Christian lessons and a Christian life

Front matter

CHRISTIAN LESSONS

UNITaria

AND i ' 1 " n i A

Contents

Pa?e

MEMOIR ix-Lxi

SERMONS.

I. Fidelity IX Our Sphere, However Humble

Rom. xvi. 14: "Salute Asyncritus, Phlegon, Hermas, Patro bas, Hermes, and the brethren which are with them."

npHIS last chapter of Romans is, I know, to some not very interesting. They find little more of instruction in its verses than in the dry details of genealogy with which Matthew begins his Gospel. It might have been interesting to the church at Rome ; but of what use to us is that long list of names, that catalogue of the brethren whom Paul held in affectionate remembrance ? What do we know of Asyncritus and Phlegon and Hermas and Patrobas and Hermes, and the brethren which are with them ? To me there is much which is both interesting and instructive in these slight allusions, these unknown names, which constitute the postscript of a letter so many centuries old. The man Paul seems to stand forth in them, with his generous human heart and his devoted friendships. No brotherly act,

FIDELITY IN OUR SPHERE, no friendly service, no sacrifice for the great cause which he had so much at heart, had he forgotten. He sends them this affectionate salutation, as we in our letters wish to be remembered to our friends. He sends it as a token that he remembered them still, even amid all the difficulties and perplexities which harassed him there, in that distracted church at Corinth. In his letter, he had been discussing the highest questions of philosophy and religion ; and yet he finds room for kind greetings to these individual friends. It does, indeed, shed a tender and an amiable light on his strong and manly character.

But this is not the point which is most interesting for us to contemplate. It comes nearer to us than that. Who were these Christian brethren, to whom Paul thus gratefully wished to be remembered ? They were not among the great names of the Imperial City. History has taken no note of them, in her record of the illustrious men and women of that age. This simple salutation, and perhaps a crumbling slab in the damp catacombs where the Roman disciples buried their dead, are all the record of their memory which has survived. Their names may have been written in heaven, but they were seldom mentioned on earth. I suppose they were men and women like ourselves, moving about in their narrow circle, little known beyond it. What could they do, they would think perhaps, for the great world?

HOWEVER HUMBLE.

It was sunk in idolatry and in vice : what could they effect towards enlightening and reclaiming it ? If they did have the truth, and if they practised virtue, the world knew nothing of it, and cared nothing for them. The busy crowds of the great city hurried by them, never asking who they were, or what they thought, or how they lived. Whatever others might do, they certainly could do nothing for their religion or for mankind. They had no great duties, except they might be called upon to wear the crown of martyrdom ; and then it would be all forgotten, as the brutal shout of the multitude rose above the roar of the wild beasts in the Roman amphitheatre.

What could such men do ? And yet think what there was to be done ! To these men, and a few others like them, was intrusted God's truth, the truth which leads to salvation. Through them, and, so far as human sight goes, through them alone, must the religion of Christ be preserved, and become triumphant. On the one side was heathenism, with numbers, wealth, power, intellect, inherited prejudices, ancient custom, every thing in its favor. On the other was a little company of humble, unknown men at Rome, another at Corinth, another at Ephesus, and a few more, here and there, in the great cities ; not a distinguished person among them, not a man of influence ; perhaps two or three Roman citizens, but mostly despised Jews, scattered then

FIDELITY IN OUR SPHERE, as now over the world for purposes of traffic. What tremendous odds were against them ! And yet, most remarkable of all, they triumphed, and that speedily. Not three hundred years passed, before the banner of the cross waved over the Roman armies ; before paganism had lost its hold on the popular mind, and the perilous day had arrived when a Christian emperor sat on the throne of the Caesars. Who, now, were the human instruments in accomplishing this stupendous revolution ? These humble Christians at Rome and Colosse and Galatia, who never dreamed all the while that they were accomplishing any thing ; they did it.

