senses; to our earthly and mortal natures; to that carnal mind which
St. Paul tells us is not, and by its very nature cannot be, subject to
the law of God. The enemies of the flesh are all the more dangerous
because they appear under the disguise of friends—of things harmless,
and even necessary, in themselves. They are like slaves, serving their
masters in deed, but with secret enmity, always watching their chance
to rebel, and the cruelest of tyrants when they gain the mastery. Just
because we cannot do without them, we need to guard against their abuse.
How much money is wasted every year upon table luxuries, which the
consumers would be as well or better without! How many become such
slaves to certain articles of food and drink that they find it almost
impossible to do without these things, though they know, on the best
authority, that health is being injured by their use! How many are
vexed and put out of temper if their bodily comfort is invaded in the
smallest degree! More than once have I seen the comfort of a whole
table-full destroyed, and the meal rendered distasteful, by some one
person, who persisted in finding fault with everything set upon the
board.
It may seem at first sight a singular statement, that invalids need
especially to maintain a strict watch over themselves in the matter of
indulgence in eating and drinking, but I believe it is true. There is
perhaps more excuse to be made for them than for most others, because
they are, perforce, obliged to think a good deal of the matter; but for
this very reason they need to guard themselves against dwelling too
much on it, and against harmful self-indulgence. I have seen invalids
keep themselves in a chronic state of discomfort, and consequent
fretfulness, by eating too much. And it is an odd circumstance, though
one well-known to doctors and nurses, that these very people are often
fully convinced that they eat little or nothing.
Invalids are often led to injure themselves by an inordinate use of the
drugs and stimulants prescribed by physicians. They find the use of
such remedies followed by pleasant sensations, and take them many times
when they are not really needful; and are so made the opium drunkard,
the chloral drunkard, and not infrequently the whisky drunkard as well.
I use the word advisedly. The man who lives upon laudanum, the woman
who indulges in morphine or chloral, is just as much a drunkard as the
man or woman who gets tipsy in the corner saloon, and usually an even
more hopeless case. The whisky drunkard will often admit that he is
such; the opium drunkard never.
The remedy for all these evils is to be found in one word—temperance.
"Every man that striveth for the mastery is temperate in all things."
(1 Cor. ix. 25.) The word "temperance" has come to be used in such
a confined sense, that we are in danger of forgetting its larger
application. We are to be temperate in all things; that is, we are to
use them in such moderation as that they shall do us good instead of
harm, and to have the mastery over our appetites, so we shall command
them, and not they us.
I have been speaking of such things as are in themselves harmless,
and even useful, but there are other temptations which come under the
head of "the flesh," and to which the word "temperate" does not apply,
because the soldier of Christ has no right to touch them at all. Such
are all those indulgences which tend to blunt the moral sense, and to
arouse bad thoughts and passions. These things often come to us under
very pretty disguises of art, literature, and the like.
I have known a Christian read a vile book, hardly fit for a decent
kitchen fire, excusing himself on the ground of the beautiful style—as
if one should take poison because it was presented in a finely carved
bowl. Christian women go to see other women—young girls, as precious in
God's sight as their own daughters—exhibit themselves on the stage in
shamelessly indecent dresses and dances. Yes, and they come away and
express a virtuous horror of the poor creatures, who are not half as
bad as themselves, inasmuch as they are working hard for a living, and
not for idle amusement. A shamelessly wicked woman comes among us, and
people who profess and call themselves Christians go to see and applaud
her on the stage, because, forsooth, it is "an education in art."
In all such matters there is but one rule for the Christian—"touch not,
taste not, handle not." Give the enemy no admission under any pretense,
however specious. Nobody was ever hurt by letting a doubtful pleasure
alone. Our carnal nature will in itself make us trouble enough without
any help. By God's grace we can keep it in subjection, but how can we
expect that grace, how dare we ask for it, if we run willfully into
temptation?
Ps. xvii. 1 Cor. x.
