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“I Am
7he Way,
The Truth, and
The Life.
Why Christianity is a Permanent
Religion.
A student of religion cannot help being struck
with certain moving motives which are apparent in
the various great religious cults which have arisen
from time to time. There is no doubt that every
religious movement, from the primitive worship of
the sun and moon to the present day elaborate
church services, has had as its acting principal some
commotion in the human heart. They have all been
attempts at heart-expression. It is mere lack of
investigation that leads some zealous souls to scoff
at “heathenism.” We cults do not mean to pose
as the champion of these, for many of them are
very crude and much mixed with superstition. Still
even Mohammedanism, the “religion of blood,” was
actually the outgrowth of a hearty religious zeal on
the part of its adherents. Before its corruption by
“worldliness” it contained much that was pure and
good, and did much towards unifying and humaniz
ing the nomadic hordes in the deserts of Asia and
the bloody tribes of Southeastern Europe.
But we did not set out to discuss the good of Mo
hammedanism, Budhism nor Brahamanism. They
are all founded on something good if we study them
closely enough to find it. Their great fault is not
of kind but of “quantity.” They are inadequate.
Self-effacement as taught by Buddah, aside from
the question of its practicability, is good; but it is
not good enough. We think that the greatest dis
tinction between the Christian religion and other
religions lies here. Christianity is so valid and vital,
not because of its goodness, but because of its good
enough-ness; if we may coin a slightly harsh word.
Buddah saw what was needed, but he could not
supply “the one thing needful.” No one was able
to do it until the Galileean Carpenter lived and
walked up and down among men,
A vital religion for humanity must be founded on
an attribute of the human heart. All natural things
change and decay save one. Mountains rise up and
again seek the level plain; kingdoms flourish and
decay; biologic species mature and vanish from the
earth forever; continents assume shape and fade
away, but the old, old human heart remains the
same. Men loved and hated at the first and they
will love and hate to the last. The heart of a man
in the twentieth century can feel the same things
that Adam’s heart could feel, varying perhaps a
little in intensity in different individuals.
If we wish a steadfast, unshakable religion, then,
why not let it take root in the one unchangeable
part of man. If we root it elsewhere it must go,
for even the brain, that god among the faculties,
changes, grows old and forgets.
Since a lasting religion must find its earthly rest
ing place in the human heart, the truest religion
must be rooted in the truest, tenderest corner of the
human heart. If, for example, it is based on fleet
ing emotions, which are of the heart, it cannot be
as steadfast as if it were founded on something
more enduring.
What, then, is the “truest, tenderest, noblest at
tribute of the heart of man? Is there not something
that this unchangeable organ is capable of that
* 1 never faileth ?’ ’ From the brute creation we learn
to classify as the highest in order those which are
most conscious of the existence of other things than
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The Golden Age for May 31, 1906.
themselves. To be plain, regard for others is higher
than simple selfishness. A mother’s care for her
child is more beautiful than her care for herself.
If we carry this point to its conclusion we will see
that personal love is the noblest feeling of which
our nature is capable. Much might be said here,
but the point is so obvious that it is useless to dis
cuss it further. Our contention is that a vital and
lasting religion must embrace personal love.
Christianity has as its fundamental basis the love
of the God-Man for humanity. His unselfish sacri
fice for the individuals of the human race reacts on
their hearts and there springs up a bond of affection,
gratitude and humble love, which is the most pro
found and sacred feeling of which the heart is cap
able. Just as long as the personality of Christ per
sists this love will be possible.
And this feeling is as universal as it is lofty.
Since the human heart is the same for all ages, it
is the same, practically, for all individuals. There
fore the Carpenter’s religion fits all. One does not
have to be of high degree nor of low; of great in
tellect nor of poor. Love springs from the heart
and we all have one.
Then our religion is the last one. tl fits the case
of every man and will fit the case of every man yet
to be born, if the laws of human nature remain
intact. It is founded on a principal that is un
changeable, and it is thereby everlasting. Creeds
will come and go, expositors will differ and still be
right or wrong, but facts remain the same. We
need have no fear for ultimate ends. We have a
working principle that is the best and all now left
is to “do out the duty.” What a trust is com
mitted to us! Our religion cannot die; it must
ultimately triumph, but we can be false to it.
