III
WHAT THINK YE OF CHRIST?
The question, What think ye of Christ? propounded to the Pharisees by the Saviour Himself, demands an answer from an increasing number as each year the circle of the Gospel's influence widens. It is a question that cannot be evaded. In every civilized land an answer is made, by word or act, by each individual who is confronted by the facts of His life. It is in the hope that I may be able to assist some in answering this question that I devote this hour to the inquiry.
Was Christ an impostor? Or was He deluded? Or was He the promised Messiah, "the Way, the Truth, and the Life," as He declared Himself to be?
Few have dared to accuse Him of attempting a deliberate fraud upon the public. Impostors sometimes kill others in carrying out their plans, or to escape detection, but they do not offer themselves as a sacrifice for others. Christ's whole life gives the lie to the charge that He practiced deception. One recorded act would be sufficient to establish His honesty of purpose. In the nineteenth chapter of Matthew we read:
And, behold, one came and said unto him, Good Master, what good thing shall I do, that I may have eternal life? And he said unto him, Why callest thou me good? there is none good but one, that is, God; but if thou wilt enter into life, keep the commandments. He saith unto him, which? Jesus said, Thou shalt do no murder, Thou shalt not commit adultery, Thou shalt not steal, Thou shalt not bear false witness. Honour thy father and thy mother: and Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. The young man saith unto him, All these things have I kept from my youth up: what lack I yet? Jesus said unto him. If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come and follow me. But when the young man heard that saying, he went away sorrowful: for he had great possessions.
If Christ had been an adventurer or was interested only in gaining a following He would have welcomed this young man, who was not only rich, but, according to Luke, a ruler. And what a splendid recommendation the young man gave himself; all of the commandments he had kept from his youth up. How could one ambitious for worldly success afford to reject such an applicant? But Christ would not lower the standard a hair's breadth even to secure the support of a rich young ruler who had led a blameless life. He demanded the first place in the heart—a very reasonable demand—and, seeing in the young man's heart the first place occupied by love of money, He demanded the throne. The young man, unwilling to purchase eternal life at that price, went away sorrowing—his heart still centered on his great possessions. Of whom but an honest person could such a story be told?
Was Christ deceived? That is the theory set forth in a little volume entitled "A Jewish View of Jesus" (published recently by the Macmillan Company). The author, H.G. Emelow, pays the following high tribute to "Jesus the Jew" (and it is the most charitable view an orthodox Jew can hold):
"Yet, these things apart, who can compute all that Jesus has meant to humanity? The love He has inspired, the solace He has given, the good He has engendered, the hope and joy He has kindled—all that is unequalled in human history. Among the great and good that the human race has produced, none has even approached Jesus in universality of appeal and sway. He has become the most fascinating figure in history. In Him is combined what is best and most enchanting and most mysterious in Israel—the eternal people whose child He was. The Jew cannot help glorying in what Jesus thus has meant to the world; nor can he help hoping that Jesus may yet serve as a bond of union between Jew and Christian, once His teaching is better known and the bane of misunderstanding is at last removed from His words and His ideal."
But could honest delusion produce a character who, in "the love He has inspired," "the solace He has given," and "the hope and joy He has kindled" is "unequalled in human history"? Is it not impossible that under a delusion one could (as Emelow says Jesus did) become "the most fascinating figure in history"—unapproachable in the "universality of appeal and sway"? The world has been full of delusions: have any of them produced a character like Christ? Tolstoy says that the words of Christ to His friends and pupils have had a hundred thousand times more influence over the people than all the poems, odes, elegies and elegant epistles of the authors of that age. Lecky, the historian, says that "the three short years of the active life of Jesus have done more to regenerate and soften mankind than all of the disquisitions of philosophers and all the exhortations of moralists." Could this be said of a man labouring under a delusion as to his real character?
What Christ said and did and was establishes His claims. In a conversation with Peter (Matt. 16: 16), He approved that Apostle's answer which ascribed to Him the title of "Christ" (the Greek equivalent for Messiah) "the Son of the living God." He not only approved of the answer bestowing the title but
"Jesus answered and said unto him, Blessed art thou, Simon Bar-Jona: for flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but my Father which is in heaven." In John 10, verse 30, He declares, "I and my Father are one"; in verse 36, same chapter, He denies that it was blasphemy to call Himself the Son of God. In the presence of death He refused to deny the claim (Matt. 26: 63-64).
