Undefiled (Redemption From Sexual Sin, Restoration For Broken Relationships) Order Printed Copy
- Author: Harry W Schaumburg
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About the Book
"Undefiled" by Harry W. Schaumburg explores the topic of sexual sin and its impact on relationships. The book offers practical advice and biblical insights on how to find redemption from sexual sin and restore broken relationships. Schaumburg provides a thoughtful and compassionate approach to helping individuals heal from the consequences of their past actions and find healing and wholeness in their relationships.
A. A. Allen
Born in Sulphur Rock, Arkansas, in 1911, he grew up with an alcoholic father and an unfaithful mother who lived with a series of men. âBy the time I was twenty-one,â recalled Allen, âI was a nervous wreck. I couldnât get a cigarette to my lip with one hand. . . . I was a confirmed drunkard.â (Lexie Allen, Godâs Man of Faith and Power, p57, 1954). Two years later he served a jail sentence for stealing corn in the midst of the depression and thought of himself as âan ex-jailbird drifting aimlessly through life.â It was at this point that Allen was converted in a âtongues speakingâ Methodist church in 1934 He met his wife, Lexie in Colorado and she became a powerful influence in shaping him for his future ministry.
Licensed by the Assemblies of God as a minister in 1936 began an effective evangelistic ministry at a small church in Colorado. After a two year pastorate he spent four-and-a-half years during World War II, as a full-time revivalist. He was the worship leader, musician and preacher but low finances and mediocre results took their toll on this father of four children. He left the itinerant ministry in 1947 when he was offered the security of a pastorate in a stable Assemblies of God church in Corpus Christi, Texas.
Soon after moving to Texas he heard news of the revival and read a copy of âThe Voice of Healingâ magazine which he found incredulous and labelled the revivalists âfanatics.â However, in 1949, he attended an Oral Roberts campaign in Dallas where he was enthralled by Robertsâ power over the audience and left convinced that the revival was from God
Back in Texas, when his church board refused to sponsor a radio program, he resigned and began conducting revivals again with the hope that he too might develop a major healing ministry. In, He sent his first report to The Voice of Healing in May 1950, from Oakland, California, âMany say this is the greatest Revival in the history of Oaklandâ in what was to become typical AAA style.
He said, âAlthough I do not claim to possess the gift of healing, hundreds are being miraculously healed in this meeting of every known disease. I do not claim to possess a single gift of the Spirit nor to have the power to impart any gift to others, yet in this meeting, as well as in other recent meetings, all the gifts of the Spirit are being received and exercised night after night. (The Voice of Healing May 1950)
Observing the burgeoning ministry of others he noticed that the evangelists who were drawing the largest crowds were doing so under canvas. In the summer of 1951 joined the ranks of the tent ministries giving a down payment and commitment to pay off the remaining amount as the ministry grew â and it did. He established his headquarters in Dallas and in 1953 launched the Allen Revival Hour on radio. He conducted overseas campaigns in Cuba and Mexico regularly, and by1955 was broadcasting on seventeen Latin American radio stations as well as eighteen American ones.
Allenâs sanguine personality expressed itself in his enthusiastic reports, unparalleled showmanship and startling miraculous claims. He was a persuasive preacher, with a compelling presence and unusual empathy and rapport with the common people. He preached an old-time Pentecostal message with consummate skill. His message of holiness resonated in the hearts of those reared in austere Pentecostalism.
His stage presence and theatrical approach endeared him to the economically deprived working class and also to black communities. Ever the showman he made religion enjoyable and church-going fun.
But, above all, it was the power of God which attracted the huge audiences over the years. Thousands were converted in the midst of dramatic public healings and deliverances from evil spirits. Nothing was âdone in a cornerâ but all was employed to support the message that Jesus was alive and interested in the needs of ordinary people.
A. A. Allen considered himself the most persecuted preacher in the world. The Assemblies of God were not happy with his apparently questionable, or at least exaggerated, claims. His readiness to publicly counter-attack his accusers brought a continual stream of criticism and alienation from mainline Pentecostals.
But the accusation that he drank abusively was the straw that broke the camelâs back. In the fall 1955, he was arrested for drunken driving while conducting a revival in Knoxville, Tennessee. The local press took the opportunity to attack and expose Allen and the beleaguered minister forfeited his bail rather than stand trial on the charge.
