422. Home Again

Home Again

Luk_15:23 : ’93Bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it.’94

In all ages of the world it has been customary to celebrate joyful events by festivity’97the signing of treaties, the proclamation of peace, the Christmas, the marriage. However much on other days of the year our table may have stinted supply, on Thanksgiving Day there must be something bounteous. And all the comfortable homes of Christendom have at some time celebrated joyful events by banquet and festivity.

Something has happened in the old homestead greater than anything that has ever happened before. A favorite son, whom the world supposed would become a vagabond and outlaw forever, has got tired of sightseeing, and has returned to his father’92s house. The world said he never would come back. The old man always said his son would come. He had been looking for him day after day and year after year. He knew he would come back. Now, having returned to his father’92s house, the father proclaims celebration. There is a calf in the paddock that has been kept up and fed to utmost capacity, so as to be ready for some occasion of joy that might come along. Ah! there never will be a grander day on the old homestead than this day. Let the butchers do their work, and the housekeepers bring on the table the smoking meat. The musicians will take their places, and the gay groups will move up and down the floor. All the friends and neighbors are gathered in, and extra supply is sent out to the table of the servants. The father presides at the table and says grace and thanks God that his long-absent boy is home again. Oh! how they missed him; how glad they are to have him back. One brother, indeed, stands pouting at the back door, and says: ’93This is a great ado about nothing; this bad boy should have been chastened instead of greeted; veal is too good for him!’94 But the father says: ’93Nothing is too good; nothing is good enough.’94 There sits the young man, glad at the hearty reception, but a shadow of sorrow flitting across his brow at the remembrance of the trouble he had seen. All ready now. Let the covers lift. Music! He was dead and he is alive again! He was lost and he is found! By such bold imagery does the Bible set forth the merrymaking when a soul comes home to God.

First of all, there is the new convert’92s joy. It is no tame thing to become a Christian. The most tremendous moment in a man’92s life is when he surrenders himself to God. The grandest time on the father’92s homestead is when the boy comes back. Among the great throng who, in the parlors of my church, professed Christ one night, was a young man, who next morning rang my doorbell and said: ’93Sir, I cannot contain myself with the joy I feel; I came here this morning to express it. I have found more joy in five minutes in serving God than in all the years of my prodigality, and I came to say so.’94

It is no tame thing to become a Christian. It is a merrymaking. It is the killing of the fatted calf. It is jubilee. You know the Bible never compares it to a funeral, but always compares it to something bright. It is more apt to be compared to a banquet than anything else. It is compared in the Bible to the water’97bright, flashing water; to the morning’97roseate, fireworked, mountain-transfiguring morning. I wish I could today take all the Bible expressions about pardon and peace and life and comfort and hope and heaven and twist them into one garland, and put it on the brow of the humblest child of God in all this land, and cry: ’93Wear it, wear it now, wear it forever, son of God, daughter of the Lord God Almighty. Oh, the joy of the new convert! Oh, the gladness of the Christian service!’94

You have seen sometimes a man in a religious assembly get up and give his experience. Well, Paul gave his experience. He rose in the presence of two churches’97the church on earth and the church in heaven’97and he said: ’93Now, this is my experience: ’91Sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; poor, yet making many rich; having nothing, yet possessing all things.’92’93 If all the people who read this sermon knew the joys of the Christian religion, they would all pass over into the kingdom of God the next moment. When Daniel Sandeman was dying of cholera, his attendant said: ’93Have you much pain?’94 ’93Oh,’94 he replied, ’93since I found the Lord I have never had any pain except sin.’94 Then they said to him: ’93Would you like to send a message to your friends?’94 ’93Yes, I would; tell them that only last night the love of Jesus came rushing into my soul like the surges of the sea, and I had to cry out, ’91Stop, Lord; it is enough! Stop, Lord’97enough!’92’93 Oh, the joys of this Christian religion!

Just pass over from those tame joys which you are indulging’97joys of this world’97into the raptures of the Gospel. The world cannot satisfy you; you have found out’97Alexander, longing for other worlds to conquer, and yet drowned in his own bottle; Byron, whipped by disquietudes around the world; Voltaire, cursing his own soul while all the streets of Paris were applauding him; Henry II, consuming with hatred against poor Thomas a-Becket’97all illustrations of the fact that this world cannot make a man happy. The very man who poisoned the pommel of the saddle on which Queen Elizabeth rode, shouted in the street, ’93God save the Queen!’94 One moment the world applauds, and the next moment the world anathematizes. Oh. come over into this greater joy, this sublime solace, this magnificent beatitude. The night after the battle of Shiloh there were thousands of wounded on the field, and the ambulances had not come. One Christian soldier, lying there a-dying under the starlight, began to sing:

There is a land of pure delight,

and when he came to the next line there were scores of voices uniting:

Where saints immortal reign.

The song was caught up all over the field among the wounded, until, it was said, there were at least ten thousand wounded men uniting their voices as they came to the verse:

There everlasting spring abides,

And never withering flowers;

Death like a narrow stream divides

That heavenly land from ours.