The deity of Christ is proven in many ways; some offering one line of proof and some another. Some are convinced by the prophecies that found their fulfillment in Christ; some give greatest weight to the manner of His birth and His resurrection. Still others lay special emphasis upon the miracles performed by Him. There is no need of comparison; all the proofs stand together and bear joint testimony to His supernatural character, but I find myself inclined to use the method of reasoning adopted by Carnegie Simpson in his book entitled, "The Fact of Christ." Those who reject Christ reject also the miraculous proofs offered in support of His divine character, but the fact of Christ cannot be denied. Christ lived; that is admitted. He taught; we have His words. He died upon the cross; that we know; and we can trace His blood by its cleansing power as it flows through the centuries. Judged by His life, His teachings, and His death, and the impression they have made upon the human race, we conclude that He was divine and that He has justified the titles bestowed upon Him. No other explanations can account for Him. Born in a manger; reared in a carpenter shop; with no access to sages living and no knowledge of the wisdom of sages dead, except as that wisdom was recorded in the Old Testament, and yet when only about thirty years of age He gave to the world a code of morality the like of which the world had never known before and has not known since. He preached a short time, gathered around Him a few disciples and was crucified; His followers were scattered and nearly all of the conspicuous ones put to death—and yet from this beginning His religion spread until thousands of millions have taken His name upon them and millions have been ready to die rather than surrender the faith that He put into their hearts. How can you explain Christ? It is easier to believe Him to be the Christ whose coming was foretold, the Jesus who was to save the people from their sins—the Son of God and Saviour of the World—than to account for Him in any other way.
To those who try to measure Him by the rules that apply to man He is incomprehensible; but take Him out of the man class and put Him in the God class and you can understand Him. He also can be measured by the work He came to perform; it was more than a man's task. No man aspiring to be a God could have done what He did; it required a God condescending to be a man.
When once His divine character is admitted we have an explanation that clears away all the perplexities. We can believe that He was conceived of the Holy Ghost and born of the Virgin Mary. We can believe that He opened the eyes of the blind when among men—we see Him to-day giving a spiritual vision of life to those who have known only the flesh and the pleasures that come through the flesh. We can believe that He wrought miracles when upon earth—we see Him so changing hearts to-day that they love the things they used to hate and hate the things they used to love. We can even believe that at His touch life was called back to the body from which it had taken its flight—we have seen Him take men who had fallen so low that their own flesh and blood had deserted them, lift them up, wash them and fill their hearts with a passion for service. A Christ who can do that now could have broken the bonds of the tomb.
Volumes innumerable have been written on theological distinctions, some of which have been made the basis of sects. The doctrine of the Trinity has been one of the storm centers of discussion for centuries. It is not difficult for me to believe in the Trinity when I see three distinct entities in each human being—a physical man, a mental man and a moral man. They are so inseparable that one cannot exist here without the other, and yet they are so separate and distinct that one can be developed and the others left undeveloped. Who has not seen a splendidly developed body with an ignorant brain to think for it and a puny spiritual life within? A weak body and an impoverished soul are sometimes linked to a highly trained mind: and an exalted character is sometimes found in a frail body, and even associated with a neglected intellect. The Father, Son and Holy Ghost, three in one, present no problem that need perplex either the learned or the unlearned. We have the evidence of the Father on every hand; the proof of the Son's growing influence is indisputable; the witness of the Holy Ghost is to be found in the heart of every believer. The three act in unison.
The fall of man is disputed by some who seem to find more satisfaction in the belief that they have risen from the brute and, therefore, are superior to their ancestors, than they do in the thought that man has fallen from a higher estate. But the facts do not support the brute theory. Even if the "missing links" could be found, it would be as reasonable—though not so flattering to man's pride—to believe that the monkey is a degenerate man as that man is an improved monkey.
It has often been pointed out as evidence of man's fall that he is the only created thing that does not live up to his possibilities. In plant and bird and beast there is no disobedience—all fulfill the purpose of their creation, from the flower, that puts forth its bloom as perfectly when it "wastes its sweetness on the desert air" as when in the garden its beauty calls forth expressions of delight, to the bird that wakes the echoes of trackless forests with its melody. Man, only man, mocks his Maker by prostituting to evil the powers that might lift him within sight of the throne of God.