Whatever the truth was Allen called the incident an âunprecedented persecutionâ aimed at ruining his ministry. As always he employed even the worst accusations to reinforce his claims that his commitment to Godâs work in Godâs way was truly from heaven, despite the fact that the Devil continually tried to destroy his ministry. His Miracle Magazine published his defense:
Allen declares that all this is but a trick of the devil to try to kill his ministry and his influence among his friends at a time when God has granted him greater miracles in his ministry than ever before. . . . If ministers pay the price of real MIRACLES today, they will meet with greater persecution than ever before. The only way to escape such persecution is to fold up and quit! But we are going on! Will you go on with us? (Miracle Magazine October, 1955)
Gordon Lindsay felt that the Voice of Healing had to take âa strong stand on ethics.â Allen resigned from the group, pre-empting their imminent dismissal. He immediately began publishing his own magazine, and, although he affected a cordial relationship with his former colleagues in the Voice of Healing, feelings remained strained.
In some ways independence suited Allen. His daughter recalled:
The Knoxville event also led to Allenâs separation from the Assemblies of God. It was suggested that he âwithdraw from the public ministry until the matter at Knoxville be settled.â Allenâs response was to surrender his credentials as âa withdrawal from public ministry at this time would ruin my ministry, for it would have the appearance of an admission of guilt.â
By the mid-1950âs many of the more moderate ministers tried to continue to work with the Pentecostal denominations â or at least to remain friendly â but Allen repeatedly attacked organized religion and urged Pentecostal ministers to establish independent churches which would be free to support the revival. He charged that the Sunday school had replaced the altar in the Pentecostal churches and that few church members were filled with the Holy Ghost:
âRevivals are almost a thing of the past. Many pastors, and even evangelists, declare they will never try another one. They say it doesnât work. They are holding âSunday School Conventions,â âTeacher Training Courses,â and social gatherings. With few exceptions the churches today are leaning more and more toward dependence upon organizational strength, and natural ability, and denominational âmethods.â They no longer expect to get their increase through the old fashioned revival altar bench, or through the miracle working power of God, but rather through the Sunday School.â
In fall 1956, Allen announced the formation of the Miracle Revival Fellowship, an alternative fellowship intended to license independent ministers and to support missions. Theologically, the fellowship welcomed all who accepted âthe concept that Christ is the only essential doctrine.â Allen urged laymen as well as ministers to join his fellowship, through his âEvery Member an Exhorter plan.â Although Allen announced that âMRF is not interested in dividing churches,â he also disclosed that âthe purpose of this corporation shall be to encourage the establishing and the maintenance of independent local, sovereign, indigenous, autonomous churches.â The fellowship listed more than 500 ministers in its âfirst ordination
Interestingly, as other ministries were struggling and the revival was waning, Allenâs charisma and ministry skills coupled with well-staged revivals and an amazingly gifted team, enabled him to re-establish his ministry and rebuild a substantial and effective work.
Miracle Magazine was resounding success. At the end of a yearâs publication in 1956, it had a paid subscription of about 200,000,and, according to Mrs. Allen, was âthe fastest growing subscription magazine in the world today.â In 1957, Allen began conducting the International Miracle Revival Training Camp, an embryonic ministerial training centre. In 1958, he was given land in Arizona where he began building a permanent headquarters and training centre. At the height of the 1958 crisis in the revival, Allen announced a five-pronged program for his ministry: tent revivals, the Allen Revival Hour radio broadcast, an overseas mission program, the Miracle Valley Training Centre, and a âgreat number of dynamic books and faith inspiring tractsâ published by the ministry. In 1958, Allen purchased Jack Coeâs old tent and proudly announced that he was moving into the âlargest tent in the world.â His old-time revivalism, up-beat gospel music and anointed entertainers continued to attract the masses.
Allan died at the Jack Tar Hotel in San Francisco, California on June 11, 1970 at the age of 59. Some claim that Allen died an alcoholic because the coronerâs report concluded Allen died from liver failure brought on by acute alcoholism. Others know that he had battled with excruciating pain from severe arthritis in his knees, for over a year. It is true that Allen had undergone surgery on one of his knees and in June of 1970, was considering surgery on the other knee. They believe that the Coronerâs Report of âfatty infiltration of the liverâ was a result of the few times he used alcohol in his last days to alleviate the excruciating pain of his arthritis.
