"Recreation to a minister must be as whetting is with the mower -- that is, to be used only so far as is necessary for his work. May a physician in plague-time take any more relaxation or recreation than is necessary for his life, when so many are expecting his help in a case of life and death? Will you stand by and see sinners gasping under the pangs of death, and say: 'God doth not require me to make myself a drudge to save them'? Is this the voice of ministerial or Christian compassion or rather of sensual laziness and diabolical cruelty." -- Richard Baxter
"Misemployment of time is injurious to the mind. In illness I have looked back with self-reproach on days spent in my study; I was wading through history and poetry and monthly journals, but I was in my study! Another man's trifling is notorious to all observers, but what am I doing? Nothing, perhaps, that has reference to the spiritual good of my congregation. Be much in retirement and prayer. Study the honor and glory of your Master." -- Richard Cecil
"Study universal holiness of life. Your whole usefulness depends on this, for your sermons last but an hour or two; your life preaches all the week. If Satan can only make a covetous minister a lover of praise, of pleasure, of good eating, he has ruined your ministry. Give yourself to prayer, and get your texts, your thoughts, your words from God. Luther spent his best three hours in prayer."
-- Robert Murray McCheyne
We are constantly on a stretch, if not on a strain, to devise new methods, new plans, new organizations to advance the Church and secure enlargement and efficiency for the gospel. This trend of the day has a tendency to lose sight of the man or sink the man in the plan or organization. God's plan is to make much of the man, far more of him than of anything else. Men are God's method. The Church is looking for better methods; God is looking for better men. "There was a man sent from God whose name was John." The dispensation that heralded and prepared the way for Christ was bound up in that man John. "Unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given." The world's salvation comes out of that cradled Son. When Paul appeals to the personal character of the men who rooted the gospel in the world, he solves the mystery of their success. The glory and efficiency of the gospel is staked on the men who proclaim it. When God declares that "the eyes of the Lord run to and fro throughout the whole earth, to show himself strong in the behalf of them whose heart is perfect toward him," he declares the necessity of men and his dependence on them as a channel through which to exert his power upon the world. This vital, urgent truth is one that this age of machinery is apt to forget. The forgetting of it is as baneful on the work of God as would be the striking of the sun from his sphere. Darkness, confusion, and death would ensue.
What the Church needs to-day is not more machinery or better, not new organizations or more and novel methods, but men whom the Holy Ghost can use -- men of prayer, men mighty in prayer. The Holy Ghost does not flow through methods, but through men. He does not come on machinery, but on men. He does not anoint plans, but men -- men of prayer.
An eminent historian has said that the accidents of personal character have more to do with the revolutions of nations than either philosophic historians or democratic politicians will allow. This truth has its application in full to the gospel of Christ, the character and conduct of the followers of Christ -- Christianize the world, transfigure nations and individuals. Of the preachers of the gospel it is eminently true.
The character as well as the fortunes of the gospel is committed to the preacher. He makes or mars the message from God to man. The preacher is the golden pipe through which the divine oil flows. The pipe must not only be golden, but open and flawless, that the oil may have a full, unhindered, unwasted flow.
The man makes the preacher. God must make the man. The messenger is, if possible, more than the message. The preacher is more than the sermon. The preacher makes the sermon. As the life-giving milk from the mother's bosom is but the mother's life, so all the preacher says is tinctured, impregnated by what the preacher is. The treasure is in earthen vessels, and the taste of the vessel impregnates and may discolor. The man, the whole man, lies behind the sermon. Preaching is not the performance of an hour. It is the outflow of a life. It takes twenty years to make a sermon, because it takes twenty years to make the man. The true sermon is a thing of life. The sermon grows because the man grows. The sermon is forceful because the man is forceful. The sermon is holy because the man is holy. The sermon is full of the divine unction because the man
is full of the divine unction.
Paul termed it "My gospel;" not that he had degraded it by his personal eccentricities or diverted it by selfish appropriation, but the gospel was put into the heart and lifeblood of the man Paul, as a personal trust to be executed by his Pauline traits, to be set aflame and empowered by the fiery energy of his fiery soul. Paul's sermons -- what were they? Where are they? Skeletons, scattered fragments, afloat on the sea of inspiration! But the man Paul, greater than his sermons, lives forever, in full form, feature and stature, with his molding hand on the Church. The preaching is but a voice. The voice in silence dies, the text is forgotten, the sermon fades from memory; the preacher lives.
The sermon cannot rise in its life-giving forces above the man. Dead men give out dead sermons, and dead sermons kill. Everything depends on the spiritual character of the preacher. Under the Jewish dispensation the high priest had inscribed in jeweled letters on a
golden frontlet: "Holiness to the Lord." So every preacher in Christ's ministry must be molded into and mastered by this same holy motto. It is a crying shame for the Christian ministry to fall lower in holiness of
character and holiness of aim than the Jewish priesthood. Jonathan Edwards said: "I went on with my eager pursuit after more holiness and conformity to Christ. The heaven I desired was a heaven of holiness." The gospel of
Christ does not move by popular waves. It has no self-propagating power. It moves as the men who have charge of it move. The preacher must impersonate the gospel. Its divine, most distinctive features must be embodied in him. The constraining power of love must be in the preacher as a projecting, eccentric, an all-commanding, self-oblivious force. The energy of self-denial must be his being, his heart and blood and bones. He must go forth as a man among men, clothed with humility, abiding in meekness, wise as a serpent, harmless as a dove; the bonds of a servant with the spirit of a king, a king in high, royal, in dependent bearing, with the simplicity and sweetness of a child. The preacher must throw himself, with all the abandon of a perfect, self-emptying faith and a self-consuming zeal, into his work for the salvation of men. Hearty, heroic, compassionate, fearless martyrs must the men be who take hold of and shape a generation for God. If they be timid time servers, place seekers, if they be men pleasers or men fearers, if their faith has a weak hold on God or his Word, if their denial be broken by any phase of self or the world, they cannot take hold of the Church nor the world for God.
The preacher's sharpest and strongest preaching should be to
himself. His most difficult, delicate, laborious, and thorough work must
be with himself. The training of the twelve was the great, difficult, and
enduring work of Christ. Preachers are not sermon makers, but men makers
and saint makers, and he only is well-trained for this business who has
made himself a man and a saint. It is not great talents nor great learning
nor great preachers that God needs, but men great in holiness, great in
faith, great in love, great in fidelity, great for God -- men always
preaching by holy sermons in the pulpit, by holy lives out of it. These
can mold a generation for God.
After this order, the early
Christians were formed. Men they were of solid mold, preachers after the
heavenly type -- heroic, stalwart, soldierly, saintly. Preaching with them
meant self-denying, self-crucifying, serious, toilsome, martyr business.
They applied themselves to it in a way that told on their generation, and
formed in its womb a generation yet unborn for God. The preaching man is
to be the praying man. Prayer is the preacher's mightiest weapon. An
almighty force in itself, it gives life and force to all.
The real
sermon is made in the closet. The man -- God's man -- is made in the
closet. His life and his profoundest convictions were born in his secret
communion with God. The burdened and tearful agony of his spirit, his
weightiest and sweetest messages were got when alone with God. Prayer
makes the man; prayer makes the preacher; prayer makes the
pastor.
The pulpit of this day is weak in praying. The pride of
learning is against the dependent humility of prayer. Prayer is with the
pulpit too often only official -- a performance for the routine of
service. Prayer is not to the modern pulpit the mighty force it was in
Paul's life or Paul's ministry. Every preacher who does not make prayer a
mighty factor in his own life and ministry is weak as a factor in God's
work and is powerless to project God's cause in this world..
"But above all he excelled in prayer.
The inwardness and weight of his spirit, the reverence and solemnity
of his address and behavior, and the fewness and fullness of his words
have often struck even strangers with admiration as they used to reach
others with consolation. The most awful, living, reverend frame I ever
felt or beheld, I must say, was his prayer. And truly it was a
testimony. He knew and lived nearer to the Lord than other men, for
they that know him most will see most reason to approach him with
reverence and fear."
-- William Penn of George
Fox
The sweetest graces by a slight perversion
may bear the bitterest fruit. The sun gives life, but
sunstrokes are death. Preaching is to give life; it may kill. The preacher
holds the keys; he may lock as well as unlock. Preaching is God's great
institution for the planting and maturing of spiritual life. When properly
executed, its benefits are untold; when wrongly executed, no evil can
exceed its damaging results. It is an easy matter to destroy the flock if
the shepherd be unwary or the pasture be destroyed, easy to capture the
citadel if the watchmen be asleep or the food and water be poisoned.
Invested with such gracious prerogatives, exposed to so great evils,
involving so many grave responsibilities, it would be a parody on the
shrewdness of the devil and a libel on his character and reputation if he
did not bring his master influences to adulterate the preacher and the
preaching. In face of all this, the exclamatory interrogatory of Paul,
"Who is sufficient for these things?" is never out of order.
Paul
says: "Our sufficiency is of God, who also hath made us able ministers of
the new testament; not of the letter, but of the spirit: for the letter
killeth, but the spirit giveth life." The true ministry is God-touched,
God-enabled, and God-made. The Spirit of God is on the preacher in
anointing power, the fruit of the Spirit is in his heart, the Spirit of
God has vitalized the man and the word; his preaching gives life, gives
life as the spring gives life; gives life as the resurrection gives life;
gives ardent life as the summer gives ardent life; gives fruitful life as
the autumn gives fruitful life. The life-giving preacher is a man of God,
whose heart is ever athirst for God, whose soul is ever following hard
after God, whose eye is single to God, and in whom by the power of God's
Spirit the flesh and the world have been crucified and his ministry is
like the generous flood of a life-giving river.
The preaching that
kills is non-spiritual preaching. The ability of the preaching is not from
God. Lower sources than God have given to it energy and stimulant. The
Spirit is not evident in the preacher nor his preaching. Many kinds of
forces may be projected and stimulated by preaching that kills, but they
are not spiritual forces. They may resemble spiritual forces, but are only
the shadow, the counterfeit; life they may seem to have, but the life is
magnetized. The preaching that kills is the letter; shapely and orderly it
may be, but it is the letter still, the dry, husky letter, the empty, bald
shell. The letter may have the germ of life in it, but it has no breath of
spring to evoke it; winter seeds they are, as hard as the winter's soil,
as icy as the winter's air, no thawing nor germinating by them. This
letter-preaching has the truth. But even divine truth has no life-giving
energy alone; it must be energized by the Spirit, with all God's forces at
its back. Truth unquickened by God's Spirit deadens as much as, or more
than, error. It may be the truth without admixture; but without the Spirit
its shade and touch are deadly, its truth error, its light darkness. The
letter-preaching is unctionless, neither mellowed nor oiled by the Spirit.
There may be tears, but tears cannot run God's machinery; tears may be but
summer's breath on a snow-covered iceberg, nothing but surface slush.
Feelings and earnestness there may be, but it is the emotion of the actor
and the earnestness of the attorney. The preacher may feel from the
kindling of his own sparks, be eloquent over his own exegesis, earnest in
delivering the product of his own brain; the professor may usurp the place
and imitate the fire of the apostle; brains and nerves may serve the place
and feign the work of God's Spirit, and by these forces the letter may
glow and sparkle like an illumined text, but the glow and sparkle will be
as barren of life as the field sown with pearls. The death-dealing element
lies back of the words, back of the sermon, back of the occasion, back of
the manner, back of the action. The great hindrance is in the preacher
himself. He has not in himself the mighty life-creating forces. There may
be no discount on his orthodoxy, honesty, cleanness, or earnestness; but
somehow the man, the inner man, in its secret places has never broken down
and surrendered to God, his inner life is not a great highway for the
transmission of God's message, God's power. Somehow self and not God rules
in the holy of holiest. Somewhere, all unconscious to himself, some
spiritual nonconductor has touched his inner being, and the divine current
has been arrested. His inner being has never felt its thorough spiritual
bankruptcy, its utter powerlessness; he has never learned to cry out with
an ineffable cry of self-despair and self-helplessness till God's power
and God's fire comes in and fills, purifies, empowers. Self-esteem,
self-ability in some pernicious shape has defamed and violated the temple
which should be held sacred for God. Life-giving preaching costs the
preacher much -- death to self, crucifixion to the world, the travail of
his own soul. Crucified preaching only can give life. Crucified preaching
can come only from a crucified man..
"During this affliction I was brought to
examine my life in relation to eternity closer than I had done when in
the enjoyment of health. In this examination relative to the discharge
of my duties toward my fellow creatures as a man, a Christian minister,
and an officer of the Church, I stood approved by my own conscience; but
in relation to my Redeemer and Saviour the result was different. My
returns of gratitude and loving obedience bear no proportion to my
obligations for redeeming, preserving, andsupporting me through the
vicissitudes of life from infancy to old age. The coldness of my love to
Him who first loved me and has done so much for me overwhelmed and
confused me; and to complete my unworthy character, I had not only
neglected to improve the grace given to the extent of my duty and
privilege, but for want of improvement had, while abounding in
perplexing care and labor, declined from first zeal and love. I was
confounded, humbled myself, implored mercy, and renewed my covenant to
strive and devote myself unreservedly to the Lord."
