The invitations of Our Lord; notes of meditations

Front matter

.

NVI TAT IONS

)f )URLOKB

Preface

These Outlines of Meditations are published in response to what seems a real demand for such books. I am asked from time to time to recommend books of outlines, and have found that the number of such books prepared for the use of the laity is very limited. I hope therefore that I am offering a book that will be useful, and in offering it I have no ambition beyond that, it is prepared on the basis of notes that have been tested in parish and retreat work and have been found not unacceptable. I have aimed at something between a fully worked out meditation and a bald outline, because that seems to me to be what many want. I have worked out the preludes fully for no other reason than that I found it interesting to do. I have prefixed at my publisher's request a paper on the method of meditation.

Contents

CHAPTER

I Introduction: How to Make a

Meditation

II

THE INVITATION TO DISCIPLESHIP S. Mark /, 16-18

Let us listen to the zvords of our Lord:

Come ye after me, and I will make you to become fishers of men.

Let us picture j

©HIS scene by the sea of Galilee. Our Lord had come into Galilee proclaiming the Gospel of the Kingdom. There was an abruptness in the form of the announcement that might well startle men : it was as the sudden peal of a trumpet in a camp sunk in sleep. " The time is fulfilled." In theory, men had for centuries been waiting and watching for this hour. Prophets had proclaimed the purpose of God; the religious leaders of Israel had exhorted the faithful to hope and patience. We have in our minds a picture of the waiting and longing Israel. But we may be sure that those who waited and longed were few ; to the majority the promise had been so long in. coming that they had ceased to be expectant, and the belief in the coming of God's Kingdom was a belief of no practical value, it contained no energy. We, too, are told to be as men expectant, standing with girt loins and lit lamps, waiting for our Lord's return. But in reality we are not so expectant; and we can imagine the effect on Christendom if some authentic voice should shatter its calm with the proclamation: The time is fulfilled! Israel had been somewhat shaken out of its sleep by the preaching of S. John. The preaching of Jesus struck deeper : it was like one blow following up another. It rang out with an accent of certainty : " The time is fulfilled, and the Kingdom of God is at hand : repent ye and believe the Gospel." It rang along the shores of the sea of Galilee, rousing the fisher-folk and filling them with new hope of Israel's deliverance. But hardly can they have expected to be called to any personal share in the bringing in of the Kingdom; it would come to them as to all Israel by the act of God. And then, this morning, as Simon and Andrew were " casting a net into the sea," as James and John were " in the ship mending their nets," the strange Preacher passed by them, and His voice took on a new accent, his words were directed to them : " Come ye after Me and I will make you to become fishers of men." See them hastily leaving their work and going after Jesus.

How quiet and peaceful these men's lives had been. They had moved in a narrow circle of homely duties. They would, from time to time, have made the pilgrimage to Jerusalem — for they were pious Israelites. But of what life meant in the great world, in Alexandria, in Antioch, in Athens, in Rome, they would have been all unknowing. The teaching of the Law, the Prophets, and the Psalms would be theirs; they would have a certain simple trustfulness in their religious leaders; but from the point of view of those leaders they were unlearned and ignorant men — men little likely to form the foundation upon which could be built a great movement of religious reform. But so far as we can see, it would be just those qualities of simplicity and trustfulness — the child-qualities — that would commend them to our Lord as material to be used in his kingdom-making. Whatever other qualities they would need in the future could be developed from these that they possessed. A little farther on in S. Mark's narrative it is said: " He ordained twelve, that they should be with Him." Therein is the secret of their later power — their association with Jesus. But in the meantime Jesus has come into their lives as a revolutionary force, tearing them loose from their accustomed moorings, disturbing the calm and peace of their lives. The glimpses we get of them are those of men increasingly bewildered, not understanding our Lord's teaching or action, able to meet successfully no crisis on their own account, their faith rarely having the intensity to meet the demands made upon it. What then is the secret of their power to meet the demands that our Lord has to make upon them in the future? It was that through their association with Him they learned to trust Him with a limitless trust, and love Him with a boundless love. They were fit instruments to be the builders of His Kingdom because they were content to be instruments and did not seek to be originators : they were content that our Lord should work through them, while they contributed only the readiness of their wills. Through love and trust they came to the understanding of the supreme secret of spiritual success, that their sufficiency was of God. It is when men attempt to supplant that with their own sufficiency that they fail.

