“Whosoever shall do the will of God, the same is my brother, and my sister, and mother.” Mark 3:35
This seems too good to be true. To be the brother or the sister of Jesus — did you ever try to think out what it means? Then for every Christian to be taken by Christ into as close and tender a relationship as His own mother sustained to Him — did you ever try to think that out, remembering that you are the one taken into this loving fellowship?
Thousands of women have wished that they could have had Mary’s honour in being the mother of Jesus. Well, here it lies close to their hand. They cannot have Mary’s distinction in this world, but they can have a place just as near to the heart of the Christ as she has. How strange it is that sinful creatures can be taken thus into the very family of God, and have all the privileges and joys of the children of God! We cannot understand it, but let us believe it and think of it until it fills our heart with warmth and gladness. We do not begin to realize the blessedness and glory of being a Christian. There is a picture which seen in one light shows a poor, weary pilgrim, lying on a miserable pallet in a dreary garret; but seen in another light the same picture shows a saint of God, an heir of glory, arrayed in white robes, surrounded and carried up by angels to heavenly glory. The first view is that which human eyes see in the Christian; the other is the reality — that which heaven sees.
But we must not overlook the first part of this verse, that tells us who are received into this close relationship, — “whosoever shall do the will of God.” At every point as we go on, we catch more and more distinctly the teaching that obedience to God is part of the faith that saves. We must do God’s will, and follow Christ with loving fidelity, if we would obtain the privilege of being the brothers and sisters of Christ.
2009-09-16
A Beacon Light
“He that shall blaspheme against the Holy Ghost hath never forgiveness.” Mark 3:29
Few words in the Bible have caused more anxiety and fear than these. Learned men do not agree in their idea as to what it is to blaspheme against the Holy Ghost. But not matter about the exact meaning of the words; they stand here as a warning against a terrible danger. They are like a red light hung over a perilous rock. While we may not know just what constitutes the sin, it certainly is our duty to keep as far from its edge as possible.
And surely all wilful and determined resistance to the influence of the Holy Spirit is a step toward this point of awful peril. This utterance of our Lord should lead us to treat with the utmost reverence every appeal, persuasion, or bidding of the Holy Ghost, never to resist, but always to yield to his every influence. We have no other Friend in this world who can guide us home. If we drive him away from us for ever, we shall be left in the darkness of eternal night. How long we may continue to reject Him and not go beyond the line that marks the limit of hope, we know not; but the very thought that there is such a line somewhere ought to startle us into instant acceptance of the offered guidance.
Oh, where is this mysterious line
That crosses every path,—
The hidden boundary between
God’s patience and his wrath?
How for may we go in sin?
How long will God forbear?
Where does hope end, and where begin
The confines of despair?
An answer from the skies is sent:
“Ye that from God depart,
While it is called Today, repent,
And harden not your heart.”
Few words in the Bible have caused more anxiety and fear than these. Learned men do not agree in their idea as to what it is to blaspheme against the Holy Ghost. But not matter about the exact meaning of the words; they stand here as a warning against a terrible danger. They are like a red light hung over a perilous rock. While we may not know just what constitutes the sin, it certainly is our duty to keep as far from its edge as possible.
And surely all wilful and determined resistance to the influence of the Holy Spirit is a step toward this point of awful peril. This utterance of our Lord should lead us to treat with the utmost reverence every appeal, persuasion, or bidding of the Holy Ghost, never to resist, but always to yield to his every influence. We have no other Friend in this world who can guide us home. If we drive him away from us for ever, we shall be left in the darkness of eternal night. How long we may continue to reject Him and not go beyond the line that marks the limit of hope, we know not; but the very thought that there is such a line somewhere ought to startle us into instant acceptance of the offered guidance.
Oh, where is this mysterious line
That crosses every path,—
The hidden boundary between
God’s patience and his wrath?
How for may we go in sin?
How long will God forbear?
Where does hope end, and where begin
The confines of despair?
An answer from the skies is sent:
“Ye that from God depart,
While it is called Today, repent,
And harden not your heart.”
2009-09-15
Right Enthusiam
“When his friends heard of it, & they said, He is beside himself.” Mark 3:21
Even our Lord’s relatives did not understand Him. His life was so unworldly that it could not be measured by the ordinary standards. Here they could account for his unconquerable zeal only by concluding that He was insane. We hear much of the same kind of talk in modern days when some devoted follower of Christ utterly forgets self in love for his Master. People say, “He must be insane!” They think every man is crazy whose religion kindles into and sort of unusual fervour, or who grows more earnest than the average Christian in work for the Master. Some of Paul’s friends thought he was crazy when he went sweeping over land and sea to carry the gospel to every city. But his answer was, “No, I am not crazy; the love of Christ constraineth me.”
That is a good sort of insanity. It is a sad pity that it is so rare. If there were more of it there would not be so many unsaved souls dying under the very shadow of our churches; it would not be so hard to get missionaries and money to send the gospel to the dark continents; there would not be so many empty pews in our churches, so many long pauses in our prayer-meeting, so few to teach in our Sabbath schools. It would be a glorious thing if all Christians were beside themselves as the Master was, or as Paul was.
It is a far worse insanity which in this world never gives a thought to any other world; which, moving continually among lost men, never pities them, nor thinks of their lost condition, nor puts forth any effort to save them. It is easier to keep a cool head and a colder heart, and to give ourselves no concern about perishing souls; but we are our brothers’ keepers, and no malfeasance in duty can be worse than that which pays no heed to their eternal salvation.
Even our Lord’s relatives did not understand Him. His life was so unworldly that it could not be measured by the ordinary standards. Here they could account for his unconquerable zeal only by concluding that He was insane. We hear much of the same kind of talk in modern days when some devoted follower of Christ utterly forgets self in love for his Master. People say, “He must be insane!” They think every man is crazy whose religion kindles into and sort of unusual fervour, or who grows more earnest than the average Christian in work for the Master. Some of Paul’s friends thought he was crazy when he went sweeping over land and sea to carry the gospel to every city. But his answer was, “No, I am not crazy; the love of Christ constraineth me.”