-- Bishop McKendree
The preaching that kills may be, and often
is, orthodox -- dogmatically, inviolably orthodox. We
love orthodoxy. It is good. It is the best. It is the clean, clear-cut
teaching of God's Word, the trophies won by truth in its conflict with
error, the levees which faith has raised against the desolating floods of
honest or reckless misbelief or unbelief; but orthodoxy, clear and hard as
crystal, suspicious and militant, may be but the letter well-shaped,
well-named, and well-learned, the letter which kills. Nothing is so dead
as a dead orthodoxy, too dead to speculate, too dead to think, to study,
or to pray.
The preaching that kills may have insight and grasp of
principles, may be scholarly and critical in taste, may have every minutia
of the derivation and grammar of the letter, may be able to trim the
letter into its perfect pattern, and illume it as Plato and Cicero may be
illumined, may study it as a lawyer studies his text-books to form his
brief or to defend his case, and yet be like a frost, a killing frost.
Letter-preaching may be eloquent, enameled with poetry and rhetoric,
sprinkled with prayer spiced with sensation, illumined by genius and yet
these be but the massive or chaste, costly mountings, the rare and
beautiful flowers which coffin the corpse. The preaching which kills may
be without scholarship, unmarked by any freshness of thought or feeling,
clothed in tasteless generalities or vapid specialties, with style
irregular, slovenly, savoring neither of closet nor of study, graced
neither by thought, expression, or prayer. Under such preaching how wide
and utter the desolation! how profound the spiritual death!
This
letter-preaching deals with the surface and shadow of things, and not the
things themselves. It does not penetrate the inner part. It has no deep
insight into, no strong grasp of, the hidden life of God's Word. It is
true to the outside, but the outside is the hull which must be broken and
penetrated for the kernel. The letter may be dressed so as to attract and
be fashionable, but the attraction is not toward God nor is the fashion
for heaven. The failure is in the preacher. God has not made him. He has
never been in the hands of God like clay in the hands of the potter. He
has been busy about the sermon, its thought and finish, its drawing and
impressive forces; but the deep things of God have never been sought,
studied, fathomed, experienced by him. He has never stood before "the
throne high and lifted up," never heard the seraphim song, never seen the
vision nor felt the rush of that awful holiness, and cried out in utter
abandon and despair under the sense of weakness and guilt, and had his
life renewed, his heart touched, purged, inflamed by the live coal from
God's altar. His ministry may draw people to him, to the Church, to the
form and ceremony; but no true drawings to God, no sweet, holy, divine
communion induced. The Church has been frescoed but not edified, pleased
but not sanctified. Life is suppressed; a chill is on the summer air; the
soil is baked. The city of our God becomes the city of the dead; the
Church a graveyard, not an embattled army. Praise and prayer are stifled;
worship is dead. The preacher and the preaching have helped sin, not
holiness; peopled hell, not heaven.
Preaching which kills is
prayerless preaching. Without prayer the preacher creates death, and not
life. The preacher who is feeble in prayer is feeble in life-giving
forces. The preacher who has retired prayer as a conspicuous and largely
prevailing element in his own character has shorn his preaching of its
distinctive life-giving power. Professional praying there is and will be,
but professional praying helps the preaching to its deadly work.
Professional praying chills and kills both preaching and praying. Much of
the lax devotion and lazy, irreverent attitudes in congregational praying
are attributable to professional praying in the pulpit. Long, discursive,
dry, and inane are the prayers in many pulpits. Without unction or heart,
they fall like a killing frost on all the graces of worship. Death-dealing
prayers they are. Every vestige of devotion has perished under their
breath. The deader they are the longer they grow. A plea for short
praying, live praying, real heart praying, praying by the Holy Spirit --
direct, specific, ardent, simple, unctuous in the pulpit -- is in order. A
school to teach preachers how to pray, as God counts praying, would be
more beneficial to true piety, true worship, and true preaching than all
theological schools.
Stop! Pause! Consider! Where are we? What are
we doing? Preaching to kill? Praying to kill? Praying to God! the great
God, the Maker of all worlds, the Judge of all men! What reverence! what
simplicity! what sincerity! what truth in the inward parts is demanded!
How real we must be! How hearty! Prayer to God the noblest exercise, the
loftiest effort of man, the most real thing! Shall we not discard forever
accursed preaching that kills and prayer that kills, and do the real
thing, the mightiest thing -- prayerful praying, life-creating preaching,
bring the mightiest force to bear on heaven and earth and draw on God's
exhaustless and open treasure for the need and beggary of man?.
"Let us often look at Brainerd in the
woods of America pouring out his very soul before God for the perishing
heathen without whose salvation nothing could make him happy. Prayer --
secret fervent believing prayer -- lies at the root of all personal
godliness. A competent knowledge of the language where a missionary
lives, a mild and winning temper, a heart given up to God in closet
religion -- these, these are the attainments which, more than all
knowledge, or all other gifts, will fit us to become the instruments of
God in the great work of human redemption."
-- Carrey's Brotherhood,
Serampore
There are two extreme tendencies in the
ministry. The one is to shut itself out from intercourse with the people.
The monk, the hermit were illustrations of this; they shut themselves out from men to be more with God. They failed, of course.
Our being with God is of use only as we expend its priceless benefits on
men. This age, neither with preacher nor with people, is much intent on
God. Our hankering is not that way. We shut ourselves to our study, we
become students, bookworms, Bible worms, sermon makers, noted for
literature, thought, and sermons; but the people and God, where are they?
Out of heart, out of mind. Preachers who are great thinkers, great
students must be the greatest of prayers, or else they will be the
greatest of backsliders, heartless professionals, rationalistic, less than
the least of preachers in God's estimate.
The other tendency is to
thoroughly popularize the ministry. He is no longer God's man, but a man
of affairs, of the people. He prays not, because his mission is to the
people. If he can move the people, create an interest, a sensation in
favor of religion, an interest in Church work -- he is satisfied. His
personal relation to God is no factor in his work. Prayer has little or no
place in his plans. The disaster and ruin of such a ministry cannot be
computed by earthly arithmetic. What the preacher is in prayer to God, for
himself, for his people, so is his power for real good to men, so is his
true fruitfulness, his true fidelity to God, to man, for time, for
eternity.
It is impossible for the preacher to keep his spirit in
harmony with the divine nature of his high calling without much prayer.
That the preacher by dint of duty and laborious fidelity to the work and
routine of the ministry can keep himself in trim and fitness is a serious
mistake. Even sermon-making, incessant and taxing as an art, as a duty, as
a work, or as a pleasure, will engross and harden, will estrange the
heart, by neglect of prayer, from God. The scientist loses God in nature.
The preacher may lose God in his sermon.
Prayer freshens the heart
of the preacher, keeps it in tune with God and in sympathy with the
people, lifts his ministry out of the chilly air of a profession,
fructifies routine and moves every wheel with the facility and power of a
divine unction.
Mr. Spurgeon says: "Of course the preacher is above
all others distinguished as a man of prayer. He prays as an ordinary
Christian, else he were a hypocrite. He prays more than ordinary
Christians, else he were disqualified for the office he has undertaken. If
you as ministers are not very prayerful, you are to be pitied. If you
become lax in sacred devotion, not only will you need to be pitied but
your people also, and the day cometh in which you shall be ashamed and
confounded. All our libraries and studies are mere emptiness compared with
our closets. Our seasons of fasting and prayer at the Tabernacle have been
high days indeed; never has heaven's gate stood wider; never have our
hearts been nearer the central Glory."
The praying which makes a
prayerful ministry is not a little praying put in as we put flavor to give
it a pleasant smack, but the praying must be in the body, and form the
blood and bones. Prayer is no petty duty, put into a corner; no piecemeal
performance made out of the fragments of time which have been snatched
from business and other engagements of life; but it means that the best of
our time, the heart of our time and strength must be given. It does not
mean the closet absorbed in the study or swallowed up in the activities of
ministerial duties; but it means the closet first, the study and
activities second, both study and activities freshened and made efficient
by the closet. Prayer thaaying helps the preaching to
its deadly work. Professional praying chills and kills both preaching and praying. Much of the lax devotion and lazy, irreverent attitudes in congregational praying are attributable to professional praying in the pulpit. Long, discursive, dry, and inane are the prayers in many pulpits. Without
unction or heart, they fall like a killing frost on all the graces of worship. Death-dealing prayers they are. Every vestige of devotion has perished under their breath. The deader they are the longer they grow. A plea for short praying, live praying, real heart praying, praying by the Holy Spirit -
- direct, specific, ardent, simple, unctuous in the pulpit -- is in order. A school to teach preachers how to pray, as God counts praying, would be more beneficial to true piety, true worship, and true preaching than all theological schools.
Stop! Pause! Consider! Where are we? What are we
doing? Preaching to kill? Praying to kill? Praying to God! the great God, the Maker of all worlds, the Judge of all men! What reverence! what simplicity! what sincerity! what truth in the inward parts is demanded! How real we must be! How hearty! Prayer to God the noblest exercise, the loftiest
effort of man, the most real thing! Shall we not discard forever accursed preaching that kills and prayer that kills, and do the real thing, the mightiest thing -- prayerful praying, life-creating preaching, bring the mightiest force to bear on heaven and earth and draw on God's exhaustless and open
treasure for the need and beggary of man?.
"Let us often look at Brainerd in the woods of America pouring out his very soul before God for the perishing heathen without whose salvation
nothing could make him happy. Prayer -- secret fervent believing prayer -- lies at the root of all personal godliness. A competent knowledge of the language where a missionary lives, a mild and winning temper, a heart given up to God in closet religion -- these, these are the attainments which, more
than all knowledge, or all other gifts, will fit us to become the instruments of God in the great work of human redemption." -- Carrey's Brotherhood, Serampore
There are two extreme tendencies in the ministry. The one is to shut itself out from intercourse with the people.
The monk, the hermit were illustrations of this; they shut themselves out from men to be more with God. They failed, of course. Our being with God is of use only as we expend its priceless benefits on men. This age, neither with preacher nor with people, is much intent on God. Our hankering is not
that way. We shut ourselves to our study, we become students, bookworms, Bible worms, sermon makers, noted for literature, thought, and sermons; but the people and God, where are they? Out of heart, out of mind. Preachers who are great thinkers, great students must be the greatest of prayers, or
else they will be the greatest of backsliders, heartless professionals, rationalistic, less than the least of preachers in God's estimate.
The other tendency is to thoroughly popularize the ministry. He is no longer God's man, but a man of affairs, of the people. He prays not, because his
mission is to the people. If he can move the people, create an interest, a sensation in favor of religion, an interest in Church work -- he is satisfied. His personal relation to God is no factor in his work. Prayer has little or no place in his plans. The disaster and ruin of such a ministry cannot
be computed by earthly arithmetic. What the preacher is in prayer to God, for himself, for his people, so is his power for real good to men, so is his true fruitfulness, his true fidelity to God, to man, for time, for eternity.
It is impossible for the preacher to keep his spirit in harmony
with the divine nature of his high calling without much prayer. That the preacher by dint of duty and laborious fidelity to the work and routine of the ministry can keep himself in trim and fitness is a serious mistake. Even sermon-making, incessant and taxing as an art, as a duty, as a work, or as
a pleasure, will engross and harden, will estrange the heart, by neglect of prayer, from God. The scientist loses God in nature. The preacher may lose God in his sermon.
Prayer freshens the heart of the preacher, keeps it in tune with God and in sympathy with the people, lifts his ministry
out of the chilly air of a profession, fructifies routine and moves every wheel with the facility and power of a divine unction.
Mr. Spurgeon says: "Of course the preacher is above all others distinguished as a man of prayer. He prays as an ordinary Christian, else he were a hypocrite. He
prays more than ordinary Christians, else he were disqualified for the office he has undertaken. If you as ministers are not very prayerful, you are to be pitied. If you become lax in sacred devotion, not only will you need to be pitied but your people also, and the day cometh in which you shall be
ashamed and confounded. All our libraries and studies are mere emptiness compared with our closets. Our seasons of fasting and prayer at the Tabernacle have been high days indeed; never has heaven's gate stood wider; never have our hearts been nearer the central Glory."
