"He was not willing that any should perish;Jesus, enthroned in the glory above,Saw our poor fallen world, pitied our sorrows,Poured out His life for us, wonderful love.Perishing, perishing, thronging our pathway,Hearts break with burdens too heavy to bear;Jesus would save, but there's no one to tell them,No one to save them from sin and despair."
"He was not willing that any should perish;Jesus, enthroned in the glory above,Saw our poor fallen world, pitied our sorrows,Poured out His life for us, wonderful love.Perishing, perishing, thronging our pathway,Hearts break with burdens too heavy to bear;Jesus would save, but there's no one to tell them,No one to save them from sin and despair."
Someone says: "You are putting an awful responsibility upon us. Would you have us go out and begin speaking to everyone we meet?" No, that is not what I am saying just now. Though there is a truth there. But this: Surrender yourself to Jesus as yourMaster, for Him to take possession. Turn the channel over to Him, that He may tighten the connections, upward and outward, and clean it out, and then use as He may choose. He has a passion for winning men, and He has marvelous tact in doing it. Let Him have His way in you. Keep quiet and close to Him, andobeyHim, gladly, cheerily, constantly, andHe will assume all responsibility for the results.
There is a law of personal service. It is this: Contact means opportunity; opportunity means responsibility. To come into personal contact with a man gives an opportunity of influencing him for Christ, and with opportunity goes its twin partner—responsibility.
There is another law—a higher law—the highest law of the christian life. It is this: In everything hold yourself subject to theHoly Spirit's leading. Whenever these two laws come into conflict remember that the lower law always yields to the higher. It is a law of life that where two laws come intoconflict the lower law always gives way to the higher. That is a supreme law both of nature and in legislation. Now, the highest law of the christian life is to yield constantly to the leading of our Companion—the Holy Spirit. Then quiet time alone with the Master daily over His word for the training of the ear, and the training of the judgment, and the training of the tongue becomes the great essential.
But to-night the great question is: Have you turned the channel of power—your personality—over to Him to be flushed and flooded with His power? Will you?
"Only a smile, yes, only a smile,That a woman o'erburdened with griefExpected from you; 'twould have given relief,For her heart ached sore the while.But, weary and cheerless, she went away,Because, as it happened that very day,You wereout of touchwith your Lord."Only a word, yes, only a word,That the Spirit's small voice whispered, 'Speak';But the worker passed onward, unblessed and weak,Whom you were meant to have stirredTo courage, devotion and love anew,Because, when the message came to you,You wereout of touchwith your Lord."Only a note, yes, only a note,To a friend in a distant land;The Spirit said, 'Write,' but then you had plannedSome different work, and you thoughtIt mattered little. You did not know'Twould have saved a soul from sin and woe—You wereout of touchwith your Lord."Only a song, yes, only a song,That the Spirit said, 'Sing to-night;Thy voice is thy Master's by purchased right.'But you thought, ''Mid this motley throng,I care not to sing of the City of God';And the heart that your words might have reached grew cold—You wereout of touchwith your Lord."Only a day, yes, only a day,But oh! can you guess, my friend,Where the influence reaches and where it will endOf the hours that you frittered away?The Master's command is, 'Abide in Me';And fruitless and vain will your service beIfout of touchwith your Lord."
"Only a smile, yes, only a smile,That a woman o'erburdened with griefExpected from you; 'twould have given relief,For her heart ached sore the while.But, weary and cheerless, she went away,Because, as it happened that very day,You wereout of touchwith your Lord.
"Only a word, yes, only a word,That the Spirit's small voice whispered, 'Speak';But the worker passed onward, unblessed and weak,Whom you were meant to have stirredTo courage, devotion and love anew,Because, when the message came to you,You wereout of touchwith your Lord.
"Only a note, yes, only a note,To a friend in a distant land;The Spirit said, 'Write,' but then you had plannedSome different work, and you thoughtIt mattered little. You did not know'Twould have saved a soul from sin and woe—You wereout of touchwith your Lord.
"Only a song, yes, only a song,That the Spirit said, 'Sing to-night;Thy voice is thy Master's by purchased right.'But you thought, ''Mid this motley throng,I care not to sing of the City of God';And the heart that your words might have reached grew cold—You wereout of touchwith your Lord.
"Only a day, yes, only a day,But oh! can you guess, my friend,Where the influence reaches and where it will endOf the hours that you frittered away?The Master's command is, 'Abide in Me';And fruitless and vain will your service beIfout of touchwith your Lord."
Every man needs power. Every earnest man covets power. Every willing man has the Master's promise of power. But every man does not possess the promised power. And many, it is to be feared, never will. Many a man's life to-day is utterly lacking in power. Some of us will look back at the close of life with a sense of keen disappointment and of bitter defeat. And the reason is not far to seek, nor hard to see through. If we do not have power it is becausewe are not willing to pay the price.
Everything costs. There is a law of exchange that rules in every sphere of life. It is this, "to get, you must give." It rules in the business world. If I want a house or a hat I must give the sum agreed upon. It rules in the intellectual world. If a young man wants a disciplined mind he must give time, and close application, and some real, hard work. It holds true in the spirit realm. If you and I wish to have business transactions in this upper world of spirit-life we must be governed by this same law. To have power in our lives over sin and selfishness, and passion, and appetite; over tongue, and temper, and self-seeking ambition; to have power in prayer,and in winning others over from sin to Jesus Christ, one must first lay down the required price.
What is the price of power? Turn to Jesus' talk with Peter and the others in the latter part of the sixteenth chapter of Matthew's gospel. Jesus has been telling them of the awful cross-experiences which He clearly saw ahead. Peter probably fearful that whatever came to his Master might possibly come to himself also, and shrinking back in horror from that, has the hardihood to rebuke Jesus. The Master, recognizing the suggestion as coming from a far subtler individual than Peter, who is using ignorant Peter's selfishness to repeat the suggestion of the wilderness, again bidshimbegone. Then in a few simple words of far-reaching significance, He states first the standard of power, and then the price to be paid by one who would reach that standard. Listen to Him: "If any man would come after Me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow Me."
