The Home Council

The Crucifixion Of Jesus

So they took Jesus; and he went out, carrying his cross himself, to the place which is named from a skull, or, in Hebrew, Golgotha. There they crucified him, and two others with him—one on each side, and Jesus between them. Pilate also had these words written and put up over the cross—

JESUS OF NAZARETH, THE KING OF THE JEWS.

These words were read by many of the Jews, because the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city; and they were written in Hebrew, Latin, and Greek. The Jewish Chief Priests said to Pilate:

“Do not write ‘The King of the Jews’ but write what the man said— ‘I am King of the Jews.'”

But Pilate answered—

“What I have written, I have written.”

When the soldiers had crucified Jesus, they took his clothes and divided them into four shares—a share for each soldier—and they took the coat also. The coat had no seam, being woven in one piece from top to bottom. So they said to one another:

“Do not let us tear it, but let us cast lots for it, to see who shall have it.” This was in fulfilment of the words of Scripture—

“They shared my clothes among them, And over my clothing they cast lots.”

That was what the soldiers did. Meanwhile near the cross of Jesus were standing his mother and his mother’s sister, as well as Mary the wife of Clopas and Mary of Magdala. When Jesus saw his mother, and the disciple whom he loved, standing near, he said to his mother:

“There is your son.”

Then he said to that disciple:

“There is your mother.”

And from that very hour the disciple took her to live in his house.

—John.

Mother Of Mine

If I were hanged on the highest hill,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!
I know whose love would follow me still,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

If I were drowned in the deepest sea,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!
I know whose tears would come down to me,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

If I were damned of body and soul,
I know whose prayers would make me whole,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

—Rudyard Kipling.

My Own Shall Come To Me

Serene I fold my hands and wait,
Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea.
I rave no more ‘gainst time or fate,
For lo! my own shall come to me.

I stay my haste, I make delays,
For what avails this eager pace?
I stand amid the eternal ways,
And what is mine shall know my face.

Asleep, awake, by night or day
The friends I seek are seeking me;
No wind can drive my bark astray,
Nor change the tide of destiny.

What matter if I stand alone?
I wait with joy the coming years;
My heart shall reap what it has sown.
And gather up its fruit of tears.

The stars come nightly to the sky;
The tidal wave comes to the sea;
Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high,
Can keep my own away from me.

The waters know their own and draw
The brook that springs in yonder heights;
So flows the good with equal law
Unto the soul of pure delights.

—John Burroughs.

The Moment Of Decision

Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide,
In the strife of Truth and Falsehood, for the good or evil side;
Some great cause, God’s new Messiah offering each the bloom or blight;
Parts the goats upon the left hand, and the sheep upon the right;
And the choice goes by forever ‘twixt that darkness and that light.

—J. H. Jowett.

Alternate Reading: II Peter 2: 10-22.

Love’s Proof Of Immortality

Another marvel: some one has me fast
Within his ample palm; ’tis not a grasp
Such as they use on earth, but all around
Over the surface of my subtle being,
As though I were a sphere, and capable
To be accosted thus, a uniform
And gentle pressure tells me I am not
Self-moving, but borne forward on my way.
And hark! I hear a singing; yet in sooth
I cannot of that music rightly say
Whether I hear, or touch, or taste the tones.
Oh, what a heart-subduing melody!

—John Henry Newman.

Love Expels Doubt

Beneath the deep and solemn midnight sky,
At the last verge and boundary of time,
I stand and listen to the starry chime
That sounds to the inward sense and will not die.
Now do the thoughts that daily hidden lie
Arise, and live in a celestial clime—
Unutterable thoughts, most high, sublime,
Crossed by one dread that frights mortality.
Thus, as I muse, I hear my little child
Sob in its sleep within the cottage near—
My own dear child!—Gone is that mortal doubt!
The Power that drew our lives forth from the wild
Our Father is; we shall to Him be dear,
Nor from His universe be blotted out!

—Richard Watson Gilder.

A Room For You

Do not any of you be disheartened. Believe in God. And believe in me, too. In my Father’s home are many rooms. If it had not been so, I should have told you; I am going to prepare a place for you. And if I do go and prepare it, I shall return, and will take you to be with me, so that you may be where I am.

—Jesus.

Alternate Reading: II Peter 2:1-9.

The Humiliation Of Humanity

Then Jesus came outside, wearing the crown of thorns and the purple robe; and Pilate said to them:

“Here is the man!”

When the Chief Priests and the police-officers saw him, they shouted:

“Crucify him! Crucify him!”

