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Signs of the Times, Vol. 11, No. 35.

General Articles

Signs of the Times

Sep 10, 1885

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Sep 10, 1885

General Articles.

By Ellen G. White

Influence and Importance of Associations.

BY MRS. E. G. WHITE.
IN our social relations, in our intercourse one with another, the words of Christ, "Ye are the light of the world," are especially true. Every association we form, however limited, exerts an influence on the life and character; and the extent of that influence will be determined by the degree of intimacy maintained, the constancy of the intercourse, and the love and confidence felt for the one with whom we associate. Even the enemies of Christ, as they see his spirit and life exemplified in the daily life of his followers, will be led to glorify God, the source of their strength and honor. Thus those who have a living connection with God can exert a saving power in the church and in society. Reader, examine your own course; consider the character of the associates you are choosing. Do you seek the company of the wise, or are you willing to choose worldly associates, companions who fear not God, and obey not the gospel? Are your recreations such as to impart moral and spiritual vigor? Will they lead to purity of thought and action?
Many parents are disregarding the most sacred claims of God, by their neglect to consecrate themselves and their children to him. Many are reposing in false security, absorbed in selfish interests and attracted by earthly treasures. They fear no evil. Danger seems a great way off. They will be deceived, deluded, to their eternal ruin, unless they arouse, and with penitence and deep humiliation, return unto the Lord.
The pride, self-indulgence, impiety, and iniquity that surround us, have an evil influence upon us. Few realize the importance of shunning, so far as possible, all associations unfriendly to religious life. In choosing their surroundings, few make their spiritual prosperity the first consideration.
Parents flock with their families to the cities, because they fancy it easier to obtain a livelihood there than in the country. The children, having nothing to do when not in school, obtain a street education. From evil associates they acquire habits of vice and dissipation. The parents see this, but because it will require a sacrifice to correct their error, they stay where they are, until Satan gains full control of their children. Better sacrifice any and every worldly consideration than to imperil the precious souls committed to your care. They will be assailed by temptations, and should be taught to meet them; but it is your duty to cut off every influence, to break up every habit, to sunder every tie, that keeps you from the most free, open, and hearty committal of yourselves and your family to God.
Instead of the crowded city, seek some retired situation where your children will be, so far as possible, shielded from temptation, and there train and educate them for usefulness. The prophet Ezekiel thus enumerates the causes that led to Sodom's sin and destruction: "Pride, fullness of bread, and abundance of idleness was in her and in her daughters; neither did she strengthen the hand of the poor and needy." All who would escape the doom of Sodom, must shun the course that brought God's judgments upon that wicked city.
Who will heed the counsel of the True Witness, to seek the gold tried in the fire, the white raiment, and the eye-salve? The gold is faith and love, the white raiment is the righteousness of Christ, the eye-salve is that spiritual discernment which will enable us to see the wiles of Satan and shun them, to detect sin, and abhor it, to see truth and obey it.
The deadly lethargy of the world is paralyzing the senses. Sin does not appear repulsive to those who are blinded by Satan. The judgments of God are soon to be poured out upon the earth. "Escape for thy life," is the warning from the angels of God. Other voices are heard saying, "Do not become excited; there is no cause for special alarm." Those who are at ease in Zion, cry peace and safety, while Heaven declares that swift destruction is about to come upon the transgressor. The young, the frivolous, the pleasure-loving, consider these warnings as idle tales, and turn from them with a jest. Parents are inclined to think their children about right in the matter, and all sleep on at ease. Thus it was at the destruction of the old world, and when Sodom and Gomorrah were consumed by fire. On the night prior to their destruction, the cities of the plain rioted in pleasure. Lot was derided for his fears and warnings. But these scoffers perished in the flames. That very night the door of mercy was forever closed to the wicked, careless inhabitants of Sodom.
