that business man down in the sharp competition of the world where duty calls him, to resist the sly temptations to overreach, to keep keenly alert not to be overreached; and through all to preserve an uncensorious spirit, unhurt by the selfishness of the crowd—tell me, some of you men—will that not take power? Aye, more power than some of us know about, yet.
For that same man to go through his store and remove from shelf or counter some article which yields a good profit, but which he knows his Master would not have there—Ah! that'll take power.
It takes power to keep the body under control: the mouth clean and sweet, both physically and morally: the eye turned away from the thing that should not be thought about: the ear closed to what should not enter that in-gate of the heart: to allow no picture to hang upon the walls of your imagination that may not hang upon the walls of your home: to keep every organ of the body pure for nature's holy function only—that takes mighty power.
For that young man to be wide-awake, a pusher in business, and yet steadily, determinedly to hold back any crowding of the other side of his life: the inner side, the outer-helpful side, the Bible-reading- and secret-prayer- and quiet personal-work-side of his life, that will take real power.
It will take a power that some of us have not known to let that glass go untouched, and that quieting drug untasted and unhandled. If the rear end of some pharmacies could speak out, many a story would startle our ears of struggles and defeats that tell sadly of utter lack of power.
It takes power for the man of God in the pulpit to speak plainly about particular sins before the faces of those who are living in them; and still more power to do it with the rare tactfulness and tenderness of the Galilean preacher. It takes power to stick to the Gospel story and the old book, when literature and philosophy present such fine opportunities for the essays that are so enjoyable and that bring such flattering notice. It takes power to leave out the finely woven rhetoric that you are disposed to put in for the sake of the compliment it will bring from that literary woman down yonder, or that bright, brainy young lawyer in the fifth pew on the left aisle. It takes power to see that the lips that speak for God are thoroughly clean lips, and the life that stands before that audience a pure life.
It takes power to keep sweet in the home, where, if anywhere, the seamy side is apt to stick out. How many wooden oaths could kicked chairs and slammed doors tell of! After all the home-life comes close to being the real test of power, does it not? It takes power to be gracious and strong, and patient and tender, and cheery, in the commonplace things, and the commonplace places, does it not?
Now, I have something to tell you to-night that to me is very wonderful, and constantly growing in wonder. It is this—the Master has thought of all that! He has thought into your life. Yes, I mean your particular life, and made an arrangement to fully cover all your need of power. He stands anew in our midst to-day, and putting His pierced hand gently upon your arm, His low, loving, clear voice says quietly, but very distinctly, "You—you shall have power." For every subtle, strong temptation, for every cry of need, for every low moan of disappointment, for every locking of the jaws in the resolution of despair, for every disheartened look out into the morrow, for every yearningly ambitious heart there comes to-night that unmistakable ringing promise of His—ye shall have power.
The Olivet Message.
Our needs argue the necessity of power. And the argument is strengthened by the peculiar emphasis of the Master's words. Do you remember that wondrous Olivet scene? In the quiet twilight of a Sabbath evening a group of twelve young men stand yonder on the brow of Olives. The last glowing gleams of the setting sun fill all the western sky, and shed a halo of yellow glory-light over the hilltop, through the trees, in upon that group. You instantly pick out the leader. No mistaking Him. And around Him group the eleven men who have lived with Him these months past, now eagerly gazing into that marvelous face, listening for His words. He is going away. They know that. Coming back soon, they understand. But in His absence the work He has begun is to be entrusted to their hands. And so with ears and eyes they listen intently for the good-bye word—His last message. It will mean so much in the coming days.
Two things the Master says. The first is that ringing "go ye" so familiar to every true heart. The second is a very decisive, distinct "but tarry ye." What, wait still longer! Tarry, now, when your great work is done! Listen again, while His parting words cut the air with their startling distinctness "but tarry ye—until ye be endued with power."
I could readily imagine impulsive Peter quickly saying, "What! shall we tarry when the whole world is dying! Do we not know enough now?" And the Master's answer would come in that clear, quiet voice of His, "yes, tarry: you have knowledge enough, but knowledge is not enough, there must be power."
There is knowledge enough within the christian church of every land—aye, knowledge enough within the walls of this building to-night to convert the world, if knowledge would do it. Into many a life, through home training, and school, and college, has come knowledge, while power lingers without—a stranger. Knowledge—the twin idol with gold to American hearts—is essential, but, let it be plainly said, is not the essential. Knowledge is the fuel piled up in the fireplace. The mantel is of carved oak, and the fenders so highly polished they seem almost to send out warmth, but the thermometer is working down toward zero, and the people are shivering. The spark of living fire is essential. Then how all changes! There must be fire from above to kindle our knowledge and ourselves before any of the needed results will come.
There is no language strong enough to tell how absolutely needful it is that every follower of Jesus Christ from the one most prominent in leadership down to the very humblest disciple, shall receive this promised power.
Look at these men Jesus is talking to. There is Peter, the man of rock, and John and James, the sons of thunder. They were with the Lord on the Transfiguration Mount, and when He raised the dead. They were near by during the awful agony of Gethsemane. They were admitted nearer to the Master's inner life than any others. There is quiet matter-of-fact Andrew, who had a reputation for bringing others to Jesus. There is Nathanael, in whom is no guile. It is to these men that there comes that positive command to tarry. If they needed such a command, do not we?
"Yes," someone says, "I understand that this power you speak of is something the leaders and preachers must have, but you scarcely mean that there is the same necessity for us people down in the ranks, and that we are to expect the same power as these others, do you?" Will you please call to mind that original Pentecost company? There were one hundred and twenty of them. And while there was a Peter being prepared to preach that tremendous sermon, and a John to write five books of the New Testament and probably a James to preside over the affairs of the Jerusalem Church, and possibly a Stephen, and a Philip, yet these are only a few. By far the greater number, both men and women, are unnamed and unknown. Just the common, every-day folk, the filling-in of society; aye, the very foundation of all society. They had no prominent part to play. But they accepted the Master's promise of power, and His command to wait, as made to them. And as a result they, too, were filled with the Holy Spirit, that wonderful morning. I think, very likely, "the good man of the house" whose guest Jesus was that last night was there, and all the Marys, including the Bethany Mary, who simply sat at His feet, and the Magdalene Mary, and housekeeper Martha, and maybe that little lad whose loaves and fishes had been used about a year before. That was the sort of company that prayerfully, with one accord, not only waited but received that never-to-be-forgotten filling of the Holy Spirit.
Certainly, as some of you think, the preacher must have this power peculiarly for his leadership. But just as really he needs it because he is a man for his living, to make him sweet and gentle and patient down in his home: to make him sympathetic