Whatever is true of his death the life of A. A. Allen was one of extraordinary commitment to Jesus Christ which brought victory over the enemy of mankind. A. A. Allen was a true survivor. Even though the revival was declining in the late 1950âs and 1960âs his commitment to old-time faith-healing campaigns ensured the continuing testimony of signs and wonders to the next generation. He may have had his personal âquirks and foiblesâ but the testimony of thousands of the blessing they received, the enduring love for God that resulted and the demonstration of the power of the Gospel are good reasons to give God thanks for such an amazing life!
Am I Really a Christian
Am I really a Christian? Perhaps for you, that question looms like a shadow in the back of the soul, threatening your dearest hopes and peace. Others may struggle to understand why. You bear all the outward marks of a Christian: You read, pray, and gather with your church faithfully. You serve and sacrifice your time. You look for opportunities to share Christ with neighbors. You hide no secret sins. But âthe heart knows its own bitternessâ (Proverbs 14:10), and so too its own darkness. No matter how much you obey on the outside, when you look within you find a mass of conflicting desires and warring ambitions. Every godly impulse seems mixed with an ungodly one; every holy desire with something shameful. You canât pray earnestly without feeling proud of yourself afterward. You canât serve without some part of you wanting to be praised. You remember Judas and Demas, men whose outward appearance deceived others and deceived themselves. You know that on the last day many will find themselves surprised, knocking on the door of heaven only to hear four haunting words: âI never knew youâ (Matthew 7:23; 25:11â12). And so, in the stillness before sleep, in quiet moments of the day, and sometimes in the middle of worship itself, the shadow returns: Am I real â or am I just deceiving myself? âWith You There Is Forgivenessâ Sometimes, the most apt answers to our most pressing questions are buried hundreds of years ago. And when it comes to assurance in particular, we may never surpass the pastoral wisdom of those seventeenth-century soul physicians, the Puritans. Assurance proved to be a common struggle for the Christians of that era, such that John Owen devoted over three hundred pages to the topic in his masterful Exposition of Psalm 130, most of which addresses a single verse: âWith you there is forgiveness, that you may be fearedâ (Psalm 130:4). âWhen it comes to assurance, what matters most is not sinâs persistence, but our resistance.â With God there is forgiveness â free forgiveness, abundant forgiveness, glad forgiveness, based on the blood and righteousness of Jesus Christ. But Owen knew that some Christians would hesitate to believe that forgiveness was for them. He knew that some introspective believers, bruised with a sense of their indwelling sin, would respond, âYes, there is forgiveness with God, but I see so much darkness within myself â is there forgiveness for me?â In a way, Owenâs entire book is his answer to that question. But he devotes special attention to such believers in one brief section â not aiming, necessarily, to remove every doubt (something only God can do), but merely to help readers see themselves from a new, more gracious angle. Grief can be a good sign. When some Christians search their hearts, they have eyes only for their sin. Their highest worship seems tainted with self-focus; their best obedience seems spoiled by strains of insincerity. They are ready to sigh with David, âMy iniquities have overtaken me, and I cannot see; they are more than the hairs of my head; my heart fails meâ (Psalm 40:12). But such grief can be a good sign. Owen asks us to imagine a man with a numb leg. As long as his leg has lost sensation, the man âendures deep cuts and lancings, and feels them not.â Yet as soon as his nerves awake, he âfeels the least cut, and may think the instruments sharper than they were before, when all the difference is, that he hath got a quickness of senseâ (Works of John Owen, 6:604). Outside of Christ, our souls are numb to the evil of sin. The guilt and the consequences of sin may have wounded us from time to time, but its evil we could hardly feel (if at all) â no matter how often it thrust us through. But once our souls come alive, we need only a paper cut to wince. Sin burdens us, oppresses us, grieves us, not because we are worse than we were before, but because we finally feel sin for what it is: the thorns that crowned our Saviorâs head, the spear that pierced our Lord. So, Owen writes, ââOh wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?