II
THE BIBLE
Jesus Christ not only endorsed the Old Testament as authoritative, but bore witness to its eternal truth. "Think not," He said, "that I am come to destroy the law, or the prophets: I am not come to destroy, but to fulfill. For verily I say unto you, Till heaven and earth pass, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from the law, till all be fulfilled" (Matt. 5: 17, 18).
When one's belief in God becomes the controlling passion of his life; when he loves God with all his heart, with all his soul, with all his mind and with all his strength he is anxious to learn God's will and ready to accept the Bible as the Word of God. All that he asks is sufficient evidence of its inspiration.
After so many hundreds of millions have adopted the Bible as their guide for so many centuries, the burden of proof would seem on those who reject it.
The Bible is either the word of God or the work of man. Those who regard it as a man-made book should be challenged to put their theory to the test. If man made the Bible, he is, unless he has degenerated, able to make as good a book to-day.
Judged by human standards, man is far better prepared to write a Bible now than he was when our Bible was written. The characters whose words and deeds are recorded in the Bible were members of a single race; they lived among the hills of Palestine in a territory scarcely larger than one of our counties. They did not have printing presses and they lacked the learning of the schools; they had no great libraries to consult, no steamships to carry them around the world and make them acquainted with the various centers of ancient civilization; they had no telegraph wires to bring them the news from the ends of the earth and no newspapers to spread before them each morning the doings of the day before. Science had not unlocked Nature's door and revealed the secrets of rocks below and stars above. From what a scantily supplied storehouse of knowledge they had to draw, compared with the unlimited wealth of information at man's command to-day! And yet these Bible characters grappled with every problem that confronts mankind, from the creation of the world to eternal life beyond the tomb. They gave us a diagram of man's existence from the cradle to the grave and set up warning signs at every dangerous point.
The Bible gives us the story of the birth, the words, the works, the crucifixion, the resurrection, and the ascension of Him whose coming was foretold by prophecy, whose arrival was announced by angel voices, singing Peace and Good-will—the story of Him who gave to the world a code of morality superior to anything that the world had known before or has known since.
Let the atheists and the materialists produce a better Bible than ours, if they can. Let them collect the best of their school to be found among the graduates of universities—as many as they please and from every land. Let the members of this selected group travel where they will, consult such libraries as they like, and employ every modern means of swift communication. Let them glean in the fields of geology, botany, astronomy, biology, and zoology, and then roam at will wherever science has opened a way; let them take advantage of all the progress in art and in literature, in oratory and in history—let them use to the full every instrumentality that is employed in modern civilization; and when they have exhausted every source, let them embody the results of their best intelligence in a book and offer it to the world as a substitute for this Bible of ours. Have they the confidence that the prophets of Baal had in their god? Will they try? If not, what excuse will they give? Has man so fallen from his high estate, that we cannot rightfully expect as much of him now as nineteen centuries ago? Or does the Bible come to us from a source that is higher than man?
But the case is even stronger. The opponents of the Bible cannot take refuge in the plea that man is retrograding. They loudly proclaim that man has grown and that he is growing still. They boast of a world-wide advance and their claim is founded upon fact. In all matters except in the "science of how to live," man has made wonderful progress. The mastery of the mind over the forces of nature seems almost complete, so far do we surpass the ancients in harnessing the water, the wind and the lightning.
For ages, the rivers plunged down the mountainsides and exhausted their energies without any appreciable contribution to man's service; now they are estimated as so many units of horse-power, and we find that their fretting and foaming was merely a language which they employed to tell us of their strength and of their willingness to work for us. And, while falling water is becoming each a day a larger factor in burden-bearing, water, rising in the form of steam, is revolutionizing the transportation methods of the world.
The wind, that first whispered its secret of strength to the flapping sail, is now turning the wheel at the well, and our flying machines have taken possession of the air.