“Take him yourselves and crucify him,” said Pilate. “For my part, I find nothing with which he can be charged.”

“But we,” replied the Jews, “have a Law, under which be deserves death for making himself out to be the Son of God.”

When Pilate heard what they said, he became stall more alarmed; and, going into the Government House again, he said to Jesus:

“Where do you come from?”

But Jesus made no reply. So Pilate said to him:

“Do you refuse to speak to me? Do not you know that I have power to release you, and have power to crucify you?”

“You would have no power over me at all,” answered Jesus, “if it had not been given you from above; and, therefore, the man who betrayed me to you is guilty of the greater sin.”

This made Pilate anxious to release him; but the Jews shouted:

“If you release that man, you are no friend of the Emperor! Any one who makes himself out to be a king is setting himself against the Emperor!”

On bearing what they said, Pilate brought Jesus out, and took his seat upon the Bench at a place called The Stone Pavement—in Hebrew Gabbatha. It was the Passover Preparation Day, and about noon. Then be said to the Jews:

“Here is your King!”

At that the people shouted:

“Kill him! Kill him! Crucify him!”

“What! shall I crucify your King?” exclaimed Pilate.

“We have no king but the Emperor,” replied the Chief Priests; whereupon Pilate gave Jesus up to them to be crucified.

—John.

Family Fellowship

Heavenly Father, may the atmosphere of the unseen heaven make the atmosphere of our home! Bind our family life into a strong and enduring fellowship. Drive out everything that makes for division and strife.

—J. H. Jowett.

Death Challenged

Fear death?—to feel the fog in my throat,
The mist in my face,
When the snows begin, and the blasts denote
I am nearing the place,
The power of the night, the press of the storm,
The post of the foe;
Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form,
Yet the strong man must go:
For the journey is done and the summit attained,
And the barriers fall,
Though a battle’s to fight ere a guerdon be gained,
The reward of it all.
I was ever a fighter, so—one fight more.
The best and the last!
I would hate that death bandaged my eyes and forebore,
And bade me creep past.
No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers
The heroes of old,
Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life’s arrears
Of pain, darkness, and cold.
For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave,
The black minute’s at end.
And the elements’ rage, the fiend-voices that rave
Shall dwindle, shall blend,
Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain,
Then a light, then thy breast,
O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again,
And with God be the rest!

—Robert Browning.

Alternate Reading: Hebrews 13: 8-16.

Heroism

I understand the large hearts of heroes,
The courage of present times and all times,
How the skipper saw the crowded and rudderless wreck of the steamship, and Death chasing it up and down the storm,
How he knuckled tight and gave not back an inch and was faithful of days and faithful of nights,
And chalked in large letters on a board, “Be of good cheer, we will not desert you”;
How he follow’d with them and tack’d with them three days and would not give it up,
How he saved the drifting company at last,
How the lank loose-gown’d women looked when boated from the side of their prepared graves,
How the silent old-faced infants and the lifted sick, and the sharp-lipp’d unshaved men;
All this I swallow, it tastes good, I like it well, it becomes mine, I am the man, I suffered, I was there.
The disdain and calmness of martyrs,
The mother of old, condemn’d for a witch, burned with dry wood, her children gazing on,
The pounded slave that flags in the race, leans by the fence blowing, covered with sweat.
I am the hounded slave, I wince at the bite of the dogs, Hell and despair are upon me, crack and again crack the marksmen,
I clutch the rails of the fence, my gore dribs, thinn’d with the ooze of my skin,
I fall on the weeds and stones,
The riders spur their unwilling horses, haul close,
Taunt my dizzy ears and beat me violently over the head with whip-stocks.

—Walt Whitman.

Heroism Smiles At The Inevitable

To stand with a smile upon your face, against a stake from which you cannot get away—that no doubt is heroic. True glory is resignation to the inevitable. But to stand unchained, with perfect liberty to go away held only by the higher chains of duty, and let the fire creep up to the heart—that is heroism.

—F. W. Robertson.

Alternate Reading: Hebrews 13:1-7.

Jesus Before Pilate

From Caiaphas they took Jesus to the Government House. It was early in the morning. But they did not enter the Government House themselves, lest they should become “defiled,” and so be unable to eat the Passover. Therefore Pilate came outside to speak to them.

“What charge do you bring against this man?” he asked.

“If he had not been a criminal, we should not have given him up to you,” they answered.

“Take him yourselves,” said Pilate, “and try him by your own Law.”

“We have no power to put any one to death,” the Jews replied—in fulfilment of what Jesus had said when indicating the death that he was destined to die.

