The Secret of Strength.
Who was the strongest person who ever lived? Surely there is no
difficulty in answering that question, surely there has never been
anyone to compare with Samson in wonderful feats of strength! Did he not
alone and unaided rend a young lion in two, as easily as if it had been
a kid? Did he not lift the massive iron gates of Gaza from their hinges,
carry them on his back for forty miles, and climb with them to the top
of a high hill? Did he not overthrow an enormous building by simply
leaning on the huge stone pillars that held it up? We see trials of
strength and feats of strength nowadays, we may have seen a man who
could with one blow of the sword cut a sheep in two, we may have seen
another who, by the mere power of his fist, could snap an iron chain,
yet what modern Samson, strong and powerful and mighty above his fellows
though he may be, can equal or rival the old Samson of Bible story.
Yet after all are we right in calling Samson the strongest man? It all
depends upon the kind of strength of which we are speaking. If we mean
bodily strength, mere physical force, then undoubtedly Samson was the
strongest man.
But is bodily strength the only kind of force or power a man can
possess? Is it the chief kind of strength?
What is one name that we give to physical power; do we not call it
_brute force_? Why do we call it this? Because it is force which we have
in common with the brutes, nay, it is strength in which the brutes can
surpass us. Take the strongest man who ever lived, give him the most
powerful limbs, the strongest back, the greatest strength of muscle,
what is that man compared with an elephant? The mighty elephant has more
power in one limb than the man has in his whole body. Bodily strength is
then, after all, a kind of strength that is worth comparatively little,
and of which we have small cause to boast, for even an animal can easily
surpass us in it.
A stronger man than Samson, where shall we find him? Come to the Senate
House in Cambridge, look at that man hard at work on the examination
papers. Look at him well, for you will see that man's name at the head
of the list when it comes out. Look at his broad forehead, his quick
eager eye, his earnest face. That man is the strongest man in England:
strong, not in bodily strength, he would do but little on the football
field, nor could he win a single prize in athletic sports; he is a thin,
slight, fragile man, but he is strong in mind, powerful and mighty in
brain. That man's memory is simply perfect, his powers of reasoning are
faultless, his grasp of a subject is enormous, he is a giant in
intellect.
Here then we have another kind of strength, mental strength; and
inasmuch as the mind is vastly superior to the body, and inasmuch as
power of mind is a power which the animals so far from rivalling man,
possess only in a very limited degree, we shall be ready to admit that
the student is stronger than Samson, because he is strong in a superior
kind of strength.
But there is a stronger than he, and it is a woman. She is weak and
delicate, and has certainly no bodily strength; she knows very little,
for she is a poor, simple country girl; she has no mental strength, but
she is stronger than Samson, stronger than the Cambridge student,
because she is endued with a strength far superior to bodily or mental
strength--she is strong in soul.
A great crowd of people was gathered on the shore that day in the county
of Wigton in Scotland. There lay the wooded hills and the heathery
moors, and the quiet sea dividing them like a peaceful lake. Two
prisoners, carefully guarded, were brought down to the shore, one was an
old woman with white hair, the other was a young and beautiful girl. Two
stakes were driven into the sand, one close to the approaching sea, the
other much nearer to the shore. The old woman was tied to the stake
nearest to the sea, and the young girl to the other. The tide was out
when they were taken there, but they were told that, unless they would
deny the Master whom they loved, unless they would renounce the truth of
God, there they must remain, until the high tide had covered them, and
life was extinct.
The old woman was questioned by her murderers. Would she renounce her
Lord? Never; she could not deny the faith of Christ. So they left her to
her fate, and the sea rose. Silently, quietly, stealthily it crept on,
till her arms, her shoulders, her neck were covered, and then soon after
the wave came which carried her into the presence of her Lord. Then they
pleaded with the girl, they tried to make her change, they used every
argument likely to move her, but all in vain. She was strong in soul,
strong and mighty, so strong that death itself could not make her
flinch. Still the sea crept on, still the water rose, and still they
tried to make her deny her Lord. But, strong in spirit, the girl held
bravely on. Higher and higher came that ever-encroaching water, and soon
her head was covered, and she thought her sorrows were ended, but her
tormentors brought her out of the water, rubbed and warmed her, and
brought her to life again, only to put the question to her once more.
