SINGING IN THE SHADOWS

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And when the had sung an hymn, they went out into the mount of Olives Matthew 26:30.

Already Judas had gone to the chief priests to sell his Lord at the usual price for a common slave. Already the symbols of His mangling and piercing had been distributed. Already the contentions as to who should be greatest had shown that even His own familiar friends had failed to discern His spirit. A night of agony was known to be just ahead, and this was to be followed by a day of humiliation, ignominy, suffering and death. But in the midst of it all He paused to sing a hymn. And the word is not ooda, the general term for song, but humos, a song of raise to God. We may not know just which of the Psalms was used, but judgment favors the forty-seventh or the one hundred and fiftieth, both of which are set to the highest key of triumph. Singing in the shadows! Praising God in the dark shadows! How could He do it? you ask. He could do it because He knew there was a day beyond the darkness — an Easter morning beyond the tomb. There was no tremor in the hands that broke the bread and passed the cup that night, and the song they sang was in the major key. The harsh wind from Calvary did not cause Him to shiver; the sight of the cross did not produce any wavering in His eyes. In the shadows Jesus was unafraid.

But what of us and the shadows through which we must pass? The sentence of death has been passed upon us also. The execution date is slightly uncertain, but we know it shall fall within a given time — we know the maximum delay. But shall we sing a dirge to the honor of death?

No, let us make it a psalm of life. For we too shall live again in a near tomorrow. An Easter morn shall end our night. A day of triumph shall dismiss our shadows. Let us sing: “Sing praises unto God, sing praises; sing praises unto our King, sing praises... for the shields of earth belong unto God: he is greatly exalted.” I have heard that the wounded bird sings more sweetly than before it was hurt. It sings, perhaps, in memory of its former better days. And shall not we sing in the shadow, knowing, as we do, that the shadow must pass, and that we shall yet live in a land where clouds never come? Yes, I am that wounded bird, and I shall sing. But I sing both in memory of the good days I have had with loved ones now vanished from sight and in anticipation of clasping glad hands again on the cloudless shore. Let us sing even in the shadows, for Christ is King, and we shall reign with Him forever.

I’M SURE “THERE’S LAND AHEAD” When the hearts of his men grew faint, Columbus, on his journey west, drew from the water the branch of a tree on which there were green leaves, buds and ripening fruit. The evidence was conclusive, there was land ahead, for the land they had left was too far distant for such a product to have traveled so far. The spirit of uncertainty now gave place to assurance, and all lifted up their heads and strained their eyes in keen expectation that they would soon see that for which they had undertaken the voyage. Life is a great sea over which we are called to sail, and sometimes it seems far from the shore we left to the one toward which we sail. Hearts may at times grow faint from the fear that there is no shore except the one we left behind. But does this broad sea on which we sail have a shore ahead? It has, indeed, and that shore is the shore of my faith and of my hope. The shore from which I sailed is now far behind, and I shall never see it more.

But I do not mind; for breezes from heaven bring fragrance from the trees of God. There is land ahead. I cannot see it yet, but I can taste its fruit, and I know a land that can produce such fruit must be fair beyond compare. What are these tokens which I feel in my poor heart today?

What is this which brings such melting to my spirit? What is this pillow upon which I rest my weary head? What is this blessed hope which feeds my hungry soul and quenches the fever of my restless spirit? Why, these are tokens of land ahead, and their freshness testifies that the distance is not great. I too lift up my head and strain my eyes for the first glimpse of the land “that is fairer than day.” A small boy stood holding the string to his kite, while the strong wind took the kite far aloft into the mist-filled sky. A passing man inquired, “What are you doing here, boy?” To this the lad replied, “I am flying my kite.” “But I do not see any kite,” said the man. To this the boy answered, “I can’t see the kite, either, but I know it is up there — I can feel the pull.” Our eyes have not seen the City of God: but we are sure it is up there because of the pull it makes upon our hearts. And the closer we come to the city, the stronger the pull. No one need tell me there is a heaven — I feel its pull. And if I go back again to the language of the sea, I must assert that the shore is near. Today I stand upon the prow of the Old Ship of Zion and train my eyes toward the horizon in the effort to catch the first full glimpse of the land toward which I sail. Soon I shall hear and share the glad cry, “Welcome, heaven, welcome home, the day of God has dawned!” Yes, I’m sure there’s land ahead.

OUR CITIZENSHIP IS IN HEAVEN Stripped of all qualifying ideas, the kingdom of God just means God’s rule. Extension of the idea invites complications. But the Scriptures make clear that God dwells in at least two places: heaven, the “high and holy place,” and the contrite, humble heart of a true believer. Let us not concern ourselves too much with questions concerning nations or any of the organized units of human society. The important factor is the condition of my heart and my relationship to God as ruler of heaven, my eternal home.

