If: What Do You Know of Calvary Love?

gong, without love

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing.

1 Corinthians 13:1-3

From Subtle Love of Softening Things…Deliver Me

I “met” Amy Carmichael in my teens one summer afternoon in a cramped trailer home that housed a Christian library I so loved. Amy wasn’t soft. Read her poems—like Make Me Your Fuel, Flame of God— and you’ll see it.

As a missionary serving woman and children in India she didn’t cow to the elite who wanted their temple slaves back. Nor did Amy pull no her punches when it came to teaching converts to follow Christ.

Amy wasn’t soft, but she was loving. And not soft-pedal-the-truth loving, but holding-out-truth-in-love loving. I ran into her poem IF, last week, in my Bread And Wine reading for Lent. And one of my JoyPrO goals is to share with you what strengthens me.

Amy’s “If’s” do. But her if’s are not meant to be read one after another. In her introduction to the book simply titled, “If,” Amy Carmichael writes,

Perhaps only one “If” will have the needed word.

But if one does, I say, then run with the one. Feel the conviction, let Christ’s love control you.

And if you’re like me and 21 “ifs” ring true, well then, back to the cross. He came, He died, He rose for these.


If I have not compassion on my fellow)servant even as my Lord had
pity on me, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I can easily discuss the shortcomings and the sins of any; if I can speak
in a casual way even of a child’s misdoings, then I know nothing of
Calvary love.

If I find myself half-carelessly taking lapses for granted, “Oh, that’s
what they always do,” “Oh, of course she talks like that, he acts like
that,” then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I enjoy a joke at the expense of another; if I can in any way slight
another in conversation, or even in thought, then I know nothing of
Calvary love.

If, in dealing with one who does not respond, I weary of the strain, and
slip from under the burden, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I cannot bear to be like the father who did not soften the rigors of
the far country; if, in this sense, I refuse to allow the law of God (the
way of transgressors is hard) to take effect, because of the distress it
causes me to see that law in operation, then I know nothing of Calvary

If my attitude be one of fear, not faith, about one who has disappointed
me; if I say, “Just what I expected,” if a fall occurs, then I know
nothing of Calvary love.

If I cast up a confessed, repented, and forsaken sin against another, and
allow my remembrance of that sin to color my thinking and feed my
suspicions, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I have not the patience of my Saviour with souls who grow slowly; if
I know little of travail (a sharp and painful thing) till Christ be fully
formed in them, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I cannot keep silence over a disappointing soul (unless for the sake of
that soul’s good or for the good of others it be necessary to speak),
then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I can hurt another by speaking faithfully without much preparation of
spirit, and without hurting myself far more than I hurt that other, then
I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I am afraid to speak the truth, lest I lose affection, or lest the one
concerned should say, “You do not understand,” or because I fear to
lose my reputation for kindness; if I put my own good name before the
other’s highest good, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I am content to heal a hurt slightly, saying “Peace, peace,” where is
no peace; if I forget the poignant word “Let love be without
dissimulation” and blunt the edge of truth, speaking not right things
but smooth things, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I fear to hold another to the highest goal because it is so much easier
to avoid doing so, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I am soft to myself and slide comfortably into the vice of self-pity and
self-sympathy; if I do not by the grace of God practice fortitude, then I
know nothing of Calvary love.

If I myself dominate myself, if my thoughts revolve round myself; if I
am so occupied with myself I rarely have “a heart at leisure from itself,”
then I know nothing of Calvary love.

IF, the moment I am conscious of the shadow of self crossing my
threshold, I do not shut the door, and in the power of Him who works
in us to will and to do, keep that door shut, then I know nothing of
Calvary love.

If I cannot in honest happiness take the second place (or the twentieth);
if I cannot take the first without making a fuss about my unworthiness,
then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I do not give a friend “the benefit of the doubt,” but put the worst
construction instead of the best on what is said or done, then I know
nothing of Calvary love.

If I take offense easily, if I am content to continue in a cool
unfriendliness, though friendship be possible, then I know nothing of
Calvary love.

