Signs of the Times, Vol. 11, No. 38. (10/8/1885)

Signs of the Times

Oct 8, 1885

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Oct 8, 1885

Workers with Christ.

By Mrs. E. G. White

BY MRS. E. G. WHITE.

MANY profess to be followers of Christ and to be working for the upbuilding of his cause, when the whole weight of their influence is cast on the side of the great adversary. For this reason it becomes very important to inquire, By what means shall we determine whose side we are on? This question may be easily settled if we will consider the character of our thoughts and of the subjects upon which we love to converse, also who it is that has our best energies and the warmest affections of our hearts. If we are on the Lord's side, our sweetest thoughts will be of him. We shall have no friendship with the world. All that we have and are will be consecrated to our God; we shall long to bear his image, breathe his Spirit, and do his will and please him in all things.

A great work has been committed to the church of God. Oh that we could each realize how much is depending upon our earnestness and fidelity! All who realize their accountability to God, will be burden-bearers in the church. There can be no such thing as a lazy Christian, though there are many indolent professors of Christianity. While Christ's followers will realize their own weakness, they will cry earnestly to God for strength, that they may be workers together with him. They will constantly seek to become better men and women, that they may more faithfully perform the work which he has committed to their hands.

Every one may do something to strengthen and build up the church, and to enlighten those who are in the darkness of sin and error. There must be a feeling of individual responsibility. Each must seek to maintain a close connection with God, that he may have strength to aid and counsel others. "God is light, and in him is no darkness at all." The heart in which his Spirit dwells, will be a channel of light to others. It cannot be otherwise.

Those who do not preserve a living connection with God themselves, will have little interest in the salvation of others. They have no light from Heaven to reflect to the world. If these careless, irresponsible ones could see the fearful results of their course, they would be alarmed. Every one of us is exerting an influence upon some other soul; and we shall each be held accountable for the effect of that influence. Words and actions have a telling power, and the long hereafter will show the results of our life here. Yet how few consider these things. The members of the church listen to the words of God spoken by his servant, and then one goes to his farm, another to his merchandise; and by their absorbing interest in the affairs of this life, they declare that eternal things are of secondary importance.

The days are evil, wickedness prevails; therefore there is the greater need that Christ should be faithfully represented to the world as a mighty Saviour, able to save to the uttermost all who come unto God by him. But the professed people of God are asleep. They are not doing what it is in their power to do for the salvation of souls. Especially are the youth deficient. They seem to feel no burden for souls, no duty to represent Christ to those with whom they associate. In all this, are they not following in the steps of church-members who are older in experience, and who should have set them a better example?

The young, as well as those of more advanced age, are accountable to God for their time, their influence, and their opportunities. They have their fate in their own hands. They may rise to any height of moral excellence, or they may sink to the lowest level of depravity. There is no election but one's own by which any may perish. Every person is a free moral agent, deciding his own future by his daily life. What course, then, is it wisest for us, as rational beings, to pursue? Shall we live as becomes candidates for eternity, or shall we fail to fulfill the great end of our creation?

Jesus died that through his merits men might be redeemed from the power of sin, and be adopted into the family of God; and in view of the great sacrifice which has been made for us, we are exhorted to work out our own salvation with fear and trembling. Yet how many, endowed by their Creator with reasoning powers, reject the high honors which Christ proffers, and degrade themselves to the level of the brute. Because they do not like to retain God in their thoughts, he leaves them to follow their own evil ways. They yield to Satan's control the souls for whose redemption Christ has died.

We are free to obey or to disregard the will of God; free to live without prayer or to pray. As God compels no man to be righteous, so none are compelled to be impenitent and vicious. Human passions may be strong and wayward, but help has been laid upon One who is mighty. While that help will not be forced upon any who despise the gift, it is freely, gladly given to all who seek it in sincerity.

