Evil

Evil

“So do not be afraid of them, for there is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known. What I tell you in the dark, speak in the daylight; what is whispered in your ear, proclaim from the roofs. Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell. (Matt. 10:26-28)

The greatest golfer in the history of the sport sat down to eat his breakfast, never suspecting that it would be his last. Byron Nelson had slept well the night before, better than he had in days, in fact. He was ninety-four years old, living with his wife on their ranch near Fort Worth, Texas, where he resided peacefully until God called him home. After washing the dishes, he sat down to listen to a favorite Christian radio broadcast. His wife, Peggy, left for a Bible study at church. She returned a few hours later to find Byron on the floor. No sign of pain or struggle. His good heart had just stopped.

Then, there’s Boris Kornfeld. Russia in the early 1950’s needed no excuse to imprison its citizens. Question the Communist regime and you’d find yourself walking the frozen tundra behind the barbed wires of a concentration camp. Boris did. No known record of his crime survives, only the sketchy details of his life. Born a Jew. Trained as a physician. Befriended by a believer in Christ who helped Kornfeld connect the promised Messiah of the old covenant with the Nazarene of the new. Following Jesus went against every fiber of his ancestry, but in the end that’s what he chose to do. And it cost him his life.

He saw a guard stealing bread from a dying man. Now, prior to his conversion, Kornfeld would have ignored the crime. This time, his conscience compelled him to tell someone about it. And it was only a matter of time before the other guards would get even. But Kornfeld, even though in danger, was at complete peace. His only desire was to tell someone about his discovery before he lost his life. And that opportunity came in the form of a cancer patient – a fellow prisoner who was recovering from abdominal surgery. Left alone with him in the recovery room, Kornfeld urgently whispered his story. He poured out every detail. The young man was stirred but so groggy from the anesthesia that he fell asleep. When he awoke, he asked to see the physician. But it was too late. During the night someone had dealt the doctor eight blows to the head with a plasterer's hammer.

Byron Nelson and Boris Kornfeld embraced the same convictions. They anchored their hope to the same rock. They set their sights on the same heaven. They trusted in the same Savior. Yet one passed into heaven on a pathway of peace, the other through a maelstrom of brutality. Frankly, if given the choice, I'd like to go out like Mr. Nelson.

Contrary to what we'd like to hope, good people aren't exempt from violence. Murderers don't give the godly a pass. Rapists don't vet their victims based upon their spiritual resumes. The bloodthirsty and wicked don't skip over the heaven-bound. We aren't insulated. But neither are we intimidated. Jesus has a word or two to say about this brutal world: "Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul." Matt. 10:28)

The disciples needed that affirmation, too, because Jesus had just told them to expect scourging, trials, death, hatred and persecution. (Matt. 10: 17-23) Not the kind of locker room pep talk that rallies the team, I’m afraid. To their credit, however, none defected. Maybe that’s because of the fresh memory of Jesus' flexed muscles in a Gadarene graveyard. Because just two chapters earlier, Jesus had taken his disciples to "the other side into the country of the Gadarenes, [where] two men who were demon-possessed met Him as they were coming out of the tombs. They were so extremely violent that no one could pass by that way. And they cried out, saying, 'What business do we have with each other, Son of God? Have You come here to torment us before the time?'" (Matt. 8:28-29)

The most dramatic and immediate reactions to the presence of God on earth emerged from demons like these. These two men were demon possessed and, consequently, "extremely violent." People walked wide detours around the cemetery to avoid them. But not Jesus. He marched in like he owned the place. The stunned demons never expected to see Jesus in the devil's playground on the foreign side of Galilee – the region of pagans and pigs. Jews avoided such haunts. Jesus didn't.

And the contest between good and evil lasted a matter of seconds. Christ is fire, and demons are rats on the ship. They scurried overboard at first heat. "Please send us into those pigs!" (v. 31) Jesus did. "Go," he exorcised. No shout, scream, incantation, dance, incense, or demand. Just one small word. Because the one who sustains the worlds with a word directs demonic traffic the same way. And that’s the account on which Jesus writes the check of courage: "Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul." (Matt. 10:28) Courage emerges, not from increased police security, but from enhanced spiritual maturity. Martin Luther King exemplified that. He chose not to fear those who meant him harm.