â [Romans 7:24] is a better evidence of grace and holiness than âGod, I thank thee I am not as other menâ [Luke 18:11]â (601). Grief over our sin, far from disqualifying us from the kingdom, suggests that comfort is on the way (Matthew 5:4). Your resistance, not sinâs persistence, matters most. Temptation is frustratingly persistent. Sin would grieve us less if it left us alone more often: if pride were not ready to rise on all occasions, if anger did not flame up from the smallest sparks, if foolish thoughts did not fill our minds so often. Can we have any confidence of assurance if we find sin so relentlessly tempting? Owen takes us to 1 Peter 2:11, where the apostle writes, âAbstain from the passions of the flesh, which wage war against your soul.â He comments, âNow, to war is not to make faint or gentle opposition, . . . but it is to go out with great strength, to use craft, subtlety, and force, so as to put the whole issue to a hazard. So these lusts warâ (605). âGodâs âwell doneâ says less about the worth of our works than about the wonder of his mercy.â Sin wars â and not against those whom it holds captive, but against those who have been rescued from its authority and now fight below Christâs banner. When it comes to assurance, then, what matters most is not sinâs persistence, but our resistance. Or as Owen puts it, âYour state is not at all to be measured by the opposition that sin makes to you, but by the opposition you make to itâ (605). Sin may burden and tempt you, oppose and oppress you. Every army does. But do you, for your part, resist? Do you run up the watchtower and raise an alarm? Do you grip your shield and swing your sword? Do you labor, strive, watch, pray, and keep close to your Captain? Then sinâs warfare against you may be a sign that you are in Christâs service. Christ purifies our obedience. The most sensitive Christians, Owen writes, often âfind their hearts weak, and all their duties worthless. . . . In the best of them there is such a mixture of self, hypocrisy, unbelief, vain-glory, that they are even ashamed and confounded with the remembrance of themâ (600). Whatever fruit they bear seems covered with the mold of indwelling sin. But often, God sees more grace in his sin-burdened people than they see in themselves. Remember Sarah, Owen says: even when she was walking in unbelief, God took notice of the fact â a trifle in our eyes â that she called her husband âlordâ (Genesis 18:12; 1 Peter 3:6). So too, on the last day, Jesus will commend his people for good works they have long forgotten and struggle even to recognize (Matthew 25:37â40). Of course, Godâs âwell doneâ says less about the worth of our works than about the wonder of his mercy. Our Father hangs our pictures upon his wall because Christ adorns them with the jewels of his own crown. Owen writes, Jesus Christ takes whatever is evil and unsavoury out of them, and makes them acceptable. . . . All the ingredients of self that are in them on any account he takes away, and adds incense to what remains, and presents it to God. . . . So that God accepts a little, and Christ makes our little a great deal. (603) The only works that God accepts are those that have been washed in the blood of Jesus (Revelation 7:14). And any work that is washed in the blood of Jesus becomes transfigured, a small but resplendent reflection of âChrist in you, the hope of gloryâ (Colossians 1:27). And therefore God, in unspeakable grace, âremembers the duties which we forget, and forgets the sins which we rememberâ (603). Assurance arises from faith. Owenâs final piece of counsel may feel counterintuitive to the unassured heart. Many who struggle with assurance hesitate to rest their full weight on Christâs saving promises until they feel some warrant from within that the promises belong to them. They wait to come boldly to the throne of grace until they find something to bring with them. But this gets the order exactly backward. Owen writes, âDo not resolve not to eat thy meat until thou art strong, when thou hast no means of being strong but by eatingâ (603). When we wait to focus our gaze on Christâs promises until we are holy enough, we are like a man waiting to eat until he becomes strong, or waiting to sleep until he feels energized, or waiting to study until he grows wise. Sinclair Ferguson, a modern-day pupil of Owen, puts it this way: Believing [gives] rise to obedience, not obedience . . . to assurance irrespective of believing. Such faith cannot be forced into us by our efforts to be obedient; it arises only from larger and clearer views of Christ. (The Whole Christ, 204) The faith that nourishes both obedience and assurance arises only from larger and clearer views of Christ. If we stay away from Jesus until we are holy enough, we will stay away forever. But if we come to him right now and every morning hereafter, no matter how dead we feel, looking for welcome on the basis of his blood rather than our efforts, then we can hope, in time, to find faith flowering in fuller obedience and deeper assurance. But we will come only if we know, with Owen, that âwith you there is forgiveness, that you may be fearedâ (Psalm 130:4). All who come to Christ, trust in Christ, and embrace Christ find the forgiveness that is with Christ. And you are no exception. Article by Scott Hubbard