By Gipsy Smith
I Cor. 13:1 -- "Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not love, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal."
John said: He that dwelleth in love, dwelleth in God. Paul said: If ye have not love, ye are as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal -- or a "clanging cymbal" the later translators have put it.
If you have not love, you have not God. If you have God, you are lovely, you will be lovable, you will love.
"Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not love, I am become as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal."
"And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not love, I am nothing."
"And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not love, it profiteth me nothing."
Where are you? God is love. L-o-v-e -- and love, as Henry Drummond, that saintly professor-evangelist, the colleague of Moody, said, "Love is the greatest thing in the world."
Are you such a monstrosity as a professing Christian without love? Do you talk about religion like a dog over a bone? Haven't you heard people talk that way, with just that kind of a snarl about them?
Those who dwell in God dwell in love. Love has a language all her own. She speaks when there is no articulation; she speaks when there is no vocabulary; she speaks when language is silent. Love sings; love breathes; love looks; love gives -- gives all and longs for more to give.
Is the love of God in your heart? Are you a lovely Christian?
Does the love of God shine in your face? Does it sparkle in your eyes? Does it grace your countenance?
You know the world is dying for want of more love. Don't be afraid of spoiling some one with love. More people die for lack of a little spoiling than of too much of it. I want more of it myself. I won't lie about it. I won't say I don't. I say I could do with a lot more love. There isn't a heart on earth that doesn't want more love.
What we need is to be so drenched with the love of God that it would cover everybody.
Wouldn't it make a difference if there was more love in your home?
Love is a dynamo, the force that makes everything a success in the world. Love is the mighty river that leads to victory.
You know when I am at home, I live in Cambridge, that old center of learning and culture -the sister city to Oxford. You know they boast of age. Some of it is musty, it is so old. There are grass lawns there a thousand years old; imagine it, lawns a thousand years old.
They think they know everything. And some of you have just the same fever. You are positively so clever that the Lord can't teach you anything.
And the dons there are in Cambridge! A live don is a live Cambridge or Oxford professor. He is, as you Americans would express it, "some person." I can just picture him as he walks along in his mortar board and gown, with his books under his arm. He is positively some person. And these dons think they know everything and if there is anything they don't know, they don't consider that it is worth knowing.
Why didn't God choose one of these to be a preacher? But He went to a Gipsy tent and found a little Gipsy boy there -- a little boy who never went to school in his life and had never studied about religion out of books. But he had the love of Jesus, the love of God that passeth knowledge.
I will put that Gipsy boy beside the professors who have not been born again, and where spiritual things are concerned, he will teach the professors.
Explain it -- the Bible explains it. The natural man does not understand the things of God. They are foolishness to him.
The piano is musically understood. A daffodil is botanically understood. A star -- well -you must be an astronomer if you are to understand stars. If you want to understand the rocks, you must be a geologist. Oh, the great love of God. Get on your knees; kneel like the poor sinner you are. There is no other way. You can't talk to God on stilts; get down off of them. Get out of your automobile and get down on your knees. Come to God like a humble sinner; a sinner who happens to own an automobile.
And, believe me, the love of God is understood not by the schools, or only by the theologians, but by the believing, obedient heart.
I was holding a revival in Kansas City, and during the three weeks it was claimed that more people listened to the gospel in that city at that time than, in any city of the world during the Christian era. Thousands were turned away each day.
As I was coming out of one of the services, I went into a little room behind the rostrum, where I usually put on my coat and wait for a little while to cool off before going outside. An old preacher followed me into the room. He was a venerable man and his hair was white. He stood behind my chair and put his hands on my head. I bent forward in silence. I thought he was going to bless me. But instead of blessing me, he was feeling my head. "Are you a phrenologist?" I said.
"No," he answered, "I am feeling for the secret of your success."
"Well, brother," I said, "you are too high. The secret of my success lies in my heart."
Love is a matter of the heart. Love is understood by the heart, not by the brain. If you want to know the love of God, get down before Him and open your heart. If your heart is ugly, show Him the truth. He will make it beautiful for you. The way some of you act shows your hearts are ugly.
"The heart is deceitful above all things and is desperately wicked."
God loves you -- nobody is left out of God's abundant love. You may close your eyes now, if you will, and lay your hand on your heart and say, "He loved me and gave Himself for me." Say that over a few times until you realize you are getting close to the Creator. He loves me; He gave Himself for me. And then if you love Him, you will show your love for Him; you can't help it. If the love of God fills your heart, that love will flow out. "If a man love Me, he will keep my words." It is up to you to prove your love. Prove it by beautiful acts, by devoted service and sacrifice. Show it to everybody.
I want to tell you a little story. Many years ago my two boys, small then, were going to school.
Both of them are now preachers. One is in this country, an American citizen, doing evangelistic work, the other son is in England, a minister.
Well my two boys, when they were young, were sent to school. They had what I didn't. I gave them the opportunity to get what I missed in my childhood. One day they came home unusually early for lunch. They came at 11:30, when they should not have been at home until 12:30. They had not been to school, I knew. They had played, as you say in America, hooky. In England, we call it playing truant. I was a very young father. My first boy was born before I was twenty-one. I felt it my duty to do something in the matter. I took my watch out and said, "Boys, why are you home so soon? Where have you been?" "We have been playing," they said. "Yes, playing truant." They admitted it. "I have never played truant in my life," I said. "You never went to school," the elder boy said. "No," I said, "I did not. I did not have your chance. My not having attended school was a misfortune; your not having attended is a sin."
I knew they must be punished, but I didn't know how to go about it. I was a very young and inexperienced father. I was up against it, to use one of your .American "classic" phrases. I had to do something. I shrank from the idea of punishing them. It was harder for me in truth than for them.
"You will have to be punished," I said. I sent the elder boy upstairs to the back room and told him to stay there all day. Then I sent the other boy to another room, and bade him do likewise.
"You will have bread and water for dinner and for supper and nothing else," I told them.
They trudged off upstairs and the thud of their boots on the steps was like falling stones on my heart. Presently I heard the elder boy walking around his room and singing, "We'll work and wait till Jesus comes."
When dinner-time came I took them up their bread and water. I couldn't trust any one else.
Albany, the elder, ate his and asked for more. Hanley did not touch his, and I need not tell you who are parents that I did not eat that day. No food would have tempted me. And I cannot tell you how often I climbed those stairs to see what the boys were doing. I could not read, or write, or see people. It was the first time in my life that anything had come between my boys and myself. And my young father-heart suffered far more than the boys. I was punished most, because Love suffers.
At night-fall I was listening on the landing, and found Albany had entered into rest and was snoring. Hanley could not sleep. He was already penitent. Hearing my footsteps, he called me: "Daddy! will you forgive me just this once and I will never play truant any more!" I grabbed him, bedclothes and all, and hugged him to my heart, and tried to kiss back his tears, and mine got mingled with his, and I told him it was all forgiven and passed. Then he said, "Daddy, do you love me just as much as before?" and I answered, "You know I do." Then he asked, "Are you very sure?" and I answered, "Yes, Hanley dear, I am very sure." Then the child said, "Take me down to supper." In plain English the child meant, if you love me, prove it.
Your Lord says, "If you love me, keep my commandments, and he that hath my commandments and keepeth them, he it is that loveth me."
If a man says he loves God, and walks in darkness, he is a liar and the truth is not in him. Walk in the light, or don't claim to be God's.
Oh, love of God! So dependable, so true, so constant, and so ever new. May that be your lot and mine. May that be your experience and mine. Amen!
