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Living for the Best
By
James G. K. McClure
Author of "A Mighty Means of Usefulness," "The Great Appeal,"
"Possibilities," etc.
CHICAGO NEW YORK TORONTO
Fleming H. Revell Company
LONDON AND EDINBURGH
Copyright, 1903
By FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY
MARCH
CHICAGO: 63 WASHINGTON STREET
NEW YORK: 158 FIFTH AVENUE
TORONTO: 27 RICHMOND STREET, W.
LONDON: 21 PATERNOSTER SQUARE
EDINBURGH: 30 ST. MARY STREET
PREFACE.
The publisher of a large metropolitan journal, a most effective man in
reaching and influencing his fellows, once expressed to me the thought,
"From what I know of myself and others, were I a writer or speaker
desiring to enforce truth, I would always try to vivify that truth
through illustration and story. The every-day intelligence of man
rejoices to have truth put before it in living form."
It is with these words in mind that this book is written. Its purpose is
to set forth great ideas, and so to set them forth, each one illustrated
by a historic life already familiar, that these ideas shall be made
luminous, and even vivid, to the reader. The characters chosen for such
illustration are from the Old Testament--those men of ancient times
whose humanity is the humanity of every race and clime, and whose
experiences touch our own with sympathy and suggestion. May these
old-day heroes live again before the mind of him who turns these pages,
and may the ideas which they are used to illustrate be an abiding power
in the memory of every reader.
JAMES G. K. MCCLURE.
LAKE FOREST,
ILLINOIS.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Open to the Best 11
II. Winning the Best Victories 31
III. Making the Best Use of Our Lives 49
IV. Putting the Best into Others 67
V. Developing Our Best under Difficulties 87
VI. The Need of Retaining the Best Wisdom 105
VII. The Best Possession 123
VIII. Using Aright Our Best Hours 141
IX. Giving Our Best to God 161
OPEN TO THE BEST.
CHAPTER I.
OPEN TO THE BEST.
"If every morning we would fling open our windows and look out on the
wide reaches of God's love and goodness, we could not help singing." So
it has been written. So Luther thought. When he was at Wartburg Castle,
in the perilous times of the Reformation, he went every morning to his
window, threw it open, looked up to the skies, and veritable prisoner
though he was, cheerily sang, "God is our Refuge and Strength, a very
present Help." Then he carried a buoyant heart to the labor of the day.
The joy of a glad outlook was well understood by Ruskin. His guests at
Brantwood were often awakened early in the morning by a knocking at
their doors and the call, "Are you looking out?" When in response to
this summons they pushed back the window-blinds a scene of beauty
greeted their eyes. The glory of sunlight and the grandeur of forest
dispelled care, quieted fret, and animated hope.
Scarce anything in life more determines a soul's welfare than the nature
of its outlook. If spiritual frontage is toward the shadow, the soul
sees all things in the gloom of the shadow; if spiritual frontage is
toward the sunlight, the soul sees all things in the brightness of the
sunlight.
The preliminary question of character is, What is the outlook? Let that
outlook be wrong, and opinion and conduct in due time will be wrong; let
it be right, and whatever the temporary mistakes of opinion and conduct,
the permanent tendency of character will be toward the right.
"From a small window one may see the infinite," Carlyle wrote. This was
Daniel's belief. He acted upon his belief. The windows of his soul were
always open to the infinite. In that fact lies the explanation of his
character--a character of which every child hears with interest, every
youth with admiration, and every mature man with reverence.
To-day in eastern lands the Mohammedan, wherever he may be, turns his
face toward Mecca when, seeking help, he worships God. To him Mecca is
the central spot of Mohammedan revelation, and is the focus of all
Mohammedan brotherhood. So in olden times the Israelite, wherever he
might be, thought of Jerusalem as the place where God's worship was
worthiest and where Israelitish fellowship was heartiest. The name
"Jerusalem" strengthened his religious faith and stirred his national
patriotism. To open the windows of his soul toward Jerusalem was to open
the soul to the best thoughts and impressions that the world provided.
As the premier of the great Medo-Persian empire Daniel had his own
palatial residence. The windows of the different rooms fronted in their
special directions. There was one room that was his particular and
private room. It was an "upper room" or "loft," somewhere apart by
itself. The distinctive feature of this room was that its windows opened
toward Jerusalem. Into this room Daniel was accustomed to go three times
a day, throw open the lattice windows, look toward Jerusalem, and then
in the thought of all that Jerusalem represented, kneel and talk with
God.
