"Let Me Get Home Before Dark"

For Those Discouraged By Church Scandal And Determined Not To Cause One

The announcement this week by a church in Dallas has a ring of unwelcome familiarity. Another high-profile pastor has resigned in disgrace. For a fleeting season of forbidden pleasure he forfeited his hard-earned reputation, his powerful position, the respect of ten thousand followers, and probably his marriage. But the greatest tragedy is that he has stained the reputation of Christ on this earth, giving unbelievers and skeptics what they think is a good reason to continue their rebellion against the King of kings.

While I was in college in the 1980’s, the renowned and plain-spoken preacher, Vance Havner, delivered a sermon in our chapel entitled Home Before Dark, a sermon he had delivered in many other places. By this time, Havner was an octogenarian widower. Since he died in 1986, this was probably one of his last sermons. I’ll never forget something he said that day that has profoundly influenced me until this day:

“I’ve stood at the fresh grave of many a preacher who should have died ten years earlier.”

That’s the day I began to pray that God would take me home before I brought disgrace on the gospel. I’d rather die than bring shame on his name.

In 1987, after four years of serving as a Youth Pastor in Houston, I entered Dallas Theological Seminary. Those were the days of the televangelist scandals. Jim Bakker’s sexual affair and financial infidelity would be broadcast to the world in 1987. Jimmy Swaggart’s purchase of a prostitute was exposed in 1988, and the world rejoiced. Everyone who ever wanted an excuse to renounce Christ and belittle his Bride celebrated the scandals of these celebrity preachers. But what the world overlooks are the thousands of pastors who faithfully do the Lord’s work without recognition and with great integrity. And faithful pastors experience moral outrage when unfaithful pastors make the headlines.

One of those faithful pastors is Chuck Swindoll. He’s a graduate of Dallas Seminary and we always looked forward to when Swindoll came to town to preach in chapel. He brilliantly taught us, joyfully encouraged us, and sternly warned us. As pastors we would be entrusted with an unspeakably sacred duty. We have a charge to keep. A King to please. A job to do. We must not betray this King and besmirch his name. The ministry is not where you make your name great. It’s where you make God’s name great. One year, Swindoll’s chapel message was on David’s great sin. I still have the Bible in which I wrote down his outline on October 22, 1987:

1.    True integrity implies that you do what is right when no one is looking and everyone is compromising.

2.    Real integrity stays in place whether the test is adversity or prosperity.

3.    Broken integrity means a spiritual leader forfeits the right to lead as he once did.

I have sympathy for pastors who are caught in sexual or financial scandal, but, I confess, not much. No one knows better what is expected of him than a man called by God, affirmed by the church, trained in the finest seminaries in the world, who weekly preaches the Word. The ordination process is designed to weed out men who are not qualified or prepared for the rigors and dangers of ministry. Pastoral ministry is not a place to become mature. Pastoral ministry is only for the mature who know they still have much to learn. Pastors are trained to intentionally and proactively guard themselves and others from the temptation to abuse authority for personal gain and selfish pleasure. To fail in this is inexcusable.

But thank God, it is forgivable.

Even if such a man should not be restored to leadership in the church, he can always be restored to fellowship with God and his people if he genuinely repents. God’s grace always goes beyond our sin, and there is grace for fallen, broken-hearted pastors. But the hard consequences remain.

I have in my office an excellent commentary on the book of Proverbs written by a man who published his commentary and subsequently had an affair, which led to the loss of his ministry. He was an exceptional communicator and an excellent Hebrew scholar, with abilities far beyond mine. It boggles my mind to think that in his commentary he had to exegete this passage:

Why should you be intoxicated, my son, with a forbidden woman and embrace the bosom of an adulteress? For a man’s ways are before the eyes of the Lord, and he ponders all his paths. –Proverbs 5:20-21

So, once again, I must temper my ire at this latest pastoral treason by remembering I am capable of all manner of sin and I am much in need of grace. Better men than I have made these stupid choices. “Through many dangers, toils, and snares” I have already come, but I know that I must never drop my guard, for the battle isn’t over until I’m home. Chuck Swindoll announced this week that he’s resigning as the pastor of Stonebriar Community Church at the age of 90. By God’s, grace he’s finishing well and has managed six decades of public ministry with scandal-free integrity. And no one knows better than Chuck that he has made it this far by grace alone.

Havner’s sermon 40 years ago impacted many of us who were there that day, including our college president, J. Robertson McQuilkin, who wrote a poem that would later be read at Havner’s funeral. By the way, McQuilkin finished the race well in 2016, getting home before dark. Take a few minutes to ponder his poignant prayer:

It’s sundown, Lord.

The shadows of my life stretch back
into the dimness of the years long spent.
I fear not death, for that grim foe betrays himself at last,
thrusting me forever into life:

Life with You, unsoiled and free.
But I do fear.
I fear the Dark Spectre may come too soon
- or do I mean, too late?
That I should end before I finish or
finish, but not well.
That I should stain Your honor, shame Your name,
grieve Your loving heart.

Few, they tell me, finish well . . .
Lord, let me get home before dark.

The darkness of a spirit
grown mean and small,
fruit shriveled on the vine,
bitter to the taste of my companions,
burden to be borne by those brave few
who love me still.
No, Lord. Let the fruit grow lush and sweet,
A joy to all who taste;
Spirit-sign of God at work,
stronger, fuller, brighter at the end.
Lord, let me get home before dark.

The darkness of tattered gifts,
rust-locked, half-spent or ill-spent,
A life that once was used of God
now set aside.
Grief for glories gone or
Fretting for a task God never gave.
Mourning in the hollow chambers of memory,
Gazing on the faded banners of victories long gone.
Cannot I run well unto the end?
Lord, let me get home before dark.

The outer me decays -
I do not fret or ask reprieve.
The ebbing strength but weans me from mother earth
and grows me up for heaven.
I do not cling to shadows cast by immortality.
I do not patch the scaffold lent to build the real, eternal me.
I do not clutch about me my cocoon,
vainly struggling to hold hostage
a free spirit pressing to be born.

But will I reach the gate
in lingering pain, body distorted, grotesque?
Or will it be a mind
wandering untethered among light phantasies or grim terrors?

Of Your grace, Father, I humbly ask. . .
Let me get home before dark.