Female Scripture Biography, Volume II / Including an Essay on What Christianity Has Done for Women

by F. A. Cox

But we have a valuable example to cite. Go to Philippi. Learn of a woman, whose name cannot perish, though generations pass away, and the stars become extinct. Lydia was not a person of leisure; she was a "seller of purple," or cloths, which were died of a purple colour, or purple silks. [[49]] She had surely sufficient occupation, and yet she has no apologies at hand. She was not too much engaged to be concerned about her eternal salvation; but when the apostle of the Gentiles preaches, she must go, she must hear, she must attend. She was "diligent in business," but this did not preclude her being "fervent in spirit." As a seller of purple she could only have become rich--the acmè, indeed, and summit of human wishes, but a miserable barter for real and everlasting happiness; as a hearer of Paul, she might and did become "wise to salvation."

Every thing is beautiful in its season. We must not wander from our proper business under pretence of religion, nor must we neglect religion upon a plea of business. Religion does not require a relinquishment of our calling and station in society, but no civil engagements can justify a disregard of religion. We may sell our purple--but we must also attend to the instructions of the ministry and the word of God. If we imitate Lydia in diligence, let us not forget to imitate her in piety. It is vain and wicked to aver, that, the concerns of this world and those of another interfere; because an ardent religion is not only compatible with worldly occupations, but promotes both their purity and integrity, if it do not secure their success.

Another effect of divine influence upon the heart of Lydia, and essentially connected with her reception of the great principles of Christianity, was an immediate attention to the ordinance of baptism. "She was baptized and her household." In the true spirit of that apostle from whose lips she received the truth of heaven, and by whom she was directed to "the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world," "she conferred not with flesh, and blood." With a promptitude which was at once expressive of the sincerity of her faith and the zeal of her mind, she did not hesitate to observe the baptismal institution of her Lord and Saviour. What were to her the wonder of ignorant spectators--the ridicule of her fellow-traders--the reflections of her heathen neighbours--when balanced against the approbation of God and her own conscience? She had "bought the truth," and would not sell it--she had found "the pearl of great price," and went and sacrificed every temporal consideration for it--she had "found the Messiah," and was resolved to follow his foot-steps whithersoever they conducted her. She did not dispute or hesitate, but she obeyed. May the bright example of Lydia stimulate us to a similar conduct!

In the primitive times it is obvious that whoever received the Gospel was baptized in the name of Christ, and to express a resolution to adhere to him. And this obedience is a part of that decision of character which should distinguish the genuine disciple of Christ. He demands it as a proof of love, and by virtue of his supreme authority in the church. The command to be baptized is, in the New Testament, usually connected with the exhortation to repent, because this is the order of things which the Son of God has established, and the most convincing evidence that we have voluntarily devoted ourselves to his service. Baptism was significant of a burial and resurrection with Christ, of being regenerated by his Spirit, renewed by his influence, and separated from all the unholy principles of a depraved nature, and from the sinful practices of a corrupt world. The abundant use of water in this institution was considered as illustrative of the purifying influences of the Holy Spirit, of his miraculous descent on the day of Pentecost, and of the overwhelming sufferings of the crucifixion. The precursor of our Lord predicted Christ as coming to "baptize them with the Holy Ghost and with fire." John immersed our Saviour himself in the river Jordan; when, as he "went up straightway out of the water," he beheld the "heavens opened unto him," saw the descending Spirit of God like a dove, "lighting upon him," and heard a voice saying, "This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased." Viewing in awful perspective the tragical scenes of his life, which were to terminate in the more tragical sufferings of his last hour, he exclaimed, "I have a baptism to be baptized with, and how am I straitened till it be accomplished!"

Happily, Lydia was not alone in her public profession of religion. She had the satisfaction of seeing her household introduced by baptism into the church of Christ. We are not informed either of their number, sex, or age. The circumstances of the case seem most naturally to point out her servants or adult children, to whom, as in the instance of the jailer, the word of the Lord might be addressed. She no doubt felt extreme solicitude for their spiritual interests, and from the moment of her own conversion would give them every opportunity of attending the apostolic instruction. To have witnessed in them the kindlings of divine love, the workings of genuine penitence, the dawnings of true religion, must have afforded her the richest pleasure, in comparison with which all the accumulations of trade and commerce dwindled into perfect insignificance.

