Acts 8:1-8

Chapter 20

Prayer

Almighty God, thy hand is very strong. Make bare thine arm in the midst of the nations, and show us that thou art still the King. Men forget themselves, and with much rioting of weakness they rebel against thy will, but when thou dost arise in thy great strength the nations shall know themselves to be but men. They are a wind that cometh for a little time then vanisheth away. There is none abiding like thyself. Thou only art the same yesterday, today, and for ever. All else is changing. Thou hast said of thyself, "I am the Lord, I change not." May we hide ourselves in thy unchangeableness, and know that our eternity is secured not by ourselves, but by thy Almightiness. Lift us up this day from the dust, and give us an outlook over the wider world. Deliver us from the prison of darkness, and from the river of trouble, and lift us up into the holy hills whence we can see the morning glory, and where we can overhear the songs of the better land. This, our desire, we breathe at the Cross. At the Cross we learn how to pray. Is not the Cross the open door into heaven? Without it we have no access to the Father. Lord, help us to cling to the Cross with our whole strength, and may the fire of our life renew itself every day in sight of the Cross of Christ. Our life is wasting away. Its days are becoming fewer. The most of them may possibly be behind us. May we now be children of the day, walking in the light, doing heartily thy will, the eyes of our understanding being enlightened. And may our heart glow with a new expectation. We humbly pray thee show us thy goodness in the future, as thou hast shown it unto us in the past. Keep back nothing of thy mercy. One drop the less, and we shall die of thirst. We need all thy help. We are so weak, so poor, so empty of all goodness and strength, that we need God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost to sustain and keep us in the right path, and feed us with the bread of heaven.

We bring our Psalm into thine house, great, holy, noble Psalm. It is meant to express our love. Thou wilt receive it in this meaning, and send back still nobler music in reply. We put ourselves every day into thy keeping. Rock the cradle, make the bed of the afflicted, deal out bread to the hungry, and send a gospel to him that is in despair. Let the heavens make the earth glad today. The heavens are older than the earth. Let eternity send out its benediction so that time may be crowned as with a blessing from God. Thou knowest what we need most. Do not withhold it. For Christ's sake, give it to every man. When we stumble, see that we fall not utterly, and when the darkness is thickest, let the pressure of thy hand be tenderest. Make a way for us where there is no path. Melt the stones that hinder our progress, and as for the mountains that would keep us back, touch them with thy finger, and they shall arise like smoke. Be a buckler to us in the day of battle. Give us the sword, and the shield, and the helmet, and cover us in the day of danger.

Make us like the One Perfect man. Yea, make us like the Son of God. Is he not the brightness of thine image? has he not revealed to us the glory of thy person? May we be, as he was, pure, true, full of loving, meek, all-enduring self-sacrifice marred more than any man, but victorious even in sorrow.

The Lord hear our prayer for the little child, for the sick life, for the weary traveller, for the absent one, for the wandering prodigal, for the sinner who dare not look back lest he should see nothing but darkness, and sword, and penalty. Send thou messages over the sea to our dear ones in the far-away home who are wondering about us, and returning our prayer with many supplications. Help us to live the few years that may yet remain, nobly, wisely, and well. Work in us all the good pleasure of thy will, and the work of faith with power. Strengthen our hold upon things eternal. May we be right, so that whether the Lord come now or then, at midnight, or at the crowing of the cock, or in the broad noontide, we may all be more than ready. Amen.

Act 8:1-8

1. And Saul was consenting (same Greek word in Luk 11:48 ) unto his death. And at that time there was a great persecution against the church which was at Jerusalem; and they were all scattered abroad [foretold by Christ; Act 1:8 ] throughout the regions of Judea and Samaria [the teaching of the apostles must have been with great power to break through the long-standing prejudices of their Jewish converts against the Samaritans] except the apostles.

2. And devout men carried Stephen to his burial, and made great lamentation [implying beating on the breast] over him.

3. As for Saul, he made havoc [like the ravages of wild beasts; Psa 80:13 ], of the church, entering into every house [making search everywhere], and haling men and women committed them to prison.

4. Therefore they that were scattered abroad went everywhere preaching the word [evangelizing the word].

5. Then Philip [mentioned only in this chapter, and in chapter Act 21:8 ] went down to the city of Samaria, and preached [proclaimed] Christ unto them.

6. And the people [the multitudes] with one accord gave heed unto those things which Philip spake, hearing and seeing the miracles which he did.

7. For unclean spirits, crying with loud voice, came out of many that were possessed with them: and many taken with palsies, and that were lame, were healed.

