AGAIN and again in Scripture, particularly in the epistles of Paul, we find the three Christian graces, as they are sometimes called, in close companionship. Instances of this may be found in Corinthians, Colossians, Thessalonians, and the epistles to Timothy. But we need not go further for the purpose than the opening verses of that grand evangelic chapter, the fifth of Romans. Here we read of the FAITH that justifies and brings us into the present favor of God; the HOPE which fills us with joy and with bright anticipations; and the LOVE, commended to us in the fact that Christ died on our behalf, and is now shed abroad in our hears by the Holy Ghost.
In these pages we shall examine some of the reasons why the faith of Christians to-day is not more constant; why hope does not gaze with a more steadfast and unwavering eye upon the future, and why love, divine, infinite as it is, is not better understood and appreciated.
1. Faith
During a recent visit to the city of Seville, Spain, our attention was directed to the famous cathedral tower, surmounted at the height of 350 feet by the gigantic figure of a woman. This figure, chough weighing nearly three tons, is yet so finely balanced that it turns at the slightest breeze, and thus serves the purpose of a weathervane. Upon inquiry we were informed that the statue is supposed to represent Faith, and that many a jest is current in other parts of Spain at the expense of the good people of Seville for having chosen a weathervane to represent a virtue which should be, above all things, constant.
The tower, upon the summit of which the figure revolves, was built hundreds of years ago, and was then surmounted, not by a weathervane, but by an immense iron globe plated with burnished gold, which is said to have reflected the sun's beams so brilliantly as almost to rival the sun itself!
Surely the burnished globe is a far more fitting symbol of faith than the weathervane. For the globe, in receiving the rays that fell upon it, was transformed into the likeness of the sun. Faith receives the revelation that God has been pleased to give of His grace, the shining of His glory in the face of Jesus Christ; she sets her seal to it, and thus the sinner is transformed into a Christian—the child of wrath into a child of God.
But however aptly the globe with its cover of burnished gold may symbolize true faith, it is to be feared that the faith of many rather resembles the fickle weathervane.
A woman and her little daughter attended a gospel meeting one Sunday evening. The preacher dwelt upon the fact that assurance of salvation is the privilege of the believer, and that it comes by a simple reliance upon the Word of God. He read the thirty-ninth verse of Acts 13: "By Him all that believe are justified from all things," and observed that this was not Paul's opinion but the Word of God. Whether it be felt or realized is not the question. The point is, what God says. Our hearts may say, "If you were truly justified you would feel different, and because you don't feel different, therefore you are not justified." But "God is greater than our heart and knoweth all things," and He says that believers "are justified." He that trusteth his heart is a fool; but he that stakes his confidence upon a plain statement of the Word of God is a true child of wisdom.
All this fell like gracious balm from heaven upon the distressed, repentant soul of the poor woman. For she had claimed the Savior as her own; she had knelt by her bedside and with tearful eye had confessed that she was a sinner indeed, with no hope but Christ and the precious blood He had shed for her. She, then, was one of the "all that believe," and to her those glorious words applied, "are justified from all things.”
No wonder the words framed themselves into song in her happy heart; no wonder joy and peace expressed themselves upon her face, so much so that the little girl trotting home from the meeting by her mother's side remarked: "Mamma, you do look glad to-night.”
“Yes, dearie, your poor mamma is very, very glad.”
“What are you so glad about?" said the child.
“Why, because I'm ‘justified from all things.' Didn't you hear how the preacher explained it?”
“But how do you know?" continued the little questioner.
“It says so in the Bible. And the Bible is God's Word. It says, 'All that believe are justified,' and your mamma is one that believes in Jesus. So, you see, it's quite true.”
With childlike faith and simplicity the little girl believed what her mother told her. She believed her mother's word, as her mother had believed God's Word, and rejoiced also. The humble cottage was a home of joy that night, as mother and child read over the golden words together, "All that believe are justified from all things.”