As to my heart’s state and relation, there is no need that I should stand in doubt. To the act of justification, regeneration and adoption, the Holy Spirit bears unmistakable witness. And to the further work of heart cleansing or entire sanctification, He likewise gives evidence that brings full assurance. I make this general assertion on the basis of the fact that He has given my poor heart this inner witness of sonship and purity; for I am fully confident that what He has done for me He will do for all who will come to Him in faith believing. But I find myself unable to become enthusiastic over preachments concerning peace and health and prosperity upon earth. I have not lost interest in this world and its people, but more and more it and they are but a part of my concern. “My loved ones are gathering yonder.” Blessings upon the earth are not enough, for God’s family is part on earth and part in heaven, and my identity with that family divides me between the two worlds. I cannot escape a certain anxiety regarding that world that lies yet out before. “What are they doing in heaven today?” But my heart finds repose as I come to realize that God is King over all, and that I am a citizen of heaven. I dwell upon the earth for the moment, but I am just like a traveler away from home, and when this journey is finished I shall go on to my friends who have outstripped me in the race. And in doing so, I shall just move into another part of God’s kingdom. I am at home in the universe for the eternal God is my rest. I sit here in my upstairs room, just at the noon hour. I hear the voices of my daughter and grandson in the dining room below. I cannot see them, but I know they are there, and I am interested in them and what they are doing. Down the street my little granddaughter should be coming on her way to her noon lunch. I can neither see nor hear her, but she is very real to me, and I am fully confident I shall see her soon and hear her voice. But in another room of God’s great house are others of my friends and loved ones. They were with me in body just a little while ago. Now they have slipped away into another room of the palace. I cannot hear their voices or see their forms, but they are very real to me. They cannot come back to me, but I shall go to them, and I shall get on faster in heaven through their assistance. The kingdom of which I am a citizen reaches out to tremendous extremities, but I can cross its various boundary lines without asking for a special visa or stopping to exchange currency; for I am a citizen, and no more a stranger or foreigner.

THE DESPERATE PLIGHT OF THE MOTE HUNTER Jesus dubbed the mote hunter a hypocrite — a mere actor on the stage.

Here is a man who passes over beams and searches for tiny specks of dust that the worms have worked loose from the beams. You would know he is a little man by the size of the opponents which he chooses. No full grown man would want to spend his time on such infinitesimal tasks. If he were little and weak only, he would solicit our sympathy and deserve our pity.

But the motive of the mote hunter is bad. He seeks to whitewash himself by blackening others. He cries, “Stop, thief!” to divert attention from himself. He is aware of his own beam, but rather than confess its presence and rid himself of it, he sets about giving his attention to reforming his betters. He is both a crook and a coward; and, furthermore, he is cruel.

What is an eye to him? Forget the eye, the mote is the main thing. No matter how much suffering is occasioned, that mote must be located. The dictionary defines faultfinding as “Act or practice of finding fault, especially petty censure.” Who can estimate the suffering caused by petty censure? Who can estimate the damage done to the cause of God by faultfinding professors of religion? Church members make a habit of dissecting the preacher and their testifying neighbors at the dinner table, and then wonder that their children lose interest in the church and harbor doubts about the reality of religion. The mote hunter is in desperate plight concerning his own inner character and outer reputation, and he does desperate things in his small, cowardly way in the endeavor to improve his own standing. He thinks to make his own black white by making others’ gray. Still the Master would not have us indifferent about even the little things which do injury to either ourselves or our neighbors. He would not have us disregard even the motes. Rather He would have us qualify for the task of reproving little things, by getting rid of the big faults in ourselves.

There is nothing especially helpful about that broad toleration which goes about saying, “Oh, well, I have so many big faults myself that I cannot afford to notice the little faults in others.” No, get rid of your big faults.

Cast the beam out of your eye. Make a clean sweep of everything you know to be wrong within your own thoughts and conduct, and then drive out all that you suspect of being friendly with the enemy. Bring to God a transparently clean heart, and to your neighbors a life that is pure and right. Then you may be able to help others get the dust out of their eyes, and, seeing your own eyesight is good, you will be able to perform this delicate task without injuring the eyes of your neighbors. A good man is merciful — even when he is removing dust from his neighbor’s eye; for his object is not the mote, but the recovery of the eye. If he cannot help the eye, he will just leave the mote. This purpose and this attitude are what distinguish the good man from the hypocrite: the hypocrite values the mote and disregards the eye.

THE INTEGRATING POWER OF HOLINESS Stanley Jones tells of a Chinese who answered the question, “To what religion do you adhere?” by saying, “Confusion” (meaning Confucianism).

And Dr. Jones remarks that there are many whose religion could well be described as confusion. Many who strive to serve the Lord Jesus Christ find, like Paul, that they have divided hearts and are unable to choose and do what in their deepest souls they desire to choose and do. When they would do good evil is present with them, and what they would not do, that they do. There is help in the domination of a noble purpose, but not help enough. Consecration adjusts the will, but there is need of power to purify the affections. Example is insufficient — we need power to follow the example. Sin disintegrates, and we need something that will integrate.

Sin and carnality divide and defeat. We need something that will unite and give victory. “A house divided against itself cannot stand.” Although a pagan untouched by the light of dependable revelation, Socrates hungered for integration. At the conclusion of “Phaedrus” it is recorded that once he went into the temple and offered this prayer: “Beloved Pan, and all ye gods who haunt this place, give me beauty in the inward soul, and may the outward and inward man be at one. May I reckon the wise to be wealthy, and may I have such a quantity of gold as none but the temperate can carry. Anything more? That prayer, I think, is enough for me.” Justified Christians have prayed, “Now rest my long divided heart.” Well, the grace of entire sanctification is the answer to the prayer. And is this blessing the purpose of the heart is established and the affections are purified and alienated from sin and the world and exalted to supreme love to God. The outward and inward man are reconciled, and rest of soul is found. The grace of God in full salvation is the best psychiatry (Greek psyche mind and iatreia — healing) in the world. In scientific medicine, diagnosis is but the beginning. After the disease has been detected, the remedy must be prescribed. If there is no remedy, the whole purpose of diagnosis has failed. What is the difference what is wrong with one’s body, if there is no cure for the malady? And it is like that in the therapeutics of the soul. It is not enough to ferret out sin and enlarge upon man’s unhappy state. The remedy must be prescribed. And thank God, there is a remedy. Cold orthodoxy will not meet the need. Activity of the human powers is not enough. But there is a fullness in the Holy Spirit that meets the full demand in us. There is holiness for the soul, just as there is health for the body. And although the conditions for bodily health may not be possible to all, holiness for the soul is offered on conditions which we all can meet.

