CONSEQUENCES OF BEING AGGRESSIVE.
By W. N. Glenn
THE cause of Christianity is aggressive in its very nature. It is necessarily so, because it seeks to produce a radical change,—a change entirely against the nature, the inclination, and the innate comprehension of the creatures in which the change is to be wrought. Any work of reclamation must be aggressive if it ever succeeds, for the influences which primarily led in the opposite direction will naturally proceed as before if the reclaiming or restraining influence ceases. Christ recognized this principle when on earth, and his labors were incessant. And as the enemy persistently followed his track, endeavoring to destroy both him and his teaching, so his disciples may expect the same consequences if their labors are performed in a like faithful manner. "The disciple is not greater than his Lord." "If they have persecuted me they will persecute you." These are assurances which the Master handed over to all his successors in the great work which he inaugurated on the earth. And after years of experience, the testimony of an apostle verified the divine prediction in these words: "They that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution." Jesus of Nazareth, notwithstanding his obscure nativity, had talents which were recognized by even the learned aristocrats of his day, and had he catered to their caprices, neglecting his legitimate mission, he might have enjoyed their favor. But when he crossed their pathway, exposed the fallacy of their dogmas, and by both precept and example brought to naught their vain traditions, he soon became subject to their hatred and enmity. After his death, if the disciples had returned to their vocations, keeping their faith to themselves, they might have believed in his resurrection and Messiahship as firmly as they pleased and nobody would have cared. They would no doubt have been regarded as rather foolish to be so easily deluded, but most people would have given them credit for being good, honest neighbors after all. But when their public testimony began to convince the multitudes, detracting from the dignity and influence of the established religious instructors, and showing the true teaching of the Scriptures which had been so long perverted, then their aggressiveness became offensive to the would-be dictators of religious faith. The offenders were called before august councils, and straightly threatened, and commanded "not to speak at all nor teach in the name of Jesus." And when threatening and commanding failed to stop their aggressive work, then more severe measures were adopted,—stripes and imprisonment, banishment and death. When that "little monk," Martin Luther, while cloistered in a monastery, found access to a copy of the Bible, he possibly might have enjoyed reading it all his life in a private way if he had been content to keep it all to himself. Rome might never have known of the circumstance, or even had a care in the matter, if it had made no difference in Luther's life. But when he began to publish the wonderful revelations of light and truth, and to show to others that there could be justification only by faith, Rome could not stand that. She felt her iron grip on the consciences of men gradually weakening, and all Europe was shaken by the strenuous effort to apprehend the heretic and squelch his heresy. So much for Luther's aggressiveness. But illustrations of the principle under consideration are not wanting in our own day or in our own country. Last winter the Legislature of Arkansas was importuned to repeal the section of the Sunday law of that State which exempts from its penalties those persons who observe the seventh-day Sabbath. Senator Tillman was the champion of the measure, and the burden of his appeal was the aggressiveness of Seventh-day Adventists in the neighborhood of Springdale, where they have built a church and have otherwise been quite active in establishing their faith. Had the few Adventists who first settled there been totally inactive as regards their religion, simply "attending to their own business," they might have avoided the enmity of their first-day neighbors. But when they went about their Father's business, teaching the people that it was their duty to obey his commandments, then the ire of the adversary was aroused. Had they hid their light under a cover, tacitly disclaiming all rights because of their comparatively few numbers, they might have been tolerated by even the ambitious senator. Had the Sunday-keeping churches been quietly allowed a monopoly of the aggressiveness, and the proselyting, and the church building, it is probable that the exemption clause in the Sunday law would not have been disturbed, and consequently the law itself would have been but little more than a dead letter. But when the seventh-day people had the temerity to publicly tell the public the reason of their faith; and put papers and tracts in the hands of even members of other churches, showing that the Sabbath had not been changed; and actually set the terrible example of working on their farms on Sunday, after resting the day previous "according to the commandment,"—these aggressive acts were too much for Senator Tillman and his conscientious constituents about Springdale. There was immediate danger that their "great goddess Diana [Sunday] should be despised, and her magnificence should be destroyed." Such aggressiveness must be put down by a more stringent Sunday law. Just so it ever has been, and so it ever will be, until the great conflict is over.