If so many men and women fall now, in spite of light and love and all the incentives to noble living, is it incredible that the first pair should have fallen when the race was young? Possibility becomes probability when we remember that the conflict that rages between the mind and the heart is the one real conflict in every life. Reason versus faith is the great issue to-day as in Eden. Faith says obey; reason asks, Why? The one looks up confidingly to a Power above; the other relies on self and rejects even the authority of Jehovah unless the finite mind can comprehend the plan of the Infinite.
No one will doubt the doctrine of original sin if he will study nature and then analyze himself. In the plant, in the animal and in the physical man, the invisible thing which we call life is the only sustaining force; when it takes its flight, that which remains falls back to the earth and becomes dust. And so the spiritual in man is the only force that can give him a moral nature and preserve it from decay; when his spiritual life departs the mind as well as the body rots.
Some find a stumbling block in the doctrine of the Atonement. That one should suffer for others, shocks their sense of justice, they say, and yet that is the law of life. Each generation borrows from generations past and pays the debt to the generations that follow. A certain percentage of the mothers die in childbirth—evidence that they are God's handiwork is found in the fact they so willingly enter the valley of the shadow of death to attain to motherhood. Many a boy has been won back to rectitude by the sorrows of a parent; we are not infrequently healed by the stripes that fall on others. In fact, great wrongs are seldom righted without the shedding of innocent blood—one dies and a multitude are saved. These do not always illustrate the voluntary laying down of life but there are enough cases of noble surrender of self for a friend or for the public to make it easy for any one to understand how Christ could take upon Himself the sins of the world and become man's intercessor with the Father. Winning hearts through love expressed in sacrifice, is that strange? On the contrary, it is the only way. It is because the story of Jesus is a natural one that it has touched mankind. Hearts understand each other. The heart, says Pascal, has reasons that the mind does not understand because the heart is of an infinitely higher character.
The sacrificial character of Christ's death and the atoning power of His blood are the basis of the New Testament. To discard this doctrine is to reject the plainest teachings of the Apostles and the words of Christ Himself.
Peter, than whom there is no higher human authority, says (1 Peter 2:24): "Who his own self bare our sins in his own body on the tree, that we, being dead to sins, should live unto righteousness; by whose stripes ye were healed."
John, the Beloved, speaks as clearly on this subject (John 3:16-17): "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him, should not perish, but have everlasting life. For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved." Paul was equally emphatic; he says (1 Cor. 2:2): "For I determined not to know anything among you, save Jesus Christ and him crucified." And again (1 Cor. 1:30): "But of him are ye in Christ Jesus who of God is made unto us wisdom and righteousness, and sanctification and redemption."
But we have higher authority still—we have the words of Christ Himself. At the last supper, with His disciples about Him, He spoke of His blood being "shed for many for the remission of sins."
It is the story of His sacrifice for others—of His blood shed that the world might through Him find forgiveness—that has been understood by the unlettered as well as by scholars and has brought millions to the foot of the cross. Even those who have not been in position to compare His code of morals with the teachings of others have been able to comprehend a plan of salvation by which one died for all and all find forgiveness in His sacrifice. It is this Gospel that has made it possible for the forgiven sinner to go forth to begin a new life, no longer under conviction of sin and remembering his past only as an incentive to service.
The presence of Judas at the Last Supper has been the cause of much speculation throughout the centuries. The indignation of Christians is stirred at the thought of a traitor being present on this solemn occasion when Christ instituted one of the great sacraments of the Church. The Saviour not only knew what Judas was about to do but called attention to it and designated the guilty one, but there was no appearance of the anger which would be natural in a mortal; He knew the plan of salvation.
But why should the betrayal have come from one of the twelve? It is not necessary to find a satisfactory answer to all the questions that may arise from the reading of the Bible, and the finite mind should not be discouraged if it fails to fathom the reasons of the Infinite Intelligence. If there are mysteries in the Bible that we cannot unravel they are not greater than the mysteries in nature with which we must deal whether we understand them or not.
