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IN QUEST OF REALITY
BEING
crucified is just “‘ sloppy folly,” as a certain
distinguished man put it the other day.
That is, quite frankly, how some people look
at the message of Jesus. They cannot see
the truth: they are the heartbreak and the
perplexity of our ministry, and we find them
sometimes drifting out of our churches, after
years of teaching and apparent acquiescence,
because they have not seen God in Jesus.
How are we to get hold of them? How are
we to make them see? Only by the truth
and the whole truth expressed in the phrase,
. “Christ and Him crucified.’’ The truth has
the power to awaken its own sense of need ;
‘ we can depend on it. It is our business so
to reveal it as to help them to see. Some one
said the other day that a rediscovery of what
Christ meant by faith would bring a revival
of religion. There is something in that.
But there is a prior work to be done. Faith
is only our natural response to the vision of
God in Jesus. That vision alone will awaken
faith as a natural result. Can any one really
see Christ without having the impulse
awakened to trust Him? And there is a
moral regenerating power in the message of
THE PREACHER’S TASK 25
the truth in Jesus, in the reality of His love
for men as seen in Calvary—where alone it
reaches its point of flame against the back-
eround of human sin—which can melt the
very hardest heart. There lies our power.
We are all familiar with the argument for:
what is called the social gospel. There are
people so enmeshed in an evil environment
that they need almost to be dug out before they
can begin to see the light and to be cared for,
like a suffocated man, till they are at the
point where their souls can function normally
enough to breathe the spiritual atmosphere
for themselves. But social service can never
take the place of the message of the gospel
of God’s love. Social service only reaches
real effectiveness as it becomes, so to speak,
the hands and feet of the messengers of God—
a medium through which the love of God is
made real, conveying the touch of Jesus.
As such it is an essential element in the
revelation of God the Father. But, however.
far down they be sunk, never for a moment
let us give people up as beyond the reach of -
the truth of God just where they are. There :
is a penetrative power in that light which
26 IN QUEST OF REALITY
can reach the deepest dungeon. A wonderful
illustration of this fact came to light lately
in a little book called A Gentleman 1n Prison.
A desperate criminal in a Japanese prison, —
condemned to death for murder, was visited
by two lady missionaries. They spoke to-
him, but found him cold and indifferent.
They left with him as they went a copy of
- the New Testament. One day, in boredom
mixed with curiosity, he took down the New
Testament and opened it, and the story of
what happened is told in one of a series of
letters which he left behind. He began by read-
ing the Parable of the Lost Sheep. “Still,”
he says, “‘I was not sufficiently impressed to
have any special belief in what I was reading.
I simply thought they were words which any
preacher might have used. I put the New
Testament on the shelf again and did not
read it for some time. A little later, when
I was tired of doing nothing, I took down the
book again and began to read. This time
I read how Jesus was handed over to Pilate,
was tried unjustly, and put to death by
crucifixion. As I read this, I began to think.
This person they called Jesus was evidently
THE PREACHER’S TASK 27
a man who at any rate tried to lead others
into the paths of virtue, and it seemed an in-
human thing to crucify Him, simply because
He had different religious opinions from
others. Even I, hardened criminal that I
was, thought it a shame that His enemies.
should have treated Him in this way.
‘““T went on, and my attention was next
taken by these words: ‘And Jesus said,
“ Father, forgive them, for they know not
what they do.”’’ I stopped. I was stabbed
to the heart as if pierced by a five-inch nail.
What did the verse reveal to me? Shall I
call it the love of the heart of Christ ? Shall
I call it His compassion? I do not know
what to call it. I only know that, with
an unspeakably grateful heart, I believed.
Through this simple sentence I was led into
the whole of Christianity. This is how lI
thought it out. I suppose a man’s greatest
enemy is the one who seeks to take his life
from him. There is surely no greater enemy
than this. Now at the very moment when
Jesus’ life was being taken from Him, He
prayed for His enemies to the God of heaven,
‘Father, forgive them, for they know not
28 IN QUEST OF REALITY
what they do.’ What else could I believe —
but that He was indeed the Son of God?”
Never mind his rationalizing, if you call it —
so. The thing that happened was, that he ©
saw God in Jesus the crucified, and seeing —
Him was changed into another man. There
is the miracle, for the production of which ©
our preaching is to be the vehicle. And the
power that can do it, even in a dungeon and
in a criminal’s heart, is the power of the
truth breaking in to open the blind eyes.
It is worth a lifetime’s study and a life laid
down, to become the instrument of such
reconciling love, and no art that produces
any other impression, though it bring us to
heights of popularity, can compare with the
preaching of a man who brings even one
soul into right relations with God. But my
point is that the truth is its own searchlight ;
the truth alone, without compromise—with-
out regard to popular demand. The real
question about a man’s message is not
whether it is what the people want, nor even
whether it is edifying, but whether it is true.
Our business is with nothing less and with
nothing more, though of course to see it
THE PREACHER’S TASK 29
and present it in all its range and power will
take all the sinews of our mind and soul.
I]
Now with this for a central aim, there are
certain general rules which I venture to set:
down.
1. Our preaching must be clear and simbple.:
If the truth is to have its appeal, the people
must see it in the clearest way. Nothing is
going to reach the conscience which is not
pellucidly clear to the mind. Some one says
that “‘ what is spiritually necessary may be
intellectually unintelligible.’ That is at
least a very dangerous principle. There is
a distinct peril lest, having banished magic
from our cultus, we should enshrine something
very like it in our vocabulary. “‘ These be
good words,” says an old woman in Silas
Marner. We are tempted to use certain
phrases and terms familiar to ourselves,
which to the people are either unintelligible,
or else so crusted, like a ship with barnacles,
with hoary superstition or pious associa-
tion of a distinctly unattractive kind, that
they carry people nowhere. To-day we are
30 IN QUEST OF REALITY
denied an advantage which the preachers
of a couple of generations ago possessed.
They could safely take for granted a certain
knowledge of religious phrases and _ theo-
logical terms derived from home and Sunday-
school training : such as, for instance, in the
Shorter Catechism in Scotland. That may,
or may not, have made for reality. But it
made it comparatively easy for the preacher
who, as a preacher must do, dealt largely
in theology. To-day we can take nothing
for granted. A person of considerable intel-
lectual attainments and fairly wide reading
in theology said to me the other day that we
preachers take too much for granted. The
Principal of Mansfield tells how he sent some
working men to hear a well-known preacher
in London, and asked them afterwards what
they thought of it. ‘“‘ Blowed if we could
understand a word of what the bloke was
saying,’ was their comment. We shall—
unfortunately —not be addressing people
who have so little contact with our world of
ideas, Sunday after Sunday, but we will be
humiliated again and again to find how much
the ordinary congregation often gets out of
THE PREACHER’S TASK 31
an address to the children, just because it is
clear and simple. We must get into the habit
of refusing to let phrases pass currency for
thought and do duty for an honest effort
to reach the audience with our meaning.
It is fatally easy to use pious phrases that:
are only a shelter, even to ourselves, for’
intellectual sluggishness. And a phrase or
a sentence may be sublimely true to our-
selves, yet it may mean precisely nothing
to the man or woman to whom we are
talking, or may even mean something which
is not really Christian. Oliver Wendell
Holmes says somewhere that a great many
of our familiar religious terms need to be
“depolarized,” as he calls it, because their
associations have so disguised their real
meaning that people are misled. That was
half a century ago in New England ; it is far
truer to-day in Britain.
It comes to this, then, that we must be
careful to define our terms. Theology is a
science that grows by the constant re-
defining of terms. We will have to explain
our vocabulary. Not long agoa lady was talk-
ing to me who had been trying to find her way
32 IN QUEST OF REALITY —
in the new psychology. She had read five or
six books, but she was held up on every other
page by the fact that she did not know the
language terms, and she wanted to know if
there was a simple book which would explain
them. That is precisely our difficulty in
preaching. The Bible itself is largely a closed
book to some people for the same reasons ;
the Epistles of St. Paul are a striking example.
There is hardly a phrase of Biblical theology
which we can take for granted. Take such
terms as “‘ sin,’ for instance, or “ grace,” or
“coming to Christ,’ or “the Kingdom of
God,” or ‘‘ eternal life,’ or ‘“‘ conversion,’ or
“faith.” What do they mean? This is
fundamental work; but we will find an
astonishing response of interest in tackling
such phrases and giving new meanings to
old terms. We can preach a whole series
of sermons, answering questions which have
thus become elementary. And every one of
them will be for some people in our congrega-
tions a window into a new country. It will
throw floods of light on sealed pages. It will
unwrap graveclothes to give dead words life.
Think of the preaching of the first apostles
THE PREACHER’S TASK 33
described in the Acts. What was the secret
of its power? The people acknowledged
that they heard the apostles “talking, each
man in his own tongue, of the triumphs of
God.” Real preaching is talking to people °
in their own language of the triumphs of God..
Words must stand for real things if preaching
is to be real. They must not merely be the
symbols of what, to many people, is either
a theological figment or an unintelligible
mystery. Whatever the gift of tongues was,
clear speech is part of the means by which
the message of God breaks through every-
thing and wins its way past “ clay-shuttered
doors.”’
