THE ESSENCE OF CHRISTIAN CHARACTER.
By DERBY
"I WILL show him how great things he must suffer for My name's sake." Acts 9:16. This is the call to the grandest life, so far as the Sacred Record goes to show, that, next to the life of Jesus Christ, the world has ever been privileged to witness. It was distinctly and pre-eminently a life of principle. Notice the strange language of this divine summons, "suffer"!—word of forbidding aspect and unwelcome sound. "Suffer!"—synonym of unhappiness and all that men most dread. "Suffer!"—word ominous of import and fraught with gloomy apprehensions. What! is there no mistake? Surely this is not a bidding to grandeur of life, but a warning to flee or a threat of vengeance. Can this be the highway to nobility?—'Tis even so. Even the religion of to-day, for the most part, has failed to discern this. The popular Christianity of to-day is much more a thing of policy than of principle; a religion whose inception is feeling, whose life is nerveless sentimentalism, demanding the arm of the civil law to supply the place of moral courage. Think of the moral significance, of the influence and teaching of the popular demand for religious laws,—for a Sunday law, for instance, to prop up the sickly religious profession—for surely there is no principle (except a bad one) in it—of the "poor laboring man," "to protect" (?) him in his right to one day's rest in seven, as if any power on earth could compel a true Christian to break the Sabbath, any more than it could compel the three Hebrew worthies to bow down to Nebuchadnezzar's golden image on the plain of Dura. But this gushy solicitude to inject by law some virility into the feeble stamina of the laboring man who has not the manhood to live up to what he believes, is a most striking comment on present-day religion. Think of the strength of the character of a religious profession so soft, superficial, and volatile that it has to be kept corked and out of the sun, like benzin, for fear it will evaporate. Next we must have a law "protecting" these feeble Christians against the ridicule of public opinion. In order to be logical, and carry out our policy of protecting the right to practise the Christian graces, let us begin with the children. Protect the tender things from the sneers of the youthful sons of Belial, who laugh at them for being loyal to their mothers, for refusing to use tobacco, or profanity, or vulgarity! Protect our young men in their right to be virtuous! Yes, yes, to be sure, protect them from babyhood to old age, till they are emasculated of all moral fiber, nerveless, puny, moral cripples. As an unfailing process for the manufacture of weak, senile, vacillating, shivering, moral invalids, Christians with moral rickets and spinal meningitis, this method certainly deserves an international copyright and World's Fair gold medal, under the title of "The Baby Act." "I will show him how great things he must suffer." Let us use this as a text or a key while we meditate for a little while on the essential quality in Christian character. Much of the preaching of to-day, much of the exhortation, totally ignore the fact that the offense of the cross has not ceased; that the line of demarkation between the church and the world—"between him that serveth God, and him that serveth Him not"—has not yet been obliterated. The words of the Master seem to be forgotten: "If ye were of the world, the world would love his own; but because ye are not of the world, but I have chosen you out of the world, therefore the world hateth you." John 15:19. Too often the sinner is led to believe that to "get religion" is the end of all trials; the Christian life shall be a gala day; no clouds shall darken the sky; no thorns shall beset the path; the wind always fair, the tide always favorable, the sails full, the wheels always in motion—the voyage must be glorious, the end triumphant. Alas! the Christian sails in other craft. Far be it from me to discourage the faintest heart. Nay, more, it is believed that if the purpose of this study be attained, it will prove to the weak, the discouraged, the faint, the index to an unfailing Source of strength and joy. Let us face squarely the conditions of the call of followers of Christ. What does that call imply as regards our relation to the work? In Acts 14:22 we are told that "we must through much tribulation enter into the kingdom of God." It is not our aim just now to dwell on the purpose of the Christian's trials, but to make plain the fact that the sacred Word recognizes that the portion which the Christian may expect in this world, especially from the world, can be summed up under the generic term "suffering." When God calls a soul to His service, He wants the terms plainly understood. The other day I saw a printed call of the United States Government for volunteers to enlist in the army. It was a fine picture, pasted in a conspicuous place. There were uniformed soldiers, from generals, captains, and corporals (I suppose) down to the rank and file. Some were on their prancing steeds; some chatted pleasantly; the gunners looked as if out to salute the sunrise at a Fourth-of-July picnic; and all seemed to have no more responsible duty than to be on continual dress parade. No suggestion in all this of the jagged bullet's ugly wound, the torn and quivering flesh, the saber's bloody gash, the mangled, ghastly corpses strewn upon the gory battle-field. But when God calls a man, He covers up nothing; He warns him that enlistment in His cause means a daily readiness to die, and such a death perhaps as only devils can invent. In this war there is neither armistice nor furlough; only continual, active service. There is no exception from the rigid discipline; for "all that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution." 2 Tim. 3:12. As certainly as the hardships of continual winter must be expected by those who would acquire the renown of standing with Polaris as their zenith, so certainly are trials and suffering to be the experience of those who would strive for the starry diadem in heaven; "for even hereunto were ye called; because Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an example, that ye should follow His steps." 1 Peter 2:21. Let us now sum up what God holds forth as the unavoidable portion of His warriors,—hatred, tribulation, persecution, suffering. "Seek ye out of the book of the Lord, and read: no one of these shall fail." And not only so, but these things must be met unflinchingly, unhesitatingly, yea, joyfully. To take up the cross daily means more than carrying a burden; it means to be willing daily, if God so wills, for Jesus' sake, to die the death of the cross. The cross is significant of crucifixion. "Truly," one says, "not a very inviting prospect." No, not to one who sees no value in truth. Whoso would sail with the world, must ship on another line. There is absolutely no affinity, no fellowship between the church and the world; "whosoever therefore will be a friend of the world is the enemy of God." James 4:4. And, lest some one should think that this may possibly be toned down just a little, so far at least that the world might say you are a pretty good fellow after all, the warning is sounded, "Woe unto you, when all men shall speak well of you!" Luke 6:26. Imagine, therefore, a true Christian soliciting worldly favor. Think of Paul pulling political wires to get elected to the Sanhedrin. Think of Jesus of Nazareth running for alderman of the seventh ward of Jerusalem. Let it not be thought that this suggestion has its origin in any spirit of facetiousness; for, judging by the condition of the church of to-day, one would actually think that there is no incompatibility in the idea. Since the day long foretold has fully come, when "they shall turn away their ears from the truth, and shall be turned unto fables," I will speak in fables. Once upon a time a lamb became ambitious to gain popularity among a pack of wolves, but all of his advances were received only with indifference. He thought to imitate them, and attempted to howl like a wolf, but was ridiculed for his pains. He tried to snarl, and made such a miserable spectacle of himself that he met only contempt. He was invited to a banquet of raw meat; and, tho he knew he could not eat it because he was constructed to eat grass, yet he flattered himself that by attending he might gain their good will. So he went, but soon found out to his cost that he himself was to be the banquet. DERBY.