_FOURTH THURSDAY IN LENT._
_OUR GHOSTLY ENEMY._
IT seems rather the fashion, just now, to deny the existence of Satan
as a person at all. I suppose nothing could please him more than to
be so denied. "I don't believe in a personal devil," said a lady in a
Bible class; "I believe in a principle of evil." When asked to define
what she meant by a principle of evil, it appeared that she had no very
clear idea of the matter herself. The simple truth is that there is
as much proof of the personality of Satan as of the Holy Spirit, and
a believer in the Bible may as reasonably deny one as the other. Our
Lord always speaks of him as a living, thinking, active being, as in
St. John viii. 44, St. Matt. xiii. 19 and 39, and many other places.
Try substituting the words "principle of evil" in these passages, and
see what sense it will make. Satan is perhaps the most active member
of that famous old firm "the world, the flesh, and the devil," in
which indeed there are no silent partners. He is always ready to back
the others, and, what is still worse, he has a secret ally in every
heart, who, though crushed and kept under, is always trying to open
correspondence with its old friend. He does not come to us in hideous
disguise of hoof and horn, as the old painters have depicted him. None
but a fool would do that; and he is no fool as concerns the ends he
would compass. "The devil knows many things," says the Arab proverb,
"because he is very old." He knows how to put on many disguises, and
can on occasions transform himself into an angel of light.
Pride and anger, envy, hatred, and malice, are usually the sins
specially attributed to Satan; but there is one class of sins which
are particularly his own. I refer to lying in all its branches, to
evil-speaking, slander, detraction, and the like. "When he speaketh
of a lie, he speaketh of his own, for he is a liar, and the father of
it," says our Lord. (St. John viii. 44.) Slander is his business and
delight. He is "the accuser of our brethren" (Rev. xii. 10), and the
patron of them that do the like.
This matter of evil-speaking is one that deserves grave consideration.
It is a common and crying evil. There are probably few—I wish I dared
say no—professing Christians who will deliberately invent a slander,
but how many are there who will repeat one without a thought, and
that of a fellow church-member, with whom they have perhaps knelt at
the Lord's table only the day before. Mrs. A. hears a tale of shame
concerning a young girl, which, if true, would be enough to blight
the young thing's character forever. She does not know if it be true
or false; perhaps she does not know the person by sight; but it is a
piece of news, and for the dear delight of telling a story she repeats
it—never, be it observed, without some slight addition, for few people
can repeat a thing exactly as they hear it. Mrs. A. does not think that
in so repeating a slander she is making herself responsible for it,
but such is the case, and God will hold her so if man does not. She
may think herself a very good woman at the very time that she is doing
Satan's dirtiest work for him. It is not necessary that slander should
always be put into direct words. An insinuation, a lifting of the hands
and eyes, nay, silence itself, may and often does say more than words.
"A lie has a thousand legs, while the truth has but two," says the
Eastern proverb. No matter how often a false statement is repeated,
there is always some one to believe it and repeat it. Here is a
notable instance. Some one once said that "every sixpence given to the
heathen cost a dollar to send it." It is an utterly false statement,
and has been proved so a dozen times; yet it is constantly repeated,
and meets the missionary worker at every turn. "I have never cared to
have anything to do with Mrs. N., since she was found out taking goods
from G.'s store," said a person of one who was a fellow church-member.
"But that was entirely disproved," said I, indignantly; "it was shown
plainly that Mrs. N. simply took another parcel for her own—a mistake
anyone might make." "Oh well, I never heard that!" was the reply. "It
was an odd mistake, anyhow!" I suppose this story will be repeated to
Mrs. N.'s discredit for years to come, and not one in twenty who hears
it will hear the refutation.
It is a safe rule never to repeat anything to the disadvantage of
another, unless absolutely necessary. The golden rule applies here as
everywhere, "Think, if you are tempted to retail a bit of personal
slander, how you would like it if the case were your own—if it were
yourself or your wife or daughter that was attacked." Think that every
fellow-Christian is a member of the Lord's body, and that in wounding
the members you wound also the Head. Another good rule is never to
repeat conversation. We all need the prayer, "Set a watch, O Lord,
before my mouth, and keep the door of my lips." (Ps. cxli. 3.) Finally,
since it is out of the abundance of the heart that the mouth speaketh,
let us strive to keep our hearts and minds as become the temples of the
Holy Ghost, pure and clean, and admit no visitors therein but such as
are worthy of that greatest and most honored of all guests.
