As Lights in the World

“But the voice cried once, My Brother,

You devoted soul and mind
To the welfare of your brethren,

To the service of your kind.
Now what sorrow can you comfort.

You who live in helpless pain.
With an impotent compassion

Fretting out your life in vain? ’
No, and then the gentle answer

Rose more full and loud and clear,
*For the sake of all my brethren

I thank God that I am here. Poor has been my life’s best effort;

Now I waste no thought or breath.
For the prayer of those who suffer

Has the strength of love and death.’”

Christians are intended to shine. The world is dark, and they are heaven’s lamps set to lighten the darkness. The figure is a very striking one. *’Ye are the light of the world.*’ Christ was careful to teach, too, that the lamp must be placed where it will shine,

—on a lampstand, and not covered up or hidden.

When it began to grow dark in the evening, the housekeeper lighted her rude lamp. It did not shine of itself; it had to be lighted first. We are only unlighted candles until Christ lights us. There is no shining light in us in our natural, unspiritual state. Christ himself is the Light of the world, — the oneself-burning, original light. He is the true light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world.’* He is the brightness of the Father’s glory. In him the full blessed light of God’s own life and love shone over the earth. For a time he was in the world, and the brightness streamed far abroad. Then, before he went away, he lighted a cluster of lamps, and left them burning. “Now ye are the light of the world,” he said to his disciples.

We begin to be light only when Christ’s life touches ours, when his light kindles ours. “Ye were sometimes darkness, but now are ye light in the Lord: walk as children of light.” A house may have in it all the wires and globes for electric lighting, everything in perfect order; but if there is no connection with the electro dynamo, there is no light. Let the connection be made, and the house is full of light. We have in us the capacity for shining, — “the spirit of man is the candle of the Lord,” — but there is no burning until the flame of God has lighted us. Even the apostles were only a cluster of unlighted candles until, on the day of Pentecost, the Holy Spirit touched them. Then they began at once to shine as bright lights.

We may notice also that it is light we are to give out — not noise, not display, not good works only, though there will always be good works, not mere professions of religion, but light, something that will shine out and reveal itself by its brightness, that will make at least one spot of the world a little brighter. Truth is light. Holiness is light. All the fruits of the Spirit are light, — love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, meekness, faith.

We are in danger of thinking that the most characteristic thing about a Christian life is its activities, its public confessions, its charities, the things it does. But light rays out noiselessly. Who ever hears it? Who ever sees it? Silently and invisibly it does its wonderful work. Its mission is not to call attention to itself, but to reveal beauty in everything that is beautiful. When the sun rises on a summer’s morning, earth’s loveliness in plant, flower, grass, and waving harvest, and in mountain, hill, waterfall, — in all nature, — is revealed. The light in a Christian life should make all the world a little more beautiful. It brightens the commonest things. The dreariest places are made lovely by it. Poverty, care and sorrow are transfigured by a victorious faith.

The best part of a Christian life is not in what it does, but in what it is — the quiet light that shines out in the character; not the act, but the spirit that is in the act; not the service rendered, but the love that is in the service and inspires it; not the work that is done, but the motive that makes the work sacred. Ofttimes there is a holier, softer, whiter light that streams out in the joyous submission of the believer, in loss, sorrow, or pain, than ever there was in his life in the days of greatest activity, when large things were achieved, when hard battles were fought. Light is life’s truest and best expression.

There is something else that the figure of light suggests, — there must be burning before there can be shining. Scientific men tell us that the light which streams from the sun, which warms the earth, woos out the flowers, ripens the harvests, makes and reveals beauty, and spreads cheer everywhere, is produced by a burning up of the sun’s substance. The same is true of all light, — it is at the cost of self-consuming that it shines out. The soft light of the evening lamp which fills the room comes from the wasting of the oil.

It is just as true in Christian life that burning must come before shining. We cannot be of great use to others without real cost to ourselves. Burning suggests suffering. We shrink from pain; we do not set it down among the pleasant things of our life. We are apt to feel that we are doing the greatest good in the world when we are strong and able for active duty, and when heart and hands are full of kindly services. When we are called aside and can only suffer, when we are sick, when we are consumed with pain, when all our activities have been dropped out of our hands, we feel that we are no longer of use, that we are not doing anything. But if we are patient and submissive, it is almost certain that we are a greater blessing to the world in our time of suffering and pain than we were in the days when we thought we were doing the most by our work. We are burning now, and shining because we are burning. But little light rayed out from us in the days of ease and comfort. Now, however, when we are being consumed by sorrow, or are wasting in sickness, or are giving out the best of our life and its substance in self-denying service, there is pouring out from us a quiet and holy light which is an incalculable blessing to the world.