Lightning, the red demon that, from the dawn of Creation, has been rushing down its zigzag path through the clouds, as if intent only upon spreading death, metamorphosed into an errand-boy, brings us illumination from the sun and carries our messages around the globe.
Inventive genius has multiplied the power of a human arm and supplied the masses with comforts of which the rich did not dare to dream a few centuries ago. Science is ferreting out the hidden causes of disease and teaching us how to prolong life. In every line, except in the line of character-building, the world seems to have been made over, but these marvellous changes only emphasize the fact that man, too, must be born again, while they show how impotent are material things to touch the soul of man and transform him into a spiritual being. Wherever the moral standard is being lifted up—wherever life is becoming larger in the vision that directs it and richer in its fruitage, the improvement is traceable to the Bible and to the influence of the God and Christ of whom the Bible tells.
The atheist and the materialist must confess that man should be able to produce a better book to-day than man, unaided, could have produced in any previous age. The fact that they have tried, time and time again, only to fail each time more hopelessly, explains why they will not—why they cannot—accept the challenge thrown down by the Christian world to produce a book worthy to take the Bible's place.
They have begged to their God to answer with fire—appealed to inanimate matter with an earnestness that is pathetic; they have employed in the worship of blind force a faith greater than religion requires, but their God is asleep. How long will they allow the search for strata of stone and fragments of fossil and decaying skeletons that are strewn around the house to absorb their thoughts to the exclusion of the architect who planned it all? How long will the agnostic, closing his eyes to the plainest truths, cry, "Night, night," when the sun in his meridian splendour announces that noon is here?
Those who reject the Bible ignore its claim to inspiration. This in itself makes them enemies of the Book of books, because the Bible characters profess to speak by inspiration, and what they say bears the stamp of the supernatural. "Holy men of God spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost" (2 Peter 1:21).
Which things also we speak, not in the words which man's wisdom teacheth, but which the Holy Ghost teacheth; comparing spiritual things with spiritual. But the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God: for they are foolishness unto him: neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned (1 Cor. 2:13-14).
Those who reject the Bible ignore the spirit that pervades it, the atmosphere that envelopes it, the harmony of its testimonies and the unity of its structure, despite the fact that it is the product of many writers during many centuries. Its parts were not arranged by man, but prearranged by the Almighty.
Those who reject the Bible also ignore the prophecies and their fulfillment—"History written in advance"—proof that appeals irresistibly to the open mind.
Those who reject the Bible even disparage the testimony which the Saviour bore to the inspiration of the Old Testament, and yet what could be more explicit than His words? "And beginning at Moses and all the prophets, he expounded unto them in all the Scriptures the things concerning himself" (Luke 24:27).
As Canon Liddon says:
"For Christians, it will be enough to know that our Lord, Jesus Christ, set the seal of His infallible sanction on the whole of the Old Testament. He found the Hebrew canon as we have it in our hands to-day, and He treated it as an authority which was above discussion. Nay, more; He went out of His way—if we may reverently speak thus,—to sanction not a few portions of it which modern scepticism rejects."
Besides open enemies, the Bible has enemies who are less frank—enemies who, while claiming to be friends of Christianity, spend their time undermining faith in God, faith in the Bible, and faith in Christ. These professed friends call themselves higher critics—a title which—though explained by them as purely technical—smacks of an insufferable egotism. They assume an air of superior intelligence and look down with mingled pity and contempt upon what they regard as poor, credulous humanity. The higher critic is more dangerous than the open enemy. The atheist approaches you boldly and tries to blow out your light, but, as you know who he is, what he is trying to do and why, you can protect yourself. The higher critic, however, comes to you in the guise of a friend and politely inquires: "Isn't the light too near your eyes? I fear it will injure your sight." Then he moves the light away, a little at a time, until it is only a speck and then—invisible.
