What God Thinks of Us

What God Thinks of Us

J. R. Miller, 1909

One of the most important questions we can ask ourselves, is what God thinks of us.

One has pointed out that in every man, there are four different men:

the man whom the neighbors see,

the man whom one's family sees,

the man whom the person himself sees,

and the man whom God sees.

The community knows us only in a general way, superficially. What people think of us we sometimes call 'reputation'—what we are reputed to be. It is a composite made up of all that people know about us, gathered from our conduct, our acts, our dispositions, our words, the impressions of ourselves we give to others. A man becomes known, for example, as honest, because he pays his debts, never defrauds another, never fails in any financial obligation. Men learn to know that he can be depended upon. They say his word is as good as his oath, his simplest promise as good as his bond. Or, he gets the reputation of not paying his debts, of not meeting his obligations, of not being dependable in financial ways. One man through years of life becomes known as generous, kind, liberal, faithful in his friendships, obliging, self-denying, charitable. Another wins the reputation of being stingy, mean, grasping, miserly.

Thus the knowledge the community has of a man is only superficial. It is evident that the world's opinion about people is not infallible, is not complete, is not final. A person may be better than his reputation; his external manner may do him injustice. Some men, by reason of their shyness, their awkwardness, or some limitation in power of expression, fail to appear at their true value. The world knows only a man's outward life, and there may be good things in him which it does not know.

Then some people, on the other hand, are not as good as their reputation. Their photograph flatters them. What they pretend to be—exceeds the reality. They practice tricks which give a glamour to their lives, so that they pass in public for more than they are. They wear veils, which hide defects and faults in them, and thus they seem better than they are. Hence we cannot accept the judgment of the community, regarding anyone as absolutely true, fair, and final.

There is another photograph—what our intimate friends and family think of us. They know us better than the people of the community do. They understand us better. They see us with love's eyes, without prejudice. They know the good things in us, which only close association could bring to light. They saw us in some times of sore testing, when we showed ourselves true and faithful under difficulty or at great cost.

A woman who had been married a little more than a year wrote to a friend, "I thought I knew my husband perfectly before I married him—but I did not—I did not half know him. He had faults of which I never dreamed—-I thought he was perfect—but he was not. Then the year has also shown in him constant new revealings of beautiful and noble qualities, of which I had no conception. I knew he was good—but I did not know the thousandth part of the goodness I am now discovering in him."

Those who know us intimately find the worst in us, of course—but they also find the best. Friends ought to learn to be very patient with each other. We may not always expect our mere neighbors to look upon our faults graciously, with tolerance—but we have a right to expect our close friends to deal leniently with us. "Love is patient," says Paul, "and is kind." Especially in the sacred life of the home—should love be patient and not judge harshly.

In an English religious paper which has a department for questions and answers, this appeared:

"I live with a brother and a sister, both of full age. But we do not lead the happy life we should live. My sister has got into the habit of thinking that pretenses, subterfuges, prevarications, are not lies in God's sight, and that fidelities in common things are of little account. I get so impatient with her. Yet I do not know but my impatience with her is as bad in God's sight—as the faults I see in her. Should I just be quiet when I see it all, and leave it to God? How, then, can we have sisterly communion with this barrier between us?"

Surely this is not the best that the grace of God and the love of Christ can do or ought to do with Christian lives in the sacredness of the home. To be Christians, ought to bring us so close together that we shall never judge each other any more. Instead of one sister seeing great blots and flaws in the other—all should have that inexhaustible love which sees its ownimperfections—but sees only the good things in the other. In the closeness of the home relationships, it is easy to discover faults and criticize each other. It is easy to overlook the good and the beautiful, when defects are so manifest. But the very essence of love—is to cover up mistakes and shortcomings in others, and to see everything in the light of patience and forbearance.

Even in ordinary relations with others, a loving nature should always look for the good—and overlook the blemishes. An emperor had an ugly scar on one cheek—and the artist who painted his picture so posed the emperor that the scar was not seen. So should we treat our friend, or even our neighbor. But especially at home, which is to be love's garden, should the flaws be veiled—and the lovely things be brought out in full light.

Whatever the world's judgment upon men may be, is it not time that the friends of Christ should cease to deal unfairly, unjustly, unrighteously with each other? Yet the judgment of even the truest, closest friends is not final.

There is a third tribunal—our own conscience. There is the man WE ourselves see. Paul could say, "I know nothing against myself." That was a great thing for him to say. Many of us do know things against ourselves, things that others do not know. We are conscious of faults, which even our nearest friends do not see in us. When others are praising us for something we have done—we know that it is over-praise they are giving us. We are not as good as those who love us think we are. Few of us would like to see our thoughts written out on a white page, to be read of all men. We are aware of evil in ourselves that others, even those who know most of us, do not suspect.

On the other hand, when people blame us, say evil things of us, charge us with doing wrong—it is a comfort for us to know in our own hearts, that the things they say are not true. It gives peace to our spirits to be able to say we know nothing against ourselves.

But there is another man in us—the man GOD sees. And this is most important of all. We do not know all the secret things of our own hearts. There is an Eye that sees deeper than ours! We may claim to be without fault—but we must know what God has to say. Paul says, "I know nothing against myself; yet am I not hereby justified: but he who judges me is the Lord." Evenconscience may err. Paul knew this by terrible experience. It is before God—that we are really living our life. It is pleasant to have people commend us, when we have tried to do our duty. It gives us great joy to have the approval of our own hearts. But if we do not have the commendation of the Master, human praise and self-approval amount to nothing. "What does God think of you?" is always the final question.

Someone may say that since God is so holy, and sees into the depths of our being, and perceives every blemish—it is impossible for us to win his commendation. But as holy as he is—God is also merciful, gracious and compassionate. He accepts our service not for itself—but for what it means in the way of desire and intention.

It is easier to live for the eye of God—than for the eye of man. David, when the Lord gave him the choice of three penalties after he had sinned in numbering the people—seven years of famine, three months flight before his enemies in war, or three days pestilence; answered, "Let us fall now into the hand of the Lord; for his mercies are great; and let me not fall into the hand ofman."

Men are cruel. They judge often harshly. They know only part of the truth concerning us. They are not patient with our infirmities. But we are safe in the hands of God. He knows the worst in us, and our deeds—but he also knows the best.

