Tired Church Members Part 6

Nonconformists. But now, "My mother does it,"--"my aunt goes,"--"my father likes it": so run the excuses which the members of your Bible Cla.s.s, children of Church members, fling in your face.

But what you call "lawful" games, are stupid. Not all of them, perhaps; but if they were, that would not touch the question. Paul's "If meat make my brother to offend, I will eat no flesh while the world standeth," was crippled with no such condition as "If I can get bread."

And when the Lord bade us cut off the offending right hand, no question of whether we could live without it came in. It is not absolutely needful that Christ should find all his tired Church members rested and fresh; but it _is_ necessary that they should be "spotless,"

"faithful," "ready," when he comes.

There are other amus.e.m.e.nts that might be touched upon just here, but perhaps they are as well not named. Whatever takes you full into the ranks of Christ's enemies, not to fight but to follow them; whatever you cannot do straight through in the name of the Lord Jesus; whatever turns you away from the s.h.i.+ning presence of his face; is unlawful for you. Once remember that there is no middle ground, and then ask yourself what standing room there can be for you on a race course, what seat at a circus. If you are not with Christ, openly, unmistakably, you are "scattering," even in your games. I asked a friend (a minister of deep experience) lately, if he had seen much of this private card playing among Church members? He answered, "Yes, a great deal." Then I inquired what was the effect, as he had noticed it. And the reply was instant and emphatic:

"_Always_ evil!"--

Carlyle tells of "patriots" in the French Revolution who shaved each other out of the fragments of bomb sh.e.l.ls, and wore ghastly trophies from the guillotine. But short of a Reign of Terror, making all men mad, one does not expect such things. Few people (I fancy) if they knew it, would care to use the gla.s.s from which some poor wretch had drunk his draught of poison; and even to touch the murderer's knife stored up in a public museum, would turn most hearts sick. But if you could only see as G.o.d sees; if things in society were but labelled and cla.s.sed; you would find your cards dark with the soul-life blood of thousands, and could hear their ruin in every fall of the dice.

I was much interested in a recent English essay ("On the Criminal Code of the Jews") to find how the typical Israel regarded games of chance.

As if something of the old blessed "The Lord is our King," staid by them, even in the days of their downfall. The writer says:

"All who made money by dice-playing or any games of hazard, by betting on pigeon matches and similar objectionable practices, were not only incapable of becoming members of a tribunal, but were not permitted to give evidence. The Ghemara regards a man who gains money by the amus.e.m.e.nts named, as dishonest."

[1] Once pastor of the Mercer Street Church, New York, and Professor in Union Theological Seminary.

[2] Prov. xvi. 33.

What Left?

But you will say, I leave nothing for you, then; no amus.e.m.e.nts, no recreation. Is that true? Is the narrow way indeed so barren, that we must step out of it to rest? Has the Lord only food and water for his flock, and when they need change and refreshment must they leave their Shepherd, and go over to the wolf for a run upon the hillside? That sounds hard for weak human nature--and strange, for a Lord of boundless resources. And somehow the Bible pictures of the flock shew wondrous contentment. "A stranger will they not follow." [1]

Then following the Master must be very sweet; for all men like variety, and the mere fact of a new voice is of itself enough to draw one aside.

Yet "a stranger will they not follow, but will flee from him,"--O how much that tells! And here we touch the very root and spring of true refreshment, of real recreation. For while good general health is the best specific against mere bodily fatigue, so against a jaded, over-wrought state of nerves and energies, there is nothing like a heart full of joy and a mind at rest.

"He that believeth on me shall never thirst." [2]

And if this satisfaction does not underlie all your pastimes, they will be a failure. No other stream alone can freshen even the small dry barrens of this earth.

But besides that, what is there left for Christian people?

