The Purity of the Soul's Intention Revealing Itself in Love
There are moods of the soul when we would be prepared to barter every incident in the Gospel if we might retain the parable of the Good Samaritan. At such times it is priceless, We would be prepared to surrender the story of the prodigal son, of the woman who was a sinner, and of the dying thief, if only we might retain it, as the star of hope shining on the bosom of night. THE CIRCUMSTANCES OUT OF WHICH IT
AROSE ARE FAMILIAR. — The lawyer was
19 evidently a student of Scripture, and was probably a well-intentioned man, standing out from the rest of the crowd. He said: ‘““Master, I want to know the secret of that life which is beyond the narrow horizon of this world, unmarked by the flight of the years, in which God and the holy spirits are living in the eternal and unseen. I am weary of the narrowness of my ordinary existence, I long to import into this commonplace the spirit of eternity. What must I do that I may inherit eternal life?”
Our Lord replied: “Why ask such a question of Me, when you have the clue to its solution in your own Scriptures? What do you find there?” In answer, his interlocutor quoted the old command, thou shalt love God in heaven, and thy brother-man
on earth.
“You have rightly answered,” said our Lord; and there can be no possible doubt that if a soul will rid itself of the selfishness which is the bane of life, and begin to live in the constant thought of God on the one hand and of man on the other, forgetting itself in its expenditure on behalf of others, it may at once pass into that blessed life which fills heaven with rapture. We are taught this by the very construction of our Anglo-Saxon language, for, surely, ove is the past tense of live, just as drove is the past tense of drive; in other words, the soul which has loved has lived: souls that do not love only exzst. If there has been a supreme love in the life, even though the outward enjoyment of it may be intermitted for a time, there has been a draught of the
river of God which is full of water, that N proceeds from the Throne of God and of the Lamb. Do you love? Then you live with something, at least, of the very life of God,
The lawyer still further pursued his question by asking, “But who is my xezghbour?” The Lord answered in effect, ‘Ah, there you mistake! It is not for you to ask who is willing to neighbour me, but whom am I prepared to neighbour?” So long as the soul is self-concentrated enough to inquire for those who should draw near and comfort it, so long is it still under the thrall of selfishness; but directly it ceases to think of being neighboured, and sets itself to neighbour others, there comes into it the blessed joy of God. Seek for neighbours and you will never find them. Live to be the neighbour of all who need, and you will have as many as you require when the days of which you say, “I have no pleasure in them,” are at hand.
The incidents of this parable were probably founded on fact. We can almost see that long, lonely road, wild and desolate, that led down from Jerusalem, situated in its circle of hills, to Jericho on the margin of the Jordan. The inn, standing halfway, with its stabling, but with no trees or vegetation near, providing a much-needed shelter for man and beast. The only denizens of the Pass being the wild things, such as rabbits that burrow, grouse and ptarmigan, the hawk poising in the blue air. The great boulders casting their shadows in the intense light, and affording shelteringplace for bandits. The lonely traveller was
set upon in the wildest part of the road by the Bedouin, and making a show of fight, was felled to the ground, pillaged of his possessions, stripped of his clothes, and so desperately wounded as to become unconscious. The whole scene was tragic and terrible.
The priest, who represents formal religion, felt no necessity to arrest his progress, except to look upon the mass of unconscious, bleeding flesh. The wounded traveller had no special claim upon him, and the Levite followed his example. The two passed by on the other side, leaving the hapless sufferer to his fate, and he was too far gone to raise a hand to beckon help, or a groan to appeal for it.
Then the Samaritan drew near, was touched with the spectacle of helplessness,
had compassion and bent over the dying man, staunched his wounds, pouring in the oil and wine which revived the ebbing life, brought him on his own beast to the inn, where he was well known, and through the livelong hours of the night took no rest, but spent himself in resuscitating his fyvotégé, moistening the parched lips, changing his posture, alleviating the high fever of his blood, until, as the morning star shone on the margin of the night, he felt able to leave him in the care of the host, with the promise that he would defray all further expenditure.
LovE TO GopD. — God’s love to us is beautifully set forth in this story. Surely we may expect that He will show to us the love which He expects us to show to others. May we not reverently say that He
will love us with all His heart and soul and mind and strength? He loves as the Samaritan did, though we have been enemies in our mind by wicked works, and have had no dealings with Him. He will love us, though, as in the case of the wounded traveller, there is nothing attractive cr beautiful in us, but the reverse, for surely our sin is more repellent to His holy nature than the spectacle of wounds, bruises, and putrifying sores were to the kindly Samaritan. His love does not wait for our appeal, any more than the compassion of the Samaritan awaited the appeal of the poor victim of the bandits’ outrage, and it is here that the parable is of such advantage to us.
