The most dynamic evangelist of the Christian church used language we can all understand in these days of haste. "Let us go" is a familiar expression, but the apostle Paul wasn't talking merely about going, but going "on unto perfection." This expression becomes the index of a great life. No man since the time of Moses had caught so clear a vision of God, and yet there was always something greater beyond.
In his letter to the Philippian church his thinking falls into the familiar pattern. He says, "One thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth . . . , I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus." And a few years later we see him standing amid the shadows of death, with his work done, his worn body about to be offered; yet there is no spirit of fear. He is not cringing in defeat, but like the graceful swan that in the hour of death soars to sing his farewell song, this mighty leader, this tireless evangelist, lifts his pen and with steady hand sends a farewell me sage to his followers: "I have fought a good fight, I have finished nay course, I have kept the faith: henceforth . . ." Always some thing greater beyond! His service, his sacrifices, his toils, his tumults, were but a training for something greater. To one with such a vision, even trials and disappointments become causes of rejoicing. Without that vision it is easy for us as workers to begin to wonder why certain things happen. In an hour when gross darkness has settled down upon the nations and men are walking like blind men, the church is called to "arise, shine." And again the great apostle's words to his understudy Timothy come with new meaning to us. "Stir up the gift of God, which is in thee," he says. Another translation says "rekindle the flame." Only men ablaze with the message of hope can illumine the path for the stumbling feet of humanity.
To keep ablaze for God we must permit the winds of heaven to blow through our lives every day, fanning the embers anew until they burst into radiance. A burning heart will always find a flaming tongue. Of the apostles we read, "With what burning language they clothed their ideas as they bore witness for Him!" Acts of the Apostles, p. 46.
Sons of God, Without Rebuke
The minister of God, no matter where he works, is called to witness "in the midst of a crooked and perverse nation," and in such an environment we are called to "shine as lights in the world; holding forth the word of life" (Phil. 2:15, 16). To be sons of God without rebuke is truly a high calling. A friend in England related to me a touching experience.
She was a schoolteacher, and France and England were carrying out a plan for exchange of teachers. Having changed places temporarily with a teacher from France, this lady, one of our own members, found herself in a city in eastern France. About forty boys were her responsibility, and of course boys are the same all over the world. There were occasional fights and disagreements, and always the sense of uncertainty. But she was used to that. However, there was one lad who sat in the front row whom she had noted with particular interest. Whenever there was trouble, he was never in it. He was a kind lad, full of enthusiasm, but when there was anything out of line he was always some where else. Watching him for a number of weeks, she made up her mind that she was going to get to know him better. She asked him to remain after school one day. After expressing appreciation for his spirit of kindness and loyalty to principle, she said, "I want to get to know your mother. You must come from a good home." When she asked about his mother, a strange look came over his face. He said, "I am sorry, Miss, you can't meet my mother." "Well, why not?" "My mother isn't here." "Where is she?" "Don't ask me, Miss." "But I want to know. You won't mind telling me." Then he said, "She is dead." That was a shock to the teacher. "How did she die?" But such details he did not want to disclose. It was only after much coaxing that she got the story, and then it was told to her with deep emotion.
He had been brought up in one of the eastern countries of Europe. He belonged to one of the royal families and had lived in a palace. Suddenly one day the invading army rushed into the palace and seized the prince and the princess his father and mother. He described it all as he told how he had seen them led off to be shot.
He said: "I saw my father step up to the captain, and then the group halted. The captain was kind enough to let my father and mother come back to say good-by to me. It was a terrible parting, but as they kissed me good-by my father stepped back and saluted, and I saluted him, and then he said as he gripped my hand, 'John, I know what is going to happen to us. Mommy and I are going to be shot. I don't know what will become of you. I have one request remember that you are the son of a prince and a princess. Whatever hap pens to you, promise me that you will al ways behave like a prince.' " 'Yes, father, I will,' was my reply. The procession moved on. I saw my parents shot, and then I ran. I kept running. I left that country and got into another country. For weeks and weeks I pressed on, and at last came over here into France, and someone was kind and took me in. Please, teacher, don't tell anybody. I don't want the boys to know, but you have asked why I do not fight or cheat. I cannot do those things, for I am the son of a prince."
As that teacher told me that story, her eyes were filled with tears. It was the memory of a noble lad who, without identification, moved among his fellows as a prince. As sons of God we, God's ministers, must live and move always without rebuke, "that the ministry be not blamed." This is a high calling. A continual sense of that high call ing will be all the inspiration we need to go "on unto perfection."
