p. 387 | SHADOWS by William P. Pearce

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jun 19, 1900

SHADOWS

By William P. Pearce

WILLIAM P. PEARCE.

(Goshen, Ind.)

“That at the least the shadow of Peter passing by might overshadow some of them.” Acts 5:15.

We are now introduced to a city of note, more beautiful than Corinth, more sacred than Babylon, more illustrious than Rome. It is the civil capital of Palestine, and the spiritual center where a nation worships. Here is the most historic cathedral ever built. Corinth had its temple of Venus, adorned with a panoplied image of the goddess; Babylon had its towering temple of Belus, which overlooked the city, and commanded not only the plains of Chaldea, but the mountain fortresses that showed the dim outlines of Syria: but Jerusalem had its sacred Temple,—a temple on which Herod the Great employed eight thousand men for nine years,—a temple which was built of choice marble,—a temple which had nine entrances, the gates of which were coated with gold and silver,—a temple around which were magnificent courts, one of which was called “Solomon’s Porch.”

Let me conduct you thither. One would think by the throng that it was a gala day. Here is a crowd interested in the speech of an eloquent divine. The discourse is ended, the last hymn is sung, the benediction is pronounced, and the people disperse. But what meaneth this? All along the avenue, instead of booths and fruit-stands, are beds and couches, chairs and stools, upon which afflicted men, women, and children are sitting or reclining. Here is a woman almost dead with consumption; there, a blind man sitting on a curbstone. Here’s a maniac, held firmly in the grasp of two stalwart men. It’s a regular outdoor infirmary. What does it mean?

“Mean!” cries the consumptive; “why, have you not heard of Peter, the Jew who is holding special services in the Temple? He is a miracle-working minister. We are simply waiting here, so that as he passes, at least his shadow may fall on us, and then we expect to be healed. See! he comes! he comes!”

The sun is shining brightly; and as Peter walks, long, strong shadows are cast across the pavement. They fall on the blind man; and as if electrified, he leaps, and shouts, “I see! I see!” They fall on the cripple; and down goes his crutch, and with a shout he leaps for joy. They fall on the demoniac; and a light flashes across his face, and looking at his guards, he says: “It’s all right now! it’s all right!” Yes, these afflicted creatures are all here, anxiously waiting for the healing virtue to reach them, and as enthusiastic as were the soldiers in the Crimean hospitals, who used to kiss the shadow of Florence Nightingale as she passed through the wards on her errands of mercy.

What is true in the narrative of the text is true of the present—“shadow casting.” Where there is a direct stream of light bearing upon an object, there will be cast a shadow of that object. The depth of a shadow depends from mere force of contrast on the intensity of the light about it. It also depends much on the nearness of the object, as compared with its size, to the surface upon which the shadow is thrown. A shadow, as you are aware, is not a substance, but it is the result of a substance. A shadow has no feeling, but it generates feeling. How easily, then, can we comprehend some of the symbols of Scripture! David said, “Hide me under the shadow of Thy wings;” Isaiah declared, “Thou hast been a shadow from the heat;” and these afflicted ones remarked, We are waiting for Peter to come, that his shadow may fall on us. So to-day I advocate the great truth that there emanates from each one of us a continual influence, which is a savor of life unto life, or of death unto death. We cast shadows that corrupt and destroy; or, like Peter, that elevate and restore. Says Dr. Hillis: “If the heart glows with love, it warms; if frozen with selfishness, it chills; if corrupt, it poisons; if pure-hearted, it cleanses.”

In the first place I would like you to bear in mind that unconscious shadows are efficacious. Our own reflection may be unnoticed by us; but that does not prevent its affecting those on whom it falls. Doubtless the apostle saw the lame walking, and the bedridden rising; yet by a phenomenal influence, involuntary and quite unconscious to him, those who lay in the range of his shadow were helped. The same is true to-day. Every word we utter, every look we give, every attitude we take, every act we commit, is photographed on others, molding to some extent their character, and shaping the destiny of their souls.

Peter was an orator. As he stood up in the Gentile court, consciously he swayed the audience with his words of power; but in the street unconsciously he did more than in the pulpit. The same was true of Finney. As an evangelist, he could not be surpassed; but he was unconscious of the power that emanated from him, till he saw the employees of a woolen mill fall on their knees, and ask God to save them. The same was true of Edmund Burke. Dr. Johnson said: “No one could be under the same umbrella for a few moments with him, and not feel that he was with the greatest man in England.” The same is true of us. We are magnetic batteries, charged with moral energies that emit a kind of power that affects, for better or for worse, those with whom we come in contact.

