He had been running so long and so hard. Running from everything. What an irony that he of all people had had to flee for his very life! He had been on the upswing, he had been successful in everything. He had been the fair-haired lad in the eyes of those who counted, and had even married into the most prominent family in the land. Everything had gone so well; his life and his career seemed charmed.
But now, here he was, holed up in a dank, dark cave, wondering how it had all gone south so badly, so quickly. One day he had been consulted about everything; the next day he was persona non grata. Last week he had been the favorite son-in-law and the bosom buddy of his wife’s brother; this week the old man, their father, was out to get him, with blood in his eye and malice in his heart. How in the world did this happen? How could this be?
The obvious explanation was that the old boy had lost it. Jealousy and anxiety had taken him over, and he was lashing out at everyone. Word was that he had even tried to destroy his own son, and that he had ordered the dispatch of some eighty-five leaders whom he did not trust. The old man was obviously a victim of paranoia.
But a psychological analysis, however accurate, was of cold comfort right now. David sat in the cave of Engedi and could do little more than offer a complaint. Saul’s madness, coupled with the king’s command over his army, made David’s life precarious indeed. He thought about all the people who had been close – his wife Michal, his friend Jonathan, his comrades in arms. Where were they now? What were they doing to help? He had looked to the right and to the left, and found himself alone. He had searched the horizon for refuge, only to find himself utterly isolated. Completely alone. David knew only to pray, even if his prayer was one of complaint. David believed that at least God knew, God would be his refuge, God his strength. In that dismal moment, David had concluded, “No one cares for my soul.”
What is it like when no one cares? What is it like to live and die so utterly alone that it seems that no one cares? And, most profoundly, what must it be like when no one cares for your soul, for your essence, for your standing before God? What must that be like?
I
For the last several Sundays we have been thinking about the theme, “What’s Worth Caring About Here?” Pastor Hagan and I have preached messages that challenged you to rethink the importance of this church. We invited you to share something that you love about this place. As a relative outsider, I found those answers to be powerfully instructive. You value many things, one of which is the fellowship you have with many races, nations, and languages. You value this diverse fellowship; it’s worth caring about.
We also invited you to share the name of someone who had helped you, someone who had guided or strengthened you in your spiritual walk. You know what? There were no cards turned in that said, “Nobody has done anything for me.” With only a minimum of effort, you remembered how your long-term pastor had spoken to you or how your Sunday School teacher had listened to you. You recalled with ease how, rubbing elbows with another choir member or going on a mission trip with a young person, you had discovered someone of special value, worth caring about.
Last week the challenge deepened, as we opened up our dreams to one another. That is getting rather personal, as dreams really do not focus on buildings or programs or ideas, but on heart-things, spiritual desires. The flavor of last Sunday, from the music to the testimony to the message, was that we must dream a larger dream, a dream that takes us outside these walls and into this community, with all its problems and all its joys. This town, this Gaithersburg, is worth caring about.
But, in the end, faith is a profoundly personal matter. People do not respond at their core to programs or buildings or pastors or music ministries or reputation or denomination. All of those things are important, and all must be attended to; but it is in the dark nights of the soul where we deal with God. It is in the caves of desperation, like the one where David hid, that we face the terrible truths about ourselves. And it is in those difficult, damning, destructive caverns that some wake up and complain, “No one cares for my soul”.
What if they are right? What if no one cares for the souls of men and women in this world? What if? There are several implications to explore.
II
a
What if no one cares for the disillusioned? What if no one cares for those disappointed by religion and disenchanted by the church? When I was a campus minister, it seemed as though almost all that I did was to rebuild the shattered faith of young people who had grown up in the church, but who found, once they were in college, that the church had been dishonest. The church had not told them the truth. No one had ever taken the time to examine how the Bible stands up to modern science. No one had ever been honest enough to look with them at the deeper places of the human heart. All they had heard was, “Come to church, pitch in your tithe, and behave yourself.” Scores of the university students with whom I dealt were disillusioned and disappointed and felt that no one at the church really cared about them. They were only statistics, bodies to fill pews and baptisms to be recorded. Were they worth caring about? The disillusioned and disappointed didn’t think so.
b
Or, what if no one cares for the desperate? What if no one extends hand and heart to those who cannot put their lives together, and who, like David, feel as though it may all come to a crashing end? What if no one cares for those who struggle against bitterness and brokenness?
One of the members of the church I served told me that during the painful days when her alcoholic husband was abusing her, she would come to church, sit on the back row, and weep. Half of her wanted someone to notice and express concern; the other half just wanted to hide in the shadows and avoid all human contact. So deep does shame go in those who are desperate that they cannot easily reach out and find help. If you are deep in a cave and the enemy is outside, you pretty well know that to stick your nose out into the sunlight is to get it bashed in! She told me that when she first came to our church and tentatively said to someone that she had some needs, that person brushed her off with the remark, “We don’t want needy people here.” Great God, what an attitude! I am just grateful that did not stop her from continuing to find refuge at Takoma Park church.
But I am sure that much of the world thinks that the church is for people who have made it, and that in the church they will not be welcome, not if they bring their desperation. When you yourself think you are not worth caring for, you will be quite ready to believe that the church cares nothing for you.
c
What if no one cares for the disillusioned and the disappointed? What if no one cares for the desperate? And what if no one cares for those whose decisions have landed them in trouble? Just as David brought on some of his difficulties by flaunting his successes before the old king – not a good decision; just as David got a bit uppity, and therefore invited Saul’s jealousy, so also do scores of people plunge right into the traps of sin. Lots of people make bad lifestyle decisions. And when they do, what is our response? Will it be to condemn or to redeem? To write them off or to pursue them with love? What happens when no one cares for those who make poor decisions?
