Sunshiny Christians
Acheeeful heart doeth good like a medicine.” Our translation has it a “merry heart;” but the word has got rather “dissipated” in these modern days, and savors of jollity, rather than wholesome heart-joys. Once the word had so discreet a meaning that the apostle inquires, “Is any one merry? Let him sing psalms.” It is the same Greek expression as that one used by Paul in the midnight tempest, when he exhorted his fellow-voyagers to “be of good cheer.”
There is a cheerfulness that is a Christian duty; yea, that is distinctly commanded to every heir of God. “Rejoice always; and again T say, rejoice.” This cheerfulness is not the mere effervescence of animal spirits. Nor is it born of. the decanter or the dance. It depends in no wise on exernal circumstances. Christian cheerfulness is that sunshiny, hopeful, happy frame which comes from heart-health. Such a temper of mind doeth the body good “like a medicine.” For many a lean dyspeptic is dying of sheer worry and peevishness; The acrid humors of the mind strike through, and disease the digestive organs. The medicine such a man wants is not to be found in the drug store-A good dose of divine grace, with a few grains of thankfulness, and a bracing walk on some labor of love to the poor, will do more to put healthy blood into his weazen skeleton than all the drugs of the apothecary. A “merry heart” was about all the medicine that old Lyman Beecher ever took. Cheerfulness, be it remembered, is a temper of the soul, and not dependent on external conditions. Some of the most miserable people we wot of are grumbling every day over porcelain and silver, and lay their wretched heads every night on embroidered pillows. The sunniest hearts I have ever found in my pastoral rounds have often been lodged in houses so poverty-stricken and obscure that even the tax collector never found them. They were people who had very little of this world, but a great deal of the next. They took short views of this life, but long ones of the life to come. Living pretty much “from hand to mouth,” they learn to trust God a great deal more than their prosperous brethren, who secretly trust — their own bank accounts and government bonds.
The happiest heart I encounter in Brooklyn belongs to an aged cripple, who lives on charity in a fourth story. She is old and poor, and without relatives, and lost even the power of speech twenty years ago! By dint of hard effort she can make a few words intelligible. But I never saw that withered face distorted by a frown; and a few Sabbaths since, when she was carried in to the communion-table, I looked down from the pulpit into that old saint’s countenance, and it “shone like the face of an angel.” She lives every day on the sunny side of Providence, and feeds hungrily on the promises. Jesus knows where she lives. He “oft-times resorts thither.” She is one of his hidden ones. That old disciple will not have far to go when the summons comes from her Father’s house. She lives near the gate now, and catches the odors and the music of that “marriage supper” for which she has her wedding garment on. Would to God that some of the sour-spirited, morose, and melancholy Christians of our acquaintance could drop in to that old woman’s garret occasionally, and borrow a vial of her sunshine!
Those who cannot visit such an ante-chamber of heaven for themselves may enjoy a kindred satisfaction in reading the brief biography of old “Uncle Johnson,” — a tract of twenty-five pages, published by the “Presbyterian Board” Johnson was a Virginia negro, who died in Michigan at the almost incredible age of one hundred and twenty! He never would have lasted so long if he had not — like Father Cleveland, of Boston — carried about with him that cheerful heart that doeth good like a medicine.
One day, when he was at work in his garden, singing and shouting, his pastor looked over the fence and said: “Uncle, you seem very happy to-day.” “Yes, massa. I’se just linking.” “What are you thinking about 1” “Oh! I’se just tinking” (and the tears rolled down his black face) — “I’se tinking dat if de crumbs of joy dat fall from de Massa’s table in dis world is so good, what will de great loaf in glory be! I tells ye, sir, dar will be enuf and to spare up dar.”
Once Mr. F said to him, “Uncle Johnson, why don’t you get into our meetings once in a while 1 “He answered:” Massa, I wants to be dere; but I can’t have myself.” “You can’t befiavef” “Well, massa, ob late years de flesh is gettin’ weak; and when dey gwin to talk and sing about Jesus, I gins to fill up, and putty soon I has to holler, and den some one’U say, ‘Carry dat man out de door, he ‘sturbs de meetin.’ “” But you should hold in till you get home.” “O massa! I can’t hold in. I bust if I don’t holler.” (Would not it be a blessed thing for some prayer-meetings that are now dying of dignity if they could have such a “holler “to wake them out of their slumber”?) This jubilant old negro lived in literal dependence on God. When a gift was made to him, he received it as if sent to him by Elijah’s ravens. “When I wants any ting, I jes asks de Lord, and He is sure to send it; sometimes afore I’se done askin’, and den sometimes He holds back, jus’ to see if I trust Him.” One of the last things remembered of him was the message he gave to a minister who called to see him, when he was “wait in’ for de chariot ob de Lord.” “O massa!” said he, “if you gets home afore I do, tell ’em to keep de table standin’, for old Johnson is holdin’ on hia way. I’se bound to be dere.”
We have given so much of this article to a sketch of this sunny-souled pilgrim, not only because it might be new to most of our readers, but because such a living example of a ‘• merry heart “is more impressive than a sermon on cheerfulness. There are three or four “recipes” for securing this sunshine in the soul.
(1.) Look at your mercies with both eyes; and at your troubles and trials with only half an eye.
(2.) Study contentment. In these days of inordinate greed and self-indulgence, keep down the accursed spirit of grasping. What lhe dorit have makes thousands wretched.
(3.) Keep at some work of usefulness. Such men as “Uncle Vassar” and John Wanamaker are seldom troubled with the blues. Work for Christ brings heart-health.
(4.) Keep your heart’s window always open. toward heaven. Let the blessed light of Jesus’ countenance shine in. It will turn tears into rainbows. The author of “Nearer, my God, to Thee “’ has sweetly sung: —
“He sendeth sun, he sendeth shower, Alike they’re needful to the flower; And joys and tears alike are sent, To give the soul fit nourishment. As comes to me or cloud or sun, Father! Thy will, not mine, be done.”