LAID ON GOD'S ALTAR.
"My life is not my own, but Christ's, who gave it,
And he bestows it upon all the race;
I lose it for his sake, and thus I save it;
I hold it close, but only to expend it;
Accept it, Lord, for others, through thy grace."
We have to die to live. That is the central law of life. We must burn
to give light to the world, or to give forth odor of incense to God's
praise. We cannot save ourselves and at the same time make anything
worthy of our life, or be in any deep and true sense an honor to God
and a blessing to the world. The altar stands in the foreground of
every life, and can be passed by only at the cost of all that is
noblest and best.
All the practical side of religion is summed up in the exhortation of
St. Paul, that we present our bodies a living sacrifice to God.
Anciently, a man brought a lamb and presented it to God, laid it on the
altar, to be consumed by God's fire. In like manner, we are to present
our bodies. The first thing is not to be a worker, a preacher, a saver
of souls; the very first thing in a Christian life is to present one's
self to God, to lay one's self on the altar. We need to understand
this. It is easier to talk and work for Christ than to give ourselves
to him. It is easier to offer God a few activities than to give him a
heart. But the heart must be first, else even the largest gifts and
services are not acceptable.
"'Tis not thy work the Master needs, but thee,--
The obedient spirit, the believing heart."
"A living sacrifice." A sacrifice is something really given to God, to
be his altogether and forever. We cannot take it back any more. One
could not lay a lamb on God's altar and then a minute or two afterward
run up and take it off. We cannot be God's to-day and our own
to-morrow. If we become his at all, in a sacrifice which he accepts,
we are his always.
How can we present ourselves as a sacrifice to God? By the complete
surrender of our heart and will and all our powers to him. Absolute
obedience is consecration. The soldier learns it. He is not his own.
He does not think for himself, to, make his own plans; he has but one
duty--to obey. Payson used to talk of his "lost will"--lost in God's
will, he meant. That is what presenting one's self a sacrifice means.
It is a "living" sacrifice. Anciently, the sacrifices were killed;
they were laid dead on the altar. We are to present ourselves living.
The fire consumed the ancient offering; the fire of God's love and of
his Spirit consumes our lives by purifying them and filling them with
divine life. Those on whom the fire fell on the day of Pentecost
became new men. There was a new life in their souls, a new ardor, a
new enthusiasm. They were on fire with love for Christ. They entered
upon a service in which all their energies flamed.
The living sacrifice includes all the life,--not what it is now only,
but all that it may become. Life is not a diamond, but a seed, with
possibilities of endless growth. Dr. Lyman Abbott has used this
illustration: "I pluck an acorn from the greensward, and hold it to my
ear; and this is what it says to me: 'By and by the birds will come and
nest in me. By and by I will furnish shade for the cattle. By and by
I will provide warmth for the home in the pleasant fire. By and by I
will be shelter from the storm to those who have gone under the roof.
By and by I will be the strong ribs of the great vessel, and the
tempest will beat against me in vain, while I carry men across the
Atlantic.' 'O foolish little acorn, wilt thou be all this?' I ask.
And the acorn answers, 'Yes; God and I.'"
I look into the faces of a company of children, and I hear a whisper,
saying: "By and by I will be a great blessing to many. By and by other
lives will come and find nest and home in me. By and by the weary will
sit in the shadow of my strength. By and by I will sit as comforter in
a home of sorrow. By and by I will speak the words of Christ's
salvation in ears of lost ones. By and by I will shine in the full
radiancy of the beauty of Christ, and be among the glorified with my
Redeemer." "You, frail, powerless, little one?" I ask; and the answer
is, "Yes; Christ and I." And all these blessed possibilities that are
in the life of the young person must go upon the altar in the living
sacrifice.
Take another view of it. Some people seem to suppose that only
spiritual exercises are included in this living sacrifice; that it does
not cover their business, their social life, their amusements. But it
really embraces the whole of life. We belong to God as truly on Monday
as on the Lord's Day. We must keep ourselves laid on God's altar as
really while we are at our week-day work as when we are in a
prayer-meeting. We are always on duty as Christians, whether we are
engaged in our secular pursuits or in exercises of devotion. All our
work should therefore be done reverently, "as unto the Lord."
We should do everything also for God's eye and according to the
principled of righteousness. The consecrated mechanic must put
absolute truth into every piece of work he does. The consecrated
business man must conduct his business on the principles of divine
righteousness. The consecrated millionaire must get his money on God's
altar, so that every dollar of it shall do business for God, blessing
the world. The consecrated housekeeper must keep her home so sweet and
so tidy and beautiful all the days, that she would never be ashamed for
her Master to come in without warning to be her guest. That is, when
we present ourselves to God as a living sacrifice, we are to be God's
in every part and in every phase of our life, wherever we go, whatever
we do.
"I cannot be of any use," says one. "I cannot talk in meetings. I
cannot pray in public. I have no gift for visiting the sick. There is
nothing I can do for Christ."
Well, if Christian service were all talking and praying in meetings,
and visiting the sick, it would be discouraging to such talentless
people. But are our tongues the only faculties we can use for Christ?
