01.22. Disappointment

Chapter 22 DISAPPOINTMENT.

It would be difficult to define the word disappointment in a way to meet the approval of the heart. After all the head agreed to as to correctness of definition, the literal rendering of the word, yet no term nor sentence of explanation could bring out the pangs felt by the inner nature when the suffering indicated by the expression took place.

We regard it as constituting a necessary experience even though its pangs are bitter in the extreme, and continue long years in their melancholy abiding. It is as important to be undeceived about persons and things, about conditions and circumstances, as to be taught in even more positive ways in other lines. The bright, eager anticipation of young people, contrasted with the thoughtful, sober, sad, unexpectant look of these who are older and have become wiser, is one of the features of human life that is certain to strike the beholder.

Artists tell us that lines intended to represent mirth and gladness are made with upward strokes. In sorrow the marks are reversed and are drawn downward. To observe these strange revealing symbols, these drooping facial signs that constitute some of the letters of a great heart and life language is a study for the curious and a most pathetic occupation for the lover and well wisher of his race.

We are placed here in this world to learn. Knowledge of every kind is certain to come where we are both peculiarly situated and most faithfully presided over. Some lessons we could doubtless get along very well without. Some teaching is essential. A good deal of our information came through processes that were simply heartbreaking, though afterwards it was heartmaking, if the idea involved in the term will be considered.

Strange to say that nearly all learning is attended with pain. There are lessons that in their mastery we felt soul and body would part. The obtainment of still other knowledge left us stricken, stunned, and all but hopeless as we saw the sun go down at midday with no prospect apparently of ever rising again. But the ivy grew over the life ruin. There came strange, sweet resurrections from the tomb we had built. And another Sun rose upon us bringing healing in his wings, and under whose gentle, penetrating, revealing light we learned more precious, heart comforting, life delivering and character-exalting truths than could ever be acquired under the natural sun, or all the illuminations of candle, lamp, arc light and burner falling on manuscript and book, and streaming over desk, platform and pulpit itself.

Bereavement, loss and disappointment under the blessing of God prove to be three of our greatest earthly teachers; and the greatest of these three is Disappointment. Indeed, it is evident that the two first named are but different forms of the last. So all hail to Disappointment.

There is a disappointment which comes to us in early life, relative to things that surrounded us, and that seemed what really they were not. A quicksand appears to be as firm and solid looking as any other body of sand, but it is not. It is necessary to discover this for the sake of our own preservation.

Then we found that the most gorgeous flowers did not possess the sweetest odors; while some humble looking plants fairly loaded the atmosphere with their fragrance. Then what a surprise, not to say mental shock, we experienced as children when, after gazing with admiration at the brilliant plumage of the peacock, we a little later heard his voice. All these happenings were preparations for, as well as illustrations of, deeper discoveries yet to be made.

Second, there was a disappointment in what outwardly seemed to be caskets full of treasure, fairy bowers of enjoyment, and El Dorados of happiness. There was the first outing, the first ball, and all the other new untried experiences of the social life. But at the close of the long day; at the end of the night with its giddy whirl, hot air and empty nothings; how differently the disordered room and faded arbor looked! There was another set of experiences set up in the mind, and some opinions formed very different from what had been entertained beforehand.

There had been some pleasure -- but, alas! how much pain. Darkness was falling on some places that once seemed light; and light was streaming where formerly there had been great darkness. We found out that all is not gold that glitters; that some things, like Christmas trees, cannot bear fruit, although confections may be tied on to the branches for a brief while.

All these discoveries were hints and prophecies of what lay up for the life explorer and traveler in the far away misty years of the future; and so much alike was the disenchantment that we could use the first party picnic, dance, and theater, with its flimsy scenery and painted people, as exact illustrations.

Third, there is a disappointment created through the false promises of the great adversary.

Life is not what he whispered it would be in his service. Sin is not the satisfying experience he insisted it was. He was careful to say nothing about the worm buried in the lovely, luscious fruit. He made no reference to the thorn which grew under the rose. And was studious to hide the serpent coiled up under the shadow of a honeysuckle arbor. So through his falsehoods we ran after the rainbow, but did not find the bag of gold at either end. We took Will o’ the Wisps to be Stars of Bethlehem. And firmly believed for years we could sow wild oats and reap wheat; could plant brambles and then gather from them in after life, handfuls of roses and baskets of pomegranates.

