Years ago, President Lincoln stood on the battlefield at Gettlesberg and delivered that immortal address, The world will little note nor long remember what I say here. But my friends, the world did note and has never forgotten that glorious tribute to those who died to preserve the unity of our nation. And Lincoln being dead, yet speak us.
Listen to Lennard Darbee here:
Now each Memorial day we honor our dead. They are gone and the grass has grown over our memory of them. So is it necessary to remember? You see, the capacity for grief is finite. Life likes to forget a little and eventually rejects too many claims being made upon it but the dead. Their day is over. Their voice is stilled. They have nothing to say to us now, or have they?
Well, the Bible indicates that some of them have. For we turn to the great faith chapter in Hebrews 11: 4, and there we read, By faith Abel offered unto God a more excellent sacrifice than Cain, by which he obtained witness that he was righteous, God testifying of his gifts, and by it he being dead yet speaketh. Now, here we have the story and two brothers, both of whom came to worship the one true God.
But there will always be a difference between those who come to worship him. Forgetting that the ground was cursed, Cain brought the fruit of the ground. But God desires not the labor of our hands, not something we have planted and cultivated, however fine. God’s demand is for ourselves. But Cain gave only of his possessions.
He had no intention of becoming the servant of the Lord. Both were aware of the tragedy of Eden, and Abel, the younger, watched with intense earnestness and interest his brother’s worship. It seemed a perfect sacrifice the best fruits of his labor, but no joy lit up his brother’s countenance. There was no evidence of assurance, no light in his eye, no song of praise on his lips, no Hallelujah on his tongue. All was cold, formal and dead. All was desperately human.
There appeared no evidence as of deity, no atmosphere of heaven, no light or fire or flame from above, and Cain went out from the presence of the Lord. Abel, on the other hand, saw the hollowness of it all. He knew he was guilty, and that is the very beginning of faith. His sacrifice was to a confession of sin and set forth the necessity of a sacrificial redeemer.
We see him standing at the altar with bowed head and humbled heart. And then, as the blood flows and the life ebbs slowly the way, he dares to believe that his guilt has been removed. And thus we have boldness to enter into the holiest through the blood of Jesus.
Thus, as one redeemed, Abel said himself to offer his heart and all its affections to his maker and to his God. And the scripture says, he being dead, yet speaketh. Now, as we open up this glorious faith chapter, the leading instance, an example of faith recorded is that of Abel. He lived by faith and died for it, and therefore remains a fit pattern for us to observe.
The scripture says, He yet speaketh. And thank God it is his faith that speaks and not his martyrdom, faith in the blood of Jesus and not his own. We can’t all be martyrs, but by his faith, he still speaks to all anxious, weary, sinful souls. His life, after his sacrifice, lasted but a few hours or at the most a few days. It would seem a life thrown away, and yet that in short life, crowned with martyrdom, has spoken to millions of souls throughout the ages.
By faith, he obtained witness that he was righteous. As John Wesley’s father lay dying, he called his son to his bedside and said, The inward witness, John, the inward witness is the proof of Christianity. And without that inward witness, there can be no peace of heart, no praise, no thanksgiving. Without that, there can be no testimony to others. Or how can we witness to men what God has not witnessed to ourselves?
Return to Romans 8: 16, and there it is written, The spirit himself beareth witness with our spirit that we are the children of God. From Abel, we get our first instruction in the dynamic of life, which is faith in the living God, and he being dead yet speaketh. I can understand that, for I have been most fortunate in the pastors that have come my way.
When I was but a youth, I was born again in the first Baptist church in the city of Tacoma. The pastor of that church, Dr. C. O. Johnson, pastored a flock of over 3,000, but he had a shepherd heart. He knew each of the sheep by name, and he took a personal interest in them.
There was one poor fellow in those depression days, a youth of my own age, who was so hard up that he could not even have his teeth fixed. His clothes were ragged. And one day he said to me, Well, Darbee, he said, I’m through here. He said, I’m never coming to church again. I said, Oh, Ed, don’t say that. He said, No one cares whether I live or die. I said, I do. But I was just another young fellow his own age, and I didn’t count for much.
He No, I’m through. Everyone can dress better than I do. He said, I can’t take it any longer. I’m quitting. He failed to show up for two Sundays. The third Sunday, he came again and we sat together in the balcony. But as we left the building, Dr. Listening with standing, shaking hands with people. Turning to the young man, he said, Why, Ed, you rascal. You’ve cut down me two Sundays now. What on earth has been the matter with you? I saw tears come into the young man’s He tried to brush them away with the back of his hand. He stumbled out into the street.
Turning to me, he said, Did you hear that? He said, Did you hear that? He said, She all missed me. She all missed me. He said, I’ll never cut church again as long as I live. Dr. Johnson has been dead low these many years, but he, being dead, yet speaketh. The next permanent pastor we had was Dr. R. L. Powell. He led us deeper in the things of God and took such a personal interest in me that I’m in the ministry today largely because of him. He was the one that saw to it that I got an education going on to Baylor University.
