others in the latter part of the sixteenth chapter of Matthew's gospel.
Jesus has been telling them of the awful cross-experiences which He
clearly saw ahead. Peter probably fearful that whatever came to his
Master might possibly come to himself also, and shrinking back in horror
from that, has the hardihood to rebuke Jesus. The Master, recognizing
the suggestion as coming from a far subtler individual than Peter, who
is using ignorant Peter's selfishness to repeat the suggestion of the
wilderness, again bids _him_ begone. Then in a few simple words of
far-reaching significance, He states first the standard of power, and
then the price to be paid by one who would reach that standard. Listen
to Him: "If any man would come after Me, let him deny himself and take
up his cross and follow Me."
In the Footprints of Jesus.
Let us look a little into these familiar words. "If any man _would come
after Me_"--that is the standard set before us. Not to be regarded as a
pillar in the church, a leader in religious circles, a good Bible
student, a generous giver, an earnest speaker, an energetic worker, a
spiritually minded person, but, what _may_ not be coupled with any or
all of these admirable things, _to tread in the footprints of Jesus_.
Think back into that marvelous life. A human life, remember. For though
He was Son of God He lived His life down here as a son of man. Think of
His power over temptation, not alone at the outset in the fierce
wilderness struggle, but through those succeeding years of intense
conflict; His power over Satan, over man-possessing demons, over
disease; His power in dealing with the subtle schoolmen trying their
best to trip Him up, as well as over His more violent enemies who would
have dashed Him over yon Nazareth precipice, or later stoned the life
out of His body in Jerusalem. Recall the power of His rare
unselfishness; His combined plainness and tenderness of speech in
dealing with men; His unfailing love to all classes; His power as a soul
winner, as a man of prayer, as a popular preacher, lovingly wooing men
while unsparingly rebuking their sins. _There_ is the suggestion of
Jesus' standard of power. Would you go _after Him_? You may. For as the
Father sent Him even so sends He us, to do the same work and live the
same life.
But wait a moment before answering that question. There is another side
in His life to that "come-after-me." Opposites brought into contact
produce a violent disturbance. Such a life as that of Jesus, down in the
atmosphere of this world will of necessity provoke bitter enmities, both
then and now. Listen. He was criticized and slandered. They said He was
peculiar and fanatical. His friends thought Him "beside Himself," swept
off His feet by excessive, hot-headed enthusiasm. They "laughed Him to
scorn," and reviled Him. They picked His words, and nagged His kindliest
acts, and dogged His steps. Repeated attempts were made upon His life,
both at Nazareth and by stoning at Jerusalem. A determined conspiracy
against His life was planned by the Jerusalem officials six months
before the end actually came. He was practically a fugitive for those
months. At the last He was arrested and mocked and _spit_ upon, struck
with open hand and clenched fist, derisively crowned with thorns, and
finally killed--a cruel, lingering, tortured death.
"If any man would _come after Me_." Plainly this language of Jesus put
back into its original setting begins to assume a new significance.
A Fixed Purpose.
But look at these words a little more closely. "_If_"--it is an open
question, this matter of following Jesus. It is kept open by many people
who want to be known as christian, but who hesitate over what a plain
understanding of Jesus' words may involve. Some of us may be disposed to
shrink back from the simple meaning these words will yet disclose.
"If any man _would_"--would is the past tense of will. The word will is
one of the strongest in our language. A man's will is the imperial part
of him. It is the autocrat upon the throne; the judge upon the bench of
final appeal. Jesus is getting down to the root of matters here. He is
appealing to the highest authority. No mere passing sentiment is this.
Not attending a meeting and being swept along with the crowd by the
hour's influence. But _a fixed purpose_, calmly, resolutely settled
upon, rooted away down deep in the very vitals of the will to follow
Jesus absolutely, no matter what it may cost or where it may cut.
I wonder how many of us would form such a purpose, to follow Jesus
_blindly_, utterly regardless of what it might be found to mean as the
days come and go? "Oh, well," I hear some one say, "why talk like that.
