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Understanding The Anointing
The Anointing To Live
Steps To The Anointing
Following The Faith Of Abraham
The Assignment Vol 2: The Anointing And The Adversity
Healing The Orphan Spirit
Uprooting The Spirit Of Fear
Slaying The Giants In Your Life
Right Thinking In A World Gone Wrong
The Character Of Godâs Workman
About the Book
"Surviving The Anointing" by David Ravenhill explores the challenges and responsibilities that come with being anointed by God for ministry. The book offers practical advice and spiritual insights on how to navigate the pitfalls and pressures that often accompany the anointing, helping readers to remain faithful and effective in their calling.
William Still
I recently read Dying to Live (Christian Focus, 1991), the autobiography of Scottish pastor William Still. I became interested in Still after reading his book The Work of the Pastor earlier this year.
The first half of Dying to Live tells about Stillâs early years into young adulthood and his beginning in pastoral ministry. Still had an unsettled childhood. His parents were separated in his early years, and his father was an alcoholic. He was a sickly child who took refuge in music and became an accomplished pianist. He was part of the Salvation Army as a young man but then entered ministry in the Church of Scotland and served at the Gilcomston Church in his hometown of Aberdeen from 1945-1997.
The second half of the book deals with various aspects of Stillâs pastoral ministry. Still was an evangelical. In his early ministry he worked with Billy Graham, Alan Redpath, and others in evangelistic events. With time, however, he moved away from what he came to call âevangelisticismâ to develop a solid expositional ministry.
Still faced his fair share of hardships during the course of his ministry. When he moved away from pragmatic evangelistic methods, for example, more than two hundred people stopped attending his church almost overnight. In the preface, he references Martin Lutherâs observation that there are three things which make a minister: study, prayer, and afflictions. He observes, âHe who is not prepared to make enemies for Christâs sake by the faithful preaching of the Word will never make lasting friends for Christ, eitherâ (p. 93).
He describes one particularly difficult controversy early in his ministry when he confronted a group of disgruntled elders. At the end of one Sunday service, he read a statement confronting these men, which ended, âThere you sit, with your heads down, guilty men. What would you say if I named you before the whole congregation? You stand condemned before God for your contempt of the Word and of his folk.â He adds, âThe moment I had finished, I walked out of the pulpit. There was no last hymnâno benediction. I went right home. It was the hardest and most shocking thing I ever had to do in Gilcomstonâ (p. 124). That same week seven of his elders resigned and Still was called twice before his Presbytery to answer for the controversy. Yet, he endured.
Still maintains that in light of the unpleasantness one will face in the ministry that the minister of the Word must possess one quality in particular: ââŚI would say that this quality is courage: guts, sheer lion-hearted bravery, clarity of mind and purpose, grit. Weaklings are no use here. They have a place in the economy of God if they are not deliberate weaklings and stunted adults as Paul writes of both to the Romans and to the Corinthians. But weaklings are no use to go out and speak prophetically to men from God and declare with all compassion, as well as with faithfulness, the truth: the divine Word that cuts across all menâs worldly plans for their livesâ (p. 140).
Still was a pioneer in several areas. First, he developed a pattern of preaching and teaching systematically through books of the Bible at a time when this was rarely done. He began a ministry of âconsecutive Bible teachingâ starting with the book of Galatians in 1947, calling this transition from âevangelisticism to systematic exposition ⌠probably the most significant decision in my lifeâ (p. 191).
He was also a pioneer in simplifying and integrating the ministry of the church. After noting how youth in the church were drifting away, even after extensive involvement in the churchâs childrenâs ministry, Still writes, âI conceived the idea of ceasing all Sunday School after beginners and Primary age (seven years) and invited parents to have their children sit with them in the family pew from the age of eightâ (p. 171). He laments âthe disastrous dispersion of congregations by the common practice of segregating the church family into every conceivable category of division of ages, sexes, etc.â (p. 173).
Dying to Live is a helpful and encouraging work about the life and work of the minister and is to be commended to all engaged in the call of gospel ministry. As the title indicates, Stillâs essential thesis is that in order to be effective in ministry the minister must suffer a series of deaths to himself (cf. John 12:24). On this he writes:
The deaths one dies before ministry can be of long durationâit can be hours and days before we minister, before the resurrection experience of anointed preaching. And then there is another death afterwards, sometimes worse than the death before. From the moment that you stand there dead in Christ and dead to everything you are and have and ever shall be and have, every breath you breathe thereafter, every thought you think, every word you say and deed you do, must be done over the top of your own corpse or reaching over it in your preaching to others. Then it can only be Jesus that comes over and no one else. And I believe that every preacher must bear the mark of that death. Your life must be signed by the Cross, not just Christâs cross (and there is really no other) but your cross in his Cross, your particular and unique cross that no one ever diedâthe cross that no one ever could die but you and you alone: your death in Christâs death (p. 136).
