1902
"Almost no preacher to-day dwells exclusively upon sin, salvation and the relation of Christ to the sinner," says the Congregationalist, of Boston and Chicago. "Important as these themes are, other aspects of the mission of Christ in the world and of the purpose of Christianity are being brought to the front. We regard this as extremely desirable.
"Preaching is something more than the reiteration of traditional truths in conventional ecclesiastical language. A sermon is the embodiment of a man's deepest and most real thought, phrased in words which everybody can understand and addressed to the real needs of real people.
"Jesus Christ was a popular preacher. He employed parables and talked about the lilies and the clouds, the barrel of meal and the play of little children, and weighed carefully all His words with a view to making the truth which filled and flooded His own soul plain, winsome and powerful in the eyes of others."
Showing posts with label parables. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parables. Show all posts
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Russian Pilgrims Dip in Jordan's Stream
1905
Jerusalem itself has so much of interest for the traveler that we had spent a week there before we felt an inclination to look beyond its immediate vicinity and go down to Jericho.
Probably no trip of the length of all the excursions about Jerusalem surpasses in interest this short one to the shores of the Dead Sea, for in it are combined the most diverse attractions. One sees the Jericho road, famous since the story of the Good Samaritan: the sites of the Jerichos of Joshua and of Jesus, where Zacchaeus, the chief publican, climbed into the branches of the sycamore tree to see the Lord pass by; the ford of Jordan, where the Israelites passed over against Jericho, and where tradition places the baptism of Jesus by John; and the Dead Sea, unique among bodies of water in its combination of the sterile saltness of its waters and their extraordinary depression below the level of the sea. There is another feature of the excursion, the Wady Kelt, the "Brook Cherith" of the Old Testament, where the prophet Elijah hid in a cave and was fed by ravens when fleeing for his life from Jezebel.
The immediate occasion of our going down to Jericho, however, was the news that a great number of Russian pilgrims would, the following day, celebrate the Greek Epiphany by baptizing themselves, to the number of 2,000, in the Jordan river, while the Patriarch of the Jordan blessed the waters, thus commemorating the baptism of Jesus, which a more than doubtful tradition places at this fold of the Jordan instead of farther north. A great deal of interest in this sight was felt in Jerusalem, and when we made up our party and began to inquire for a carriage we found that every comfortable conveyance in the city was already spoken for, and that we would be lucky to get any vehicle at all.
Along the Jericho Road
It was therefore a rather stiff and rusty old fourposter into which we bundled, early the next morning, for our twenty-mile drive down the Jericho road. The morning was cool and the day, which looked undecided when we left the Jaffa gate and turned the northwest angle of the city wall, soon cleared finely. We turned again at the northeast angle, "the Stork's Tower," descended into the Kedron valley, passed the Mount of Olives, and began to wind in among the brown hills toward Bethany. The road was good, one of the few roads in Palestine, where paths are the usual and almost the only thoroughfares.
We passed Bethany, and found our first halting place at Khan-Hadrur, a little solitary khan by the wayside, where Jerusalem drivers stop to feed their horses. It was 9 o'clock, and while the horses were being fed we inspected the cave which does duty as the Inn of the Good Samaritan, who seems to have emerged from the parable into real life. Half an hour farther on we passed close to the Wady Kelt, sometimes identified with Elijah's Brook Cherith, and we left the carriage to scramble over the rocks into the barren gorge. Far below us, on the other side, we could see the white walls of a strangely Italian monastery, hanging over the abyss in what seemed a very precarious fashion. It was the Monastery of St. George, the only building in the gorge, but not the only dwelling, for the steep, rocky walls of the Wady were honeycombed with the caves of hermits of the past and present, and their ladders could in some places be seen hanging straight down the face of the cliff, before the mouths of their rocky dens. Except for the little garden of the convent, and a slender thread of verdure along the little brook at the bottom of the gorge all that one could see was waste and barren, the sides of the valley descending, treeless and arid, steeply to the slender stream that murmured along, far below us.