Such was his custom. If the matters of his life were comparatively
comfortable, he did this; and if those matters were seriously
unpleasant, he did the same. Should, then, an occasion much out of the
ordinary arise, an occasion involving a crisis in his life, it would be
perfectly natural that he should, as he had invariably done, go into his
retired chamber and open the windows.
Such an extraordinary occasion arose when Darius issued the decree that
the man who prayed to other than himself should be cast into a den of
lions. In itself the decree seemed justifiable. It was customary for the
Persians to worship their kings as gods. Ormuzd was said to dwell in
every Persian king. Accordingly, divine authority was attributed to
Persian kings, and whenever one of them issued a law, it had the force
of infallibility. So it was "that the law of the Medes and the Persians
published by a king altereth not."
At this particular time a decree commanding all people to bow to the
king was perhaps a matter of state policy. The kingdom of the Medes and
Persians had just been established. Here was an opportunity of testing
the loyalty of the entire realm to the new king, Darius. If the people
far and wide would bow to him, then they were loyal; but if they refused
so to bow, then they evidently were disloyal.
There was, however, an ulterior motive lying back of this seemingly
rational decree. Many of the state officials envied Daniel. He was a
foreigner, and still he held higher place than they. They desired to
bring him into disrepute. They could not accomplish their purposes
through charges of malfeasance of office, for his actions were
absolutely faultless. They therefore resorted to the securing of this
decree, believing, from what they knew of Daniel's habits and character,
that he would, as he always had done, pray to Jehovah and not to Darius.
In such case he would violate the decree and expose himself to the
penalty of death.
Daniel knew that the decree had been issued. What would he do about it?
The envious officials watched to see. When Daniel went to his palace
their eyes followed him. Perhaps they had spies in the palace. In any
case, some eyes tracked him as he passed from room to room until he came
into his "loft," his "upper room," and then they saw him open the
windows toward Jerusalem and kneel before Jehovah! So much was it a part
of Daniel's life to keep the windows of his soul open to the best, that
the direst threat had no power to divert him for an instant from his
wonted course.
Daniel kept the windows of his soul open to the best _religion_. To him
Jerusalem stood for the best religion on earth. From the time, as a boy
of fourteen, he first went away from home, he had lived among peoples
having different faiths. He had known the religion of the Chaldeans, and
had seen its phases under Nebuchadnezzar and Belshazzar. It had much in
its favor: its temples were beautiful, its ceremonies ornate, its feasts
imposing. It had much however that was not in its favor: its
heartlessness, its impurity, and its deceit. He had known, too, the
fire-worshiping religion of the Persians. Many of its features appealed
to him. The sun then as always was an object of admiration. As it rises
above the horizon, moving with a stately progress that no cloud can
check, no force of nature can retard, and no hand of man can withstand,
it is the personification of majesty. As it causes the birds to sing,
the beasts of the field to bestir themselves, and mankind to issue forth
to labor, it is the emblem of power. As it makes the grass to grow and
the flower to bloom, and as it draws skyward the moisture of lake and
ocean that, like a great benefactor, it may send accumulated showers to
refresh the parched earth, the sun is a very life-giver. It was no
wonder that the Persians of Daniel's day, with their imperfect
knowledge, bowed before that sun and worshiped it; nor was it a wonder
that they worshiped all fire that has within itself such transforming
and beautifying and energizing power.
But though Daniel knew this religion, and the many other religions that
in his time had their votaries in Babylon, he kept his windows open
toward Jerusalem. Other religions might attempt the answer to the soul's
inquiries concerning the meaning of life, other religions might have
their beauties and their deformities, other religions might help him
very materially in his political career, but to him one religion was the
highest and the best, and to the influence of that religion he opened
his soul. Jerusalem stood for one God--an invisible Creator who formed
all things and was Lord over the sun itself as well as over man. This
God, an unseen Spirit, was spotless in his character, and would dwell in
the heart of man as man's friend and helper. To Daniel there was no such
religion anywhere as the religion that taught this incomparable God--a
God without a vice, a God who forgives sin, a God who never disdains the
weakest soul that comes to him in penitence--and still is "Lord of lords
and King of kings," the only wise and only Eternal One.
