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(Created page with "'''Back to The Beauty of Every Day''' ---- <p>Paul tells us that he made his progress in spiritual life—by <em>forgetting </em>the things that were behind. "Brothers, I d...")
 
 
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<p>Paul tells us that he made his progress in spiritual life—by <em>forgetting </em>the things that were behind. "Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: <em>Forgetting what is behind </em>and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." Philippians 3:13-14<br><br>
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<p>Thomas was not with the other apostles when Jesus appeared to them the evening of the Resurrection. Through his absence he missed the revealing of Jesus when he came that night and stood in the midst of the little company alive, and showed them his hands. The other apostles went out from the room with hearts full of joy. They had their Friend again! We have no record of what happened that week—but we are sure they were wondrously glad.<br><br>
<em>Remembering </em>is a favorite Bible word. Forgetting is not usually commended. There is peril in forgetting. Indeed we forget altogether too much. Yet there are certain things we must forget—if we would make any progress in life.<br><br>
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But think of Thomas all that week. He had missed seeing the risen Jesus. His sorrow was uncomforted. There were no songs in his heart.<br><br>
We must forget our <strong>mistakes</strong>. There are many of them, too, and some of us never get away from their influence. We often sigh, "Oh, if I had not done that foolish thing, if I had not let that bad companionship into my life, if I had not taken that bad advice—how much better my life would have been!" We fret over the mistakes we have made, the blunders of our lives, and yield to their disheartening influence. We think that we can never make anything of our life, because of one pitiful mistake, one grievous sin. We think that we can never be a soldier, because we have lost one battle; that we can never succeed in business, because our first effort was a sad failure. These are things we should forget, not allowing them to check our onward life.<br><br>
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Do not many people have the same experience? Have you thought what you may miss any time you are absent from your church service? There is a story of a black man in the South who walked several miles to his church, and never failed to attend. One week he was noticed by a white neighbor trudging every evening through rain and slush to his meeting. "Why do you go so far to church these stormy nights? I would think you would stay at home when the weather is so bad." The old man took off his hat in the cold rain, and said with deep reverence, "You see, we are praying in our church for a blessing, and I would not dare to stay away for one night, for that might be the very night the blessing we are seeking would come, and if I were not there I should miss it."<br><br>
Some people carry the mistakes of all their years with them unto the end, and they hang like <em>chains </em>on them, so that they can make no progress. But this is a fearful waste of life. We <em>grow </em>by making mistakes. Think how many mistakes you made in learning to write, how many copybooks you spoiled before your penmanship became a credit to you! Think how many mistakes the <em>artist</em>makes before he is able to put a worthy picture on canvas, how many mistakes the <em>musician </em>makes before he is able to play a piece of music well! In every department of life, there are years and years with little but mistakes, immaturities, blunders—while men and women are preparing for beautiful living and noble work. Forget your mistakes, leave them behind, let God take care of them—and go on to better things. Build a palace on your <em>failures</em>, making them part of the <em>foundation</em>.<br><br>
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Church services are God's appointments. Christ asks his people to meet him. He always keeps his appointments, and comes with a blessing. If we do not keep our appointments with him, we shall miss the good, the cheer, the help we need, and which he came to bring to us.<br><br>
We should forget the <strong>hurts </strong>we receive. Somebody did you harm last year. Somebody was unkind to you and left a wound. Forget these hurts! Do not remember them; do not cherish them, allowing them to rankle in your heart. The other day a man's hand was swollen and black, in serious danger of blood poisoning, all from a little splinter which in some way got into a finger and was permitted to stay there until it almost made necessary the amputation of the hand or arm, endangering the life. That is the way<em>little hurts</em>, when remembered, fester and make great distress, and sometimes produce even fatal results.<br><br>
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Thomas was not with the disciples when Jesus came. Those who came, saw the risen Lord and received his blessing. A great joy came into their hearts. But Thomas missed all this blessing.<br><br>
Remember how <em>Cain's envy </em>was nursed and grow into fratricide! Jesus warned men against anger, saying it is murder, that is, the beginning of murder, a feeling which if cherished, may ripen into actual crime.<br><br>
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We do not know what divine message may come to the worshipers in our accustomed place of worship, any Sunday morning. You may be in sorrow. The word that day may be a word of comfort, just the word your heart needs. Those who hear it thank God and go away with a song; but you, sitting in your home, nursing your grief, brooding over it, miss the message and go into another week unhelped, to walk all the days through gloom and shadow.<br><br>
There are people who grow <em>jealous </em>of others. First it is only a feeling of which they are ashamed. But they brood over it, think of it day and night, until it grows and at length fills their whole life, and becomes a <em>hateful passion </em>which spoils their days and possibly ends in some great wrong. How much wiser is the <em>oyster! </em>A tiny grain of sand gets under its shell and grinds and hurts and makes a sore. Instead, however, of letting it become an ugly wound—the oyster, by peculiar secretions, makes a pearl. That is what we may do with others' unlovingness or their faults—change them into pearls of beauty in our character. If anyone hurts you by an unkindness, forget it and let the wound be healed in love.<br><br>
