Reckoning for God.
Mayor Gaynor was offered the Democratic nomination for the Governorship of New York. His popularity was at its height, partly on account of an attempt on his life. He declined the nomination. A friend urged him to reconsider it. “It will be a stepping-stone to the Presidency of the United States,” he said. Mayor Gaynor replied: “After a man has gone down into the valley of the shadow, as I have, and there faced the great realities, all those things seem mighty small.”
Refuge—the Eternal God.
“The eternal God is thy refuge.” This word is an unusual one in Scripture. It has more the meaning of ‘home’ (see R.V.). You are caught in a sudden storm in a public park, or on the sea-front, and you run for the shelter. It is an acceptable refuge, but not a home. You are crossing a main street in a city. There is an island refuge half way across. That refuge in the midst of the surging traffic is welcome, but it is not a home. God is our home.
Rejection of Christ—Willful.
Three young men were seated together on the last night of the year. Two were Christians and were pleading with the other to come to Christ. He grew impatient, and said, “I don’t want to be saved; if there is a hell I am willing to go to it.” One of the two took out his watch, and said: “Do you decide here, in the sight of God, on this last night of the year, to reject Christ as your Savior?” He answered: “I do.”
Religion Defined.
The Commissioner for Education in Soviet Russia said: “I find that religion is like a nail. The harder you hit it, the deeper you drive it in.”
Religion—Made Easy.
Dr. Parker wrote opposite 1 Kings 12:2828Whereupon the king took counsel, and made two calves of gold, and said unto them, It is too much for you to go up to Jerusalem: behold thy gods, O Israel, which brought thee up out of the land of Egypt. (1 Kings 12:28) in his Bible “Religion made easy.” Beekeepers say that when a certain moth attacks the wax in the comb, the young bees can get out without the usual struggle, their wings are useless, and they soon die. Imagine what Paul would have said if some dapper Jeroboam had tried to persuade him to live on the level that seems to satisfy some!
Religion—Sunday.
There is a little box, you touch a spring, and a tiny bird springs up and pours forth a flute-like song. Then you press it down and close the lid. People stand up on a Sunday and sing. Monday comes, and down goes the lid, and they are shut into a prison of worldliness and self-seeking for another week.
Responses of the Unsaved.
A drunken man went to hear a certain preacher: he went merely to scoff. In the opening prayer something touched his hardened heart. The text: “Sin no more, lest a worse thing come to thee” moved him still more, and he turned to God in repentance. God called a poor drunkard. And he responded.
Responses of the Unsaved.
During a war, in which Spanish soldiers were fighting in the ranks of the German army, many of them passed through towns where godly Christians and earnest preachers were witnessing, and were truly converted. God called them by means of the vicissitudes of war. And they responded.
Responses of the Unsaved.
An atheist in Chicago heard a little boy singing, “There’ll be no sorrow there.” He stopped and asked the boy, “Where?” The boy sang, “In heaven above, where all is love, There’ll be no sorrow there.” The man hastened on, but the simple words lodged in his mind. It was the message from the lips of a child by which God called him. And he responded.
Responses of the Unsaved.
In the town of Perugia there have been for many years quite a number of Protestants. A man there did not believe in God. He tried to believe in the devil and love him. He read eagerly all he could find about Satan, and even prayed to him. One day, the Roman Catholic priest announced that the town was infested with Protestants: “monsters of wickedness, who have renounced Christ and worship the devil.” “Splendid!” said the atheist, and that very day he went to the meeting of these so called worshippers of the devil. There he heard the good news and was led to the Savior. God called him in this strange way. And he responded.
Rest.
There were two painters, and each painted a picture to illustrate his conception of rest. The first chose a still pool of water among lonely mountains. The second depicted a thundering waterfall, with a fragile birch tree bending over the foam. At the fork of a branch, almost wet with the spray of the cataract, sat a robin on its nest.
Resurrection.
A Mohammedan guide, showing a Christian the reputed site of the tomb of Jesus, said with a cynical smile, “We Mohammedans can visit our sacred city, and worship the bones of our prophet, but you have nothing but an empty tomb.”
Resurrection—News of.
I was standing before a shop window where a picture of the Crucifixion was displayed. A little lad, a sort of street arab, was also gazing at it. I asked him: “Do you know who it is?” With a look of surprise and pity at my ignorance, he explained: “Yes, that’s our Savior. Them’s the soldiers and that woman crying there is His mother.” Then after a pause, and with a subdued voice: “They killed Him, mister; yes, they killed Him.” I asked him: “Where did you learn all this?” “At the mission Sunday School.” I resumed my walk, leaving the lad still looking at the picture. I had not walked a hundred yards when I heard his childish treble calling: “Mister, mister!” I turned. He was running toward me. Up went his little hand, and with a triumphant ring in his voice, he said: “I wanted to tell you, He rose again. Yes, mister, He rose again.” He smiled, waved his hand, turned, and went his way.