But I venture to suggest one effect, produced by the fact that one of the twelve proved a traitor, namely, the scrutiny that it has compelled millions of Christians to turn upon themselves. "Lord, is it I?" each of the disciples anxiously inquired. Even Judas himself, coerced by the action of the others, asked, "Master, is it I?" So, to-day, there is real betrayal of the Saviour by some who take His name upon them and before the world profess to be His followers. If Judas had been an outsider and had sold for money the knowledge he had gained as a looker-on his name would not have become, as the name of Judas has, a synonym for all that is base and contemptible; and the Christian world would have been without the benefit of that glaring act of perfidy that has sounded its warning through nineteen centuries. Judas sold the Saviour for money, just as many a professing Christian since then has, for money, betrayed the Master. Who will calculate the restraint that that one question, "Lord, is it I?" has exerted upon Christ's followers in the hour when some great temptation has made the believer hesitate upon the brink of sin?
I will not attempt to enumerate all the ways in which Christ has and can bless mankind, but the living spring has taught me one way. The spring is the best illustration of the Christian life, just as a stagnant pool is the best illustration of a selfish life. The pool receives but gives forth nothing in return and, at last, becomes the center of disease and death. There is nothing more repulsive than the stagnant pool except a life built upon that plan. The spring, on the other hand, pours forth constantly of that which refreshes and invigorates and asks for nothing. There is nothing more inspiring than a living spring except the life that it resembles.
And why is the spring a spring? Because it is connected with a source that is higher than itself. Christ brings man into such vital, living contact with God that the goodness of God flows out to the world through him. The frailest human being can thus become of inestimable value to society. It is only spiritual power, received from above, that counts largely. If we measure man in units of physical power he is not much above the beasts; if we measure him in units of intellectual power we soon reach his limitations, but when we measure him in units of spiritual power his strength may be beyond human calculations. If, as was the case in Wales, the prayer of a little girl could start a revival that spread over that country, resulting in the conversion of thousands, what can a life accomplish if one's heart is full of love to God and man?
The wisdom of Christ could not have been supplied by others; there were none to supply it. There was no source but the inexhaustible fountain of the Almighty from which to draw that which He gave forth "as one having authority." "Who among His Apostles or proselytes," asks John Stuart Mill, "was capable of inventing the sayings ascribed to Jesus or of imagining the life and character revealed in the Gospels?"
No person, less than divine, could have carried the message or rendered the service He did to mankind. How, for instance, could He have learned from His own experience or from His environment the startling proposition that He embodied in His interpretation of The Parable of the Sower? "The care of this world and the deceitfulness of riches choke the truth," and yet in that short sentence He gave an epitome of all human history. Reforms come up from the oppressed, not down from the oppressors—a fact which Christ explains in a word.
He announced the divine order: "Seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness." Duty to God comes first—all other things that are good for us will come in due time.
His parables stand alone in literature; they have no parallel in the expression of great truths with beauty and simplicity through object lessons taken from every-day life. These truths covered a wide range and were embedded in the language of the parable because of the unbelief of that day. They are increasingly appreciated as their practical application to all time becomes more and more manifest.
The parable of the Prodigal Son is the most beautiful story of its kind ever told and is based on an experience through which nearly every person passes, but few of whom, fortunately, carry the spirit of rebellion to the point of leaving home. At that period which marks the transition from youth to maturity—from dependence on others to self-reliance—rebelliousness is likely to be exhibited to a greater or less extent even where the parents have done everything possible for the child. Christ takes an extreme case where the wisdom and experience of the father were scorned; where a wilful son insisted upon learning for himself of the things against which the father had warned him. He was of age; parental authority could no longer be exerted for his protection. He had his way, and as long as his money lasted he found plenty of associates willing to help him spend it; the "boys" had what the wicked call "a good time." Then came the sobering up, the repentance, the humility, the return, the father's welcome, the very natural complaint of the other son and the parental rebuke—all so lifelike and all designed to give emphasis to the love of the Heavenly Father and the joy in Heaven when a wanderer returns. How many souls it has awakened! The thought has been beautifully translated into song by Rev. Robt. Lowry, in "Where Is My Wandering Boy To-night?" which has probably touched more hearts than any sermon delivered since the song was written in 1877.
In passing, note the contrast between the Rich Young Man and the Prodigal Son. The former, an exemplary youth, is lost because he put the love of money first—we see his back as he retires into oblivion. The latter, a reckless sinner, repentant and forgiven; we leave him at a banquet, happy with father and friends who rejoice that one who "was dead is alive again."
The parable of The Talents has shamed a multitude into activity, while the parable of The Vineyard has been an encouragement to those who have neglected early calls to service. He used the great preservative, salt, to illustrate the saving influence His followers would exert on society and warned them not to lose this quality. He likened them to a city set on a hill and to the light that illumines the entire house.
