The Lost Axe-Head

Text: “And the man of God said, Where fell it f And he showed him the place. And he cut down a stick, and cast it in thither; and the iron did swim” 2 Kings 6:6.

BUT you say, “Wait a moment. Iron will not swim.” You may say that I cast a piece of iron into the water and saw it sink like lead, and you may say that the statement of the text is contrary to all natural laws. And then, you might go on to assume that if this text is untrue, the story of Elisha may be untrue; and if you take Elisha out of the Old Testament you can very easily part company with Elijah.

But you have, evidently, forgotten the statement of the text: “And the man of God said.” We are not dealing to-day with natural law; we are dealing with the supernatural, and I am presenting to you a story out of a book in which the marvelous is always coming to pass. I should think it would be a very easy thing to make an axe-head swim as compared with holding the winds in your fist, and God can do that.

I should think it would be a very trifling matter to bring a bit of iron to the surface of the water when compared with holding the seas in the hollow of your hand, and God can do that. The iron did swim. God said it in His Word, and God always speaks the truth. I like the setting of the text. The house of the sons of the prophets seems to have been too small and so the sons of the prophets go out to secure material for its enlargement. It is a kind of cooperative piece of work, and these men, as they go along, are carrying axes, and with the axes they are chopping down the trees. One man seems to be poorer than the others, for he is working with a borrowed axe. It may be that the axe was faulty. It may be that the laborer himself was over-zealous — we do not know — but when he was working away, chopping his tree, suddenly the axe-head slipped away from the handle, bounded into the water and sank out of sight. And the man, in great embarrassment, turned to the man of God, who said: “Where fell it? And he showed him the place. And he cut down a stick, and cast it in thither; and the iron did swim.”

This illustration is one of the miracles of Elisha. There is a very sharp contrast between the miracles of Elisha and those of Elijah. Elijah seemed always to do great things, Elisha the common-place, every-day things. Elisha and Elijah walk along together. They come to Bethel, to Gilgal, to the fords of Jordan, and Elijah turns to Elisha, saying, “Better tarry here, for the Lord will take me away from you,” and he would not. And the sons of prophets came out and said, “Elisha, better tarry here, for the Lord will take away your master.” And he said, “As the Lord liveth and as thy soul liveth, I will not leave thee.”

And Elijah, looking upon him, said, “Elisha, what will you have#me give unto thee?” And he said, “O master, a double portion of they spirit.” And Elijah said, “You have asked a hard thing, but if you keep your eyes fixed upon me you shall have it.” They came to the Jordan, and Elijah took off his old mantle and smote the waters, and, dry-shod, they went over on to the other side. Suddenly the skies brightened and a chariot of fire and steeds of fire appeared. Then the whirlwind was on and Elijah was caught up by the whirlwind and Elisha, overpowered for the moment, stood looking at him. Then, stretching forth his hands, I imagine I hear him shout, “My father, my father. The chariot of Israel and the horsemen thereof.” And Elijah took his old mantle, leaned out from the whirlwind, held it for a second, and then dropped it. It came fluttering down through the air until it was upon the shoulders of Elisha. And he was ready. And note this, he did not take the master’s mantle and wrap it around him and say, “Isn’t this comfortable?”

Many a man has received the Holy Ghost for power and lost Him, because of this spirit. Elisha did not wrap his master’s mantle around him and say, “I shall take this back and keep it as a matter of pride.” Many a man has received a blessing and lost it for this very same reason. He used the master’s mantle in the same way that Elijah had used it. He smote the waters, then came over unto the other shore. Now, from this time on his miracles are of the homely sort.

He hears of a certain place, where there is a bitter spring, and he sweetens the waters and makes the place more habitable and the land more fertile. He learns of a certain woman who is troubled because of debt, and he goes into her home and asks for her possessions. She has only a cruse of oil. He tells her to go through the village borrowing empty vessels. When she brings them, he tells her to secure a still greater number. When she brings them he tells her to pour out the oil into them. This she did until they were filled. Then she sold the oil and paid her debts and her home was filled with rejoicing.