The praying which
makes a prayerful ministry is not a little praying put in as we put flavor to give it a pleasant smack, but the praying must be in the body, and form the blood and bones. Prayer is no petty duty, put into a corner; no piecemeal performance made out of the fragments of time which have been snatched
from business and other engagements of life; but it means that the best of our time, the heart of our time and strength must be given. It does not mean the closet absorbed in the study or swallowed up in the activities of ministerial duties; but it means the closet first, the study and activities
second, both study and activities freshened and made efficient by the closet. Prayer that affects one's ministry must give tone to one's
life. The praying which gives color and bent to character is no pleasant,
hurried pastime. It must enter as strongly into the heart and life as
Christ's "strong crying and tears" did; must draw out the soul into an
agony of desire as Paul's did; must be an inwrought fire and force like
the "effectual, fervent prayer" of James; must be of that quality which,
when put into the golden censer and incensed before God, works mighty
spiritual throes and revolutions.
Prayer is not a little habit
pinned on to us while we were tied to our mother's apron strings; neither
is it a little decent quarter of a minute's grace said over an hour's
dinner, but it is a most serious work of our most serious years. It
engages more of time and appetite than our longest dinings or richest
feasts. The prayer that makes much of our preaching must be made much of.
The character of our praying will determine the character of our
preaching. Light praying will make light preaching. Prayer makes preaching
strong, gives it unction, and makes it stick. In every ministry weighty
for good, prayer has always been a serious business.
The preacher
must be preeminently a man of prayer. His heart must graduate in the
school of prayer. In the school of prayer only can the heart learn to
preach. No learning can make up for the failure to pray. No earnestness,
no diligence, no study, no gifts will supply its lack.
Talking to
men for God is a great thing, but talking to God for men is greater still.
He will never talk well and with real success to men for God who has not
learned well how to talk to God for men. More than this, prayerless words
in the pulpit and out of it are deadening words..
"You know the value of prayer: it is
precious beyond all price. Never, never neglect it -- Sir Thomas Buxton
Prayer is the first thing, the second thing, the third thing necessary
to a minister. Pray, then, my dear brother: pray, pray, pray."
-- Edward Payson
Prayer, in the preacher's life, in the
preacher's study, in the preacher's pulpit, must be a
conspicuous and an all-impregnating force and an all-coloring ingredient.
It must play no secondary part, be no mere coating. To him it is given to
be with his Lord "all night in prayer." The preacher, to train himself in
self-denying prayer, is charged to look to his Master, who, "rising up a
great while before day, went out, and departed into a solitary place, and
there prayed." The preacher's study ought to be a closet, a Bethel, an
altar, a vision, and a ladder, that every thought might ascend heavenward
ere it went manward; that every part of the sermon might be scented by the
air of heaven and made serious, because God was in the study.
As
the engine never moves until the fire is kindled, so preaching, with all
its machinery, perfection, and polish, is at a dead standstill, as far as
spiritual results are concerned, till prayer has kindled and created the
steam. The texture, fineness, and strength of the sermon is as so much
rubbish unless the mighty impulse of prayer is in it, through it, and
behind it. The preacher must, by prayer, put God in the sermon. The
preacher must, by prayer, move God toward the people before he can move
the people to God by his words. The preacher must have had audience and
ready access to God before he can have access to the people. An open way
to God for the preacher is the surest pledge of an open way to the
people.
It is necessary to iterate and reiterate that prayer, as a
mere habit, as a performance gone through by routine or in a professional
way, is a dead and rotten thing. Such praying has no connection with the
praying for which we plead. We are stressing true praying, which engages
and sets on fire every high element of the preacher's being -- prayer
which is born of vital oneness with Christ and the fullness of the Holy
Ghost, which springs from the deep, overflowing fountains of tender
compassion, deathless solicitude for man's eternal good; a consuming zeal
for the glory of God; a thorough conviction of the preacher's difficult
and delicate work and of the imperative need of God's mightiest help.
Praying grounded on these solemn and profound convictions is the only true
praying. Preaching backed by such praying is the only preaching which sows
the seeds of eternal life in human hearts and builds men up for
heaven.
It is true that there may be popular preaching, pleasant
preaching, taking preaching, preaching of much intellectual, literary, and
brainy force, with its measure and form of good, with little or no
praying; but the preaching which secures God's end in preaching must be
born of prayer from text to exordium, delivered with the energy and spirit
of prayer, followed and made to germinate, and kept in vital force in the
hearts of the hearers by the preacher's prayers, long after the occasion
has past.
We may excuse the spiritual poverty of our preaching in
many ways, but the true secret will be found in the lack of urgent prayer
for God's presence in the power of the Holy Spirit. There are preachers
innumerable who can deliver masterful sermons after their order; but the
effects are short-lived and do not enter as a factor at all into the
regions of the spirit where the fearful war between God and Satan, heaven
and hell, is being waged because they are not made powerfully militant and
spiritually victorious by prayer.
The preachers who gain mighty
results for God are the men who have prevailed in their pleadings with God
ere venturing to plead with men. The preachers who are the mightiest in
their closets with God are the mightiest in their pulpits with
men.
Preachers are human folks, and are exposed to and often caught
by the strong driftings of human currents. Praying is spiritual work; and
human nature does not like taxing, spiritual work. Human nature wants to
sail to heaven under a favoring breeze, a full, smooth sea. Prayer is
humbling work. It abases intellect and pride, crucifies vainglory, and
signs our spiritual bankruptcy, and all these are hard for flesh and blood
to bear. It is easier not to pray than to bear them. So we come to one of
the crying evils of these times, maybe of all times -- little or no
praying. Of these two evils, perhaps little praying is worse than no
praying. Little praying is a kind of make-believe, a salvo for the
conscience, a farce and a delusion.
The little estimate we put on
prayer is evident from the little time we give to it. The time given to
prayer by the average preacher scarcely counts in the sum of the daily
aggregate. Not infrequently the preacher's only praying is by his bedside
in his nightdress, ready for bed and soon in it, with, perchance the
addition of a few hasty snatches of prayer ere he is dressed in the
morning. How feeble, vain, and little is such praying compared with the
time and energy devoted to praying by holy men in and out of the Bible!
How poor and mean our petty, childish praying is beside the habits of the
true men of God in all ages! To men who think praying their main business
and devote time to it according to this high estimate of its importance
does God commit the keys of his kingdom, and by them does he work his
spiritual wonders in this world. Great praying is the sign and seal of
God's great leaders and the earnest of the conquering forces with which
God will crown their labors.
The preacher is commissioned to pray
as well as to preach. His mission is incomplete if he does not do both
well. The preacher may speak with all the eloquence of men and of angels;
but unless he can pray with a faith which draws all heaven to his aid, his
preaching will be "as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal" for permanent
God-honoring, soul-saving uses..
"The principal cause of my leanness and
unfruitfulness is owing to an unaccountable backwardness to pray. I can
write or read or converse or hear with a ready heart; but prayer is more
spiritual and inward than any of these, and the more spiritual any duty
is the more my carnal heart is apt to start from it. Prayer and patience
and faith are never disappointed. I have long since learned that if ever
I was to be a minister faith and prayer must make me one. When I can
find my heart in frame and liberty for prayer, everything else is
comparatively easy."
-- Richard Newton
It may be put down as a spiritual axiom that
in every truly successful ministry prayer is an
evident and controlling force -- evident and controlling in the life of
the preacher, evident and controlling in the deep spirituality of his
work. A ministry may be a very thoughtful ministry without prayer; the
preacher may secure fame and popularity without prayer; the whole
machinery of the preacher's life and work may be run without the oil of
prayer or with scarcely enough to grease one cog; but no ministry can be a
spiritual one, securing holiness in the preacher and in his people,
without prayer being made an evident and controlling force.
The
preacher that prays indeed puts God into the work. God does not come into
the preacher's work as a matter of course or on general principles, but he
comes by prayer and special urgency. That God will be found of us in the
day that we seek him with the whole heart is as true of the preacher as of
the penitent. A prayerful ministry is the only ministry that brings the
preacher into sympathy with the people. Prayer as essentially unites to
the human as it does to the divine. A prayerful ministry is the only
ministry qualified for the high offices and responsibilities of the
preacher. Colleges, learning, books, theology, preaching cannot make a
preacher, but praying does. The apostles' commission to preach was a blank
till filled up by the Pentecost which praying brought. A prayerful
minister has passed beyond the regions of the popular, beyond the man of
mere affairs, of secularities, of pulpit attractiveness; passed beyond the
ecclesiastical organizer or general into a sublimer and mightier region,
the region of the spiritual. Holiness is the product of his work;
transfigured hearts and lives emblazon the reality of his work, its
trueness and substantial nature. God is with him. His ministry is not
projected on worldly or surface principles. He is deeply stored with and
deeply schooled in the things of God. His long, deep communings with God
about his people and the agony of his wrestling spirit have crowned him as
a prince in the things of God. The iciness of the mere professional has
long since melted under the intensity of his praying.
The
superficial results of many a ministry, the deadness of others, are to be
found in the lack of praying. No ministry can succeed without much
praying, and this praying must be fundamental, ever-abiding,
ever-increasing. The text, the sermon, should be the result of prayer. The
study should be bathed in prayer, all its duties so impregnated with
prayer, its whole spirit the spirit of prayer. "I am sorry that I have
prayed so little," was the deathbed regret of one of God's chosen ones, a
sad and remorseful regret for a preacher. "I want a life of greater,
deeper, truer prayer," said the late Archbishop Tait. So may we all say,
and this may we all secure.
God's true preachers have been
distinguished by one great feature: they were men of prayer. Differing
often in many things, they have always had a common center. They may have
started from different points, and traveled by different roads, but they
converged to one point: they were one in prayer. God to there was the
center of attraction, and prayer was the path that led to God. These men
prayed not occasionally, not a little at regular or at odd times; but they
so prayed that their prayers entered into and shaped their characters;
they so prayed as to affect their own lives and the lives of others; they
so prayed as to make the history of the Church and influence the current
of the times. They spent much time in prayer, not because they marked the
shadow on the dial or the hands on the clock, but because it was to them
so momentous and engaging a business that they could scarcely give
over.
Prayer was to them what it was to Paul, a striving with
earnest effort of soul; what it was to Jacob, a wrestling and prevailing;
what it was to Christ, "strong crying and tears." They "prayed always with
all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, and watching thereunto with all
perseverance." "The effectual, fervent prayer" has been the mightiest
weapon of God's mightiest soldiers. The statement in regard to Elijah --
that he "was a man subject to like passions as we are, and he prayed
earnestly that it might not rain: and it rained not on the earth by the
space of three years and six months. And he prayed again, and the heaven
gave rain, and the earth brought forth her fruit" -- comprehends all
prophets and preachers who have moved their generation for God, and shows
the instrument by which they worked their wonders..
Back to Top VII. MUCH TIME
SHOULD BE GIVEN TO PRAYER
"The great masters and teachers in
Christian doctrine have always found in prayer their highest source of
illumination. Not to go beyond the limits of the English Church, it is
recorded of Bishop Andrews that he spent five hours daily on his knees.
The greatest practical resolves that have enriched and beautified human
life in Christian times have been arrived at in prayer."
-- Canon Liddon
While many private prayers, in the nature of
things, must be short; while public prayers, as a
rule, ought to be short and condensed; while there is ample room for and
value put on ejaculatory prayer -- yet in our private communions with God
time is a feature essential to its value. Much time spent with God is the
secret of all successful praying. Prayer which is felt as a mighty force
is the mediate or immediate product of much time spent with God. Our short
prayers owe their point and efficiency to the long ones that have preceded
them. The short prevailing prayer cannot be prayed by one who has not
prevailed with God in a mightier struggle of long continuance. Jacob's
victory of faith could not have been gained without that all-night
wrestling. God's acquaintance is not made by pop calls. God does not
bestow his gifts on the casual or hasty comers and goers. Much with God
alone is the secret of knowing him and of influence with him. He yields to
the persistency of a faith that knows him. He bestows his richest gifts
upon those who declare their desire for and appreciation of those gifts by
the constancy as well as earnestness of their importunity. Christ, who in
this as well as other things is our Example, spent many whole nights in
prayer. His custom was to pray much. He had his habitual place to pray.
Many long seasons of praying make up his history and character. Paul
prayed day and night. It took time from very important interests for
Daniel to pray three times a day. David's morning, noon, and night praying
were doubtless on many occasions very protracted. While we have no
specific account of the time these Bible saints spent in prayer, yet the
indications are that they consumed much time in prayer, and on some
occasions long seasons of praying was their custom.
We would not
have any think that the value of their prayers is to be measured by the
clock, but our purpose is to impress on our minds the necessity of being
much alone with God; and that if this feature has not been produced by our
faith, then our faith is of a feeble and surface type.
The men who
have most fully illustrated Christ in their character, and have most
powerfully affected the world for him, have been men who spent so much
time with God as to make it a notable feature of their lives. Charles
Simeon devoted the hours from four till eight in the morning to God. Mr.