Nobody is required to suffer to-day as He did." Do you think not? I am
not so sure about that. There is a young man in Southern India, bright
fellow, full of power, of high class family, who heard of Jesus, and
felt the personal appeal to himself of that marvelous story. He thought
a good while of what it meant, and what it might involve, and at length
resolutely formed his decision to accept and follow Jesus. As he had
anticipated, his dear ones remonstrated with him, coaxed, pleaded,
threatened, and finally, his own father violently put him out of his
life-long home, and he has remained since _an outcast_ from home and
loved ones. These words of Jesus surely are full of significance to
him.
"But that was in India, far off, heathen India," you say. Well, here is
something of a similar sort at home. I knew a young woman in a certain
New England town visiting away from home. She attended some meetings
where she was visiting, and decided to be a christian. She was betrothed
to a young man, not a christian, in her home town. At once she wrote him
explaining her new step thinking, doubtless how glad he would be. For
most men seem very willing to have their _wives_ christian. But he wrote
back that if she were determined to be a christian that must put an end
to their engagement. He was not a christian and did not want his wife to
be one. Every one here must know how serious a question that brought up
for decision. For she was a true woman, and love's tendrils twine with
wondrous tenacity about a woman's heart. And I presume, too, that
everyone of you has already thought while I am speaking, of the
temptation that, quick as a flash, went through her mind. "You need not
make a public matter of this. Just be a true christian in heart and
life, and in that way _you'll win him over afterwards_." I imagine some
of you have heard something like that before. But she remembered that
her new Master said "Confess" as well as "believe." It was a crisis; a
severe struggle of soul. But she felt she must follow her Master's
leading regardless of what it involved. And so she decided. You are not
surprised to know that she was ill for a time. The intense strain of
spirit affected her body. "If--any--man--would--come--after--Me" meant
much to her. Did it not?
Without doubt if some of _us_ listening to-day were to follow Jesus
quietly, but absolutely, in all things as His own Spirit plainly led, we
would find as sharp a line of separation drawn against us, as did He in
Palestine, and these young people in India and America.
Many a social door would be shut in our faces. O, shut _politely_ of
course! Society thinks it in very bad form to get unduly excited about
mere matters of religious opinion. But the door is _shut_, and barred,
too. Some of us would possibly be searching for other business positions
before to-morrow's light faded away if we were determined to go only
where _He_ clearly pointed the way.
But we have only begun to get at the meaning of Jesus' words. Is there
still a _fixed purpose_ to follow regardless of what meaning these words
may yet disclose? Not impossibly the company of those willing to go
straight through this verse with a calm, determined "yes" to every word
of Jesus, will grow smaller as we go on.
A Character Sketch.
Let us go a little farther. "If any man would come after Me let him
_deny himself_." "Deny himself"--what does that mean? Well, deny means
to say "no," plainly and positively. Himself is the smoother English
word for his self. Let him say "no" to his self. Please notice that
Jesus is not speaking of what is commonly called self-denial. That is,
repressing some desire for a time, sacrificing something temporarily in
order to gain an advantage later. That sort of thing is not peculiar to
the christian life, but is practiced by all classes, even among the
lowest. He is not speaking of that, but of something far more radical.
Reading the verse through again, it will be seen that there are three
distinct persons referred to by Jesus. First, the "any man" He speaks
of, and then the two others represented by these words "himself" and
"Me," either one or the other of whom is influencing this "any man's"
life. "Say no to his self" is coupled with "follow Me." And the opposite
is implied--if any man will not do as _I_ desire, he will continue to do
as he is now doing, namely, deny Me and follow his self.
These two persons self and Jesus are placed here in sharpest contrast.
An uncompromising antagonism exists between them. They are sworn foes,
and every man must decide to which he will yield his allegiance. To
agree with either one is to oppose the other one. For a man to settle
some matter that comes up for decision by saying "yes" to the desires or
demands of his self involves his saying "no" to Jesus. And on the other
hand his yielding assent to the plans and wishes of this "me," namely
Jesus, is plainly equivalent to saying "no" to his self.