2. A second rule that should be followed-
is that real preaching must be positive. The:
truth must be trusted to do its own work:
of correcting error or of self-defence. Two
types of sermon commonly err on the negative
side. The one is the argumentative sermon
which aims at establishing a case by stating
objections and meeting them. This type of
preaching requires the greatest of care. The
danger is that stating objections for the
3
e-
34 IN QUEST OF REALITY
purpose of meeting them may only result
in sowing our own doubts; for the capacity
of the average hearer to follow an argument
is limited. There is a place, of course, for
the apologetic sermon, but it must not be
forgotten that the sphere of apologetics is
limited. Its true function is to prepare for
the evangel, to remove obstacles out of the
way of the man who is seeking the light. It
is really only valid and worth while for those
who “ ask the way to Zion with their faces
thitherward.”” That is the point. People
must be sincere; they must be seeking
truth, before our arguments will help to
remove their objections. An apologetic
* sermon is of very little use to a man to whom
‘doubt is not an agony, and that man is
-already on the way to the truth. For people
who want to find the truth, who want to
believe, but to whom the way is blocked by
intellectual difficulties, the right kind of
argument can be an enormous help. It can
bring a unity into their world, which is
generally what is needed by those who have
doubts. Some people stand on the threshold
of the Kingdom, and it only needs the build-
THE PREACHER’S TASK 35
ing of some bridge, or the demolishing of
some barrier, to bring them into it. They
are there already in spirit, but they have
intellectually what the Quakers call “a stop
in their mind.” A well-known scientist of
our day confesses, in a little book, that for
years he had been unable to accept
Christianity till he found a bridge, as he
puts it, over the Rubicon into the Christian
faith. His particular bridge was an argu-
ment for the truth of the Incarnation. It
is a bridge which he confesses many others
might smile at; he is disappointed, in fact,
because it does not seem to appeal to certain
learned theologians to whom he has ex-
plained it. But it served his purpose, which
was to put down a plank on which his feet
could cross into the country where his heart
was really dwelling. Once over, he no longer
needs it. There is a place in such cases for
the right kind of apologetic. Or, again, |
there are people who are uneasy lest their
faith or their experience should be a kind of
illusion. They want to have the foundations’
examined to see that the structure has its:
base in a reasonable world. Or, yet again,-
36 IN QUEST OF REALITY
there are people who stand outside because
they have never thought very deeply about
religion. They have been put off by some
catchword or some stupid objection which is
really a blind, though they do not know it.
And by argument or attack it is possible to
demolish that barrier and make them think
of God. We can help a great many people
just by making them think.
But, when all is said and done, argu-
-mentative preaching can never bring a man
Ca
into the spiritual world: it cannot be the
. basis of faith. In the long run the truth
a
is the only apologetic for the purposes of
preaching. All the stock arguments against
Christianity begin to vanish into thin air
when a man has seen Jesus. Argument may
demolish the barriers that hide; it can
prepare the way of the Lord; it can never
reveal Him; nor in the last resort prevent
the man who is on the defensive against the
truth from erecting other barriers. For
there are people for whom, like the woman
of Samaria, religious difficulties and dis-
cussions are a refuge from a moral challenge.
In a letter to one of his preachers, John
THE PREACHER’S TASK 37
Wesley quotes a bit of advice his father gave
him when he was young: “ You think to
carry everything by dint of argument. But
you will find, by and by, how very little is
ever done in the world by clear reason.”’
And Wesley adds: ‘ Very true indeed.”
Positive truth alone, shining by its own light, .
quickening the perceptions, enlightening the -
eyes, is the argument which has the power :
in the long run. There is a very definite .
danger that the preacher who pays too much
attention to the person with religious diffi-
culties and gives himself to the building up
of logical bases for truth, may be keeping
people from resting on the true foundation,
which is an experience and not a syllogism.
A word must be said of sermons of another
negative type—sermons which are denuncia-
tory or pugnacious. The psychologist has
a startling commentary on stridency in the
pulpit ; he puts it down to a conflict in the
preacher himself, or, at least, to a subtle
want of confidence in the truth. Be that as
it may, sarcasm, or irony, or vehement con-
demnation, is a mistake. A text which gives
a chance for invective is very attractive,
38 IN QUEST OF REALITY
especially when we are young. It may be
questioned whether it ever does any real
good. People generally apply it with unction
to their neighbours and applaud _ the
preacher’s courage. Those who in sincerity
take the message to themselves will prob-
ably not deserve it; or, if they do, may only
be embittered or discouraged. To quote
Wesley again: “I have often repented of
judging too severely but very seldom of being
too merciful.” It is true that Jesus could
denounce, but He did it, as we know when
we get behind the scenes, with a breaking
heart. No one would plead for soft words
- and honeyed accents. The truth will hurt ;
‘it will probably wound. There is no preach-
‘ing worth doing to-day which will not have
. for its first effect a quickening of conscience
- among religious people, bringing them face
- to face with a moral issue in things which
- many have been accustomed to look upon as
. neutral ground. But denunciation will never
-do it. It is the same with the wrong views
which people hold: you can only meet and
overcome them by the truth —the truth
which is already rooted in the false view and
THE PREACHER’S TASK 39
which is really giving to the latter its power.
Denounce the grotesque ideas associated with
Christian Science as we may, the question a
~man who is drawn that way will ask us, is
what we have to put in its place. Many of
our most flagrant errors are only the refuge
for a mind that has been deprived of the
fulness of the truth.
_.In the biography of Dr. John Clifford,
lately published, there is a quotation from
his diary describing some sermons to which
he had listened. In particular he tells of
hearing ‘“‘a sermon on Acts iv. 12: Salva-
tion through Jesus and salvation only
through Jesus. The sermon was an attempt
to expose the hollowness and uselessness of
expedients for salvation, eg. (1) Govern-
mental changes; (2) improvement in ex-
ternal circumstances of men; (3) educa-
tion; (4) metaphysical culture; (5) re-
finement. There was much of everything
except Christ. All these other forces were
treated as though they could do no good to
any one. It was a most unsatisfactory
sermon, calculated to alienate all young and
reflective minds. It lacked balance; worst
40 IN QUEST OF REALITY
of all, it lacked Christ. And yet I do not
doubt the preacher felt that he was preach-
ing the gospel. ... The more I think of
last night’s sermon the more I see the urgent
need for reform in preaching.”’ Much could
be said of such a line of argument as that
suggested above, from the point of view of
its truth. For who in these days would deny
the influence of the Spirit in any one of these
things which were condemned? Yet that is
not what I am concerned with at the moment.
The point I would make is, that to take up
a large part of a sermon with a discussion
of what the gospel is not is an entirely barren
method, depressing and unenlightening. If
the treatment of a subject seems to demand
that misrepresentations or false ideas be first
cleared out of the way, this should be done
as briefly as possible and merely to make
a pathway for the positive message. The
presentation of Jesus and His message can
safely be trusted to dethrone the false idols.
“For oh! the Master is so fair,
His smile so sweet to banished men,
That they who meet Him unaware
Can never turn to earth again.”
THE PREACHER’S TASK 41
The cardinal fact about the gospel is that °
it is a gift. God comes to men seeking them. :
He has taken the initiative. Religion is not °
primarily a problem to be solved: it is a’
gift to be received. There is a way of preaching *
which leaves the impression that the truth is
something so mysterious that only those who
are willing to face an intellectual struggle,
not far short of the heroic, can fathom the
secret; whereas it is something that will
unfailingly meet men’s needs in such a way
as to convince them of its authority, if only
they will be sincere with it. We carry to
men in the Name of the Lord a message that
makes them conscious of infinite Divine
resources. That is what makes it a gospel.
The demand God makes springs out of the
gift God offers. His love creates the sense
of duty, and provides the power that makes
duty the joyful exercise of our souls in
freedom. That message that we must work
out our own salvation can be preached only
in the light of the primal fact that God is
working in us. God is a Redeemer Who is
out to find us, if only we will allow ourselves
to be found; in Him also is the grace to
42 IN QUEST OF REALITY
conquer the last citadel of our unwillingness ;
so that all we want to meet the deepest need
of our intractable wills and spiritually de-
pleted natures, isin Him. The all-sufficiency
of God to find men wherever they are and
bring them to Himself, is the very core of
the gospel.
3. This brings me to say that real preach-
‘ing must be thorough; it must go to the
‘ root of the situation and must meet it with
~ the whole counsel of God. We can only help
people by the full message of God in Christ.
‘ The temptation that besets us is to dwell on
' some aspects of the truth to the exclusion of
. Others, till the truth becomes distorted. We
. may dwell, for instance, on the Fatherhood
‘of God in such a way that God becomes
* only a genial kind of parent who will tolerate
‘ almost anything in his child, and whose very
forgiveness is only what Stevenson describes
in the old laird of Ballantrae as ‘‘ the tears
of senility.” Perhaps there is no word that
needs more emphasis in our day than the
exhortation: “If ye call on God as Father,
pass the time of your sojourning here in
THE PREACHER’S TASK 43
fear.”’ On the other hand, it is possible to
state the necessity for repentance in such a
way as to make people think that God is
merely concerned with wounded feelings.
Men are not going to be won into the Kingdom
of God by abstracting this or that truth from
the message. The gospel can do very little
for people who will not allow it to do every-
thing. People cannot be saved to-day from
the things from which many of them are
crying to be delivered, except by a full
entrance into the real secret of Christianity.
Only the fulness of the Christian message can
really help people. Let me give an illustra-
tion or two of what I mean. We take it for
granted that the gospel ought to deliver men
from fear; and so we preach it. “ Be not
afraid,’ we say to people who are shrinking
from some threatening terror in a world of
risks. We preach to them the care and love
of God. But to tell them that and nothing
more will do little for them except build a
kind of shelter behind which they tremble
still and which the first big trouble will blow
down. Faith in God thus preached is a very
leaky ship in which to put to sea on a very
»
44, IN QUEST OF REALITY
dangerous ocean. And there are a great
many people to whom faith is just that—an
unreality by which they preserve with diffi-
culty an unstable equilibrium they call peace.
