Speaking to a young man who was about to assume the more weighty
responsibilities of religious work and living, Paul bade him stir up
the coals of genius, and build a fire of enthusiasm that would warm and
set aglow with holy zeal his every endeavor. “I put thee in remembrance
that thou stir up the gift of God, which is in thee.” As the housewife
stirs the living coals out of the dead ashes of the old fireplace,
and fans them until they glow with sparkling fervor, setting aflame
the newly placed faggots, making the room radiant with good cheer as
shadows dance along the walls and ice melts from the frost-screened
windowpanes, so out of the dead ashes of past enthusiasm he was to stir
up the living coals of his best gifts until they snapped, and sparkled,
and burst aflame, filling the heart with brightness, and creating an
atmosphere that would melt the ices of indifference from the windows of
his soul, and give him a clear vision of a great wide world. Yea, as
in the days of Paul, one would take a dying torch, and placing it to
his lips, pour out his breath upon it until it burst in flame, that he
might have a torch of burning fire to guide his footsteps through the
darkness of the starless midnight or to flash a message to the people
living upon the distant hilltop, or to kindle the fireplace wood until
the cold corners of the house breathed a hearty welcome to the tired
and frozen travelers, so the young man was to take the divine elements
of the soul, breathe upon them the breath of prayer and devotion, until
they blazed and burned and cast abroad their helpful influence.
Within each human heart, however covered with the smothering ashes of
sin, are God-made sparks of celestial fire that long to rise on wings
of flame and make heroic battle with oppressive darkness. There are too
many lives which, through carelessness, never burn bright, but, like
smoldering flax, slowly eat themselves away, darkening and corrupting
the very air they should illumine. When they began the Christian life
they were radiant with hope, beaming with enthusiasm, and flashing
with chivalric courage; but the spirit of worldliness choked and
smothered them, until now, like the dead hearthstone of some shell-torn
house upon the battle line, they offer to a worn-out world no hope of
hospitality. To guard against this choking of the soul, this smoldering
of genius, this reckless burning out of the priceless gifts of God,
Paul urges all young men to stir up these coals and fan them into
radiant and glowing character.
It is not the will of God that any life be formal and indifferent.
How much all forms of life, plant, and animal owe to the hidden fires
within the bosom of the planet, no scientist has been bold enough to
state; but this we know about mankind, without the inner fires of
burning thought and all-consuming zeal there is no productivity. And
no life need be cold-hearted. For the hearthstone of every heart there
are three divine qualities that should burn with all the intensity and
fervor as in the hearts of ancient seer and prophet.
There is the quality of Faith that makes God real. To many people God
seems so far away that it is an impossibility for him to be a very
important factor in their daily lives. He is a sort of good-natured
Generality, to whom they may address petitions of greater or less
degree of piety, without fear of being embarrassed by an answer. Should
it be announced with certainty that at a given time the accumulated
prayers of a twelvemonth would be answered, fifty per cent of the
people would be afraid to face the hour. Some have prayed for purity
of heart, but if there is anything in the world that they do not
want, it is purity of heart. Nothing would be more embarrassing to
carry into their haunts of enjoyment and more difficult to explain to
their companions. Others have prayed for God to accept them as living
sacrifices, yet sainthood, to them, is as shocking as yellow fever. I
once knew a man who prayed “Let justice rule supreme.” It is a pleasing
phrase and a consummation to be devoutly wished for, but had it been
answered in this particular case, the man who uttered the prayer would
have gone to the penitentiary. Few people deny the existence of a God,
but many live as though there were no God. But these are not the real
lives. The men who really live and give a homelike feeling to the world
are those who have stirred up the embers of their faith until they
burn with an all-consuming warmth that makes God a guest of honor. To
such souls God is marvelously real, and they rejoice to have him dwell
within. When faith once lays hold on the Almighty no other experience
is half so real. One needs read about it in no book, consult no priest
or preacher, nor plead with friend to lend the information, for he
knows it for himself. Sitting beside the hearthstone of a living,
flaming faith, our hands feeling the pressure of that mighty Hand that
never harms but always serves, our souls rejoice with unmeasured joy to
realize that we are in the presence of God who knows and understands,
and who not only walks the weary ways with us, but gladly dwells within.
There is the quality of hope that makes heaven real. So long as hope
burns within the heart there is no fear of winter winds, but when hope
dies the soul dies. How gladly may old age look over the world in which
it spent the four-seasoned life of toil! Here is the spring of life
where the daisies grew and the cowslips scattered gold about the feet.
Yonder the harvest fields of manhood’s power in which a bared arm of
strength gathered the treasures of the soil while right merry thoughts
centered upon a nearby cottage toward which he knelt each time he tied
a band of gold about the garnered sheaf. Yonder the carefully planted
violets grow upon a tiny mound, bright children of the sun making
battle with the cold shadows of a marble slab. Now the autumn time of
life fades into wintry quiet. The song of the brook is hushed beneath
ever-thickening ice, the trees are robbed of color, the fields are
trackless wastes of snow. The four seasons of life are growing to a
close, the last afternoon is coming to its twilight, and yet one is not
sad. The fires of hope still burn upon the hearthstone of the heart,
and fill the soul with the light of its immortal home. Heaven is not a
far-away land, vague with mystery, and dim with distance, but a place
that is real and very close. We breathe its scented air, and bathe
in its golden light while hope is burning divinely bright within our
hearts.
The hope of heaven does more than offer us compensation for the
wrongs of life; it gives man an intelligent interpretation of the
things of time. Until one believes his citizenship is in heaven he
cannot intelligently perform his daily task. The painting that lacks
perspective is a daub; the hopeless life is dismal failure. Therefore,
as one prizes the best, he should stir up the gift of hope until heaven
is as real as home.
There is the quality of love that makes the world seem real. At the
fireside of a loving heart, one readily learns the true secrets of the
world in which he dwells. There is nothing so potent as love to give
vision to the soul, clearness to the eye, effective service to the
hand. Then stir up the gifts of love. Build in your heart the fires of
a quenchless affection that refuses to believe the worst, that will
never give consent that anyone has gone too far in sin for reclamation,
but ever believes that one more touch of kindness will bring the person
back to God; a love that gladly sacrifices everything of value in his
effort to redeem that which has no value; a love that knows no selfish
interest and daily seeks the welfare of another. Then will the world
cease to be hazy and fantastic, but will be as real as the ones of your
own household, who gather each evening hour about your fireside.
Let not your love for one single individual die; it robs you of too
great a joy. Warm up your hearts by allowing the fires of faith in
God, hope of heaven, and love for all men to blaze and burn in high,
exultant flames that know not how to die. Without it your life will be
as barren as the deserted house through which the winter winds pass
undisturbed. Make your life homelike by keeping bright the hearthstone
of the heart.