Garland, Texas - Conscience by J. Edwin Orr

Not many people realize that directly after the American Revolution, there was a moral slump in the country. Drunkenness became epidemic; there were reported to be 300,000 drunkards in a population of 5 million. They were burying thousands of them each year. Immorality was gross; there were infidel clubs. Women were afraid to go out for fear of assault. Bank robberies were a daily occurrence. Perhaps the worst conditions were in Kentucky and Tennessee; that was the frontier. Congress discovered that in Kentucky there had only been one court of justice held in five years. They couldn't bring the criminals to justice. The decent people formed what we would call vigilante regiments and fought the outlaws in a pitched battle and lost.

You say, what were the churches doing? The largest denomination in those days was Congregational, but the church was in decline. The pastor of the Lennox Congregational Church in Massachusetts said he hadn't taken anyone into membership for 16 years. It was like being chaplain to an old people's home; they were dying off. The Presbyterians met in general assembly to deplore the ungodliness of the country. The Episcopalians were even worse off. The Bishop of New York, Samuel Provost, not having confirmed anyone for a number of years, decided he was out of work and took up other employment. The Methodists were the most aggressive at that time, and they were losing more members than they were gaining in spite of immigration. The Baptists said they had had their most wintry season.

Now, you know the 1960s were bad times for the churches in this country, but I never heard anyone suggest that the church would be wiped out. But in the 1790s, that was the case. Voltaire said Christianity will be forgotten in 30 years' time, and Tom Paine gleefully repeated this in the newly independent United States. Now, there were men of God. George Washington prayed, but Thomas Jefferson was a deist. He was a noble man, but he didn't believe that God was interested in us. When he wrote the Declaration of Independence, the first draft didn't have any reference to God. Some Christians worked on him, and finally, he said, all right, we'll say our creator, Nature's God. That was the only concession he would make. On the other hand, Tom Paine was a blasphemer and died in disgrace.

Conditions were bad. They took a poll at Harvard and discovered not one believer in the whole student body. At Princeton, a much more evangelical place, there were only two believers and only five students who didn't belong to the filthy speech movement of that day. Now, this may be news to you, but of course, the sequel was wonderful. Some Scottish Presbyterian ministers wrote what they called a memorial. They addressed it to the people of Scotland and elsewhere. I thought that was a very neat division of the world's population, and they urged the Christians to set aside one day a month to pray for revival. The churches knew they had their backs to the wall. A copy of this was sent to Jonathan Edwards, the great New England theologian, and it deeply moved him. He had seen the earlier revival, 1734-1740, when Whitfield came. So he wrote a response, and it got longer and longer until finally, it was published as a book. My sister writes letters like that. The title of the book, by the way, was "A Humble Attempt to Promote Explicit Agreement and Visible Union of All God's People in Extraordinary Prayer for the Revival of Religion and the Extension of Christ's Kingdom According to Scriptural Promise and Prophecies Concerning the Last Days." That was just the title, not the book.

He sent copies across the Atlantic, and a minister published the original memorial and Jonathan Edwards' reply and sent it to Mr. Baptist, the editor of the Baptist Register in Bristol, in England. He was a busy man, one of these busy executives. His name was John Ryland. You've never heard of him. You've heard a story about William Carey when he pleaded with the Baptists to send out missionaries. The moderator said, "Sit down, young man. When God decides to win the heathen, he'll do it without any help from you." That was Dr. Ryland. But he didn't want to throw away books on prayer; his conscience wouldn't let him do that. So he sent them to two praying men that he knew. One of them, Andrew Fuller, took leave of absence from his church and traveled the length of England, Scotland, and Wales, urging the Baptists to set aside one day a month to pray for revival. The other man, John Sutcliffe, didn't travel for domestic reasons, but he had a layman in his church who was a ball of fire. He was a teenager; his name was William Carey, shoemaker. Between them, they started what they called the Union of Prayer. Soon the Congregationalists joined them, then the Methodists, then evangelicals in the Church of England and the Church of Scotland, until Britain was interlaced with a network of prayer meetings. The Christians were praying for God to intervene, and the revival came in 1792, the year after John Wesley died. I'm not going to describe that to you; it was a wonderful time.

But in 1792, conditions were deplorable in the United States. In 1795, a Baptist minister called Isaac Backus in Massachusetts adopted the same idea. He called it a concert of prayer. In other words, let's pray concertedly for revival, and within a short space of time, the revival came. It swept the country. It began in the Connecticut Valley, spread throughout New England into New York, down into the South, and completely transformed the country. The country was going to the dogs, and yet after that revival, it completely turned the country around. That was the Second Great Awakening.

I'm not going to take any more time, just giving you a little appetizer. You see, the Owens have been singing "Lord, Do It Again." What do we want him to do again? Just to bless us? Lord, bless us. It was a Scotsman who prayed, "Lord, bless us, my son John and me, his wife and my wife, just us four." That's not a prayer. Do you want God to bless us only? What about the rest of the country? We live in terrible days, so we can sing "Lord, Do It Again."