Some who have used the title "higher critic" have approached their subject in a reverent spirit and laboured earnestly in the vain hope of satisfying intellectual doubts, when the real trouble has been with the hearts of objectors rather than with their heads. Religion is a matter of the heart, and the impulses of the heart often seem foolish to the mind. Faith is different from, and superior to, reason. Faith is a spiritual extension of the vision—a moral sense that reaches out toward the throne of God and takes hold of verities that the mind cannot grasp. It is like "the blind leading the blind" for a higher critic, however honest, to rely on purely intellectual methods to convey truths that are "spiritually discerned."
As a rule, however, the so-called higher critic is a man without spiritual vision, without zeal for souls and without any deep interest in the coming of God's Kingdom. He toils not in the Master's vineyard and yet "Solomon in all his glory" never laid claim to such wisdom as he boasts. He does not accept the Bible nor defend it; he mutilates it. He puts the Bible on the operating table and cuts out the parts that he thinks are "diseased." When he has finished his work the Bible is no longer the Book of books: it is simply "a scrap of paper."
The higher critic (I speak now of the rule and not of the exceptions) begins his investigations with his opinion already formed. After he has discarded the Bible because he cannot harmonize it with the doctrine of evolution, he labours to find evidence to support his preconceived notions. In matters of religion the higher critic is usually a "dyspeptic." The Bible does not agree with him; he has not the spiritual fluids in sufficient quantity to enable him to digest the miracle and the supernatural. He is a doubter and spreads doubts.
Dr. Franklin Johnson, in Volume 2, of "Fundamentals" says (pages 55, 56, 57): "A third fallacy of the higher critics is the doctrine concerning the Scriptures which they teach. If a consistent hypothesis of evolution is made the basis of our religious thinking, the Bible will be regarded as only a product of human nature working in the field of religious literature. It will be merely a natural book."…
Again: "Yet another fallacy of the higher critics is found in their teachings concerning the Biblical miracles. If the hypothesis of evolution is applied to the Scriptures consistently, it will lead us to deny all the miracles which they record."…
And: "Among the higher critics who accept some of the miracles there is a notable desire to discredit the virgin birth of our Lord, and their treatment of this event presents a good example of the fallacies of reasoning by means of which they would abolish many of the other miracles."
Professor Reeve, in a strong article in Volume 3 of "Fundamentals" (pages 98, 99) tells us of his own excursion into the fields of higher criticism, of his disappointment and of his glad return to the interpretations of the Bible that are generally accepted. Speaking of his first impressions, he says:
"The critics seemed to have the logical things on their side. The results at which they had arrived seemed inevitable. But upon closer thinking, I saw that the whole movement, with its conclusion, was the result of the adoption of the hypothesis of evolution."…
"It became more and more obvious to me that the great movement was entirely intellectual, an attempt in reality to intellectualize all religious phenomena. I saw also that it was a partial and one-sided intellectualism, with a strong bias against the fundamental tenets of Biblical Christianity. Such a movement does not produce that intellectual humility which belongs to the Christian mind. On the contrary, it is responsible for a vast amount of intellectual pride, an aristocracy of intellect with all the snobbery which usually accompanies that term. Do they not exactly correspond to Paul's word, 'vainly puffed up in his fleshly mind and not holding fast the head, etc.' They have a splendid scorn for all opinions which do not agree with theirs. Under the spell of this sublime contempt they think they can ignore anything that does not square with their evolutionary hypothesis. The center of gravity of their thinking is in the theoretical, not in the religious; in reason, not in faith. Supremely satisfied with its self-constituted authority, the mind thinks itself competent to criticize the Bible, the thinking of all the centuries, and even Jesus Christ Himself. The followers of this cult have their full share of the frailties of human nature. Rarely, if ever, can a thoroughgoing critic be an evangelist or even evangelistic; he is educational. How is it possible for a preacher to be a power of God, whose source of authority is his own reason and convictions? The Bible can scarcely contain more than good advice for such a man."
