By J.R. Miller
Many people stumble over the word perfect, as used in the Bible. It occurs frequently. Yet we know that the perfect men of the Bible were not sinless. Noah became drunk. Abraham certainly equivocated, if he did not lie directly. Job got provoked and said bitter things against his friends. Then Paul, in the same chapter in which he speaks of himself and others as perfect, says: "Not that I am already made perfect--but I press on."
Perfection, therefore, does not always mean sinlessness. Sometimes it means the final, complete attainment; then sometimes the word is used only relatively. Noah was perfect in his generation--but if he had lived in these Christian days, his life and conduct would have fallen woefully below the true standard of saintliness. A teacher says of her little pupil, "She plays perfectly." She means that the pupil has mastered her exercises and has played them without making a mistake. But the child has been taking lessons only one term. "Perfectly" refers to the pupil's work as a beginner, while there yet are years and years of study and practice before her. A green apple may be perfect as any green apple--but it is not a perfect apple yet; it is not ripe, mellow or luscious, as it will be weeks or months later. A child Christian may be perfect as a child Christian, untempted, undisciplined, untrained, inexperienced as yet, and beautiful in its innocence and simplicity, with hard lessons yet to learn. But forty or fifty years later its life will mean far more.
A mother and her child sit side by side in the same company. Both love Christ and are following Him. The girl is sweet, beautiful, a picture of grace. She never has known a struggle, has scarcely ever been called to make a sacrifice, and has never found it hard to do right. Her face is fair, without a line. The mother has had cares, struggles, and fights with evil, has endured wrongs, has carried burdens, has suffered, has had bitter sorrow, has been misunderstood, has poured out her life in love's sacrifices. One would say that the child is the more beautiful, the fairer and lovelier in her life. But as the two appear in the eyes of Christ, while both are beautiful, the mother wears the holier loveliness. She has learned in suffering. She has grown stronger through her enduring struggle. The lines on her face which seem blemishes on her fair beauty, are the marks of Jesus Christ.
The recruit who entered the ranks only yesterday, and who never has seen a battle, seems by far the handsomest soldier in the regiment, with his mirthful dress, clean armor, and unscarred face. But the old solider who is the veteran of a score of battles, though his uniform is soiled and torn, his gun blackened with powder, his face marked with wounds and scars--is not he the more perfect soldier?
In the passage in which our Lord sets the ideal of perfectness for His followers, He is referring to the way God loves. Men's love is imperfect, partial, and incomplete. Men love only those who love them. But that is not worthy of being called love at all. God loves in a complete perfect way. He loves the unlovely--He loves sinners, enemies. "You, therefore, God's children, ought to love as your Father loves."
It was the teaching of our Lord's times, that men should treat others--as others treated them. "An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth." Jesus gave a new interpretation, however: "But I tell you, Do not resist an evil person. If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also." Just what did He mean? It is not often in our times--that one slaps another in the face. But what kind of actual treatment does face slapping stand for? It may be regarded as a type of any kind of personal insult, wrong, or injury. If we would know just what Jesus wanted us to understand by His words, we have only to turn to His own life. When, on His trial, an officer struck Him with his hand, did He literally turn the other cheek? No; He quietly asked why He had been smitten. He did not return blow for blow. He bore the insult without resentment, without bitterness, although He challenged its justice. When we follow the life of Jesus carefully, and note His conduct--we find that He was always most gentle and patient in dealing with ill treatment. He did not resent evil; He did not contend for His rights. He endured wrong, and even insult, without complaining. When He was reviled--He reviled not again. There are certain trees which, when struck with an axe, only bathe with fragrant sap the axe which cuts into them. Injuries and hurts inflicted upon Jesus brought out the sweetest qualities in Him. They drove nails through His hands--and then the blood that they crushed from Him became the blood of the world's redemption.
We can scarcely find a place in this world, where personal injuries and wrongs will never touch us. People will not always deal with us kindly and fairly. There will always be somebody who is not gentle, or who misunderstands us, somebody who says bitter words which hurt our feelings, one who slights us, does not invite us to some social function, nor does something which seems to us to be like a slap in the face. What should we do as Christians? Should we act just as the world's people act in similar cases? Christians belong to Christ. They wear Christ's name. They live by a code of heavenly laws. If they are not different from other people, they are falling below the glory of their calling. People think that meekness and patience in enduring wrongs, are marks of weakness. No; they are marks of strength. That is what Christians are for.