That is a good sort of insanity. It is a sad pity that it is so rare. If there were more of it there would not be so many unsaved souls dying under the very shadow of our churches; it would not be so hard to get missionaries and money to send the gospel to the dark continents; there would not be so many empty pews in our churches, so many long pauses in our prayer-meeting, so few to teach in our Sabbath schools. It would be a glorious thing if all Christians were beside themselves as the Master was, or as Paul was.
It is a far worse insanity which in this world never gives a thought to any other world; which, moving continually among lost men, never pities them, nor thinks of their lost condition, nor puts forth any effort to save them. It is easier to keep a cool head and a colder heart, and to give ourselves no concern about perishing souls; but we are our brothers’ keepers, and no malfeasance in duty can be worse than that which pays no heed to their eternal salvation.
2009-09-14
Peace With Pardon
“Thy faith hath saved thee; go in peace.” Luke 7:5
Saved! This poor, shame-soiled, sin-ruined thing, that the Pharisee would have thrust out of his house into the street — saved! Never to go back any more to her old life! An heir of heaven now, destined to walk the heavenly streets in white! There is an old legend that Mohammed once in passing along the way touched a plant of mallows and it became a geranium, and has ever since been a geranium, pouring fragrance everywhere. No matter about the legend, but Christ did something far more wonderful on the day of our story. He touched this sinful soul, and it was transformed into beauty. That woman has been in glory for eighteen centuries. That is what Christ does for every one who creeps to his feet in penitence and faith.
Peace came with the forgiveness. There could be no peace until she was forgiven. No one has any right to be at peace while the guilt of sin remains uncancelled. But when Christ has forgiven us we should be at peace. Why or of what should we then be afraid? What is there for us to fear in this world or the next?
There is a story of one, in the olden days, who had committed a capital crime. He was the king’s friend and favourite; and when his trial came on, although the case went sorely against him, he manifested no fear. The evidence accumulated. There was no loophole of escape from conviction. His friends had no hope, yet they marvelled at his calmness — he was at perfect peace. He was convicted, and was about to be sentenced; still there was in his features no trace of alarm. At the last moment the secret was revealed. He drew from his bosom a paper, and handed it to the judge. It was the king’s pardon. With that in his possession he had no cause for fear. And with our King’s pardon, no matter how guilty we are, we have no need to be afraid, and may be at peace.
Saved! This poor, shame-soiled, sin-ruined thing, that the Pharisee would have thrust out of his house into the street — saved! Never to go back any more to her old life! An heir of heaven now, destined to walk the heavenly streets in white! There is an old legend that Mohammed once in passing along the way touched a plant of mallows and it became a geranium, and has ever since been a geranium, pouring fragrance everywhere. No matter about the legend, but Christ did something far more wonderful on the day of our story. He touched this sinful soul, and it was transformed into beauty. That woman has been in glory for eighteen centuries. That is what Christ does for every one who creeps to his feet in penitence and faith.
Peace came with the forgiveness. There could be no peace until she was forgiven. No one has any right to be at peace while the guilt of sin remains uncancelled. But when Christ has forgiven us we should be at peace. Why or of what should we then be afraid? What is there for us to fear in this world or the next?
There is a story of one, in the olden days, who had committed a capital crime. He was the king’s friend and favourite; and when his trial came on, although the case went sorely against him, he manifested no fear. The evidence accumulated. There was no loophole of escape from conviction. His friends had no hope, yet they marvelled at his calmness — he was at perfect peace. He was convicted, and was about to be sentenced; still there was in his features no trace of alarm. At the last moment the secret was revealed. He drew from his bosom a paper, and handed it to the judge. It was the king’s pardon. With that in his possession he had no cause for fear. And with our King’s pardon, no matter how guilty we are, we have no need to be afraid, and may be at peace.
2009-09-13
Free Forgiveness
“When they had nothing to pay, he frankly forgave them both.” Luke 7:42
All of us are in debt. Of course there is a difference in the amount of our debts. Some have sinned far more than others. But whether our debt be little or much, we have nothing at all with which to pay it. We could not more easily pay the fifty than the five hundred pence. He forgave them both. It is just as easy for God to forgive the greatest sins as the smallest. He forgave them. That is the only way we can ever get clear of our sins.
A king owed a large sum to one of his nobles, but could not pay it. The nobleman made a great feast in honour of his king. A fire or perfumed woods burned on the hearth. During the feast the host brought out all he king’s notes and cast them into the fire, thus obliterating beyond possibility of restoration every evidence of his indebtedness. That is the way God does with our sins. Into the fragrant flames of Christ’s sacrifice he casts them all, and they will never be heard of more.
There is a story of a half-witted boy whose idea of forgiveness was beautiful. He said that Jesus came and with his red hand rubbed out all his sins. A quaint man used to carry a little book, which he took very often from his pocket, and which he called his “biography.” It had only three leaves, and there was not a word written on any of them; yet he said the book told the whole story of his life. The first leaf was black: that was his sin; that was his condition by nature. He would shudder when he looked at it. The second was red: that was the blood or Christ; and his face glowed when he gazed upon it. The third was white: that was himself washed in Christ’s blood, made whiter than snow. His book told the whole story of every redeemed life. Between the black of our sins and the white of redemption must always come the red of Christ’s blood.
All of us are in debt. Of course there is a difference in the amount of our debts. Some have sinned far more than others. But whether our debt be little or much, we have nothing at all with which to pay it. We could not more easily pay the fifty than the five hundred pence. He forgave them both. It is just as easy for God to forgive the greatest sins as the smallest. He forgave them. That is the only way we can ever get clear of our sins.
A king owed a large sum to one of his nobles, but could not pay it. The nobleman made a great feast in honour of his king. A fire or perfumed woods burned on the hearth. During the feast the host brought out all he king’s notes and cast them into the fire, thus obliterating beyond possibility of restoration every evidence of his indebtedness. That is the way God does with our sins. Into the fragrant flames of Christ’s sacrifice he casts them all, and they will never be heard of more.