We may be assailed by strong temptations, for we have a powerful, cunning foe; but these temptations are never irresistible. He who struggles against them in the strength of Christ, will overcome; but God will never deliver those who will not strive to free themselves. The Christian must be watchful against sins of the flesh, watchful against sins of the mind. Says the apostle, "Gird up the loins of your mind." The thoughts and feelings must be restrained with a firm hand, lest they lead us into sin. How many have become the willing slaves of vice, their mental and physical powers enervated, their souls debased, because impure thoughts were allowed to dwell in the mind, and to stain the soul. "Unto the pure, all things are pure." To those who are pure in heart, all the duties and lawful pursuits of life are pure; while to those whose heart and conscience are defiled, all things are impure.

Another sin of the mind is that of extolling and deifying human reason, to the neglect of divine revelation. Here, too, we must "gird up the loins of the mind." We are living in an age when the minds of men are ever on the stretch for something new. Rightly directed, and kept within proper limits, this desire is commendable. God has given us in his created works enough to excite thought and stimulate investigation. He does not desire men to be less acute, less inquiring, or less intelligent. But with all our aspirations and in all our researches, we should remember that arrogance is not greatness, nor is conceit knowledge. Human pride is an evidence, not of strength, but of weakness. It reveals not wisdom, but folly. To exalt reason unduly is to abase it. To place the human in rivalry with the divine, is to make it contemptible.

How can man be just with God? This is the one great question that most concerns us. Can human reasoning find an answer? No; revelation only can solve the all-important problem, can shed light upon the pathway of man's life. What folly, then, to turn from the one great source of light, the Sun of Righteousness, to follow the feeble and uncertain light of human wisdom.

We must each have an experience for ourselves. The work of our salvation lies between God and our own souls. Though all nations are to pass in judgment before him, yet he will examine the case of each individual with as close and searching a scrutiny as though there were not another being on the earth. Every individual has a soul to save or to lose. Each has a case pending at the bar of God. Each must meet the great Judge face to face. How important, then, that every mind contemplate often the solemn scene when the Judgment shall sit and the books be opened, when, with Daniel, every individual must stand in his lot at the end of the days.

At the final day, we shall be approved or condemned according to our works. The Judge of all the earth will render a just decision. He will not be bribed; he cannot be deceived. He who made man, and whose are the worlds and all the treasures they contain—he it is who weighs character in the balance of eternal justice.

Oh that Christ's followers might realize that it is not houses and lands, bank stock or wheat-fields, or even life itself, that is now at stake, but souls for whom Christ died! We should ever remember that the men and women whom we daily meet are Judgment-bound. They will stand before the great white throne, to testify against us if we are unfaithful to duty, if our example shall lead them away from the truth and from Christ, or to bear witness that our fidelity has encouraged them in the path of righteousness. These souls will either live to offer praise to God and the Lamb through ceaseless ages, or they will perish with the wicked. Christ suffered and died that they might enjoy a blissful eternity. What sacrifices are we willing to make for their salvation?

SHALL HE FIND ME WATCHING?

"Watch therefore; for ye know not what hour your Lord doth come." Matt. 24:42.

SHALL He come and find me watching As the watchers wait for morn, As the hour of midnight passes, And the coming day is born? Shall He come and find me waiting, With my loins well girt about, Staff in hand, the Lord to welcome, Waiting without fear or doubt? Shall He come and find me standing From the worldling's joy apart, Outside its mirth and folly, With a true and loyal heart? Shall He come and find me faithful To his parting words to me: "If I go, a place preparing, I will come again for thee"? Shall He come and find me working In the vineyard, full of love; Only watching till the glory Breaks upon me from above? Jesus, let me thus be waiting, Full of hope, and love, and zeal; Let thy coming to me ever Be a hope divine and real. —Sel.

Walking with God.

By Independent

To walk with God is the highest spiritual attainment of the Christian. It means fellowship, intimacy, and communion, as we have before pointed out. Enoch walked with God, and had this testimony, that "he pleased God." No doubt there are many of us who would like to walk with God, or, at least, we think we would. If our Lord Jesus Christ should come down to the city or town in which we live, and select any one of us for his companion while on such a visit to the earth, to walk with him over the mountains, or through the streets of the city, what an honor we would esteem it. How people would talk about it! How many people would say: "I do wish the Lord had chosen me for his companion." It would be known among all our friends and neighbors. It would be known throughout all the church; nay, we might say, throughout all the world. And yet this is the privilege of each one of us, not for an occasion, but for every day and for all time.