Christ has been tempted in all points as we are, and has suffered, being tempted; he understands, therefore, the power of temptation and can pity us in our weakness and faintness. He knows when our repentance is true, and when we really love him—though we have so grievously sinned. Peter, when the question was put to him after his fall, "Peter, do you love me?" could make his appeal to his Master's infinite knowledge: "Yes, Lord; you know that I love you." We may safely make our plea before God himself, rather than before man.

We may trust our lives, therefore, to God's judgment, even if they are full of defects and flaws. He knows all, and will bring to light all the hidden things.

Many of the most beautiful ministries of love, are hidden. We scarcely know that we are of any use in the world. We sometimes think that when the King comes–that he will have no reward for us–that we have done so little for him. We do not begin to know how many lovely things we have done. We have wrought humbly, quietly, obscurely. We sometimes think our efforts have failed—we do not see the harvest—but some day all these hidden things will be brought to light—our dreams of good which have missed fulfillment, the things we wanted to do—and were not able to accomplish, the kindnesses shown to people almost unconsciously. Not one of these things is lost! The Master will say to this and that lowly one, in the great day of revealing, "I was hungry—and you fed me."

Paul assures us of praise from God. "Then shall each man have his praise from God." Think of having God praise you, "Come, you who are blessed of my Father. You have been faithful."

There are some faithful Christians who do not often get a word of praise from human lips for what they do. They hardly ever hear a sentence of commendation. Nobody ever brings them a rose. Nobody tells them they are doing good in the world. In their own lowly way, they make countless lives better and happier, their burdens lighter, and yet they rarely ever hear a "Thank you." It will be very sweet, in the day of revealing, for these plain, humble ones who give out their lives in love, and scarcely know they are doing anything for Christ—it will be very sweet, when, before all the universe, the secret things they have done shall be brought out and they shall receive their praise from God!

Doing, and Not Doubting

Doing, and Not Doubting

J.R. Miller

Some good people talk altogether too much in a doleful strain. Indeed any doleful talk in a Christian is too much. We have no right to go about airing our fears and doubts. In the first place, we need not have fears and doubts, if we have truly committed our life to Christ. Surely we are safe in his hands. But if, in spite of our secure trust and our divine keeping, we still have gloomy feelings on certain days — we ought not to speak them out to others. It is not good witness for our Master, for one thing. Besides, it makes life harder for others. We have no right ever to be a discourager.

Usually it is not possible for us to lift away people's burdens. Indeed it would not be well that we should do this, if we could. These burdens are God's gifts to his children; it is his will that they should carry them for a time, and if we lifted them off — we might be interfering with the discipline of divine love, and doing harm, not good. But we surely sin against our brother when by giving him our own doubts and fears, we make him less brave and strong for his hard duty or his sore struggle. Rather, it is the duty of love always to try to make him stronger, by words of cheer and hope.

There is still another reason why we should not let our doubts and fears have wing. While we keep them in our own bosom, unexpressed, we can the more easily get the mastery over them. Talking gloomily, makes our own heart less brave. When we have said a discouraged word — we have given way in some measure to the disheartenment which is trying to get possession of us. And every time we yield to this temptation — we are allowing the enemy to add another strand to thecable which, by and by, will bind us in the habit of life which will make us slaves of depression.

When Dr. Charles S. Robinson was pastor of a church in New York, he repeated in the course of a sermon this stanza:

"Oh, how many a glorious record
Had the angels of me kept,
Had I done, instead of doubted,
Had I warred, instead of wept."

He asked the congregation to repeat it after him, and then added, "You may forget the sermon, but do not forget the verse."

Years after this a prominent lawyer, in a private letter, recalled the incident, and spoke of the help which he and others had received. Dr. Robinson replied: "I remember the sermon and my little verse. It gives me more joy than I can describe, to know that I help anybody. Sometimes I think the highest reward I shall ever get in Heaven will be the words, not exactly, 'Well done' — but 'Well tried.' Now and then, however, some thoughtful, generous person like you comes along and says, 'Well, when you tried that time — you did.' So I try again."

The lesson of this stanza is one we all may profitably let into our life — not to doubt — but to do; not to weep — but to war. Doubt paralyzes energy; doing brings the strength of God into hand and heart. The moment we begin to try to obey, God begins to impart grace to help us to obey. Brave struggle leads to victory;weeping causes weakness which ends in pitiable defeat.

Dr. Robinson's thought of a reward for trying well, is good. God will not forget our efforts, even if we fail of the result we hoped from them. It was said to David, "Whereas it was in your heart to build a house for my name — you did well that it was in your heart." We shall have reward, at last, for the good things wesincerely try to do. This should encourage us when we have wrought faithfully, but do not see fruit from our labor.