Ps. cxli. St. James iii.
_FOURTH FRIDAY IN LENT._
_THE GREAT TEMPTER._
"ONE thing I would not let slip: I took notice that poor Christian was
so confounded that he did not know his own voice; and thus I perceived
it. Just when he was come over against the mouth of the burning pit,
one of the wicked ones got behind him, and stepped up softly to him,
and whisperingly suggested many grievous blasphemies to him, which he
verily thought had proceeded from his own mind. This put Christian more
to it than anything that he met with before, even to think that he now
blasphemed Him that he loved before. Yet if he could have helped it, he
would not have done it; but he had not the discretion either to stop
his ears, or to know whence these blasphemies came."
Does not this passage of Bunyan's describe the occasional experience
of many a Christian? We find ourselves assailed by doubts and fears,
by hard thoughts of our Father in Heaven, by wicked suggestions of
all sorts, till we are ready to despair of ourselves, and to think
ourselves hypocrites or castaways.
How it is that Satan contrives to inject these evil suggestions, or why
he should be permitted to do so, I cannot tell, any more than I can
tell why evil should exist at all. It is a part of that great mystery
which may perhaps be explained in a future life, but certainly not
here. The practical question is, How are we to meet these assaults, and
what is the best way to repel them?
An old writer has said that the best way to meet temptations is
to deal with them as one does with dogs which run out to bark at
passengers—walk straight on, and take no notice of them. This is, in
many cases, a good rule. Ignore the tempter altogether. Hold no parley
with him, but go straight on with whatever you are doing. He will grow
tired after a while, and let you alone. But if you must needs fight
him—and one cannot always escape the contest—be sure to use the weapons
your great Captain has put into your hands, and no other. Take the
shield of faith. Repel every doubt with an "I believe" and an "I know."
Be sure you are familiar with your sword, which is the Word of God.
Above all, never for one moment give up the contest. The Seneca Indians
have the correct theory on this subject. They hold that no evil spirit
or demon can hurt a man while he fights it, and does not give way to
fear; but that if he does so give way, it is all over with him. All the
powers of darkness combined cannot drag the weakest disciple from his
Saviour's arms so long as the will holds fast to its Lord. Remember
this, and show yourselves men.
Remember, too, that there is a sure refuge always at hand, always
open, always strong to save. In old times, he who fled for refuge
to the altar of the church or temple was safe from his foe. So now,
that persecuted saint who takes refuge in the presence of God is in
"a little sanctuary." "In the time of trouble He shall hide me in His
tabernacle; yea, in the secret place of His dwelling shall He hide me."
(Ps. xxvii. 5.) "He shall defend thee under His wings, and thou shalt
be safe under His feathers." (Ps. xci. 4.) Safe in that sanctuary, and
hidden under those wings, we may bid defiance to Satan and all his
crew. The Lord shall fight for us, and we shall hold our peace. (Ex.
xiv. 14.)
Let us, then, go boldly forward in the race set before us; watchful
indeed and wary, but trusting in the power and love of our Captain, who
knows our temptations and trials far better than we ourselves. "In that
He Himself hath suffered being tempted, He is able to succor them that
are tempted." (Heb. ii. 18.) Let us cultivate sense of God's Presence.
Believe me, it is a thing to be cultivated. "If God be for us, who can
be against us?" His power is on our side so soon as our will is united
to His will by faith and an honest intention.
Let us always remember, for our comfort, that temptations are not
sins, else would our Lord not have been without sin. It is only when
our wills consent to them that they become so. "You cannot keep those
birds from flying over your head," said John Wesley to a young disciple
who asked for counsel on this subject, "but you can keep them from
making nests in your hair.", But never, "never" play or trifle with
temptation. Never willfully put yourself in its way. When you do, you
give Satan an advantage of which he is not slow to avail himself. It is
a story told by some author of antiquity that the devil once entered
into a young Christian woman who was present at a show of gladiators.