Wesley spent two hours daily in prayer. He began at four in the morning.
Of him, one who knew him well wrote: "He thought prayer to be more his
business than anything else, and I have seen him come out of his closet
with a serenity of face next to shining." John Fletcher stained the walls
of his room by the breath of his prayers. Sometimes he would pray all
night; always, frequently, and with great earnestness. His whole life was
a life of prayer. "I would not rise from my seat," he said, "without
lifting my heart to God." His greeting to a friend was always: "Do I meet
you praying?" Luther said: "If I fail to spend two hours in prayer each
morning, the devil gets the victory through the day. I have so much
business I cannot get on without spending three hours daily in prayer." He
had a motto: "He that has prayed well has studied well."
Archbishop
Leighton was so much alone with God that he seemed to be in a perpetual
meditation. "Prayer and praise were his business and his pleasure," says
his biographer. Bishop Ken was so much with God that his soul was said to
be God-enamored. He was with God before the clock struck three every
morning. Bishop Asbury said: "I propose to rise at four o'clock as often
as I can and spend two hours in prayer and meditation." Samuel Rutherford,
the fragrance of whose piety is still rich, rose at three in the morning
to meet God in prayer. Joseph Alleine arose at four o'clock for his
business of praying till eight. If he heard other tradesmen plying their
business before he was up, he would exclaim: "O how this shames me! Doth
not my Master deserve more than theirs?" He who has learned this trade
well draws at will, on sight, and with acceptance of heaven's unfailing
bank.
One of the holiest and among the most gifted of Scotch
preachers says: "I ought to spend the best hours in communion with God. It
is my noblest and most fruitful employment, and is not to be thrust into a
corner. The morning hours, from six to eight, are the most uninterrupted
and should be thus employed. After tea is my best hour, and that should be
solemnly dedicated to God. I ought not to give up the good old habit of
prayer before going to bed; but guard must be kept against sleep. When I
awake in the night, I ought to rise and pray. A little time after
breakfast might be given to intercession." This was the praying plan of
Robert McCheyne. The memorable Methodist band in their praying shame us.
"From four to five in the morning, private prayer; from five to six in the
evening, private prayer."
John Welch, the holy and wonderful Scotch
preacher, thought the day ill spent if he did not spend eight or ten hours
in prayer. He kept a plaid that he might wrap himself when he arose to
pray at night. His wife would complain when she found him lying on the
ground weeping. He would reply: "O woman, I have the souls of three
thousand to answer for, and I know not how it is with many of
them!".
"The act of praying is the very highest
energy of which the human mind is capable; praying, that is, with the
total concentration of the faculties. The great mass of worldly men and
of learned men are absolutely incapable of prayer."
-- Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Bishop Wilson says: "In H. Martyn's journal
the spirit of prayer, the time he devoted to the duty, and his fervor in
it are the first things which strike me."
Payson wore the hard-wood boards into grooves where his
knees pressed so often and so long. His biographer says: "His continuing
instant in prayer, be his circumstances what they might, is the most
noticeable fact in his history, and points out the duty of all who would
rival his eminency. To his ardent and persevering prayers must no doubt be
ascribed in a great measure his distinguished and almost uninterrupted
success."
The Marquis DeRenty, to whom Christ was most precious,
ordered his servant to call him from his devotions at the end of half an
hour. The servant at the time saw his face through an aperture. It was
marked with such holiness that he hated to arouse him. His lips were
moving, but he was perfectly silent. He waited until three half hours had
passed; then he called to him, when he arose from his knees, saying that
the half hour was so short when he was communing with
Christ.
Brainerd said: "I love to be alone in my cottage, where I
can spend much time in prayer."
William Bramwell is famous in
Methodist annals for personal holiness and for his wonderful success in
preaching and for the marvelous answers to his prayers. For hours at a
time he would pray. He almost lived on his knees. He went over his
circuits like a flame of fire. The fire was kindled by the time he spent
in prayer. He often spent as much as four hours in a single season of
prayer in retirement.
Bishop Andrewes spent the greatest part of
five hours every day in prayer and devotion.
Sir Henry Havelock
always spent the first two hours of each day alone with God. If the
encampment was struck at 6 A.M., he would rise at four.
Earl Cairns
rose daily at six o'clock to secure an hour and a half for the study of
the Bible and for prayer, before conducting family worship at a quarter to
eight.
Dr. Judson's success in prayer is attributable to the fact
that he gave much time to prayer. He says on this point: "Arrange thy
affairs, if possible, so that thou canst leisurely devote two or three
hours every day not merely to devotional exercises but to the very act of
secret prayer and communion with God. Endeavor seven times a day to
withdraw from business and company and lift up thy soul to God in private
retirement. Begin the day by rising after midnight and devoting some time
amid the silence and darkness of the night to this sacred work. Let the
hour of opening dawn find thee at the same work. Let the hours of nine,
twelve, three, six, and nine at night witness the same. Be resolute in his
cause. Make all practicable sacrifices to maintain it. Consider that thy
time is short, and that business and company must not be allowed to rob
thee of thy God." Impossible, say we, fanatical directions! Dr. Judson
impressed an empire for Christ and laid the foundations of God's kingdom
with imperishable granite in the heart of Burmah. He was successful, one
of the few men who mightily impressed the world for Christ. Many men of
greater gifts and genius and learning than he have made no such
impression; their religious work is like footsteps in the sands, but he
has engraven his work on the adamant. The secret of its profundity and
endurance is found in the fact that he gave time to prayer. He kept the
iron red-hot with prayer, and God's skill fashioned it with enduring
power. No man can do a great and enduring work for God who is not a man of
prayer, and no man can be a man of prayer who does not give much time to
praying.
Is it true that prayer is simply the compliance with
habit, dull and mechanical? A petty performance into which we are trained
till tameness, shortness, superficiality are its chief elements? "Is it
true that prayer is, as is assumed, little else than the half-passive play
of sentiment which flows languidly on through the minutes or hours of easy
reverie?" Canon Liddon continues: "Let those who have really prayed give
the answer. They sometimes describe prayer with the patriarch Jacob as a
wrestling together with an Unseen Power which may last, not unfrequently
in an earnest life, late into the night hours, or even to the break of
day. Sometimes they refer to common intercession with St. Paul as a
concerted struggle. They have, when praying, their eyes fixed on the Great
Intercessor in Gethsemane, upon the drops of blood which fall to the
ground in that agony of resignation and sacrifice. Importunity is of the
essence of successful prayer. Importunity means not dreaminess but
sustained work. It is through prayer especially that the kingdom of heaven
suffereth violence and the violent take it by force. It was a saying of
the late Bishop Hamilton that "No man is likely to do much good in prayer
who does not begin by looking upon it in the light of a work to be
prepared for and persevered in with all the earnestness which we bring to
bear upon subjects which are in our opinion at once most interesting and
most necessary.".
"I ought to pray before seeing any one.
Often when I sleep long, or meet with others early, it is eleven or
twelve o'clock before I begin secret prayer. This is a wretched system.
It is unscriptural. Christ arose before day and went into a solitary
place. David says: 'Early will I seek thee'; 'Thou shalt early hear my
voice.' Family prayer loses much of its power and sweetness, and I can
do no good to those who come to seek from me. The conscience feels
guilty, the soul unfed, the lamp not trimmed. Then when in secret prayer
the soul is often out of tune, I feel it is far better to begin with God
-- to see his face first, to get my soul near him before it is near
another."
-- Robert Murray McCheyne
The men who have done the most for God in this world have been early on their knees. He who
fritters away the early morning, its opportunity and freshness, in other
pursuits than seeking God will make poor headway seeking him the rest of
the day. If God is not first in our thoughts and efforts in the morning,
he will be in the last place the remainder of the day.
Behind this
early rising and early praying is the ardent desire which presses us into
this pursuit after God. Morning listlessness is the index to a listless
heart. The heart which is behindhand in seeking God in the morning has
lost its relish for God. David's heart was ardent after God. He hungered
and thirsted after God, and so he sought God early, before daylight. The
bed and sleep could not chain his soul in its eagerness after God. Christ
longed for communion with God; and so, rising a great while before day, he
would go out into the mountain to pray. The disciples, when fully awake
and ashamed of their indulgence, would know where to find him. We might go
through the list of men who have mightily impressed the world for God, and
we would find them early after God.
A desire for God which cannot
break the chains of sleep is a weak thing and will do but little good for
God after it has indulged itself fully. The desire for God that keeps so
far behind the devil and the world at the beginning of the day will never
catch up.
It is not simply the getting up that puts men to the
front and makes them captain generals in God's hosts, but it is the ardent
desire which stirs and breaks all self-indulgent chains. But the getting
up gives vent, increase, and strength to the desire. If they had lain in
bed and indulged themselves, the desire would have been quenched. The
desire aroused them and put them on the stretch for God, and this heeding
and acting on the call gave their faith its grasp on God and gave to their
hearts the sweetest and fullest revelation of God, and this strength of
faith and fullness of revelation made them saints by eminence, and the
halo of their sainthood has come down to us, and we have entered on the
enjoyment of their conquests. But we take our fill in enjoyment, and not
in productions. We build their tombs and write their epitaphs, but are
careful not to follow their examples.
We need a generation of
preachers who seek God and seek him early, who give the freshness and dew
of effort to God, and secure in return the freshness and fullness of his
power that he may be as the dew to them, full of gladness and strength,
through all the heat and labor of the day. Our laziness after God is our
crying sin. The children of this world are far wiser than we. They are at
it early and late. We do not seek God with ardor and diligence. No man
gets God who does not follow hard after him, and no soul follows hard
after God who is not after him in early morn..
"There is a manifest want of spiritual
influence on the ministry of the present day. I feel it in my own case
and I see it in that of others. I am afraid there is too much of a low,
managing, contriving, maneuvering temper of mind among us. We are laying
ourselves out more than is expedient to meet one man's taste and another
man's prejudices. The ministry is a grand and holy affair, and it should
find in us a simple habit of spirit and a holy but humble indifference
to all consequences. The leading defect in Christian ministers is want
of a devotional habit."
-- Richard Cecil
Never was there greater need for saintly men
and women; more imperative still is the call for
saintly, God-devoted preachers. The world moves with gigantic strides.
Satan has his hold and rule on the world, and labors to make all its
movements subserve his ends. Religion must do its best work, present its
most attractive and perfect models. By every means, modern sainthood must
be inspired by the loftiest ideals and by the largest possibilities
through the Spirit. Paul lived on his knees, that the Ephesian Church
might measure the heights, breadths, and depths of an unmeasurable
saintliness, and "be filled with all the fullness of God." Epaphras laid
himself out with the exhaustive toil and strenuous conflict of fervent
prayer, that the Colossian Church might "stand perfect and complete in all
the will of God." Everywhere, everything in apostolic times was on the
stretch that the people of God might each and "all come in the unity of
the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a perfect man,
unto the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ." No premium was
given to dwarfs; no encouragement to an old babyhood. The babies were to
grow; the old, instead of feebleness and infirmities, were to bear fruit
in old age, and be fat and flourishing. The divinest thing in religion is
holy men and holy women.
No amount of money, genius, or culture can
move things for God. Holiness energizing the soul, the whole man aflame
with love, with desire for more faith, more prayer, more zeal, more
consecration -- this is the secret of power. These we need and must have,
and men must be the incarnation of this God-inflamed devotedness. God's
advance has been stayed, his cause crippled: his name dishonored for their
lack. Genius (though the loftiest and most gifted), education (though the
most learned and refined), position, dignity, place, honored names, high
ecclesiastics cannot move this chariot of our God. It is a fiery one, and
fiery forces only can move it. The genius of a Milton fails. The imperial
strength of a Leo fails. Brainerd's spirit can move it. Brainerd's spirit
was on fire for God, on fire for souls. Nothing earthly, worldly, selfish
came in to abate in the least the intensity of this all-impelling and
all-consuming force and flame.
Prayer is the creator as well as the
channel of devotion. The spirit of devotion is the spirit of prayer.
Prayer and devotion are united as soul and body are united, as life and
the heart are united. There is no real prayer without devotion, no
devotion without prayer. The preacher must be surrendered to God in the
holiest devotion. He is not a professional man, his ministry is not a
profession; it is a divine institution, a divine devotion. He is devoted
to God. His aim, aspirations, ambition are for God and to God, and to such
prayer is as essential as food is to life.
The preacher, above
everything else, must be devoted to God. The preacher's relations to God
are the insignia and credentials of his ministry. These must be clear,
conclusive, unmistakable. No common, surface type of piety must be his. If
he does not excel in grace, he does not excel at all. If he does not
preach by life, character, conduct, he does not preach at all. If his
piety be light, his preaching may be as soft and as sweet as music, as
gifted as Apollo, yet its weight will be a feather's weight, visionary,
fleeting as the morning cloud or the early dew. Devotion to God -- there
is no substitute for this in the preacher's character and conduct.
