Signs of the Times, Vol. 11, No. 23. (6/11/1885)

Signs of the Times

Jun 11, 1885

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Jun 11, 1885

The Church at Ephesus.

By Ellen G. White

BY MRS. E. G. WHITE.

(Concluded.)*

At length Paul decided to leave Ephesus, and again visit the churches in Macedonia and Achaia. After spending some time at Corinth, and visiting Jerusalem, he hoped to preach the gospel at Rome. An event occurred about this time which hastened his departure. The month of May was specially devoted to the worship of the goddess of Ephesus. The universal honor in which this deity was held, the magnificence of her temple and her worship, attracted an immense concourse of people from all parts of the province of Asia. Throughout the entire month the festivities were conducted with the utmost pomp and splendor. The gods were represented by persons chosen for the purpose, who were regarded as objects of worship, and were honored by processions, sacrifices, and libations. Musical contests, the feats of athletes, and the fierce combats of men and beasts, drew admiring crowds to the vast theaters. The officers chosen to conduct this grand celebration were the men of highest distinction in the chief cities of Asia. They were also persons of vast wealth, for in return for the honor of their position, they were expected to defray the entire expense of the occasion. The whole city was a scene of brilliant display and wild revelry. Imposing processions swept to the grand temple. The air rung with sounds of joy. The people gave themselves up to feasting, drunkenness, and the vilest debauchery.

By the labors of Paul at Ephesus, the heathen worship had received a telling blow. There was a perceptible falling-off in attendance at the national festival, and in the enthusiasm of the worshipers. The influence of his teachings extended far beyond the actual converts to the faith. Many who had not openly accepted the new doctrines, became so far enlightened as to lose all confidence in heathen gods. The presence of Paul in the city called special attention to this fact, and curses loud and deep were uttered against him.

Another cause of dissatisfaction existed. It had long been customary among heathen nations to make use of small images or shrines to represent their favorite objects of worship. Portable statues were modeled after the great image of Diana, and were widely circulated in the countries along the shores of the Mediterranean. Models of the temple which enshrined the idol were also eagerly sought. Both were regarded as objects of worship, and were carried at the head of processions, and on journeys and military expeditions. An extensive and profitable business had grown up at Ephesus from the manufacture and sale of these shrines and images.

Those who were interested in this branch of industry found their gains diminishing. All united in attributing the unwelcome change to Paul's labors. Demetrius, a manufacturer of silver shrines, called together the workmen of his craft, and by a violent appeal endeavored to stir up their indignation against Paul. He represented that their traffic was endangered, and pointed out the great loss which they would sustain if the apostle were allowed to turn the people away from their ancient worship. He then appealed to the ruling superstition, saying: "Moreover ye see and hear, that not alone at Ephesus, but almost throughout all Asia, this Paul hath persuaded and turned away much people, saying that they be no gods which are made with hands; so that not only this our craft is in danger to be set at naught, but also that the temple of the great goddess Diana should be despised, and her magnificence should be destroyed, whom all Asia and the world worshipeth." This speech acted as fire to the stubble. The excited passions of the people were roused, and burst forth in the cry, "Great is Diana of the Ephesians!"

A report of the speech of Demetrius was rapidly circulated. The uproar was terrific. The whole city seemed in commotion. An immense crowd soon collected, and a rush was made to the workshop of Aquila, in the Jewish quarters, with the object of securing Paul. In their insane rage they were ready to tear him in pieces. But the apostle was not to be found. His brethren, receiving an intimation of the danger, had hurried him from the place. Angels of God were sent to guard the faithful apostle. His time to die a martyr's death had not yet come.

Failing to find the object of their wrath, the mob seized two of his companions, Gaius and Aristarchus, and with them hurried on to the theater. Forgetful of his own safety, Paul desired to go at once to the theater, to address the rioters. But his friends refused to permit him thus to sacrifice himself. Several of the most honorable and influential among the magistrates also sent him an earnest request not to venture into a situation of so great peril. This proof of the regard in which Paul was held by the leading men of Asia was no mean tribute to the sterling integrity of his character.

Gaius and Aristarchus were not the prey that the people sought; no serious harm to them was apprehended. But should the apostle's pale, care-worn face be seen, it would arouse at once the worst passions of the mob, and there would not be the least human possibility of saving his life.

