The Secret of Christian Stooping
“Despising the shame.” — Hebrews xii. 2.
IN well-known lines Dr. Watts declares that the Cross of Christ leads to humility.
“When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of Glory died.
My richest gain I count but loss,
I pour contempt on all my pride,”
Yet I am not sure that he has given the exact account of the matter. It is quite true that the Cross of Christ makes a man stoop to menial things; but why? Simply because he is no longer ashamed of them. It is not that he has less sense of dignity; it is rather because he feels that the stooping to menial things has ceased to take down his dignity. Many a boy demurs to carry a bag through a fashionable locality; a district nurse will bear it anywhere.
Is that because the district nurse is more humble than the boy? Assuredly not. It is because the thing which makes the boy feel ashamed makes her feel more dignified. I would say that the love of Christ does not make us feel more humble, but makes us feel ashamed of fewer things; it reduces the sources of our humility. It enables me to walk erect through scenes where yesterday I should have crept stealthily. It is not on my conscious dignity I pour contempt; it is on my false shame. I am ever proud of my love; but that very pride makes me deem nothing menial. The more servile be the work for my Christ, the prouder I am to do it. I feel exalted in proportion as my service bends me. I endure the cross because I despise the shame.
I am not ashamed of Thy gospel, O Christ! It has not killed my sense of dignity; I am proud to minister to Thee. Not because I feel my nothingness do I stoop to work which men call menial; it is because I despise the shame. My love has turned the shame into glory. I feel, like Paul, that “love maketh not ashamed” — removes the sense of shame. It is not depression that drives me into servile work; it is elation, it is upliftedness. I love Thee — I love Thee! — I love Thee! and I want to do something for Thee! It is not the crouching, but the swelling, of my heart that sends me down into the valley. My heart’s ambition is to descend; my love’s aspiration is to go down. I would be the servant of the slave for Thee. I would rather walk with Thee through the mire than without Thee through bowers of roses. I should feel more regal with garments soiled for Thee than in robes whose selfishness has kept them from a stain. It is my pride that cries out for the valley. It is my joy that makes me serve. It is my buoyancy that bears the burden. It is the singing of my heart that makes me forget the toil. It is not the cringing soul that can tread Thy lowly way!