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You are a young person, discontented, unhappy, not knowing what to do with your life. You did not feel like going to church, so you were not there. That day the preacher spoke of life's meaning and purpose, every life a plan of God—and showed with unusual plainness and clearness how to live so as to fulfill the divine plan for it. He answered the very question your heart was asking. But you were not at the service and you missed the lesson which might have changed the course of all your future life.<br><br>
We should forget our past <strong>attainments</strong>, our <strong>successes </strong>and <strong>achievements</strong>. A writer tells of a man he had known for twenty-five years. The first time he saw him the man told of a certain good thing he had done many years before—a really good thing which greatly helped a community. He had seen him occasionally ever since, and every time the man told him the same story of the fine thing he had done long ago. It was a really good story. The thing he did was worthy. But would it not have been better if he had forgotten that <em>one </em>excellent deed of long ago—in doing other noble things a hundred times since?<br><br>
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You were greatly discouraged because of the hardness of the way. The week had been a difficult one—things had gone wrong, you had not done well in business, there had been tangles and misunderstandings in your friendships. Saturday you were sick at heart. Sunday you were in gloomy mood and did not attend church. The service was an especially uplifting one, telling of God's love, full of cheer, encouragement, and impulses to joy. If you had been present, you would have been greatly helped by the services, the prayers, the Scriptures, the hymns, the sermon—toward gladness and victoriousness; you would have lost your discouragement in new spiritual courage, your weariness in magnificent enthusiasm. Others who were present that morning carried away with them, thoughts and inspirations which made all the week glad. But you, hiding away in your self-pity or your disheartenment, missed the message and the blessing, the kindling of hope and joy, and went into another week of weary struggle and toil unhelped.<br><br>
We should never regard any noble deed of ours—as our best. We should never look back for the <em>climax </em>of our attainment or achievement. Paul was quite an old man when he wrote the words about forgetting past things—but he had forgotten all his past sacrifices and achievements, and was looking forward yet for better and higher work to do. However noble and useful your last year was, however good you were, however much you did for Christ and for your fellow-men, forget it all and set about making the next year the best ever you have lived!<br><br>
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Thomas's mistake was that his gloom kept him from being present that night with the other apostles. Many people yield to discouragement, and discouragement hurts their lives. Discouragement is a sort of mental and spiritual malaria. It poisons the blood. Much of certain forms of sickness—is only <em>discouragement </em>darkening the sky, putting out the stars, quenching all joy and hope. It was discouragement which kept Thomas away from the meeting with the apostles that night. We see how that mistake almost wrecked everything for him. If Jesus had not been so marvelously patient with his gloomy, doubting disciple, giving him a second chance a week later, Thomas would never have recovered himself and got back into the apostolic family. But if he had been present at the meeting, he would have seen Jesus when the others did, and his discouragement would have been changed into faith, hope, and joy.<br><br>
We should forget our past <strong>sins</strong>. In one sense, we cannot. They will not be forgotten. This ought to keep us <em>humble </em>and make us<em>wary</em>. We should never forget the <em>peril </em>of sin. But sin <em>forgiven </em>should be forgotten and left behind. That is, we should believe in the <em>forgiveness </em>of our sins which have been confessed and repented of.<br><br>
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We should lose no chance to see Christ. We should seek the places where he is most likely to come; we should be ready to hear every word that might reveal him. We should keep ourselves always in the light of the truth, in the shining of God's face. Christ is always coming to show us his hands with the print of the nails, to prove to us that he loves us. If we are always present when he comes, we shall never miss the blessing which he brings, and our lives will always be full of gladness. But the trouble with too many of us is—that we are not present when he comes. He comes continually in manifold ways. He comes in every flower that blooms, in every blade of grass that waves in the breeze, in every bird that sings, in every beautiful thing that grows. He comes in the sweet love of your home, in the laugh of your little child, in the kindness of your friend. He comes in all the blessings of the church, in the holy places of prayer.<br><br>
The other day one was speaking of an experience of over fifteen years back—a sin—and the <em>black shadow </em>still hung over his life, shutting out the sun and the blue of the sky, hiding the face of God and quenching all joy and hope. That is not the way Christ wants us to be with our sins. He came to save us from them, and when they are forgiven, he bids us go in peace. Put your repentance into songs of gratitude and joy, and into new service. If one day has been spoiled by sin, do not spoil another day by<em>grieving </em>over it. Forget your past sins—in holy and beautiful living.<br><br>
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A godly man said that the evening family worship had saved his home and its love. The days were full of little friction, and irritations. He was a man of quick temper and hasty speech, and often was the home music jangled. The close of the day was unhappy. But the evening prayer set all things right again. The father and mother knelt, side by side, with their little children, and as they prayed, "Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us," they were drawn close together again in love. The little strifes were healed, and their wedded joy was saved. The sun was not allowed to go down upon their differences. This is one of the blessings of family prayer. Christ comes and appears to us alive beside the sacred home altar—and shows us his hands and speaks his word of peace.<br><br>