The tumult at the theater was continually increasing. "Some cried one thing, and some another; and the more part knew not wherefore they had come together." From the fact that Paul and some of his companions were of Hebrew extraction, the Jews felt that odium was cast upon them, and that their own safety might be endangered. Wishing it to be understood that they had no sympathy with the Christians, they thrust forward one of their own number to set the matter before the people. But the crowd were in no mood to make nice distinctions. Seeing that Alexander was a Jew, they thrust him aside, the uproar continually increasing as all with one voice cried out, "Great is Diana of the Ephesians!" This cry continued for two hours.

At last there came a momentary silence, from sheer exhaustion. Then the recorder of the city arrested the attention of the crowd, and by virtue of his office obtained a hearing. By his prudence and good judgment he soon succeeded in quieting the excitement.

He met the people on their own ground, and showed that there was no cause for the present tumult. He appealed to their reason to decide whether the strangers who had come among them could change the opinions of the whole world regarding their ruling goddess. He bade them consider that Paul and his companions had not profaned the temple of Diana, nor outraged the feelings of any by reviling the goddess. He then skillfully turned the subject, and reproved the course of Demetrius.

He closed by warning them that such an uproar, raised without apparent cause, might subject the city of Ephesus to the censure of the Romans, thus causing a restriction of her present liberty, and intimating that there must not be a repetition of the scene. Having by this speech completely tranquilized the disturbed elements, the recorder dismissed the assembly. The decision of the recorder and of others holding honorable offices in the city, had set Paul before the people as one innocent of any unlawful act. This was another triumph of Christianity over error and superstition.

The words of Demetrius reveal the real cause of the tumult at Ephesus, and also the cause of much of the persecution which followed the apostles in their work of promulgating the truth. "This, our craft, is in danger." With Demetrius and his fellows, the profitable business of image-making was endangered by the teaching and spread of the gospel. The income of pagan priests and artisans was at stake; and for this reason they instituted the most bitter opposition to the apostle, and refused to receive or investigate the new religion, which would have made them wise unto salvation.

For nearly three years, Ephesus was the center of Paul's work. A flourishing church was raised up here, and from this city the gospel spread throughout the province of Asia, among both Jews and Gentiles. But now his labors in this place were concluded. He felt that the excitement

which prevailed was unfavorable to the preaching of the gospel. He accordingly bade his children in the faith an affectionate farewell, and set out on his journey to Macedonia.

Paul's ministry in Ephesus had been a season of incessant labor, and of many trials. He taught the people in public and from house to house, instructing and warning them with many tears. He was continually opposed by the unbelieving Jews, who lost no opportunity to stir up the popular feeling against him. Again and again he was attacked by the mob, and subjected to insult and abuse. By every means which they could employ, the enemies of truth sought to destroy the effects of his labor for the salvation of men.

Amid the constant storm of opposition, the clamor of enemies, and the desertion of friends, the intrepid apostle at times almost lost heart. But he looked back to Calvary, and with new ardor pressed on to spread the knowledge of the Crucified. He was but treading the blood-stained path which Christ had trodden before him. He sought no discharge from the warfare till he should lay off his armor at the feet of his Redeemer.

Eighteen centuries have passed since the apostle rested from his labors; yet the history of his toils and sacrifices for Christ's sake are among the most precious treasures of the church. That history was recorded by the Holy Spirit, that the followers of Christ in every age might thereby be invited to greater zeal and faithfulness in the cause of their Master.

WHAT SHALL I ASK?

By M. A. W. Cooke

“Ask, and ye shall receive.”

SHALL I ask health, with pulses musical, Keeping glad time and tune the whole year round? Shall troops of friends, responsive to my call, With welcome footsteps make it holy ground?

Shall wealth and fame with choicest gifts draw near, And pleasure yield her sparkling joys for me, All wreathed in smiles, forgetful that a tear In such a world as this might ever be?

What shall I ask? What is that gift supreme That lifts the soul on wings of joy and peace, More than the worldling’s joys that come to him In the glad time when corn and wine increase?

What shall I ask? ’Tis for thy grace, my God; For daily grace as well as daily bread, Feed me, O Christ, according to thy word, Till this soul-hunger is forever fled!