There are hours in our life when we stand upon the transfiguration mount, and the solar look is upon our face. The sense
of joy and rapture in our hearts makes us feel able to combat every difficulty and vanquish every foe; but these experiences are comparatively rare. Not infrequently we, too, lie upon the thoroughfare of life pillaged, stripped, and wounded; we have lost the jewels of faith, hope, love, and joy; we have been despoiled of any reason for self-esteem and congratulation, we can hardly cry for help; the love, yearning, desire, and prayer of other days have died down as the flame into black cinders; but then it is that God has compassion, and draws near, bending over our life. He has pity on us who have no pity on ourselves, loves when we do not love Him, resuscitates our ebbing life, pours in the wine of the precious blood, and the oil of the Holy Spirit, takes care of us with a tenderness of solicitude which no woman, however loving, could exceed. Ah, it is a blessed thing for the soul when God has compassion and takes care of it!
But how shall we love God? Is it so very hard? Does not His character attract, or, if not, do not His long-suffering and tender mercy lead to grateful reciprocation? But supposing that all this fails, may we not love Him with our strength and mind, even though we do not feel the rapture of emotion?
We must distinguish between the /act and the emotion of the fact, between Jove and the feeling of love, for the former may exist when the latter is deficient; we may love God with our strength, devoting to Him the energies of our nature; with our mind, thinking of and for Him continually; and even with our soul, recognising His Lordship and superlative claim, without being able to join with Rutherford, or Faber, or Miss Havergal in their emotional outbursts. Love God with your mind and strength, make Him first, live for Him as the one object and goal of existence, and the dying spark of love will become fanned into a flame, and you will love God with your heart.
It is wonderful also how much our love to our fellow-man will promote our true love to God. He who says that he loves God must love his brother also, and he who truly loves his brother will, almost certainly, be brought to love God. “He that liveth in love liveth in God and God in him,”
LovE TO OUR NEIGHBOUR. — Our neighbour is the person who needs us most.
It may be some inmate of our home, a servant, a relative, an habitual and familiar friend, it may be some companion in the occupation and business of life, or it may be some individual who is cast in our way by what seems chance, but is really Providence. The next person who needs you is your neighbour.
It must be remembered, as the parable teaches, that our neighbour is not always able to appeal to us, is certainly not one to whom we would be naturally attracted, and may be one against whom we have some personal antipathy. It is easy to like people who are naturally attractive and agreeable, but that love is by no means the highest form of Divine love. When we were yet enemies, Christ died for us: God loves us, not because we are
fair, but to make us so.
In order to stimulate this love in our hearts to such people, again it is well to begin with the strength and mind rather than with the heart. We cannot command our emotions, but we can direct the energies of our strength. Supposing there be in your home some aged relative, contorted by rheumatism, apt to yield to querulous complaints, and to murmur at the least interruption of the even tenor of comfortable environment, you may find it very difficult to love him with your heart, at least, in the first instance. You may, however, love him with your strength by ministering, by carrying him in your arms up and down stairs, by doing errands for him; you may love him with your mind by thinking, planning, and devising methods
for his comfort, and little alleviations of his tedium; you will then come to love him with your soul, appreciating qualities in his character which had until then escaped your notice; and, finally, you will come to love him with your heart; and when, at last, the poor emaciated body is cousigned to mother earth, you will stand beside the grave with a flood of genuine tears.
It is simply marvellous how compassion leads to true affection, and how we come to love people to whom we perform kindly and unselfish deeds. Love with your strength, and you will come to love
with your heart.
LOVE TO THE OUTSIDE MassEs. — The religious world, as represented by the priest and Levite, has been too forgetful of those
who are not found, for the most part, within our places of worship. The religious leaders of the people with cold charity have passed by the children of men who may have been opposed to all religious systems, or, at least, have been despoiled of virtue, purity, self-control, faith, hope, love, Too often there has been the casual look, and then the averted face, and the onward step towards the comforts and amenities of home, whilst the helpless have been left to make what shift they might.
All this must be altered by the Church, which should evince towards the outcast and lost the compassionate love of God. We must bring them to the inn of the Church, must administer to their physical need, but, above all, must care for their spiritual necessities. The Master, in these words, seems
to bid us take care of those who cannot care for themselves. He was the first Good Samaritan. He painted His own portrait, when He depicted the loving interest of this stranger in this wounded Jew. He bids us “go and do likewise.” He expects that day by day His people should reflect His own heart of compassionate love as the moon reflects the sunshine, and in doing this He knows that we shall discover the fountain of eternal life rising up within us with perennial freshness.
The lesson for all of us is that we should ask for the anointed eye, that we may be quick to see those cases of need which God has put in our way to elicit our comfort and help. Let us be sure that there is hardly a day in our life when some wounded traveller on the long road does not require
our help, and as we have received mercy let us pass it on; as we have been forgiven let us forgive; as we have known the preciousness of the oil and wine let us be quick to impart them; let us comfort others with the comfort wherewith we ourselves have been comforted; let us take care of them as God is ever taking care of us,
This exquisite story is followed by the lifting of the veil on the human friendship of our Lord. We behold Him in the midst of a family group, where Martha serves and Mary sits at His feet. We are told, elsewhere, that Jesus loved Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus. Here is another aspect of Love, and here also is Life. The love of merciful help and the love of human friendship are the golden clasps of a life, which is happy and content, though the lot
be poor and winter lies over all the land.