Not long ago, a lady living in Hartford, Conn., bought at an auction in New York a painting begrimed with smoke and dirt. Her friends laughed at her for buying such a "worthless daub," but she took the painting to a restorer of old pictures, who, after hours of patient labor in removing dirt, brought to view a beautiful sixteenth century painting, representing a mother with her children. The painting is of almost priceless value. The penny they brought the Master was coined from base metal, but the image on it gave it value.
We are made in the image of God, and that makes us precious in His sight. The skin may be black or yellow, or brown or white - it matters not. Sin may have obscured the image, but we are Christ's coins; He paid a great price for us, and seeks in every possible way to restore in us the image of Himself.
Negative and Positive Culture
Two fields lay side by side. Only a hedge
Which ran athwart the plain dissevered them.
In one my title lay, and he who owned
The other was my brother. Each alike
Had generous part of one ancestral lot.
And each alike due diligence displayed
On that he called his own. At early spring
Each with a shining share upturned the soil
And gave it to the sun, the wind, the shower.
Thenceforth we rested not. Busily we
wrought
And wiped our briny brows 'neath burning
suns,
Biding the time of one far-off event.
At summer's end we each one came at last
To find our recompense. Each had his own,
The end for which he'd toiled. Through all
those days
My only thought had been no weeds should
grow,
But he had plowed 'mid rows of waving corn
And in so doing killed the cumbering weeds
That grew between. And now at summer's
close
Behold ! my field was verdureless and bare.
While his was clad in vestiture of gold.
How vain my toil ! His recompense how
full.
Who reaped so much, yet plowed no more
than I!
Jesus is God spelling Himself out in language that man can understand. God and man used to talk together freely. But one day man went away from God. And then he went farther away. He left home. He left his native land, Eden, where he lived with God. He emigrated from God. And through going away he lost his mother-tongue.
A language always changes away from its native land. Through going away from his native land man lost his native speech. Through not hearing God speak he forgot the sounds of the words. His ears grew dull and then deaf. Through lack of use he lost the power of speaking the old words. His tongue grew thick. It lost its cunning. And so gradually almost all the old meanings were lost.
God has always been eager to get to talking with man again. The silence is hard on Him. He is hungry to be on intimate terms again with his old friend. Of course he had to use a language that man could understand. Jesus is God spelling Himself out so man can understand. He is the A and the Z, and all between, of the Old Eden language of love.
Naturally enough man had a good bit of bother in spelling Jesus out. This Jesus was something quite new. When His life spoke the simple language of Eden again, the human heart with selfishness ingrained said, "That sounds good, but of course He has some selfish scheme behind it all. This purity and simplicity and gentleness can't be genuine. "Nobody yet seems to have spelled Him out fully, though they're all trying: All on the spelling bench. That is, all that have heard. Great numbers haven't heard about Him yet. But many, ah! many could get enough, yes, can get enough to bring His purity into their lives and sweet peace into their hearts.
But there were in His days upon earth some sticklers for the old spelling forms. Not the oldest, mind you. Jesus alone stands for that. This Jesus didn't observe the idioms that had grown up outside of Eden. These people had decided that these old forms were the only ones acceptable. And so they disliked Him from the beginning, and quarreled with Him. These idioms were dearer to them than life that is, than His life. So having quarreled, they did worse, and then-softly-worst. But even in their worst, Jesus was God spelling Himself out in the old simple language of Eden. His best came out in their worst.
Some of the great nouns of the Eden tongue, the God tongue -He spelled out big. He spelled out purity, the natural life of Eden; and obedience, the rhythmic harmony of Eden; and peace, the sweet music of Eden; and power, the mastery and dominion of Eden; and love, the throbbing heart of Eden. It was in biggest, brightest letters that love was spelled out. He used the biggest capitals ever known, and traced each in a deep dripping red, with a new spelling, s-a-c-r-i-f-i-c-e. Gordon
Copious and unfailing river run just beneath the burning desolations of the Sahara. Twenty or thirty feet under the sand-drifts there is an impervious sheet of rock which prevents the escape of the collected rain waters. It is easy to see the oasis, but not so easy to track the windings of the hidden river. The skilled engineer can get at the river, bring it up through his wells, and change the desert into an earthly paradise.
Society at large is not the dreary, all-devouring, illimitable ethical waste we often imagine. The rivers of God flow under natures we call reprobate, and create penitential moods which are the earnest of a coming righteousness. It is easy to map out the strips of moral fruitfulness which appear here and there in the world, but not so easy to find the deep secret contrition of those who are often classed as abandoned outcasts. The Savior of the world has an insight into character which enables him to see promise where men less sympathetic and discerning see the black marks of reprobation; and angels share the visions of the Lord on whom they wait. It is by His art, as the Prophet of coming good, that the desert is made to bloom. Rev. Thomas G. Selby
"Get up, cry out in the night, even as the night begins. Pour out your heart like water in prayer to the Lord." Lamentations 2:19
There is a darkness which helps and sweetens. Disappointments,
difficulties, discouragements, and all things dark, come to us
apparently to depress us, but these are part of the experience which
helps us. Black charcoal will keep water sweet. Bulbs must be buried in
the darkness if they are to grow. In the winter a florist endeavored
with success to grow some bulbs without placing them in the ground. He
gathered some small stones and put them into basins, placing the bulbs
on the top of the stones. Then he poured in sufficient water to touch
the bulbs, and to conserve the sweetness of the water he introduced
little pieces of charcoal among the stones. He then placed the basin in a
dark cupboard and kept them there for ten weeks, and when he took them
out the green leaves of the bulbs were showing. (Text.)
I have often thought if I could only tell or picture eternal life I
would have but one sermon and I would tell it out. I would go to
civilized nations and I would go to heathen nations and I would tell it
out. But I can’t do it. I have tried many a time to describe what it is,
but I don’t know somehow or another it seems as if my tongue was tied;
it seems to me if I could only picture what the gift of God, what
eternal life is, that the people would come to God this morning–that
men, women and children would flock into the kingdom by hundreds, if I
could only picture what it is. There is nothing we value in this world
as we do life. A man will go around the world to lengthen out his life a
few years. If he has got wealth he will give money by thousands if he
can get medical aid. But this is a world that is filled with sorrow and
separation. As I look over this audience I see the emblems of mourning
all through the congregation. Not a circle that has not been broken–and
many a dear circle has been broken since I stood on this platform last.
Death is constantly coming in and taking away this one and that one, and
in many you see here and there the natural force is becoming abated and
they are tending towards the grave. And so we think life is very sweet
here; but just think of the life in the world where there is no stooping
form, no gray hair, where the natural force never becomes abated, where
the eye never grows dim, where the step is firm and moves on and on
through the palaces of the King, where perpetual youth stands on your
brow forever, a city where death never enters and sin never comes, a
city where all is bright and joyful, a city without a night in it, a
city without pain, without sorrow, and without death. Think of it! Not
only that, but a city where we shall be with the King himself, and be in
His presence. Yea, better still, where these vile bodies shall be found
like His own glorious body and shall reign with Him forever! That is
eternal life. Why, what are your bonds and stocks when you get to
looking at eternal life? Why do you want to go on the Board of Trade and
make a few thousands or a few millions? What is that? Think of life
forever; a life that is as pure as God’s life, that floats on and on
unceasingly through joys that last forever. The wages of sin is death,
but the gift of God is eternal life. You may have it this morning. Come,
friends, will you seek him? If you will take my advice you will not go
out of this house this morning without seeking eternal life–without
making up your mind that you will seek it. by D. L. Moody