And still, dear grace of God, abide with me, And lead me safely, kindly, all the way, That when life’s day-beam sinks beneath the sea The hill-tops gleam with glory’s morning ray.

—Mrs. M. A. W. Cooke.

The Victory of Faith.

By Bishop Simpson

THE old men of this country were often called to pass swollen streams before bridges were built; mounted on the backs of strong horses, they plunged fearlessly in. If they looked upon the rapid flow of the waters, their brains grew unsteady; they seemed to be carried against the current, and were in danger of falling and being drowned; but if they raised their eyes and looked at some tree or hill-top beyond, or on some rock that jutted from the shore, they passed quietly and safely over. It was the view of the distant that steadied them against the whirl of the present. The sailor boy is sent, in a storm, up the mast, and amidst the swinging cordage, to perform some task; if he looks below upon the rolling deck or the furious waves, his head swims, he is dashed down, and is lost. How shall he be safe? The old sailor cries to him, “Look aloft, look aloft;” and if he can but see a star shining in the heavens, or the clouds, which are less unstable than the waters and the vessel, he grows steady and performs his work as calmly as the child upon its mother’s nursery floor. It is the view of the distant that steadies against the whirl of the present.

Is a man distinguished above his fellows for clearness of thought and comprehension of view, do we not say, he is a far-seeing man? The man who has a limited trade is engaged with those immediately about him, and the gossip and little rivalries and excitements of the town in which he lives powerfully affect him. The commercial trader sits at his desk, but he is arranging a cargo for China, though he never saw it, or is purchasing sugar from distant islands, or spices from the other side of the globe; the little circle of trade immediately about him scarcely disturbs him at all. His plans are far-reaching; he is looking for the return of his profits, not to-morrow, or next month, but next year or in a succession of years; and his wealth has accumulated through investments made with lands he never saw, and through the hands of men with whom he was never acquainted. It is faith that gives to him the knowledge and the confidence. The same lessons are taught us if we look at those who attain eminence in the various walks of life, If, then, through faith such excellence is given in every department of life, in every stage of society, why should it not be so in the realms of morals and religion? Why should not faith join us to the good and the pure of past ages? Why should we not listen to the precepts of virtue and religion as well as to the songs of the poet or the strains of the orator? Man, in his inner nature, feels that the stains of sin are on him. He is captured oftentimes by passion; he is led where he knows his feet should not go; he has said to himself a thousand times he would do better, and yet sins again. What shall he do? Where shall he go? Carried away by the force of passion, drawn by the influences of association, governed by the maxims of the evil world, he ever slides downward; but he looks into the past, stands at the foot of the mountain and hears the law of God, draws near to Calvary and beholds one dying for him, stands where the prophet Isaiah stood, and amidst the darkness which shrouds the cross he is able to say, “The chastisement of our peace was upon him, and with his stripes we are healed.” And there comes from Jesus a peace that cheers and strengthens, and the stain of his sin and the dominion of his passions fade away.

And this view of the distant restrains passion and overcomes fear. The young man who has left his father’s house on the farm, and has gone to the city to make his fortune, is often enticed to evil. The theater charms, the house that leads to the gates of death allures; but as he passes along the street and listens to the music, the memory of his sainted mother comes to him, and then that other thought of responsibility to God so fills his heart that he turns away from the enticements of sin. The thought of the distant delivers him from the power of passion. Is the soul in trouble? Does he despair of life? Does he give up all thought of friends on earth? Is he ready for suicide? It seems dark about him. But, when the distant is brought to his view, the star of Bethlehem breaks on his vision, the thought comes to him as to Hagar of old, “Thou God seest me.” I have often felt that the ordinary manner of quoting this verse, “Thou God seest me,” does not present it as Hagar said it. She knew that God saw Abraham and Sarah; she knew the divine care and protection were given to them; but when, in the wilderness and in danger of death, God’s providence was manifested to her, it affected her heart, and she cried out, “Thou God seest me;” me, the poor, the unworthy, the unregarded. It was the sense of divine compassion condescending so much as to look at her that soothed her heart. And when sickness comes, when strength declines, when death is near, when loved ones are carried away, how faith comes to our aid! We shall see our friends again. We can lay them in the grave; we know they are safe with God.

