By J.R. Miller
"The world sits at the feet of Christ,
Unknowing, blind, and unconsoled;
It shall yet touch his garment's fold,
And feel the heavenly Alchemist
Transmute its very dust to gold."
Love for Christ is transforming the world. Love always transforms. Many a life is made beautiful by a pure, sweet, strong, human love. Who has not seen a young wife, with light, girlish nature, without seriousness, caring only for herself--until a baby came, when all was changed? She became serious, thoughtful, and earnest. Self died, and her soul flowed out in unsparing service. She lived now for her child. The hands that heretofore had been idle became ministering hands. Too dainty before, for any toil, or any rough touch, they were now used without thought, in caring for her child. Her whole being was transformed and shown now in noble beauty. Love had wrought the change. Children are God's angels to thousands of young mothers, sent to bless them by drawing their heart away from self. For we never learn to live--until we cease to think of ourselves and begin to live for some object outside of self. Selfishness destroys the life, blights its beauty, withers up its powers, and lays a curse upon it. Love saves the life, develops its faculties, and calls out its best.
There was a childless home. Husband and wife grew up together in mutual love--but having no interest outside of their own lives; they became selfish, grasping, and covetous. Years passed, and they were growing rich--but were miserly, saving every possible cent. They pinched themselves, living almost like beggars, with thin clothing, poor fare, in fire-less rooms. They gave nothing away to the relief of the need and distress about them. Appeals for God's work met with no response. Thus time passed until they had reached mid-life. Then the breaking up of another home by the death of the parents, brought a little child into the cold, loveless dreary home. At once the child found her way into both you withering hearts, and little by little the love awoke. Almost instantly there was a change. The home was brightened. The hoarded money was brought out and was spent more freely. The poor were remembered, God's cause received help. The faces that were growing old and cold with the lines of greed and grasping desire--became soft and warm with love's subtle warmth. The two lives were transformed. God had saved them through a child.
These are only familiar illustrations of what even human love does continually in this world. We do not know what God is doing for us when he give us friends to love, especially when he give us those, the loving of whom costs us something. The blessing comes through the serving, through the giving out of life. An invalid or suffering one in a home is oftentimes the means of softening, refining, and enriching all the household lives. When God sends one to love--who becomes a burden upon your heart, who call for sacrifice, service, patient care and cost--lift up your eye and reverently thank him, for there is divine blessing for yourself in this ministering in Christ's name. This is a losing of life, which is in reality--the finding of it.
But it is the loving of Christ, which works the most wonderful transformations. It has changed millions of lives from sin, sordidness, cruelty, degradation, and crime--into beauty, gentleness, refinement, and holiness. It is nearly two thousand years since Christ died upon the cross, rested in the grave, and arose from the dead. All these centuries, multitudes in each generation have believed in him and loved him; and love for him has changed their lives, lifted them up and drawn them after him in holy devotion.
His followers have learned the lessons of patience, unselfishness, endurance of wrong, forgiveness of injuries, compassion for the weak, pity for the lost, and kindly ministry to the needy and the sorrowing. The whole blessed work of Christianity, is simply the influence of the love of the unseen Christ in human hearts and lives.
"But how can we love one whom we have not seen and cannot see?" This is a question, which many ask. For one thing we may learn all the story of Christ as told in the Gospels, until we are familiar with it. Then we may remember that while Christ is unseen on the earth, he is as really present as he was during the years of his abode in Palestine. He promised, "I am with you all the days," and he certainly meant just what he said. His presence does not depend on our seeing him.
Indeed, we never really see any of our friends. It is not the human form you can see--that is the person you love. It is not your mother's face and hair and hand and body that you love; it is her soul, her spirit. It is not her body that is gentle, patient, kind, thoughtful, and unselfish. A body cannot love. Even the loveliest face cannot itself be a blessing to you. It is the life which dwells in the body, that is your mother. You can say of her, in a sense that is true, "Whom having not seen--I love." Take any friend whom is much to you, on whom you lean, and it is not the body that you love. There is sweetness in a face, kindly warmth in an eye, thrilling inspiration in a touch. Why? Because of the soul that is in the body. But the body is not your friend, whom you have really never seen, since you cannot see truth, purity, love, sympathy, constancy, and strength.
We cannot see Christ--but if we have become his, he is indeed our personal friend and is really to us all that such a divine Friend can be.
What is it in your best human friend that is most to you, on whom you lean most in weakness, who comforts you most in sorrow, who is the best help to you in any need or trouble? Is it anything in your friend--that you can see? Is it not his truth, his wisdom, his love for you, his sympathy, his faithfulness, and his constancy? Even if he is not with you at all so that you can see him, is he not still a strength to you, a comfort, a refuge, a help? The consciousness that he is your friend; that whatever else may fail you--he will not; that he sympathizes with you, understands you, will be patient with you; the assurance that if need be--he will help you with all the capacity for helpfulness there is in him--makes you strong, blesses you, gives you peace, though you see him not.
You cannot see Christ--but you believe that he is true, loving, faithful, touched with sympathy when you suffer; that he knowss all about you and loves you with a personal, deep, tender, strong, everlasting love. You know, too, that he has all power and that all his power is yours to support, keep, bless, deliver, and protect, save you. You know that he has all wisdom--wisdom that never errs, that never counsels rashly, indiscreetly, short-sightedly, and that all this wisdom is for the guidance of your life, the ordering of your steps. As we think along these lines the unseen Christ becomes very real to us. Loving this Friend whom we cannot see, becomes then blessed power in our life. For one thing we learn to trust him and leave in his hands all the affairs of our life.
Many people have altogether too narrow a concept of what Christ does for them. They think of him as forgiving their sins, changing their hearts, helping them only in spiritual affairs, and bringing them home at last to heaven. But there is nothing in our life, which is not of interest to him, and true believing in Christ implies the putting into his hand, of all our affairs. This may not always be easy. We like to have our own way, to carry out our own plans. We do not like to have sorrow and disappointment break in upon us. Yet if he is to fashion our life into heavenly beauty, he must have his way with us. Thus we get a glimpse of the meaning of trial. If sorrow comes in place of the joy which you have planned for yourself, it is because sorrow is better than joy would have been. Christ may oftentimes seem to be spoiling the beauty of our life; but it is ours to trust him even then, and by and by, we shall know that hi way was wiser than ours. Tapestry weavers see only the wrong side as they weave.
"My life is but a weaving
Between my God and me;
I may but choose the colors-
He works steadily.
Full oft he weaveth sorrow;
And I in foolish pride
Forget he sees the upper
And I the under side."
Loving this unseen Savior--will draw us into his service. No transformation into his character is complete, which does not make us like him in the devotion of our life to the good of the world. Perhaps we sometimes overlook this, thinking of Christ-likeness as gentleness, patience, meekness, purity, truth, without the active element. But when Christ put the thought of his mission into a sentence it was: "The Son of man came not to be served--but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many."
Not otherwise can we conceive of our mission as followers of Christ. We must follow him in self-denial and sacrifice, in the true laying of our life upon the altar of love. It is this which the world needs today--the life of Christ repeated in the lives of his people, in humble services which shall fill the earth with the fragrance of love, and carry blessing into every nook and corner of it. Not long shall he be with us--as an Unseen Savior. We shall soon go to be with him!
