There is always a difference between appearance and reality, between
the ideal and its embodiments. For all men it is true that the full
expression of oneself is impossible. Each man's deeds fall short of
disclosing the essential self in the man. Every will is hampered by
the fleshly screen of the body. 'I would that my tongue could utter
the thoughts that arise in me,' is the yearning of every heart that
is deeply moved. Contending principles successively sway every
personality and thwart each other's expression. For these, and many
other reasons, the sum-total of every life is but a shrouded
representation of the man who lives it; and we, all of us, after all
efforts at self-revelation, remain mysteries to our fellows and to
ourselves. All this is eminently true of the sons of God. They have a
life-germ hidden in their souls, which in its very nature is destined
to fill and expand their whole being, and to permeate with its
triumphant energy every corner of their nature. But it is weak and
often overborne by its opposite. The seed sown is to grow in spite of
bad weather and a poor soil and many weeds, and though it is destined
to overcome all these, it may to-day only be able to show on the
surface a little patch of pale and struggling growth. When we think
of the cost at which the life of Christ was imparted to men, and of
the divine source from which it comes, and of the sedulous and
protracted discipline through which it is being trained, we cannot
but conclude that nothing short of its universal dominion over all
the faculties of its imperfect possessors can be the goal of its
working. Hercules in his cradle is still Hercules, and strangles
snakes. Frost and sun may struggle in midwinter, and the cold may
seem to predominate, but the sun is steadily enlarging its course in
the sky, and increasing the fervour of its beams, and midsummer day
is as sure to dawn as the shortest day was.
The sons of God, even more truly than other men, have contending
principles fighting within them. It was the same Apostle who with
oaths denied that he 'knew the man,' and in a passion of clinging
love and penitence fell at His feet; but for the mere onlooker it
would be hard to say which was the true man and which would conquer.
The sons of God, like other men, have to express themselves in words
which are never closely enough fitted to their thoughts and feelings.
David's penitence has to be contented with groans which are not deep
enough; and John's calm raptures on his Saviour's breast can only be
spoken by shut eyes and silence. The sons of God never fully
correspond to their character, but always fall somewhat beneath their
desire, and must always be somewhat less than their intention. The
artist never wholly embodies his conception. It is only God who
'rests from His works' because the works fully embody His creative
design and fully receive the benediction of His own satisfaction with
them.
From all such thoughts there arises a piece of plain practical
wisdom, which warns Christian men not to despond or despair if they
do not find themselves living up to their ideal. The sons of God are
'veiled' because the world's estimate of them is untrue. The old
commonplace that the world knows nothing of its greatest men is
verified in the opinions which it holds about the sons of God. It is
not for their Christianity that they get any of the world's honours
and encomiums, if such fall to their share. They are _un_known and
yet _well_-known. They live for the most part veiled in obscurity.
'The light shineth in darkness, and the darkness comprehendeth it
not.' They are God's hidden ones. If they are wise, they will look
for no recognition nor eulogy from the world, and will be content to
live, as unknown by the princes of this world as was the Lord of
glory, whom they slew because their dim eyes could not see the
flashing of the glory 'through the veil, that is to say, His flesh.'
But no consciousness of imperfection in our revelation of an
indwelling Christ must ever be allowed to diminish our efforts to
live out the life that is in us, and to shine as lights in the world;
nor must the consciousness that we walk as 'veiled,' lead us to add
to the thick folds the criminal one of voluntary silence and cowardly
hiding in dumb hearts the secret of our lives.