Telling the Truth for Women

Guest (Male): As we come to the Sermon on the Mount, I'm a little encouraged because I realize that perhaps we don't know all there is to know about one of the most familiar passages that there is in the Bible today.

Jill Briscoe: Blessed are those that mourn. What are they mourning? Their spiritual poverty. Why are they mourning it? Because they've come to realize that however great we are, we are not great enough to measure up to what God has in mind for us. Even when we're believers, we should be mourning our spiritual poverty. We should be producing and enhancing our Christian character with an attitude of humility. We're to be saying, "I can't," and God answers us and says, "I never said you could, but I will. I always said I would." For he lends us himself that he might be all that we are not and do all that we cannot.

So we thought of "Blessed are they that mourn," and "Blessed are they that mourn their spiritual poverty" next, didn't we? The one that God says he will dwell with is the one who has a contrite heart, and we talked a little about contrition—what it really means to mourn our spiritual poverty and to work at that so that we never get too big for our boots and therefore unusable in God's hand.

Today we're going to be looking at "Blessed are the meek." The word "meek" (praus) isn't weakness. When you think of meek, you think of weak because it rhymes, I suppose. But meekness is in no wise weakness. It's rather controlled strength. That's what the word means: harnessed energy.

When Jesus said he was meek and lowly of heart, I reacted against that today because of the way that our English language is deteriorating or changing a little bit. Meekness means weakness in my mind. I don't like to even say the prayer, "Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, look upon a little child. Suffer me to come to thee, pity my simplicity." I used to say that when I was a little girl because it makes him sound simple. It's not just my simplicity I'm thinking about when I say gentle Jesus, meek and mild. It's a weak Christ, and Christ wasn't weak. Christ was strong. It really more or less talks about self-control, harnessed strength.

In Billy Graham's book, *The Secret of Happiness*, he has some very interesting things to say. This is an excellent book on the Beatitudes, incidentally. It's an old book. It's been out a long time, but I tell you, it's been all around the world and really meant a lot to people that want to study the Beatitudes. I recommend it to you.

He talks about the true meaning of meekness, and he says, "Our society today says, 'Get ahead by intimidation. Look out for number one.'" He quotes a woman in here who said, "I want to climb the ladder of success and I don't care whose fingers I step on as I climb up the rungs." That was an aggressive sort of unfeminine thing to say. I don't like it much, but it's out there. *Getting Ahead by Intimidation*—that was a book, and there are courses on things like that.

Billy Graham says this: "In his characteristic way, Jesus was saying something quite shocking, quite revolutionary to his listeners when he said, 'Happy are the meek.' He was saying something quite the opposite to what we hear around today as the way of happiness. We say happy are the clever, for they shall inherit the admiration of their friends. Happy are the aggressive, for they shall inherit prosperity. Happy are the talented, for they shall inherit a career. Happy are the rich, for they shall inherit a world of friends and a house full of modern gadgets." That's what the world says, and yet Jesus came along and said happy are the self-controlled, happy are the meek, happy are the humble, happy are those that mourn their spiritual poverty.

Meekness isn't weakness. It does not mean cringing before God like a subdued, whipped puppy whimpering. It means something altogether different. I always worried when I became a Christian that I'd become a church mouse. I had a wonderful older lady that nurtured me and mentored me in those days. She was a deacon's wife in our little Baptist church I started to go to.

Mrs. Gordon was a real model for me. I remember just wanting to be around her and be in her home. When I was finished with my teaching in the evening, I'd use any excuse to just get over there. She'd be sitting, I always remember her sitting ironing and talking to me, and the environment of the home was such a Christ-filled environment. It was just sheer heaven for me to be there.

I remember her saying once, "I don't want to be a church mouse." This woman to me was the picture of meekness, and yet she was a strong woman. She was harnessed. She was controlled.

Stott says, "Happy are the unhappy. Happy are those that mourn and happy are those that are meek," which sounds as if that's a miserable affair. Yet Jesus says the strange thing is when God has harnessed us, when we are in his control and he is controlling our strength, then meekness is the result. Those people have the world at their feet. They inherit the world.