There is a story of a half-witted boy whose idea of forgiveness was beautiful. He said that Jesus came and with his red hand rubbed out all his sins. A quaint man used to carry a little book, which he took very often from his pocket, and which he called his “biography.” It had only three leaves, and there was not a word written on any of them; yet he said the book told the whole story of his life. The first leaf was black: that was his sin; that was his condition by nature. He would shudder when he looked at it. The second was red: that was the blood or Christ; and his face glowed when he gazed upon it. The third was white: that was himself washed in Christ’s blood, made whiter than snow. His book told the whole story of every redeemed life. Between the black of our sins and the white of redemption must always come the red of Christ’s blood.
2009-09-12
A Broken Spirit
“Stood at his feet behind him weeping.” Luke 7:38
Those who are familiar with the story of Paradise and the Peri¹ will remember how the banished Peri sought to gain admittance at the closed gate of Paradise. The angel told the nymph that there was one hope — that the Peri might yet be forgiven who would bring to the eternal gate the gift that was most dear to Heaven.
The Peri wandered everywhere, sweeping all the lands with her swift wings, searching for some rare and precious thing to carry up to the barred gate. Amid scenes of carnage she found a hero dying for liberty; and
Swiftly descending on a ray
Of morning light, she caught the last,
Last glorious drop his heart had shed,
Before its free-born spirit fled.
With this she flew up to the gate; but, precious as was the boon, the crystal bar moved not. Next in her quest the Peri came upon a dying lover, over whom his betrothed hung; and stealing the farewell sigh of that vanishing soul, again she sought the gate of bliss: but even to this precious boon the bar swung not.
Again she wandered far, and came at last upon a wretched criminal, stained by countless deeds of shame and blood, but now weeping in bitter penitence. The Peri with job caught up the holy tear of contrition as it fell, and swiftly bore it away to heaven; and the door flew open, admitting her to the blessedness within.
This beautiful Oriental legend is not untrue to heavenly fact. The Bible tells us the same thing. “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.” No offerings we can bring are so precious as contrite tears. No song on earth rings with such music up in heaven as the penitential cry, “God be merciful to me a sinner!”
Those who are familiar with the story of Paradise and the Peri¹ will remember how the banished Peri sought to gain admittance at the closed gate of Paradise. The angel told the nymph that there was one hope — that the Peri might yet be forgiven who would bring to the eternal gate the gift that was most dear to Heaven.
The Peri wandered everywhere, sweeping all the lands with her swift wings, searching for some rare and precious thing to carry up to the barred gate. Amid scenes of carnage she found a hero dying for liberty; and
Swiftly descending on a ray
Of morning light, she caught the last,
Last glorious drop his heart had shed,
Before its free-born spirit fled.
With this she flew up to the gate; but, precious as was the boon, the crystal bar moved not. Next in her quest the Peri came upon a dying lover, over whom his betrothed hung; and stealing the farewell sigh of that vanishing soul, again she sought the gate of bliss: but even to this precious boon the bar swung not.
Again she wandered far, and came at last upon a wretched criminal, stained by countless deeds of shame and blood, but now weeping in bitter penitence. The Peri with job caught up the holy tear of contrition as it fell, and swiftly bore it away to heaven; and the door flew open, admitting her to the blessedness within.
This beautiful Oriental legend is not untrue to heavenly fact. The Bible tells us the same thing. “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.” No offerings we can bring are so precious as contrite tears. No song on earth rings with such music up in heaven as the penitential cry, “God be merciful to me a sinner!”
2009-09-11
The Friend Of Sinners
“A woman in the city, which was a sinner, when when she knew that Jesus sat at meat—”
- Luke 7:37
It is wonderful how genuine goodness draws to itself the unfortunate, the troubled, the friendless, the outcast, the fallen. Wherever Jesus went, these classes always found him out and gathered about him. It was because he was the true, disinterested friend of all men. They found sympathy in him. He would listen to their story. Though he was the sinless One, there was yet no air of “I am holier than thou” about him. He was just as gentle to an outcast sinner as to a spotless Nicodemus. No matter who reached out a hand for help, he was ready to grasp it. One of the truest things ever said of Jesus was the prophetic word concerning him, “A bruised reed shall he not break.” He dealt always most gently with sore spirits and with bruised hearts.
Those who want to be useful in this world must have the same qualities. There is a kind of human “holiness” that draws nobody to itself, but rather repels; genuine holiness, however, wins its way everywhere into men’s hearts. The secret of it all is in living “not to be ministered unto, but to minister;” in considering one’s self not too good to serve the unworthiest of God’s creatures. If we stay in this world to be served, we shall be of no manner of use. But if we live to minister to others, yearning to be of service to every one we meet, our life will be something worth. The hungry-hearted and the soul-needy will be drawn to us, and God will love to put work into our hands.
We need, too, to train ourselves to exceeding gentleness in dealing with human souls in their spiritual crises. many earnest people, in the excess of their zeal, so incalculable harm to those whom they greatly desire to help. People with sore and bruised hearts usually need loving sympathy and strong, kindly friendship much more than they need theology.
- Luke 7:37
It is wonderful how genuine goodness draws to itself the unfortunate, the troubled, the friendless, the outcast, the fallen. Wherever Jesus went, these classes always found him out and gathered about him. It was because he was the true, disinterested friend of all men. They found sympathy in him. He would listen to their story. Though he was the sinless One, there was yet no air of “I am holier than thou” about him. He was just as gentle to an outcast sinner as to a spotless Nicodemus. No matter who reached out a hand for help, he was ready to grasp it. One of the truest things ever said of Jesus was the prophetic word concerning him, “A bruised reed shall he not break.” He dealt always most gently with sore spirits and with bruised hearts.
