Fruit: Joy

“And the people with one accord gave heed unto those things which Philip spake, hearing and seeing the miracles which he did. For unclean spirits, crying with loud voice, came out of many that were possessed with them: and many taken with palsies, and that were lame, were healed. And there was great joy in that city.” — Acts viii. 6-8.

1. rnHEY listened to the messenger. There was great I earnestness and great unanimity. They did not rise up against the messenger to drive him away; neither did they remain unmoved, leaving him to spend his strength in vain. They came to him zealously, and they came all.

Fruit — Joy.

It is a great advantage to every one when an awakening becomes general. Solitary Christians, with no congenial company within their reach, are like solitary trees near the sea-coast: the cold winds keep down their growth or kill them. But in a thick wood all contribute to shelter each. The spiritual life may be best maintained where there is much spiritual life all around.

So quickly and so generally did a harvest spring up to Philip’s hand in this city, as soon as he appeared on the spot, that we are compelled to believe that a sower had previously cast precious seed into the field. The Master himself had with his own hand sown the field on which his servant was now gathering a plentiful harvest. We remember how, at the call of the Samaritan woman, great numbers from the neighbouring town of Sychar came out and heard the word from the Lord himself. This word was not in vain. One soweth, and another reapeth.

2. The people both heard his doctrines and saw his mighty works. Unclean spirits were cast out, and the diseased were healed.

Miracles, in the ordinary sense of that term, ceased with the first or second generation of Christians. We have now the same doctrines preached, and the same results in spiritual conversion, but not the supernatural cures. The miracles constituted the credentials of the first preachers. But perhaps to some minds the cessation of miracles may present as great a difficulty as the miracles themselves. If the missionaries of Christianity performed miracles once, why do they not perform miracles still?

If this question is not articulately answered, the questioner at least is silenced by one of the clearest and surest of all analogies. It is certain and easily demonstrable that some great energy was put forth by the Creator at the beginning of the present order of nature which is not continued now. To set the world agoing at first, powers were necessary that are not necessary and are not put forth to keep it going after its course has begun. The forces of nature now acting are sufficient to account for the motion of the heavenly bodies, but not to account for how they began to move. The present organic laws are sufficient to account for the continuance of the species, but not to account for its commencement. According to the ordinary laws or sequences of nature, every creature produces its kind; but we know of no law that could produce a creature where there was no such creature previously in existence. Thus a power must have been put forth to begin the present cosmos, which has ceased, and never operates now. Why then should it be thought a thing impossible that God should exert a power to establish the gospel at first, which is not needed and is not exerted to keep it going? This is what the Scriptures declare. The declaration is in most perfect accord with what we know of God’s method in the material department of his kingdom. The constant process of generation is as wise and wonderful as the miracle of creation. So, although the miracles that introduced Christianity are not now presented to us, it does not follow that they were greater works than those that occur now in conversion by the ministry of the Spirit. The greater and the better work is that which continues to this day. The unclean spirits are cast out, the aliens are reconciled, the guilty forgiven, and the corrupt renewed. “Greater works than these,” said the Lord to his followers — “greater works than these shall ye do, because I go to my Father.” The converting and sanctifying work that his disciples, by the ministry of the Spirit, were honoured to do after his ascension, were, in his esteem, greater works than

Fruit — Joy. those miracles — such as the feeding of five thousand, and stilling the storm — which he had exhibited in the exercise of his Divine power over the elements of nature.

3. There was great joy in that city. — Hear this, ye “butterfly flutterers, that flit from flower to flower, satiate with each sweet as soon as you alight on it, and hastening unhappy to another, trying every flower all day, and at night bringing no honey home; — hear this, all ye who study hard to keep religion at arm’s-length, lest it should cast a gloom over your heart or your home; — hear this: When an earnest missionary — a man who risked his life for Christ’s name — preached in a city, and when the people came out in crowds and hung upon the lips of the strange revivalist, the citizens, instead of growing gloomy, became very glad. This is a phenomenon worthy of your study.

But beware lest you mistake its meaning. The instinct which prompts the vain and worldly to shut the door and keep earnest religion outside, lest it should mar their happiness, is a true instinct. Every creature after its kind. Every creature’s instinct is true for its own preservation. The apprehension that Christ’s entrance into the vain or vicious heart would be the death of its joy is a just apprehension. The devils believe this, and tremble at its truth. “What have we to do with thee, thou Jesus?” To open your whole heart for a whole Christ, — to take into your bosom the Christ who was crucified for sin, does indeed torment the old man; and the old man, a strong man armed, keeps his goods in peace as long as he can. The old man will not be spared at Christ’s coming; he will be crucified. When he is put off a new nature is put on, and the new nature has new joys. There was great joy in that city when Christ was preached to the citizens. This, however, is the ultimate result, not the first effect of such preaching.

“This child is set for the fall and the rising again of many in Israel.” These Samaritans, when we get a glimpse of them, are bearing home their sheaves with rejoicing: but the seed-time was moist with their tears. The pleasures of sin have been rent off, and the patient cried at the rending; but the joy of the Lord has now come.

In the world of a man’s own heart and life he lived without God; lived and laughed because God was not there; trembled sometimes in the midst of his mirth with an instinctive dread lest God should burst into his world and quench its mirth in wrath. But at length the Stranger who long knocked outside has come in. At his presence the former joys fled; but with his presence come new joys — the peace of God that passeth all understanding.

Some people at some times — and I mention this outward and visible thing at present mainly for the light which it throws as an analogy on another that is secret and unseen — are found willing to convert the sweet still rest of night into a scene of crowded, noisy, toilsome revelry. They light up the darkness into a kind of artificial brilliance, and deck themselves into a kind of conventional beauty; and they toil like navvies in a close, crowded, suffocating room. When the sun arises on this scene its hollowness is detected, and its false brilliancy put to shame. How dull the flicker of the lamps is now! how yellow the flush that glowed on the heated cheek! how tawdry and dusty the light flowing robes! They are all fain to get out of sight.

But yonder are two youths on the mountain-top, there in time to greet the sun’s rising. They drink in the golden glory that precedes and accompanies his appearing in the east; and then, in his mild morning light, they search among the grass for the flowers, that bend their necks to anticipate his coming, and open their bosoms to take in his light.

Suppose now that one of those night revellers should get a glimpse of these two as he is skulking home, and should say, “These are dull fellows, that shut their cold hearts against all pleasure.” It is sheer ignorance and impudence. Those youths take in more joy — more natural human delight in an hour of their morning walk, than the souls of that whole company have capacity to contain.

In like manner, in the secret of a soul, they make a great mistake who think that to abandon the crackling thorns of ungodly mirth is to plunge into spiritual gloom. They who through Christ have been reconciled to God, and walk in the light of his countenance, have indeed allowed one kind of happiness to be chased away; but it is like changing the flickering of the night lamp for the risen sun, and the breath of the dancing hall when the night is far spent for the morning breeze on the mountain.

There was joy in that city. Christ offered to a city or a soul, and kept out, seems like a cloud of wrath hanging in the heavens over it — a terror; but Christ freely offered, and believingly accepted, by a city or a soul, becomes a joy which life could not give, and death cannot destroy.