If a sudden jar can cause me to speak an impatient, unloving word,
then I know nothing of Calvary love.*
*For a cup brimful of sweet water cannot spill even one drop of bitter
water however suddenly jolted.

If I feel injured when another lays to my charge things that I know not,
forgetting that my Sinless Saviour trod this path to the end, then I
know nothing of Calvary love.

If I feel bitterly towards those who condemn me, as it seems to me,
unjustly, forgetting that if they knew me as I know myself they would
condemn me much more, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I say, “Yes, I forgive, but I cannot forget,” as though the God who
twice day washes all the sands on all the shores of all the world, could
not wash such memories from my mind, then I know nothing of
Calvary love.

If interruptions annoy me, and private cares make me impatient; if I
shadow the souls about me because I myself am shadowed, then I know
nothing of Calvary love.

If souls can suffer alongside, and I hardly know it, because the spirit of
discernment is not in me, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I become entangled in any “inordinate affection”; if things or places
or people hold me back from obedience to my Lord, then I know
nothing of Calvary love.

If something I am asked to do for another feels burdensome; if,
yielding to an inward unwillingness, I avoid doing it, then I know
nothing of Calvary love.

If the praise of man elates me and his blame depresses me; if I cannot
rest under misunderstanding without defending myself; if I love to be
loved more than to love, to be served more than to serve, then I know
nothing of Calvary love.

If I want to be known as the doer of something that has proved the
right thing, or as the one who suggested that it should be done, then I
know nothing of Calvary love.

If I do not forget about such a trifle as personal success, so that it never
crosses my mind, or if it does, is never given a moment’s room there;
if the cup of spiritual flattery tastes sweet to me, then I know nothing
of Calvary love.

If it be not simple and a natural thing to say, “Enviest thou for my sake?
Would God that all the Lord’s people were prophets,” then I know
nothing of Calvary love.

If in the fellowship of service I seek to attach a friend to myself, so that
others are feel unwanted; if my friendships do not draw
others deeper in, but are ungenerous (to myself, for myself), then I
know nothing of Calvary love.

If I slip into the place that can be filled by Christ alone, making myself
the first necessity to a soul instead of leading it to fasten upon Him,
then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If my interest in the work of others is cool; if I think in terms of my
own special work; if the burdens of others are not my burdens too, and
their joys mine, then I know nothing of Calvary love.

If I wonder why something trying is allowed, and press for prayer that
it may be removed; if I cannot be trusted with any disappointment, and
cannot go on in peace under any mystery, then I know nothing of
Calvary love.

If the ultimate, the hardest, cannot be asked of me; if my fellows
hesitate to ask it and turn to someone else, then I know nothing of
Calvary love.

If I covet any place on earth but the dust at the foot of the Cross, then I
know nothing of Calvary love.


For the love of Christ controls us, because we have concluded this: that one has died for all, therefore all have died;

And He died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves, but for Him who died for them and was raised again.…

2 Corinthians 5:14-15

Selfish Me or Timothy?

Do nothing from selfishness or vain conceit, but with humility count others more significant than yourselves. Look not only to your own interests, but also the interests of others. Philippians 2:3-4

For people will be lovers of self. 
2 Timothy 3:2a

Ughhh. My groan was guttural.

How could I have forgotten? The thoughtlessness was sickening.

I had just hung up after an hour long conversation with my sister-in-law, Lynn. And in that hour-long call not once did I think to ask about her mother. Not once.

Last week, Lynn confided that her mom was very sick. So sick, she had shared, that she and her sister had called hospice. And I didn’t even think to ask.

I wish I could tell you it was because I was to busy about her son’s arrival home for the summer or her daughter’s dance recital, but I can’t. It’s simply not true.

Oh sure, I spent a few minutes asking about my niece and nephew. But the real truth is, Lynn spent three-quarters of an hour asking me about my writing. About my blog and my hopes. Lynn preferred my interests and counted them more important than her own.

