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Chapter
XVII
THE CROSS AND DISCIPLINE
Continued
HOW THE WORLD of flesh rebukes
and reproaches the Church! It endures all manner of privation and
peril, runs risks that make us shiver--all to achieve its goal. In
their fight to scale Mount Everest some years ago, a company of daring
spirits were so bodily fit that they climbed and lived at an altitude of
27,000 feet. They said that dozens of others could do the same "if
only they liked," but they couldn't like. The narrator says that
these "have not the spirit." He then says of one of the climbers, "Many
excelled him in bodily fitness, but where he excelled was in spirit.
His spirit drove his body to the utmost limit. His spirit would not
allow him to give up. He must make one last desperate effort." And
then the writer says, "The spirit will drive the body on and the body will
respond to the spirit." These men passed through terrific trials, casualties
mounted--a broken leg--a clot on the brain--feet frostbitten to the ankles--pneumonia,
and deaths.
My friend, have you ever
begun to climb? Have you ever entered the ranks? Have you ever
so mastered
yourself that through the
Spirit you can say to the body, as the trembling soldier said going over
the top, "Come on, old body. You would shake worse than that if you
knew where I am going to take you." It seems to be supposed, by churches
everywhere, that believers, young and old, instead of being recruits to
Christ's army, arc to be "cradled and coddled, and wheeled in a perambulator
to heaven under the caressing smiles of their mother church; whereas as
a matter of fact, God no sooner saves a soul than his trumpet-blast calls
him to suffer hardship as a good soldier of Jesus Christ" (Panton).
In dealing with the subject
of self-discipline, it is difficult to escape being stigmatized by some
as an ascetic or monk. The whisper of asceticism frightens the easily
frightened. But while Paul was neither ascetic nor monk, he knew
that "the flesh with its affections and lusts" was his most dangerous enemy.
He said: "So fight I, as not beating the air: but I buet my body"
--bruise it black and blue, make it livid, every blow striking home (Ellicott)--"and
bring it into bondage," i.e, lead it as a captive. Paul knew
his dangers; he never ceased to dread the flesh. He was balanced
indeed and was therefore alert. He rejoiced, but always "with trembling."
One of the Christian workers of the Dohnavur Fellowship on holiday
once wrote: "There is such a loving thought and care here that I sometimes
fear lest the soldier-spirit may be weakened rather than strengthened.
Everything is made so easy and so comfortable that I feel more than ever
the need of the inner, private discipline which defends the soul against
sloth and slackness."
From subtle love of softening
things,
From easy choices, weakenings
(Not thus are spirits fortified,
Not this way went the Crucified),
From all that dims Thy Calvary,
O Lamb of God, deliver me.
--Amy Carmichael.
The blood of the martyrs
is the seed of the Church. When she ceases to bleed, she ceases to
bless. She can thrive through persecution, but never through peace
and plenty. Christ sends not peace, but a sword. But we have
become soft. We have ceased to be soldiers, have ceased to storm
forts, have ceased to sacrifice. We want spiritual society, not rugged
soldiery. The "soft slipper" stage has taken us. "I've had
my day--now the rocking chair has gotten me." We once held meetings with
an old preacher who had been a suffering circuit rider. He could
say, "I bear in my body the marks of the Lord Jesus." But an hour after
a most delicious meal he continued to pat himself on his stomach saying,
"That was a good meal; it makes me feel so good." Poor soul, his sermons
were yellow. He scarcely looked into his Bible. He had been
a soldier once but he had gone soft, had ceased to "goad" himself.
All of which reminds us again of that word of saintly Robert Murray McCheyne
that "if Satan can only make a covetous minister a lover of |
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