The Wideness of God's Mercy

During the last hundred years, which is approximately the term of modern Missionary effort, a vast change has taken place in the views held by the Christian Church on the condition of the heathen after death. The old formulary, “The heathen are perishing; shall we let them perish?” does not mean to-day quite what it used to mean. The conception of the countless populations of the globe pouring in a steady cataract into the bottomless pit no longer grips and holds the mind or imagination, and as the destiny of the heathen world in the great future becomes less defined and oppressive, one of the strongest incentives for Missionary endeavour is sensibly weakened, and good people are inclined to say, “Let us leave well alone. Things are not so bad as was feared. God is good, and all will come right at last.” I venture to think that this attitude on the part of multitudes of Christian people is at the root of the present stagnation in Missionary enterprise, and the reason, in part, of the depletion of the Missionary exchequer.

Nothing, therefore, is more necessary in the present day than to re-construct a basis and argument for Christian Missions. We believe in God’s love for the world, a love which includes every unit of the human family; we believe that ours is a redeemed race, that the Cross has put away the sin of man, that in Christ God has reconciled the world to Himself; we believe that in every nation he that feareth God and worketh righteousness is accepted by Him; — what need then that we should preach the Gospel to every creature? Granted that the marching orders of our Lord are clear and distinct, is it possible to enforce them on the ground of reason and experience?

An answer to these questions is furnished in the remarkable addresses of the great Apostle to the Gentiles, whether standing amid the remoter wilds of Lycaonia or the focussed glory of the pagan civilisation of his time. In these he necessarily touched upon the three main religious influences of the world: Natural Religion; the Mission of Judaism; and the Message of the Gospel. These three threads were woven throughout the matchless fabric of his appeals. Let us consider specially that made before the Areopagus (Acts xvii. 19).

The religion of ancient Greece lay altogether outside the influence of Hebrew literature and ideals. There was not even a synagogue in Athens; and that city, therefore — the crown and flower of Greece — gave unrivalled opportunity for the study of any solution, which the human mind can formulate, to the mystery of God, of life, and of the world.

Driven thither by the violence of his enemies, and awaiting the arrival of his friends, the Apostle gave himself to the quiet study of the religious aspects around him. On every side stood the loftiest achievements of human genius. As he issued morning by morning from his humble lodging, he beheld the long colonnades of shops, sublime conceptions in temple and statue, “the severe beauty of the Parthenon, the massive proportions of the Theseum, the exquisite elegance of the Temple of Wingless Victory, the rude grace and sinewy strength of the youthful processions, portrayed on frieze and entablature, and sharply defined in the sunny air.” But as he passed his special interest was attracted by the objects of their worship, the inscriptions on their altars, and the discussions of Jew and Proselyte, of Stoic and Epicurean, concerning the sacred mysteries of religion. Paul was not indifferent to the attractions of art and beauty, but his soul was filled with an over-mastering religious enthusiasm, and was set on contrasting the results of natural religion with his message of Jesus and the Resurrection.

Athens was a city of statues, and his early training as a Jew prejudiced him against all representations of the human form. During his residence as a student in Jerusalem he had never once beheld in sculpture or painting the face or figure of man, and had been taught to consider such attempts as direct violations of the second word of the decalogue. But even these aroused less indignation than the images of the gods and goddesses, and the altars erected to their worship, which confronted him on every side.

So numerous were the representations of the deities of the Pantheon that it was said to be more easy to meet a god than a man in the streets of Athens. Whichever way the visitor turned, an altar confronted him, at which devotees were making their offerings. Small wonder then that the spirit of the Apostle was provoked within him as he beheld the city full of idols.

But there was no passionate show of resentment in his speech. He did not open his mission to the Athenians by a furious tirade against the absurdity of idolatry as such, nor did he hold up to ridicule and scorn the obscene stories of their gods and goddesses, but with admirable sagacity and good sense he seized on the one hopeful sign in it all, that the people whom he was addressing were very eager and sensitive about religious matters. He was careful to place this sentiment in the forefront of his address. The rendering of the

A.V., “I perceive, men of Athens,

that in all things ye are too superstitious,” is absolutely inadmissible. Even the “somewhat religious” of the R.Y. does not meet the case. “Very devout” or “unusually religious” would be a truer rendering of the Greek; and it is much to be regretted that for so long the impression has been produced that the first note of the missionary’s address should be critical and polemical, rather than considerate and conciliatory.

It seemed to Paul as though the profusion of idols around him, and especially the altar reared to “an unknown God,” were proofs of the strong and instinctive cravings of a religious spirit. So far from the claims of religion being regarded with coldness and apathy, here was a whole nation intent on religious inquiry. They were seeking God if haply they might feel after Him; and the word employed is extremely picturesque, suggesting the fumbling of a blind man to iind the latch of the door. Tennyson hit off the conception with apt grace in his well-known lines: —

I stretch lame hands of faith, and grope, And gather dust and chaff, and call To what I feel is Lord of all.

There are five sources of religious knowledge which are within the reach of men who are outside what we know as Revelation.

1. The Witness of Creation. “Not a flower or leaf but bears the mark of God’s unrivalled pencil!” What m ay be known of Him is made plain to men’s inmost consciousness, for God Himself has made it plain to them; for from the very creation of the world His eternal power and divine nature have been made visible by His works (Rom. i. 19, 20).

2. The Witness of Daily Mercy. Addressing a simple agricultural people, the Apostle, in obvious allusion to one of their familiar lyric songs, reminded them that during the past generations God had not left Himself without witness, because of the daily mercies which He had sent, “giving rain from heaven and fruitful seasons, filling men’s hearts with food and gladness.” Those who have visited the great plains of India, and seen the myriads of people engaged in their simple agricultural toils, and have interpreted them by the music of the old Yedic hymns, will be able to appreciate the Apostle’s allusion. The exquisite and constant sunshine, the return of the bountiful seasons, and the rich yield of the soil, are all productive of that glad recognition of the Creator which His gifts are calculated to inspire.

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