1. _The Joy That He Brought._

When our Lord came it was to a world which was shrouded with the idea

of demons and vindictive spiritual powers. That dark time between

the close of the Old Testament period and the beginning of the New

had been a forcing ground for all such thoughts. The powers of evil

were serried ranks over against the power of God, and in the hands

of those powers of evil Pilate and Herod were mere puppets. St. Paul,

for instance, speaks of the wisdom of God, and then he adds: "Which

none of the princes of this world knew, for had they known it, they

would not have crucified the Lord of Glory" (1 Cor. 2:8). "It was

not of Pontius Pilate and of Herod that Paul was speaking, but of

things far more awful and far more powerful--thrones, dominions,

principalities, and powers--as he calls them elsewhere the world

rulers of this darkness, and at their head is the prince of the power

of the air" (Glover, _Jesus in Experience_, page 1).

Not only on the side of the Jews was this terror of hidden and

revengeful and incalculable powers felt. The Greek-speaking world

had become permeated by Mithraism with its hierarchies of evil

potentates, and as a result men lived in gloom and in a temper

which made the propitiation of the unseen a main element in their

religion. This was swept away not so much by what Jesus said as by

what he was, and the New Testament, as the result, is the most joyous

of books. Our Lord revealed the Father; there was none between the

Father and himself. He was the Door; not only were there no other

doors, but there was no necessity for other doors. He came to give

life and more abundant life. He linked himself deliberately with

those Old Testament Messianic passages which declared that there was

liberty for those who were in bondage. He overstepped the inhibitions

and prohibitions of ecclesiasticism. He took the Jewish law, and,

reaching through the letter to the spirit, he tore off the accretions

which had overlain the original purifying and liberating purpose. He

declared the spiritual manhood of believers and invited those who

cast in their lot with him to take up their great inheritance.

It is in the setting forth of Christ that the New Testament is

self-evidencing. No theory as to its origin and descent is needed

to guarantee its inspiration. The evidence of experience goes to

show that the New Testament has power within itself. It is the

word of God because it effectively conveys the message of God. Its

glow, its simplicity, is due to this, that it was written by men

who had just come through an overwhelming religious experience, an

experience differing in kind but related in each case to the same

supreme Source. In the case of a great work of art we are able to

trace an origin and an evolution. The development may be rapid but

there is demonstrable sequence between the Byzantine art and Giotto,

between Giotto and the great Umbrians. In pure literature the master

does not arise like some volcano from the midst of a plain. He has

his predecessors in form, and his rivals differ only in degree.

But in the case of a religious movement, the first burst is the

most powerful, the first vision the most clear. Every effect must

have an adequate cause. What Cause was it which made of these plain

disciples literary and religious figures of incomparable power and

dignity? Who of mortals can have taught the writer of the Fourth

Gospel the interpretation that he has to hand on to us? The power

of the written Gospel is due to the unique power that was at work

in these men's hearts. After they were gone other Christian writers

arose, better equipped in scholarship, and men of true piety as well,

but they have left nothing that can be mentioned in the same breath

with those narratives of the life of Christ, with the torrent of the

Apostle Paul. Those who were nearest the source received most of the

light. No naturalistic explanation has ever done anything to solve

the riddle of those New Testament writings. An exercised Christian

experience carries the truth. Almost all of those to whom we owe the

New Testament died violent deaths, but their hearts were filled with

singing, and their tribulations were matters only of joy. Base the

inspiration of the Scriptures on their universal and ever youthful

experience, and nothing can move the authority of the Gospels. Rest

it on some theory of verbal inerrancy, and it is shaken by every

negative critic. The vital question with regard to the New Testament

is whether it does or does not reveal Jesus as God in the flesh.

If it does this, then every other question as to the mere harmony

of this account and that becomes almost irrelevant. We can admit

and must admit the human element. God works through personalities,

not through colorless nonentities. Every experienced Christian is a

separate instrument, giving forth a separate tone. And men rejoice in

the New Testament because other men two thousand years ago rejoiced,

and their gladness and release still sound true.

Those who grasp this thought enter into the glorious liberty of the

children of God. To-day all kinds of demons, even though they may not

call themselves such, are supposed to be holding the ground between

the truth-seeker and Jesus. It may be the general dread of life

which always sees the possibilities of doom in to-morrow; it may be

some carrying over into the spiritual sphere of an analogy from the

physical law of causation; it may be some visualizing of the past,

which makes reparation appear to be a prerequisite of any approach

to a new life. Alas, reparation is no longer possible for most of

the moral and spiritual failures, and in any case the kind of man

we have become is a much more important matter than the mistakes

which may come back to us on the selective wings of memory. And then

there are other fears which deal not so much with spiritual things

as with material and personal conditions. Not a few are haunted by

their own suspicious natures. No man is to them wholly spontaneous

or open-handed. The motive behind the generous or the brotherly thing

must be sought, and that motive is invariably found to be something

mean or selfish. How can there be any joy in the heart when there

is this suspicion of one's fellow? And others are dogged by their

anxieties about their own ill health. One's memories of the Riviera

are sufficient to induce one to view Christian Science with a kindly

eye. Those who have had the easiest of lives and endless leisure

in which to indulge their whims cannot use the gifts they have by

reason of the overstrain they would incur! As if life were worth

having on the terms of a constant hypochondria. And others again

are haunted by their fear for their own reputation. They have to

dress in a certain way, walk with a certain gait, live in a certain

type of house, spend money at a certain rate, choose their friends

among those who will be useful to them, speak the safe and colorless

theory when epigram is on their tongue and provocativeness in their

heart--all because they have to maintain a reputation. Yet, _He_

made himself of no reputation, and because He sought only to live in

dependence on his Father He had no fear, no divided mind, no anxiety,

only joy and peace in believing.

Is not the recovery of that joy something that the Christian Church

and the Christians within the church are crying out for. It is so

evidently one of the first-fruits of fellowship with Christ, and how

really rare a gift it is! St. Francis had it because, like the birds

he loved, he leaned only upon God. Some men in war, having given

themselves wholly to a cause that they believed to be of God, learned

the quiet of having the world behind them. We who are burdened about

so many things, so anxious to assume the right attitude, to maintain

the conventional opinion, to insure against every conceivable

misfortune of worldly estate, how can we know the joy of living free,

the release of casting the burden upon the great Burden-bearer? The

stoic taught the Roman to endure by denying the presence of pain.

His strength was in his passive receptivity. But Christ Himself felt

pain, dreaded pain, was distressed by pain in the house of His

friends; and, moved thus by the sombre and unkind things in life,

He yet had an undisturbed peace. If the church is to regain its hold

upon men, it must be composed of joyous Christians. Only then will

there be removed those misapprehensions which have made for such

multitudes the thought of religion the thought of gloom. Only thus

shall we be conquerors through Christ who loved us.

Christianity and Problems of To-day: Lectures Delivered Before Lake Forest College on the Foundation of the Late William Bross · 第 18 / 41 题