COUNTING AND DISCOUNTING THE COST The rich young ruler counted the cost and decided the charges were too high. Saul of Tarsus counted the cost and saw that Christ was worth more than all he had to pay, so he went on and discounted the cost, saying, “I count all things but loss... that I may win Christ.” Counting the cost is a preliminary process. Discounting the cost is the habit of the sanctified Christian. Harping on “what I had to give up when I took the way with God” is the prattle of the novice. The veteran says more of what he gained in the bargain. Stressing the sacrifice involved in denying the world and following the Spirit is expressing discontent. The assured sings more of the joys of sins forgiven and the bliss the bloodwashed know. “How much did you pay for it?” asks the cost counter. “How well does it serve the purpose?” inquires the cost discounter. It is true that Jesus never rushes anyone off his feet to enlist him before he has agreed to the conditions.

But it is also true that no one ever gives up anything that is truly valuable to take the way with Christ. Sin, vice, selfishness, worldliness, pride, unholy ambition, desire for revenge, fleshly pleasure, love of ease: what is there in the whole category of forbidden things that will be of any worth at all a hundred years from now? If there is anything the sinner has in the way of talent, personality, position or goods that is of permanent worth, Christ will let him keep that as an instrument to be used in the new service. It is only the chaff that is burned up and the dross that is cast away. Christ is a greater prize than all, and heaven is cheap at any cost.

And because these things are true, the genuine Christian accepts demotion gracefully, takes joyfully the spoiling of his earthly goods, rejoices in persecution, counts it an honor to suffer for Christ’s sake, and counts all losses gains when they come to him in the will of God. Let us discount the cost and count the value of the prize. The fact is we have all received more than we gave. That is a misleading appraisal that still thinks of our former state as fortunate.

In reality we were “wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked.” Coming to Christ, we bought gold tried in the fire, and became rich. We obtained white raiment that we might be clothed. And our eyes were anointed with eye salve that we might for the first time really see. It is always Christian to say, “Brethren, pray for me.” But it is not ours to solicit sympathy, no matter how lowly our estate; for with God for us, everybody and everything is for us. We surely do get more than we give.

THE CHALLENGE OF THE PRESENT GENERATION Shut in on all sides by desert and sea, the Hebrew people could not go out, so they had to go down and up. They made their little land a garden and received God’s oracle for themselves and all mankind. Geographical frontiers challenged our forefathers in America, and they fulfilled their pioneer instincts by going West to grow up with the country. In those days they did not dig deep or build high — even in the industrial and economic sense. Social frontiers challenged the generation just now passing. They waged a great war to end war. They preached socialism for the state. They wrote on the statute books laws prohibiting the liquor traffic. They thought they saw the sun rising upon a “stainless flag,” a “warless world,” and a day of social and economic justice. Youth conventions passed resolutions and signed pledges not to cooperate in armed conflict. But the demands for expansion overtaxed the moral nucleus and the spiritual plow ran shallow. Quality was swallowed up in quantity.

All men were improved, so there was no need for drawing sharp lines of differentiation. The result was spiritual varioloid and religious dilution.

There were not only no great sinners, but likewise there were no great saints. The challenge was to universal mediocre, and that challenge was more sadly than joyfully answered, for the net was loss, rather than gain.

But the West is gone. Social, political, economic and mass reform have spent their force and all but collapsed. What is there left to challenge us?

Where now are the frontiers? Where is the battle line for current soldiers?

Well, there are still the rocks beneath our feet and the stars above our heads. We can still go deep and high. Integration must now be sought and found in personal fellowship with Christ. Conquest must be in the realm of personal soul winning. We cannot save the nations, but we can point men to the Lamb of God. A day of giant sinners is also a day demanding and producing mighty saints. The cheapest way is to make the times our alibi, and account the days of opportunity as past. But the right way is to meet the challenge squarely. Perhaps the gold on the surface has been pretty well picked up. If so, then we must dig deep. Perhaps expansion has reached its limits. If so, then we must build high. If we cannot reasonably hope for an ideal society, we can yet find grace to be perfect Christians in an imperfect world. If we cannot reach so wide a scope in missionary and evangelistic efforts, on account of the limitations enforced by international conflict, we can still major on the Christianizing of Christianity. We must take our day as it is and find a way to turn to good account all the aberrations and drawbacks with which it is infested. No generation was ever more soundly challenged to be good and do good than is our own.

THE ENSLAVEMENT OF THE IDEAL St. Paul was wont to speak of himself as “the prisoner of the Lord.” The love of Christ “constrained” him to take a course which lost to him the friendship of the mighty and made of him a “companion in chains.” But in the midst of his physical bondage he rejoiced that “the word of God is not bound.” If he had taken a course that saved him from physical imprisonment that same course would have led to a bondage of conscience more galling than any earthly prison keeper could apply. So he rejoiced that his liberty was essential and his enslavement incidental — his conscience was free though his body was bound. Patrick Henry was not alone in making liberty and death alternatives every honest man has really to do that. The ideal enslaves its beholder. Once the gleam is seen it must be followed or its passing will leave but the blackness of night. They play on words who differentiate duty and privilege. Duty is privilege at first, and privilege is transmuted into duty the moment one hesitates to grasp it.

