Acts 20:7-12

Chapter 75

Prayer

Almighty God, may there be in us, as in thee, no darkness at all! May Jesus Christ, who is the Light of the world, reign in us! We would love the light; it is the robe of God. We would dwell in light, that we may see more and more of thy wonder and of thine almightiness. Fill us with the light of heaven. Men love darkness rather than light when they are in their natural state; we would love light rather than darkness, because in thy light we see light, and walking in the day, we are made strong. Take away from us everything that is not of the nature of light. May our understanding be as a lamp that burneth! May our heart be as a fire that cannot be put out! May our whole character burn and gleam with the presence of God! But this also cometh forth from the heavens; it is not the work of our hands, nor the issue of our vain imaginations. Thou alone canst work this miracle of light. We meet thee at the Cross to see the miracle consummated. There thou dost crown thy mighty works with mightier marvels. In the Cross of Christ thou hast accomplished all miracles in one stupendous sign. For Jesus Christ, how can we bless thee? He is a whole heaven of light and grace, sweetness and truth. He is red in his apparel. He cometh up from the eternities as a man of war to fight the great enemy of man; he has trodden the winepress alone, and of the people there was none with him. He is glorious in strength, as he is perfect in wisdom and infinite in pitying love. In him we rest; in him we grow; in him we begin to be; in him we complete our immortality. He is Alpha and Omega the First and the Last the Beginning and the End, and every point of the infinite line between. He is throned above all heaven. He is the Head over all things unto his Church. Not only does he give grace, but grace upon grace, like shower upon shower of pure rain from the fountains of eternity. May we, this day, be caught in the sacred baptism, and feel the holy dew falling upon us from infinite heights, but made no burden because of the hand which administers it. We have to bless thee without end, for there is no period to all the utterance of thy grace and love toward us. Were our hymn equal to thy gift, we should talk down the sun and speak through all the shining of the stars, and ask the loan of eternity in which to sing our noble psalm. We will take the cup of salvation and call upon the name of the Lord. Thou wilt take a word for a sign; thou wilt receive a sigh in place of much speaking; one throb of the loving heart thou wilt accept as a whole liturgy. We give thee our poor love. It is a stained and ruined thing; but if thou wilt accept so bruised an offering, we would now tremblingly lay it upon the altar of the sanctuary. Lord, thou knowest all things; thou knowest that we love thee. Even in the hell of our sin we are groping about for the forgiving One. Even in the pit of darkness our hearts would fain turn upward to the light, and, at least, try to pray. Lord, thou knowest all things. We bless thee for a love, how feeble and staggering soever, that can appeal to thine omniscience and rest upon the infiniteness of thy knowledge. For all thy care we bless thee. When we said we would die, behold, we began to be young again at that very moment. When we were about to fall into despair, thou didst open a great door of glory into light unimaginable and heavens without measure. When we said, "This is the end," thou didst lead us to see that it was but a new beginning. There is no end in almightiness; there is no conclusion in infinity. Were we, through Christ thy Son, partakers of thy nature, we would triumph over all things, yea, set our feet upon all difficulties and obstacles; yea, we would glory in tribulation also, so great would be our love, so confident our faith. Now we give one another again to thee. The poorest may be the richest; the weakest may be the strongest; but be we what we may, with one accord we give one another into thy holy keeping. All the road is thine. Thou dost see what we ourselves cannot behold the pathway which we make upon the great waters. The night is thine, and thou hast the key of every door hanging at thy girdle. Thou knowest where we are, what is our thought, our purpose, our supremest wish; so we will now, taking hold of hands, touching the Cross, give one another in sacred pledge into thy keeping, for the city is well kept which thou dost watch, and the men are safe who are within the folding of thine arms. We give the old, and the young, and the poor, and the friendless, we give those who have no other joy but in thy house, who cannot go far from home, but whose Sundays are green places in life's broad desert specially and lovingly we give these to thee. Thou canst work wonders even for them; the way is long, the discipline high; but they complain not, because they know that their days are in the hand of God, and the whole guiding of life is not from earth but from heaven. And if thou shouldst break in upon us during our separation, so that we cannot put the links together again quite in this shape, thou wilt take according to thy wisdom and according to thy love. Give us the resigned heart, yea, the thankful spirit. Wherein any man is setting up his house, do thou examine the foundations for him and keep the roof strong; the rest he may do himself. Wherein any man is beginning a new business, opening an untried career, attempting unfamiliar experiments, the Lord inspire him with wisdom and comfort him with hope. Wherein any man says he will God helping him turn right round in the black land and try to find the way back to the light, the Lord send more than twelve legions of angels to confirm him in his sacred vow. Oh, that we may live before thee a great, rich, joyous life! This we can do if Christ be in us the hope of glory. Even so, Lord Jesus, come quickly! Amen.