Christ and I Are Friends

Christ and I are Friends by J. R. Miller, 1912   If we ask what was the beloved disciple's religion, we may put the answer into phrase—Christ and John were friends. It was a great, all-absorbing, overmastering friendship, which transformed John. This friendship began that day when the Baptist said to two young men, as Jesus passed near: "Behold the Lamb of God!" The two young men followed Jesus and were invited to his lodgings, spending the afternoon with him. What took place during those hours we do not know—but we do know that a friendship began between John—then scarcely more than a boy—and Jesus, which bonds have never slackened since. For three years this friendship grew in sweetness and tenderness, and during those years it was that the wonderful transformation took place in the disciple. We know a little about the power of a strong, rich, noble human friendship—in shaping, inspiring, uplifting lives. There are many lives that are being saved, refined, sweetened, enriched—by a human friendship. Here is one of the best of the younger Christian men of today—who has been lifted up from a life of ordinary ability and education—into refinement, power and large usefulness—by a gentle friendship. The girl he loved was rich-hearted, inspiring, showing in her own life the best ideals and attainments, and her love for him and his love for her lifted him up to love's nobility. She stayed with him only a few years and then went home to heaven—but he walks among men today with a strength, an energy and a force of character born of the holy friendship which meant so much to him. Silas Marner was a miser who hoarded his money. Someone took away his hoard, and his heart grew bitter over the wrong to him. Then a little child was left at his door. His poor starved heart, took in the little one, and love for her redeemed him from sordidness, bitterness, and anguish of spirit. God has saved many a life by sending to it a sweet human friendship. A Christian lady climbed the rickety stairs to the miserable room where a woman lay in rags on a pile of straw. She bent over the poor woman, all vile with sin, said a loving word and kissed her. That kiss saved her. Christ comes to sinners and saves them with love. That is the way he saved the prodigals of his time. He came to them and became their friend. It is to a personal friendship with himself, that Christ is always inviting men. He does not come merely to make reforms, to start beneficent movements, to give people better houses, and to make the conditions of life better. He does not try to save the world by giving it better laws, by founding schools, by securing wholesome literature. Christ saves men by becoming their friend. John surrendered his heart and life, to this friendship with Jesus. He opened every window and door to his new Master. The basis of John's friendship with Christ, was his trust. He never doubted. Thomas doubted and was slow to believe. This hindered the growth of his friendship with Jesus. We cannot enter into the joy and gladness of friendship, unless we believe heartily. Peter was one of Christ's closest friends—but he was always saying rash words and doing rash things which interrupted his fellowship with Christ. Such a spirit as Peter's, however loyal and courageous, cannot realize the sweet and gentle things of the holiest friendship. But John loved on in silence and trusted—his friendship was deep and strong. At the Last Supper he leaned on the Master's bosom. That is the place of confidence—the bosom is only for those who have a right to the closest intimacy. It is the place of love, near the heart. It is the place of safety—in the secret place of the Most-High. The bosom is the place of comfort too. It was the darkest night the world ever saw, that John lay on the bosom of Jesus. But he found comfort there. The bosom is the place of trust also. That is what leaning on Christ's breast means. Do not think that that place of innermost love, was for John only—and has never been filled since that night. It is like heaven's gate—it is never closed, and whoever will may come and lie down there. The bosom is also a place for those who sorrow—oh, that all who have known grief, knew that they may creep in where John lay—and nestle there! John's transformation is the model for all of us. No matter how many imperfections mar the beauty of our lives, we should not be discouraged. But we should never consent to let the faults remain. That is the way too many of us do. We condone our weakness and imperfections; we pity them and keep them. We should give ourselves no rest until they are all cured. But how can we get these evil things out of our lives? How did John get rid of his faults? By letting the love of Christ possess him! Lying upon Christ's bosom, Christ's sweet, pure, wholesome life— permeated John's life and made it sweet, pure and wholesome. It is the friendship of Christ—which alone can transform us. You are a Christian, not because you belong to a church, not because you have a good creed, not merely because you are living a fair moral life—you are a Christian because you and Christ are friends. What can a friend be to a friend? Let us think of the best that earth's richest-hearted friend can be to us and do for us. Then lift up this conception, multiplying it a thousand times. If it were possible to gather out of all history and from all the world—the best and holiest things of pure, true friendship, and combine them all in one great friendship, Christ's friendship would surpass the sum of them all. Even our human friendships, we prize as the dearest things on earth. They are more precious than rarest gems. We would lose everything else we have—rather than give them up. Life without friendships, would be empty and lonely. Yet the best earthly friendships, are but little fragments of the friendship of Christ. It is perfect. Its touch is always gentle and full of healing. Its help is always wise. Its tenderness is like the warmth of a heavenly summer. If we have the friendship of Christ, we cannot be utterly bereft, though all human friends be taken away. To be Christ's friend—is to be God's child, with all a child's privileges. This is one essential in being a Christian. We could not say that Paul is our friend, or John—but Jesus is living, and is with us evermore. He is our Friend—as really as he was Mary's or John's. Christ is our Friend. That means everything we need, will be supplied. No sorrow can be uncomforted. No evil can overmaster us. For time and eternity—we are safe. It will not be the streets of gold, and the gates of pearl, and the river and the trees—which will make heaven for us—it will be the companionship, the friendship of Christ! But we must not forget the other part of this friendship. We are to be Christ's friends too. It is not much we can give to him, or do for him. But he would have us loyal and true. Surely the consciousness that Christ is our friend and we are his—should check every evil thought, quell every bitter feeling, sweeten every emotion—and make all our life holy, true and heavenly!

The Justice of God - and the Sins of Our Country

The Justice of God—and
the Sins of Our Country

Samuel Davies, 1755
 

"When disaster comes to a city—has not the LORD caused it?" Amos 3:6

It concerns you all seriously to reflect upon your own sins, and the sins of your land—which have brought all these calamities upon us. If you believe that God governs the world, if you do not abjure him from being the Ruler of your country—then you must acknowledge that all the calamities of war, and the threatening appearances of famine—are ordered by his Providence! And if you believe that he is a just and righteous Ruler, you must also believe that he would not thus punish a righteous or a penitent people.

We and our countrymen are sinners, aggravated sinners! God proclaims that we are such by his judgments now upon us: by withering fields and scanty harvests, by the sound of the trumpet and the alarm of war. Our consciences must also bear witness to the same melancholy truth. And if my heart were properly affected, I would concur with these undoubted witnesses; I would cry aloud and not spare; I would lift up my voice like a trumpet—to show you your transgressions and your sins.

O my country, is not your wickedness great, and your iniquities infinite? Where is there a more sinful spot to be found upon our guilty globe? Pass over the land, take a survey of the inhabitants, inspect into their conduct—and what do you see? What do you hear?

You see the gigantic forms of vice bidding defiance to the God of heaven—while true religion and virtue are obliged to retire, to avoid public contempt and insult!

You see herds of drunkards swilling down their cups, and drowning all the morality within them!

You hear the swearer venting his fury against God—trifling with that Name which prostrate angels adore, and imprecating that damnation, under which the hardiest devil in hell trembles and groans!

You see AVARICE hoarding up her useless treasures, dishonest craft planning her schemes of unlawful gain, and oppressionunmercifully grinding the face of the poor!

You see prodigality squandering her stores! You see luxury spreading her table!

You see vanity laughing aloud and dissolving in empty, unthinking mirth, regardless of God, of time and eternity!

You see sensuality wallowing in carnal pleasures, and aspiring, with perverted ambition—to sink as low as her four-footed brethren in the stalls!

You see cards more in use than the Bible; the backgammon table more frequented than the table of the Lord; novels andromances more read—than the history of the blessed Jesus!

You see trifling and even evil diversions and amusements, become a gigantic business! You see the outcome of a horse-race or a dog-fight more anxiously attended to, than the concerns of eternity!

And where these grosser forms of vice do not shock your senses—even there you often meet with the appearances of morerefined impiety, which is equally dangerous!

You hear the conversation of reasonable creatures, of candidates for eternity— engrossed by trifles, or vainly wasted on the affairs of time! These are their important subjects of conversation, even at the threshold of the house of God!

You see swarms of prayerless families all over our land! You see ignorant, wicked children, unrestrained and untaught by those to whom God and nature have entrusted their souls!