One moment the ideal is a hope that leads and the next moment it is a fear that drives. The apostle in the same breath rejoices for the privilege of making Christ known and sighs over the woe that threatens if he preaches not the gospel. But when one becomes the full and willing slave of a sufficient ideal he becomes immune to all other enslavement. Henceforth he is a free man, even though he may suffer the loss of all earthly freedom and pay his life as a forfeit. Slavery to heart and conscience is the highest emancipation. When life is Christ even death is gain. “We cannot but speak the things which we have seen and heard,” said Peter and John. “Here I stand, so help me God,” cried Luther. “I lay down my life, that I might take it again. No man taketh it from me, but I lay it down of myself... this commandment have I received of my Father,” said a Greater than them all. Although liberty and license are frequently confused, they are really antagonists and opposites. No man is free “to do as he pleases.”

One is free only if he does right. Any man is free at the point of willing, but there are obstacles to the carrying out the will and wishes of all. But the man who is enslaved to a worthy ideal cannot be brought into bondage to any man. If he is in prison, he may not be free to leave the prison, but he can choose to stay in the prison. If he is sick, he may not be able to recover his health, but he is free to be sick or to die. Wesley longed for coadjutors who hated nothing but sin and feared no one but God, and with a host of such he believed he could take the land for God. And indeed when we fear God supremely, we are free from all other fears.

CHRIST’S STANDARD OF GREATNESS Men have usually believed that greatness is indicated by one’s ability to get others to serve him. But Jesus taught that true greatness is indicated by one’s willingness and ability to serve others. Men have been wont to calculate their fortunes in terms of what they have been able to gain and hold — and leave behind. But Jesus taught that the rich are those who are willing to give away what they have what one gives, so the Master taught, he saves and sends on before. Men have usually accounted the affluent as successful. But Jesus told of a leprous beggar who all the time was preparing to be the guest of honor at a feast in heaven where Abraham sat.

Men like to use kings and sages as patterns for emulation. But Jesus brought a child so small that He could hold him in His arms, set him in the midst, and said, “Be like this, if you would be truly great.” Teachers have usually expected their pupils to stand in respect while in their presence.

But Jesus girded Himself with a towel, and washed His pupils’ feet. Kings of earth have sought for thrones of ivory to enhance their glory, robes of purple to add to their splendor, scepters of gold to indicate their power, and crowns of gold bedecked with gems to testify of their wisdom and heavenly appointment. But Jesus, King of kings, accepted a cross of wood for a throne, a wavering reed for a scepter, a garland of thorns for a crown, and hung in shame and nakedness before the throng. Kings have sought safety in forts and comfort in palaces. But Jesus spent nights in the desert, and ate with publicans and sinners and in the homes of the poor. Kings of earth have wanted bodyguards that their lives might be made sure. But Jesus guaranteed His life by dying once that He might die no more forever.

But who is right, Jesus or the others? Let the centuries answer. Who of the contemporaries and opposers of Jesus are remembered except it be for their infamy and misfortune? Who now counts the gold that the misers of Palestine held when Jesus preached there? What has become of the palace where Herod lived, and of the crown that Caesar wore? Where now are the Roman legions upon which Pilate depended? Who stands in respect when the name of any of the teachers who contradicted Jesus are mentioned?

But, on the other hand, whose precepts are heard and whose example is esteemed like those of Jesus? Whose throne is so secure, whose scepter so strong, whose crown so untarnished as His? Christ’s way to greatness is the right way — the only way. No one is great unless he is good. No one is great unless he is useful. No one is great unless he is unselfish. No one is great unless he is Christlike. Let us follow Christ’s way. Let us find that road through the valley that leads to the throne.

ALL OR NONE AT ALL Jesus’ coat was without seam, being woven in one piece; so that dividing it would ruin it. The soldiers to whom the garment fell concluded it would be better for one of them to have a useful garment than that each of them should have a worthless scrap. Christ cannot be divided. We must take Him only or not take Him at all. It cannot be Christ and Mohammed, Christ and Buddha, or Christ and the world. It must be Christ or the others — Christ and no others. And it must be Christ in all His fullness or no Christ at all. It cannot be just Christ as an example; Christ as a teacher, but not Christ as Savior and Lord. Jesus is either what He claimed to be or He was an impostor. He could not be a good man and claim to be the Son of God, if He were not the Son of God. He could not be a wise teacher and yet be unable to show men the way to everlasting life. But if He shows the way to everlasting life, then that way is by faith in Him as the Son of God.