It is faith in the distant, inspires, cheers, strengthens. And yet there are those who tell us that the religion of Christ is fitted only for the poor, the aged, the weak; that it may do for women; it may do for ignorant men; but for man—strong, vigorous, educated man—there is something grander and higher. We are told that this religion is one of the things of the past, and that it is to fade away before the light of the present age. May I ask my skeptical friend what he will offer me in its place? What can he give me instead of my faith? I am willing to accord to him all he can desire, all he can claim. I give full credit to whatever unaided reason may prove, or scientific investigation may find. I delight in the refinements of literature, in the inventions of art; but what will be the substitute for faith?

The genius of infidelity comes near me and offers me her hand. I cheerfully take it. She leads me through this earth, shows me its blooming flowers, and calls them by name, takes me through the forests and shows me the gigantic trees, roams with me through the animal kingdom and points out to me the exquisite adaptations of every part of nature, and I learn it all with joy from her lips; passes with me through society, explains its customs, its history, teaches me its languages, and I learn them all. She digs into the earth and reveals to me the rocks in their order of superposition, what the fossils teach of old catastrophes, and of wonderful ages; mounts with me into the heavens, opens to me the solar system so harmoniously and beautifully arranged; carries me beyond that system to numberless other systems whose suns are but the fixed stars I see; I go with her to the nebulae and look at the vast worlds that compose them; away to the fleecy cloud where light just trembles on the verge of shade; away to the suburbs of the universe, and when I have reached the last star and have set me down, I still pant for more. I look up into the face of my guide, and say, “Is this all?” And she asks, “Is not this enough?” “Are there not beauties of earth and beauties of heaven enough to satisfy the longing soul? Is there not wisdom and power and skill so manifold, so conspicuous, everywhere as to occupy the thought and fill the heart?” Yet still, somehow, there is a void within.

The genius of infidelity leaves me and the genius of Christianity comes to my side. She too takes me by the hand, and I go with her through the same earth, past the same flowers, the same rocks and forests and hills; takes me over the seats of the nations of the earth and teaches me the same languages; takes me through the domain of the sciences and adds one more, the science of salvation; teaches me the languages of earth, and adds one more, the language of Heaven. She mounts with me to the skies; I drink in light from the same sun, pass to the same fixed stars, resolve the same nebulae, and away out again unto the last star where my former guide left me. And I gaze into the face of the genius of Christianity and ask, “Is this all?” What a look of pity and love she casts upon me as she says: “Is this all? This is but the portico; it is but the threshold; it is the entrance to the Father’s house.” And she puts the glass of faith in my hand, and I look through it, and away beyond the stars, away beyond the multiplied systems, I see the great center, the throne of God, about which all things move—the great central point of the universe. And as I look there is One upon the throne; he is my brother; and I look again, and my name is written on his hands; and I cry out with ecstasy:—

“Before the throne my Surety stands, My name is written on his hands.”

It is my title to a place in Heaven; and there, when earth shall have passed and its events shall have closed, I shall have a home forever.

What can infidelity do for me that Christianity does not do? The same great scenes, the same great facts, the same great creation, all its parts; but Christianity whispers, “Your Father made them all, and made them for you.” And a new light invests the world, and a new joy thrills through my heart. Oh, let others wrap themselves, if they may, in the chilly garb of doubt; let them, if they will, lose themselves in the mists of skepticism; but give me the faith that recognizes a duty, that shows me a Father, that points me to an elder Brother who cries out: “I am the resurrection and the life.”—Bishop Simpson.

The Lessons of the Lord's Absence

THE Lord went away that he might come again to receive us to himself, and that we may be together to all eternity. But we must first be moulded to his image by the lessons of his absence. He who will not share the yearning of the Lord’s absence, will have little fitness to share in the joy of his presence. He who has not been moulded by the influences of the absent Lord, can have little share in the present Lord—when he comes!—S. S. Times.

Cain’s Wife.