Certainly it is well to be taught right on these lines, and here is where we can behold Disappointment doing us a world of good. A fourth disappointment is realized in ourselves.

We do not know what right we had in starting life, to indulge in such day dreams as we all cherished. Pinnacles of fame were ascended; in our conceit we were smarter than anybody; outshone everybody; and in imagination got elected to the highest offices in church and State, and had everybody bowing and bending to us because of our fancied gifts, superior wisdom and superlative excellency is everything.

Time is a marvellous revealer, ideal breaker and general convincer. We did not get elected, not even to the office of a constable. No one dreamed of making us a bishop or putting us at the head of the nation. By some remarkable oversight, as we once thought, our presence was not desired, our counsel asked, our influence solicited in times and at places we felt assured we were the only person who could deliver the community, church or country.

Well! It is about over with most of us now; and we are content to be plain, ordinarily gifted people; to be a glow worm by the side of a country fence, a tin lantern in a barn, instead of a Bartholdi Statue towering in a world’s harbor and flashing electric light far out to sea. The relief is great to ourselves, and exceedingly so to the people around us. We reread the parable of the frog and the ox and begin to take warning in time. Better still, we fix our eyes afresh on that lowly seat Jesus spoke about and learn the secret of happiness in the same place where Mary was taught, and hear the same voice saying to us that the good gift which we have chosen shall never be taken away from us.

Then there is a disappointment in our character as well as in our fancied abilities. We have not been as courageous at times as we should; nor as sweet under provocation; nor as silent under injury and wrong. Sometimes it would have been better, had we spoken out for the truth, and then there were seasons when we should have been still and left the vindication of ourselves and the truth with God. Christ did both, and never erred. Somehow we got things mixed. So we handled flashing swords and were quite free in the amputation of ears we never made. It kept the Saviour busy, especially in our earlier religious life, in healing people we had wounded in our efforts to instruct and save. As the sun draws near the western horizon of life; and the White Judgment Throne gets near, we find the boast going out of us as we review our past labors and battles, while the Blood of Jesus Christ becomes our sovereign comfort, heart stay, lip plea and life victory. So it is that our disappointment in self leads us to higher views of Christ, and better lives for ourselves.

Therefore we thank God, take fresh courage, and push on to the skies. A fifth disappointment is in people whom we loved, trusted and leaned upon. It is clear that it takes these very affections and devotions to create the pang now alluded to. For where we have not loved nor trusted there can hardly be a falling away from us, nor the suffering experienced through having been forsaken and betrayed.

We question whether there is a keener agony in our earthly life than this. The Saviour felt it and left the expression of this sorrow in language never to be forgotten. David suffered in this sad part of human history. It was his familiar friend, Ahithophel, who lifted up his voice, hand and heel against him. He said he could have endured the wrong and injury itself better, but for the fact that a friend had done it. The coldness of an oldtime friend hurts peculiarly. The stab of Pompey’s dagger goes deeper than the sword of strangers and avowed enemies. The betrayal of a trust; the violation of a promise; the disregard of an obligation; the leaving our side in time of toil, sickness and trouble to join the ranks of our enemies against us, makes epochal days with us; so that we feel that we do not strain the truth when we call them our Gethsemanes, Gabbathas and Golgothas.

Some people sour and go down under these fearful trials. But there are others who, after the life wound, look up with streaming eyes and blood dripping heart to Him on the cross who trod the same lonely, bitter way, and take a new and better hold on life, because of a sweeter and truer conception and realization of existence.

Well indeed, has this Disappointment served us, if in the trouble it brings, it at last finds us closer to Christ, and fastens our gaze on Him rather than people, even though these people are our own friends.

We say in conclusion that there is one disappointment which never comes to us. That is, we are never mistreated or ill treated by the Saviour. "He will not forsake thee though all else should flee." He will never break the bruised reed nor quench the smoking flax. He will not give us over to the will of our enemies, much less join their ranks against us. He will not fail us He has never deceived us and never will. He has never broken a single promise made to us, and never will. In all the history of Time he has never turned a soul away that came unto him.

"March on, then, right boldly; The sea shall divide. And this be the token. No word he hath spoken. Was ever yet broken,.

’The Lord will provide."

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