Monday came, with its cares and toil. And this particular Monday seemed to be a day of special worry. Everything went wrong. The poor woman, burdened and weary, felt altogether upset. A feeling of despondency crept over her. "Surely, I should not be feeling like this if I were really justified from all things," she thought. "I wonder if, after all, I made a mistake last night." And her faith, like the statue on the cathedral tower of Seville, swung round to the north as the bleak wind of trial and disappointment came sweeping upon her.
And thus her little daughter found her as she came bouncing in from school. Astonished at the sad look upon her mother's face, she asked: "Mamma, what is the matter? Why aren't you glad? Aren't you ‘justified from all things'?”
“Oh, I don't know; I don't know what to think. I don't feel to-day as I did yesterday.”
The child said nothing, but went to the side-table where a Bible lay, and opened it. The place where "the beautiful text" was, had a marker between its leaves. The text itself was marked by a pencil line, and on the page were some watermarks—marks made by the falling of tears of joy and thankfulness.
Eagerly the little girl looked at the now familiar passage. Then, Bible in hand, she ran back to her mother.
“Mamma," she said, "Don't cry. Look! Here it is in the Bible, as it was on Sunday. So you're still `justified from all things.' Aren't you, mamma?”
The child had taught her mother a lesson. God's Word was as true amid the cares of Monday as amid the bright privileges of Sunday; as true when the heart is burdened and oppressed as when it raises a song of grateful praise; as true when we feel despondent as when our feelings are everything we could wish. Blessed be God for this!
Let not our faith, then, be like the weathervane on the tower, swinging round in response to every wind that blows. Rather let it resemble the burnished gold that received the sunbeams and reflected them, so that all who looked upon it could see that it dwelt in the sunshine.
2. Hope
On a certain village steeple there is a weathervane which, though it has nothing remarkable about it, became an object of profound interest to a little boy. His father had promised to take him to the seaside on the following day, if the weather should be fine. And, he added, "It will probably be fine if the wind keeps in the south.”
From that moment Charlie's mind was on which way the wind was blowing. He lost his interest in games and books, and sat by the window watching the weathervane on the old steeple. If it swung to the east or the west, or veered round towards the north, Charlie felt despondent and ready to cry. If it steadied itself towards the south, he was in great delight, for that, according to his father's word, would probably mean a fine day to-morrow, and an early start for the coast.
That was the little lad's hope. We, too, who belong to Christ, have a hope, "that blessed hope," as it is called in Titus 2:1313Looking for that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of the great God and our Saviour Jesus Christ; (Titus 2:13). Given to us in greater detail in other passages (notably 1 Thess. 4:13-1813But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope. 14For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him. 15For this we say unto you by the word of the Lord, that we which are alive and remain unto the coming of the Lord shall not prevent them which are asleep. 16For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first: 17Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord. 18Wherefore comfort one another with these words. (1 Thessalonians 4:13‑18) and 1 Cor. 15:51-5451Behold, I show you a mystery; We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, 52In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. 53For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality. 54So when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this mortal shall have put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory. (1 Corinthians 15:51‑54)), this hope may be briefly stated as the expectation of the Christian that the Lord Jesus Christ will come again—first into the air, to gather to Himself all who are His, whether alive or dead, and subsequently to reign with His saints over the earth for a thousand years.
In apostolic times, the weathervane of expectation pointed steadily in the direction of the promised advent. Converted pagans flung their idols on the rubbish-heap. Not only did they serve the living and true God, but they also waited for His Son from heaven (1 Thess. 1:1010And to wait for his Son from heaven, whom he raised from the dead, even Jesus, which delivered us from the wrath to come. (1 Thessalonians 1:10)). And, this, as we might expect, produced a marked effect in their life and conduct, for "every man that hath this hope in Him purifieth himself, even as He is pure" (1 John 3:33And every man that hath this hope in him purifieth himself, even as he is pure. (1 John 3:3)).
