Produced by Al Haines
SERMONS ON BIBLICAL CHARACTERS
BY
REV. CLOVIS G. CHAPPELL, D.D.
RICHARD R. SMITH, INC.
NEW YORK
1930
COPYRIGHT, 1922,
BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
SERMONS ON BIBLICAL CHARACTERS. II
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
CONTENTS
I THE MISSING MAN--THOMAS
II THE GREAT REFUSAL--JONAH
III THE ROMANCE OF FAITH--PETER
IV LOVE'S LONGING--PAUL
V GOING VISITING--JONATHAN
VI THE WOMAN OF THE SHATTERED ROMANCES--THE WOMAN OF SYCHAR
VII A GOOD MAN--BARNABAS
VIII THE INQUEST--PHARAOH
IX A SON OF SHAME--JEPHTHAH
X A CASE OF BLUES--ELIJAH
XI THE SUPREME QUESTION--THE PHILIPPIAN JAILER
XII THE MOTHER-IN-LAW--NAOMI
XIII CONFESSIONS OF A FAILURE--THE BUSY MAN
XIV A MOTHER'S REWARD--JOCHEBED
XV A GOOD MAN'S HELL--MANASSEH
XVI A SHREWD FOOL--THE RICH FARMER
SERMONS ON BIBLICAL CHARACTERS
I
THE MISSING MAN--THOMAS
_John 20:24_
"Thomas, one of the twelve, called Didymus, was not with them when
Jesus came." Did you notice the name of this man who was missing? Who
was it when the little company met after the crucifixion that was not
there? There was a man expected who failed to come. Who was this man?
When the little company gathered in the upper room behind shut doors
there was one chair that was vacant. Who should have occupied that
chair?
Well, in the first place, it was not Judas. He was missing. He was
not there, it is true, but he was not expected. Judas had already
betrayed his Lord. Judas had already been whipped and scourged by his
remorse of conscience clean out of the world. Judas had gone to his
own place in the great Unseen Country. Judas was not there, but he was
not expected to be there.
Who was the missing man? It was not Pilate. We no more expected
Pilate than we expected Judas. Pilate had had his chance at Jesus.
Pilate had had an opportunity of knowing, of befriending Him, of
serving Him. But Pilate had allowed his own interests to get the
better of his conscience. Pilate had chosen the friendship of Caesar
and had spurned the friendship of the King Eternal. So we did not
expect Pilate to be present in this little company of the friends of
Jesus who met on the resurrection side of the cross. Who was the
missing man? It was not Caiaphas. He, too, had stood in the presence
of Jesus, but his envy had made him blind. And he shouted "Blasphemy!"
so loud that he drowned the voice of his conscience and the gentle
whisperings of the Spirit of God. No, it was not Caiaphas, nor any of
the indifferent or hostile crowd that we miss in this meeting.
Then, who was this missing man? And we read the text again and we find
his name was Thomas. That is a very familiar name. Oh, yes; we
remember Thomas quite well. It was Thomas who was missing. Now,
Thomas was expected, for he was a member of the little band of
disciples. He was one of the Twelve. He belonged to the Inner Circle.
His fellow Christians had a right therefore to expect him. Yet Thomas
was not with them.
It is a sad day ever for any congregation when its own membership begin
to absent themselves from its services. It is a sad day for any
congregation when those who compose it can be counted on to be there at
the social function, there at the place of business, but cannot be
counted on when the interests of the Kingdom are at stake and when the
Son of God goes forth to war. Believe me, no community ever loses
respect for a congregation till that congregation loses respect for
itself.
And did you notice when it was that Thomas was absent? "Thomas was not
with them when Jesus came." What an unfortunate time to be away! What
a great calamity to have missed that service of all others! There was
the little despondent, despairing company of ten meeting behind closed
doors. They were sorrow-burdened and fear-filled. But Jesus came, and
Thomas, the saddest and bitterest man of them all, was not there.
Of course he would have gone if he had had any idea what a wonderful
service it was going to be. If he had even dreamed that Jesus would be
there, of course he would not have missed it; but he expected the
meeting to be a very dull affair. He felt confident that whoever else
was there that there would be no Christ. He expected that Peter and
James and John and the rest would meet there and talk of a glorious
past that had gone forever. He would have said, "Yes, I know what they
will say. They will tell how Jesus called them at the beginning. They
will tell how they forsook all to follow Him. They will tell of the
great dreams that they dreamed, of the high hopes that they cherished.
They will tell of all the glad, radiant days that have 'dropped into
the sunset.' But they will have nothing to say to relieve the
bitterness of to-day or to fling a bow of hope upon the black skies of
to-morrow. So I will not go to the meeting to-day."
But the meeting was not dull. The meeting was not sad. The meeting
was not a lament for a glory that was passed, for a glad day that had
slipped behind them forever more. It was a service that thrilled with
present joys. It was a meeting that made the future to glow with
glorious possibilities. It was wonderful, because Jesus came. He came
then, and He comes still. Wherever hungry hearts come together who
yearn for Him and make Him welcome, there comes the blessed Christ to
stand in the midst. And therefore I would not absent myself from the
meeting together of the people of God. I would not because I want to
be there when Jesus comes, when the King comes in to see the guests.