He is told by the Shunamite woman that her boy is dead. He comes down from the mountain, makes his way across the plain, goes up into the prophet’s chamber where the boy is lying, and prays, and the boy lives again. This is like Elisha. And so when the man finds only the axe-handle in his hand, and the axe-head gone, it is only natural for him to turn to this man of God and say, “Alas, Master, for it was borrowed.” And for the man of God to say, “Where fell it? And he showed him the place. And he cut down a stick, and cast it in thither; and the iron did swim.”

If this were the only instance of the kind in the Scriptures, I might question it, but the Bible is full of stories like this. I turn to the New Testament and I find there the story of the woman who for eighteen years had been bowed with infirmity. She could in no wise lift herself up. She had spent all her living on physicians, and could be healed by none of them. She was a dwarf in stature. I have imagined her sometimes, when alone in her home, when no eye could look upon her, trying to straighten out her arm, and she could not. I have imagined her trying to lift up her poor body, and she could not. But one day Jesus sees her stooping over in her infirmity, and with all His divine power He speaks, saying, “Woman, thou art loosed,” and she stood up. The iron did swim. He is always bringing these things to pass. I see a woman taken in her sin. She is being hounded by men who are professing great virtue themselves. They are attempting to stone her with stones and she is running like a frightened deer. I imagine her stumbling and falling. I imagine a stone striking her. I see her rise from her fallen position, with the blood blinding her eyes. She is hastening on when, suddenly, she sees Jesus. I think I see her fall at His feet.

The law condemned her, the world stoned her; but Jesus forgave her. And when they came up to Him they found Him bending over and writing in the sand. They say that when the woman came to Him as an impure woman, He bowed His face because He was a pure man, and he wrote abstractly in the sand to hide his confusion. I do not believe it. I am sure it is not so.

There is an old legend which declares that when Jesus bent over to write, He was writing the name of a man who stood in the crowd, and as this man leaned forward, he read his own name. And the rest of the sentence was this: “So-and-So is himself an

extortioner.” And the man drops the stone in his hand and goes. Jesus writes another name. “Soand-So is himself an adulterer.” And fifty men drop the stones in their hands and flee away.

He continues writing name after name, and man after man leaves, until at last, lifting up His eyes and seeing only the woman at His feet and the men all gone, He says, “Woman, where are thine accusers? Doth no man accuse thee?” And she said, “No man, Lord.” And He said, “Neither do I condemn thee.” And she stood up and was free. And the iron did swim.

But if any of you are saying to-day, “But that is in the Bible,” then I will take an illustration out of modern time. At a meeting in a city in Canada there came into the audience a man blinded by drink, held captive by drugs for twenty-nine years. He had been a slave to opium and to cocaine and to morphine. One of our workers spoke to him. His heart was touched. And I saw that man walk down in the presence of four thousand people, climb up on to the high platform by my side, and say, “Friends, I am climbing up out of hell, and you must help me.” And although he was clad in rags, there came up to him a beautifully-dressed woman, who said, “My husband will take you to our home this evening.” The other day there came a letter to us from Canada, written by the Presbyterian minister, who said: “I wish you could see our man. His face is shining. I wish you could hear him speak. He is filled with the power of God. I wish you could have heard him lead our meeting last night. Scores of people were impressed and many of them converted.” And the iron did swim.

“Ah, but that is Canada,” you say. Then let me take you to another land. One of the first days that we were yi Melbourne, Australia, I heard a rap at my door in the hotel. I said, “Come in,” and a frightened face appeared for a moment at the door. I have never for a moment gotten that face out of my vision. A note was handed in, and I read, “Dear Sir: I have been a drunkard for four years. I have tried my best to overcome the awful disease and passion, but I cannot. Please pray for me.” Then the person appeared at the door again for a moment, and she said: “I came just to see that you got it in your hand,” and was gone. I have scarcely passed through a single night since, that I have not seen her face, sometimes with a look of stolid indifference on it, sometimes it seemed to me bathed in tears, and she almost on the point of decision. One night I saw her stand in one of the churches and, with trembling tones, say that through the day she had gotten the victory, that under the power of the singing she had seen Jesus, and with the memory of her sweet mother she had made one great effort by the help of God. She was in our meetings after that, clothed and in her right mind. All the look of womanhood back, all the power of virtue back, all the strength of Christian grace back. And the iron did swim.

