How to Follow.

Shall we take a look at that face? a long look? Shall we go? Practically going means three things, a _decision_, a _habit_ and a _purpose_; a thoughtful, calculating decision, a daily unbroken habit, an unalterable north-star sort of purpose.

Go alone in some quiet corner where you can think things out. Look at what it may mean for you to follow, so far as you know now. Most of it you don't know, and won't know, can't know except as it works out in your life. Take a long, quiet, thoughtful look at the road. Then take a longer, quieter, steadier look at Him, Christ Jesus, once crucified for you, now seated in glory with all power, and asking you to-day to be a channel for His power. Then decide. Say, "Lord Jesus, I _will_ follow Thee. This is my decision. By Thy help, I follow Thee, I'll follow Thee all the way."

That's the first step, the decision.

As I entered the tent at Keswick one morning, a friend handed me these lines, which came to her pen at the close of a previous meeting:

"I will follow Thee, dear Master, Though the road be rough and steep, Thou wilt hold me lest I falter, Thy strong hand must safely keep.

Enter in, Lord, cleanse Thy temple, Give the grace to put away All that hinders, all that's doubtful, O'er my life hold blessed sway.

Use me, Master, for Thy glory, Live out Thine own life through me, That my life may tell the story, And win others unto Thee.

Keep me trusting Thee, Lord Jesus, Walking closely by Thy side, Keep me resting, sweetly resting, As I in Thy love abide."

Then plan your work and time so as to get a bit of time off alone every day with the Book and with the Master. The chief thing is not to pray, though you will pray. It is not for Bible study, though that will be there too. The chief thing is to meet with the Lord Jesus Himself. He will come to you through the Book. He will fit its messages into your questions and perplexities. He Himself will come to meet with you when you so go to meet with Him. You won't always _realize_ His presence, for you may sometimes be tired. But you can _recognize_ His presence. You can cultivate the habit of recognizing His presence.

This is your bit of daily school-time, with the Book and the Master. It will keep your spirit sweet, your heart hot, and your judgment sane and poised. This is the second thing, the _habit._ It is the thing you cannot get along without. It must go in daily. Without it things will tangle; your heart will cool, your spirit sometimes take on an edge that isn't good, your judgment get warped and twisted, and your will grow either wabbly or stubborn. This second thing must be put in the daily round, and kept in. It helps to hold you steady to the first thing.

Then the third is the _purpose_ to be true to whatever the Master tells you, to be true to Himself; never to fail _Him_. You may flinch within your feelings. You probably will. Yet you need never flinch in action.

Follow the beckoning Figure just ahead in the road, regardless of th.o.r.n.y bush or cutting knife. Keep your spirit sweet, your tongue gentle and slow, your touch soft and even, your purpose as inflexible as wrought steel, or as granite, as unmovable as the North Star. That's the third thing, the purpose.

And the three make the three-fold cord with which to tie you fast and hard to the Lone Man ahead. He is less alone as we follow close up. The three together help you understand the meaning of _obedience_. The decision is the beginning of obedience; the habit teaches you _what_ you are to obey and gives you strength to do it; the purpose is the actual obedience in daily round, the holding true to what He has told you.

Years ago, a young Jewess, of a wealthy family, that stood high in the Jewry of New York, heard the call of the despised Nazarene. It came to her with great, gentle power, and she decided that she must follow. Her father was very angry, and threatened disinheritance if she so disgraced the family. But she remained quietly, gently, inflexibly, true to her decision. At last the father planned a social occasion at the home to which large numbers were invited. And he said to his daughter, "You must sing at this reception, and make this your disavowal of the Christian faith." And she quietly said, "Father, I will sing."

The evening came, the parlours were filled, the time came for her to sing, and all listened eagerly, for they knew the beauty of her voice. With her heart in both eyes and voice, she began singing:

"Jesus, I my cross have taken, All to leave and follow Thee; Dest.i.tute, despised, forsaken, Thou, from hence, my all shalt be.