Selfish Springs 

Figs are not gathered from thornbushes…The good person out of the good treasure of his heart produces good, and the evil person out of his evil treasures produces evil, for out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks. Luke 6:44-45

Think on that for a second. As much as I hate to admit it, my lop-sided conversation with Lynn was no mere faux pas. It was overflow; a selfish heart laid bare. It was a surprise answer to that prayer, Search me, O God and know my heart. 

Selfish hearts beat strong for their own interests. They’re not so concerned for others’ interests. They think that joy is private affair. And they tend to be takers not givers.

We all have these selfish, cynical hearts. And if we’re oblivious to the the one beating in our chest, eagle-eyes spot tell-tale signs of other selfish hearts from a mile away.

We see it in how they talk and how they spend their time and treasure. One friend takes big-ticket cruises but tips at 10%. Another is 20 minutes late whenever you dine, but annoyed by two minutes in line. And one whose topics seem to trump yours: her kids and her job, her health and her-um-blog.

Enter Timothy

A decade ago, Jim and I were embroiled in a church conflict that gripped us tight. Then one night, after another grim meeting, we came home to this voice message from a senior friend:

Hello Jim and Abigail. This is Doris Goodman. I want you to know that I am praying for you two and for this conflict that’s troubling you. I trust God will resolve it in his good time and his good way. Please know He cares about you and I do too. 

Her message would have lifted any soul. Now add this: Doris was in the last days of her fight with cancer. Two weeks later she would be home in heaven. And she was interested in us.

Paul urged the Philippians to consider others’ interests, even count them more important than your own. Then Paul put a name on the love that seeks not its own. Timothy.

I have no one like him, who is genuinely concerned for your welfare. They all seek their own interests, not those of Jesus Christ.  Philippians 2:20-21

Do you know a Timothy? They sometimes go by other names.

Like Jan, whose six kids didn’t stop her from bringing soup the spring influenza laid me low. Or Diane, she-whose own womb never bore- delivered orchids one special Mother’s Day. Or Chris, who took me to the ER at 11:30 the night a cake plate crashed and gashed my hand. Or Sandy, who risked her kids’ precious nap time Friday to listen to my latest mishap.

Or Doris “Timothy” Goodman.

To Be A Timothy

Name it right.

Selfishness is such an ugly word we don’t like to say it. We couch it. We justify selfishness with I deserve and Just getting what’s mine. We excuse selfish omission with our strong sense of fair play. We shake our heads and say, Not my circus, not my monkeys. 

Jerry Bridges included selfishness in his book, Respectable Sins. While some selfishness might be obvious, it’s usually more subtly expressed. Since we do care what others think of us, Bridges notes, our selfishness will likely be more delicate and refined. 

But let’s not deceive ourselves. It’s there and way more serious than than most of us make it sound. Almost 400 years ago, Richard Baxter wrote, that self is the god of wicked men, or the world’s greatest idol; and that the inordinate love of pleasure, profits and honor is self-love. Every man is an idolater, so far as he is selfish.

So selfishness is a mother sin. It explains great sins of commission and excuses our sins of omission. It not just self-indulgence; it’s why we daily don’t take others’ interests to heart.

Author Paul Tripp explains how serious it is, and how it reduces our relationships.

Sin does something terrible to me. Sin turns me in on myself. Sin shrinks my life to the size of my life. Sin makes me obsessed with my wants, my needs, my feelings. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want. I want.

If sin turns me in on myself so that all I live for is me, then sin in its essence is antisocial. Living for myself and the satisfaction of my selfish desires dehumanizes the people in my life… People are reduced either to vehicles to help me get what I want or obstacles in the way of what I want.  

Thank God. There is a way out of our life-shrinking, selfish mess.

Look to Christ 

Selfishness must always be forgiven you know, because there is no hope of a cure.      -Jane Austen 
Apologies to the Jane fans, but she got this one wrong. Mostly. 
Because sin’s disease does have a remedy. Selfishness, like Richard Baxter wrote, may well be the hardest sin in the world to overcome. But it is not without cure. In 2 Corinthians 5:14-15, Paul explains that Christ died that those who live would no longer live for themselves, but for him who for their sake died and was raised (2 Corinthians 5:15). 
Sometimes we trip and must be forgiven. Pride and selfishness are replaced gradually. Remember James and John’s request, Grant us to sit one at your right hand and one at your left in your glory? Even walking with Jesus didn’t drive it out completely.