If believing on Jesus Christ as the Son of God will not save men, then Jesus cannot save men, for He never proposed to save them any other way than this. We must either take Jesus Christ as Lawgiver, Teacher, Example, Savior and King or we must reject Him. And it must be Christ with all the heart or no Christ at all. It cannot be Christ on Sunday, and self the other days of the week. It cannot be Christ in religion, and the world in politics and business. It cannot be Christ in appearance and profession, but with reservations concerning His sufficiency. We must hang our souls on Christ as our only hope and stay or we must leave Him out in favor of the substitutes with which He is in competition. “Ye cannot serve God and mammon.” It must be Christ in the heart; Christ in the life; Christ in the home; Christ in the forum; Christ in the marts of trade; Christ everywhere and all the time. It must be Christ in the morning, in the noontide, in the evening, and in the dark hours of the night. It must be Christ when His name is praised, and Christ when He is maligned by men. He must be our choice whether He is on the scaffold or on the throne. It must be Christ in sickness and in health; Christ in life and in death; Christ Jesus forevermore! There can be no divided allegiance. I answer the challenge and take Him as my all in all. I give Him my all, and of His fullness I now receive. The lot has fallen to me. I have drawn, not the undivided, seamless coat, but the glorious, undivided Christ that wore the coat. O Christ of the seamless coat, be Thou my undivided possession! Be now and always my all in all! “COME JUST AS YOU ARE” The travel stained and weary traveler is cheered by the homely words on the hotel sign: “Come just as you are”; for this means that the guest will not be ostracized on account of his appearance. It will not be necessary for the guest to adjust, the hotel will do that. The traveler, it is promised, will become the center of interest. It is as though the hotel were in business just for the guest’s comfort, and they are looking for him, and will be disappointed if he does not come. Enlarging upon the fact that Jesus was born in a stable belonging to an inn, Boreham suggests that this, in symbol, was the widest possible invitation for all to come. The inn is open to the rich and the poor. There is no need to ring a bell or use the knocker. No special permission is required. No guards or doormen will annoy.

Everything said as plainly as possible, “Come just as you are.” Sometimes when people are seeking God they wonder why they are not told just exactly how they should come. Shall they stand or sit or kneel to pray?

Shall they go into their own private room, to a small company of friends or to a public altar of prayer? Shall they pray aloud or only in a low whisper. Shall they ask the help of others or shall they try to find the way themselves? Why can it not be said in just so many words, Do this and do that and you will find God and pardon and peace? But that is just it. If the time and place and posture and method were defined, then there would be times and places when one could not come, and there might even be some people who could not come at all, because they would be unable to come in the manner prescribed. But it is like a mother who calls her child, saying, “Come.” She does not stop to say, “Come running,” or “Come creeping.” She leaves these incidental matters to the child. Just let him come in his own way. Only let him be sure to come. And the call of Christ is universal like that. “Whosoever will let him come.” “Him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out.” “God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” Come just as you are. Come in your own way.

Only come. Come with loud weeping, or come in complete silence. Come on your knees, sitting on your chair, standing, walking, or lying prone upon the ground. Come in the closet of secret prayer, or in the presence of the great congregation. Come on the advice of others, or come with no human counsel at all. Only be sure to come. “Oh, everybody come, come to the Savior, come.”

THE COMPLIMENT OF HARDSHIP Indulgence is distasteful to the heroic. Only the effeminate accept unearned immunities as boons. The poorest comforter in the world is the man who belittles our griefs. Mute silence, as even Job’s “miserable comforters” found, is true eloquence in the house of deep grief and sorrow.

Even the man who exults over his pleasant paths is disappointed if we fail to add, what he more or less purposely overlooked, that he has borne and suffered and endured much in the process. The man who has no heritage of sorrow is poor indeed. Try it in any company. See how willing the victims of major operations are to tell of their experiences, and notice that they make it imperative for you to think, and easy for you to say, “Wonderful, indeed, the average person going through with what you have suffered would not be here to tell the story.” But this tendency to measure our worth in terms of hardship is not bad, but good. Paul, the devoted, said, “We glory in tribulations,” and, “We must through much tribulation enter into the kingdom of God.” Peter, the impetuous cried, “Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you... but rejoice, inasmuch as ye are partakers of Christ’s sufferings.” James, the practical, counseled, calmly, “Count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations.”

John, the beloved, reasoned, “Because he laid down his life for us; we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren.” And the Master of us all, in words of assurance, said, “In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.” “Self-preservation,” they say, “is the first law of life.” But after the right to live, according to our national fundamental law, comes the right to own property, and then the right to pursue happiness. But human intuition is a faulty guide, and unenlightened men are wont to crowd and push and stake out claims in the domain of ease and complacency, in which estate no one in this world ever yet found contentment and happiness. The rich plains are those where there are burdens to bear, sorrows to share, and tribulations and hardships to endure. Joy is a possession that can be held only when there are others to share it. But sorrow and grief and hardship and tribulation and care need no listening ears but those of the Master. Shall we say then that only they who have the incomplete gift are happy? Nay, why should we thus conclude? To His dearly beloved God gives the compliment of hardship, grief and sorrow, and thus indicates to them His desire and plan to keep them for Himself alone.

HONESTY IS A PRINCIPLE The motto “Honesty is the best policy” has, I think, been traced to Benjamin Franklin, and there is no question that it contains a truth. But it is a secondary truth, for in the full sense honesty is a principle, not a policy. That is to say, if one is honest just for policy’s sake, he is not in the final analysis honest at all. But this in no wise affects the fact that it is good policy to be possessed of right principles. It is not possible for anyone to do very much working by himself. But if he has others to work with him, these others must believe in him. It happens, therefore, that when a business executive teaches his associates to steal for him, they do not go far until they begin stealing from him. Hence the principle of honesty, besides being a principle, is in practice the best policy. Socrates used to confuse people by means of his questions. First he would ask a question, then upon hearing a plain answer, he would ask other questions that his listener could not very well avoid answering in a way that was inconsistent with his first position. Sometimes he did his associates good by deflating them of their vanity, but sometimes he did them harm by leaving them under the impression that truth is variable and relative, and not positive and dependable. But sometimes questions serve to help us make an abstract truth concrete and applicable. It is like that when Theodore Gerald Soares asks, “What is stealing?” And then, as though not quite satisfied, he goes on with his questionings and reasonings on the subject. “Is it stealing to sell bonds to another that you would not buy yourself? Is it stealing to persuade people to buy real estate on which most of them are practically certain to lose money? Is it stealing to do less than a fair day’s work for a fair day’s pay?” Then he goes on to say, “I remember watching some stone masons at work on a building in the era when they received fourteen dollars a day. They were proceeding with leisurely dignity. We all understood that they had agreed among themselves to lay only half the amount of stone that a good workman could lay in the time. But I knew and the masons knew that all the stone for the building came from a limited number of qualities in a certain district, and that the owners had agreed among themselves to keep the price up and divide the profits. Of course the gentlemen were financiers and the workmen were slackers, but the question recurs, “What is meant by stealing?” But the apparent uncertainty in such a case is just for emphasis. There is no question that all the things mentioned are stealing.