In the Jordan Valley
Rejoining the carriage we proceeded and soon rolled out into the broad plain into which the Jordan valley widens at the head of the Dead sea. The so-called Fountain of Elijah, a copious spring near Jericho, together with the waters of Jordan, are amply sufficient to water and develop this whole plain, as, indeed, they were made to do in ancient times. But Turkish authority so persistently discourages enterprise of every sort that nothing of this kind is dreamed of now, and the river and the spring send their waters idly into the Dead sea, almost unvexed by any irrigating appliances.
From every point of view the Dead sea is interesting. Hereabouts lay the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, whose overthrow makes so striking a picture in Old Testament annals. The Arabs still call the sea "Bahr Lut," the Sea of Lot, after the patriarch, who, tempted by the rich pasturage of this then smiling valley, "pitched his tent toward Sodom." Here, also as far as ancient records can vouch for, is the tomb of Rachel.
We hastened away to the Jordan fords, where the ceremony of blessing the waters and the self-immersion of the Russian pilgrims were to take place. In perhaps an hour we reached the spot, a low, muddy space beside the river, with some groves of small trees near by. The pilgrims were already assembled, to the number of some two thousand, and were engaged in putting on coarse slips or shifts of white cloth. For this purpose some, but not all of them, withdrew to the bushes. Some neglected the use of the slips, and altogether it was an extraordinary scene. A certain dignity, however, attached to the scene, disgusting as some of the features of it undoubtedly were, for these rude peasants, in their coarse boots and rough clothing, were sturdy men and women, with the marks of toil and hardship written plainly on their faces; and they were deeply, quietly in earnest about this Jordan baptism, to undergo which they had come thousands of miles, and endured not a little hardship and privation. They had all walked from Jerusalem, a distance of over twenty miles, and they were all to walk back thither, the following days.
Ceremony of Baptism
The Bishop of the Jordan was in the midst of a sort of preliminary service in a little open air chapel near the river bank, and a great crowd surrounded it. But the most of the pilgrims were gathered along the bank of the river, which here makes one of its numerous bends.
The waters were a muddy brown, and as they ran swiftly along between their mud banks they were anything but inviting. The pilgrims never gave the matter a thought, however; in sober silence they helped each other in with their white slips, and then awaited the appearance of the Bishop. He appeared at length and two boats received him, in his ecclesiastical robes, with the striking headdress characteristic of the clergy of the Greek church, and the Greek and Russian consuls, with their ladies. These last, in their European gowns, struck the only note of fashion in that strange assembly. No other boats were about; a swimmer now and then braved the strong current of the turbid river, and crossed and recrossed the narrow stream.
The two boats were now in midstream; the bishop rose and blessed the waters, flinging into them a golden cross, and all the waiting peasants rushed in. Three times they plunged their heads beneath the muddy waters, then fell to filling the flasks and bottles they had brought with them, to take back to their distant homes. The slips worn on these occasions are carefully preserved by their wearers to serve as grave clothes when their possessors die, and some extra suits we saw dipped in the water, evidently for friends at home who had been unable to make the pilgrimage.
The river bank was not a pleasant place when, ten minutes later, these 2,000 dripping pilgrims were crowding their way up it, and changing their clothes, and we were glad to make the best of our way out of it and drive to the little town of Eriha, and our hotel.
Jerusalem itself has so much of interest for the traveler that we had spent a week there before we felt an inclination to look beyond its immediate vicinity and go down to Jericho.
Probably no trip of the length of all the excursions about Jerusalem surpasses in interest this short one to the shores of the Dead Sea, for in it are combined the most diverse attractions. One sees the Jericho road, famous since the story of the Good Samaritan: the sites of the Jerichos of Joshua and of Jesus, where Zacchaeus, the chief publican, climbed into the branches of the sycamore tree to see the Lord pass by; the ford of Jordan, where the Israelites passed over against Jericho, and where tradition places the baptism of Jesus by John; and the Dead Sea, unique among bodies of water in its combination of the sterile saltness of its waters and their extraordinary depression below the level of the sea. There is another feature of the excursion, the Wady Kelt, the "Brook Cherith" of the Old Testament, where the prophet Elijah hid in a cave and was fed by ravens when fleeing for his life from Jezebel.
