(Luke 15:29.)
I is the center; Me the subject, and My the, circle of the human heart. Self and its interest in a word. And nowhere does, this come out more plainly than in the, self-righteous. Note this elder son. How does he address himself to his father? Is it, “Father, I have sinned”? Far otherwise― “And he answering said to his father, Lo, these many years do I serve thee, neither transgressed I at any time thy commandment: and yet thou never gavest me a kid, that I might make merry with my friends.”
If in the younger son we see a divinely drawn picture of the sinner-such as “drew near unto him.... for to hear him” (vs. 1); in the elder son we have as unmistakably the portrait of the murmuring Pharisees and scribes (vs. 2). “But as soon as this thy son was come, which hath devoured thy living with harlots,” he murmured, “thou hast killed for him the fatted calf” (vs. 30).
There is nothing which self-righteousness resents so much as grace, for grace gives it no place. His father had never rewarded the many-year, self-imposed, and self-extolled service of this elder son with so much as a kid; and now “as soon as this thy son”―as if he were not his own brother―is come, who has utterly disgraced the family name, and dissipated its resources, he would say, “thou hast killed for him the fatted calf.” How galling to his self-esteem! “As soon”―without waiting to take my merits into consideration― “as this your son was come,” you killed for him the best beast in the stall, that always reserved for an honored guest. Share it with his father in such company as this “he would not.”
No, it was not his father’s company, and what gave him pleasure, that he cared for, any more than the younger son had done when he said, “Give me the portion of goods that falleth to me,” and then betook himself to the far country, and to the lowest of company to be found even there. The elder son’s words: “Thou never gavest me a kid that I might make merry with my friends,” show it. His heart was as far away, though he was ever with his father (as to outward position), his heart was as far away from his father as was the younger son’s in the far country, and much more difficult to recover. And thus it ever is with the formalist. He uses religion as a means of benefiting himself, and to enable him to go on with a heart at a distance from God, while his religion quiets his conscience.
The writer’s mother once, in giving away tracts, offered one to a Catholic priest, not having noticed what he was in the passing crowd. The priest drew back, exclaiming, “I have a religion!” “Thank God, I have Christ!” was the reply. And thank God, the young priest found Him too; for, coming up to my mother some years after, he reminded her of the above brief conversation, and told her he had never been able to shake off the effect of her words till he had sought and found Christ too.
How great a contrast to the mere formalist is the true Christian! His language is, “I am crucified with Christ, nevertheless I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me” (Gal. 2:20). When the soul has tasted that the Lord is gracious, it can say, “The Son of God loved me, and gave Himself for me,” then only it can say, and that with joy, “Not I but Christ,” and finds in Him its object; lives “by the faith of the Son of God,” that is, finds its center in Him, its subject in His love (who “loved me, and gave himself for me”), and finds its circle in His interests; responds to His call, “Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep which was lost.”
W. G. B.
A MOTTO. ― “Till He come” is the motto of a true watcher for Christ. He says to Peter, “If I will that he tarry till I come, what is that to thee? Follow thou me” (John 21:22). Again, to the rest in Thyatira, He says, “That which ye have hold fast till I come” (Rev. 2:25). To all His servants He says, “Occupy till I come” (Luke 19:13). The Holy Spirit may well add, “Ye do show the Lord’s death till he come” (1 Cor. 11:26). Thus we are taught to follow, to hold fast, to serve, and to remember Him. For how long? say you.
“Till I come,” He replies. W. T. P. W.