We have to go further. What is this love
of God, and what is God in His love seeking
todoforus? His is obviously not a love that
merely seeks to keep us safe and comfortable,
but a love that is out for our character as His
children. And there is no peace till we see
that and consent to it; which means, of
course, a new valuation of life, and a new
conception of the love of God—in other
words, the acceptance of the outlook of
Jesus both on God’s love and on life’s ideal.
Outside of that, to speak of God’s care of
us is mere sentiment which only keeps the
trouble quiet, but does nothing to cast it
out.
Or take the message of forgiveness. To -
many people it is an unreality because they
are still conscious of the external results of
sin, and it is from these that they are
really seeking to be delivered. Or, in other
cases, it is a mere shelter from punishment
in the future life which they are seeking.
THE PREACHER’S TASK A5
But there is no power in forgiveness till it’
means restoration to the fellowship of God
through a new attitude that is ready to face:
the sin with all its consequences, and is at.
peace because there is nothing more to hide..
This means, however, seeing the good of life
in fellowship with God and in the way of
righteousness, whatever it may cost; it
means insight into the real meaning of sin
as estrangement from Him. No cheap and
easy gospel, no genial proclamation of pardon,
will produce the peace which is the peace
that passeth understanding, and not a sham
or a hypocrisy.
Christianity is going to mean nothing as
power in the world except as it saves men
into the mind and attitude of Jesus through
and through, and this involves a change which
nothing but the full message of God's grace
can produce and nothing but the fulness of
His love can sustain. ( Christianity cannot
survive at all in a world like this, upon an
emasculated gospel or a message which is
reduced to a few genial observations about
the love of God.) The question for us is
whether we are going to trim our preaching
46 IN QUEST OF REALITY
to enable men and women to carry on with a
certain amount of cheerfulness and courage
and hope, calling them to “the task of
happiness,’ or some such thing ; or whether
we are going to ask them to face life in right
relations with God the Father revealed in
Christ crucified. With all due respect and
admiration for these writers, we cannot get a
gospel for the redemption of the world out of
Stevenson’s philosophy or Kipling’s challenge
to be a man. The message of God to men
cannot be prostituted into ‘‘a handy book
for the successful merchant,” nor into the
inspiration to help a nation to win a war, nor
into a panacea for life’s ills, nor into a means
for supplying a world with comfortable
amenities, nor indeed into any kind of re-
inforcement to the spirit of man on the high
road of his own ambition or his own self-
chosen way of life. The Christian life is
" eternal life in the midst of time, by the
strength and under the eyes of God.”
It is our difficult task to call people out
- to do business in great waters. Only as
. they are willing to follow, can we help them
THE PREACHER’S TASK At
to see “the works of the Lord and His
wonders in the deep.” It is no easy am-
bassadorship. In the Covenanting times,
you remember, a certain travelling merchant
reported on preachers he had heard. Each
had his own peculiar quality. ‘‘ One showed
me the majesty of God, another the loveli-
ness of Christ, and another showed me all
my heart.’’ You will need to combine all
three before you will get a gospel for this
age or any age. This age of ours, however,
has this peculiar advantage as a field of
operations, that it is heartsick of unrealities
and is not nearly so afraid of being hurt.
For many of the old shelters have been
blasted down, and countless people are out
in the open, seeking, not for a covert from
the stormy blast, but for a heart of peace in
the midst of strife—a life which is storm-
beaten and yet secure. Nevertheless, you.
will be tempted to the easy way of popularity .
and quick returns which has made ship- -
wreck of many a promising ministry. You °
will be tempted (as the Roman Church in her
mission was tempted and fell) to a way of
preaching which aims at making people
48 IN QUEST OF REALITY
‘ comfortable in their souls rather than right
¢
with God, at taming the beast in man instead
- of transforming him, at helping people to
‘walk by safe rules of good conduct instead ©
-of in the adventurous freedom of the Spirit. .
To take the other way may mean for the
time being smaller congregations, and a
Church which is only a spiritual remnant,
though signs are not even now wanting
that there is a revival waiting the true
message. But whatever it means, our
aim in the ministry of preaching is nothing
less than this, “‘ that they being rooted and
grounded in love may be able to comprehend
with all saints what is the height and
breadth and length and depth, and to know
the love of Christ which passeth knowledge,
that they may be filled with all the fulness
of God.”’
LECTURE II
THE PREACHER’S AUDIENCE
IT is a mere commonplace to say that if we
are to preach to men and women we must
know them. If we are to be “ fishers of
men,’ which was Christ’s own phrase for
His apostles, we must know the nature and
habits of the fish. The primary need of an
effective sermon is that people must listen
to it. We must get their attention. And
we can only get their attention by appealing
to their interests. In plain words, a sermon
must be interesting. It is useless to excuse.
ourselves for being dull by saying that people
are not interested in a religious subject.
Even if that were true, which it is not, we
have got to make them interested. That is
what preaching is for. I appreciate fully the
suggestion that a congregation can do very
much to help us in advance by a willing
attention—by a strenuous effort to overcome
4
50 IN QUEST OF REALITY
those persistent voices from the outer world
that prevent the quiet recollection and con-
centration upon God. ‘“ Happy is the man,”
-says George Eliot, ‘““ who has an audience
that demands his best.’’ There are con-
gregations all over the country which, if only
they would bring with them a spirit of ex-
pectant attention, could change the whole
atmosphere of their churches; they would
turn many a dispirited messenger of Christ
into a flaming prophet. All that is true.
But that does not absolve us from the task
of securing their interest. We have the
people there without going out to seek them.
They would not be there in days like these
if there were not at least the suggestion of
a hunger hid away somewhere behind the
abstracted look. But we have no right to
presume upon their attention. If we were
going to the streets with our message, we
should not prima facie look for attention.
We should set about creating it or should
expect to lose the audience. And we have
no right to count on people listening to a
sermon just because we have prepared it, or
because we happen to be interested in it;
THE PREACHER’S AUDIENCE 51
nor dare we presume upon the zeal or good-
nature of a congregation so far as to give
them ill-digested abstractions or imagine
they will receive a message in any form in
which we happen to offer it. In point of
fact they will not, and by a psychological
law they cannot. If they do not set about
finding an interest, we must create it for
them. Many sermons fail just here, because
the people are not interested in the subject,
and the reason why they are not interested
in the subject is often, if the truth were told,
because the preacher is not interested in
them. A very true description of the differ-_
ence between an effective minister and an
ineffective one is that the former is more
interested in people than in ideas, while the
latter is more interested in ideas than in
people.
We have got to find interests, then, in the
minds of the people before us. We have got
to find them also in real things—things that
matter. And the interest must be a religious
interest. It is no use knocking at doors to
get a hearing for God, where He cannot well
enter in. We can get people interested ‘on
52 IN QUEST OF REALITY
the wrong side of their nature by stirring
up feelings and enthusiasms it is useless to
awaken. We must be on the alert to find a
spot where-a man’s nature is “alive unto
God.”” It may be some sore point, or some
spiritually sensitive point, or, on the other
hand, some point of aspiration where their
nature is just waiting to break into a flame
of faith.
For let us remember the Gospel is good
news to be received with welcome, and it is
good news because it speaks to a condition
of human need. ‘“‘ As living water to a thirsty
soul ’’—that is the kind of metaphor which
describes it. It is not something to be
argued about or received with blind credulity ;
it is truth which meets some ultimate need
of the human soul and proclaims its authority
in its power to satisfy it. We cannot, there-
fore, preach to men’s condition unless we can
diagnose their need and so proclaim our
gospel as both to unveil it and supply it.
For that purpose we must know men and
women. How we are to win that knowledge
is part of the making of a preacher, with
which I will deal later. Some of us have had
THE PREACHER’S AUDIENCE 53
experience of life from other points of view
than that of college training. That is in-
valuable. We should take every opportunity
we can of learning about business, about
other professions than our own, of the way
in which people live, how they look at things,
what they are thinking, where the yoke of
life galls the raw flesh. A preacher will make
little of it who has not taken the trouble
to know, as intimately as he can, the
peculiar problems and difficulties which his
people meet with in their daily callings. He
will put his foot in it very badly and make
many a false appeal. Half his time he will be
talking in the air. Nothing can be worse than
to attempt to deal with a situation we do
not know. Confidence will be shattered at
a blow, and an air of unreality created which
will perpetuate the fatal habit of looking at
a sermon from a detached point of view as if
it were spoken in a vacuum, and were not
intended to be taken seriously. There is the
other danger, of course, which is to confine
ourselves to tame abstractions which may
sound very sublime, but never reach any
tender or sensitive spot, or convince a hearer
54 IN QUEST OF REALITY
that Christianity is for him what William
James called a “ live option.’”’ Nothing can
be more futile than to watch a preacher
mounting his favourite hobby-horse, be it
theological or evangelistic, and setting off on
a course of half an hour or so. The con-
gregation knows he will get going all right
and finish up possibly in grand style, so it
goes to sleep, either literally or intellectually,
till it is over, for it has no stakes on that horse,
and has watched its career so often that it
has lost interest in its paces. We must get
_to know people, their difficulties, their be-
setting sins, and what it is that makes their
temptations, else we shall be guilty of apply-
_ing remedies that simply do not meet the
situation because we do not know its real
poignancy or have failed to realize its
glamour. We tilt at wealth and fashion, for
instance, but ‘‘ wealth and fashion,” says
O. W. Holmes, ‘‘ are two very solemn
realities, which the frivolous class. of
moralists have talked a great deal of silly
stuff about. We have got to find the
breadth and depth of that significance which
gives to fashion and fortune their tremendous
THE PREACHER’S AUDIENCK 55
power.” We do not beat the devil by under-
rating his wares. We have to measure the
need, the longing, which sends people to
certain illegitimate and paltry satisfactions,
and to supply it from our message in a
way that shall supplant the intruders. That
is both sound psychology and common
sense.