Oh, it is a great religion to live by, and it is a great religion to die by. There is only one heartthrob between you and that religion this moment. Just look into the face of your pardoning God, and surrender yourself for time and for eternity, and he is yours and heaven is yours and all is yours.

Some of you, like the young man of the text, have gone far astray. I know not the history, but you know it. When a young man went forth into life, the legend says, his guardian angel went forth with him, and, getting him into a field, the guardian angel swept a circle clear around where the young man stood. It was a circle of virtue and honor, and he must not step beyond that circle. Armed foes came down, but were obliged to halt at the circle’97they could not pass. But one day a temptress, with diamonded hand, stretched forth and crossed that circle with the hand, and the tempted soul took it, and by that one fell grip was brought beyond the circle, and died. Some of you have stepped beyond that circle. Would you not like this day, by the grace of God, to step back? This, I say to you, is your hour of salvation. There was in the closing hours of Queen Anne what is called the clock scene. Flat down on the pillow in helpless sickness, she could not move her head or move her hand. She was waiting for the hour when the ministers of state should gather in angry contest; and worried and worn out by the coming hour, and in momentary absence of the nurse, in the power’97the strange power’97which delirium sometimes gives one, she arose and stood in front of the clock, and stood there watching the clock when the nurse returned. The nurse said: ’93Do you see anything peculiar about that clock?’94 She made no answer, but soon died. There is a clock scene in every history. If some of you would rise from the bed of lethargy and come out of your delirium of sin, and look on the clock of your destiny this moment, you would see and hear something you have not seen or heard before, and every tick of the minute, and every stroke of the hour, and every swing of the pendulum, would say: ’93Now, now, now, now!’94 Oh, come home to your Father’92s house. Come home, O prodigal! from the wilderness. Come home, come home!

But I noticed that when the prodigal came, there was the father’92s joy. He did not greet him with any formal ’93How do you do?’94 He did not come out and say: ’93You are unfit to enter; go out and wash in the trough by the well, and then you can come in; we have had enough trouble with you.’94 Ah, no! When the proprietor of that estate proclaimed festival, it was an outburst of a father’92s love and a father’92s joy. Our God is not a Sultan, not a despot, but a Father’97kind, loving, forgiving’97and he makes all heaven ring again when a prodigal comes back. ’93I have no pleasure,’94 he says, ’93in the death of him that dieth.’94 If a man does not get to heaven, it is because he will not go there. No difference the color, no difference the history, no difference the antecedents, no difference the surroundings, no difference the sin. When the white horses of Christ’92s victory are brought out to celebrate the eternal triumph, you may ride one of them, and as God is greater than all, his joy is greater; and when a soul comes back there is in his heart the surging of an infinite ocean of gladness; and to express that gladness, it takes all the rivers of pleasure, and all the thrones of pomp, and all the ages of eternity. It is a joy deeper than all depth, and higher than all height, and wider than all width, and vaster than all immensity. It overtops, it undergirds, it outweighs the united splendor and joy of the universe. Who can tell what God’92s joy is? You remember reading the story of a king, who on some great day of festivity scattered silver and gold among the people, who sent valuable presents to his courtiers; but methinks when a soul comes back, God is so glad that to express his joy he flings out new worlds into space, kindles up new suns, and rolls among the white-robed anthems of the redeemed a greater hallelujah, while with a voice that reverberates among the mountains of frankincense and is echoed back from the everlasting gates, he cries: ’93This, my son, was dead, and is alive again!’94

At the opening of the Exposition in New Orleans I saw a Mexican flutist, and he played the solo, and then afterward the eight or ten bands of music, accompanied by the great organ, came in; but the sound of that one flute, so insignificant in comparison with all the orchestra, had greater volume than has the combined joy of the universe, when compared with the resounding heart of Almighty God.

For ten years a father went three times a day to the depot. His son went off in aggravating circumstances; but the father said: ’93He will come back.’94 The strain was too much, and his mind parted; and three times a day the father went. In the early morning he watched the train’97its arrival, the stepping out of the passengers, and then the departure of the train. At noon he was there again, watching the advance of the train, watching the departure. At night, there again, watching the coming, watching the going, for ten years. He was sure his son would come back. God has been watching and waiting for some of you, my brothers, ten years, twenty years, thirty years, forty years, perhaps fifty years’97waiting, waiting, watching, watching; and if this morning the prodigal should come home, what a scene of gladness and festivity, and how the great Father’92s heart would rejoice at your coming home. You will come, some of you, will you not?