Devotion to a Church, to opinions, to an organization, to orthodoxy --
these are paltry, misleading, and vain when they become the source of
inspiration, the animus of a call. God must be the mainspring of the
preacher's effort, the fountain and crown of all his toil. The name and
honor of Jesus Christ, the advance of his cause, must be all in all. The
preacher must have no inspiration but the name of Jesus Christ, no
ambition but to have him glorified, no toil but for him. Then prayer will
be a source of his illuminations, the means of perpetual advance, the
gauge of his success. The perpetual aim, the only ambition, the preacher
can cherish is to have God with him.
Never did the cause of God
need perfect illustrations of the possibilities of prayer more than in
this age. No age, no person, will be ensamples of the gospel power except
the ages or persons of deep and earnest prayer. A prayerless age will have
but scant models of divine power. Prayerless hearts will never rise to
these Alpine heights. The age may be a better age than the past, but there
is an infinite distance between the betterment of an age by the force of
an advancing civilization and its betterment by the increase of holiness
and Christlikeness by the energy of prayer. The Jews were much better when
Christ came than in the ages before. It was the golden age of their
Pharisaic religion. Their golden religious age crucified Christ. Never
more praying, never less praying; never more sacrifices, never less
sacrifice; never less idolatry, never more idolatry; never more of temple
worship, never less of God worship; never more of lip service, never less
of heart service (God worshiped by lips whose hearts and hands crucified
God's Son!); never more of churchgoers, never less of saints.
It is
prayer-force which makes saints. Holy characters are formed by the power
of real praying. The more of true saints, the more of praying; the more of
praying, the more of true saints..
"I urge upon you communion with Christ a
growing communion. There are curtains to be drawn aside in Christ that
we never saw, and new foldings of love in him. I despair that I shall
ever win to the far end of that love, there are so many plies in it.
Therefore dig deep, and sweat and labor and take pains for him, and set
by as much time in the day for him as you can. We will be won in the
labor."
-- Samuel Rutherford
God has now, and has had, many of these
devoted, prayerful preachers -- men in whose lives
prayer has been a mighty, controlling, conspicuous force. The world has
felt their power, God has felt and honored their power, God's cause has
moved mightily and swiftly by their prayers, holiness has shone out in
their characters with a divine effulgence.
God found one of the men
he was looking for in David Brainerd, whose work and name have gone into
history. He was no ordinary man, but was capable of shining in any
company, the peer of the wise and gifted ones, eminently suited to fill
the most attractive pulpits and to labor among the most refined and the
cultured, who were so anxious to secure him for their pastor. President
Edwards bears testimony that he was "a young man of distingushed talents,
had extraordinary knowledge of men and things, had rare conversational
powers, excelled in his knowledge of theology, and was truly, for one so
young, an extraordinary divine, and especially in all matters relating to
experimental religion. I never knew his equal of his age and standing for
clear and accurate notions of the nature and essence of true religion. His
manner in prayer was almost inimitable, such as I have very rarely known
equaled. His learning was very considerable, and he had extraordinary
gifts for the pulpit."
No sublimer story has been recorded in
earthly annals than that of David Brainerd; no miracle attests with
diviner force the truth of Christianity than the life and work of such a
man. Alone in the savage wilds of America, struggling day and night with a
mortal disease, unschooled in the care of souls, having access to the
Indians for a large portion of time only through the bungling medium of a
pagan interpreter, with the Word of God in his heart and in his hand, his
soul fired with the divine flame, a place and time to pour out his soul to
God in prayer, he fully established the worship of God and secured all its
gracious results. The Indians were changed with a great change from the
lowest besotments of an ignorant and debased heathenism to pure, devout,
intelligent Christians; all vice reformed, the external duties of
Christianity at once embraced and acted on; family prayer set up; the
Sabbath instituted and religiously observed; the internal graces of
religion exhibited with growing sweetness and strength. The solution of
these results is found in David Brainerd himself, not in the conditions or
accidents but in the man Brainerd. He was God's man, for God first and
last and all the time. God could flow unhindered through him. The
omnipotence of grace was neither arrested nor straightened by the
conditions of his heart; the whole channel was broadened and cleaned out
for God's fullest and most powerful passage, so that God with all his
mighty forces could come down on the hopeless, savage wilderness, and
transform it into his blooming and fruitful garden; for nothing is too
hard for God to do if he can get the right kind of a man to do it
with.
Brainerd lived the life of holiness and prayer. His diary is
full and monotonous with the record of his seasons of fasting, meditation,
and retirement. The time he spent in private prayer amounted to many hours
daily. "When I return home," he said, "and give myself to meditation,
prayer, and fasting, my soul longs for mortification, self-denial,
humility, and divorcement from all things of the world." "I have nothing
to do," he said, "with earth but only to labor in it honestly for God. I
do not desire to live one minute for anything which earth can afford."
After this high order did he pray: "Feeling somewhat of the sweetness of
communion with God and the constraining force of his love, and how
admirably it captivates the soul and makes all the desires and affections
to center in God, I set apart this day for secret fasting and prayer, to
entreat God to direct and bless me with regard to the great work which I
have in view of preaching the gospel, and that the Lord would return to me
and show me the light of his countenance. I had little life and power in
the forenoon. Near the middle of the afternoon God enabled me to wrestle
ardently in intercession for my absent friends, but just at night the Lord
visited me marvelously in prayer. I think my soul was never in such agony
before. I felt no restraint, for the treasures of divine grace were opened
to me. I wrestled for absent friends, for the ingathering of souls, for
multitudes of poor souls, and for many that I thought were the children of
God, personally, in many distant places. I was in such agony from sun half
an hour high till near dark that I was all over wet with sweat, but yet it
seemed to me I had done nothing. O, my dear Saviour did sweat blood for
poor souls! I longed for more compassion toward them. I felt still in a
sweet frame, under a sense of divine love and grace, and went to bed in
such a frame, with my heart set on God." It was prayer which gave to his
life and ministry their marvelous power.
The men of mighty prayer
are men of spiritual might. Prayers never die. Brainerd's whole life was a
life of prayer. By day and by night he prayed. Before preaching and after
preaching he prayed. Riding through the interminable solitudes of the
forests he prayed. On his bed of straw he prayed. Retiring to the dense
and lonely forests, he prayed. Hour by hour, day after day, early morn and
late at night, he was praying and fasting, pouring out his soul,
interceding, communing with God. He was with God mightily in prayer, and
God was with him mightily, and by it he being dead yet speaketh and
worketh, and will speak and work till the end comes, and among the to
glorious ones of that glorious day he will be with the
first.
Jonathan Edwards says of him: "His life shows the right way
to success in the works of the ministry. He sought it as the soldier seeks
victory in a siege or battle; or as a man that runs a race for a great
prize. Animated with love to Christ and souls, how did he labor? Always
fervently. Not only in word and doctrine, in public and in private, but in
prayers by day and night, wrestling with God in secret and travailing in
birth with unutterable groans and agonies, until Christ was formed in the
hearts of the people to whom he was sent. Like a true son of Jacob, he
persevered in wrestling through all the darkness of the night, until the
breaking of the day!".
"For nothing reaches the heart but what is
from the heart or pierces the conscience but what comes from a living
conscience. -- William Penn In the morning was more engaged in preparing
the head than the heart. This has been frequently my error, and I have
always felt the evil of it especially in prayer. Reform it then, O Lord!
Enlarge my heart and I shall preach. -- Robert Murray McCheyne A sermon
that has more head infused into it than heart will not borne home with
efficacy to the hearers."
-- Richard Cecil
Prayer, with its manifold and many-sided
forces, helps the mouth to utter the truth in its
fullness and freedom. The preacher is to be prayed for, the preacher is
made by prayer. The preacher's mouth is to be prayed for; his mouth is to
be opened and filled by prayer. A holy mouth is made by praying, by much
praying; a brave mouth is made by praying, by much praying. The Church and
the world, God and heaven, owe much to Paul's mouth; Paul's mouth owed its
power to prayer.
How manifold, illimitable, valuable, and helpful
prayer is to the preacher in so many ways, at so many points, in every
way! One great value is, it helps his heart.
Praying makes the
preacher a heart preacher. Prayer puts the preacher's heart into the
preacher's sermon; prayer puts the preacher's sermon into the preacher's
heart.
The heart makes the preacher. Men of great hearts are great
preachers. Men of bad hearts may do a measure of good, but this is rare.
The hireling and the stranger may help the sheep at some points, but it is
the good shepherd with the good shepherd's heart who will bless the sheep
and answer the full measure of the shepherd's place.
We have
emphasized sermon-preparation until we have lost sight of the important
thing to be prepared -- the heart. A prepared heart is much better than a
prepared sermon. A prepared heart will make a prepared
sermon.
Volumes have been written laying down the mechanics and
taste of sermon-making, until we have become possessed with the idea that
this scaffolding is the building. The young preacher has been taught to
lay out all his strength on the form, taste, and beauty of his sermon as a
mechanical and intellectual product. We have thereby cultivated a vicious
taste among the people and raised the clamor for talent instead of grace,
eloquence instead of piety, rhetoric instead of revelation, reputation and
brilliancy instead of holiness. By it we have lost the true idea of
preaching, lost preaching power, lost pungent conviction for sin, lost the
rich experience and elevated Christian character, lost the authority over
consciences and lives which always results from genuine
preaching.
It would not do to say that preachers study too much.
Some of them do not study at all; others do not study enough. Numbers do
not study the right way to show themselves workmen approved of God. But
our great lack is not in head culture, but in heart culture; not lack of
knowledge but lack of holiness is our sad and telling defect -- not that
we know too much, but that we do not meditate on God and his word and
watch and fast and pray enough. The heart is the great hindrance to our
preaching. Words pregnant with divine truth find in our hearts
nonconductors; arrested, they fall shorn and powerless.
Can
ambition, that lusts after praise and place, preach the gospel of Him who
made himself of no reputation and took on Him the form of a servant? Can
the proud, the vain, the egotistical preach the gospel of him who was meek
and lowly? Can the bad-tempered, passionate, selfish, hard, worldly man
preach the system which teems with long-suffering, self-denial,
tenderness, which imperatively demands separation from enmity and
crucifixion to the world? Can the hireling official, heartless,
perfunctory, preach the gospel which demands the shepherd to give his life
for the sheep? Can the covetous man, who counts salary and money, preach
the gospel till he has gleaned his heart and can say in the spirit of
Christ and Paul in the words of Wesley: "I count it dung and dross; I
trample it under my feet; I (yet not I, but the grace of God in me) esteem
it just as the mire of the streets, I desire it not, I seek it not?" God's
revelation does not need the light of human genius, the polish and
strength of human culture, the brilliancy of human thought, the force of
human brains to adorn or enforce it; but it does demand the simplicity,
the docility, humility, and faith of a child's heart.
It was this
surrender and subordination of intellect and genius to the divine and
spiritual forces which made Paul peerless among the apostles. It was this
which gave Wesley his power and radicated his labors in the history of
humanity. This gave to Loyola the strength to arrest the retreating forces
of Catholicism.
Our great need is heart-preparation. Luther held it
as an axiom: "He who has prayed well has studied well." We do not say that
men are not to think and use their intellects; but he will use his
intellect best who cultivates his heart most. We do not say that preachers
should not be students; but we do say that their great study should be the
Bible, and he studies the Bible best who has kept his heart with
diligence. We do not say that the preacher should not know men, but he
will be the greater adept in human nature who has fathomed the depths and
intricacies of his own heart. We do say that while the channel of
preaching is the mind, its fountain is the heart; you may broaden and
deepen the channel, but if you do not look well to the purity and depth of
the fountain, you will have a dry or polluted channel. We do say that
almost any man of common intelligence has sense enough to preach the
gospel, but very few have grace enough to do so. We do say that he who has
struggled with his own heart and conquered it; who has taught it humility,
faith, love, truth, mercy, sympathy, courage; who can pour the rich
treasures of the heart thus trained, through a manly intellect, all
surcharged with the power of the gospel on the consciences of his hearers
-- such a one will be the truest, most successful preacher in the esteem
of his Lord..
Back to Top XIII. GRACE
FROM THE HEART RATHER THAN THE HEAD
"Study not to be a fine preacher. Jerichos
are blown down with rams' horns. Look simply unto Jesus for preaching
food; and what is wanted will be given, and what is given will be
blessed, whether it be a barley grain or a wheaten loaf, a crust or a
crumb. Your mouth will be a flowing stream or a fountain sealed,
according as your heart is. Avoid all controversy in preaching, talking,
or writing; preach nothing down but the devil, and nothing up but Jesus
Christ."
