today Paul is our inspiration and Demos is only a warning. I read somewhere of a wild duck on migration which came into a barn yard where tame ducks were feeding. He liked the food so well that he stayed a day, a week, a month. Then he stayed the whole season. One day, as he was feeding and feasting, he heard a familiar honking in the air overhead. He recognized the call of his companions, winging their way home. His eyes sparkled, his heart beat faster and he rose to join them. But alas, he’d fed too well and could get no higher than the eaves of the barn. He said to himself, “Oh, well, what difference does it make? The food’s good; I like it here.” So he spent the rest of his life in a barn yard. Then the day came when his old companions passed over and he never heard their call. You know, I’ve seen men and wom en who once mounted up with wings as eagles. They’re now content to live in the filthy barnyard of this world. True, sometimes in an old-fashioned meeting or under the spell of some powerful preaching, they may catch a few notes of the life they used to know, the song of saints on higher ground. Their hearts may beat a lit tle faster and their eyes fill with tears. There may even be a moment ary urge to sing, “My heart has no desire to stay where doubts arise and fears dismay.” But, alas they fit too well in the flesh pots of Egypt! Finally they reach the same stage when they respond no longer from the call on high. I beg you, friends, don’t settle down in the barnyard of this world. We have here no continu ing city, we seek one to come! We’re pilgrims and strangers. Set your affection on things above!
no use for Vanity Fair. In our days we’re trying to come to terms with the world. At best we’re out to re form the world, not escape it. Chris tianity always loses ground when Christians make themselves at home down here. We’re transients in this world, not residents. We're spiritual children of Abraham, not sons of Lot. Our homes and churches are only tem p o ra ry quarters. The finest church buildings around are only makeshift structures though they be as big as the Pentagon. The moment we settle down we cease to be pil grims. Then we change our theology to suit our practice. We decide to build the kingdom here instead of bringing back the King. We forget that the Holy City comes down, and that this present order is doomed to destruction, no matter how we dress it up. What use is it to set our affec tion upon it or have treasure in it? We but gather spoil for moths and thieves. Several Bible characters warn us of our folly. Consider Baruch, the sec retary of Jeremiah. He stood with the weeping prophet when almost everyone else was against him. No doubt his contemporaries asked him, “Why do you stick with this old pes simist? He has no future. You’d bet ter side with the up-and-coming young prophets.” Then God said to him, “Seekest thou great things for thyself? Seek them not.” In other words, “This is no place to ‘feather your nest.’ You have no home down here.” In the New Testament there is Demos, who forsook Paul, having loved this present world. I don’t know what form that defection took, whether he was lured by money, suc cess or pleasure, but he liked it too well down here. He may have ended up as Mayor of the town with a good supply of stocks and bonds. When Paul ended his career, he had no stocks save those on his feet and no bonds except those on his wrists, but 4
A child isn't likely to find a Father in God unless he finds something of God in his father.
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