One of the favorite hymns of the church is:

"Oh! for a closer walk with God;"

And one of the chief complaints of the average Christian is, that it is difficult to maintain a close walk with God. There are many of us who want the spiritual delight of walking with God, who fancy that such a walk would fill the soul with heavenly joy; and no doubt it does, albeit the men who have walked the closest with God have had to walk with him in the fire and through the flood, through the lion's den, and many afflictions. In walking with God, Abel met his death; Noah had to contend with the unbelieving antediluvians; Abraham had to forsake country and kindred; Moses suffered afflictions with the people of God, choosing them rather than the pleasures of sin for a season; the prophets were despised and rejected of men. The most conspicuous example of all was that of our Lord Jesus Christ, who never for even one small moment lost communion with God, or parted company with him. In one sense, he was the most lonely man who ever walked with this world, because of that unbroken walk with God.

Yet we would not for a moment leave the impression that a walk with God is of necessity one of sorrow and affliction only; for the highest expressions of joy of which we know anything are from those whose walks with God have been the closest. It is, indeed, only the Christian who walks with God who can sing in his sorrow and afflictions.

But to come back to the question, Why is it so difficult to find and maintain a close walk with God? We think the answer to this is found in the fact that it is not so much that we want to walk with God as it is that we want God to walk with us. We are fond of our own way, even when it is not pleasing to God. We are not willing to give it up. But to walk in our own way, which, at the same time, is not God's way, is to lose his company. But to lose companionship with God is to fill our souls with darkness and trouble. Our souls cry out for God, for the living God; but God will not walk with us when our way is not his way. If, therefore, we would resume our walk with God, we must abandon our way and go over to his way again. The whole trouble is in our indisposition to leave our way and always walk in God's way. This is to fear the Lord, to walk in his way. It is not that God ever parts company with us, but that we part company with him. It is not said that God walked with Enoch, but that "Enoch walked with God." God has his walk in this world; it is open and plain to any one who chooses to walk in it. He is "not far from every one of us."

Whosoever will may come and walk with him. "Master, where dwellest thou?" was asked by two of the disciples of Jesus. His answer was: "Come and see." When he was on earth, he was always easily found. In the highway; in the temple; by the well; in the house of the Pharisees; eating with publicans and sinners; by the seashore; everywhere where the need of man called him. If we have never found him, he is within hearing of our call. If we already know him, and are walking with him in the way of his commandments, he is with us; for to such he says: "Lo, I am with you always;" "If any man will be my disciple, let him take up his cross, and come after me." This is the way to walk with God. But to do this we must deny ourselves; and this is where the pinch comes. We would all be glad to have God walk with us in our way, and so indorse and sanctify it, but are not anxious to walk in his way, even for the sake of walking with him.

It must not be supposed that walking with God will make ascetics of men. This was the mistake of some of the earlier Christians who fled to the desert and the mountains, thinking that, in this way only, could they maintain a walk with God. But his delights are with the sons of men, not apart from them. To mingle with men for their good, to leave with them a testimony for God, is the Christian's high calling. To mingle with men, leaving God out of companionship, is the sure way of becoming corrupt. So jealous was Moses for the presence of God with him, that he prayed that, if God went not up with him into the promised land, he might not be sent. And again, we find him praying: "Show me thy way." A close walk with God is easy and practical to those who want God's way rather than their own. If in all our ways we will acknowledge him, he will direct our paths, and thus we shall "walk with God."

Christ's Coming a Certainty.

By The Churchman

ONCE more the advent cry is heard, "The night is far spent; the day is at hand." The faith expressed in this cry was the life of the early church—the secret of her fearlessness, of her purity, and of her miraculous patience. To some that faith seems now a superstition. The secular, and, in certain instances, the religious world, have discarded that first principle of the primitive belief. With many the second coming of Christ is regarded as an illusion, which the early Christians were permitted to cherish, but which was intended, as time rolled on, to be replaced by a more rational and sensible view of things.

