Hechos 24:26-27

Chapter 90

Prayer

Almighty God, power belongeth unto thee, and also unto thee, O Lord, belongeth mercy. We have nothing to say to thy power; we turn away from it and look with all eagerness and expectancy to thy tender mercy and thy lovingkindness. Yet we are glad of thy power; one day we will run into it and hold it for our uses, but not until we have seen thee in Christ, and received from thee the word of pitiful compassion, the assurance of entire forgiveness. Make us glad in thy mercy, give us joy at the Cross; thou alone canst make the human heart glad with true joy. We come to thee this day to lay our burden and to receive thy blessing, that we may henceforth walk in the light of thy love, being at peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Then will come the joy of sonship; following adoption into thy family shall come rapture and triumph, and sense of eternal security. Surely then we shall lift up our heads as children of the day, and in our life there shall be no night; in all our prayer there shall be no halting, but the outgoing of our heart towards the heavens shall be an outgoing of perfect love. We bless thee for all the sunshine of life. Surely thou dost not spare the light; thou dost pour it out of the horn of infinite fulness, and there is more at the end than at the beginning; there are more suns in the night than in the day. We bless thee for all hope which gives us the full possession of our strength; we thank thee for the inspirations breathed into us by the Holy Ghost, whereby we are lifted up above the fear of death, and already enter into possession of heavenly rest and comfort. We will bless thee with many a psalm, and make a joyful noise unto thee in thy house, and our whole heart shall lift itself up to thee in all the spirit of tender love and ineffable thankfulness. We cannot tell thee the tale of our daily need; it has no name because it has no measure. We have nothing that we have not received. Every good gift we have, and every perfect gift we recognise as coming from the Father of light. We ourselves are not our own, for we are bought with a price; we are not redeemed with corruptible things, as silver and gold, but with the precious blood of the Son of God; therefore do we reckon ourselves not by ourselves, but by God's ransom. Surely thou didst buy thine own image and likeness with thine own blood. This is our value; this is our immortality. Sometimes, when we look at thy heavens the sun and the moon and the stars we think ourselves not worth redeeming; then, behold, there is an uprising of the heart in its conscious strength and dignity, and we pour contempt upon all the universe, for it burns but for a day. We are the people of thine hand, the sheep of thy pasture, redeemed with blood, bought with an infinite preciousness of price, and therefore do we stand up among the angels and among the princes of heaven. Whilst we are upon the earth, help us to do its daily work diligently, faithfully, and successfully. We do not want to do it, and therefore the doing of it is good for us; it curbs the will, it cools the passion, it rebukes a strength that might be turned to vanity. Help us, therefore, to bear the yoke without complaining, to do our duty, and to find in it a religious delight, because of its disciplinary influence. Then, when this poor little elementary work is done, take us up, with purified spirit and enlarged power, to the ampler service, to the day not rounded with a night. The Lord be pitiful to us and dry our tears when we cannot lift our own hands to touch them; the Lord be with us all the night time, and give us rest in sleep. The Lord be praised for restoration from affliction; some of thy servants have seen long imprisonment because of pain and feebleness, and today they rejoin the holy hymn and sacred prayer. Receive their thanksgiving, confirm thy mercy in them, and carry on their healing to perfectness. The Lord heal us all; the Lord make our afflictions the beginnings of our true strength; the Lord comfort us according to the wound of the heart! Now let light fill the house in every corner a great, broad light above the brightness of the sun in the shining of which we shall forget the days of earth and time. Speak to every heart; let thy whisper come into the secret places of every spirit, and a great, broad blessing fall upon the whole people; and hear the people when they say, in the name of Christ, Amen.

Act 24:26-27

26. He hoped also that money should have been given him of Paul, that he might loose him: wherefore he sent for him the oftener, and communed with him.

27. But after two years Porcius Festus came into Felix's room; and Felix, willing to show the Jews a pleasure, left Paul bound.

