A play is going the round of the theatres just now, entitled The Sign of the Cross. It places before the spectators the way in which the early Christians conducted themselves, and how they were persecuted by Nero, the cruellest of the Roman emperors. The actors sing a hymn upon the stage. One of them preaches the Sermon on the Mount at one of the secret meetings of the Christians, which is broken in upon by the persecutors. A love story is interwoven, in which a noble Roman adopts the Christian religion through his affection for a Christian girl, and the story ends in the martyrdom of both, and of others, too.
The theatres have been unusually crowded to witness the play. Many ministers have attended, and advised their friends to attend. Some have gone so far as to urge their congregations not to miss such an opportunity. Many Christians, who had never been to a theatre before, have seen the play, witnessing it with tears, and declaring afterwards that they had heard a more powerful sermon from the stage, on a week-day, than they usually hear on a Sunday from the pulpit
I am not generally in the way of hearing theatre intelligence, nor have I gleaned one item of my news from the current newspapers. These facts have been forced upon my attention by hearing of Christians of all kinds debating whether they should go to see the play, and of those who have been earnestly recommending others to go. In all my experience, I have known nothing of its kind which has made so profound an impression upon the entire community. It strikes me as being a very clever move of the Devil to get in the thin end of the wedge of worldliness, and a proof that the Christian profession has no sense of the great gulf existing between Christ and the world. It speaks loudly of the widespread Laodiceanism of the day, and of the great and growing need for every true Christian to be separate in heart and ways from the world, as though it were but yesterday that Christ had been rejected, and the cry had rung from the frenzied lips of hot fanatics—“Away with Him! Away with Him! Crucify Him! Crucify Him!”
I had occasion the other day to visit the manager of a large public building, a man of great natural ability and influence.
He said the day had gone by for telling those who went to theatres that they were in danger of hell-fire. Many broad-minded, liberal ministers, said he, went nowadays, especially when they were visiting London.
The last phrase sounded rather ominously in my ears, especially as I had heard of some of these gentlemen changing their coat and collar before going up to that great city.
He also instanced the prejudice that existed against a popular evangelist, who was at that time drawing great crowds to the very building of which he was manager. “How can they truly criticise,” he asked, “when they have not heard him? In the same way, how can people denounce theatregoing, if they have not seen a play or two for themselves?”
But this argument will not hold water. Must we become drunkards before we can denounce intemperance? Must we be open and profane sinners ere we can stand up and warn such to flee from the wrath to come?
Then, again, another argument struck me as having considerable force in it. If actors preach such telling sermons by their performances, how is it that they do not practice what they preach? Would we listen to a preacher who simply acted his part in the pulpit, and did not even pretend to follow the maxims that flowed from his lips so constantly?
If what has been urged in respect of theatres is to have any real weight, actors, as a profession, should be examples of Christian piety and zeal. But are they? I never heard of an actor who, when he was converted to God, did not for conscience sake give up his profession, and take to other means of livelihood.
But to come to the real point at issue. The professing Christians, who recommend the seeing of this particular play, I make bold to say, do not see that the people of God are not of the world, even as Christ is not of the world (John 17:14); that they are sent from heaven as He was (John 17:18); and inasmuch as the world has rejected Christ, their present part is with Him in His rejection, knowing that “if we suffer, we shall also reign with Him.”
Imagine one of the distressed Israelites who had fled to David, in the cave of Adullam, slipping off to Jerusalem to see a play performed under the auspices of King Saul! The illustration is ludicrous, but the application is eminently practical.
Look at Abraham and Lot. Abraham dwelt in godly separation on the plains of Mature. Lot pitched his tents in the well-watered plain of Jordan, which was like the land of Egypt, as thou comest to Zoar. How did he know what the land of Egypt was like? Ah! in a moment of unfaithfulness Abraham had journeyed thither, and the charms of the foreign land were photographed on Lot’s heart. Henceforth he desired such a dwelling-place.
How different to that magnificent statement in Hebrews 11—the chapter that thrills the soul with its clear clarion note of encouragement, telling us that GOD IS ABLE—“But now they desire a better country; that is, an heavenly: wherefore God is not ashamed to be called their God; for He has prepared for them a city.”
“Lot dwelled in the cities of the plain, and pitched his tent TOWARDS SODOM.” The tent of a pilgrim pitched towards Sodom is a sadly incongruous sight. Yet how many Christians are so situated! How many long for the leeks, and onions, and garlic of Egypt, and loathe the manna—the heavenly food!
At last Lot, who deliberately placed himself on the edge of the vortex, found himself a magistrate in Sodom itself; he sat in the gate.
And now let us imagine a conversation between two influential citizens of Sodom.
“I’m glad Lot has accepted a prominent position in our council chamber. Such as he are needed. We have much to be proud of in our city—its commerce, its prosperity, its luxury. Yet with it all there is much wickedness about—drunkenness, crying social evils, gambling, impurity, and the like. I’m sure Lot is just the man to be where he is, broad-minded and liberal in his views. Don’t you think so?”
“Certainly; his conduct is more to be praised than that of his uncle Abraham, who is a shrewd man of business too, I hear. In fact, he is a more able and substantial man than his nephew. The weight of years, too, is upon his shoulders. He would adorn the civic bench. But there! he is bigoted and narrow-minded in my judgment. He shuts himself out from his neighbours, because he worships a different God.”
