NEAR, AND YET SO FAR by L. E. F.

Pacific Press Publishing Association · Mountain View, California · Jul 11, 1916

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 43, No. 27.

NEAR, AND YET SO FAR

By L. E. F.

One may study until his fame for orthodoxy spread from pole to pole, until his opinions on exegesis be consulted in every theological seminary, and known in every household; until his decisions on controverted questions shall be considered the end of all controversy — and yet be farther away from Jesus than the most lowly and obscure follower of the Christ.

The eminent rabbis of nineteen hundred years ago were the personification of orthodoxy, yet they were as dry and barren of the water of life as the Sahara Desert.

One may study until first place in the rank of scientists be conceded him; until nature shall yield to his indefatigable research many of her closely veiled secrets concerning life; until his textbooks on the subject are acknowledged from kindergarten to university as the standard — and yet be farther away from Jesus, the true Life of the world, than when first he learned that “science is systematized knowledge of any one department of mind or matter.”

Life comes not through science. It comes through Jesus; and the reason men do not have life, says Jesus, is because they will not come to Him, that they might have it.

If it were possible for one to study until he masters every art and science; until he becomes the embodiment of the sum of human wisdom; until he has won every academic laurel, and received every degree conferred by man — yet he might be farther away from the truth than when he first stepped upon the pathway of wisdom.

Humanity cannot by wisdom find out God. The vast majority of earth’s greatest and wisest will spend eternity in the embrace of eternal death.

Picture, if you will, a devout Bible student, critically studying creeds, systems, methods, ever searching for the way. He almost has it, yet not quite. One more book, a little more comparison — but it is like chasing the rainbow that is always on the neighboring hill.

Take again a sincere lover of truth, turning the musty pages of ancient volumes,— the writings of the godly men of old,

and the philosophies of earth’s wisest thinkers. The volumes are yellow with age. Surely he will find the truth. Almost — not quite. Perhaps on the next page — but he finds it not.

Think once more of others whose brows are crowned with the white harvest of many years. The grave looms near before them. They look beyond. They are searching for life. If an angel were to wing his way through space from the throne of God, and offer any one thing, what would it be? Riches? Pleasure? Dress? — No! It would be life — eternal life. But life, too, is like the rainbow. It is so illusive, so transient; its thread so frail, so brittle.

Listen. To the first, Jesus says, “I am the way”; to the second, “I am the truth”; and to the third, “I am the life.” Jesus is heaven’s answer to all who are searching for “the Way, the Truth, and the Life.” He is the complement of every human need. In Him, and in Him alone, can we be made complete.

L. E. F.