Those who want to be useful in this world must have the same qualities. There is a kind of human “holiness” that draws nobody to itself, but rather repels; genuine holiness, however, wins its way everywhere into men’s hearts. The secret of it all is in living “not to be ministered unto, but to minister;” in considering one’s self not too good to serve the unworthiest of God’s creatures. If we stay in this world to be served, we shall be of no manner of use. But if we live to minister to others, yearning to be of service to every one we meet, our life will be something worth. The hungry-hearted and the soul-needy will be drawn to us, and God will love to put work into our hands.
We need, too, to train ourselves to exceeding gentleness in dealing with human souls in their spiritual crises. many earnest people, in the excess of their zeal, so incalculable harm to those whom they greatly desire to help. People with sore and bruised hearts usually need loving sympathy and strong, kindly friendship much more than they need theology.
2009-09-10
Waverers
“A reed shaken with the wind.” Luke 7:24
The picture is of a man wavering and unstable, easily swayed and bent from uprightness. That is what a good many men are. A reed grows in soft mud by the water’s edge. Then it is so frail and delicate that every breeze bends it and shakes it. Jesus did not intimate that John was a man of that stamp, but meant just the reverse. John was not like a reed shaken with the wind. He was a man whom nothing could bend or sway. Rather than preach soft words to please Herod, and keep quiet about sins that the king was committing, John charged home the sins without quailing, losing his head at last as reward.
Yet there are some persons who are like reeds. Instead of being rooted in Christ, their roots go down into the soft mud of this world, and of course they are easily torn up. Then they have no fixed principles to hold them upright and make them true and strong; and they are bent by every wind, and moved and swayed by every influence of fear or favour. The boy that cannot say no when other boys tease him to smoke, or drink, or do a wrong or mean thing, is a reed shaken by the wind. The girl who is influenced by frivolities and worldly pleasure, and drawn away from Christ and from a beautiful life, is likewise a reed bent and swayed by the wind.
They are growing everywhere, these reeds, and the wind shakes them every time it blows. Who wants to be a reed? Who would not rather be like the oak, growing in soil as solid as a rock, which no storm bends or even causes to tremble?
There is one apparent advantage in being like a reed: one seems to escape persecution. John would hardly have met the fate he did meet if he had been easily shaken. People who are like reeds do not often lose their heads on the martyr’s block. But they are in danger of losing their souls; and that certainly is worse
The picture is of a man wavering and unstable, easily swayed and bent from uprightness. That is what a good many men are. A reed grows in soft mud by the water’s edge. Then it is so frail and delicate that every breeze bends it and shakes it. Jesus did not intimate that John was a man of that stamp, but meant just the reverse. John was not like a reed shaken with the wind. He was a man whom nothing could bend or sway. Rather than preach soft words to please Herod, and keep quiet about sins that the king was committing, John charged home the sins without quailing, losing his head at last as reward.
Yet there are some persons who are like reeds. Instead of being rooted in Christ, their roots go down into the soft mud of this world, and of course they are easily torn up. Then they have no fixed principles to hold them upright and make them true and strong; and they are bent by every wind, and moved and swayed by every influence of fear or favour. The boy that cannot say no when other boys tease him to smoke, or drink, or do a wrong or mean thing, is a reed shaken by the wind. The girl who is influenced by frivolities and worldly pleasure, and drawn away from Christ and from a beautiful life, is likewise a reed bent and swayed by the wind.
They are growing everywhere, these reeds, and the wind shakes them every time it blows. Who wants to be a reed? Who would not rather be like the oak, growing in soil as solid as a rock, which no storm bends or even causes to tremble?
There is one apparent advantage in being like a reed: one seems to escape persecution. John would hardly have met the fate he did meet if he had been easily shaken. People who are like reeds do not often lose their heads on the martyr’s block. But they are in danger of losing their souls; and that certainly is worse
2009-09-09
The Footprints Of Christ
“Go your way and tell John what things ye have seen.” Luke 7:22
John wanted to know whether Jesus really was the Messiah or not. Jesus did not present arguments to prove that He was the Messiah, but pointed the messengers to the work He was doing. The best evidence of the divinity of Christ is not any number of proof-texts gathered from all parts of the Bible and arranged in order, but the works that Christ has done and is doing every day. An atheist asked an Oriental how he knew there was a God. The man answered by inquiring, “How do I know whether it was a man or a camel that passed my tent last night?” He knew by the footprints. Then he pointed to the setting sun and asked: “Whose footprint is that?”
Look at the footprints of Christ, and see whether they are a man’s or God’s. Whose prints are those by the gate of Nain, by the grave of Bethany, coming away from the tomb of Joseph of Arimathaea? Whose prints are those by the doors of sorrow, along the path where the leper, the blind, the lame, the demoniac waited for Him? Or look around at what you see now — churches, missions, hospitals, asylums, sweetened homes, cleansed sinners, renewed lives, comforted mourners: whose prints are these? These works, wrought by Christianity, are the best evidences of Christianity. Christ wants to be judged, not by His claims, but by His works. The world is full to-day of the proofs of Christ’s divinity.
In like manner we must prove that we belong to Christ, not by getting certificates of church membership, but by showing in our daily lives the unselfishness, the sympathy, the self-denial, the kindness, the love that were the highest proofs on Christ‘s own life of His divine mission. We must be able, when persons ask us if we are Christians, to say: “Look at my life and my works, and judge for yourselves.”
John wanted to know whether Jesus really was the Messiah or not. Jesus did not present arguments to prove that He was the Messiah, but pointed the messengers to the work He was doing. The best evidence of the divinity of Christ is not any number of proof-texts gathered from all parts of the Bible and arranged in order, but the works that Christ has done and is doing every day. An atheist asked an Oriental how he knew there was a God. The man answered by inquiring, “How do I know whether it was a man or a camel that passed my tent last night?” He knew by the footprints. Then he pointed to the setting sun and asked: “Whose footprint is that?”
