In marvellous language the Divine Presence is pledged to the humble: “Thus saith the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy: I dwell in the high and holy place, with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones”. The figures of the “poor” whose “cry” is not forgotten, of the “meek” whose “desire” is heard, of the “humble” to whom grace is given, meet us constantly in psalm, and prophecy, and epistle. If our Lord, as we have seen, encouraged hope, His was the hand which drew the picture of the worshipper “standing afar off,” who “would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote his breast, saying, God, be merciful to me a sinner”.
Our Lord has not only warned us of the pride of the Pharisee who in prayer thanked God that he was not like other men; He has, besides, warned us against ambition, which often occurs in believing disciples who desire that God would give them a prominent position before others. The sons of Zebedee (Mar_10:35 ff.), who entreat the Lord, “Grant unto us that we may sit, one on thy right hand, and the other on thy left hand, in thy glory,” receive a correction (“Ye know not what ye ask”), to which the Lord adds the words, “To sit on my right hand and on my left hand is not mine to give; but (only to those shall it be given) for whom it is prepared”. And with this our Lord has, once for all, rejected all vain fantastically ambitious prayers, although that ambition may give itself out as a holy ambition. But the exhortation here contained, to be satisfied with God’s grace, is specially applicable also to a longing often appearing in the course of Church History, namely, for signs and wonders, as a fruit of prayer (that is, for surprising, as it were tangible, answers to prayer), or for raptures, visions, and revelations in prayer. It is applicable to religious voluptuousness, to religious eudaemonism, which is always merely longing to have blessed experiences in prayer, to receive lively impressions and feelings of the sweetness of God’s love, like a lover who every moment desires new tokens of love, new proofs, new assurances that he is really loved, without considering that it belongs to the very essence of true love to believe in love even when no special signs of it appear; nay, when seeming signs of the opposite occur.
Nothing is more beautiful, nothing more encouraging, than the prayer, with the answer given to it, of a man in whom strength of character is matched by the humility of a child. In recent biography, no example is more striking than that of Bishop John Selwyn, whose life from early boyhood to its suffering close was moulded by prayer. One incident, in which the answer to prayer was immediate and visible, gives a glimpse into the secret forces of such a character. The Bishop was, at the moment, in doubt whether or not he should land at Nukapu, an island in the group where Bishop Patteson had met his death. He did not trust to his own courage, or experience, or resource. “As the mission party were deliberating, while the canoes of the islanders surrounded the Southern Cross,” an eye-witness wrote, “the Bishop left the deck, and went below into the cabin, and presently I looked through the skylight, and there saw the Bishop on his knees, and that strong earnest look upon his face which we all knew so well, asking God to direct him in this matter.
Whilst he was there praying, the canoes all cleared off, and went back to the island, so that when ho came on deck again the disappearance of tho canoes settled the question. The natives of this island were at that time evidently most nervous and suspicious, and there can be no doubt that it would have been unwise and running an unnecessary risk to have tested them too severely on that first occasion.”
Humility is not a mere passive virtue, it is active and strenuous; it goes about doing good. For humility in its working is simply love in self-forgetfulness, love spending and being spent, without any reflex thought flung back upon itself. It toils and sutlers, “hoping for nothing again”. Humility may sometimes sigh when its gifts are spurned; sometimes, even, it may be tempted to remonstrate, though the more abundantly I love you, the less I be loved; but it does not therefore cease from beneficence. Humility is never offended. It never puts an ungenerous construction upon words and acts. It does not grow fretful when it is misunderstood or slighted. It loves on, and “love never faileth”. It is so far from reading a reference to itself into the conduct of others that it does not consider itself at all. This earth shines outwards towards the other planets with a light which we who walk on its surface have never seen. And humility is ignorant that its face is radiant in the summer light of God. [Note: D. M. McIntyre, Waymarks in the Pursuit of God, 211.]
“Did you get low enough to be blessed?” was the question once asked by a saintly man, when speaking to seine who had gathered to pray for a revival in the Church. “Low enough to be blessed”—that is what God is often waiting for, before an answer to my prayers can come. “Lord, give me loftier views of Christ,” is the cry of some eager heart; and God says, “Yes, I will; but first you must have deeper and more humbling views of yourself”. “Lord, use me to do great things for Thee”. “Yes, but are you completely willing to be only the tool, and not the hand that moves it?” “Lord, I would fain be full of the Holy Ghost and of power; wilt Thou make me a brilliant lamp, giving clear and steady light?” “Yes, but I must first empty you of all your own oil, and so make room for that fulness of the Spirit to get in.” [Note: G. H. Knight. The Master’s Quotations to His Disciples, 19.]