Perish every fond ambition, All I've sought, and hoped, and known: Yet how rich is my condition!

G.o.d and heaven are all my own."

And she pa.s.sed out into the night of disinheritance on earth, "into an inheritance incorruptible, and undefiled, and that fadeth not away." This was her decision. She had seen _His face!_ All else paled in its light.

Shall we go, too?

Finger-Posts

The Parable of the Finger-Posts.

Waiting is harder work than working. It takes more out of you. And it puts more into you, too, of fine-grained, steady strength, if you can stand the strain of it. And if, to the waiting is added perplexity, the pull upon your strength is much greater. It is harder to hold steady, and not break.

And if the thing you've put your very life into seems at stake, that taxes the wearing power of your strength to the utmost.

Such a time, and just such a test, came to the little band of disciples after the resurrection, and before the ascension. The story of it is told in that added chapter of John's Gospel. You remember that last chapter is one of the added touches. The Gospel is finished with the finish of the twentieth chapter. Then John is led by the Spirit, to add something more.

That added chapter becomes to us like an acted parable, the parable of the added touch. There is always the added touch, the extra touch of power, of love, of answer to prayer. Our Lord has a way of giving more. The prayer itself is answered, and then some added touch is given for full measure.

So it is in all His dealings, when He is allowed to have His own way. He is the Lord of the added touch. He does exceeding abundantly above what we ask, or think, or expect.

These disciples were now to have one of these added touches. It was a time of sore perplexity. The crucifixion had left them dazed, stupefied. It was wholly unexpected. They were utterly at sea, with neither compa.s.s, nor steering apparatus of any sort. That Sat.u.r.day to them was one of the longest, dreariest, heaviest days ever spent by any one. They had all proven untrue to their dead Friend, save one.

Then as unexpectedly came the resurrection. They're dazed again, this time with joy. They haven't taken it in yet. To say that the two shocks, each so radically different from the other, shook them tremendously, is stating it very mildly. They don't know themselves. They haven't found their feet.

They haven't adjusted yet to their swiftly changing surroundings. They don't know what next. They don't know what to do.

So the old impulsive Simon in Peter proposed something. Simon, the unsteady, was much in evidence those days. Peter the rock-man hadn't arrived yet. This was Simon Peter's specialty, proposing something. He said, "Well, I'm going fishing." And the others quickly said, "We'll go along." The mere doing something would be a relief. But they caught nothing. It was a poor night. The morning brought only heavy hearts with light nets and boats. They had failed at following; now they were failing even at their old specialty, fishing. Couldn't they do _any_thing?

In the dim light of the breaking dawn there's some One standing on the beach, a Stranger. He seems interested in them, and calls out familiarily, "Have you caught anything?" And you feel the heaviness of their hearts over something else in the shout "No." And the gentle voice calls out, with a certain tone of quiet authority in it, "Throw over on the right there, and you'll get some fish." And they cast the nets out again, feeling a strong impulse to obey this kindly Stranger, without stopping to think out why.

And at once the ropes pull so hard that it takes all their strength to hold them. It's John's quick insight that recognizes the Stranger. With his heart in his throat, in awe-touched voice, he quietly says, "It's the Lord." That's enough for Peter. He takes the shortest way to sh.o.r.e. He has some things to talk over with the Master. And as the seven tired men landed the fish, they found breakfast waiting on the sands. Who built that fire? Who cooked that fish? Who was thinking about them and caring for their personal needs, when they were so tired and hungry? And when breakfast was finished, there's the quiet talk together, about love and service, while the sun is climbing up in the east. It is addressed to Peter, but it is meant, too, for those who were so fleet-footed a few nights before.

All this was the answer to their perplexity. They were willing and waiting to follow, but they had failed so badly. They were not quite sure where they stood. They had no finger-posts. Now the finger-posts were put up to show the way. This fishing scene was an acted parable, the Parable of the Finger-posts.