Look at the footprints of Christ, and see whether they are a man’s or God’s. Whose prints are those by the gate of Nain, by the grave of Bethany, coming away from the tomb of Joseph of Arimathaea? Whose prints are those by the doors of sorrow, along the path where the leper, the blind, the lame, the demoniac waited for Him? Or look around at what you see now — churches, missions, hospitals, asylums, sweetened homes, cleansed sinners, renewed lives, comforted mourners: whose prints are these? These works, wrought by Christianity, are the best evidences of Christianity. Christ wants to be judged, not by His claims, but by His works. The world is full to-day of the proofs of Christ’s divinity.
In like manner we must prove that we belong to Christ, not by getting certificates of church membership, but by showing in our daily lives the unselfishness, the sympathy, the self-denial, the kindness, the love that were the highest proofs on Christ‘s own life of His divine mission. We must be able, when persons ask us if we are Christians, to say: “Look at my life and my works, and judge for yourselves.”
2009-09-08
Jesus Always Answers
“Then Jesus answering” Luke 7:22
John was perplexed, and sent from his prison to ask Jesus if He were indeed the promised Messiah. Jesus patiently answered the messengers. He always answers. Many of our prayers to Him are mixed with doubt; many of them are filled with complaints and fears and murmurings. Still He never grows impatient with us. He never shuts His door upon us. It must grieve and pain Him to have us doubt Him. Joseph wept when his brothers sent a message to him, after their father‘s death, asking him to forgive them, when he had forgiven them years before, and had proved it by a thousand kindnesses; it almost broke his heart to think how they had misjudged him.
Yet that is the way many of us do with Jesus. After all the sacrifices He has made on our behalf, and the blessings His love has bestowed upon us, when some shadow falls upon our heart we wonder whether Christ loves us or not, whether or not He has forgiven us, whether or not He will take care of us in the future, We are half the time perplexed about something — full of worries; and these doubts, fears, and anxieties get into our prayers. They take the joy out of our worship, and the faith out of our supplications, and give a sad tone to our devotions.
Does Jesus never get tired of such prayers? No, no; He listens, and hears all the discords made by the murmurings. His heart must be pained by the too; but He answers us nevertheless. he is very patient with us — He never chides; He remembers how frail we are, and sends the sweetest answers that His love can give. It is wonderful indeed how rich and gentle our Saviour is .Verily
“There is no place where earth’s sorrows
Are more felt than up in heaven;
There is no place where earth‘s failings
Have such kindly judgments given.”
John was perplexed, and sent from his prison to ask Jesus if He were indeed the promised Messiah. Jesus patiently answered the messengers. He always answers. Many of our prayers to Him are mixed with doubt; many of them are filled with complaints and fears and murmurings. Still He never grows impatient with us. He never shuts His door upon us. It must grieve and pain Him to have us doubt Him. Joseph wept when his brothers sent a message to him, after their father‘s death, asking him to forgive them, when he had forgiven them years before, and had proved it by a thousand kindnesses; it almost broke his heart to think how they had misjudged him.
Yet that is the way many of us do with Jesus. After all the sacrifices He has made on our behalf, and the blessings His love has bestowed upon us, when some shadow falls upon our heart we wonder whether Christ loves us or not, whether or not He has forgiven us, whether or not He will take care of us in the future, We are half the time perplexed about something — full of worries; and these doubts, fears, and anxieties get into our prayers. They take the joy out of our worship, and the faith out of our supplications, and give a sad tone to our devotions.
Does Jesus never get tired of such prayers? No, no; He listens, and hears all the discords made by the murmurings. His heart must be pained by the too; but He answers us nevertheless. he is very patient with us — He never chides; He remembers how frail we are, and sends the sweetest answers that His love can give. It is wonderful indeed how rich and gentle our Saviour is .Verily
“There is no place where earth’s sorrows
Are more felt than up in heaven;
There is no place where earth‘s failings
Have such kindly judgments given.”
2009-09-07
Needless Doubts
“look we for another?” Luke 7:19
John did not doubt the Messiahship of Jesus that day beside the Jordan, when from the cloven heavens the radiant dove descended upon Him and the Father’s voice was heard in loving approval. Nor did He doubt in any of the bright days that followed. It was only when it grew dark for John himself that he doubted.
That is just the way yet with many people. When everything is bright and sunny they think they have surely found Christ, and they believe He is their friend, and their hearts are full of joy. But when troubles come and things begin to go against them, they wonder whether, after all, they have really found the Saviour. They begin to question their own experiences. “Am I really a Christian? Was that really conversion when I thought I was saved? or is there some other experience that I must yet have?” Christ does not do just the things they thought He would do for them. Their religion does not support them as firmly as they supposed it would. If they are indeed Christians, why does Christ let them suffer so much and not come to relieve them? So they sink away down into the Slough of Despond, some times losing all hope.
See how unnecessary was John’s doubt. Jesus was indeed the Messiah. John’s active work was done, and he was now to glorify God by suffering and soon by martyrdom. Just as needless is all anxiety of Christian people in their times of darkness. Of course we must have some earthly trials. Christ does not carry us to heaven on flowery beds of ease. We must expect to bear the cross many a mile. The true way for us is never to doubt Jesus. Suppose there are clouds, the sun still shines behind them undimmed. Suppose we have failures, trials, and disappointments; Jesus is the same loving friend as when there was not a speck of trouble for us in all the world.
John did not doubt the Messiahship of Jesus that day beside the Jordan, when from the cloven heavens the radiant dove descended upon Him and the Father’s voice was heard in loving approval. Nor did He doubt in any of the bright days that followed. It was only when it grew dark for John himself that he doubted.
That is just the way yet with many people. When everything is bright and sunny they think they have surely found Christ, and they believe He is their friend, and their hearts are full of joy. But when troubles come and things begin to go against them, they wonder whether, after all, they have really found the Saviour. They begin to question their own experiences. “Am I really a Christian? Was that really conversion when I thought I was saved? or is there some other experience that I must yet have?” Christ does not do just the things they thought He would do for them. Their religion does not support them as firmly as they supposed it would. If they are indeed Christians, why does Christ let them suffer so much and not come to relieve them? So they sink away down into the Slough of Despond, some times losing all hope.