"Thomas was not with them when Jesus came." I wonder why it was that
Thomas was missing. I wonder how it came about that he, the neediest
man among the apostles, was not there to receive the inspiration and
the uplift that came from this service. Why was he not there?
It was not, I am sure, because he was indifferent. There are many
to-day who have separated themselves from the services of the church,
from the fellowship of the saints, because of a deadening indifference.
They have become absorbed in a thousand other matters till they have
become doubly uninterested in the things of the church and in the
affairs of the Kingdom.
Thomas was not missing because he had found satisfaction elsewhere.
Thomas was not satisfied. Thomas was not happy. I doubt if there was
a sadder man in all Jerusalem than Thomas. I doubt if there was a more
wretched man in the wide world at that time than was Thomas. Thomas
had not turned aside from Jesus to satisfy his soul on husks. He had
not left Christ because his needs had been met and his thirst satisfied
at some other fountain.
Why was Thomas missing? He was missing because he had lost hope. He
believed that Christ was dead. He believed that the cause for which he
had stood was lost and lost forever more. He believed that right was
forever defeated; that wrong was forever enthroned. Over his head was
a blackened sky. For him there was not one single ray of light nor one
single gleam of hope.
If I had met Thomas on the streets of Jerusalem on that day and said,
"Thomas, I saw your friends going together to the Upper Room. Aren't
you going? Jesus might come while they are there," Thomas would have
answered, "No, I'm not going. Jesus will not be there. He is dead.
Don't you know if I thought I would see Him I would go? Don't you know
that I loved Him and love Him still better than life, but Jesus is
dead. Dead! Dead!
"I was in the garden when Judas kissed Him. I saw them lead Him away.
I saw the soldiers scourge Him. I saw Him crowned with the crown of
thorns. I was out on Calvary when the black night came on at midday
and I heard that wild, bitter cry. Oh! I will hear it forever more:
'My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?' I saw His head bowed and
I saw the brute of a soldier thrust the spear into His side. Don't
talk to me about seeing Jesus again. Jesus is dead."
The very bitterness of the sorrow of Thomas had driven him to despair.
He found it hard to believe always. Here he found it impossible. Now,
there are some folks who are sweetened by sorrow and made better.
There are others that are made bitter and morose and despairful. I
heard a man cry one day, an awful cry "Oh, I could curse God," he said,
"if I knew there was a God, for letting little Mary die!" For Thomas
everything had collapsed. There was not a star in his sky. There was
not a horizon in his life in which he might hope for a dawn. So that
he, the neediest man of them all, was not there when Jesus came.
And now, will you see what he missed. Truly, the man was right who did
not wonder what people suffered, but wondered at what they missed. And
just see what this man Thomas missed by not being in the little meeting
among the ten. First, he missed the privilege of seeing Jesus. He
missed the privilege of seeing Him who had throttled Death and hell and
the grave and had brought life and immortality to light through the
Gospel. He missed seeing Him, one vision of whose face would have
changed his sobbing into singing and his night into marvelous day.
He missed seeing Jesus, and failing to see Him, he missed the glorious
certainty of the after life. It is Christ, my friends, that makes
Heaven and the eternal life sure for us. It is He who enables men to
go down into the great silence without a doubt and without a fear. It
is He who makes us absolutely confident that there is a Home of the
Soul, that--
"There is a land of pure delight
Where saints immortal reign."
Having seen Him once dead and alive forever more, we have no slightest
doubt of the truth of His promise that, because He lives we shall live
also.
By staying away that day Thomas missed the thrill of a great joy. Had
he been there he might have seen the Lord. This is not a possibility
in every service, possibly, but it ought to be. It is a possibility in
every successful service. I heard of a preacher once who thought that
what his congregation wanted was beautiful epigrams. He thought that
they were more hungry for bejeweled verbiage than for the Bread of
Life. He thought they were thirsting more for a stream of eloquence
than for the Water of Life. But he was mistaken. And once he came
into the pulpit to find a card lying before him on which was written
this word: "Sir, we would know Jesus."
At first it angered him a bit and then it made him think. And then it
sent him to his knees. And then it sent him into the pulpit with a new
message. And one day he came again into his pulpit to find a second
card before him. Picking it up, he read these words: "Then were the
disciples glad when they saw the Lord." Of course they were. Their
gladness was the gladness of the ten that met in the Upper Room. Their
gladness was the gladness that might have been experienced by Thomas.
It was intended for him, for he was the saddest and most wretched man
in Jerusalem. But Thomas was not there.
Thomas missed also the gift of peace. Jesus said to those present,
"Peace be unto you." And how Thomas needed that gift! Thomas was in a
fever of restlessness and wretchedness. He was whipped by a veritable
tempest of doubt and utter unbelief. And all the while he might have
had the peace that passeth understanding. He might have had the vision
of Him who stood then, and still stands, the central figure of the
ages, saying, "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and
I will give you rest." Those present that day were blessed with the
gift of peace. They had "fervor without fever." They had motion
without friction. But Thomas missed it because "he was not with them
when Jesus came."