In Volume 2 of "Fundamentals" (page 84), Sir Robert Anderson has this to say:
"The effect of this 'Higher Criticism' is extremely grave. For it has dethroned the Bible in the home, and the good old practice of 'family worship' is rapidly dying out. And great national interests also are involved. For who can doubt that the prosperity and power of the nations of the world are due to the influence of the Bible upon the character and conduct? Races of men who for generations have been taught to think for themselves in matters of the highest moment will naturally excel in every sphere of effort or of enterprise. And more than this, no one who is trained in the fear of God will fail in his duty to his neighbour, but will prove himself a good citizen. But the dethronement of the Bible leads practically to the dethronement of God; and in Germany and America, and now in England, the effects of this are declaring themselves in ways, and to an extent, well fitted to cause anxiety for the future."
The experience of Rev. Paul Kanamori, known as the "Japanese Billy Sunday" furnishes an excellent illustration of the chilling effect of higher criticism. He was converted when a student and, after a period of preaching, became a professor in a theological seminary in Japan. Dr. Robert E. Speer, in a preface to a published sermon of Mr. Kanamori, thus describes the great evangelist's temporary retirement from the ministry and its cause:
"He began to read upon the most recent German theology, with the result that he was completely swept off his feet by the rationalistic New Theology, Higher Criticism, etc. Not long after that he published his new views under the title, 'The present and future of Christianity in Japan,' and retired from the ministry…. He remained in this state of spiritual darkness for twenty years, until the death of his wife brought him and his children into great trouble, but after passing through these deep waters he came out again with a clear and firm belief in the old-fashioned gospel" ("The Three-Hour Sermon," page 8).
Since Mr. Kanamori's return to the ministry he has been the means of leading nearly fifty thousand Japanese to Christ—probably more than the total number of souls brought into the Church by all the higher critics combined.
Rev. T. De Witt Talmage, one of the great preachers of the last generation, thus speaks of the higher critics:
"When I see ministers of religion finding fault with the Scriptures, it makes me think of a fortress terrifically bombarded, and the men on the ramparts, instead of swabbing out and loading the guns and helping to fetch up the ammunition from the magazine, are trying with crowbars to pry out from the wall certain blocks of stone, because they did not come from the right quarry. Oh, men on the ramparts, better fight back and fight down the common enemy, instead of trying to make breaches in the wall."
It is a deserved rebuke. The higher critics throw ink at a Book that has withstood the assaults of materialists for centuries, and are vain enough to think that they can blot out its vital truths. Although their labours against the Bible have consumed years, they expect the public to accept their conclusions at sight. If they require so much time to formulate their indictment against Holy Writ, surely the friends of the Bible should be allowed as much time for the inspection of the indictment.
The destructive higher critic is, as a rule, opposed to revivals; in fact, it is one of the tests by which he can be distinguished from other preachers. He calls the revival a "religious spasm." He understands how one can have a spasm of anger and become a murderer, or a spasm of passion and ruin a life, or a spasm of dishonesty and rob a bank, but he cannot understand how one can be convicted of sin, and, in a spasm of repentance, be born again. That would be a miracle, and miracles are inconsistent with evolution. It shocks the higher critic to have the prodigal son come back so suddenly after going away so deliberately.
Most of the higher critics discard, because contrary to the doctrine of evolution, the virgin birth of Jesus and His resurrection, although the former is no more mysterious than our own birth—only different, and the latter no more mysterious than the origin of life. The existence of God makes both possible; and the proof is sufficient to establish both.
If the higher critic will but come into the presence of Christ and learn of Him he will express himself in the language of the father (whose son had a dumb spirit), who, as recorded in Mark (9:24), "cried out and said with tears, Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief."
If he would only mingle with humanity he might catch the spirit of the Master; if his sympathies were broad enough to take in all of God's people, he would be so impressed with the religious needs of sinful man that he would hasten to break to him the "Bread of Life" instead of offering him a stone. The Bible, as it is, has led millions to repentance and, through forgiveness, into life; the Bible, as the higher critics would make it, is impotent to save.
