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Chapter 93 of 105

092. Prayer of Stephen.

5 min read · Chapter 93 of 105

Prayer of Stephen.

Acts 7:59-60.

Among the first converts in Jerusalem, there seems to have been many in necessitous circumstances. Their wants, however, were cheerfully and liberally supplied by the more wealthy believers; who “sold their possessions, and laid the price at the apostles’ feet, that distribution might be made to every man according as he had need.” Some Grecian widows, however, were neglected in the daily ministration. To prevent a recurrence of such neglect, the apostles proposed the institution of a new order of men, whose duty it should be to look after the poorer disciples, and make provision for their wants. This proposal was unanimously approved, and was executed without delay. Seven men, qualified for the office, were selected, who were set apart for that service by prayer and the imposition of hands. In passing, we may remark, that the disciples adopted no important measures without seeking the divine blessing. Prayer mingled in all their movements, and gave life and spirituality to all their conduct.

Among the seven deacons selected, Stephen seems to have been preeminent—“a man full of faith and the Holy Ghost who did great wonders and miracles among the people. These attracted the notice of the adversaries of the Church, who challenged him to a public disputation about the new religion, in the hope that they should be able to confute his arguments; or, at least, to draw from him some unguarded words, for which they might accuse him to the rulers. But they were unable to resist the wisdom and the spirit by which he spake. His antagonists were confounded. They could obtain no advantage over him. But where argument failed, malice succeeded. Under a pretext of zeal for the glory of God, they charged him before the Sanhedrim with speaking blasphemous words against Moses and against God. To substantiate this charge, they hired witnesses, and instructed them what to swear. It was further affirmed, that he had been heard to say that Jesus of Nazareth would destroy that place, (Jerusalem,) and change the customs which Moses delivered them.

Stephen had every thing to fear from the furious zeal of his judges. They were Jews, imbued with all the bigotry and prejudice of their nation, and exasperated at the success of the new religion, which they had confidently believed had perished with its founder. The confidence of Stephen, however, did not forsake him, nor was his tranquility disturbed. “All that sat in the council, looking steadfastly on him, saw his face, as it had been the face of an angel.” There was doubtless something preternatural in his countenance—a divine splendor, perhaps, similar to that on the face of Moses, when he came down from the mount—a manifest token of the presence and approbation of God. He was as a rock in the midst of the ocean, upon which the tempests blow and the waves dash in vain.

Stephen having liberty to reply to the charge against him, addressed the Sanhedrim at length; but his speech seems only to have increased the hatred and the rage of his accusers. They were cut to the heart, and they gnashed on him with their teeth. Like infuriated beasts of prey, they were eager to devour the man who had dared to attack them. On the other hand, Stephen was filled with the Holy Ghost, and was vouchsafed with a view of the glory of God—such a view as is seldom granted to mortals—of that glory, as it shines in unclouded splendor in the temple of God; and also was granted to him a view of Jesus, standing on the right hand of God—of Jesus, risen, as it were, from his throne, to observe the courage, the faith, and patience of his disciple—risen to meet and welcome his spirit, as it should escape his mangled body, and to introduce him into the presence of his Father, and to a crown of unfading glory.

Such a vision was granted to this faithful servant of God, now ready to be sacrificed by his cruel persecutors. Nor could he be silent in regard to it. He must speak of it; he must thus honor the Savior, who was so honoring him. “Behold!” exclaimed the martyr, “I see the heavens open, and the Son of Man standing on the right hand of God!”

These words settled the fate of Stephen. The passions of the mob burst forth with ungovernable fury. They cried out, with a loud voice; they stopped their ears; they ran upon him with one accord; they cast him out of the city; and here they stoned him, calling upon God, and saying: “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” “Father!” said Jesus, as he died, “into thy hands I commend my spirit.” “Lord Jesus,” said the proto-martyr, “receive my spirit.” And, like his divine Master, who, as he expired, cried: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do;” so Stephen utters the unnatural and sublime prayer: “Lord, lay not this sin to their charge!” We say unnatural: for, in such circumstances, human nature is not apt to harbor such sentiments, or utter such language. Our natural feelings would rather invoke revenge: blood for blood; life for life. “Lord!” cries exasperated nature, “Lord, reward them according to their deeds!” “Lord,” says the heaven-born soul, “lay not this sin to their charge!”

We are aware that such language as Stephen uttered is not now uncommon. “Almost every profligate,” observes a writer, “who is brought to the scaffold for his crimes, professes to forgive his enemies, and to die in peace with all the world. But the difference is great between the unmeaning cant of virtue and the real practice of it. It is no vulgar attainment to love the man who hates us; to divest ourselves of a wish to retaliate upon him, who has poured bitterness into our cup; sincerely to desire the salvation of those who, if their power were equal to their malice, would consign us to the flames of hell. Such benevolence never lodged in a soul, whose ideas and affections the Spirit of love had not first purified and elevated.

“‘Lord, lay not this sin to their charge.’ Stephen was fully apprised of the atrocious nature of the conduct of his persecutors, which implied the complicated guilt of murder and impiety; and of the dreadful punishment which was prepared for them by the justice of an insulted Savior. Yet to that Savior he made intercession in their behalf. The words must be understood as a prayer that they might receive repentance unto life, and be pardoned through that blood which they now despised as a common thing.

“The melting charity of this prayer was sufficient to have softened the hearts of savages. Yet it did not suspend the rage of the murderers of this holy man; but as he closed it, the mortal blow was inflicted, which filled up the measure of their guilt, and dismissed the saint to everlasting rest. ‘And when he had said this, he fell asleep.’ Nature had suffered violence; but the struggle was over, and its convulsive agitation was succeeded by a calm. He fell asleep. The word is happily chosen to express the peaceful nature of the death of the righteous, who, worn out with labor, and exhausted with sorrow, sink down upon the bed of death to enjoy sweet repose. There let the blessed martyr rest, till the dawn of the last morning, when, awaked by the voice of his Savior, he shall rise to receive an unfading crown, and to participate in the triumph of truth, which, by patience and meekness and blood, shall have overcome the rage of the world and the malice of hell.” (Dick’s Lectures).

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