The disciples who were there were re-commissioned that day. Jesus said
to them, "As the Father hath sent me, even so send I you." With His
death everything seemed at an end. The great program that He had given
them seemed to have lapsed forever. A man said a few years ago, "Life
doesn't seem worth living since I found that Christianity is not true."
It was so with these men. They were men without a goal. But Jesus
came and recommissioned them, laid upon them again the high task of
conquering the world. And Thomas missed that great blessing because he
was not there.
Last of all, Jesus breathed upon them and said, "Receive ye the Holy
Ghost." These men were not only recommissioned. They received the
Holy Ghost. "He breathed on them." How close they came to Him that
day! How their hearts were warmed! How their hopes were revived! "He
breathed on them and said, Receive ye the Holy Ghost." And poor Thomas
missed also this benediction because he was not with them when Jesus
came.
It may be that you were once active in the church. It may be that you
were once a live and enthusiastic Christian. But little by little you
have slipped back. You have moved to strange places. Your life has
been thrown in great cities. And you have missed the fellowships of
yesterday out of your life. It may be that to-day you are no longer
found regularly among the worshipers in God's House. You are missing
something. Don't deceive yourself. As the saints of God meet together
Jesus still manifests Himself. And seeing Him, there comes to us a new
joy and peace, a new sense of the purpose and worthfulness of life.
Seeing Him there comes to us a new power for battle and for conquest.
But if we have missed Him, whatever else we have won, we have missed
about all that is worth while. Oh, there is one thing of which I am
absolutely sure, and that is that if I have Jesus, if His presence is a
gladsome reality to my heart, nothing else matters much. But if I miss
Him everything goes wrong and everything is disappointing. Darius is
in the palace and Daniel in the den of lions, but there is restlessness
and wretchedness in the palace and peace and joy in the lions' den. It
is the presence of God that makes the difference.
Thomas, because he missed receiving, also missed the privilege of
giving. When the other disciples came from that meeting, how radiant
were their faces! What a spring they had in their step! What joy
bringers they were! What a marvelously thrilling story they had to
tell! Freely had they received and freely did they give.
But Thomas. He had received nothing, therefore he had nothing to give.
He was a disappointment to his Master. For a whole week he went
doubting Him, mistrusting Him, when it was his privilege to have walked
into His fellowship and been as sure of His reality and of His nearness
as he was of his own existence.
In the second place, he missed the privilege of helping his fellow
disciples. What an encouragement he might have been to them! How it
would have strengthened the faith of those Christians who had not yet
seen the vision of their risen Lord to have seen the light even upon
the gloomy face of Thomas! But Thomas missed the privilege of giving.
I cannot rob myself without robbing you. I cannot starve myself
spiritually without helping to starve you. I cannot sin alone. If I
do that which lowers my spiritual vitality, by that very act I help to
lower yours also. "Thomas was not with them when Jesus came," and he
missed a double blessing, the privilege of receiving and the privilege
of giving.
But Thomas, in spite of his failure, succeeded in the end. Tradition
tells us that he died a martyr for his love and devotion to his Lord.
How was he saved? How was he brought to the joy and usefulness that
are born of certainty? Thomas, you know, was a doubter. A very
thoroughgoing doubter he was. How then, in spite of his doubts, did he
find his way into the fulness of the Light?
First, Thomas was not proud of his doubts. He did not look upon them
as blessings or as treasures. There is a type of doubter to-day who
does. I have heard men speak of "my doubts" as if they were very
priceless things. But no man is of necessity the richer for his
doubts. I know that doubt may become a doorway to a larger faith.
Still, I repeat, no man is of necessity the richer for them. For
instance, no man is the richer because of his social doubts. The man
who does not believe in his fellow man is poor indeed. The man who has
doubts about the inmates of his home suffers something of the pangs of
hell. And the man who doubts God can hardly consider himself the
possessor of a prize to be coveted. Thomas doubted, but he was not
proud of his doubts.
Thomas was not only not proud of his doubts, but was thoroughly
wretched on account of them. And being thoroughly wretched because of
them, he was willing to be set right. He wanted to believe. It seems
to me that any man would. Thomas was eager to be made sure that the
Christ he loved was really alive. He yearned for certainty.
Thomas was not only willing, but Thomas was reasonable. When he sought
to be sure of Jesus he put himself in the best possible position to
learn the truth. When he wanted to be made sure of Christ he did not
seek knowledge at the hands of the enemies of Christ. He did not ask
information of those who were confessed strangers to Christ. So often
we do. We get in the grip of doubt and straightway we turn from the
fellowship of those who know the Lord to the fellowship of those who
confessedly do not know Him. We read those books that strengthen our
doubts rather than those that strengthen our faith. But Thomas was
wiser.
"Thomas, we have seen the Lord." That is what Peter and James and John
and the rest said to Thomas after this wonderful service that Thomas
missed. And what was the answer of this doubter? Did his face light
up as he said, "I am glad to hear it"? Not a bit of it. He said,
"Except I see in His hand the print of the nails and put my finger into
the print of the nails and thrust my hand into His side I will not
believe." And what Thomas meant by this answer was simply this: "There
is nothing that you can say or do that will make me believe at all. I
simply cannot believe and cannot be made to believe that Jesus has
risen."
