The Countenance of a Friend
“Iron sharpeneth iron: so a man sharpeneth the countenance of his friend.”- xxvii. 17.
WHEN an iron tool becomes blunt, an instrument of the same material is sometimes employed to restore its edge. In such a case, literally “iron sharpeneth iron.” This process is compared to the quickening influence which a man’s countenance may exert on the flagging spirit of his friend. As an instrument made of steel may, when blunted, be sharpened again by another instrument also made of steel; so a man, when cares oppress his spirit and cloud his face, may be brought to himself again by intercourse with a brother who has a more sprightly countenance and a more hopeful heart.
A man’s mind is liable to become dull in the edge as well as the tool which he handles. The moral bluntness is as common as the natural, and springs from a similar cause. Much application, especially on hard and unyielding subjects, rubs off the sharp edge of the intellect, and renders it less capable of successful exertion. A man in this condition is like an artisan compelled to work with a blunted instrument; the effort is painful and the progress is slow.
For a blunt tool or a weary spirit we are not limited to one application. Many whetstones lie within our reach, of various material and various virtue; and one of the chief is, “the countenance of a friend.” Bring the downcast into the presence of a true friend; let a brother’s countenance beam upon the worn-out man; let it sparkle with hope and speak encouragement; forthwith the blunted mind takes on a new edge, and is able again to cut through opposing difficulties. Every one who knows what care is has experienced the process of blunting; and every one who has a friend knows how much power there is in human sympathy to touch the soul that has become like lead, — as heavy and as dull, — and sharpen it into hopeful activity again. Saul of Tarsus, even after the quickening of grace was superadded to the natural intensity of his intellect, was himself beaten broad and blunt by many successive blows on coarse, cross-grained material, and burst into glad thankfulness when he felt the countenance of a friend touching his spirit and restoring its tone: “We were troubled on every side; without were fightings, within were fears. Nevertheless, God that comforteth those that are cast down, comforted us by the coming of Titus.” While he acknowledges God as the source of all consolation, he confesses with equal distinctness that the instrument which applied it was the face of a friend.
We are wonderfully made, both as individuals and as members of a community. Each man is a separate being, conscious of his own personality and continued identity, and amenable to the Supreme Judge for himself alone; yet each has as many separate relations as there are persons with whom he holds intercourse in the various offices of life. We influence others, and are in turn affected by them. Man would scarcely be man if he were prevented from associating with his kind. It is not good for man to be alone; solitude rigidly maintained and long continued produces insanity. One half of the human faculties are framed for maintaining intercourse with men, and one half of the divine law is occupied with rules for regulating it.
Although social meetings become frequently, in point of fact, the occasion of sin, they are not in themselves and necessarily evil. The concourse of numbers for social enjoyment affords an opening by which the tempter may come in; but even in the face of such a danger, we dare not advise that the door should be wholly and for ever shut. Watch and pray against temptation on every side, but forbid not the meeting of man with man, whether in seasons of joy or of grief.
The countenance of a friend, — the mark of glad recognition after protracted absence, — the intelligence that looks out of every feature, and the love that kindles all into a glow, — the countenance of a friend, with all that is in it, is a wonderful work of God. It is a work as great and good as the sun in the heavens; and, verily, He who spread it out and bade it shine, did not intend that it should be covered by a pall. When the Creator had made a shining sun, he hung it in the midst of Leaven that all the circling worlds might look on its beauty and bask in its rays: so, when he makes a “lesser light” of equal brilliancy, — a loving human countenance, — he intends that it should shine upon hearts that have grown dark and cold. Social, or, if you will, convivial parties, are the outgoing of instincts which our Maker has planted in our being. A convivial meeting is one where men eat their bread together, getting and giving reciprocally meantime rays as sweet as sunlight from the faces of friends. Why should riot the sons of God meet thus, and bless each other as brothers, while they are fed by a Father’s hand 1 Alas! when they meet, Satan still presents himself among them. When the avenues of the heart are fully opened to admit a brother’s love an evil spirit glides in to possess and defile. But it is not the happy face of a friend that stings and kills. There is no evil in it: behold, it is very good. Let “Holiness to the Lord” be written on it, and then enjoy freely the society of men. We may eat our bread together, and look on each other’s faces while we eat, and thank God for his goodness-. Meetings are not evil; social meals are not evil; cheerful conversation is not evil; kind looks are not evil. Christians! here is a work to be done, a battle to be fought, a victory to be won: wrench these good things from Satan’s hands, and let the children of God, for whom they are provided, enjoy their own again.
The human countenance! — receptacle of a thousand joyful impressions, that at a signal leap into their places simultaneously, and crowd and flit, and glow and glitter there, a galaxy of glory, a teeming, overflowing source of manifold and wide-divergent consolation; the human countenance, — oh, thou possessor of the treasure, never prostitute that gift of God! If you could and should pluck down these greater and lesser lights that shine in purity from heaven, and trail them through the mire, you would be ashamed as one who had put out the eyes and marred the beauty of creation. Equal shame ,and sin are his who takes this terrestrial sun, — a Jiuman countenance, — and with it fascinates his fellow into the Old Serpent’s filthy folds!
In a certain Italian city, not many years ago, six men of diverse age, and rank, and attainments, were sitting late at night around the table, within the dwelling of one of their own number. Each had a Bible in his hands. Each man looked alternately down on that blessed book, and up on his brother’s countenance. Both were beaming, and the light that shone in both was a light from heaven. As iron sharpeneth iron, so these persecuted disciples of Jesus sharpened mutually their own broken spirits by looking on each other’s faces while they conversed upon the word of life. The spoiler came. The agents of a despot broke suddenly into the chamber, and dragged its inmates to prison. But a friendly countenance reached the martyrs there, and healed their broken hearts. The face of that Friend whose presence gave “songs in the night” to Paul and Silas in the inner prison at Philippi, bursts yet through every barrier to cheer the hearts of those who suffer for His sake.
This soul is obliged, in the conflict of life, to force its way through hardnesses which, sharp though it is, destroy from time to time its penetrating power. It strikes suddenly upon temptation, upon worldly cares, upon pains, upon bereavements; and, onward further in its course, it must strike upon the armour of the last foe. When the spirit is sorely blunted on all these, and turned into lead by contact with the last, how shall it acquire a keenness, whereby it will be able to go with a glance right through the armour of death, and gain the victory? The sharpener provided for this extremity is still the countenance of a Friend. As iron sharpens iron, a Man is provided to quicken in the last resort the sinking soul of man. For our adversity a Brother is born. It is this countenance lifted up, and looking love on a human being in the hour of his need, that will revive the downcast spirit, and put a new song into fainting lips. By the countenance of that Friend, falling with its holy light on the solitary pilgrim at the entrance of the dark valley, the spirit, in the very act of departing, has often been brought to a keener edge than it ever knew before; and then, conscious of power, and fearless of obstacles, it has leaped forth, and darted away like light, leaving the bystanders gazing mute on the illumined wake. When they regain their lost breath, and dare to break the silence in presence of the placid dead, it is to whisper to each other, through struggling tears, — “What hath God wrought!”
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