But let us inquire whether we resemble Lydia. Do we monopolize the hopes of salvation and the cup of spiritual blessing? or are we active distributors of the heavenly bounty? What do we feel for our families, our children, our domestics, our dependants, our friends and connections? What have we done for them? They need instruction--they possess souls to be saved, or lost--they are responsible creatures--they are given us in charge by providence, and will finally meet us at the tribunal of God. Should it not awaken alarm to be accessary in any degree to their destruction by negligence, if not by compulsion or by bad example? Is it not worthy of a holy ambition to become instrumental to their eternal welfare? Do you lead them to the domestic altar? Do you watch over their conduct with a vigilant and paternal eye? Do you guide them to the house of God?--To show them the path to heaven--to be instrumental in lodging one important sentiment in their minds--to sow, if but a single grain, that may vegetate and rise into a tree of holiness, is incalculably more satisfactory and more honourable than to obtain the victories of an Alexander, or the riches of a Croesus. O, let us never remain content with a solitary religion; but aim, like Lydia, to multiply our satisfactions, and in the spirit of an exalted charity, to distribute happiness in the earth! "None of us liveth to himself, and no man (as a Christian,) dieth to himself."

A third and most visible effect of Lydia's conversion, was an affectionate regard to the servants of Christ. With the zeal of a new convert and the generosity of a genuine Christian, she invited Paul and the companions of his labours to "come into her house and abide there." She thus proved herself "a lover of hospitality, a lover of good men;" which although it be one of the appropriate characteristics of "a bishop," or spiritual overseer and pastor, enters into the very elements of a religious character in every station. We are exhorted "to do good to all men, especially to them that are of the household of faith:" and Jesus Christ has represented love to the brethren as an indication of discipleship.

The invitation of Lydia was not cold and formal. She did not merely pass the compliment of asking these holy guests to her board, but solicited it as a favour, and with an unusual degree of importunity. She entreated--she "constrained" them. Her plea was modest, but so expressed as to be irresistible. They could not deny her request when put upon this basis: "If ye have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come into my house."

Gratitude was undoubtedly a principal occasion of this urgency. She had received through their instrumentality the best gift of Heaven. The eyes of her understanding had been enlightened--the affections of her heart had been excited and sanctified to a noble purpose. They had proclaimed to her with surprising effect, "Jesus and the resurrection;" and, although she had been a devout proselyte of the Jewish religion, she would not, humanly speaking but for them, have become acquainted with the Christian, of which the former was only a pre-figurative shadow. They had unlocked the door of wisdom, and put her in possession of the ample treasures of truth; they had taught her the evil of sin, and shown her "the Lord our righteousness;" they had dispersed her doubts, dispelled her fears, removed her darkness, satisfied her inquiries, and conducted her to "the light of the world," new risen upon benighted nations, and whose blessed radiance was already diffused in every direction. Lydia was anxious to repay these benefits, or rather to testify her overwhelming sense of their immensity. What could she do but invite them home? They were "strangers," amongst senseless idolaters and persecuting foes, and she "took them in," conscious of having incurred an obligation which she could but imperfectly discharge. And have we cherished similar sentiments? Have we revered and ministered to the servants of our Lord? Have we supplied their necessities--cherished their persons--guarded their reputation? Have we thus "rendered honour to whom honour is due"--esteeming them very highly in love for their work's sake--and having made "partakers of their spiritual things," considered it our "duty to minister unto them in carnal things?" Respect for the truth itself ought to generate a suitable predilection for such as faithfully dispense it. We should value the "earthen vessels" for the sake of "the heavenly treasure" they contain. If in any instances the professed ministers of the Gospel act inconsistently with their character, a mind like that of Lydia, would not become dissatisfied with the truth itself, nor hastily utter extravagant censure. We have known persons take an apparent pleasure in detailing the faults of persons eminent either for character, or for official situation. They have betrayed, by their triumphant air, significant inuendoes, or needless circumstantiality, a secret and criminal gratification, whilst loudly protesting their sorrow. But a sincere piety, which sympathises with all the adversities and prosperities of the Christian cause, and knows the general and especially the personal consequences of such deplorable inconsistencies, will commiserate, and weep, and pray.

The importunity of Lydia was no less honorable to Paul and his coadjutors than to herself. It proves their delicacy and consideration. They felt unwilling to accept her hospitality, lest it should prove burdensome or troublesome. These were not men to take advantage of the impressions they produced, and to gain a subsistence by art and fraudulence. They knew how to use prosperity, and how to sustain adversity, how to "abound, and to suffer want." They were not ashamed of poverty, nor afraid of labour. Hardship, imprisonments, scourgings, and even death, had lost their terrors; and on every occasion they were solicitous of evincing a disinterestedness of spirit that might compel their bitterest enemies to attest the purity of their motives. Hence Paul could appeal to the elders of the Ephesian church, "I have coveted no man's silver, or gold, or apparel. Yea, you yourselves know, that these hands have ministered unto my necessities, and to them that were with me;" and to the Corinthian believers, "what is my reward then? Verily, that when I preach the gospel, I may make the gospel of Christ without charge; that I abuse not my power in the gospel." His language to the Thessalonians is still more remarkable: "We did not eat any man's bread for nought; but wrought with labour and travel night and day that we might not be chargeable to any of you."