Now I do not think that his fellow disciples argued With him. Really
it would have done no good. They simply left him to his own thoughts.
And I fancy that those thoughts ran something after this fashion: "What
they say is not true. They are mistaken. Of course they are. They
must be. And yet they certainly believe in the truth of what they say.
God grant that they are right. There is nothing that I would not give
to know."
Then what did this honest and earnest doubter do? Listen! "And after
eight days again the disciples were within and Thomas with them." Yes,
Thomas is a doubter. But he is an honest and hungry-hearted doubter.
He is willing to give himself every opportunity to know the truth. He
says, "I will turn my face toward the east. Then if there is a dawn I
will see it." And what happened? The dawning came. The sun rose,
"even the Son of righteousness with healing in His wings." "Then came
Jesus, the doors being shut, and stood in the midst, and said, Peace be
unto you. Then saith He to Thomas, Reach hither thy finger and behold
my hands, and reach hither thy hand, and thrust it into my side; and be
not faithless, but believing. And Thomas answered and said unto Him,
My Lord and my God."
Thomas became absolutely certain. It is my firm conviction that that
same certainty is your privilege and mine. I believe that Jesus spoke
the simple truth when He said, "If any man is willing to do His will,
he shall know." However little you may believe at this present moment,
if you will be loyal to what you do believe, if you will follow the
light that you have, it will bring you into the brightness of the day.
You remember how Horace Bushnell, while a student at Yale, felt that he
was in the way of a great revival that was sweeping through the
University. He did not want to stand in the way of this revival and
yet he was an unbeliever. He did not feel that he could come out on
the side of Jesus Christ for he did not believe in Christ. "What then
do you believe?" a voice within him seemed to ask. "I believe there is
an absolute difference between right and wrong," was the answer. "Have
you ever put yourself on the side of the right to follow it regardless
of consequences?" was the next question. "I have not," was the answer,
"but I will." So Horace Bushnell kneeled there in his room and
dedicated himself to the service of the right. And what was the
result? After he had been a preacher of the Gospel in Hartford,
Connecticut, for forty-seven years he said, "Better than I know any man
in Hartford I know Jesus Christ."
When I was a lad I was overtaken by darkness while some eight or ten
miles from home. The night was intensely black, so much so that I lost
my way absolutely. I found myself after some hours in a dense forest.
I made up my mind to dismount from my horse and sleep on the ground, as
I saw no chance of finding my way home.
But I had no sooner dismounted than the lightning began to flash and
the thunder to roar and I was warned of an approaching storm. A little
later the storm burst upon me. And I mounted and rode on through the
dark, not knowing whither I went. At last, far past midnight, I saw a
speck of light in the distance. That light did not look at all like a
sunrise. It was as small as a needle point. And yet I followed it
because it was all I could see on the black bosom of the darkness. A
little later I found that that light was shining from a window in my
own home. A little later still I found my anxious mother behind that
light waiting for the home-coming of her boy.
Now, I did not have much light to begin with. It was pathetically
meager. But as I followed it it led me home. Thomas had but little.
Bushnell had but little. But they were willing to be true to the light
that they had. And being true to it, they found the fullness of the
light. For it was true then as it is true to-day, "if any man is
willing to do His will, he shall know."
II
THE GREAT REFUSAL--JONAH
_Jonah 1:1-3_
There is doubtless not another book in the literature of the world that
has suffered more at the hands of men than the book of Jonah. It has
been tortured by its enemies and wounded in the house of its friends.
We have been so prone to give our attention to the non-essential in the
book rather than the essential. We have had such keen eyes for the
seemingly ridiculous and the bizarre. For this reason it has come to
pass that you can hardly mention the name of Jonah to a modern audience
without provoking a smile. Thus Jonah, coming to us as an evangelist,
is mistaken by many for a clown.
Now this is a calamity. It is a calamity in the first place because
the book of Jonah is one of the gems of literature. There is not
another book in the Old Testament that is more fragrant with the breath
of inspiration. There is not another book more radiant with the light
of the divine love. It is a wonderful gospel in itself. Therefore it
is a great pity that we have turned from its winsome wealth to give
ourselves to the unedifying task of measuring the size of a fish's
throat.
Did you ever hear of the hungry men that were invited to a feast? When
they came within the banquet hall they found the table spread with the
viands of a king. But the table was a bit out of the ordinary.
Therefore, there arose a discussion over the material out of which it
was made. These guests began heated arguments also over the method of
its carpentry. And they argued so long and learnedly and well that the
food went utterly to waste and they went away more hungry than when
they had come.
There is a story of a prince who loved a beautiful peasant girl. In
spite of his royal blood he determined to marry her. To seal his
pledge of marriage he sent her a wonderful engagement ring. It was a
gem so marvelous that it was said the stars shut their eyes in its
presence and even the sun acknowledged it as a rival. But the girl was
more interested in the beautiful box in which it was packed than she
was in the ring. And when the prince came he was humiliated and
disappointed to find her wearing the box tied upon her finger while the
jewel had been neglected and forgotten and utterly lost.
