This is the passage that so struck the fictional minister,
Henry Maxwell, in that wonderful old Christian classic, In His
Steps(1). Are you familiar with it? We have it in our library.
It is a wonderful story.
Henry Maxwell, the pastor of the First Church of Raymond,
Kansas, was working at home on a Friday morning, trying to put
the finishing touches on his message for Sunday. He had been
interrupted several times and was growing nervous as the clock
ticked away. Finally, he had to ask his wife to "run some
interference" for him, and let anyone else who called know that
he was exceptionally busy and could not be disturbed. But she
said she was going over to the church kindergarten and he would
have the house to himself. So he kissed her goodbye, went back
to his study and closed the door.
He began once again to concentrate on his sermon. It was
based on that text in I Peter: "For to this you have been called,
because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so
that you should follow in his steps." He was about to flesh out
his outline when the door bell rang. Henry looked out the window
to see who was there. It was a young man, very shabbily dressed.
Maxwell went to the door. The one who looked like a tramp
spoke first: "I'm out of a job, Sir. I thought you might put me
in the way of getting something."
"I'm sorry," said the minister, "I really don't know of
anything. Jobs are scarce right now."
But the young man persisted. "I thought you might be able
to give me a line to the city railway or the superintendent of
shops, or something," as he shifted his hat nervously from hand
to hand.
But Maxwell replied, "It would be of no use. You'll have to
excuse me. I'm very busy this morning. I do hope you find
something. I would offer something around here, but I'm afraid I
do all the chores myself, and there really isn't that much. I do
wish you the best though."
Slowly the man turned to go and Pastor Maxwell shut the
door. As he went back up to his study, he looked out the window
at the man going slowly down the street - his hat was still in
his hands, looking so dejected, so forlorn, so hopeless. He
really felt for him, but there was nothing he could do. Finally,
Henry sat back down at his desk and resumed his work. There were
no more interruptions, and when his wife returned two hours
later, the sermon was finished.
Two days passed...Sunday morning...a bright, clear day in
the town of Raymond, one of those perfect days that come after
long periods of wind and rain and mud. It was the kind of day
that seemed to draw you to church, and on THIS day, it DID - when
Henry Maxwell came into the pulpit, he was greeted by the sight
of a packed house. The music was magnificent. The choir and
organist were at their best. It was truly inspiring.
Finally, it came time for the sermon. No one had ever
accused Henry Maxwell of being a dull preacher. On the contrary,
they had often charged him with being sensational...not in what
he said, but in the way he said it. But the people of First
Church liked that - they enjoyed the distinction of having a
spectacular preacher.
Henry was terrific today. The sermon was interesting...full
of striking sentences that were spoken with a passion for
dramatic utterance that had the good taste never to offend with
the suspicion of ranting and raving. It was an effective
message.
The sermon had come to an end. Pastor Maxwell closed the
large pulpit Bible on his manuscript. There was a rustling among
the congregation as they prepared for the closing hymn, when
suddenly, they were startled by the sound of a man's voice. It
came from the rear of the sanctuary, from one of the seats under
the balcony. In the next moment, the figure of a man came out of
the shadow there and walked down the aisle. Before the startled
congregation realized what was happening, the man reached the
open space in front of the pulpit and turned to face the people.
"I have been wondering since I came in here, (those were the
words which had come from under the balcony, and now he repeated
them)...I've been wondering if I should say something at the
close of the service. I'm not drunk and I'm not crazy and I'm
perfectly harmless. But if I die, as there is every likelihood
that I shall in the next couple of days, I want the satisfaction
of thinking that I said my say in a place like this, and before
this sort of crowd."
Henry Maxwell had not taken his seat, so he remained
standing there by the pulpit looking down at the man. It was the
same one who had come to his house, wearing the same clothes he
had on now. He had that hat in his hands again, just as he had
had it two days before. He had not shaved; his hair was not
combed. It was doubtful that anyone like this had ever
confronted the people of First Church in their sanctuary before.
Of course, they had seen men like him on the street and down by
the railroad yards, but they would never have dreamed of being
addressed by one in their own house of worship.
There was nothing offensive in the man's manner or tone. He
was not excited, and he spoke in a low distinct voice. He was
almost reminiscent of someone walking and talking in his sleep.
