Looking Unto Jesus!
by J. C. Ryle
"Looking unto Jesus." Hebrews 12:2
The text of Scripture which heads this page is well
fitted to supply useful thoughts for Christmas. At a season like this, when
we are specially invited to remember how our blessed Lord came into the
world, and was born of the Virgin Mary, we surely cannot do better than ask
ourselves, what we know of "Looking unto Jesus."
The Christianity which the world requires, is a
Christianity for everyday life. No other religion will ever receive much
heart-felt attention from mankind. It may exist; but it will never strike
deep root, and satisfy souls. A mere Sunday religion is not enough. A
thing put on and off with our Sunday clothes is powerless. Thinking men feel
and know that there are seven days in a week, and that life is not made up
of Sundays. A weekly round of forms and ceremonies within consecrated
buildings, is not enough. Wise men remember that there is a world of duty
and trial, outside the walls of the church, in which they have to play their
part. They want something that they can carry with them into that world. A
monastic religion will never do. A faith which cannot flourish except
in an ecclesiastical hot-house, a faith which cannot face the cold
air of worldly business, and bear fruit except behind the fence of
retirement and private asceticism — such a faith is a plant which
our Heavenly Father has not planted, and it brings no fruit to perfection.
A religion of spasmodic and hysterical excitement will
not do. It may suit weak and sentimental minds for a little season; but it
rarely lasts, and does not meet the needs of many. It lacks bone and muscle,
and too often ends in deadness. It is not the wind, nor the fire, nor the
earthquake—but the still small voice, which shows the real presence of the
Holy Spirit. (1 Kings 19:12).
The Christianity which the world requires, and the Word
of God reveals—is of a very different stamp. It is a useful everyday
religion. It is a healthy, strong, manly plant, which can live in every
position, and flourish in every atmosphere, except that of sin. It is a
religion which a man can carry with him wherever he goes, and never need
leave behind him. In the army or in the navy, at the public school or at
college, in the hospital-room or at the bar, on the farm or in the shop—true
heaven-born Christianity will live and not die. It will wear, and stand, and
prosper in any climate—in winter and in summer, in heat and in cold. Such a
religion meets the needs of mankind.
But where is such true Christianity to be found? What are
its special ingredients? What is the nature of it? What are its peculiar
characteristics? The answer to these questions is to be found in the three
words of the text which form the title of this paper.
The secret of a vigorous, powerful, everyday
Christianity—is to be ever "Looking unto Jesus!" The glorious company of
the Apostles, the noble army of martyrs, the saints who in every age and
land have made their mark on mankind, and turned the world upside down—all,
all have had one common mint-stamp upon them. They have been men who lived
"Looking unto Jesus!" The expression of the text is one of those pithy
golden sayings which stand out here and there on the face of the New
Testament, and demand special attention. It is like "to me to live is
Christ," "Christ is all and in all," "Christ, who is our life," "He is our
peace," "I live by the faith of the Son of God." (Philip. 1:21 ; Colos. 3:4,
11; Ephes. 2:14; Gal. 2:20.) To each and all of these sayings, one common
remark applies. They are rich in thought and food for reflection. They
contain far more than a careless eye can see on the surface.
In the phrase "looking unto Jesus," it is useful
and interesting to remember that the Greek word which, in our English Bible,
we render "looking," is only found here in the New Testament. Literally
translated it means "looking off," looking away from other objects to one,
only one, and looking on that one with a steady, fixed, intent gaze. And the
object we are to look at, you will observe, is a PERSON—not a doctrine, not
an abstract theological dogma—but a living Person; and that Person is Jesus
the Son of God. How much matter for thought lies there!
Creeds and confessions are the necessary invention of a
comparatively modern age. The first and simplest type of an apostolic early
Christian was a man who trusted, and loved, a living Divine Person. Of head
knowledge, and accurate theological definitions, perhaps he had but little
store. Very likely he would have failed a basic exam in one of our
theological schools. But one thing he did know: he knew, believed, loved,
and would have died for, a living Savior, a real personal Friend in heaven,
even Jesus, the crucified and risen Son of God. Well would it be for the
Churches of the nineteenth century, if we had more of this simple
Christianity among us, and could realize more the Person of Christ.
