MY BIGGEST PROBLEM ON THIS EARTH: MYSELF

SELF

“When I consider Thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars which Thou hast or­dained: What is man that Thou art mindful of him, and the son of man that Thou visitest him?"­
Psa. 8:3, 4

            In the second of these verses the writer enunciates the first great problem of every human life, and it is a problem which encompasses all others. The old philos­ophers and teachers summed up their philosophy and teaching in that one phrase, "Man, know thyself." And if man can but know himself, there will be no problem that he has not solved. When man truly knows himself, and has unraveled the mysteries of his own existence, and fathomed all the depths of his own being, then, surely, he will also have discovered God, the Creator and Sustainer.

            By that knowledge of himself, he will have learned also the problem of his fellow man, and so have entered into the realization of the great brotherhood of humanity. By that knowledge of himself, and of the possibilities of his nature, he will have come to understand that strange, almost meaningless ex­pression, so often upon our lips, and so little understood, "Eternity." When man knows himself, then he will have dis­covered also the secrets of nature, and will be at home amid all their varied and varying avenues. Tennyson sang truly—

Flower in the crannied wall,

I pluck you out of the cranny;

Hold you here in my hand,

Little flower, root and all ‑

And if I could understand

What you are, root and all, and all in all,

I should know what God and man is."

            And therefore it is that I repeat: The first problem that faces the thinking mind is the problem of self. Who am I? What am I? Where did I come from? Where am I going? What does these strange con­flicting elements mean within my nature? How is it that one day I love, and within an hour I hate? What is the meaning of all these strange contradictory ex­periences as I take my way through life?

            Our present consideration is confined within very narrow limits. We shall endeavor to answer the Psalmist's ques­tion, “What is man?” in the light of the New Testament revelation. "What is man? What is man, blighted, dwarfed, broken, sin-stained, as we know him?” That will be a subject for future articles; but what is man in himself—what is the Divine ideal? When, far away in the past, God said, in that Eternal Counsel of His own being, "Let us make man," what had He in His thought and on His heart? “What is man?” In order that we may under­stand the problem as it presents itself to­day, it is absolutely necessary that we get further back in the question, and ask the original intention and meaning of the creation of man. I cannot under­stand fallen man, sinful and heart­broken, except as I have the vision of man unfallen, without sin, whole in heart and affection toward God. “What is man?” For the sake of the youngest reader, let me take the simplest illustra­tion. If I were a stranger to this land, and were I suddenly brought here from some of the dark places of the earth, did I know nothing of civilization, knowing none of all the progress of this rapidly fading century, and were I placed first of all in connection with our great railway system on some point where an hour before there had been a fearful wreck, would it be fair to say to me as I gazed upon the wreck of the locomotive and train scat­tered in confusion, "That is a train"? Every child will see how absurd it would be. That is the wreckage, the result of the accident, and it is the very splendor of the construction that has made that wreckage so profound and appalling. If want to know what a train is, I must find out before the accident. “What is man?” It is not fair to point to man as you see him today, with the blemish and blight of sin upon him; with the dimness of sin in his eye, and the weari­ness of sin in his physical frame; with his mental vigor enfeebled, and spiritual power benumbed.

            “What is man?” That is the ques­tion; and in order to answer it, I must get behind the present condition of af­fairs, and come to understand what man is in himself, so far as the thought and intention of God are concerned. We shall therefore, in the first place, consider the problem as stated; and second, we shall direct our attention to a close in­spection of that problem; and third and at last, we shall endeavor to apply that problem to personal consciousness.

            First of all, will you notice the psalm­ist's statement of the problem, because it is full of interest. He approaches his question from certain points of observa­tion, and it is only as we understand these points that we shall gather the full force and meaning of his question.

            You notice what his first observation is. "When I consider Thy heavens, the work of Thy fingers, the moon and the stars which Thou has ordained: What is man?" The second observation, "Thou art mindful of man, Thou visitest him." “What is man?” Take these two points of vision for a moment and look at them closely. "When I consider Thy heavens"—and I suppose the psalmist had a right to say that. I suppose he had considered God's heavens. I do not deem that very many of us would have any right to make use of those words as our own. Hubble has considered them and discovered our knowledge is limited in comparison to God Who has a personal name for all out there. Man is small in number to what God has placed out there. There may be here one, and there another, who have considered the heavens. We have all, in some of those old moments of simplicity—childhood's moments—gone outside the door and gazed some night at the star-bespangled heavens. And we have in those days—some of you have almost forgotten them —felt the thrill, the awe, and the impress­iveness of the silent eloquence of the night. "When I consider Thy heavens" in their countless numbers, in their per­fect order, in their absolute freedom—so far as man has ever been able to detect—from conflicting interests, in the infinite music of the spheres that stretch beyond my knowledge; "When I consider Thy heav­ens," not only in their essential wonder, but "When I consider Thy heavens, the work of Thy fingers, the moon and the stars which Thou hast ordained: what is man?"