Sandy Russell will know where this story comes from, as she used to work with the man who told it. Carl Sapp was a Christian educator, working in a church in Mclean, Virginia. There was a family that sent their two children to Sunday School. But someone noticed that the Beatty children were not coming any more. Who knew what had happened and why? Well, no one cared enough to find out. No one cared enough to call or to visit. In fact, the decision was, “Hey, the Beatty kids are not coming, obviously they are not interested, let’s take their names off the roll.” And that was the last anybody heard of either of the Beatty children until, years later, on the scandal sheets of Hollywood there were the names and infamous adventures of one Warren Beatty and his sister Shirley MacLain (as in Mclean, Virginia)! Poor decisions, leading to lives that are anything but Christian, and why? Because no one cared enough about people making poor decisions; they were, someone thought, not worth caring about.
When no one cares, the disillusioned and disappointed float away into faithlessness. When no one cares, the desperate fall into sloughs of despond. When no one cares, those who make poor decisions race off into destructive lifestyles. When no one cares, they, like David, can only complain and weep in anguish.
III
And, in the last analysis, when no one cares, it is that no one cares for the soul. I wanted to highlight the King James Version language this morning, “No one cares for my soul”. If we are to be faithful to the high calling of God in Christ Jesus, we must be a church that warmly, winsomely, faithfully, shares the good news of Christ with lost people. Now I know that in a sophisticated environment maybe you do not care to hear that term, “lost people”. Maybe there is a polite skepticism about heaven and hell, salvation and judgment. I don’t know what you think about those issues.
But I know what I think. And I know what the Bible teaches, that “there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved” other than the name of Jesus Christ. I know that in Christ you can be and must be born again. And I know, not just in theory, but in experience, the power of this new life.
Brothers and sisters, pay for the building, yes. Hire and compensate the staff, of course. Create the programs, meet for prayer, study the Bible, give to missions, all of that. Yes, of course. But at rock bottom, care enough to give the Gospel to a neighbor. Care enough to share the good news with a co-worker. Have faith enough to pray for and communicate with a lost family member. Otherwise they will say, and rightly so, “No one cares for my soul.”
And when no one cares for souls, churches die. When no one cares for souls, whole denominations wither away. When no one cares for souls, there are consequences in eternity that we don’t even want to think about.
David sings, “I cried unto thee, O Lord; I said, ‘Thou art my refuge and my portion in the land of the living … bring my soul out of prison, that I may praise thy name; the righteous shall compass me about; for thou shalt deal bountifully with me.”
The righteous will compass me about, surround me with love, for you will deal bountifully with me.
Martin – not his real name – was a man who had isolated himself. His marriage was tentative at best. His job had melted away. His teenage daughter had borne a baby out of wedlock. Everything was going wrong for Martin. But because his wife was a member of our church, I had come to know him. I went to visit Martin in his lonely apartment. There, as we talked about ultimate things, Martin said that he knew he needed Christ. I shared the Gospel with him, and we prayed for his forgiveness and rebirth. I left that night elated, because he said he would be coming down our aisle and would be asking for baptism. Every pastor gets excited when a new person is won to Christ.
Came Sunday, and Martin was not present. Another Sunday, and another, and still no Martin. I called and got no response. I wrote a note and got no reply. I even drove by one evening and tapped on the door, but no one answered. I soon quit trying. You know, busy doing church, lots of programs, plenty of committees, trying to raise the budget, renovate an aging building. Doing church! Nothing wrong with that – unless it means that someone is still out there, feeling lonely and dismal, desperate and wrong.
How much time went by I do not remember. But one day in Sunday worship we made an opportunity for people to kneel at the altar and voice their prayers. Off to my right, just behind me, I heard the voice of Martin’s semi-estranged wife. She wept, “Lord, just send somebody to Martin before the end. He’s so lonely and I don’t want him to die alone.” I could scarcely contain myself, and after the service made it a point to catch up with her. I learned that Martin, only about fifty years old, was indeed dying, slowly but surely. And dying essentially alone, with no one to care for him, no one to care for his soul.
Over the next few weeks I visited Martin a number of times, and reminded him of what he had once said there in his cave-like apartment. Each time I came he would say something like, “I know I should; I want to”. But he never could quite tell me what stopped him from going on to receive Christ as Savior.
I would of course always ask him to talk about his family, broken as it was, but he would not speak about them. It was too difficult. And so one day, in the providence of God, his wife agreed that on a given date she would meet me at Martin’s bedside, and that their daughter and her little son would come too. I invited a deacon and another man who lived nearby. All assembled at the appointed time. The wife spoke first and told Martin that no matter what had happened, she still loved him. The daughter then came forward and, through her tears, acknowledged that she had disappointed him, but that she was more devoted to him than she had ever been willing to say. When she held that little child up for Martin to see, we all lost our composure. But when that was over, I leaned over to Martin and asked, “Martin, where are you with Jesus Christ? Where is your heart now?” Through Martin’s parched lips came one word, “Yes”. “Yes.” There, as family and church folks held hands and prayed, surrounding Martin, we baptized him, anointing eyes and ears, mouth and hands, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
David the psalmist described what we felt, “The righteous shall compass me about, for thou shalt deal bountifully with me.” A couple of days later Martin passed from life through death into eternal life, confident that someone did indeed care for his soul, assured that the Lord would deal bountifully with him.
That is where the church must be. That is what the church is about. That is why we teach and worship and give and build buildings and do church. And that is why, without apology, we invite you today to commit time and talent, treasure and truth. The disillusioned, the desperate, the sinner, and the lost, all already know what it is like when no one cares. Will you make a decision to be a vessel of God’s care? I shudder to think how God views it when no one cares.