But how did they do it ? They did it in the same way that you and I must do whatever work God has given to us. They did it unconsciously. They were blindly working at the foundation, and thought not of the stately temple which should hereafter be reared upon their labors. They had not a conception of the momentous results which would follow their efforts. They builded greater than they knew. Their separate acts did not seem to them very important. It was the small duties of life, for the most part, which weighed on their consciences. They gave themselves to these little duties and these separate acts with a true-hearted Christian purpose. They believed in Christ; they felt that he had given to their souls the one thing needful ; and, believing and

HOWEVER HUMBLE.

feeling thus, they confessed him before men, trusting that he would, as he had promised, confess them before the Father in heaven. Neither fear of danger nor dread of reproach, neither natural diffidence nor morbid self- distrust, kept them back. It was their duty to give their influence, whatever it might be, for his holy cause. And so, openly and frankly, they acknowledged him as their Master ; and they strove, not indeed to find great sacrifices which they might make and heroic deeds of service which they might do, but, better than that, to do whatever Christian duty required, whether it seemed great or small. They did not choose their work; but whatever devolved upon them, they performed faithfully. If their path led to sacrifices, they made them cheerfully ; if to dangers, they shunned them not : but they went on calmly, trusting that God would not desert them. In short, they tried to be Christians ; and though they might not understand how their humble obedience could hasten the coming of Christ's kingdom, yet they worked in faith, and left results to Him whom they served. They labored on, each in his own sphere, humble though it seemed ; and, unknown to themselves, accomplished a great work, hardly inferior to that of Paul himself. Through such plain, uneventful, yet Christian lives, did Christianity triumph over all the might of paganism.

FIDELITY IN OUR SPHERE,

Now, my friends, we all are standing in the same position which these Roman believers held in the days of Paul. We do not think that we have any thing of importance to do, that any one is influenced by our example, that it matters much to the interests of the world how we live. Let great men, we say, do their duty scrupulously, and something may come of it; let men in prominent positions be virtuous, and their example amounts to something. But our work is of no importance. We are not known, except in a very narrow circle ; and, even in this little sphere in which we are now moving, our memory will not live a score of years after us. Our humble obedience to Christ, our humble sacrifices for our fellow-men, can do nothing to hasten the coming of the kingdom of God. We cannot be so sure of that, my brethren. Acts are indeed ours ; but the issue thereof is with God only. We know not but he may choose one of the humblest acts which we do to-day, as that on which the great future shall hinge. We are working in the dark. We are all unconscious what we are doing, for good or for evil. Here are immortal souls all about us, taking from us, perhaps, their direction. It is a fearful thought. What train of consequences have we set in motion to-day ? God only knows.

Nor are we an exception. There have been very few men, who have done great things for the world,

HOWEVER HUMBLE.

that have been conscious what it was they were accomplishing. Did the Pilgrims think that their tempestuous voyage and dreary landing on this wild shore would be any thing for posterity ? Did the signers of the Declaration of Independence dream what momentous results would follow that simple act ? Did Luther comprehend what effects would follow from his translation of the Bible, there in the lonely castle of Wartburg? We have not those works to do, perhaps ; but our service has some meaning in God's sight, and we know not how great, until the future interprets it. Be sure of this, that God never permits any act of obedience, however humble, or any sacrifice, however obscure, to fall to the ground. You cannot tell what good will come from the good, nor what evil will follow from the evil, which you do. Have you in the past week made a sacrifice for others ? That may now, though unknown to you, be sustaining some tempted brother in his hour of heavy trial ; and from that sacrifice may come to him strength and inspiration. Have you done to-day a difficult act, because Christ requires it ? Trouble yourself not for the result. God will make it bear fruit. He gives the increase, though you may not see it. Do you not remember in the parable, when the Son of man separated those on the right hand from those on the left, and said to the former, " Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the

FIDELITY IN OUR SPHERE, foundation of the world/ 9 that they asked, " When saw we thee a hungered and fed thee, or thirsty and gave thee drink ? " They did not remember when they did this. They were not conscious of having done any thing which others would recall. But the Lord remembered it, as an act done to him ; and it made all the difference between " Come, ye blessed," and " Depart, ye cursed." The seed may look like a little grain of sand, when you commit it to the ground. But it is not sand ; it shoots up, and brings forth of its kind. You know not how great a plant may spring from it ; but you know that it must be of its kind, good from good, evil from evil. The greatness of the result is not your concern. You have only to see that it is of the right sort. And there is no security for us, in this fearful uncertainty, except always to do that which we know is right. Then, let the result be as it will, it shall be well. We need have no fears. The more God shall give of increase, the better it will be.