By Editor

A correspondent wrote us, a few weeks ago, asking us who was Cain’s wife; not getting an immediate answer, he writes again to hurry us up; and we make haste to “report progress,” lest he take to the telegraph in his anxiety to have this important question answered. The delay has been inevitable. The parish minister who performed the ceremony is believed to be dead; and we are not able to get on the track of the parish records, which are thought by some well informed in such matters to have been washed away in the deluge. We have ransacked without success the records of heraldry that are accessible in this country. Dr. Warren, of Boston, has recently written a book to prove that the Garden of Eden was at the north pole; and if this is correct, it may be hoped that some future Arctic exploring expedition will discover the lost marriage record, and so get a final answer to this perennial question. Our anxious correspondent may rest assured that the Christian Union will spare no pains or expense in ascertaining the truth on this momentous subject, and that we shall make haste to report as soon as we have anything worthy of being reported.—Christian Union.

THE ANVIL OF GOD'S WORD.

By L. B. Coke

Last eve I paused beside a blacksmith's door And heard the anvil ring its vesper chime; Then looking in I saw upon the floor Old hammers worn with beating years of time.

“How many anvils have you had,” said I, “To wear and batter all these hammers so?” “Just one,” he answered; then with twinkling eye, “The anvil wears the hammers out, you know.”

And so, I thought, the anvil of God's Word For ages skeptic blows have beat upon; Yet, though the noise of Paine, Voltaire was heard, The anvil is unworn—the hammers gone.

—L. B. Coke, in the Current.

A Better Way.

WHEN Dan Mace, the famous horse jockey and driver of racers, was informed by his physicians a short time previous to his death that all earthly hope was gone, he immediately sent for a clergyman, and addressed himself to his spiritual and eternal relationships. This under the circumstances was, of course, the reasonable and proper thing to do. Nobody will criticise the jockey for endeavoring even at the eleventh hour to take advantage of the last opportunity to repent and obey, but everybody will commend him for it. Better late than never. And yet, there is a wiser, more manly and safer course which all men ought to pursue, and that is to, acknowledge God's claims and to seek the assurance of infinite pardon and peace while they are in the flush of health, and capable of rendering some actual and grateful services to the gracious Being and Redeemer from whom they expect the unspeakable gift of life eternal.

The old colored woman, who thought it a mean thing to burn up the entire candle of life in honor of the devil, and then to offer the smoking wick just ready to be snuffed out, at God's altar, certainly had the correct view. It is the quintessence of selfishness, of presumption, of cowardly baseness, to sneak through life denying our Creator and Saviour his rights, and indulging all evil passions with the hidden mental reservation that just before disease sweeps us into the grave we will come in like the thief on the cross with a petition for all the benefits and supernal joys of paradise. Besides the meanness of such conduct it is exceedingly perilous. The case of the dying thief is often perverted. It is altogether probable that he never heard of the gospel until he was stretched upon the cross in the presence of his suffering Master. This was his first opportunity, and he embraced it with a will—instantly, unreservedly. Whether other hardened wretches after rejecting Christ and his truth deliberately and willfully all their lives, can get as easily into the kingdom when in the article of death has always been a question with serious and cautious minds. There is assuredly little chance of their showing whether the alleged repentance is sincere and worth anything, or mere make-shift and an expression of fear when one is caught in the death-trap. The only right, honorable, just, manly, and safe way is for a man to give himself in the prime of his strength and the full capacities of his soul to righteous actions and to faith in him who alone can save.—Christian at Work.

Remember Now Thy Creator in Youth

“REMEMBER now thy Creator in the days of thy youth.” Eccl. 12:1.

What Made the Prayer-Meeting.

By S. W. Adriance

TWO THINGS are to be premised. It will be understood that the traveler was carried to Europe by ship—sail or steam—even if he does say that his money carried him there. It is always likewise to be understood that it was the Holy Spirit who blessed the meeting. But the difference between one meeting and another is not because the Spirit is a guest at one and not at another. He is always present, even at the dullest service, waiting to bless. Over every such might be written, “There standeth One among you, whom ye know not.” It was because some one recognized and welcomed the ever-present, but often grieved guest; and that made the prayer-meeting.

Here are a batch of notes from the pastor’s note-book:—

1. In the background a long series of cold, formal meetings. What made this one throb and glow with spiritual warmth? Simply because a heavy-hearted woman rose, and with broken utterance said, “Pray for me.” Only three words made that meeting.

2. The meeting opens just as all other meetings. Up to a certain point the ordinary programme is carried out to a minute and second. Deacon Ford doesn’t usually take part; but to-night he does. That is, he tries to speak of the preciousness of God’s grace in a recent sorrow. But even the first sentence is unfinished; for the heart is too big. And across the billows of that sea all in the room saw Christ come. Don’t you think that was “a good meeting”?