            And the answer comes clearly to every heart as the question is proposed. Man is small, frail, vanishing; and we answer the psalmist's question in his own lan­guage, from another of his psalms, "Surely man at his best estate is alto­gether vanity."

            Man comes and goes, a bubble on the stream, on which for a few passing mo­ments the lights and shadows play; and then he is "forgotten, as a dream dies at the opening day." The stars upon which we look today are the self-same orbs of light upon which our savage forefathers gazed. But men have come and gone in quick succession, until it seems as if the cold stars upon the plain of heaven have laughed at man in his going and coming. I stand at the foot of the mountain which lifts its head beyond the cloud, and catches on its summit the first gleam of the king of day in his rising, and I say, "What am I?" That mountain has been there through the passing of the ages, and I am here and shall be gone before the sun melts the snow upon its summit. "What is man?"

            But the psalmist has another point of observation. "Thou art mindful of him; Thou visitest him." If the heavens are wonderful, they are the "work of Thy fingers." The extremities of Divine power have done these things, but Thou Thyself art mindful of man. Thou hast manipulated the orbs of night, and the procession of the centuries without ef­fort, without weariness, without journeying; but Thou visitest him. You came to earth. “What is man?” Frail, insignificant, vanishing, laughed at by material grandeur, and yet attracting God, so that the Eternal is "mindful of him and visits him."

            Thus the problem is stated; and I want you to see very clearly how close is the connection between these two points of observation, and how, moreover, had there not been two points of observa­tion, the wonder never would have been. If man were obviously greater than the universe, surely, then, he is equal with God; and I am not surprised God is "mindful of him and visits him." On the other hand, if God does not visit this man, then I ask no question about him.     He is part of the perishing around me. He lives his little life, and has his day, and is lost, so far as identity and per­sonality are concerned. He returns to Mother Earth, and mixes again with the first elements that have composed him for a few passing years, and we shall never know him again. If that be so I ask no question. He is the fairest flower that has blossomed on the earth; the most blessed form of materialism that any have ever seen, and that is all: but when I see him frailer than matter, weaker than the mountains, smaller than the stars, vanishing in the presence of the vastness of nature, and yet God visits him, and is mindful of him (and to mingle the sweet music of the Old and New Testaments, God puts his tears into His bottle, numbers the hairs of his head, directs his steps), then have I to won­der, and am constrained to ask with the psalmist of old, “What is man?”

            This statement of the problem is neces­sary in order to arrest the careless and indifferent who are taking their own life and being for granted, as something purely accidental. Let us face this two­fold vision and its problem—less than stars and systems, and suns, and order, and yet such that attracts God, so that He is mindful of and visits him. “What is man?”

            Now I propose finding my definition in the New Testament, and I shall only trouble you to look at it in order to re­member the phrase. In Paul's first letter to the Thessalonians, in the last chapter and the 23d verse, he makes use of a phrase of infinite meaning, as I believe, giving us in his own clear, lucid way a definition which answers the question propounded in this psalm of olden times —"The God of peace sanctify you wholly"; and then he proceeds to give us an exposition of his own phrase "wholly." What does he mean when he says that sanctification has to be wholly complete? "May your spirit, soul, and body be preserved entire, with­out blame, unto the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ." I am not discussing this text; I am simply lifting out of it—in order that we may study the problem that faces us—that one phrase, "your spirit, soul, and body." And upon this occasion the original words are used most carefully; and that is why I take this phrase and ask you to look at it for a moment or two. Spirit, soul, and body. That is man. Shall we take each of these and consider them briefly, only for the purpose of our argument; and that we may follow the line of thought we shall not take them in the apostle's order, but we shall, reversing the order, take first body, then soul, and then spirit.