You see thousands of poor slaves in a Christian country, the property of 'Christian' masters, as they will be called, almost as ignorant of Christianity as when they left the wilds of Africa!

You see the holy religion of Jesus—abused, neglected, disobeyed, and dishonored by its professors!

You see hear Infidelity scattering her ambiguous hints and suspicions; or openly attacking the Christian cause with pretended argument, with insult and ridicule!

You see crowds of professed believers, who are in reality, practical Atheists! These nominal Christians are really unholy heathens! They are abandoned slaves of sin—who yet pretend to be the servants of the holy Jesus!

You see the ordinances of the gospel neglected by some, profaned by others, and attended upon by the generality with a trifling irreverence, and studied unconcernedness. Alas! who would think that those thoughtless assemblies we often see in our places of worship—have met for such solemn purposes as to implore the pardon of their sins from an injured God, and to prepare for an all-important eternity?

Alas! Has that religion, for the propagation of which, the Son of God labored, and bled, and died; has that religion, for which his apostles and thousands of martyrs have spent their strength, and shed their blood; has that religion, on which our eternal life depends—has that religion become such a, trifle in our days—that men are hardly serious and in earnest when they attend upon its most solemn services?

You see multitudes lying in a deep sleep in sin all around us! You see them eager in the pursuits of the vanities of time—but stupidly unconcerned about the important realities of the eternal world just before them! So few are concerned what shall become of them—when all their connections with earth and flesh must be broken, and they must take their flight into strange, unknown regions! So few lamenting their sins! So few crying for mercy and a new heart! So few flying to Jesus, or even sensible of the importance of a Mediator, in a religion for sinners!

You may indeed see some degree of civility and benevolence towards men, and more than enough of cringing complaisance of worms to worms—of clay to clay—of guilt to guilt. But oh! how little sincere homage, how little affectionate veneration for the great Lord of heaven and earth! You may see something of duty to parents, of gratitude to benefactors, and obedience to superiors—but if God is a Father—then where is his honor? If he is a Master—then where is his fear? If he is our Benefactor—then where is our gratitude to him?

You may see here and there some instances of proud, self-righteous virtue, some appearances of morality: but oh! how rare isvital, evangelical religion, and true Christian morality, animated with the love of God, proceeding from a new heart, and a regard to the divine authority; full of Jesus, full of regard to him as a Mediator, on whose account alone—our duties can find acceptance!

O blessed Redeemer! what little necessity, what little use do the sinners of our country find for you in their religion! How many discourses are delivered, how many prayers offered, how many good works are performed—in which there is scarce anything ofChrist! And this defect renders them all—but 'shining sins', 'glittering crimes'!

How few pant and languish for you, blessed Jesus! and pledge never be contented with their reformation, with their morality, with their good works—until they obtain a saving interest in your righteousness, to sanctify all, to render all acceptable!

You may see children sensible of their dependence on their parents for their existence; you see multitudes sensible of their dependence on clouds, and sun, and earth, for provision for man and beast. But how few sensible of their dependence upon God, as the great Sustainer of the universe? You see that even the dull ox knows its owner, and the stupid donkey knows its master's feeding–trough; you see the workings of gratitude even in your dog, which welcomes you home with a thousand fondling motions! But how is Jehovah's government and agency practically denied in His own territories! How few receive the blessings of life as from His hand—and make proper returns of gratitude to Him!

You see a withered, ravaged country around you, languishing under the frowns of an angry God; but how few earnest prayers, how few penitential groans do you hear! Pass over the land, and bring me the facts! Is not this the general character of our country? I know there are some happy exceptions; and I hope sundry such might be produced from among you. But is not this the prevailing character of a great majority? The most generous charity cannot think the contrary, if under any Scriptural or rational limitations.

May it not be said of the people of our country—as well as those of Sodom, "Now the men of Sodom were wicked and were sinning greatly against the LORD!" And thus, alas! it has been for a long time! Our country has sinned on securely for over one hundred and fifty years; and each generation has increased the vices of the previous one! And can a land always bear up under such a load of accumulated wickedness! Can God always allow such a race of sinners to go unpunished, from generation to generation! May we not fear that our iniquities have now filled up the cup of God's wrath—and that He is about to thunder out His dreadful mandate to the executioners of His vengeance, "Swing the sickle—for the harvest is ripe! Come, trample the grapes—for the winepress is full and the vats overflow—so great is their wickedness!" Joel 3:13

And is there no relief for a sinking country? Or is it too late to administer it? Is our wound so incurable, that it cannot be healed? No, blessed be God; if you now turn every one of you from your evil ways, if you mourn over your sins, and turn to the Lord with your whole hearts—then your country will yet recover. God will appear for us, and give a prosperous turn to our affairs; he has assured us of this in his own word, "If at any time I announce that a nation or kingdom is to be uprooted, torn down and destroyed, and if that nation I warned repents of its evil—then I will relent and not inflict on it the disaster I had planned!" Jeremiah 18:7-8.

Therefore, my friends, as we have all rebelled—let us all join in unanimous repentance and a thorough reformation. Not only your eternal salvation requires it—but also the preservation of your country, which is now bleeding with the wounds you have given it by your sins. The safety of these our friends, who are now engaged in so generous a design, requires it: for even an army of saints, or of heroes—cannot defend a guilty, impenitent people, ripe for the judgments of God!

If you would be everlastingly happy, and escape the vengeance of eternal fire, or (to mention what may perhaps have more weight with some of you,) if you would preserve yourselves, your families, your posterity—from poverty, from slavery, ignorance, idolatry, torture, and death; if you would save yourselves and them from all the infernal horrors of popery, and the savage tyranny of a mongrel race of French and Indian warriors: in short, if you would avoid all that is terrible, and enjoy everything that is dear and valuable—then you must repent and turn to the Lord. This is the only cure for our wounded country; and if you refuse to repent in time—then prepare to perish in its ruins.

If you go on impenitent in sin, you may expect not only to be damned forever—but (what is more terrible to some of you) to fall into the most extreme outward distress. You will have reason to fear not only the loss of heaven—which some of you perhaps think little of—but the loss of your estates, which lie so near your hearts. And will you not repent—when you are pressed to it from so many quarters at once?

(Note: The above is an excerpt from a much longer sermon.)

The Law of Love

The Law of Love

Luke 6:27-38

J. R. Miller
 

There is a great similarity between the discourse in Luke—and that given in Matthew. There are also such marked differences that many writers think they were spoken at different times. It matters not, for our purpose, whether they are the same or a different sermon.

