| The Glory of the Common Life |
Chapter 9 |
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The natural effect upon any man of such enmity, hatred, bitterness, and injustice, is to make him grow suspicious, misanthropic, cold, resentful, and revengeful. But Jesus was not affected in this way. He was beyond all such effects. He could not be insulted – his nobility of character lifted him above the possibility of this. He was pained but not harmed by men’s cruel words. He never became suspicious. His love never grew less gentle, less magnanimous, and less kindly. Through all his three years of opposition, hatred, plotting, treachery and wrong, he came with the heart of a little child. He passed on to the end unharmed in his own life. He was as patient, gentle, loving, and childlike the day the Spirit descended upon him like a dove. The little spring by the seaside pours out its sweet waters through the salt sands. The tides roll over it and their brackish floods bury it for hours. But again it appears, and its waters are sweet and pure as ever. So it was with the heart of Jesus Christ. The world’s enmity left no embittering in him. He loved men at the last even as he had never loved them before.
This is the problem for every Christian life. It is possible to pass through this world’s sorest temptations and not to be injured by them. It is possible for us, however, to be hurt, most sorely hurt, by such experiences. Sin always works hurt. It is something one never altogether gets over. It may be forgiven – God loves to forgive unto the uttermost – but its marks and scars remain. When the bloom of the fruit has been touched, it never can be restore; when the rose had been crushed, it never can be made lovely again. So sin’s hurt is irremediable. The secret we must learn is to pass through life with garments unsoiled.
There are special ways in which we may be harmed by the experiences of life. Nothing is more common than sorrow. Into every life it comes at one time or another. It comes sometimes as bereavement, taking away one who is dear, whose continued existence seems necessary to our happiness. Again it comes as a grief that hangs no crape on the door, wears no weeds of mourning, and does not break into the outward show of happiness, but which stays as a secret sorrow, without human sympathy or comfort. We usually suppose that sorrow brings always a blessing, that it always helps those who endure it, enriching the life, sweetening it, making it more beautiful. But this is not true in every case. Sorrow often harms people’s lives. It does not always sweeten – sometimes it sours the spirit. It does not always soften – sometimes it hardens the heart. It does not always give peace and calmness – sometimes it makes one irritable, fretful, selfish, and exacting. When we pass through sorrow we need to be exceedingly careful lest we shall be hurt by it. We need the great Physician then – he only can heal wounded hearts so as to leave no scar.
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