The Aged Minister of Christ Contemplated 3
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III. Let us now anticipate the FUTURE DESTINY of the aged minister. There needs no gift of prophecy to foretell that the young must grow old, if they are permitted to live long enough, and the old, older; that the strong must become weak, and the weak dissolve and die. "Seventy years is all we have—eighty years, if we are strong; yet all they bring us is trouble and sorrow; life is soon over, and we are gone." (Psalm 90:10).
The sun that rises in such splendor and waxes brighter and brighter unto the perfect day, must decline and set. Growth, decline, and death are the law of all life on earth, from which there is no exemption on behalf of the minister of the gospel. He preaches on the high theme of immortality—but it is with the breath in his nostrils, ready to depart. It has been known that a hearer has furtively put back the hands of the clock, that by a kind of pious fraud the pastor might be entrapped into a longer sermon—but no device can put back the hand upon the dial of his life, to protract his existence. We listen to a juvenile and to an aged minister, with all the difference of feeling with which we watch the evolution of the verdant leaf in the spring, and notice its sere and yellow state in autumn.
In some cases God is pleased to grant such a degree of physical strength and to protract it so long, that if it were not for the wrinkles on the face, and the grey hairs upon the brow, the hearers of the preacher would scarcely believe that he who speaks with a voice so strong, and with a mind so clear, can be verging on old age; and they are surprised to hear him call himself an aged man. But even in that case, the principle of decay is secretly at work, and the worm, though it has not eaten through the shell, is preying upon the kernel. In due time comes disease, which in some cases is very gradual, and all but imperceptible, so as to awaken no alarm, to excite no anxiety, and seemingly to require no precaution.
But that which thus at first so insidiously approached at length develops itself and exhibits unmistakeable symptoms of advancing and irresistible incurable disease. Ah, this is now the time to try the patience of the minister and the kind forbearance of the congregation. His labors are feeble and intermittent. Much trouble, perplexity, and expense are incurred, in keeping the pulpit well supplied. The looser and lighter hearers drop off. The congregation is diminished. The good man, on his occasional return to the pulpit perceives it, and is grieved. He is at a loss what to do; unwilling to resign while there is a hope of recovery, and yet very uncertain whether he shall recover, he experiences much mental conflict, which aggravates his disease, and gives him sleepless nights and anxious days. Oh you deacons, now is the time for you to be at your post, to be active for the church, and to sympathize with the aged and afflicted pastor. Oh you church members, now is the time for you to be constantly in your place, that you might comfort his heart by the assurance that the church will not suffer by his absence.
For it is the church, the welfare of his beloved church, which, in this solemn painful season, presses upon his heart. His pains would be lighter could he be assured of the welfare of that. Disease advances, and through a lengthened period of decline, the now disabled pastor has an opportunity to exhibit the passive virtues of that religion which he inculcated through his lengthened ministry. His bed is now his pulpit, from which he preaches; on faith, by exercising it; on patience, by exemplifying it; on submission, by practicing it. To the doctrines which formed the high theme of his ministry he sets the seal of his dying testimony. He looks back with the profoundest humiliation upon his imperfections, and gives utterance to his penitence in the hearing of his friends; but still he catches the spirit, and echoes the language, of the great apostle, "I know whom I have believed and am persuaded He is able to keep that which I have committed to Him until that day. I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have fought a good fight.
I have finished my course. I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at that day, and not to me only but to all them also that love his appearing." Thus the clouds of affliction which gather round his setting sun themselves receive its luster, and reflect it in various hues of splendor and beauty.
At length comes the end, when he finishes his course with joy, and lays down the ministry which he received of the Lord. The weary, worn-out laborer goes to his rest, and to his reward; goes to be associated with those who were his hope and joy on earth, and now are to be his crown of rejoicing in the presence of Christ; goes to meet his Maker, and hear him say, "Well done, good and faithful servant, enter into the joy of the Lord." Such words! From such lips! On such an occasion! Are they not a reward ample and abundant, for the labors, the sufferings, of seventy years or eighty years, and if called to it for martyrdom itself.
