Part 15 (1/2)
Peculiar favor is pledged to them. G.o.d will provide for the ruggedness of their way. They will have a divine blessing which would not be theirs but for the roughness and ruggedness. The Hebrew parallelism gives the same promise, without figure, in the remaining words of the same verse: ”As thy days so shall thy strength be.” Be sure, if your path is rougher than mine, you will get more help than I will. There is a most delicate connection between earth's needs and heaven's grace.
Days of struggle get more grace than calm, quiet days. When night comes stars s.h.i.+ne out which never would have appeared had not the sun gone down. Sorrow draws comfort that never would have come in joy.
For the rough roads there are iron shoes.
There is yet another suggestion in this old-time promise. The divine blessing for every experience is folded up in the experience itself, and will not be received in advance. The iron shoes would not be given until the rough roads were reached. There was no need for them until then, and besides, the iron to make them was treasured in the rugged hills and could not be gotten until the hills were reached.
A great many people worry about the future. They vex themselves by anxious questioning as to how they are going to get through certain antic.i.p.ated experiences. We had better learn once for all that there are in the Bible no promises of provision for needs while the needs are yet future. G.o.d does not put strength into our arms to-day for the battles of to-morrow; but when the conflict is actually upon us, the strength comes. ”As thy days so shall thy strength be.”
Some people are forever unwisely testing themselves by questions like these: ”Could I endure sore bereavement? Have I grace enough to bow in submission to G.o.d, if he were to take away my dearest treasure? Or could I meet death without fear?” Such questions are unwise, because there is no promise of grace to meet trial when there is no trial to be met. There is no a.s.surance of strength to bear great burdens when there are no great burdens to be borne. Help to endure temptation is not promised when there are no temptations to be endured. Grace for dying is nowhere promised while death is yet far off and while one's duty is to live.
”Of all the tender guards which Jesus drew About our frail humanity, to stay The pressure and the jostle that alway Are ready to disturb, what'er we do, And mar the work our hands would carry through, None more than this environs us each day With kindly wardens.h.i.+p--'Therefore, I say, Take no thought for the morrow.' Yet we pay The wisdom scanty heed, and impotent To bear the burden of the imperious Now, a.s.sume, the future's exigence unsent.
G.o.d grants no overplus of power: 'tis shed Like morning manna. Yet we dare to bow And ask, 'Give us to-day our _morrow's_ bread.'”
There is a story of s.h.i.+pwreck which yields an ill.u.s.tration that comes in just here. Crew and pa.s.sengers had to leave the broken vessel and take to the boats. The sea was rough, and great care in rowing and steering was necessary in order to guard the heavily-laden boats, not from the ordinary waves, which they rode over easily, but from the great cross-seas. Night was approaching, and the hearts of all sank as they asked what they should do in the darkness when they would no longer be able to see these terrible waves. To their great joy, however, when it grew dark they discovered that they were in phosph.o.r.escent waters and that each dangerous wave rolled up crested with light which made it as clearly visible as if it were mid-day.
So it is that life's dreaded experiences, when we meet them, carry in themselves the light which takes away the peril and the terror. The night of sorrow comes with its own lamp of comfort. The hour of weakness brings its own secret of strength. By the brink of the bitter fountain itself grows the tree whose branch will heal the waters. The wilderness with its hunger and no harvest has daily manna. In dark Gethsemane, where the load is more than mortal heart can bear, an angel appears, ministering strength that gives victory. When we come to the hard, rough, steep path we find iron for shoes. The iron will be in the very hills over which we shall have to climb.
So we see that the matter of shoes is very important. We are pilgrims here and we cannot walk barefoot on this world's rugged roads. Are our feet shod for the journey?
”How can I get shoes, and where?” one asks. Do you remember about Christ's feet, that they were pierced with nails? Why was it? That we might have shoes to wear on our feet, and that they might not be cut and torn on the way.
Christ's dear feet were wounded and sore with long journeys over thorns and stones, and were pierced through with cruel nails, that our feet might be shod for earth's rough roads, and might at last enter the gates of pearl and walk on heaven's gold-paved streets.
Dropping all figure, the whole lesson is that we cannot get along on our life's pilgrimage without Christ; but having Christ we shall be ready for anything that may come to us along the days and years.
CHAPTER XXV.
THE SHUTTING OF DOORS.
”Never delay To do the duty which the hour brings, Whatever it be in great or smaller things; For who doth know What he shall do the coming day?”
The shutting of a door is a little thing and yet it may have infinite meaning. It may fix a destiny for weal or for woe. When G.o.d shut the door of the ark the sound of its closing was the knell of exclusion to those who were without, but it was the token of security to the little company of trusting ones who were within. When the door was shut upon the bridegroom and his friends who had gone into the festal hall, thus sheltering them from the night's darkness and danger, and shutting them in with joy and gladness, there were those outside to whose hearts the closing of that door smote despair and woe. To them it meant hopeless exclusion from all the privileges of those who were within and exposure to all the sufferings and perils from which those favored ones were protected.
Here we have hints of what may come from the closing of a door. Life is full of ill.u.s.trations. We are continually coming up to doors which stand open for a little while and then are shut. An artist has tried to teach this in a picture. Father Time is there with inverted hour-gla.s.s. A young man is lying at his ease on a luxurious couch, while beside him is a table spread with rich fruits and viands.
Pa.s.sing by him toward an open door are certain figures which represent opportunities; they come to invite the young man to n.o.bleness, to manliness, to usefulness, to worth. First is a rugged, sun-browned form, carrying a flail. This is labor. He invites the youth to toil.
He has already pa.s.sed far by unheeded. Next is a philosopher, with open book, inviting the young man to thought and study, that he may master the secrets in the mystic volume. But this opportunity, too, is disregarded. The youth has no desire for learning. Close behind the philosopher comes a woman with bowed form, carrying a child. Her dress betokens widowhood and poverty. Her hand is stretched out appealingly.
She craves charity. Looking closely at the picture we see that the young man holds money in his hand. But he is clasping it tightly, and the poor widow's pleading is in vain. Still another figure pa.s.ses, endeavoring to lure and woo him from his idle ease. It is the form of a beautiful woman, who seeks by love to awaken in him n.o.ble purposes, worthy of his powers, and to inspire him for ambitious efforts. One by one these opportunities have pa.s.sed, with their calls and invitations, only to be unheeded. At last he is arousing to seize them, but it is too late; they are vanis.h.i.+ng from sight and the door is closing.
This is a true picture of what is going on all the time in this world.
Opportunities come to every young person, offering beautiful things, rich blessings, brilliant hopes. Too often, however, these offers and solicitations are rejected and one by one pa.s.s by, to return no more.
Door after door is shut, and at last men stand at the end of their days, with beggared lives, having missed all that they might have gotten of enrichment and good from the pa.s.sing days.