Great Purposes and Interruptive Voices
Matthew xvi. 21 — 26.
“From that time forth began Jesus to show unto His disciples, how that He must go unto Jerusalem, and suffer many things of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and be raised again the third day. Then Peter took Him, and began to rebuke Him, saying, Be it far from Thee, Lord: this shall not be unto Thee. But He turned, and said unto Peter, Get thee behind Me, Satan: thou art an offence unto Me: for thou savourest not the things that be of God, but those that be of men. Then said Jesus unto His disciples, If any man will come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me. For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and whosoever will lose his life for My sake shall find it. For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?”
“From that time forth began Jesus to show unto His disciples how that He.must go.” Special emphasis should be laid upon the word “must,” in order to discover the depth and range of the idea which the speaker seeks to convey. The emphasis, so placed, gives us the utterance of a great purpose.
“Then Peter took Him, and began to rebuke
Him.” This is an interruptive vovce.
Jesus began to show unto His disciples how that He must suffer, and be killed, and rise again. His eye saw through the whole process; it penetrated the sevenfold midnight of horror, and kindled upon the immortal glory beyond. This I regard as a profound view of human history.
In contrast to this, hear what Peter says : — “Be it far from Thee, Lord: this shall not be unto Thee.” Peter’s eye could not pierce the darkness; his vision was destroyed by the overpowering gloom; no star of hope darted a ray of promise through the awful midnight. This I regard as a superficial view of human history.
Christ’s answer shows that it was more, and worse than superficial: — “Get thee behind Me, Satan: thou art an offence unto Me.” How much meaning there is in this withering rebuke we shall not see until we place it in contrast with the blessing which Christ pronounced upon this same man a very short time before. Christ had proposed the question, “Whom say ye that I am?” Peter instantly replied, “Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God.” Thereupon Christ uttered this benediction : — “Blessed art thou, Simon Bar-jona: for flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but my Father which is in heaven.” If you want to see a contrast you should put the 17th verse and the 23rd verse into juxta-position : —
“Blessed art thou, Simon Bar-jona.”
“Get thee behind me, Satan.”
“Flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee.” “Thou savourest the things that be of men.”
In both cases Christ is the speaker, and in both cases He is speaking about the same man. See how two-sided is man while on the earth! A side that is sunned by the unclouded glory of the heavens; a side that droops and darkens towards the alluring earth. Man has his moments of rapt ecstasy — his times of clear revelation from the Father; and anon he has times of blindness, times of perplexity, times of stumbling, and blundering, and falling.
By grouping these introductory points, we shall see that the subject may assume some such form as this : —
Great purposes and interruptive voices; or the profound and the superficial in human history.
Christ and Peter shall set before us the broadest contrasts in human development. Beginning with Christ, I affirm, —
I. THE MAJESTY OF A PURPOSE IMPARTS TO ITS POSSESSOR TRANQUILLITY IN ANTICIPATION OF THE SEVEREST TRIALS.
As Jesus Christ uttered this “must go,” He was the embodiment of the greatest purpose that ever held dominion in the human mind. His purpose was to give incarnation to the counsels of eternity — to pour out the blood of a redeeming sacrifice — to exalt the government of God, and make possible the salvation of man,
With such a purpose burning in Him, how could He be other than calm? Such a purpose lay deeper than the range of the disturbing forces that agitate and confound superficial minds. Great purposes make a man constant, steady, majestic When the “must go” of his convictions embraces his whole nature, he is firm as a planet — irresistible as the sea! It has appeared to me, that the absence of an adequate purpose in human life may account for two things: for example, it may account for all hesitancy and fear im moral enterprise. Let a man’s soul be filled with a design, — let his faith burn into enthusiasm, — let his idea become the necessity of his life and the very synonym of his name, — and will he fear? will he hesitate? will he furl his banner before the threatening foe? Let the history of heroism testify! What are the constituent elements of heroism? I answer, A great purpose, and great faith im it. Given the purpose and the faith, and you have strength, and patience, and hope, and surest victory. The time of your full revelation may be long in revolving. When the church is filled with an adequate purpose, the church will hesitate no longer about her redeeming mission; she will pour confusion into the breast of her adversaries, and her very look will strike off their chariot wheels.