See how unnecessary was John’s doubt. Jesus was indeed the Messiah. John’s active work was done, and he was now to glorify God by suffering and soon by martyrdom. Just as needless is all anxiety of Christian people in their times of darkness. Of course we must have some earthly trials. Christ does not carry us to heaven on flowery beds of ease. We must expect to bear the cross many a mile. The true way for us is never to doubt Jesus. Suppose there are clouds, the sun still shines behind them undimmed. Suppose we have failures, trials, and disappointments; Jesus is the same loving friend as when there was not a speck of trouble for us in all the world.
2009-09-06
Loss Of Faith
“Art thou he that should come? or look we for another?” Luke 7:19
John was in prison, in the castle Machaerus. It certainly was not a very cheerful place to be in. We ought scarcely to be astonished at his temporary loss of bright faith. Yet a good many people think it strange that the grand, brave John could really have been in doubt, and scarcely believe it. “It is not possible,” they say, “that such a great, heroic man should ever waver in his confidence.” They forget that John lived just in the dim dawn of the gospel, before the full day burst upon the world. He had not the thousandth part of the light that we have in our day; and yet do we, with all our light, never get depressed? The truth is, there is not one of us who is not sometimes disheartened without a hundredth part of the cause John had.
But that is always the way. We are amazed at every person‘s blindness, or dulness, or unbelief, but our own. Other people‘s failures look very large to us, but we never see our own at all. We wonder how Moses once, under terrible provocation, lost his temper and spoke a dozen hasty and impatient words; while we can scarcely get through a single sunny day without a much worse outbreak upon a far slighter provocation.
We wonder how the beloved disciple, with all his sweet humility, could once show an ambition for a place of honour, while we ourselves are for ever scrambling for preferments. We say, “Isn‘t it strange that people would not believe on Christ when they saw all His power and love?” Yet we do not believe in Him any more fully than they did. We can scarcely believe that John the Baptist grew despondent when his trials were so great, though most of us are often plunged into gloom by the merest trifles. Many Christian people get more despairing over the gain or loss of a few pounds, or a little pain, than John did in his really great trials.
John was in prison, in the castle Machaerus. It certainly was not a very cheerful place to be in. We ought scarcely to be astonished at his temporary loss of bright faith. Yet a good many people think it strange that the grand, brave John could really have been in doubt, and scarcely believe it. “It is not possible,” they say, “that such a great, heroic man should ever waver in his confidence.” They forget that John lived just in the dim dawn of the gospel, before the full day burst upon the world. He had not the thousandth part of the light that we have in our day; and yet do we, with all our light, never get depressed? The truth is, there is not one of us who is not sometimes disheartened without a hundredth part of the cause John had.
But that is always the way. We are amazed at every person‘s blindness, or dulness, or unbelief, but our own. Other people‘s failures look very large to us, but we never see our own at all. We wonder how Moses once, under terrible provocation, lost his temper and spoke a dozen hasty and impatient words; while we can scarcely get through a single sunny day without a much worse outbreak upon a far slighter provocation.
We wonder how the beloved disciple, with all his sweet humility, could once show an ambition for a place of honour, while we ourselves are for ever scrambling for preferments. We say, “Isn‘t it strange that people would not believe on Christ when they saw all His power and love?” Yet we do not believe in Him any more fully than they did. We can scarcely believe that John the Baptist grew despondent when his trials were so great, though most of us are often plunged into gloom by the merest trifles. Many Christian people get more despairing over the gain or loss of a few pounds, or a little pain, than John did in his really great trials.
2009-09-05
Christ The Great Counsellor
“John calling unto him two of his disciples sent them to Jesus” Luke 7:19
He was in perplexity about certain matters. There were some things that were worrying him, that he could not make out himself, and he sent to Christ to ask Him about them. That is just what every one of us should do when there arise perplexities of any kind in our lives or affairs — we should carry them straight to Jesus. Even the children have their disappointments and trials. They have discouragements. Now they ought not to worry about these matters. Of course they cannot always understand them; how could they expect to understand everything in such a vast world as this? But is it not a great thing to know that Jesus understands it all? He knows what He is doing.
So the true way for us is just to do what John did — tell Jesus whenever anything appears to go wrong or when anything happens we cannot understand. That is the rule Paul gives for keeping clear of anxiety. “Be careful [or anxious] for nothing; but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.” Then He promises that if we only do this we shall never have worry — “The peace of God shall keep your hearts and minds.”
The meaning of all this is that we should never carry a worry of any kind even for a moment, but whenever any matter begins to perplex us we should go instantly and tell Jesus all about it, and leave it in His hands, that He may manage it for us. The leaving it is the hardest part. We can easily take it to Him, but we are so apt to pick it up again and carry it back with us, and keep it, just as if we had not taken it to Him. We should learn to tell Jesus of our perplexities and sorrows, and then commit all to Him without further anxiety. This is faith, and is the way to find peace.
He was in perplexity about certain matters. There were some things that were worrying him, that he could not make out himself, and he sent to Christ to ask Him about them. That is just what every one of us should do when there arise perplexities of any kind in our lives or affairs — we should carry them straight to Jesus. Even the children have their disappointments and trials. They have discouragements. Now they ought not to worry about these matters. Of course they cannot always understand them; how could they expect to understand everything in such a vast world as this? But is it not a great thing to know that Jesus understands it all? He knows what He is doing.
So the true way for us is just to do what John did — tell Jesus whenever anything appears to go wrong or when anything happens we cannot understand. That is the rule Paul gives for keeping clear of anxiety. “Be careful [or anxious] for nothing; but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.” Then He promises that if we only do this we shall never have worry — “The peace of God shall keep your hearts and minds.”