The Lineage of Service.

Look at these finger-posts a little. There was the Lord Jesus. They didn't recognize Him. But He was there. He had a plan. He took authoritative command of their movements. He gave directions. They obeyed Him. Then came the great haul of fish. Then came the quiet talk about love and service, but with the emphasis on love.

The love was the chief thing. The service was something growing out of love. "Lovest thou Me?" Then thou mayest serve, thou hast the chiefest qualification. Our Lord gave them the lineage of service that morning.

These are the generations of true service. A sight of Jesus begets love, a tender, gentle, strong, pa.s.sionate thing of rarest beauty that is immortal, but must have the constant sight of its father's face for vigorous life. And love at once begets obedience, which grows strong and stout and skilled, as long as it stays in its father's presence. And obedience begets service, untiring, glad, patient service.

There are some outsiders that have come into this family, but they do not have the fine traits of blood-kin. "Duty" is one of these. It serves because it must. And at times it renders fine, high service. But its service comes out of the will, rather than out of the heart. It is ruled more by a sense of propriety, never by a pa.s.sion of the heart.

"Privilege" is near of kin to duty, and it is a high-born, fine-grained thing. It serves because it is an honour to do so. It is enjoyable to be so highly connected. But it constantly needs proper recognition and appreciation of its work and skill. But these are really outsiders. They have married in, and do not have the real family traits. The one word, and the only one, that may properly be used for true service is that fine word, "pa.s.sion." True service is a thing of love, a thing of the heart, a flame that pervades and permeates and envelops the whole life within and without, a fire that consumes and controls.

The Lord Jesus, His presence, His plan, His authoritative leadership, their obedience, love thrice asked and given, service because of love,--these are the finger-posts for these perplexed men. They can be put into very simple shape for our guidance. Three finger-posts hung up will include all of them,--_clear vision, a spirit of obedience, a heart of tender love_. These are the three great essentials of all true, full following. And there will not be, there cannot be, true full following without all three of these. There may be much earnest, honest service, much faithful plodding, and hard work, and much good done. But there's always less than the best. There is less than should be. The best results are not being got for the effort expended, except where these three are blended.

A clear vision means simply a clear understanding of things as they are, and of what needs to be done, with all the facts in that belong in. A spirit of obedience means not only an obedience in spirit, a spirited obedience, but an obedience that fits into the spirit of the Leader and His plans. And through these as a fine fragrance breathes a heart of tender undiscourageable love.

Not Quite In Is Outside.

These three things must be kept in poise. So the Master plans. This is the parable of the fishing. There are many ill.u.s.trations of one only of these, or two, in action. And the bad or poor result that works out can be plainly seen. The Holy Spirit with great plainness and faithfulness has hung up cautionary signs along the road.

There may be _clear vision without obedience._ That is, a clear understanding of the Master's plan, but a failure to fit in. That will mean a dimming vision. And if persisted in, it will mean spiritual disaster. The great ill.u.s.tration of this is Judas. Judas had as clear a vision, in all likelihood, as the others when he was chosen for discipleship, and later for apostleship. There was the possibility of a John in Judas, even as there was the possibility of a Judas in John. Both are in every man. But Judas was not true to the vision he had. He wanted to use the Master to further his own plans and advantage. And the vision slowly blurred and dimmed, as the under nature was given the upper hand.

The Master's clear insight recognized the demon spirit that Judas had allowed to come in, though Judas did not.[101] Then came the dastardly act of betrayal. And Judas has been held up to universal scorn and condemnation.

But Judas isn't so lonely, if you think into the thing a bit. He only put personal advantage above loyalty to the Lord Jesus. He simply preferred his own plans to the Master's plans. That was all. And he tried to force his own through, without suspecting how the thing would turn out, and how tremendously much was involved. The great events being worked out have thrown his contemptible act into the limelight of history. But the act itself wasn't uncommon. Possibly you may know some one living quite near, with some of this same sort of trait.