We should forget our <strong>sorrows</strong>. It is not easy. The empty chairs remind us always of those who used to sit on them. The loneliness stays, and it takes wise and diligent watchfulness not to allow a sadness to wrap itself about us like sackcloth, or to enter into us like an atmosphere and darken our life. But God does not want our sorrows to hurt us, so as to mar our joy and beauty. He wants them to become a blessing to us, to soften our hearts and enrich our character. He wants us always to remember the friends who have been so much to us and have gone from us—but to forget the griefs in the joy of divine comfort. Every grief should leave a blessing.<br><br>
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In every part of true home life, Christ is always coming in little kindly, beautiful ways. In all pure friendships he comes continually with words and acts of cheer. Human kindness is simply God revealing himself, Christ showing his hands. The world and all life are full of lovely things. In the darkest gorges among the mountains, men find lovely little flowers blooming, which brighten the ruggedness; so the tender things of divine grace make beautiful the most painful experiences.<br><br>
These are suggestions of Paul's secret of noble life—forgetting things that are behind. We should never leave behind or throw away, however, anything that is good and lovely. We are to keep all our treasures of experience. All the good impressions, influences, lessons, and inspirations that we receive—we are to cherish. We should hold fast every good thing that comes to us. Not a good thing that is ever ours—should we lose.<br><br>
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All this is meant to keep our lives cheerful. The joy is to dispel the sorrow. The sweetness is to overcome the bitterness, Jesus comes in a thousand ways, with cheer and comfort, to make us brave and strong, to keep us from despair. But how often do we miss the beautiful things, the pleasure, the happiness, the comfort that God sends to us. We always find the <em>thorns</em>—but we do not always see the <em>roses</em>. We feel the pangs, the sufferings—but do not get the pleasure, the joy, the cheer. We miss seeing<em>Jesus </em>when he appears alive, shows his hands, and speaks his words of peace—but we always see the cross, the grave, the darkness.<br><br>
What a serious loss it would be—if there were no remembering, if we could not keep ever as our own the joys, the delights, the precious things of the past! We do not begin to know what treasures we may lay up for ourselves, if we live always beautifully and have only sweet and sacred memories. "Make yourselves nests of pleasant thoughts," says Ruskin. "None of us realize what fairy palaces we may build of beautiful thoughts, armor against all adversity—bright and satisfied memories, noble histories, faithful sayings, treasure-houses of precious and restful thoughts, which care cannot disturb, nor pain make gloomy, nor poverty take away from us—houses built without hands, for our souls to live in."<br><br>
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Shall we not learn the lesson which Thomas had not learned, and avoid making the mistake he made? Life is full of opportunities of blessing—but too often we miss them. Shall we not learn to accept every one of them?<br><br>
We should keep all that will enrich our character, that will sweeten our memory, that will make music in our hearts in the after years—but things that will vex us and worry us as we think of them—we are to forget.<br><br>
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The room was chill and uncomfortable, for it was midwinter. Presently a beam of sunlight stole in through a crack in the shutter, and fell in a patch of brightness on the floor. The <em>little dog </em>had been lying on the cold floor. But the moment he saw a spot of sunshine on the carpet—he got up and walked over to it and lay down in it. The dog teaches us a lesson. Wherever we see a spot of light in the darkness of our condition or circumstances, let us hasten to it and appropriate it. Whenever we find a comfort or a pleasure, however it may have come to us, let us accept it. Whenever there is any beautiful thing along our path, it is for us; it was put there expressly for us; let us take it into our heart and enjoy it as we go on our way.<br><br>
We are to win the <em>high altitudes in life </em>by leaving and forgetting the things that are behind. Oh, if we could only get away from our past! It holds us in <em>chains</em>. It enmeshes us, so that we cannot get disentangled from it. "Remember Lot's wife!" how the poor woman could not get free from her past, how it dragged her back when the angels were trying to rescue and save her—so that she was turned into a pillar of salt, and perished. Many people are lost—by clinging to their past.<br><br>
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Let us miss no opportunity to be where Christ may be, to stand where he may pass by, to go where he may come. The mistake of Thomas was that in his gloom and discouragement, he was not in the company of the apostles that night. He lost the opportunity of seeing the Lord living, and of having his doubts and griefs swept away by the light of faith and love. Many of us continually miss opportunities of gladness and beauty. We nurse our sorrows and turn not our faces toward the comforts of God. We stay in our little dark rooms with the shutters closed, and go not out into the blessed sunlight. We are not as happy Christians as we ought to be. We miss blessings we might enjoy. We live in the mists and fogs of the <em>valley</em>, when we might be dwelling on the clear mountaintops. We neglect opportunities of receiving divine revealings, and then say we cannot believe. Let us open our hearts to the beauty and grace of Christ, however it may come to us. Then we shall have no more doubts and tears—but shall find light and joy everywhere!
When Cardinal Mazarin was near to death, it is said a courtier in his palace saw him walking about the great halls of his palace, gazing on the magnificent pictures, the statuary, and works of art. "Must I leave it all? Must I leave it all?" he was heard to murmur despairingly. These were his treasures, the accumulation of a long life of wealth and power. These were the things he had lived for, and they were things he could not take with him. He must leave them to the moth and rust.<br><br>
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We must beware of our <em>earthly entanglements</em>. We should forget the things of the past—by having our hearts filled with the glory of things to come!
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Latest revision as of 13:12, 2 November 2012