But, after all, the grand question which rises out of the
text is this: What is it that we are to look at in Jesus? If we are to
live habitually fixing the eyes of our mind on Christ, what are the special
points to which we are to have regard? If "looking unto Jesus" is the
real secret of a healthy, vigorous Christianity, what does the phrase mean?
I answer these questions without hesitation. I dismiss as
insufficient and unsatisfactory, the idea that the Lord Jesus is only set
before us here as an "example, and nothing more." I hold with that great
divine, John Owen, who was once Dean of my own college at Oxford, that
"Christ is proposed to us as one in whom we are to place our faith, trust,
and confidence, with all our expectation of success in our Christian
course." I consider there are four points of view in which we are intended
to "look to Jesus," and I shall try, briefly, to put these four before you
in order.
I.
First, and foremost (yes! by far first), if
we would look rightly to Jesus, we must look daily
at His death—as the only source of inward peace. We need inward
peace. So long as our conscience is asleep, deadened by indulged sin, or
dulled and stupefied by incessant pursuit of the things of this world—so
long can that man get on tolerably well without peace with God. But once let
conscience open its eyes, and shake itself, and rise, and move—and it will
make the stoutest child of Adam feel ill at ease. The irrepressible thought
that this life is not all—that there is a God, and a judgment, and a
something after death, an undiscovered destiny from which no traveler
returns—that thought will come up at times in every man's mind, and make him
long for inward peace.
It is easy to write brave words about "eternal hope," and
strew the path to the grave with flowers. Such theology is naturally
popular: the world loves to have it so. But after all, there is something
deep down in the heart of hearts of most men, which must be satisfied. The
strongest evidence of God's eternal truth, is the universal conscience of
mankind. Who is there among us all, who can sit down and think over the days
that are past—school days, and college days, and days of middle life, their
countless things left undone that ought to have been done, and done that
ought not to have been done—who, I say, can think over it all without shame,
if indeed he does not turn from the review with disgust and terror, and
refuse to think at all?
We all need peace. Where is the man in all England, the
best and saintliest among us, whether old or young, who must not confess, if
he speaks the truth, that his best things now are full of
imperfection; and his life a constant succession of shortcomings? Yes! the
older we grow, and the nearer we draw to death, the more we see our own
great darkness and multitudinous defilements, and the more disposed we feel
to cry, "Unclean! unclean! God be merciful to me a sinner!"
We need peace. Now, there is only one source of peace
revealed in Scripture, and that is the sacrifice of the death of Christ, and
the atonement which He has made for sin by that vicarious death on the
cross. To obtain a portion in that great peace, we have only to
"look" by faith to Jesus, as our Substitute and Redeemer, bearing our sin in
His own body on the tree, and to cast all the weight of our souls on Him.
To enjoy that peace habitually, we must keep
"daily looking back" to the same wondrous point at which we began, daily
bringing all our iniquity to Him, and daily remembering that "the Lord has
laid on Him the iniquity of us all." (Isaiah 53:6). This, I am bold to say,
is the Bible way of peace. This is the old fountain of which all the true
sheep of Christ have drunk for 1800 years, and have never found its waters
to fail. Holy men of all ages, have agreed on one point, at least, in their
respective creeds. And that point is this, that the only recipe for peace of
conscience, is to "look" by faith to Jesus suffering in our stead, the just
for the unjust, paying our debt by that suffering, and dying for us on the
cross.
The carnal wisdom of these latter days entirely
fails to find a better way of peace, than the old path of "looking" to the
vicarious death of Christ. Thousands are annually growing grey, and
blistering their hands in hewing out cisterns—broken cisterns, which can
hold no water. They are vainly hoping that they will find some better way to
heaven, than the old-fashioned way of the cross. They will never find it!
