July 18In the last days perilous times shall come; for men shall be … traitors, heady … lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God — 2 Tim. 3:1, 4.
The true Christian is not "heady"; on the contrary, his consecration to the Lord figuratively decapitated him. He lost his head, renounced his own will and self-rule, and submitted himself as a disciple of Jesus Christ, to the absolute control of Jesus, the Head. … The true Christian therefore, in every affair of life, in respect to its pleasures as well as in respect to its burdens and trials, appeals to his Head for direction, to know how and what to do or say—yes, to have even the very thoughts of his mind in full conformity to the will of God in Christ—Z '99, 102 (R 2459). We are in the last days; and, true to the Apostle's description, these are perilous times, not only in the world but also among Christians. "The [so the Greek] men," here described, belong to the antitypical Jannes and Jambres classes (v. 8). Treacherous, indeed, have they been against their Lord and former brethren, whom they, like Judas of old, sell for gain. In their stubbornness, they are truly heady. The life of self-denial, flowing from love to God, has lost its charm for them, and is dead by reason of their love of selfish and worldly indulgence—P '35, 102. Parallel passages: 1 Tim. 4:1, 2; 2 Pet. 2:1-3, 10-22; 3:3; 1 John 2:18, 19; 2 John 1:7, 10, 11; 3 John 1:9-11; Jude 1:3, 4, 8-19; Heb. 6:4-6; 10:26-29; 1 John 5:16. Hymns: 318, 1, 12, 78, 130, 136, 198. Poems of Dawn, 265: The Coming Storm. Tower Reading: Z '14, 70 (R 5413). Questions: What have been this week's observations as to this text? What did they effect in me? |
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THE COMING STORM
O SAD is my heart for the storm that is coming;
Like eagles the scud sweepeth in from the
sea;
The gull seeketh shelter, the pine trees are sighing,
And all giveth note of the tempest to be
A spell hath been whispered from cave and from
ocean,
The shepherds are sleeping, the sentinels dumb,
The flocks are all scattered on moorland and
mountain,
And no one believes that the Master is come.
He's come, but whom doth He find their watch
keeping?
O where—in His presence—is faith the world
o'er?
The rich, every sense in soft luxury steeping;
The poor, scarce repelling the wolf from the door.
O man, and O maiden, drop trifling and pleasure,
O! hark, while I tell of the sorrows to be,—
As well might I plead in the path of yon glacier,
Or cry out a warning to wave of the sea!
O SAD is my heart for the storm that is coming;
Like eagles the scud sweepeth in from the
sea;
The gull seeketh shelter, the pine trees are sighing,
And all giveth note of the tempest to be
A spell hath been whispered from cave and from
ocean,
The shepherds are sleeping, the sentinels dumb,
The flocks are all scattered on moorland and
mountain,
And no one believes that the Master is come.
He's come, but whom doth He find their watch
keeping?
O where—in His presence—is faith the world
o'er?
The rich, every sense in soft luxury steeping;
The poor, scarce repelling the wolf from the door.
O man, and O maiden, drop trifling and pleasure,
O! hark, while I tell of the sorrows to be,—
As well might I plead in the path of yon glacier,
Or cry out a warning to wave of the sea!