Would she deny her Master? No; again she refused to do so, and was
dragged back, wet and dripping as she was, once more to be chained to
the stake, and to lay down her life a second time. But the Lord was with
her, and she was faithful to the end.
That girl was strong in soul, strong in the highest, noblest form of
strength; she could say No when tempted to do wrong, she was faithful
when sorely tried. But Samson was weak as water, he had no strength of
soul; a woman's pretty face, a woman's coaxing word, was quite
sufficient to overthrow all the strength of soul he possessed. He could
resist no temptation that came across his path; he was an easy prey to
the tempter.
Oh! that we were all strong, strong in this highest, grandest form of
strength, mighty giants in spirit!
But do you say, How can I obtain this strength, by what means can I
acquire it? I feel I need it. I am often led astray; I listen to the
voice of the tempter, I give way to my besetting sin. I want to break
off from it, but I cannot; I want to leave the companions who are
leading me wrong, but I have not the strength to do it. How can I become
strong?
Here, in the story of Nehemiah, we find the answer. Let us come again to
the water-gate, at the south-east of the city. There is the huge pulpit
of wood, there is Ezra with the roll in his hand, there are the people,
sobbing as if their hearts would break.
But 'blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted' It is for
sin that their hearts are broken, they feel they have left undone so
much that ought to have been done, they have done so much that they
ought not to have done, that they are crushed with sorrow, and the tears
will come.
But hush, who are these passing amongst the weeping crowd? There is
Nehemiah the Tirshatha, or governor, there is Ezra the scribe, and they
are followed by a company of Levites. They call to the people to stop
crying, and to rejoice. Is not our God a God of mercy? Is there not
forgiveness with Him? If sin is confessed and forsaken, will He not
pardon it? Dry your tears then, and, instead of crying, rejoice. Be
merry and glad that God is willing to forgive, nay, that He has forgiven
you.
Cheer up, for this day is holy unto the Lord; it is a feast day, the
joyous Feast of Trumpets. Mourn not, nor weep. Do not imagine that God
likes you to be miserable; He wants you to be happy. You have owned your
sin, you have repented of your sin; now let your hearts be filled with
the joy that come from a sense of sin forgiven.
Go home now, and keep the feast. Eat and drink of the best you have,
eat the fat and drink the sweet, the new sweet wine made from this
year's grapes. Go home and enjoy yourselves to the full; but do not
forget those who are worse off than yourselves, remember those poor
people who have suffered so much from the late famine, who have paid
their last penny to the tax-collector, who have lost their all in these
hard times. Let them enjoy themselves too to-day. Eat the fat and drink
the sweet, but do not forget to send portions to them for whom nothing
is prepared. Remember the empty cupboards, and the bare tables, and the
houses where the fat and the sweet are nowhere to be seen.
What a word for us at the time of our joyous Christmas feast! God loves
us to be happy. He likes us to rejoice; He does not want us to go about
with long faces and melancholy looks. A long-faced Christian is a
Christian who brings disgrace on his Master.
Then as we meet, year by year, round the happy Christmas table, and sit
down to our Christmas dinner, let us remember that God loves us to be
happy; but let us also remember that in the midst of all our joy He
would have us unselfish. He would have us send portions to them for whom
nothing is prepared. Is there no one whom we can cheer? Is there no
desolate home into which we can bring a ray of light? Is there no
sorrowful heart to which we can bring comfort? And what about the
portions? Is there no poor relative, or neighbour, or friend, with whom
we can share the good things that have fallen to our lot?
Our own Christmas dinner will taste all the better if we have helped
some one else to happiness or comfort, our own festal rejoicing will be
tenfold more full of merriment and real joy, if we have helped to spread
the festal joy into dark and gloomy places.
'Go your way, eat the fat, and drink the sweet, and send portions unto
them for whom nothing is prepared: for this day is holy unto our Lord:
neither be ye sorry; for the joy of the Lord is your strength.'