-- Berridge
The heart is the Saviour of the world. Heads
do not save. Genius, brains, brilliancy, strength,
natural gifts do not save. The gospel flows through hearts. All the
mightiest forces are heart forces. All the sweetest and loveliest graces
are heart graces. Great hearts make great characters; great hearts make
divine characters. God is love. There is nothing greater than love,
nothing greater than God. Hearts make heaven; heaven is love. There is
nothing higher, nothing sweeter, than heaven. It is the heart and not the
head which makes God's great preachers. The heart counts much every way in
religion. The heart must speak from the pulpit. The heart must hear in the
pew. In fact, we serve God with our hearts. Head homage does not pass
current in heaven.
We believe that one of the serious and most
popular errors of the modern pulpit is the putting of more thought than
prayer, of more head than of heart in its sermons. Big hearts make big
preachers; good hearts make good preachers. A theological school to
enlarge and cultivate the heart is the golden desideratum of the gospel.
The pastor binds his people to him and rules his people by his heart. They
may admire his gifts, they may be proud of his ability, they may be
affected for the time by his sermons; but the stronghold of his power is
his heart. His scepter is love. The throne of his power is his
heart.
The good shepherd gives his life for the sheep. Heads never
make martyrs. It is the heart which surrenders the life to love and
fidelity. It takes great courage to be a faithful pastor, but the heart
alone can supply this courage. Gifts and genius may be brave, but it is
the gifts and genius of the heart and not of the head.
It is easier
to fill the head than it is to prepare the heart. It is easier to make a
brain sermon than a heart sermon. It was heart that drew the Son of God
from heaven. It is heart that will draw men to heaven. Men of heart is
what the world needs to sympathize with its woe, to kiss away its sorrows,
to compassionate its misery, and to alleviate its pain. Christ was
eminently the man of sorrows, because he was preeminently the man of
heart.
"Give me thy heart," is God's requisition of men. "Give me
thy heart!" is man's demand of man.
A professional ministry is a
heartless ministry. When salary plays a great part in the ministry, the
heart plays little part. We may make preaching our business, and not put
our hearts in the business. He who puts self to the front in his preaching
puts heart to the rear. He who does not sow with his heart in his study
will never reap a harvest for God. The closet is the heart's study. We
will learn more about how to preach and what to preach there than we can
learn in our libraries. "Jesus wept" is the shortest and biggest verse in
the Bible. It is he who goes forth weeping (not preaching great
sermons), bearing precious seed, who shall come again rejoicing, bringing
his sheaves with him.
Praying gives sense, brings wisdom, broadens
and strengthens the mind. The closet is a perfect school-teacher and
schoolhouse for the preacher. Thought is not only brightened and clarified
in prayer, but thought is born in prayer. We can learn more in an hour
praying, when praying indeed, than from many hours in the study. Books are
in the closet which can be found and read nowhere else. Revelations are
made in the closet which are made nowhere else..
"One bright benison which private prayer
brings down upon the ministry is an indescribable and inimitable
something -- an unction from the Holy One... If the anointing which we
bear come not from the Lord of hosts, we are deceivers, since only in
prayer can we obtain it. Let us continue instant constant fervent in
supplication. Let your fleece lie on the thrashing floor of supplication
till it is wet with the dew of heaven."
-- Charles Haddon Spurgeon
Alexander Knox, a Christian philosopher of the days of Wesley, not an adherent but a strong
personal friend of Wesley, and with much spiritual sympathy with the
Wesleyan movement, writes: "It is strange and lamentable, but I verily
believe the fact to be that except among Methodists and Methodistical
clergyman, there is not much interesting preaching in England. The clergy,
too generally have absolutely lost the art. There is, I conceive, in the
great laws of the moral world a kind of secret understanding like the
affinities in chemistry, between rightly promulgated religious truth and
the deepest feelings of the human mind. Where the one is duly exhibited,
the other will respond. Did not our hearts burn within us? -- but to this
devout feeling is indispensable in the speaker. Now, I am obliged to state
from my own observation that this onction, as the French not
unfitly term it, is beyond all comparison more likely to be found in
England in a Methodist conventicle than in a parish Church. This, and this
alone, seems really to be that which fills the Methodist houses and thins
the Churches. I am, I verily think, no enthusiast; I am a most sincere and
cordial churchman, a humble disciple of the School of Hale and Boyle, of
Burnet and Leighton. Now I must aver that when I was in this country, two
years ago, I did not hear a single preacher who taught me like my own
great masters but such as are deemed Methodistical. And I now despair of
getting an atom of heart instruction from any other quarter. The Methodist
preachers (however I may not always approve of all their expressions) do
most assuredly diffuse this true religion and undefiled. I felt real
pleasure last Sunday. I can bear witness that the preacher did at once
speak the words of truth and soberness. There was no eloquence -- the
honest man never dreamed of such a thing -- but there was far better: a
cordial communication of vitalized truth. I say vitalized because what he
declared to others it was impossible not to feel he lived on
himself."
This unction is the art of preaching. The preacher who
never had this unction never had the art of preaching. The preacher who
has lost this unction has lost the art of preaching. Whatever other arts
he may have and retain -- the art of sermon-making, the art of eloquence,
the art of great, clear thinking, the art of pleasing an audience -- he
has lost the divine art of preaching. This unction makes God's truth
powerful and interesting, draws and attracts, edifies, convicts,
saves.
This unction vitalizes God's revealed truth, makes it living
and life-giving. Even God's truth spoken without this unction is light,
dead, and deadening. Though abounding in truth, though weighty with
thought, though sparkling with rhetoric, though pointed by logic, though
powerful by earnestness, without this divine unction it issues in death
and not in life. Mr. Spurgeon says: "I wonder how long we might beat our
brains before we could plainly put into word what is meant by preaching
with unction. Yet he who preaches knows its presence, and he who hears
soon detects its absence. Samaria, in famine, typifies a discourse without
it. Jerusalem, with her feast of fat things, full of marrow, may represent
a sermon enriched with it. Every one knows what the freshness of the
morning is when orient pearls abound on every blade of grass, but who can
describe it, much less produce it of itself? Such is the mystery of
spiritual anointing. We know, but we cannot tell to others what it is. It
is as easy as it is foolish, to counterfeit it. Unction is a thing which
you cannot manufacture, and its counterfeits are worse than worthless. Yet
it is, in itself, priceless, and beyond measure needful if you would edify
believers and bring sinners to Christ.".
Back to Top XV. UNCTION,
THE MARK OF TRUE GOSPEL PREACHING
"Speak for eternity. Above all things,
cultivate your own spirit. A word spoken by you when your conscience is
clear and your heart full of God's Spirit is worth ten thousand words
spoken in unbelief and sin. Remember that God, and not man, must have
the glory. If the veil of the world's machinery were lifted off, how
much we would find is done in answer to the prayers of God's
children."
-- Robert Murray McCheyne
Unction is that
indefinable, indescribable something which an old, renowned Scotch
preacher describes thus: "There is sometimes somewhat in preaching that
cannot be ascribed either to matter or expression, and cannot be described
what it is, or from whence it cometh, but with a sweet violence it
pierceth into the heart and affections and comes immediately from the
Word; but if there be any way to obtain such a thing, it is by the
heavenly disposition of the speaker."
We call it unction. It is
this unction which makes the word of God "quick and powerful, and sharper
than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul
and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and a discerner of the thoughts
and intents of the heart." It is this unction which gives the words of the
preacher such point, sharpness, and power, and which creates such friction
and stir in many a dead congregation. The same truths have been told in
the strictness of the letter, smooth as human oil could make them; but no
signs of life, not a pulse throb; all as peaceful as the grave and as
dead. The same preacher in the meanwhile receives a baptism of this
unction, the divine inflatus is on him, the letter of the Word has been
embellished and fired by this mysterious power, and the throbbings of life
begin -- life which receives or life which resists. The unction pervades
and convicts the conscience and breaks the heart.
This divine
unction is the feature which separates and distinguishes true gospel
preaching from all other methods of presenting the truth, and which
creates a wide spiritual chasm between the preacher who has it and the one
who has it not. It backs and impregns revealed truth with all the energy
of God. Unction is simply putting God in his own word and on his own
preachers. By mighty and great prayerfulness and by continual
prayerfulness, it is all potential and personal to the preacher; it
inspires and clarifies his intellect, gives insight and grasp and
projecting power; it gives to the preacher heart power, which is greater
than head power; and tenderness, purity, force flow from the heart by it.
Enlargement, freedom, fullness of thought, directness and simplicity of
utterance are the fruits of this unction.
Often earnestness is
mistaken for this unction. He who has the divine unction will be earnest
in the very spiritual nature of things, but there may be a vast deal of
earnestness without the least mixture of unction.
Earnestness and
unction look alike from some points of view. Earnestness may be readily
and without detection substituted or mistaken for unction. It requires a
spiritual eye and a spiritual taste to discriminate.
Earnestness
may be sincere, serious, ardent, and persevering. It goes at a thing with
good will, pursues it with perseverance, and urges it with ardor; puts
force in it. But all these forces do not rise higher than the mere human.
The man is in it -- the whole man, with all that he has of will and
heart, of brain and genius, of planning and working and talking. He has
set himself to some purpose which has mastered him, and he pursues to
master it. There may be none of God in it. There may be little of God in
it, because there is so much of the man in it. He may present pleas in
advocacy of his earnest purpose which please or touch and move or
overwhelm with conviction of their importance; and in all this earnestness
may move along earthly ways, being propelled by human forces only, its
altar made by earthly hands and its fire kindled by earthly flames. It is
said of a rather famous preacher of gifts, whose construction of Scripture
was to his fancy or purpose, that he "grew very eloquent over his own
exegesis." So men grow exceeding earnest over their own plans or
movements. Earnestness may be selfishness simulated.
What of
unction? It is the indefinable in preaching which makes it preaching. It
is that which distinguishes and separates preaching from all mere human
addresses. It is the divine in preaching. It makes the preaching sharp to
those who need sharpness. It distills as the dew to those who need to he
refreshed. It is well described as:
"a two-edged sword
Of heavenly temper
keen,
And double were the wounds it made
Wherever it
glanced between.
'Twas death to silt; 'twas life
To all
who mourned for sin.
It kindled and it silenced
strife,
Made war and peace within."
This unction comes to the preacher not in the study but in
the closet. It is heaven's distillation in answer to prayer. It is the
sweetest exhalation of the Holy Spirit. It impregnates, suffuses, softens,
percolates, cuts, and soothes. It carries the Word like dynamite, like
salt, like sugar; makes the Word a soother, an arranger, a revealer, a
searcher; makes the hearer a culprit or a saint, makes him weep like a
child and live like a giant; opens his heart and his purse as gently, yet
as strongly as the spring opens the leaves. This unction is not the gift
of genius. It is not found in the halls of learning. No eloquence can woo
it. No industry can win it. No prelatical hands can confer it. It is the
gift of God -- the signet set to his own messengers. It is heaven's
knighthood given to the chosen true and brave ones who have sought this
anointed honor through many an hour of tearful, wrestling
prayer.
Earnestness is good and impressive: genius is gifted and
great. Thought kindles and inspires, but it takes a diviner endowment, a
more powerful energy than earnestness or genius or thought to break the
chains of sin, to win estranged and depraved hearts to God, to repair the
breaches and restore the Church to her old ways of purity and power.
Nothing but this holy unction can do this..
"All the minister's efforts will be vanity
or worse than vanity if he have not unction. Unction must come down from
heaven and spread a savor and feeling and relish over his ministry; and
among the other means of qualifying himself for his office, the Bible
must hold the first place, and the last also must be given to the Word
of God and prayer."
-- Richard Cecil
In the Christian system unction is the
anointing of the Holy Ghost, separating unto God's
work and qualifying for it. This unction is the one divine enablement by
which the preacher accomplishes the peculiar and saving ends of preaching.
Without this unction there are no true spiritual results accomplished; the
results and forces in preaching do not rise above the results of
unsanctified speech. Without unction the former is as potent as the
pulpit.
This divine unction on the preacher generates through the
Word of God the spiritual results that flow from the gospel; and without
this unction, these results are not secured. Many pleasant impressions may
be made, but these all fall far below the ends of gospel preaching. This
unction may be simulated. There are many things that look like it, there
are many results that resemble its effects; but they are foreign to its
results and to its nature. The fervor or softness excited by a pathetic or
emotional sermon may look like the movements of the divine unction, but
they have no pungent, perpetrating heart-breaking force. No heart-healing
balm is there in these surface, sympathetic, emotional movements; they are
not radical, neither sin-searching nor sin-curing.