Let us look a little into these familiar words. "If any manwould come after Me"—that is the standard set before us. Not to be regarded as a pillar in the church, a leader in religious circles, a good Bible student, a generous giver, an earnest speaker, an energetic worker, a spiritually minded person, but, whatmaynot be coupled with any or all of these admirable things,to tread in the footprints of Jesus.
Think back into that marvelous life. A human life, remember. For though He was Son of God He lived His life down here as a son of man. Think of His power over temptation, not alone at the outset in the fierce wilderness struggle, but through those succeeding years of intense conflict; His power over Satan, over man-possessing demons, over disease; His power in dealing with the subtle schoolmen trying their best to trip Him up, as well as over His more violent enemies who would have dashed Him over yon Nazareth precipice, or later stoned the life out of His body in Jerusalem. Recall the power of His rare unselfishness; His combined plainness and tenderness of speech in dealing with men; His unfailing love to all classes; His power as a soul winner, as a man of prayer, as a popular preacher, lovingly wooing men while unsparingly rebuking their sins.Thereis the suggestion of Jesus' standard of power. Would you goafter Him? You may. For as the Father sent Him even so sends He us, to do the same work and live the same life.
But wait a moment before answering that question. There is another side in His life to that "come-after-me." Opposites brought into contact produce a violent disturbance. Such a life as that of Jesus, down in the atmosphere of this world will of necessity provoke bitter enmities, both then and now. Listen. He was criticized and slandered. They said He was peculiar and fanatical. Hisfriends thought Him "beside Himself," swept off His feet by excessive, hot-headed enthusiasm. They "laughed Him to scorn," and reviled Him. They picked His words, and nagged His kindliest acts, and dogged His steps. Repeated attempts were made upon His life, both at Nazareth and by stoning at Jerusalem. A determined conspiracy against His life was planned by the Jerusalem officials six months before the end actually came. He was practically a fugitive for those months. At the last He was arrested and mocked andspitupon, struck with open hand and clenched fist, derisively crowned with thorns, and finally killed—a cruel, lingering, tortured death.
"If any man wouldcome after Me." Plainly this language of Jesus put back into its original setting begins to assume a new significance.
But look at these words a little more closely. "If"—it is an open question, this matter of following Jesus. It is kept open by many people who want to be known as christian, but who hesitate over what a plain understanding of Jesus' words may involve. Some of us may be disposed to shrink back from the simple meaning these words will yet disclose.
"If any manwould"—would is the past tense of will. The word will is one of the strongest in ourlanguage. A man's will is the imperial part of him. It is the autocrat upon the throne; the judge upon the bench of final appeal. Jesus is getting down to the root of matters here. He is appealing to the highest authority. No mere passing sentiment is this. Not attending a meeting and being swept along with the crowd by the hour's influence. Buta fixed purpose, calmly, resolutely settled upon, rooted away down deep in the very vitals of the will to follow Jesus absolutely, no matter what it may cost or where it may cut.
I wonder how many of us would form such a purpose, to follow Jesusblindly, utterly regardless of what it might be found to mean as the days come and go? "Oh, well," I hear some one say, "why talk like that. Nobody is required to suffer to-day as He did." Do you think not? I am not so sure about that. There is a young man in Southern India, bright fellow, full of power, of high class family, who heard of Jesus, and felt the personal appeal to himself of that marvelous story. He thought a good while of what it meant, and what it might involve, and at length resolutely formed his decision to accept and follow Jesus. As he had anticipated, his dear ones remonstrated with him, coaxed, pleaded, threatened, and finally, his own father violently put him out of his life-long home, and he has remained sincean outcastfrom home and loved ones. These words of Jesus surely are full of significance to him.
"But that was in India, far off, heathen India," you say. Well, here is something of a similar sort at home. I knew a young woman in a certain New England town visiting away from home. She attended some meetings where she was visiting, and decided to be a christian. She was betrothed to a young man, not a christian, in her home town. At once she wrote him explaining her new step thinking, doubtless how glad he would be. For most men seem very willing to have theirwiveschristian. But he wrote back that if she were determined to be a christian that must put an end to their engagement. He was not a christian and did not want his wife to be one. Every one here must know how serious a question that brought up for decision. For she was a true woman, and love's tendrils twine with wondrous tenacity about a woman's heart. And I presume, too, that everyone of you has already thought while I am speaking, of the temptation that, quick as a flash, went through her mind. "You need not make a public matter of this. Just be a true christian in heart and life, and in that wayyou'll win him over afterwards." I imagine some of you have heard something like that before. But she remembered that her new Master said "Confess" as well as "believe." It was a crisis; a severe struggle of soul. But she felt she must follow her Master's leading regardless of what it involved. And so she decided. You are not surprised to know that she was ill for a time. The intense strain of spiritaffected her body. "If—any—man—would—come—after—Me" meant much to her. Did it not?
Without doubt if some ofuslistening to-day were to follow Jesus quietly, but absolutely, in all things as His own Spirit plainly led, we would find as sharp a line of separation drawn against us, as did He in Palestine, and these young people in India and America.
Many a social door would be shut in our faces. O, shutpolitelyof course! Society thinks it in very bad form to get unduly excited about mere matters of religious opinion. But the door isshut, and barred, too. Some of us would possibly be searching for other business positions before to-morrow's light faded away if we were determined to go only whereHeclearly pointed the way.
But we have only begun to get at the meaning of Jesus' words. Is there still afixed purposeto follow regardless of what meaning these words may yet disclose? Not impossibly the company of those willing to go straight through this verse with a calm, determined "yes" to every word of Jesus, will grow smaller as we go on.
Let us go a little farther. "If any man would come after Me let himdeny himself." "Deny himself"—what does that mean? Well, deny means to say "no," plainly and positively. Himself is thesmoother English word for his self. Let him say "no" to his self. Please notice that Jesus is not speaking of what is commonly called self-denial. That is, repressing some desire for a time, sacrificing something temporarily in order to gain an advantage later. That sort of thing is not peculiar to the christian life, but is practiced by all classes, even among the lowest. He is not speaking of that, but of something far more radical. Reading the verse through again, it will be seen that there are three distinct persons referred to by Jesus. First, the "any man" He speaks of, and then the two others represented by these words "himself" and "Me," either one or the other of whom is influencing this "any man's" life. "Say no to his self" is coupled with "follow Me." And the opposite is implied—if any man will not do asIdesire, he will continue to do as he is now doing, namely, deny Me and follow his self.