There are ways in which even silent people can belong to God and be a
blessing in the world. A star does not talk, but its calm, steady beam
shines down continually out of the sky, and is a benediction to many.
A flower cannot sing bird-songs, but its sweet beauty and gentle
fragrance make it a blessing wherever it is seen. Be like a star in
your peaceful shining, and many will thank God for your life. Be like
the flower in your pure beauty and in the influence of your unselfish
spirit, and you may do more to bless the world than many who talk
incessantly. The living sacrifice does not always mean active work.
It may mean the patient endurance of a wrong, the quiet bearing of a
pain, cheerful acquiescence in a disappointment.
"Noble deeds are held in honor;
But the wide world sadly needs
Hearts of patience to unravel
The worth of common deeds."
There are some people who think it impossible in their narrow sphere
and in their uncongenial circumstances to live so as to win God's favor
or be blessings in the world. But there is no doubt that many of the
most beautiful lives of earth, in Heaven's sight, are those that are
lived in what seem the most unfavorable conditions. A visitor to
Amsterdam wished to hear the wonderful music of the chimes of St.
Nicholas, and went up into the tower of the church to hear it. There
he found a man with wooden gloves on his hands, pounding on a keyboard.
All he could hear was the clanging of the keys when struck by the
wooden gloves, and the harsh, deafening noise of the bells close over
his head. He wondered why people talked of the marvellous chimes of
St. Nicholas. To his ear there was no music in them, nothing but
terrible clatter and clanging. Yet, all the while, there floated out
over and beyond the city the most entrancing music. Men in the fields
paused in their work to listen and were made glad. People in their
homes and travellers on the highways were thrilled by the marvellous
bell-notes that fell from the chimes.
There are many lives which to those who dwell close beside them seem to
make no music. They pour out their strength in hard toil. They are
shut up in narrow spheres. They dwell amid the noise and clatter of
common task-work. They appear to be only striking wooden hammers on
rattling, noisy keys. There can be nothing pleasing to God in their
life, men would say. They think themselves that they are not of any
use, that no blessing goes out from their life. They never dream that
sweet music is made anywhere in the world by their noisy hammering. As
the bell-chimer in his little tower hears no music from his own ringing
of the bells, so they think of their hard toil as producing nothing but
clatter and clangor; but out over the world where the influence goes
from their work and character, human lives are blessed, and weary ones
hear with gladness sweet, comforting music. Then away off in heaven,
where angels listen for earth's melody, most entrancing strains are
heard.
No doubt it will be seen at the last that many of earth's most
acceptable living sacrifices have been laid on the altar in the
narrowest spheres and in the midst of the hardest conditions. What to
the ears of close listeners is only the noise of painful toil is heard
in heaven as music sweet as angels' song.
The living sacrifice is "acceptable unto God." It ought to be a
wondrous inspiration to know this; that even the lowliest things we do
for Christ are pleasing to him. We ought to be able to do better,
truer work, when we think of his gracious acceptance of it. It is told
of Leonardo da Vinci, that while still a pupil, before his genius burst
into brilliancy, he received a special inspiration in this way: His old
and famous master, because of his growing infirmities of age, felt
obliged to give up his own work, and one day bade Da Vinci finish for
him a picture which he had begun. The young man had such a reverence
for his master's skill that he shrank from the task. The old artist,
however, would not accept any excuse, but persisted in his command,
saying simply, "Do your best."
Da Vinci at last tremblingly seized the brush and kneeling before the
easel prayed: "It is for the sake of my beloved master that I implore
skill and power for this undertaking." As he proceeded, his hand grew
steady, his eye awoke with slumbering genius. He forgot himself and
was filled with enthusiasm for his work. When the painting was
finished, the old master was carried into the studio to pass judgment
on the result. His eye rested on a triumph of art. Throwing his arms
about the young artist, he exclaimed, "My son, I paint no more."
There are some who shrink from undertaking the work which the Master
gives them to do. They are not worthy; they have no skill or power for
the delicate duty. But to all their timid shrinking and withdrawing,
the Master's gentle yet urgent word is, "Do your best." They have only
to kneel in lowly reverence and pray, for the beloved Master's sake,
for skill and strength for the task assigned, and they will be inspired
and helped to do it well. The power of Christ will rest upon them and
the love of Christ will be in their heart. And all work done under
this blessed inspiration will be acceptable unto God. We have but
truly to lay the living sacrifice on the altar; then God will send the
fire.
We need to get this matter of consecration down out of cloud-land into
the region of actual, common daily living. We sing about it and pray
for it and talk of it in our religious meetings, ofttimes in glowing
mood, as if it were some exalted state with which earth's life of toil,
struggle, and care had nothing whatever to do. But the consecration
suggested by the living sacrifice is one that walks on the earth, that
meets life's actual duties, struggles, temptations, and sorrows, and
that falters not in obedience, fidelity, or submission, but follows
Christ with love and joy wherever he leads. No other consecration
pleases God.