Quiet Talks on Power Part 5

There is war to the knife, and the knife clear up to the hilt, between these two claimants for the control of our powers--self and Jesus. Paul understood this antagonism thoroughly. It comes out repeatedly in his writings. His name for this inner enemy, by an accidental turn in English, is Jesus' word "self" spelled backwards with the letter "h"

added--f-l-e-s-h. His remarks in Romans, eighth chapter, verses four to eight, and twelve to thirteen, are simply an enlargement of these words in the sixteenth of Matthew's gospel. If one will read these verses, subst.i.tuting Jesus' word "self" for Paul's word he will be surprised to find how strikingly Paul is expressing this very thought of Jesus. A free translation of part of these verses would read like this: Verse five--"They that choose to walk after self (as a slave walked after, or behind, his master) will show their choice by obeying the desires of self, and they that choose to walk after the Spirit will obey the desires of the Spirit." Verse seven--"For the purposes of self are opposed to G.o.d's purposes; for it does not hold itself subject to G.o.d's wishes; indeed, in its very nature it cannot; and they that choose to obey self cannot please G.o.d." Verse thirteen--"If by the Holy Spirit's aid ye kill off the plans and doings of self, ye shall therein find real true life, and only so."

Plainly, the deep searching experiences of Paul's great soul, and his wide observation of others, in his ceaseless travels, confirm the statements already made, that there is the intensest hatred, the bitterest antagonism, between these two personalities represented by Jesus' words, "himself" and "me." There can be no patched-up truce here.

The only way the lion and the lamb can lie down together in this case is for the one to lie down underneath the other--conquered; or inside the other--devoured.

In his other letters Paul sometimes uses still another name, "the old man," and names the characteristics of this omnipresent self, which crop out with varying degrees of prominence, in different persons, and under different circ.u.mstances. Notice only a few of these: In Galatians, fifth chapter, nineteenth verse: "The deeds of self are ... improper s.e.xual intercourse, impurity, shameless looseness...." It will, wherever possible, debase the holiest functions of the body. In Colossians, third chapter, fifth verse, speaking of the "old man": "And covetousness, which is reckoning of highest worth that which is less worthy than G.o.d."

That is to say, the ambitious longings of self, will if unchecked become the ruling pa.s.sion, thrusting all else ruthlessly aside and degrading the highest powers of the mind to satisfying its feverish desire. In Ephesians, fourth chapter, thirty-first verse: "Bitterness, pa.s.sion, anger, loud disputing, evil-speaking ... malice." Its a.s.sertiveness, and demand for a due recognition of its worth, its rights, its opinions, its proper place, bring bitterest burnings, and worse. It will not be needful to review congressional, and political, and society life for ill.u.s.trations. They may be found much nearer one's own door.

Was there ever such a list? Such a being whose heart begets and nurses such progeny! This being has the smell of h.e.l.l, and of the evil one himself. Ah! now we are getting at the straight truth. Self is Satan's personal representative in every human heart. Its door of entrance is the door of disobedience. It can have control only where one allows himself to get out of intelligent sympathy with G.o.d. The self in Peter was recoiling from that cross of which Jesus spoke. How keen Jesus was in recognizing the suggestor of the thought that found expression through Peter's lips--"Get thee behind me, _Satan_." Self is Satan, condensed into each man's life, though in some he dare not exhibit his coa.r.s.er traits; and in others he is being _constantly conquered_ by that power of the Spirit of Jesus which comes through absolute, glad surrender to Him.