Once a distinguished thinker, addressing students, said: "I have found
great benefit in my own experience by emphasizing a very simple
principle, one which never fails me when it is applied to questions of
the spiritual life: '_It is always best to believe the best._'"
Then he illustrated his meaning. The religion that teaches that all
events are guided by intelligence toward a goal of love, rather than by
blind and remorseless force, enables us to live in hope. It makes
existence, not a prison-house, but a place of broad and splendid
horizons; it makes the service of humanity a prophecy of blessing for
all; it makes the discipline of the race a means toward a beneficent
end. The religion that also teaches that we all are children of a good
God, and that to the weakest and humblest of us there may be deliverance
from all evil, transformation into all holiness, and finally reception
to immortality in the presence and service of regnant perfection, such a
religion is the best--the best in its hopes, the best in its
inspiration, the best in its purposes, and the best in its results.
Because it is the best, it is best to believe it; best to believe it,
because through believing it we are helped toward the noblest manhood
and are enabled to face life and death alike, with bravery.
All this Daniel realized. Accordingly, amid all the distractions and
appeals, and even temptations, of other religions, he kept his heart's
windows open to the influences of God's religion. That was the wise
attitude for him. It is the wise attitude for all. It is a man's duty,
if he be true to his own soul, to keep an open mind to the best
religion. Christianity claims to be the best, and asks acceptance on
that ground alone. It welcomes study of every other religion. It
rejoices in a "Parliament of Religions," wherein the advocates of
different religions may present the claims of their religions in the
strongest language possible. It listens as one religion is praised
because it can secure calmness of mind, and as another is praised
because it can secure heroism of life. As it listens, it delights in
every word of encomium, _so long as each speaker and hearer keeps an
open heart toward the best religion_. Then, when its own opportunity
comes, Christianity presents itself, and asserting that the evil that is
in any other religion is not in Christianity at all, that the good that
is in any other religion is in Christianity far more abundantly, and
that there are blessings in Christianity that appear in no other
religion whatever, it claims to be the transcendent religion.
In the activity of intellectual life common to all awakening and
thoughtful minds it is inevitable that doubts will arise concerning the
worthiness of Christianity. Every age finds the special doubts of its
own age peculiar to itself. In this present age questions are in the air
concerning the authorship of the Bible, concerning the person of Christ,
and concerning the authenticity of the records of Christ's earthly
ministry. Men are asking whether this world is impelled by a blind,
resistless, heartless force, whether we are merely a mass of atoms,
whether we may be delivered from the thraldom of sin, and whether when
we die we become dust and dust alone. What shall we do in the face of
all these questions? _Keep the windows of our souls open to the beliefs
that are best for our life's grandeur and for humanity's uplift._ That
is what we may do, what we should do, and what if we so do, will
invariably lead the mind to a higher and higher valuation of the
pre-eminence of Christianity.
Daniel kept his windows open to the best _commands_ of the best
religion. His daily surroundings from the hour as a youth he entered the
king's palace at Babylon were demoralizing. The ideals of his associates
were low. The religious life of his fellow-students was a mere form.
Domestic life all about him was unsound. Public life was dishonest.
Looseness of character everywhere prevailed. Impurity was alluring.
Bribery was considered a necessary feature of authority. The weak were
crushed by the mighty. Selfishness characterized both king and people.
The difficulty of his position was great: to breathe malaria and not be
affected by it. He was in the whirl of worldliness and still he must not
be made dizzy thereby. His one resource for safety was his daily
consideration of the commands of God. Those commands charged men to be
upright, to be clean, to do duty faithfully, even though it was duty to
a heathen master, and to make life serviceable to the welfare of others.
Again and again all through the years of his exile it was necessary for
his soul's welfare that he should ponder these commands of God and not
let the atmosphere that surrounded him lower and destroy his ideals.
On that day when the unalterable decree was issued Daniel was in
imminent and unescapable peril. Jealous officers already rejoiced in his
anticipated death. The danger of weakening threatened his heart. He
remembered that Abraham once in Egypt surrendered his principles and
thereby saved his life; that the Gibeonites once falsified and so
preserved themselves alive. He might have reasoned, "Why should not I,
in this special matter, yield, and give up recognition of Jehovah until
the storm of persecution is past?" He could easily say, "Perhaps I am
making too much of this whole subject; what difference will there be if
I, away off here in Babylon, hundreds of miles from home, call this a
case of expediency, and temporarily relinquish my ideals?" The
temptation was a fearful one. Many a man has gone down before it.
Cranmer did, Pilate did; but not Daniel. He kept his eyes on God's
commands--those commands that told him to do the right and scorn the
consequences, those commands that told him that faithfulness to
principle, though it ended in martyrdom, was essential to place in God's
hero list. He remembered Joseph, who would not sin against God in doing
evil. He remembered God, that bade him bear his testimony, sealing it if
necessary with his life's blood. So remembering he kept the faith and
proved invincible.