They will have to turn at last, if they love life, like many before them, to
the brazen serpent. They must be content, like Israel in the
wilderness, to look and live, and to be saved by the blood of the
Lamb!
The words which Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury, wrote
in 1093 upon this subject, are well worth noticing. They are to be found in
his directions for the visitation of the sick. Quaint and old-fashioned as
they sound, they are wiser, I fear, than many things written in our own
times. He says: "Place your trust in no other thing. Commit yourself wholly
to the death of Christ. Wrap yourself wholly in this death. And if God would
judge you, say, 'Lord, I place the death of our Lord Jesus Christ between me
and Your judgment.' And if He shall say unto you that you are a sinner, say,
'I place the death of our Lord Jesus Christ between me and my sins.' If He
shall say unto you that you have deserved damnation, say, 'Lord, I put the
death of our Lord Jesus Christ between You and all my sins—and I offer His
merits for my own.' If He says that He is angry with you, say, 'Lord, I
place the death of our Lord Jesus Christ between me and Your anger.' "
Forever let us keep to this old path of peace, and never
be ashamed of it. While others go back, and barely conceal their contempt
for the so-called blood theology, let us boldly go forward, "looking
unto Jesus," and saying daily to Him, "Lord, I have sinned—but You
have suffered in my stead! I take You at Your word, and rest my soul
on You."
So much for the first "Look to Jesus." We must look back
habitually to Christ's death for peace and pardon. This is what Paul meant
the Hebrews to do. Let this be the first item in our creed.
II. In the second place, if we would look rightly to
Jesus—we must look daily to His life of intercession in heaven, as our
principal provision of strength and help.
We must surely feel
that we need Almighty help every day we live, if we are true Christians.
Even when started in the narrow way of life, with pardon, grace, and a new
heart—we soon find that, left to ourselves, we would never get safely to our
heavenly home. Every returning morning brings with it so much to be done and
borne and suffered, that we are often tempted to despair. So weak and
treacherous are our hearts, so busy the devil, so persecuting
and ensnaring the world, that we are sometimes half inclined to look
back and return to Egypt. We are such poor, weak creatures, that we cannot
do two things at once. It seems almost impossible to do our duty in that
place of life to which God has called us, and not to be absorbed in it and
forget our souls. The cares and business and occupations of life appear to
drink up all our thoughts, and swallow up all our attention. What are we to
do? Where are we to look? How many are exercised with thoughts like these!
I believe the great Scriptural remedy for all who feel
such helplessness as I have faintly described, is to look upward to Christ
in heaven, and to keep steadily before our eyes His intercession at the
right hand of God. We must learn to look UPWARD, away from ourselves and our
weakness, and upward to Christ in heaven. We must try to realize daily that
Jesus not only died for us and rose again, but that He also lives as our
Advocate with the Father, and appears in heaven for us.
This, surely, was the mind of Paul, when he said, "Being
reconciled to God by the death of His Son—we shall be saved by His life."
(Romans v. 10). This, again, is what he meant when he gave that confident
challenge, "Who is he who condemns? It is Christ who died, yes rather, who
is risen again, who is even at the right hand of God, who also makes
intercession for us!" (Romans 8:34). This, above all, is what he had in view
when he told the Hebrews, "He is able also to save to the uttermost, those
who come unto God by Him—seeing He ever lives to make intercession for
them." (Heb. 7:25).
Now I venture boldly to express a doubt whether modern
Christians "look to Jesus" in this point of view, and make as much as they
ought of His life of intercession. It is too often a dropped link in our
present-day Christianity. We are apt to think only of the atoning DEATH and
the precious blood, and to forget the LIFE and priestly office of our great
Redeemer! It ought not to be so. We miss much by this forgetfulness of the
whole truth as it is in Jesus.