The immediate occasion of our going down to Jericho, however, was the news that a great number of Russian pilgrims would, the following day, celebrate the Greek Epiphany by baptizing themselves, to the number of 2,000, in the Jordan river, while the Patriarch of the Jordan blessed the waters, thus commemorating the baptism of Jesus, which a more than doubtful tradition places at this fold of the Jordan instead of farther north. A great deal of interest in this sight was felt in Jerusalem, and when we made up our party and began to inquire for a carriage we found that every comfortable conveyance in the city was already spoken for, and that we would be lucky to get any vehicle at all.
Along the Jericho Road
It was therefore a rather stiff and rusty old fourposter into which we bundled, early the next morning, for our twenty-mile drive down the Jericho road. The morning was cool and the day, which looked undecided when we left the Jaffa gate and turned the northwest angle of the city wall, soon cleared finely. We turned again at the northeast angle, "the Stork's Tower," descended into the Kedron valley, passed the Mount of Olives, and began to wind in among the brown hills toward Bethany. The road was good, one of the few roads in Palestine, where paths are the usual and almost the only thoroughfares.
We passed Bethany, and found our first halting place at Khan-Hadrur, a little solitary khan by the wayside, where Jerusalem drivers stop to feed their horses. It was 9 o'clock, and while the horses were being fed we inspected the cave which does duty as the Inn of the Good Samaritan, who seems to have emerged from the parable into real life. Half an hour farther on we passed close to the Wady Kelt, sometimes identified with Elijah's Brook Cherith, and we left the carriage to scramble over the rocks into the barren gorge. Far below us, on the other side, we could see the white walls of a strangely Italian monastery, hanging over the abyss in what seemed a very precarious fashion. It was the Monastery of St. George, the only building in the gorge, but not the only dwelling, for the steep, rocky walls of the Wady were honeycombed with the caves of hermits of the past and present, and their ladders could in some places be seen hanging straight down the face of the cliff, before the mouths of their rocky dens. Except for the little garden of the convent, and a slender thread of verdure along the little brook at the bottom of the gorge all that one could see was waste and barren, the sides of the valley descending, treeless and arid, steeply to the slender stream that murmured along, far below us.
In the Jordan Valley
Rejoining the carriage we proceeded and soon rolled out into the broad plain into which the Jordan valley widens at the head of the Dead sea. The so-called Fountain of Elijah, a copious spring near Jericho, together with the waters of Jordan, are amply sufficient to water and develop this whole plain, as, indeed, they were made to do in ancient times. But Turkish authority so persistently discourages enterprise of every sort that nothing of this kind is dreamed of now, and the river and the spring send their waters idly into the Dead sea, almost unvexed by any irrigating appliances.
From every point of view the Dead sea is interesting. Hereabouts lay the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, whose overthrow makes so striking a picture in Old Testament annals. The Arabs still call the sea "Bahr Lut," the Sea of Lot, after the patriarch, who, tempted by the rich pasturage of this then smiling valley, "pitched his tent toward Sodom." Here, also as far as ancient records can vouch for, is the tomb of Rachel.
We hastened away to the Jordan fords, where the ceremony of blessing the waters and the self-immersion of the Russian pilgrims were to take place. In perhaps an hour we reached the spot, a low, muddy space beside the river, with some groves of small trees near by. The pilgrims were already assembled, to the number of some two thousand, and were engaged in putting on coarse slips or shifts of white cloth. For this purpose some, but not all of them, withdrew to the bushes. Some neglected the use of the slips, and altogether it was an extraordinary scene. A certain dignity, however, attached to the scene, disgusting as some of the features of it undoubtedly were, for these rude peasants, in their coarse boots and rough clothing, were sturdy men and women, with the marks of toil and hardship written plainly on their faces; and they were deeply, quietly in earnest about this Jordan baptism, to undergo which they had come thousands of miles, and endured not a little hardship and privation. They had all walked from Jerusalem, a distance of over twenty miles, and they were all to walk back thither, the following days.
Ceremony of Baptism
The Bishop of the Jordan was in the midst of a sort of preliminary service in a little open air chapel near the river bank, and a great crowd surrounded it. But the most of the pilgrims were gathered along the bank of the river, which here makes one of its numerous bends.
