“I wish I had lived in those times,” exclaimed Henry Sharp, a rather enthusiastic boy, as he finished reading the account of the death of Latimer and Ridley.
“Why?” inquired Mr. Severn, his tutor.
“Because I should like to have been a martyr,” replied Henry slowly; “it seems such a glorious thing to die for what you believe to be right.”
The opinion did not seem to be in the least shared by his school fellows, who showed their astonishment and dissent by various gestures; some were ready to laugh, and looked towards the master, with faces expressive of their ideas of their own superior wisdom, and anticipating the rebuke that was to fall upon their comrade.
But Mr. Severn was not a man to judge things hastily, or to pronounce a remark silly, so he said quietly: “Do you really think so, Henry? Do you believe that you would have courage and firmness to submit to the severe and often lingering agonies which those persecuted men endured?”
“Of course I can’t be sure that I should, sir,” replied Henry; “but it seems to me that the thought of gaining heaven must be enough to sustain anyone in ever so much pain.”
“I can sympathize with your feelings,” continued Mr. Severn, “for I remember that as a boy I, too, had the same idea; but as I grew older and was able to better understand the state of my own heart, I came to the conclusion that I was deceiving myself.
“I found out, in examining myself, that in longing for martyrdom as a means of gaining heaven, I was unconsciously looking upon that pain and suffering as more easy to bear than the yoke which Christ has laid upon us. Or to express myself more simply, I was really thinking that I would rather submit to a cruel death than struggle daily and hourly to live as Jesus would have me live. While I was wishing to give the strongest proof of my love to God, I was really shrinking from the service He had appointed to me, and trying to find an easier way for myself.
“I cannot of course tell what you feel,” continued Mr. Severn; “I only give you my own experience to guide you; but I must add further caution—martyrdom is not a certain means of entering heaven.”
“Not certain!” exclaimed several of his hearers, and Henry looked particularly astonished.
“I admit,” answered Mr. Severn, “that it is difficult to imagine a man, who did not have a firm and saving faith in his Saviour, would be willing to die for his religion; but we have Paul’s own testimony to guide us: ‘Though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.’ ”
“Many have tried to find out paths that please them better than God’s narrow way. You remember the history of Naaman the Syrian. He went to Elisha to be cured of his leprosy, and was willing, as subsequent events proved, to do a great deal to be cured of his fearful and loathsome malady; but when the prophet sent out the message to him to go and dip seven times in the river Jordan, the very simplicity of the means to be employed offended him. If he had been told to undertake some weary pilgrimage, to go through some painful sufferings, no doubt he would have submitted cheerfully; but his pride rebelled against washing in the river Jordan. Nay, even if he must be cured by washing, why not let it be the mightier streams of his own land, Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus! Thus he argued; anything rather than what God’s prophet appointed. And we are very much like Naaman. Sin is like leprosy, and when we ask to be cured of it, we are told that there is but one means—to wash in the fountain that is opened for all sin and for all uncleanness, to rely for cleansing upon the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world. Human pride revolts against this, and would prefer a salvation which left man to ‘do some great thing’ for himself, and did not merely place him in the purifying stream humbly and confidingly like a little child.
“We must not deceive ourselves but try and forget such fancies for doing some great thing, and endeavor instead to do the everyday duties that are before us. So many more are called upon to perform such deeds, than to do great things, that I believe they are fully pleasing in the sight of God, when done from a simple desire to His glory. We do His will in striving to perform our daily duties, however trivial and simple, as He would have them done; and in believing that, let them be what they will, it is noble work, because it is what He has given us to do. In the Bible, how many instances we have of those who have employed their talents well, receiving more; of men called to greater honors, or more extensive labor, when they were simply employed in attending to their everyday concerns.
“A shepherd guarding his father-in-law’s flock upon Mount Horeb; a voice comes to him, and he is called to confront a powerful king—to free, by signs and wonders, an enslaved people from his unwillingly relaxed grasp—to become the leader and lawgiver of this rescued nation, and to be a favored servant of God.
“Another youth, also employed in keeping sheep; the prophet sent to his father’s house, sees all his brothers, but does not find among them the chosen of the Lord. This youngest is then sent for from his humble occupation, and upon his head is poured the anointing oil, and into his heart the sanctifying grace, which gains for him that glorious title, ‘The man after God’s own heart.’
“Another man plowing with twelve yoke of oxen; Israel’s great prophet passes by and casts his mantle upon him, calling him to be his successor; yes, even to receive a double portion of the Spirit which rested upon him, and he had stood fearless and alone on the side of God among the multitudes of Baal’s prophets and the prophets of the groves.
“Where was Matthew when Jesus called him? At the receipt of custom. Where were Peter, James, and John? Fishing. Where was Gideon when he was called to be a judge of Israel? Threshing wheat. But I need not repeat any more examples; those I have quoted are sufficient to point out what I mean.”
“I suppose my wish was a very foolish one,” said Henry, “and I
have been deceiving myself as you suspected. I have not looked at things in the light you represent them. The view you have would make us more contented with our lot, however humble. It certainly would cause us to feel more interest in our daily duties to think that they are a part of God’s work upon earth.”
“It does indeed” answered Mr. Severn. “Omitting the obvious duties we have been given to do, in the hope of being given a grander duty is a poor way of showing obedience to God. You might think it a greater merit, but it would not be what He has given you to do. The continual sense of our being about God’s work, and of His eye seeing us, gives importance and worth to all we have to do.”
Do you feel, like Henry, that it would be a more glorious thing to make some great sacrifice, rather than to yield your will in very trivial matters, or to submit to the discipline of parents and teachers? Do not forget that “to obey is better than sacrifice.”
Source: Sabbath Readings for the Home Circle, Vol. 1, ©1877, 239–245.