Back to The Beauty of Every Day


Thomas was not with the other apostles when Jesus appeared to them the evening of the Resurrection. Through his absence he missed the revealing of Jesus when he came that night and stood in the midst of the little company alive, and showed them his hands. The other apostles went out from the room with hearts full of joy. They had their Friend again! We have no record of what happened that week—but we are sure they were wondrously glad.

But think of Thomas all that week. He had missed seeing the risen Jesus. His sorrow was uncomforted. There were no songs in his heart.

Do not many people have the same experience? Have you thought what you may miss any time you are absent from your church service? There is a story of a black man in the South who walked several miles to his church, and never failed to attend. One week he was noticed by a white neighbor trudging every evening through rain and slush to his meeting. "Why do you go so far to church these stormy nights? I would think you would stay at home when the weather is so bad." The old man took off his hat in the cold rain, and said with deep reverence, "You see, we are praying in our church for a blessing, and I would not dare to stay away for one night, for that might be the very night the blessing we are seeking would come, and if I were not there I should miss it."

Church services are God's appointments. Christ asks his people to meet him. He always keeps his appointments, and comes with a blessing. If we do not keep our appointments with him, we shall miss the good, the cheer, the help we need, and which he came to bring to us.

Thomas was not with the disciples when Jesus came. Those who came, saw the risen Lord and received his blessing. A great joy came into their hearts. But Thomas missed all this blessing.

We do not know what divine message may come to the worshipers in our accustomed place of worship, any Sunday morning. You may be in sorrow. The word that day may be a word of comfort, just the word your heart needs. Those who hear it thank God and go away with a song; but you, sitting in your home, nursing your grief, brooding over it, miss the message and go into another week unhelped, to walk all the days through gloom and shadow.

You are a young person, discontented, unhappy, not knowing what to do with your life. You did not feel like going to church, so you were not there. That day the preacher spoke of life's meaning and purpose, every life a plan of God—and showed with unusual plainness and clearness how to live so as to fulfill the divine plan for it. He answered the very question your heart was asking. But you were not at the service and you missed the lesson which might have changed the course of all your future life.

You were greatly discouraged because of the hardness of the way. The week had been a difficult one—things had gone wrong, you had not done well in business, there had been tangles and misunderstandings in your friendships. Saturday you were sick at heart. Sunday you were in gloomy mood and did not attend church. The service was an especially uplifting one, telling of God's love, full of cheer, encouragement, and impulses to joy. If you had been present, you would have been greatly helped by the services, the prayers, the Scriptures, the hymns, the sermon—toward gladness and victoriousness; you would have lost your discouragement in new spiritual courage, your weariness in magnificent enthusiasm. Others who were present that morning carried away with them, thoughts and inspirations which made all the week glad. But you, hiding away in your self-pity or your disheartenment, missed the message and the blessing, the kindling of hope and joy, and went into another week of weary struggle and toil unhelped.