The whole congregation watched him intently, no one making any
move to stop him.
"I'm not an ordinary tramp," he said, "though I don't know
of any teaching of Jesus that makes one kind of tramp less worth
saving than another, do you?" He put the question as naturally
as if the whole group had simply been a small Bible class. He
paused a moment...[yielding to a painful cough]...
"I'm a printer by trade, but I lost my job ten months ago.
The new mechanical advances in the printing business are
beautiful specimens of invention, but I know of at least six men
who have killed themselves on account of those machines. I don't
blame newspapers for getting them, but what can a man do? I only
learned one trade and that's all I can do. I've tramped all over
the country trying to find something. I'm not complaining; I'm
just stating facts. There are hundreds of others just like me.
But I was wondering as I sat there under the balcony, if what you
call FOLLOWING JESUS is the same thing as what he taught. What
did he mean when he said, 'Follow me?' The minister said that
it's necessary for the disciple of Jesus to follow IN HIS STEPS,
and he said the steps are obedience, faith, love and imitation.
But I did not hear him tell you just what he meant that to
MEAN...especially the last step...IMITATION. What do you
Christians mean by following the steps of Jesus?
"I've gone all through this city for the past three days
trying to find work...and in all that time, I have had not a word
of sympathy or comfort except from your minister here. I suppose
it's because you get so imposed upon by the professional tramp
that you have lost interest in any other sort. I am not blaming
anybody, just stating facts. I know you all can't just stop what
you're doing and start hunting jobs for folks like me. I'm not
asking you to. But what I feel puzzled about is what is meant by
FOLLOWING JESUS. What do you mean when you sing, "I'll go with
him, with him, all the way?" Do you mean that you are suffering
and denying yourselves and trying to save a lost, suffering
humanity just as I understand Jesus did? What do you mean by it?
"I see the ragged edge of things a good deal. I understand
there are 500 men in this city who are just like me. Most of
them have families. My own wife died four months ago. I'm glad
she is out of trouble. My little girl is staying with a
printer's family until I find a job. Somehow, I get puzzled when
I see so many Christians living in luxury and singing, 'Jesus, I
my cross have taken, all to leave and follow Thee,' and remember
how my wife died in a tenement in New York City, gasping for air,
and asking God to take the little girl too. Of course, I don't
expect you people can prevent everyone from dying of starvation
and tenement air, but what does FOLLOWING JESUS mean?
"It seems to me that there's an awful lot of trouble in the
world that somehow would not exist if people who sing such songs
went and lived them out. I suppose I don't understand. But what
would Jesus do? Is that what you mean by following in his steps?
It seems to me sometimes that the people in the churches have
good clothes and nice houses and get to go away on vacations
while the people outside, the ones walking the streets for jobs,
never have any really nice things and end up dying in tenements."
Suddenly, the man lurched forward in the direction of the
front pews and stretched out a hand toward them. His hat that he
was holding fell on the carpet at his feet. A stir went through
the congregation, but no one spoke. In a moment, the man fell
heavily forward, unconscious.
Henry Maxwell was the first to speak. As he hurried down
the steps to where the man lay, he said, "We will consider the
service closed." A doctor in the congregation moved quickly
through the people, hastily examined the stranger, and said, to
everyone's relief, that he was alive - he had only fainted. So
it was decided that they should carry him to the couch in the
Pastor's study.
Mr. Maxwell and a group of his church members stayed with
the young man for quite some time. There were several offers to
take him to various homes, but the minister insisted that he be
brought to the manse. He remained unconscious throughout.
The event caused quite a sensation in the parish during the
week. There was the impression that the man had wandered into
the church in a somewhat delirious state because of his fever and
general condition, but they noted that there was no trace of
anything bitter or angry in what he had said. He had been almost
apologetic in tone, almost as if HE were the one seeking light on
a difficult subject.
By the time the following weekend came around, there had
been a change for the worse in the man's condition. Pastor
Maxwell, on the basis of some letters found in the man's pockets,
had sent off for his young daughter. Sunday morning, just before
1:00 AM, the man rallied enough to ask for his little girl, and
the minister was able to tell him that she was on her way. "I
shall never see her in this world," the man whispered, and then,
with great difficulty, he turned his face to his host and said,
"You have been good to me. Somehow I feel as if it was what
Jesus would do." After a moment, he closed his eyes, and almost
before anyone realized it, the doctor said, "He's gone."
