“These all continued with one accord in prayer and supplication, with the women, and Mary the mother of Jesus, and with his brethren.” Acts 1:14.
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!*
Early morning in Jerusalem, and the quick fall of sandals upon cobbled pavings.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The ring of other footsteps, echoing against canyoned walls of narrow streets; re-echoing in cloistered arch-ways overhead. The hundred and twenty are assembling.
Coming from many directions, their steps converge toward the Upper Room at Mount Zion.
Hearts beat high!
Surely this is the day!
For a full week they have tarried. Had He not said, “Tarry ye in the city of Jerusalem until ye be endued with power from on high’? Very well, they have tarried, and were tarrying, and would continue to tarry until this mysterious, this miraculous, this much needed and longed for “Power” descended.
When would the Holy Ghost descend?
“This day,” methinks I hear one say to his companions as they toil the inclined street.
“This is the day of the Feast of Pentecost; the fiftieth day from Passover. ’Twas on the eve of the
Passover that He died.
“The third day He arose from out the tomb.
“Forty days He walked in our midst.
“Full seven days have we assembled.
“Three plus forty, plus seven equals fifty. Pente-
cost is fifty days removed from the day of Passover.
“Think ye He will descend from Heaven today?”
“Aye, His blessed coming is nigh at hand.”
From the city and country they come, this peculiar
band who are enroute to the Upper Room.
Peter, dauntless as usual, striding in the lead.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
His footsteps sound upon the city streets.
“Peter,” would we might interrogate him, ‘‘whither
bound so early in the morn?”
“T am on my way to the Upper Room, whither
abideth James and John. We are engaged therein in
prayer. We tarry, my friend, for the Holy Ghost;
foretold by the Prophets, promised by the Son, and
coveted ardently by the waiting Church.”
“But, Peter, why seek ye for this experience?
“Have you not been a preacher of the Gospel for some three years? Have you not lived close unto the Master? Have not sick been healed at your touch, and the very demons been subject to you? By tarrying for this new power, you admit yourself in need of a deeper experience and thereby shall lose caste in the eyes of the assemblage. Brother Peter, thou art good enough without it!”
Doubtless there were people then who talked even as folks do today. But listen to the clear ringing answer of the Apostle whose preaching, ere the set of evening’s sun, was to shake the very city.
“Good enough, you say? Ah, little know you whereof you speak! True, I have loved Him these years. I have walked with Him, talked with Him, hung upon His every word. Swift footed have I run to obey His slightest word. Yea, and I have left all to follow Him. His will is sweeter far to me than any earthly joy. He hath even said unto me, ‘Now are ye clean, through the word which I have spoken.’ But, if ever man needed a deeper experience, I am he.
“Pardon. I must away!”
And up the stairs goes Peter.
Layman, Clergyman, if Peter, who had thus walked with the Master, needed this infilling of the Holy Spirit and was willing to tarry until he received it, how can we afford to miss it? If he considered it no condescension to tarry, need we hesitate to humble our hungry hearts?
“Peter was full of failures,’ you say, ‘‘and therefore needed the blessing.”’
Wait a moment. We will turn back again to Jerusalem.
Here comes John the Beloved — that pure, consecrated one whose devotion and love fill the Temple of the World as with sweet incense. Let us question him.
“One moment, Saint John, thou beloved of the Saviour. Thy face is alight with holy purpose this Pentecostal morn. Whither art thou bound?”
“T haste unto the Upper Room, there to await the blessed Holy Spirit Whom Christ shall pour out from on high.’
“John! Surely thou art not serious! Surely thou dost not infer that one who has lived so spotlessly, so close unto the Master’s heart, has further need of definite infilling? None know the paths of faith and love better than thyself. None can quote so richly from the Master’s word! None have cradled their head upon the Master’s bosom, or been called so oft as thou ‘he, whom the Master loved’. Surely, if anyone ; so good that he needs no further blessing, it is thou!’
“How tremendously you err,” I hear the Apostle ery. “I slept when I should have watched; faltered and returned to my home when I should have believed the evidences of His resurrection. Most urgently need I the fulness of His Spirit to equip me for effective service in the valley lands. As the lamp needs oil whereby to shine in the night of darkness, so need I His gracious Spirit; else should I be a smoking wick, burning dimly and unworthily, of my oh feeble efforts. None stands in greater need than
And up the stairs goes John.
Who, then, among us need hesitate to climb those stairs?
“T am unworthy to receive,” you say?
Hold! Here comes Thomas.
“Thomas, join ye your friends in the Upper Room this morn?”
“Aye, I go to receive the Holy Spirit. The Master said, ‘John truly baptized with water, but ye shall be baptized with the Holy Ghost not many days hence,’ and I go to accept His promise.”