Enemies of the Bible have been "blasting at the Rock of Ages" for nearly two thousand years but in spite of attacks of open and secret foes, God still lives, and His Book is still precious to His children.
The Bible would be the greatest book ever written if it rested on its literary merits alone, stripped of the reverence that inspiration commands; but it becomes infinitely more valuable when it is accepted as the Word of God. As a man-made book it would compel the intellectual admiration of the world; as the audible voice of the Heavenly Father it makes an irresistible appeal to the heart and writes its truths upon our lives. Its heroes teach us great lessons—they were giants when they walked by faith, but weak as we ourselves when they relied upon their own strength.
The Bible starts with a simple story of creation—just a few words, but it says all that can be said. The scientists have framed hypotheses, the philosophers have formulated theories and the speculators have guessed—some of them have darkened "counsel by words without knowledge"—but when the smoke of controversy rises we find that the first sentence of Genesis, still unshaken, comprehends the entire subject: "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth." No one has been able to overthrow it, or burrow under it or go around it.
And so when we set out in search of a foundation for statute law; we dig down through the loose dirt, the mould of centuries, until we strike solid rock and we find the Tables of Stone on which were written the ten commandments. All important legislation is but an elaboration of these few, brief sentences, and the elaborations are often obscuring instead of clarifying.
If we desire rules to govern our spiritual development we turn back to the Sermon on the Mount. In our educational system it takes many books on many subjects to prepare a mind for its work, but three chapters of the Bible (Matthew 5, 6 and 7) applied to life, would have more influence than all the learning of the schools in determining the happiness of the individual and his service to society.
If we want to understand the evils of arbitrary power, we have only to read Samuel's warning to the children of Israel when they clamoured for a king (1 Sam. 8: 11, 17).
If we would form an estimate of the influence that faith can exert on a human life, and, through it, upon a world, we follow the career of Abraham, "the friend of God," and see how his trust in Jehovah was rewarded. He founded a race, than which there has never been a greater, and established the religion through which to-day hundreds of millions worship God.
David showed us how a shepherd lad could become the "warrior king" and the "sweet singer of Israel," with virtues so big that, in spite of his enormous sins, he is described as "a man after God's own heart."
And what varied instruction we draw from the life of Moses! Hidden in the bulrushes on the banks of the Nile by a mother who, by instinct or by divine suggestion, previsioned a high calling for her son; found, under Providential direction, by a daughter of Pharaoh; reared in the environment of a palace and with the advantages of the most enlightened court of his day; compelled to flee into the wilderness because of an outburst of race passion; called to a great work by a Voice that spoke to him from a bush that "burned but was not consumed"; modestly distrusting his ability yet dauntless as the spokesman of God—dispenser of plagues—wonder-working man! Born of an obscure family and buried in the Land of Moab in a sepulcher which "no man knoweth," and yet between these two humble events he rose to a higher pinnacle than any uninspired man has ever reached—leader without comparison—lawgiver without a peer.
He teaches many lessons that, like all truths, can be applied in every generation in every land. Race sympathy made it possible for him to lead his people out of bondage—no one not of their own blood could have done it. This lesson needs to be heeded to-day. Our part in the evangelization of the world will be done through native teachers, educated here or in our missions, rather than directly. The reformer, too, finds in the hardening of Pharaoh's heart the final assurance of success; when the "fullness of time" has come and any form of bondage is ripe for overthrow, the taskmaster's demand for "bricks without straw" gives the final impulse and opens the way.
Joseph has made the world his schoolroom. He enables us to understand the words of Solomon; "where there is no vision the people perish." He shows how, in the hour of trial, faith can triumph over reason—how God can lead a righteous man through a dungeon to a seat by the side of the throne—how the dreamer can turn scoffing into reverence when he has the corn.
