The Blessed Steps of His Most Holy Life
Every ear which is attuned to the music of noble words, and every heart which is accustomed to the perfect balance of theological truth, must feel the fascination of the Collect for the Second Sunday after Easter: “Almighty God, Who hast given Thine only Son to be unto us both a sacrifice for sin, and also an ensample of godly life.” This is a perfect blend of what was once the Unitarian standpoint and the Evangelical. The Unitarian, especially
in Channing’s time, when Unitarianism 113 H seemed likely to be one of the most potent forces in the religious world, laid stress almost entirely upon the ensample of the godly life, to the exclusion of the evangelical doctrine of the sacrifice for sin; and as a set-off to that extreme, the Evangelicals, especially in the early part of the last century, laid all stress upon Christ’s sacrifice for sin, but little or none on the ethical value of His life. We must blend the two, and hence the prayer goes on to say, ‘Give us grace that we may always most thankfully receive that His inestimable benefit, and also daily endeavour to follow the blessed steps of His most holy life; through the same Jesus Christ our Lord.” What could be a nobler ideal for any one of us than to endeavour to follow daily the blessed
steps of His most holy life!
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There are three aspects in which the steps of Christ’s most holy life are delineated in the Word of God, — the anticzpatory of the Old Testament, the Zzstorical of the Gospels, and the commemorative of the Epistles. The Epistle of St. Peter tells us that Christ “left us an example that we should follow His steps.” We might dwell at length, as Dr. Stalker does, in his Lmago Christi, on the steps of Christ, as described in the synoptical Gospels; but it may make a better indent upon the memory to take the description of our Lord’s most blessed life as given to us in the meal-offering.
The meal-offering, consisting of fine flour, frankincense, and oil (Lev. ii), foreshadows the human aspect of our Saviour’s life. The burnt-offering unfolds His entire consecration to the will of God, even to the Cross; but the meal-offering which follows immediately, and in which there is no mention of blood, sets forth the human aspect of our Saviour’s character, — His daily life, or “the blessed steps of His most holy life.” It is one of the ‘sweet-savour offerings” fragrant to God, which have no necessary connection therefore with sin in the propitiatory and expiatory aspect. It deals with Jesus, not as the sin-offering, but as the Holy One of God. In corroboration of that thought we notice that the whole of the meal-offering was consumed, part of it by fire, and the rest of it by the priests and the offerer, which reminds us that the whole life of our Lord was very grateful to the Father. He daily fed upon the obedience, humility, and purity of His Son. On the other hand, the life of Christ is fed upon
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by all mankind, and especially by those who are kings and priests unto God. It is for us to feed upon His character, so that as food passes into our nature, He may pass into our daily life, and that we may live as those in whom He is repeating Himself. Hence, if we are told that we are to follow His steps, and if those steps are anticipated in the characteristics of the meal-offering, it seems as if we should achieve this purpose best by resembling Jesus Christ in four aspects — (1) Zhe evenness of the fine flour; (2) The anointing of the oil; (3) The Jragrance of the frankincense; (4) The sparkling nature of the salt.
THE EVENNESS OF THE FINE FLOUR. — It is obvious to any one who has handled flour how even it is; no roughness, no grit;
it passes so smoothly through the hand.
Although it offers an inviting theme, there is no need to describe the process by which the flour is made so fine and even, of the rush of the turbid stream, of the movement of the great mill-wheel, and of the stones by which the grain is ground to powder. All this might have a deep and holy reference to ourselves, if not to Him; for it is only by the bruising, grinding, and crushing processes of life that we can become as the fine even flour.
With our Lord, what evenness there was in His temperament. There was no exaggeration, no preponderance of one virtue over another, but a perfect balance, harmony, and beauty. Moses was the meekest of all men, but there was a terrible piece of grit when he cursed the people at Meribah.