The waters were a muddy brown, and as they ran swiftly along between their mud banks they were anything but inviting. The pilgrims never gave the matter a thought, however; in sober silence they helped each other in with their white slips, and then awaited the appearance of the Bishop. He appeared at length and two boats received him, in his ecclesiastical robes, with the striking headdress characteristic of the clergy of the Greek church, and the Greek and Russian consuls, with their ladies. These last, in their European gowns, struck the only note of fashion in that strange assembly. No other boats were about; a swimmer now and then braved the strong current of the turbid river, and crossed and recrossed the narrow stream.
The two boats were now in midstream; the bishop rose and blessed the waters, flinging into them a golden cross, and all the waiting peasants rushed in. Three times they plunged their heads beneath the muddy waters, then fell to filling the flasks and bottles they had brought with them, to take back to their distant homes. The slips worn on these occasions are carefully preserved by their wearers to serve as grave clothes when their possessors die, and some extra suits we saw dipped in the water, evidently for friends at home who had been unable to make the pilgrimage.
The river bank was not a pleasant place when, ten minutes later, these 2,000 dripping pilgrims were crowding their way up it, and changing their clothes, and we were glad to make the best of our way out of it and drive to the little town of Eriha, and our hotel.
Monday, June 11, 2007
The Wise and Foolish Virgins
1910
Lesson — Matthew 25:1-13
This is one of the most beautiful and touching of the parables. Poetry, painting and the drama have combined to give it an exceptional hold on the Christian imagination. The weird pathos of the story is unspeakable. The occasion is so happy, the agents so interesting, the issue so tragic. The story is a picture of an oriental wedding. Among those friends of the bride who waited to join the procession were ten virgins. While they were waiting, the time of the procession being ever unknown, they became drowsy and slept in peace, knowing that the shouts and cries of the coming crowd would awaken them in time. They had no anxiety; the wise, because they had faith and were prepared; the foolish, by false security and by ignoring the future.
The ten virgins had to wait till about midnight, when through the still air came shrill and clear those peculiar shrill, quavering cries of joy, called Zugaret, which are heard throughout the east on occasions of special rejoicing. (See Rev. 19:6-9.) And they heard the cry: Behold, the bridegroom cometh; go ye out to meet him.
The wise virgins trimmed and replenished their lamps with the oil which they had the forethought to bring with them.
The foolish found their lamps burned out, but they had been too careless to bring extra oil with them. They begged oil of the wise, but they had none left; and advised the foolish to go to the source of supply where they should have gone earlier. While they were gone, the procession reached its destination; those who were ready went in to the marriage festival. And the door was shut. Like Esau the foolish virgins came too late for the blessing. They had thrown away their opportunity.
The Lord was soon to depart by the way of the cross. But he promised to return. He came back in the resurrection. He came in the coming of the Spirit of the day of Pentecost. He came at the destruction of Jerusalem. He is coming in glory at the last day, when his kingdom shall come and his will be done on earth as it is in heaven. The same principles apply to all, whatever may be our understanding of the promise.
Every crisis of our lives, every opening of opportunity, every crisis of the world or the church may be called in its degree a coming of the Lord whose providence is over all. (1) The coming is something of the greatest value and blessing. It is like the wedding festival, full of the best of life. Even in the subordinate comings and crises of our lives, there is always a door, an invitation, to something better than we have had. Even death is a gate to heaven (2) The time of the coming is always unknown, for ye know neither the day nor the hour wherein the Son of man cometh.
In What Way Are We to Watch? The company of watchers was divided into two classes, the wise and the foolish. The equality of numbers has no bearing on the proportion of persona in real life who are wise or foolish.
The lamps signify the outward profession, and the possibilities. All had some light, they had religious feelings, they were moved by the influences of the Holy Spirit.
The oil is the spiritual life, the heart, which is the source of the flame, the visible manifestations of the Christian spirit. But this significance was shown only by the burning lamp.
Those who took vessels of oil, a permanent supply, were those who had the living reality of that which they professed, who put into practice, into character, that which shone forth from their lamps.
Those who took no supply of oil had a surface feeling, like the seed sown on rocky soil, which sprang up quickly and endured till persecution or trouble arose (Matt. 15:5, 6, 20, 21). They had no deep religious feelings, nothing wrought into their character, no abiding principles which led them to live up to their professions and hopes.