Years passed, and the weathervane began to oscillate. It no longer pointed steadily and constantly in the direction of the Church's wonderful and unique hope. "Evil servants" arose, who said, "My Lord delayeth His coming," and Christians began to have their minds more and more in the affairs of earth, until the "bishops" of the Church vied with the princes of the empire in wealth and pomp and pageantry. Even godly, earnest men forgot that the Christian's immediate hope is, or should be, the joyful anticipation of being absent from the body, present with the Lord. Thinking of the grave was more characteristic than looking up to heaven.
Centuries rolled by, and the weathervane swung round once more to its original direction. With astonished hearts men began again to use the watchword of the early Church, "Maranatha!"—
"The Lord is coming!" They searched the Scriptures with wonder at their own short-sightedness in having overlooked or misread the passages, emphatic in their declarations and unmistakable in their meaning, which speak of the Lord's coming. On all sides the "midnight cry" was heard, and to thousands of rejoicing souls the forgotten hope became once more a real and living hope.
But, sad to say, men have deliberately attempted to tamper with the weathervane. They have, as it were, furtively laid their hand upon it and turned it in various directions.
There are some who turn it round to face the past, and tell us that the Lord has already come; that He came at the destruction of Jerusalem in the first century, and that no other coming is to be looked for.
Others turn the weathervane in the direction of certain events which, say they, must take place before the Lord comes; such events as the preaching of the gospel of the kingdom to all nations, the re-gathering of Israel to the land of promise, etc. Some would have us believe that Antichrist will first come, and that the Church must pass through that great tribulation, from which the Lord has declared that He will save her (Rev. 3:1010Because thou hast kept the word of my patience, I also will keep thee from the hour of temptation, which shall come upon all the world, to try them that dwell upon the earth. (Revelation 3:10)).
But when the Scriptures alone are our guide, and they are read with some understanding of the remarkable and unique place that the Church has in the purpose of God, the weathervane of its hope steadfastly turns in the direction of the Lord's coming for His people, and leads us to live from day to day in the hope of "meeting Him in the air.”
3. Love
It may seem a strange thing to say, but I say it after considerable thought, and some years of experience in talking to people of all kinds, that there is hardly anything so little understood by Christians generally as the love of God.
When I say "the love of God," I do not mean His love to the world, His love for those who have sinned against Him with hard hearts and a high hand. That love is beyond all comprehension—too great, too utterly stupendous for mere words to set it forth. I refer rather to that special love which God has to us as His children, the Father's love to those who belong to His dear Son.
Would it be too sweeping an assertion if I were to say that ninety-nine Christians out of every hundred connect the love of God with His goodness toward them, His daily care for them, the many mercies He has showered upon them? Do you doubt it? Then put the matter to the test. Take a bundle of gospel booklets, and when you have a holiday, visit some of the streets in your neighborhood. Go from door to door with your gospel papers, and wherever you find a Christian, ask him how he knows that God loves him.
If he replies, "God loves everybody," point out the distinction to which I have already referred, between God's love to the world and His love to His own people, and ask again, How do you know that God loves you? If I am not much mistaken, in a large proportion of cases you will receive a reply something like this: "Well, God has been very good to me: He has brought me through many a trial, and though I have had many ups and downs, yet here I am to-day, still trusting and still following.”
Perhaps some reader of these lines is rather astonished that one should regard such a reply as anything but very right and good. Well, we do not find fault with it: we thank God for all the causes He gives us to speak of His delivering mercies in times of trial, and of His abundant goodness and constant care. But, I ask, what about those who have not been delivered in the hour of their trouble?
A Christian, who intended to go from Europe to America by the ill-fated Titanic, but prevented by some unforeseen event, took it as a great proof of God's love that He allowed that event to hinder him from taking that vessel. But what about the Christians who were not thus providentially hindered, who did take that vessel, and who went down with her in mid-ocean? Were not they equally the objects of God's love?
God has mercifully and providentially intervened in times of persecution and distress on behalf of one and another of His poor troubled people. The readers of such a book as A Thousand Miles of Miracle, will be at no loss to quote instances of this. On the other hand, numbers were not delivered; no miracle “of providential mercy was wrought on their behalf. They were left to be cruelly slaughtered by their savage persecutors. Did not God love them as much as those that He was pleased to succor and deliver?