We know God is faithful to forgive and cleanse from us from our sin, our selfishness. So we confess and turn giver again. Then we get up and fight. 

Fight it right.

If by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body you will live (Romans 8:13). We fight selfishness the same as other sins. We take up the sword of the Spirit which is the Word of God. And we meditate on that true Word day and night. It’s how we put out selfish fires.

The fight might look like this:

Selfishness says, Don’t bother making a meal for Sally. She never brought you a meal when your baby came. You put out that flaming dart with Acts 20:35, It is more blessed to give than receive, and ask Sally if lasagne’s okay.

Selfishness says, You’ve got a right to be mad. Can’t she see that I’ve got other places to be? I’ll make sure she knows once I get to there. You put that one out with Romans 15:1, We who are strong ought to bear with the weak and not to please ourselves, and smile friendly at the clerk.

Selfishness says, Not my turn turn to host. We’ve had them over the last three times we shared dinner. You repeat Matthew 5:46, If you love those who love you what reward do you have? And intone, It is more blessed to give than receive, as you type your invite.

Selfishness says, Let them get their own glass of water. You’re not their servant. You worked hard all day and they ought to be asleep anyway. You fight back with Mark 10:45, For even the Son of Man did not come to be serve, but to serve, and fill a glass with water.

Selfishness says, She never sent you so much as a Facebook greeting so she doesn’t deserve mine. You fight and recite Luke 6:35, Do good expecting nothing in return and your reward will be great. 

And intone, It is more blessed to give than receive, as you send some birthday wishes.

Timothy’s Secret

Anyone can sympathize with the sufferings of a friend, but it takes a fine nature to sympathize with a friend’s success. -Oscar Wilde

You won’t find this secret in Ayn Rand’s The Virtue of Selfishness or Bud Harris’ Sacred Selfishness. It’s not in Healthy Selfishness or Cultivating the Fine Art of Selfishness, either. I found it in the same place where I read It is more blessed to give than receive. 

The Enemy wants us believe joy is a zero sum gain. As if my joy will shrink when I’m take interest, take joy, in another. As if joy were a pie and a slice for your friend means you’re down a piece.

That your joy may be full. That’s why we obey and love this interested in others’ way. Paul assumed it was true in 2 Corinthians 2:2: For I felt sure of all of you, that my joy would be the joy of you all. Timothy knew that the happiest ones are the ones who share others’ joy.

I think Doris and Diane and Jan and Chris and Sandy know it too.

Givers and Takers

We’re all givers and takers. God made us that way. What’s deadly is to let love flow into your life without finding an outlet in others. 
That’s a picture of the Dead Sea. The Jordan River flows in, in, in. Never out. There are no outlet streams. The water just evaporates. You might say it’s wasted. As a result, the Dead Sea is too salty and mineral rich to support much life. 
But the Jordan River also feeds the Sea of Galilee, just north of the Dead Sea. The Jordan’s water flows in and it flows out. And the Sea of Galilee supports much marine life. 
The difference? Both bodies have a life-giving water source. But the Dead Sea only takes. The Sea of Galilee is a source. And God loves a cheerful giver. He makes his grace abound to us so that our giving will overflow in others thanking God (2 Corinthians 9:7,12). Sea of Galilee. Taker and Giver. 
*  *  *  *  *  *  * 

I know how relentlessly daily this fight for a others-interested heart is. Some days I make way more room for self than I ought. Or I’m not up for the fight and selfishness sneaks in through Fair play, and My time, and Do for you. I’m like the Dead Sea.

But other days, by God’s grace, the Spirit is mighty in me and the truth transforms this self-interested talker, and staunch defender of her time. Then I live love’s secret, that shared joy is full joy.

I recite the words of the Lord Jesus, ‘Tis more blessed to give than receive. And I make a meal and send the note and listen up. And He makes me Timothy.