And there is no question that every attempt to exchange the inferior for the superior in traffic between human beings is stealing. The fact is, we are not really troubled about definitions. We all know pretty well how to be honest, if we really want to be so.

PLOWING AROUND THE STUMPS Three years before I was born my father claimed his heritage on sixty acres of wooded land in southern Illinois. He cut down the trees, burned the branches and made such use of the trunks as their size and texture suggested. But the stumps of oaks and elms persisted, and among my earliest lessons in domestic science were some relating to methods for “plowing around the stumps.” Some of the stumps were large and tall.

These we did not so much dread. But some were “blind” in that they did not rise above the surface of the ground. These laid hold of the plowshare and brought everything to an abrupt stop, playing havoc with old trace chains, weak single trees and plowboy’s patience. But the stumps were there; we had to farm the land to produce bread corn and seed wheat, so there was nothing to do but to repair the damages, and go on plowing around the stumps. Take our own personal lives: there is promised to us a blast of Pentecostal dynamite that will remove the old stump of sinful carnality. But the producer of holy character still has to contend with weak eyes, bad digestion, frail and faulty judgment and oddities and limitations of temperament and disposition — stumps, stakes, thorns in the flesh that will remain until the Lord shall give us new and glorified bodies. But we must not become discouraged and quit. We must plow around these obstinate buffers and strive ever onward toward a harvest of ultimate Christlikeness and mature sainthood. Then there is the field of the world in which we are called to labor. Here are blatant infidels, subtle skeptics, wobbly disciples, crooked professors of religion and consummate hypocrites stumps around which we must plow or else leave the field to become fallow ground. “Why does not God kill the devil?” cries the persecuted saint. “Nothing can ever be done in this community until some of these people die or move away,” observes the fainthearted Christian who has looked away from his Lord and to the conditions under which the work must be promoted. Stumps do make farming difficult, we admit that; and wherever it is possible to use the ax and mattock effectively the work may be made more pleasant and fruitful. But some stumps cannot be immediately removed, and the people will perish if they must wait for a harvest until the field can be entirely cleared of buffers. We wish the field were better and the work more pleasant, but we must take the field as it is, and not as we wish it were. Such stumps as will not yield to our efforts to remove them must be plowed around, for we must have bread corn and seed wheat. We must keep personal victory, regardless of our human limitation and consequent disappointments. We must win souls and promote revivals, in spite of all hindrances and difficulties. All this is not easy — we wish the field were clear of stumps — but it can be done.

TROUBLE TOO, IS TRANSIENT We are accustomed to hearing that our earthly joys are fleeting, and that our good times cannot abide. But trouble is transient, too. The flood of Noah’s time, which still stands at the head of the list of earthly calamities did not come to stay, but “came to pass.” And all pain and trouble and inconvenience and sorrow are like that. They all come and then pass on.

They are not permanent at all. The troubles of our childhood came to pass, and now we look back upon them with wonder that we ever considered their weight heavy. Even the troubles of youth have, for many of us, passed and we think of them as of small consequence. And some day it shall be thus regarding the tribulations of the present hour. Some day we shall marvel that the sorrows of today ever taxed our endurance at all And this change does not come, as some erroneously suppose, by reason of greater woes which swallow up the former sorrows. Rather it comes with the clarification of our vision. It comes from the new perspective that distance brings. It comes from our absorption in matters of better concern.

The sorrows of earth cannot abide the joys of heaven. But the flood did not leave the righteous family just where it found them. As the waters arose, the ark arose also, and at the close the ark was no longer on the plain, but found its resting place on the top of a high mountain. This result did not come of the purpose of the flood, but of the attitude of the ark.

With a different attitude, the ark would have been submerged, and all its denizens would have perished. And to us is the promise that the floods shall not overflow us. This is not a promise that the floods will be controlled, but is a promise for controlling us. The floods will rise, but we shall rise faster and higher than the floods, and when the floods are at their crest, we shall still be able to breathe. But while the tenure of the flood was temporary, its demise was permanent; for God has set His bow in the cloud as a sign of His promise not to ever again bring a flood of water upon the whole earth. And when the tide of earth’s troubles shall recede, we shall find our eternal resting place high up in the mountains of God, in glorious fulfillment of the symbol of the Ark and Noah’s family. Trouble is transient, but peace shall be permanent for all those who make the Lord Jehovah their everlasting trust.

FROM SIN, IN TRIBULATION Last night I had a pleasant room and a good bed, but my rest was broken.