What a mine of daily comfort there is in the thought—that
we have an Advocate with the Father, who never slumbers or sleeps, whose eye
is always upon us, who is continually pleading our cause and obtaining fresh
supplies of grace for us, who watches over us in every company and place,
and never forgets us, though we, in going to and fro, and doing our daily
business, cannot always think of Him! While we are fighting Amalek in
the valley below, One greater than Moses is holding up His hands for us in
heaven, and through His intercession we shall prevail.
Surely, if we have been satisfied with half the
truth about Jesus hitherto, we ought to say, 'I will live in such fashion no
more.' And here let me declare my own firm conviction—that the habit of
daily looking to the intercession of Christ is one great safeguard against
some modern superstitions. If Jesus did NOT live in heaven as our merciful
and faithful High Priest, I could understand a little the craving which
exists in many minds for that deadly opiate, which, nowadays, usurps the
name and office of spiritual medicine: I mean, habitual confession to
earthly priests! But I cannot understand it when I read the Epistle to
the Hebrews, and see that we have a great High Priest in heaven, who can be
touched with the feeling of our infirmities, and who bids us pour out our
hearts before Him, and come to Him for grace to help in time of need.
In short, I do not hesitate to assert, that a right view
of Christ's priestly office is the true antidote to some of the most
dangerous errors of the Church of Rome. So much for the second "look to
Jesus." We ought to look habitually to His life and intercession.
III. In the third place, if we would look rightly to
Jesus, we must look daily at His example, as our chief standard of holy
living.
We must all feel, I suspect, and often feel—how hard it
is to live a Christian life, by mere rules and regulations.
Scores of circumstances will continually cross our path, in which we find it
difficult to see the line of duty, and feel perplexed. Prayer for the
guidance of the Holy Spirit, and attention to the practical part of the
Epistles, are, undoubtedly, primary resources. But surely it would cut many
a knot, and solve many a problem, if we would cultivate the habit of
studying the daily behavior of our Lord Jesus, as recorded in the four
Gospels, and strive to shape our own behavior by His pattern. Yet this must
have been what our Lord meant when He said, "I have given you an
example—that you should do as I have done to you." (John 13:15). And this is
what Paul meant, when he wrote, "Be followers of me—even as I am of Christ."
(1 Cor. 11:1). And this is what John meant when he said, "he who says he
abides in Him, ought himself also so to walk, even as He walked." (1 John
2:6).
The chief end for which anyone is said to be
predestined--is "to be conformed to the image of His Son." (Romans 8:29)
This, says the 17th Article, with true wisdom, is the special character of
God's elect, "they are made like the image of God's only begotten Son, Jesus
Christ." In the face of such evidence as this, I have a right to say that
our "look" to Jesus is very imperfect, if we do not look at His example, and
strive to follow it.
Let us consider for a moment what a beautifier and
marvelous portrait the four Gospels hold up to our eyes, of the Man Jesus
Christ. It is a portrait that extorted the admiration even of a wretched
sceptic like Rousseau. It is a portrait which, even to this day, is one of
the cardinal difficulties of infidelity, for there never lived the infidel
who could face the question, "Tell us, if you refuse to believe the Divine
origin of Christianity, tell us who and what Christ was?"
Let us Christians trace all the footsteps of our Master's
career from the carpenter's shop at Nazareth to the cross of Calvary. See
how in every company and position, by the Sea of Galilee, and in the Temple
courts of Jerusalem, by the well of Samaria, in the house Bethany, amidst
the sneering Sadducees, or the despised publicans, alone with His faithful
disciples, or surrounded by bitter enemies—He is always the same—always
holy, harmless, undefiled; always perfect in word and deed.
Mark what a wonderful combination of seemingly opposite
qualifications is to be seen in His character. Bold and outspoken in
opposing hypocrisy and self-righteousness, tender and compassionate in
receiving the chief of sinners. Profoundly wise in arguing before the
Sanhedrin; simple, so that a child might understand Him, in teaching the
poor. Patient towards His weak disciples; unruffled in temper by the keenest
provocation. Considerate for all around Him; sympathizing, self-denying,
prayerful, overflowing with love and compassion, utterly unselfish, always
about His Father's business, ever going about doing good, continually
ministering to others, and never expecting others to minister to Him. What
person ever walked on earth, like Jesus of Nazareth!