Felix Redivivus

I think it can be shown that Felix is yet alive. It is a wonderful characteristic of the Bible that all its characters are still with us. If the character is the man, then the man is still alive. His father and his mother and his sisters and himself are they not all with us? Adam is still living, and Eve is yet at his side; Cain, the murderer, is still abroad, still shedding blood, still inspiring society with fear; and all the rest of the Biblical characters are in full force in our own country. Let me repeat, how wonderful a feature this is in Biblical portraiture. The men of the Bible were not mere individuals: they were types, they were symbols. Felix was sated with flattery; no man dare say one critical word to Felix; his capacity, in the matter of approbation, was simply immeasurable. Wherever he came men stood up, nor dare they sit down until they received his haughty permission. Whoever spoke to him accosted him as a kind of god. Is that Felix not still amongst us the man who always lives amongst his idolaters, the man who will not hear the critical word, or who would resent it almost with death if he could? Are there not men whose minds are narrowed and perverted by always living in the sickly and sickening atmosphere of adulation? They would be better men if they came out into the fresh wind; for a time they might have to suffer something, but from even pungent, not to say intelligent, criticism they might learn something; it is lawful to learn from the enemy. Surely if the Felix sated with adulation is not living, the Felix who would like to be so sated is a million strong. I am distinguishing in my own mind, in making these observations, between just appreciation and foolish idolatry between the praise which is due to character and the hypocrisy which is offered to mere position.

Felix was interested in religious discussions: "he sent for Paul, and heard him concerning the faith in Christ." That Felix is still alive the bad man who likes to go to church once a day; the worldly grasping, avaricious man who likes to spice his life with religious metaphysics and religious controversies. It is curious, it is almost comical, yet it is most pitifully true. Who can explain it, or account for it, that a man, whose life is wholly given to the earth, should, now and again, desire to hear a prayer, or listen to a discourse; or take part even in a religious controversy, and have his "views"? What a contradiction is man! See him sometimes, and you would say that his life was given up to prayer, to religious reading, and to religious listening: he likes a sermon, he would not miss going to church he would sell you tomorrow at any price he can get for you; still he has his "views." Alas! who made him? An anomaly he is; if he was ever made, surely he has unmade himself. Have you not often met that same Felix?

Felix lived in sin: he did not dabble in it, he was no retail criminal; he lived, he wallowed in sin. Is it possible that a man can live in sin and yet send for an apostle to speak "concerning the faith in Christ"? It is not only possible, it is the daily use of men, it is the common practice of society. Herein we are to some extent not an equal extent all in the same condemnation. This is the mystery of life: that only yesterday we shattered every commandment of Heaven and today we are outwardly at least standing at heaven's gate! There is hope in this; there is something in this we would not willingly let die. Surely there is a mystery of hope and love in this contradiction. Do not let us take wholly the black view of it. We can look at the sin until we see Felix turning into a living child of the devil; or we can look at him, sending for the Apostle Paul, until we think we see spots of whiteness even on the black disc of his character. "Surely," we say, "this time the meaning is good, and Paul will leave Felix a better man." That is what we think of every one who leaves the husks that the swine do eat, in order that he may present himself at the table of the sanctuary and eat the bread which cometh down from heaven the true bread. Better dwell on the bright side; better say concerning your brother Felix, "He means to be right, and the right will come uppermost."

We may the more confidently say this when we find that Felix was morally impressible. This is proved by words which you find in the twenty-fifth verse "Felix trembled." Then there is hope of him. He was not wholly beyond the line of impression; prayer could still find him, appeal could still excite him, a masterly presentation of facts could still confound him; his conscience was not dead, but sleeping. Are there not such men amongst us in hundreds and thousands men who never hear a sermon without weeping, men who even like a sermon the more when it wrings their conscience and turns them white with fear? There is a possibility of becoming too familiar with that kind of emotion; there is a possibility of expecting it, of measuring discourses and services by its presence, of boasting of the excellence of the appeal because it made both ears tingle, caused the conscience to start bolt upright, and accused the whole life of sin so strangely are we compounded. We have rejoiced in the analytic power of the preacher who takes us all to pieces and show: us to ourselves, fibre by fibre; but we have taken the analysis as a proof of his ability, and not as an evidence of our own corruption. Marvellous that we like to be vivisected! We call the preacher faithful, and, having paid him the compliment, we go out to repeat the sin he has rebuked; we recommend the book as heart-searching, mind-penetrating, and, having brought a hundred customers to it, we renew the iniquity that it depicted with such startling vividness. This is the mystery of man. This is the kind of manhood every theory must cover if it would touch the tremendous reality of the facts.

