The French speak of a disease which they call La Maladie du moi, or "Me-sickness." The disciples were troubled with that disease; they were too much concerned with themselves. Despite all the strides science has made, it has offered no vaccine to combat this deadly ailment. The only remedy that has ever been effective was that offered by the Great Physician. His love engenders selflessness for selfishness in the heart of man, and "Me-sickness" vanishes as does the morning mist before the sun's healing rays.—Sunday School Times.
It was in Chicago years ago. A terrible fire had raged. The Iroquois theater burned. Many were trampled to death as a maddened crowd fought for the exit.
One of those who got out was a young lady. She was borne along in the stampede, passing over many who had fallen. When on her way home she was nervous and agitated. To such an extent was this evidenced that a fellow traveler at length spoke to her desiring to be of help if it were possible. The story of the disaster and of her escape from the terrible fire was told.
"Certainly you ought to feel thankful that you escaped such a frightful death."
"Yes! I know I ought to be thankful, but oh, I didn't save anyone !"
"Yes! dear, but you were perfectly excusable in acting for yourself under such intense excitement."
"Yes! but I didn't even try to help anyone."
A bitter lament. Probably the girl could not have aided any if she had tried, But she had not tried. This was her source of sorrow.
Are we seeking to succor souls? The perishing are about us on every side. Shall we be satisfied with being saved ourselves and not care for those around us!—Scattered Seed.
I looked upon a sea and lo 'twas dead,
Although by Hermon's snow and Jordan fed.
How came a fate so dire? The tale soon told—
All that it got it kept and fast did hold.
All tributary streams found here their grave
Because that sea received but never gave.
O sea that's dead, teach me to know and feel
That selfish grasp my doom shall seal.
And help me, Lord, myself, my best to give,
That I may others bless, and like Thee live.—Gospel Herald.
The boys of a junior high school were going to organize their basket ball team. All wanted to be the captain. The argument became heated, only one boy, Robert, was willing to give up to someone else. He took the ball and entered the gym, and practiced throwing for the goal, while the other boys argued in the hall. After a half hour their coach appeared upon the scene and saw the situation. He said, "Well, we will settle it this way, each boy take ten throws for the basket, and the one who makes it the greater number of times is captain." "O. K.," they all had to agree. Robert came out on top and was appointed captain.—Sunday School Times.
If you wish to be miserable, think about yourself; about what you want, what you like; what respect people ought to pay you; and then to you nothing will be pure. You will spoil everything you touch; you will make misery for yourself out of everything good; you will be as wrethced as you choose.—Chas. Kingsley.
It has been my experience that when you really come to the Lord, He never sends you away empty unless you come to Him stuffed full of yourself.—Prophecy Monthly.
Somewhere I read this dialogue: Father—"I should think, Tommy, that you might find some boy to play with you. Now, what's the matter with Johnny Jenkins and the little Drake boy?" Tommy, contemptuously--"Pooh! Why, they're a whole year younger than I am. I couldn't play with them." Father—"Well, there's Jack Spear and Willie Hanson. Won't they do?" Tommy, wistfully---"Yes, but they're a year older than I am, so the mean things won't play with me."—Earnest Worker.
Dr. H. A. Ironside told the following story at a Bible conference: A small Christian sect of an exclusive temperament was holding a convention. Outside the auditorium there was displayed the motto, "Jesus Only." A strong wind blew the first three letters away. "Us Only" is too often the spirit shown by Christians of narrow vision.—Sunday School Times.
Not what we have, but what we use,
Not what we see, but what we choose—
These are the things that mar or bless
The sum of human happiness.
The things near by, not things afar,
Not what we seem, but what we are—
These are the things that make or break,
That give the heart its joy or ache.
Not what seems fair, but what is true,
Not what we dream, but good we do—
These are the things, that shine like gems,
Like stars in fortune's diadems.
Not as we take, but as we give,
Not as we pray, but as we live—
These are the things that make for peace,
Both now and after time shall cease.—Selected.
"Selfishness seeks more than its own. It cheats, it robs, it murders, to get what belongs to others. How desolate and desolating is a selfish life! It blights and ruins wherever it rules."—Selected.