That we must approach our own vocation to follow our Lord in such ways as He shall call us in the same spirit, if we are to be successful. We must have as the ground of our action a great trust and a great love. Can we find these qualities in ourselves? What does our past life show to have been its spiritual motives ? It is difficult, no doubt, to disentangle our motives so as to see them all clearly, and be able to appreciate their force one by one: nor is that needful to an adequate self-appreciation. It requires no exhaustive self -analysis to find whether we have been in the past trusting in our attitude toward our Lord. Trust, if it exist, is so obvious a quality, that we cannot miss it. The effects of its absence — restlessness, fear, doubt, — are widely influential. There is always something tentative and hesitant about the soul that is not trusting. It is uncertain of itself, because it is uncertain of its relation to our Lord: it is afraid to lean its whole weight upon him : it tries to lean partly on him and partly on something else for support. Where trust is not, there is no cheerfulness in religion : it sinks to the level of drudgery, becomes mere task-work. There is no love in it, because love cannot exist unless we trust him whom we love. Let us, who believe that we have been called with the supreme Christian calling — " called to be saints " — examine ourselves as to the effect that has been produced in us. Has my life been rendered peaceful, with a sense of interior quiet, so that it resists the entrance of any disturbing elements and refuses to listen to distracting voices? The fact of vocation certifies our Lord's immediate and personal interest in us, and our response to vocation measures the extent of our appreciation of this. When »we answer our Lord's call there is an outgoing of our souls toward him, which is an offering of them to the embrace of his love. We feel a separation from the world, a release from its attraction, a freedom of our spiritual powers which permits us gladly to direct them to the achievement of new conquests in the Kingdom of Grace. He who has answered God's call is filled with the peace and joy of God's presence.

For a growing sense of our vocation and a more perfect response to it. Pray : that God may reveal himself to you through the service to which he calls you.

Almighty and Everlasting God, who makest us both to will and to do those things that are good and acceptable unto thee; we offer unto thee our supplications, beseeching thee so to lead us to the knowledge of thy truth and obedience to thy will, that out of weakness we may be made strong, and that finally we may obtain everlasting life; through Jesus Christ our Lord.

There is great comfort in the thought that runs through the New Testament that we are called to our place in life. That back of us is neither the unintelligence of chance, nor the pitilessness of law, but the choice of love. " Thou art about my path and about my bed, and spiest out all my ways. . . . Thou hast fashioned me behind and before and laid thy hand upon me." This thought of our election makes us sure of God's care; but I like to emphasise this side of it: that it ensures that I can always find God. He is not a God afar off ; but he is always ready to answer when I call upon him.

The thought of the Apostles would have contained much about the Messiah and his Kingdom. They were of those few who eagerly waited for the restoration of Israel. They were waiting and watching. And yet, whatever their theory about the Messiah, when he actually presented himself they had difficulty in accepting him as Messiah. He did not come in the form that they expected. It is one of our troubles that we make up our minds how God is going to act and then find it difficult to recognise him in the way he does act. It is one thing to dream about the Kingdom, another to accept our vocation to it.

To the fishermen of Galilee, wondering about John, whether he were the Christ or no, Jesus came with the call to follow him. This call was imperative. He offered no explanation of his mission. His only promise was the vague one that He would make them fishers of men. They were to leave all, the father and the nets and the boats, the home and all that that meant, their means of livelihood, and go out on a life of wandering of which they saw not the full meaning.

That is essentially my call. The summons to the work of the Kingdom is as real to me as to Peter or John. It is as imperative. It comes to me as it did to them into the midst of a life of fixed interests, of settled occupations, of acquired habits. I can no more answer the divine call in the negative than they. I cannot reply, " I do not see very well how I can break up the routine of my life to which I have become accustomed. I do not think that I can rearrange the scale of my expenditure, or the time-table of my day." We are not asked about that.

The Invitation means that God wants me to do something. He has entered my life with a message that I am needed in the work of the Kingdom. He has singled me out to do a special thing. He summons me to act for him. I am to drop whatever may interfere with the call ; the call comes first. God wants me to do something.

