LETTERS TO A YOUNG MAN

Pacific Press Publishing Association · Mountain View, California · Aug 22, 1911

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 38, No. 33.

LETTERS TO A YOUNG MAN

BY A YOUNG MAN

VIII. The Secret of Knowing—The Awfulness of Sin

MY DEAR ROBERT,—

The mystery of life will never be fully solved this side the grave. There is solemn truth in the scripture, "God is great, and we know Him not." But there is also truth in the noble saying of Paul, "I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I have committed unto Him against that day." God in His infinity of glorious power we who are finite may not know; but God as our own loving heavenly Father, who knows and supplies all our wants, and who is willing and able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we can ask or think,—such a God we may know most intimately, and in that knowledge be truly happy.

The secrets of the universe that some men trouble over, can best be solved in the secret of His presence. Men must love sacred things, at least in some degree, before they can understand them. They must assume a humble attitude, the attitude of a learner, if they would have a revelation from Him who dwells on high in the heavens, but also in the hearts of the lowly.

It can not be too strongly insisted upon, that the humble inquirer can not in the nature of things be turned away. There never yet lived man or woman who sincerely felt after God without in some degree finding Him out; and usually the more humble and persistent the search, the greater the illumination. The Bible puts the whole thing in one little verse: "This poor man cried, and the Lord heard him, and saved him out of all his troubles." He "cried." That means something more than offering up a conventional prayer, that comes from the lips only. He was a "poor man," and cried out of the depths of his poverty; his heart went out in that prayer, the whole power of his being was wrapped up in it, and the cry was heard and answered. Verily the prayer of faith shall save the doubter far more than thousands of books or sermons on the evidences of Christianity or the inspiration of the Bible.

It is this earnest seeking after the things of the Spirit, that is so sadly lacking in the life of to-day. Men are not lifting up their hands to heaven; they are not asking, "What must I do to be saved?" Publicans are not offering the prayer, "God be merciful to me a sinner." Men are trying to forget that they are sinners; and in this their attitude of mild indifference,—"broad-mindedness" is the term some apply to it,—they are rapidly drifting into a condition of doubt as to the very existence of God.

The cure for such a condition lies in the blessed invitation, "Taste and see that the Lord is good." "Prove Me now," are the words of God Almighty. "Look unto Me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth."

And, of course, back of this looking to the Lord for salvation, must lie some sense of what one is to be saved from, some sense, in other words, of the true character of sin. Next to his prayer for the divine favor, let the young man pray, and that most earnestly, that sin may appear to him exceeding sinful, may stand out in all its dark, lurid colors, as the thing that leads to death.

The thought sometimes comes to the young man: "What matters it if I sow a few wild oats? Other men have done so in their youth, and they are good men now, and looked up to. A certain amount of dissipation belongs to the period of youth. A young man of spirit can not avoid it."

All such reasoning is wholly deceptive; it proceeds from elementary ignorance of the nature of sin and the consequences of sin. In the first place, it is of the nature of sin to defile, to separate from God and good, and to bind with chains that can be broken only with great difficulty, humanly speaking, often not at all. It is like descending into an underground palace, provided, no doubt, with many a gilded chamber, but also with gloomy dungeons that have bolts and bars. No, the young man may go into sin of his own free will; but he doesn't come out of it so easily. Coming out means a terrible conflict. Yes, and even when the conflict is successful, the marks of sin remain. "A cut limb may be cured," wrote Drummond, "but the scar remains forever. An earthquake is over in three minutes; but centuries after, the ground is still rent into gulfs and chasms which ages will never close. So the scars of sin on body and mind and soul live with us in silent retribution upon our past, and go with us to our graves."

One of the deeply sad things in life is that an evil act once committed can never really be recalled. An hour foolishly spent never comes back to be spent wisely. An opportunity neglected never presents itself a second time at the same door. Other opportunities may come, thank God, but never that identical one. And the wrong done in one moment of lightness and frivolity, or one moment of anger, may be lamented for many years thereafter, but not undone.

"Take my influence," cried a repentant sinner on his death-bed; "take my influence and bury it with me." But the thing was impossible. For centuries after a man dies, his influence lives on for good or for ill; yea, it never really dies. This is according to the laws of the universe, and it makes life wondrously solemn.

Because sin defiles the soul and is infinite in its evil consequences, the young man is urged everywhere in Holy Scripture to keep himself from it. "Keep thy heart with all diligence; for out of it are the issues of life." "Enter not into the path of the wicked, and go not in the way of evil men. Avoid it, pass not by it, turn from it, and pass away."

And the best way to avoid the evil, is to do the good. Be a full-blooded Christian. Don't try Christianity of the half-and-half kind; there is no satisfaction in it. Put youthful enthusiasm into your service for Christ. Be in earnest about it. Follow hard after righteousness; it is the only way to attain it.

What infinite beauty in a life that is moment by moment in touch with the divine, a life that is molded after the heavenly pattern, one in which the very tones of the voice are under gentle restraint, that they may rightly represent the Master. Such a life breathes a heavenly influence, renewing itself daily from God, and flowing out in kindness to earth's needy children. Such a life is its own reason for existence, and it bears the most powerful testimony that can be borne to the wisdom and love of the Creator.

These, dear Robert, are some of the thoughts that come to me as I contemplate the dangers and the opportunities of the young man who is trying to be a Christian, and who wishes his life to tell for good. May you continue to be alive to your opportunities, and may you quickly turn aside from temptation, is the prayer of your friend, L. P.