Hawkinsville, Ga. H. P. Knowles.
The Peacemaker.
One day a workman, aboard a trolley car, noticed
that every time the door was pushed open it
squeaked. Rising from his seat he took a little can
from his pocket, let fall a drop of anti-irritant on
the offending spot and sat down again, quietly re
marking: “I always carry an oil-can in my pocket,
for there are so many squeaky things that a drop of
oil will correct.” Now, the squeakiness that he
dealt with is only a sort of parable of another
species of the same kind of thing that proceeds from
the contacts of one man with another. And just as
I suppose that one object God had in making oil
was to render it possible for two adjacent parts of
a machine to rub together, without getting hot or
stopping the machine, so He made love in all its
modifying varieties as a contrivance to enable ad
jacent parts of the social or of the domestic machine
to rub together without heat or stoppage.
But whether in one order of mechanism or in the
other it requires only a very slight application to do
the work. The oil-can need not be large, and one
drop goes a great way. One of the first things that
Christ said to the world was, “Blessed are the
peacemakers,” and that was a benediction upon
those who go around doing precisely the same thing
between man and man, or between ourselves and
others, that our trolley car man was doing between
the door and the rusty groove that it ran upon.—
Charles H. Parkhurst.
A Search For Self.
By G. A. Nunnally.
I often go looking for myself. We sometimes try
to find out others when we have not found ourselves.
Egoism, not egotism, is a wise assertion. Selfhood
is not simply a name, a combination of sounds, a
freak in etymology. A name is only the label at
tached to this specimen, in the museum of humanity
—useful for classification and arrangement; but is
not the substance, nor its essence, nor its shadow,
nor its likeness. My name possibly may give some
idea of my geography, my latitude and longtitude,
and at least indicate the starting point in the jour
ney of my life. But the difference between my name
and me, my real selfhood, is as great as the dif
ference between the name of the city and the pal
aces and houses and people which constitute the city.
The name may be changed and the self remain the
same. In fact, many have changed their names, but
the identity is not affected by the process.
Who am I? The real self stands behind the name
and responds when the name is mentioned. I may
think that I am so much flesh and blood and bone—
so much avoirdupois. But that is only the form, a
visible manifestation of selfhood. The body is only
the house, the tabernacle. The tenant, the self, is
not the house. The form is only the veil behind
which the real self is concealed. Who ami? Baek
behind the name and within the form or body a real
personality truly exists. It is that stranger within
w T e should meet. Every man should meet himself
and get acquainted with himself and know himself.
We have sailed the seas searching for islands. Have
we ever found that floating island, called Self, swim
ming about in the ocean of Humanity? We have
soared above the clouds and chased the stars across
the heavenly plains, but have we ever found that
wandering star, that uncatalogued comet, swimming
across the galaxy in its unending parabola, that
dashing meteor called Self shooting athwart the
eternal sky, whence, whither no man knows?
We know of the moon and its changes better than
we do of that silent Self that goes through many
transformations while spiralling about the center of
all being. We know more of the men who lived
beyond the flood than we do the self that breathes in
this bosom of flesh. I ask only one question: who
am I? Oh, that I knew the secret place where I
might find myself. I had rather meet myself than
a king, and know myself than be possessed of the
knowledge of all the sciences. I wish I had a pic
ture of my true Self, so that when we meet we might
know each other. Go, find yourself in the gallery of
God’s Word, the picture was painted by an artist
who uses the brush and the tint with unfailing ac
curacy. Look!! See yourself as you are, as God
sees you, and be shocked at the hideous deformity;
then turn and see in the same gallery the picture,
the real Self of another, who is the fairest among
ten thousand, the one altogether lovely, and looking
with a steadfast and loving and trustful gaze find
your Self transformed into His likeness.
The great revival in South Wales resulted in 90,000
converts, and a great deal of general religious en
thusiasm. While all of these converts did not, of
course, maintain permanent “change of heart” much
good resulted from the revival.
“The Entrance
of
Thy Words
Giveth Light."
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