“But, Thomas, you are too great a doubter. The blessing is not for such as thou!”
“Brother,” in fancy one hears the answer, “thou art forgetful of the pardoning grace of Christ. Calvary’s flow washes whiter than snow, and my heart is in doubt no longer.’
But is that not just like the enemy? He either tells one that he is so good that he stands in no need of further blessing; or assures him that he is too unworthy to receive.
The fact of the matter is this. It is not a case of our worthiness, but His; not our merits, but the merits of the precious atoning Blood. All He asks is a clean, empty vessel, that He may fill it and make it meet for the Master’s use.
Look! They are arriving in numbers now at the Upper Room.
Along the winding streets handmaidens as well as the servants wend their way. Had not the Lord promised:
“And upon the servants and upon the handmaids in those days will I pour out my Spirit.” Joel 2:29. And none there were to say them nay!
Approaching the well-worn stair are two sweet faced women.
“Mary and Martha of Bethany? Whither are ye bound with such earnest mien this early morn?”
“We go to the Upper Room with thirsting hearts to receive the promise of the Father.”
“Mary! Mary! Thou hast no need of this experi60.0) 2 One ee ence! Thou who didst sit so oft at the Master’s feet need not this baptism from above!”
“Yea, Comrade, I need the Comforter, for He shall bring all things to my remembrance whatsoever He hath said unto me.” And up the steps goes Mary.
Look yonder! Among the eager number pressing to the self-same stair comes one leaning upon the arm of her two sons. ’Tis none other than the blessed Mother of our Lord!
The sweet sadness of her face has etched new lines of patient suffering about her lips, her eyes. But this morning a freshly kindled fire is in her heart and its glow is reflected in her countenance. A new eagerness urges her footsteps forward.
She, too, turns and mounts the steps to the Upper Room.
It is no use, Brother, Sister! No use to argue our “goodness,” our “sanctification,” or “past blessings”’ as an excuse for failing to receive the Spirit.
If Mary, the sister of Martha, who sat at His feet; and if Mary, the Mother of Jesus, that virgin whose complete sanctification made her worthy to be the Mother of our Lord,— if both these needed and became humble recipients of this blessed Baptism of the Holy Spirit, there is certainly no excuse for you and me. Surely we need it too.
Ascend the stair a moment and gaze upon the company assembled there.
There was Peter and James and John, Andrew, Philip, and Thomas, Bartholomew, Matthew, James the son of Alphaeus and Simon Zelotes and Judas the brother of James.
These, with other faithful ones, all continued with one accord in prayer and supplication with the women, and Mary the Mother of Jesus, with His brethren (Acts 1:18, 14).
Outside, the city is all a-bustle with preparations for the coming feast.
Lambs are being led to the slaughter, viands are being prepared, fruit in luxurious plentitude is being spread upon groaning festive boards.
Money changers and sellers of purple are taking advantage of the gathering throngs to fill their bags with clinking shekels.
Petty quarrels and age old rivalry ’twixt religious leaders thrive amid verdant jealousies.
Ceremonial robes and priestly garments, gem studded and silken broidered, are being laid out and donned.
But up there, in the Upper Room, Adoring Love has garbed herself in the robes of sweet humility— dear, reverent, loyal hearts, simple and homey as the home-spun which covers them!
What a contrast they offer to the pompous, importance-swollen priests whose hands are white and soft and odorous with incense as they minister beneath the glistening dome of yonder Temple.
The hands of the disciples are horny and bronzed with many suns, and calloused with tugging at the nets and with humblest toil.
The features of the priests bear the pompous dignity of patriarchs, with long, awesome beards and with gem-sewn mitres, worn with the lofty dignity 66 Tue Ho.uy SPIRIT of a royal crown. Their forms are graced by gold encrusted robes which flow from stiff, straight shoulders to priceless silk-sewn sandals.
The followers of the humble Nazarene are unimpressive in dress and stature; their oft-mended fisherman’s coats smell of the sea and their sandals are scoured by the stones and the sands of weary wayside travels.
The one is honored, feted, bathed in the adulation of the public eye.
The other is humiliated by the shameful crucifixion of their Leader; tremblingly dependent upon the protecting grace of their Lord in this out of the way Upper Room.
Yet the former, despite all its fanfare of trumpets, its golden incense pots and its overbearing pomp and show, was destined to go down into the smouldering ashes of antiquity. The very ground which they had come to call most sacred, despite their desecration of it, was to be swept from under them and held by alien hands and unbelievers throughout the coming centuries. Whereas the latter, this humble handful of lowly fishermen and gatherers of taxes, were destined, under the hand of God, to shime as a city set upon a hill—a candle whose light could never be hid; and their names were to ring throughout the unfading centuries while man should tread the corridors of time.
