A New Order of Nobility

“Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God.” — I John hi. i.

A PARAPHRASE familiar to Scottish Churches has thus rendered this passage: —

“Behold the amazing gift of love
The Father hath bestowed
On us, the sinful sons of men,
To call us sons of God!”

Of course, the sentiment is quite true; but I do not think it is the sentiment of this verse. I think the amazing feature in the eye of the apostle is not the recognition of sinful beings, but the recognition of beings with a particular kind of virtue. I understand him to mean: “What an amazing thing it is that we, of all men, should be called sons of God — we Christians, whose qualities are the unobtrusive ones of patience, of meekness, of humility, of peacemaking! “And there was ground for such wonder. The name” sons of God “used to be applied very differently. It was applied to the stars, because they werq brilliant and set far above the trammels of earth. It was applied to forms of gigantic strength, because it was deemed greater to be a giant than to be a genius. It was applied to the winners of battles and the conquerors of kingdoms, because the highest victories of man were thought to lie in the physical. But nobody dreamed of applying the name to unrepining invalids, to silent burden-bearers, to patient sufferers, to uncomplaining victims of sacrifice, to those who refrained from reviling and those who worked without reward. It was reserved for Christ to do that. And John says this reveals a new manner of Divine love. It was thought of old that the interest of heaven was centred on earth’s mountains — on her places prominent to the eye. I looked at the stars and said,” What is man! “— I looked at ordinary men and said, “What are these to the making of history; surely God’s providence marks not such humble lives!” But Christ takes me to a child in the nursery and says, “That is the making of history; on the moulding of that depends the fate of nations!” God’s eye is not on the mountains, but on the valleys. It is the silent virtues that make the kingdom. Our Father seeth in secret because the great things are in secret. The objects 193 N of God’s interest are below the sea. His heroes are beneath the cloud. His mighty ones are moving noiselessly. His great events are happening underground; His armies are unseen.

My Father, I should like to read Thy book of life. Thou art now writing Thy book of life — Thy record of human history. When it appears, it will be the final judgment — the ultimate verdict on men and things. It will reverse all previous verdicts; many of the actors whom we put first shall be last and many whom we put last shall be first. The heroes of Thy history will be those never heard of before. They will not be the Alexanders, the Caesars, the Napoleons. They will be some of their unknown ancestors who toiled without groaning, spun without tiring, bore without sinking, endured without dying, and handed down to posterity their soldier-like yet unseen courage. When Thy book is opened I shall learn a strange story. I shall read a new list of the great. No more shall kings appear in the van, no more shall warriors stand in the front. It will be the streams, not the rivers, that will be found to have made glad Thy city. It will be the good mother in the nursery, the frugal father at the plough, the serving sister in the home, the heroic sufferer on the bed, the earnest teacher in the school, the interested master in the office, the prudent companion at the board, the sympathising comforter in the sorrow. It will be Moses not on Sinai but in the desert, Elijah not on Carmel but in the cave, Abraham not in Egypt but on Moriah, John not at Jerusalem but in Patmos, Paul not in his strength but in his blindness. I shall learn in the book of Thy remembrance that it is our moments of obscurity that have made us “sons of God.”

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