What is this self in each of us that Jesus sets in such antagonism to
Himself, and instructs us to say a hard, uncompromising, unceasing "no"
to? There are a few words in common use that give some suggestion of its
character. There is the word selfish, that is, being absorbed in one's
own self; in getting every stream to flow by his own door. That is
commonly regarded, even in absolutely worldly circles, as a detestable
trait. Its opposite, self-forgetful, being full of forgetting one's self
in thinking of others, is as commonly regarded in all circles as a
charming, winsome trait of character. The words self-centered, and
self-willed, are as familiar and suggestive.
The fact is, there is an individual living inside each one of us whom
Jesus refers to, by this word "his self." This individual takes on the
degree of intensity and other local coloring of the person it inhabits.
It may be polished, scholarly, cultured; or, coarse, ignorant and
ill-mannered. But "scratch a Russian and you find a Tartar." Scratch
through the veneering here and, whether coarse or highly polished, you
will find the same individual--self.
There are some quite marked characteristics by which its presence may be
recognized. They may not all be noticeable together in any one person.
But one or more will be found in every person whom it succeeds in
influencing and dominating. One characteristic is this: _it covets
praise_. It feeds and fattens on commendation. It constantly seeks to
be highly esteemed, to have its worth properly appraised. It is
immensely impressed with its own importance, its value to society, its
keenness, wisdom or aptness, and wishes others to be so impressed also.
It is fond of a mirror, especially one made to magnify. It seeks
recognition. It presses forward, rudely or politely, according as its
habitat has been trained in rude or polite circles. It may put on the
garb of humility, and use the language of depreciation. But its ear is
none the less keenly alert to hear the agreeable things and to cherish
them.
Another characteristic, which really is simply the other side of this
first named one, is this: _it shrinks from criticism_. How it writhes
and twists at the least touch of unfavorable criticism! It is always on
the defensive. The cheek colors at the suggestion of its being wrong, or
having blundered, or of being peculiar.
How quickly it explains and defends and brings evidence of its being in
the right. It is extremely sensitive. "It is that _touchy_ thing in
you." It is chronically troubled with "the disease of _touchiness_." Its
feelings are readily hurt. It is easily slighted. It remembers
grievances. It has an interrogation point constantly on sentinel duty,
namely, What will _they_ think? What will _they_ say? It lives in
constant fear, under the lash of that huge, vague, awful _they_.
I remember knowing a Sunday school teacher who had a mission class of
rather rough boys from non-christian homes. I asked one day how she was
getting along with them. "Going to give them up," she replied. "Is that
so? They have all become christians?" No, none of them were christians,
and they liked her, and said they would not come if she gave them up,
but she felt discouraged, and anyway she had decided to give them up.
Lawyers and women do not always give their reasons, very wisely. I
ventured to suggest that before giving them up, she have the boys come
up to her home, one at a time, perhaps for tea; have a pleasant chatty
time at tea and afterwards, and then before the boy left have a quiet
friendly talk with him by himself about being a christian, and, a few
words of prayer with him. Wouldn't she try that before giving them up?
And I remember distinctly that her face blushed as red as a bright red
rose, as she replied, "Why, Mr. Gordon, _he'd laugh at me_!" And she
could not bear the possible chance of being laughed at for the other
more likely possibility of winning a soul--a man--a life. That was
"self" in her, shrinking back from a laugh; dreading that look of
possibly contemptuous surprise that _might_ come.
Another person, speaking about certain recreations very common in
society, and which he was in the habit of joining, though freely
questioning the propriety of so doing, said, "O, I don't care much for
those things. I could easily give them up, but people think you are so
queer if you decline, and you feel as if you were a back number." Ah!
there was the rub. The desire to be thought well of; the dislike of
being considered peculiar; the fear of that thinly veiled sneering curl
on the lip--that was _self_ in him asserting its presence, and even
more, ruling his action. Do you recognize the individual inside of you
that Jesus is speaking of?