We may well be humbled and ashamed when we think how
unlike the best of us are, to our great Example, and what poor, blurred
copies of His character we show to mankind. Like careless children at
school, we are content to copy those around us, with all their faults, and
do not look constantly at the only faultless copy, the One perfect Man, in
whom even Satan could find "nothing." (John 14:30). But one thing, at any
rate, we must all admit. If Christians, during the last eighteen centuries,
had been more like Christ, the Church would certainly have been far more
beautiful, and would probably have done far more good to the world.
It is a sorrowful thought, that Christ's example should
be so little remembered or looked at, in these latter days. It is a striking
illustration of man's mental littleness and inability to grasp more than a
portion of the truth. You may lay your hand on a hundred books which profess
to grapple with points of doctrine, before you will find one which handles
the mighty subject of the true pattern of Christian practice. I
believe the Church has suffered greatly by neglecting the point of which I
now speak. The famous book of Thomas a Kempis may have many defects, I have
no doubt, and to some it is even mischievous. But I am sure it would be well
if we had many more Christlike men and women, who strive at home and abroad
to imitate Christ. Let us beware of this error in these latter days.
Let us cultivate the daily habit of "looking to Christ as our pattern," as
well as our salvation. Let us not forget that a cunning artificer will tell
you that he often learns more from a pattern in five minutes—than from the
best written rules and directions in an hour. We can never look too steadily
at Christ's death and intercession. But we may easily look too little at the
blessed steps of His most holy life. Let us shake off this reproach. Let us
strive and pray that we may make the tone and temper of Jesus our model and
standard in our daily behavior. Let all men see that, as the poet says,
"this example has a magnet force," and that we love to follow Him whom we
profess to love. "My Master, my Master!" as George Herbert loved to say.
"How would my Master have behaved in my position?" should be our constant
cry. "Let me go and do likewise." So much for the third "look" at Jesus. We
ought to look habitually to His example.
IV. Fourthly and lastly, if we would "look" to Jesus
rightly, we must look forward to His second Advent, as the truest fountain
of hope and consolation.
That the early Christians were always
looking forward to a second coming of their risen Master, is a fact beyond
all controversy. You cannot read the Epistles and fail to see that one of
their chief sources of comfort, was the hope of His return. They
clung tenaciously to the old promise, "This same Jesus shall come in, like
manner as you have seen Him go." (Acts 1:11). In all their trials and
persecutions, under Roman Emperors and heathen rulers, they cheered one
another with the thought that their own King would soon come again, and
plead their cause. Persecutors and oppressors would soon be swept away, and
the great Shepherd of the sheep would gather them into a fold of safety. "We
look for the Savior." "We wait for the Son of God from heaven." "Yet in a
little while, He who shall come will come, and will not tarry." "Be patient
unto the coming of the Lord." (Philip. 3:20; 1 Thess. 1:10; Heb. 10:37;
James 5:7).
Many, no doubt, in their impatience, misunderstood the
times and seasons, and thought that the kingdom of God would immediately
appear. But, for all that, it remains a fact that a second personal advent
of Christ, was the great hope of the early Church.