There is another reason why we need to,
know people. We want them to come to
God, but people do not come to God in
general. They come through the sharp
challenge, with the call of God in it, that iS
meeting them in daily life, or through some
decision in practical things which throws
open the choice between the darkness and the
light. It is not a bit of use talking to people
of a God who is in the skies, or a God who is
in a book, or even a God who is in their own
hearts. That may be sheer unreality, though
it is true, of course, that God is in their own
hearts. He is there in their experience of
life and its inward reactions, or He is no-
where for them. We simply cannot interest
people in God in other than an academic
way, unless we can show them how to find
56 IN QUEST OF REALITY
Him just where they are, within the frontiers
of their own world as they live in it day by
day. We must take it for granted that we
are speaking to people who have God in
their lives, at the moment, in some recog-
nizable element of experience. We can be
sure of this, there is a vital point where
God is meeting every man at the moment,
in something which he perhaps has not
recognized for the Divine, and we have
got to lay hold of that, somehow, and
illumine it:
“Till God breaks through it and makes it store
To the heart that was starving in darkness before.”’
To make God a living reality is our business,
and we can only achieve it in the measure
in which we are able to reveal His Spirit,
even now, pulsing through the stuff of life.
Modern psychology has laid open an enormous
field in this respect, though it, like every
newborn science in the omniscience of its
youth, is in some quarters attempting to
step beyond its sphere and to make affirma-
tions about religion which it has no business
to make, because that is not its province.
We shall have to meet the suggestion that
THE PREACHER’S AUDIENCE 57
all man’s experience is explained by the un-
conscious without reference to God, which is
-no more the case than that a spring in the hill-
side is explicable without the rain that comes
from the heavens. The psychologist has no
more right as psychologist to declare that
his science explains the origin of experience,
than the evolutionist had in Darwin’s day
the right to declare that his theories explained
the primal origin of the world. The true
function of psychology is really one of helping
people to make the right adjustment to life
so that reality can make its own appeal to
them. Its business is to help men into
an attitude of sincerity in relation to the
world through which God reveals Himself.
There is no doubt of a man’s response to the
Christian message which is presented to him if
only he will be sincere with it. That was the
reason why the one thing that Jesus asked of
people was that they should be sincere—open
to the light from whatever quarter it might
come, and whatever demands it might bring ;
that response of sincerity with the truth
being the one response which it is within the
power of every man to make.
58 IN QUEST OF REALITY
I
Nothing, however, can keep us right and
preserve our perspective, or give us such
intimate knowledge of men, revealing us to
them, and them to themselves, as the study
of Jesus in His world.of men. Men are,
what they are in the presence of Jesus; and
the Gospels in their sincerity have preserved
in the presence of Jesus His revelation of the
thoughts and intents of the heart. In the
Gospels with Him we are in a real world
where human nature stands out in a light
which makes that world a mirror of humanity
for all time. We shall see there the things
that shaped His message and perpetuated it.
In a real sense, every word He spoke, and
everything He did, was related to some need
or trouble or defect in the lives of men around
Him, calling forth the revelation of the heart
of God which could deal with it. And the
gospel stories were primarily recorded and
kept alive because of the existence of these
same needs and defects in the world of the
early Church which wrote these stories down.
What, then, are the elements which He
THE PREACHER’S AUDIENCE 59
found in human life and which are still,
to-day, the objective of our message and the
living points of our appeal ?
athirsteof: all. perhaps, there is fear; and,
allied to it, the fungus growth of care ; both -
of which have their being in a world which
is empty of the sunlight of a clear vision
of God. How much these were in Christ’s
mind as an objective of His message, you can
trace in the number of times He dealt with
them. Again and again He attacked both
fear and care. Some of the most character-
istic words of His gospel are ‘‘ Fear not,”
“Do not worry.’’ As He looked into men’s
hearts, He saw there a haunted world. Men
were afraid of all kinds of things—the future
and the past, the trouble that might come
to-morrow, and the evil fruits of yesterday.
They were afraid of one another, afraid of
themselves. “If there were only one man
in the world,’ said Goethe, ‘“‘ he would be
a terror to himself.” They were afraid of
the Fates, even of God Himself as they knew
Him. They were afraid of those who were
their masters, of those also who were their
slaves. They were afraid of changes, of
60 IN QUEST OF REALITY
civil disturbance, of revolutions in religion,
of any kind of change in the old order of
things. They were afraid of death and the
afterward, and of all the nameless and in-
explicable and unpreventable suffering of
life. To Jesus, fear and care had the same
root. It was a wrong relation to God and
therefore to life: the evil could only be put
right by getting down to its roots and dealing
with it there. It was sheer atheism, how-
ever pure or worthy might be the motive
behind it; a baptized unbelief, if you like,
sanctified by a lovingly anxious mind and a
high seriousness of purpose, but still unbelief.
And you find the same fear haunting the
world of to-day. How deeply the poison of
it is infecting our social life in every direction
we all know, breeding suspicion in all sorts of
ways, creating strife between man and man,
class and class, nation and nation. No social
solution for the ills of our common life is
going to be of any avail that does not eradi-
cate fear, by removing some of its prevent-
able and external causes. You find this fear
also in the individual conscience which still
“doth make cowards of us all.’’ You find
THE PREACHER’S AUDIENCE 61
it in relation to God and the religious out-
look. What a bankruptcy of any true vision
of God is revealed by our familiar supersti-
tions; the pathetic dependence, for instance,
on mascots, which though apparently treated
as a joke, really mask for many people—
some of them professedly Christian—a super-
stitious outlook upon life. What a chance
for a message about Providence and God’s
ways with men and a truly religious attitude
to life, this provides for a preacher! It may
seem a small thing that a man may dislike
sitting down one of thirteen at table, but you
have got a joint in his armour there, through
which you can reach his mind with a new
view of the universe and a new vision of God,
and release him from a whole battalion of
fears, of which he may have been uncon-
scious, into a new freedom. That is only
one illustration. But in various ways fear
is operating, demanding security of material
kinds—the security of money or of armaments,
or of external authorities and ecclesiastically
guaranteed truth—in all of which, of course,
there is no real security but only, as Christ
often pointed out, another breeding-ground
62 IN QUEST OF REALITY
for further fear. When we preach our gospel,
we have to take account of fear.
Another element in man’s nature is pride,
which also takes many forms and makes the
heart very sensitive at certain points. There
is the pride that shows itself in social
ostracism of others who are down, or of
those who are supposed to be _ inferior.
There is the pride that manifests itself in
the easily offended spirit, and the subtle
pride which demands a religion of good
works. Pride sometimes issues also in a
remorse that looks very Christian and may
be really very un-Christian: the root of it
is the refusal to accept oneself and the
situation one has created, and the low esti-
mate of our character which moral failure
has brought, and demands instead a rein-
statement to self-respect on the terms of
some kind of self-justification and not of the
forgiving light of truth and love. A great
deal of pride, of course, is due to fear—the
secret fear that we are not as good as we
ought to be, or are not so sure of ourselves
as we think we are, and therefore we com-
pensate for this sense of inferiority by
THE PREACHER’S AUDIENCE 63
censoriousness or depreciation of others, or
even by determined good works. It is easy
to see what an opening for the gospel one
can find at the sensitive point of pride, as it
constantly offers itself to our attack.
Class distinctions and social barriers, these »
also Christ saw to be wrong with His world.
Men had a wrong outlook to one another as
individuals, as classes, as nations. The air
was thick with prejudices. The great
cleavage between the Jew and the Gentile
illustrates some of them. A false patriotism
created one barrier. The Jew had not
learned the lesson taught by the great
prophets and by that unknown genius who
wrote the story of Jonah, that the place of -
privilege is a place of responsibility, and
that the only aristocracy among nations and
men is the quality of the service they are
fitted to give to the world. There were
barriers too between the classes, between
master and slave, between the imperialist
race and the subject people, between the
religiously respectable and the outcast. You
can see how Christ is always trying to break
them down in parable after parable—the
64 IN QUEST OF REALITY
Good Samaritan, the Pharisee and the
Publican; the greatest story in all the
world, the story of the Prodigal and the
Elder Brother. These barriers were always
creating sore spots which He attacked in His
message, and found them often ready for
the healing surgery of truth.
There is no need to point out that these
barriers exist to-day, standing in the way
of the gospel and blinding spiritual per-
ception. Yet such is the reaction of evil
that they provide a point at which we can
bring men face to face with God. How
easily men find their way into the secret of
Jesus when these barriers are down, you can
see in the case of the centurion. His open-
ness to the glory of Jesus is explained just
by the fact that, in his case, all the barriers
were down. He had somehow overcome
them all—the race barrier, the ecclesiastical
barrier, the barrier of superiority which
attaches to people of a dominant race, the
barrier between officer and_servant—they
were all down. There was about the man a
fine catholicity, and this openness to what-
ever was good in humanity laid him open
THE PREACHER’S AUDIENCE 65
at once to the wonder of Jesus Christ. We
cannot enough appreciate how much these
barriers are hiding God. As we shall dis-
cover, the thing that is keeping many people
out of the Kingdom of God is just something
wrong somewhere in their relations with
another ; it may be in the home, it may be
in business, it may be as part of a race or
national prejudice which they share with
their fellows. In many a life it is just some
grudge, some wrong attitude, some bitter
memory, some twisted relationship, that is
holding up a great enlightening freedom.
Keep hold of this truth—the great door into
the Kingdom of God swings on some pivot in
the personal life of the man or woman with
whom you are dealing. People do not sur-
render to Christ in general or in the abstract.