Christ gave the world a philosophy that fits into every human need; He sounded all the depths. In the first and third of the Beatitudes He exalts humility—a virtue difficult to cultivate, and even to retain after one has cultivated it. Some one has suggested that pride is such an insidious sin that the humble sometimes become proud of their humility. Christ sets two prizes before the humble—the poor in spirit are to have the Kingdom of Heaven for their recompense while the meek are to be given the earth for their inheritance.
The mourners are to be comforted and the merciful are to obtain mercy. Righteousness is to be the reward of those who hunger and thirst after it, and the peacemakers are to be crowned with one of the most honourable of appellations, the children of God.
He devotes double space to those who are reviled and persecuted for His sake, foreseeing the fierce opposition which His Gospel would arouse. In the study of the Beatitudes one Sunday, I asked the members of an adult class which they considered first in importance. Although there was quite a wide difference in preference, the Sixth, "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God," received the highest vote. And what can be more important than the cleansing of the heart of all that obstructs one's view of God? The Creator is equally near to all His creatures—He is no respecter of persons. It is man's fault if he allows anything to come between himself and the Heavenly Father. Surely, nothing is more to be desired than the unclouded vision. "Thou shalt have no other gods before me," is the first of the Commandments brought down from Sinai and its primacy is endorsed by the Saviour: the sixth Beatitude expresses the same supreme requirement. No false gods, not even self—the most popular of all the false gods—must be permitted to come between man and his Maker.
Christ put into simple words some of the great rules for the interpretation of life. "By their fruits ye shall know them," has become a part of the language of the civilized world. "Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles?" He asks. "A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit." Here a great spiritual principle was announced. We must consider the nature; nothing less than a change in the nature can change the fruit. A bad heart is just as sure to bring forth bad thoughts and bad deeds as the thistle is to bring forth thorns. And so the good heart is just as sure to yield good deeds as the grape-vine is to yield grapes or the fig-tree is to yield figs. Look at the tree, therefore; the fruit will take care of itself.
In the Sermon on the Mount, in which He embodied such a wealth of moral precept and spiritual counsel, He warned against investments in that which would divert the affections from the great purpose of life. "Lay not up for yourselves treasures on earth, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven." "For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." It was the heart that He dealt with—always the heart, in which man does his decisive thinking and out of which are "the issues of life."
The Master dealt with the beginnings of evil. He did not wait until the sin had been completed or the wrong accomplished. He cut out the bad purpose at its birth before it had time to develop. He says:
And if thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell. And if thy right hand offend thee, cut it off, and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell (Matt. 3: 29).
This may seem like a harsh doctrine and yet it is merely an application to morals of a salutary principle that all understand when applied by the surgeon. A finger is often removed in order to save the hand; a hand is removed to save the arm; and an arm is removed to save the body. An eye, too, is often removed to save the sight of the remaining eye. Is eye or arm or body more important than the soul?
Christ understood relative values in the spiritual world. He used the material things in life to illustrate values in the realm of the ideal; He used the things that are seen to make understandable the eternal things that the senses cannot comprehend.
And what called forth this powerful illustration—the sacrificing of the right eye and the right hand to save the body? He was laying the foundation for a great moral reform, namely, the single standard of morality. He was attacking a great sin and, as usual, He laid the axe at the root of the tree. He was dealing with adultery and He traced the sin to its source. He would purge the heart of the unclean thought; He would put a ban on the desire before it found vent in accomplishment. He turned the thought from the body to the heart and to the soul.
And He not only warned men against harbouring the seeds of this sin but He rebuked them for injustice in dealing more harshly with woman than they did with themselves. He did not condone sin; He forgave it, and accompanied forgiveness with the injunction, "Sin no more."
Christ dignified childhood next to womanhood. One of His most beautiful lessons was woven about a child which He summoned from the crowd. The child's faith was made the test—"Except ye be converted and become as little children ye shall not enter into the kingdom." And again, "Suffer the little children to come unto me and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of heaven."
His depth of affection—His longing for souls—is beautifully set forth in Matthew 23: 37 when He uses the most familiar object in the animal kingdom to express His solicitude: "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not!"
