Erasmus | AdventAI

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Feb 10, 1874

Erasmus.

I HAVE been deeply interested in D’Aubigné’s description of this remarkable man, who lived in Luther’s time. When only thirteen years of age, his teacher exclaimed, “This child will attain the highest summits of learning.” These words proved to be prophetic. But let us trace his history and see if we cannot learn a valuable lesson.

He pursued his studies with great perseverance, never wasting his time. Even when journeying, he would compose, and, when arriving at an inn, write down his thoughts. In this way, while traveling from Italy to England, he composed his celebrated “Praise of Folly.” As a scholar, he acquired a high reputation, and was offered a life of luxury in the courts of Charles V., Henry VIII., and Francis I. He published a critical edition of the New Testament with a Latin translation, and did much toward bringing about the Reformation, and yet, when it came, he knew not on which side to take his stand. “It is dangerous to speak,” said he, “and dangerous to be silent.” D’Aubigné says he was one of those “who, from a desire to displease no one, displease all.” Again he says, “What, we may ask, would become of truth if God were not to raise up in its defense more courageous champions.”

“Duke George of Saxony, the mortal enemy of Luther, having received an equivocal answer to a question he had addressed to Erasmus, exclaimed aloud, “My dear Erasmus, wash me the robe if you can without wetting it.” “Secundus Curio, in one of his works, depicts two heavens, the papal and the Christian. He found Erasmus in neither; but perceived him incessantly wheeling in never-ending eddies between both.”

“Such was Erasmus. He wanted that liberty of heart which makes truly free. How different would he have been if he had given up himself to devote his soul to truth. But after trying to work some reforms, with the approbation of the heads of the church—after having for the sake of Rome abandoned the Reformation when he saw the two could not walk together, he lost all his influence with either. On the one side, his recantations could not repress the indignation of the fanatic partisans of popery. They felt the injury he had done them and never forgave it. The monks poured forth abuse from their pulpits. They called him a second Lucian—a fox that had laid waste the vineyard of the Lord.

“And, on the other hand, Erasmus, forsaking the standard of the gospel, found himself deprived of the affection and esteem of the noblest men of his age, and had doubtless to suffer the loss of those heavenly consolations which God sheds into the hearts of those who act as good soldiers of Christ.”

And of him who had said, “I am firmly resolved to die in the study of the Scripture, in that is my joy and my peace,” the learned historian says, “In him Christianity was second to learning. He was too much influenced by vanity to acquire a decided influence over his contemporaries. He carefully weighed the effect that each step might have upon his own reputation.”

“Erasmus was powerful as long as he was an instrument in God’s hands. When he ceased to be that, he was nothing.”

How many at the present time are pursuing the same course? They have become acquainted with plain Bible truth and try to live it without letting any one know it. They reason thus: “I must be very careful or I shall lose my influence over my friends, and I want them to see the truth.” Evidently, like Erasmus, they are weighing the effect each step will have upon their reputation. With many, the inquiry is not so much, “What must I do to be saved?” as “How can I live and dress so as to be popular and still be a Christian?” It is not so much the love of souls as the love of the approbation of poor mortals that actuates many.

What if Noah, when commanded to build the ark, had said, “Everybody will ridicule me if I construct such a building—my reputation will be sacrificed?” What if Lot, upon that memorable evening, had said, “If I go around to tell them the city is to be destroyed, they will all call me a fool, so I will say nothing to them, and get away as quietly as possible before any one is stirring in the morning?” What if Abraham had concluded that if he took Isaac upon the mountain and sacrificed him, his neighbors might find it out and execute him as a murderer? They simply took God at his word—not by saying they believed what he had said and then sitting quietly down, but by doing the very things he had required. If we only half live what we profess to believe, it gives people occasion to say that we do not believe it, or it is something we are ashamed of. Though the Bible does not recommend placing lights under bushels, one might suppose, from the moral darkness in the world, that if many lights existed, the greater number of them occupied that position.

My dear friends, we want to remove and trim them, that they may give light to those around us. Children, brothers, sisters, and friends, are in darkness, pursuing the wrong road, and we are, some in one way, some in another, preventing the light from falling on their pathway.

Professing love for Jesus and precious souls while attending parties and festivals to “remove prejudice” and “make a favorable impression” has been tried without success. Chignons, jewelry, a profusion of ribbons and ruffles, &c., have been tried, but where are the backsliders who have been reclaimed, or the sinners converted to God? Would you think a young man who had been engaged to work on a farm understood his business if he appeared at the plough in his glossiest broadcloth and kid gloves? What would you think if a young woman engaged to do housework should enter the kitchen in a white muslin dress looped up with sky-blue ribbon and announce herself ready for work?

You profess a desire to gather in souls. Paul seemed to understand how to do this, and has given advice in regard to dress. He does not say you must put just so many ruffles on your dress or Miss C. and Mrs. D. will not accept of your religious views; but he says, “In like manner also, that women adorn themselves in modest apparel, with shamefacedness and sobriety; not with braided hair, or gold, or pearls, or costly array; but (which becometh women professing godliness) with good works.” 1 Tim. 2:9.

“Oh! how I should like to be a missionary and go to the islands of the sea to tell them of a Saviour,” says one. Do you suppose that an agent for a mercantile firm who, in passing from place to place, talked eloquently of things in general, but who never mentioned his employer’s business, or one who, after saying much to recommend the firm, exerted an influence which told powerfully against it, would be employed to represent their business interests in foreign lands? And is not God wiser than man?

There are many who would gladly sit in the presidential chair; and those who would be willing to fly, if suitable wings were provided, are plenty enough; but just now there is not so much call for people to work in beds of rose leaves as for those who are willing to walk among the poor and suffering ones of earth, administering to their wants, and, when opportunity offers, pointing them to the “Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world.” Of these, there are very few.

A little friend talked to me of her Saviour’s love, and it seemed her little heart was full. She attended the social meeting with the intention of telling in her own words how she loved the dear Saviour and wished to be a Christian. But when she saw those whom she knew belonged to the church, dressed fashionably, sitting immovable at prayer time, and speaking no word to indicate an interest in spiritual things, her courage failed her. She afterward said with tears, “I felt as if I ought to speak, but if ——— and ——— can be Christians and say nothing about it, why can’t I?”

Time is passing rapidly, and our dear ones are drifting downward. As we stretch our hands to prevent their frail barks from going over the falls, we must grapple with the world, its sins, fashions, and follies, but oh! what bitterness of sorrow do we experience, when we see professed Christians—in darkness themselves, therefore unconsciously—plying the oars, helping them to elude our grasp, and hastening them on to certain ruin.

May God help us to awake—to seek him with the whole heart, only asking what is duty, and humbly, cheerfully, doing it, though friends, and the good opinion of those we love be sacrificed; yet leaving the consequences with Him who has promised, “I will never leave thee nor forsake thee.”