A Church Where People Come to Know Christ

passage so well is that I was in Dr. Clyde Francisco's Old Testament class in seminary. Dr. Francisco's favorite prophet was Jeremiah; so if you had him for a survey of Old Testament, you got two weeks of Old Testament, and the rest was Jeremiah.

If Dr. Francisco had his glasses on, that was lecture. That was on the test. But if, in the course of teaching, he pulled his glasses off and put them on the lectern, he was preaching. That wasn't going to be on the test. But if you were preachers, as most of us were, that's when you took your best notes. He had some good sermons, and we stole them like crazy—except this day.

Dr. Francisco came to this passage of Scripture, put his glasses down on the lectern and stepped back. He began to preach to those of us who were in his 4:00 Old Testament class. All of us were in seminary. All of us had been recommended by a church. All of us were telling everybody that we were going to serve the kingdom of God some way in some kind of ministry. But Dr. Francisco did not let that stop him from the point he was making.

He said, "You went off to youth camp. It was a beautiful place, and everybody loved Jesus and you decided you wanted to love Jesus, too. So you got in a line and got baptized, but you never knew Jesus. You went to college and said you'd figure this thing out sooner or later. People started telling you that you were talented, you were good, and you ended up in seminary. You know all about Jesus, but you don't know Jesus." I couldn't believe what he was doing, but he was preaching a sermon of pure evangelism. When it was over, he gave an invitation. Harvest is over, summer gone. And yet you still are not saved.

Why can we talk so easily about church, and yet we don't know what to say about Jesus? Harvest is over, summer's past. You joined the church, and you volunteer for all the committees. No one would ever accuse you of being uncommitted, but you work and you work and you work, thinking somehow you can ease the pain of the hole in your heart. Maybe, somehow, Jesus will like you if you just work hard enough. But you've missed the gospel altogether. Harvest's over, summer's past.

You did it because you were told to do it as a child. You did it when you were a teenager under a lot of pressure. You've come back, trying to find a place to get your life right. As hard as you try, it always ends up wrong. Harvest's over, summer's past. There is always a reason for you to hesitate. There's always a reason to put it off one more week—just a little while longer. "Let me get started in my new job." "Let things get settled down for a little bit." "Let the kids get back in school." "Let me take care of this next project." Harvest is over, summer's past.

I couldn't believe that Dr. Francisco stood there in front of that class in Norton Hall and pleaded with these young seminarians to be sure they knew Christ. It's the same way I plead with you now. Harvest is over, summer's past. Still you are not saved.

You have said that sooner or later you would get things right. Harvest is over, summer's past. This is later. Maybe you feel like you've been in church too long to come make your first-time profession. Maybe you feel like people wouldn't understand if this was the first time you said, "I accept Christ. I'm making Him Lord of my life."

I don't care what other people are thinking. I'm pleading with you right now: make sure. Harvest is over, summer's past.