These two persons self and Jesus are placed here in sharpest contrast. An uncompromising antagonism exists between them. They are sworn foes, and every man must decide to which he will yield his allegiance. To agree with either one is to oppose the other one. For a man to settle some matter that comes up for decision by saying "yes" to the desires or demands of his self involves his saying "no" to Jesus. And on the other hand his yielding assent to the plans and wishes of this "me," namely Jesus, is plainly equivalent to saying "no" to his self.
What is this self in each of us that Jesus sets in such antagonism to Himself, and instructs us to say a hard, uncompromising, unceasing "no" to? There are a few words in common use that give some suggestion of its character. There is the word selfish, that is, being absorbed in one's own self; in getting every stream to flow by his own door. That is commonly regarded, even in absolutely worldly circles, as a detestable trait. Its opposite, self-forgetful, being full of forgetting one's self in thinking of others, is as commonly regarded in all circles as a charming, winsome trait of character. The words self-centered, and self-willed, are as familiar and suggestive.
The fact is, there is an individual living inside each one of us whom Jesus refers to, by this word "his self." This individual takes on the degree of intensity and other local coloring of the person it inhabits. It may be polished, scholarly, cultured; or, coarse, ignorant and ill-mannered. But "scratch a Russian and you find a Tartar." Scratch through the veneering here and, whether coarse or highly polished, you will find the same individual—self.
There are some quite marked characteristics by which its presence may be recognized. They may not all be noticeable together in any one person. But one or more will be found in every person whom it succeeds in influencing and dominating. One characteristic is this:it covets praise. It feeds and fattens on commendation. It constantly seeks to behighly esteemed, to have its worth properly appraised. It is immensely impressed with its own importance, its value to society, its keenness, wisdom or aptness, and wishes others to be so impressed also. It is fond of a mirror, especially one made to magnify. It seeks recognition. It presses forward, rudely or politely, according as its habitat has been trained in rude or polite circles. It may put on the garb of humility, and use the language of depreciation. But its ear is none the less keenly alert to hear the agreeable things and to cherish them.
Another characteristic, which really is simply the other side of this first named one, is this:it shrinks from criticism. How it writhes and twists at the least touch of unfavorable criticism! It is always on the defensive. The cheek colors at the suggestion of its being wrong, or having blundered, or of being peculiar.
How quickly it explains and defends and brings evidence of its being in the right. It is extremely sensitive. "It is thattouchything in you." It is chronically troubled with "the disease oftouchiness." Its feelings are readily hurt. It is easily slighted. It remembers grievances. It has an interrogation point constantly on sentinel duty, namely, What willtheythink? What willtheysay? It lives in constant fear, under the lash of that huge, vague, awfulthey.
I remember knowing a Sunday school teacher whohad a mission class of rather rough boys from non-christian homes. I asked one day how she was getting along with them. "Going to give them up," she replied. "Is that so? They have all become christians?" No, none of them were christians, and they liked her, and said they would not come if she gave them up, but she felt discouraged, and anyway she had decided to give them up. Lawyers and women do not always give their reasons, very wisely. I ventured to suggest that before giving them up, she have the boys come up to her home, one at a time, perhaps for tea; have a pleasant chatty time at tea and afterwards, and then before the boy left have a quiet friendly talk with him by himself about being a christian, and, a few words of prayer with him. Wouldn't she try that before giving them up? And I remember distinctly that her face blushed as red as a bright red rose, as she replied, "Why, Mr. Gordon,he'd laugh at me!" And she could not bear the possible chance of being laughed at for the other more likely possibility of winning a soul—a man—a life. That was "self" in her, shrinking back from a laugh; dreading that look of possibly contemptuous surprise thatmightcome.
Another person, speaking about certain recreations very common in society, and which he was in the habit of joining, though freely questioning the propriety of so doing, said, "O, I don't care much for those things. I could easily give them up, butpeople think you are so queer if you decline, and you feel as if you were a back number." Ah! there was the rub. The desire to be thought well of; the dislike of being considered peculiar; the fear of that thinly veiled sneering curl on the lip—that wasselfin him asserting its presence, and even more, ruling his action. Do you recognize the individual inside of you that Jesus is speaking of?
There is a third tell-tale ear-mark of self that is difficult to conceal—it is assertive. It dearly loves to have its own way. It has plans and ambitions, and proposes to carry them through regardless of man, or—let the plain truth be spoken softly—of God. Its opinions are held tenaciously. Its favorite pronoun is I, capitalized, with variations of my and me. The personal equation is extremely powerful and persuasive.
The true follower of Jesus holds every plan subject to change from above. But this self, if allowed to rule, takes the bit in its tightly-shut teeth, and drives determinedly ahead, reckless of either man's or God's preferences, even though religious phraseology may be upon its tongue.
Still another trait of character of this self whose closer acquaintance we are making is this:It has an insatiable appetite. It grows hungrier by that on which it feeds. Its capacity is beyond the measuring line. If given free rein it will debase the holiest functions of the body, and degrade the highest powers of the mind to appease its gnawing, passion-bitten hunger. The noblest gifts, the purest emotions, the most sacred relationships, are dragged down to the slimy gutter to tempt and temporarily stay its jaded palate.
Thatis something of a suggestion of the character of this other master than Jesus, who seeks to get control of us, and from whose relentless, vise-like grip Jesus would fain free us. He says there is only one thing to do with it. No half-way compromise—the great American expedient—will do here. The Master says plainly it is to be denied, repressed, put determinedly down, starved, strangled. To every suggestion or demand there is to be a prompt, positive, jaw-locked no.