“Yes, that is exactly what I think. Public offices and politics are adorned by men like Lot. He’s not one of your hard and fast bigoted men. Why, he’s as religious as Abraham, but he keeps his religion to himself, and does not obtrude it upon us in business or politics. His daughters, too, have married well—married to prominent citizens—and so Lot’s interest and connection with Sodom are strengthened.”
So the two friends gossip, and settle things to their own satisfaction.
But let time run on a little, and see how things turn out. Sodom is doomed to destruction for its wickedness. Soon the prosperous, busy, wicked city is to be laid low by a lurid shower of fire and brimstone.
Lot is startled by the visit of the two angels; while Abraham, on the heights of communion, is pleading with their Master and his that Sodom might be spared.
Once Abraham had taken his household servants, and had rescued his worldly nephew from the hands of victorious invaders. Sodom’s king had offered him a reward, but he had lifted, up his hand to the Possessor of heaven and earth that he would not degrade his God by accepting bounty at the hand of his enemy.
Nay, more, that mysterious personage, Melchizedek—type of a glorious risen Christ—had just met him with bread and wine, and had blessed him. Thus sustained and cheered, the allurements of Sodom’s king little attracted his great heart.
And now we see him, as the two angels pursue their way to Sodom, pleading before the Lord. What a lovely picture!
How different is it with worldly, broad-minded, liberal Lot! He hurries off to warn his sons-in-law. Hitherto their conversation had been on far different topics. The affairs of the city, business and politics, family interests, had engrossed their talk. Now he comes with a message from God, earnest, importunate.
Startled himself, he suddenly becomes the evangelist of the family. He warns them of imminent danger, of coming judgment. “But he seemed as one that mocked to his sons-in-law.” How humbling! There was no divine weight, no moral power behind his word.
Lot preaching in Sodom, Samson grinding in prison with shortened locks, Eli falling from his seat and breaking his neck upon the ground, Elijah once fearless and zealous, but now faint-hearted, and offering his resignation to God, Peter warming himself at the enemies’ fire and denying his Lord—all these are beacons to warn us off the sharp and jagged rocks of half-heartedness, of world-bordering, of lukewarmness.
Now, for one moment, look upon two pictures, sketched so graphically on the divine page. Lot and his two daughters, constrained by the angels, are fleeing from Sodom just as the awful storm is gathering thick over the doomed city. His wife—fit emblem of a professor—is looking, as Lot taught her years before, towards Sodom. Her body is out of the city, but her heart is still in it, till God stops its beating, and stereotypes her for ever as the figure of a mere professor. “Remember Lot’s wife.”
Lot hurries on. Hear his miserable, maundering pleading that he might live in Zoar, because it was a little city. Oh! for a little pleasure, a little recreation, let me read just a few choice novels of a religious character! Thus plead those who have fled from Sodom and long for Zoar.
Poor Lot, he even fears Zoar, and finally flies to a mountain, and in a lonely cave, drunk and degraded, he becomes, by his own daughters, the father of the enemies of God’s people.
We fail to see any redeeming point in the sad history, yet the Holy Ghost, quick-sighted to discern anything of Christ in any one of us, says that God “delivered just Lot, vexed with the filthy conversation of the wicked: for that righteous man dwelling among them, in seeing and hearing, vexed his righteous soul from day to day with their unlawful deeds.” How refreshing is that verse! It is like an oasis in the desert, a silver lining to a gloomy cloud.
Now look upon the other picture. “And Abraham gat up early in the morning to the place where he stood before the Lord.” Hallowed spot! Thither did he repair, and from thence he looked down upon the smoking cities of the plain. What a figure he presents as he calmly stands and views the tragic scene! Of Abraham himself we make nothing. He was but a poor idolater till the vision of the God of glory broke in upon his soul, and transformed him ever after, even as the sight of the plain of Jordan, “like the land of Egypt, as thou comest to Zoar,” affected poor unsatisfied Lot.
So the vision of a Christ in glory has broken in upon our souls. “We all, with open face beholding, as in a glass, the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord.” Our future is with Him in glory.
Shall we not then walk in holy separation from the world? Can we, if we love the Lord, take the hand once pierced on the cross for our many sins, and grasp at the same time the hand of the world, stained as it is with the blood of His murder? The cure, the only cure, for worldliness is the positive engagement of our hearts with Christ. Mere separation from the world is nothing less than monkishness, if our hearts are not more than recompensed by the enjoyment of the company of Christ. But if occupied with Christ, separation becomes positive privilege, and our testimony to the world will be in the power of the Spirit. Then warnings of coming judgment will be real in the ears of our listeners, and many will be led to flee from the wrath to come.
Our opportunities are few, and our days but short. Christ, the Bridegroom of our souls, is quickly coming. Let us then, attracted by the glories of the risen Christ, take our stand here with a rejected Christ. Let us seek to be here for Him; and may everything else, whether it be family, business, or social life, subserve to this.
“The friendship of the world is enmity with God.” “The disciple is not above his Master, nor the servant above his Lord.” “The world has hated them, because they are not of the world, even as I am not of the world.” “If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him.