Yes, there we have the secret of strength, of the highest kind of
strength, of strength of soul. The joy of the Lord, that joy which comes
from knowing our sin is pardoned.
Can I say--
'O happy day, O happy day
When Jesus washed my sins away?'
Then I have spiritual strength, for the joy of the Lord is my strength.
He has forgiven me, He has washed me from my sins in His own blood; how
can I grieve Him? How can I pain Him by yielding to temptation? How can
I ever risk losing the joy of my heart by going contrary to His will? I
am joyful because I am forgiven, and I am strong because I am joyful.
Here then is the highest kind of strength, and it is a strength within
the reach of all. Bodily strength some of us can never attain. We are
born with weakly bodies, we have grown up delicate and frail, we could
no more transform ourselves into strong, powerful men, than we could
make ourselves into elephants.
There was a man who lived in Greece long before Hezekiah, who was
determined to make his nation the strongest nation on earth; he was
resolved that it should consist of mighty giants in strength, and that
not one delicate or weak man should be found amongst them. But what did
Lycurgus find himself obliged to do in order to secure his end? He was
compelled to have every infant carefully examined as soon as it was
born, and if a child had the least appearance of delicacy, he took it
from its mother, and sent it to some lonely cave on the hill-side, where
it was left to die of cold and hunger. He found that it was not possible
to turn a puny delicate child into a strong man.
Bodily strength then is beyond the reach of many men; weak they were
born, weak they live, and weak they will die, nothing will alter or
improve them.
Nor can strength of mind be attained by many. They were born with no
power of memory, no aptitude for learning, no gift for study; you may
teach them, and labour with them, and they may work hard themselves, but
no application can instil into them what was not born in them; they came
into the world with second-rate intellects, and they will die with the
same.
But, thank God, the highest form of strength, strength of soul is, in
this respect, not like strength of body or strength of mind. No one is
born with it, we are all by nature weak as water, an easy prey for
Satan; but there is not one of us who may not acquire this spiritual
power. If we will take the lost sinner's place, and claim the lost
sinner's Saviour, we shall be filled by that Saviour with joy, joy
because sin is forgiven, and with the joy will come the strength of
soul.
In Greece, in that city in which all the weakly babies were murdered,
those children who were spared and who were pronounced to be strong,
were looked upon from that time as belonging not to their parents but to
the state, and they were trained and brought up with this one object in
view, to make them strong and powerful men. They were taught to bear
cold, wearing the same clothing in winter as in summer; they were
trained to bear fatigue, being accustomed to walk barefoot for miles;
they were practised in wrestling, in racing, in throwing heavy weights,
in carrying burdens, in anything and everything which was calculated to
make the strength that was in them grow and increase. And it was
wonderful how, by means of practice, the strength did grow.
We are told of one man, who in the public games carried a full grown ox
for a mile, and we are told that he accomplished this by gradually
accustoming himself to the weight. He began when the ox was a tiny calf
to carry it a mile every day, and the increase of weight was so gradual
that he did not feel it; his arms became used to the weight, and as the
ox grew bigger, he at the same time grew stronger.
Strength of body then grows and increases in proportion to our use of
it.
So, too, does strength of mind. Here is a boy, born with good abilities
and with an intelligent mind. Take that child, and shut him off from
every possibility of using his mind; never teach him anything, never
allow him to look at a book or a picture, keep him shut off from
everything that might tend to open his mind, tell him nothing, bring him
up as a mere animal, and soon he will lose all his powers of mind, and
become an imbecile. But, on the other hand, teach him, train him,
educate him, let his mind have full scope and exercise, and his mental
powers will grow and increase a hundred-fold, for strength of mind,
like strength of body, grows with the using.
Just so is it with strength of soul. Every temptation you overcome makes
you stronger, every lust you subdue, every battle of soul you fight,
every inclination to evil you resist, makes you stronger.
'From strength to strength' is the motto of the Christian.
So let us press forward.
'Till we all come in the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the
Son of God, unto _a perfect man_' (or as R.V. has it, a _full-grown
man_) 'unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ.'
Now we are but children in spiritual strength, then we shall be giants
in power, full-grown men, with full powers and energy and strength,
ready to work for the Master through eternity.