I’m reading John Stott’s last book…last as in final, not most recent.
The beloved Anglican wrote this from the nursing home he now lives in and it’s contents include his instructions for the disposition of his library when he dies.
These are Stott’s last thoughts that he wanted to share with the church he has served so well.
It’s called “The Radical Disciple” and that is a perfect description of Stott’s pilgrimage.
It’s a great little book, full of wisdom and love written with the winsomeness that is part of all Stott has done.
The book is intended to help us live likewise.
Unfortunately, I’m not John Stott.
I’m not a radical disciple…sometimes it’s hard to tell if I’m a disciple at all.
I despair of ever being Stott-like, let alone Christ like.
The downside of reading a lot of books about great men of God is that they are constant reminders that you are not one of them.
If I wrote a final book it would be called “The Guy Who Barely Made It and Got In Smelling Like Smoke”.
Not really…even though it would be true from my perspective.
From God’s perspective the same blood covers me and brother John and he has given me the same robes of righteousness that Stott will soon be clothed in.
That, my friends, is stunning truth.
The ground is level at the foot of the cross.
That… is the Gospel.
No one preached it better than Stott, nobody needs to hear it more than me.
It’s truth…it’s true for you as well…even if your walk looks more like mine than Johns.