The absence of a great purpose accounts also for the terrors of anticipated death in many cases. The Apostle speaks of men who all their lifetime have been subject to bondage through fear of death. Such bondsmen have not a true idea of life; their vision of the future is beclouded; they cannot understand that, though the root is in the grave, the flower is blooming in the skies. They forget that the cemetery is but a morsel of dust in the hand of God, and that death is but a vizored angel! Give such men a purpose worth living for; set them to the building of a temple that shall reach even unto heaven; give them balances that shall weigh correctly the dust of earth; give them to feel that Jesus has conquered death, and that He is in them to repeat the victorious process, and they will kiss the slayer’s sword; they will get honey from the lion’s bones, and meat out of the eater’s mouth.
Look at Jesus. Never was sunset so calm as was that marred countenance, — a countenance rich with lines of grief, richer with prophecies of joy! Jesus tarries, as it were, over the process through which He was about to pass. He pronounces each
F sorrow with lingering deliberation. There is no indecorous haste. There is none of the tumultuous plunging of impatience. The man of sorrows is the man of strength. I, too, would face my destiny with equal moral majesty. I, too, would look forward to Jerusalem, to riving thorns, and piercing nails, with the same serenity, the same unruffled calm, How may this be? Only by having the same purpose, the same self-sacrifice, the same deep trust in God.
We now advance to Peter, and he gives us a point of sharp contrast.
II. SUPERFICIAL NATURES CANNOT INTERPRET
THE MAJESTY OF A GREAT PURPOSE.
“Then Peter took Him, and began to rebuke Him, saying, Be it far from Thee, Lord: this shall not be unto Thee.” In thus replying to Jesus, Peter was quite as sincere and kind as when he said, “Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God.” There was a woman’s pathos in his trembling tone. All his sensibilities revolted as he heard that Jesus was voluntarily going up to Jerusalem to lay down His life. Peter spoke according to his mental and moral nature at the moment. This deliverance came straight from the heart of the man. But it was superficial. Peter did not know the mystery of death being the servant of life; he knew not how from the putrid seed could come the beautiful flower or golden
- harvest; and therefore with impatient affection, he sought to interpose between the Saviour and a cruel death. Not only was Peter superficial, but you might have been long in his society without discovering the fact. You cannot truly know any man until a grand crisis shall supervene. Crises reveal.character. You will best know who your friends are when you are most in need of them. Many a man will shake you by the hand in the secluded lane, who would avoid you in the thronged promenade or the public hall. You will know what a man’s courage is when he is brought face to face with the hungering and thirsting tiger, better than you can know it while he is seated by the fire of his home, and surrounded by the comforts of his family. Great questions lay men open from the crown of the head to the sole of the feet. Men are not to be tried before little tribunals. Bring each man up to the touchstone of a great question if you would test the reality, the dignity, and the value of his character.
If you would persuade yourselves of the inability of superficial natures to comprehend and interpret the majesty of a great purpose, turn up the history of the world, and see how great ideas have had to struggle for existence. Did ever a great idea realize its “must go” without having to encounter interruptive Peters? Little ideas, respectable enterprises, decent actions, have passed along the world’s
highway without much incommodation; but the ideas that have given love to the heart, and direction to the understanding of an age or an empire, have had to fight their way to Jerusalem step by step. The world would block up the way of its noblest benefactors. The world often shuts the door in the face of its best friends. The superficialists would have victory without death, but the wise know that in the deep tomb they must lay the foundations of the imperishable temple.
