LIFE AT THE CORE by Theodore L. Cuyler

Seventh-Day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · May 27, 1880

FromThe Advent Review and Sabbath Herald, Vol. 55, No. 22

LIFE AT THE CORE.

By Theodore L. Cuyler

The peach-tree in my yard—which for several months had been only a collection of bare and dead-looking boughs—began, a few weeks since, to unpack its trunk. The buds began to swell, and presently the tree unfolded its blossoms, every one of which was a promissory note redeemable in peaches at ninety days. The promise of fruit depends upon the simple fact that the tree is alive at the core. The amount of its fruit will depend on the amount of its inward vitality.

This principle is just as true in reference to every professed Christian as it is in reference to my peach-tree. The degree of fruitfulness and spiritual power which any Christian possesses is measured by his inward union to Christ. All the external life before the world depends upon the internal life with Jesus. All true spiritual growth is not from without; it is from the core. It depends on the inward principle of love to Christ Jesus, and heart loyalty to his commandments. “If ye love me, keep my commandments.” The commandment-keeping is an evidence of the inward loyalty, but unless the loyal love be there, there will soon be a dropping off and decay of outward obedience. The real strength of every church-member is to be measured by his participation in the life of Jesus, and by the degree in which Jesus is formed within him as his hope of glory.

What wretched mistakes are made by those who dream that the church can have any legitimate growth except a growth in holiness! All other enlargement, such as an enlargement of bulk, is like padding out a peach-tree with foreign material. There is a swelling out of dimension as a human body may bloat under the influence of brandy; but there is no genuine, enduring growth. You may tie any number of twigs to the limbs of my peach-tree, but not one of them will produce a peach. Let us not be deceived. There can be no substitute for vital piety. This is the core of the Christian and of the church. No pretentious swell of numbers in the pews, or of brilliant rhetoric in the pulpit, no cunning device of architecture, oratory or music, no multiplication of services by the pastor or by invited evangelists, no allurements to draw the crowd to God’s house, or to draw money for benevolent uses, no, nothing of human devising can take the place of an overmastering loyalty to Christ in the hearts of his people.

Heart-piety is power—the only power. Without this inward principle at the core, bringing Jesus immediately into us, there can be no growth in grace, no solid enjoyment, no persistent cross-bearing, no assurance that we can endure temptation. There may be occasional spasms of fitful exertion in seasons of revival. But like the tides they will soon ebb away, and leave only the worthless “wreck” of broken covenants and half-finished projects on the barren shore.

Here we touch the secret of so many open falls of Christian professors into dishonest practices, or drunkenness, or profligacy. The people fall for the same reason that certain trees fall in a high wind: they are rotten at the core. “It is wonderful,” says Carlyle, “how long a rotten post will stand if nobody shakes it.” The unhappy list of defaulters, and hard drinkers, and other detected transgressors in the church, is made up of those who yielded under the strong push of temptation. “It would seem as if God had deserted my poor husband,” said a heart-broken wife to me. The real fact was that her backsliding husband had deserted God. He had thrown off the everlasting arm, and as soon as he was left to his weak, wretched self, he fell like a rotten tree. Peter once tried to stand by himself, and the jibes of a servant-girl sent him over. Fifty days afterward he stood up in the strength of his Master, and all Jerusalem could not frighten him. He was sound and strong at the core.

‘Godliness is power. The seat of it is in the heart. By heart, we do not mean only the affections, but the conscience also. A conscience rooted into Christ is like an oak tree rooted in among the immovable rocks. Godliness is also perennial. It is better than numbers; for it attracts the soundest unto itself, and manufactures good men and women out of sinful material. It is better than wealth; for it promotes the industry which makes money, and warms the benevolence which bestows it. Franklin emptied his purse into the collection-box under the irresistible eloquence of Whitefield. It is better to have a greater than Whitefield always in our hearts, who can move us to open our purses even when there is no persuasion but that of principle. Godliness is better than prayer; for it lives on faith and inspires devotion. Without it, all the most fluent roll of pious phrases in a prayer-meeting is but a tinkling cymbal.

Would you grow, my friend? Would you taste the sweetest joy this side of Heaven? Would you insure yourself against the blasts of sudden temptation? Would you glorify your Saviour? Then grow in godliness. Get more of Jesus into your soul. As Paul said to his brethren, “We beseech you to increase more and more.” We beseech you by the love of Jesus who plucked you from the path of hell, by all the luxuries of doing good to others, by all the faithful deeds you may achieve for the cross of Christ, by all the hope of heavenly bliss, we beseech you to increase more and more—more and still more beyond that, until Christ becomes not only the measure of your eager aspirations, but the fullness of your holy joy. —Theodore L. Cuyler, D. D., in Advance.