He's not talking about possessions. It means you've got it all together. When you are in control, your world is in control around you—your world in the kitchen, and your world with your children, your world with your husband, your world with your neighbors, and your world in your church. Meekness is self-control, and this is a solid foundation for living. This is an attitude that we should be growing up in our lives.

Billy Graham says God is not happy with our unhappiness. Yet if we go around the things he's talking about here as the world says, we will be unhappy. Yet a meek spirit, a controlled spirit, is a happy spirit. Meekness isn't homegrown. There's no way. We need a new nature. We need a new birth. Jesus said, "I'm meek and lowly of heart." If we receive him, then he lends us the ability to learn how to be meek. We hang our pride on his meekness, and meekness deals with pride as it should. We are partakers of the divine nature.

I've often said when I'm giving my testimony, take a pig and dress it up and send it to Cambridge and teach it some things, and it'll still be a pig. I know because I went to Cambridge with an old nature, an animal nature if you like. But give me the divine nature which I received when I became a Christian, and I change character. So the proud pig becomes the humble person over time. It takes time to grow meekness. But if he will harness my pride, if he will deal with the Pharisee in me, then it's going to be all right.

Remember our poem: "One day I found within my heart someone who'd been there from the start. A prudish person self-appointed, self-sufficient, self-anointed. Though I a true disciple be, I've met the Pharisee in me. He's there as I start out my week advising me that meek is weak. He's up before me every day to figure out a better way than following him submissively. I've met the Pharisee in me."

So the word has the connotation first of all of control. Three words we're going to talk about: first of all, control. We've got to be harnessed. A disciple needs to be harnessed. What does that mean? It means to be broken in because the word literally has to do with a wild horse or a wild donkey that's been broken in. Not broken down or broken into bits—just broken in.

I wrote a little Easter book for children. It's called *Caleb's Colt*. I took it off a sermon of my husband's that I heard years and years ago—wonderful sermon about the little donkey that was tied where four ways meet. Stuart had this wonderful sermon that he used to give to teenagers. It's a question of being at the crossroads like the little donkey was, and he'd never been broken in. Just wild, because donkeys and wild horses need to be broken in.

All the gifts are there, all the strength is there, all the beautiful little donkey is there. It's all there, but it's a pretty useless animal unless it's broken in. Then along came Jesus, as you know the story, and sat on him. That's what needs to happen to us, to you and to me. Jesus needs to sit on us. We need sitting on. Don't you use that expression over here? Someone that's too big for their boots, somebody needs to sit on that person, sit on that kid, sit on that woman, sit on that man.

Jesus sat on the little donkey, and it was a real miracle because you don't just get up and sit on an unbroken colt. Needs to be broken in. Of course, it knew who was sitting on it, I'm sure. When we realize who it is that wants to control us, who it is that wants to break us in, then we will submit like the little donkey did and carry Jesus head and shoulders above everybody so everybody sees who—the little donkey? No, they see Jesus high and lifted up.

That's what it means to be meek: to have the wild donkey in us controlled. If you know yourself at all, whatever your personality, there's a wild donkey inside you. That's a picture of the flesh. It's a picture of this uncontrolled nature that has not been harnessed by Jesus Christ.

The Pharisee in me is unbroken. The Pharisee in me is proud. He is selfish. The Pharisee in me says, "Get off my back. No Christ will sit on my back. Nobody will tell me what to do. I'll run my religion my way, by my rules. I don't want to be fed, I don't want to be led. I'm a wild, untamed law unto myself."

The first thing we need to realize or ask ourselves is: have I been broken in? Who controls my life? Does Jesus Christ control it, or do I control it? Does the disciple in me control it and let him control it, or does the Pharisee in me control my thinking, my attitude? Remember, they're Beatitudes, beautiful attitudes. Who controls me?

When you think about the little donkey, he's led because he's been broken in, but he's also loaded. That's what donkeys are for. God made donkeys to be loaded. When you see the pictures on the television of these incredible travel pictures that I often watch—travelogues—you see them perhaps in the Andes loaded up. You think, "Oh, there's too much load on that poor little donkey." But donkeys can carry a lot. The idea is that once they're broken in, they're loaded up.