On April 3, 1968, he spent hours in a plane, waiting on the tarmac, due to bomb threats. When he arrived in Memphis later that day, he was tired and hungry but not afraid. "We've got some difficult days ahead," he told the crowd. "But it doesn't matter with me now. Because I've been to the mountaintop. And I don't mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight that we, as a people, will get to the promised land. And I'm happy tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.” He would be dead in less than twenty-four hours. But the people who meant him harm fell short of their goal. Although they took his breath, they couldn’t take his soul.

Evildoers have less chance of hurting you if you aren't already a victim. "Fearing people is a dangerous trap, but trusting the Lord means safety." (Prov. 29:25) And don’t forget, "his angels . . . guard you." (Ps. 91:11) He is your "refuge." (Ps. 62:8) He is your "hiding place." (Ps. 32:7) And he’s your "fortress." (2 Sam. 22:2-3) David said, "The Lord is on my side; I will not fear. What can man do to me?" (Ps. 118:6) Satan cannot reach you without passing through God. And that sounds all well and good, but if that’s true then what are we to make of the occasions when Satan does reach us? Or, how are we supposed to understand the tragic end of good people like Boris Kornfeld? Better yet, how are we to understand the suffering of Jesus? Ropes. Whips. Thorns. Nails. These trademarked his final moments.

Do you hear the whip slapping against his back, ripping sinew from bone? Thirty-nine times the leather slices, first the air, then the skin. Jesus clutches the post and groans, battered by wave after wave of violence. Soldiers force a thorny wreath over his brow, sting his face with their fists, and then coat it with their spit. They load a beam on his shoulders and force him to march up a hill. This is the condemned sharpening his own guillotine, or tying his own noose, or wiring his own electric chair. Jesus shouldered his own tool of execution. The cross.

In polite Roman society the word “cross” was an obscenity, not to be uttered in conversation. Roman soldiers were exempt from crucifixion except in matters of high treason. It was ugly and vile, harsh and degrading. And it was the manner by which Jesus chose to die. "He humbled himself and became obedient to death – even death on a cross!" (Phil. 2:8)

A calmer death would have sufficed, don’t you think? A single drop of blood could have redeemed humankind. Shed his blood, silence his breath, still his pulse, but be quick about it. Plunge a sword into his heart, or take a dagger to his neck. But did the atonement for sin really require six hours of violence? No, but his triumph over sadism did. Jesus once and for all displayed his authority over savagery. Evil may have its moments, but they will be brief. Satan unleashed his meanest demons on God's Son. He tortured every nerve ending and inflicted every kind of misery. Yet the master of death could not destroy the Lord of life. Heaven's best took hell's worst and turned it into hope. And I pray God spares you such evil. May he grant you the long life and peaceful passage of a Byron Nelson. But if he doesn't, if you "have been given not only the privilege of trusting in Christ but also the privilege of suffering for him," (Phil. 1:29) remember, God wastes no pain. Consider, again, Boris Kornfeld.

Though the doctor died, his testimony survived because the man with whom he spoke never forgot the conversation. There, in the quiet camp hospital recovery room, the doctor sat by his patient's bedside, dispensing compassion and peace. Dr. Kornfeld passionately related the story of his conversion to Christianity, his words flavored with conviction. The patient may have been hot and feverish, but alert enough to ponder Dr. Kornfeld's words. He’d later write that he sensed a "mystical knowledge" in the doctor's voice. And that "mystical knowledge" transformed the young patient. He embraced Kornfeld's Christ and later celebrated in verse with this joyous affirmation: God of the Universe! I believe again!

One of the fortunate few, the patient survived the camps and began to write about his prison experiences, disclosing the horrors of the gulag in one exposé after another: One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, The Gulag Archipelago, and Live Not by Lies, just to name a few. Some attribute the collapse of Eastern Communism, in part, to his writings. But were it not for the suffering of Boris Kornfeld, we'd have never known the brilliance of his young convert: Alexander Solzhenitsyn.

What man meant for evil, God, once again, used for good. And if you’ll let him, he’ll use you, too.

Grace,

Randy