The law of love was taught in the Old Testament. If one met his enemy's ox or donkey going astray—he was to bring it back to him. But here the teaching goes much further, "But I tell you who hear me: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you; bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you." This is not an easy lesson. It is never easy to be a Christian. The easy way does not lead toward heaven. It takes a new birth to make us a Christian at all.

Loving enemies is not a natural affection. People talk about the Sermon on the Mount, as having in it all the gospel they want; but if they try to live it they will find that they need both an atoning Savior and a sanctifying Spirit.

Yet Christ wants us to make these teachings the rule of our life. Of course we cannot love enemies—just as we love our friends. It is a different kind of love that is required. We cannot take them into our confidence, nor can we make them our intimate companions; but we can desire and seek their good. We can restrain all feelings of resentment, and all wishes to return evil for evil. We may have in our heart, kindly thoughts and desires for them—and should even seek opportunities to do them favors and kindnesses. If anyone hates us and seeks to do us harm, instead of repaying him "in his own coin," we may do good for evil, continuing to pour out love and blessing. This and all the other precepts of this lesson find their perfect illustration, in the life of Christ Himself.

The following incident will be helpful in illustrating love for enemies. At the close of the first day of the battle of Fredericksburg, in the American Civil War, hundreds of the Union wounded were left lying on the ground. All night and most of the next day the field was swept by artillery, and no one could venture to the sufferer's relief.

Many who heard the poor soldiers' piteous appeals, felt the pangs of human compassion—but stifled them under dread necessity. But at length one brave fellow behind the stone ramparts where the Southern forces lay, gave way to his sympathy and rose superior to the love of life. He was a sergeant in a South Carolina regiment, and his name was Richard Kirkland. In the afternoon he hurried to General Kershaw's headquarters and, finding the commanding officer, said to him, excitedly:

"General, I can't stand this any longer!"

"What's the matter, sergeant?" asked the general.

"Those poor souls out there have been praying and crying all night and all day, and it's more than I can bear. I ask your permission to go and give them water."

The general hesitated for a moment—but finally said, with emotion: "Kirkland, it is sending you to your death; but I can oppose nothing to such a motive as yours. For the sake of it, I hope God will protect you. Go!"

Furnished with a supply of water, the brave sergeant immediately stepped over the wall and applied himself to his work of Christlike mercy. Wondering eyes looked on as he knelt by the nearest sufferer and, tenderly raising his head, held the cooling cup to his parched lips. Before his first ministry of love was finished, everyone in the Union lines understood the mission of thenoble soldier in gray, and not a man fired a shot.

He stayed there on that terrible field an hour and a half, giving drink to the thirsty and dying, straightening their cramped and mangled limbs, pillowing their heads on their knapsacks, and spreading their army coats and blankets over them—as a mother would cover her own children—and all the while he was so engaged, until his gentle ministry was finished; the fusillade of deathwas hushed. Hatred forbore its rage—in a tribute of honor, to a deed of pity.

The lesson of love continues, "Bless those who curse you; pray for those who mistreat you." These counsels are intensely practical. In answer to men's cursings, revilings, and insults—we are to return words of peace, kindness, and love. Those who mistreat us—we are to pray for instead of uttering threats against them and imprecations upon them.

We remember how Jesus Himself lived out this law of love. There were many who cursed Him and reviled Him—but He never lost the sweetness of love out of His heart. He never on any occasion returned a word of cursing or anger or even of impatience—in answer to the bitterest revilings of His enemies. "When He was reviled—He did not revile in return; when suffering—He did not threaten, but committed Himself to the One who judges justly" (1 Peter 2:23).

That is the example for us. We are to be silent when others speak evil of us or to us; or, if we speak, it is to be the soft answer that turns away wrath. We need not worry ourselves about the deserts of those who treat us unjustly, feeling that we should see to their punishment. We are to leave that to God—who judges righteously and who will take care also that no real harm shall come to us, from the wrongs which others inflict on us, provided we keep ourselves in His love and in an obedient spirit.

The lesson has its ideal exemplification in our Lord's prayer on His cross for His murderers. His only answer to the driving of the nails through His hands and feet was, "Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do!" (Luke 23:34). That is the way He wants us to answer the cruelties and injuries which others may inflict upon us.

"If someone strikes you on one cheek—turn to him the other also." Christ did not so much give rules for special cases—asprinciples to govern all conduct. We all think of these words as presenting a very beautiful direction for life, and yet we apt to feel that they cannot be followed literally. Actually turning the other cheek to one who has smitten you in the face, would most likely aggravate the person's anger. We take our Lord's example as the true exposition of His precepts. When He was on His trial, one of the officers standing by struck Him with his hand. Yet Jesus did not literally turn the other cheek to the smiter. Instead He calmly protested against the act, saying, "If I have spoken evil, bear witness of the evil; but if well, why smite you Me?" At the same time He fulfilled the spirit of His own precept—for He did not resist the wrong.

Paul was one of the noblest of Christ's followers, and we have an example in his life. He was smitten on the mouth by the command of the high priest. He did not literally turn the other cheek—but vehemently rebuked him who had committed the outrage. We must therefore look for the true meaning of this teaching—in its spirit, and not in its letter. We must be ready to endure not one—but many injuries from the others. We must be unresisting like our Lord. No wrongs from others—should ever turn our love to hate. Christ's own life was an illustration of this. He was treated wrongfully at every step—but His heart never lost its sweetness, its gentleness, its patience, its desire to bless others and do them good.

"Give to everyone who asks from you." If this rule were to be literally carried out, it would put us at the mercy of every idle, greedy, grasping person. The result of such indiscriminate, unregulated giving—would be only evil. It would do untold harm to those to whom we might thus give—fostering idleness, pauperism, and selfishness!

It is the result of the observation and practical experience of all thoughtful and wise philanthropists, that men should give mostsparingly and discriminating to the poor. There are many cases where money or its equivalent is really needed; but ordinarily, giving money only harms the beneficiary. Human sympathy, love, cheer, strength to rise again, encouragement and opportunity to work—such help is far better than that which merely gives temporary aid, while it makes the person not more—but less, able for going on afterward. We are indeed to "give to everyone that asks" us—but the giving must be that which will be a real benefit or blessing—never that which will do harm to a life. We are to give as God gives, generously, freely, lovingly—but always wisely, withholding that which would only hurt.