There is a third tell-tale ear-mark of self that is difficult to
conceal--_it is assertive_. It dearly loves to have its own way. It has
plans and ambitions, and proposes to carry them through regardless of
man, or--let the plain truth be spoken softly--of God. Its opinions are
held tenaciously. Its favorite pronoun is I, capitalized, with
variations of my and me. The personal equation is extremely powerful and
persuasive.
The true follower of Jesus holds every plan subject to change from
above. But this self, if allowed to rule, takes the bit in its
tightly-shut teeth, and drives determinedly ahead, reckless of either
man's or God's preferences, even though religious phraseology may be
upon its tongue.
Still another trait of character of this self whose closer acquaintance
we are making is this: _It has an insatiable appetite_. It grows
hungrier by that on which it feeds. Its capacity is beyond the measuring
line. If given free rein it will debase the holiest functions of the
body, and degrade the highest powers of the mind to appease its gnawing,
passion-bitten hunger. The noblest gifts, the purest emotions, the most
sacred relationships, are dragged down to the slimy gutter to tempt and
temporarily stay its jaded palate.
Unmasked.
_That_ is something of a suggestion of the character of this other
master than Jesus, who seeks to get control of us, and from whose
relentless, vise-like grip Jesus would fain free us. He says there is
only one thing to do with it. No half-way compromise--the great American
expedient--will do here. The Master says plainly it is to be denied,
repressed, put determinedly down, starved, strangled. To every
suggestion or demand there is to be a prompt, positive, jaw-locked no.
There is war to the knife, and the knife clear up to the hilt, between
these two claimants for the control of our powers--self and Jesus. Paul
understood this antagonism thoroughly. It comes out repeatedly in his
writings. His name for this inner enemy, by an accidental turn in
English, is Jesus' word "self" spelled backwards with the letter "h"
added--f-l-e-s-h. His remarks in Romans, eighth chapter, verses four to
eight, and twelve to thirteen, are simply an enlargement of these words
in the sixteenth of Matthew's gospel. If one will read these verses,
substituting Jesus' word "self" for Paul's word he will be surprised to
find how strikingly Paul is expressing this very thought of Jesus. A
free translation of part of these verses would read like this: Verse
five--"They that choose to walk after self (as a slave walked after, or
behind, his master) will show their choice by obeying the desires of
self, and they that choose to walk after the Spirit will obey the
desires of the Spirit." Verse seven--"For the purposes of self are
opposed to God's purposes; for it does not hold itself subject to God's
wishes; indeed, in its very nature it cannot; and they that choose to
obey self cannot please God." Verse thirteen--"If by the Holy Spirit's
aid ye kill off the plans and doings of self, ye shall therein find real
true life, and only so."
Plainly, the deep searching experiences of Paul's great soul, and his
wide observation of others, in his ceaseless travels, confirm the
statements already made, that there is the intensest hatred, the
bitterest antagonism, between these two personalities represented by
Jesus' words, "himself" and "me." There can be no patched-up truce here.
The only way the lion and the lamb can lie down together in this case is
for the one to lie down underneath the other--conquered; or inside the
other--devoured.
In his other letters Paul sometimes uses still another name, "the old
man," and names the characteristics of this omnipresent self, which crop
out with varying degrees of prominence, in different persons, and under
different circumstances. Notice only a few of these: In Galatians, fifth
chapter, nineteenth verse: "The deeds of self are ... improper sexual
intercourse, impurity, shameless looseness...." It will, wherever
possible, debase the holiest functions of the body. In Colossians, third
chapter, fifth verse, speaking of the "old man": "And covetousness,
which is reckoning of highest worth that which is less worthy than God."
That is to say, the ambitious longings of self, will if unchecked become
the ruling passion, thrusting all else ruthlessly aside and degrading
the highest powers of the mind to satisfying its feverish desire. In
Ephesians, fourth chapter, thirty-first verse: "Bitterness, passion,
anger, loud disputing, evil-speaking ... malice." Its assertiveness, and
demand for a due recognition of its worth, its rights, its opinions, its
proper place, bring bitterest burnings, and worse. It will not be
needful to review congressional, and political, and society life for
illustrations. They may be found much nearer one's own door.