It is God who holds in his hands the destiny of souls. He will not always be mocked; he will not always be trifled with. Already his judgments are in the land. Fierce and awful tempests leave destruction and death in their wake. The devouring fire lays low the desolate forest and the crowded city. Storm and shipwreck await those who journey upon the deep.
Accident and calamity threaten all who travel upon the land. Hurricanes, earthquakes, sword, and famine follow in quick succession. Yet the hearts of men are hardened. They recognize not the warning voice of God. They will not flee to the only refuge from the gathering storm.
Many who have been placed upon the walls of Zion, to watch with eagle eye for the approach of danger, and lift the voice of warning, are themselves asleep. The very ones who should be most active and vigilant in this hour of peril are neglecting their duty, and bringing upon themselves the blood of souls.
Let no one put aside the warning, and say, "It does not mean me. I will not be disturbed by this excitable message." It is the evil servant who says in his heart, "My Lord delayeth his coming." Professedly a servant of Christ, he may not, in words, deny that the Lord is soon to come; but his actions show that he puts off that day to a distant period. He guiltily presumes on the supposed delay; he becomes careless, and his works testify his unbelief. He adopts the maxims and conforms to the practices of the world.
As soon as the evil servant begins to lose the spirit and power of the message, he manifests his unbelief. He smites his fellow-servants. He is ready to pass censure on those who are better than himself. "The poison of asps is under their lips." His course is downward. Erelong he may be found "eating and drinking with the drunken"—uniting with worldlings in their gatherings for pleasure, and, to all intents and purposes, one with them. Such is the condition of very many among us to-day.
In the instruction given by our Saviour to his disciples are words of admonition especially applicable to us: "Take heed to yourselves, lest at any time your hearts be overcharged with surfeiting and drunkenness, and cares of this life, and so that day come upon you unawares." Watch, pray, work—this is the true life of faith. "Pray always," that is, be ever in the spirit of prayer, and then you will be in readiness for your Lord's coming.
The Christian life is a warfare. The Apostle Paul speaks of wrestling against principalities and powers as he fought the good fight of faith. Again, he declares, "Ye have not yet resisted unto blood, striving against sin." Ah, no. Today sin is cherished and excused. The sharp sword of the Spirit, the word of God, does not cut to the soul. Has religion changed? Has Satan's enmity to God abated? A religious life once presented difficulties, and demanded self-denial. All is made very easy now. And why is this? The professed people of God have compromised with the powers of darkness.
The path to Heaven is no smoother now than in the days of our Saviour. All our sins must be put away. Every darling indulgence that hinders our religious life must be cut off. The right eye or the right hand must be sacrificed if it cause us to offend. Are we willing to renounce our own wisdom, and to receive the kingdom of Heaven as a little child? Are we willing to part with self-righteousness? Are we willing to give up our chosen worldly associates? Are we willing to sacrifice the approbation of men? The prize of eternal life is of infinite value. Will we put forth efforts and make sacrifices proportionate to the worth of the object to be attained?
Great importance is attached to our associations. We may form many that are pleasant and helpful; but none are so precious as that by which finite man is brought into connection with the infinite God. When thus united, the words of Christ abide in us. We are not actuated by a spasmodic feeling, but by a living, abiding principle. The result will be a purified heart, a circumspect life, and a faultless character. But it is only by acquaintance and association with Christ that we can become like him, the one faultless example.
Communion with Christ—how unspeakably precious! Such communion it is our privilege to enjoy, if we will seek it, if we will make any sacrifice to secure it. When the early disciples heard the words of Christ, they felt their need of him. They sought, they found, they followed him. They were with him in the house, at the table, in the closet, in the field. They were with him as pupils with a teacher, daily receiving from his lips lessons of holy truth. They looked to him as servants to their master, to learn their duty. They served him cheerfully, gladly. They followed him, as soldiers follow their commander, fighting the good fight of faith. "And they that are with him are called, and chosen, and faithful."