Chief among the interruptions — more or less, indeed, the source of them all — has been the inborn selfishness of the human heart. Need I rehearse the dreary monologue of selfishness? Selfishness says, “I know there are many evils in the Church, and many evils in the State, but why should I be foremost to point them out, and the loudest in demanding their extermination? I should have no objection to be one of a number; I should not care much to have my name put down in a large list of committee men, but why should I expose myself alone to the concentric fire of the ramparts of evil?” This is the careful talk of selfishness. This, the humane piety of personal indulgence; this, the sublime heroism that is never found alone on the mountains of speculation or the billows of enterprise. Let any man arise in our midst and declare himself ready to undergo protracted and severe suffering for the sake of a purpose that is dear to him; let him announce a programme magnanimously comprehensive and selfignoring, and he will find Peters enough to denominate him a fanatic, and interrupt his journey to the cross. History never tells of a hero without telling of a Peter starting to his side. What form this Peter may assume it is impossible to foretell; but in husband, or wife, or child, or business, or social circumstances, there will ever be found some formidable impediment, some final test of strength. I may now be addressing your own experience. There is a man, for example, who in early life was the subject: of renewing grace. In the sunny morning of his new being he was ready for any service in the sanctuary. He implored his rejoicing pastor to turn him to any account, — to make of him a missionary at home or a missionary abroad, — “anything,” he generously exclaimed, “only do make use of me.” So .much for morning bloom, and hope, and joy. Speedily a Peter came upon him and said — of course quite in the tone of a friend, — ‘“This be far from thee: you are hardly fit to judge of yourself yet; wait a little; you had better go into business and earn a fortune, for you know you may do extensive good as a layman as well as a missionary;” and the weak young man, not having moral force enough to call the tempter by his right name, “Satan,” and drive him into his native pit, meekly succumbs, humbly subsides into commonplace, and is never heard of at Jerusalem!
The controversy thus comes to one of two results: either Christ overcomes Peter, or Peter overcomes Christ. Every man must, sooner or later, submit to some test of his strength. In each history there must be a crisis. The victory cannot lie in two opposite directions. If you do not instantly command Satan out of-your sight by telling him to get behind you, he will overturn your purposes, and bind you as his perpetual slave. There should be no parleying. Christ does not ask Peter to state any reasons; the question is taken entirely out of the range of debate, and, with a decision that would not tolerate trifling, Satan was ordered to escape from the Conqueror’s path. Let the example of the Master be the rule of the servant.
III. GREAT PURPOSES ARE NECESSARILY ASSO-CIATED WITH SELF-SACRIFICE.
“Then said Jesus unto His disciples, If any man will come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me.” I cannot but suggest that violence is often done to this passage by regarding these words in the 24th verse as the opening of a new subject. I prefer to regard them as the continuation of the Saviour’s discourse respecting what was awaiting Him at Jerusalem. Thus, the 21st verse and the 24th might be read without any break, and the sense would be this : —
“From that time forth began Jesus to show
unto His disciples how that He must go”
“then said Jesus unto His disciples, If any man will COME.”
Jesus has been speaking about a journey; the whole structure of the passage is based upon the idea of travelling to a given point, and for this reason I regard the encounter with Peter as a parenthesis; Peter broke in upon the Master’s discourse — interrupted its flow; and having dismissed Peter, Christ resumes, saying,
‘“Ligox.
“if any man will come.”
Looked at in this light the circumstance suggests two ideas : —
First. Whoso follows a great leader must expect great sacrifices. In this instance the leader was Christ, and Christ is never found on any part of His journey without having some point of sacrifice immediately or remotely in view. He is never found advancing to what the superficial observer would term joy: all Christ’s joys lay beyond this scene; they gleamed from behind the clouds of mortality; they lay on the thither side of the cross. This fact explains the injunction of the text. With most transparent candour, Christ tells His followers what to expect. Before they take their first step, He assures them that companionship with Himself means suffering, sacrifice, death, resurrection, and immortality! What is true in the lowest sphere is true in the highest. The great leader is ever marked by indomitable courage, and courage leads men up to many a tiger’s lair, and compels them across many a stormy sea. Timidity walks along the well-tramped highway of custom, knows all the sheltering places, is well acquainted with the signs of the sky, and can cheat the cloud that is laden with tempestuous storms. Courage, on the other hand, goes forth with the imperial men of high enterprise, and all who follow in the track must prepare themselves for fierce assault, and sudden lightning, and vengeful deluge. Take this as a principle, — Follow the great, means bring your cross with you!