And yet this gentle spirit who would not break a bruised reed—who went about doing good—was wont to blaze forth with hot indignation against sordidness and systematized injustice. Hear His fierce denunciation of the "scribes, Pharisees and hypocrites" who devoured widows' houses and for a pretense made long prayers; and behold Him casting the money-changers out of the temple because they had turned the house of prayer into a den of thieves.
In a startling paradox He sets forth a great truth: "Whosoever shall save his life shall lose it; but whosoever shall lose his life for my sake, the same shall save it." When, before or since, has the littleness of the self-centered been so exposed and the nobility of self-surrender been so glorified? Wendell Phillips has given a splendid paraphrase of this wonderful utterance. He says, "How prudently most men sink into nameless graves, while now and then a few forget themselves into immortality."
But the one doctrine which more than any other distinguished His teachings from those of uninspired instructors, is forgiveness. Time and again He brings it forward and lays emphasis upon it. In the very beginning of His ministry He drew a contrast between the perverted morals of that day and the spiritual life into which He would lead them (Matt. 5):
Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy. But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you; That ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven, for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust. For if ye love them which love you, what reward have ye? Do not even the publicans the same? And if ye salute your brethren only, what do ye more than others? Do not even the publicans so? Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.
A little later, He embodies the thought in the Lord's Prayer—"Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us." He follows that with a scathing arraignment of the cruel servant, who, having been forgiven a debt almost incalculable in amount, refused to forgive a small debt due to him. Even when in agony upon the cross the thought of forgiveness was uppermost in the Saviour's heart and He prayed: "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do!"
He was not thinking of relief to wrong-doers when He made forgiveness a cardinal principle in the moral code that He promulgated. It was not, I am persuaded, to shield from just punishment one who does injury to another, but to save the injured from the paralyzing influence of the thirst for revenge. It is only rarely that one has an opportunity to retaliate, but the desire for retaliation is a soul-destroying disease. Christ would purge the heart of hatred and make love the law of life.
Christianity has been called "The Gospel of the Second Chance"; it is more than that. There is no limit to the chances that it offers to the repentant. When Christ was asked whether one should forgive a brother seven times He answered, "Seventy times seven." Christianity is the only hope of the discouraged and the despondent. Walter Malone has put into a poem entitled "Opportunity" the exhaustless mercy that Christ holds out to men. I quote the concluding stanzas:
Though deep in mire, wring not your hands and weep:
I lend my arm to all who say "I can";
No shamefaced outcast ever sank so deep
But he might rise and be again a man!
Dost thou behold thy lost youth all aghast?
Dost reel from righteous retribution's blow?
Then turn from blotted archives of the past,
And find the future's pages white as snow.
Art thou a mourner? Rouse thee from thy spell;
Art thou a sinner? Sins may be forgiven.
Each morning gives thee wings to flee from hell,
Each night a star to guide thy feet to heaven.
When the Heavenly Father reserved to Himself the right to avenge injuries He conferred an incalculable benefit upon mankind, just as He did when He imposed upon the organs of the body the task of keeping us alive. Not a heart could beat, nor could the lungs expand if their movement had been left to the voluntary act of man. But God has relieved His creatures of concern about blood and breath that man, freed from a labour beyond his strength, may employ his time in the service of his Maker. And so man is relieved from the impossible task of avenging wrongs done him that he may devote himself to the public weal.
I shall at another time speak of some of the present-day fruits of this doctrine taught nineteen centuries ago; I present it now as one of the most difficult of the Christian virtues to cultivate, but one of the most prolific in the blessings that it bestows. It contributes largely to the securing of peace, and Christ is the Prince of Peace.
All the world is in search of peace; every heart that ever beat has sought for peace and many have been the methods employed to secure it. Some have thought to purchase it with riches and they have laboured to secure wealth, hoping to find peace when they were able to go where they pleased and buy what they liked. Of those who have endeavoured to purchase peace with money, the large majority have failed to secure the money. But what has been the experience of those who have been successful in accumulating money? They all tell the same story, viz., that they spent the first half of their lives trying to get money from others and the last half trying to keep others from getting their money and that they found peace in neither half. Some have even reached the point where they find difficulty in getting worthy institutions to accept their money; and I know of no better indication of the ethical awakening in this country than the increasing tendency to scrutinize the methods of money-making. A long step in advance will have been taken when religious, educational and charitable institutions refuse to condone immoral methods in business and leave the possessor of ill-gotten gains to learn the loneliness of life when one prefers money to morals.