Thomas's mistake was that his gloom kept him from being present that night with the other apostles. Many people yield to discouragement, and discouragement hurts their lives. Discouragement is a sort of mental and spiritual malaria. It poisons the blood. Much of certain forms of sickness—is only discouragement darkening the sky, putting out the stars, quenching all joy and hope. It was discouragement which kept Thomas away from the meeting with the apostles that night. We see how that mistake almost wrecked everything for him. If Jesus had not been so marvelously patient with his gloomy, doubting disciple, giving him a second chance a week later, Thomas would never have recovered himself and got back into the apostolic family. But if he had been present at the meeting, he would have seen Jesus when the others did, and his discouragement would have been changed into faith, hope, and joy.

We should lose no chance to see Christ. We should seek the places where he is most likely to come; we should be ready to hear every word that might reveal him. We should keep ourselves always in the light of the truth, in the shining of God's face. Christ is always coming to show us his hands with the print of the nails, to prove to us that he loves us. If we are always present when he comes, we shall never miss the blessing which he brings, and our lives will always be full of gladness. But the trouble with too many of us is—that we are not present when he comes. He comes continually in manifold ways. He comes in every flower that blooms, in every blade of grass that waves in the breeze, in every bird that sings, in every beautiful thing that grows. He comes in the sweet love of your home, in the laugh of your little child, in the kindness of your friend. He comes in all the blessings of the church, in the holy places of prayer.

A godly man said that the evening family worship had saved his home and its love. The days were full of little friction, and irritations. He was a man of quick temper and hasty speech, and often was the home music jangled. The close of the day was unhappy. But the evening prayer set all things right again. The father and mother knelt, side by side, with their little children, and as they prayed, "Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us," they were drawn close together again in love. The little strifes were healed, and their wedded joy was saved. The sun was not allowed to go down upon their differences. This is one of the blessings of family prayer. Christ comes and appears to us alive beside the sacred home altar—and shows us his hands and speaks his word of peace.

In every part of true home life, Christ is always coming in little kindly, beautiful ways. In all pure friendships he comes continually with words and acts of cheer. Human kindness is simply God revealing himself, Christ showing his hands. The world and all life are full of lovely things. In the darkest gorges among the mountains, men find lovely little flowers blooming, which brighten the ruggedness; so the tender things of divine grace make beautiful the most painful experiences.

All this is meant to keep our lives cheerful. The joy is to dispel the sorrow. The sweetness is to overcome the bitterness, Jesus comes in a thousand ways, with cheer and comfort, to make us brave and strong, to keep us from despair. But how often do we miss the beautiful things, the pleasure, the happiness, the comfort that God sends to us. We always find the thorns—but we do not always see the roses. We feel the pangs, the sufferings—but do not get the pleasure, the joy, the cheer. We miss seeingJesus when he appears alive, shows his hands, and speaks his words of peace—but we always see the cross, the grave, the darkness.

Shall we not learn the lesson which Thomas had not learned, and avoid making the mistake he made? Life is full of opportunities of blessing—but too often we miss them. Shall we not learn to accept every one of them?

The room was chill and uncomfortable, for it was midwinter. Presently a beam of sunlight stole in through a crack in the shutter, and fell in a patch of brightness on the floor. The little dog had been lying on the cold floor. But the moment he saw a spot of sunshine on the carpet—he got up and walked over to it and lay down in it. The dog teaches us a lesson. Wherever we see a spot of light in the darkness of our condition or circumstances, let us hasten to it and appropriate it. Whenever we find a comfort or a pleasure, however it may have come to us, let us accept it. Whenever there is any beautiful thing along our path, it is for us; it was put there expressly for us; let us take it into our heart and enjoy it as we go on our way.

Let us miss no opportunity to be where Christ may be, to stand where he may pass by, to go where he may come. The mistake of Thomas was that in his gloom and discouragement, he was not in the company of the apostles that night. He lost the opportunity of seeing the Lord living, and of having his doubts and griefs swept away by the light of faith and love. Many of us continually miss opportunities of gladness and beauty. We nurse our sorrows and turn not our faces toward the comforts of God. We stay in our little dark rooms with the shutters closed, and go not out into the blessed sunlight. We are not as happy Christians as we ought to be. We miss blessings we might enjoy. We live in the mists and fogs of the valley, when we might be dwelling on the clear mountaintops. We neglect opportunities of receiving divine revealings, and then say we cannot believe. Let us open our hearts to the beauty and grace of Christ, however it may come to us. Then we shall have no more doubts and tears—but shall find light and joy everywhere!


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