The second part of the precept, "And if anyone takes what belongs to you—do not demand it back"—must also be read intelligently, in the light of other Scriptures. It is not meant to place Christians at the mercy of robbers and thieves, forbidding all property rights. The whole verse teaches gentleness, generosity, unselfishness, meekness, and the reverse of grasping greed.

"Do unto others—as you would have them do unto you." This Golden Rule sums up the application of the law of love. We thus carry continually in our own conscience, the touchstone by which to decide how we should treat others. We are to ask what we would think they should do to or for us—if our circumstances were reversed.

Yet even here, there must be limitations. We might conceive of ourselves as mean, greedy, selfish, grasping, unjust—and then say that if we were in the place of the other person, or he in ours, we would want a great deal. Clearly it would not be in the spirit of the Lord's teaching, to bring ourselves to such an interpretation of this Golden Rule, thus stripping ourselves of our possessions—only to gratify men's selfish greed. We must apply the rule intelligently, considering what would be right and justand truly helpful. Thus understood and applied—this rule is a wonderful help in shaping our treatment of others. Things which would appear repulsive in others, we must remember, appear no less so—when seen in us by others. Things that look beautiful in our eyes when we see them in others—will look no less beautiful in us to the eyes of others.

"If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even 'sinners' love those who love them! And if you do good to those who are good to you, what credit is that to you? Even 'sinners' do that! And if you lend to those from whom you expect repayment, what credit is that to you? Even 'sinners' lend to 'sinners,' expecting to be repaid in full." Anybody ought to be able to love his friends—to do good to those that are good to him—and to lend to those of whom he expects to receive as much in return. Even the coldest and most calculating selfishness can go thus far in loving, doing good, and giving. It requires no regeneration, no mind of Christ, no help of the Holy Spirit—to help one to follow that sort of life creed. The most wicked heathen can do it, and the most common infidel, if not utterly devoid of shrewdness, will need no Sermon on the Mount to inspire and teach him that this is the wisest way to live. His kindness to others—brings kindness to him in return. His giving and lending—put other men under obligation to show him the same favors when he may need them.

But Christians must do more than lost sinners. They are born again, are children of God, have a new heart in them, and are to be like God Himself—loving enemies, doing and lending, hoping for no return.

"Do not judge—and you will not be judged. Do not condemn—and you will not be condemned." We have no right to be censorious, to criticize others, to sit in judgment on their actions, to pronounce sentence on their conduct. Who made us judges of others? Under what law are they answerable to us—for what they do? Besides, we have no wisdom for such judgment of others. We do not know all the circumstances and conditions and motives that enter into human actions. There are often excellent reasons for doing certain things which to us, who do not know these reasons, seem to be unwise, or even wrong.

There are elements of character which to us may appear unlovely because we see them in a certain light—but which, seen from a different point of view, in a different light, are really very lovely. In a certain church there is a stained-glass window which, looked at from one point, gives a blurred and very unsatisfactory representation of a scene in our Lord's life—but which, observed from another point, represents the scene in a very beautiful way. The same difference in perspective, is often observable in men's conduct and character, as seen from different points by different onlookers. Evidently, therefore, we are notqualified for judging, because of the fragmentary nature of our knowledge of the circumstances and conditions of people's lives. Let us learn to be charitable and tolerant, seeking for the good things and the beautiful—rather than the evil and the repulsive!

Treasures from J. R. Miller

Treasures from J. R. Miller

Am I like Jesus — or not?

"Jesus got up from supper, laid aside His robe, took a towel, and tied it around Himself. Next, He poured water into a basin and began to wash His disciples' feetand to dry them with the towel tied around Him." John 13:4-5

Serving is not an easy lesson to learn. But it is a lesson which we must learn — if ever we would become like our Master. Jesus did not come to be served — but to serve. He served to the uttermost, just as He loved to the uttermost. Any service that needed to be done for another — He did as naturally and as simply as He breathed! He loved people, and was interested in them and was ready always to be helpful to them. It never mattered what the service was, whether it was the saving of a soul, the curing of a grievous sickness, or washing feet — He did the least service — as graciously and as divinely as the greatest!

The washing of feet was the lowliest service any man could do for another. It was the work of the lowliest slave. Yet Jesus without hesitation, did this service for His own disciples. Thus He taught them that nothing anyone may ever need to have done by another — is unfit for the holiest hands. We begin to be like Christ— only when we begin to love others enough to serve them, regardless of the lowliness of the particular service.

One day a stranger entered an artist's studio in Milan. The artist was working on a painting of the head of Christ and appeared to take no notice of the stranger. At last he broke the silence, looked at the man and asked, "Sir, does it look like Jesus — or not?"

There is no surer test of the genuineness of Christian life — than in this matter of serving others. In serving others, we should inquire, "Am I like Jesus — or not?" We are too careful of our dignity. When we see the Son of God washing His disciples' feet — we should be ashamed ever to ask whether anything another may need to have done — is too menial for us to do. A king may do the lowliest kindness to the poorest peasant in his realm — and his honor will only beenhanced by it.

"Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet — you also should wash one another's feet. For I have given you an example that you also should do, just as I have done for you." John 13:14, 15

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Our clumsy hands!

"I know that You can do all things; no plan of Yours can be thwarted!" Job 42:2

We cannot do what we desire to do. Many of our purposes are thwarted. We desire to do good and beautiful things, and we try — but our actual achievements fall far below our desires. Our clumsy hands cannot fashion the loveliness which our hearts dream of. Our faltering weakness cannot do the brave things our souls aspire to do. No artist ever paints on his canvas — all the beauty of his ideal. No singer ever expresses — all the music which burns within him as he sings. No eloquent orator ever utters — all that he feels as he pleads for truth or for justice.

So in all our life — we do only a little of what we strive to do. We set out in the morning with purposes of usefulness, of true living, of gentle-heartedness, of patience, of victoriousness; but in the evening we find only little fragments of these good intentions actually wrought out!
But God's plans and intentions are all carried out! No power can withstand Him — or frustrate His will. It was in this thought, that Job found peace in his long, sore trial: all things were in God's hands, and nothing could hinder His designs of love! Our God is infinitely strong. In all earthly confusions, strifes, and troubles — His hand moves, bringing good out of evil for those who trust in Him. He executes all His purposes of good. He is never hindered in blessing His children.