There are some people who exact a great deal of their friends. It is so even in some homes. One of the specific illustrations Jesus gives, tells how to treat such exactions. "Whoever shall compel you to go one mile--go with him two." In every life there are compulsions--things we have to do, not of choice--but of necessity. There is much selfishness in the world, and there are those who must endure its grind. There are two ways of submitting to these impositions and exactions. We may do it sullenly, with bitterness and repining; or we may do it cheerfully, with a song, in the spirit of love.
The Master also says, that we are to do even more than we are required to do. We only make life harder for ourselves, when we do unpleasant duties in a bitter, sullen way. We take the unpleasantness out of our unwelcome tasks--when we do them in a loving, cheerful way. Some people have a hard time getting along with others, because they measure everything, and insist on never going a step farther, and never doing a thing more than the strictest interpretation of duty requires. There are husbands and wives who live that way--careful, on the one hand, to exact of each other every particle of duty, yet careful also, on the other hand, never to do a particle more than the letter of duty demands.
Yet that is not love's way. If one mile is down in the compact, love goes two--and goes cheerfully. If courtesy requires a little attention, love shows twice what is called for. We are to overdo our kindnesses, rather than make them exact fulfillments of rules of etiquette. We are to give help, not merely to meet pressing need--but to more than meet it. That is the way to carry out the lesson: "You therefore shall be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect."
Or take the other duty used by the Master in illustration--loving one's neighbor. "You have heard that it was said, You shall love your neighbor, and hate your enemy." Certainly--but they reserved the privilege of deciding who their neighbor was. He must be a congenial man, a man who belonged to the same sect. He must be a man who would not fail to return kindness in a generous way, showing favor for favor. "But I say unto you--Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you." The words are quite familiar to us--but do we try to live them any more than the Jews in our Lord's time did? How many of us really love our enemies? How many of us actually pray for those who persecute us? That is what we must do--if we are going to learn our lesson: "You therefore shall be perfect--as your heavenly Father is perfect.
It is easy enough to love certain people and to be kind to them. It is easy in our evening prayer to ask God to bless those who have been kind to us during the day, who have spoken approvingly or encouragingly to us, who have helped us over the hard places, whose love had brightened the way for us. But is it as easy to pray for the man who was angry with us, the one who spoke falsely of us, or the other who refused the favor we asked and tried to injure us? Yet that is the way the lesson runs: "Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you." When we have learned really to do these things, we are drawing very near to God. Then the word is being fulfilled in us: "You shall be perfect--as your heavenly Father is perfect." But while we still hate others, while we are bitter against them, or while we are envious or grudging--we have made little progress toward perfection. "For if you love those who love you--what rewards have you? Do not even the publicans the same? And if you greet your brethren only, what do you do--more than others? Do not even the heathen do the same?"
Here we have the test question of Christian living: "What do you do--more than others?" It is not enough that Christians shall be just as good as other people--Christ expects them to be better. What are people Christians for, if not to do more than others? "You therefore, shall be perfect."
Christian love ought to show itself in all holy service, in thoughtfulness towards others, in kindness, in readiness to help. It is said that when Dr. Temple was head master of Rugby School, he visited the boys one day when they had been sent to clean out the pigsties. One of the boys went to him and said: "Am I forced to do this dirty task?" "I suppose not," he replied; "you are not exactly forced." "May I go, then, sir?" asked the student. "Yes," answered Dr. Temple slowly. "Give me the rake." He was going to do the dirty work himself. The student said: "I don't want you to do it, sir." "Somebody must do it," was the reply. The young man took the rake and did the work, and never grumbled anymore.
Thus it was that Christ took His place in life--as one who served. He took the lowest place. When none of His disciples would do the servant's part, when they shrank from it and asked, "Must we do it?" He answered: "No; you are not forced to do it. Give me the basin and the towel." And before they knew what He was doing--He was on His knees, washing their feet. How the Master's lowly service shamed the proud disciples that night! How it ought to shame us today, when we are still too proud to take the servant's place and do the hard and lowly things! Let us learn the lesson as the Master Himself illustrated it: "You therefore shall be perfect--as your heavenly Father is perfect." If we are ever to reach that blessed attainment, we must begin to do the things of perfection now and here.