This divine
unction is the one distinguishing feature that separates true gospel
preaching from all other methods of presenting truth. It backs and
interpenetrates the revealed truth with all the force of God. It illumines
the Word and broadens and enrichens the intellect and empowers it to grasp
and apprehend the Word. It qualifies the preacher's heart, and brings it
to that condition of tenderness, of purity, of force and light that are
necessary to secure the highest results. This unction gives to the
preacher liberty and enlargement of thought and soul -- a freedom,
fullness, and directness of utterance that can be secured by no other
process.
Without this unction on the preacher the gospel has no
more power to propagate itself than any other system of truth. This is the
seal of its divinity. Unction in the preacher puts God in the gospel.
Without the unction, God is absent, and the gospel is left to the low and
unsatisfactory forces that the ingenuity, interest, or talents of men can
devise to enforce and project its doctrines.
It is in this element
that the pulpit oftener fails than in any other element. Just at this
all-important point it lapses. Learning it may have, brilliancy and
eloquence may delight and charm, sensation or less offensive methods may
bring the populace in crowds, mental power may impress and enforce truth
with all its resources; but without this unction, each and all these will
be but as the fretful assault of the waters on a Gibraltar. Spray and foam
may cover and spangle; but the rocks are there still, unimpressed and
unimpressible. The human heart can no more be swept of its hardness and
sin by these human forces than these rocks can be swept away by the
ocean's ceaseless flow.
This unction is the consecration force, and
its presence the continuous test of that consecration. It is this divine
anointing on the preacher that secures his consecration to God and his
work. Other forces and motives may call him to the work, but this only is
consecration. A separation to God's work by the power of the Holy Spirit
is the only consecration recognized by God as legitimate.
The
unction, the divine unction, this heavenly anointing, is what the pulpit
needs and must have. This divine and heavenly oil put on it by the
imposition of God's hand must soften and lubricate the whole man -- heart,
head, spirit -- until it separates him with a mighty separation from all
earthly, secular, worldly, selfish motives and aims, separating him to
everything that is pure and Godlike.
It is the presence of this
unction on the preacher that creates the stir and friction in many a
congregation. The same truths have been told in the strictness of the
letter, but no ruffle has been seen, no pain or pulsation felt. All is
quiet as a graveyard. Another preacher comes, and this mysterious
influence is on him; the letter of the Word has been fired by the Spirit,
the throes of a mighty movement are felt, it is the unction that pervades
and stirs the conscience and breaks the heart. Unctionless preaching makes
everything hard, dry, acrid, dead.
This unction is not a memory or
an era of the past only; it is a present, realized, conscious fact. It
belongs to the experience of the man as well as to his preaching. It is
that which transforms him into the image of his divine Master, as well as
that by which he declares the truths of Christ with power. It is so much
the power in the ministry as to make all else seem feeble and vain without
it, and by its presence to atone for the absence of all other and feebler
forces.
This unction is not an inalienable gift. It is a
conditional gift, and its presence is perpetuated and increased by the
same process by which it was at first secured; by unceasing prayer to God,
by impassioned desires after God, by estimating it, by seeking it with
tireless ardor, by deeming all else loss and failure without
it.
How and whence comes this unction? Direct from God in answer to
prayer. Praying hearts only are the hearts filled with this holy oil;
praying lips only are anointed with this divine unction.
Prayer,
much prayer, is the price of preaching unction; prayer, much prayer, is
the one, sole condition of keeping this unction. Without unceasing prayer
the unction never comes to the preacher. Without perseverance in prayer,
the unction, like the manna overkept, breeds worms..
Back to Top XVII. PRAYER
MARKS SPIRITUAL LEADERSHIP
"Give me one hundred preachers who fear
nothing but sin and desire nothing but God, and I care not a straw
whether they be clergymen or laymen; such alone will shake the gates of
hell and set up the kingdom of heaven on earth. God does nothing but in
answer to prayer."
-- John Wesley
The apostles knew the necessity and worth of prayer to their ministry. They knew that their high
commission as apostles, instead of relieving them from the necessity of
prayer, committed them to it by a more urgent need; so that they were
exceedingly jealous else some other important work should exhaust their
time and prevent their praying as they ought; so they appointed laymen to
look after the delicate and engrossing duties of ministering to the poor,
that they (the apostles) might, unhindered, "give themselves continually
to prayer and to the ministry of the word." Prayer is put first, and their
relation to prayer is put most strongly -- "give themselves to it," making
a business of it, surrendering themselves to praying, putting fervor,
urgency, perseverance, and time in it.
How holy, apostolic men
devoted themselves to this divine work of prayer! "Night and day praying
exceedingly," says Paul. "We will give ourselves continually to prayer" is
the consensus of apostolic devotement. How these New Testament preachers
laid themselves out in prayer for God's people! How they put God in full
force into their Churches by their praying! These holy apostles did not
vainly fancy that they had met their high and solemn duties by delivering
faithfully God's word, but their preaching was made to stick and tell by
the ardor and insistence of their praying. Apostolic praying was as
taxing, toilsome, and imperative as apostolic preaching. They prayed
mightily day and night to bring their people to the highest regions of
faith and holiness. They prayed mightier still to hold them to this high
spiritual altitude. The preacher who has never learned in the school of
Christ the high and divine art of intercession for his people will never
learn the art of preaching, though homiletics be poured into him by the
ton, and though he be the most gifted genius in sermon-making and
sermon-delivery.
The prayers of apostolic, saintly leaders do much
in making saints of those who are not apostles. If the Church leaders in
after years had been as particular and fervent in praying for their people
as the apostles were, the sad, dark times of worldliness and apostasy had
not marred the history and eclipsed the glory and arrested the advance of
the Church. Apostolic praying makes apostolic saints and keeps apostolic
times of purity and power in the Church.
What loftiness of soul,
what purity and elevation of motive, what unselfishness, what
self-sacrifice, what exhaustive toil, what ardor of spirit, what divine
tact are requisite to be an intercessor for men!
The preacher is to
lay himself out in prayer for his people; not that they might be saved,
simply, but that they be mightily saved. The apostles laid themselves out
in prayer that their saints might be perfect; not that they should have a
little relish for the things of God, but that they "might be filled with
all the fullness of God." Paul did not rely on his apostolic preaching to
secure this end, but "for this cause he bowed his knees to the Father of
our Lord Jesus Christ." Paul's praying carried Paul's converts farther
along the highway of sainthood than Paul's preaching did. Epaphras did as
much or more by prayer for the Colossian saints than by his preaching. He
labored fervently always in prayer for them that "they might stand perfect
and complete in all the will of God."
Preachers are preeminently
God's leaders. They are primarily responsible for the condition of the
Church. They shape its character, give tone and direction to its
life.
Much every way depends on these leaders. They shape the times
and the institutions. The Church is divine, the treasure it incases is
heavenly, but it bears the imprint of the human. The treasure is in
earthen vessels, and it smacks of the vessel. The Church of God makes, or
is made by, its leaders. Whether it makes them or is made by them, it will
be what its leaders are; spiritual if they are so, secular if they are,
conglomerate if its leaders are. Israel's kings gave character to Israel's
piety. A Church rarely revolts against or rises above the religion of its
leaders. Strongly spiritual leaders; men of holy might, at the lead, are
tokens of God's favor; disaster and weakness follow the wake of feeble or
worldly leaders. Israel had fallen low when God gave children to be their
princes and babes to rule over them. No happy state is predicted by the
prophets when children oppress God's Israel and women rule over them.
Times of spiritual leadership are times of great spiritual prosperity to
the Church.
Prayer is one of the eminent characteristics of strong
spiritual leadership. Men of mighty prayer are men of might and mold
things. Their power with God has the conquering tread.
How can a
man preach who does not get his message fresh from God in the closet? How
can he preach without having his faith quickened, his vision cleared, and
his heart warmed by his closeting with God? Alas, for the pulpit lips
which are untouched by this closet flame. Dry and unctionless they will
ever be, and truths divine will never come with power from such lips. As
far as the real interests of religion are concerned, a pulpit without a
closet will always be a barren thing.
A preacher may preach in an
official, entertaining, or learned way without prayer, but between this
kind of preaching and sowing God's precious seed with holy hands and
prayerful, weeping hearts there is an immeasurable distance.
A
prayerless ministry is the undertaker for all God's truth and for God's
Church. He may have the most costly casket and the most beautiful flowers,
but it is a funeral, notwithstanding the charmful array. A prayerless
Christian will never learn God's truth; a prayerless ministry will never
be able to teach God's truth. Ages of millennial glory have been lost by a
prayerless Church. The coming of our Lord has been postponed indefinitely
by a prayerless Church. Hell has enlarged herself and filled her dire
caves in the presence of the dead service of a prayerless
Church.
The best, the greatest offering is an offering of prayer.
If the preachers of the twentieth century will learn well the lesson of
prayer, and use fully the power of prayer, the millennium will come to its
noon ere the century closes. "Pray without ceasing" is the trumpet call to
the preachers of the twentieth century. If the twentieth century will get
their texts, their thoughts, their words, their sermons in their closets,
the next century will find a new heaven and a new earth. The old
sin-stained and sin-eclipsed heaven and earth will pass away under the
power of a praying ministry..
Back to Top XVIII.
PREACHERS NEED THE PRAYERS OF THE PEOPLE
"If some Christians that have been
complaining of their ministers had said and acted less before men and
had applied themselves with all their might to cry to God for their
ministers - had, as it were, risen and stormed heaven with their
humble, fervent and incessant prayers for them - they would have been
much more in the way of success."
- Jonathan Edwards
Somehow the practice of
praying in particular for the preacher has fallen into disuse or become
discounted. Occasionally have we heard the practice arraigned as a
disparagement of the ministry, being a public declaration by those who do
it of the inefficiency of the ministry. It offends the pride of learning
and self-sufficiency, perhaps, and these ought to be offended and rebuked
in a ministry that is so derelict as to allow them to
exist.
Prayer, to the preacher, is not simply the duty of his
profession, a privilege, but it is a necessity. Air is not more necessary
to the lungs than prayer is to the preacher. It is absolutely necessary
for the preacher to pray. It is an absolute necessity that the preacher be
prayed for. These two propositions are wedded into a union which ought
never to know any divorce: the preacher must pray; the preacher must be
prayed for. It will take all the praying he can do, and all the
praying he can get done, to meet the fearful responsibilities and gain the
largest, truest success in his great work. The true preacher, next to the
cultivation of the spirit and fact of prayer in himself, in their
intensest form, covets with a great covetousness the prayers of God's
people.
The holier a man is, the more does he estimate prayer; the
clearer does he see that God gives himself to the praying ones, and that
the measure of God's revelation to the soul is the measure of the soul's
longing, importunate prayer for God. Salvation never finds its way to a
prayerless heart. The Holy Spirit never abides in a prayerless spirit.
Preaching never edifies a prayerless soul. Christ knows nothing of
prayerless Christians. The gospel cannot be projected by a prayerless
preacher. Gifts, talents, education, eloquence, God's call, cannot abate
the demand of prayer, but only intensify the necessity for the preacher to
pray and to be prayed for. The more the preacher's eyes are opened to the
nature, responsibility, and difficulties in his work, the more will he
see, and if he be a true preacher the more will he feel, the necessity of
prayer; not only the increasing demand to pray himself, but to call on
others to help him by their prayers.
Paul is an illustration of
this. If any man could project the gospel by dint of personal force, by
brain power, by culture, by personal grace, by God's apostolic commission,
God's extraordinary call, that man was Paul. That the preacher must be a
man given to prayer, Paul is an eminent example. That the true apostolic
preacher must have the prayers of other good people to give to his
ministry its full quota of success, Paul is a preeminent example. He asks,
he covets, he pleads in an impassioned way for the help of all God's
saints. He knew that in the spiritual realm, as elsewhere, in union there
is strength; that the concentration and aggregation of faith, desire, and
prayer increased the volume of spiritual force until it became
overwhelming and irresistible in its power. Units of prayer combined, like
drops of water, make an ocean which defies resistance. So Paul, with his
clear and full apprehension of spiritual dynamics, determined to make his
ministry as impressive, as eternal, as irresistible as the ocean, by
gathering all the scattered units of prayer and precipitating them on his
ministry. May not the solution of Paul's preeminence in labors and
results, and impress on the Church and the world, be found in this fact
that he was able to center on himself and his ministry more of prayer than
others? To his brethren at Rome he wrote: "Now I beseech you, brethren,
for the Lord Jesus Christ's sake, and for the love of the Spirit, that ye
strive together with me in prayers to God for me." To the Ephesians he
says: "Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, and
watching thereunto with all perseverance and supplication for all saints;
and for me, that utterance may be given unto me, that I may open my mouth
boldly, to make known the mystery of the gospel." To the Colossians he
emphasizes: "Withal praying also for us, that God would open unto us a
door of utterance, to speak the mystery of Christ, for which I am also in
bonds: that I may make it manifest as I ought to speak." To the
Thessalonians he says sharply, strongly: "Brethren, pray for us." Paul
calls on the Corinthian Church to help him: "Ye also helping together by
prayer for us." This was to be part of their work. They were to lay to the
helping hand of prayer. He in an additional and closing charge to the
Thessalonian Church about the importance and necessity of their prayers
says: "Finally, brethren, pray for us, that the word of the Lord may have
free course, and be glorified, even as it is with you: and that we may be
delivered from unreasonable and wicked men." He impresses the Philippians
that all his trials and opposition can be made subservient to the spread
of the gospel by the efficiency of their prayers for him. Philemon was to
prepare a lodging for him, for through Philemon's prayer Paul was to be
his guest.
