court-yard that dark night, and against his Master. And though with
matchless love he was forgiven, he never forgave himself, nor was able
to get that night's doings out of his memory. Judas and Peter were
brothers in action that night, and there are evidences that many other
disciples are standing over in the same group. Are you? Which road do
you choose to-night: this--to the left? Or, this--to the right?
I knew a young man who was deeply attached to an admirable young woman,
both refined christian persons, much above the average in native
ability, and in culture. He made known to her his feelings. But as many
a woman who does not trust her best Friend in such matters is apt to do
she held him off, testing him repeatedly, to find out just how real his
attachment was. Finally revealing indirectly her own feeling she still
withheld the consent he pleaded for, until he would yield acquiescence
in a certain plan of hers for him. The plan, proper enough in itself,
was an ambitious one, and tended decidedly toward swinging him away from
the high, tenderly spiritual ideals that had swayed his life in college
and afterwards, though he probably was not clearly conscious of this
tendency. The only safe thing to do under such strong circumstances was
to take time, aside, alone, for calm, poised, thought and prayer, to
learn if her plan was also the Master's plan for him. But the personal
element proved too strong for such deliberation. The possibility of
losing her swung him off of his feet. It was no longer a question
between her plan and the Master's plan. The latter dropped out of view,
probably half-unconsciously because hurriedly. _He must have her_, he
thought. That rose before his eyes above all else. And so the decision
was made. With what result? He is to-day prominent in christian service,
an earnest speaker, a tireless worker, with a most winsome personality.
But his inner spiritual life has perceptibly dwarfed. His ideals, still
high and noble, are distinctly lower than in his earlier life.
Intellectual ideals, admirable in themselves, but belonging in second
place in a christian life, now command the field. His conceptions and
understanding of spiritual truth have undergone a decided change.
The proposal of the self-life came in very fascinating guise to him. He
hastily said "yes" to it: that meant as decided a refusal of Another's
plan for him, which had once been clearly recognized, and accepted, but
was now set aside, be it sadly said, as he swung quickly off to the left
fork of the road.
There is an incident told of a European pastor, an earnest, eloquent
man. The realization came in upon him that he had not been fully
following the Master. In much of his life self was still ruling. He came
to this forking of the road, and the battle was a fierce one, for self
dies hard. But finally "by the Spirit," he got the victory, as every one
may, and calmly stepped off to the right. He has vividly described that
battle of the forks in language, the accuracy of which will be
recognized by others who have been in action on that field.
"Oh, the bitter shame and sorrow,
That a time could ever be
When I let the Saviour's pity
Plead in vain, and proudly answered:
'_All of self, and none of Thee_.'
"Yet He found me: I beheld him
Bleeding on the accursed tree;
Heard Him pray, 'forgive them, Father,'
And my wistful heart said faintly:
'_Some of self and some of Thee_.'
"Day by day, His tender mercy,
Healing, helping, full and free,
Sweet and strong, and oh, so patient,
Brought me lower, while I whispered:
'_Less of self and more of Thee_.'
"Higher than the highest heaven,
Deeper than the deepest sea,
Lord, thy love at last has conquered;
Grant me now my soul's desire,
'_None of self and all of Thee_.'"
Is there still a fixed purpose? Will you take this right fork? Let those
who will, and those who linger reluctantly listen to the further word
that Jesus adds: "Let him deny himself and take up his cross." "_Take up
his cross_"--what does that mean? The cross has come to be regarded in
these days as a fine ornament. It looks beautiful bejeweled; on the end
of a sword; or worked into regalia. It makes such an artistic finish to
a church building, finely chiseled in stone, or enwreathed with ivy. It
looks pretty in jewelry and flowers. But to Jesus and the men of His
time it had a grim, hard, painful significance. In Roman usage a man
condemned to this death was required to take up the crude wooden cross
provided, carry it out to the place of execution, and there be
transfixed upon it. Plainly to these men listening, Jesus' words meant:
Let him say "no" to his self, and then nail it up on the cross and leave
it there _to die_.