The mercies which we enjoy every day, and which we are accustomed sometimes to speak of as "our common mercies," were often denied to the apostle Paul. He knew what it was to lack food and clothing, to have no roof over his head, and to go from day to day in danger of his life (1 Cor. 4:1111Even unto this present hour we both hunger, and thirst, and are naked, and are buffeted, and have no certain dwellingplace; (1 Corinthians 4:11)). Did not God love Paul?
Let me go further. Let me speak for a moment of Him who came from eternal riches to be poor from love for us. He was acquainted with grief; worse off than the foxes with their forest lairs and the birds with their roosting-places. He had not where to lay His head. Others could go to their own homes, while He spent the night on the lone mountain side (John 7:53; 8:153And every man went unto his own house. (John 7:53)
1Jesus went unto the mount of Olives. (John 8:1)). Mercies which you and I take as matters of course were withheld from Him. Why? Was He not ever the worthy object of His Father's infinite and everlasting love? Ay, that He was. Then why the poverty, suffering, grief, during His lifetime on earth, when it was no question of making atonement?
Mark the answer: Because the Father's love does not express itself in the form of earthly and temporal mercies, or, at least, is not to be measured by them, though He may give us many, and we may rightly take them all from His gracious, loving hand. God is good to all His creatures. He bestows His mercies on the unconverted as well as upon those who belong to Christ (Matt. 5:4545That ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust. (Matthew 5:45)).
And this brings me to our third weathervane. It is the well-known story of Charles H. Spurgeon's visit to a Christian farmer. I was relating it to a God-fearing widow by whose fireside I was sitting. She had been passing through sore and bitter trial, and the enemy had taken advantage of this to sow in her heart the seeds of distrust and doubt. She felt that God had forgotten her; that, at all events, His love was not such a reality towards her as towards others.
So I told her of Mr. Spurgeon's visit to the farmer, and of his inquiry when he noticed that in the place of the usual bird, or fish, or arrow, a text, "God is love," had been placed upon the old barn as a weathervane.
“Do you mean to suggest by that," he asked, "that God's love is as changeable as the wind?”
“Nay, nay," replied the farmer, "my meaning is that GOD IS LOVE, whichever way the wind blows!”
This is the lesson we need to lay to heart. We must in no wise measure God's love by our circumstances. The gentle breezes from the south may blow upon us, bringing ease and prosperity; or the biting blasts may sweep down from the frozen north, bringing trials, grief, suffering, and disappointment. But nothing changes the love of God. The grand truth is that He loves us as He loves His Son. Wonderful words! and they are true; for read the precious words for yourself in John 17:2323I in them, and thou in me, that they may be made perfect in one; and that the world may know that thou hast sent me, and hast loved them, as thou hast loved me. (John 17:23). It is the Son of God, our Lord Jesus Christ who says them.
Thou... hast loved them, as Thou hast loved Me!”
How did the Father express His love to His Son when here on earth? He expresses His love to you and me in the same way. His face always shines with radiant delight upon His beloved Son; and His face always shines with the same delight upon us!
Let us pause and worship! It is not because of anything in us, but because we are Christ's—we in Him and He in us—that we are the objects of such love.
Lying before me on the table is a picture cut from an illustrated paper. It is the photo of a small hotel in Arizona. Stretched across the full width of the building, above the door, is a long board bearing the words:
"FREE BOARD EVERY DAY THE SUN DOESN'T SHINE.”
If an unwary traveler should enter the hotel on some gloomy day and demand a meal, free of charge, on the strength of this inscription, he would, of course, be blandly asked by the proprietor: "Why, sir, do you imagine that the sun has ceased to shine? It may be gloomy here, but the sun is shining in all its glorious brightness!”
And so with us. We might make the most extravagant promises for the day upon which the sun of God's love does not shine. For such a day will never be. In winter as in summer, on dark days as on bright ones, the Father's love to us abides in its infinite greatness, because His love to His Son remains the same.