ON THE BRINK.

By William Lyle

JUST on the brink: Behind, a waste of sand; Before, the mysteries of shadow-land. What dreams come crowding on the human heart, When comes the moment Time and it must part!
What longing looks toward the old dead years, That sleep so quietly amid their tears; What sharp regrets so little has been done When much was offered wisdom might have won!
Just on the brink! Ah, now remembrance speaks Of how we climbed life's highest mountain peaks For paltry laurel, and for fancied gain, And won the prizes,—disappointment, pain!
How mean the trophies that we bring from Time, How great the glories of a land sublime, And how abashed the soul that so must think When standing, tremblingly, upon the brink.
Take care, O heart! Be watchful all the way, Life had its morn, it has its closing day; And sad the parting of that soul must be, Who wears no jewels for eternity.
—William Lyle, in Christian at Work.

Illusion and Disenchantment.

MUCH of life consists in illusion and disenchantment. In everyday life the future is the realm of illusion; the time of disenchantment is when the future becomes the present. It is pathetic to see how human nature clings to the belief in a golden age just beyond the present. Somewhere on the earth a time and place of peace is waiting for us; sometime we shall enter into it, and be at rest, and enjoy the full fruition of life; but not now—no, not now! Sometime, after the hurry of business is over, when the son has been educated, when the daughter has been happily married, there shall come "a calm time in which there shall be no fretting;" and we cherish the vision of a quiet nook on the mountains or by the sea, for that crowning scene of life, when the golden hours shall be filled with peace and contentment. But when the longed-for time of quiet comes, we find that it is not so different from the other portions of life, after all; that the serpent enters into every Eden; and that the mountain and sea offer no barriers to vulgar hate and desire.
Perhaps the mistake which all alike make, "saints" and "sinners," is that of wishing to get good, rather than to give good. James Martineau has said: "To get good is animal; to do good is human; to be good is divine." Most of our illusions begin in the desire to get good. We imagine to ourselves some earthly paradise into which no evil may enter,—except ourselves,—and there, we say, we will be happy, and careless of what goes on in the wide world. We even imagine that there is a kind of negative righteousness in making to ourselves a picture of a state of life in which there shall be no selfish struggle with other men, no uplifting of ourselves by the oppression of others, no angry feeling toward any son of man.
But we conveniently forget that our imaginary paradise is the very apotheosis of selfishness; that in such a life we should want nothing from others, only because we already had all; that God did not send us into this life to enjoy ourselves but to do our work, to bear our part of the world's toil, to sweeten with a little kindness the bitter draught of the heavy and oppressed. Why should we take any credit to ourselves for not coveting, where nothing is left to covet? Why do we imagine that we shall be just and generous and loving a few years hence, if we cannot be just and generous and loving, here and now?
It is in this here and now that there is the secret of a blessed life, a life free as may be from illusions. The pain of disenchantment is the keener, when we know that we had no right, at any time, to cherish the illusion. But human wills are wayward; and instead of doing the work which lies before us, too many of us fold our hands, and give ourselves up to happy dreams of what will be, to-morrow or next year. There is where the mistake lies.
With the future we have nothing to do, except as it is related to the present; and if we attend, with sober minds and busy hands, to the undeniable realities with which we have to deal in the present, we shall have little time to give ourselves over to brilliant illusions which are sure to end only in disenchantment. The present is as rich in the materials of happiness, if only we are willing to recognize our true happiness, as any earthly future will be. If the duties of the present are despised and neglected, we have no guarantee that we will not despise the duties of the future, in their turn.
And the materials for happiness are not outside of ourselves, but in ourselves; for we are the temple of the Holy Ghost, from whom all holy fruits of the Spirit proceed. And if we think that the materials for happiness are slight and ineffectual, then, as Carlyle has said, there remains for us a better than happiness, even blessedness. It is a great step in advance when a man realizes that enjoyment is not the chief end of life; when he gets a glimpse of the higher summit of blessedness, he is less apt to cherish vain illusions. When he gives up the instinctive desire to get good, and tries to do good, when he sees before him the shining height of being good, he is traveling upon a path where illusions have little power, and when he reaches that height there will be no disenchantment.
The prevailing cant about the emptiness of life is not only wicked, but foolish. Life is not empty save to those who make it empty. To the brave souls who give up everything that would be a delight to the flesh and to the fleshy mind, and who labor manfully for Christ's sake in the present, leaving to him the future, life brings few illusions and no cruel disenchantments. The cry of emptiness comes up from those who are empty; who have tried to please themselves instead of Christ; who have sought in culture, in art, in the delights of the flesh and of the intellect, that which can only be given them by the indwelling life of Christ. Sad is the disenchantment to those who have followed the illusions of the fleshy mind, who have thought that they were eating of life's sweetest fruits, and who awake to find themselves full of bitterness. But no follower of Christ need pass through such an illusion to such a disenchantment. To him that door has been shut by Christ himself; and the woe is his own if he opens it.
An earnest life has no place for harmful illusions. A life which gives no place to harmful illusions will suffer no cruel disenchantment. If it is true that they who follow the marsh-light will end in the quagmire, it is also true that they who, in obedience to the Master, go forth as light-bearers in the darkness, unheeding the roughnesses and the perils of the way, will also stand with Him in the dawn. And in the brightness of that dawn there will be neither illusion nor disenchantment.—S. S. Times.

