "What the Gospel Means to Me," my way of witnessing to the dynamic vitality of God's grace. Christianity, for me, means a life lived in Christ through faith in the One who alone can save.
God has given us our truth in the Bible, and through the Bible we have become acquainted with the true and living Christ, whom I have as my personal Savior and "the only Mediator between God and man. " As a Spanish Roman Catholic, I knew Christ only as a child in his mother's arms and as a corpse on Mary's lap. A living and risen Christ did not exist for me until the Bible brought me to Calvary and the empty tomb.
For forty-four years I was taken to Sinai, where I heard the thunder of the law through the rituals of a church; but all the thunder could not convince me of my sins until the day I went to Calvary and saw my Savior hanging there for me. In the presence of the cross, for the first time in my life I realized the full meaning of the atonement. I believed not only with my mind but also with my heart, and surrendered to the outstretched arms of the crucified Savior. At that moment, I felt that my burden was lifted. I was born again; my soul now had eternal life.
As a result, I was given a taste of the glory of the resurrection. I became justified in the sight of God, and all my sins were cast out of God's sight. Christ has become a living reality for me. The Spirit Himself testified with my spirit that I was a son of God, "a partaker of the divine nature." The fear of death, so ingrained in Roman Catholics, has completely disappeared from my heart. And now, with Paul, I can say, "For to me to live is Christ, and to die is a gain" and with Job I can repeat with joy and exaltation "I know that my Redeemer lives" and with the composer I can sing joyfully and triumphantly: "He lives ! He talks to me and He walks with me and He told me I belong to Him. You ask me how I know he lives? He lives in my heart. "
I am convinced that the gospel is in its dynamic essence, because it has in its possession the dynamic power of God, as Paul says in his own words, "for it is the power of God for the salvation of every one that believeth" (Romans 1:16). This power dynamic seems projecting itself in the realm of spirituality in the spheres of economy and materiality, according to the promise direct God made to Joshua: "This book of the law shall not depart from your mouth, trying to do all that is written therein: , for then you will succeed in all your works and then you will work wisely. ” (Joshua 1: 8)
We must make contact with "God's power for salvation" —the Bible. This is our strength and the foundation on which the church is built. We read that we are “built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ being the cornerstone ” (Ephesians 2:20).
"And when the foundations are laid, what will the righteous do?" (Psalm 11: 3) Give me the simple message of the gospel, that message that sounds ridiculous in the ears of the sage of this world, is good enough for me because it is God's power for salvation. With this simple message the early Christians were able to conquer a pagan world for Christ, and through the gospel message, the Reformers were able to oppose the power of the great Goliath of the Roman Catholic Church.
No true biblical Christian has ever left the Bible and the teachings of the gospel for the catechism and commandments of men. Those nominal Christians without "God's power for salvation", are prey to the attachments offered by a materialistic, ritualistic, formalist and pompous religion. The primary reason that prompted the reformers to introduce the Reformation Movement was a love for the truth they rediscovered in the gospel. As a result, they raised their voices in protest against the Catholic Church for hiding or completely eclipsing the light of the gospel. It was their firm point for the true Word of God against the ecclesiastical and civil authorities of the time, which precipitated the development of the true Christian faith, built on the Rock, which is Christ, and on the pillars of His Word.
Clock challenge:
What must we do to demonstrate our vitality?
Let's repent! We must kneel and confess with broken hearts that we have deviated from the way of our ancestors, who heroically maintained "for the faith once given to the saints," that we have turned from the Word of God to the commandments of men; that we have returned to the old system of formalism and legalism against which the Reformers rebelled; that we have lost "our first love," that the vision of our priceless heritage has been darkened.
In the book of Revelation we find God's angel speaking to the church of Sardis, representing the Reformed Church in these clear words: "angel of the church in Sardis write: 'These things saith he that hath the seven Spirits of God and the seven stars : «I know your deeds: that your name is that you live, but you are dead. Watch and strengthen what remains, which is dying; for I have not found thy works perfect before my God. Remember how you received and heard! Hold on and repent! If you do not watch, I will come like a thief, and you will not know at what hour I will come upon you ” (Revelation 3: 1-3).
Let's go back to the Bible! Christ Himself is the Word: "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God ."
When we read the Word, Christ is with us. When we preach the Word, we share Christ with the people, the same Christ who walked the earth, died on Calvary, and rose from the dead. Only through the power of the Word can we expect to revitalize our Christianity, make our faith dynamic, and save the world from chaos and ruin.
Let's confess Christ! Let us be true Protestants! The term "Protestant" implies a positive element, namely, that of the testimony as it is described in the Latin source "protest". A Protestant is one who protests for Christ and His gospel, not one who indulges only in controversial matters, and is against something or someone. If the Word became flesh, then every body should become a word, proclaiming "the unfathomable riches of Christ" (Ephesians 3: 8). If Christ means something to us, then let us proclaim His Word. If we have experienced His saving power, let us dedicate our lives to His service. As the psalmist says, "Let the redeemed of the LORD say so, whom he hath redeemed from the hand of the enemy" (Psalm 107: 2).
[Source: https://bereanbeacon.org/ro/am-fost-orb-acum-vad/]
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