T. R. TESKEY.
Resurrection—Proof of.
A scientific student came to President Faunce one day and said: “I want to know whether you can prove to me that Jesus Christ arose from the dead.” He replied: “I think I can, but it is a great deal better to let Jesus Christ Himself prove it to you. I could indicate the line of evidence that establishes the resurrection of Christ as an historic fact, but it will be far better for you if you will ask Jesus Christ Himself to prove to you that He lives. I advise you to study His life and to ask Him to prove Himself thus.” She went away, and after several weeks she reported the result of her experiment. She came with a face glowing and radiant with a joy not of the world, and said: “Oh, President Faunce, Jesus has answered my prayer and has proved to me Himself that He lives, and I am rejoicing in the power of His resurrection.”
Resurrection—unpalatable.
“What I detest are the post-mortems,” said a medical student. That is easily understood; but how intensified that feeling will be if you are ever called forth to the post-mortem examination of a corrupt life, and that life your own I It is the natural recoil from this that makes men welcome any theory that explains away the resurrection of the wicked.
Revival—Beginning of.
David Dodge, in conversation with a devout Quaker who, like Dodge was eager to see a revival, agreed with him as to the need of more enthusiasm, more prayer, more consecration. Finally the Quaker broke in with: “Friend Dodge, suppose thee and I make a beginning!”
Revival—Spiritual.
In the days of ancient Rome there flowed, close by the Forum, a little stream, the ‘Maiden’s Fountain.’ Centuries passed. The Rome of Romulus and the Tarquins became the Iron Republic that filled the earth with the tramp of armed men. This, in its turn, became the Imperial Rome of the Caesars, and later the Rome of the Popes. Amid all these changes the little fountain and stream became choked and covered with debris. Had it not been celebrated in the songs of poets, no one would have known of its existence. Further centuries rolled by, and the accumulated rubbish was piled ton upon ton over the site where once the Maiden’s Fountain had sparkled beneath the Italian sky and sang as it danced on its sunlit way to the Tiber.
At last the day came when, in recent times, the reminiscences of the ancient city were revived. Excavations were made in the historic sites, and the walls of long buried buildings again saw the light of day. A party of workmen was employed amid the ruins of the Forum. By degrees the accumulations of the centuries were cleared away. Deeper and deeper sank spade and pickaxe till one day, at the stroke of a laborer’s pick, there sprang into the air, with a murmur of joy, a jet of water, crystal clear. The Maiden’s Fountain again! And today the visitor to Rome may stand beside that famous fountain and the stream that flows from it, may see it sparkling as in the ancient years, may hear it bubbling and singing as in the days of long ago; its ancient melody restored, its ancient ministry revived.
Reward.
A dream. An angel came with a crown of marvelous beauty, blazing with diamonds, and said: “This was the crown designed for you when you were young, but you refrained as a young Christian from laying your life at Christ’s feet, and it is gone forever.” The angel went away and returned with a plainer one, beautiful, though with far fewer jewels. “This was designed for you in middle age, but you gave your days then to an ordinary, indolent life, and it is gone.” The third time the angel came with a plain circlet and no jewels, and said: “This is your all, for eternity.”
Riches—Danger of.
A fire broke out in a building in New Jersey in which a man and his wife occupied a flat. They made their escape; then the man missed his wife. He remembered they had $350 in a drawer up there, and thought she might have gone back for it. He went to see, but was driven back by the flames, but not till he had seen her lying helpless on the stairs. Next day her charred body was recovered, the burned fragments of the money tightly grasped in her hand.
Riches in Christ.
A poor boy in London, whose parents were dead, lived a miserable life in the care of a drunken woman. His greatest, almost his only, pleasure in life was to look at the fine things in the shop windows. He knew they were not meant for him, for there was always the glass between him and them. He was greatly fascinated by some toy soldiers, but there was always the glass between. One day he was run over and taken to hospital. When better he had some toys to play with, and some toy soldiers. Slowly he put out his hand till he touched them, and cried out, almost incredulously, “There isn’t any glass between!”
Romans 7 and 8.
A devout colored woman heard a preacher speaking on the conflicts and distresses of experience such as are described in Romans 7. She said to the preacher: “It seems you don’t understand those chapters. You talk as if we were to live in the 7th and pay little visits to the 8th.” “Why, yes, don’t you think so, too?” “Bless your soul, no! Why I live in the 8th.”