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I
have been repeatedly asked, since returning from Amsterdam, what
such a meeting could possibly accomplish. I sympathize with those
who ask the question. Inevitably it comes from those who were not
present. Often it is asked with a partisan axe to grind. I think we
must face the fact that, like the generation contemporary with
Jesus, many of us are blind and cannot see afar off. Long life and
continuous drudgery in one of the more legalistic sects of this day,
has blurred our vision and dimmed our sight until “we see men
like trees walking.” We need “the second touch.”
Surgery for the spiritual cataracts which cause a milky film across
our minds would help. Because of my past orientation I also went
with no little skepticism. It was all blown away after my arrival.
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This
was the first meeting of its kind in the history of the Way. Never
before has there been a universal call for all evangelists to gather
and pool their thinking about means and methods for the good of all.
Various sects have had a state-wide and even nation-wide gatherings.
But these were limited in scope. They were attended primarily by
professionals who make their living by offering their skills to the
highest bidder. At Amsterdam, a goodly percentage made their living
from a trade, and proclaimed the Good News when and where they could
in groves, along the roadsides, or on village streets. Many who
attended from Third World countries were invited to visit the
Samaritan’s Purse, where they were given an extra pair of
trousers and a coat to provide a change from the one they wore to
the conference.
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The
meeting also sustained a priority in that it was the first universal
gathering centered solely around the
person
of
Jesus Christ. And it was a mind-blowing experience. I have attended
a number of lectureships, and have even participated in a few. But
all of them betrayed their bias by the subjects discussed. There
were speeches on Baptist, Methodist, Presbyterian and Assembly of
God theology. In many cases the talks narrowed down to restoration
movement practices, and men held forth valiantly, with sweat
streaming down their faces, on instrumental music, societies, Bible
classes, or varied versions of the Bible, and what was wrong with
all of them. At Amsterdam it was Jesus Christ and Him crucified.
Secondary matters were placed on the shelf or left in the closet.
The millennium, the rapture, the tribulation, and all the rest of
the speculative basket of turkey eggs which television preachers
toss back and forth at one another was not mentioned. One or two
speakers predicted that the clock was running down and that we were
in “the end times” but most everyone present was so
interested in how to present the message to this generation, it did
not particularly matter to them where we were on God’s time
yardstick.
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The
conference was held in the midst of one of the most immoral and
secularistic populations on the face of the earth. It fairly shown
by contrast. Churches were engaged in a struggle for survival. Many
had long since been sold or torn down. The war has left an aftermath
of horrific departure from the power of the gospel. The Nazi
occupation with its cruelty and blood thirstiness had done its
damage. The baser instincts of many surfaced with all the scum on
them. In a metropolis where sex was openly flouted in a hundred evil
ways, where it was open and overt young people grew up unable to
determine right from wrong. They grew up like fish in a polluted
pool gasping for air.
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But
for ten days, like a refreshing breeze sent from heaven, the
representatives at the convention brought a different lifestyle to
the city. People saw, touched and heard delegates from 134 countries
of the globe, courteous, polite, deferential, and they hardly knew
what to make of it. I was walking toward the convention center one
evening, just as the sun was setting. Two Arab men saw my
identification badge. I greeted them warmly and they were emboldened
to ask what the convention was all about. Deciding that it was more
valuable to talk with them than to go listen to someone talk to me,
I detoured, and sat down beside them. I told them the meetings were
not about a
what
but
about a
who.
It
appeared incredible to them that one would come as far as had I on
such a mission. I told them that Jesus had come a lot farther to
visit and to rescue men, and that he was the only remedy for our
ripped-off world.
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Waxing
bolder, I suggested there would never be permanent peace in the Near
East until it realized that “In Christ there is no East or
West” and drew near to Him. I learned that both of them were
graduates of universities in Europe. When the time came to part we
shook hands warmly. An hour had gone by. I have often wondered what
became of them. I could easily have passed them by as did hundreds
of others. They were like “ships that pass in the night.”
It was a real pleasure to realize that we had been dropped like
parachutists in the midst of a profligate city. We were to take what
prisoners we could. We were there to batter down the strongholds. We
were commandos for Christ.
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I
overheard several people talking about how hard and insensitive the
populace was. They were supposed to be skeptical and cold. I must
confess that I never encountered one bit of it. I talked to them on
the streets, in the trams, in the stores and restaurants. I found
nothing but friendliness and a desire to help. When I turned “my
half of watermelon” smile on them, inevitably they smiled
back, our difference in cultures melted away and we found a common
ground on which to stand. This was true of boys and girls of high
school age as well as older burghers. It was great to be among them.
I loved every minute of it. They were modern pagans but they were
friendly pagans.
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The
history of the Netherlands goes way back when contrasted with our
own new world existence. Amsterdam was founded about 1225, and was
550 years old when the American Revolution began. Canals divide it
into 100 small islands, interlaced by more than 350 bridges. The age
of some of them is staggering as seen from a canal boat while going
beneath them. Almost the entire city is built upon a foundation of
piles driven fifty feet into a stratum of clay. It is a unique and
quaint city. Once it was a tremendous force to be reckoned with in
conjunction with the spread of protestantism and the resistance to
Roman aggression. The saga of the times of William the Silent is one
to be proud of.
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The
Thirty Years War which was a religious struggle of frightening
proportions, settled eventually by the Peace of Westphalia,
virtually decimated the land. But it recovered and was the one-time
headquarters for the Anabaptist Movement. It seems incredible that
the one-time influential area in the realm of moral and spiritual
worth could have departed so far from its original purposes. Perhaps
the fact that the country played host to so many evangelists from
throughout the world will cause it to do a twentieth-century
right-about-face and resume a position of leadership in the world of
faith.
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None
of us can doubt that the world of our day is crying out for
leadership
in the kingdom of heaven. America cannot provide it. Possessed of
skills in science and technology she has diverted them to selfish
interests. She is a leader in space conquest and in big business.
She leads on the ground and in the skies but hardly in the heavenly
trek. Those who are foremost in the field of communication have
generally sought to advance their own interests and to become
wealthy at the expense of others. So-called “television
evangelists” often fleece the flock. When one gets to the
place he can no longer help he is dropped like a hot potato.
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The
Spirit can no longer penetrate the veneer which has been applied in
the name of worship. In the reformation which stands at the door
waiting for someone to let it come in, only those can be leaders who
crucify self. It is in taking up the cross that one proves his
worthiness. God’s will must be done and that nation which does
it will be exalted. May the day hasten and come!