A Greater than Solomon.

By T. T. Munger

If a keen critic had been present when Christ compared himself with Solomon, he might have detected an undertone of low estimate of the great Hebrew king—a comparison that reached further than greatness in wisdom, and took in character. Such a critic might also have detected a comparison between Jonah and Solomon, unfavorable to the latter. Christ found in the preacher of repentance, who came to his duty after a signal experience, a sign of himself, but he found none in Solomon. He mentions him but twice, and then in terms of unfavorable contrast. The glory of the ideal king was not of a sort he liked; when put on to the full it was not equal to that of the lily of the field, because the flower simply reflected the glory of Him who made it, while Solomon shone in the glory of his own magnificence.
Christ did not sentimentalize on floral beauty, but made a definition of glory: that only has true glory which illustrates the thought God put into it. In each mention of Solomon there is a tone of low estimate and rejection that the disciples seem to have caught, for he is not named in gospel or epistle, nor included in the heroical and saintly list in Hebrews, nor does he appear in the stupendous symbolism of the apocalypse. Both he and his reign represent the ease and external glory of the nation—not the struggles by which it achieved them. Neither he nor his reign stand for any great truth, or moral principle, or moral purpose. Christ turned his back, as it were, upon the splendor that still dazzled the Jewish mind and presaged its hopes, and bade it consider a lily, or anything else that was simply true to the law of its nature; if it could so understand a flower, it might perhaps learn to understand him who manifested God in humanity.

Temptation and Its Sources.

By Henry Alton

THE more endowed a man is, the more liable to evil he is. This is really the answer to the foolish question sometimes put: Could not God have made evil impossible? Could he not have made man incapable of sin? He could have made evil impossible, but he could not have made a man incapable of evil. A thing, he might; evil is not possible to a star or a vegetable. A brute, he might; sin is not possible to a horse or a dog. But a man! Why, the very quality that makes him a man is power to sin,—freedom of moral action, freedom of will. If I have no freedom I can do neither good nor evil. If I have freedom so as to do good, I must have freedom to do evil. If a man has no strong desires, he cannot be tempted; but he cannot therefore claim any praise. He is pulseless, passionless, safe, but cold and ignoble. The ratio of passion in a man is the ratio of his temptation; the heroic man is the man of strong desire, strong lust, who resists and conquers it. A man who has no desire for alcoholic liquor cannot be tempted to drunkenness; a man of bold, fearless temperament cannot be tempted to cowardice; a man of a mild or cold nature is not tempted to anger; a free, generous nature is not tempted to avarice. No credit to such for being free from those vices. It may be even a debasement, an inferiority of nature, not to have such passions. The noble man is he who resists when they are strong in him. The measure of temptation is the measure of passion; the more sensitive and nervous and emotional a man's temperament—the higher, that is, the qualities of his manhood—the more he can be tempted.
See, then, how temptation arises. Desire springs up in a man, and occasion may be perfectly innocent. It may be gold lying in the till of a counter, or a purse carried loosely in the pocket, and the temptation is to steal it. It may be drink at the wine-seller's, and the temptation is to drink. Or the occasion may be purposely furnished; companions may solicit and urge, the devil may suggest. But it is within the man himself that the desire springs up and becomes a peril. If his conscience is sensitive, if his religious feeling is strong, it will keep the desire from becoming masterful, keep it from all unlawful indulgence.—Rev. Henry Alton.

Watching Over Grace

By Samuel Rutherford

THERE is as much need to watch over grace as to watch over sin; full men will soon sleep, and sooner than hungry men.—S. Rutherford.

Harassing One Another

By Blair

As if we did not suffer enough from the storms which beat about us without, must we conspire also to harass one another?

Keeping the Spirit of the Sabbath on Sunday.