This sly Satan-self may often be recognized by a favorite question it asks among christian people about a great many so-called unimportant matters:--What's the harm? But a true follower of Jesus never lives down upon the plane of "what's-the-harm?" He lives up in a higher sphere with his Master, who "pleased not Himself," but made it the steady, unfaltering aim of His life to do always those things that were pleasing to His Father. Men thought Him narrow and fanatical, but He cared not so long as He could daily hear that clear, sweet voice saying "This is My beloved Son, in whom _I_ am well pleased." The final touchstone which the follower of Jesus applies to every matter is this: _Would it please Him?_

Let everyone here who earnestly desires to fit into, and to fill out, Jesus' plan for his life, take paper and pencil and make a list of his personal habits; such as his eating, what he eats and how; his drinking, other things he puts into his mouth, his dress, the use and care of his body, his recreations, his reading, his conversation, his use of money, his use of time, his life plans and his daily plans, his social engagements; and regarding each ask plainly the question--what is the _motive_ that _controls_ me in this? Is it my own preference or enjoyment? Or, is it to please and honor Jesus? Let him further go through the list of his business methods, his friends.h.i.+ps, the various organizations he belongs to, with the same question. If he will do thorough work he will probably have some stiff fighting on hand both at the start and afterwards. Many a life would thereby be radically changed. For example, I know a christian storekeeper who has on his shelves a certain article bearing the label of a tonic medicine, but he knows perfectly well, as does anyone who stops to think about it, that the stuff back of the label is one form of an intoxicant. There can be no question of what the Master would say about it. But it brings a good profit. And his money-fevered self a.s.serts its mastery and carries the day. And the man tightly grips the profits, while Satan chuckles with unholy glee, and souls are being d.a.m.ned by this christian man's aid.

Certainly there can be none of the power of G.o.d in such a life. Let us rather speak the truth and say that this man is exerting a positive power for Satan and for h.e.l.l.

All this is included in these few simple words, "let him deny himself."

Is there still a fixed purpose to follow Jesus without regard to what it may cost us, or where the keen edge of separation may cut in?

The Battle of the Forks.

Here is a forking of the road. I bring this whole company up to this dividing, and therefore deciding, point. Let each choose his own road deliberately, prayerfully, with open eyes. This road to the left has as its law, yielding to self; saying "yes" to the desires and demands of self; with some modifications possibly, here and there, for I am talking to professing christian people. Yes to Jesus _sometimes_, but at _other_ times, when it suits circ.u.mstances and inclinations better to do otherwise--well, a pus.h.i.+ng of the troublesome question aside. And that means a decided yes to self, with as positive a negative to Jesus'

desires implied thereby. That is the left-hand fork.

This right-hand road knows only one law to which exception is never made, namely: _Yes to Jesus_, everywhere, always, regardless of consequences, though it may entail loss of friends.h.i.+ps, or money, or position, or social standing, or personal preference, or radical change of plans, or, what not.

Judas a.s.sented to the cravings of his ambitious self and said "no" to his Master, thinking possibly, with his worldly shrewdness, thereby to force Jesus to a.s.sert His power. He little knew what a time of crisis it was, and what terrific results would follow.

Peter stood on the side of his cowardly, shrinking self in the court-yard that dark night, and against his Master. And though with matchless love he was forgiven, he never forgave himself, nor was able to get that night's doings out of his memory. Judas and Peter were brothers in action that night, and there are evidences that many other disciples are standing over in the same group. Are you? Which road do you choose to-night: this--to the left? Or, this--to the right?

I knew a young man who was deeply attached to an admirable young woman, both refined christian persons, much above the average in native ability, and in culture. He made known to her his feelings. But as many a woman who does not trust her best Friend in such matters is apt to do she held him off, testing him repeatedly, to find out just how real his attachment was. Finally revealing indirectly her own feeling she still withheld the consent he pleaded for, until he would yield acquiescence in a certain plan of hers for him. The plan, proper enough in itself, was an ambitious one, and tended decidedly toward swinging him away from the high, tenderly spiritual ideals that had swayed his life in college and afterwards, though he probably was not clearly conscious of this tendency. The only safe thing to do under such strong circ.u.mstances was to take time, aside, alone, for calm, poised, thought and prayer, to learn if her plan was also the Master's plan for him. But the personal element proved too strong for such deliberation. The possibility of losing her swung him off of his feet. It was no longer a question between her plan and the Master's plan. The latter dropped out of view, probably half-unconsciously because hurriedly. _He must have her_, he thought. That rose before his eyes above all else. And so the decision was made. With what result? He is to-day prominent in christian service, an earnest speaker, a tireless worker, with a most winsome personality.

