I Have

ONE Lord's day afternoon, at our Sunday school, the following precious confession of the Lord Jesus was made to the teacher of a class of little girls, from six to eight years of age. Jesus as the "Lamb of God," the perfect Sacrifice for sin, and as the Light of God's beautiful city, was the subject that had much interested the class for two or three afternoons. The children had heard how "He was brought as a lamb to the slaughter," shedding His precious blood for sinners, and the need of each one of them for going to God about her own sins had been earnestly put before them.
One of the children, always marked by her brightness and attention to the lesson, exclaimed as the class proceeded, "I have." "You have what?" the teacher inquired.
“Asked Jesus to wash my sins away," she answered; when another, joining with her, said, "So have I.”
Afterward these little children told their teacher that, one Lord's day morning, they bad asked the Lord Jesus to wash away their sins. The teacher questioned them, and finding they really had been speaking to the Lord, said, "And do you believe He has done it?”
With faces full of expression, they replied,
“Yes, teacher.”
“And did anyone tell you to do so?"
"No," they answered.
Another little girl, looking up, said, "Jesus heard them, didn't He, teacher?”
Yes, indeed, Jesus had heard these little ones, who in their simple way, knowing that He bids little children come to Him, had gone to Him, and had received His blessing.
W. W.
Scenes From the History of the Early Christians
A.D. 103-107.
"As dying, and behold they live.”
AT the close of the first century, and during the early part of the second, the persistent refusal of the Christians to unite in any of the customary acts of worship, either in honor of the gods or of the emperor, began to attract the notice of the Roman government. There was a general law against all religions not sanctioned by the State, and this law might at any moment be put in force. The Christians were in danger, too, of being brought under the notice of the rulers by reason of tumults raised against them by the priests of the idol temples, by image-makers, who, like Demetrius, feared lest their craft should be set at naught, and by others who lived by assisting at those spectacles—games, chariot races, and combats between beasts and men in the theaters—at which the disciples of Christ were not seen. Moreover, about this time strange charges were brought against those of whom the world around them knew but little, save that they were not of it. The fear of persecution, never long slumbering, caused them to meet in secret, and there were those who did not scruple to hint darkly that at those meetings things were done that would not bear the light.
Early in the reign of Trajan an edict was issued, declaring all guilds or clubs unlawful, and we may easily imagine that the little companies of Christians, acknowledging the strong bond which united them as brethren in Christ, would be endangered by such a statute.
But nothing shows us more clearly the situation of the Christians, and their relations with those around them, and with the Roman government at this time, than some letters which passed between the emperor at Rome and Pliny, a Roman writer, from another of whose letters we have an account of the first eruption of Vesuvius and the destruction of Pompeii, and who had been sent as governor into Pontus and Bithynia, provinces in Asia Minor. We may remember that St. Peter, in his first Epistle, writes to the sojourners of the dispersion in those parts, for there were many Jewish as well as Greek Christians there.
Pliny complains to the emperor that on his arrival in his province he found an unaccountable state of things. The temples were almost deserted, victims for sacrifice were rarely purchased, and upon inquiry he found that "many of every age and rank, and of both sexes," were involved in the danger; “for," he says, "the contagion of the superstition has seized not only the villages, but the open country.”
Uncertain as to how far he might legally proceed against this "superstition," he consulted the emperor, frankly telling him what course he had taken in his endeavor to discover in what it consisted. Pliny was a polite, refined, philosophic man— by no means hardhearted—yet he does not hesitate to mention that, in accordance with the custom of his time, he had caused two Christian women, slaves, to be tortured, in the expectation that by that means some confessions of the wicked deeds said to be practiced among their fellow Christians might be wrung from them in their agony. He acknowledges, however, that the attempt had failed. All that he could discover about those who were votaries of the "superstition" was that on certain days they were accustomed to meet before dawn, and to sing a hymn to Christ, as God; later in the day they again assembled and partook of a meal. He also learned that it was their custom to bind themselves to abstain from theft and other wrongdoing, and not to break their word.
Having given this account of the Christians in his province, the governor tells the emperor what method he adopted when any were brought before him. If a man was accused of being a Christian, he asked him whether the charge was true, giving him the opportunity, by a thrice-repeated question, accompanied by threats of death if he should persist, of denying the charge. Some who had persisted in avowing themselves Christians, he had already ordered to be put to death, others, being Roman citizens, were to be sent to Rome for trial; "For I had no doubt," he explains, "that whatever they might confess, wilfulness and inflexible obstinacy ought to be punished.”