There is war to the knife, and the knife clear up to the hilt, between these two claimants for the control of our powers—self and Jesus. Paul understood this antagonism thoroughly. It comes out repeatedly in his writings. His name for this inner enemy, by an accidental turn in English, is Jesus' word "self" spelled backwards with the letter "h" added—f-l-e-s-h. His remarks in Romans, eighth chapter, verses four to eight, and twelve to thirteen, are simply an enlargement of these words in the sixteenth of Matthew's gospel. If one will read these verses, substituting Jesus' word "self" for Paul's word he will be surprised to find how strikingly Paul isexpressing this very thought of Jesus. A free translation of part of these verses would read like this: Verse five—"They that choose to walk after self (as a slave walked after, or behind, his master) will show their choice by obeying the desires of self, and they that choose to walk after the Spirit will obey the desires of the Spirit." Verse seven—"For the purposes of self are opposed to God's purposes; for it does not hold itself subject to God's wishes; indeed, in its very nature it cannot; and they that choose to obey self cannot please God." Verse thirteen—"If by the Holy Spirit's aid ye kill off the plans and doings of self, ye shall therein find real true life, and only so."
Plainly, the deep searching experiences of Paul's great soul, and his wide observation of others, in his ceaseless travels, confirm the statements already made, that there is the intensest hatred, the bitterest antagonism, between these two personalities represented by Jesus' words, "himself" and "me." There can be no patched-up truce here. The only way the lion and the lamb can lie down together in this case is for the one to lie down underneath the other—conquered; or inside the other—devoured.
In his other letters Paul sometimes uses still another name, "the old man," and names the characteristics of this omnipresent self, which crop out with varying degrees of prominence, in different persons, and under different circumstances. Notice only a few of these: In Galatians, fifth chapter,nineteenth verse: "The deeds of self are ... improper sexual intercourse, impurity, shameless looseness...." It will, wherever possible, debase the holiest functions of the body. In Colossians, third chapter, fifth verse, speaking of the "old man": "And covetousness, which is reckoning of highest worth that which is less worthy than God." That is to say, the ambitious longings of self, will if unchecked become the ruling passion, thrusting all else ruthlessly aside and degrading the highest powers of the mind to satisfying its feverish desire. In Ephesians, fourth chapter, thirty-first verse: "Bitterness, passion, anger, loud disputing, evil-speaking ... malice." Its assertiveness, and demand for a due recognition of its worth, its rights, its opinions, its proper place, bring bitterest burnings, and worse. It will not be needful to review congressional, and political, and society life for illustrations. They may be found much nearer one's own door.
Was there ever such a list? Such a being whose heart begets and nurses such progeny! This being has the smell of hell, and of the evil one himself. Ah! now we are getting at the straight truth. Self is Satan's personal representative in every human heart. Its door of entrance is the door of disobedience. It can have control only where one allows himself to get out of intelligent sympathy with God. The self in Peter was recoiling from that cross of which Jesus spoke. How keen Jesus was in recognizing the suggestor of the thought that found expression through Peter's lips—"Get thee behind me,Satan." Self is Satan, condensed into each man's life, though in some he dare not exhibit his coarser traits; and in others he is beingconstantly conqueredby that power of the Spirit of Jesus which comes through absolute, glad surrender to Him.
This sly Satan-self may often be recognized by a favorite question it asks among christian people about a great many so-called unimportant matters:—What's the harm? But a true follower of Jesus never lives down upon the plane of "what's-the-harm?" He lives up in a higher sphere with his Master, who "pleased not Himself," but made it the steady, unfaltering aim of His life to do always those things that were pleasing to His Father. Men thought Him narrow and fanatical, but He cared not so long as He could daily hear that clear, sweet voice saying "This is My beloved Son, in whomIam well pleased." The final touchstone which the follower of Jesus applies to every matter is this:Would it please Him?
Let everyone here who earnestly desires to fit into, and to fill out, Jesus' plan for his life, take paper and pencil and make a list of his personal habits; such as his eating, what he eats and how; his drinking, other things he puts into his mouth, his dress, the use and care of his body, his recreations, his reading, his conversation, his use of money, his use of time, his life plans and his dailyplans, his social engagements; and regarding each ask plainly the question—what is themotivethatcontrolsme in this? Is it my own preference or enjoyment? Or, is it to please and honor Jesus? Let him further go through the list of his business methods, his friendships, the various organizations he belongs to, with the same question. If he will do thorough work he will probably have some stiff fighting on hand both at the start and afterwards. Many a life would thereby be radically changed. For example, I know a christian storekeeper who has on his shelves a certain article bearing the label of a tonic medicine, but he knows perfectly well, as does anyone who stops to think about it, that the stuff back of the label is one form of an intoxicant. There can be no question of what the Master would say about it. But it brings a good profit. And his money-fevered self asserts its mastery and carries the day. And the man tightly grips the profits, while Satan chuckles with unholy glee, and souls are being damned by this christian man's aid. Certainly there can be none of the power of God in such a life. Let us rather speak the truth and say that this man is exerting a positive power for Satan and for hell.
All this is included in these few simple words, "let him deny himself." Is there still a fixed purpose to follow Jesus without regard to what it may cost us, or where the keen edge of separation may cut in?
Here is a forking of the road. I bring this whole company up to this dividing, and therefore deciding, point. Let each choose his own road deliberately, prayerfully, with open eyes. This road to the left has as its law, yielding to self; saying "yes" to the desires and demands of self; with some modifications possibly, here and there, for I am talking to professing christian people. Yes to Jesussometimes, but atothertimes, when it suits circumstances and inclinations better to do otherwise—well, a pushing of the troublesome question aside. And that means a decided yes to self, with as positive a negative to Jesus' desires implied thereby. That is the left-hand fork.
This right-hand road knows only one law to which exception is never made, namely:Yes to Jesus, everywhere, always, regardless of consequences, though it may entail loss of friendships, or money, or position, or social standing, or personal preference, or radical change of plans, or, what not.
Judas assented to the cravings of his ambitious self and said "no" to his Master, thinking possibly, with his worldly shrewdness, thereby to force Jesus to assert His power. He little knew what a time of crisis it was, and what terrific results would follow.
Peter stood on the side of his cowardly, shrinking self in the court-yard that dark night, and against his Master. And though with matchless love hewas forgiven, he never forgave himself, nor was able to get that night's doings out of his memory. Judas and Peter were brothers in action that night, and there are evidences that many other disciples are standing over in the same group. Are you? Which road do you choose to-night: this—to the left? Or, this—to the right?