But his inner spiritual life has perceptibly dwarfed. His ideals, still high and n.o.ble, are distinctly lower than in his earlier life.

Intellectual ideals, admirable in themselves, but belonging in second place in a christian life, now command the field. His conceptions and understanding of spiritual truth have undergone a decided change.

The proposal of the self-life came in very fascinating guise to him. He hastily said "yes" to it: that meant as decided a refusal of Another's plan for him, which had once been clearly recognized, and accepted, but was now set aside, be it sadly said, as he swung quickly off to the left fork of the road.

There is an incident told of a European pastor, an earnest, eloquent man. The realization came in upon him that he had not been fully following the Master. In much of his life self was still ruling. He came to this forking of the road, and the battle was a fierce one, for self dies hard. But finally "by the Spirit," he got the victory, as every one may, and calmly stepped off to the right. He has vividly described that battle of the forks in language, the accuracy of which will be recognized by others who have been in action on that field.

"Oh, the bitter shame and sorrow, That a time could ever be When I let the Saviour's pity Plead in vain, and proudly answered: '_All of self, and none of Thee_.'

"Yet He found me: I beheld him Bleeding on the accursed tree; Heard Him pray, 'forgive them, Father,'

And my wistful heart said faintly: '_Some of self and some of Thee_.'

"Day by day, His tender mercy, Healing, helping, full and free, Sweet and strong, and oh, so patient, Brought me lower, while I whispered: '_Less of self and more of Thee_.'

"Higher than the highest heaven, Deeper than the deepest sea, Lord, thy love at last has conquered; Grant me now my soul's desire, '_None of self and all of Thee_.'"

Is there still a fixed purpose? Will you take this right fork? Let those who will, and those who linger reluctantly listen to the further word that Jesus adds: "Let him deny himself and take up his cross." "_Take up his cross_"--what does that mean? The cross has come to be regarded in these days as a fine ornament. It looks beautiful bejeweled; on the end of a sword; or worked into regalia. It makes such an artistic finish to a church building, finely chiseled in stone, or enwreathed with ivy. It looks pretty in jewelry and flowers. But to Jesus and the men of His time it had a grim, hard, painful significance. In Roman usage a man condemned to this death was required to take up the crude wooden cross provided, carry it out to the place of execution, and there be transfixed upon it. Plainly to these men listening, Jesus' words meant: Let him say "no" to his self, and then nail it up on the cross and leave it there _to die_.

Paul understood this thoroughly. To help the young christians in Galatia he explains his own experience by saying: "_I have been crucified_ with Christ;" and to the unknown friends in Rome he writes: "if ye by the Spirit _put to death_ the doings of the self life ye shall live." The only thing to do with this self is to kill it.

In Luke's account an intensely practical word is added to Jesus' remark: "Let him take up his cross _daily_." A cat is said to have nine lives, because it is so hard to kill. I do not know what your experience may have been, but, judged by this rule, the self in me is tougher-lived than that. It has about ninety-nine, or nine hundred and ninety-nine lives. I put it on the cross to-day in the purpose of my will by the power of the Spirit, and I find it trying to sneak down and step into active control again to-morrow through some sly, subtle suggestion which it hopes may get past the vigilance of my sentinel. That word _daily_ becomes, of necessity, my constant keynote--a _daily_ conflict, a _daily_ sleepless vigilance, and, thank G.o.d, a _daily victory_.

Every man's heart is a battlefield. If self has possession, Jesus is lovingly striving to get possession. If possession has been yielded to Jesus, there is a constant besieging by the forces of self. And self is a skilled strategist. In every heart there is a cross, and a throne, and each is occupied. If Jesus is on the throne, ruling, self is on the cross, dying. But if self is being obeyed, and so is ruling, then it is on the throne. And self on the throne means that _Jesus has been put on the cross_. And it seems to be only too pathetically true that not only in New Testament times, but in these times, there are numbers of professing christians, who, in the practice of daily life, are crucifying the Son of G.o.d afresh, and openly exposing Him to shame before the eyes of the crowd.