There were many fine qualities in Peter,
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but we remember how, after he asked to be allowed to walk upon the water, he began to sink through unbelief; and that at another time, after telling the Lord that he would go with Him even to death, within a few hours he denied Him. The holy Apostle Paul had to take back his words about the High Priest. Even John called for fire from heaven to consume the villages of the Samaritans. All these great saints had a grit in them which was very different to the perfect evenness and composure of our Saviour’s life,
On the one hand, He said that He must be about His Father’s business; but, on the other, He went down to Nazareth and was subject to His parents. When feeding the five thousand, He told His disciples they
were to see that everybody had enough, but when all had been filled He took care
that the fragments were gathered up, so that nothing was left. In the garden of Gethsemane we find Him prostrate in humility before God, but, when the crowd comes, He meets it with majestic dignity. On the one hand, He would flash out flames of fire against the Pharisees; but if a woman came to touch the hem of His garment, or a father to plead for his child, with what infinite tenderness and sweetness He would help and save! There was a perfect balance and equilibrium in our Saviour’s life.
Has there not been too little of this in us? We have been precipitate and impetuous, have taken up a duty and dropped it, have been hot, and soon cold; in private
have vowed that we would never yield to a certain sin, but we have yielded; there has been no counting upon us, people of moods and tenses, just like some mountain lake, now swept by the wind or radiant in the summer sunshine, but never for a dozen yards the same. If we have been strong, we have run a terrible danger of being obstinate; if we have been gentle, we have been tempted to be weak; if we have been so calm that though a storm were breaking on us, it left us unmoved, there has been danger of our becoming callous and indifferent. It is so difficult to magnify one virtue without doing so at the expense of all the others. We all need to come to the evenness, consistency, and perseverance in doing well, which are symbolised by fine flour.
THE OIL. — How many times, in these regulations about the meal-offering, allusion is made to the oil, which, in the typology of the Scripture, always stands for the anointing of the Holy Spirit. This oil was applied in two ways to the meal-offering. In the case of the cakes, it was mixed with them; but in the case of the fine flour, it was poured over it; which may be taken to illustrate two aspects of the influence of the Holy Spirit upon our Saviour’s life. That the oil was mixed with the cakes recalls how the Holy Spirit overshadowed the Virgin, so that “the Holy Thing” was born of her by the operation of the Holy Spirit on the nature of His mother. Throughout our Lord’s life His character was permeated by the Blessed Spirit. That the oil was poured upon the flour, we are reminded that
on the day of His baptism, before He entered on His work, He stood beneath the descending unction of the Blessed Spirit, and was set apart for the service of God and man. From this we gather that for each one of us there must be the daily fellowship and communion of the Holy Ghost, by Whom alone our character can be made sweet and strong; and whenever we anticipate some extraordinary demand, we should seek a very special anointing of the Holy Spirit. Never forget that the meal-offering of a holy life is only possible as it is permeated and anointed with “the Unction of the Holy One.”
THE FRANKINCENSE. — With the meal there was frankincense — the resin which exudes from the incense tree, and which, when burnt, gives a brilliant flame and fragrant
scent. Frankincense must always stand for the joy of God which was so evident in our Saviour’s life. One seldom sees a painting that represents one’s ideal of our Saviour’s face. In most there is not enough of the sparkle, the joy, the lustre of the indwelling Shechinah, It could not have been quite the worn and weary face which many painters depict, who do not allow for the play of holy joy.
With many of us, there is little enough of the frankincense of Joy. In the fifth circle of Dante’s /uferno he describes the suffering of those who yielded to hatred; it is a black and loathsome marsh; but Virgil tells Dante that there are others there, who suffer for evermore, because in the bright, sunny air they condemned themselves to gloom; or, as Shakespeare says, “They
were sad as night, only for wantonness.”
There are many people just in this condition, who, in a redeemed world, where there is so much that is beautiful and bright, carry a perpetual gloom upon their faces. Perhaps most of us at times are tempted to leave the frankincense of joy out of our lives, and to run the danger of falling into the old sin, of which Dean Paget has reminded us, known as “accidie.”
Are not there days in your life when you cannot smile or look pleasant, when you refuse to say what you have to say in a cheery and bright tone, when you are sunken in a deep black fog of your own making; days when you cannot sympathise with the laughter of little children, or the joy of those who are glad; days when you find it impossible to be tender to the
sorrowful, or to minister comfort; days when you have no enthusiasm, but your life lies like a low-lying, marshy land, swept by an east wind, which is bringing up the mist from the sea? You settle yourself down into a fixed despondency, your voice is depressing to listen to, and your face miserable to see? This is what the old teachers called ‘‘ accidie.”
