The Beauty of Every Day: Chapter 8 - Things That Hurt Life
The problem of Christian living--is not to miss the struggle, suffering, or hardship--but to pass through life without being hurt by any of its experiences. One of the requirements of pure religion is "to keep one's self unspotted from the world." This does not mean that we are to keep ourselves out of the world's life, to flee away and hide in refuges and retreats, where the evil of the world will not touch us--but to stay where our duty is, to meet life as it comes to us, to face the battles with sin, the struggles and temptations which belong to our peculiar place--and yet not be hurt, not contract any stain, not carry away wounds and scars.
In everything in life, Jesus Christ is our highest example. He solved this problem of living for us. He met hard and painful experiences--but never was harmed by any of them. He endured temptation, being tempted in all points like as we are--yet always without sin. He passed through the sorest testings that anyone ever endured--but kept himself unspotted.
Without cause, men hated him, conspired against him, persecuted him, sought to kill him. The natural effect upon any man of such enmity, hatred, bitterness, and injustice--is to make him grow suspicious, cynical, cold, resentful, revengeful. But Jesus was not affected in this way. He was beyond all such effects. He could not be insulted--his nobility of character lifted him above the possibility of this. He was pained, but not harmed, by men's cruel words. He never became suspicious. His love never grew less gentle, less magnanimous, less kindly. Through all his years of opposition, hatred, plotting, treachery, and wrong--he came with an unspotted heart. He passed on to the end, unharmed in his own life. He was as patient, gentle, loving, and childlike the day he went to his cross, as he was the day the Spirit descended upon him like a dove.
The little spring by the seaside pours out its sweet waters through the salt sands. The tides roll over it and their brackish floods bury it for hours. But again it appears, and its waters are as sweet and pure as ever. So it was with the heart of Jesus Christ. The world's enmity left no embittering in him. He loved amen at the last--as he had never loved them before.
This is the problem for every Christian life. It is possible to pass through this world's sorest temptations, and not to be injured by them. It is possible for us, however, to be hurt, most sorely hurt, by such experiences. Sin always works injury. It is something one never altogether gets over. It may be forgiven. God loves to forgive unto the uttermost--but its marks and scars remain. When the bloom of the fruit has been touched, it never can be restored; when the rose has been crushed, it never can be made lovely again. So sin's hurt is irremediable. The secret we must learn--is to pass through life with garments unsoiled.
There are special ways in which we may be harmed by the experiences of life. Nothing is more common than sorrow. Into every life it comes at one time or another. It comes sometimes as bereavement, taking away one who is dear, whose continued existence seems necessary to our happiness. Again it comes as a grief that hangs no death-crape on the door, wears no mourning clothes, and does not break into the outward appearance--but which stays as a secret sorrow, without human sympathy or comfort. We usually suppose that sorrow brings always a blessing, that it always helps those who endure it, enriching the life, sweetening it, making it more beautiful. But this is not in every case true. Sorrow often harms people's lives. It does not always sweeten--sometimes it sours the spirit. It does not always soften--sometimes it hardens the heart. It does not always give peace and calmness--sometimes it makes one irritable, fretful, selfish, exacting. When we pass through sorrow, we need to be exceedingly careful lest we shall be hurt by it. We need the great Physician then--he alone can heal wounded hearts so as to leave no scar.
There is a story of an Indian child who one day brought in a hurt bird from the field. The old chief asked the child where she had found the bird. "Among the wheat," was the answer. "Take it back," he said, "and lay it down just where you found it. If you keep it, it will die--but if you give it back to God, he can make it well again." It is with hurt hearts--as it is with hurt birds. They belong to God, and only he can heal them. Human hands are clumsy and unskillful in comforting. If you have sorrow--let God be your heart's healer. No human hands can help, save those that God has trained into something of his own gentleness. When God comforts, there are no hurts remaining in the life--he is so gentle, so skillful.
Another common experience in life is the wounding of love. Somebody does you a wrong, speaks unkindly of you, injures you in some way. It is natural for you to be angry, to say bitter words in return, to cherish resentful and unforgiving feelings against the person. You are in danger now of being hurt by the experience. The only safety in such a case lies in love--keeping love in your heart. Love says, "Forgive." Nothing else can save your life from being seriously hurt. If you grow resentful and bitter, and refuse to forgive, you have inflicted upon yourself an injury which never can be undone.