I knew a young man who was deeply attached to an admirable young woman, both refined christian persons, much above the average in native ability, and in culture. He made known to her his feelings. But as many a woman who does not trust her best Friend in such matters is apt to do she held him off, testing him repeatedly, to find out just how real his attachment was. Finally revealing indirectly her own feeling she still withheld the consent he pleaded for, until he would yield acquiescence in a certain plan of hers for him. The plan, proper enough in itself, was an ambitious one, and tended decidedly toward swinging him away from the high, tenderly spiritual ideals that had swayed his life in college and afterwards, though he probably was not clearly conscious of this tendency. The only safe thing to do under such strong circumstances was to take time, aside, alone, for calm, poised, thought and prayer, to learn if her plan was also the Master's plan for him. But the personal element proved too strong for such deliberation. The possibility of losing her swung him off of his feet. It was no longer a question between her plan and the Master'splan. The latter dropped out of view, probably half-unconsciously because hurriedly.He must have her, he thought. That rose before his eyes above all else. And so the decision was made. With what result? He is to-day prominent in christian service, an earnest speaker, a tireless worker, with a most winsome personality. But his inner spiritual life has perceptibly dwarfed. His ideals, still high and noble, are distinctly lower than in his earlier life. Intellectual ideals, admirable in themselves, but belonging in second place in a christian life, now command the field. His conceptions and understanding of spiritual truth have undergone a decided change.
The proposal of the self-life came in very fascinating guise to him. He hastily said "yes" to it: that meant as decided a refusal of Another's plan for him, which had once been clearly recognized, and accepted, but was now set aside, be it sadly said, as he swung quickly off to the left fork of the road.
There is an incident told of a European pastor, an earnest, eloquent man. The realization came in upon him that he had not been fully following the Master. In much of his life self was still ruling. He came to this forking of the road, and the battle was a fierce one, for self dies hard. But finally "by the Spirit," he got the victory, as every one may, and calmly stepped off to the right. He has vividly described that battle of the forks in language, theaccuracy of which will be recognized by others who have been in action on that field.
"Oh, the bitter shame and sorrow,That a time could ever beWhen I let the Saviour's pityPlead in vain, and proudly answered:'All of self, and none of Thee.'"Yet He found me: I beheld himBleeding on the accursed tree;Heard Him pray, 'forgive them, Father,'And my wistful heart said faintly:'Some of self and some of Thee.'"Day by day, His tender mercy,Healing, helping, full and free,Sweet and strong, and oh, so patient,Brought me lower, while I whispered:'Less of self and more of Thee.'"Higher than the highest heaven,Deeper than the deepest sea,Lord, thy love at last has conquered;Grant me now my soul's desire,'None of self and all of Thee.'"
"Oh, the bitter shame and sorrow,That a time could ever beWhen I let the Saviour's pityPlead in vain, and proudly answered:'All of self, and none of Thee.'
"Yet He found me: I beheld himBleeding on the accursed tree;Heard Him pray, 'forgive them, Father,'And my wistful heart said faintly:'Some of self and some of Thee.'
"Day by day, His tender mercy,Healing, helping, full and free,Sweet and strong, and oh, so patient,Brought me lower, while I whispered:'Less of self and more of Thee.'
"Higher than the highest heaven,Deeper than the deepest sea,Lord, thy love at last has conquered;Grant me now my soul's desire,'None of self and all of Thee.'"
Is there still a fixed purpose? Will you take this right fork? Let those who will, and those who linger reluctantly listen to the further word that Jesus adds: "Let him deny himself and take up his cross." "Take up his cross"—what does that mean? The cross has come to be regarded in these days as a fine ornament. It looks beautiful bejeweled; on the end of a sword; or worked into regalia.It makes such an artistic finish to a church building, finely chiseled in stone, or enwreathed with ivy. It looks pretty in jewelry and flowers. But to Jesus and the men of His time it had a grim, hard, painful significance. In Roman usage a man condemned to this death was required to take up the crude wooden cross provided, carry it out to the place of execution, and there be transfixed upon it. Plainly to these men listening, Jesus' words meant: Let him say "no" to his self, and then nail it up on the cross and leave it thereto die.
Paul understood this thoroughly. To help the young christians in Galatia he explains his own experience by saying: "I have been crucifiedwith Christ;" and to the unknown friends in Rome he writes: "if ye by the Spiritput to deaththe doings of the self life ye shall live." The only thing to do with this self is to kill it.
In Luke's account an intensely practical word is added to Jesus' remark: "Let him take up his crossdaily." A cat is said to have nine lives, because it is so hard to kill. I do not know what your experience may have been, but, judged by this rule, the self in me is tougher-lived than that. It has about ninety-nine, or nine hundred and ninety-nine lives. I put it on the cross to-day in the purpose of my will by the power of the Spirit, and I find it trying to sneak down and step into active control again to-morrow through some sly, subtle suggestion which it hopes may get past the vigilanceof my sentinel. That worddailybecomes, of necessity, my constant keynote—adailyconflict, adailysleepless vigilance, and, thank God, adaily victory.
Every man's heart is a battlefield. If self has possession, Jesus is lovingly striving to get possession. If possession has been yielded to Jesus, there is a constant besieging by the forces of self. And self is a skilled strategist. In every heart there is a cross, and a throne, and each is occupied. If Jesus is on the throne, ruling, self is on the cross, dying. But if self is being obeyed, and so is ruling, then it is on the throne. And self on the throne means thatJesus has been put on the cross. And it seems to be only too pathetically true that not only in New Testament times, but in these times, there are numbers of professing christians, who, in the practice of daily life, are crucifying the Son of God afresh, and openly exposing Him to shame before the eyes of the crowd.
Suppose that to-night I determine to make this absolute surrender to Jesus as my Master. To-morrow in some matter, possibly a small matter—speaking a word to some one—asking a silent blessing at the meal—making a change in some personal habit—or some other apparently trivial matter—the Spirit quietly makes clearHis wishas to what I should do. But I hesitate: it seems hard. I do not say that I will not obey, but actuallyI do not. Let me plainly understand that in such a single failure toobey, self is again mounting the throne, and Jesus is being dethroned and put over yonder on the cross.