By the way, I don't know where John Kramp got those books of mine. They're all my books, now out of print. I wrote about 10 of them in the '70s, and he's managed to get one, "The Eager Feet," which describes the revivals of the 1790s and 1830s. Well, that's just a little appetizer to give you an appetite for what to pray.

Now, I wonder how many people here tonight are over the age of 35. I'm not going to ask you to raise your hands; I just want to alert you. Can any of you remember what happened in 1957? How old were you then? See, there's no good asking anyone under 35; they don't remember 1957. Well, I was in Adelaide, Australia, when the Sputnik came over, a satellite with a dog. Do you remember that, those of you who are over 35? We saw that little bright light going straight across the sky. That's what alarmed the United States and got her into the space program. Young people today have never seen a satellite. Isn't that strange? The sky is full of them, but they've never seen one. But do you remember 1957? Everyone was out with the naked eye; we could see that little dot of light going across the sky. I was in Adelaide in a bus sitting beside an old lady, and she said, "You wouldn't catch me riding in a Sputnik," she said. "I'm just terrified of dogs."

Well, it comes as a great surprise to most of my audiences when I tell them that every human being has his own satellite. Now, you know there are so many satellites in the sky, we forget the original one, the moon. The moon is the satellite of the Earth. You know the word Sputnik is the word they use; the word Sputnik in Russian means accompanying one. "Nik" means one, and the moon is the Sputnik of the Earth. As I say, most people don't know that every human being has his own Sputnik. A student at UCLA said to me, "Well, we have television in the sitting room and in the den. We've got two cars in the garage, but I doubt if we'll ever have a helicopter on the roof, and certainly we'll never have a satellite." But he misunderstood the New Testament word. I don't understand Greek because I'm giving you the clue. It's "sunesis," accompanying knowledge. The Latin is more familiar, "conscientia." Now you've got the idea. The English word is conscience. "Con" means with, "science" means knowledge. Everyone has a conscience. I don't think anyone would stand up and contradict me and say, "I don't have a conscience." Every human being has a conscience, but it's a kind of satellite.

You say, "This is entirely new to me." All right, then I'm going to ask you some questions. By the way, my little grandson came back from school, and he said, "My teacher sure is dumb. She's always asking questions, doesn't know anything." I'm going to ask some questions, but this is what we call the Socratic method. A man puts his shoes on his feet, his watch on his wrist. Where do you keep your conscience? Well, you have one, haven't you? Where do you keep it? "Yes, that's part of my mind," is it? Would you say that the conscience is part of the intellect? Would you say that a student who gets straight A's has a better conscience than a poor guy who has to work hard to manage an average C? The answer is no. Would you say that a professor in the university has a better conscience than the man who looks after the classrooms? No, it's not part of the intellect.

Well, then, is it part of your will? Would you say a person with a strong will has a better conscience than a person with a weak will? I read an item in the paper, one of you may have ever seen it, called Peanuts. Little Lucy Van Pelt held up her five fingers, and she said, "Charlie Brown, these five fingers by themselves don't mean very much, but combined into a fist, they're going to make you do what I want you to do." And Charlie Brown capitulated. Which had the stronger will? Charlie Brown? No, Lucy. She had the stronger will. But which had the better conscience? Charlie, conscientious little fellow. In fact, so conscientious sometimes he's afraid to do anything.

Well, then, is conscience part of your emotion or feeling? Would you say a warm-hearted person has a better conscience than a cool-headed person, or vice versa? Now, the warmest-hearted people in the world, without a doubt, are the Brazilians. Anyone here has ever been in Brazil? Well, you've missed it. They are—you should go and preach in Brazil if you want encouragement. They not only shake hands with you and say, "I enjoyed that," or whatever you're used to hearing, but they give you a big hug. They call it the "abraço." If you've done well, they'll kiss you on both cheeks, and if they're really enthusiastic, they'll lift you off your feet and set you down again. I have never met people as warm-hearted as the Brazilians.

Now, it's not like that in Scotland. I was speaking at New College in the University of Edinburgh when the principal said to me in a burst of Scottish enthusiasm, "Well, Mr. Orr, we're not averse to having you in Scotland." That was as much as he could say without blowing a fuse. In the north of Ireland, it's very like Scotland. Nobody comes up and says, "I enjoyed that." They might, in enthusiasm, say, "That wasn't bad." But on the other hand, I'd rather leave my suitcase in a bus station in Scotland than in Brazil. They're such warm-hearted people, but even though they may swipe your suitcase, the Scots are very honest.

Now, you see, it's not part of emotion, it's not part of intellect, it's not part of will. Adolf Hitler had a strong will but a miserable conscience. On the other hand, Winston Churchill had a strong will but a pretty good conscience. So you see, what I'm telling you is this: that your conscience is not part of the intellect, not part of the will, not part of the emotion, yet it is influenced by your intellect and your will and your emotion. What you think will affect your conscience. What you want to do will affect your conscience. How you feel will affect your conscience.