“Many," he adds, "repeated after me an invocation to the gods, and offered worship with wine and frankincense to your image, which for this purpose I had ordered to be brought with the images of the divinities (this was probably on the occasion of the celebration of the fifteenth anniversary of Trajan), and also reviled the name of Christ, none of which things, I am told, a real Christian can ever be induced to do." In much perplexity, Pliny asks the emperor how Christianity is to be dealt with; "shall it be punished as in itself a crime, or only when accompanied by other offenses; shall any difference be made between the accused on account of youth or age?" He hints, in concluding his letter, that his efforts to check its progress had not been altogether in vain, for the temples were already filling.
Trajan, in reply, approves of all which had been done, but says that he would rather trust to his governor's own discretion than lay down any rigid rule for his conduct. He thinks, however, that the Christians should not be sought out; only if any were accused, and the crime proved against them, they must be punished; but even then a man might clear himself by denying Christ, and offering sacrifice to the gods.
How easy it would seem to save one's life by merely strewing a few grains of incense, and doing homage to the emperor's statue! But those who were infected by that "superstition" which so baffled the mind of the cultivated Roman, knew the full meaning of what might seem a trifling ceremony, and refused to purchase life and ease by disloyalty to Christ; they kept His word, and did not, as the governor himself was forced to admit, deny His name.
Later in the reign of Trajan, Ignatius, bishop of Antioch, suffered as a witness for Christ. We may remember that this Syrian capital, one of the largest cities in the Roman Empire, was the place where the disciples of Christ were first called by His name. We are told that the emperor, elated by his many victories, yet counted all his conquests incomplete as long as there were any in his dominions of that stubborn sect who refused to worship the gods which Rome worshipped, and threatened with death all in Antioch who should refuse obedience in this matter. Anxious that the storm should spend itself on him, and that the flock over which he had had the oversight for half a century should escape, Ignatius was, by his own desire, brought before the emperor. Thus was Trajan brought face to face with that "immoderate superstition" of which he had hitherto only heard.
Much is told of what was said by the accuser and the accused, but all we really know is that the result of the examination of Ignatius before the emperor was that the aged bishop of Antioch was sentenced to be led in chains to Rome, "there to be devoured by beasts for the gratification of the people.”
This punishment was awarded to the worst criminals, notably those convicted of practicing magical arts, of which vague offense the Christians were often accused. Rejoicing that he should be counted worthy, like the blessed Apostle Paul, to be thus bound and taken to Rome, Ignatius, guarded by soldiers, was conducted by sea to Smyrna, where he was allowed to see Polycarp, the bishop of that place, who had been, like himself, a disciple of St. John, along with many others who came to bid him Godspeed, and to receive his blessing. At leisure from all concern on his own account, Ignatius seized this opportunity to send letters to the assemblies of Christians at Ephesus and at Rome; that to the latter place being sent by the hand of some who were going thither by a quicker route than that by which he was to travel. In these parting letters, he dwells much upon the great truth of the manhood of Christ, and warns those to whom he wrote against that evil doctrine, already crept in among the early Christians, which taught that our Lord had not a real body, and that all He did during His life on earth was done by a phantom, or only appeared to be done.
Such was the teaching of those who, even in the time when St. John wrote, pretended to superior knowledge. The letters also speak in no measured terms of the Judaizing teachers of the day.
With regard to his own feelings at the prospect of martyrdom, Ignatius writes to the Roman Christians:—" Ye cannot give me anything more precious than this, that I should be sacrificed to God while the altar is ready. It is good that I should set for this world in God, that I may rise to Him in life. Only pray for strength to be given me from within and from without, that I may not only be called a Christian, but may also be found to be one." Then, alluding to his long and weary journey, he adds, "From Syria, and even unto Rome, I am cast away among wild beasts, by sea and by land, by night and by day, being bound between ten leopards, which are the band of soldiers, who even when I do good to them, all the more do evil to me.”
His keepers at last hurried him forward, fearful of not being in time for the games, and doubtless they looked on with impatience at a touching scene which took place as they drew near the city. There Ignatius was met by some sorrowing brethren, and he knelt down among them, and prayed to Christ to put an end to the persecution, for he hoped that it might be granted to him to die for his flock, and that the feeble sheep whom he so loved might escape.
Not far from the Arch of Titus stand the ruins of the Colosseum. Near where Nero's gardens were, in a hollow between two of the hills on which Rome stood, he had made an artificial lake. This had been drained by Titus, and he began building upon the spot a great circus, large enough to seat 80,000 people. We are told that the captive Jews were employed in raising this gigantic structure, which was so large that at one time water was let into the enclosure, and a mock sea fight was carried on for the amusement of the spectators; but it was more often used for combats between beasts and men. Terrible scenes took place in that arena, while the Romans made holiday, and looked down upon the strife and slaughter below from their seats, guarded by a gilt network hung upon ivory posts from the fury of the animals, rendered more savage by hunger.
The first Christian given to the wild beasts in this amphitheater was Ignatius of Antioch.
Bible Lessons for the Little Ones
(Read Matt. 8:28-34; Mark 5:1-21.)
