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Christian Sociability

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Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Aug 11, 1903

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 80, No. 32.

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Christian Sociability

By Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

MRS. L. D. AVERY-STUTTLE
How shall we promote Christian sociability?—By being sociable. Even the dumb animals—horses and dogs and kittens and birds—are sociable: the Lord made them so. Why?—because he loves sociability. He himself is a social Being. How do I know?—Witness the creation of the new earth, when the “morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy.”
Do we realize that the name the Most High gives himself is Love? Do you remember how often the Creator came on a visit to Adam and Eve in the garden? Does he not love to see his creatures sociable? Has he not said that we must not forsake the assembling of ourselves together, and that we must not forget to entertain strangers?
“Yes,” some one says, “I always try to entertain my friends, and I even feed a tramp sometimes.” “Blessed is he that considereth the poor.” But to “consider” anything, we must think upon it. How many kindly thoughts do we bestow upon the poor? How often through the day do we speak a word of kindness to some struggling heart?
Sister A is a new neighbor, and we have not been formally introduced; so, when we meet her on the street, though we know well enough that she is our near neighbor,—perhaps a sister in the church,—we are suddenly so interested in the tops of the trees, or the grass in the street, that we fail to see her at all, while, mayhap, her poor heart is weary to breaking, with cares so heavy and responsibilities so great that a single smile or a word of cheer might give fresh courage to a breaking heart, and make the world look brighter all the day long.
Sisters, let me tell you a secret: It pays, O it pays, to be courteous. The apostle knew what he was talking about when he said: “Be pitiful, be courteous.”
It is quite easy for us to be pitiful if any one has a misfortune, but did you never notice how hard it is for some people to be courteous to others who are in the same business that they are in, especially if these others are successful? Some of the saddest moments of my life have been spent in wondering why some who write such fine poems or such logical prose fail to recognize the genius of some other perhaps equally as gifted as themselves; or why a naturally kind-hearted doctor seems wholly blind to the talents and success of his brother physician.
Ah, we have all seen it, and I suppose we all have the cruel demon of envy to suppress in our own hearts. We may be sure that the disposition to criticize and speak words of scorn concerning another, is from the earth, earthy.
O my sisters! let us be loving to one another. A friend once told me that a certain sister of the church had always so held herself aloof that my friend really supposed that the lady felt nothing toward her but the coldest indifference. One day my friend had occasion to call upon her. In the course of the quiet conversation, what was my friend’s surprise to notice a look of glorified tenderness stealing over the calm face, as she said: “My friend, you may think it strange of me, but I want to tell you before you or I shall die, how much I love you!” You can imagine the effect. God bless the noble natures who break through the ugly crust of conventionality, and reach out after poor, lonely hearts hungry for a word of cheer.
“But we don’t know,” says one, “who these lonely, unfortunate people are.” Then do as Job did,—search them out. How many of us do that?
In a crowded city last winter, there lived a poor woman,—so poor, so weary, so sick, so destitute,—all alone. When her landlord demanded the overdue rent, her heart grew numb and faint. The few dollars which were due loomed up to her feverish imagination like a mighty mountain. Did she have any friends?—O, I suppose so! but they had not done as Job did. They had neglected to search her out. One morning the landlord rapped loudly on the door of the little room, intending to turn the poor creature into the cold streets. His knock was unanswered. He pounded again with his heavy stick. Had the woman gone? Had she the audacity to run away without paying him? The door was broken down with no further delay, and the landlord peered into the little room. There, on a miserable bed, covered with a thin old shawl, was the frozen body of the poor tenant. The sightless eyes, in which there seemed to lurk a pitiful appeal to humanity, were turned to the plasterless wall. The death angel had ejected the friendless tenant. Let us hope there will be room in some of the golden mansions for the poor creature who had no pity shown her here.
Let us seek to promote sociability in the church. The minister of the gospel should consider the world his parish, and never wait for a formal introduction to his parishioners.
O! let us love human souls, for whom so great a price was paid! and let us not be so fearful lest somebody may discover that love. Believe me, O believe me! instead of detracting from our dignity, it will add thereto.
Let us find out the sorrows and discouragements of the young, and the griefs of the aged; for in finding them, our own will surely vanish or become lighter. Let us not wait for them to guess of our love and sympathy. Do you remember that the angel Gabriel once undertook a great journey,—a distance so vast that the mind of man stands appalled before its immensity,—and all this, to tell a simple-hearted, honest man that he was “greatly beloved”? Wonderful occasion! blessed, thrice blessed messenger!
Did any one ever do you a favor, and then, when prosperity came to you, did you fail to recognize him? Perhaps he is in trouble; once, he befriended you when everybody seemed “down on you.” Has your memory become so defective that you do not remember him? Shame!Shame! A case in point: A very dear friend, a kind-hearted old lady of over eighty-six years, a widow, saw one day upon the streets of Chicago a poor, ragged lad. That blessed white-haired mother in Israel made her way to him, asked him several questions, and learned that he was penniless and alone. He was nothing to her; she had never seen him before; she was poor herself, but she had a heart in her bosom,—a motherly heart. God bless the precious, motherly women! Well, she took the wanderer home, fed him, bought him a neat suit of clothes, and found him a situation. “Made a man of him,” you say. No; he has the disposition that is the curse of the world. He is a prosperous man to-day. But when he meets his benefactress on the streets of Chicago, he does not recognize her! Again we cry: “Shame, shame!” and all the voices of nature echo it.
One day I felt lonely. My heart beat heavily with sadness and disappointed hopes. It seemed there was no good I had ever done or could do. In the midst of a sad reverie the mail carrier brought me a kindly message from an entire stranger, who lived away in the mountains of far-off Switzerland. It was a simple acknowledgment of a grateful soul to whom a message from my poor pen had brought a benediction. I was not lonely any more that night. It seemed that, after all, I had not lived in vain.
God bless the men and women who will remember the Bible injunction, “Honor to whom honor is due.” How glad should those be in whose heart there rankles no memory of love withheld and appreciation unspoken to those who have fallen by the way, and whose ears are forever deaf to their words of sorrow. The mission of giving a word of cheer, of manifesting a hearty good will toward all, and of breaking down the icy walls of reserve, is a work of which an angel might be proud.
Let us seek out the little ones. God bless them! When I look into their sweet eyes, I can not wonder that “of such is the kingdom of heaven.” Let us pay more attention to these lambs of the fold. They will respond in a thousand sweet ways that will melt the frost out of our cold, icy, reserved natures. And it shall come to pass that “instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle tree,” and we shall no more cry, “My leanness, my leanness!” and the blessing of Him who has said, “Love one another,” shall be ours.