He Steadfastly Set His Face
By A. W. Spaulding
JESUS had had an experience in Judea of opposition from the Jews, of schemes to entrap and plots to destroy him; and his disciples felt that the circumstances showed the wisdom of his keeping away from Jerusalem. They felt he should go where he would be welcomed, and where he could freely do his work of teaching and healing and saving. The world would receive him, they felt sure. Perea was open; the coasts of Zidon, even in his hiding, had sought him out to heal. Far and wide through the world the dispersion had carried the news of this prophet who might be the Messiah; and years of usefulness were open to Jesus in the far quarters of earth. Why should he insist on going to Jerusalem, to suffer the death he foretold? His friends urged him not to go. But “he steadfastly set his face to go.” Why?—Because to swerve from duty was to him sin. Never did he yield to passion or impulse, to dread or desire. If to save his life, to make his path easier, he had turned from what he knew he should do, he would have failed in his mission. His death was to be the consummation of his work. Upon his facing that ordeal unflinchingly rested not only the success of his whole work, but the salvation of the world. To turn in dread from this was to fail in his mission. And if he should fail, the promises of God would be proved false. The salvation in which the saints from Adam to John had trusted, would fail; and Satan’s contention that God is arbitrary and false would be sustained. The universe might justify the rebellion based upon that claim; and chaos inconceivable, ruin of the whole creation, would follow. All this depended upon Jesus’ decision either to face without flinching what he knew to be his duty or to yield to the solicitations of friends to take an easier way. This vision Jesus saw; therefore “he steadfastly set his face.” How tremendous a train of results would follow that seemingly unimportant decision! And not only was it so in this instance; but the same thing was involved in every act of Jesus’ life. Therefore, throughout his life he set his face, he acted with quiet determination. His decisions, moreover, were steadfast; he could not be moved. What is the reason we seek to avoid sin? Why do we desire not to yield to passion or appetite, not to be remiss in duty and weak in execution? “O,” says one, “I don’t want to be irritable, passionate, because to yield to these feelings spoils a beautiful face and a serene mind; I desire not to be a slave to my appetite, because such bondage makes me dyspeptic and miserable and unlovable; and I wish not to be weak or lazy, because a weak man, a lazy man, is useless to himself and to others. So I pray, ‘Lord, save me from my sins: I want to be happy here, and I want to go to heaven.’” Can we not see that in the very incentive for such a prayer lies the reason of failure? The incentive is not strong enough to enable us to resist temptation. The incentive is selfish, and selfishness itself inspires sin. We are so easily deceived that when we wish not to sin in order that we may have ease and happiness, we may very easily be induced to sin. In the end, sin kills happiness. Had Jesus turned away from his duty at the solicitation of his disciples, he would have carried to the world, not light and life, but, increasingly, darkness and death. His incentive was not his own pleasure or advantage, but love of good, of souls, of God’s honor. As surely as we shall be sharers in Christ’s triumph, so surely must we be sharers in his responsibility; and if his yielding to temptations of ease and profit would have worked ruin to the world and to the government of God, just so surely, in degree, will our yielding to temptation work ruin to other souls, and delay in the execution of God’s purpose. My sinning means increased disability to reveal the character of Christ to others; and the longer the delay of this revelation, the longer the postponement of Christ’s coming. When we think that Christ in heaven sees all this evil perpetuated by the unfaithfulness of us his people; that the awful load of the world’s woe presses upon him, and yet he refuses to be discouraged; that he still bears with us, and loves us, and seeks to have us see and receive his power and reject sin; and that he still patiently waits and patiently works and patiently serves with us,—when we consider all this, what shall we think of our Saviour? Can we wish to continue the littleness of our lives, of our aspirations? Can we be content to pray merely that our sins may be forgiven, and that we may win heaven sometime? Shall we not refuse longer to be the cause of all this misery? Shall we not have a burning desire to emulate Christ? For the sake of the world’s salvation, for the sake of God and Christ, who are dishonored by our sins, shall we not determine to grasp the power that saves to the uttermost? Then shall we be able to set our faces steadfastly in the line of daily duty.