WE read in three gospels of what happened after the Lord Jesus had come, with His disciples, in the boat to the other side of the lake. Matthew, and Mark, and Luke all tell us of it, though they do not all speak of what happened just in the same way. You remember that the Lord had just before been speaking to the wild waves which lifted themselves so high upon the stormy sea, bidding them "Be still," and hushing the loud winds to silence.
As soon as He reached land, and was come out of the boat, He saw something much more terrible than the raging water and the wild fury of the tempest. There were people in that country over whom Satan had got such fearful power that travelers did not dare to pass by lest they should fall upon them and hurt them dreadfully. It is plain from the verses which you read in St. Matthew's gospel that there were two men who met the Lord, and cried out to Him, but St. Mark and St. Luke mention only one of them. What a terrible account you have just read of one of them in St. Mark's gospel. The man did not live in any house, but among the tombs. What does that mean? You must remember that in Palestine at that time people were not buried, as they are in this country, in graves dug deep in the ground, but in caves, or holes which had been cut out of the rock. Many such tombs are to be found near that eastern side of the Sea of Galilee where the Lord Jesus went on shore that day. The Jews could not bear to go near such places, but there, among the dead, homeless and hopeless, this poor man lived!
How long had he been there?
We cannot tell; but it seems that it must have been a long, long time, for he had been often bound with fetters and chains—people had tried to tame him, as if he had been a wild beast—but it had all been of no use. Strong with a strength not his own, by reason of the dreadful power over him of that wicked spirit whom the Lord Jesus called "the strong man," he tore away the chains With which they bound him, and rushed to the mountains, crying aloud, and cutting himself with stones. I want you to think of this, dear children, because you know how often Satan tries to make you think that, if you listen to him, he will give you good and pleasant things, and make you much happier than you are. He may promise beautiful things, but he cannot give anything that is really good, for he has nothing good to give; and, however much pleasure he may set before you, if you will follow in his ways, it can only end, as it had ended with this poor man, in the misery of slavery under the power of one who is strong indeed, and who uses his great strength only to bind his chains more closely round those whom he has made captive. What a picture of misery we see in this poor man! He was possessed by the devil, homeless, friendless, without clothes, crying night and day, and cutting himself with stones!
The devil, the strongman, had indeed done his worst, but a stronger than he was come, and that voice was heard, at which the devils tremble. The Lord Jesus said, "Come out of the man, thou unclean spirit." The wicked spirits knew the Lord, and they never thought of resisting His power, for God is stronger than Satan. The poor tormented man called the Lord Jesus by name—he said, "Jesus, Son of the most high God"—and when Jesus asked him, "What is thy name?" he replied, "My name is Legion; for we are many." There were many Roman soldiers in the country, and their great regiments were called legions; one of these regiments had as many as six thousand men, so we see how well this man knew how to describe the way in which he was oppressed by the devil. But he was now in the presence of Christ, who went about when He was on earth "healing all who were oppressed by the devil," and all the power of the strong man was nothing now, for Jesus had come to set his prisoner free forever.
The poor man was not only delivered from the wicked spirits, but saw the end of the animals into whom they passed, when the herd of swine, which had been feeding on the hill-side, rushed down a steep place into the lake, and perished in the water. Then those who kept them fled, and told what they had seen in the city and country; whereupon crowds of people flocked to the place.
The sight that they saw struck them with great fear, and yet it was not fearful! The Lord Jesus was there, but He was not alone. At His feet sat the man who was possessed by the devil, and had the legion—but, oh, how changed! He was no longer an outcast wanderer, but clothed, and in his right mind. Those who were there told them how it had all come to pass, and about the swine, and then they turned to the Lord, and began to ask something of Him. What was their request? Was it that He who had brought such wonderful blessing and cure to the poor man, who had been the terror of the count try, would never leave them, but that He would abide with them and bless them still?
No; “they began to pray Him to depart out of their coasts." The Lord granted their request; He turned to leave that shore, upon which He had but just landed, and went again to the ship that He might go back to the other side.
But there was one to whom it was a great grief that the Lord should thus go away—for he had learned to know Him as his mighty Saviour, and he longed to be ever at His feet, and by His side—so we read that, when He was in the act of stepping into the ship, "he that had been possessed with the devil prayed Him that he might be with Him." Surely the Lord Jesus would have willingly granted such a prayer, we should think, yet He “suffered him not, but saith unto him, Go home to thy friends, and tell them how great things the Lord hath done for thee, and hath had compassion on thee.”
Though the people of that country would not have the Lord Jesus, He would not leave them without a messenger to tell them of Himself. Wherever that poor man went, he had a wonderful story to tell; "he began to publish in Decapolis" (that is the country which you may find in the map stretching on both sides of the River Jordan) "how great things Jesus had done for him: and all men did marvel.”