But the Lord's advent to judgment, it should be remembered, is more than a doctrine. It stands as a fact in the revelation of the divine purpose. All the descriptions which the New Testament gives of it are historical, only they are history written beforehand. And with Him, from whom this revelation comes, there is no difference whatever between the past and the future. What has been and what shall be are equally matters of certainty.

The belief of Christians in this fact rests, we admit, upon testimony; but so does their belief in more than nine-tenths of the things which they accept as true. How many of the people now living ever saw with their own eyes the city of Jerusalem? Yet men believe that the Son of man was crucified there, and that he was buried, and that he rose again on the third day. The evidence in favor of the historic reality of these events in the life of Jesus Christ is, they are forced to confess, overwhelming. But the evidence of Christ's second coming is, when one stops to think over the matter, just as strong. It rests upon the testimony of the same witnesses, nay, upon the testimony of him who is greater than they, even Christ himself. And in both cases the thing attested belongs to the realm of the supernatural. It is no more irrational to believe that he will come "in power and great glory" than it is to believe that he did come 1900 years ago in great humility.

Those who saw him go away said also that the last message received by them from him was that he would come again. What the risen Son of God promised to do is just as sure, and should be believed as readily and implicitly, as the scriptural record of what he has done. His first and his second advents are, therefore, equally matters of fact, and each of them appeals to the reasonable faith of men.

Moreover, his coming will be not that of an influence merely, nor that of an era or of an event, but that of a person. It will be the return of One who has gone away, and who is now absent. If the predictions relating to Christ's second advent are figurative, why should not the history of his first advent be regarded in the same light? Those who resolve the four Gospels into a myth, accepting, as they say, the spirit, but denying the literal accuracy of what is there recorded, and those who make Christ's future coming anything less than his personal and local reappearing—his bodily returning—have adopted precisely the same method of Biblical interpretation. Both classes explain away what the gospel represents as moral certainties and as matters of fact.

Compare this certainty of Christ's advent with some others in reference to which men hold a very strong belief. "The sun will rise to-morrow," is one of the articles of nature's creed. But if one should stop to reason on this matter, he might doubt the certainty of such an event. The sun's rising had a beginning. There was, far back, one day that had no yesterday behind it. All science is driven logically to an acceptance of this fact. Furthermore, whatsoever had a beginning may have an end. Therefore it is in accordance with science to believe that there will be some day that will have no to-morrow before it. Certain as it is that this present year will be followed by another, it is more certain that Christ will come. The first may be; the second must be.

Again, how frequent is the saying—more frequent, it is to be feared, than is the realization of what is said—"We must all die." There is, men are wont to confess, no escape from that certainty. But it is more certain that Christ will come. "We shall not all sleep," was the declaration of Paul, speaking by the command of the Lord and the inspiration of the Holy Ghost; and by the same word we are told, "He that shall come will come, and will not tarry."

There is no "perhaps" in the purpose and plan, or in the preparations which are leading on to the final consummation. Let the church hope to the end, looking for the salvation that is to be revealed. "The night is far spent," and "there shall be no night there."—The Churchman.

Pleasing God Rather Than Men

It is impossible to please every one. What pleases one, displeases another. A man who seeks to be governed by the opinions of others, will soon find that he pleases no one, and is despised by all. If a man can succeed in pleasing God and himself, he is a happy man, it matters not what others may think of him. "Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness."

The Modern Pulpit.

By Arthur T. Pierson, D. D.

SINCE primitive times, preaching has, by gradual and almost insensible stages, changed even its type. It was informal, conversational, in the best sense popular; so simple in matter and manner, so public and free to all, so rid of the stiffness and stateliness of polite culture, as to adapt itself with equal facility to the smallest or largest assembly, to private house or temple courts, market-place or street corner, riverside or synagogue. Even Paul's more logical and systematic discourses were not seriously interrupted or run out of the ruts of a punctilious propriety by the asking of a question, the suggestion of a doubt, or the failing of a sleepy hearer out of the window. Modern sermons are largely literary essays, lectures, orations, sometimes lacking even the flavor or savor of the gospel. Framed on rhetorical models, they are more powerful to win admiration than to arouse conscience or compel action. With the abandonment of the sacerdotal idea of the ministry, we have swung to the other extreme, and a divine vocation sinks to the level of a learned profession, a lawful, laudable livelihood, to be estimated by the genius or talent displayed and to be compensated on a money basis.