The second idea suggested by this counsel is, —
That the spirit and example of a great moral leader must ever be reproduced. Conceive the representation you would have, were Christ’s idea fully realized. Genius might laurel her brows from the tree of immortality, could she successfully transfer to canvas the divine ideal. Standing forth in noblest majesty is Jesus himself, bearing such cross as mortal man could never bear. His face, marked by high resolution, is set towards Jerusalem. Behind Him are all the generations of His followers, their figures, as is meet, fading off into dim perspective, as if unworthy to be seen in fellowship so illustrious, because so divine; each, like the Master, carrying the symbol of sacrifice — each laden with a cross intended not for others, but for himself — all marching toward holy and immortal Calvary, there to die the death that means victory — to offer the sacrifice which means coronation! Here, then, is an easy test of our moral position. Have we a cross? Is ours the spirit of sacrifice? Does our path lead up a heavy steep, and does it terminate at Golgotha? These are the questions which determine manhood! There is no appeal from this standard. Let the heart be heard in the presence of these inquiries!
With these ideas well wrought into our nature, we cannot easily forget that great purposes are necessarily associated with great sacrifices. The young traveller should know this well. I would not that any young man should be turned out into the storm without much godly counsel: let him know what is on the outside; let him know exactly what to expect; let him write out on his lifeflag, in letters that cannot be obliterated, this truth, — For great purposes I must pay great prices.
IV. GREAT PURPOSES ALWAYS CORRECTLY ESTI-MATE THE VALUE OF MATERIAL POSSESSIONS.
I prefer to take this point first, in order to throw the succeeding lesson into fuller contrast, “For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?” Persisting in the idea that the whole of the words refer to one subject, we shall require another explanation of the word “soul” than is commonly suggested. What, then, does the word “soul” signify in this connection? I answer, suggestively, not dogmatically, that its equivalent is great purposes, or dominating convictions, or supreme plan of life. Regarded in this acceptation the inquiry might thus be paraphrased : —
Simon Peter has heard my resolution — he is staggered by the announcement of my plan — he seeks to interrupt me in my course to sacrifice and resurrection — he would have me turn round and seek such comfort as the world may yield, — but now I ask him one question — I make one demand of him, answer me this. What is a man profited if he shall gain the whole world of ease, and indulgence, and leisure, and luxury, if by so doing he must exterminate his holiest purposes, stifle his tenderest and deepest yearnings, and tear up the very foundations of his manhood? It looks easy and simple for me to take Peter’s superficial view of life, but he little knows that the man who hushes the divine voice within him actually loses the very world he expected to gain, rots into incurable corruption, and that the heavens bar him out as a culprit and a fool!
What the world has to give must be valued at a proper price. The cardinal who served his king better than he served his God, was cast off in his old age. So must it ever be. Only God can carry a man clear through everything, and crown him on yonder shore. Now and again you may have realized, if but for a moment, the insignificance of the world, by reason of the superiority of the soul. You may have been translated to the Pisgahheight of some great purpose, or some heavenly ecstasy, and thence the world faded off into’ a sprinkling of dust. It may have been in the sacred temple of the sick-room that you have been so translated. You have seen the young die in the full bloom of summer, or the aged in the yellow ripeness of autumn; you have heard them speak of sin and Christ, of holy vow and immortal hope, of a standing Saviour and waiting angels; and as they have sung sweet hymns of trust in the very act of dying, your soul has caught fire, and in ecstasy of devotion you have exclaimed, “What shall a man give in exchange for his soul?” It is well to have such moments here and there in the troubled hours of life. They open up the future as with a telescope, and condense the present into the small magnitude of its merits. You know what vows you registered in that holy temple! How great was to be your life, how profound your reverence, how childlike your trust, how fragrant
your piety! You said to yourself, nor did you keep it from your friends, that you “must go unto Jerusalem,” and angels thrilled with a new joy as they caught the words of your plighted love: it now only remains to be asked, Did you “go unto Jerusalem,” or did some interruptive voice break up your plan? Say!