Some have sought peace in social distinctions, but whether they have been within the charmed circle and fearful lest they might fall out, or outside and hopeful that they might get in, they have not found peace.
Some have thought, vain thought! to find peace in political prominence; but whether office comes by birth, as in monarchies, or by election, as in republics, it does not bring peace. An office is conspicuous only when few can occupy it. Only when few in a generation can hope to enjoy an honour do we call it a great honour. I am glad that our Heavenly Father did not make the peace of the human heart to depend upon the accumulation of wealth, or upon the securing of social or political distinction, for in either case but few could have enjoyed it. When He made peace the reward of a conscience void of offense toward God and man, He put it within the reach of all. The poor can secure it as easily as the rich, the social outcast as freely as the leader in society, and the humblest citizen equally with those who wield political power.
"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light" (Matt. 11:28-30).
Here is a call to all—to every human being. No one is beyond the reach of Jesus' love. The yoke is the emblem of service and service is the price of happiness. We wear many yokes in common—the yoke of society, the yoke of government, and the yoke of custom, not to speak of a multitude of yokes that are individual. Wherever the Gospel has been carried there are two yokes between which a choice must be made—the devil's yoke and the yoke of the Master.
Let no one be deceived—if the devil would tempt the Saviour Himself, will he not tempt you? Satan's service is alluring—it begins in pleasure and ends in sorrow—"the dead are there!" Christ's service begins in duty and ends in delight—"Blessed is the man who endureth temptation." The devil's path is like a forest road at eventide; it grows darker and darker until all is lost in the blackness of the night. Christ's path leads from darkness into light.
"He is risen!" What inspiration in these words! Nature proclaims a life beyond the grave, but Christ proves it by His resurrection. Nature gives circumstantial evidence that would seem conclusive; but Christ is the living witness whose testimony establishes beyond controversy that the mortal can put on immortality. He comforts those who mourn; He dispels the gloom by making death but a narrow, star-lit strip between the companionship of yesterday and the reunion of to-morrow. Christ not only gives us assurance of immortality but He adds the promise of His return. As He ascended in like manner will He come again.
"And, lo, he goeth before you into Galilee." Yes, He is still going on before—still leading, and His leadership will continue until time shall be no more.
The growth of Christianity from its beginning on the banks of the Jordan, until to-day, when its converts are baptized in every part of the world, is so graphically described by Dr. Charles Edward Jefferson, in his book entitled "Things Fundamental," that I take the liberty of giving the following extracts:
"Christ in history! There is a fact—face it. According to the New Testament, Jesus walked along the shores of a little sea known as the Sea of Galilee. And there He called Peter and Andrew and James and John and several others to be His followers, and they left all and followed Him. After they had followed Him they revered Him, and later on adored and worshipped Him. He left them on their faces, each man saying, 'My Lord and my God!' All that is in the New Testament.
"But put the New Testament away. Time passes; history widens; an unseen Presence walks up and down the shores of a larger sea, the sea called the Mediterranean—and this unseen Presence calls men to follow Him …—another twelve—and these all followed Him and cast themselves at His feet, saying, in the words of the earlier twelve, 'My Lord and my God!'
"Time passes; history advances; humanity lives its life around the circle of a larger sea—the Atlantic Ocean. An unseen Presence walks up and down the shores calling men to follow Him …. —another twelve—and these leave all and follow Him. We find them on their faces, each one saying, 'My Lord and my God!'
"Time passes; history is widening; humanity is building its civilization around a still wider sea—we call it the Pacific Ocean. An unknown Presence moves up and down the shores calling men to follow Him, and they are doing it. Another company of twelve is forming. And what took place in Palestine nineteen centuries ago is taking place again in our own day and under our own eyes."
I conclude by calling attention to the comprehensiveness of Christ's authority. After His crucifixion and resurrection—in His last conference with His followers—He announces His boldest claim to power universal and perpetual (Matt. 28):
… All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth. Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost; Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world. Amen.
Here is a Gospel intended for every human being; here is a code of morals that is to endure for all time; here is a solution for every problem that can vex a heart or perplex a world, and back of these is all power in Heaven and in Earth.
The word all is used four times in a few sentences. There is nothing in reserve. We have the final word in religion—Jesus Christ for all, and for all time—"The same yesterday, and to-day and forever."