The events which followed upon Stephen's death are instructive in many ways. But they teach us more especially one of the principles of God's government of the world. They teach us that, so far as this sphere of existence, at any rate, is concerned, evil is permitted to exist and to triumph, only that sooner or later, in one way or another, good may be brought out of it.
1. There can be no doubt that the death of Stephen must have appeared at the moment to those first Christians as marking a great triumph of evil. The withdrawal of a man of such power and activity from this earthly scene, where his peculiar capacities were, as it seemed, so greatly needed; the high-handed violence which precipitated his death; the evident resolve of the leading minds in Jerusalem to exterminate Christianity-all that might well have inspired widespread alarm and discouragement.
At first, indeed, it might have seemed that the only consequence of Stephen's death would be the outbreak of a general persecution, which might stamp Christianity out of existence. The Sanhedrin, now thoroughly aroused against the disciples of Christ and their religion, determined to suppress the new sect altogether. Accordingly a general proscription of the sect was issued. Meetings were broken up, men and women were arrested and imprisoned, and Christians were persecuted throughout the land, even to distant cities. In consequence of this persecution, a great body of disciples fled from the city, most of them scattering through Judæa and Samaria, but many of them going much farther, even to Phœnicia, Cyprus, and Antioch in northern Syria. The Apostles themselves seem to have continued in Jerusalem, evidently considering it their duty to remain at the headquarters of their work.
Yet all these events, disheartening as they must have been to Christian believers at the time, turned out, providentially, to be the most effective means of extending a knowledge of the new religion. Wherever these persecuted believers went, they continued to bear their testimony to the faith as before, and many were converted to it, not merely of Jews and Jewish proselytes, but some even from the ranks of the Gentiles. But for the death of Stephen and the subsequent persecution, these pioneers of the faith would perhaps have been content to stay at home, basking in the moral sunshine that their religion had brought to them, enjoying and fondling it in private, while making no effort for the spiritual well-being of others at a distance. Now the dangers which awaited Christians in Jerusalem, the stir and ferment which had been created by the words and the sufferings of Stephen, the spectacle of his tranquil, saintly death, have all had their effect. The Church of Jerusalem has gone into exile, and almost every one of its members is perforce a missionary.
By Heaven directed, by the world reviled,
Amidst the wilderness they sought a home,
Where beasts of prey and men of murder roam,
And untamed Nature holds her revels wild.
There on their pious toil their Master smiled,
And prospered them, unknown or scorned of men,
Till in the satyr's haunt, and dragon's den,
A garden bloomed, and savage hordes grew mild.
So, in the guilty heart, when heavenly grace
Enters, it ceaseth not till it uproot
All evil passions from each hidden cell;
Planting again an Eden in their place,
Which yields to men and angels pleasant fruit,
And God Himself delighteth there to dwell.
2. Such, then, was the effect on the Church. But what of Saul, what of the young Pharisee at whose feet the witnesses had cast their raiment and who had taken a leading part in the persecution?
Saul goes on persecuting, arresting, imprisoning, accusing. But there is something significant, something to arrest attention, in his feverish activity. Men often try to crush a conviction which is taking shape within them, and which they dread to recognize, by talking or acting violently in an opposite direction. They hope that the conscience will obey the tongue or the arms, or that, at least, its voice will be silenced amid the din of work. But Saul has heard that speech before the Sanhedrin; and he knows that it was not answered by arguments, but only by stones. Saul has marked the bearing of the martyr in his last moments, while he himself stood by keeping the raiment of them that slew him. Let us be patient with him. He will make a few more Christian homes desolate, and then he will be on the road to Damascus.
It has ever been the faith of the Church that Saul was the fruit of Stephen's prayers. “Si Stephanus non orasset, Ecclesia Paulum non haberet,” was one of its sayings. The quenching of Stephen's light was the kindling of a yet brighter lamp for the illumination of the world.
It does not die,
That Prayer rejected.
Like a hovering dove
It is drawn up towards the invisible flight
Of benedictions, breathings of pure Love,
The Angels of the Earth, continually
Streaming above us, potent, unsuspected.
Yet, as the Mother's prayer not unfulfilled
Could float upon the night,
It enters where she neither knew nor willed.
On a mean bed
A boy lies reading,
His candle-end
Flickers on the gloom.
Darkness is round, has always been around him,
Drunkenness, lies, dishonesty;
But the persistent Life within him said,
“Come forth out of this tomb!”
And he all blind followed where it was leading.
In his lone night the Mother's Prayer has found him,
And he immediately
Knows there is light somewhere, somewhere a friend.1 [Note: Margaret L. Woods, Collected Poems, 20.]