Paul's attitude on this question illustrates his
humility and his deep insight into the spiritual forces which project the
gospel. More than this, it teaches a lesson for all times, that if Paul
was so dependent on the prayers of God's saints to give his ministry
success, how much greater the necessity that the prayers of God's saints
be centered on the ministry of to-day!
Paul did not feel that this
urgent plea for prayer was to lower his dignity, lessen his influence, or
depreciate his piety. What if it did? Let dignity go, let influence be
destroyed, let his reputation be marred -- he must have their prayers.
Called, commissioned, chief of the Apostles as he was, all his equipment
was imperfect without the prayers of his people. He wrote letters
everywhere, urging them to pray for him. Do you pray for your preacher? Do
you pray for him in secret? Public prayers are of little worth unless they
are founded on or followed up by private praying. The praying ones are to
the preacher as Aaron and Hur were to Moses. They hold up his hands and
decide the issue that is so fiercely raging around them.
The plea
and purpose of the apostles were to put the Church to praying. They did
not ignore the grace of cheerful giving. They were not ignorant of the
place which religious activity and work occupied an the spiritual life;
but not one nor all of these, in apostolic estimate or urgency, could at
all compare in necessity and importance with prayer. The most sacred and
urgent pleas were used, the most fervid exhortations, the most
comprehensive and arousing words were uttered to enforce the all-important
obligation and necessity of prayer.
"Put the saints everywhere to
praying" is the burden of the apostolic effort and the keynote of
apostolic success. Jesus Christ had striven to do this in the days of his
personal ministry. As he was moved by infinite compassion at the ripened
fields of earth perishing for lack of laborers and pausing in his own
praying -- he tries to awaken the stupid sensibilities of his disciples to
the duty of prayer as he charges them, "Pray ye the Lord of the harvest
that he will send forth laborers into his harvest." "And he spake a
parable unto them to this end, that men ought always to pray and not to
faint.".
Back to Top XIX.
DELIBERATION NECESSARY TO LARGEST RESULTS FROM PRAYER
"This perpetual hurry of business and
company ruins me in soul if not in body. More solitude and earlier
hours! I suspect I have been allotting habitually too little time to
religious exercises, as private devotion and religious meditation,
Scripture-reading, etc. Hence I am lean and cold and hard. I had better
allot two hours or an hour and a half daily. I have been keeping too
late hours, and hence have had but a hurried half hour in a morning to
myself. Surely the experience of all good men confirms the proposition
that without a due measure of private devotions the soul will grow lean.
But all may be done through prayer - almighty prayer, I am ready to say
- and why not? For that it is almighty is only through the gracious
ordination of the God of love and truth. O then, pray, pray,
pray!"
- William Wilberforce
Our devotions are not measured by the clock,
but time is of their essence. The ability to wait and stay and press
belongs essentially to our intercourse with God.
Hurry, everywhere unseeming and damaging, is so to an alarming extent in
the great business of communion with God. Short devotions are the bane of
deep piety. Calmness, grasp, strength, are never the companions of hurry.
Short devotions deplete spiritual vigor, arrest spiritual progress, sap
spiritual foundations, blight the root and bloom of spiritual life. They
are the prolific source of backsliding, the sure indication of a
superficial piety; they deceive, blight, rot the seed, and impoverish the
soil.
It is true that Bible prayers in word and print are short,
but the praying men of the Bible were with God through many a sweet and
holy wrestling hour. They won by few words but long waiting. The prayers
Moses records may be short, but Moses prayed to God with fastings and
mighty cryings forty days and nights.
The statement of Elijah's
praying may be condensed to a few brief paragraphs, but doubtless Elijah,
who when "praying he prayed," spent many hours of fiery struggle and lofty
intercourse with God before he could, with assured boldness, say to Ahab,
"There shall not be dew nor rain these years, but according to my word."
The verbal brief of Paul's prayers is short, but Paul "prayed night and
day exceedingly." The "Lord's Prayer" is a divine epitome for infant lips,
but the man Christ Jesus prayed many an all-night ere his work was done;
and his all-night and long-sustained devotions gave to his work its finish
and perfection, and to his character the fullness and glory of its
divinity.
Spiritual work is taxing work, and men are loath to do
it. Praying, true praying, costs an outlay of serious attention and of
time, which flesh and blood do not relish. Few persons are made of such
strong fiber that they will make a costly outlay when surface work will
pass as well in the market. We can habituate ourselves to our beggarly
praying until it looks well to us, at least it keeps up a decent form and
quiets conscience -- the deadliest of opiates! We can slight our praying,
and not realize the peril till the foundations are gone. Hurried devotions
make weak faith, feeble convictions, questionable piety. To be little with
God is to be little for God. To cut short the praying makes the whole
religious character short, scrimp, niggardly, and slovenly.
It
takes good time for the full flow of God into the spirit. Short devotions
cut the pipe of God's full flow. It takes time in the secret places to get
the full revelation of God. Little time and hurry mar the
picture.
Henry Martyn laments that "want of private devotional
reading and shortness of prayer through incessant sermon-making had
produced much strangeness between God and his soul." He judged that he had
dedicated too much time to public ministrations and too little to private
communion with God. He was much impressed to set apart times for fasting
and to devote times for solemn prayer. Resulting from this he records:
"Was assisted this morning to pray for two hours." Said William
Wilberforce, the peer of kings: "I must secure more time for private
devotions. I have been living far too public for me. The shortening of
private devotions starves the soul; it grows lean and faint. I have been
keeping too late hours." Of a failure in Parliament he says: "Let me
record my grief and shame, and all, probably, from private devotions
having been contracted, and so God let me stumble." More solitude and
earlier hours was his remedy.
More time and early hours for prayer
would act like magic to revive and invigorate many a decayed spiritual
life. More time and early hours for prayer would be manifest in holy
living. A holy life would not be so rare or so difficult a thing if our
devotions were not so short and hurried. A Christly temper in its sweet
and passionless fragrance would not be so alien and hopeless a heritage if
our closet stay were lengthened and intensified. We live shabbily because
we pray meanly. Plenty of time to feast in our closets will bring marrow
and fatness to our lives. Our ability to stay with God in our closet
measures our ability to stay with God out of the closet. Hasty closet
visits are deceptive, defaulting. We are not only deluded by them, but we
are losers by them in many ways and in many rich legacies. Tarrying in the
closet instructs and wins. We are taught by it, and the greatest victories
are often the results of great waiting -- waiting till words and plans are
exhausted, and silent and patient waiting gains the crown. Jesus Christ
asks with an affronted emphasis, "Shall not God avenge his own elect which
cry day and night unto him?"
To pray is the greatest thing we can
do: and to do it well there must be calmness, time, and deliberation;
otherwise it is degraded into the littlest and meanest of things. True
praying has the largest results for good; and poor praying, the least. We
cannot do too much of real praying; we cannot do too little of the sham.
We must learn anew the worth of prayer, enter anew the school of prayer.
There is nothing which it takes more time to learn. And if we would learn
the wondrous art, we must not give a fragment here and there -- "A little
talk with Jesus," as the tiny saintlets sing -- but we must demand and
hold with iron grasp the best hours of the day for God and prayer, or
there will be no praying worth the name.
This, however, is not a
day of prayer. Few men there are who pray. Prayer is defamed by preacher
and priest. In these days of hurry and bustle, of electricity and steam,
men will not take time to pray. Preachers there are who "say prayers" as a
part of their programme, on regular or state occasions; but who "stirs
himself up to take hold upon God?" Who prays as Jacob prayed -- till he is
crowned as a prevailing, princely intercessor? Who prays as Elijah prayed
-- till all the locked-up forces of nature were unsealed and a
famine-stricken land bloomed as the garden of God? Who prayed as Jesus
Christ prayed as out upon the mountain he "continued all night in prayer
to God?" The apostles "gave themselves to prayer" -- the most difficult
thing to get men or even the preachers to do. Laymen there are who will
give their money -- some of them in rich abundance -- but they will not
"give themselves" to prayer, without which their money is but a curse.
There are plenty of preachers who will preach and deliver great and
eloquent addresses on the need of revival and the spread of the kingdom of
God, but not many there are who will do that without which all preaching
and organizing are worse than vain -- pray. It is out of date, almost a
lost art, and the greatest benefactor this age could have is the man who
will bring the preachers and the Church back to prayer..
Back to Top XX. A PRAYING
PULPIT BEGETS A PRAYING PEW
"I judge that my prayer is more than the
devil himself; if it were otherwise, Luther would have fared differently
long before this. Yet men will not see and acknowledge the great wonders
or miracles God works in my behalf. If I should neglect prayer but a
single day, I should lose a great deal of the fire of faith."
-- Martin Luther
Only glimpses of the great importance of
prayer could the apostles get before Pentecost. But
the Spirit coming and filling on Pentecost elevated prayer to its vital
and all-commanding position in the gospel of Christ. The call now of
prayer to every saint is the Spirit's loudest and most exigent call.
Sainthood's piety is made, refined, perfected, by prayer. The gospel moves
with slow and timid pace when the saints are not at their prayers early
and late and long.
Where are the Christly leaders who can teach the
modern saints how to pray and put them at it? Do we know we are raising up
a prayerless set of saints? Where are the apostolic leaders who can put
God's people to praying? Let them come to the front and do the work, and
it will be the greatest work which can be done. An increase of educational
facilities and a great increase of money force will be the direst curse to
religion if they are not sanctified by more and better praying than we are
doing. More praying will not come as a matter of course. The campaign for
the twentieth or thirtieth century fund will not help our praying but
hinder if we are not careful. Nothing but a specific effort from a praying
leadership will avail. The chief ones must lead in the apostolic effort to
radicate the vital importance and fact of prayer in the heart and
life of the Church. None but praying leaders can have praying followers.
Praying apostles will beget praying saints. A praying pulpit will beget
praying pews. We do greatly need some body who can set the saints to this
business of praying. We are not a generation of praying saints.
Non-praying saints are a beggarly gang of saints who have neither the
ardor nor the beauty nor the power of saints. Who will restore this
breach? The greatest will he be of reformers and apostles, who can set the
Church to praying.
We put it as our most sober judgment that the
great need of the Church in this and all ages is men of such commanding
faith, of such unsullied holiness, of such marked spiritual vigor and
consuming zeal, that their prayers, faith, lives, and ministry will be of
such a radical and aggressive form as to work spiritual revolutions which
will form eras in individual and Church life.
We do not mean men
who get up sensational stirs by novel devices, nor those who attract by a
pleasing entertainment; but men who can stir things, and work revolutions
by the preaching of God's Word and by the power of the Holy Ghost,
revolutions which change the whole current of things.
Natural
ability and educational advantages do not figure as factors in this
matter; but capacity for faith, the ability to pray, the power of thorough
consecration, the ability of self-littleness, an absolute losing of one's
self in God's glory, and an ever-present and insatiable yearning and
seeking after all the fullness of God -- men who can set the Church ablaze
for God; not in a noisy, showy way, but with an intense and quiet heat
that melts and moves everything for God.
God can work wonders if he
can get a suitable man. Men can work wonders if they can get God to lead
them. The full endowment of the spirit that turned the world upside down
would be eminently useful in these latter days. Men who can stir things
mightily for God, whose spiritual revolutions change the whole aspect of
things, are the universal need of the Church.
The Church has never
been without these men; they adorn its history; they are the standing
miracles of the divinity of the Church; their example and history are an
unfailing inspiration and blessing. An increase in their number and power
should be our prayer.
That which has been done in spiritual matters
can be done again, and be better done. This was Christ's view. He said
"Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that believeth on me, the works that I
do shall he do also; and greater works than these shall he do; because I
go unto my Father." The past has not exhausted the possibilities nor the
demands for doing great things for God. The Church that is dependent on
its past history for its miracles of power and grace is a fallen
Church.
God wants elect men -- men out of whom self and the world
have gone by a severe crucifixion, by a bankruptcy which has so totally
ruined self and the world that there is neither hope nor desire of
recovery; men who by this insolvency and crucifixion have turned toward
God perfect hearts.
Let us pray ardently that God's promise to
prayer may be more than realized.