8. And there was great joy in that city.

Three Great Figures In the Church

IN this part of the narrative the name of Saul occurs three times. In the seventh chapter and fifty-eighth verse we read, "The witnesses laid down their clothes at a young man's feet, whose name was Saul." In the first verse of the eighth chapter we read, "And Saul was consenting unto his death." In the third verse of the same chapter we read, "As for Saul he made havoc of the Church, entering into every house, and haling men and women he committed them to prison." He was an apt scholar. He made rapid progress in his bad learning. Observe how quick is the development and how sure! First of all, he watched the clothes of the men who stoned Stephen; then he expressed in every feature of his face satisfaction and gladness on account of the death of Stephen; and in the third place, he took up the matter earnestly himself with both hands, being no longer a negative participator but an active worker. He struck the Church as it had never been struck before; he made havoc of the Christian society; women were as men to him, and men as women; and having secured the keys of the prison, he crowded the dungeons with Christian suppliants. The taste for blood is an acquired taste, but "it grows by what it feeds on." This man Saul began as he ended. There was nothing ambiguous about him. He was positive, well defined in purpose, resolute in will, invincible in determination. A tremendous foe, a glorious friend!

We see from this part of the narrative what we have seen often before the power of the Christian religion to excite the worst passions of men. It is a "savour of life unto life, or of death unto death." It is like Saul himself; for Saul was a true man whether persecuting the Church or defending it. Christianity either kills or saves. It is either the brightness of day, or the darkness of night in a man's life. I am afraid we have become so familiar with it externally as to cast by our own spirit and demeanour a doubt upon this veritable proposition. Set it down as the most melancholy of facts that it has become possible for nominal Christian believers to care nothing about their faith. They have degraded it, so that it now chaffers with infidels, doubters, and even mockers. The faith that used to hold no parley with unbelievers is now fagged with much walking on the common road begging, asking leave to hold discussion, and apologizing for suggesting its own revelation. The age has been seized with what is known as a horror of dogmatism. But Christianity is nothing if it is not dogmatic. It has no reason for its existence if it be not positive. If it be one of many, saying, "You have heard the others, will you be good enough to hear me?" it is not what it professes. Poetry may hold parley with prose fiction, because they belong to the same category. They are dreaming, guessing, shaping thoughts into aptest forms. Daintily selecting dainty words for dainty thinking. But arithmetic can hold no parley with poetry. Arithmetic does not say, "If you will allow me, I may venture to suggest that the multiplication of such and such numbers may possibly result in such and such a total." Poetry admits of malleability, it may be moulded and shaped into new forms; but arithmetic admits of no manipulation of that kind. It is complete, final, positive, and unanswerable. Now, in proportion as any religion is true, can it not stoop to the holding of conversation with anybody. It reveals, proclaims, announces, thunders. It is not a suggestion it is a revelation. It is not a puzzle, to which a hundred answers may be given by wits keen at guessing; it is an oracle, and every syllable is rich with the gold of wisdom. Clearly understand what is meant. The dogmatism of truth is one thing, and the dogmatism of the imperfect teacher is another. The dogmatism of the priest is to be resisted, if it be justified only by official descent or official relation, but truth must be dogmatic, that is, positive, absolute without ambiguity. Clear in its own conception, clear in its positive demands, clear in its rewards and its punishments. Can you wonder, then, that a religion namely, the Christian faith which claimed to be the very voice and glory of God, should have encountered this unpitying and most malignant hostility? If it could have come crouchingly, or apologetically, and have said, "I think, I suggest, I hope," it might have been heard at the world's convenience. But it came otherwise. It came with angels' songs in the upper air, a miraculous conception, a voice saying, "This is My beloved Son, hear ye Him." Being true, it could not have come otherwise, but so coming it raised the world into antagonism and deadly conflict. So will every true life. We have no enemies because we have no Gospel. We live in a humble and respectable obscurity, because we say nothing. We pass along pretty easily, because we annoy no man's prejudices, or naughtinesses, or indulgences. We dash no man's gods to the ground; we stamp on no man's idolatries; and so we have no martyrs. In olden times Christianity attacked the most formidable citadels of thought, prejudcice, and error, and brought upon itself the fist of angry retaliation.

In this part of the narrative we see that the success of the enemy was turned into his deadliest failure. Read the fourth verse in proof. "Therefore they that were scattered abroad went everywhere preaching the Word." They did not go everywhere with shame burning on their cheek, nor did they go everywhere with a leaden weight upon their once nimble tongues, nor did they go everywhere whining and moaning and complaining that they were doomed to a useless life. They were taught eloquence by persecution. They were made Evangelists by suffering. That is the true way of treating every kind of assault. When the pulpit is assailed as being behind the age, let the pulpit preach better than ever and more than ever, and let that be its triumphant reply. When Christianity is assailed, publish it the more. Give it air, give it liberty, give it a wider constituency. Evangelization is the best reply to every form of assault. How do we treat our little and very tepid persecutions say of an intellectual kind? We retire to consider the case. We ask for a year's leave of absence from the pulpit, that we may revise our theological position. Do you wonder that such a method of encountering intellectual opposition should leave the field almost wholly in the hands of the enemy? When will we learn Christ's method and the Apostles' method of meeting such hostility? More hostility should be more preaching; more persecution should be more prayer. We have mistaken the method wholly. We have been wanting in resoluteness and directness. Do not let us be driven away by mockery, or silenced by flattery, or overweighted by prejudice, or deterred by fear. Christianity has one answer to every assault, and that is another statement of its claim, a louder and clearer utterance of its heavenly authority! "They that were scattered abroad went everywhere preaching the Word." The seed shaken out by the wind was carried by the wind to other fields. It dropped into open soil, and grew up a hundred-fold.

