THIS is a picture of a Roman soldier.
You notice his strong helmet, and his spear, and shield, and the calm, steadfast expression of his face. He looks like a man who would shrink from no danger in the path of duty―like one who could be “faithful unto death.” The story about this soldier is very beautiful, both in itself and because of the beautiful things of which it reminds us, and it is a story which was not told until long, long after the brave man of whom it speaks had passed away. But, before we speak about this soldier who was faithful unto death, tell me whether you can remember anything about soldiers in the Bible. Ah! I see you have thought of a good many places where soldiers are mentioned. Remember that they were generally Roman soldiers, not Jewish ones. Roman soldiers, dressed like this one in the picture, crowned the Lord Jesus with a crown of thorns, and mocked Him, and, when they had crucified Him, made four parts of His garments, to every soldier a part―for there were four of them there on that solemn day; it was a Roman soldier who lifted his spear to pierce the side of the blessed Saviour, who had just given up His life for such as he was; and it was the centurion, the captain of those soldiers, who said, “Certainly this was a righteous Man; truly this was the Son of God.” It was to Roman soldiers, too, that Peter was delivered, that they might guard him safely; and you remember how, when the light shined in the prison and the angel’s voice was heard, Peter was asleep. He was quietly sleeping, with one of these soldiers on each side of him, and outside the door others were standing―keeping guard, just as the soldier in the picture stands.
The first thing a soldier has to learn is to obey. This is true in the case of all soldiers, but if a Roman soldier disobeyed it would cost him his life. You remember how the keeper of the prison at Philippi, when he thought the prisoners had escaped, drew his sword, and was just going to kill himself He might well be frightened, for it was his business to keep them safely, and it would have cost him his life if he had let them go. But the soldier in the picture is not one of those mentioned in the Bible: we should know nothing about him if his bones had not been found long, long after his death. And now you shall hear the story about him and you will understand why we say that he was faithful unto death.
You have all heard of the beautiful Bay of Naples, and perhaps you may have seen a picture of it, with the burning mountain, Vesuvius. Beside this bay, at the time when our Lord was on earth, there was a wonderfully beautiful city, called Pompeii. If you had gone to the place a few years after―even before the Apostle John had died―you would have found no fair city there; it had quite disappeared, and nothing but black desolation was left behind in the midst of that lovely country and beside that blue, sunny sea.
The people of Pompeii were very lighthearted and careless, and, though they knew that all was not safe―for more than once an earthquake had given warning of danger―they still went on building their beautiful villas higher and higher up the sunny slopes of the mountain. At last the day came when sudden destruction burst upon the fair city, with its gay, careless people. One bright August morning, as they looked to the mountain top, they saw a sudden column of black smoke shoot up into the cloudless Italian sky. The pillar of blackness spread out until it looked like a great pine tree, wrapping the city in its shade. A darkness like that of night came over everything, while again and again a lightning flash showed for a moment the pale faces of men, women, and children, who knew not what was coming upon them.
A few moments, and a thick shower fell, not of gentle rain, but of ashes. Presently, instead of ashes, small stones, hot from the burning mountain, poured all around. Then thick, black mud ran like a torrent down the mountain; none could stop it or turn it aside―on it came, rolling through the lovely gardens, blocking up the streets, filling the houses. Some of the people who had tried to find refuge in the country round were killed by the falling cinders, and their bodies lay in the open fields or scattered along the shore. Many escaped in time; but the destruction of the city was so sudden and so terrible that, in three days from that August morning when the pillar of smoke first appeared, nothing was to be seen there one waste ashes mud but black of and mud.
We may now read the account of what befell the city of Pompeii in a letter written by a young Roman, who lost some of his relations there; but, as time went on, people began to forget all about it. A green mantle of grass covered the black mud, and soon vines, with their rich clusters of grapes, were trailing over the desolate places. Then houses were built, and busy people lived in them, and got up in the morning and went to bed at night with no thought of the old city which lay buried beneath.
And so the years went on, until more than seventeen hundred had passed away. At last somebody thought of digging deep below the grass and the vines, and the old city, which had so long been buried away out of sight and out of mind, was found. Strange things were discovered in the search which was then made, and it was plain that a very sudden ruin had come upon that city, with its splendid houses, where the gay people had lived so thoughtlessly. In one street there was a baker’s shop, and the loaves which he had put into the oven were still there; he had fled for his life, never thinking of what he might be leaving behind.
But at the chief gate of the city was found one who did not fly―the Roman soldier of whom we may indeed say that he was faithful― “faithful unto death.” He was young and strong, and might well have saved himself, but he was a sentinel―his duty was to stand at the gate and guard the way, and so there he stood, as the ashes fell around him, covering his mouth with his cloak. But it was no passing shower; thicker and faster the dreadful rain of ashes fell, until at last they buried the brave, faithful soldier―buried him until, after all these hundreds of years, he was found, still grasping his spear with one hand and with the other covering his face. And this is how the story of his death has told itself; so that we cannot mistake it, though we know nothing of his life―not even his name. “Faithful unto death” the soldier had been whose skeleton still stood at the gateway, and faithful, too, was the gentle dove whose skeleton was found in a little niche overlooking the garden of one of the beautiful houses of Pompeii. Those who found her there must indeed have wondered: they must have asked, “Why did she not fly―why not spread her soft wings and leave the scene of danger and death far behind” Ah, her story, too, was soon told; beneath the bony breast, once so fair and warm, lay an egg―she would not leave it.
Dear children, I am sure you think that it is a beautiful thing to be faithful. You will find a great deal in the Bible about it, for “faithful men” are spoken of there, as well as those to whom it shall be said, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” The Roman soldier was faithful because it was his duty; he just did the right thing, looking for no reward. The dove was faithful because of the “kindness which God has put into the heart of His creatures” ―by what we call an instinct of her nature she was forced to stay and protect her young. But to those who are faithful to Him now, the Lord Jesus has promised a reward, for He says, “Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee the crown of life.”
But we can only be faithful, dear children, even in the least things, if we know the Lord Jesus Christ, and how He has proved His faithfulness to God and to us.
We are told in the Epistle to the Hebrews to “consider Christ Jesus who was faithful to Him who appointed Him,” and it is well for us to think of the way in which, when He was forsaken by all, the Son of God, who had said, “I came down from heaven, not to do My own will, but the will of Him that sent Me,” did that will to the very uttermost, becoming “obedient unto death, even the death of the cross.” It is well, too, for us to remember that He is now “crowned with glory and honor.” God has owned His faithfulness, and given Him a “Name above every name;’ and there is a time coming when He, who in obedience to His Father’s will laid down His life that He might take it again, will have around Him all those redeemed by His precious blood, the fruit of His faithfulness unto death, of whom He said, “Father, I will that they also, whom Thou hast given Me, be with Me, where I am; that they may behold My glory, which Thou hast given Me: for Thou lovedst Me before the foundation of the world.”