Have I found out what it is that God wants?

Have I considered life — my life — as the field of God's activity? Have I listened for the Voice of God? Or have I assumed that there is no special, personal message for me ? Have I so far answered God?

Let me consider the interests of my life. How is my day spent? In one sense, these interests have been already fixed for me by the choices that I have already made. I am largely committed to a certain sort of life. I am married. I have a profession. I can no longer move with entire freedom because there are others who are concerned in my life and its actions. Let us assume that we have attempted to follow the will of God in the choices we have made so far.

But there remains a certain amount of freedom in all life. We are not utterly bound by the past. Materially we may be fixed in this place where we are, but spiritually we are free to choose.

We may choose to learn to know more of our Lord. Discipleship may be a growing experience with us. There are always new secrets in the spiritual life, no matter how far any one has gone on.

When Jesus chose twelve to be with him, although they were earnest men, they were untrained men from the point of view of our Lord's purposes. How did he train them? He trained them chiefly by association. He kept them with him day by day. One fancies that there was very little of what we should call formal teaching. But there would have been constant quiet talks, after the day's teaching or preaching was over. We catch something of what they would be like in his explanation of the Parable of the Sower. We wonder sometimes that none of the Apostles left us a record of one of those quiet evenings spent on a hill-side, or by the shores of the lake, while he told them of the Father. S. John's Gospel belongs to another sphere of training than this elementary one.

The essence of the training was that they should know the Father, and know him as the revelation of the Father. On the way to that understanding, they would have to give up much in the way of prejudices and assumptions which had grown out of their previous religious history. Their great struggle would have been to gain new points of view. Our Lord's teaching was constantly striking against their ancestral Judaism. We can imagine something of the shock when, citing some settled interpretation of the Law, He set it aside with His " But I say unto you."

They learned by his life. They watched him day by day dealing with the people who flocked about him. Thus they would learn the value of certain qualities such as sympathy, the understanding of another's case and need. They would see his kindly attempts to draw out what was best in a man or woman, to bring to light the faith which would commit itself to him; or, on the other hand, the fearless sternness with which he dealt with pride and self-righteousness.

They would have experienced this kindliness with which he always treated those who came to him trusting him in the highest degree. How gentle must have been his touch on life! How their lives must have been insensibly shaped by almost unnoticed touches upon it! Just a word, a look, at the critical moment, would have set them right, recalled them to themselves. There was that about his person which called out utter loyalty and enthusiasm for him. We never read of the Apostles being disobedient or resisting. Dense, they might be, but never recalcitrant.

They shared his suffering life. That would have meant much in the way of training. It is true that none of them had ever led a life in which much in the way of self-indulgence was possible. But this shelterless, wandering life was quite different from the ordinary life of the poor. The poor have a settled way of living. Those with our Lord shared his homelessness. " The

Son of Man hath not where to lay his head." There must have been days when the tensity of the opposition of the mob, or the threats of the authorities, would have made them feel death very near.

All this is not ancient history. There is a reality in our possible association with Jesus. We can share his life as much as we want to. Every one who is trying to lead the ideal life — the life which is hid with Christ in God — is really sitting at Jesus' feet seeking to learn of him. We have his Gospel in our hands and it is our fault if we have not a great familiarity with him. In all the affairs of life his words come back to us, and are our guides in the way of life. " We have the mind of Christ " — we are able to look at life as he looks at it.

And for the interpretation of this life of Christ and its application to our own needs and circumstances, we have access to the lives of those who have lived in the light and strength of it. Think what a guide to experience and practice the life of S. Paul is. And he is only one of the long line of saints whose experiences of Jesus is open to us for study. They have found companionship with our Lord a perfectly possible thing.

It is open to us to associate ourselves with his sufferings. The call of his life is to a life of great simplicity and self-denial. We ought not to wait to have this imposed upon us; we ought to see that the following of Christ means the following in the way of discipline and self-losing. In most of our lives there are things which prevent the full manifestation of our Lord.

It is only by this association that we can be prepared for the future. The Apostles faced the life after the Ascension in the strength of their experience of our Lord. They knew how to live.

