"I must work the works of him that sent me, while it is day: the night cometh, when no man can work" (John 9:4).
Preachers of the gospel are in a race of life and death with the setting sun. Said Jesus, "The night cometh." Evidence of this is in the very air we breathe. Atomic fallout threatens to poison the very atmosphere. Stockpiling of armaments by East and West, done in the name of war prevention, may be the principal cause of its necessity. Crime stalks the city streets, and like the wily serpent, rears its ugly head in the most unexpected places. Respected financial institutions doing business in millions of dollars are declared insolvent. Sex-maddened teen-agers hold their pagan orgies on beaches and in less conspicuous places. Tobacco, alcohol, and narcotics are the true opiates of the people. Self is the new god of this age, as this generation has apparently decided that it cannot adore what it cannot see. "The night cometh." The President of the world's most powerful country is not safe on its cities' streets. Worship is becoming more popular and less meaningful. Churches are experiencing full pews and an ample coinage, but poverty of spirit keeps the desired peace just out of reach. And what of famine, disease, natural disasters? Gentlemen, a state of emergency exists. Heaven has declared the earth a disaster area. The night indeed cometh! Let us therefore rise up and "work the works of him."
The emergency conditions here mentioned compound the necessity of immediate and effective action. "The works of him" were all-inclusive. He ministered by preaching, teaching, healing, prayer, and personal visitation. Each phase was prosecuted with the ardor of new adventure; and refreshed with the dew of heaven, He began each new day's work. He ministered in the power of the Spirit. "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me," He said. "Ye shall receive power" was His promise to His disciples. Dare we claim little in the midst of plenty? To Christ, the claim of service was individual. He gave Himself. And He will accept no less of us. The minister can claim no privacy and little privilege. To spend and be spent is his happy prospect. Chain and fagot may be his earthly badge of glory, and inertia his only shame.
Then let the rapidly setting sun find our feet in unfamiliar paths, and our voices pitched in places virgin to the gospel call. And when the seventh trumpet sounds the "taps" signaling that sun is set, may it be with Heaven's halo of approval o'er our heads. Let us therefore work the works with vigor now, for the night cometh "when no man can."