Samuel is a standing rebuke to those who think "wild oats" a necessary crop in the lives of young men. He heard the call of God when he was a child; was reared for the Father's work and lived a life so blameless that the people proclaimed him just when his official career came to an end.
In the Proverbs of Solomon we find a rare collection of truths, beautifully expressed; in Job we find an inexhaustible patience set to music and an integrity that even Satan himself could not corrupt.
The Prophets alone would immortalize the Bible—rugged characters who dared to rebuke wickedness in high places, to reproach a nation for its sins and to warn of the coming of the wrath of God. See Elijah on Mount Carmel, mocking the worshippers of Baal; hear him thunder the Almighty's sentence against a king who, coveting Naboth's vineyard, broke three commandments to get a little piece of land. And yet Elijah fled from wicked Jezebel and would have despaired but for the Voice that assured him of the thousands who were still true to Israel's God—the obscure hosts who remained loyal even when the conspicuous became faint-hearted.
Elisha was a visible link in the chain of power. He was not ashamed to wear the mantle of his great predecessor; he was willing to take up an unfinished work. He bears unimpeachable testimony to the continuity of the divine current when human conductors can be found to transmit it. It was Elisha who drew aside the veil that concealed from his affrighted servant the horses and chariots that, upon the mountain, await the hours when they are needed to supplement the strength of those who fight upon the Lord's side; it was Elisha, too, who proved to the warriors of his day that magnanimity is more potent than violence. He conquered by self-restraint—and "the bands of Syria came no more into the lands of Israel."
Daniel is another man in whom faith begat courage and for whom courage carved a large niche in the temple of imperishable fame. The Daniel who interpreted to the trembling Belshazzar the fateful handwriting on the wall; who, unawed by enemies, prayed with his windows open toward Jerusalem, and who, in the lions' den, waited in patience until Darius hastened from a sleepless couch to call him forth and join him in praising Israel's God—this Daniel was the same intrepid servant of the Most High, who in his youth refused to drink wine from the king's table, and, demanding a test, proved that water was better—a verdict that twenty-five centuries have not disturbed.
Passing over many characters who would seem mountainlike but for the majestic peaks that overshadow them, let us turn to the immortal seer who, listening heavenward, caught the words of the song that startled the shepherds at Bethelehem and, peering through the darkness of seven centuries, saw the light that shone from Calvary. It was Isaiah who foretold more clearly and more fully than any one else the coming of the Messiah, suggested the titles which He would earn, described the sufferings which He would endure and enumerated the blessings He would bring to mankind. In chapter nine verse six we read, "For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The Mighty God, The Everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace."
In chapter fifty-three, we learn of His vicarious atonement:
He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows; yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all. He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth: he is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth. He was taken from prison and from judgment: and who shall declare his generation? for he was cut off out of the land of the living: for the transgression of my people was he stricken. And he made his grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death; because he had done no violence, neither was any deceit in his mouth.
In chapter two, verse four, we are told of the glad day, which we are now trying to hasten, when swords shall be beaten into ploughshares, and spears into pruning-hooks—when nations shall not lift up the sword against nations or learn war any more.
If the Old Testament is so fascinating what may we expect of the New? It is day as compared with dawn; it is the morning light, with which Moses and the Prophets beat back the darkness of the night, enlarged—until we have the sun in its meridian glory. "Old things have passed away; behold, all things are become new."
The Old Testament gave us the law; the New Testament reveals the love upon which the law rests. John says: "The law was given by Moses, but grace and truth came by Jesus Christ" (John 1: 17). The Old Testament restrained by a multitude of "Thou shalt nots"; the New Testament awakens the monitor within and supplies a spiritual urge that makes the individual find satisfaction in service and delight in doing good. David soothes the dying with sweet assurance: "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me;" Jesus inspires them with a living hope: "I go to prepare a place for you that where I am ye may be also."