It is experience of Jesus that makes it possible for us to face the future with calm. We do not know what the future will hold for us. It may be joy and comfort: it may be pain and loss. But of this we are sure, that if we are faithful to our ideals of life it will hold Jesus. He will always be there — the friend at the side, ready with his help.

We are finding that so, are we not ? The thing that we value most in life is our experience of Jesus. We have learned so great confidence in him through our having been with him in the days that are gone, that we face the days that are coming with serenity because we know that we shall always find him ready at our call. He is not a God afar off, but a God near at hand.

And when the day breaks, we shall see him. Grant I may so Thy steps track here below,

That in these masques and shadows I may see

Thy sacred way; And by those hid ascents climb to that day

Which breaks from Thee, Who art in all things, though invisibly;

Show me Thy peace, Thy mercy, love, and ease.

And from this care, where dreams and sorrows reign,

Lead me above, Where light, joy, leisure, and true comforts move

Without all pain. 1

1 Henry Vaughan.

Ill

THE INVITATION TO REPENTANCE S. Luke XIX, i-io

Let us listen to the words of the Gospel:

And when Jesus came to the place, he looked up, and saw him, and said unto him, Zacchaeus, make haste, and come down; for to-day I must abide at thy house.

^^=^HIS scene that S. Luke puts before us with ^^y just a few intimate touches. S. Luke, you remember, is said to have been something of an artist : he had at any rate the artist's power to see effectively. We, too, see through the medium of his simple narrative. We get the impression of the crowds about our Lord; and it brings home to us the fact which, perhaps, we commonly overlook, of the sensation that our Lord made wherever he came. The nature of his preaching and the mighty works that he did roused men's curiosity to the highest pitch. When the news spread of his approach crowds gathered and thronged him ; he had no time to eat or sleep or pray. Here in Jericho we catch the characteristic note of the crowd — its selfishness. Every man wanted to see, and pushed his way to the front regardless of the other man who wanted to see as well. Zacchaeus, though he were chief among the publicans and rich, found that these things availed him not — he must push and make his way like another. If he had any pride, he must dispose of it for the moment; and, indeed, curiosity is a stronger stimulant than pride. We see the chief among the publicans astride a branch, looking with satisfaction over the heads of the crowd — looking at Jesus. So this was the man of whom so many startling sayings and strange acts were reported ! Zacchaeus looks down — with what thoughts ? And then Jesus pauses and looks up. Their eyes meet! There is a moment in which Jesus looks into Zacchaeus 5 soul and sees the manner of man he is, sees the real Zacchaeus, and the possibilities of him. Our Lord has need of this man, he can work through him; and Zacchaeus has need of our Lord and is in the spiritual state of readiness which will respond to him. So the call comes : " Zacchaeus, make haste, and come down; for to-day I must abide at thy house." See the little man climbing down and running home and making ready for our Lord. There is pride, the sense of being distinguished by the celebrated Teacher. There is joy, too : " He received him joyfully."

That Zacchaeus' approach to our Lord is prompted by a low motive — curiosity. But having approached our Lord from a low motive, he was found capable of responding to higher ones. That which is upon the surface of life is not always the unerring representative of its depths. Few of us would like to be known by our lighter, unguarded moments. The real man or woman is revealed in response to life's deeper, more searching appeals. When our Lord called Zacchaeus there was no hesitation on the part of the publican, but he gave himself to our Lord as completely as did Simon and Andrew and the sons of Zebedee. There was that in our Lord's look and voice that drew men to run after him; that suddenly changed their sense of values and caused them to think their possessions of no account, so they might win his approval. What has laid hold upon the spirit of Zacchaeus, chief of publicans, is the Spirit of Christ, and he at once sees the world through new eyes. The Guest who has come into his house has come into his soul, too : and the result of the entrance is that a new Zacchaeus is born — a Zacchaeus whose heart is not set upon gain, but who struggles to express himself through sacrifice, a sacrifice that shall mark the thoroughness of his break with the past and the strength of his determination to create for himself a future moulded by new motives which he begins now to perceive : " Behold, Lord, the half of my goods I give to the poor; and if I have wrongfully exacted aught of any man, I restore him fourfold." The impulse to act, to break away from, and so far as possible, destroy the past, is the mark of a true repentance. Repentance cannot be unless there be a change in our motives, an altered direction of the currents of our lives. Repentance, of all spiritual transactions, has the most obvious results. There are many things we may be uncertain of, but hardly of a sincere repentance. Zacchaeus was looking at his life through our Lord's eyes; and though he knew so little of our Lord, he knew enough to perceive how that life must look to him. The complacency with which in the past he had, no doubt, contemplated his life is changed to abhorrence. He cannot bear to have our Lord see the old life, and he makes haste to change it. Think of the joy with which he heard our Lord's words of approval : " This day is salvation come to this house."