The decisive step is never taken in the air, or
at least does not become effective until it
is embodied in some concrete thing. The
illuminating vision comes in the aspect of ,
some living situation which it reveals. Some-
times we recognize the coming of the light
only by the shadow which it throws. And
one of the commonest of the barriers that
5
+i.
ema
66 IN QUEST OF REALITY
hold the door in the lives of people is just
the barrier between man and man. It is
part of our great business to be reconcilers
in ever so many ways, and among other
reconcilements, to reconcile men to God by
reconciling them to one another.
Yet another kind of trouble which Christ
discerned and which gave the shape to much
of His message was false values. The root
of a good many troubles and sins is there.
Take the incident of the man who came with
his plea for justice in the division of some
property. ‘‘ Take heed,” said Christ, “ and
beware of covetousness. For a man’s life
consisteth not in the abundance of the
things which he possesseth.” The man’s
values were wrong. The real trouble was
the rift between him and his brother, but
what was troubling him was that he was not
getting enough money. He was looking at
the latter as the chief thing in life, instead
of brotherliness, as it was to Jesus, and this
false valuation was introducing all kinds of
jealousy and strife. How many quarrels
would be settled out of hand if money took
its rightful place—quarrels, too, which can
THE PREACHER’S AUDIENCE 67
eventually be settled in no other way! The
same is, of course, true of a dozen other things.
Even in many of our churches the average
man is all wrong in his standards—his
standards of greatness, of success in life, of
the real good and satisfaction of it. The
struggle of life grows hard and bitter because
our values are false in various directions.
Get right down to the social problem, to the
competition which turns life into a jungle for
both the fit and the unfit, and it is false
values that create the fever in the blood.
One of the keenest and most radical of our
Labour leaders was discussing with a group
of ministers what kind of message the Church
ought to be delivering to-day, and where lay
the real sore spot ; and he turned to them and
said something like this: ‘‘ Your business,
gentlemen, is not with the economics or other
externals of the problem. Your business is
to change the standards of success.” We
need only think for a moment to realize how
deep that suggestion cuts. The real thing
that makes life so miserably poor for some
and so miserably prosperous for others, is in
the standards of success which men have set
68 IN QUEST OF REALITY
up for themselves; or had forced upon them,
as some have, by that bitter social struggle.
If we can bring men to see that money is only
valuable as a means of service, that true
success consists in the kind of manhood we
are building up, that real joy is found along
the pathway of unselfishness, that persons
are worth more than property, we shall
have created the atmosphere in which alone
any true reconstruction of society becomes
possible. To change men’s values means to
change everything for them—their interests,
their desires, their ambitions ; it is in very
truth the gift of a new heart.
And, last of all, the trouble of life is rooted
in veligious unreality. There were many
excellent people among the religious folk of
Palestine, as we know—many excellent people
among the Pharisees. We can never forget
that the temper of the race from which they
sprang was that which sharpened the swords of
the early Maccabees. But the trouble was that
religion had become hardened into formula
and ritual. Men who have to fight for a
religious principle embodied in some creed,
or ritual, or method of worship, nearly
THE PREACHER’S AUDIENCE 69
always tend to stereotype their religion in
that external thing, forgetting the principle
and making the formula everything, losing
the living spirit and sanctifying the ritual
act or institution. Ritual becomes every-
thing —the heart, nothing; the temple,
everything—the God who is everywhere,
forgotten ; the altar, supreme—the love and
_ the surrendered will, nothing ; virtue or sin
in the act, everything—the intention or the
living will behind the act, nothing. Who
shall say that Pharisaism is dead? As a
matter of fact, it is the second stage of a
religious experience that has lost touch with
its original impulse. Part of our great
business to-day is to bring men face to face
with the living spirit. What is religious
reality ? It is that attitude to God as per- -
sonal holy love which finds expression through
everything. It finds and seeks expression
in ritual postures and praises, only that it
may the more definitely and clearly keep
that attitude in the daily work and relation-
ships of life. Worship is only real when
there is no contradiction in any of its acts
or ritual, with our real relationship to God.
{
}
70 IN QUEST OF REALITY
Love to God is only real when it finds ex-
pression in love to men, its only medium.
It is of no use a man calling Christ ‘“ Lord”
who does not do the thing which He com-
mands. It is mere mockery to recite a
creed which is not the utterance of a joyful
and convincing experience. To bring reality
back into religion by helping men to find |
afresh, and have ever recreated within them,,
the living experience; to tear off masks \
which men put on to hide from the reality of |
their own condition, or the reality of a love
and forgiveness which they can get on no
other terms than by a Father’s mercy—that
is part of our task in preaching. But here,
again, we can find a foothold for our message
in extraordinary ways. ‘There are people in
all our churches to whom your message along
this line will be hard and distasteful in the
extreme. But there are others who are long-
ing for a right release from some burden of
religious observances which is galling them,
but which they cannot give up because they
are held to these observances by holy associa-
tions, or because they feel they ought to find
in them the joy and peace which they are
THE PREACHER’S AUDIENCE 71
seeking there. You will bring them release if
you will first help them frankly to face the
fact that they find nothing in these obser-
vances and then open up for them that new
contact with the Father by which the old
wells once more are bubbling with living
water. What a field for preaching on prayer,
on worship, on the Sacrament of the Lord’s
Supper; reinterpreted in the light of our
true relation to God the Father, and restored
to a living medium of His intercourse with
His children, and of their intimate brother-
hood with one another !
I]
So far I have been speaking of what might
be termed the negative elements in human
nature—the things that make our problem,
and create what we call sin. For all acts
of sin more or less proceed from these deep
roots. This brings me to say that it is no
use preaching against sin in general. There
is no such thing, in the abstract ; any more
than there is any such thing as goodness
in the abstract. The fact that people are
not worrying about their sins, to use a phrase
72 IN QUEST OF REALITY
that became threadbare long ago, is really
very largely due to the fact that our con-
ceptions of sin have been often just as un-
real as our conceptions of goodness—a series
of conventional acts which had little obvious
relation to our attitude to God as His children.
Most of the ‘sins of society,” as they are
called, can only be rightly seen as sins and
convincingly condemned in the light of great
principles which would equally condemn
things that the ordinary man never thinks
of calling sin. It is along these lines we can
“convince the world of sin.” But that is
to anticipate what I propose to deal with
later on.
Let me now for a little, touch on the more
positive elements in the hearts and minds
of men, which are our allies in bringing men
~tgGod. Twoillusions, I believe, are shattered
for many people by the experience of the
last few years, or will need to be shattered
by our message. One is the mechanical:
idea of progress. The notion that there is
such a thing as a river or stream of progress
that somehow carries us along if only we will
just drift and so somehow “get better and
THE PREACHER’S AUDIENCE 73
better every day”’ or every century, is gone
for ever. The other illusion is the belief in a
magical Christianity. The latter, I know,
dies hard, and in some quarters it is fighting
desperately for its life and making a brave
show of vitality; but, generally speaking,
sensible men are not now repeating so much
as formerly the shibboleth that ‘“ Christianity
has failed,”’ a phrase that really reflects a
belief in some magical Christianity. The
shattering of these illusions has, with many,
only produced despair— despair of any
progress, or of any power in the Christian
faith, or of any help in God. But, on the
other hand, with many there is a growing
realization that God can help us, but only in
the measure of the response of our whole
personality, mind and heart and will, to
His adventure of seeking, saving love. And
there are many who are really asking, ‘‘ What
must we do to be saved ? ’’—or as a young,
alert man put it to me once, “‘ How do you
get going in this business?” with the
assurance that whatever it meant, he was
in for it with his whole self.
There is an eagerness, a wistfulness, abroad
74 IN QUEST OF REALITY
in the world to-day. There is, for instance,
the demand for some view of life that shall
give it meaning and make sense of existence.
Many people are looking at the world as
F. W. H. Myers looked at the Sphinx, with
one question which they long to ask, “ Is the
universe friendly? ”’ It will be your business —
to do for them what the princess in Turganev’s
story did for herself. Her lover had given
her a ring with a carved Sphinx upon it,
to typify the strange conflict in her which
he could not understand. After some years
it was sent back to him, and he found she had
scratched across the figure of the Sphinx, the
form of a Cross. You will have to show men
how it is in the Cross that the meaning of
life is found.
Further, people to-day are in many cases
not only longing for some purpose in life that
is big enough to explain it to the satisfaction
of their minds; it must also be intelligible
enough and practical enough for them to lay
hold of it, and so to lay hold of it that it will
take up every movement of their being and
express the true selfhood which is the hidden
urge of every personality, We can hardly
‘
THE PREACHER’S AUDIENCE 75
over-estimate what a secret curse to many a
man and woman is the sense of futility in
life. You will find it in the most unlikely
quarters. The want of a purpose in life is
at the root of half the cases that visit the
psycho-analysts. Many of the younger
people, whatever they may appear to be on
the surface, are seeking some task which
will give them three things, as I heard it
once put 7) OA definite * purpose, in’ lie;
which we profess to have escaped, we may well
ask ourselves if we have really seen the truth ©
with that insight which means nearness to
Christ. Paul’s distinction is valid still: ‘‘ Mere
knowledge puffeth up, but love buildeth up.”
THE PREACHER HIMSELF 171
_ Yet again: may there not be religious ~
unreality in our preaching because there is
unreality in our lives? Forgive me if here
I suggest to you one peril of the ministry.
It is to make the preaching of the gospel a
substitute for walking in the way ourselves.