Will You Praise Him While You Wait
I have trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation. (Psalm 13:5) If faith is the beating heart of a Christianâs spiritual anatomy, then praise is the healthy pulse. When faith looks back upon Godâs wondrous deeds of redemption, we cannot help but praise. We praise him for parting the Red Sea with a word. We praise him for felling giants with a shepherdâs sling. We praise him for sending his Son to suffer and die. We praise him for raising Christ from the grave. âIf faith is the beating heart of a Christianâs spiritual anatomy, then praise is the healthy pulse.â Yet faith goes further still. Not content to praise God only on the far side of deliverance, faith teaches us to praise him before deliverance even comes: not only after heâs parted the Red Sea, but while the Egyptian army still presses in; not only after Goliath lies slain, but as he still taunts the hosts of Israel; not only after the stone rolls away from the tomb, but during the Sabbath silence of Holy Saturday. As David shows us in Psalm 13, such praise does not arise effortlessly. Often, it comes on the other side of agonizing prayer. How Long, O Lord? Without introduction or preamble, Psalm 13 opens in anguish: âHow long, O Lord?â The question is a familiar one for most, even if our straits have not been quite so dire as Davidâs. Pressure builds. Prayer apparently goes unheard. All the while, Godâs promises rest unfulfilled. No matter where David looks, comfort eludes him. Above, a wall of clouds hides Godâs face (Psalm 13:1). Within, cares and sorrows swirl (Psalm 13:2). Around, enemies threaten the tottering king (Psalm 13:2). Four times in two verses, David repeats his question: âHow long? . . . How long? . . . How long? . . . How long?â Yet even here, faith has not forsaken him. For all the misery wrapped up in Davidâs question, he knows that Godâs intervention is a matter not of if, but of when â not of âWill you?â but of âHow long?â His is no cry of despair thrown up into a godless sky, but rather the song of distressed trust. âConsider and Answer Meâ With each breath in the psalm, faith grows firmer. By verse 3, God is not only âO Lord,â but âO Lord my God.â At the same time, lament gives way to petition: âConsider and answer me . . . light up my eyesâ (Psalm 13:3). Genuine faith may often speak the language of lament and complaint, but eventually it takes up the language of specific request. David follows his prayers to be seen, answered, and revived with three reasons: âLest I sleep the sleep of death, lest my enemy say, âI have prevailed over him,â lest my foes rejoice because I am shakenâ (Psalm 13:3â4). These reasons may seem, at first, simply like the logic of desperation: âAnswer me or I will die!â But more is going on here than that. âWhen we merely give vent to the chaos within us, our prayers often leave us right where we started.â David, desperate as he may be, is appealing to God on the basis of his own promises. Early in Davidâs public life, God pledged that the shepherd boy would sit on the throne of Israel. Then he sealed that pledge with covenant promises: âI will make for you a great name. . . . I will give you rest from all your enemies. . . . When your days are fulfilled and you lie down with your fathers, I will raise up your offspring after youâ (2 Samuel 7:9, 11â12). In Psalm 13, those promises seem to be in jeopardy. So David sends them back to God, wrapped in prayer. When we merely give vent to the chaos within us, our prayers often leave us right where we started. But when we pray in the slipstream of Godâs promises, we often find, with David, faith slowly rising. âI Will Sing to the Lordâ Many Christians are familiar with the famous âBut Godâ statements of the New Testament (Ephesians 2:4, for example). Yet we can look not only at our sin and say, âBut Godâ; we can look also at our despair and say, âBut Iâ: But I have trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, because he has dealt bountifully with me. (Psalm 13:5â6) No circumstance has changed; no prayer has been answered; no deliverance has arrived. Yet in a moment, enemies grow small, sorrow and care loosen their grip, and lament gives way to praise. Why? Because Davidâs prayerful meditation on Godâs promises has reminded him of something more powerful than his enemies, more certain than his sorrow: âyour steadfast love.â Another psalm of David shows us why steadfast love had such an effect on the fainting king. From the perspective of time, the steadfast love of the Lord is âfrom everlasting to everlastingâ; from the perspective of space, it is âas high as the heavens are above the earthâ; from the perspective of Godâs character, it flows from him with abundance (Psalm 103:8, 11, 17). Such steadfast love is the pledge of all Godâs promises. No wonder David sings. Today, we have even greater assurances of Godâs steadfast love: a bloody cross, an empty tomb, and a Savior who sits on the throne. And if this steadfast love is ours, then we too can sing with abandon, far before deliverance comes. For if Christ has come, and if we are in him by faith alone, then God will not fail to deal bountifully with us. Article by Scott Hubbard