As it came time for church that morning, the sanctuary was
jammed. Henry Maxwell came into the pulpit bearing the strains
of the previous week - he looked haggard from sitting up with the
man each night. It had been many years since he had gone into
church on a Sunday without any notes or manuscript. It could not
be said that his sermon this morning was striking or impressive.
He talked with considerable hesitation. It was evident that some
idea was seeking expression in his mind. Finally, near the end
of the sermon, he stepped off to the side of the pulpit desk and
began to talk to them of the events of the week.
"Our brother passed away this morning. I have not had time
to learn all I would have liked about him. His daughter is with
us now and will remain for a time. The appearance and words of
this stranger in the church last Sunday made a very powerful
impression on me. I am not able to conceal from you or myself
that what he said, followed as it has been by his death in my
house, has compelled me to ask as I have never before asked,
`What does FOLLOWING JESUS mean?' I am not in a position yet to
utter any word of condemnation to you people or, to a certain
extent, to myself either in our Christ-like relations to this man
or the numbers like him in the world. But all that does not
prevent me from feeling that much that the man said was so
vitally true that we must face it in an attempt to answer it or
else stand condemned as Christian disciples. As such, I do not
know any more appropriate time than right now to propose a plan
which has been forming in my mind as a satisfactory reply to what
was said here last Sunday.
"What I am going to say now is something which ought not to
appear unusual or at all impossible, yet I am aware that it will
probably be so regarded by many members of this church. I will
state it plainly. I want volunteers who will pledge themselves,
earnestly and honestly, for an entire year, not to do anything
without first asking the question, `What would Jesus do?' And
after asking that question, each one will follow Jesus as exactly
as he or she knows how, no matter what the result might be. I
will, of course, include myself and shall take for granted that
this church will not be surprised at my future conduct, as based
on this standard of action, and will not oppose whatever is done
if they think Christ would do it. At the close of the service, I
want all those who are willing to join such a company to remain
and we will talk over the plan. Our motto will be, 'What would
Jesus do?' Our aim will be to act just as he would if he were in
our places, regardless of immediate results. In other words, we
propose to follow in Jesus' steps as closely as we believe he
taught his disciples to do...and we will begin today."
The minister's words made a powerful impact, and many stayed
to join the venture. The First Church of Raymond, indeed, ALL of
Raymond, was never the same again, all because a few people began
to take seriously this whole idea of FOLLOWING JESUS. I haven't
time to give you all the details this morning. I can simply
highly recommend that you go and read the book.
What do you think of such a standard for Christian
discipleship...before acting, asking "What would Jesus do?" In
recent years, some Christian friends have discovered that
century-old mantra and adopted it as their own - "WWJD." Henry Maxwell
did not call his people to be perfect imitators of a sinless
Savior - that would be clearly impossible. No, he was simply
suggesting that we try to live according to a standard, a
standard set by the one whom we SAY is Lord of our lives.
Here is one that strikes me as even better - WWJHMD. What would Jesus Have ME do?
Eighty-one times in the Gospels Jesus says, FOLLOW ME, and
if we take his call to discipleship seriously, we will note that
his road is anything but easy. It can cost us sleepless nights
as we wrestle to rid ourselves of old assumptions and old habits;
it can cost us friends as we find ourselves called to do things
in the name of Jesus that they would rather we did NOT do; it can
even cost us our lives when society can no longer tolerate
faithfulness to anything but itself. Dietrich Bonhoeffer,
himself martyred by the Nazis, in his most remembered sentence
says, "When Christ calls [us], he bids [us] come and die."(2)
But then we remember what Jesus said: "Those who want to
SAVE their life will lose it; those who lose their life for my
sake will find it."(3) That is what comes from following Jesus.
Are you ready? Are you ready?
Amen!
1. Charles M. Sheldon, (New York: Grosset & Dunlap, 1935)
2. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship, (New York : Macmillan Publishing, 1963), p. 7
3. Matthew 16:25
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