Watchfulness consists in being prepared for every emergency, and every duty, as the wise virgins watched by having their lamps continually burning, and a full supply of oil to keep them burning.
Reader Harris, leader of the Pentecostal league, and an eminent lawyer, got his first lift in life significantly. Employed in a drawing office of the Great Western Railway company's engineering shops, he found young men were occasionally sent down the line on responsible commissions. Receiving instructions in the morning, they spent the day preparing to start. Shocked at the waste of time, he filled a bag with traveling conveniences, and took it to the office, to be ready to start at short notice. His companions ridiculed the idea. But one day the chief engineer came in and asked about the bag. The owner said: "I determined, if I had a chance to go, to be ready." "You did? You see that train?" "Yes." "Jump in; I'll telegraph instructions." From that time Mr. Harris made rapid progress. They who wait for Christ in readiness shall not wait in vain.
And the Door Was Shut. — The opportunity came, and the gift in its hand was gained or lost. There came a time when it was too late to change. This is a fact of nature, as well as truth of the Word. There is a tendency to fix the character, so that one will not change. In the misuse of the body there comes a time when it is impossible to ward off disease. We shut the door against ourselves. No one but ourselves is to blame for our not entering. We shut the door by negligence to be prepared to enter.
Lesson — Matthew 25:1-13
This is one of the most beautiful and touching of the parables. Poetry, painting and the drama have combined to give it an exceptional hold on the Christian imagination. The weird pathos of the story is unspeakable. The occasion is so happy, the agents so interesting, the issue so tragic. The story is a picture of an oriental wedding. Among those friends of the bride who waited to join the procession were ten virgins. While they were waiting, the time of the procession being ever unknown, they became drowsy and slept in peace, knowing that the shouts and cries of the coming crowd would awaken them in time. They had no anxiety; the wise, because they had faith and were prepared; the foolish, by false security and by ignoring the future.
The ten virgins had to wait till about midnight, when through the still air came shrill and clear those peculiar shrill, quavering cries of joy, called Zugaret, which are heard throughout the east on occasions of special rejoicing. (See Rev. 19:6-9.) And they heard the cry: Behold, the bridegroom cometh; go ye out to meet him.
The wise virgins trimmed and replenished their lamps with the oil which they had the forethought to bring with them.
The foolish found their lamps burned out, but they had been too careless to bring extra oil with them. They begged oil of the wise, but they had none left; and advised the foolish to go to the source of supply where they should have gone earlier. While they were gone, the procession reached its destination; those who were ready went in to the marriage festival. And the door was shut. Like Esau the foolish virgins came too late for the blessing. They had thrown away their opportunity.
The Lord was soon to depart by the way of the cross. But he promised to return. He came back in the resurrection. He came in the coming of the Spirit of the day of Pentecost. He came at the destruction of Jerusalem. He is coming in glory at the last day, when his kingdom shall come and his will be done on earth as it is in heaven. The same principles apply to all, whatever may be our understanding of the promise.
Every crisis of our lives, every opening of opportunity, every crisis of the world or the church may be called in its degree a coming of the Lord whose providence is over all. (1) The coming is something of the greatest value and blessing. It is like the wedding festival, full of the best of life. Even in the subordinate comings and crises of our lives, there is always a door, an invitation, to something better than we have had. Even death is a gate to heaven (2) The time of the coming is always unknown, for ye know neither the day nor the hour wherein the Son of man cometh.
In What Way Are We to Watch? The company of watchers was divided into two classes, the wise and the foolish. The equality of numbers has no bearing on the proportion of persona in real life who are wise or foolish.
The lamps signify the outward profession, and the possibilities. All had some light, they had religious feelings, they were moved by the influences of the Holy Spirit.
The oil is the spiritual life, the heart, which is the source of the flame, the visible manifestations of the Christian spirit. But this significance was shown only by the burning lamp.
Those who took vessels of oil, a permanent supply, were those who had the living reality of that which they professed, who put into practice, into character, that which shone forth from their lamps.
Those who took no supply of oil had a surface feeling, like the seed sown on rocky soil, which sprang up quickly and endured till persecution or trouble arose (Matt. 15:5, 6, 20, 21). They had no deep religious feelings, nothing wrought into their character, no abiding principles which led them to live up to their professions and hopes.
