Maybe his words are too big for us to use, but each of us who, at some hard bit of our journey, has appealed beyond friends to the Christ within, saying, “I have done, O Lord, what seemed to me right. And my friends are hurt and angry. But Thou knowest”—that man has learned, even in a slight degree, that there is a nearer and truer blessing possible for sinful men than even human friendship.
Then there is another thing that has sometimes to be done without. There are privileges that belong to every Christian man and woman, and are in a sense their birthright—the sense of God, confidence, quietness of heart, hope. There is no doubt that every real Christian should be walking and working in the light and gladness of God’s presence.
But it is just as clear that not all are so blessed. It may be their own fault. Doubtless in many cases it is. Or it may be temperament or outward circumstances that determine it. Anyhow, many have to walk, not in the light but in uncertainty, perplexity, and misgiving, and sometimes even in darkness.
But “a bird is a bird even though it cannot sing.” And a Christian is a Christian still even though his soul is dark within him, and he goes on in fear, never daring to look up and hope at all.
That is spiritual abasement. It ought not to be. It is never to be lightly acquiesced in. But it happens sometimes to earnest men and women, and it seems to be the settled condition of a few. Is it possible to do without these things? Can a man manage to exist and even move forward who has for a while lost his hold on his faith and on God? There are good and godly men who have done it. Brother Lawrence did it. Robertson of Brighton did it. Horace Bushnell did it. And many, many more. When all that they held most precious in faith had been eclipsed for the time, they steered still by the little light they knew. Though there should be no heaven, they resolved that they were called to be pure, truthful, patient, kind, since these things could never be wrong. Though there were no Christ, they would still follow where He had once seemed to invite them. And so doing and so following they came again to know. The darkness passed, and faith and gladness returned. They had lost hold of God for a little, but He had never lost hold of them. And, brethren, whatever the doubt or darkness be, that’s always true. That is what makes it possible at all. That is what may make it even blessed. For
“It’s better to walk in the dark with God
Than to walk alone in the light;
Better to walk with God by faith
Than to walk alone by sight.”
Prayer
Our Gracious God and Father in Heaven, whether Thou dost appoint for us poverty or riches, save us from thinking that a man’s life consisteth in the abundance of the things which he possesseth. Beyond all our friendships, be Thou our Friend and Helper, and grant us to seek first the blessing of our God. Make us very sure, for their comforting and our own, that when men in their darkness sorely seek Thy face, the very ache of their quest is token that Thou hast already found them. For Jesus’ sake. Amen.
XXVII
Wonder
“And Moses said, I will now turn aside and see this great sight.”
Exodus 3:3
Moses, adds one commentator significantly, was then eighty years of age. By the ordinary standards, he was an old man, yet he had not lost his youthful sense of wonder. It is a good sign, the best of signs, when a man has lived so long and yet finds wonder in his heart. It is a bad sign when a man at any age, or when a generation of men, find nothing in all God’s world to wonder at.
Yet in many quarters it is regarded as the correct attitude to refrain from expressing surprise at anything, no matter how striking. The utmost concession to be made to what is really wonderful is a languid and patronising “Really?” That is always a pitiful thing. For where there is no wonder there can be no religion worthy of the name.
The instinct of worship and the instinct of wonder are very intimately related. And where the one has died, the other cannot be in a very healthy state. “I had rather,” said Ruskin once, “live in a cottage and wonder at everything, than live in Warwick Castle and wonder at nothing.” And his preference is to be commended. For he who has never wondered has never thought about God in any way to be called thinking.
It was our Lord Himself who said that the ideal of religion was the childlike heart. Everyone knows that these little people are always being brought to a halt to wonder at something. And Heaven is in very truth nearer to them then, and they are more truly filled with its spirit, than either you or I are when the glory and bloom of this world unfold before our eyes, or the thought of the Infinite and Eternal God comes to us and we have not felt impelled to bow our heads in silence and worship, spellbound, and in a godly fear.
It is not hard to lay one’s finger on some of the causes that have brought about this state of things. A silly fashion, for one cause, has decreed that wonder is