Now, I believe firmly that this same second advent was
meant to be the hope of the Church in every age of the world. It ought to be
the consolation of Christians in these latter days, as much as it was in
primitive times. And I doubt whether there ever was an era when it was so
useful to keep the second advent of Christ steadily in view, as it is just
now. Who can look abroad at public affairs all over the globe, and avoid the
impression that this old, bankrupt world needs a new order of things? The
cement seems to have fallen out of the walls of human society. On all sides
we hear of restlessness, anarchy, lawlessness, envy, jealousy, distrust,
suspicion, and discontent. The continuance of evils of every kind, physical,
moral, and social—the constantly recurring revolutions, and wars, and
famines, and pestilences—the never-ending growth of superstition,
skepticism, and unbelief—the bitter strife of political parties—the
divisions and controversies of Christians—the overflowing of intemperance
and immorality—the boundless luxury and extravagance of some classes, and
the grinding poverty of others—the strikes of workmen—the conflict of labor
and capital—the shiftless helplessness of statesmen to devise remedies—the
commercial dishonesty—the utter failure of mere secular knowledge to really
help mankind—the comparative deadness of Churches—the apparently small
results of missions at home and abroad—the universal "distress of nations
with perplexity," and dread of something terrible coming. These strange
phenomena and symptoms, what do they all mean? Yes—what indeed!
They all seem to tell us, with no uncertain voice, that
the world is out of joint, and needs a new administration, and a new King.
Like a crying infant in the arms of a stranger, the world is ever fretting,
and wailing, and struggling, though it hardly knows why, and will never rest
and be quiet until its rightful parent takes it in hand, and puts the
stranger aside. As Plato makes Socrates say, in one of his dialogues, before
the FIRST advent, "We must wait for some one, be he God, or inspired man, to
give us light, and take away darkness from our eyes,"—even so we Christians
must fix our hopes upon the SECOND advent, and look and long for the
rightful King's appearing.
And who, again, can look round his own private circle,
whether great or small, and fail to see many things which are most painful
and distressing; things which, like a watcher by a dying pillow, he can only
look on and feel deeply, but cannot mend? Think of the ever-flowing stream
of sorrow arising from poverty, sickness, disease, and death—from quarrels
about money, from incompatibility of temper, from family misunderstandings,
from failures in business, from disappointments about children, from
separations of families in pursuit of callings. What hidden skeletons
there are in many households! How many aching hearts! How many secret
sorrows known only to God! How many Jacobs in the world, vexed by their
children, and refusing to be comforted! How many Absaloms bowing down a
father's head by their thanklessness and rebellion! How many Isaacs and
Rebeccas daily grieved by self-willed sons! How many weeping widows of Nain!
Where is the thoughtful Christian who does not often sigh for a better state
of things, and ask himself, "How long, O Lord, faithful and true, how long
are we to go on weeping, and working, binding up wounds, and drinking bitter
cups, and educating, and parting, and burying, and putting on mourning? When
shall the end once be?"
Now, I believe that the true Scriptural source of
consolation, in the face of all that troubles us, whether publicly or
privately, is to keep steadily before our eyes the second coming of Christ.
Once more I say, we must "look forward to Jesus." We must grasp and realize
the blessed fact that the rightful King of the world is returning soon, and
shall have His own again; that He shall put down that old usurper, the
devil, and take away the curse from off the earth. Let us cultivate the
habit of daily looking forward to the resurrection of the dead, the
gathering together of the saints, the restitution of all things, the
banishment of sorrow and sin, and the re-establishment of a new kingdom, of
which the rule shall be righteousness.
Any sorrow or trial may be borne, I believe—if men only
have a hope of an end. All the sorrows of this world will be cheerfully
borne, and we shall work on with a light heart, if we thoroughly believe
that Christ is coming again without sin unto salvation.
After all, one principal cause of human unhappiness is
the indulgence of unwarrantable expectations from anybody or anything
here below. I ask my younger readers especially to remember that. The less
we expect from statesmen, philosophers, men of money, men of science, ay,
even from visible Churches—the happier we shall be. He who leans on staffs
like these, will find them pierce his hand. He who drinks only of these
fountains, shall thirst again. Let us learn to fix our chief hopes on the
second coming of Christ—and work, and watch, and wait confidently—like those
who wait for the morning, and know for a certainty that in the time
appointed by the Father, the Sun of Righteousness will arise, with healing
on His wings. Then, and then alone, we shall not be disappointed.