Yea, when time and tide shall be no more, when the earth shall be crumbled into ashes and the stargemmed canopy of the heavens shall be folded away as a garment, the names of these twelve humble men shall be inscribed upon the twelve gates of the Celestial City, and their humble deeds be writ in script of fire upon the unfolding scroll of all Eternity.
“Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord of hosts.”’ Zech. 4:6.
“For 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 humblespirit, torevivethespirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones.”” Isa.57:15.
“When thou wast little in thine own sight, wast thou not made the head of the tribes of Israel . . . I will not return with thee: for thou hast rejected the word of the Lord, and the Lord hath rejected thee.”’ I Sam. 15:17, 26.
The Lord seeks for His service, not the proud and the arrogant who walk in the conceit of their own wisdom and in the vain glory of their own light, but the clean and the empty vessel and the heart which is willing to be humbled that it may be exalted in due season. He covets not the loud, blatant praise of the hypocrite in the market place; but the sincere and lowly obeisance of the contrite in the closet of true intercession.
It is not that God puts a premium upon ignorance, or that there is a discount upon earthly learning or understanding. Quite the contrary, for, according to the Word, ‘‘wisdom is better than weapons of war’ (Ecc. 9:18). But when the so-called wisdom of man fills the mind with his own pre-conceived ideas and leaves no room for the Spirit, Whose wisdom is from above, then: “‘In much wisdom, is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow” (Kee. 1:18).
He seeks not channels choked with mortal reasonings and theorizings. Could these have saved the world, Christ need not have died.
He seeks empty channels, clean and yielded, catching fresh the crystal waters that ever flow from the Throne supernal. He seeks channels which bear the life-giving current without let or hindrance, unsullied by the childish vaporings of our psychology, our analytical quibblings and higher criticisms. He seeks channels through which to pour forth the living streams which cause the veriest wilderness to “blossom as a rose.” He takes a worm to thresh a mountain. And with the things which are not, doth He confound the things which are.
Then gaze and understand; behold and take counsel; for within this humble group lifting its voice in earnest prayer and awaiting the Baptism of the Holy Ghost, is contained a lesson of which the Church today stands in most urgent need.
It is not the great Temples of Modernism and Higher Criticism; it is not the cold, formal Ritualistic Religion with its bloodless, miracle-denying, hypercritical atmosphere which fosters and prospers spirituality.
It is still the humble, yielded, importunate seeker after the Holy Ghost, that wields the sceptre of spiritual power and manifests a ministry attested and crowned by o’erflowing altars and penitent thousands who weep their way to Christ.
Religious education, when directed by Spirit-filled teachers whose messages are bathed with prayer and fragrant with the dews of Heaven, is a priceless heritage to the student who trains for the ministry.
But that Theological Seminary which takes in young, eager, earnest, enthusiastic workers, and devouring their soul and destroying their faith in the inspiration of the Scriptures, the Virgin Birth and the supernatural, turns them out upon the country rank Modernists and Higher Critics, ofttimes more atheistically destructive than Voltaire or Payne, that Seminary is a curse to the land in which it stands! ’Twere a thousand times better had it never been born, and *twere a thousand times better that it were sunk in the depths of the sea!
Behold the scene in Jerusalem!
The ears of God are deaf to the canting chants and ceremonies of the cold, backslidden Temple yonder. The shekinah of His Glory is so long departed that its presence is not missed.
But all Heaven is bent to listen to the prayers of the despised, humble group whose presence men ignore as they meet within the Upper Room.
Peace is there, and harmonious tranquility.
Vessels are clean and empty; trimmed wicks await the oil.
Forever hallowed to their spirits are the seven days they have been tarrying thus.
*k O* ox
You have no time, you say, to tarry for the Holy Spirit? No time to look unto the Lord for the Baptism of Fire?
As well might the sail declare, ‘‘I have no time to wait for the wind.”
As well might the kindling protest, ‘‘I have no time 70 Vi poicicke she THe WO SE HOoLy SPIRIT eee
engine, “‘I to wait the striking of the match,” or the have no time to linger for the steam.”
rying”’
The minister who “goes” without first “tarpapers.
oriz atio n is as an Ambassador without his auth
finely
The church without the Holy Spirit is like a
avated mechanized car without gasoline; a half-exc withwell without water; a beautifully carven lamp out a light.
Can the clock say with sagacity, “I have no time be wound”?
Can the unbaken bread say, “I have no time to “I
er, placed within the oven,” or the empty pitch have no time to be borne unto the fount ain’’ ?
Neither with impunity can clergy or laity say,
great powe r that have no time in which to seek the motivated Christ.”