Christ himself was a sufferer. He was utterly unselfish. He never saved himself. In his life love was ever giving. He was never too tired to answer any call that came to his ear for help.” Virtue went out of him ‘* to heal; he did not heal easily, without cost to himself. We sometimes say it is very easy to be kind and gentle. No, it is never easy. Every ray of light that streams from the lamp costs the burning up of a drop of oil. Every gentle thing that Jesus ever did was at the cost of some part of his own being.

Then, at the close of that life of lowly ministry, burning and shining, there was Christ’s great final, all-inclusive giving of himself on the cross for our redemption. Never before or since has the world seen such an utter consuming of a life on any altar of love as when Jesus hung in the darkness, and suffered and died. But we know, too, what wondrous light streamed from that cross. It has reached all the ends of the earth. It shines in millions of homes and hearts. It is the glory of heaven —” the Lamb is the light thereof.’’ Christ never could have blessed the world by merely living a quiet, easy, respectable, and prosperous life, as he did by giving himself in sacrifice of love. He is the Light of the world, because his life was consumed in love’s flame.

The same principle rules in all life, — we must burn before we can shine. Jesus testified of the Baptist,” He was a burning and shining light.’’ John’s life was a splendid illustration of the truth. First, we find him burning and shining in the wilderness. After a brief time of popularity he began to be overshadowed by his Master. Jesus grew in favor, and John’s popularity waned. Does any one imagine that it was easy for John to decrease while Jesus increased t Yet he never chafed or repined. Quietly and gladly he allowed his earthly glory to be consumed, to burn up, while he poured out the gentle light of praise and honor for his Lord.

By and by he was cast into prison for his heroic faithfulness, and lay there, apparently forgotten even by him whose way he had prepared, but still without repining. At last he was beheaded to gratify the revenge of a wicked woman — his noble life thus tragically ended in its very prime. “Wasted,” his disciples must have thought, as they buried the headless body — utterly consumed. Yes; but consumed only as the oil of the lamp is consumed, meanwhile sending out soft, mellow light to fill the room. John was a burning and a shining light. The light from his life is shining to-day wherever the gospel goes. The world is brighter and better because he lived so nobly, so unselfishly, witnessed so faithfully, and then died so heroically.

There is a lesson here for all, and also comfort for many. The lesson is that we must burn to shine. We may not all have to burn as Jesus did, giving our very life in sacrifice, or as John did, with such utter self-effacement; but the law must be the same in all, — there can be no shining without some measure of burning. The oil must waste if there is to be light. He who is not ready for the giving up of his life, for self-denial and sacrifice, is not ready to be a lamp of Christ, giving light in this world.

“How much we take, how little give!
Yet every life is meant
To help all lives; each man should live
For all men’s betterment.”

The comfort is for those who find themselves in positions where they must give their life to be burned, consumed, in duty, in serving others, or in suffering. It may be that in just these experiences they are giving to the world greater blessing than ever they gave it in the days which seemed so much happier.

We need to watch, however, that we really shine when we are burning. Some persons chafe, fret, and repine; some even grow rebellious in suffering. They do not suffer gladly; they do not make sacrifices cheerfully. These do not shine, or at least the light they give out is dim and stained. We shine only when we acquiesce in the will of God, even in suffering and loss; when we rejoice and sing even in pain; when we serve in love, without regret or complaining. Peace is light; joy is light. We must learn to suffer patiently, without complaining; then we shall 3hine while we burn.

Wherever we are set in this world we are to be a light. We must be sure that our candle is really lighted by the torch of the Holy Spirit. Then we must be sure that our lamp is not hidden under a bushel or under a bed, but that it is on the lampstand, so that its light may shine out to fill all the house.

“My life is not my own, but Christ’s, who gave it, And he bestows it upon all the race; I lose it for his sake, and thus I save it; I hold it close, but only to expend it; Accept it. Lord, for others, through thy grace.”