The meaning of all this is that we should never carry a worry of any kind even for a moment, but whenever any matter begins to perplex us we should go instantly and tell Jesus all about it, and leave it in His hands, that He may manage it for us. The leaving it is the hardest part. We can easily take it to Him, but we are so apt to pick it up again and carry it back with us, and keep it, just as if we had not taken it to Him. We should learn to tell Jesus of our perplexities and sorrows, and then commit all to Him without further anxiety. This is faith, and is the way to find peace.
2009-09-04
The Safe Foundation
“Whosoever heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them, I will liken him unto a wise man, which built his house upon a rock” Matthew 7:24
All turns on the doing or not doing of Christ’s words. Both these men heard the words, but one of them obeyed as well, and thus built on the true and immovable foundation. Both men built houses very much alike so far as the superstructures were concerned. But there were two kinds of ground. There was a valley, which was dry and pleasant in the summer days when the men were looking for building sites. Then there were high rocky bluffs. One man decided to build in the valley. It would cost less. It would be easy digging. It was more convenient, for the bluffs were inaccessible. the other man built on the high ground. It would cost more, but it would be safer.
The two homes went up simultaneously, only the one in the valley was finished long before the other was. The families moved into their new residences, and were quite happy for a time. But one night there was a storm. The house in the valley was carried away with its dwellers; the house on the bluff was unharmed.
The pictures explain themselves. He who built in the valley is the man who has only knowledge and profession, but who really has never built on Christ as a foundation. the other man, who built on a rock, is the man who has true faith in Christ, confirmed by loving obedience. The storms that burst are earth‘s trials which test every life, and then the tempests of death and judgment. The mere professor of religion is swept away in these storms, for he has only sand under him; he who is truly in Christ is secure, for no storm can reach Christ’s bosom. It will be a terrible thing to cherish a false hope of salvation through life, and only find out in eternity, too late to build again, that we have no foundation under our hopes.
All turns on the doing or not doing of Christ’s words. Both these men heard the words, but one of them obeyed as well, and thus built on the true and immovable foundation. Both men built houses very much alike so far as the superstructures were concerned. But there were two kinds of ground. There was a valley, which was dry and pleasant in the summer days when the men were looking for building sites. Then there were high rocky bluffs. One man decided to build in the valley. It would cost less. It would be easy digging. It was more convenient, for the bluffs were inaccessible. the other man built on the high ground. It would cost more, but it would be safer.
The two homes went up simultaneously, only the one in the valley was finished long before the other was. The families moved into their new residences, and were quite happy for a time. But one night there was a storm. The house in the valley was carried away with its dwellers; the house on the bluff was unharmed.
The pictures explain themselves. He who built in the valley is the man who has only knowledge and profession, but who really has never built on Christ as a foundation. the other man, who built on a rock, is the man who has true faith in Christ, confirmed by loving obedience. The storms that burst are earth‘s trials which test every life, and then the tempests of death and judgment. The mere professor of religion is swept away in these storms, for he has only sand under him; he who is truly in Christ is secure, for no storm can reach Christ’s bosom. It will be a terrible thing to cherish a false hope of salvation through life, and only find out in eternity, too late to build again, that we have no foundation under our hopes.
2009-09-03
Doing The Father's Will
“Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father ” Matthew 7:21
It is not enough to believe in Christ intellectually, even to be quite orthodox in creed. It is not enough to seem to honour Christ before men, praying to Him and ascribing power to Him. It is a sad thing that Jesus tells us here — that some who have thus seemed to be His friends on earth, and who have publicly confessed Him, shall fail at last to get into heaven.
Such a word from our Lord’s lips cannot but startle us. We stop and ask, “Are we sure that we shall be admitted to heaven? Why are these confessors of Christ kept out? What are the conditions of entrance?” To these questions the answer is so plain that there is no possibility of mistake if we read the Lord’s words with honest care. He tells us that those only shall enter heaven who on earth do the will of the Father. No confession, therefore, is true which is not confirmed and verified by a life of obedience and holiness. “Simply to thy cross I cling” is but half of the gospel. No one is really clinging to the cross who is not at the same time faithfully following Christ and doing whatsoever He commands. No one can enter into heaven into whose heart heaven has not first entered on this earth. We shall do God’s will in heaven if we ever get there; we must do it here, or we shall never do it there.
Some people have the impression that salvation sets them free from the law; it does as a ground of salvation, but it does not as a rule of duty. We pray, “Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven;” if the prayer be sincere it must draw our own lives with it in loving obedience and acquiescence to the divine will. Our confessions of Christ must be confirmed by the earnest doing of the Father‘s will. All other confession is only an empty mockery.
It is not enough to believe in Christ intellectually, even to be quite orthodox in creed. It is not enough to seem to honour Christ before men, praying to Him and ascribing power to Him. It is a sad thing that Jesus tells us here — that some who have thus seemed to be His friends on earth, and who have publicly confessed Him, shall fail at last to get into heaven.
Such a word from our Lord’s lips cannot but startle us. We stop and ask, “Are we sure that we shall be admitted to heaven? Why are these confessors of Christ kept out? What are the conditions of entrance?” To these questions the answer is so plain that there is no possibility of mistake if we read the Lord’s words with honest care. He tells us that those only shall enter heaven who on earth do the will of the Father. No confession, therefore, is true which is not confirmed and verified by a life of obedience and holiness. “Simply to thy cross I cling” is but half of the gospel. No one is really clinging to the cross who is not at the same time faithfully following Christ and doing whatsoever He commands. No one can enter into heaven into whose heart heaven has not first entered on this earth. We shall do God’s will in heaven if we ever get there; we must do it here, or we shall never do it there.
Some people have the impression that salvation sets them free from the law; it does as a ground of salvation, but it does not as a rule of duty. We pray, “Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven;” if the prayer be sincere it must draw our own lives with it in loving obedience and acquiescence to the divine will. Our confessions of Christ must be confirmed by the earnest doing of the Father‘s will. All other confession is only an empty mockery.