In this part of the narrative we see Christianity followed by its proper result. You find that result stated in the eighth verse, "And there was great joy in that city." Joy was a word that was early associated with Christianity. Said the Angel, "I bring you good tidings of great joy ." Where is that singing, holy joy? Not in the Church. We are gloomy, despairing, uncertain. We have lost the music, we have retained the tears. The Church ought to be a very fountain of joy, delight, triumph. Instead of that the Church is a valley of tears. The Church looks upon death and sighs. The Church is gifted in sighing. The Church that used to have a voice like a band of music, that used to lift its blood-red banner high in the air, and shake it with the defiance of already attained and unchangeable victory. There ought to be no death in the Church: Christ hath abolished death. And tears should be but dew, to be exhaled in the sun and carried up to enlarge and beautify the rainbow of promise. Why this sighing, fainting, doubting? The revelling is now in the other house. It used to be in our Father's House that there was music, and dancing, and feasting, and great festival of joy. We have lost the trumpet, and the cymbals, and the dances, and the holy merriment, and now we are languishing like men who are simply waiting the coming of the executioner.

Looking at the narrative from another point of view, we may say that already there are two graves in the early Church. Since we began this reading of the Acts of the Apostles, we have seen two graves opened. In the one grave lie Ananias and Sapphira, in the grave opened today there lies Stephen, over whom devout men made great lamentation. Already the old story writes its record in the documents of the Apostolic Church! In one or other of these graves we must be buried! Which shall be our resting-place? Over the first there was no lamentation, no tears were shed, no hearts broke in pity and in grief. The occupants of that grave were shot with the lightning of God! Sad grave! Pit deep, black, hopeless! The liars' retreat, the hypocrites' nameless hiding-place! No loving one goes thither to lay a white flower on the black sod. Will you be buried there? Lightning-struck, blasted from heaven with God's bolt of anger in your heart; will you be buried there? Then there is the good man's grave, which is not a grave at all, it is so full of flowers, and so full of peace and promise those vows spoken by Christ Himself will you be buried there? The road to it is rough, but the rest is deep and sweet, and the waking immortality! Will you so live that you will be much missed for good doing? So that men shall say, "Alack, the world is very poor today, for the noblest of hearts beats no more?" Will you be missed in the haunts of poverty, and by the bedside of suffering, and in the church of activity, and in the school of education and discipline? How shall we go? Buried without prayers, or buried in showering tears of regret, and love, and thankfulness?

Here is the persecuting Saul testing the sincerity of the Church. We know what we are made of, when the fire of persecution tries us! You do not know your best friend until you have been in trouble. For want of knowing this many men are today living on a false reputation. Your friends are nice, amiable, pleasant, fond of hand-shaking, and salutation, and courteous remark. Always cordial, always sunny, always agreeable. Have you ever needed them? Have you ever sent for them to come to you through some bitter cold night-wind? If not, you do not yet know them. They may be nobler than you suppose, they may be meaner than your friendly dream. It is when we are in poverty, and straits, and difficulties that we know our friends. The persecution which Saul inflicted upon the Church tested the Church's reality and sincerity, and it is under such circumstances, according to their degree, that we ourselves are to know what we are made of.

Here is the evangelist Philip extending the influence of the Church. "Then Philip went down to the city of Samaria, and preached Christ unto them." Not Philip the Apostle, but Philip the deacon Philip one of the seven. Stephen dead, Philip taking his place that is the military rule! The next man, Forward! "Who will be baptized for the dead?" When Stephen was killed the remainder of the seven did not take fright and run away in cowardly terror, but Philip, the next man, took up the vacant place, and preached Christ in Samaria. Who will take up the places of the great men and the good men? Who will fill the vacant pulpits? Who will undergo the so-called drudgery of the Church? Who will consent to be nothing in name that he may be everything in helpfulness? Is the Church to be a broken line, or a solid and invincible square?

These three great figures are still in the Church the dead Stephen, the persecuting Saul, the evangelistic Philip. Our Stephens are not dead. We see them no more in the flesh, but they are mightier than ever since they have ascended to heaven, having left behind them the inspiration of a noble example. John Bunyan is more alive today than he was when he wrote the Pilgrim's Progress. John Wesley is more alive today than he was when he began to preach the Word in England. Richard Baxter is more alive today than when he wrote the Saint's Everlasting Rest. Your child is not dead when the memory of the dear little creature leads you to do some kindness to some other child. Our fathers, heroic and noble, are not dead, when we are able at their graves to relight torches and go on with our sacred work. We cannot peruse a narrative of this kind without feeling that we are in a great succession, and that we ought to be in proportion great successors.