Act 20:7-12

Points In Paul's Preaching

This was the close of a ministry. Is there anything in human relationship more pathetic than the conclusion of a spiritual intercourse and fellowship? So many things may happen to prevent to taking up of the scattered threads, and the weaving of them into a complete fabric. Then there is no substitute for a deeply and intensely spiritual influence. Everything beside is a child's toy offered to a man's ambition; all other things fall not only into insignificance, but into positive contempt. To be lifted clear up above the cloud and fog, and to be set for a few shining hours high in heaven's own quietness, and to hear voices not to be heard upon the earth's surface, and to be caught in thrilling prayer which tells the soul itself what it wanted to say but could not, and which by that sacred mystery turns prayer itself into an answer what can replace that infinite quantity? Thus we live in personal ministries. We chide ourselves and others chide us for doing so, but it is natural after all, and not wrong. Some men can speak to me and others cannot. It is precisely the same with every one of us. The very same words may be spoken, and yet they fall a few inches short of the target of the heart, because not delivered by the archer whom we love and trust. Paul is now leaving, and cannot leave. He began in the morning, and he was so filled with the spirit of grace that he never looked at the time; he took no note of it; he would have destroyed it. When was love ever patient with the clock? When did love ever turn upon the timekeeper anything but a suspicious or angry glance? For all things seem to have a grudge against it, and to run and fly with indecent eagerness. It is difficult for Paul to close. When the whole man is in the work, he ends often but only to begin again. He talks right down to midnight, and then thinks he may as well talk till the sun comes back, for it is better to walk in the daylight than in the cold darkness. There is no long preaching so long as the thought continues. There are no long prayers so long as the heart has another desire to express. It is when we have said all that is in us that the long preaching begins. It is when we have uttered our last wish, and then begin again to enumerate the desires we have already uttered, that long prayer sets in. When was love ever quite done? When did love ever write a letter without a postscript? When did love ever post a letter without some sign outside that it could begin again if it had the chance? When Jesus Christ ceased it was out of compassion to the weariness of the flesh, not because the Spirit of God had yielded its conclusion. And love-hearing is just the same as love-preaching. Give me the attention of the heart; then you hear so much more than I say. That is the mystery of the hearing ear. It hears tones that have not uttered themselves to inattentiveness. It makes as much of the voice as of the vocable. It magnifies the hint into a revelation. Give it one dawning ray of light, and out of that it will make a whole heaven of glory. The hearers were attentive; Paul was eloquent; the opportunity was closing; the ship was to sail next day, and the miracle was how to make the sun stand still until love wrote another line and put in another appeal. What long days the old churches had! They had but one joy, and that was in doing their work. The Church now is one of a hundred other institutions. We now set our claims in a row, and one is nearly equal to the other. In early times there was only one claim the claim of prayer, the claim of love, the claim of sacrifice. Men prosper according to the intensity of their devotedness. When preaching becomes one of a hundred other engagements, it will go down. When church-going becomes the amusement or recreation of Sunday, then it will be compared with what was seen yesterday and what will probably be heard tomorrow. Religion will not stand up in independent uniqueness, having no rival, and putting down all envy, and reigning until all enemies are put under its feet.

How hard it is in many cases to say "Good-bye"! When was "Good-bye" said quite snappingly and briefly and with abruptness and without repetition? When a friend leaves a friend, he never says "Good-bye" less than six times! Have you noted that? He begins early, then says a little more, and then says, "Well, good bye," and then begins again. Another object attracts his attention, a few moments more are spent, and then he says "he must go." Not he; he will turn round again without reason for the evolution. Then he will see some other object, stoop to bless some hitherto unseen little child, look eagerly at some flower which has just attracted him, and then say, "Now I must go." Not he! Even when he has gone he has not gone. He waits at the gate, he shuts it twice, but it will not easily bolt, so he opens it again to see the reason why; then he waves "Good-bye," then takes a few steps and turns round and says "Good-bye." Why this delay? Do not ask; it is the mystery of love, the secret of heart tearing itself from heart, fibres, intertwined, disentangling themselves one from the other. That, indeed, is the sweet secret of living; but for it death would be better.

But the preaching was interrupted: "And there sat in a window a certain young man named Eutychus, being fallen into a deep sleep; and as Paul was long preaching, he sunk down with sleep, and fell down from the third loft, and was taken up dead." He was not in the congregation. I do not know exactly where he was; he was in the room, and yet not in it, as many persons are in the church building but not in the spiritual sanctuary. I do not blame Eutychus. When a man is not in the sweep and run of the great thought and the inspiring revelation, he is asleep. Well for some of us if we were now in a deep slumber! That somnolence might be set down to physical weariness, and might be forgiven, "For God knoweth our frame, He remembereth that we are dust." But there is a deadlier sleep, and we may be in that unholy slumber. How many of us now are really awake? Consider that inquiry, for there is more in it than may at first appear. Have I not seen some of you more awake in changing money, in making bargains, in investigating claims, covenants, and obligations? Have you not a church-look and a marketplace look? I want to see the eager look, the soul in the eyes; I do not want a mimicked saintliness, but your real intense self. Who ever is awake in church? It makes the heart cold with sadness to see how men strip themselves of energy and fire, and conquering enthusiasm, when they come into the church. Do not blame the little child that lays its little head upon its mother's lap and falls into a church-sleep. God bless the little sleeper! It is a beautiful oblation on the altar, is that natural sleep; but blame the soul that leaves the body in the church whilst itself goes out to turn six days' business into seven, whilst itself steals out like a cunning felon to complete what it left unfinished yesterday in the marketplace. He is asleep who looks without seeing, who has but a body in the church, whilst his soul is in other places drinking forbidden wine, enjoying interdicted fruit, and will steal back so quietly as to suppose that it has deceived every observer, and got in again without ever having been missed. "Whence comest thou, Gehazi? And he said, Thy servant went no whither. And he said unto him, Went not mine heart after thee?" There is no successful truancy from the church. We leave stealthily, but we are followed as quietly as we go, and the record is completed, though we know it not.