God is the center of gravity in the New Testament as in the Old, but the drawing power of Jehovah became visible in Christ; the attributes of the Father were revealed in the Son—the supreme intelligence, the limitless power, the boundless love. Divinity surrounded itself with human associates but spiritual enthusiasm crowded out the selfish element; His presence purged their souls of dross. The characters of the New Testament are about their Father's business all the time. If a Judas is base enough to betray the Saviour, even he is so overwhelmed with remorse that life becomes unbearable.
We are introduced to a new group of characters, beginning with a Virgin with a child and ending with her Son upon the cross—a galaxy of men and women whose words and deeds have travelled into every land. One poor widow with two mites, wisely invested, purchased more enduring fame than any rich man was ever able to buy with all his money. Another, Tabitha, by interpretation called Dorcas, drew forth as eloquent a tribute as was ever paid. In the goodness of her heart she made garments for the poor, and the recipients, exhibiting them at her death-bed, expressed their gratitude in tears. The narrative suggests an epitaph which every Christian can earn—and who could desire more? viz., the night is darker because a life has gone out; the world is not so warm because a heart is cold in death.
In John the Baptist, we have the forerunner—"the voice crying in the wilderness." The Apostles, chosen from among the busy multitude, carried their habits of industry into their new calling; some turned from catching fish to become "fishers of men," while Matthew employed the accuracy of a collector of customs in chronicling the life of the Master. Even the weaknesses of men were utilized: Thomas consecrated his doubts, and John, the disciple, baptized his ambition—each giving the Great Teacher an opportunity to use a fault for the enlightening of future generations. The latter became the most intimate companion of the Saviour—"the disciple whom Jesus loved" and the one who most frequently used the word love.
Peter and Paul stand out conspicuously among the exponents of early Christianity. In the case of Peter, Christ brought an impulsive nature into complete subjection and gave a steadying purpose to an emotional follower. In Paul, we see a giant intellect aflame with a holy zeal. Both were bold interpreters of Christ's mission and both urged upon Christians the full gospel equipment.
In his second Epistle, chapter one, Peter exhorts:
And besides this, giving all diligence, add to your faith virtue; and to virtue knowledge; and to knowledge temperance; and to temperance patience; and to patience godliness; and to godliness brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness charity. For if these things be in you, and abound, they make you that you shall neither be barren nor unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.
In the sixth chapter of Ephesians, Paul pleads:
Wherefore take unto you the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand. Stand therefore, having your loins girt about with truth, and having on the breastplate of righteousness; and your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace; above all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked. And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God: Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, and watching thereunto with all perseverance and supplication for all saints.
Peter was a rock, hewn into shape and polished by the divine hand; Paul was a "chosen vessel" to bear the Redeemer's Name before "the Gentiles and kings and the children of Israel." Paul was an orator with a purpose; he was a man with a message. He was eloquent because he knew what he was talking about and meant what he said. No wonder, for he was called to service by a summons so distinct and unmistakable that he turned at once from persecuting to preaching. Paul is responsible for one of the most inspiring sentences in the Bible—"I was not disobedient unto the heavenly vision." It was the key to his whole life.
Love is not blind, declares Tolstoy; it sees what ought to be done and does it. So with Paul. His eyes were open to the truth and he saw it; he was sensitive to the needs of the Church and his epistles are filled with wise counsel. He encouraged the worthy, admonished the erring and strengthened the weak. Paul knew well the secret of liberality, as shown in 2 Corinthians 8: 5. The members of the Macedonian church "first gave their own selves"; giving was easy after that. Paul's religion could not be shaken; read his vow as recorded in the eighth chapter of Romans:
For I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
His sufferings developed patience and deepened devotion. They prepared him to appreciate love and to define it as no other mortal has done.
His tribute to love, contained in the thirteenth chapter of 1
Corinthians, is not approached by any other utterance on this subject.
(I use the old version with the word charity changed to love.)
Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not love, I am become as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not love, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not love, it profiteth me nothing. Love suffereth long, and is kind; love envieth not; love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things; Love never faileth: but whether there be prophecies they shall fail; whether there be tongues they shall cease; whether there be knowledge it shall vanish away. For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things; For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face; now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. And now abideth faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.
I cannot leave the Book of Books without referring to one of the supreme moments that it describes. The Bible is full of pictures; the painter has found it an inexhaustible storehouse of suggestion. All the great climaxes of sacred history speak to us from the canvas. Moses and Pharaoh, Ruth and Naomi, Daniel at the Belshazzar Feast and in the Lions' Den, Elijah at Mt. Carmel and before Ahab, Joseph and his brethren, David and Goliath, Mary and the Child, Jesus, the Prodigal Son, the Sower, the Good Samaritan, the Rich Young Man, the Wise and the Foolish Virgins, Jesus in the Temple, Christ Entering Jerusalem, and in the Garden of Gethsemane, and The Saviour on the Cross—these are but a few of the word pictures that have inspired the artist's brush.
But there is another picture, unsurpassed in thrilling power and permanent interest, namely, that presented by the trial of Christ—tragedy of tragedies, triumph of triumphs!
Here, face to face, stood Pilate and Christ, the representatives of the two opposing forces that have ever contended for dominion in the world. Pilate was the personification of force; behind him was the Roman government, undisputed ruler of the then known world, supported by its invincible legions. Before Pilate stood Christ, the embodiment of love—unarmed, alone. And force triumphed; they nailed Him to the cross, and the mob that had assembled to witness His sufferings, mocked and jeered and said: "He is dead." But from that day the power of Caesar waned and the power of Christ increased. In a few centuries the Roman government was gone and its legions forgotten, while the Apostle of Love has become the greatest fact in history and the growing figure of all time.
Who will estimate the Bible's value to society? It is our only guide. It contains milk for the young and nourishing food for every year of life's journey; it is manna for those who travel in the wilderness; and it provides a staff for those who are weary with age. It satisfies the heart's longings for a knowledge of God; it gives a meaning to existence and supplies a working plan to each human being.
It holds up before us ideals that are within sight of the weakest and the lowliest, and yet so high that the best and the noblest are kept with their faces turned ever upward. It carries the call of the Saviour to the remotest corners of the earth; on its pages are written the assurances of the present and our hopes for the future.
There are three verses in the first chapter of Genesis which mean more to man than all other books outside the Bible. First; the verse, "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth," gives us the only account of the beginning of all things, including life. Many substitutes have been proposed for this verse but none that can be so easily understood, explained and defended.
Second: the 24th verse gives us the only law governing the continuity of life on earth. If life is to continue, reproduction must be according to law or lawless. Reproduction according to kind is the basic scientific fact in the world; all the books on science combined do not state as much that is of value to man as this one verse—it is the foundation of family life and of all human calculations. No living thing has ever violated this law; even man with all his power has never been able to persuade or compel that intangible, invisible thing that we call life to cross the line of species.
Third: the 26th verse—"Let us make man in our image"—gives us the only explanation of man's presence on earth. Without revelation no one has been able to explain the riddle of life. Man comes into the world without his own volition; he has no choice as to the age, nation, race, or family environment into which he shall be born. So far as he is concerned, he comes by chance; he goes he knows not when, and cannot insure himself for a single hour against accident, disease or death; and yet, he is supreme above all other things.
The 26th verse reveals a truth of inestimable value. When man knows that he is "the child of a King," with the earth for an inheritance—that the Creator, after bringing all other things into existence, made him, not as other things were made, but in the image of God, and placed him here as commander-in-chief of all that is—when he understands that he is part of God's plan and here for a purpose he finds himself. To do God's will becomes his highest duty as well as his greatest pleasure and he learns that obedience links happiness to virtue, success to righteousness, and makes it possible for him to rise to the high plane that a loving Heavenly Father has put within the reach of man.
Where in all the books in all the libraries can one find as much that affects the welfare of man as is condensed into these three verses?