# LCMS Convention Proceedings_St. Louis Missouri_1971_S87
# Machine transcription, uncorrected — CHI Digital Archive (demonstration)

MORNING DEVOTIONS 87

us knowing how miserably we have failed, just yester-
day and today, in spite of our promises.

We have closed our eyes to Christ’s hope for us —
taking, taking, taking His love and failing Him so, for-
getting what He said, “This is My commandment, that
you love one another as I have loved you.” If some-
one who had never been in the company of disciples,
who had never heard the word of Christ, had been with
you and me yesterday, what would he have seen and
heard a time or two? — recrimination, suspicion, jeal-
ousy; not peace and hope and love and long-suffering.
We join Paul, each of us looking in the mirror of God’s
Law, calling himself the chief of sinners — and meaning
it; for “the good that I would, that I do not, and the evil
that I would not, that I do. ... O wretched man that
I am, who shall deliver me from this body of death?”

And then again there shines out this word FOR.
Christ died for me and for you. God accepted that sac-
rifice, and in the resurrection of His Son, our Lord, de-
clares us “Not guilty” —and we are saved to celebrate
right here and now and in all eternity. And He pleads
with us to sing our love song right here and now.

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What does that mean? God had sung His love song.
Now Paul could sing his own love song: “The love of
Christ constraineth me.” Every language foreign to us
has some words difficult to put into English. And Greek
is the same way. “Constrain” means to compel, to force.
The Revised Standard Version says, “controls.” J. B.
Phillips puts it, “The very spring of our action is Christ.”
The New English Bible says it in words perhaps still
clearer: “The love of Christ leaves us no choice.” Still
another translation says, “The love of Christ monop-
olizes us.” And that is close to the heart of our love
song. Christ and His love have the exclusive right to us.
Christ and His love enslave us to Him. And Paul beau-
tifully and simply circumscribes the meaning with the
words, “His purpose in dying for all was that men, while
still in life, should cease to live for themselves and
shou'd live for Him who for their sakes died and rose
again.”

In a book entitled On Being Fit to Live With, the
story is told of a Mexican mother who died and left
eight chi'dren. The care of the children fell on the
eldest, a girl just 17. Courageously she worked, cook-
ing, washing, caring for the other seven. When one day
a neighbor commended her for her devotion, the girl
replied, “I can’t take credit for something I ‘have’ to do.”
Replied the neighbor, “But you don’t have to. You
could get out of it, you know.” The girl thought for
a moment and said, “Yes, that’s true, but what about
the ‘have to’ that’s inside of me.” She had an inner
must,

Jesus had an inner must. “I must be about My
Father’s business”; “Other sheep I have which are
not of this fold. Them also must I bring.” Or think
of the day He saw that wee little man and said to the
tree-climber: “Zacchaeus, you come down; for today

I must abide at your house.” And on and on the must
of love took Him until He sees ahead the green hill out-
side the city wall, and yet He goes on. Why? “From
that time forth began Jesus to show unto His disciples
how that He must go unto Jerusalem and suffer many
things ... be killed, and be raised again to life.” And
good John, by the Spirit’s power, capsules it all with
the great words of our Lord, “As Moses lifted up the
serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of Man
be lifted up, that whosoever believeth in Him should
not perish but have everlasting life.”

Paul was human. He had moments of weakness and
frustration. But whenever he was tempted to throw in
the sponge, he then listened again to God’s song of love,
and he himself would sing and sing and sing his own
love song. He had this must inside.

And so with us. The joy of being returned to the
Father’s house, where the father prepares a feast and
there is singing and dancing. There’s a must inside.
We must sing. It makes us sing. The earth is the
Lord’s and we are the Lord’s, and therefore the earth
is ours in a fresh stewardship. Everything gives us in-
creased pleasure as we “frolic in the company of God,”
and we can’t shout down or stamp out this compulsion
inside. We hear His call, “Go into all the world,” and
there’s a “have to” inside. We see the downtrodden and
lonely and drugged and dissipated and isolated and poor
and sick, and we hear His word, “Heal the sick there
and say, The kingdom of God has come closer to you” —
and there is a “have to” inside. In the work of the
church Christ has a monopoly on us—our time, our
talents, our possessions — and asks us to celebrate as
we put them into His service. No complaint — only ex-
citement. No cost that we can possibly afford can be
too great for what we dearly love. Why do we work?
Why do we give? Not because of what other people
may see and think, not because of our need to give or
because of the need of the church, but because of an
irrepressible desire to respond to Him who gave His
life for us. Why evangelize? Not because we want the
church to grow, but because like the apostles we can’t
help but speak the things we have seen and heard.
Why live a Christian life? Not in fear of judgment, but
“He died for all that they who live should not hence-
forth live unto themselves but unto Him who died for
them and rose again.” Why worship? Because it’s His
house and we can’t stay away.

But again, if we are going to sing that kind of love
song, it must be genuine. We need to have another must
inside. We must love one another. In honor we must
prefer one another. How can we go out and reconcile
in this hate-filled society if we have not first learned
to love one another—to bear one another’s burdens
and so fulfill the law of Christ?

And where does that power come from? There’s a
favorite story among southern people that comes out
of the Civil War. A young girl living in Mississippi had
two brothers missing in action. She knew only bitter-
ness toward the soldiers of the north. One night she
went to church. About 30 people were there. The pas-

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