Many a man, like Daniel, exposed to a peculiar temptation, has been
made brave as he has remembered the standards set for him by another. He
has thought of the wife perhaps, who charged him to meet his duties as a
man of God, though godliness should involve them both in disgrace, and
thus thinking he has stood firm before evil. Or as a youth, away from
home, in a school or factory, with deteriorating influences all about
him, and his feet well-nigh gone from the ways of uprightness, he has
turned his heart toward that mother who would rather have him die than
be false, and the remembrance of her has roused his self-assertion and
made him master of the environment.
The commands of God summon men to _principle_, to _fidelity_, to
_serviceableness_, to _self-renunciation_, and to _holiness_. The man
has never lived, nor ever will live, who can fulfil these commands of
God unless his windows are continually open toward Jerusalem. We need,
we always need, to have our ideals kept large and our standards kept
high if we are to be noble souls.
Daniel kept the windows of his soul open, too, to the best _promises_
of the best religion. Even though the prince of the eunuchs was kind to
the home-sick captive, and a king was gracious to the interpreter of
dreams, Daniel was always exposed to discouragement. Like the missionary
of to-day, alone in a foreign land, he was surrounded by the depressing
influences of heathenism. As he advanced in power there was no one to
whom he could go for religious fellowship. The aids of comradeship and
the aids of public worship were wanting. There were no audible voices
summoning him to trust, and there was no tangible evidence of the
existence of a people of God. He therefore needed every day to go to God
Himself, and find in Him a refuge for his heart; needed to hear God's
reassuring voice telling him that God was with him, was watching over
him in love, and would provide for him as occasion might require. How
often Daniel must have been comforted and heartened as he opened his
soul to the promises of God!
But what an hour of need that was when he was tracked to his upper room!
Every power in the great Medo-Persian Empire was arrayed against him. No
friend, no helper, was at hand. He stood alone before his fearful
crisis. Brave and determined as his spirit might be, he was still a
man--a man of flesh and blood. He needed strength: needed, as Christ
afterward in Gethsemane needed, supporting and encouraging sympathy. He
turned his soul toward the promises of God's protection and help. He let
those promises flood his heart. Those promises made his will like
adamant.
We do well when we front our hearts to God's promises. Every earnest
soul, trying to make this world better, meets severe discouragements.
Then let the soul open itself to God's assurance that the ends of the
earth are given to Christ and that good shall indeed come off
victorious. Every weak soul struggling to subdue its sin comes to hours
of weariness. Then let the soul open itself to God's assurance that He
giveth power to the faint and to them that have no might He increaseth
strength. Every sorrowing soul, sighing for the loved and the lost, has
days of loneliness. Then let the soul open itself to God's assurance
that life and immortality are brought to light in Jesus Christ. Only as
the needy world of humanity opens its heart to God's promises can it
walk in light and possess the peace that passeth understanding.
There is always danger lest men let the windows of their souls be shut
toward God. Our particular _sins_ cause us to shut these windows. We do
not like to look into God's face when we are conscious of cherished
evil. Adam and Eve hid themselves from God when they knew they had done
wrong. Those who condemned the reformers to death, often put wax in
their ears so that they might not hear the testimony given by those
reformers at the stake. _Cares_, too, cause us to shut these windows. We
have so much responsibility to absorb us that we have "no time to look
out to any distant tower of a sanctifying thought." All sorts of sights
are before our windows--society, business, pleasure, study--but not God.
Our life seems to open in every other direction than toward the holy
city. We do not go alone into a private place and expose ourselves to
the influences God stands ready to send to our hearts. It would be far
better if we did. We should find that almost as gently as comes the
sunlight, ideas, inspirations, and aspirations would be suggested to our
hearts. They would enter our hearts, we would not know how; and if we
cherished them, they would correct our false estimates of life, would
re-mint our courage, would clarify the vision of our faith, and would
prepare us, as they prepared Daniel, to discharge all life's duties with
integrity, humanity, and composure.
It is a blessed, very blessed, way to live, this way of keeping our
hearts open to the best. We all can so live. We can have a secret
chamber--a very closet of the soul--into which we can go, whether we are
with the multitude or are alone; and if through the broadly opened
windows of that closet we look out toward the best--distant as that best
may seem--back from the best will come the light that never fails and
the strength that never breaks.
WINNING THE BEST VICTORIES.