Now there is real jewelry here. Let us forget the rather queer casket
in which this jewel comes while we examine the treasure. "The word of
the Lord came unto Jonah the son of Ammittai, saying, Arise, go to
Nineveh, that great city, and cry against it; for its wickedness has
come up before me." "The word of the Lord came unto Jonah." There is
nothing crude about that statement. There is nothing in that to excite
our ridicule. That is one of the blessed and thrilling truths of the
ages. To this man Jonah, living some time, somewhere, God spoke. To
this man God made known His will and holy purpose.
And God is speaking still. The word of God is coming to men and women
to-day. There is not a single soul listening to me at this moment but
what at some time in your life there has come a definite and sure word
from God. You have felt the impress of His Spirit upon your own
spirit. You have felt the touch of His hand on yours. You have seen
His finger pointing to the road in which you ought to walk and to the
task that He was calling upon you to perform.
How this word came to Jonah we do not know, nor do we need to know. It
may have come to him through the consciousness of another's need. It
may have come to him through a study of the Word. It may have come to
him through the call of a friend. How it came is not the essential
thing. The one thing essential and fundamental is this, that the word
did come. That is the essential thing in your case and in mine. God
does speak to us. God does move upon us. God does call us, command
us. God does stir us up. "The word of the Lord came unto Jonah," and
it comes this very moment to you and to me.
What was it that the Lord said to Jonah? He gave him a strange and
unwelcome command. He said, "Arise and go to Nineveh, that great city,
and cry against it, for its wickedness has come up before me." It was
hard for Jonah to believe that he had heard aright. Was it possible
that Nineveh was a great city in spite of the fact that it was a
heathen city? Was it possible that Nineveh grieved God because of its
wickedness? Could it be possible that God really loved Nineveh, though
it was outside the covenant? Jonah did not want to believe this, but
he had to believe it. He had to realize that
"The love of God is wider than the measure of man's mind
And the heart of the Eternal is most wonderfully kind."
Jonah did not want to undertake this mission. His objection, however,
did not grow out of the fear that Nineveh would refuse to repent. His
reluctance was not born of the conviction that there was nothing in the
people of Nineveh to which his message would appeal. I know we are
often hampered by that conviction. We feel that it is absolutely
useless to preach to some folks. There is no use in trying to
christianize Africa. There is no use even in trying to christianize
some of our next door neighbors. We so often forget that there is in
every man an insatiable hunger and an unquenchable thirst that none but
God can satisfy.
But to Jonah this call was unwelcome because he feared that Nineveh
might repent. And that he did not want Nineveh to do. Jonah believed
that God was the God of Israel only. He believed that God blessed
Israel in two ways. First, He blessed her by giving her gifts
spiritual and temporal. And He blessed her, in the second place, by
sending calamities upon her enemies. An abundant harvest in Israel was
a blessing from the Lord. A famine in Nineveh was also a blessing from
the Lord. Jonah was firmly convinced that the prosperity of a nation
other than his own meant calamity to Israel.
It is a pity that this selfish belief did not perish with Jonah. But
when we face the facts we know that it did not. It is a very human
trait in us to feel that another's advancement is in some way a blow to
ourselves. It is equally a human trait to feel that another's downfall
and disgrace in some way adds a bit of luster to our own crowns. Of
course, nothing could be more utterly false, but in spite of this fact
we cling to that faith through all the passing centuries.
On the whole this duty, then, that God had put upon Jonah was so
distasteful that he made up his mind that whatever it might cost him he
would not obey. Therefore, we read that he "rose up to flee unto
Tarshish from the presence of the Lord." Ordered to Nineveh he sets
out for Tarshish. There were two cities on his map and only two.
There was Nineveh, the city to which he might go in the fellowship of
God and within the circle of the will of God. There was also Tarshish,
the city that lay at the end of the rebel's road, the city whose
streets, if ever he walked them at all, he would walk without the
fellowship of the God whom he had disobeyed.
And there are just two cities on your map. The Nineveh of obedience
and the Tarshish of disobedience. You are going to Nineveh or to
Tarshish. I do not claim to know where your Nineveh is. It may be a
distant city. It may be a city across the seas whose streets you will
crimson with the blood of your sacrifice. It may be a city as near to
you as the home in which you live, as the child that nestles in your
arms. But wherever it is, if you walk its streets you will walk them
in the joy of the divine fellowship.
On the other hand, you may go to Tarshish. Tarshish is the city of
"Have-Your-Own-Way." It is the city of "Do-As-You-Please." It is the
city of "Take-it-Easy." It is the city with no garden called
Gethsemane without its gates and no rugged hill called Calvary
overlooks its walls. It is a city without a cross and yet it is a city
where people seldom sing and often sob. It is a city where nobody
looks joyously into God's face and calls Him Father.
I met Jonah that day on the wharf. He looked like he had passed
through a terrible spell of sickness. His cheeks were hollow. His
eyes were red with sleeplessness. He had a haggard, worn, hounded look
about him. "Are you on the way home, Jonah?" And he shook his head
and said, "No. I am going to Tarshish." Tarshish was the most far
away place of which the Jew had any conception. "Tarshish!" I say in
astonishment. "What are you going to do over at Tarshish?" "Oh," he
said, "I hadn't thought about that. I do not know what the future has
in store for me. What I am trying to do is to get away from God."