Without his help, I never could have made it. That was long, long ago. But every soul that’s ever wanted to Christ under my ministry, he had a part in it, and he being dead yet speaketh. Then in the city of Seattle, there was that man of God, Roy Johnson, at the Philadelphia Church in its glory days. Who could ever forget those days?
Now, he was not an inspirational speaker in that he did not take the stable mantle of the night and pin it back with the stars. But when you sat in his great Sunday school class that filled the great lower part of the auditorium there, when you sat and listened to him teach the word of God, then when you heard him preach, Brother, you were always well-fed.
He gave you something to chew on. And then as he lay dying the last day of his life on earth, I went to see him in the hospital, and he turned to me and he said, Brother Darbee, Regardless of what happens to me, he said, Everything written in that book is true. Everything is true. Never forget that.
So with each of these men, their messages now have fated with the passing of the years. The messages have fated, but the man remains. Then someone mentioned Baylor University to me and my Bible professor. At the mere mention of Dr. Tidwell tears came into my eyes You say, why? He was the godliest man I’ve ever known, and he, being dead yet, speaketh.
Then I had this Sunday school teacher when I was a youth, Bill Custis. You don’t need to be a preacher to speak even after your death. Oh, he was so kindly, and he took such an interest in all of us young fellows that I’ve never forgotten Bill. I was preaching in Illinois, and a man told a story that I can never forget. He had become a regular outlaw, was in jail and out of jail, in jail and out of jail.
He said, “I was demon possessed.” He said, “I was just a little skinny fellow.” And he said, “The guards couldn’t control me.”
And one day, a new guard, a great big bruiser said, “I’ll take care of that little fellow,” and they said, “Don’t go into the cell with him. He’ll hurt you,” they said.
The fellow laughed, came into the cell with me. And he said, “Brother Darbee, I broke his arm as easily as I would break a matchstick.”
And then he said, “One day I was in the cell and my mother, who had been dead for years, came and stood just outside the bars, and she wept and wept and wept. She didn’t say a thing. Oh, what a vision he had.”
He said, “Don’t tell me that she wasn’t there.” He said, “I saw her as clearly as I ever saw her in life. And mother just stood there and wept.”
He was broken-hearted. It melted him down. And he called the guard and said to the guard, “Sir, can you give me a Bible?” The guard looked at him; what a trick is this? But they gave him a Bible. He became a model prisoner.
And the last I knew he was testifying to everybody concerning the saving grace of Jesus Christ. That mother being dead yet speaketh.
Well, my friend, what of you and what of me? The poet said that lives of great men all remind us we can make our lives sublimes and departing leave behind us footprints on the sands of time.
Well, my own dear mother was such a person, so that anything worthwhile in me was put there by my mother.
Now, she first made God to me when I was just a little fellow with a roaring earache. Being a little fellow, I started to cry. It felt as though a sword were piercing my ear.
I can see that young mother yet as she knelt by my bedside and said, “Lord, this is my little boy. He’s in pain and I can’t help him. But Father, in Jesus’ name, touch him now and take away that earache now.”
And instantly that earache ceased. She pounded morality into my brother and into me until we had an absolute abhorrence of evil. So that to this hour, I tell you the truth in Christ, I have never smoked, I have never taken a drink, I have never chased women.
The hour came in my life when I rebelled against going to church and announced I’d never go again. She said, “Son, so long as you’re under my roof, you will go to church.”
During the depression, she was brilliant with a Christian optimism that God would see us through.
Then there came the hour when cancer struck her. The X-ray showed that three ribs were pretty well eaten away, yet she never complained or lost faith in God. I was across the land. My wife said, “I’ll call Lennard home.” She said, “No, don’t do it.”
She said, “If he’s winning souls to Christ, that’s what he’s supposed to do. The Bible says, ‘Let the dead bury the dead’.”
But I came home. I didn’t know she was in that condition. My wife said, “I tried to phone you, but the business manager said you were on your way home and gave me the flight number.”
I came in and stood by her bed and she said, “Remember, I prayed for you that you would be a preacher before you were ever born.” So that like Paul, I was called into the ministry from my mother’s womb.
She said, “I know that there’ll be many tugs at you, but she said, remember, you’re a preacher. You’re a man of God. Never do anything else. You preach till Jesus comes.”
One day my father called and said that mother was dead. I started to go to pieces. The glorious Holy Ghost took over. I went into tongues and there was nothing but glory, glory, glory, glory.
My brother phrased it, Bevel and I, when he said, “She taught us how to live, and she showed us how to die.”
When his turn came, he was apparently dying with heart trouble. The doctor said, “An operation may help, or you may go home.”
He said to me, “If I had my choice, I’d go home to heaven.”
My friends, it’s wonderful to live such a life that being dead, you still speak. May God give us the courage and the willingness to lead such a life.