Dr. L. P. Jacks says that “‘ one of the most
strongly marked features in the orator’s
moral psychology is a tendency to get con-
fused between what he really believes himself
and what he only wants other people to
believe.’ This he applies particularly to
political oratory, but we may well turn the
searchlight on the preacher. Is it not just
as true of us sometimes that “‘ when principles
we have advocated must be put into action
we may make the discovery that in spite
of our vehement desire that other people
should believe in them, we have never
believed in them ourselves”’? We speak of
the love of Christ, and paint Him in colours
which glow with the emotion of our hearts,
but there may be nothing more. Our visions
of love and righteousness and social duty may
become a phantasy in which we live, making
of it a substitute for a real experience and
a patient service. Dante in the Paradiso
172 IN QUEST OF REALITY
tells how he had been giving an eloquent
description of faith in answer to a question,
when his mentor replied :
“Current is the coin
Thou utterest, both in weight and in alloy.
But tell me, if thou hast it in thy purse.”
Our religious emotions may find expression
in preaching instead of, as they ought, in
life, in our attitude to others, in our
relation to daily experience. A well-known
doctor said to a friend of mine that he had
seen many people die of a certain lingering
disease, and the weakest hearted and most
irritable among them were clergymen. This
is obviously an exaggeration; every such
case would be conspicuous, simply because
something different was expected. But it
strikes the note of warning, that we ourselves,
offering a gift to the people, may mistake
its description for its real possession. We
can be sure that preaching which is not
founded on real experience will very soon
lose the accent of reality, and the people
will quickly detect it; while the loss of joy
and of vital interest in preaching inevitably
follows from the loss of our own real relations
with God. How to keep alive the evan-
THE PREACHER HIMSELF 173
gelical note or to recapture it, is a problem
for which there is but one solution : we must
recover the evangelical experience. The man
who has lost the sense of his own forgiveness,
humbling and exalting at the same time, will
very soon have nothing to say, and, later
still, have no one to whom to say it. Fresh-
ness in preaching springs ever renewed
from a heart which is daily subdued to the
wonder of God’s gracious personal love to
one’s own soul.
Il
It comes to this, does it not, that the
subtle peril and weakness of all preaching is
the tyranny of self in various forms? One
form of it is the vanity of success. That
kind of vanity is a standing temptation of
the ministry. It may appear on various
levels—in a wrong exaltation if we succeed,
in a wrong humiliation if we fail. And what
miseries it can inflict on us: the craving for
sympathy, for applause and appreciation,
for signs that perhaps never come; the
shrinking from criticism, from anything that
disturbs our self-esteem. I suppose it is
natural to enjoy praise, but it is not Christian
174 IN QUEST OF REALITY
to depend upon it. We shall be constantly
trying to help our people to do their Christian
work for “ the joy of the working.’ We will
need to take the same counsel to ourselves.
Another form of self is what we call
self-consciousness. Some are more troubled
by this than others. It is the frequent
cause of the nervous breakdown. The
symptoms are various. We may get stage-
fright or something like it, and find it a
struggle to face an audience. We may have
a lapse of memory and become haunted by
the fear of breaking down. Self-conscious-
ness may come, of course, from causes that are
purely physical. No man has any right to
neglect his health: his whole spiritual out-
look will suffer, and what he takes for some
sickness of the soul or some prophetic vision
of a world going to destruction, may only be
due to a disordered digestion. But more
often than not the cause of self-conscious-
ness lies deeper. It may be a sense of
inferiority springing from the struggle in
youth against long odds, and demanding for
compensation and for confidence some re-
ward of ambition to set against a world that
once ignored or despised us. The man wants
THE PREACHER HIMSELF 175
to succeed. He is ambitious. He becomes
afraid of failure. He is morbidly sensitive
to any want of recognition. His joy in
preaching is a form of self-glorification. His
fine passages are all a source of vanity. It
Is a poor picture I am drawing, but it is a_
very true one, and reveals a peril familiar to
coy: preachers. The real trouble, where a
‘man is a victim to it, is that he is not really
out for the Kingdom of God; success or
failure are all turned inward. It is fatally
easy to seek ourselves when we think we are
seeking the souls of men. And many a man
is aware of it. He may indeed apply to him-
self a veritable scourge, and make all kinds
of efforts to escape from the prison-house of
self. And often in vain. For self-conscious-
ness is a perfect prison-house, and a wise man
will take sharp measures with it at the very
beginning of its tyranny. In all its subtle
forms it is the ruin of power and peace. The
liberation of our personality in all sorts of
ways comes through emancipation from self,
and how to effect this escape is worth learn-
ing at the beginning of our ministry. One:
way is to become absorbed in the truth we’
have to speak, and in the needs of the people
176 IN QUEST OF REALITY
to whom we have to speak it. I have known
preachers find complete deliverance from
this form of nervousness just by looking at
the people and thinking quietly of their needs
and of the task of helping them. A nervous
person trying to cross a stream by a narrow
plank must look, not at the stream, but at
the opposite bank which he wants to reach.
To see the world as it is, and to realize afresh
our own call from God to help it, will soon
deliver us from self-consciousness. If our
self-consciousness should arise from a sense
of our own defects and unfitness, a thing
which cripples more men than we are aware
of, the way to escape from that, is to realize
that such self-humiliation is often a disguised
form of pride: to resolve just to accept our
limitations and stop thinking about them ;
doing the very best we can and leaving the
quality of our work to be judged by our con-
science solely on the ground of faithfulness.
One of the most fatal diseases that can over-
take a minister, apart from the itch for popu-
larity, is to become sensitive about what others
—especially other ministers—may think of his
preaching. Everything that takes a sermon
out of its proper environment, which is the
THE PREACHER HIMSELF 177
mood in which it is written and the audience
it is meant for, and makes us judge it like a
picture or a bit of artistic furniture, is bad
for preaching. It is a wrong standard to use
in our preparation, and it is equally the wrong
standard for criticism whether of our own
work or that of others. We ought to help
one another—even to criticize one another—
but only in sincerity and with the true aim of
preaching in view, which is to help people to
see God—never to produce something that ts
fine. There is a criticism of preaching which
is simply fuel to those hidden fires of vanity
or of bitterness that lay waste the power of
many aman. We have got to get into the
position of St. Paul: ‘‘ For me it is a very
small matter that I should be judged of you
or of man’s judgment. Yea, I judge not
mine own self. But He that judgeth me is
the Lord.”” And the things that count so
much with the undiscerning crowd on the
one hand, and with the superfine critic on
the other, count very little with Him.
Let me touch on one point more in this
connection. If we have ability, brains, a gift
of expression, some power of attraction, let us
thank God for them: That is the real way to
I2
178 IN QUEST OF REALITY
deal with them—not to pretend they are not
there, or to grovel in a false humility. You
know the old story—was it of Bunyan, who
was congratulated on a good sermon he had
preached? “I know,” he said; “‘the devil
told me about it before I had left the pulpit.”
That story is often repeated as a warning to
ministers against vanity. But was it the
devil? And what if it were true that the
sermon was good? Is a man to pretend to
himself, by way of keeping humble, that his
work is not good when he knows it is ? You
will often know when you have written or
preached a good sermon, though sometimes,
of course, you will not ; for the deepest re-
actions to truth are always hidden from us.
But, in general, you ought to know: it is our
business to cultivate a conscience for good
work ; to produce it, is part of the real satis-
faction of faithful preaching. And you will
preach a really good sermon—now and then !
The trouble is, of course, when your satis-
faction stops there, and becomes am end in
itself. That moment you are on the rocks.
Yet there is a way—the only way—to escape
the Scylla of vanity on the one hand, as well
as the Charybdis of mortification on the
THE PREACHER HIMSELF 179
other. It is to recognize your gifts, thank
God for them, consecrate them to His service,
and take pleasure in them, but only as an
asset for His Kingdom. Say to yourself,
when you preach a sermon with which you
are really satisfied, that you rejoice in it
because thereby something of the wonder.
and the glory of Christ found expression, and
something of the truth of God was made
clear. You will find in that a natural and
quite real deliverance from self-conscious
vanity, for the centre of the picture has been
changed from yourself to Christ. The test
of our real deliverance is, of course, when we
rejoice as much in the good work of others
as in our own, and are glad only that Christ
has been preached ; and, above all, when we
are content to fail if we have done our best,
knowing that God can work through failure
as through success—our joy being just in
serving Him. What Kipling said of England
during the war is true of the Kingdom of
Gods (™
“Who lives if England dies ?
Who dies if England lives ? ”’
In fact, the service of the Kingdom of God
is the only thing of which it is true that
180 IN QUEST OF REALITY
perfect self-forgetfulness is perfect self-fulfil-
ment. The release of personality in preaching
is very largely the deliverance from self-
consciousness.
Believe me, these are things of which I
speak with trembling. Yet I feel most
deeply that they go to the heart of the whole |
matter. The preacher who is not a good
man will not be a good preacher. He may
be popular; he will have no real power.
The ministry is the last calling in which
selfish ambition can make for success, for
that ambition is the surest way to failure.
It cuts the nerve of spiritual power. To be
out for a career, in the ordinary sense of the
word, is to lose touch with the Kingdom of
God. ‘Thank God that He hath counted
me worthy, putting me into the ministry.”
The more we approximate to that position,
the more will the joy of the Lord, which is the
joy of creating new things and redeeming
broken things, become our strength.
Til
Let me speak now of some of the qualities
which preaching needs for its highest effective-
ness. The first of these is sympathy. We
THE PREACHER HIMSELF 181
must be one with our people. We must
know them, think with their thoughts, under-
stand their outlook, put ourselves resolutely
in their place. You remember Ezekiel when
he went to speak to the exiles in Babylon.
‘‘T went down by the river and I sat where
they sat.’”’ Was that a literal getting into.
their place, or was it only a metaphor for
imaginative sympathy ? It must be both with
us, and both at the same time. Imaginative
sympathy is the quality we most need in
pastoral visitation. It is the one way in
which we shall be able to speak the word
our people need for the healing of some
wound or the quickening of some nerve.