But there are some who have an honest shrinking from duties, in the fear that they may not perform them with entire faithfulness. And so far does this go, that they neglect altogether some particular duties rather than run the risk of imperfectly performing them. It may be an honest mistake, but how great a mistake ! Suppose the sailor, in the time of peril, when ordered to his

HOWEVER HUMBLE.

post on the topmast, should refuse to go, for fear that he could not do his work in seaman -like shape ? He need not fear : to do the best he can is all the captain wants. So is it with the Captain of our salvation : all he asks is, that we do the best we can. It is not Christian, to let our fears get the better of our duty. We must resolve on this, that every duty shall be done ; hard or easy, whether the world laugh or applaud, it shall be done. Whether we can do it well or ill, leave that with Him who commands. He will accept the effort as a true service, and pardon what is deficient. This is the spirit, to be faithful in small things and in great alike. " In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thine hand ; for thou knowest not whether shall prosper, either this or that, or whether they both shall be alike good."

II. We Are A Spectacle To The World

1 Cor. iv. 9: "We are made a spectacle unto the world,

AND TO ANGELS, AND TO MEN."

TT)AUL'S thought here is, that he is standing in the arena, the great amphitheatre extending on every side about him, rising rank after rank of seats, with thousands of eager eyes centred upon him, watching every look, every motion, every act ; and that audience not alone of flesh and blood, but even the angels from above looking down upon his labors and struggles. And who was it that claimed to stand in this august presence ? An humble Jew, wandering from city to city, friendless, poor, persecuted, preaching to a few whom he could gather to hear him, what he felt were the words of life ; and he a spectacle to the universe, both to men and to angels. A bold word, that ! And yet is it not literally true ? The smallest acts of that man, the most common words which his pen wrote or his brain dictated, are to-day treasured up for instruction and consolation by millions. Many centuries have passed since he wrought his work ; the marble theatres, from which he drew this illustration, have crumbled ; and most of the proud cities in which he taught are as if they had never been : but this man's audience is still widening, and his work still going on. Fortunate he was to know and feel it then ; for it was a thought full of inspiration and strength.

Would you think me presumptous, if I applied these words of Paul to Christian believers now, and said that it is true of us also, that we are a spectacle to men and to angels ? We are entirely unconscious of being thus conspicuous. We feel as if our struggles and contests and trials, though very important to us, were nothing to any one else. And, when the day is over, we think it has passed and is forgotten ; probably we ourselves have almost forgotten it. My friends, you cannot cut adrift so easily from what you have done and what you have been. The acts, the thoughts, the struggles, the sins, of this last week, have been open to other eyes than yours ; and they are not gone, though you have forgotten them. "A spectacle to men and to angels ! " Yes, and they will appear again to you one day. Whatever has merely to do with things material, however important it seems, must pass away ; but the most trivial thing connected with the soul lasts, as the soul lasts, for ever. Its record is imperishable. I have seen recorded in the sandstone the mark of the little rain-drop, which fell, one day in the ages past, upon a sea-beach of the primeval earth. We can know from it the very direction of the wind, in that transient shower of ten thousand centuries ago. When you deal with such a thing as a human soul, you are making impressions on something which is as plastic as the clay, and yet more enduring than the solid rock.

These records are not only enduring, but are often strangely brought out before the eyes of men. We have no choice what acts of ours shall be thus made manifest. We know not when we are standing on the stage, a spectacle: it may be to-day. It is enough to make us tremble, to think that at some time our weakness, our folly, our sin, may be all laid bare, so that the world can see them. Do you suppose, that when Judas went to the garden to consummate his purpose of betrayal, he felt that the world's eye was upon him? It was in the darkness of the night, and who would ever care to reveal the secret ? And when, driven by remorse, he went and hanged himself, he thought, no doubt, that, in this world at least, both himself and his crime would soon be forgotten. How would he have felt, had he known that that night's base work was done in the presence of a world, and that his own name would go down to the latest generation as a by-word and a reproach?

As it is with the evil, so is it with the good. We know not but that one act of Christian sacrifice may, in God's providence, be linked with consequences which shall make it a spectacle to the world. Do yon suppose that the woman, when she did a little act of kindness for the Master, thought that her trifling deed would ever be remembered, except perhaps by Him to whom she paid this homage and respect ? And yet, " wheresoever this gospel shall be preached in the whole world, there shall also this, that this woman hath done, be told for a memorial of her." Who can tell that his slight sacrifices for the same Master may not be likewise honored ? On one cold December day, a little company of ship-worn voyagers disembarked upon a bleak and uninhabited coast. Their thoughts were of thankfulness to God, that he had spared them, and led them safely to the end of their voyage. But God has made that day's landing historic : the very rock upon which they stepped from the unsteady boat is sacred. As De Tocqueville says, so finely, " Here is a stone which the feet of a few outcasts pressed for an instant, and the stone becomes famous ; it is treasured by a great nation ; its very dust is shared as a relic. And what has become of the gateways of a thousand palaces ? Who cares for them ? "