So much for the fourth and last look to Jesus. We ought
to look habitually to His second personal coming, as the hope of the Church
and world. He who looks at the cross of Christ is a wise man; he who looks
at the intercession and example is wiser still; but he who lives looking at
all four objects—the death, the priesthood, the pattern, the second advent
of Jesus—he is the wisest of all.
(a) And now let me wind up all by offering a word of
friendly advice to all into whose hands this paper may fall. I offer it
in all affection as one who longs to help you in the right way, who desires
to promote in your heart a healthy, vigorous, everyday Christianity, and
would gladly guard you against mistakes. Our greatest poet truly says, "We
know what we are; but we know not what we may be."
All before us, is dark and uncertain, and mercifully kept
from our eyes. I cannot tell you where the lot of many of my readers may be
finally cast on earth, or what they may be called to do and bear before the
end comes. But one thing I say confidently—let the keynote of your
Christianity, in every quarter of the globe, be the phrase of my text—
"Looking to Jesus!" Jesus dying, Jesus interceding, Jesus the
example, Jesus coming again. Fix your eyes firmly on Him if
you would so run as to obtain. Value the pure and reformed branch of
Christ's Church, to which you belong, and all her many privileges. Love her
services. Labor for her peace. Contend for her prosperity. But for your own
personal religion, the salvation of your own soul, take care that your
ruling idea is, "Looking to Jesus."
(b) Together with friendly advice, let me offer a
friendly warning. Beware, if you love life, beware of a Christless
religion. A watch without a mainspring, a steam engine without a fire, a
solar system without the sun—all these are but faint and feeble images of
the utter uselessness of a religion without Christ. And next to a
Christless religion, beware of a religion in which Christ is not the
first, foremost, chief, principal object—the very Alpha in the alphabet of
your faith. He who enters upon a vast series of arithmetical calculations,
requiring weeks and months of brain-exhausting toil, he knows well that his
labor will be all in vain, and his conclusions faulty, if a single figure is
wrong in his first line. And he who does not give Christ His rightful place
and office in the beginning of his religion, must not be surprised if he
never knows anything of joy and peace in believing, and goes cheerless and
comfortless on his way to heaven, with "all the voyage of life bound in
shallows and in misery."
(c) Finally, may I not say to all, both old and young,
with this great text in view, that we shall do well to aim at greater
SIMPLICITY in our own personal religion. The early Christians lacked many
privileges and advantages that we enjoy. They had no printed books. They
worshiped God in dens and caves and private homes, had few and simple
"church clothes", and often received the Lord's Supper in vessels of wood,
and not of silver or gold. They had little money, no church endowments, no
universities. Their creeds were short. Their theological definitions were
scanty and few. But what they knew—they knew well. They were men of one
book. They knew Whom they believed. If they had wooden communion vessels,
they had golden ministers and teachers. They "looked to Jesus" and realized
intensely their personal relationship to Jesus. For Jesus they lived, and
worked, and died.
But what are we doing? And where are we in the nineteenth
century? And what deliverance are we working on earth? With all our
countless advantages, our grand old cathedrals, our splendid libraries, our
accurate definitions, our elaborate liturgies, our civil liberties, our
religious societies, our numerous facilities—we may well doubt whether we
are making such a mark on the world as the New Testament Christians made! I
know we cannot put the clock back, and return to the A B C's of early
Christianity. But one thing we can do: we can grasp more firmly, with every
returning Christmas, the grand old foundational principles around which our
modern Christianity has clustered, and swelled, and grown to its present
proportions. Such a principle is that laid down in our text, "Looking unto
Jesus." Then let us covenant with ourselves, that for the time to come we
will try to run our race, fight our battles, fill our position, serve our
generation, like men who are ever "looking to Jesus." So looking while we
live—we shall see face to face when we die. And then when the last great
gathering takes place, we shall joyfully exchange faith for sight, see as we
have been seen, and know as we have been known!