But my message is also for the man and for the woman who is a member of the Church. There is many a man in the Church to-day, and many a woman, too, in the predicament of the man who lost the axe-head. The man with the axe-handle in his hand could have gone on, apparently chopping wood. He could have raised the axe-handle and brought it down, and the man fifty feet away would not have known that he was working without an axe-head. But I was raised in the country, and I know that it is a good deal more difficult to swing an axe-handle without a head, than to swing one with an axe-head. And it is a good deal more difficult to keep up the form of religion, than to live the real thing, and many of you are keeping up the form only. You are working without an axe-head.

Who are the people that are doing this? First, some of us who are ministers. There was a day when God spoke through our ministry. There was a day when, rising to plead, there was a passion in our words. There was a day when, as we proclaimed Jesus Christ, men and women flocked to the mercy seat. There was a day when, as we preached, we could see Him, and people knew that we saw Him. And now we preach the same sermons, and we use the same illustrations, and we use the same methods, and there is no power. And there are Church officers, who, in times gone by, testified for Jesus Christ in their homes. They had a family altar. They spoke the name of their children in their petitions. They went to Church, and as they rose to speak, everybody gave them the closest attention. And to-day the altar is gone, and power is gone with it, and they have not been at the church nor at the prayer-meeting for a month, and they have no power. There are Christian people to-day whose experience in other days could best be told in the words of the hymn, “O happy day that fixed my choice.” And if there is any other hymn that could write their history, it is this one:

“Were th* whole realm of nature mine,

That were on present far too small.

Love so amazing, so divine,

Demands my life, my soul, my all.”

You are without power to-day. You are not a soul winner. You have lost your influence over your husband. You have lost your influence on your children, you have lost your influence in the Church and in the city. The axe-head

is gone. No power. What is the axe-head? Well, I should say the axe-head may be the conscious presence of Christ, the indwelling of the Holy Spirit of God, the Word of God burning in your life and ringing in your message. And you have lost it. The searching part of the text is this: Where fell it?

What if the man who had lost the axe-head had said to the man of God, “I do not know where it fell. Down here, possibly. Maybe yonder.” I think the man of God would have said, “When you find where it fell, come and tell me.” And the man of God said, “Where fell it? And he showed him the place.” There is the lesson for you. You know the place where you lost power. No minister is required to tell you. No evangelist need tell you. You know the place. You lost it when you neglected the Bible. You lost it whenyoujcrowded prayer into a. corner. You lost it when you did not confess your sin. You lost it when you neglected the Church. You lost it when you were in league with the world. You lost it at the card-table. You lost it at the dance. You know where you lost it.

A friend of mine was speaking at an afternoon service in a certain city, when a man entered the building, clad in rags, and sat down in one of the pews. My friend went on with the service, when, suddenly the man sat up and said, “Sir, may I speak?” “Certainly,” said my friend. The man said, “This is my father’s church. He was an officer here. This is his pew. With six other boys I was in the Sunday-school here. Our Sunday-school teacher used to have us in her home on Saturday afternoons. She taught us the names of cards. Up to then we never knew them. Later, she taught us games of cards. Then after a while we said to her, “Not so much lesson and more cards.” Then we forsook the Sunday-school, and while the others were at the school we were away playing cards. Sir (he said), of the seven boys, two died on the gallows; three of them are in prison for life; one of them is a fugitive from justice, and I am the other. Sir, if the officers of the law knew that I was here, I would be put in prison.” Then, for a moment, standing perfectly still, he said, “All I have to say is that I would to God that my Sunday-school teacher had had a different influence.” He walked out of the church, and my friend said, “We never saw him again. But there rose up a woman, dressed in black, who, as she started out into the aisle, staggered and fell; and as she fell, she said, “My God, sir, I am the teacher.”

You know where you lost it. But please let me say, if you are out of fellowship with God I have no unkind word for you. I know my own weakness too well. If you are away from Christ I have no sharp rebuke fo&you. I am a preacher of Jesus Christ. But I have this to say. Listen. If you have lost your power, God loves you,^ He loves you.