You say, Is not this largely a matter of over-weariness, of a languid, tired spirit, of a nature which has been on too great a strain, and which is suffering from the reaction? Those excuses may be made for you by other people, but it is a perilous thing to make them for yourself. Be very pitiful for those who are weary and languid around you — you do not know what secret pain they may be suffering; but on yourself
have no mercy, refuse to sit beneath the pall of black darkness, always fight against your depressions, and vanquish them in the name of Jesus Christ your Lord.
The noblest trait in Christian living is when men and women refuse to surrender to the difficulties of their circumstances or temperament, but dare to say, “Because these things threaten to make me miserable and useless, by the grace of the Holy Ghost I am going to drain these fens and run channels through these morasses, hoping for summer skies to shine upon this marsh, until the very sun shall heal the earth.” This is the burning of the frankincense.
The best cure for “accidie” is to consider the sorrow of those who are more sorrowful than yourself; to perform some office of mercy; or better still, to throw
yourself back upon the love of God, that this may steal like a benediction into your sad heart. See that you always burn frankincense.
THE SALT. — Our Saviour’s words were full of salt; pure and sparkling, incorruptible, and staying corruption, Salt is good, and the words of Christ are good, because so full of salt. The Book of Proverbs is the salt-cellar of the Bible. It would be well, particularly for the young, to commit to memory chapters of the Proverbs. In contradistinction to salt is leaven (Lev. ii, 11), constantly used in the Bible of that which is corrupt and breeds corruption. In every workroom and workshop, how laden the air is with leaven, with corrupt germs, with unholy words, and thoughts, and suggestions that breed in the heart, until, though years
have passed, some word you have heard will come back to spoil your holiest moments, and ferment, as leaven does. Let us take care that in our speech there is nothing that breeds ferment, impurity, or pride.
And equally we must beware of honey (Lev. ii, 11), which stands for the luscious sweetness of nature. There are some people who are apt at saying sweet things, at being winsome and affable. It is very difficult to draw the line precisely; but, instinctively, we know when there is a sort of unreality in the sweetness, when it is too effusive, when compliments are applied and flatteries given with too lavish a hand, and we turn away with a kind of nausea.
On the whole let us see to it that we employ the sa/¢ of sound common sense. That
does not mean that our talk is to be I monotonous. Salt stings, sparkles. Wit, a little touch of wholesome humour, the play of repartee, the sound conundrum of common sense — all this is innocent enough; but let us take care of the leaven of criticism and impurity, and of the honey of mere natural sweetness,
It may be said that this is a high ideal. Yes, but this was the life of Jesus! To attain it, do not seek to imitate Him simply, as the sculptor may imitate the model, for so you will suffer constant disappointment; but remember that the relationship between you and Him is like that between the child and its mother. The child, in a sense, is part of the mother, the child has received the mother’s nature, and she really lives through her child. Such is your relationship with Jesus. You and He are one by a living faith. Daily say: “Blessed Lord,
I cannot, but Thou canst; I fail, but be in me what I want to be and am not.” And if you fall, be sure to fall upf2l/, and not down. Many people when they fall, fall downhill in despair, and say, “I never, never can.” Other happier souls fall uphill, believing that God forgives, that God will restore, and help, and save. Say, “I have fallen; but it is not my real and best self, not my ideal, not what I want to be, not what, by the grace of God, I will be. I will forget the things that are behind, and press on to those which are before, following the blessed steps of His most holy life.”
There is of course no manner of doubt that those who follow in the footprints of Christ will be led ultimately to the Garden
and the Cross. It cannot be otherwise. “If any man serve Me, let him follow Me,” said our Lord; “and where I am, there shall also My servant be;” but He had already, in His previous breath, said, “Except a grain of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone.”
In all the Gospels there is no more striking picture than of the eager figure of Jesus preceding the Apostles on their way to Jerusalem, whilst they followed in amazement and fear (Mark x. 32); but He leads not only to the Cross and Grave, but to the Easter Morn, the Ascension Mount, and
the Right Hand of God.