By G. D. Ballou

FREQUENTLY we are met with the statement, candidly made, no doubt, that "We keep the spirit of the fourth commandment on the first day of the week." Let us see if this can be a true and consistent statement. In the days of our Saviour, all his followers observed the Sabbath according to the letter of the commandment. Even after his death the holy women who had followed him and assisted in his mission "returned [from the sepulcher], and prepared spices and ointments; and rested the Sabbath day according to the commandment." Luke 23 : 56. Jesus himself had also thus observed the Sabbath. Every one knows that they then kept the seventh day of the week. Furthermore we know that they worshiped "in spirit and in truth."
For four thousand years the letter and spirit of the Sabbath commandment had required the holy observance of the seventh day of the week. Now will some one tell us how, without any change in the letter, the spirit of that commandment could require the observance of an other day of the week, for an entirely different purpose? and if it require the observance of another day, why should it necessarily be the particular first day of the week? Why not let the spirit of Sabbath observance fall on Wednesday or Thursday or any other day, just as well as on Sunday? Then we might have the remarkable spectacle of a neighborhood in which each family was keeping the Sabbath on different days of the week, yet all doing it in perfect harmony with the command which clearly designates the seventh day as the Sabbath. But our first-day friends say, "We want only one day for worship." Then why not choose the day of God's own appointing? Could not your neighbor keep the spirit of Sunday observance on Friday just as well as you can keep the spirit of Sabbath observance on Sunday?
"But all the people keep Sunday, and hence we should keep it." Oh, I see, Sunday is a day of very particular importance because all the people keep that day; but the Sabbath—well, of course it is a command of God, but it does not make so much difference about it, because—well, because the people don't have much regard for it. We can change the spirit of Sabbath observance from the Sabbath to Sunday, because all the people disregard the Sabbath, but we cannot change the spirit of Sunday observance to any other day, because the people would not agree with it.
To illustrate farther: Your daughter's birthday falls on the eighth day of June. She has two neighboring young lady friends whose birthdays both fall on the first day of July. Now you think a great deal of your daughter, and you want her birthday party to be a grand affair. How much persuasion do you think would be necessary to convince you that your daughter's birthday could be just as greatly honored by undertaking to celebrate it in connection with that of her two friends? If you are like thousands in the world, your daughter's birthday is a grand affair and you would receive it as an insult for any one to suggest its being celebrated on any other day than the real anniversary of her birth.
Suppose our present Congress should pass an act requiring the celebration of our national independence on the 23d of February. Such a howl of disgust would go up from the entire nation as was never before heard in this country. It is astonishing that people who are wise in all the affairs of this world will manifest such signal folly in spiritual things.
All the days appointed by men as memorials of great events, are very important occasions, and it is very necessary that the particular day set apart should be observed, unless the observance of some day of greater significance interferes. But the Sabbath, an institution of the Creator himself in honor of the workmanship of his hands and his rest, is thought to be a day of no consequence whatever. No matter if all the holy prophets and apostles and the Lord Jesus Christ have left their example in honor of God's command. Yet, because the people have chosen to honor another day for another purpose, God's memorial has become obsolete. Truly, God is forgotten, and his word and honor are despised.
G. D. BALLOU.
Salmon River, N. Y., Aug. 19, 1885.

Blessed.