So must terminate, however protracted, the connection between the pastor and his flock. "Death works in us—but life in you." The very labor we carry on consumes us. This event must be anticipated in all—but especially in the aged minister. The young may die—the old must die. True it is, that sometimes we see a young and flaming seraph, like Samuel Pearce, Spencer, Henry Martin, and M'Cheyne called away from this world to that other one, to which they seemed more to belong than to ours. But these are the exceptions; the order usually observed is for the aged to go, and for the young to remain.
Such a consideration of the future history and approaching destiny of the aged minister ought to have some practical bearing upon the feelings and conduct of his people. It should not end in a cold admission of its truth, or in musing upon its solemnity or sadness with mere sentimental pensiveness. Should there not be devout and fervent gratitude for the long possession of the blessing? Does a jubilee of holy example, of ministerial labor, of pastoral oversight, make no demand, or only a small one, upon your thankfulness, both to God and man? Ought there not to be a deep sense of responsibility? For having enjoyed for so long a period such advantages, what an account you will have to give! Think of all the sermons you have heard, and the counsels you have received; do you not tremble at the idea of hearing him say, amidst the solemnities of judgment, "I take you to record this day, I am pure from the blood of all men, for I have not shunned to declare unto you the whole counsel of God." How is it with you? What has his ministry been to you? An occasion of life unto life, or of death unto death? Pause, ponder, and examine. And ought there to be no serious reflection?
Should there be no such thoughts as these on your mind? "Our minister is no longer even middle aged—but has arrived at the period of life, when, whatever vigor of constitution he may possess, we cannot hope to retain him long. He has himself warned us of this, and we ought therefore to be anxious to improve by his labors while we enjoy them. And in order that we may retain him longer, we should do all we can to promote his comfort, and keep his mind easy. We should not grieve his spirit by neglecting his ministrations, nor lead him to suppose we have grown weary of the voice we have heard for so many years. We must endeavor to make his last days his best; best for himself and best for us; and to seek that the evening of his day may be calm and bright, and that his sun may go down without any cloud raised from our conduct towards him."
And now my beloved, respected, and venerable friend, the center at this moment of our attentions and our sensibilities, accept my congratulations on the arrival of this day, and upon all the auspicious circumstances with which it comes attended. Everything calls forth our gratitude and yours. That you have been preserved in holiness and honor to this advanced period of your life; (for what is lengthened life, without these—but a protracted disgrace and curse?) that you have lived in love, harmony, and peace, for so long a period with this church, and retained your place in their hearts until now; that you have secured and held fast the esteem of your fellow-townsmen, the regard of your ministerial brethren, and the confidence of our whole denomination; all of whom gather around you, at least by representation, today, to do you honor; all this I say, far more even than the munificent donation which is this evening to embody and express all these sentiments, are matter of sincere and hearty congratulation.
But this is not all—to you it must be a matter of thankfulness and satisfaction to look back upon the thirteen years which you have spent in the joint pastorate with that most estimable man whom God so wisely and so kindly sent to labor with you in the ministry; to consider that he is still working with you the work of the Lord, loved by the church as much as he is loved by you, and reciprocating in full measure this love to both; and also to anticipate the moment when it will soften the pillow of death to reflect that in giving up the ministry you are resigning it into the hands of one so competent faithfully to discharge its duties, and to feed the flock. Happy, happy man to be thus blessed. How would it brighten the evening of my own days and relieve my heart of an oppressive load of anxiety if I were blessed in this respect as you are.*
* The Author had not the happiness of having the co-pastor with whom Providence after blessed him. Ed.
And now may God preserve you yet longer to us, rich in years, and in experience, until at length full of days and of honors, having fully served your generation according to the will of God—you shall fall asleep in Jesus!
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