"And Jonah arose to flee unto Tarshish from the presence of the Lord."
I wonder why the text did not say "And Jonah arose to flee unto
Tarshish from the presence of his duty" instead of "from the presence
of the Lord." The writer of this story had real spiritual insight. He
was far clearer in his thinking than many of us. He knew that to flee
from duty was to flee from God. Whenever you make up your mind to
refuse to go where God wants you to go and to do what God wants you to
do, you must make up your mind at the same time to renounce the
friendship of God. You cannot walk with Him and at the same time be in
rebellion against Him. God has no possible way of entering into
fellowship with the soul that is disobedient to His will. Believe me,
it is absolutely useless, it is mere mockery, to say "Lord, Lord" and
then refuse to do the things that He commands you to do.
Now, when Jonah saw the spaces of water growing wider between him and
the shore a kind of deadly calm came upon him. A man with his mind
made up to do wrong is far more at rest than the man whose mind is not
made up at all. So when Jonah had fully decided that he would rebel
against God and give up all claim to God, a dreadful restfulness came
to his troubled spirit. He went down into the sides of the ship and
went fast asleep. The days before had been troubled days. The nights
had been restless nights. But the battle was over now, even though it
had been lost, and he was able at last to sleep.
This period marks, I am sure, the period of greatest danger in the life
of Jonah. Jonah had been a rebel before, but he had been a restless
rebel. He had been disobedient before, but his disobedience had
tortured him. It had put strands of gray into his hair and wrinkles
upon his brow. But now he is not only in rebellion, but he is content
to be so. He is not only without God, but he is, in a measure,
satisfied to be without Him. No greater danger can come to any man
than that. As long as your sin breaks your heart, as long as your
disobedience makes you lie awake nights and wet your pillow in tears
there is hope for you. But when you become contented with your
wickedness, when you come to believe that it is the best possible for
you, then you are in danger indeed.
Now, I am fully convinced that Jonah's danger is the danger of a great
many, both in the Church and out. You who are listening to me at this
moment are kindly and cultured men and women. You are full of good
will toward the Church. You love it and desire its prosperity. Yet
many of you are doing practically nothing to make its desired
prosperity a reality. One of the most discouraging features about the
Church to-day is the large number of utterly useless people within its
fold. And these are not only useless, but saddest of all, they are
content with their uselessness. They seem to feel that it is God's
best for them; that it is all that God expects or has a right to expect.
Did you ever make out your religious program and look at it? What does
discipleship cost you? What is involved in your allegiance to the
Lord? Coming to church once or twice a month on Sunday mornings and
making a small contribution. Only this and nothing more. The Sunday
School is not your burden. The prayer meeting is not your burden.
Visiting the new members that have recently come into our Church and
into the Kingdom and need your help is not your responsibility.
Helping by your presence and by your prayers to give spiritual fervor
to all the services, is not your responsibility. Yours is to make your
way up to the doors of the House of Many Mansions by and by without
ever having made one single costly sacrifice in order to follow the
Lord.
Are you running away from your duty this morning? You know what it is.
At least you may know it. This is a needy world. This is a needy
Church. It has an opportunity to touch the uttermost parts of the
earth if it is spiritually alive and spiritually mighty. Are you
making your contribution? Are you accepting your responsibility or
have you turned your back upon it for no other reason than just this,
that it is too much trouble? If that is true of me and if that is true
of you, may the Lord wake us up this morning and give us to see our
deadly danger.
So Jonah turned his back on his duty and turned his back on God. He
took ship for Tarshish and went to sleep. Surely his situation is
critical indeed. But though he has forgotten God, God in His mercy has
not forgotten him. God still loves Jonah, still longs for him and
still hopes for him. And so in mercy He sends a storm after him. That
was dangerous cargo that that ship had on board. It had better have
had gasoline or T N T than a rebellious prophet.
It was in mercy, I say, that the Lord sent the storm after Jonah.
Coverdale translates it, "The Lord hurled a storm into the sea." Let
us thank God for the storms that rouse us, that wake us up, that keep
us from sleeping our way into the pit. May the Lord send us any kind
of storm rather than allow us to fling ourselves eternally away from
His presence. I am so glad God will never allow a man to go
comfortably and peacefully to eternal death. He never allows any man
to be lost until He has done His best to save him.
I read some years ago of a New England farmer who was driving to town
on a cold winter's day. He overtook a woman on the way who was walking
and carrying a baby in her arms. He took her up on the seat beside
him. The cold became more bitter. He noticed after a while that the
woman replied to his questions drowsily. A little later he saw that
she was asleep. Ho knew that unless awakened she would sleep the sleep
of death. So he did what at first seemed a cruel thing. He sprang
from the wagon, dragged her out into the snow and took the child from
her clinging arms. With the child he sprang into the wagon and started
his team down the road at a trot. The woman roused herself and began
to totter feebly forward. A little later she quickened her pace. At
last she broke into a run. And as she caught up with the wagon a
little later and the farmer put the baby back into her arms, life had
come back to the mother. A temporal loss was a blessing to this woman.