I notice also that when a prodigal comes home there is the joy of the ministers of religion. It is a grand thing to preach this Gospel! I know there has been a great deal said about the trials and the hardships of the Christian ministry. I wish somebody would write a good, rousing book about the joys of the Christian ministry. Since I entered the profession, I have seen more of the goodness of God than I will be able to celebrate in all eternity. I know some boast about their equilibrium, and they do not rise into enthusiasm, and they do not break down with emotion; but I confess to you plainly that when I see a man coming to God and giving up his sin, I feel in body, mind and soul a transport. When I see a man, who is bound hand and foot in evil habit, emancipated, I rejoice over it as though it were my own emancipation. Have not ministers a right to rejoice when a prodigal comes home? They blew the trumpet, and ought they not to be glad of the gathering of the host? They pointed to the full supply, and ought they not to rejoice when souls pant as the hart for the water-brooks? They came forth saying: ’93All things are now ready.’94 Ought they not to rejoice when the prodigal sits down at the banquet? We are in sympathy with all innocent hilarities. We can enjoy a hearty song, and we can be merry with the merriest; but those of us who have toiled in the service are ready to testify that all these joys are tame compared with the satisfaction of seeing men enter the kingdom of God. The great eras of every minister are the outpourings of the Holy Ghost, and I thank God I have seen twenty of them. Thank God! thank God!

I notice also when the prodigal comes back all earnest Christians rejoice. If you stood on a promontory and there was a hurricane at sea, and it was blowing toward the shore, and a vessel crashed into the rocks, and you saw people get ashore in the lifeboats, and the very last man got on the rocks in safety, you could not control your joy. And it is a glad time when the Church of God sees men who are tossed on the ocean of their sins plant their feet on the rock Christ Jesus. When prodigals come home just hear those Christians sing. It is not a dull tune you hear at such times. Just hear those Christians pray. It is not a stereotyped supplication we have heard over and over again for twenty years, but a putting of the case in the hands of God with an importunate pleading. Men never pray at great length unless they have nothing to say and their hearts are hard and cold. All the prayers in the Bible that were answered were short prayers: ’93God be merciful to me a sinner.’94 ’93Lord, that I may receive my sight.’94 ’93Lord, save me or I perish.’94 The longest prayer, Solomon’92s prayer at the dedication of the temple, less than eight minutes in length, according to the ordinary rate of enunciation. And just hear them pray now that the prodigals are coming home in time of great awakening. And then see those Christian faces how illumined they are. And see that old man get up and with the same voice that he sang fifty years ago in the old country meetinghouse, say: ’93Now, Lord, lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation.’94 There was a man of Keith who was hurled into prison in time of persecution, and one day he got off his shackles and he came and stood by the prison door, and When the jailer was opening the door, with one stroke he struck down the man who had incarcerated him. Passing along the streets of London, he wondered where his family was. He did not dare to ask lest he excite suspicion, but, passing along a little way from the prison, he saw a Keith tankard, a cup that belonged to the family from generation to generation; he saw it in a window. His family, hoping that some day he would get clear, came and lived as near as they could to the prison house, and they set that Keith tankard in the window, hoping he would see it; and he came along and saw it, and knocked at the door and went in, and the long-absent family were all together again. And, if you would start for the kingdom of God today, I think some of you would find nearly all your friends and nearly all your families around the holy tankard of the holy communion’97fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters around that sacred tankard which commemorates the love of Jesus Christ or Lord. It will be a great communion day when your whole family sit around the sacred tankard. One on earth, one in heaven.

Once more I remark, that when the prodigal gets back the inhabitants of heaven keep festival. I am very certain of it. If you have never seen a telegraphic chart, you have no idea how many cities are connected together and how many lands. Nearly all the neighborhoods of the earth seem reticulated, and news flies from city to city, and from continent to continent. But more rapidly go the tidings from earth to heaven; and when a prodigal returns it is announced before the throne of God. And if these souls today should enter the kingdom there would be some one in the heavenly kingdom to say: ’93That’92s my father,’94 ’93That’92s my mother,’94 ’93That’92s my son,’94 ’93That’92s my daughter,’94 ’93That’92s my friend,’94 ’93That’92s the one I used to pray for,’94 ’93That’92s the one for whom I wept so many tears,’94 and one soul would say, ’93Hosanna!’94 and another soul would say, ’93Hallelujah!’94

Pleased with the news the saints below

In songs their tongues employ;

Beyond the skies the tidings go,

And Heaven is filled with joy.

Nor angels can their joy contain,

But kindle with new fire;

The sinner lost is found, they sing,

And strike the sounding lyre.

At the banquet of Lucullus sat Cicero, the orator; at the Macedonian festival sat Philip, the conqueror; at the Grecian banquet sat Socrates, the philosopher; but at our Father’92s table sit all the returned prodigals, more than conquerors. The table is so wide its leaves reach across seas and across lands. Its guests are the redeemed of earth and the glorified of heaven. The ring of God’92s forgiveness on every hand, the robes of a Saviour’92s righteousness adroop from every shoulder. Let all the redeemed of earth and all the glorified of heaven rise, and with gleaming chalice drink to the return of a thousand prodigals. Sing! sing! sing! ’93Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive blessing and riches and honor and glory and power, world without end!’94

Autor: T. De Witt Talmage