Watchfulness consists in being prepared for every emergency, and every duty, as the wise virgins watched by having their lamps continually burning, and a full supply of oil to keep them burning.
Reader Harris, leader of the Pentecostal league, and an eminent lawyer, got his first lift in life significantly. Employed in a drawing office of the Great Western Railway company's engineering shops, he found young men were occasionally sent down the line on responsible commissions. Receiving instructions in the morning, they spent the day preparing to start. Shocked at the waste of time, he filled a bag with traveling conveniences, and took it to the office, to be ready to start at short notice. His companions ridiculed the idea. But one day the chief engineer came in and asked about the bag. The owner said: "I determined, if I had a chance to go, to be ready." "You did? You see that train?" "Yes." "Jump in; I'll telegraph instructions." From that time Mr. Harris made rapid progress. They who wait for Christ in readiness shall not wait in vain.
And the Door Was Shut. — The opportunity came, and the gift in its hand was gained or lost. There came a time when it was too late to change. This is a fact of nature, as well as truth of the Word. There is a tendency to fix the character, so that one will not change. In the misuse of the body there comes a time when it is impossible to ward off disease. We shut the door against ourselves. No one but ourselves is to blame for our not entering. We shut the door by negligence to be prepared to enter.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Counting the Cost (Luke 14:25-35)
1916
By G. H. Morrison
The fact is, that in all the highest courage there is the element of quiet calculation. The truest heroism always counts the cost. The bravery of passions is not a shining virtue. I think that any ordinary man could storm a rampart, if he were a soldier. They tell us there is a wild forgetfulness of self in that last rush that would fire the blood and thrill the most timid. The test of courage is the long night march, under the fire of invisible guns; it is the sentry duty in the darkness, when the shadows and silence might shatter the strongest nerve; I think that the man that deliberately faces that, who goes through it quietly because it is his duty is just as worthy of the Victoria Cross as the man who has won it in some more splendid moment.
Do not forget that when Jesus says, "Count the Cost," he is really sounding the note of the heroic. He does not want any one on false pretenses. He will not issue any lying prospectus. He comes to you and says, You are a thinking man, with powers that will take eternity to ripen, look life in the face. Look death in the face. Sum it all up, measure the value of things. And if you do that quietly and earnestly, with sincere prayer to God to enlighten you, my claims, Christ means, shall tower above all others.
I have been struck too, in studying the Scriptures, to note how the great men there learned how to count the cost. They were not suddenly dragged into the service. There was no unthinking and unreasoning excitement. God gave to every one of them a time of silence before their high endeavor. It was as if He had laid down His hand upon them and said, "My child, go apart for a little, and count the cost." Moses was for forty days alone. Paul, touched by the finger of Lord whom he had persecuted, took counsel of no flesh, but departed into the loneliness of Arabia. Moses, Elijah, Paul — yes, even Simon Peter going out into the night — were learning the deep lesson of our parable.
And whenever I read of the temptations of Jesus and how the spirit of God drove him apart, and how Satan came and showed him all the kingdoms, and taught him a less costly way to sovereignty than by the sweat of Gethsemane and the water and the blood of Calvary — whenever I read that and recall how he stood fast, I feel that our Savior has counted the cost himself. We shall never understand the calm persistence of the glorious company of martyrs and of saints until we go back to that quiet hour at the beginning when they faced every difficulty, weighed every cross, forecast the future, looked at life whole, and then, having counted the cost, like reasonable men, took up their stand upon the side of God. — Western Recorder.
By G. H. Morrison
The fact is, that in all the highest courage there is the element of quiet calculation. The truest heroism always counts the cost. The bravery of passions is not a shining virtue. I think that any ordinary man could storm a rampart, if he were a soldier. They tell us there is a wild forgetfulness of self in that last rush that would fire the blood and thrill the most timid. The test of courage is the long night march, under the fire of invisible guns; it is the sentry duty in the darkness, when the shadows and silence might shatter the strongest nerve; I think that the man that deliberately faces that, who goes through it quietly because it is his duty is just as worthy of the Victoria Cross as the man who has won it in some more splendid moment.