Suppose that to-night I determine to make this absolute surrender to Jesus as my Master. To-morrow in some matter, possibly a small matter--speaking a word to some one--asking a silent blessing at the meal--making a change in some personal habit--or some other apparently trivial matter--the Spirit quietly makes clear _His wish_ as to what I should do. But I hesitate: it seems hard. I do not say that I will not obey, but actually _I do not_. Let me plainly understand that in such a single failure to obey, self is again mounting the throne, and Jesus is being dethroned and put over yonder on the cross.

Do some of us still hesitate at this forking of the roads, irresolute? A crowned Christ is attractive. But self's tendrils, though small, are tenaciously tough, and twine into so many corners and around some hidden things. And the uprooting and outcutting mean sharp pain. Is that so?

And you hesitate? Please take another frank look.

Lock-Step.

These two forks differ radically. They differ in direction. One is to the _left_; the other to the _right_. And these two words are significant of more than direction. They differ in grade. This left-hand road does not seem to have any grade. It is smooth and level, and straightaway, _apparently_. But a keener look reveals a slant _down_, very slight at first, but steadily increasing, not only in its downward grade, but in the _proportionate_ grade down.

This right-hand road has a decided grade _up_ from the beginning, a steep slant, that causes many to avoid it, though they feel impelled to take it. Those who take it say that after the first decided step into it the slant does not seem nearly so hard as before starting, and that climbing it makes splendid muscle and gives an inspiring sense of exhilaration from the very start. The atmosphere is rare and purifying and invigorating. It is not traveled by so many, though the number keeps increasing. But such rare companions.h.i.+p, hitherto unknown, they afford!

_The striking peculiarity_ of this road, however, is this, that each one keeps lock-step with a certain One who leads the way. This One is remarkable in appearance. His face combines all the strength and resolution of the strongest man's with all the fineness and gentleness of the finest woman's. But He bears peculiar marks as though He had been through some terrible experience. His face has a number of small scars as though it had been torn by thorns and cut by thongs. His hands and feet look as though huge spikes had been forced through them. But the glory-light of another world is in His eyes, and illumines His face radiantly, and a glad ring is in His low, musical, singularly clear voice.

The walking in step with Him is _so_ close that one can feel the tender throbbing of His heart, and can talk confidentially with Him in low, quiet tones, and can hear distinctly His gentle still-like voice in reply.

As one steps off quietly, determinedly to the right from the battle of the forks he hears the closing words of Jesus' remarks to Peter--"_and follow Me_." Jesus sends no one ahead alone. He blazes out every path through the unknown, unbroken forest, and asks us simply to come along after Him. He did what He asks us to do. The self-life was alluringly and repeatedly presented to Him by Satan, in the wilderness, in the remark of Peter, by the visit of the Greeks, in Gethsemane where the struggle of soul almost broke the tie that held body and spirit together, and many other times. In many a hard battle--for the divine Jesus was intensely human in His earthly life--He repeatedly said a never-varying "no" to the self-life, and lived a constant victory until the very last triumphant shout of victory on Calvary. It was a life of constant conflict, but of splendid, calming, scarce-broken peace within, and of marvelous power without.

Earnestly, lovingly, gently, yet pa.s.sionately, He stands just ahead in that path now, with pierced hands outstretched in open invitation, with a heart-yearning in the depths of His great eyes, wooing us on to follow where He goes on before.

Let us follow. It may be, it _will_ be, in some measure, through the experiences of the wilderness temptation, and of Gethsemane, and of Calvary, but it will also be to share the victory which was always coupled with every testing _He_ met. It will as certainly be following Him in power, and victory, on past Calvary to the new life of the resurrection morning, that saw the greatest display of power. And even past that, to the upper chamber where His words burn their way into our hearts--"as the Father sent Me (clothed with power unconquerable) even so send I you." And then to Olivet where the victorious words ring out, "All power hath been given unto me in heaven and on earth, therefore go ye and make disciples."