"I know that You can do all things; no plan of Yours can be thwarted!" Job 42:2
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God's threshing

"You will have tribulation in this world." John 16:33

The word tribulation is very suggestive. It comes from a root which means 'a flail'. The thresher uses the flail to beat the wheat sheaves, that he may separate the golden wheat from the chaff and straw.

Tribulation is God's threshing — not to destroy us, but to get what is good, heavenly, and spiritual in us — separated from what is wrong, earthly, and fleshly. Nothing less than blows of pain will do this. The golden wheat of goodness in us, is so closely wrapped up in the strong chaff of sin — that only the heavy flail of suffering can produce the separation!

Many of us would never enter the gates of pearl — were it not for this unwelcome messenger, pain! "We must go through many troubles to enter the kingdom of God!" Acts 14:22

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It is not easy to be a man!

Christ is more than a teacher. A teacher shows us lofty qualities and attainments — and then leaves us in hopeless weakness in the dust. But Christ is Helper, Friend, Savior — as well as Teacher. He shows us what true manliness is — and then comes into our life and inspires us to strive after the things which He commends; and then breathes His life into us to help us to be what He teaches us to be.

It is not easy to be a man — a true, noble, Christlike man. It means continual struggle, for enemies of manliness meet us at every step! Every inch of the way must be won in battle. It means constant restraint and repression of sin — for the 'old man' in us must be subdued and kept under control. It means constant, painful discipline — for the powers of nature are evil and unruly, and hard to tame and control. It means unending toil and self-denial — for we must climb ever upward, and the way is steep and rugged, and SELF must be trampled to death under our feet as we rise to higher life! It is hard to be a true man — for all the odds seem against us. But Christ lives, and He is Helper, Friend, and Guide — to every man who truly receives Him as Lord and Master.

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You say you want to be like Christ

"The Son of Man did not come to be served — but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many!" Matthew 20:28

The art of photography is now so perfect, that the whole picture of a large newspaper can be taken in miniature so small, as to be carried in a little pendant — and yet every letter and point be perfect.

Just so, the whole life of Christ is photographed in one little phrase, "not to be served — but to serve."

He came not to be served; if this had been His aim — He would never have left heaven's glory, where He lacked nothing, where angels praised Him and ministered unto Him. He came to serve. He went about doing good. He altogether forgot Himself. He served all He met — who would receive His service. At last He gave His life in uttermost service — giving it as a sin-atoning sacrifice for others. He came not to be served — but to serve.

You say you want to be like Christ. You ask Him to print His own image on your heart. Here, then is the image! It is no vague dream of perfection that we are to think of — when we ask to be made like Christ. The Catholic monks thought that they were becoming like Christ — when they went into the wilderness, awayfrom men, to live in cold cells. But that is not the what this picture suggests. "To serve" — that is the Christlike thing! Instead of fleeing away from the world — we are to live among men, to serve them, to seek to bless them, to do them good, to give our life for them!

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A needed book

"I have put my hope in Your Word."
  Psalm 119:81

So long as there are . . .
 tears and sorrows,
 and broken hearts,
 and crushed hopes,
 and human failures,
 and lives burdened and bowed down,
 and spirits sad and despairing —
so long will the Bible be a needed book.
It is full of inspiration, light, help and strength for earth's weary ones.

"The law of the LORD is perfect — reviving the soul.
 The statutes of the LORD are trustworthy — making wise the simple.
 The precepts of the LORD are right — giving joy to the heart.
 The commands of the LORD are radiant — giving light to the eyes.
 The fear of the LORD is pure — enduring forever.
 The ordinances of the LORD are sure and altogether righteous.
They are more desirable than gold — even the finest gold.
They are sweeter than honey — even honey dripping from the comb.
By them is Your servant warned; in keeping them there is great reward." 
  Psalm 19:7-11

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The grace of gentleness

"Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me — for I am gentle and humble in heart." Matthew 11:29

There are some Christians who seem never to have learned love's secret of gentleness. There is nothing that this sad, sorrowing, sinning world needs — more than gentleness; like that of Him of whom it is written, that He would not break a bruised reed. We need to pray for the grace of gentleness that we may walk softly among men, never hurting another life by harsh word or ungentle act.

"We were gentle among you, like a mother caring for her little children." 1 Thessalonians 2:7

"Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love." Ephesians 4:2

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Nursing a viper!

"Put to death, therefore, whatever belongs to your earthly nature: sexual immorality, impurity, lust, evil desires and greed, which is idolatry. Because of these, the wrath of God is coming. You used to walk in these ways, in the life you once lived." Colossians 3:5-7

A new life in Christ calls for the utter destruction of these evils. It is a shameful list which Paul names. It makes us ashamed to think that such qualities may belong to us — or may nest in our heart! Who would have thought that any these vile things could exist in anyone who wears the human form! Yet many of these ugly things are found in each of us! Our hearts are naturally cages of unclean birds!

What does Paul tell us we should do with these unholy things? He says we are to put them to death. When we find any evil thing in ourselves, we must kill it, for it is not right for it to live. An uncompromising war should be waged against all evil. He who cherishes any impurity in himself — is nursing a viper which will sting him to death by and by!

Loyalty to Christ

Loyalty to Christ

J. R. Miller, 1908

Loyalty to Christ begins in the heart. We must love him supremely. "He who loves father or mother more than me—is not worthy of me; and he who loves son or daughter more than me—is not worthy of me." Nothing makes worthy discipleship, if love is lacking. In these days, Christian activity is emphasized and required. Never was the church of Christ as active as it is now. This is beautiful. But with all our activity, we fear lest we are not loving Christ as we should.

In one of the epistles to the seven churches, Jesus commends the church of Ephesus for many things—its works, its toil, its patience and that it could not bear evil men. "But," he adds, "I have this against you— that you have left your first love." With all its activity and self-sacrificing service—it did not love Jesus as it used to do.

G. Campbell Morgan tells of a friend of his who had a little daughter that he dearly loved. They were great friends, the father and daughter, and were always together. But there seemed to come an estrangement on the child's part. The father could not get her company as formerly. She seemed to shun him. If he wanted her to walk with him—she had something else to do. The father was grieved and could not understand what the trouble was. His birthday came and in the morning his daughter came to his room, her face radiant with love, and handed him a present. Opening the parcel, he found a pair of exquisitely worked slippers.

The father said, "My child, it was very good of you to buy me such lovely slippers." "O father," she said, "I did not buy them—Imade them for you." Looking at her he said, "I think I understand now, what long been a mystery to me. Is this what you been doing the last three months?" "Yes," she said, "but how did you know how long I had been at work on them?" He said, "Because for three months I have missed your company and your love. I have wanted you with me—but you have been too busy. These are beautiful slippers—but next time buy your present—and let me have you all the days. I would rather have my child herself—than anything she could make for me."

