It is independent of Matter, or Space, or Time. That which I love in
my friend is not that which I see. What influences me in my friend is
not his body but his spirit. He influences me about as much in his
absence as in his presence. It would have been an ineffable experience
truly to have lived at that time--
"I think when I read the sweet story of old,
How when Jesus was here among men,
He took little children like lambs to His fold,
I should like to have been with Him then.
"I wish that His hand had been laid on my head,
That His arms had been thrown around me,
And that I had seen His kind look when he said,
'Let the little ones come unto me.'"
And yet, if Christ were to come into the world again, few of us
probably would ever have a chance of seeing Him. Millions of her
subjects in the little country of England have never seen their own
Queen. And there would be millions of the subjects of Christ who could
never get within speaking distance of Him if He were here. We remember
He said: "It is expedient for you (not _for Me_) that I go away";
because by going away He could really be nearer to us than He would
have been if He had stayed here. It would be geographically and
physically impossible for most of us to be influenced by His person
had He remained. And so our communion with Him is a spiritual
companionship; but not different from most companionships, which, when
you press them down to the roots, you will find to be essentially
spiritual.
All friendship, all love, human and Divine, is purely spiritual. It
was after He was risen that He influenced even the disciples most.
Hence, in reflecting the character of Christ, it is no real obstacle
that we may never have been in visible contact with Himself.
There lived once a young girl whose perfect grace of character was the
wonder of those who knew her. She wore on her neck a gold locket which
no one was ever allowed to open. One day, in a moment of unusual
confidence, one of her companions was allowed to touch its spring and
learn its secret. She saw written these words--
"_Whom having not seen I love_."
That was the secret of her beautiful life. She had been changed into
the Same Image.
Now this is not imitation, but a much deeper thing. Mark this
distinction, for the difference in the process, as well as in the
result, may be as great as that between a photograph secured by the
infallible pencil of the sun, and the rude outline from a school-boy's
chalk. Imitation is mechanical, reflection organic. The one is
occasional, the other habitual. In the one case, man comes to God and
imitates him; in the other, God comes to man and imprints Himself upon
him. It is quite true that there is an imitation of Christ which
amounts to reflection. But Paul's term includes all that the other
holds, and is open to no mistake.
What, then, is the practical lesson? It is obvious. "Make Christ your
most constant companion"--this is what it practically means for us. Be
more under His influence than under any other influence. Ten minutes
spent in His society every day, ay, two minutes if it be face to face,
and heart to heart, will make the whole day different. Every character
has an inward spring,--let Christ be it. Every action has a
key-note,--let Christ set it.
Yesterday you got a certain letter. You sat down and wrote a reply
which almost scorched the paper. You picked the cruelest adjectives
you knew and sent it forth, without a pang to do its ruthless work.
You did that because your life was set in the wrong key. You began the
day with the mirror placed at the wrong angle.
Tomorrow at day-break, turn it towards Him, and even to your enemy the
fashion of your countenance will be changed. Whatever you then do, one
thing you will find you could not do--you could not write that letter.
Your first impulse may be the same, your judgment may be unchanged,
but if you try it the ink will dry on your pen, and you will rise from
your desk an unavenged, but a greater and more Christian man.
Throughout the whole day your actions, down to the last detail, will
do homage to that early vision.
Yesterday you thought mostly about yourself. Today the poor will meet
you, and you will feed them. The helpless, the tempted, the sad, will
throng about you, and each you will befriend. Where were all these
people yesterday? Where they are today, but you did not see them. It
is in reflected light that the poor are seen. But your soul today is