I once heard a sermon by a distinguished preacher upon "Rest." It was
full of beautiful thoughts; but when I came to ask myself, "How does
he say I can get Rest?" there was no answer. The sermon was sincerely
meant to be practical, yet it contained no experience that seemed to
me to be tangible, nor any advice that I could grasp--any advice, that
is to say, which could help me to find the thing itself as I went
about the world.
Yet this omission of what is, after all, the only important problem,
was not the fault of the preacher. The whole popular religion is in
the twilight here. And when pressed for really working specifics for
the experiences with which it deals, it falters, and seems to lose
itself in mist.
The want of connection between the great words of religion and
every-day life has bewildered and discouraged all of us. Christianity
possesses the noblest words in the language; its literature overflows
with terms expressive of the greatest and happiest moods which can
fill the soul of man. Rest, Joy, Peace, Faith, Love, Light--these
words occur with such persistency in hymns and prayers that an
observer might think they formed the staple of Christian experience.
But on coming to close quarters with the actual life of most of us,
how surely would he be disenchanted. I do not think we ourselves are
aware how much our religious life is