Not with Observation

By Burris A. Jenkins



Text.--"The kingdom of God cometh not with observation."--Luke 17:20.



There is a good deal of falsity in the old saw, "Seeing is believing." Some of the finest things we believe we never have seen, never can see. The kingdom of God is one of these.



The ancient Hebrews expected to see it and feel it and locate it and bound it. They hoped to behold it coming with all the pomp and majesty of the empire of David and Solomon. From what we know of the literature of that period immediately preceding the coming of the Messiah, all Israel was on tiptoe, eyes to the east, awaiting a restoration of their pristine, but now faded and shattered, glories. They were no doubt secretly armed and organized, awaiting that day. The fishermen of Galilee, the shepherds of Judea, the young sons of princely houses in Jerusalem, all with their chosen leaders, watchwords and standards, were only awaiting the signal for revolt. They would finally have taken Jesus by force and crowned him king. But, "My kingdom is not of this world."



The same spirit has always cropped out, more or less, in Christian history. The church has, once and again, thought to usher in the kingdom by violence and to measure its advent by visible manifestations. The Crusaders and the Round-head army of Puritan England, St. Bartholomew and the Gunpowder Plot, were but samples of this spirit. And so is every impulse of the church to measure the presence and success of the kingdom by the senses, by numbers, wealth, power, or any material manifestation whatsoever.



If we have come up to this Centennial in any pride of our visible system, our million and a quarter, our treasuries and foundations, our buildings and prestige, it will be worth our while to consider a moment the word of our Lord: [504] "The kingdom cometh not with observation."



Three things characterize these mistaken conceptions of the kingdom. They are material, they are negative, and they lead to despair.



1. Our age is considerably affected by materialism. Men are accustomed to count success by size, mass, wealth, numbers and noise. The successful man is the man who makes things go--things, mark you! And the church, like all the rest, is infected with the microbe of materialism. When we see a great crowd and a great noise, a shouting and a hullabaloo, we are tempted to cry out, "Hosanna! the kingdom is at hand!"



Mark Twain tells us how an old Southern Negro first saw a Mississippi steamer plowing round a bend in the river; how the old uncle took it for God as he saw the rolling smoke and flying sparks, heard the mighty coughing of the engines, and felt the very throb and pulsations of the steam; how the old man fell on his knees on the river cliff and cried out, "Lord, have mercy! The kingdom am a-comin'!" That old black uncle was no more material in his conception of the kingdom than are we, if we measure its advent by the smoke and the noise we see and hear.



There are at least three kinds of churches in our cities, and perhaps even among us Disciples, that do violence to Jesus' notion of the kingdom. They may be termed the "Prosperous Church," the "Pyrotechnical Church," and the "Philosophical Church."



The prosperous church is gloriously built and appointed; under its high-vaulted dome rolls the splendid organ; through the delicate tracery of its art glass streams the softened light; through its cloistered arches ring the voices of its well-paid choir. The foot of the worshiper sinks deep into its noiseless carpeting. Its pews are luxuriously upholstered and induce repose. If one is materially successful in the commercial or social life of the city, he is sure of a high seat. If not, he takes his chance.