The effect of such prevailing notions is to turn our churches into religious clubs, with exclusive membership and expensive privileges. Educated, cultivated people are attracted by sacred orations, and people of means can afford to pay for pulpit eloquence. But the ignorant and uncultivated, the vicious and degraded, only stare indifferently when they hear about the "agnosticism that permeates modern theological thought," about "spiritual biogenesis," or about the "inexorable necessity of differentiating certain elements," etc. They care nothing for this pretentious pulpit dilettanteism, which gently swings the hearer in a silken hammock of faultless oratory, and sprinkles him with the rose-water of fashionable fine art. Stately orations never yet drew and held the lower classes. And the poor instinctively know that superb church buildings, with costly choirs and preachers whose salaries run up into the tens of thousands, must have money for their support; and in such circumstances human nature feels that to be thoroughly welcome one must wear the insignia of wealth, or at least competency to bear his fair share of the pecuniary burden which such a system lays on somebody. We are often told that this is only the "pride of poverty," this instinctive shrinking of the poor man from our splendid church edifices; but it must be confessed that the feeling is not only natural, but by no means ignoble.

It is our solemn conviction that between Dives and Lazarus there was scarce a more impassable gulf than exists to-day, practically, between a workingman who gets his dollar and a half a day, and the minister of a metropolitan church with his $40 a day, serving a church with pews rating at from $50 to $500 a year. We have no desire to attack the existing order of things; it may be true that "the rich need churches," and that "pulpit talent has a right to all it can command;" yet it is certain that such ministers and such churches cannot, as a class, reach the ignorant and degraded poor, or the "brutalized class." If we are "going for" the masses, to use Mr. Moody's phrase, somebody else must lead the grand crusade. These "common people," who heard Christ gladly, look up to the minister whose annual income would be to them a colossal fortune, and who is separated and isolated by his elegant "society," as they would look up to an Alpine peak—too far above them to reach down a sympathetic hand to grasp that of the destitute child of want. And so, from the doors of our fashionable synagogue, the common laboring man turns away. Dare he walk over those Axminster carpets, or sit down in those damask pews? Could that elegant gentleman in black broadcloth bear to be near him in his "vile raiment," or that fine lady in her satin and velvet stand the "poor smell"?

—Arthur T. Pierson, D. D., in Christian Union.

Worldly Amusements.

By Charles Grandison Finney

It is a sad stumbling block to the unconverted to see professed Christians seeking pleasure or happiness from this world. Such seeking is a misrepresentation of the religion of Jesus. It misleads, bewilders, and confounds the observing outsider. If he ever reads the Bible, he cannot but wonder that souls born of God and having communion with him, should have any relish for worldly amusements. The fact is, that thoughtful, unconverted men have but little or no confidence in that class of professing Christians who seek enjoyment from this world.

They may profess to have, and may loosely think of such as being liberal and good Christians. They may flatter them, and commend their religion as being the opposite of fanaticism and bigotry, and as being such a religion as they like to see, but there is no real sincerity in such professions on the part of the impenitent.

In my earlier Christian life I heard a bishop from the South report a case that made a deep impression on my mind. He said there was in his neighborhood a slave-holder, a gentleman of fortune, who was a gay, agreeable man, and gave himself much to various field sports and other amusements. He used to associate much with his pastor, often invite him to dinner, and to accompany him in his sports and pleasure-seeking excursions of various kinds. The minister cheerfully complied with these requests, and a friendship grew between the pastor and his parishioner that grew into intimacy which continued until the last sickness of this gay and wealthy young man.