            BODY. “What is man?” We have too long answered the question care­lessly, and have said body and soul, and too long been misusing a word by talk­ing about saving the soul. Now what a man needs to have saved in that evan­gelical sense of the word is not the soul, but the spirit. Let the spirit be regener­ated, and then soul and body alike are saved; but it is important that we should look at this vision and consider these words—body, soul, and spirit. The body is of the earth, and therefore earthy, and yet it is the highest form of earth-life. Let us be very simple and childlike as we think about that lowest form of human personality—physical power.   It was the psalmist who said we are "fear­fully and wonderfully made," (Psa. 139:14) and yet how few of us realize that that is true; how few have set themselves, quietly and thoughtfully, to think of the marvelous and matchless mechanism of their own frames! This is the day of invention and of progress, when man is engaged in a continuous whirl of dis­covery; and according to the very latest book by Mr. Bellamy, "Equality," the time is coming when we shall not work, but press a button and everything will be done for us. We are almost there!. We are discovering everywhere, and men are perpetually inventing new forms of machinery. But the mechanism of my hand has never been equalized in the dream of any inventor; and what is true of me is true of every one. Take the hand, and you will find that the thumb faces every finger so that I can pick from the ground the smallest thing that my hand can lift, and also grasp the lever that moves great masses of matter.

            You remember when you had those first visions of physiology that so en­tranced some of you that you never left the study, and finally mastered it, and entered upon a profession that has served humanity and is always an adornment. Some saw the vision and were afraid, and drew back. Think of it for a mo­ment, the body of man, and remember there is no flower that blossoms upon the sod so fair; no tree that grows in the wood so wondrous in its powers of endurance. "Oh," but you say, "there are trees growing today that were old when we began to be"; but they have never faced such storms as you have. All the wind that blows, the rain that splashes, and the changes of atmosphere that tell upon the oak, are child's play compared to the mental anguish and heart-break that have swept across your life; and yet you have endured. With God a thousand years are as a day; and with man, as compared to the oak, a thousand years are as a day. One day has in it of force and meaning more than all the life the plant or the tree lives in its long succession of the seasons. So if you think of the material side of man's existence, he is more wonderful in his strength, as in his beauty, than anything else God has made. And yet what is this frame of mine? It is the carbon upon which the light of God is to play and have its work. As is the carbon to the electric light, so is the body of man to the spirit of man. Only that, nothing more! It is the basis of life, that upon which the rest manifests itself for the time being, and only for the time being. This body of mine, surpassing in its wonder all human understanding, is for today, not tomorrow. In God's great tomorrow, I must have a body of an­other form—no longer the earthly and material, but the heavenly and the spirit­ual. This is the tabernacle for the spirit in the day of its probation. More marvelous in its mechanism, as we have said, than sun, stars, tree, or plant, or any other form of matter; and yet being but the lowest stratum in the complex life of man.

            SOUL.—This word "soul"—the Greek word—is a word that always refers to the animal life of man, the conscious force, that within which feels pain or joy. You will agree that the animal life in man far exceeds, in every way, all other forms of animal life. Remember that man, as an animal, without any reference to the great crowning glory, is capable of art, and music, and literature, and imag­ination. All these things may flourish even though a man is spiritually dead. I want to save that phrase now, because it is on your mind. I may forget to cor­rect it. Someone says, "Do you mean to say that these may all find full play in an unspiritual man?" By no means. I say the best art the world has ever known has been inspired, and under the do­minion of spirit. The finest poetry that men have ever penned has been written when the life was under the dominion of the highest form of its complex nature—spirit. But this I do say, within the mental range of the soul life there may be art, music, literature, and imagination, all the while the spirit of man is dead in trespasses and sins. This is no new story or theory. If you trace your way back to Genesis you will find how Enoch was the seventh from Adam through Seth; and of Enoch it was said, "he walked with God." Lamech lived about the same time, he being the seventh from

Adam through Cain; and you study his times and find how there was in­dustry, and art, and the enfranchisement of woman—all without God. And that old story has been repeated ever since. A man can be an artist, a poet, a literary genius, a messenger to his fellow-men on high moral lines, even though the spirit is dead. But, so far, we have only touched upon the body and soul. What next?

            SPIRIT—That which is divine; the free breath of God. Divine in its possibili­ties and powers, the utmost glory of every human life, unheard of by, any form of lower life than man.—the spirit. If I meet a man in the road, I meet first of all his bodily presence. That appeals to me through the avenue of my sight. But when at the moment we pause and hold con­versation, I reach his soul—the mental side of the man—through the avenue of his speech; but when I have lived with him and worshipped with him, I shall reach, if it be alive and prospering there, his spirit, not through the avenue of sight or speech, but through the avenue of the in­fluence he will exert upon me.

            Thus the easiest thing which I can come in contact with is his body, the physical side of his nature, fearful, wonderful, and majestic. More difficult to realize is brotherhood in the region of the mind; but most subtle and hard to reach is the kindred touch of spirit that is the crowning glory of every human being. What is man? Less than the heavens, and yet so won­drous in himself that God is mindful of him and visits him. Man is body—of the earth; he is soul—the highest form of animal life; he is spirit—offspring of God, created not only by Him, but in His image.

