CALLED UNTO HOLINESS (a)

"But as he which hath called you is holy, so be ye holy in all manner of conversation."- I Peter 1:15.

     Peter and his brother Andrew were down at the Sea of Galilee fishing. Jesus, just returned from His wilderness temptation, passing by, saw them, and said, "Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men." They did not question for a moment, they did not even ask the privilege of burying their father, or taking the nets, but, "leaving all," they followed Him.

     The Lord had been crucified and the disciples were broken-hearted. Seven of them were together and Peter said., "I go a-fishing." They all replied that they, too, would go. After toiling all night with no success, at the command of Jesus, who appeared to them, unrecognized, they cast their nets on the right side of the ship and enclosed a great multitude of fishes. Then followed the conversation between Jesus and Peter in which the Lord commanded Peter to feed His sheep.

     Thus for the first and for the last time was our fisherman disciple called. How he appreciated the call is only revealed by his after life and the manner in which he glorified God in his death.

     My brethren, what a glorious calling is ours! Out from the things of time, the things that perplex and annoy; out from the sins of the world, the sins that eat as a canker at the vitals of man's immortality; out from the pleasures of the world, pleasures that glitter as a bubble, and burst, and are gone; out from the sorrows of earth, sorrows that depress and drive the soul to despondency; out from the enjoyment or endurance of Egyptian fleshpots, prodigal swine-pens, from roaring furnaces, and lions' dens, into the glorious light and liberty of the children of God. Thank God for the marvelous change.

     Men are "called" to various earthly positions and occupations, but this calling is "unto holiness." That calling is earthly, this calling is heavenly. That calling is transient, this calling is eternal.

     Notice who it is that calls. "I the Lord have spoken and have called the earth from the rising of the sun till the going down of the same." Patiently, tenderly, persistently, this heavenly Herald calls. His voice is heard from Eden to Patmos, from creation to judgment.

     What pathos in His voice as in the cool of the evening He called our fallen parents, and how the guilty pair feared to meet their divine Benefactor! He called the antediluvian world by the preaching of Noah; He called Abram to leave his kindred and gods and to go to a country of promise; He called Israel out of the iron furnace, Egypt, and led them gently for forty years through the wilderness of trial; He called His disciples from their nets and from their tax-gathering and made them savers of souls; He calls you and me from the things of time and makes us kings and priests unto God with the promise that we shall reign on the earth.

     God calls in every way possible to win a soul. His gentle as well as His severe providences remind us of our duty to Him. Day and night, year in and year out, He is knocking, calling, wooing, at my heart's door. He never wearies nor ceases to call. While there is any hope He continues to plead.

     I catch a vision of a kind, patient form standing in the door of the little cottage around which fond memory clusters so many joyous days. I hear her call and now I would gladly hasten to respond. But we folded those cold hands in death, we tenderly closed those once tear-stained eyes, and wrapped that beloved form in a beautiful white robe, emblem of purity you know the rest.

     Turning tearfully from this scene (how strange that we linger at the house of grief!) I behold another and a more glorious vision. The gates of heaven are open wide, and in its portals is the face of One that is more marred than any seen. His hands, His feet, and His side are pierced, on His brow are marks of a thorn crown, and across His back ugly scars from the cruel scourge. He is calling; hear Him, "Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest."

     O my soul, why so cold? Know ye not that yonder Form is the Christ of God? Do you not know that the almighty heart is filled with glowing love for thee? Know you not that His rest which He shall give is glorious? O God, soften, melt, tender my heart, remove every vestige of stoniness, and let me melt like wax in the furnace of Thy fullness, of love.

     I note the character of Him who calls. He is holy. I stand in awe before the task of describing to any degree the holiness of God. Such a task is too great for mortal man.

     Could I receive from the hand of God a spark of the celestial Mind and with this as a guide go forever downward into the unfathomable chasms of the damned, both of men and of angels, then I could behold God's holiness as it is revealed in His hatred for sin. Could I, guided by the same wisdom, mount forever the pinnacles of heaven's effulgent glories and search unwearied the depths, the height, the length, the breadth of the divine Being whose nature is holy, then I could find some of God's holiness in its glorious and essential being.

     This majestic, this awful God has called me, why should I delay? Mending nets and gathering taxes are legitimate pursuits, but when God beckons me away, why should I linger? If God calls me He means to make of me something this world could not make. God knows me and sees in my being possibilities man could never see. He may exercise these talents by putting me to feeding sheep on the "back side of the desert," or breaking up the fallow ground and smashing the clods in some secluded spot in His great field, or He may set me to gleaning with sadness behind the reapers who shout as they garner in the sheaves. If I am true, will He not reward me at the last? If the reward is not the greatest, the consciousness of having done my duty is a great reward.