"If any man would come alter me, let him say "no" to his self, and nail it to the cross daily, and follow me."

Jesus, Master, by the Holy Spirit's help, _I will_.

THE PERSONALITY OF POWER.

A Personally Conducted Journey.

Everyone enjoys the pleasure of travel; but nearly all shrink back from its tiresomeness and drudgery. The transportation companies are constantly scheming to overcome this disagreeable side for both pleasure and business travel. One of the popular ways of pleasure travel of late is by means of personally conducted tours. A party is formed, often by the railroad company, and is accompanied by a special agent to attend to all the business matters of the trip. A variation of this is to arrange for a group of congenial people to accompany some well-known accomplished gentleman. This gives the trip, not alone the convenience of having all business matters cared for, but also the decided enjoyment which this gentleman's wide knowledge and experience, and personal contact incidentally give. There are some criticisms however of such parties, from the standpoint of greatest comfort and of freedom in moving about.

Probably the very pleasantest way--the ideal way, to travel anywhere, either in our own home land, or abroad--is to form a party of only a very few persons, mutually congenial, and personally agreeable, _one of whom is an experienced traveler_, to whom checking baggage, buying tickets, studying timetables, planning connections and all the rest of that sort of thing which, to most, is disagreeable drudgery, to whom all that is mere pleasant detail; and who in addition knows all the ground you will cover, the best hotels, the inconveniences to avoid, the desirable places and things, and who finds rare enjoyment in making the trip delightful and inspiring, and restful too, to these dear friends of his.

For instance if the trip is a foreign one beginning with a run through Great Britain it would add immensely to have such a friend in London who knew that great whirling world-metropolis, as you know your own home.

After a bit you may slip over the Channel to Holland. It is only a few hours away, but the strange language, new custom-house rules, new usages, new sights, different sort of people, all make it a totally different world. A few hours will bring you into Sweden, or west from the hollow-landed Dutch to the higher-landed Germans, or south through Belgium into sunny France, and so on. And in each place the customs, and language, and sights, and people, the food, the sleeping arrangements, and apparently everything, especially to a stranger, are totally different. It is this very variety--the constant change of surroundings--that const.i.tutes much of the charm of it all. There is nothing so refres.h.i.+ng and invigorating as that. But on the other hand to an entire stranger who has no guide, it is apt to be confusing and wearisome. And the tiresome side often overcomes the pleasant side. Now this is what I am saying, that, if there are just a few together, and this experienced traveler, who is also a dear friend, is one of them, the trip is radically changed. You move in a new world. He can talk Dutch in Holland, and German in Germany, Swedish in Scandinavia, and French in Switzerland. He sees the baggage past the customs officials, and provides restful stopping places, and keeps the disagreeables away from you. He knows the places to visit, and is familiar with the historic occurrences, and is a quiet, cheery companion, and _if_ with it all he has an unlimited letter-of-credit, and makes you feel that somehow you are favoring him by letting him help you out when you run short--that, I say, would be _the ideal way of traveling_.

Now why take so much time speaking about all that? Listen! I will tell you why. Living is like traveling. Life is a journey. It is a trip through a strange land where you have never been before, and you never know a moment ahead where you are going next. Strange languages, strange scenes, strange dilemmas; new tangles, new experiences, and some old ones with new faces so you do not know them. It is just as chock-full of pleasure and enjoyment as it can be, if you could only make some provision for the drudgery and hard things that seem to crowd in so thick and fast sometimes, as to make people forget the gladness of it.

Now I have something to tell you that seems too utterly good to be believed, and yet keeps getting better all the way along. It is this: the Master has planned that your life journey shall be a personally conducted one on this ideal plan. It was said a night or two ago that the Master has thought into your life and made arrangement for all its needs. Let me add to-night this further fact: _He has arranged with His best friend, who is an experienced traveler, to go with you and devote Himself wholly to your interests._