“HAVE you ever been to—— Church?” Well, if you have not, you have missed a treat! It has such a lovely service, and the Vicar is such a dear man―a really good fellow—and we have the eastward position, and a choral celebration of the Eucharist, and the mixed chalice, and such lovely vestments and ornaments―it is all so beautiful! You should go!
“The Vicar is so clever, too, and so particular, Why, do you know that when he was showing me round one day. Last week he pointed out a very ancient and beautiful piece of carving over the chancel stalls, and as I approached and would have mounted the chancel steps to look more closely at it, he said, ‘Excuse me, but this part is sacred and may only be entered by the priest; it is not for the laity.’ Oh! he is so particular! Such reverence, it is beautiful! He is such a dear man!”
These words were spoken by a clever and intelligent member of the Church of England as an inducement to a friend to visit the church in question. This is what he had to offer to one who might have been desirous of hearing of how he might get his sins forgiven; of how he might become acceptable to God; of how he might know what the delight of the support of the Good Shepherd is, He Who gave Himself that He might bring us to God.
In reply, the one addressed responded something to the following effect: ―
It certainly sounds very nice, but what does God think of it all? Does it please Him? Will it do to die with? What comfort will it be to you when on your death-bed to know that every Sunday your church was filled with lovely perfume, and that the clergyman wore a red robe? Will it soothe your conscience to know that you always turned to the east, and bowed your head and made the sign of the Cross at the mention of the name of Jesus? Does this ornamental service and the singing of beautiful hymns atone for your sins, and does the railed-off chancel, which no unordained person may enter, speak of liberty of approach to God?
Everything you speak of sounds very nice to one uninstructed in God’s ways, but when examined, their uselessness―nay, their deceptiveness―becomes very evident. For they are, at the best, but shadows, where substance is needed; they belong to a bygone age; they are out of date. You make everything of the accessories, and forget altogether the essentials. Let me narrate a little incident to illustrate my meaning.
A few years ago Dr. Sven Hedin, the great Swedish traveler, crossed the Asiatic continent from the neighborhood of Persia to Pekin, and in so doing had to cross the great Desert of Gobi, an enormous sea of sand without track or tree, destitute of anything that would support life. He knew not whether there were wells or springs or not, as none to his knowledge had been that way before. Before he got across his camels died, and all his baggage had to be abandoned. His companions sank, and he trudged on alone. For hours, after leaving his last friend, he searched fruitlessly for water. At last, when on the point of despair, he came to a hollow in which he found a tiny stream with a few bushes growing beside it. Oh, how he drank! His blood was almost dried up, but now by the refreshing water he got new life, new courage, new zeal.
But his next thoughts were of his abandoned friend some miles back in the desert. How was he to take to him some of the precious liquid, which had given him so much benefit? He must be reached with the life-giving water, but in what could he carry it? He had no pitcher, or bottle, or jar. What was to be done? At last a bright thought struck him. He would carry it in his boots! Without more ado off they came and were dipped in the brook; when filled to the top the doctor set off on his errand of mercy. Happily he was in time, and had the joy of seeing his friend drain the strange water-vessels dry, and getting the comfort of his companionship in ultimately recovering their lost baggage.
Do you think that the dying man would criticize the water-vessel, or complain that the water tasted of leather, or it was not a nice way to carry water in boots, or that he would have liked a cut-glass tumbler much better? Ah, no! It was water he wanted, and the way he got it was of no moment to him. It was not the vessel, it was the contents. He had had with him, in his equipment, the most approved water-cups, but they were empty and had to be abandoned. Water was his need, not cups!
When they were bitten by fiery serpents in the wilderness, they were directed to look to the serpent on the pole. The pole was doubtless little more than a rough branch of a tree, not planed or smoothed or trimmed. The pole was merely that which upheld the serpent. They were to look at that which was on it. When they beheld the serpent of brass they lived.
And it is He that was lifted up on the Cross that is the life-giving One. It is He Who is the water of life. It is He Who gives freely. It is Christ Who is the Saviour―not His Cross. I see crosses, plain and ornamental, as though they were means of salvation. They are but as empty drinking-cups to the thirsty traveler; they make a show, but are deceptive. I see crucifixes with a representation of a dead Jesus; but even that is valueless to me. I want a living and a life-giving Saviour. Dead, I need life. Away from God, I need to be brought near. Signs and symbols are valueless to one on his way to hell. Such want saving, need to be plucked as brands from the burning, by a living Saviour.
He was on the Cross. He died. Thank God to all eternity for that death But He is now a risen, ascended, glory-crowned Saviour, adored by heaven, and on earth by those who have taken from His hands the living water. He says, “Whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely.”
Away with shams and all the trappings of a ceremonial religion! They make a pretense of being able to satisfy man’s heart’s craving. Draw near. Let no communion rail or intervening priest stand in your way. Draw near to the living God. He bids thee come. He offers thee life eternal! Do not any longer, when looking at a pitcher, think you are having a drink; or seek to satisfy the appetite by looking at the model of a loaf! No longer regard the forms and ceremonies of the ritualist as the way of salvation set forth in our Lord Jesus Christ. S. S.