After that, Pilate went into the Government House again, and calling Jesus up, asked him:

“Are you the King of the Jews?”

“Do you ask me that yourself?” replied Jesus, “or did others say it to you about me?”

“Do you take me for a Jew?” was Pilate’s answer. “It is your own nation and the Chief Priests who have given you up to me. What have you done?”

“My kingly power,” replied Jesus, “is not due to this world. If it had been so, my servants would be doing their utmost to prevent my being given up to the Jews; but my kingly power is not from the world.”

“So you are a King after all!” exclaimed Pilate.

“Yes, it is true I am a King,” answered Jesus. “I was born for this, I have come into the world for this— to bear testimony to the Truth. Every one who is on the side of Truth listens to my voice.”

“What is Truth? ” exclaimed Pilate.

After saying this, he went out to the Jews again, and said:

“For my part, I find nothing with which he can be charged. It is, however, the custom for me to grant you the release of one man at the Passover Festival. Do you wish for the release of the King of the Jews?”

“No, not this man,” they shouted again, “but Barabbas!” This Barabbas was a robber.

—John.

The Meaning Of Death

Death is the gate of life.

—John Milton.

Facing The Inevitable Cheerfully

All that breathe will share
Thy destiny in death. The gay will laugh
When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care
Plod on, and each one, as before, will chase
His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave
Their mirth and their employments, and shall come
And make their bed with thee. As the long train
Of ages glide away, the sons of men—
The youth in life’s green spring, and he who goes
In the full strength of years, matron and maid,
And the sweet babe, and the gray-headed man—
Shall, one by one, be gathered to thy side
By those who in their turn shall follow them.

So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan that moves
To the pale realm of shade, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who raps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

—William Cullen Bryant.

Men must endure their going hence, even as their coming hither: Ripeness is all.

—William Shakespeare.

No Death But Change

There is no death! What seems so is transition;
This life of mortal breath
Is but a suburb of the life Elysian
Whose portal we call death.

—Henry W. Longfellow.

Alternate Reading: Hebrews 12:1-13.

God’s Plow

There are times in one’s life when all the world seems to turn against us. Our motives are misunderstood, our words are misconstrued, a malicious smile or an unkind word reveals to us the unfriendly feelings of others. Our advances are repulsed, or met with icy coldness; a dry refusal arrests in our lips the offer of help.

Oh! how hard it all seems, and the more so, that we cannot divine the cause.

Courage, patience, poor disconsolate one! God is making a furrow in your heart, where He will surely sow His grace.

It is rare when injustice, or slights patiently borne, do not leave the heart at the close of the day filled with marvelous joy and peace. It is the seed God has sown springing up and bearing fruit

—Anon.

Two Singers

One touched his facile lyre to please the ear
And win the bussing plaudits of the town,
And sang a song that caroled loud and dear;
And gained at once a blazing, brief renown.
Nor he, nor all the crowd behind them, saw
The ephemeral list of pleasant rhymers dead:
Their voices once deemed a title without flaw
To fame, whose phantom radiance long had fled.

Another sang his soul out to the stars,
And the deep hearts of men. The few who passed
Heard a low, thoughtful strain behind his bare,
As of some captive in a prison cast.
And when that thrilling voice no more was heard,
Him from his cell in funeral pomp they bore;
Then all that he had sung and written stirred
The world’s great heart with thoughts unknown before.

—C. P. Cranch.

Alternate Reading: Hebrews 4:1-16.

The World Against Me

“The world is against me,” he said with a sigh.
“Somebody stops every scheme that I try.
The world has me down and it’s keeping me there;
I don’t get a chance. Oh, the worid is unfair!
When a fellow is poor then he can’t get a show;
The world is determined to keep him down low.”

“What of Abe Lincoln?” I asked. “Would you say
That he was much richer than you are to-day?
He hadn’t your chance of making his mark,
And his outlook was often exceedingly dark;
Yet he clung to his purpose with courage most grim
And he got to the top. Was the world against him?

“What of Ben Franklin? I’ve oft heard it said
That many a time he went hungry to bed.
He started with nothing but courage to climb,
But patiently struggled and waited his time.
He dangled awhile from real poverty’s limb,
Yet he got to the top. Was the world against him?

“I could name you a dozen, yes, hundreds, I guess,
Of poor boys who’ve patiently climbed to success;
All boys who were down and who struggled alone,
Who’d have thought themselves rich if your fortune they’d known;
Yet they rose in the world you’re so quick to condemn,
And I’m asking you now, was the world against them?”

—Edgar A. Guest.

Alternate Reading: I Corinthians 15:12-58.