What led to your conversion? Was there a time when you lived in sin, in neglect, in indifference? Was there a crisis in your life when you perceived that your state was a state of death, and you fled from it in horror? Or did conversion mean to you a slowly-growing apprehension of our Lord's Presence with you and will for you? However that may have been, the essence of the spiritual change that came to you was that you were turned to Christ. Conversion is our perception of and response to a Divine Presence that has come into the house of our life and wills to abide there. The emphasis may be upon our own sinfulness or upon the Divine Goodness; we may be more conscious of our need of God, or of God's need of us ; but wherever the emphasis fall our appreciation of the fact will express itself as a need of change. We ought to be other than we are. Self-satisfaction will cease to be possible — the self-satisfied soul is unfailingly unrepentant. If you are being converted, you are continually feeling the need of further change in your life; of discarding that which is unworthy, of improving that which is well begun, of advancing toward a perceived ideal. You want to be rid of that in your life which reminds you of an ill past — " Behold, Lord, the half of my goods I give to the poor " — which is not so much of a new-born love of the poor, as a perception of the goods as evidence of a past you would be free of. When the Divine Guest enters our house we forget the old complacency with which we regarded our furniture and begin to see it as it must appear to him. Very tawdry, most of the objects of our self-satisfaction appear, when we are conscious of Jesus standing in the doorway and looking about our soul-house. The ignored imperfections start into clearness. That upon which we had prided ourselves turns into an object of loathing. Our clever accomplishments manifest their dishonesty, and we make haste to rectify them — " If I have wrongfully exacted aught of any man, I restore him fourfold.'' It is the preparation to receive Jesus, the sweeping and garnishing of the house that he may enter in and dwell there ; and with it there is a pathetic yearning to hear him say : " This day is salvation come to this house." The soul that is being converted is humble and self -forgetting, and stands with eyes downcast, waiting for Jesus to take it to his love.

For the grace of a true conversion. Let us pray for grace to break with sin utterly. Pray, that like Zacchaeus, you may gladly give yourself and all that you have to our Lord.

O Lord Jesus Christ, Co-eternal Word of the Father, who didst become like unto us in all things, sin only excepted, for the salvation of our race, and didst send forth thy Disciples and Apostles to preach and teach the Gospel of thy Kingdom, and to cure all sickness and all infirmity among thy people; Do thou thyself, O Lord, send out thy Light and thy Truth, and enlighten the eyes of our minds to understand thy Divine Word. Give us grace to be hearers of it, and not hearers only, but doers of the Word, that we may bring forth good fruit abundantly, and be counted worthy of the Kingdom of Heaven. And to thee, O Lord, our God, we ascribe glory and thanksgiving, saying: Holy, Holy, Holy, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, now and forever. Amen.

It is natural to think that our approach to God must be preceded by the purifying process of penitence. That is true when we begin to prepare for definite acts of approach as the reception of the Sacraments.

But before we get so far God approaches us. God takes the initiative. " While we were yet sinners Christ died for us." " To-day I must abide at thy house."

The call to discipleship precedes repentance and underlies it. If he had not called, we should not have come. We are not likely to find our need of God, until we have heard of God's need of us.

If we are dealing with Christians we can begin with repentance as a necessity in approaching God. One who understands anything of the meaning of God will understand the need of purity in those who present themselves to him. But if one is dealing with unbelievers, they must first be shown God before they can understand the meaning of repentance.

One reason is that it is only after we have seen God that we are able to understand ourselves. Our boasting and egotism seem silly when we stand before God.

I am the master of my fate : I am the captain of my soul,