To begin: "Dancing is such good exercise!" people say. Granted. Or at least it _might_ be. But instead of night hours in a ball room, get on horseback for two hours in the open day, and then balance the profit and loss. You don't know how?--then learn. You have no horse? Go to riding school. An hour in the ring will stir your blood better than twenty Germans. But you "cannot afford" to take riding lessons.--Well to say nothing of ball dresses, just throw satin slippers and long gloves and carriage hire together, and see if you cannot afford it.

Ay, and have a ticket now and then for some one poorer than yourself.

Then for people who live within reach of the opera, there is generally much other good music to be had, at far less expense and with none of the objections. And there again, the money and time spent at the opera, would train the voices at home into a lovely choir. Voices which now "have no time," and talents perhaps unknown.

"Everybody cannot sing."--No. And neither can everybody paint; but it is a delicious pleasure to those who can. What joy to go sketching!

what delight to work up the sketches at home. What pure, noiseless, exquisite play it is. And if some of the party care nothing for pencils, let them lie under a tree with a book, and be part of your picture.

"Ah, books!--Of course you disapprove of novels,"--some one exclaims.

Indeed no. A good novel is very improving as well as refres.h.i.+ng. And after much study over that word "good" (that is, for us, worth reading) I can give no better meaning than this. A good book, whether novel or other, is one which leaves you further on than it took you up. If when you drop it, it drops you, right down in the same old spot; with no finer outlook, no cleared vision, no stimulated desires, it is in no sense a good book for you. As well make fancy loaves of sawdust, and label them "Good Bread"; and claim that you rise from the banquet refreshed.

A novel has special power of its own. It may be deeply historical, like "Waverly," and "The Tale of Two Cities." It may be a picture of vivid local colouring, like "Ivanhoe," or "Lorna Doone," or "Dr Antonio." It may be full of social hints and glimpses, with many a covert wise suggestion, like Miss Austin's "Emma." It may shew up a vital truth or a life-long mistake, like Miss Edgeworth's "Helen," or open out new natural scenes like the "Adventures of a Phaeton"; or life scenes, like "Oliver Twist"; or be so full of frolic and fun and sharp common sense, that the mere laughter of it does you good "like a medicine." Witness "Christie Johnstone," and Miss Carlen's "John."

All such books are utterly helpful, and leave you well in advance of where they found you. They enlarge your world, they stimulate your life. Only read none that enlarge it by a peep through the gates of h.e.l.l. On _that_ side knowledge is death.

But how is one to tell? you ask. Books are not labelled "good," "bad,"

and "indifferent." No: and when you go to shops and houses you do not know what air you will find, perhaps not till you open the door. But you start back from one room, and hold your breath in another, hastening to get away; not because you have studied chemistry and can a.n.a.lyze the air, but because your keen physical sense is smitten. Keep your moral sense as fresh, as keen; and the moment you find foul air in a book, throw the book in the fire. Do not leave it about to poison some one else. And if you find no wholesome stir, no real refreshment, but only a feverish thirst beginning, lay the book down: remember, you are after _recreation_.

Re-creation,--the remaking and refitting of ourselves for better work, the resting for more labour, the learning, that we may grow thereby.

_That_ is what you profess to need, dear fellow Christians. Then seek it,--and take no makebelieve.

"Nothing left?"--Why the world is so full of delightful things to do, that one can but look at a quarter of them. They stand at my elbow ten deep. Books and music, and painting, and riding, and gardening, with all sorts of studies of the wonderful works of G.o.d. You are not shut up to novels. Books of art, books of travel, books of poetry, books of science. O how I have rested in the coolness of Longfellow's "Cathedral"; and with what delight seen Alpine heights with Ruskin.

Then there is that wonder of refreshment, the stereoscope. One comes back from a half hour there in a Swiss valley as into a new world, with the dust all blown away. A stereoscope costs little, and views are not expensive,--that is if you are content with one or two at a time, which is the real way to buy them; choosing, considering, carefully selecting only those you cannot possibly go home without! I know we began with six; those six sorted out with jealous care from the contents of many boxes; and by ones and twos the little collection has grown into something worth having. And if you turn over every lot of views you come across, you will often find one rare and fine and cheap, thrown in among the rubbish.