Let us thank God for any losses that may come to us that will keep us
from sleeping our way to ruin.
So Jonah was down in the sides of the boat asleep. Meanwhile the
tempest was raging. Meanwhile the fear-filled crew was rubbing elbows
with death. Then a hand is clapped on Jonah's shoulder and he is being
given a vigorous shaking and a voice is calling to him. And though it
is a heathen voice it is full of rebuke. "What meanest thou, O
sleeper? How is it that you can sleep amidst all the agony, amidst all
the danger that is about us? When the situation is as it is, how is it
that you are not on your knees? Else and call upon thy God."
I wish through this message that I might take some of you who are
sleeping so soundly and peacefully and shake you awake. I wish that
God might speak through my voice to my heart and yours and say to us,
"What meanest thou, O sleeper? What do you mean by sitting idly and
stupidly in the House of God Sunday after Sunday and never doing
anything? What do you mean by having children growing up about you and
not being enough interested in their spiritual welfare to even have a
family altar? How is it that amidst the tremendous issues of moral
life and moral death that you can be as complacent and as undisturbed
as the dead? Why in the name of all that is reasonable will you
continue to 'lie like huge stones across the mouth of the sepulcher
where God is trying to raise some Lazarus from the dead?'"
That shake and that message got Jonah awake. He sprang out of his
berth and rushed upon the deck. And the sight that met him there made
a new man out of him. It changed him from a provincial Jew into a
world citizen and a missionary. What did he realize as he looked into
the pallid faces of those death threatened men about him? He forgot
all about their being heathen. He only remembered that they were one
with himself in their common danger and their common need. They were
all threatened with death. They all needed somebody to save. And, men
and women, that is true still. We folks differ in many respects, but
we are all alike in this: We have all sinned and we all need a Savior.
He not only saw that they were one in their needs but that they were
also one in their hopes. He realized what we have been so long in
realizing, and that is the oneness of the race. He came to know, even
in that distant day, that since we are one body, one member could not
suffer without all members suffering with it. He faced the fact that
his own wicked rebellion against God had not only brought wretchedness
upon himself, but that it was bringing it upon all that sailed with
him. No man ever flees from duty without incalculable hurt, not only
to himself, but to others as well.
But, thank God, the reverse is also true. If my disobedience hurts my
obedience helps. If my sin carries a curse my righteousness brings a
blessing. Here is another vessel lashed by a tempest. But the
preacher on board this time is on good terms with his God. Therefore
he puts one hand into the hand of his Lord and with the other he saves
the whole company of two hundred and seventy-six souls that sail with
him. "Be of good cheer: for there shall be no loss of any man's life
among you, but of the ship. For there stood by me this night the angel
of God, whose I am, and whom I serve, Saying, Fear not, Paul; thou must
be brought before Caesar: and, lo, God hath given thee all them that
sail with thee."
"How may the sea become calm for us," is the question. Jonah does not
offer an easy suggestion. "Cast me overboard," is the reply. The man
who a few days ago despised the heathen is now ready to die for them.
That shows that God had made him a new man. I know he backslides a bit
later, but he comes out all right in the end.
And, my brethren, God has no other method for stilling seas than that
employed by Jonah. When the tempest of this world's sin was to be
stilled there was no cheaper way than for Christ to allow himself to be
thrown overboard. When Livingstone wanted to still the tempest of
Africa he did not undertake the task from long distance. He allowed
himself to be thrown overboard. And that is the price you and I have
to pay for real service. "Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground
and die, it abideth alone; but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit."
So Jonah was cast into the sea. But by losing his life he found it. A
friend of mine told recently of an experience of his in dealing with a
British soldier in India. This soldier was seeking salvation. They
prayed together. But as they were about to separate, the soldier was
not satisfied. He staggered against the wall and prayed after this
fashion: "Lord, my sins are many. I am unworthy of thy salvation. I
am unworthy of a vision of thy face. But if there is any place that
you want some man to die for you I would count it as a great favor if
you would let me be that man." "And then suddenly," said my friend,
"the light came into his face and he was conscious of the presence of
Christ."
If you will do this to-day, stop running from God and turn and walk
with Him, you will find that Nineveh is not a city of restlessness and
wretchedness. But you will find that it is a city rich in fellowship
with God and in the blessed experience of that peace that passeth all
understanding. Which way are you going to travel from this hour? Out
of that door you will go in a moment facing toward Nineveh or toward
Tarshish. Which way will you face? May God grant that every step you
take from this hour may be toward Nineveh.
III
THE ROMANCE OF FAITH--PETER
_Matthew 14:28_
"Lord, if it be thou, bid me come unto thee on the water." I could not
tell you how many times I have read this fascinating story. I have
turned to it again and again. But in spite of its familiarity it
always grips me. I can never read it thoughtfully without a thrill. I
can never expose my soul to the vital truth of it without being helped
and made a little bit more hopeful and I trust a little bit better.
Look at the picture. Here is a little ship in the midst of a storm at
sea. A dozen men are manning the oars, battling with the tempest,
fighting through the long hours of the night with the storm-whipped
sea, fisticuffing with death, and yet getting nowhere. It has been
long hours since they left the shore. It is now three o'clock in the
morning, but they have made very little progress.