Remember the last resounding words of the Master:
“Go ye into all the world and preach the Gospel
of unto every creature . . . but tarry ye in the city Jerusalem until ye be endued with power from on Hight _. . and ye shall receive power after that the Holy Spiri ieee upon you” (Mark 16:15; Luke 24:49; Acts
Note the Confidence of those assembled there: All sins were forgiven and shortcomings were covered by the precious Blood of the Slain Lamb.
Note the Persistence: They tarried until the day of Pentecost was fully come.
Note the Humility: None was reliant on past experience, but each sought the Lord with the whole heart, most humbly abasing himself before Him.
Note the Latitude of the Upper Room: with the
THE HO.uy SPIRIT fal disciples were assembled ‘‘the women, and Mary the Mother of Jesus.”
Note the Brotherly Kindness and Forbearance: one did not chide the other. Peter did not say unto Thomas:
“Thomas, what doest thou here? The Holy Spirit is not for them who once doubted.”’
Nor did Thomas retaliate in kind and cry:
“Speak for thyself, Peter! Thou didst deny the Christ when He needed most thy witnessing, and thou didst curse and swear before them all.”
The “kettle” could not chide the “pot.”” He that had sinned could not cast a stone. All had come short of the glory of God, so they cast themselves upon the pardoning mercy of Him who said:
“Now are ye clean through the Word I have spoken unto you.”
"Twas no longer their righteousness but His; no longer their worthiness, but the worthiness of their Substitute in Whom they had come to live and move and have their being.
And so with hearts beating high, they waited!
And there they sat!
Praying — simply and expectantly waiting.
What mingled emotions must have been written upon their upturned faces!
Peace was there; the torturing questions left by Calvary’s thorns had been healed by the fragrant balm of Easter’s lilies.
Trust was there; simply it sat upon their brow. The ‘certainty of His resurrection was the answer to every question. No soil was there for the smallest seed of doubt to nest in; they knew their Saviour lived! They had seen Him, handled Him, and watched Him go! It would be even as He said — the Comforter would come.
Love was there; it high-lighted each face with holy, shining transparency. Their love of Him was the one dominating force of their lives! They would follow Him henceforth, blindly, unquestioningly, cheerfully through flood and flame, through pestilence and famine, through blood-soaked arenas and pillories of scourging and spitting. They would bear His gospel unto the ends of the earth, and unto every living creature, counting not the smiting suns of summer, nor the blighting cold of winter, nor their own lives dear unto death. Let Him but speak and they would answer. Let Him but send this promised enduement of power and they would go. Love would lend wings to their feet and cause them to scale the utmost mountains.
Obedience was there; great, luminous eyes turned throneward. He had said:
“Tarry 1?
It was enough! Here would they abide till Heaven’s treasuries were opened and the power came down.
Common sense said:
“Hurry! There is work to be done.”
Christ said, ‘“Tarry first, till ye be endued.”
Obedience settled the question. They tarried!
Surrender was there; bound fast to the horns of the altar. They possessed, doubtless, but the most vague conception of the manner in which the Spirit should descend or of the means whereby He should surcharge them with His motivating power. It mattered not. Theirs it was to yield, His to fill. Theirs to offer up the sacrifice, His to consume. Wished He a vessel? Here were their hearts, their souls; here were their hands, their feet, their voices and their tongues. Speak, Lord, thy servant heareth!
Purity was there; mantled in white, and radiant. Christ had said:
“Now ye are clean through the Word which I have spoken unto you.” The vessel was clean then, and waiting for the oil.
Unity was there; graciously delightsome as “the precious ointment upon the head, that ran down upon the beard, even Aaron’s beard; that went down to the skirts of his garments.”
And they were, ‘‘All with one accord in one place.”’
Let the rest of the city run helter-skelter after pleasure and toil; let them assemble at the Temple for religious feasts, great suppers and ceremonies.
They would sit and wait.
They would tarry —
Tarry —
S—g—sh! Expectancy and Faith stood at the door, finger upon lips, bidding them still their hearts before the Lord and tarry on.
Outside, the streets had grown strangely quiet. Mt. Zion was almost deserted. The great feast was about to be celebrated at the Temple in Jerusalem just yonder.
The breathless hush of holy quietness settles upon the hundred and twenty who wait with open hearts in the Upper Room.
Something is going to happen!
Is — going — to — happen!
Is — going — to — hap —
Hark!
The clock of church destiny is striking.
The curtain is about to rise upon the official opening of the Dispensation of the Holy Spirit. The Church Age, even now, is being ushered in!
In the bright heavens yonder, the fiery sun is mounting his central throne.
The Day of Pentecost is fully come!