Lord Acton says of George Eliot: ‘‘ She had
the secret not only of reading the diverse
hearts of men but of creeping into their skins,
watching the world with their eyes, feeling the
latent background of conviction, discerning
theory and habit ; and having obtained this
experience, recovering her independence.”
We must acquire this habit of sympathy if
we have not already got it, till 1t become
real and natural, and carefully cultivate it if
it be a native gift. May I repeat again the
suggestion’ that there are two kinds of
182 IN QUEST OF REALITY
ministers ?—the one more interested in ideas
than he is in people; the other more inter-
ested in! people than. he: is” imi@ideam
This latter is the true minister. The last
thing I would dream of is to cast any re-
flection upon the scholarly minister whose
real home is in the study, and who finds
contact with people disturbing. He is doing
his special work. Yet, in general, I think the
definition stands, searching though it is to
those of us who feel the fascination of a big
subject and the adventure of working it out.
It is people who must be foremost in our
minds, people we can help with the truth,
people to whom it will be the message from
God. We must get to thinking out truth
for our people with them in view, searching
for it as a man on the moor might search for
a lost child for the joy of finding it, but most
of all for the joy of taking it home and re-
storing it to the arms of its mother. Believe
me, you will find a new glory in the truth
when you have seen it kindling the light in
some lack-lustre eye. Dr. Fraser tells in
African Idylls how he put on his gramophone
a record of the Hallelujah Chorus that a
native might hear it. He describes the effect
THE PREACHER HIMSELF 183
on this man, and then adds: ‘‘ He went off,
leaving me more solemnized by music than
I had ever been before, for I had seen one to
whom it had opened the gates of heaven
and revealed the glories ineffable.’”’ An un-
selfish interest in truth is a vital necessity for
a preacher. It is the basis of the preacher's,
passion. We will need sympathy if we are
not to be accused of fumbling with men’s
troubles, treating symptoms without getting
to the roots of the disease, ‘‘ healing the hurt
of the daughter of my people slightly,”
offering a comfort that is no consolation,
making a false appeal. We will need sym-
pathy, even if we are going rightly to
condemn. No man has any right to judge
his fellows whose tongue is sharpened by
censoriousness or by self-righteousness, or
who is moved by anything less than the pain
of his own shamed and saddened spirit,
feeling the wrong he judges as if he had in
some sort been responsible for it, or shared
the guilt of it. That place of moral kinship
with the one who is guilty is the only safe
place of judgment, and that is the place of
sympathy. It is not enough to be sorry fora
man; we must be sorry with him, and ashamed
184 IN QUEST OF REALITY
with him, before indignation becomes a
weapon of love. And that takes sympathy.
Most of all it is by sympathy that we are
helped to recover the evangelical passion
when we have lost it, or when it has begun
to flag. You will have a’unique experience
if there do not come days when you ask
yourself in some low mood: “‘ Why should I
preach, after all? Why go on preaching ?
After all, these people are living fairly good
and harmless lives, and these others outside
the churches seem to need very little that
one can say to them, and seem to get on
very well without religion. Why need we
trouble ?’’ Moods like that come to us all.
I am stating it bluntly because it is better
to face facts. We banish them, of course,
and they go after a longer or a shorter time.
But perhaps in banishing them thus we have
lost something, or taken for escape some
lower ground on which we are content to
stand, and become satisfied with preaching
which is passionless and conventional. Now
the real way to recover the evangelical
passion, apart from the recovery of our own
experience of the grace of God, is so to steep
ourselves in the needs of others that the
THE PREACHER HIMSELF 185
gospel message takes new fire in our own
hearts. It is to get into the lives of people,
into their circumstances, to feel their pitiful
futility, their trivial satisfactions, their un-
easiness and hunger of spirit, their mean
ambitions, their pathetic struggles, their
sorrows; and every now and then, just
because you are en vapport with people, you
will get a sudden look into the abyss, where
the ground opens at your very feet in some
commonplace or apparently happy home.
And with a thankful heart you will realize
what it means to have a gospel, what it
means to be “ delivered from the power of
darkness and translated into the Kingdom of
God’s dear Son, in whom we have redemp-
tion through His blood, even the forgiveness
of sins.”’
I have said that this habit of sympathy is
one that can be acquired, apart even from
our own actual experience of the same kind
of trouble as that which calls it forth. This
may seem doubtful. But there are instances
to prove it. A curious fact is that those
who look on from without at some trouble
which others are bearing, may often feel its
pain through imagination even more than
186 IN QUEST OF REALITY
those who are within it, because they feel
the pain without at the same time sharing
in the compensations which suffering often
brings. There is an incident in Stevenson’s
life which illustrates what I mean. One of
his most bracing books was written at
Bournemouth in the midst of paralysing
weakness. A hemorrhage prevented him
from speaking, an attack of writer’s cramp
from writing, and his eyesight was also
affected by some temporary malady; but
he dictated the book to his wife by means
of the dummy alphabet! One can hardly
imagine any situation more devastating to
a brave outlook on life. When the book
was published a critic attacked its philosophy
on the ground that the man who wrote it
could have had little experience of the
sterner side of life. Stevenson wrote him,
describing the actual conditions under which
the book was done, whereupon the critic
replied that in that case he must have been
writing it with his tongue in his cheek.
Stevenson’s answer to this was that a specta-
tor of some trouble may often feel it more
than one who is experiencing it, because he
knows nothing of the interior consolations,
THE PREACHER HIMSELF 187
Experience, of course, is one of the ways
in which God can soften our hearts to the
pain of others, but it is not essential. If we
are willing to think ourselves into the situa-
tion of others, we can acquire the habit of
sympathy. A case in point is that of Dale
of Birmingham. His son describes it thus:
“He was not selfish, but he was apt to be
self-absorbed, engrossed by his own thoughts,
and so abstracted as to be heedless of those
whom he met, and of what was going on
around him. His nature was not sym-
pathetic. The faculty so freely bestowed on
some, he had to cultivate sedulously and
patiently, as one of the moral virtues. And
as it not infrequently happens, the faculty
thus acquired proved the stronger and richer
for the effort and trouble it had cost in the
winning.”
In what I have said above I have sug-
gested, without stating it in so many words,
what sympathy is. But it is well before
we leave the subject to ask what real
sympathy is. For until we see what it is,
we cannot make it really effective. What
does it mean to have sympathy, for instance,
with a person who has just discovered that
188 IN QUEST OF REALITY
he has become a victim to cancer? Or
with one who is facing irretrievable ruin in
business ? Or with another whose home is
stricken by sorrow after sorrow? Sympathy
is not merely feeling with another in his
suffering. We may feel and feel deeply,
entering with heart and imagination into his
situation, in a way that really makes us one
with him in his pain. We may express our
sympathy with him in words or in deeds
that are very tender and bring a real sense
of the consolation of friendship, which in
itself can be a veritable ministry of God.
He will find comfort in the sense that’he is
not alone, which is the lesson that, as legend
tells us, Buddha taught the woman who had
lost her child and was grief stricken. He
sent her to seek a black mustard seed, which,
however, she must not take from a house
where any one had died. The comfort he
meant her to find was, of course, the know-
ledge that sorrow is the burden of all, and
so her grief might grow less by the sense
that it was shared. But that kind of
sympathy is not the deepest or truest. Our
depth and poignancy of feeling, for instance,
may only come from the secret sense that
THE PREACHER HIMSELF 189
we have no real remedy, and that in the like
case we would be in hopeless despair. This
seems very subtle, but any minister who
looks into his own heart will realize how true
it is. Effective sympathy goes deeper. It
means not only feeling with sorrow, but also
facing it with God ourselves and finding in
Him the answer to the trouble; it goes forth
then to the sufferer holding out a hand
which has grasped the hand of God and so
is strong to minister real comfort. We dare
not go to another in pain or sorrow except
in the strength of a faith that has touched
rock-bottom and found it secure. That kind
of sympathy is not less tender, but there is
strength also in it, and the light of victory,
and the confidence that, having overcome
the world in this special instance of its power
to wound, it carries with it the sure secret
of the power to overcome.
This, of course, seems to have more particu-
lar reference to our pastoral work. But it
holds also in our preaching. In point of
fact, our power in the pulpit is only an ex-
tension of the same personal intimacy which
gives us power in individual dealings. Unless
we can bridge the distance between the pulpit
190 IN QUEST OF REALITY
and the pew by this intimate sympathy, our
preaching will be of none effect. It will be
but “ sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal.”
Another quality we shall need is confidence
in our message. Think of Jesus for a moment
in this connection. How He went about
saying, to this one and that one, great,
miraculous, unbelievable things, like ‘‘ Thy
sins be forgiven thee’ to a man whose past
was like a mountain wall; and ‘“‘ Take up
thy bed and walk” to a lifelong cripple ;
and “ Your Father knoweth that ye have
need ” to people who were mere insignificant
things in a merciless world. They just took
it for granted, and amazing things happened.
There must have been in Him, and in His
quiet utterance and manner, a confidence
that produced the conviction that the thing
He was saying was real—no dream, no
formula, no vague hope of better things.