2009-09-02
In Sheep's Clothing
“Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves” Matthew 7:15
There is something fearful in the eagerness of the devil to destroy souls. He sends his agents and messengers in forms and garbs to deceive the simple-minded and unwary. He even steals the dress of God’s own servants and children, hoping thus to gain the confidence of believers and then destroy their faith and lead them away to death. The world is full now of just such agents of Satan. They profess to be Christians, but in their hearts they are disloyal to Christ and to His cause and kingdom. They win the confidence of the sheep by passing off for sheep themselves; but the sheep’s covering is only worn outside, while underneath is the heart of a hungry, bloodthirsty wolf.
We need to be on our guard perpetually against the wiles of the devil. Eternal vigilance is the price of spiritual safety and of Christian peace. Many young people, especially of those who are intelligent and gifted, fall under the influence of those who have caught smatterings of sceptical talk which they drop in the form of sneers or mocking queries in the ears of their confiding listeners. They laugh at the simple cradle-faiths these young Christians hold, and ask with wise air, “Do you still believe these old superstitions?” Then they go on to cast doubt or to start questions about this or that difficulty in the Bible, or they caricature some Christian doctrine and hold it up in such light as to make it look absurd.
Thus they poison the minds of these earnest young believers, weaken their faith, and fill them with perplexity. Pastors and teachers on intelligent young people are continually called to try to undo the wicked and destructive work of these wolves in sheep’s clothing; but ofttimes it is impossible to undo it. Wrecked cradle-faiths are hard to restore.
There is something fearful in the eagerness of the devil to destroy souls. He sends his agents and messengers in forms and garbs to deceive the simple-minded and unwary. He even steals the dress of God’s own servants and children, hoping thus to gain the confidence of believers and then destroy their faith and lead them away to death. The world is full now of just such agents of Satan. They profess to be Christians, but in their hearts they are disloyal to Christ and to His cause and kingdom. They win the confidence of the sheep by passing off for sheep themselves; but the sheep’s covering is only worn outside, while underneath is the heart of a hungry, bloodthirsty wolf.
We need to be on our guard perpetually against the wiles of the devil. Eternal vigilance is the price of spiritual safety and of Christian peace. Many young people, especially of those who are intelligent and gifted, fall under the influence of those who have caught smatterings of sceptical talk which they drop in the form of sneers or mocking queries in the ears of their confiding listeners. They laugh at the simple cradle-faiths these young Christians hold, and ask with wise air, “Do you still believe these old superstitions?” Then they go on to cast doubt or to start questions about this or that difficulty in the Bible, or they caricature some Christian doctrine and hold it up in such light as to make it look absurd.
Thus they poison the minds of these earnest young believers, weaken their faith, and fill them with perplexity. Pastors and teachers on intelligent young people are continually called to try to undo the wicked and destructive work of these wolves in sheep’s clothing; but ofttimes it is impossible to undo it. Wrecked cradle-faiths are hard to restore.
2009-09-01
Two Roads And Two Gates
“Enter ye in at the strait gate.” Matthew 7:13
All truly valuable things cost much. Such a glorious privilege as the Christian’s, therefore, cannot be gotten without effort. To open the way, and to purchase for us the privilege of becoming children of God, the Son of God had to come from heaven in condescending love and give His own life. Jesus said, too, that any who would reach the glory of His kingdom must go by the same way of the cross by which He went. He said that he who “will save his life” — that is, keep it from self-denial and sacrifice — “shall loose it;” and that only he who “will lose his life for my sake,” — gives it out in devotion to God and to duty, — “shall save it.”
In one of His parables Jesus speaks of salvation as a treasure hid in a field, and a man who learns of the treasure and its hiding-place sells all that he has and goes and buys the field. In another parable our Lord presents the same truth under the figure of a merchant seeking goodly pearls, who, finding one pearl of great price, sells all he has and buys it. We must, in a very deep sense, give up all we have to get Christ and the blessings that come with Him.
Here the truth is put in another way. There are two roads through this world, and two gates into the future world. One of these ways is broad and easy, with descending grade, leading to a wide gate. It is not hard to go on this way. The other road is strait, and leads to a narrow gate. To go this way one has to leave the crowd and go almost alone, and leave the broad, easy way, and go on a hard, rugged path, and enter by a gate too small to admit any bundles of worldliness, or self-righteousness, or any of the fashionable trappings of the old life. If we would get to heaven, we must make up our minds it can be only by this narrow way of self-denial. all the world is not flowing into heaven; the crowds are going somewhere else.
All truly valuable things cost much. Such a glorious privilege as the Christian’s, therefore, cannot be gotten without effort. To open the way, and to purchase for us the privilege of becoming children of God, the Son of God had to come from heaven in condescending love and give His own life. Jesus said, too, that any who would reach the glory of His kingdom must go by the same way of the cross by which He went. He said that he who “will save his life” — that is, keep it from self-denial and sacrifice — “shall loose it;” and that only he who “will lose his life for my sake,” — gives it out in devotion to God and to duty, — “shall save it.”
In one of His parables Jesus speaks of salvation as a treasure hid in a field, and a man who learns of the treasure and its hiding-place sells all that he has and goes and buys the field. In another parable our Lord presents the same truth under the figure of a merchant seeking goodly pearls, who, finding one pearl of great price, sells all he has and buys it. We must, in a very deep sense, give up all we have to get Christ and the blessings that come with Him.
Here the truth is put in another way. There are two roads through this world, and two gates into the future world. One of these ways is broad and easy, with descending grade, leading to a wide gate. It is not hard to go on this way. The other road is strait, and leads to a narrow gate. To go this way one has to leave the crowd and go almost alone, and leave the broad, easy way, and go on a hard, rugged path, and enter by a gate too small to admit any bundles of worldliness, or self-righteousness, or any of the fashionable trappings of the old life. If we would get to heaven, we must make up our minds it can be only by this narrow way of self-denial. all the world is not flowing into heaven; the crowds are going somewhere else.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Recent Posts
Audio Devotionals