We know not upon what the embalming touch of time may fall. Perhaps before the name of Rome was great, an Etruscan artist, on the banks of the Tiber, designed a vase, and ornamented it with figures emblematic of his poor faith in the gods of heathenism, and expressive of his questionings of the great mystery of death. That artist has been dead for twenty-five hundred years ; but his work, dug from his own grave perchance, yet remains, one of the choicest artrelics of that distant age. A copy of it stands on our table, bearing cur flowers, to-day. What would he have thought, could he have known that the work of his hands, twenty-five centuries after those hands had turned to dust, would stand in the temple of a faith not then given to men, but which answered all his blind longings, and in a country of whose existence he had never dreamed, three thousand miles across the unsailed ocean ? Who knows but that some work or word of his may endure ?

In our severe trials and struggles, also, we may have witnesses and sympathy when we think we are all alone. One of the most touching things that were found in the excavation of the buried city of Pompeii was the impression of two female figures, overtaken in their flight by the fiery storm, having with them their jewelry and one hundred pieces of money, and the iron keys of the home to which they hoped to return. Their very attitude, expressive of terror and mortal agony, is preserved. They suffered and died alone : no human eye could then look on to pity ' them. But now, after seventeen hundred years, the hearts of men of another age turn to their sore distress in sympathy.

My friends, have you thought that some little trial of yours well borne, some trifling act, some chance word, may last yet longer ? The plastic tables of immortal souls are all around you, and you are writing on them. Some Christian act of yours, nay, some Christian word even, may trace, as with the pen of steel and point of a diamond, its record, which shall be ineffaceable. Or it may be that your folly, your sin, may inscribe that other record as indelible, which, with the waters of many tears, you cannot wash out. It is a solemn thing to live, when we know that one short day of ours will have eternal consequences for us and for others.

Paul feels that he is standing in the arena, not merely with the men of his own time and those of after-ages gazing upon him : in yet more solemn presence does he stand. "A spectacle to men and to angels." Do those who have passed on, look back on these scenes which they have left ? For one, I believe it with undoubting confidence. When you travel abroad among other scenes and men, though the fields be more fertile and the dwellings more splendid, do you cease to care for the home you have left, though it be an humble one ? Nay, rather, do you not think the more of it, because it is so far away? And so, I believe, that the loves and memories of earth will cling to

16 WE ABE A SPECTACLE TO THE W0ELD.

us when we journey from it; that the earthly homes are remembered, even in the heavenly mansions ; and that our friends, who have gone, are now looking back to see how it fares with us in struggle and in temptation, with an interest yet warmer than they used to feel, because now they know, what they knew not fully then, the momentous consequences which hang upon these fleeting hours. How have the acts of our past week appeared to those pure eyes, looking down from the heavenly home upon us here ? Have we saddened them by our un worthiness and sin ? If we care not for the men around us, surely it cannot be a light thing to any of us, that we are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses.

Let me add one thought more. The time is coming when we shall be, not alone a spectacle to men and to angels, but to ourselves. What if we can never forget ? It is a relief to us, when, after the sharp sting of conscience has been blunted by time, we can forget our misdeeds. What if they are not forgotten, but only laid away in the deeper chambers of the memory, waiting the day of reckoning ? We speak of the record kept in heaven of every act of every soul, which is unalterable, ineffaceable. The duplicate record is kept on earth, we ourselves being the swift witnesses. A friend, not long ago, told me of a remarkable experience ; and, indeed, I have heard of similar ones from many others. He was suddenly precipitated from a height of many feet ; and, in that brief interval of a second or two while he was falling, the events and actions of almost his whole life, thoughts of his family, sorrow for neglects of professional duty, all thronged through his mind. That experience, he said, explained to him what the day of judgment might be ; a day when all these secret records of a lifetime should be unveiled.

It is a fearful thought, that we shall thus stand, with all the forgotten acts and thoughts and purposes of a lifetime brought before us again ! How thankful we shall be, if we shall find hi those records sins blotted out by repentance, misdeeds balanced by Christian efforts ! How bright will seem to us the account of sacrifices in behalf of the right, of kind offices to the needy, of all words of Christian charity and love ! As, from hour to hour, we write that record, let us remember, that, one day, we ourselves must read it.

