SHE would like to be a Christian, but she shrinks from giving up the world.” Such were the words said to me concerning a young lady. Such was the opinion formed by one who knew her well, and who longed for her salvation,— who had prayed for, and spoken to her about the value of her soul, and the importance of being right with God.
The loss of the world, ―that was her difficulty! Two opposing forces wrought within her mind, which was to win? Was her eternal interest to outweigh that of time, ―the claims of heaven or the pleasures of earth, ―the peace and joy of a heart reconciled to God, or the fleeting merriment of life! Which shall gain the ascendency? Alas! the latter was chosen. “The world” won! But “the world” means a great deal today, and the opposite seems very small. “The world” is so tangible, so attractive, so varied! It carries so many charms and such rich embellishment. How winning are its smiles, ―how dazzling its promises. It covers so large a space. The prince has his “world”; but so, too, has the pauper. So the man of science, so the clown, the millionaire, the miser, the moralist and the libertine, the religionist and the infidel. There is such expansiveness, such unbounded power of adaptation in “the world” that it can meet the largest demands of its votaries. Its resources are so multiform that it can accommodate itself to the ten thousand tastes and wishes of the natural heart. No marvel, then, that it can record so many successes, and report so many conquests.
True, its beauty is only on the surface, and its deadly poison hidden by a sweetened flavor. Its pleasures are but nominal and quickly over; its friendship false and its smile delusive. But this is not readily seen. Its true character is never really known but by bitter experience. One of the wisest and wealthiest of kings, after a full trial, said, “Vanity and vexation, ―all is vanity;” and One still greater said, “He that drinketh of this water shall thirst again.” These testimonies are true. Happy the soul that heeds.
And, therefore, in order to keep “the world,” this poor young lady bartered away her soul! Sorry exchange indeed! Oh, “what shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?”
But what is the remedy? How can I give up the world when I find it so pleasant? Clearly the convent is of no use. To don the veil and immure yourself behind the walls of a monastery is but an exchange of “worlds,”―a step from an outside world, where, at all events, nature can have her swing, to an inside world of enforced and unnatural religious slavery, where you sell yourself spirit, soul, and body, conscience, heart, and mind, to the rigors of a spiritual superstition which robs you of everything, and supplies you with nothing but the vain hopes of heaven won by good works, and God appeased by charities. An infernal delusion! The convent is no cure: Nay, salvation is not on that miserable principle. “The Son of Man came eating and drinking.” Is God not a giver? Did He not love us and give His Son to the death for us?
Of all delusions I think that a religious delusion is the worst. It is certainly the most ensnaring. Religious wars are always the most bloody. Religion affects the conscience, whilst other delusions touch only the heart or mind, and are accordingly much more easily banished. A man may give up drink and other evil habits. That is no great difficulty comparatively; but the iron chains of superstition are well-nigh irrefragable, to be broken by nothing short of the power and grace of God. This is true, doubtless, of “the world” as an enslaving power under all circumstances, if indeed deliverance from it and the knowledge of salvation are in question. But the blinding effect of mere religiousness is hardly credible. As often remarked, it was not the gross sinners who clamored for the death of Jesus, but the chief priests, scribes, and Pharisees. And so, “the god of this world hath blinded the minds of them that believe not, lest the light of the glorious gospel of Christ should shine into them.”
Well, but what is the remedy? The remedy is an object superior to “the world.”
A heart that loves “the world” wants something better. Can this be found?
A conscience that groans under a worldly religious bondage wants freedom elsewhere. Can this be supplied?
A soul possessing aspirations beyond the finite limits of the world, wants enjoyment of the infinite. Can this be given?
Weakness cries for strength; poverty for wealth; desolation for friendship; guilt for pardon; a sinner for a Saviour; a lost and prodigal child of sin and sorrow for a Father, whose kiss, and covering, and comfort satiate forever more. Do such things exist? Yes! and ten thousand living witnesses spring before you in the declaration that they know them in blest experience.
Votaries of the world once, and having proved its folly, they heard the words of the Son of God, “Whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst.” Their thirst is slaked forever.
Guilty once, they trust in His precious blood, and are pardoned.
The famine of sin’s distant land drove them to the Father, whose bosom is their shelter, whose house is their home.
Weak and needy once, the Spirit of God dwelling in them is their Comforter.
Friendless and forlorn once, a glorified Christ is their friend, whose arm does not fail, nor heart play them false.
Heaven is their coming abode; but meanwhile―and that is the point before us―they are better off than they were, ―better off than are they who “shrink from giving up the world,” because of what that loss entails. Yes, better off now, and immeasurably better off on that soon-coming day, when, poor worldling, you will cry to the rocks to fall, and beseech the hills to hide you from the wrath of the Lamb. The remedy is Christ! We don’t ask you to give up the world. No! we leave that to the legalist, to the ritualist and Romanist. We plead with you to come as you are, to a living, loving Saviour, whom having found, and being satisfied with His love, you will unconsciously forsake the world, through the enjoyment of Himself. Happy, truly happy, will you be, when you can sing―
“I’ve found a Friend; oh, such a Friend!
He loved me ere I knew Him!
He drew me with the cords of love,
And thus He bound me to Him:
And round my heart still closely twine
Those ties Which naught can sever,
For I am His, and He is mine,
Forever and forever.
I’ve found a Friend; oh, such a Friend!
He bled, He died to save me;
And not alone the gift of life,
But His own self He gave me.
Naught that I have my own I call,
I hold it for the Giver:
My heart, my strength, my life, my all,
Are His, and His forever.”
J. W. S