Felix was open to bribery amidst all this conflict of emotion. See the proof in the twenty-sixth verse "He hoped also that money should have been given him of Paul, that he might loose him." Felix did not stand alone in this hope. Felix, perhaps, did not know that it was criminal, as we interpret and understand that term. Men become accustomed to crime until they do not know it, and repeat it as a kind of virtue. It is the custom of the trade; it is the usage of the profession; it is always expected that it should be so. If Felix stood right out alone as a receiver of bribes, he would burn with blushing shame; but his hand had been accustomed to be stretched out for the bribe as the hands of Englishmen are stretched out this day. Do not blacken Felix as if he were raised up to be the monster of iniquity in this department. We do not always take the bribe in the form of money; we have lived long enough and sufficiently under Christian education to know that the gift of money is the vulgarest form of bribe under some circumstances; but there is a wonderful mystery of giving and taking still. If the act were isolated, we could detest it, but being part of a system, the custom or usage, then we do not like to make ourselves singular and condemn the practice. Wondrous is this action of hope unexpressed! Wondrous is the power or genius of suggestion! Paul was often sent for, but Paul never suspected the design. Evil be to him who evil thinks. Paul might receive the invitations as expressive of a real desire to know more about these religious mysteries. We operate from such different motives; we do not always fully understand the motive which impels us in this or that direction. Sometimes we dare not say in words exactly and definitely what we mean and what we want: we suggest, we hint, we remotely indicate, we represent other people and other circumstances, meaning to make parables of them to reveal what we dare not express. This is man, this is ourselves mystery of mysteries. Here let me repeat with ever-increasing urgency and even vehemence, that this is the kind of man who must be treated by any theory which professes to lift the human race to a new level and to a new hope. We are not dealing with superficial creatures; in a sense we ourselves are infinite not infinite in a lineal sense, signifying that no tape-line is long enough to lay upon our life, but infinite in the variety of our evil-mindedness, in our cunning and subtlety, in our selfishness and vanity, never repeating ourselves, but always cunningly rearranging the appeal so as to secure the identical issue. No man must come to treat a creature of this kind as if the disease were cutaneous, as if it were intermittent and might be mitigated by sundry casual and incidental means. The whole head is sick, the whole heart is faint; it is a vital case.

Felix was kind to preachers; the proof is found in the twenty-third verse "And he commanded a centurion to keep Paul, and to let him have liberty, and that he should forbid none of his acquaintance to minister or come unto him." He was a kind of free prisoner a kind of prisoner at large. That Felix is still living. Some of the most generous friends I have ever had have been men who made no profession of religion and who yet liked to come to church great-hearted men, liberal souls, to whose table and garden you might go week after week men who loved the preacher with even a fond affectionateness. That, too, is a mystery, but a mystery with an answer. Who can tell the range or explain the ministry of sympathy? The men have not been bad men, though non-professing men. A man is not necessarily a bad man because he does not belong to this or that form of Christian life. The man to whom I refer (speaking of him typically and not personally) is a man who yearns after something better, longs for it, and believes that after all as I believe he will not be a castaway. In his heart he says, "I think Christ will even yet find me; I am roughly made, very rude in mind, just a piece of living self-contradiction I want to pray and to blaspheme in the same breath but I feel that when all comes to all, even I may be found on the uttermost fringe and be recognised as one whose better feelings were stronger than the feelings that were worse." That may be so; I do not know the number of the elect, I cannot tell whether there be few that be saved; God is Sovereign, Redeemer, Lord; and this I have heard of him from the house of Aaron, and from every house descended from that illustrious line, "his mercy endureth forever." Herein the preacher has an infinite advantage over other men. No man has such an opportunity for revealing himself as the preacher has; it is the preacher's highest duty to reveal his soul in its truest qualities. What wonder if strangers and people unrecognised hearing the voice should say, "This is the shepherd's voice, the voice of love; I will answer it as the scribe answered the great Preacher Well, Master, thou hast said the truth"!