Was there ever such a list? Such a being whose heart begets and nurses
such progeny! This being has the smell of hell, and of the evil one
himself. Ah! now we are getting at the straight truth. Self is Satan's
personal representative in every human heart. Its door of entrance is
the door of disobedience. It can have control only where one allows
himself to get out of intelligent sympathy with God. The self in Peter
was recoiling from that cross of which Jesus spoke. How keen Jesus was
in recognizing the suggestor of the thought that found expression
through Peter's lips--"Get thee behind me, _Satan_." Self is Satan,
condensed into each man's life, though in some he dare not exhibit his
coarser traits; and in others he is being _constantly conquered_ by that
power of the Spirit of Jesus which comes through absolute, glad
surrender to Him.
This sly Satan-self may often be recognized by a favorite question it
asks among christian people about a great many so-called unimportant
matters:--What's the harm? But a true follower of Jesus never lives down
upon the plane of "what's-the-harm?" He lives up in a higher sphere with
his Master, who "pleased not Himself," but made it the steady,
unfaltering aim of His life to do always those things that were pleasing
to His Father. Men thought Him narrow and fanatical, but He cared not so
long as He could daily hear that clear, sweet voice saying "This is My
beloved Son, in whom _I_ am well pleased." The final touchstone which
the follower of Jesus applies to every matter is this: _Would it please
Him?_
Let everyone here who earnestly desires to fit into, and to fill out,
Jesus' plan for his life, take paper and pencil and make a list of his
personal habits; such as his eating, what he eats and how; his drinking,
other things he puts into his mouth, his dress, the use and care of his
body, his recreations, his reading, his conversation, his use of money,
his use of time, his life plans and his daily plans, his social
engagements; and regarding each ask plainly the question--what is the
_motive_ that _controls_ me in this? Is it my own preference or
enjoyment? Or, is it to please and honor Jesus? Let him further go
through the list of his business methods, his friendships, the various
organizations he belongs to, with the same question. If he will do
thorough work he will probably have some stiff fighting on hand both at
the start and afterwards. Many a life would thereby be radically
changed. For example, I know a christian storekeeper who has on his
shelves a certain article bearing the label of a tonic medicine, but he
knows perfectly well, as does anyone who stops to think about it, that
the stuff back of the label is one form of an intoxicant. There can be
no question of what the Master would say about it. But it brings a good
profit. And his money-fevered self asserts its mastery and carries the
day. And the man tightly grips the profits, while Satan chuckles with
unholy glee, and souls are being damned by this christian man's aid.
Certainly there can be none of the power of God in such a life. Let us
rather speak the truth and say that this man is exerting a positive
power for Satan and for hell.
All this is included in these few simple words, "let him deny himself."
Is there still a fixed purpose to follow Jesus without regard to what it
may cost us, or where the keen edge of separation may cut in?
The Battle of the Forks.
Here is a forking of the road. I bring this whole company up to this
dividing, and therefore deciding, point. Let each choose his own road
deliberately, prayerfully, with open eyes. This road to the left has as
its law, yielding to self; saying "yes" to the desires and demands of
self; with some modifications possibly, here and there, for I am talking
to professing christian people. Yes to Jesus _sometimes_, but at _other_
times, when it suits circumstances and inclinations better to do
otherwise--well, a pushing of the troublesome question aside. And that
means a decided yes to self, with as positive a negative to Jesus'
desires implied thereby. That is the left-hand fork.
This right-hand road knows only one law to which exception is never
made, namely: _Yes to Jesus_, everywhere, always, regardless of
consequences, though it may entail loss of friendships, or money, or
position, or social standing, or personal preference, or radical change
of plans, or, what not.
Judas assented to the cravings of his ambitious self and said "no" to
his Master, thinking possibly, with his worldly shrewdness, thereby to
force Jesus to assert His power. He little knew what a time of crisis it
was, and what terrific results would follow.