In college, I remember being hit by a theological truth that had escaped me my entire life.
I grew up in the church. I went to the summer youth programs. I was in RAs, but something hit me hard that day.
I distinctly remember Scott Lavender sharing something about Christ that, up to that point in my life, had been wrapped up in the pageantry of Easter.
As we were sitting in one of the bigger first-floor rooms of our fraternity house, Lavender said something that I never recovered from:
What was it that Scott shared that might have pierced a heart so deeply and comprehensively that I still to this day have not recovered from, you might wonder?
I don’t remember anything else he shared except this one thing.
What did Scott share?
I only remember him saying that Jesus Christ died as a substitute in our place.
That’s it.
And I remember distinctly stopping him and saying,
Wait, what did you just say? Did you just say that Jesus died as a substitute for us?
What does that mean?
What do you mean by substitute?
Everything from that moment on, I don’t remember.
I was astonished.
I was stopped dead in my tracks.
There I was, having grown up in the church, Sundays morning and evening, RAs, youth camps, FCA camps, and this notion of substitution floored me.
Now, can anyone relate to that something like that in their lives?
Shortly thereafter, I went to work on a ranch in Colorado.
And, the following summer, I spent at Pine Cove, and by the end of my time at A&M, I was in class but not really.
In all my classes, I just found myself drawing the cross and the crucifixion.
Over and over, I would sketch it out.
Between classes, I was consuming my Bible.
Journaling, reading, and seeking.
Something in me had clicked. I can’t describe it.
Spiritual hunger. Spiritual thirst. Nothing could satiate my desire to know God, His Word, and Jesus Christ.
I went to a Walk to Emmaus, and I remember standing up at the end of the session simply saying, I want Him. I only want Him.
I started Bible study with several friends.
What was it that grabbed me so?
It was the rugged reality of Christ’s substitutionary work that can only be described as transformation.
I was not the same.
What was that gripped me?
It was the gospel. I had come into contact with Jesus Christ in a way I had not previously.
The Bible was opened to me.
I desired to grow, so I sought out anyone who could meet to discuss the Bible.
After years of searching, nothing could satisfy me except someone or a church doggedly committed to simply setting forth God’s Word.
Finally, I ended up at Denton Bible. I had first heard Tommy in 2004 preach at a Song of Solomon conference.
We came to Denton Bible in 2008 and have never looked back.
I’m sure your story is different in detail but similar in principle.
So, what is the lesson for us today?
What can I share that might encourage you today?
Your labor in the Lord is not in vain. Let me say that again, “Your labor in the Lord is not in vain.”
- Yeah, you say, I know, Drew, I know my labor is not in vain. But oh, do you?
- Do you believe that? Do I believe that?
- I’m sure Scott Lavender had no idea that his faithfulness to set forth the glorious doctrine of substitutionary atonement to a bunch of college kids would ignite a spark in someone that has not diminished.
- Set forth the truth of God’s Word in love, and let God bring and renew His people…
“Therefore, my beloved brethren, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your toil is not in vain in the Lord” (1 Cor. 15:58).
“I planted, Apollos watered, but God [all the while] was making it grow and [He] gave the increase. So neither he who plants is anything nor he who waters, but [only] God Who makes it grow and become greater” (1 Cor. 3:6-7 AMPC).
We press on!
— August 15, 2024