Being summoned to leave her, he refused, declaring that he had found
her on his ground, and she was therefore his lawful prey. We may face
all the hosts of hell when our Lord's business makes it needful, and
we may be sure that in doing so we have the Lord on our side; but if
we cross willfully the line between right and wrong in the pursuit of
pleasure or business, we have no right to think that God's presence
will go with us there. Nay, we should be careful not to approach that
line too closely. In time of war, the safe place is not near the front,
and above all not on the neutral ground between the armies. There we
shall probably be treated as the enemy of both sides. Let our abiding
be on the everlasting hills of God's truth and law, where His sun
always shines, and where no foe can ever come.
Ps. xci. 1 Peter v.
_FOURTH SATURDAY IN LENT._
_HEARTINESS._
IN the collect which we have been considering, we find an old-fashioned
word which means a great deal. We ask God to look upon our "hearty"
desires. A hearty desire is one into which we put our whole heart.
There may be many things which we would like well enough to have for
our own. There are many wishes which we should be pleased to have
gratified. But, after all, we do not care enough about them to make any
special effort in the matter. But when we heartily desire a thing, we
work for it. We take every means to bring about the gratification of
our wish, and we do not easily give up and sit down contented without
it.
It is so in religious matters. A careless or worldly man may have at
times an uneasy feeling that all is not right with him. He hears a
rousing sermon perhaps. Some friend or acquaintance dies suddenly,
and he wonders how he would fare if the same fate should overtake
himself. He thinks he really will take time to consider the matter at
some future day when he shall not be so busy. He even tries to pray a
little, though he does not know well how to set about it. But his heart
is not in the matter, and the impression soon passes away, leaving the
man in a worse case than before; for, be it observed, nothing hardens
the heart like a stifled conviction.
It is to be feared that this half-heartedness is the true reason why so
many prayers are unanswered, and why so many professed disciples of our
Lord have so little comfort in their religion, and do so little credit
to their profession. They are half-hearted. They have no earnestness
in the matter, and would even think such earnestness out of place, and
fanatical. They can show and feel enough of enthusiasm on the subject
of a business enterprise, a game of baseball, a new fashion, a new
opera-singer; but speak to such an one of enthusiasm in religious
matters, and he will look at you in amazement, and think you a little
cracked. He professes to believe all the articles of the Christian
faith, and bows his head in the creed with all propriety—in church; but
talk to him of Heaven and Hell, of the love of God, and the judgments
of God as present realities, and you make him uncomfortable. He becomes
conscious of his own deficiencies, and the feeling is not agreeable. He
will get away as soon he can, and probably call you a Methodist behind
your back, if he does not do so to your face.
This half-heartedness is a fatal hindrance to growth in grace. I fear
many pray for holy hearts, who would, after all, be sorry to have
them. A man prays for grace to cast away the works of darkness, but
there are, perhaps, certain works of darkness which are profitable in
a business point of view, and he has no desire to cast them away. A
woman asks that she may perceive and know what things she ought to do,
but she is conscious of certain duties half hidden in the background of
her mind and conscience, on which she does not care to be enlightened,
because the fulfilling of them would be inconvenient. She prays for
grace to withstand the world, but she does not really wish to withstand
it, because she loves some of its gifts, and does not mean to throw
them away. So people go on, trying to serve two masters, to please God
and themselves, and getting no real satisfaction from either. They
wonder what those mean who talk of the blessedness of service, of
communion with God, of comfort in affliction, and the like, and are
tempted to regard all such utterances either as fanaticism or pretence,
because there is nothing in their own experience to correspond with
them.
Is it any wonder that such prayers are not answered, and that such
service is not blessed? Would you like it yourself in a child or
servant? Surely not.
Let me beg of you, dear fellow-servant of our blessed Master, to
examine yourself in this matter, and see if you do not find therein the
reason why you have no more comfort in your religion; no more peace and
joy and readiness to work for Him who has wrought such great things
for us. Is the sign of the cross still on your forehead, or have the
kisses of the world worn it away? Do you really and truly "love" God as
you love your husband or children, if you have them? Are you ready to
sacrifice anything for Him? Suppose that He should offer to release you
at this moment from every sin, would you be willing to have Him do it?