Paul understood this thoroughly. To help the young christians in Galatia
he explains his own experience by saying: "_I have been crucified_ with
Christ;" and to the unknown friends in Rome he writes: "if ye by the
Spirit _put to death_ the doings of the self life ye shall live." The
only thing to do with this self is to kill it.
In Luke's account an intensely practical word is added to Jesus' remark:
"Let him take up his cross _daily_." A cat is said to have nine lives,
because it is so hard to kill. I do not know what your experience may
have been, but, judged by this rule, the self in me is tougher-lived
than that. It has about ninety-nine, or nine hundred and ninety-nine
lives. I put it on the cross to-day in the purpose of my will by the
power of the Spirit, and I find it trying to sneak down and step into
active control again to-morrow through some sly, subtle suggestion which
it hopes may get past the vigilance of my sentinel. That word _daily_
becomes, of necessity, my constant keynote--a _daily_ conflict, a
_daily_ sleepless vigilance, and, thank God, a _daily victory_.
Every man's heart is a battlefield. If self has possession, Jesus is
lovingly striving to get possession. If possession has been yielded to
Jesus, there is a constant besieging by the forces of self. And self is
a skilled strategist. In every heart there is a cross, and a throne, and
each is occupied. If Jesus is on the throne, ruling, self is on the
cross, dying. But if self is being obeyed, and so is ruling, then it is
on the throne. And self on the throne means that _Jesus has been put on
the cross_. And it seems to be only too pathetically true that not only
in New Testament times, but in these times, there are numbers of
professing christians, who, in the practice of daily life, are
crucifying the Son of God afresh, and openly exposing Him to shame
before the eyes of the crowd.
Suppose that to-night I determine to make this absolute surrender to
Jesus as my Master. To-morrow in some matter, possibly a small
matter--speaking a word to some one--asking a silent blessing at the
meal--making a change in some personal habit--or some other apparently
trivial matter--the Spirit quietly makes clear _His wish_ as to what I
should do. But I hesitate: it seems hard. I do not say that I will not
obey, but actually _I do not_. Let me plainly understand that in such a
single failure to obey, self is again mounting the throne, and Jesus is
being dethroned and put over yonder on the cross.
Do some of us still hesitate at this forking of the roads, irresolute? A
crowned Christ is attractive. But self's tendrils, though small, are
tenaciously tough, and twine into so many corners and around some hidden
things. And the uprooting and outcutting mean sharp pain. Is that so?
And you hesitate? Please take another frank look.
Lock-Step.
These two forks differ radically. They differ in direction. One is to
the _left_; the other to the _right_. And these two words are
significant of more than direction. They differ in grade. This left-hand
road does not seem to have any grade. It is smooth and level, and
straightaway, _apparently_. But a keener look reveals a slant _down_,
very slight at first, but steadily increasing, not only in its downward
grade, but in the _proportionate_ grade down.
This right-hand road has a decided grade _up_ from the beginning, a
steep slant, that causes many to avoid it, though they feel impelled to
take it. Those who take it say that after the first decided step into it
the slant does not seem nearly so hard as before starting, and that
climbing it makes splendid muscle and gives an inspiring sense of
exhilaration from the very start. The atmosphere is rare and purifying
and invigorating. It is not traveled by so many, though the number keeps
increasing. But such rare companionship, hitherto unknown, they afford!
_The striking peculiarity_ of this road, however, is this, that each one
keeps lock-step with a certain One who leads the way. This One is
remarkable in appearance. His face combines all the strength and
resolution of the strongest man's with all the fineness and gentleness
of the finest woman's. But He bears peculiar marks as though He had been
through some terrible experience. His face has a number of small scars
as though it had been torn by thorns and cut by thongs. His hands and
feet look as though huge spikes had been forced through them. But the
glory-light of another world is in His eyes, and illumines His face
radiantly, and a glad ring is in His low, musical, singularly clear
voice.
The walking in step with Him is _so_ close that one can feel the tender
throbbing of His heart, and can talk confidentially with Him in low,
quiet tones, and can hear distinctly His gentle still-like voice in
reply.