There are no ravenous beasts in this country and the house was barred against desperate men. I was not sick in body or troubled with unwelcome thoughts and anxious cares. The trouble was a mouse had become entrapped in the room and thought he had found a convenient place near the head of my bed to gnaw his way out. Just as I approached slumber, one time after another, the noise of his teeth on the hard wood brought me back and pushed me out to turn on the light, move the portable furniture and search for my miniature disturber — little animals break the sleep, just as little foxes spoil the vines. But the dawn came early, and with it my disturber disappeared. Perhaps he had such a strenuous time that he will come no more. Anyway the day is bright and I shall not borrow anxiety as to what tonight shall show. Either the mouse will not come tonight or, if he does, I shall be somewhat accustomed to his annoyance and perhaps I can sleep in spite of him. I have determined that so small a foe shall not steal my peace and defeat my plans. A mere thorn in the flesh may occasion more annoyance than a decay in the bones, for the deep disease may be more deadly than painful, and it is pain from which we shrink.

And prayer for the removal of the thorn may have its answer in the increase of grace to bear, rather than in the banishment of the pain. But what matters is that I may know He heareth me — then I know I have the petition I desired of Him. Whether it be the assuaging of the hurt or the increase of the solace, I shall be satisfied. He delivers me from sin, but He may elect to deliver men tribulation. The variation proves His personal care for me. I cannot worship law, any more than I can worship idols of stone. My God is a living, loving, thinking, almighty God, and His way is best. It is not what happens to me that matters so much as it is my response to what happens. We must through much tribulation enter into the kingdom of God. It is midnight now, and I must count this a day. I shall sleep in peace, although tomorrow morning may find me dead. But alive or dead, I am the Lord’s, and He can keep me here or take me there as He will. If I live, I know I shall have annoyance and inconveniences — these are promised to me and they serve to wean me from a world I cannot keep anyway. But the thing that counts is that His grace makes and keeps my heart pure, and neither tribulation nor temptation nor any other creature can break my fellowship with God or defile my spirit while I trust and His Spirit abides. So in spite of every inconvenience, and in the face of every grief and sorrow, I still look up and say, “It is well, it is well with my soul.” And since it is well with my soul, it is well with me, no matter to what extent my circumstances may seem to contradict the claim.

TO BE TRULY GREAT, ONE MUST BE GOOD The ancient Romans worshipped virtue and honor as gods, and the temples were so situated that one had to pass through the temple of virtue to reach the temple of honor — one had to be good before he could be great. We do not worship abstractions — we revere only “the true and living God.” And yet we know that the basis of true greatness is goodness.

No matter how much of honor is heaped upon one, we feel and know that it is yet but tinsel if the gold of inner character is naught but brass. Men of genius who made no worthy choices nor built lives of moral and spiritual worth serve principally to show succeeding generations the folly of their course. Their greatness was a house built on the sand. Their genius was a sharp razor in the hands of an untutored child. Their reputation was a heavy laden wagon on a miry road. They came into the temple of honor without passing through the temple of virtue. Their crowns faded because they did not strive lawfully. But one of the principal elements of greatness is durability. Nothing transient is truly great. The highest commendation we can give a friend is this, “He bears acquaintance.” For this is to say that he is as good down deep as he appears to be on the surface. And the most complimentary biography contains the sentence, “He, being dead yet speaketh.” For this is to say his words were true, his course was correct and his life was pure. How brief is the summary of the worth while life! “Abraham believed God and it was accounted unto him for righteousness.”

Of Barnabas it is said only, “He was a good man, full of the Holy Ghost and of faith.” John Wesley, made his own summary, “Best of all, God is with us.” The saintly Fletcher would add nothing to this, “I nothing have and nothing am, my glory’s in the bleeding Lamb, both now and ever more.” Paul’s epitome was, “I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith.” And the Greatest of All, in His last unhurried moments, said, simply, “It is finished. Into thy hands I commend my spirit.” Goodness is the chief quality in the truly great, and goodness is more of principle than of demonstration. There is no call for a lengthy rehearsal of deeds and words when one has been in inmost character such as all these were. It may not be given to any of us to pass through into the temple of honor in this world. We may live in obscurity and die unknown. But the gates of the temple of virtue are always open.

Let us enter with the company of the good. Then God will acknowledge us, and the angels will know our house number, even though men may not find it easy to see that our beggar garments are veil to princely qualities.

HOLY AMBITION The Latin word from which came our word ambition means a going around. It was used especially of politicians, and therefore came to mean going around for votes. And since vote seekers were commonly time servers and place seekers, the word came to mean seeking self-preferment or promotion without merit. But, like most words, ambition has a better phase. Paul found that better phase when he committed himself to the aspiration of being like Christ in soul and in service, and to the hope of arising in His likeness in the first resurrection. Such an ambition may become an obsession without bringing a curse. May it fully possess you and me! Holy ambition must have unselfishness for its basis. It must be lawful and right in its methods. And it must have a praiseworthy object. “I shall be satisfied,” said the psalmist, “when I awake in thy likeness.”