Felix was procrastinating; the proof of this is found in the twenty-fifth verse "he answered, Go thy way for this time; when I have a convenient season, I will call for thee." It was not a rude dismissal; it was not an appeal followed by a penalty; there was a longing for the very whip that scourged him. Sometimes we do think that laceration is equal to repentance; we are prone to think that when we are well scourged we have really answered the Divine will that is a profound, but common mistake. Is the procrastinating man still with us? Dare I descend to particulars and ask that man to stand up? He is here: he is in every church; he is in every city. He does not mean to give it up; he says, "I will return in the evening." He cannot renounce the spiritual ministry and kingdom; a ghost follows him and says, "Return!" and he answers, "I will." He may come for entertainment, he may come to be instructed, he may come to be merely electrified; still he will certainly, as to his purpose, return. But, why return? You urge men in business to complete the transaction; why complain of the preacher if the preacher should say, "Carry out your own exhortation, be faithful to your own argument and complete the transaction now"?

In these seven particulars I think we have found a Felix who is still living, namely, (1) the man who is sated by flattery, (2) interested in religious discussions, (3) living in sin, (4) morally impressible, (5) open to bribery, (6) kind to preachers, (7) procrastinating in spirit. In Felix I see that double action which is so characteristic of every man, which excites the observer, and, indeed, excites the subject himself. Sometimes the good is uppermost, and then the bad, and then again the good; and we say, looking on, "Which will win?" Today he prays in the evening he has returned to his vomit; today the tears are standing in his eyes, and he wrings his friend's hand suggestively, meaning to say by that wringing, "I will conquer yet" in a few hours he turns away from his friend as if he would rather not confront his searching face. It is a marvellous action. We say the wife says, "He will come right after all"; the child says, "Father will soon be a good man; I saw him, though his back was turned to me, the other day reading a portion of the Bible." Then we meet those witnesses, and they are dumb: they have no evidence to bear this day. Tomorrow we meet them, and their faces are gleaming and their hands are put out in salutation, and they whisper, "There is still hope; he will conquer yet!" We, also, are compassed about with a great cloud of witnesses the loved ones who have left the race, the sainted ones who have completed the battle and they are looking down and watching us; and surely if we may regard them as yet possessing human emotions they may be saying, concerning the husband, the wife, the loved son, "Still there is hope, he prays." She lifts up her voice to the blue morning "He is groping, groping for something better! there is still hope." Then the watchers are silent; and in that silence we read our own ill behaviour we are on the wrong road, we are speaking the wrong tone, we are bowing at forbidden altars. Then again the voice is heard "There is still hope; the devil will lose after all; my loved one will yet come in saved by fire still will be saved."

Let us this day, in God's strength, so act as to give joy in the presence of the angels of God over many a sinner that repenteth. Left to ourselves, the struggle can only go one way; aided by Christ, it is still a struggle, but a struggle that must end in victory. "I can do all things through Christ, who strengtheneth me." Practical Christianity is the only guarantee even of judicial integrity. How far-spreading is the influence of Christianity! How it assails the fountain and works mightily and healingly at the heart of things! How it deals with root and core rather than with branch and shell! It is the world's hope; it makes the bad man tremble; it breaks the rod of the oppressor; it melts ill-gotten gold, and makes it run through the crevices of the casket hidden in dark places; it makes night hideous with avenging dreams. But as for those who know it, they shall be called God's angels they shall be numbered with God's jewels.