Commander Eva Booth tells of an instance in the middle western part of our country where a boy was arrested for the crime of murder. His old mother followed him to the cell, and sitting down by his side, said, “Jim, tell me now, did you do it?” And the boy looked up into his mother’s face, his lips trembling and his own face growing white, as he said, “Mother, I did not do it.”

When the time of the trial came on, the judge said to the mother, “If you will persuade your boy to plead ‘Guilty’ we will be easy with him.” “But, your Honor,” she said, “He did not do it.” The neighbors came in to sympathize with her, and she would smile and say, “But he did not do it.”

The prosecuting attorney said to her, “If you will tell Jim to change his plea, the judge will be easy with him,” and the mother said, “Thank you, sir, but he didn’t do it.” The boy was convicted and the day of the execution came. The chaplain made his way into the cell, and the shadow of the gallows was already upon the boy. The chaplain said to him, “Jim, you are facing eternity. Tell me, did you do it?” The boy was perfectly still for a moment, then raising his face he said, “Chaplain, I did do it. You go and tell my mother.”

One of my friends, who knew him, said that the chaplain went over to her home, and the old mother knew what day it was. The shadow of the gallows was touching her, too. When the chaplain entered the room, she had her head down in her arms, and when he spoke to her she made no sign that she heard him. Then he said, “Mother, listen, Jim did it. He says he did it.” And the mother did what my mother would have done, or yours. She gave one shudder, and dropped her head a little lower in her hands. Then raising up her face, down which the tears were streaming, she said, “Chaplain, go back as quickly as you can, and tell him that I love him.” And that is God. Infinite in His mercy, matchless in His love. He loves you. I call you back to-day.

I have only one thing to say in conclusion. My message to-day is for the man who is not a Christian. He is deep down in sin, away in the blackness of despair. How are you going to get him up? Of course, in these days of worldly-wise men we have all sorts of suggestions. The political reformer comes along and tells us that we need better political conditions. Of course we do, but they can never take the place of salvation. The sociologist says that all the systems of men are wrong. He tells us to change our systems, and men will be better. Of course they will, but all the sociology in the world cannot save the sinner.

Then there are others who tell us that the axe-head is not off, but that we only think it is off. They tell us to just think it is on and to proceed to use the axe-handle and we will be all right. I am not against the political reformer; he has my sympathy and support. I am not against the sociologist; I believe in him. But I know only one way to get the sinner up. This is the way, “And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me.” There is no way to lift the sinndf- up except by the drawing power of Jesus Christ. Preach Him, sing Him, live Him. That isjfie secret. ThenThere is hope.

One night there came into one of the Missions in New York, a man who, because of his sin, was bent down like a dwarf. Naturally, he would stand as tall as I, but in his sin he was bowed down until he was not more than four feet high. Sin had touched his tongue and he could not speak plainly. He dropped down on the only knee he could bend, buried his face in his hands for a moment and said, “O God! God!” and suddenly the bands that had held him were snapped and he stood up as erect as I am standing now.

I know the man. I have had him in my house as a guest. In the Mission at the end of the year they always allow the men to have an anniversary. When this man’s anniversary came around he did not read the lesson; he let another read it. He let another announce the hymn. When it came to the time of testimony he bowed down as he had been dwarfed in sin, and then, with every eye looking at him, he rose up and stood erect, his face shining, his eyes filled with tears.

It is that sort of salvation I preach. Bound with a passion, you may be free. Held captive with a sin, you may be forgiven. Will you turn? I know where you made your mistake. You neglected your mother’s pleading, you resisted your father’s praying, you scorned your minister’s preaching. That is the way you were lost.

Up in the Alps I saw here and there a black cross, and I said to my guide: “What does that mean?”

He said: “It means that when a traveller slips to death on such a point as this, they raise a black cross.” I wonder if there is to be placed a black cross where you are because you will reject Christ. I used that illustration in my old church in Philadelphia, and an old Scotch woman came up to me and said, “Pastor when you told that story a man in front of me dropped his head in his hands and began to sob, saying, “I yield, I yield. I can hold out no more.” “I wonder,” she said, “if where he sat there could be placed a red cross.” What is it to be to-day? Black or red? Yes or no? Life or death? Acceptance or rejection? God help you.