Examine the constitution of society, and you will find it surrounded with an atmospheric influence in which every element is in constant and vigorous action and reaction. “Here man speaks, and eloquence is born. He sings, and poetry melts and entrances. He desires, and art becomes his handmaid. He defines and resolves, and law reigns. He reasons, and philosophy ascends the throne. He unites his will with the will of his fellow men, and a world of his own appears.” Every word projects an influence and acquires a history. “What!” cries one, “I have no influence?”—Yes, you have. It is as inseparable from your social life as is the air you breathe from your physical life. Every one and everything has an influence.

I remember once reading of a ship that was diverted out of her way more than a hundred miles, all through the influence of a nail, which had been driven too near the compass. Some ignorant sailor, unknown to the pilot, had driven it there. The influence of that nail on the compass for the first mile was hardly perceptible; it had drawn the ship only a little out of the way; but the distance continued to increase, until she had lost her line more than a hundred miles. Remember that upon a single word, or even a passing glance, some person may be influenced rightly or wrongly. One word spoken is said to set the pulsations of the atmosphere in motion until within twenty-four hours every part of the planet takes up the altered movement. One little seed springing from the earth, has rent a rock in pieces. One little worm has destroyed a massive oak, and as the poet penned:—

“The smallest bark on life’s tumultuous ocean Will leave a track behind for evermore; The lightest wave of influence set in motion, Extends and widens to the eternal shore.”

Said Elihu Burritt: “No human being can come into this world without increasing or diminishing the sum total of human happiness, not only of the present, but of every subsequent, age of humanity.” No one can detach himself from this connection. There is no sequestered spot in the universe, no dark niche along the disk of nonexistence, to which he can retreat from his relations to others, and where he can withdraw the influence of his existence upon the moral destiny of the world: everywhere his presence or absence will be felt; everywhere he will have companions who will be better or worse for his influence.

Man dies, character lives. Man perishes, but influence survives. It rolls on, widening as the circle of the lake. “From form to form does natural energy go to heat, light, electricity, magnetism; from form to form and from person to person does human influence go, revealing the secret springs of being.” Some one said, concerning the ashes of the great Wyclif, which were thrown into the waters of the Avon:—

“The Avon to the Severn runs, The Severn to the sea; And Wyclif’s dust shall spread abroad, Wide as the waters be.”

And the influence of that man has been walking up and down the earth since the day of his death, giving direction to human destiny, and will so continue till the dawn of eternity.

It was a striking remark of a dying man, whose life had been, alas! too poorly spent: “Oh, that my influence could be gathered up, and buried with me!” Nonsense, man! that dying voice of thine can not call it back. That hand of thine can not arrest it. It must hover about the earth like a pestilence after thy mortal remains have turned to dust. Buddha had a doctrine that while a man does not have conscious life after death, he lives by his karma; that is, the sum total of his deeds, or influence. Said Theodore Parker, when dying, in Italy, “There are two Theodore Parkers. One of them is dying in Italy; the other I have planted in America, and it will continue to live.” Of Abel it is said, “He being dead yet speaketh.” Though Moses was buried by the hand of God on Mount Nebo thousands of years ago, his eloquence is a potent spell to-day, and this will increase with the going of the years. The “life of Alexander” made two other bloody heroes. One was Cæsar, whose ambition, we are told, was to walk in the steps of Alexander. The other was Charles XII of Sweden, who longed from his earliest years to imitate the Macedonian conqueror. Cæsar, again, was the ideal of human greatness that fanned the fire of martial zeal in the bosom of the Turkish emperor Solyman, who, after defeating and poisoning his father, carried his merciless victories over Egypt and Persia.

What is true of evil things must also be true of good things. They widen as they grow.

One of the most familiar hymns we sing — “Jesus, Lover of My Soul” — is a proof of this. It was in 1740, when sitting by an open window, that Charles Wesley saw a hawk chase a sparrow, which, finding no hiding-place, flew to him, and found refuge in his bosom. Mr. Wesley, who was passing through severe trials at the time, found comfort in this incident, and taking up his pen, wrote,—

“Jesus, lover of my soul, Let me to thy bosom fly;”

and for nearly two hundred years what influence this hymn has wielded! What hearts it has comforted! What faith it has strengthened! What death beds it has made glorious!

As I close, let me show you how to cast strong, helpful shadows: just stand where the sun can shed its beams upon you, unhindered by any obstructions. “There goes one who has seen Christ,” will be said of those who stand unobstructed by worldliness and infidelity when the Sun of righteousness shines upon them.