if your calling as preachers in this generation is one of immense difficulty, you will be strong in hope, giving glory to God, not in spite of the difficulties, but precisely because of them. For still to-day, as at the first, it is when the doors are shut, in the bitter hour of disillusionment, that Christ is apt to break in, and stand in the midst, and say "Peace be unto you." And then, out of the dark misery of self-despair, men begin to arise and shine, knowing that their light is come!
Don't listen to the lugubrious voices that incessantly deplore the deadness of the age, and groan about the thankless uphill task of the Christian ministry and the desolating lack of response. It is a thrilling hour in which to bear the commission of your Lord.
I find certain words of St. Paul to the Romans dramatically relevant here. The eighth chapter is one of the most lyrical and triumphant things that ever came from the heart of man: but the note of disillusionment is there. "To this day," wrote the apostle, "the entire creation sighs and throbs with pain." For none knew better than he that the shining civilization was demon-ridden, and that ruthless forces held the souls of men in bitter thraldom. But what his piercing insight saw was this, that the mood of tragic desperation was itself the harbinger of hope. Just because this sighing, groaning creation was racked with pain, it was also tense with a breathless expectancy:
Still nursing the unconquerable hope,
Still clutching the inviolable shade.
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