Could ever man or angel set a higher goal or offer one more worthy? John answered this cry with the assurance, “We know that when he shall appear we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is.” Here desire for preferment is purified by being extended to all God’s people — only the hypocrite would be promoted at the expense of another’s demotion. Holy ambition is gentle in its temper. Humility is not the making of oneself small when he is great, but it is thinking little of oneself. And humility disposes one to receive with gentleness and meekness whatever may come to him from others or from God. Therefore, while the possessor of holy ambition is persevering, knowing his goal is worthy and attainable, he is not fractious, self-pitying or prone to despondency. Holy ambition is triumphant in its attitude. Since God is eternal and I am immortal, I can wait. If others are chosen before me in the current elections, there is still plenty of time for me. If others push in ahead and get their hire, I can wait until my inheritance is given. There are too many tomorrows for me to accept as final any slight or defeat or failure that may come today. Some time, somewhere, I shall reach my goal! It would, in fact be an utter wrong for me to set a goal for myself that could be readily reached. That would classify me immediately as a creature of this short day. It would place me in the category with moths which sacrifice their wings for one brief fling into the candle’s flame. But I am built for eternity. I cannot get more than a start during life’s short day. I plan definitely to live forever. I plan to enjoy the fellowship of God and the holy always. I cannot be satisfied with anything short of this. I cannot seek praise, but I do seek to be praiseworthy. I cannot seek preferment, but I do long to possess whatever it takes to bring redeemed men into the inner circle of the Master’s presence. I aspire to the bearing of the fullest possible image of my Redeemer both now and evermore.

THE GOOD ROAD IS SHORTEST One arrow said, “Macon 68 miles.” The other announced, “Macon miles.” I hesitated, then turned toward the shorter road. Then I hesitated again and inquired. “The longer road is paved,” said my informer. Still undecided, I asked, “You think it better to take that way, even if it is longer?” Without hesitation, my informer answered simply, “I think so.”

The shorter road always presents an appeal, but sometimes it is a subtle and misleading appeal. When one road is paved and the other is not, ten miles extra distance may still leave the longer road in the lead. When James A. Garfield was a college president, a father brought his boy to the school and said, “My son would like to get through as soon as possible. Would it not be possible for him to leave out some of the courses and finish in a shorter time?” To this Garfield replied, “Yes, it is possible to take a shorter course, and it all depends upon what results you wish to reach. If you want to grow a pumpkin one season is sufficient, but if you want an oak you must have more time.” There are short cuts to education; short cuts to position; short cuts to riches; short cuts in religion; short cuts everywhere. But the short cut does not always lead to the same destination as the longer way. A “Bible school graduate” is not a college trained man. He may lead the college man for the first five years. He may keep up with him the second five. But after that the advantage of more thorough grounding will appear, and the Bible school graduate will fall behind early in the race and lose the advantage he seemed to have at the start. A man may “pull wires” and secure a place, but the man who earns his promotion by hard work and sufficient apprenticeship will come out best “in the long run.” One man in a thousand may win on a long chance in business gambling, but the foundations of fortunes which abide are laid in industry, economy and reasonable care. A man may refuse to “take two bites at one cherry,” and rush up and sign a card and give the preacher his hand and join the church. but in the tests and trials of life and death those who drink the wormwood and gall of repentance and go “the mourner’s bench route” prove that the longer road is the better road. It was in an age of shallow religion, when they were “healing the affliction of the daughter of my people slightly,” that Jeremiah cried, “Stand ye in the way, and see, and ask for the old paths: Where is the good way? and wall therein, and ye shall find rest for your souls.” And that same exhortation is in place today.

The cheap, shallow kind of religion that is all too prevalent may represent the short way, but the longer, harder way is better, for it leads to a better destination.

PERVERTED AFFECTIONS An elderly woman of apparent culture and wealth, a companion in travel with us on the Moldavia, could not sleep for worrying about her pet dog which was ill when she left it in London o from Port Said she sent a cable of inquiry about her pet. Do I criticize her? Rather I pity her. Love which should have been poured out upon a husband and children, or upon the less fortunate of earth, and upon Christ and the souls for whom He died, has missed its true object and has eventuated in perverted form upon a dog. No doubt there is much more of tragedy than of sport involved in the story. It is always so, if we only knew. God has given us bodies which we must develop. He has given us minds which we must educate. He has given us hearts which we must direct and enlarge. In every case an object is necessary. To fight “as one that beateth the air” will not answer for the physical. To dream and drift will not fulfill the requirements of the mind.

And to follow the gleam of selfishness and fancy will not attain the purpose of the heart. The savage buries his father alive in order to escape the demands which infirmity makes upon producing power. The elite among the civilized shun matrimony and children in order to escape the responsibility involved in having dependents. But are the selfish fortunate? Do they reap a happy harvest from their vicious sowings?

They are not. They do not. We must die to live. We must suffer to save.

We must give to receive. We must be the friends of men if we would have friends among men. We must accept the possibility of being hurt, if we would enjoy the blessedness that comes from being another’s choice among all earth’s millions or of hearing a little child call us the dearest of all names — father or mother. What a great Christian that person would have made who could pour out such unusual affection on a dog! How much she could have done to save lost men and to protect afflicted women and helpless children! Yea, verily, how devotedly would she have followed the faultless Christ, if only her great capacity to love could have been directed to Him! Jesus himself drew many illustrations from the fields, from the flocks and from the animals of the earth. None of His references ever brought dishonor to the object itself. Even in a land where dogs were held in light esteem, He made the dog under the table typical of the humble, trusting soul that receives the divine blessing. Even the unclean swine was mentioned in no more than a passing manner, and with none of the usual reflection upon it. But Jesus was no nature worshiper nor promoter of animal deification. The lost sheep was but a symbol of a lost man. The fox was but a type of semi-homelessness to make His own utter homelessness stand out. The ox in the ditch, the sheep in a pit, and the sparrow that fell before the darts of the hunter all pointed to men made in the image of God and requiring His saving grace and spiritual consolation. Supreme love to God purifies all love, and enables one to love all men and all things, but none too much.

THE TYRANNY OF THE UNIMPORTANT Searching for an appropriate title for a sermon on the inferior choice Martha made as related to the choice of her sister Mary, a