333 Words

333 WORDS….

Oh, the power of custom!

Rees Howells [See note.] was a man of prayer. Three hours on his knees, usually after a shift in the mines, was his daily practice. When walking to work his communion with God was so sweet he was moved to remove his hat.

But only when sure he was unseen.

In that time, a man outside with an uncovered head was strictly forbidden, not by some judicial law but by the ‘law’ of custom. When in danger of being sighted, he immediately returned hat to head.

The Teacher was teaching Rees true abiding was a continuous attitude of prayer, not intermittent, and instructed him to keep his hat off. Ouch, ouch and ouch! Rees disobeyed, and the glory of God lifted.

Oh, the power of custom!

Going hatless in his small town was more vexing than prolonged fasting; however, he eventually submitted to the Lord. And then, groan, he was invited to London! His friend, meeting him at the train station, was horrified at the sight of hatless Rees, and thoroughly embarrassed to accompany him through London’s streets.

Why did the Lord ask Rees to go hatless? Simple. Public opinion carried more weight with Rees than it ought.

It has always been so in Christ’s church….

Centuries ago in the Church of England, custom forbade preaching outside church walls. Today in many churches, custom disallows private or family communion service. Custom forbids young parents to publicly dedicate their own children to the Lord. Christians cannot baptize their converts.

Most christians bow more fully to custom than Scripture, the consequences sometimes horrifying. Example….

Lord Jesus: As the Father has sent Me, I also send YOU.

Custom insinuates “you” doesn’t include you. Custom tethers you to the pew, forbidding you to preach Christ’s salvation to the nations. Feed the poor, yes. House the houseless, okay. But no preaching.

Oh, the power of custom!

It takes the courage of a rattlesnake hunter to break custom, but “with God all things are possible”. Amen?

NOTE: Suggested reading: Rees Howells, Intercessor, by Norman Grubb. What a blessing!