The Lateness of Christian Liberty

Then had thy peace been as a river, and thy righteousness as the waves of the sea.” — Isaiah xlviii. 18.

Is my religion, then, to have a widening process as I go! I am told that my peace is to be only as a river, but that my righteousness is to be as the waves of the sea. I should have expected the reverse. I should have thought that the widest stage would be the opening stage — that the waves of the sea would have come first, and the river afterwards. I should have judged that many things would be permitted to the beginner which would not be allowed to the adult. I should have deemed that liberty would have been greatest in the morning and most curtailed in the afternoon. The prophet says it is just the opposite — in the morning I have fetters on; in the afternoon I am free. The simile of my afternoon freedom is the broad sea with its bounding waves and its buoyant breezes. It is generally the simile for youth. We think of the ship of life as being launched into an element where care is not yet known, where nothing is seen but the expanse, where the waters seem to touch the sky. We look to the banks of the river as something which will come afterwards, something which will break our dream. But here the expanse is for old age — Christian old age. Here the boundlessness is for the adult — not the youth. Here the ocean breezes are for the autumn — not the spring. Here the wonders of the deep are for the grey — not the gold. Here the freedom of the wave is for the man of the setting sun — not the child of the dawn.

Jesus, let me stand where the harpers stand — upon Thy sea! I am weary of being restrained by the river banks. I am weary of being denied the full freedom of Thy worldly field. It is because the worldly field is Thy field that I want the liberty to use it. I feel I could extend Thine empire — make more room for Thy cross. There are a thousand things dedicated to selfishness which I long to dedicate to Thee. Why are Thy churches so eager to debar me from worldly places! We often put flowers on Thine altar; I should like to put Thine altar among flowers. It grieves me that there should be garnered for Thee none of life’s beautiful things. We give Thee the grim but not the gay, the ghastly but not the glad, the roughness but not the roses, the trembling but not the transport. We bring Thee the dirge but we keep the dance. We offer Thee the mourning but we retain the mirth. We present Thee with the sigh but we withhold the singing. We invite Thee to the funeral but we bar Thee from the feast. We ask Thee to the wringing of hands but not to the ringing of bells. We call Thee to our flow of tears but not to our overflow ot spirits. We summon Thee to the breaking of the heart but not to the breaking of the day. No wonder I am eager to stand upon Thy sea!