Jesus said, "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Yoked to me, you'll learn what burdens I want you to bear, and the burdens I want you to bear will not break you. They won't break you, for I am meek and lowly of heart. That's the context of him saying about himself that he was meek and lowly of heart.

What does he mean? He means that close to him, yoked to him—like that old yoke would put two animals together so they couldn't get away, the old animal and the young animal that was learning from the old animal—and as the animals go along, the old one will show the young one how to pull the load. Yoked to him, close to him, we will know that the burdens he asks us to bear are easy and light. That's what he says.

What is the burden that Christ will ask us to bear? You say, "I don't like the sound of this. I've got enough burdens of my own. This doesn't sound a very happy talk." And yet Jesus said, "Blessed are the meek. Blessed are the broken in. Blessed are the led. Blessed are the laded," like a little donkey under control.

How can you be blessed or happy bearing a burden? You see, it's Christ's burden and he's going to bear it with you and for you. But what is Christ's burden? The burden of Christ is the redemption of the world. The burden of Christ is the redemption of the world. If you are yoked to Christ, you will bear some of that burden. It will be easy, it will be light because his shoulder is under it and you're just going along the side, but you're bearing a little bit of it as much as he knows you can take.

It will be easy and it will be light. But I tell you, it will be a burden for the redemption of the world. In other words, you will care about people's souls. There's a verse in the Bible that says, "No one cared for my soul." Such a sad little verse. Actually, some people think it refers as a prophecy to Christ, that nobody cared for him when he really needed them, that he was rejected.

But it can be echoed as we look around the faces of our neighbors. As I sit for hours sometimes on airports waiting for the next plane, I look around me and I look at all the faces and I wonder where all those people are going and who's at home or if there is anybody at home or if they want to go home. Then I watch everybody saying hello and I watch everybody saying goodbye. Airports are the most happy places in the world and the most miserable places in the world because you get off a plane and half the people are meeting somebody and that's the happy bit. But you get on the plane and half the people are leaving someone and that's the sad bit. So you see tears and happiness. I see it nearly every day of my life because I'm traveling so much.

I just wonder when I look at those faces: did anybody ever care for their soul? Did anybody ever pray for them? Did anybody ever share Christ with them? Did anybody ever tell them about Jesus? Did anybody ever warn them that unless they accept Christ, they're not going to go to heaven? Did anybody ever tell them that? Because us Bible-believing Christians are supposed to believe that. Did anybody ever do it?

When you are loaded as a controlled little donkey, you will care about people's souls and you will bear and carry some of that burden. So much so that you'll do something about it. You won't just be burdened down with it, but you'll be involved with eternal things. There will be many material things that are the things God wants us to be involved with, but somewhere along the line, there will be some spiritual activity going on in our lives if we have a spirit of meekness, if we are willing to be led by him.

In Matthew 23, if you'd like to turn to that just for a moment, we meet the Pharisee in me who doesn't like being meek, remember? As I was reading over again Matthew 23, which we will keep coming back to in this series because this is the chapter I want to show you this picture, this snapshot of the Pharisee.

I was amazed as I just went right through the chapter and I took a pen and I just underlined all the things Jesus said about the Pharisees. Let me tell you what they were: verse 13, hypocrites; verse 15, hypocrites; verse 16, blind guides; 17, blind fools; 19, blind men; 23, hypocrites; 24, blind guides; 25, hypocrites; 26, blind Pharisee; 27, hypocrites; 29, hypocrites; 33, snakes, broods of vipers. This is gentle Jesus, meek and mild? Controlled strength. Saying the things that needed to be said. Confronting.

Being meek doesn't mean being weak. Who was he talking to? The Pharisee. Now remember, we have a Pharisee in me. Jesus says to him all those things. Have you heard him say that to you lately? Hypocrite, hypocrite, hypocrite, blind man, blind woman, snake, viper. What did Jesus say to Peter? "Get thee behind me, Satan." It's amazing. Sometimes we are just Pharisaic, and Christ has to speak to us as strongly as he spoke to the Pharisees here.