Then there is the microscope,--full of rich pleasure and deep study and wonderful revealings. And here again no great outlay is needed. The days of only sixty dollar gla.s.ses are quite gone by, and for five or ten dollars--even less--you can get a microscope that will keep ahead of you for some time to come.

On the other hand, if one has neither the skill nor the means to furnish a home-made telescope, there are other ways of studying the stars, from the days of Ferguson down. You remember he used to measure the distance from star to star with beads upon a string. I have seen a man who could neither read nor write, and yet could tell by the stars the hour at any time of night; and it is a shame that we educated people who know so much, should also know so little.

If you are in the country, and fond of "stones," get a geologist's hammer, and Hugh Miller's books, and give yourself up to happiness. Or if you like flowers, study _them_; learning to know families and sub-families through all the floral peerage.

But perhaps you "do not care for out-door things?" Then get a bit of wood and a few carving tools, and see what dainty wonders you can make at home. Or lose your cares in "illuminating"; or bury them fathom deep in German. From any of these, well begun and carried on, you will come back re-created for your work: made over "as good as new." Not poisoned with bad air, nor wearied by late hours; not singed and jaded with chagrin, vanity, and disappointment. Riding, rowing, archery, fis.h.i.+ng, ought to give Christian people enough exercise, without their being obliged to frequent ball rooms to find it; and as for the "grace"

people talk of, nothing teaches that like a heart full of graces--"love, joy, peace," and the rest. Do _they_ flourish at your doubtful entertainments? do they not rather droop and hang their heads, like the dear flowers in your bouquet?

And if people sought their refreshment among all those sweet and wholesome things, conversation would no longer be the difficult and the dry thing it is in many a company. There would be something to talk about worth talking of; and men of sense would venture to talk sense, even to women; and gossip would go down. How much more interesting is a b.u.t.terfly, than the curtains of the house across the way!--

The world is full of joys and pleasures and wonders, even yet, outside of Eden. So full that as I said, you can only begin to taste them all, in all your life. I think it is stated that no ordinary life-term would suffice for the thorough study of merely the great family of orchids. And all these things which I have named (the list is really much longer), yes, every one of them, rightly used, will enn.o.ble you, and build you up, and refresh you, with every time of using. Not like the snail which crawled up three feet every day and fell back two feet every night: onward and upward shall be your course; with soul and body and mind re-created, restored by right means, to right ends. Only make one rule to yourself: where anything is doubtful, let it alone.

If you tell me I do not know the fascination of these other things, I tell you that I do; and in one line at least have known it as deeply as any one could. But I have also known, that with the coming of Christ into my heart, with the new knowledge of his presence, the old taste fell dead in a moment, and never arose again. I cannot say it was not much to give up, for it was _nothing_. The former fascination fell off, like the dry skin of a chrysalis when the b.u.t.terfly spreads its wings. And here we reach the very point of the whole difficulty. For with all their crosses, privations, and givings-up, the Lord's people are not meant to dwell in any land of darkness or of drought. Listen to some of the promises.

"The righteous shall hold on his way, and he that hath clean hands shall be stronger and stronger." [3]

"They go from strength to strength." [4]

"They that wait on the Lord shall renew their strength." [5]

For why?

"For the joy of the Lord is your strength." [6]

I believe the words are true for the body as for the mind. It is nowhere promised that you shall not be tired; but so waiting, so living, so abiding by the head waters of all strength, the most lovely, fresh, ever-renewed life shall be yours.

"The righteous shall flourish like the palm tree." [7]

"Their souls shall be as a watered garden." [8]

It is the man "whose delight is in the law of the Lord" who not only "bringeth forth his fruit in his season," but also when the time for freshness and life and growth seems over,

"They shall still bring forth fruit in old age." [9]