Do some of us still hesitate at this forking of the roads, irresolute? A crowned Christ is attractive. But self's tendrils, though small, are tenaciously tough, and twine into so many corners and around some hidden things. And the uprooting and outcutting mean sharp pain. Is that so? And you hesitate? Please take another frank look.
These two forks differ radically. They differ in direction. One is to theleft; the other to theright. And these two words are significant of more than direction. They differ in grade. This left-hand road does not seem to have any grade. It is smooth and level, and straightaway,apparently. But a keener look reveals a slantdown, very slight at first, but steadily increasing, not only in its downward grade, but in theproportionategrade down.
This right-hand road has a decided gradeupfrom the beginning, a steep slant, that causes many to avoid it, though they feel impelled to take it. Those who take it say that after the first decided step into it the slant does not seem nearly so hard as before starting, and that climbing it makes splendid muscle and gives an inspiring sense of exhilaration from the very start. The atmosphere is rareand purifying and invigorating. It is not traveled by so many, though the number keeps increasing. But such rare companionship, hitherto unknown, they afford!
The striking peculiarityof this road, however, is this, that each one keeps lock-step with a certain One who leads the way. This One is remarkable in appearance. His face combines all the strength and resolution of the strongest man's with all the fineness and gentleness of the finest woman's. But He bears peculiar marks as though He had been through some terrible experience. His face has a number of small scars as though it had been torn by thorns and cut by thongs. His hands and feet look as though huge spikes had been forced through them. But the glory-light of another world is in His eyes, and illumines His face radiantly, and a glad ring is in His low, musical, singularly clear voice.
The walking in step with Him issoclose that one can feel the tender throbbing of His heart, and can talk confidentially with Him in low, quiet tones, and can hear distinctly His gentle still-like voice in reply.
As one steps off quietly, determinedly to the right from the battle of the forks he hears the closing words of Jesus' remarks to Peter—"and follow Me." Jesus sends no one ahead alone. He blazes out every path through the unknown, unbroken forest, and asks us simply to come along after Him. He did what He asks us to do. The self-life wasalluringly and repeatedly presented to Him by Satan, in the wilderness, in the remark of Peter, by the visit of the Greeks, in Gethsemane where the struggle of soul almost broke the tie that held body and spirit together, and many other times. In many a hard battle—for the divine Jesus was intensely human in His earthly life—He repeatedly said a never-varying "no" to the self-life, and lived a constant victory until the very last triumphant shout of victory on Calvary. It was a life of constant conflict, but of splendid, calming, scarce-broken peace within, and of marvelous power without.
Earnestly, lovingly, gently, yet passionately, He stands just ahead in that path now, with pierced hands outstretched in open invitation, with a heart-yearning in the depths of His great eyes, wooing us on to follow where He goes on before.
Let us follow. It may be, itwillbe, in some measure, through the experiences of the wilderness temptation, and of Gethsemane, and of Calvary, but it will also be to share the victory which was always coupled with every testingHemet. It will as certainly be following Him in power, and victory, on past Calvary to the new life of the resurrection morning, that saw the greatest display of power. And even past that, to the upper chamber where His words burn their way into our hearts—"as the Father sent Me (clothed with power unconquerable) even so send I you." And then to Olivet where the victorious words ring out, "All power hath beengiven unto me in heaven and on earth, therefore go ye and make disciples."
"If any manwould come alter me,let him say "no" to his self,and nail it to the cross daily,and follow me."
"If any manwould come alter me,let him say "no" to his self,and nail it to the cross daily,and follow me."
Jesus, Master, by the Holy Spirit's help,I will.
Everyone enjoys the pleasure of travel; but nearly all shrink back from its tiresomeness and drudgery. The transportation companies are constantly scheming to overcome this disagreeable side for both pleasure and business travel. One of the popular ways of pleasure travel of late is by means of personally conducted tours. A party is formed, often by the railroad company, and is accompanied by a special agent to attend to all the business matters of the trip. A variation of this is to arrange for a group of congenial people to accompany some well-known accomplished gentleman. This gives the trip, not alone the convenience of having all business matters cared for, but also the decided enjoyment which this gentleman's wide knowledge and experience, and personal contact incidentally give. There are some criticisms however of such parties, from the standpoint of greatest comfort and of freedom in moving about.
Probably the very pleasantest way—the ideal way, to travel anywhere, either in our own home land, or abroad—is to form a party of only a very few persons, mutually congenial, and personally agreeable,one of whom is an experienced traveler, to whom checking baggage, buying tickets, studying timetables, planning connections and all the rest of that sort of thing which, to most, is disagreeable drudgery, to whom all that is mere pleasant detail; and who in addition knows all the ground you will cover, the best hotels, the inconveniences to avoid, the desirable places and things, and who finds rare enjoyment in making the trip delightful and inspiring, and restful too, to these dear friends of his.
For instance if the trip is a foreign one beginning with a run through Great Britain it would add immensely to have such a friend in London who knew that great whirling world-metropolis, as you know your own home. After a bit you may slip over the Channel to Holland. It is only a few hours away, but the strange language, new custom-house rules, new usages, new sights, different sort of people, all make it a totally different world. A few hours will bring you into Sweden, or west from the hollow-landed Dutch to the higher-landed Germans, or south through Belgium into sunny France, and so on. And in each place the customs, and language, and sights, and people, the food, the sleeping arrangements, and apparently everything, especially to a stranger, are totally different. It is this very variety—the constant change of surroundings—that constitutes much of the charm of it all. There is nothing so refreshing and invigorating asthat. But on the other hand to an entire stranger who has no guide, it is apt to be confusing and wearisome. And the tiresome side often overcomes the pleasant side. Now this is what I am saying, that, if there are just a few together, and this experienced traveler, who is also a dear friend, is one of them, the trip is radically changed. You move in a new world. He can talk Dutch in Holland, and German in Germany, Swedish in Scandinavia, and French in Switzerland. He sees the baggage past the customs officials, and provides restful stopping places, and keeps the disagreeables away from you. He knows the places to visit, and is familiar with the historic occurrences, and is a quiet, cheery companion, andifwith it all he has an unlimited letter-of-credit, and makes you feel that somehow you are favoring him by letting him help you out when you run short—that, I say, would bethe ideal way of traveling.