As one steps off quietly, determinedly to the right from the battle of
the forks he hears the closing words of Jesus' remarks to Peter--"_and
follow Me_." Jesus sends no one ahead alone. He blazes out every path
through the unknown, unbroken forest, and asks us simply to come along
after Him. He did what He asks us to do. The self-life was alluringly
and repeatedly presented to Him by Satan, in the wilderness, in the
remark of Peter, by the visit of the Greeks, in Gethsemane where the
struggle of soul almost broke the tie that held body and spirit
together, and many other times. In many a hard battle--for the divine
Jesus was intensely human in His earthly life--He repeatedly said a
never-varying "no" to the self-life, and lived a constant victory until
the very last triumphant shout of victory on Calvary. It was a life of
constant conflict, but of splendid, calming, scarce-broken peace within,
and of marvelous power without.
Earnestly, lovingly, gently, yet passionately, He stands just ahead in
that path now, with pierced hands outstretched in open invitation, with
a heart-yearning in the depths of His great eyes, wooing us on to follow
where He goes on before.
Let us follow. It may be, it _will_ be, in some measure, through the
experiences of the wilderness temptation, and of Gethsemane, and of
Calvary, but it will also be to share the victory which was always
coupled with every testing _He_ met. It will as certainly be following
Him in power, and victory, on past Calvary to the new life of the
resurrection morning, that saw the greatest display of power. And even
past that, to the upper chamber where His words burn their way into our
hearts--"as the Father sent Me (clothed with power unconquerable) even
so send I you." And then to Olivet where the victorious words ring out,
"All power hath been given unto me in heaven and on earth, therefore go
ye and make disciples."
"If any man
would come alter me,
let him say "no" to his self,
and nail it to the cross daily,
and follow me."
Jesus, Master, by the Holy Spirit's help, _I will_.
THE PERSONALITY OF POWER.
A Personally Conducted Journey.
Everyone enjoys the pleasure of travel; but nearly all shrink back from
its tiresomeness and drudgery. The transportation companies are
constantly scheming to overcome this disagreeable side for both pleasure
and business travel. One of the popular ways of pleasure travel of late
is by means of personally conducted tours. A party is formed, often by
the railroad company, and is accompanied by a special agent to attend to
all the business matters of the trip. A variation of this is to arrange
for a group of congenial people to accompany some well-known
accomplished gentleman. This gives the trip, not alone the convenience
of having all business matters cared for, but also the decided enjoyment
which this gentleman's wide knowledge and experience, and personal
contact incidentally give. There are some criticisms however of such
parties, from the standpoint of greatest comfort and of freedom in
moving about.
Probably the very pleasantest way--the ideal way, to travel anywhere,
either in our own home land, or abroad--is to form a party of only a
very few persons, mutually congenial, and personally agreeable, _one of
whom is an experienced traveler_, to whom checking baggage, buying
tickets, studying timetables, planning connections and all the rest of
that sort of thing which, to most, is disagreeable drudgery, to whom all
that is mere pleasant detail; and who in addition knows all the ground
you will cover, the best hotels, the inconveniences to avoid, the
desirable places and things, and who finds rare enjoyment in making the
trip delightful and inspiring, and restful too, to these dear friends of
his.
For instance if the trip is a foreign one beginning with a run through
Great Britain it would add immensely to have such a friend in London who
knew that great whirling world-metropolis, as you know your own home.
After a bit you may slip over the Channel to Holland. It is only a few
hours away, but the strange language, new custom-house rules, new
usages, new sights, different sort of people, all make it a totally
different world. A few hours will bring you into Sweden, or west from
the hollow-landed Dutch to the higher-landed Germans, or south through
Belgium into sunny France, and so on. And in each place the customs, and
language, and sights, and people, the food, the sleeping arrangements,
and apparently everything, especially to a stranger, are totally
different. It is this very variety--the constant change of
surroundings--that constitutes much of the charm of it all. There is
nothing so refreshing and invigorating as that. But on the other hand
to an entire stranger who has no guide, it is apt to be confusing and
wearisome. And the tiresome side often overcomes the pleasant side. Now
this is what I am saying, that, if there are just a few together, and
this experienced traveler, who is also a dear friend, is one of them,
the trip is radically changed. You move in a new world. He can talk
Dutch in Holland, and German in Germany, Swedish in Scandinavia, and
French in Switzerland. He sees the baggage past the customs officials,
and provides restful stopping places, and keeps the disagreeables away
from you. He knows the places to visit, and is familiar with the
historic occurrences, and is a quiet, cheery companion, and _if_ with it
all he has an unlimited letter-of-credit, and makes you feel that
somehow you are favoring him by letting him help you out when you run
short--that, I say, would be _the ideal way of traveling_.
