I have already said that the return of the two, who had been sent to
see how things were going with the recent converts in the infant
Churches, brought the Apostle good tidings, and so lifted off a great
load of anxiety from his heart. No wonder! He had left raw recruits
under fire, with no captain, and he might well doubt whether they would
keep their ranks. But they did. So the pressure was lifted off, and the
pressure being lifted off, spontaneously the old impulse gripped him
once more; like a spring which leaps back to its ancient curve when
some alien force is taken from it. It must have been a very deep and a
very habitual impulse, which thus instantly reasserted itself the
moment that the pressure of anxiety was taken out of the way.
The word constrained him. What to do? To declare it. Paul's example
brings up two thoughts--that that impulse may vary at times, according
to the pressure of circumstances, and may even be held in abeyance for
a while; and that if a man is honestly and really a Christian, as soon
as the incumbent pressure is taken away, he will feel, 'Necessity is
laid upon me; yea, woe is me if I preach not the Gospel.' For though
Paul's sphere of work was different from ours, his obligation to work
and his impulse to work were such as are, or should be, common to all
Christians. The impulse to utter the word that we believe and live by
seems to me to be, in its very nature, inseparable from earnest
Christian faith. All emotion demands expression; and if a man has never
felt that he must let his Christian faith have vent, it is a very bad
sign. As certainly as fermentation or effervescence demands outgush, so
certainly does emotion demand expression. We all know that. The same
impulse that makes a mother bend over her babe with unmeaning words and
tokens that seem to unsympathetic onlookers foolish, ought to influence
all Christians to speak the Name they love. All conviction demands
expression. There may be truths which have so little bearing upon human
life that he who perceives them feels little obligation to say anything
about them. But these are the exceptions; and the more weighty and the
more closely affecting human interests anything that we have learned to
believe as truth is, the more do we feel in our hearts that, in making
us its believers, it has made us its apostles. Christ's saying, 'What
ye hear in the ear, that preach ye on the housetops,' expresses a
universal truth which is realised in many regions, and ought to be most
emphatically realised in the Christian. For surely of all the truths
that men can catch a glimpse of, or grapple to their hearts, or store
in their understandings, there are none which bring with them such
tremendous consequences, and therefore are of so solemn import to
proclaim to all the children of men, as the truth, which we profess we
have received, of personal salvation through Jesus Christ.
If there never had been a single commandment to that effect, I know not
how the Christian Church or the Christian individual could have
abstained from declaring the great and sweet Name to which it and he
owe so much. I do not care to present this matter as a commandment, nor
to speak now of obligation or responsibility. The _impulse_ is what I
would fix your attention upon. It is inseparable from the Christian
life. It may vary in force, as we see in the incident before us. It
will vary in grip, according as other circumstances and duties insist
upon being attended to. The form in which it is yielded to will vary
indefinitely in individuals. But if they are Christian people it is
always there.
Well then, what about the masses of so-called Christians who feel
nothing of any such constraining force? And what about the many who
feel enough of it to make them also feel that they are wrong in not
yielding to it, but not enough to make their conduct be influenced by
it? Brethren, I venture to believe that the measure in which this
impulse to speak the word and use direct efforts for somebody's
conversion is felt by Christians, is a very fair test of the depth of
their own religion. If a vessel is half empty it will not run over. If
it is full to the brim, the sparkling treasure will fall on all sides.
A weak plant may never push its green leaves above the ground, but a
strong one will rise into the light. A spark may be smothered in a heap
of brushwood, but a steady flame will burn its way out. If this word
has not a grip of you, impelling you to its utterance, I would have you
not to be too sure that you have a grip of it.