What were they doing? Go back to verse four: "They tie up heavy loads and put them on men's shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to lift a finger to move them." That's interesting: burdens. They tie up heavy burdens and put them on men's shoulders. What does that mean? Give them a lot of rules of religion and it weighs them down—how much time they have to spend in the temple, how much money they have to give in their tithe, how many steps they can walk on a Sunday, what sort of clothes they should wear.

Legalism, rules. That can burden someone down. The Pharisee in me wants to get it all tidy, and he also wants to tell other people what to do about all those things. Not so the meek. I well remember the Pharisee in me loves to load people up. I think it's because those of us that are leaders and are bossy like I am and aggressive just like to see other people work hard. I love to load people up, overload them.

I had somebody call me once here at church and say, "Jill, you're going to finish me off. You're just loading all this stuff on me." They said, "What are you doing?" Fortunately, I was able to tell them that I was overloading myself as well as overloading them. But sometimes I ask myself, "Am I asking somebody to do something I should be doing myself?" Because I'm good at delegating. I call it delegating, but sometimes it means you're putting a burden on someone that you've no right to put on them.

I remember working very closely with my best friend, Angie Mills, at home in England for 12 years. We ran the youth work together. She was very close to me. I've never had a friend that close before or since and probably never will again. We were thrown together 24 hours of the day in those days. But Angie was a new convert. She'd come to us through Stuart's brother, Bernard and Helen, who knew her.

She'd been converted at a Billy Graham meeting in Manchester as an air hostess. The day after she was converted, she had two weeks holiday. Helen Briscoe knew her, and she called me and said, "Would you have this friend of mine? You're in school, I can't believe she walked out of the Billy Graham Crusade, she's got two weeks holiday, she's willing to come up to Capernwray," the youth center where we were living. "Would you just have her in the home and just spend some time with her?"

So Angie came and she stayed. God has just blessed her. But in those early days, she was just a very pretty, beautiful, intense air hostess. She came on staff the week she arrived. Stuart's secretary went to be a missionary or accepted a call to France, and so he was left without a secretary. Angie became Stuart's secretary for all those years, and she became my best and closest friend.

We began to do this youth work that just got away on us and we were busy day and night and in the middle of the night, and it was a wonderful thing that happened. She was very gifted, very talented. I soon learned that. She could do anything. She could play the violin, she could speak three languages, she could just do all this stuff. She loved kids, kids loved her. She was a tomboy. She would take 30 kids off into the mountains climbing. Everything I asked her to do, she did.

One day she said to me—I always remember, three or four years into this, I was the leader and she was my second hand—she said, "Jill, I like to be asked, not told." That's all she ever said in 20 years, and she could have said a lot more to me as we worked together. "Jill, I like to be asked, not told." I realized the Pharisee in me was loading her up with things that I really had no right to load her up with. I have to be very careful, we have to be very careful that we are not putting roles and rules of religion or work on people and making them feel guilty because they're not doing them.

This doesn't mean we shouldn't delegate, this doesn't mean we shouldn't invite people to take the opportunity to worship, but I think you know what I'm getting at here. "I like to be asked, not told." The Pharisee in me unloaded a whole lot of stuff onto Angie that at that point I had no right to be loading onto her. She was able meekly with controlled strength to confront me on that.

This is what I mean: sometimes we have to meekly confront people and say, "Hey, I like to be asked, not told." So the little donkey learns how to be led, the little donkey learns how to be loaded, the little donkey learns that he's loved. When we were in Bonaire, which is a little island off somewhere, South America, I don't know where I was, but it was beautiful. Really was—blue sky and the sea and everything, sand.

This was the time I took Judy and the baby, the baby was only three months, Andrew. Greg came along for a week's holiday and they stayed after me and we had a wonderful time ministering to Caribbean women. That's where it is: in the Caribbean, off the coast of Venezuela. There were wild donkeys in Bonaire. They'd been brought in to do some work.