THERE lived, many years ago, in the city of Edinburgh, a very worthy Christian man, by the name of M’Kenzie. I forget what his trade or profession was, but this I know that almost nightly M’Kenzie used to sally forth in order to preach at some street corner. This was some time before the days, of the “Salvation Army,” when preaching, in that way, was a comparatively unknown and infrequent occurrence. I do not think that M’Kenzie was a specially gifted speaker, or that he gathered crowds to hear what he had to say. He was no George Whitfield; but he loved the souls of his neighbors, and did his best, in his own way, to help them.
He possessed one talent, and in the exercise of it he displayed remarkable wisdom.
He sang no hymn; he played on no musical instrument; he pandered to no religious taste.
He appeared at some suitable spot where he hoped to get a hearing. There he was generally alone, just a man and a Book—neither very much to look at—but somehow he always carried power. There was reality. He preached neither for money nor popularity. He had a message, and its announcement was his one business. A striking personality, you may say, and one who was evidently thoroughly convinced of the importance of his errand.
Quite true, and therefore a good example to all who would follow in his steps―steps very apostolic. Then, wherein lay his talent?
Well, it sparkled, as a rule, in his opening sentence; his first words were, “I want to tell you some facts!”
The declaration of facts was his talent. He stuck to facts. Stories, illustrations, appeals, and the like, were conspicuous by their absence. He had plenty of facts, solid and sober, to announce, and this was his task.
Now there are some data which may possibly call for alteration. Sciences like geology, astronomy, medicine, and so forth, keep on presenting new features which necessitate modification. They are not fixed sciences. On the other hand, there are certain data which admit of no alteration, For instance― “two and two make four” is quite as true today as ever, and must be so forever.
I am writing on nearly the shortest day of the year, and am reminded that the winter solstice is a fixture so far as the earth and all our mundane matters are concerned. These things are facts.
It would be most interesting to work out all such fixed and settled data. There may be far more than we imagine, just as there are plenty things which we assume to be “assured results” of science, and supposed absolute certainties which are anything but that.
And what were M’Kenzie’s facts?
He had three, anyhow, on which he invariably dwelt.
The first was death!
The second judgment!
The third eternity!
The first none can deny; then, admitting the first the two others follow in sequence.
What is the cause of death?
Come, let us be plain in our answer. The cause of death is sin. No other explanation is of any significance. “In the day thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die,” was said to Adam in innocence. He did eat; he died. His death was caused by sin; and “so,” we read, “death passed upon all men, felt that all have sinned,” and therefore “it is appointed unto men once to die, and after this the judgment.”
Now notice, although death is really a judgment and very terrible too, yet what is called “the judgment” is subsequent to death. This implies eternal punishment.
You may perhaps say that if these were the only facts M’Kenzie had to state, no wonder that his audiences were thin. He had, however, other facts worthy the attention of the largest crowds that could assemble.
If he preached death as our due, he also told how that Christ died for us; if he foretold judgment, he showed how that Christ underwent it for us when on the cross He “was made sin”; if he mentioned eternity, he proclaimed a hope laid up in heaven for the believer, as well as the wrath which awaits the ungodly in those ages which know no end. M’Kenzie seemed to live amid these facts.
Robert Annan of Dundee used to print the word “Eternity” on his doorstep; M’Kenzie had it printed on his soul. Worthy, faithful, honored servants of Christ, both of them. They had drunk very deeply into the spirit of Luke 12―a chapter full of eternity, and of issues which rise when time is over. They walked closely in their Master’s footsteps.
That man exerts the greatest influence in time who lives most under the powers of eternity.
Time has its fleeting shadows; eternity has its tremendous actualities.
Reader, are you living for time or for eternity? for self or for God?
J. W. S.