Do not forget that when Jesus says, "Count the Cost," he is really sounding the note of the heroic. He does not want any one on false pretenses. He will not issue any lying prospectus. He comes to you and says, You are a thinking man, with powers that will take eternity to ripen, look life in the face. Look death in the face. Sum it all up, measure the value of things. And if you do that quietly and earnestly, with sincere prayer to God to enlighten you, my claims, Christ means, shall tower above all others.
I have been struck too, in studying the Scriptures, to note how the great men there learned how to count the cost. They were not suddenly dragged into the service. There was no unthinking and unreasoning excitement. God gave to every one of them a time of silence before their high endeavor. It was as if He had laid down His hand upon them and said, "My child, go apart for a little, and count the cost." Moses was for forty days alone. Paul, touched by the finger of Lord whom he had persecuted, took counsel of no flesh, but departed into the loneliness of Arabia. Moses, Elijah, Paul — yes, even Simon Peter going out into the night — were learning the deep lesson of our parable.
And whenever I read of the temptations of Jesus and how the spirit of God drove him apart, and how Satan came and showed him all the kingdoms, and taught him a less costly way to sovereignty than by the sweat of Gethsemane and the water and the blood of Calvary — whenever I read that and recall how he stood fast, I feel that our Savior has counted the cost himself. We shall never understand the calm persistence of the glorious company of martyrs and of saints until we go back to that quiet hour at the beginning when they faced every difficulty, weighed every cross, forecast the future, looked at life whole, and then, having counted the cost, like reasonable men, took up their stand upon the side of God. — Western Recorder.
Saturday, May 5, 2007
Derelicts
1895
"These are the wrecks of abandoned vessels turned loose to be carried hither and thither by winds and tide. They form one of the serious dangers to ocean navigation. In spite of all efforts to rid the sea of them, many of these unguided prowlers still drift and toss up and down the deep, threatening every passing ship with wreck. May we not find in this a parable? Derelicts — social, moral, religious — are the chief danger to safe sailing on the ocean of life. And such are found drifting everywhere. Your son and daughter and yourself would be safer if it were not for these wrecks of humanity lost to conscience and morality and to God. Every ruined soul threatens others with ruin. One misguided or neglected youth may, in the course of a lifetime of drifting and sinning, wreck a hundred others. It is a peril, as well as a crying sin, to let any boy or girl be turned adrift without moral restraint or guidance, or to allow those already lost to continue drifting while we put forth no effort to arrest or save them. Prevention is better than cure. Parents should see that the hearts of the children are so anchored to Christ, and their lives so trained for Him and ruled by His love, that no derelicts shall go forth from their homes." — Cumberland Presbyterian.
"These are the wrecks of abandoned vessels turned loose to be carried hither and thither by winds and tide. They form one of the serious dangers to ocean navigation. In spite of all efforts to rid the sea of them, many of these unguided prowlers still drift and toss up and down the deep, threatening every passing ship with wreck. May we not find in this a parable? Derelicts — social, moral, religious — are the chief danger to safe sailing on the ocean of life. And such are found drifting everywhere. Your son and daughter and yourself would be safer if it were not for these wrecks of humanity lost to conscience and morality and to God. Every ruined soul threatens others with ruin. One misguided or neglected youth may, in the course of a lifetime of drifting and sinning, wreck a hundred others. It is a peril, as well as a crying sin, to let any boy or girl be turned adrift without moral restraint or guidance, or to allow those already lost to continue drifting while we put forth no effort to arrest or save them. Prevention is better than cure. Parents should see that the hearts of the children are so anchored to Christ, and their lives so trained for Him and ruled by His love, that no derelicts shall go forth from their homes." — Cumberland Presbyterian.
Friday, April 27, 2007
The Fire of God – The God Who Answers By Fire
Pennsylvania, 1928
THE FIRE OF GOD
By Rev. Oscar W. Carlson
(There lives in our community a remarkable old lady. She has the most accurate and comprehensive memory. Her memoirs, if they were executed in writing, would become literature of the highest rank. An invalid, she retains the liveliest interest in modern affairs. Her favorite readings are "The Christian Herald" and the sermons and other writings of Dr. J. H. Jowett, one of the finest preachers America and England ever listened to.