Now why take so much time speaking about all that? Listen! I will tell you why. Living is like traveling. Life is a journey. It is a trip through a strange land where you have never been before, and you never know a moment ahead where you are going next. Strange languages, strange scenes, strange dilemmas; new tangles, new experiences, and some old ones with new faces so you do not know them. It is just as chock-full of pleasure and enjoyment as it can be, if you could only make someprovision for the drudgery and hard things that seem to crowd in so thick and fast sometimes, as to make people forget the gladness of it.
Now I have something to tell you that seems too utterly good to be believed, and yet keeps getting better all the way along. It is this: the Master has planned that your life journey shall be a personally conducted one on this ideal plan. It was said a night or two ago that the Master has thought into your life and made arrangement for all its needs. Let me add to-night this further fact:He has arranged with His best friend, who is an experienced traveler, to go with you and devote Himself wholly to your interests.
Some of you, I am afraid, will smile, and think that I am just indulging in a fancy sketch—drawing on my imagination. And so I pray our Master to burn into our hearts that it is plain, matter-of-fact truth, for every day life. I would say that it is cold fact were it not that such a fact can never be cold.
Each of these talks, you have noticed, has led up to the one idea of surrender. That word surrender stands for one side only of a transaction—ourside. As in all transactions, there is another side—Hisside to whom the surrender is made. To-night we want to take a step in advance and talk about the part which Jesus has in this surrender-transaction.All truth goes in pairs. The partnership word with surrender is mastery. Surrender on my part is followed by mastery on His part. There are two personalities in this transaction. You are one: an important one, but only one. To-night we shall try to get a better acquaintance with the other One. The One who assumes control of the surrendered life, who is to be our personal guide and friend.
Will you recall again the Master's good-bye Olivet message, and notice just what it means? Listen to the very words: "Ye shall receive power." Let me ask you—what is power? Will some one give a simple definition of that word? There are four words, four of the commonest, most familiar in our language, for which I have not been able to find a definition. If some one here can help me I will be grateful. They are the words life, light, love, and power. What do they mean? I can find plenty of statementsaboutthem, descriptions of what each of these is like, but no definitions.
What is life? Recently I looked into the statement regarding life made by three of the most famous English scientists of the nineteenth century, whose names are household words. I read them carefully. The wisdom and keenness of observation they show are amazing. But when I had studied and read them repeatedly I found myself asking—what is life? They have described rarely the functions and characteristics of life, but have not told what it is. They do not seem to know. Do you?
What is light? Will some one tell me? The corpuscular theory, which the famous Newton advocated, is long since abandoned. The later wave theory is pretty generally accepted, and yet they can not all agree upon that. These people say that light is a part of the kind of energy called radiant energy. Now, we all know what light is! The sun of course is not light, only a light-holder and distributer. According to the oldest record we have of the creation, light existed before these light-holders, the sun and moon and stars.
What is love? Well, you allknow, I hope. Pity the poor man who does not know by experience what love is. But you cannot tell what it is. "Oh!" you say, "it is emotion." Yes, so is hate, its very opposite. "Well, love is affection." Yes. What is affection? "Well, it is a pleasurable feeling, or regard, which may be very intense, and which leads us to unlimited sacrifice if need be. It is a devotion that grips the soul tremendously." That is true; yet that is only telling what love is like. No simple, plain definition of love, or light or life has ever been formed yet by man so far as I can learn.
What is power? You may say it is force. And what is force? "Well, force is a form of energy." What is energy? "Well," you reply, "it is a strong inward movement whose strength is very impressive." Some one says "power is ability." And ability? "Well, that is the innate power to do something." And so we get to use our word in theattempted definition itself, which is simply talking in a circle. We can find good descriptive words, but no defining words.
Now mark a singular fact. In the writings of John, in this old book I have here, you will find a few statements regarding these things which combine wondrous simplicity of language with marvelous, yes, unfathomable, depth of meaning. First, about life: in chapter one, verse four, of the gospel:—"in Him was life," being an evident allusion to the remarkable Genesis statement: "the Lord God breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living soul." Then, about love: in chapter four, verse seven, of his first epistle:—"love is of God"; coupled with the twice spoken words "God is love" in the same chapter. About light: in chapter one, verse five, of the same epistle, "God is light."
I know some of you, perhaps some skilled theologian here, is saying to himself, "Those are statements ofmoraltruths." And I understand that that is the common conception. But I want to state here my own profound conviction, based on the Spirit-breathed words of John, that some day, when we shall know about all these deep things, we shall be finding that there is a basis not only of moral truth, but of far more than moral truth underlying those profoundly simple statements.
And I believe in that day we shall find that life—all life—is, in some actual, marvelous way, the outbreathing of God's own being. And that light is the inherent radiance of His person and face, and that the universal passion of love is the throbbing pulse-beat of His own great heart.
Now why take time to speak about these things to-night when we are talking about power? I will tell you why. Because they give the intensest practical significance to a similar statement about that word power with which wearegreatly concerned just now.
Mark the language Luke uses in describing that memorable Olivet scene in which we are so deeply interested in these talks together. The old King James version reads: "ye shall receive powerafterthat the Holy Spirit is come upon you." The revised version puts it in this way, "ye shall receive powerwhenthe Holy Spirit is come upon you." Some of you have probably noticed that some editions give a marginal note, which, in this case, proves to be the literal reading namely:ye shall receive power the Holy Spirit coming upon you. Not "after," nor "when," but simply "the Holy Spirit coming," etc. That is to say, theHoly Spirit is power. That you will observe fits in with the form of statement John uses. The Holy Spirit in control, unhindered, unhampered, means power manifest in the life. That is the profound truth of God's book. And as a bit of side evidence it is striking to observe that all Scripture statements throughout fit in with that conception. Power is a person. Notsome thing, nor influence, nor sentiment, nor some working upon our hearts at a distance by God seated up yonder on the throne. That were wonderful indeed. But a person, called the Holy Spirit, living in me—shall I make it very definite by saying, livingin my body?—that is power. If restrained by sin, or disobedience, or ignorance, or wilfulness of any sort, then powerrestrained, held in check, not evident. If utterly unrestrained, given free sway and control—ah! then power manifest, limitless, wonderful, all exercised in carrying out God's will in, and with, and through me.