III. Magnify Your Office

Eom. xi. 13: "I magnify mine office.

HAT is an office ? It comprehends two

Y Y ideas. In the first place, the idea of duty : an office is a place of service for others. This is its original signification : " all service or attention which a man renders to others, whether from duty or kindness." It is, then, in its very origin, a term of disinterestedness and benevolence. An office is not a place where a man is to seek good for himself or to work for himself, but where he is to do good to others and work for others. In the political use of the word, however far the theory may vqry from the practice, it has this same original meaning : a place, not for this or that man's convenience and profit, but where the public good may be promoted, and the public wants answered. Even He who held, under God's providence, the greatest office since the world began, thus speaks of himself: "I came not to be ministered unto, but to minister." The first idea of the word, then, is one of pervice ; and this not for one's self, but for others.

MAGNIFY YOUR OFFICE.

But, in addition to this, the idea of appointment is included in it. How did it happen that we are in any such place of service ? We did not place ourselves under this obligation. We did not of our own accord take something upon us, which otherwise would have had no claim on our efforts. Duty is not grounded upon any consent or acknowledgment of ours. Our duties are not accidental : they are imposed upon us. "We are appointed to them: God is the Appointer. Paul recognizes this in our text. He was the Apostle to the Gentiles. The great work of preaching Christ's gospel to the nations was intrusted to him. There were other apostles ; but he could not say, that he would leave this to Peter or to Matthew: it was his office. Neither could he excuse himself by thinking that the work was God's, and that, even if he individually should be faithless. God would still see that it was done. The work, with all its solemn weight, was laid upon him ; and how was he straitened till it was accomplished ! It was no self-imposed obligation, no self-sought office ; for he was an apostle, not by the will of men, nor by man. but by the will of God. In this spirit he performed the duties of his office, as being God's appointment to him. What earnestness it required : what strong endeavor ; what self-sacrifice ! Had not God appointed him to it, and how could he be negligent ? If it had been of his own choosing,

MAGNIFY YOUR OFFICE.

he would not have felt so keenly the responsibility ; but it was a sacred trust.

My brethren, we are all in office, in this Christian sense. We have not the same duty which Paul had, nor was the notice of our appointment conveyed to us in the same miraculous way ; but still we are in office, "not by the will of men, nor by man, but by the will of God." For each of 'us there is a special service to perform : to that he is appointed, and for that he is responsible. How appointed ? you may ask. Your tastes, your peculiar gifts, the circumstances of life which have been your educators, the events which have led you in a particular direction, every thing which constitutes your fitness for a work, is your commission for it, the evidence to you of your divine appointment. And the very fact that you have been led, in God's providence, to a special sphere of action, is a strong presumption that you are fitted for it, that this is the sphere in which you are commissioned to minister.

There are two opposite faults in this matter. One is office-seeking. There are many people who give more attention to widening their sphere than to filling it. It is imagined that one's gifts indicate a higher place than is at present occupied, and that that is wasted on small duties and insignificant results which is equal to greater things. There is a constant discontent with actual duties, and a reaching out for fictitious ones.

MAGNIFY YOUR OFFICE.

But this is not the right spirit. Suppose that the fancied ability is actually possessed by a man ; this feeling will prevent the accomplishment of its own end. Higher places do not come for the seeking. They are rather to be accepted than to be striven for. Do the present work well to the best of your ability, and the way will open before you, and you will be led into it. Wait for the Master of the feast to say, " Go up higher."

The opposite fault is the shrinking from duties. The divine call to work is very slowly recognized : many things which ought to come within the sphere of service are excluded from it. And the reason very probably is an excessive modesty, a distrust of our own ability. We do not undertake it, because we feel not fully competent to carry it through successfully. Now, we have no means of judging of our ability to do any thing, except by trying. And the criterion by which we should judge whether it is an office to which the Lord has appointed us, is, not this uncertain opinion of our talent, but the need of the work's being done. See that there is need, and let that be your call ; accept that as a divine appointment. Let it be what it may, act thus ; and, if you are mistaken, you will know it soon enough. Do not despise the office, even if it be a class in the Sabbath school which stands vacant from Sunday to Sunday. Neglect it not: it is the Lord's appointment, waiting for some one. It