A ROMAN Emperor once engaged a Greek architect to build him a splendid amphitheater which should surpass in size and grandeur those that already existed, promising the architect fame and honors if his work should be well done.
The genius of the Greek produced the Colosseum. Today it stands in ruins; still majestic, though its magnificence is a thing of the past. Centuries have rolled by since the men and women of Rome thronged there to see the inhuman fight of the gladiators, or witness the heroic death of Christian martyrs. Its marble benches have long since been torn up, and its wall has crumbled beneath the decaying hand of time.
Let me tell you about the opening celebration of this marvelous edifice.
Preparations had been made for a great display, and when the day arrived the Colosseum was crowded with spectators. The Emperor himself was there, and near him sat the architect.
An expectant murmur ran through the vast assembly as a door in the arena opened and there entered a little band of Christians who were ready to die rather than deny their Saviour. At their appearance the Emperor arose and said: “The Colosseum is finished; we have come here today to commemorate the event, and to do honor to the architect who has constructed this wonderful building. We will celebrate the triumph of his genius by the slaying of these Christians by the lions.”
As the applause died away the Greek leapt to his feet and, with a voice that rang through the building, said— “I also am a Christian.”
But his confession of Christ had touched a spring that opened the flood-gates of the fiercest passion. For a moment all were speechless with astonishment. Then the approval of the admiring multitude became suddenly a torrent of uncontrollable hatred. He was seized and flung into the arena below, where the noble band of Christians were awaiting death. Then the gratings slid back and the half-starved lions were let loose.
Thus the Greek architect chose rather to suffer affliction with the people of God than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season. He looked forward to the heavenly recompense.
Reader, can you say, “I also am a Christian”? Perhaps you have hesitated to enroll yourself under Christ’s banner because you have thought of the hardships His soldiers must endure. It is true that all Christians, if faithful to their rejected Lord, must suffer while on earth, some even to death; but they can look forward to an eternity of perfect happiness.
Now eternity was once compared by an old preacher to a great clock with a pendulum so vast that, as it swung, it said “tick” in one century and “tack” in the next. Imagine the day that such a clock ticks out! A day of eternal happiness for the Christian, but a day of everlasting misery for the lost.
Weigh, then, the two possibilities carefully. Put into one scale earthly suffering—though it lead even to martyrdom—but, with the suffering, put the certainty of a joyous eternity. Into the other scale cast the handful of pleasures to be gathered in time and to be followed by an eternity of woe. Which scale is the heavier?
Surely it were wise to turn to the Lord Jesus for salvation, to avail thyself of His atoning death, and obtain the forgiveness of thy sins, and “an inheritance incorruptible and undefiled, and that fadeth not away.”
Oh, reader, let this simple story speak to thee. Enroll thyself under Christ’s banner, and fear not the storm of persecution that may rage against thee. Christ Himself will support thee amid the tempest, and will soon take thee into His presence, where there is fullness of joy, and where there are pleasures for evermore.
M. L. B.