And the marvelous message I bring you from the old book of God is this:The Master has sent a dear friend of His, and of yours, who is experienced, and strong, and loving, personally to conduct you through your daily life, and His presence unrestrained, means power unlimited.
Do you remember that heart-to-heart talk that Jesus had with the eleven disciples that last night they spent together in the upper room? John tells us about it in chapters thirteen to sixteen. The Master talks a great deal that night, about some One else, who was coming to take His place with them. They did not understand what He meant till afterwards. He packs more into that one evening's talk about this coming One than all He had said beforeput together. Notice that now He gives a name, a new name, to this person, repeated four times that night. It is an intensely significant name—the Comforter. Will you remember, and keep constantly in mind, the actual meaning of that new name? it is simply this:one called alongside to help.
Let me attempt to suggest a little of its practical meaning.
Here is a little girl standing on the curbstone down town on Broadway in New York, with a bundle in her arms. She has been sent on an errand, and wants to get across the street. But the electric cars are whizzing past in both directions, and wagons, and carriages, and omnibuses, and horses jam the street from curb to curb, and she cannot get across. She stands there gripping her bundle, watching eagerly for a chance, and yet afraid to venture. But the jam seems endless, and she grows very tired, and by and by the corners of her mouth begin to twitch down suspiciously, and a big tear is just starting in each eye. Just then a big policeman steps up, one of the finest, six feet tall, and heavy and broad. He seems like a giant to her. He stoops down. Would you imagine he had such a gentle voice? "What's the matter?" "Can't—get—'cross." Oh! is that all; he'll fix that. And he takes her little hand in his with a reassuring "come along." And along she goes, past cars, under horses' heads, close up to big wheels. She is just as small as before, and just as weak. Butthough her eyes stay pretty big, the tears are gone, and there is an air of confidence, because this big, kind-hearted giant by her side is walking across the street as though he owned the whole place,and he is devoting his entire attention to her. That policeman is a comforter in the strict meaning of the word.
Here is a boy in school, head down close to the desk, puzzling over a "sum." It won't "come out." He figures away, and his brow is all knitted up, and a worried look is coming into his face for he is a conscientious little fellow. But he cannot seem to get it right and the clouds gather thicker. By and by the teacher comes up and sits down by his side. It awes him a little to have her quite so close. But her kindliness of manner mellows the awe. "How are you getting along?" "Won't come out right"—in a very despondent tone. "Let me see, did you subtract that...?" "Oh-h-h! I forgot that," and a little light seems to break, as he scratches away for a few moments; then pauses. "And this figure here, should it be...." "Oh-h-h, I see." More scratching, and a soft sigh of relief, and the knitting brows unravel, and the face brightens. The teacher did not do the problem for him. She did better. She let him feel her kindly interest first of all, and gave just the light, experienced touch that showed him the way out, and yet allowed him the peculiar pleasure of getting through himself.That is what "Comforter" means.
One summer a friend suggested to me spending aweek on Lake Chautauqua. I did not have the money to spare, and so told him I was not sure I could arrange to get away. But he seemed to divine the basis of my objection, and insisted on my going along. We went. I had very little money with me. I got on the train without a ticket, took a seat in the parlor car, stopped at the best hotel, had a choice room on the ground floor, patronized the well-ordered dining-room regularly, and made free use of the place. And all the time I had practically no money with me. But would you believe me I was not a particle concerned about paying for those privileges. Never felt less concern about anything in my life. You know why.I had a trustworthy friend, with me who was concerned for me.
Now these are simple suggestions, illustratingpartlythe meaning of that marvelous name Jesus gave to the Holy Spirit. I will send another Comforter, one who will be right by your side to help, sympathetic, experienced, strong; and He will stay with you all the time. In the kitchen, in the sitting-room, the sick-room, with the children, when work piles up, when things jangle or threaten to, when the baby's cross, and the patching and sweeping and baking, and all the rest of it seem endless, on the street, in the office, on the campus, in the store, when tempted—almost slipped, when opportunity opens for a quiet personal word, everywhere, every time, in every circumstance, one alongside to help. Is not that wonderful?
There is one bother about illustrations: they never do tell all the truth. They never are as vivid, nor as good as the truth, that is when you are talking about our Master, or His arrangements. The very best illustrations of Bible truth are Bible illustrations. Now there is a striking pictorial illustration back in the Old Testament of the meaning of this name of the Holy Spirit. It is in the story of a most remarkable journey from Egypt to the border line of Palestine. The journey was remarkable for two things. First, for the sort of country it was through. It is a trackless waste of sand, that spreads over thousands of square miles. It was infested with venomous serpents and scorpions, and is described as "all that great and terrible wilderness," "a waste howling wilderness," and "a land of deserts and pits, of drought and of the shadow of death, that none passed through, and where no man dwelt." Think of taking a trip through a country like that! But it was even more remarkable because of the transformation that took place in the travelers. For a mob of four millions of people was changed into a well-organized nation. The explanation given is fully as remarkable as the trip, and the transformation. It must strike very strangely on the cold, matter-of-fact ears of this materialistic world we dwell in. It is this: that the Lord God Himself actually went with them in person, andlived with them, and took immediate charge of everything. He had promised Moses, their leader, that He would do this. Just how definite or indefinite a thing that meant to Moses' mind we cannot know. But it became very definite and tangible that memorable night of departure from the iron furnace of Egypt. For there was a real physical evidence of His presence. There appeared a column or pillar of fleecy-like cloud which came down close to the ground, and which every one could plainly see. At night time it shone and flamed as a pillar full of partly concealed fire. God's voice spake out of it in their hearing. And that presence-cloud never left them. In spite of complaints, and criticisms, and rebellions of the most mean and exasperating kind, it never left them until they had safely arrived at the border line of the promised Palestine.