Gratitude and Fortitude
OH either “before or behind. He had been exposed to great danger and severe suffering; but he had been carried through. He will sing of mercy and judgment. A man’s cheerfulness and contentment depend not so much on the measure of prosperity, as on the condition of mind that he has attained. Some people never see the time and occasion for cheerful thanksgiving; and some never see the time when praise is out of place. One man can never see the end of his troubles, and therefore he is always grumbling; another man can never number up all his mercies, and therefore he is always ready with a song. “In everything, by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto God.”
It is worthy of remark here, that while the storm was at its height and no relief yet in view, Paul found opportunity to give thanks aloud in behalf of all the ship’s company for a morsel of food. When he could not stand upright on deck on account of the rolling of the wreck, he grasped the mast in one hand to keep himself from falling, and lifted the other up to heaven in token of exultant gratitude to God for daily bread. And here, when the prospect is somewhat brighter, on the dry land, and in presence of his brethren, he gave way again to the ruling passion, — Praise the Lord for his goodness, for his wonderful works to the children of men. It is evident that his heart was habitually full, and therefore overflowed on every emerging opportunity. It is not the fulness of the basket, but the fulness of the heart, that makes the grateful man.
For the future, “he took courage.” Mark well what this true, bold man “took” at Appii Forum by the sight of fellow-disciples: it was not comfort, but courage. He was made glad, not by an expectation that henceforth he should have no battle to fight, but by a resolution to fight and win. The distinction between these two states of mind is practically of great importance. In some of their aspects they are like each other; and therefore there is greater risk of taking the spurious for the genuine. The element of cheerfulness is common to both. The one is selfishly cheerful, in the prospect of ignoble ease; the other is patriotically cheerful, in the prospect of successful labour. Comfort does not look forward at all, but says, Aha, I am warm; makes a soft nest, and lies down to sleep: Despondency looks forward, indeed, but sees a lion on the path, and lies down to weep: Courage looks forward, and sees the lion too, but believes him vincible, and girds itself for the combat. Courage, in the person of Luther, would go forward to bear testimony for Christ, although every tile on the roofs of Worms were a devil. This is the true Christian spirit, — the spirit of Paul and of Luther. Comfort seeks ease by declining the combat; Courage expects progress through victory. This, under the name of Virtue, is precisely the quality which Peter exhorts good soldiers of Jesus Christ to add to their faith. In ancient times, and in human affairs, it ranked highest, and was understood to include within itself all the virtues. In the kingdom of God also it is set in a high place, and valued at a great price.
The Christian course is compared to a warfare, and to a merchandise. Both soldiers and merchants fondly cherish the hope of retiring. In the toils of war and of traffic, the prospect of rest becomes a sort of pole-star dimly shining on the low, far-off horizon. But it seldom becomes anything more than a shadow. It is as beautiful as the rainbow, and as hard to grasp. In old age it is ordinarily as far off as ever. Men have supported themselves in a life-long labour by the hope of a rich and honourable retreat; and the retreat, when they reached it, has proved more insupportable than the labour. From the Christian’s warfare there is no release in this world; he must die in harness. Nor does he count this condition hard. He knows that earnest effort contributes more to happiness and health than useless rest. Paul knew, indeed, of an honourable retirement; but it lay beyond the grave. “A rest remaineth for the people of God.” Christians do not rest in their labours; but one day they shall rest from them. Their works too shall follow them; — activity, effort, result, will continue in a better world, — but all the weariness will be left behind.
It is better to have courage to face difficulties, than to have no difficulties to face: the one is a leaping, sparkling river; the other is a stagnant pool.
At present there is much need of courage. The enemy cometh in like a flood. It is a motley host. Vice in the masses at the bottom of the scale: vice in the flutterers floating on the top. From the press printed sheets fall like snow-flakes, — some covertly endeavouring to undermine all faith, and some pandering to mere vulgar vice. Pleasure and worldliness invade the Christian circle, and deluge it: and at such a time not a few are found wasting the energy that should be devoted to the help of the Lord against the mighty in contending for pin-points or chasing shadows!
Rome was at that time an immense city. It contained a population of two millions, of whom one half were slaves. A few thousands of an aristocracy monopolised the wealth and power: the remainder of the freemen were very poor. Multitudes of them had no shelter at night but the streets, and porticoes of temples. They counted themselves above labour. Their lot was pride and poverty. This, in our own day, was precisely the condition of the white population in the Southern States of North America who were not proprietors, before the emancipation of the slaves. Such seems the uniform effect of slavery. It makes the condition of citizens who do not own property most wretched. The presence of slavery renders labour a disgrace; and when the poor do not toil, they become a burden to themselves and the community.
When the prisoners were handed over to the captain of the guard — at the time a man named Burrus — he immediately conceded to Paul an exceptional measure of liberty. This was no doubt due in part to the favourable report sent by Felix, and in part to the fervent friendship of the centurion Julius, who had conducted the prisoner from Ceesarea to Rome. As much freedom was allowed to Paul as was consistent with the stern military code of the empire. Instead of being confined with a crowd of evil-doers in the pretorian barracks, he was permitted to go where he pleased in the custody of a soldier. Night and day, however, he was chained by the arm to his keeper. It is amazing that Paul speaks so cheerfully about his condition in Rome. The single circumstance that he was not prevented from preaching Christ seems to have outweighed in his esteem all the restraints otherwise imposed upon his liberty. In this one liberty he exults, and seems almost to forget that he is a prisoner.
During these two years, the guard was often shifted. Night and morning the military machine moved round, and the man who had fulfilled his term of duty was relieved by a fresh guard. But while the guards came and went, the prisoner remained the same. There would, doubtless, be degrees of evil. Some soldiers who took their turn would be ruder, some more gentle; but bad was the best, when this man, refined at first by all the culture of the day, and purified afterwards by having Christ formed in him at the regeneration, was compelled to have a chance soldier of the pretorian guards chained to his body night and day for two years. It was a grievous bondage! but the prisoner did not complain. He had learned to count these troubles light by balancing them in the scale against an exceeding great weight of glory; he had learned to look on the troubles as of but a moment’s duration by contrasting them with an everlasting rest. Paul has not yet forgotten that iron chain, or those rude Roman men to whom it bound him. The sufferings have already, in eighteen hundred years of heaven, repaid themselves many times over, in the enhancement of his joy which the memory of them supplies. Softer chains now bind him to better company. Nothing shall separate him from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.