The crumbling of our palaces does not necessarily mean loss, especially
if they be the grotesque ones built in untutored childhood, or
those planned in moments of unguarded enthusiasm, or given form by
impractical impulse, or intended for selfish or sinful pleasure. We
have never tried to live in the blockhouses built upon the nursery
floor, neither do we mold our lives according to childhood fancies.
There can be no progress without the compelling power of a well-guided
enthusiasm, but overwrought enthusiasm is an uncontrollable power
bringing moral, physical, and financial disaster. The ability to yield
promptly to righteous impulse is akin to genius, but the impulses of
an untrained soul are the frenzied switchmen who ditch and wreck the
train that should have the right of way. When self-interest means the
developing of brain and talents to establish a worthy character and
beneficent influence, making one a constructive force in the community,
it is not to be despised; but when self-interest becomes selfishness,
the building of a fortified castle in which one lives at the expense
of others, then is the soul smitten with leprosy, and the home becomes
a pest-house, not a palace. A place of sin is never a shelter, but a
death-trap, its elegance of architecture and furnishings making it all
the more dangerous. There are many palaces unfit for habitation. To
permit them to decay and crumble into nothingness is greatest gain, for
to live unworthily is not to live at all.
On the other hand there is a neglect that means a helpless, hopeless
poverty from which no influence or friendship can bring deliverance.
When once these palaces are permitted to crumble we become homeless
outcasts, begging from a world that begrudges us its crumbs. Therefore
one must consider, not only the beginning, but the upkeep of life.
There is the palace of Character that needs guarding. The beginning
of the Christian life is only “the beginning.” Here is the peril of
our present and very popular conception of church membership. A man
often feels that all that is necessary for his soul’s salvation is
to go through the soulless process of uniting with some religious
organization, and it matters not which one he may chance to choose.
“Joining the church” is looked upon as taking out a spiritual life
insurance, without any thought of paying premiums through the passing
years. Having his name duly inscribed upon the records of some
church gives a man confidence with which to face death, and the
coming judgment, not realizing that the Church Record will perish
in the flames of the last day; and that men are judged by comparing
the records which God has kept with the record that each man writes
upon the pages of his own body, mind, and soul. Preachers have bigger
business at the Judgment than carrying their Church Records and
appearing as counsel for the members of their flocks. They must appear
at the Judgment and answer for themselves.
Christian living is righteous living, being right with God and
right with man, in all the dealings of daily life. It is not, like
vaccination, completed in one short operation, but, like breathing, an
activity that includes every second of one’s earthly existence. It is
not moving into a furnished apartment which you can secure by making
certain payments, but the building of the palace of Character. Stone
by stone, the great structure is erected, its foundation resting upon
the solid rock, its walls built with God’s plumb line, its turrets and
battlements lifted high to receive the blessings of the sky. It is not
built in a day, but requires the unceasing toil of all our days, else
it will crumble into hopeless ruin.
Character is not firmly established this side the grave. There are
no character insurance societies. Right living on the part of youth
may soon give one a reputation of worth, but after many years of
faithful living have resulted in a palace, admired of men, one misdeed
may become a conflagration that will reduce it to ashes; one single
misspent day may cause the strongest palace to crumble and decay. The
ruins of Kenilworth are beautiful because covered with English ivy; for
the ruined walls of Character there is no ivy of sympathy to beautify,
but the bleak and barren wreckage stands in ghastly hideousness to
proclaim to all the world the story of the misspent day. Both youth and
age alike must guard the palace of Character against decay.
There is the palace of Benevolence that needs guarding. In childhood
we learned the difference between the cold hovel of Selfishness and
the great palace of Benevolence, with its windows ablaze with light
to guide our footsteps, and its hearthstone aglow with welcoming
warmth. How we feared and shunned the selfish soul, not for the lack
of gifts, but because, with the clear vision of childhood, we beheld
the deformity of his crabbed soul! How we loved the dweller of the
palace, not for his gifts, but for the beauty of his smile, the soft
light of friendship in his eyes, the joy-creating atmosphere in which
he moved. Then and there we decided to mold our lives after the plans
of that good man, and be benevolent individuals; not spendthrifts,
but possessed of rich, red blood, and sympathetic hearts ever open to
the beauties and needs of life. But we soon learn that the palace of
Benevolence cannot be built with one deed of benevolence, no matter
how large and generous it may be. The gift of some great public
institution, however worthy and serviceable to the people, is not
enough to mark a man as one who dwells in the palace of Benevolence.
That coveted abode is built, not by gift or gifts, but by the generous
spirit with which we daily and hourly meet the world. Benevolence
is not a gift, nor series of gifts, but the wholesome, generous
spirit which we manifest toward men. With such a spirit one builds a
beautiful palace in which to dwell, but one that is very easily marred
and destroyed. One selfish desire, once hardening the heart against
another’s need, one greedy, grasping longing or desire, and the palace
beautiful crumbles into dust; and they who once rejoiced at our coming
will turn away with the contempt with which all men greet unworthiness.
There also is the palace of Prayer. No earthly dwelling is so beautiful
as that which one builds for his soul through communion with God.
Always situated upon the lofty heights, above the lowlands of sin and
dusty ways of worldliness, it lifts its towers and pinnacles into a
cloudless sky. The view is clear and unobstructed, so that one sees the
affairs of life in their true relations to the great world of which
they are a part. The struggles of their fellow men are in clear sight
and therefore observed with sympathetic, understanding heart. The sky
is close, and when the sun is set the stars peer through the shadowy
canopy, and smile. The atmosphere is fresh and pure, made fragrant with
the breath of heaven, and he who breathes it feels a power divine.
Nothing is more beautiful than the palace of Prayer.
Nevertheless, the palace may crumble and become a hopeless heap of
dust. Where once stood a vision of spirituality one can see nothing but
that which is of the earth earthy. A hidden sin within the heart, that
slyly steals away one’s love for God; a subtle spirit of worldliness,
that deadens the soul until it ceases to respond to things divine; a
gnawing doubt that, like the white ants of India, honeycomb the timbers
of the bravest, strongest souls--all these cause the crumbling of the
palace.
The palaces of the soul, however well established, require a watchful
eye and careful guarding. The powers of evil are destroying elements
that beat and pound upon the shelters of the soul with destructive
fury. But even then, a well-built palace need not crumble. He who
has the Carpenter of Nazareth as his daily Companion may build for
eternity. Keeping the sayings of the Master means that the house is
firmly fixed upon a strong foundation and that all its timbers are
strongly knit together; so that when the floods come and the winds blow
and beat upon it; when a legion of devils encamp about and lay siege
upon the soul; when fires sweep, and earthquakes work their devastation
to this planet, these palaces, not made with hands, and not constructed
from earthly material, the palaces of Character, Benevolence, and
Communion with God, shall not be moved. They shall shelter us here and
be eternal in the heavens.