Christian Childhood
“Then went lie down and dipped in Jordan; and his flesh came again like unto the flesh of a little child.”
2 Kings V. 14.
WHEN a man has dipped in the wave of experience he comes back to the impressions of his childhood. I have been often struck with the fact that there are no two states so like one another as the first and the last. There is nothing so like the beginning as the end. In the morning the sun stands upon the mountains; in the evening he stands upon the mountains too. Life in its primitive form is guided by instinct; life in its completed form is again guided by instinct — the power of intuitive sight. Our existence opens with a sense of freedom — freedom born of self-will; our existence culminates also in a sense of freedom — freedom born of surrendered will — the liberty of love. I have been often impressed by these words of Paul, “We rejoice in hope; and we glory in tribulation also — knowing that tribulation worketh patience, and patience experience, and experience hope.” Do you observe the beautiful circle! We begin with the rejoicing in hope, and we end with the rejoicing in hope. Between the hope at the beginning and the hope at the end there is interposed a wave of experience — a dipping in the waters of tribulation. We stand at the close of the day on that very point of the beach wdiere we stood at morning; but there is a difference. At morning we stood there without experience; in the evening we stand there after experience. In the morning we had a child’s buoyancy, because we saw not the coming tribulation; in the evening we have a child’s buoyancy, because we have conquered the tribulation. In the morning we were sanguine because we expected to escape the storm; in the evening we are sanguine because we have borne the strength of the storm and learned that life is stronger than its ills.
Restore to me, O Lord, the spirit of my youth; give me back the buoyancy of early days! Set me on that point of the beach where I stood at morning! Yet not with the same eyes would I view hfe’s boundless sea. When I stood on the beach in youth the waters were calm. My joy was the gladness of seeing no storm. It never occurred to me that I could plunge into the waters and live. Not thus would I stand upon the beach in the afternoon! I would survey the sea from the old standpoint with a new glass. I would assume the sanguineness of the morning, but for a better reason! No longer would I have my hope to rest in clouds averted; I would have it rest in clouds endured. I would have all the old possessions in a new casket. I would have childhood’s trust, but trust after trial. I would have morning’s glow, but glow after gloom. I would have life’s first faith, but faith after fighting. I would have youth’s bright buoyancy, but buoyancy after battle. I would get back the confidence of the dawn, but confidence after conflict, the courage of love to Jesus. The child that Christ took in His arms had been bathed in the waiters of Jordan.