I have a fancy that they have become very tired and very discouraged.
And more than once has one said to the other, "I wish the Master were
here. If He were here He would know what to do." And then, to add to
their terror, they suddenly see their master walking from wave to wave
toward them across the sea. But he is not recognized. They take him
for a ghost and they cry out in fear.
This is not an altogether unique experience. Many times Jesus comes to
us in a way that makes us rather dread than welcome His approach.
Sometimes He comes with demands for the giving up of certain sins or
certain pleasures that we do not wish to give up. Sometimes He asks us
for services that we do not wish to render. He demands surrenders that
we do not at all desire to make. Sometimes He comes to us in the guise
of a great disappointment. He comes in the garb of a heartache that
wets our faces with tears.
The disciples, I say, were at first afraid. But Jesus calmed their
fears by saying, "It is I. Be not afraid." The Bible seems to have
been written in large measure just to still the fears of our timid
hearts. Over and over again is that message directed to us, "Fear
not." And at once fear was driven from these hearts. And in the place
of fear came, to one at least, a glorious and buoyant faith.
"Lord, if it be thou," shouted Peter, "bid me come to thee on the
water." You see the effect the presence of Christ had upon Peter. As
soon as he recognized Jesus he ceased to fear and began to hope. As
soon as he realized the presence of Christ he gave up doubt and despair
and began to believe. The presence of Christ always makes for faith.
Peter was gripped by a firm conviction that now that Christ had come
impossibilities were transmuted into possibilities.
"Bid me come to thee on the water." Peter had no disposition to climb
out of that boat before Jesus came. He had no desire to undertake this
seemingly mad task while Christ was yonder on the mountain side and the
little boat was being battered by the storm. But Christ had begotten
within him a beautiful and seemingly utterly reckless faith. That
which a moment ago was an impossibility is now altogether capable of
being accomplished.
Christ always inspires such faith in the hearts of those who really
know Him. In such faith He takes the keenest delight. There is
nothing that so pleases Him as the most daring and reckless and
romantic faith. He is never so joyed as when men trust Him with mad
abandon. Never once did He praise a prudent and conservative faith.
All His encomiums are for those who trust Him with a romantic
recklessness.
Did you happen to meet the woman with the issue of blood as she set out
to see Jesus? Well, it is good that you did not or you would have done
your best to have discouraged her. Of course you would and so would I.
"Sarah," I would have said, "are you going to ask Jesus to help you?
Are you going to seek him out and fall on your face before Him in
prayer?" "No," she would have answered, "I am not going to pray. I am
not going to ask the Master to do anything for me at all. I am simply
going to slip up behind Him when the crowd is thronging Him, and touch
His garment. I have a shamefaced disease. I want as little attention
as possible. Hence I am not going to say a single word to Jesus."
Then, I would have answered with conviction, "You will never be cured.
The Master has made no promise that He will honor a mad faith like
yours. When did He say He would heal if you merely slipped up in a mob
and touched the fringe of His garment?" But I was not there to throw
dashes of cold water upon the fire. She went on her reckless way. And
wonder of wonders, she was healed.
"Lord, bid me come," said Peter. And what was the reply of Jesus? Did
He say, "Peter, I am astonished at you. Why do you want to do this
foolish and insane and impossible thing? Don't you know that the storm
is against you? Don't you know that the law of gravitation is against
you? Don't you know that the whole experience of the race is against
you? You have been about the sea all your life. When did you ever see
anybody walk on the waves? Why do you request, then, to do this absurd
and ridiculous and impossible thing?"
But Jesus did not say that. I never read where He told a single
trusting heart that his request was impossible. I do read where He
said the very opposite. He said, "All things are possible to him that
believeth." He makes all things possible. That is what he is for. He
ever attacks men at the point of their impossibilities. He calls on
the selfish man to love his neighbor as himself. He calls on the
paralytics to rise and walk. And never does He have a rebuke for the
man who dares to fling himself blindly upon His power.
And instead of rebuking Peter He approved him. He encouraged him. He
set His sanction upon his request. He said to him, "Come." I am sure
if you or I had been there we would have wanted Him to have said far
more. We would have wanted Him to explain to us how He would hold us
and enable us to walk. But the invitation, "Come," that one word was
enough for Peter.
"Come," said Jesus. What would you have done under those
circumstances? What would I? I suppose I know. I would have said,
"Lord, I'd like to. I wish I could. I've always wanted to do
something magnificent. It has occurred to me again and again as I have
read the record of thy dealings with thy saints that the Christian life
is not to be a dull and drab and unromantic thing. I have felt a
thousand times that the faith of the saints ought to have far more of
buoyancy and enthusiasm and daring and romantic adventure in it than it
has. So since you have bid me come, Lord, I'd like to come. I'll
think it over. Who knows but that I may try it some day?"
But Peter was made out of more heroic stuff. The spirit of adventure
had not died within him. His faith is full of the finest romance.
"Come," said Jesus and immediately I see Peter drop his oar and begin
to climb down out of the boat to go to Jesus.