When the wife of this worlding was apprised that her husband could not live but a short time, she was much alarmed for his soul, and tenderly inquired if she could not call in their minister to converse and pray with him. He feelingly replied: "No, my dear; he is not the man for me to see now. He was my companion, as you know, in worldly sports and pleasure-seeking; he loved good dinners and jolly times; I then enjoyed his society and found him a pleasant companion. But I now see that I never had any real confidence in the efficacy of his prayers. I am now a dying man and need the instruction and prayers of somebody that can prevail with God. We have been much together, but my pastor has never been in serious earnest with me about the salvation of my soul, and he is not the man to help me now." The wife was greatly affected, and said: "What shall I do then?" He replied, "My coachman, Tom, is a pious man. I have often heard him pray, when about the barns or stables; and his prayers have always struck me as being quite sincere and earnest. I never heard any foolishness from him. He has always been honest and earnest as a Christian man. Call him." Tom was called, and came within the door, dropping his hat, and looking very compassionately at his dying master. The dying man put forth his hand and said, "Come here, Tom, take my hand. Tom, can you pray for your dying master?" And Tom poured out his soul to God in earnest, prevailing prayer.—C. G. Finney.

I and Thou.

BEFORE one learns the important lesson of humility—of human emptiness and weakness and divine fullness and strength—he will be much given to the use of the pronoun I. "God, I thank thee, that I am not as other men are, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this publican. I fast twice in the week; I give tithes of all that I possess." Twenty-nine words and five I's; or one I to every six words. This choice bit of human composition was gotten off for a prayer, but it was simply a piece of bragadocio. It was the result of a man's praying "with himself" as a good many do. When a man prays to God he works in some other pronouns. There is a difference between I a saint and "me a sinner."

There was a disciple who stands on record as a representative of human boasting and weakness. He had not then learned that to stand up for Christ we must know that "underneath are the everlasting arms." "Although all shall be offended, yet will not I. And Jesus saith unto him, Verily I say unto thee, That this day, even in this night, before the cock crow twice, thou shalt deny me thrice. But he spake the more vehemently, If I should die with thee, I will not deny thee in any wise. Likewise also said they all." Mark 14: 29-31. Peter was not the only boaster. It is natural for all to tell what great things they have done or are going to do. "Likewise also said they all." Peter might have been foremost in it, the others saying amen to his sentiments, little thinking how it was going to sound, or come out; the same as some do nowadays in the exuberance of spirits. Be careful how and when you say amen. The next time that we notice that Peter gets conspicuously into conversation with the Lord, he puts the brakes down on the pronoun I. It is "thou knowest, thou knowest, thou knowest, thou knowest, that I love thee." John 21: 15-17. It is necessary and proper of course to use the pronoun I occasionally; but bury it up well with "thou knowest." "Yet not I, but Christ liveth in me." Gal. 2: 20. "Looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith." Consider him.—

Novel-Killed.

SOME years ago, a young lady began to visit her pastor's study as a religious inquirer. It was during a revival, and on every hand her young friends were coming to Christ, but she made no advance. Her pastor and her friends were equally puzzled. Prayer was offered for her, and the plainest instruction given; but she remained unmoved, excepting to regret that she could not become a Christian. At last, after three months' labor and anxiety, her pastor said: "I can do nothing with Sophia L—; she is perfectly unmanageable. I doubt if she ever will yield to the claims of the gospel."

"What is the trouble? Can you not discover the obstacle in her way?" was asked.

"I find she is an inveterate novel-reader, and I have come to the conclusion that this will keep her out of the kingdom."

"Can she not be persuaded to give up her novels?"

"That is not the point entirely. She has wasted her sensibilities over unreal objects so long—so continually reversed right and wrong, looking at vice in the garb of virtue, and at virtue in that of unworthiness and injustice—that she has destroyed her moral sense. She assents to truth, but seems to have no power to grasp it; she knows what is right, but has no energy of will to do it. Her mind is diseased and enervated, and I fear hopelessly so."

When we look at the young people daily flocking to the public libraries for the latest novels, or see them lounging away their best hours over the story papers and the magazines, when we hear of this one or that one who "does nothing but read novels the whole day through," we think of Sophia L—, who is "perfectly unmanageable," on points of truth and duty, and wonder if they too must be given over to mental and moral disease and death.—Sel.

The Wages of Sin

"The wages of sin is death," Rom. 6:23.

Continue reading: The Empire of Grecia