We lived for 36 years about a mile west of UCLA. The university notified the neighbors they'd very much appreciate it if American families would invite foreign students for Thanksgiving dinner because come Thanksgiving, all the American students take off for home, and they leave a bunch of foreigners rather lonely and wondering what's going on. Now, Thanksgiving is one of the most wholesome of American institutions. However, we decided we'd invite six. My wife made preparations; we got plenty of turkey and so forth. They all came except a Hindu from India. My wife was a little peeved. She said he might have phoned to say he wasn't coming. I said he was too embarrassed. She said, "What is there to be embarrassed about?" I said if he were a conscientious Hindu, he would not come to a Thanksgiving dinner. Hindus not only believe in reincarnation, which is such a fad these days, but they believe in reincarnation into lower animal forms. That's called transmigration of souls. Their idea is this: if you behave yourself, perhaps next time around you'll be a multi-millionaire or a princess, but if you don't behave yourself, you may come back as a cockroach and get tramped on, so you better behave yourself. That's their religion. No Hindu would come to Thanksgiving dinner; that turkey might be his grandmother. So you see, his conscience wouldn't let him come to a Thanksgiving dinner. What you think will affect your conscience.

A man may say what you will will affect your conscience. A man may say, "I'm going to make a million dollars, and I don't care how I do it." He becomes a rogue. There are such people, so determined they'll break any rule. They may try to avoid jail; sometimes they don't escape it. And then, as far as emotions are concerned, I remember when I was a chaplain in the Air Force, a girl coming to me with tears. She said, "Chaplain, I can't help my feelings. I love the guy." I said to her, "You have no business loving the guy. You knew when you dated him first he was a married man with three little children. Now you want me to persuade his wife to give him a divorce to marry you? I don't know how he'll feel about you in a year's time or if he goes overseas."

So there is a strange thing. Conscience is not part of the intellect, the will, or the emotion, yet it's affected by what you think and what you want to do and how you feel, just as the moon is not part of the Earth but pertains to the Earth. What we call the moon is not the satellite of Jupiter. So I say everyone has his own little satellite, Sputnik. Now, I expect you to think that over. I mean, I'm not asking you to agree with me right away, but I think you'll see.

I'm going to ask you another question, if I may be so dumb. Is your conscience your friend or your enemy? And this is quite scriptural. Romans 2:15: "Their conscience will either accuse or excuse them." That's what it says. Your conscience can be your friend, and it can also be your enemy. How do you account for the independence of your conscience? Can your conscience be your friend? 2 Corinthians 1:12: The Apostle says, "Our boast is this, the testimony of our conscience, that we behaved in this world with godly sincerity." What's that really mean? If we do what we believe to be right, our conscience is our friend.

I was having breakfast in a pancake house in Tempe, Arizona. I stepped out onto the sidewalk when I noticed the young lady had given me too much money in my change, 50 cents too much. So I went back. I looked her straight in the eye. I said, "You gave me the wrong change." She said, "Oh, did I?" The temperature dropped a couple of degrees. I said, "Yes, you did." She said, "Can you prove that?" I said, "Yes, I can. You gave me 50 cents too much," and I gave her two quarters back. What a change in climate. She said, "Oh, thank you, sir. Thank you very much, sir. God bless you," she said as I went out. And when I got out on the sidewalk, my conscience said, "Good for you." Down in Australia, they would say, "Good on you." My conscience was my friend. I had done what I thought was the right thing. Have you ever had that experience? Of course, you have.

But can conscience be your enemy? Surely you know the story of the woman taken in sin. The Pharisees dragged her before the Lord. They weren't interested in justice; they wanted to embarrass him, but they were willing to sacrifice a woman to do it. They said, "The law says she should be stoned to death. She was caught in the act. Now, what do you say?" Our Lord stooped and wrote with his finger on the ground. Have you ever wondered what he wrote? Did he just doodle? They must have thought, "What's he doing?" I think he wrote scripture on the ground. When the devil tempted him, he said, "It is written," but this time he wrote it. And I remember going all the way through scripture looking for what he might have written. This is only speculation, but I think this would certainly suit the circumstances. I think what he wrote in the ground is from the book of Hosea: "I will not punish your daughters when they play the prostitute, nor your wives when they commit adultery, for you yourselves are doing the same thing." That's Hosea, if you want to look it up sometime, not now, but Hosea 4:14. You know, this double standard has been a curse of civilization, that a man can get away with anything and a woman is punished.

What happened? He stood up and said, "Whoever is without sin among you, let him cast the first stone." It was as if our Lord had summoned a hundred hornets and said, "Sting these men." They were so busy beating off the stings of their conscience, they forgot all about the woman. They beat a hasty retreat. Have you ever seen anyone running