Now why take so much time speaking about all that? Listen! I will tell
you why. Living is like traveling. Life is a journey. It is a trip
through a strange land where you have never been before, and you never
know a moment ahead where you are going next. Strange languages, strange
scenes, strange dilemmas; new tangles, new experiences, and some old
ones with new faces so you do not know them. It is just as chock-full of
pleasure and enjoyment as it can be, if you could only make some
provision for the drudgery and hard things that seem to crowd in so
thick and fast sometimes, as to make people forget the gladness of it.
Now I have something to tell you that seems too utterly good to be
believed, and yet keeps getting better all the way along. It is this:
the Master has planned that your life journey shall be a personally
conducted one on this ideal plan. It was said a night or two ago that
the Master has thought into your life and made arrangement for all its
needs. Let me add to-night this further fact: _He has arranged with His
best friend, who is an experienced traveler, to go with you and devote
Himself wholly to your interests._
Some of you, I am afraid, will smile, and think that I am just indulging
in a fancy sketch--drawing on my imagination. And so I pray our Master
to burn into our hearts that it is plain, matter-of-fact truth, for
every day life. I would say that it is cold fact were it not that such a
fact can never be cold.
Power is a Person.
Each of these talks, you have noticed, has led up to the one idea of
surrender. That word surrender stands for one side only of a
transaction--_our_ side. As in all transactions, there is another
side--_His_ side to whom the surrender is made. To-night we want to take
a step in advance and talk about the part which Jesus has in this
surrender-transaction. All truth goes in pairs. The partnership word
with surrender is mastery. Surrender on my part is followed by mastery
on His part. There are two personalities in this transaction. You are
one: an important one, but only one. To-night we shall try to get a
better acquaintance with the other One. The One who assumes control of
the surrendered life, who is to be our personal guide and friend.
Will you recall again the Master's good-bye Olivet message, and notice
just what it means? Listen to the very words: "Ye shall receive power."
Let me ask you--what is power? Will some one give a simple definition of
that word? There are four words, four of the commonest, most familiar in
our language, for which I have not been able to find a definition. If
some one here can help me I will be grateful. They are the words life,
light, love, and power. What do they mean? I can find plenty of
statements _about_ them, descriptions of what each of these is like, but
no definitions.
What is life? Recently I looked into the statement regarding life made
by three of the most famous English scientists of the nineteenth
century, whose names are household words. I read them carefully. The
wisdom and keenness of observation they show are amazing. But when I had
studied and read them repeatedly I found myself asking--what is life?
They have described rarely the functions and characteristics of life,
but have not told what it is. They do not seem to know. Do you?
What is light? Will some one tell me? The corpuscular theory, which the
famous Newton advocated, is long since abandoned. The later wave theory
is pretty generally accepted, and yet they can not all agree upon that.
These people say that light is a part of the kind of energy called
radiant energy. Now, we all know what light is! The sun of course is not
light, only a light-holder and distributer. According to the oldest
record we have of the creation, light existed before these
light-holders, the sun and moon and stars.
What is love? Well, you all _know_, I hope. Pity the poor man who does
not know by experience what love is. But you cannot tell what it is.
"Oh!" you say, "it is emotion." Yes, so is hate, its very opposite.
"Well, love is affection." Yes. What is affection? "Well, it is a
pleasurable feeling, or regard, which may be very intense, and which
leads us to unlimited sacrifice if need be. It is a devotion that grips
the soul tremendously." That is true; yet that is only telling what love
is like. No simple, plain definition of love, or light or life has ever
been formed yet by man so far as I can learn.
