1.03.04. Book 3: 4. From the Kernels Even to the Husk

4 FROM THE KERNELS EVEN TO THE HUSK

GOD’S true missionary is a Nazarite, who has "made a special vow, the vow of one separated, to separate himself unto the Lord." This "special vow" meant total abstinence from certain things which were not wrong in themselves, and which, to others, might be beneficial. "All the days of his separation shall he eat nothing that is made of the grape vine, from the kernels even to the husk." Do we never, as missionaries, hear the question, "What is the harm of it?" asked about reading certain books, following certain pursuits, taking our recreation in certain ways?

We have been hard at the language, and need change of thought and rest of brain. "What is the harm of the latest novel, even if it happens to be rather unprofitable?" And we (who have not time to read one out of a thousand of the real books that have been written) spend a precious hour by deliberate choice over something not worth while, and when our immediate world interrupts us, breaking in upon us with some call, do we find that we come back to it with quite undistracted gladness? Or do we feel that we have, as it were, to try to come back from somewhere, and pull ourselves together, and gird up the loins of our mind, before we are ready to throw ourselves heart and soul into the thick of the fight again?

Then, to rise higher in the scale of desire, in a land where, on every side, almost unex­plored regions lie waiting for the coming of the pioneer, ancient literature, the history of nations, of religions, strange tribes, customs, folk-lore, languages-there is a fascination and a "draw" which appeal strongly to a mind with a bent towards research. Up to a certain point-and no one can draw the line for another-such knowledge is power. But beyond it---?

Let Dr. Roberts, of Tientsin, speak. He recognized it as his clear duty to give neces­sary time to the consideration of every case, so that he might do the best possible for each patient. "But then," he said, "I might easily go a step beyond that, and yield to the temptation that comes to me as a professional man to study closely cases rarely seen in England, with a view to special proficiency. If, to do this, I must neglect Chinese study and spiritual work in the wards, life is not long enough for everything." So he preferred to fill up his time with work which seemed most likely to hasten the coming of his Master’s Kingdom, laying these possibilities of greater professional efficiency at the Lord’s feet as free-will offerings of love. He said he thought all Christians felt at times a longing to let others see that the followers of Jesus could successfully compete with others in various spheres of work. There was nothing absolutely wrong in this desire; yet he thought, if we were only willing to give up for the Lord’s sake possibilities of success in other fields than those which tended directly to the advancement of His Kingdom, He would give us a very real sense of His approval and acceptance of such free-will offerings. And so he "narrowed down" his life, bent the whole force of it to what "tended directly" to soul-winning. But was earth the poorer to him, and is Heaven the emptier to him, because he did so? In Bishop Paget’s Spirit of Discipline he speaks of lives which, by their clearness and freedom, their successful resolution not to be brought under the power of things which domineer over most men, arrest the attention of those who look on. The men and women who so lived were born and nurtured, as that powerful paragraph puts it, in conditions like our own, and yet they were "so splendidly unhindered by the things which keep us back." We think of such and are ashamed. How far, how very far we are from any such great living!

What was their secret? Is it not worth while to find it out? Some of them have told it to us:

I do not think there is anything so essential to real service for God. . .as an entire separa­tion and devotion to the work. Thus speaks Arnot of Central Africa; thus speaks every man and woman whose life has made more than a passing flicker in the spiritual realm. Whether among our fellow-countrymen or the people of the land, it is the life that has no time for trifling that tells.

We all long to live to the uttermost, Not with the crowd to be spent, Not without aim to go round, In an eddy of purposeless dust, Effort unmeaning and vain, in very truth to live, to touch souls to eternal issues. Is there no less straightly marked path to reach that goal? There is not. But is not this strange talk for the Lord’s own lovers? Ours be the love that asks not "How little?" but "How much?"; the love that pours out its all and revels in the joy of having anything to pour on the feet of its Beloved, love that laughs at limits, rather does not see them, would not heed them if it did. How such talk as that feeble, futile "What is the harm?" falls from us and is forgotten when we see Calvary, the Crucified, the Risen again, Rabboni of our souls. Who that one moment has the least descried Him, Dimly and faintly, hidden and afar, Doth not despise all excellence beside Him, Pleasures and powers that are not and that are- Ay amid all men bear himself thereafter Smit with a solemn and a sweet surprise, Dumb to their scorn and turning on their laughter Only the dominance of earnest eyes?