And this confidence somehow communicated
itself to the people to whom He spoke, so
that they “believed in His belief.’’ With-
out doubt, the power of Jesus to break the
chain of moral impotence which bound many
people, was that He gave them power,
through His very faith in them, to believe
THE PREACHER HIMSELF 191
in themselves. Was not His message to
people, after all, just the possibility of good-
ness, of purity, of victory there and then ;
the sense that they were living in a spiritual
world, in which they had only to begin to
draw breath, without any magical rites or
purifications? Of course this simple call to
people to begin to live a natural, spiritual
life was made in full view of the resources
which are in God to meet their need, at
work for them, and in Him able to make
all things possible. When He told a man
his sins were forgiven, the man accepted
the fact as Christ meant him to do; and
when He bade the lame man walk, the
lame man did it without any more ado
than if He had asked him to eat his break-
fast. Christ expected this response, and the
man never had any doubt the thing would
happen. Have we this confidence and the
power of imparting it? When we tell people
that if only they come to Christ their lives
will be changed, do we believe it? Do we
believe that faith in God will enable a man
to face the impossible ? Do we believe in
the wonderful things which we claim for the
gospel? I sometimes wonder if the im-
192 IN QUEST OF REALITY
potence of the message does not often spring
from a latent scepticism in the preacher's
heart. We have to be on our guard against
this. Nothing so quickly communicates
itself to others as the subconscious mood
of doubt or unbelief. Indeed, it is a question
whether what we are in those dim regions
of our spirit does not speak so loudly, awaken-
ing suggestions and raising questions in the
minds of those to whom we speak, that they
cannot hear what we say. The same, I
would add, is true of public prayer, though
this forms no part of our subject. There is
a subtle scepticism which often slays reality.
It is good sometimes to put to ourselves the
questions: Do I really mean this? Is this
really true? Do I expect these things to
happen? Would we be more rejoiced or
more nonplussed if there should be an
invasion some Sunday night into the vestry
of one or another challenging us? “Is what
you have been saying to-night a fact? How
can I really secure the gift? ’’ There is little
doubt but that the attitude of expectancy
on our part communicates itself to the
people. If you expect things to happen,
you have produced the atmosphere in which
THE PREACHER HIMSELF 193
things do happen, whether you hear of it
before the Day of Judgment or not.
Again, the preacher must be whole-hearted.
It is woefully possible to do our work with
half our personality asleep or unemployed.
The psychologists are telling us that few
people ever work up to the level of their
innate possibilities. We have to bring our
whole mind to the preparation of a sermon
for one thing. It is no good going on with
the full extension of our notes till our whole
capacity for thought and feeling has been
brought to bear on it. The illuminating
moment, when we reach, as it were, the crest
of the hill and see the landscape of truth
stretching out in various directions, only
comes when our whole mind is in the subject.
Nearly every man who deals with preaching
condemns laziness as our besetting sin. How
much this is due to lack of concentration,
so that the immediate trifling things get first
call and keep us busy on futilities, and how
much to indolence, is a question. Indo-
lence, however, is rooted in lack of vital
interest. There is a certain amount of
drudgery which must be got through, and
for that there is nothing but to set our face
13
194 IN QUEST OF REALITY
and go through with it. But where our
whole interest is engaged we do not think
of the toil, and do not require to whip our-
selves to our task. We think nothing either
of time or effort when we are busy at our
hobby. Our wills follow the path of our
interest. Preaching may begin to lack
interest because from our very conscientious-
ness to do the work well, religion becomes
isolated as our special department, and not
the key to all our interests. Our work comes
to have the feel of an external duty, in which
our whole nature is not running freely and
harmoniously. That seems to me to be
nearest the truth.
However it comes about, if we are not in
our work—all we are and all the time—the
defect is fatal. The hours of study must
be rigidly guarded. Some people inveigh
against the slavery of turning out two
sermons a week. It seems to me that for
many preachers the necessity has been in-
valuable. I have never found that I pro-
duced a better sermon when I had, by some
chance, only one to prepare. Most of us
work better under pressure. ‘‘ A man’s work
may be his best life preserver,’’ some one
THE PREACHER HIMSELF 195
has said. It is eminently true of the preacher.
In the preparation of a sermon, let us be in
it whole-heartedly, with every scrap of
capacity, imagination, memory, ingenuity,
that we have.
This brings me to say that true preaching
demands abandonment. It means giving >
ourselves away. Some of us are so afraid
of what a good elder of mine calls “ spilling
over.’ We consciously reserve ourselves.
That is all right at the beginning of a sermon.
But when the truth gets hold of us and we
want to express it, for any sake never mind
the proprieties. We must think of our
message and of the people, and let every-
thing else go. We may often say a foolish
thing, and an exaggerated thing, in the heat
of themoment. The people would far rather
have the heat than the precision of calculated
statement. And the heat of a great truth is
often part of the true statement of it, though
emotional expression differs. But do not be
afraid of giving yourself away. How that
self-giving will shape itself is a matter of
temperament. But aloofness has generally
something unnatural behind it. It may be
that just the act of breaking free of all the
196 IN QUEST OF REALITY
entanglements of nervousness, whatever they
are, may be the best means of snapping the
bondage of self-consciousness. I remember
in the first year of my ministry how I was
taken to task by one of the most gifted laymen
the Presbyterian Church in Scotland has
ever> had, the late. Dr.: Taylor’ Innes
had preached what I felt was rather a poor
sermon. He happened to be in the con-
gregation, and kindly asked me to come
and see him next day, which I gladly did.
“Now,” he said genially, ““I am going to
talk to you, for I am rather an authority on
preaching. I once lectured to the New
College Theological Society at their opening
meeting, with Principal Rainy in the chair,
on ‘ Why are our New College students not
good preachers?” ”. Then he went #onm-:
“You thought that was rather a poor sermon
last night ?*? "Yes; To said’ Yes iam
went on, “‘ you very successfully communi-
cated that to the congregation. Well, you
are going to ruin your ministry just there.
If you have done your best with a sermon,
whether you think it good or not, take it as
a message and give it a chance. Put your-
self into it with all its seeming defects. More
THE PREACHER HIMSELF 197
promising preachers fail through this want
of abandonment than for any other cause.”
I pass on this counsel for what it is worth.
I think it is worth a good deal. Of course
it is dangerous advice. To a fool, all the
best advice is dangerous. The gospel itself
is the most dangerous of doctrines—the
gospel of forgiveness and the grace of God.
There is always the danger that advice like
that of Dr. Innes may make a fool imagine
that bluster will take the place of brain, or
that man will hear us—any more than God—
for our much or our loud speaking. But the
advice is sound. We must give ourselves
away in our preaching, caring for nothing,
so long as we get the truth home.
“© the gravity, the seriousness, the in-
cessant diligence which these things require,”
wrote Richard Baxter. “I am ashamed
that such astonishing matters do not wholly
absorb my mind. I seldom come out of the
pulpit but my conscience reproacheth me
that I have been no more serious and fervent
in such a case. It accuseth me, not so much
for want of ornaments or elegancy, nor for
letting fall an unhandsome word; but it
asketh me, How couldst thou speak of life
198 IN QUEST OF REALITY
and death with such a heart ? Truly this is
the peal which conscience doth ring in our
ears. O Lord, do Thou that on our own
souls which Thou wouldst use us to do on
the souls of others.”
This giving of ourselves is no easy thing.
It involves sacrifice. Francis Thompson says
that “Every poem is a human sacrifice.”
Joseph Parker said that “‘ Preaching is the
sweating of blood.’”’ Both mean the same
thing. And what does the New Testament
say of Jesus, summing up His life and death
in one act. He gave Himself. It will mean
sacrifice for us. Through the whole service
of the ministry, what we do for people in any
real and helpful way is just to give them
ourselves. And only as that is done sacri-
ficially, in the unselfish spirit of Christ, will
the alabaster box be broken and the house
be filled with the odour of the ointment.
It.all comes to this, does it not? Wecan
only help people, only bring them into touch
with redeeming love, in the measure in
which we mediate, through our preaching,
the Spirit of Christ. You cannot account
for Christ’s power with men by His message
THE PREACHER HIMSELF 199
alone. It was Himself giving it, Himself
saying these words, and Himself creating
the atmosphere by His Spirit in which great
truths become believable, and the step of
trust and faith is taken. In the same way,
you cannot account for the success of the
apostles, bringing men and women under the
power of the gospel and casting out devils,
except by the fact that their lives suggested
Jesus. Stephen’s preaching helped, no doubt,
to stake a claim for Christ in Paul’s mind,
but it was Stephen’s death suggesting Jesus
and setting His Spirit free, that made the
final conquest. “‘In the name of Jesus of
Nazareth,” said Peter to the lame man, “ I
say unto thee, Rise up and walk.” The name
could hardly be enough. There must have
been something in the whole quality of Peter's
personality that revealed Jesus. A preacher
in his preaching must mediate Jesus, mind
and soul together, or there is no possibility
of a miracle. We must convey the sense of
God’s forgiveness, His friendship, His sym-
pathy with outcast men, His challenge to
people—not merely use words about it. And
that means we must feel these things our-
selves, and have the same attitude as He
200 IN QUEST OF REALITY
towards the people to whom we are speaking,
or little of the sense of spiritual realities will
filter through our words or shape our language
into a channel for God’s grace. It is just
here that the prophet becomes the priest in
any healthy sense, where the message is able
to mould men, because it has first of all
moulded us into a medium, where “ mind and
soul, according well, may make one music.”’
Let me recapitulate. Our task is to make
real, God in Christ, so as to bring into fellow-
ship with Him, people who are estranged
from Him in wrong thinking, in wrong
desires, in wrong attitudes to life, and in
wrong relations to one another. “‘ We are
ambassadors for Christ,’ says Paul. “‘ We
therefore beseech men, in Christ’s stead, to
be reconciled to God.’ That must be the
whole spirit of our preaching. “ We are
ambassadors’’: we represent God in a world
where He is misunderstood. ‘“‘ We beseech
men’’: that is our final weapon. “ In Christ’s
stead’’: that is our tremendous responsibility
and our privilege alike—to reveal Jesus in
all our ministry. Our only glory is to be like
Him. ‘‘ Wherefore he that hath this hope in
him, purifieth himself, even as He is pure.”
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