What is power? You may say it is force. And what is force? "Well, force
is a form of energy." What is energy? "Well," you reply, "it is a strong
inward movement whose strength is very impressive." Some one says "power
is ability." And ability? "Well, that is the innate power to do
something." And so we get to use our word in the attempted definition
itself, which is simply talking in a circle. We can find good
descriptive words, but no defining words.
Now mark a singular fact. In the writings of John, in this old book I
have here, you will find a few statements regarding these things which
combine wondrous simplicity of language with marvelous, yes,
unfathomable, depth of meaning. First, about life: in chapter one, verse
four, of the gospel:--"in Him was life," being an evident allusion to
the remarkable Genesis statement: "the Lord God breathed into his
nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living soul." Then, about
love: in chapter four, verse seven, of his first epistle:--"love is of
God"; coupled with the twice spoken words "God is love" in the same
chapter. About light: in chapter one, verse five, of the same epistle,
"God is light."
I know some of you, perhaps some skilled theologian here, is saying to
himself, "Those are statements of _moral_ truths." And I understand that
that is the common conception. But I want to state here my own profound
conviction, based on the Spirit-breathed words of John, that some day,
when we shall know about all these deep things, we shall be finding that
there is a basis not only of moral truth, but of far more than moral
truth underlying those profoundly simple statements.
And I believe in that day we shall find that life--all life--is, in some
actual, marvelous way, the outbreathing of God's own being. And that
light is the inherent radiance of His person and face, and that the
universal passion of love is the throbbing pulse-beat of His own great
heart.
Now why take time to speak about these things to-night when we are
talking about power? I will tell you why. Because they give the
intensest practical significance to a similar statement about that word
power with which we _are_ greatly concerned just now.
Mark the language Luke uses in describing that memorable Olivet scene in
which we are so deeply interested in these talks together. The old King
James version reads: "ye shall receive power _after_ that the Holy
Spirit is come upon you." The revised version puts it in this way, "ye
shall receive power _when_ the Holy Spirit is come upon you." Some of
you have probably noticed that some editions give a marginal note,
which, in this case, proves to be the literal reading namely: _ye shall
receive power the Holy Spirit coming upon you_. Not "after," nor "when,"
but simply "the Holy Spirit coming," etc. That is to say, the _Holy
Spirit is power_. That you will observe fits in with the form of
statement John uses. The Holy Spirit in control, unhindered, unhampered,
means power manifest in the life. That is the profound truth of God's
book. And as a bit of side evidence it is striking to observe that all
Scripture statements throughout fit in with that conception. Power is a
person. Not some thing, nor influence, nor sentiment, nor some working
upon our hearts at a distance by God seated up yonder on the throne.
That were wonderful indeed. But a person, called the Holy Spirit, living
in me--shall I make it very definite by saying, living _in my
body_?--that is power. If restrained by sin, or disobedience, or
ignorance, or wilfulness of any sort, then power _restrained_, held in
check, not evident. If utterly unrestrained, given free sway and
control--ah! then power manifest, limitless, wonderful, all exercised in
carrying out God's will in, and with, and through me.
And the marvelous message I bring you from the old book of God is this:
_The Master has sent a dear friend of His, and of yours, who is
experienced, and strong, and loving, personally to conduct you through
your daily life, and His presence unrestrained, means power unlimited._
A Significant Name.
Do you remember that heart-to-heart talk that Jesus had with the eleven
disciples that last night they spent together in the upper room? John
tells us about it in chapters thirteen to sixteen. The Master talks a
great deal that night, about some One else, who was coming to take His
place with them. They did not understand what He meant till afterwards.
He packs more into that one evening's talk about this coming One than
all He had said before put together. Notice that now He gives a name, a
new name, to this person, repeated four times that night. It is an
intensely significant name--_the Comforter_. Will you remember, and keep
constantly in mind, the actual meaning of that new name? it is simply
this: _one called alongside to help_.
Let me attempt to suggest a little of its practical meaning.