We cannot teach what we do not know, but we also cannot truly know what we do not teach.
Dwight L. Moody's thunderous voice boomed the Gospel to the mighty and the meek in 1885 London. Grimy dockworkers mixed with the privileged, all eager to hear this upstart American roar about a faith that changes lives.

I have been crucified with Christ, and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me, and delivered Himself for me. -Galatians 2:20

 

    We cannot teach what we do not know, but we also cannot truly know what we do not teach.
 
     Dwight L. Moody's thunderous voice boomed the Gospel to the mighty and the meek in 1885 London.  Grimy dockworkers mixed with the privileged, all eager to hear this upstart American roar about a faith that changes lives.
 
     On this particular night, Moody had onstage with him the "Cambridge Seven", army officers and athletes prominent in England.  These were England's heroes, and they were there to declare their lives were surrendered to God for action in His Kingdom.  One of the seven challenged the audience to "proclaim themselves for Christ" by standing up.  Slowly, one young lad in a Naval uniform got the courage to stand, even though the shipmates with him needled him mercilessly. 
 
     Nobody remembers the name of the boy who stood, but sitting in the crowd watching all this was another young man named Wilfred Grenfell.  Grenfell was already a Christian, soon to finish his medical training, but he lacked a sense that his faith made any difference in life--his or anyone else's.  This night, though, mesmerized by the booming Moody, delighted at the heroes surrounding Moody on the stage, and moved by the courageous act of the boy/sailor, Grenfell stood up too.  Later he would write, "I knew that the right way to use muscles was to use them, and I argued that a similar treatment is what faith needed."
 
    Today, Grenfell is famous for taking the Gospel-and medicine-to the hard shores of Labrador, into the bleak lives of the crews of the fishing fleets and their families.  His ministry carved out a place for people to be cared for physically, and opened the doors to their spiritual tending as well.  Hospitals, hospital ships, clinics, and a healthy dose of the Gospel in the middle of all those things rolled out of this life moved to action by an unknown sailor, a raucous preacher and a bunch of heroes.
 
     We cannot teach what we do not know.  In this very spot, week after week, month after month, we talk about the importance of the spiritual disciplines, of knowing God by knowing His Word.  Quiet hours with God spent in Bible study and prayer slip silently out of our schedule in the midst of lives spent 'doing' with no central theme, ships sailing out to war without rudders, armament or missions.  It is simply impossible for us to be ambassadors for Christ when we know little of His teaching and nothing of His direction for us.  
 
     But it's equally true we cannot know what we do not teach. Ours is a faith with muscles, a faith able to root out even the darkest soul and restore it to God.  To confine that faith to the walls of our homes or the walls of our churches is to forget the very things we read there, hear there, learn there in the pages of God's Word.  Our quiet hours with God are not meant to separate our faith from the rest of our lives, but to launch it into those very hours when all of humanity surrounds us, waiting for a Christian with purpose, with direction, with truth.
 
     God intends that person to be you-and me.  Get into your prayer closets, get into your Bible, but then get back out to your jobs and your world,  Get out with a vigor and a Truth that gives rudders to your vessel, and hope to a world spinning out of control. 
 
--Randy Kilgore