3. A new voice blessed this meeting. Young Charles Dale was converted a month ago. He has never taken part, but to-night before service he wrestles with God. From that Peniel he comes to the service. The words he says are few, and perhaps do not amount to much, humanly speaking; but, divinely speaking, all in that service knew that the Spirit was there.

4. People said, “What ails our minister and our deacons to-night?” Never before, this year, had they spoken so briefly and earnestly. Fifteen minutes of prayer by the deacons at the pastor’s study did it; at the close of which Deacon French said, “Brethren, suppose we go over to the meeting, and each give a brief, earnest testimony for Christ.” Somehow or other everything went well that evening. Surely never was there such singing and such attention.

5. At the afternoon sewing circle, one young lady said to her fifteen companions, “Let us each look up a verse on the subject, and repeat it to-night at the meeting.” You would be surprised to know how it freshened up that meeting.

6. Five minutes before the close of the meeting, the pastor said, “Now let us have fifteen short, ejaculatory prayers, each not more than twenty words long. Do not rise.” What prayers those were!

The note-book contains a good deal more, of which these are samples.—Rev. S. W. Adriance, in the Congregationalist.

We Glory in Tribulations Also

“We glory in tribulations also.” Rom. 5: 3.

Persecutions.

By Lizzie L. Pierce

“Blessed are ye, when men shall hate you, and when they shall separate you from their company, and shall reproach you, and cast out your name as evil, for the Son of man's sake.” Luke 6:22.

THESE words, from the lips of our Master as he was teaching his disciples, seem to have a special significance in some localities; and it is a source of comfort to note the fact that while our Saviour ever improved every opportunity to impart the instruction that he foresaw would be necessary to enable them to contend successfully with an opposing world, telling them plainly of the many persecutions that they as his disciples would have to encounter, he always accompanied this with his divine blessing upon those who would have to meet them.

In verse 23 of the same chapter, he says: “Rejoice ye in that day, and leap for joy; for, behold, your reward is great in Heaven; for in the like manner did their fathers unto the prophets.” While those who participate in these persecutions are only heaping unto themselves wrath against the “day of wrath,” they are lending luster and brilliancy to the crowns of those who suffer persecutions if they but continue faithful unto the end.

In referring to the persecutions of the prophets, he taught his disciples what they were to expect, and he says still further, in John 15: 18-21, in speaking of his own persecutions, by way of illustration, that, “If the world hate you, ye know that it hated me before it hated you. 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. Remember the word I said unto you, The servant is not greater than his lord. If they have persecuted me, they will also persecute you; if they have kept my saying, they will keep yours also. But all these things will they do unto you for my name's sake, because they know not him that sent me.”

It ever has been and ever will be an obstinate fact that the true church of God will suffer persecutions. They are to be a “peculiar people, zealous of good works.” Titus 2:14. But what is the tendency of the churches at the present day? Wherein are they persecuted? Alas! Instead of suffering the disapprobation of the world, they, with a persistency worthy a better end, court its favor, and deliberately join hands with whatever it approves, introducing into its sacred precincts all the fascinating and alluring pleasures of the day and ever lowering the standard of truth.

Our Lord has told us, in terms that cannot be misapprehended, that for his name's sake we should be hated of all men. How different is their association with the world from that which our Saviour predicted for his disciples! A Christian is not allowed the same latitude as are the children of this world. If he manifests any degree of enthusiasm and ardor, he is at once branded as fanatical and bigoted, and a sure target for the cruel taunts of a cold and pitiless world. It is when the heart is smarting and bleeding from these cruel wounds that the Christian can find sweetest comfort in the precious word of God; when he can often feel his Saviour nearest as in secret he pours out his soul to God in prayer and tears.

Then let afflictions and persecutions come, they only draw us nearer to our precious Saviour if only we trust him who hath said: “My grace is sufficient for thee.” Let us welcome them then as the tie that shall bind us closer to our blessed Lord. Let us be faithful to that committed to our trust; trusting much and praying often, and soon a starry crown will be awarded to the faithful few who patiently endure unto the end. LIZZIE L. PIERCE.

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