            “What is man?” He is the union of the spiritual and the material. He is the crown of all nature, and in man nature blossoms into God. Adam had daily encounters with God, was taught a language in order for God to hold communion with him. Adam was taught by God and gained new information daily from God Who is Spirit. This caused love to flow from Adam to his Creator. Adam was created in His image and likeness. For in man there is the Divine spark, the Divine nature; and every man, woman, and child is a part of God, cre­ated in His image, and touched with His life and spirit. Nature touches God no­where but in man, in that sense there is nothing of the Divine on the earth except man; and in the heaven that lies above us and the light that is beyond the shadow, there is spiritual beings called principalities and powers which we shall have our ongoing ministry after leaving this earth (Eph. 3:10) making known to them God’s wisdom and power which we have been receiving our whole stay on this earth. So man becomes the strangest and grandest of the works of God, in his own being marrying earth and heaven, linking matter to spirit, and being in himself at once of the earth and of the heavens—the strangest and most marvelous combination of the skill and work of the Divine.

            If man sin, then all nature will go down with him, trees, and flowers—on all will be the chill of man's sin. The curse included the creation. Well does the writer of the New Testament say that "the whole creation groaneth and travaileth together in pain until now." Then, when spirit is dominant in man, he is at his best. Spirit is su­preme; and soul and body are subser­vient to spirit. And when spirit is su­preme, man has dominion, as the psalm­ist says, and the writer of the Hebrews repeats "over all things."

            Then if man be spirit in his complex and essential being, he is immortal, and there is no death. "Oh," you say, "but there is death. Men have died through all the ages." My friends, that is not a part of our study. “What is man?” I do not ask what he is in his fall. Re­member, "the wages of sin is death." Death came in because of sin in man himself; in the essential glory of the Di­vine creation there is no death, transition rather. This life is probation, a time of testing and trial, in which all the mag­nificence of his own being comes before his own vision. Then, when the testing time is over, and the work is done, comes the change—the transition, that leaves behind the process of probation, and takes up new work in the Kingdom of the Eternal, fulfilling the purpose of God, and stepping out to unknown re­gions of which man in all his dreams can say nothing, for God has hidden these things. “What is man?” Body, soul, and spirit.

            What is my personal consciousness, in view of such an article? I am not what I have described.

            That is not the story of my life. Well, that is precisely what the writer of the letter to the Hebrews teaches. He quotes the psalm from which our text is taken. "What is man that Thou art mindful of him, and visitest him?" and then he de­clares, "We see not yet all things put under his feet." I pray you notice that it does not in the first place mean the feet of Jesus; the writer is speaking of man—"Now we see not all things sub­jected to him"—all things are not yet subjected to man—"but we see Jesus, Who was made a little lower than the angels for the suffering of death, crowned." Oh, if I could put into that all the music it contains! We have looked at the vision, and we are not that which has been described. But we see "Jesus, Who has been made a little lower than the angels," come to our level—and how do we see Him? Crowned. Then there is one Man to whom all things have been put in sub­jection; one Man Who has fulfilled His Divine ideal; one Man in the presence of the Eternal God Who is there, not by the right of pardon purchased for Him, but by the right of His own strong, pure life.

            We do not see all things put in subjec­tion to man; but we see Jesus crowned. And why is He crowned? Will you hear those closing words of that same most wonderful chapter, 8th verse, "Thou hast put all things in subjection under His feet;" and then on to the 18th verse, "For in that He Himself hath suffered, being tempted, He is able to succor them that are tempted." He is crowned. And because He is crowned He is able to bring the power of His own resurrection life into my life. He is able to take me, wreck as I am, ruined as I am, failure as I am, and by discipline remold and re­make me out of the wreckage of my sin. "He is able to save to the uttermost those who come unto God by Him." My possibility: Man—body, soul, and spirit. My failure: I have sinned. My possession in Christ: He is able to rescue.

            Now I would like to say solemnly, in conclusion, and leave the question in all its simplicity—On which plane of life are you living—body, soul, or spirit? The great crowd of men today are living on the lowest; but a large number are liv­ing on the second—soul, mental culture —and thank God, there are those who are living on the third—spirit. That is the ultimate thing.         Where do you live, my brother? For bodily satisfaction, or mental culture, or spiritual growth? For only as you live on the third and greatest, can the others be all that they may be, and all that is God's will that they should be. If hitherto you have lived in the realm of the physical, the fleshly, the carnal, the material, I call you in the name of the "crowned Man" Who is able to "rescue you who are tempted" to His Cross, and to His side, and to His Kingdom.