SORROW attended the advent of sin: gladness the advent of the Saviour. Sorrow was proclaimed by God as man’s lot as soon as sin had come into the world. To Adam He said, “In sorrow shalt thou eat of it [that is, of the fruit of the curse-stricken ground] all the days of thy life” (Gen. 3:17).
Then, later on in history, we read, “Man is born unto trouble, as the sparks fly upward” (Job 5:7). But God interferes for man in his misery. Grace brings in a complete change—brings in salvation. Gladness attends the advent of the Saviour, and as soon as Jesus was born into the world God took care to announce the same by special messenger. “Behold,” said the angel to the shepherds, “I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people” (Luke 2:10).
The presence of the Saviour on earth was God’s great “Fear not” to every sinner of Adam’s race who was not too proud to listen to the gracious announcement. The banishment of fear from the heart and the filling of the same with heavenly gladness have been the sure results of a received gospel ever since.
In the city of Samaria there was “great joy” when the gospel which Philip preached was listened to and received (Acts 8:8).
In Jerusalem they “did eat their meat with gladness and singleness of heart, praising God” (Acts 2:46).
In the desert near Gaza, when the eunuch found the Saviour he went on his way rejoicing (Acts 8:39).
In Philippi, when the jailer believed he rejoiced, we are told, “believing in God with all his house” (Acts 16:34).
All bear one unvarying witness that there is “joy and peace in believing.” Nay, more, the Spirit delights to fill us with it (Rom. 15:3).
Now it is when this spring of heavenly joy “joy in the Holy Ghost” —is reached, true service rightly begins. It was evidently in this joy—the joy of “first love” —that the jailer’s service began, as he washed the stripes of Paul and Silas and set meat before them.
God wants happy servants. “Serve the Lord with gladness” is the Spirit’s injunction, and servile drudgery is out of the question.
During the recent war in South Africa the writer, on one occasion, happened to be in a small remote town in Cape Colony, where the great majority of the inhabitants were Boers or colonial Dutch. One day a strange report reached the town. It was brought by a man who had come from the nearest railway station, about forty miles distant. He said that he had seen British soldiers dragged to “the front” in chains, and weeping because they were compelled to take part in the service of the English Crown. Now the Boer element in this said town seemed highly gratified with this man’s report, false though no doubt it was. But what would the Crown of England have thought of it, had it been true?
The question need not be answered here. Suffice it now to say that our blessed Lord needs no such soldiers in His ranks. Perfect liberty prevails there—liberty as happy as it is holy. Indeed there can be no really acceptable service without it. “The joy of the Lord is your strength.” “Serve the Lord with gladness.” Hear this, ye servants of Christ.
In the days of type and shadow, the marks of mourning, the uncovered head and the rent garment, as really disqualified a priest for the service of the sanctuary as the stain of actual sin. “Glory and honor are in His presence: strength and gladness are in His place” (1 Chron. 16:27).
Wounded, and even frightened birds never sing. We must be happy, really happy, to serve acceptably. Do not, therefore, make the grave mistake of trying to recover lost joy by increased activity in service. If you are not happy, if gladness of heart is not yours, you may be sure that things are not right within. And the endeavor to once more reach by outward service the joy you have lost is as dangerous as it is useless.
If, early some winter evening, all the gas jets in your dwelling suddenly went out, you would never be so foolish as to leave your house just as it was, and seek the light you had lost by trying to assist the street lamplighter. Such a culpable course would only expose those left in the house to great danger, and yourself, perhaps, into the bargain.
The illustration is only a poor one, but we may be sure of this, that there is grave spiritual danger in seeking to minister spiritually to others when our own soul’s true joy is extinguished by some unconfessed sin.
“What is the matter? Where is the mischief? Why this sudden darkness?” would be your wise inquiries as to the extinguished lights in your dwelling. Nor would you rest until you had discovered the cause and applied the remedy. The figure needs no application.
Oh, what must the angels think of an unhappy Christian?
Eternally loved and infinitely blessed, but NOT HAPPY!
With privileges so many, with honors so great, with a portion so choice, with prospects so brilliant, but NOT HAPPY!
Ransomed by the precious blood, sealed with the Holy Spirit, called to God’s eternal glory, but NOT HAPPY!
Angels for his servants; Jesus, the Son of God, his Friend; God’s presence his home—but NOT HAPPY! How could such a man serve acceptably the “happy God”? Just think of such a thing Oh, but a man in such a state is not serving Him. He is, in reality, but serving himself, serving to keep up his credit as a servant, while trying to supply his own felt lack of joy.
The world, looking on, soon discovers the empty formality of such service, and uses it freely enough to discredits Christianity altogether.
Should the reader of this paper be inclined to judge of vital Christianity by what he may often have witnessed of this cold, joyless, soulless routine in the professed service of Christ, we should like, in all earnestness, to ask him one question.
Would you allow some visitor from the Arctic Circle, who had never before seen a white moss rose, to form an opinion about what this flower is like by showing him one planted in a flowerpot and struggling for existence in the dirty back yard of some smoky manufacturing town? No, you would show him one under careful culture, with favorable surroundings, with plenty of sunshine and ample moisture, and drawing its nourishment from a suitable soil.
And if you want to judge of vital Christianity, look at someone, however poor in this world’s goods, who is “rooted and grounded in love,” who is under the culture of the Father, as a plant of His own planting, who is watered by the ministry of the Spirit, warmed by the sunshine of the Lord’s gracious favor, and giving forth the fragrance of His own precious name to all who come near him.
You may then say to yourself, “What Christ has done for this one He can do for me!” You may go to the blessed Saviour just as you are! You may confess freely what you are, and confide steadfastly in what He is. So shall the blessing of forgiveness, the joy of His salvation, the comfort of His spirit, and the hope of eternal glory be yours.
GEO. C.