We are in danger of being so busy in the Lord's work—that we cannot be enough with the Lord in love's fellowship. He may say to us, "I like your works, your toils, your service—but I miss the love you gave me at first." There is real danger that we get so busy in striving to be active Christians, so absorbed in our tasks and duties, our efforts to bring others into the church—that Christ himself shall be less loved and shall miss our communing with him!

Loyalty means first of all—heart devotion. Has Christ really the highest place in your heart? It is not your work he wants most—it is you! It is beautiful to do things for him—it is still more beautiful to make a home for him in your heart!

A young man, at great cost, has brought from many countries the most beautiful materials he could find and has built as a memorial to his dead wife—an exquisite little chapel. Only a few men could do anything so rare, so lovely. But the poorest of us can enthrone our loved ones in our hearts; and the poorest of us can please Christ even more—by making a little sanctuary in our hearts for him.

Then there must be loyalty of life. If there is true, supreme love in the heart—there should be a holy life and character. Here again we need to guard against devotion to the work and service of Christ—while in the life the world sees there are so manyflaws and blemishes, that the impression is not to the honor of Christ. He is very patient with our infirmities and our stumblings. If he were not, who of us ever could hope to please him?

We are inexperienced, mere learners, at first. We misspell our words. We blunder in our grammar. We sing out of tune. Some of us are just beginning our Christian life, and are discouraged already because we have failed to be what we meant to be, and to live as beautifully as we were sure we would live. Christ is patient with us—when he knows that we are true in our heart, that we really want to be faithful.

Charles Kingsley says: Oh, at least be able to say in that day, "Lord, I am no hero. I have been careless, cowardly, sometimes all but mutinous. Punishment I have deserved—I deny it not. But a traitor I have never been; a deserter I have never been. I have tried to fight on your side in the battle against evil. I have tried to do the duty which lay nearest me, and to leave whatever you committed to my charge—a little better than I found it. I have not been perfect—but I have at least tried to be perfect."

Christ never forgets how frail we are. But he does not want us ever to give up. Though we stumble when we are learning to walk, he wants us to get up and try again. Though we are defeated in our battle tomorrow, he wants us to rise at once and keep on fighting.

A true soldier may be wounded, may be beaten in many battles—but he never is a deserter, never is a traitor. He is always loyal. It is only when we desert Christ, turn away from him, become false to him—that we really fail. You never can fail—if you are true, if you are faithful.

But we should always keep the standard of loyalty up to the highest point. The command is: "Be perfect—even as your Father in heaven is perfect." That standard must never be lowered. Christ's own thought of loyalty—is simple faithfulness. "Be faithful."Faithful seems a gracious word. It requires nothing impossible. It demands nothing unreasonable. It asks only for a just return. It does not exact ten talents—when only two have been given. It is a word of love. Christ is a gentle taskmaster. Yet the word sets a high requirement—one, too, which cannot be lowered. It must have the BEST that we can do. When much has been given—a little will not be a satisfactory return.

There must be loyalty also in character. Paul suggests a cluster of the fruits of the Spirit which do not take an active form, "Love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, meekness, self-control." Most of these are quiet virtues. They are qualities of character. One might possess many of them—and not be able to say he was an active Christian. Peace is not active. Joy, long-suffering, goodness are not active. Yet these graces are essential to a complete Christian life. We must think of the passive and quiet virtues—as well as the active ones—when we are trying to discover the full meaning of loyalty to Christ.

Here is a man, for example, who bears the name of Christian. But he is not loving—he is hard to live with, irritable, angry, resentful. He has no joy—but is a morose, gloomy, a sad man. He has no peace—but is fretful, anxious, restless, full of fear and worry. He has no meekness—but is impatient, irascible, unmerciful. Lacking the qualities of love, joy, peace, meekness, can you call such a man a loyal follower of Christ? He may be a lively Christian, so far as activities are concerned: a prominent church-member, a zealous church officer, foremost in the organizations of the church. Yet he is not a man you would call a beautiful Christian. Loyalty must be Christlike in character, in disposition, in spirit, in the shining of the face, in the lovingness of the heart.

But loyalty to Christ, must also be active. A true patriot is a quiet and peaceable citizen in times of peace. But when the country is imperiled, he is ready for service. He takes the soldier's place. The Christian belongs to the army of Christ and must follow his King to battle. He who fails to do his part in the conquest of the world, cannot call himself fully loyal to Christ. He may not be anenemy of Christ—but he is a shirker, or he is lacking in courage.

Loyalty to Christ means activity in the service of Christ. Find your work—what you can do to make the world holier, happier, truer—and do it with all your might!

A good woman deplored her lack of usefulness. Yet many knew that her daily life was a constant blessing. She sweetened a home, blessed a houseful of children and young people, and manifested the love of Christ among her neighbors. Was not that being an active Christian? There is an activity of BEING—as well as of DOING.

Loyalty to Christ also demands of us—the uttermost of sincerity and truth in all our living. God desires truth in the inward parts. Yet are there not men who claim to be Christians—and are living a lie? There are lives that are honey-combed by all manner of unfaithfulnesses, dishonesties, injustices and injuries to others—and by many secret sins.

What does the lesson of loyalty to Christ have to teach us about these things? Are covered sins—safely hidden? Are they out of sight forever? Oh, no! Be sure that your sin will find you out. The word is not, "Be sure that your sin will be found out." It may not be found out in this world—but it will "find you out." It will plague you, spoil your happiness, make your life wretched.

What shall we do about these wrong things we have done? A life of loyalty to Christ—means a life that is white, clean, through and through. None can build a beautiful, shining character—upon covered sins. Joy is part of a complete Christian life, and no one can be joyous—with sins concealed in his heart.

Paul has a word about bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ. We should test every feeling, every imagination, every disposition, all conduct, by this test—loyalty to Christ. Someone does you a wrong, and you feel like getting angry. Be loyal to Christ. Keep your whole life, every day, every hour—under the sway of his Word.

Loyalty to Christ! There really is nothing else in religion. It is all in these three words.

I will be faithful to Christ!

I will be true to Christ.

I will please Christ.

I will be obedient to Christ.

I will do his will.

I will submit to his discipline.

I will bear the cross he lays upon me!