This whole-hearted service no doubt has its trials. Our Lord Himself
has told us that. "All that would live godly in Jesus Christ shall
suffer persecution." (2 Tim. iii. 12.) "If they have called the master
of the house Beelzebub, how much more shall they call them of His
household?" (St. Matt. x. 25.) You cannot be faithful to the great
King without offending His enemies. You cannot really renounce the
world without angering the world. You may not have to meet with such
persecutions as the early disciples did, but you will probably be
called peculiar, affected, Methodistical. But fear nothing. You may,
and probably will, meet with even more serious assaults. Satan will
rage when he sees you in earnest, and try his best to bar your path,
or win you away from it. But again I say, never fear. The Lord is on
your side, and will stretch out His right hand to be your defense.
He will feed you with the hidden manna, and give you to drink of the
water of Life freely. You shall receive the mystical gift; the white
stone wherein is a name written, which no man knoweth saving he that
receiveth it. (Rev. ii. 17.) Passing through the valley of misery, you
shall use it for a well. The wilderness of this world shall blossom as
the rose, and the thorny road lead you surely to the city of the great
King.
Isa. xii. Rev. ii.
_FOURTH SUNDAY IN LENT._
_REFRESHMENT._
MID-LENT Sunday is also called Refreshment Sunday—a very old name,
probably given with reference to the subject of the Gospel for the
day, which is the feeding of the five thousand on the lake of Galilee.
Dr. Gouldburn, in his invaluable book on the collects, has shown the
connection between the collect, Epistle, and Gospel for the day, all of
which are full of matter for reflection. Let us for the present confine
our attention to the Gospel, and try, by reverent consideration, to
make real to ourselves this wonderful miracle of our Lord's, and see
what lesson it has for us.
It had been a time of special activity for our Lord and His more
immediate followers. The apostles had just returned from their first
preaching mission. Two by two, they had passed through the lands of
Judah and Galilee, preaching the glad tidings of the Kingdom of Heaven,
healing the sick, restoring the deaf and blind, and casting out evil
spirits in the name of Jesus. I think of two homely, travel-stained
men arriving at nightfall, perhaps, in some lonely little village, and
asking the hospitality which was not at such a time likely to be denied
them. There is nothing about them to distinguish them from any common
wayfarers, as they partake of the plain fare set before them. But there
is a cloud over the faces of the hosts. The elder son, the prop of
their age, lies on a bed of sickness, and the physician has said that
there is no release for him save by death. The guests rise and go to
the bedside of the sufferer, who is perhaps hardly conscious of their
presence, and one of them takes him by the hand.
"In the name of Jesus of Nazareth, I bid thee arise and walk."
In a moment the dull eyes brighten, the pale cheek flushes, the
helpless limbs feel new life, and the young man rises, and throws aside
the useless covering, a well man. The amazing news spreads from house
to house, and soon the whole village is gathered to hear and see these
wonderful strangers. A woman, weeping over her dead babe, hears the
news, and thinks—
"Oh, had they but come before my child died!"
Then a strange ray of hope darts into her mind. The strangers have
cured one as good as dead. May they perhaps waken the dead also? At all
events, it will do no harm to ask them. She wraps herself in her veil,
and goes forth bearing the little waxen corpse, and returns with her
child safe and smiling in her arms.
Many such stories must the apostles have had to relate to their Master
on their return; some tales, possibly, of rejection and scorn from
those they would have blest.
But their meeting was destined to be interrupted by sad tidings. The
disciples of John the Baptist had heard of the death of their leader,
slain by the wiles of a vile woman. They had been permitted by Herod to
pay the last sad duties to his body, and that done there was one thing
more remaining to them. They "went and told Jesus." Where could they
go, save to that wonderful Being to whom their own revered leader had
borne witness, and whose forerunner he had always called himself? We
are not told in what words He comforted them. But we know how He showed
His consideration for their weariness. "Come ye apart into a desert
place, and rest awhile." (S. Mark vi. 31.)
I have often thought, if I were to preach an Ash Wednesday sermon, I
would choose these words for my text. It is the call which the Church
addresses to her children on that day: "Come!" she says. "Come from
the hurry of business, and the worse and more distracting hurry of
pleasure. Leave your cares behind you for a time. Let the world take
care of itself. It will do well enough without you, as it did before
you were born, and will do after you are dead. Come into a desert place
as yet unspoiled by man, and rest awhile."