It has been my privilege to know this truly great soul. The idea for this article I gleaned from one of Dr. Jowett's books which she gave me some months ago. To her and to all other and old men and women in whom the fire of God flows radiantly I pray tribute.)
We can build our altars of stone; but we need God to set our hearts on fire with love and holiness. When Elijah disputed with the prophets of Baal as to who should be God, both parties agreed on this test: "The God that answers by fire, let Him be God." We build our churches, write our prayer books and organize our societies. Good enough. Too often we forget the most essential. We need the Lord's "radiant gift" to convert our efforts into a religion of power.
Any man can build a house; we need the Lord for the creation of a home. "A house is an agglomeration of bricks and stones, with an assorted collection of manufactured goods; a home is the abiding place of ardent affection of fervent hope, and genial trust." The bitterest loneliness is sometimes found in the costliest mansion, and the sweetest love in the poorest cottage. We need the fire of God to make a home.
It is easy to proclaim moral ideals. We need the fire of God to practice them. We can tell one another what we ought to do. The worst scoundrel may be able to draw up a very noble code of ethics. We may hang the sublimest mottoes on our walls and yet they may no more influence of lives than the wall paper which covers the walls." TO live as nobly as we know how requires fire. "The Lord that answers by fire, let Him be God."
We need in our day the Holy Fire of the Lord. Without it humanity is cold and dull. Incantations, pow-wows, bellows and frantic efforts will not set the dying embers of the moral and ritual life aglow.
We need the God Who answers by fire!
—The Monessen Daily Independent, Monessen, PA, Oct. 27, 1928, page 5.
Note: Rev. Oscar Carlson was pastor of St. Paul's Lutheran Church, eighth street near Donner avenue. On Sunday, Oct. 28, he was to begin a series of sermons on the parables of Jesus, the first being "The Wise and Foolish Virgins." At the vesper service, 7 o'clock, the sermon was to be on the Old Testament theme, "The Call of Moses."
THE FIRE OF GOD
By Rev. Oscar W. Carlson
(There lives in our community a remarkable old lady. She has the most accurate and comprehensive memory. Her memoirs, if they were executed in writing, would become literature of the highest rank. An invalid, she retains the liveliest interest in modern affairs. Her favorite readings are "The Christian Herald" and the sermons and other writings of Dr. J. H. Jowett, one of the finest preachers America and England ever listened to.
It has been my privilege to know this truly great soul. The idea for this article I gleaned from one of Dr. Jowett's books which she gave me some months ago. To her and to all other and old men and women in whom the fire of God flows radiantly I pray tribute.)
We can build our altars of stone; but we need God to set our hearts on fire with love and holiness. When Elijah disputed with the prophets of Baal as to who should be God, both parties agreed on this test: "The God that answers by fire, let Him be God." We build our churches, write our prayer books and organize our societies. Good enough. Too often we forget the most essential. We need the Lord's "radiant gift" to convert our efforts into a religion of power.
Any man can build a house; we need the Lord for the creation of a home. "A house is an agglomeration of bricks and stones, with an assorted collection of manufactured goods; a home is the abiding place of ardent affection of fervent hope, and genial trust." The bitterest loneliness is sometimes found in the costliest mansion, and the sweetest love in the poorest cottage. We need the fire of God to make a home.
It is easy to proclaim moral ideals. We need the fire of God to practice them. We can tell one another what we ought to do. The worst scoundrel may be able to draw up a very noble code of ethics. We may hang the sublimest mottoes on our walls and yet they may no more influence of lives than the wall paper which covers the walls." TO live as nobly as we know how requires fire. "The Lord that answers by fire, let Him be God."
We need in our day the Holy Fire of the Lord. Without it humanity is cold and dull. Incantations, pow-wows, bellows and frantic efforts will not set the dying embers of the moral and ritual life aglow.
We need the God Who answers by fire!
—The Monessen Daily Independent, Monessen, PA, Oct. 27, 1928, page 5.
Note: Rev. Oscar Carlson was pastor of St. Paul's Lutheran Church, eighth street near Donner avenue. On Sunday, Oct. 28, he was to begin a series of sermons on the parables of Jesus, the first being "The Wise and Foolish Virgins." At the vesper service, 7 o'clock, the sermon was to be on the Old Testament theme, "The Call of Moses."
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