A Thing Of Wonder

It is an inescapable truth that there is a weighty and strange, prevailing disparity between the open passions of the world's devotees and the quiet, retiring disposition of the Christian soul. I have paused many a time to ponder why the adherents of novel and unconventional ideologies seem ever so unreserved, so vocal, and so insistent in the public square, while we, who hold the veritable key to eternal life, keep our profession of faith confined to the muted corners of our chapel walls.

The question presents itself with poignant clarity: Why do Sodomites who promote sin and degeneracy labor with such determined effort to present their tales to the very innocents in the school-room, when the Christian father and mother, knowing the priceless worth of sacred Scripture, so often permit a day to pass without committing to the reading of the Bible with their own dear children at home?

Must we not feel a prick of conscience to see those Mormons who follow a misguided phantom of a deity expend the whole of their day, walking under the blistering sun, to make their witnessing calls, yet we, who serve the true God of all creation, so easily fail to summon a like devotion?

Is it not a humbling, fearsome thought that those who cling to a religion of fanatical radicalism, exhibit a resolve so absolute as to commit to their own physical destruction, while we, the messengers of divine grace, show such a meager, hesitant spirit in our calling to preach the Word everywhere, as was the resolute command of the early Church (Acts 8:4)?

And finally, is there not a profound melancholy in observing the very ministers of earthly government—the servants of the temporal sphere—display a focused, intentional purpose in shaping the public mind with every transient, worldly notion, while the children of the everlasting Kingdom remain passive and slow in sharing the eternal, saving Gospel within the simple confines of their domestic and social circles?

It seems the spirit of heathenism walks forth boldly, arrayed in all its finery and error, whilst the pure light of Christianity suffers itself to be lost within the crowd—a single, indistinct note amongst the many chords played by churches whose fervor is mixed and whose piety is compromised. May our hearts be stirred to a nobler, more visible earnestness, that the world may finally know the true depth of the hope we profess.

..for the sons of this world are wiser in relation to their generation than the sons of light.

Luke 16:8

It is a thought of deep and tender melancholy that has often occupied my mind: the curious and troubling contrast between the fierce energy of worldly pursuits and the quiet, shrinking disposition of our most sacred faith. This contemplation besets me: What if?—those who follow the sinful and depraved  ideologies of our day were to conduct themselves with the same reserve and quietude we ourselves often exhibit? If they were merely to gather in their private chapels once a week, holding conferences that were sparse and muted, sharing their principles only in a polite whisper when chanced upon in the street, taking every care not to disturb or offend the populace? In such a case, it is lamentably clear: their entire cause, being so modest and so carefully hidden, would pass entirely without notice or consequence.

And here lies the sting to our conscience, for this is precisely the tragic fate that appears to have befallen the everlasting Gospel itself! The Light of the world, which ought to be a glorious and unquenchable beacon, has too often become a mere candle shielded by a bushel, so timidly borne and sparsely communicated that its very existence is now unremarked upon by the busy and disinterested society.

This sad reality is further compounded by the bitter observation that the profession of Christian faith seems to be the only one made the frequent subject of the world's derision and scorn. This mockery is not the noble persecution of old, but rather the sorrowful derision leveled at an institution that has lost its pristine zeal and its fearless voice. The world mocks us not because we are too bold, but because, in their eyes, we appear too easily silenced, too ready to retreat, and too comfortable with being tragically, and shamefully, overlooked. May our hearts therefore be moved not to judge the world's intensity, but rather to rekindle that fervent, visible commitment that alone can dispel the shadows and make the truth of the Gospel of Christ known once more.

Oh, the profound question that pierces the heart of the professing Church! Why, I ask in deep humility and sorrow, are our lips so frequently sealed concerning Christ—both to our dearest blood relations and within the clamorous confines of the public square? It is a terrible, visible truth that must shame us to the dust: 

Those who follow the doctrines of this passing world appear to possess a fiercer, more settled conviction in their transient philosophies than we possess in the eternal, infallible Word of Holy Scripture! They show themselves to be militant in their resolve and courageous in their declaration, yet we are found to be fearful, timid, and tragically oblivious to the great and urgent commission laid upon us.

May the Lord awaken us from this deep, perilous slumber of the soul, lest our silence prove a greater sin than the very errors of the world we fail to confront!

Ah, the great paradox of our condition! For surely, the true Christian—who stands upon the firm foundation of an eternal inheritance—should possess a lion's courage above all humanity. We are meant to advance with purpose, to proclaim loudly from the high places, and to shine with the bright light of conviction, for we have the very promise of God's presence, the certainty of His truth, the guarantee of His provision, and the glorious assurance of everlasting life.

Yet, must we not confront the bitter disappointment? The fault lies not with God, but with our own failing vision. We allow our gaze to linger upon the dust and the fleeting shadows of this present world, and thus, we utterly neglect that essential daily dying to self which alone gives strength. When the heart refuses to gaze earnestly upon the promises of eternity, it loses the courage to conquer the self, and in that fearful, spiritual retreat, we are left to abide alone—a solitary and ineffective witness. Our timidity remains to be the fruit of our earthbound desires.