Then there is an immoral attention. There is a profane way of listening; there is a wakefulness that is not godly. What are men listening for? For the truth tuneful, pure, holy truth? Then they are listening well. But if for any other thing I care not how strained may be their attention their listening is an oblation on the altar of selfishness, and their attention is a compliment which they are paying to the vanity of their own imagination. Who can listen? Who can be quite awake awake all over, and answer by fire the God that answers himself in flame? Awake! awake! put on thy beautiful garments, O Zion! Let it be a Sabbath day indeed. Get out the very best robe, and let us have a whole Sabbath, a long Sabbath, a cloudless Sabbath, a beginning of heaven itself!

In this incident there are two or three little circumstances worthy of a moment's notice. "There were many lights in the upper chamber, where the disciples were gathered together." Christianity has no dark seances; Christianity has no dark meetings, no closed shutters and drawn curtains, and enforced and mysterious silencings; Christianity is not a piece of magic. "Light the lamp," it says. "Throw back the shutters, and let the sun come in." This thing was not done in a corner. There is morality in publicity. Christianity is a mighty challenge to the attention of the universe. It only asks for silence that its speech may be heard the better. The magician wants arrangements made to suit him; the light must be so much and no more; the curtain must be hung thus, and not otherwise; the ropes, and bells, and pulleys must be set in this order, and in no other. When a man makes stipulations of that kind with a view to give you a new revelation, he is going to befool you. When did Christianity ask for curtains or screens, or the aid of artificial mechanisms and adaptations? Christianity can preach anywhere. Christianity can go up steps of glory and stand upon a floor of diamonds, or sapphire, and preach its infinite truth; or it can go up the meanest staircase ever laid by unskilful hands, and talk with the same divine eloquence. Paul preaches as eloquently in the upper chamber to the two hundred people who are hearing him as he would preach on Mars' Hill with all the gathered and cultured hosts of Athens or of Greece. That is the test of reality always. It is enough for the preacher to see one man in the house; he is only discouraged when there is not one soul present. Give him a soul, and you give him a universe! He is not being a truly ardent messenger of God able only to preach when the church is full; he does not see whether the church is full or not. The true preacher only sees one, but he is a host, an army, a whole heavenful or a whole hellful of human nature.

When Paul came down and stretched himself upon Eutychus, he said, "His life is in him." Christianity does not try to make a reputation for doing miracles where no miracles are to be done. What an opportunity for a magician! The people are panic-struck; they all believe that Eutychus is dead. Paul might say, "Yea, verily, he is stone-dead, cold through and through, and only by a mighty miracle on my part can the vitality be restored." He makes the least of the occasion. Nothing has occurred that need excite alarm, or beget for him an additional reputation. Christianity tells no lies. Christianity is awfully stern about having the bare truth. It is so real; it will have no covering, no false medium of observation, no adaptable standard of criticism. It will know the thing as it is, just as it is, and represent it so, and have nothing to do with manufactured statements.

Paul stopped his service to look after one injured man. In that particular he followed the example of Jesus Christ. The Saviour suspended the Sabbath day until he got the ox or the ass out of the pit. He said to the Sabbath sun, "Stand still! Here is a work of necessity to be done we must have time." How can men reject such a Christianity, such a philosophy of life, such a religion, so stern, so tender, so rigorous, so bland, so ready, so redeeming? Let us say to its Author and Founder, "My Lord and my God." When did Christianity ever undervalue human nature? When did the Divine Founder of Christianity say, "Continue the service, and never mind the man"? On the contrary, he said, "The very hairs of your head are all numbered." Every life is of importance to God. Eutychus was not a great man; as his name implies, he was of the freedmen class. He and his ancestors had probably all been slaves, but he had become a freedman. He belonged to the plebeian side of life, but to God there are no plebeians, except men who never pray, never love, never do works of mercy, or perform acts of sacrifice; they are the commonalty, the plebeians. But as for those who love him, serve him, pray to him, ask to know his will, and try in his strength to do it, though they have not bread to eat, and no pillows to lay their heads upon, they are nobles, princes, jewels, kings; they are of the very quality of heaven.