By Mrs. Helen E. Brown

A MOTHER was busy with her morning duties when a little child came running towards her with a toy. Tripping along, with a merry smile on her dimpled face, she was the very picture of grace and sweetness that would have won any heart. The mother's soul was transported with delight. Who has been a mother and has not known such ecstatic moments? She opened her arms, she caught the little prattler to her bosom, lavishing upon it caresses and endearing epithets.
"You little darling! Mamma's blessed one," she rapturously exclaimed.
"Blessed—what is blessed, mamma? What do you mean by that?" artlessly queried the little one.
"You are mamma's dearest treasure, the delight of her eyes and her heart," responded the fond mother, as again and again she kissed the upturned face.
The child slid happy from the embrace of love, and the mother proceeded with her duties. These led her to her bedroom, where she paused for a moment to take up her "Daily Food." "I'll stop to read the verse for the day," she said to herself. "I shall have something to think about as I clear up my room." The verse read: "Come, ye blessed of my Father." The mother's heart fairly stood still. Her own words to her baby, baby's question, and her reply flashed through her mind; and followed in quick succession, brought to her remembrance, no doubt, by the Holy Spirit, came the many sweet words of Scripture—"A peculiar treasure unto Me," "The Lord delighteth in thee," "My love, My fair one," "My jewels."
She was well taught in Bible phraseology, but the inner meaning of such words had never come to her before. "Am I my Father's 'blessed'?" she said; "His 'delight,' His 'treasure,' the 'apple of His eye,' just what my precious baby is to me? Oh, I never have thought of it; it seems as if I could not believe it." The broom and duster dropped from her hands, and she dropped on her knees, and all she could do was to weep tears of penitence and gratitude before the Father whose words of endearment had never come to her until that moment, but which she now ventured to accept; yea, how could she venture to do otherwise? It was not her own worthiness or loveliness she well knew that made her so dear to the Father's heart, but she was "in Christ," "accepted in the Beloved." She seemed to hear her Saviour saying, "He that loveth me shall be loved of my Father;" "I say not unto you that I will pray the Father for you, for the Father himself loveth you because ye have loved me."
From that hour there was a new meaning in life, a new motive for work, a new propelling power in the soul of this Christian woman. Her tender affection for her little one, the darling of her heart, had interpreted to her, though it was but a faint representation of, the love that encircled her, so pure, so true, so deep, so high. She understood now what the apostle meant when he prayed that his disciples might "comprehend" the love "which passeth knowledge." Henceforward she walked in the love of God, and it was like a light all about her—above, below, around, within. She walked "in the light," and had perpetual "fellowship" with the Unseen.
Is this a fabulous experience—an exceptional one? Dear reader, it is one you may have if you will "only believe."—Mrs. Helen E. Brown.

God’s Faithfulness in Trials

WHILE a man serves God and faithfully performs his duty, no real harm can befall him. He may be persecuted, he may be afflicted, and in a great many ways, he may be severely tried, but while he is true to God, God will be true to him, and all things shall work together for his good. He may not be able to understand how this will be, but he knows that “God is faithful, who has promised, who also will do it,” and on the divine faithfulness he rests in full assurance and hope.—Sel.

He Couldn't Keep It a Secret.

GEORGE PENTECOST tells the following story in his "Out of Egypt:"—
I knew of a man who was converted at one of our meetings in America. He was a commercial traveler. He determined that he would not let anybody know that he had been converted. He was going to serve God "in the land." Well, only the day after he was converted, he was standing in front of one of the large hotels in Boston, when he was accosted by one of his fellow commercial men.
"How are you, old fellow?" said his friend, in the familiar style of an old acquaintance. "Come in and have a drink," and started at once toward the bar-room.
Here was a crisis. It instantly occurred to our newly converted friend, who was going to keep his conversion a secret, that to go into a public bar with an ungodly friend, and hold fellowship with him over a glass of whisky, would be utterly inconsistent with his new life in Christ. What was he to do? He thought he would excuse himself, so he said:—
"No, thank you; I think I will not drink to-day."
This did not satisfy his friend.
"Why, what's up? I never knew you to refuse a drink before."
"Well, I don't feel like drinking to-day; that's all."
"Well, come and have a cigar, then."
But this was also declined. He was unwilling to go into the public-house and fraternize with his friend over the bar. Again the astonished questioner asked:—
"Why, what's the matter with you? Come along."
"No, I can't go to-day," said our secret convert, in great confusion, and then stammered out hardly knowing what he said, "I have a Friend with me."
"Oh, that's all right. Bring your friend with you; any friend of yours is welcome to drink at my expense."
"No, I cannot bring him in; in fact, he would not go in there," said the young convert, things beginning to clear a little in his mind.
"Then come without him; it will take you but a moment."
"No, I will not go without him."
Looking about among the bystanders, the inviter said:—
"Where is your friend? and who is he, that he won't come in and have a drink, and that you can't leave for a moment to have a glass with an old friend?"
There was nothing for it now but to confess; and so, with some trembling, and yet with perfect frankness, he said to his acquaintance: "The fact is, I only last night became a Christian; I did not mean to say anything about it, but you compel me to speak. My friend is the Lord Jesus Christ. He would not go into that bar-room and take a drink, I am sure; and by the grace of God, I do not mean to go anywhere or do anything that will make me part company with Jesus Christ."
You see that man could not keep his conversion a secret.
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