If your answer is, “I went,” I joy with you; but if “I went not,” you must know, —
VY. THAT SUPERFICIAL NATURES ALWAYS PRO-CEED ON. A SELF-DEFEATING POLICY.
Christ’s testimony is clear, — “For whosoever shall save his life shall lose it; and whosoever shall lose his life for my sake shall find it.” I am not aware that history affords a more forcible illustration of this paradox than the case of Lot. From the battle of the herdmen it became necessary that Abram and Lot should part. Surrendering the right of seniority, Abram ‘called upon Lot to make choice. “And Lot lifted up his eyes” — eyes cold as steel, eyes in which poetry never gleamed, eyes in which the stars never looked for their own reflection, eyes that could see the land but not the landscape, — ‘“and beheld all the plain of Jordan, that it was well watered everywhere.” Pie “Then Lot chose him all the plain of Jordan.” So far all is gain. What could be better? Fine soil, noble streams, genial atmosphere, what more did joy want to make her lap quite full? Lot was not one of your pietetic men, who had any questions to ask about religious accommodation, or religious privileges, or religious society: not he! he wanted streams, acres, crops, herds; and having them, what room had he left for God? The superficial world might pity poor Abram, as he meekly moved off into the plain of Mamre, which is in Hebron. In relating the incident respecting the separation of Abram and Lot, the historian appends a religious note, after setting forth the choice of each. Having told what Lot did, the narrator adds, “But the men of Sodom were wicked and sinners before the Lord exceedingly;” and having told how Abram betook himself, adds, “and built an altar there unto the Lord.” On these two points the whole case is pivoted. Soon after, the heavens rained fire on Lot’s dwelling-place, and the sharp man who asked no religious questions is seen dashing across his own farm to escape the flames, and he who thought he had saved his life, lost it, and in his drunken old age became the father of Moab and Ammon! ‘Truly, he that saveth his life on superficial principles is attaching the millstone to his neck, and preparing to go down in the flood that never gives up its dead.
There are two men; each has a handful of grain. They shall teach us the meaning of this paradox. One of them says, “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush” (a proverb that has nipped many a noble venture in the bud; and proceeding upon this basis, he refusés to part with his grain, In the hand! In the hand! that is his safe creed! The other, wishing to be a co-worker with God, to link himself on to the laws which keep the universe in motion, digs a grave and casts in the grain, and then he has nothing in hand! See how the proverbist grins his satisfaction and shakes with joy as he muses on his own skill in economics! By-and-bye God takes hold of the sower’s hand and works with him: God sends down angels of light, and dew, and air, and disimprisons the seed: now there rises the tender blade, and anon comes the golden ear, and farther on the venturous sower has something in both hands! Bravely he says, All this shall go back again to the earth; and again and again the produce goes back, until the handful of corn shakes like Lebanon! And what of the man who “saved” his grain? The very eagerness and fervour of his grasp have caused it to rot, and he who blessed his sagacity is left to bemoan himself a fool! Learn, then, ye who are laying the basis of life, to operate on a broad and immoveable foundation. Have faith in God. Be nobly adventurous. Dare to go out of the narrow circumference of sight, into the infinite of faith. Take hold of the offered hand of God, and step into the veiled land of the unknown. God has no orphans. There is not an unwatched lamp in the firmament; there is not an untended flower in the mead; there is not a forgotten saint in all the multitude beyond man’s numbering! Let us do great things for Christ. We can never do enough! Men may think we are “losing” life, while we are in the very act of “saving” it. Give Jesus everything, — intellect, heart, life! Go with Him to Jerusalem, and having accompanied Him to the scene of humiliation, He will clothe you with an ephod whiter than snow, and crown you with a diadem above the brightness of the sun.