"Lonely! And what of that? Some must be lonely; 'tis not given to all "Dark! Well, and what of that? CHAPTER VII "Why Does No One Ever See God?" HERE are many sincere Christians who are longing for clearer revealings of God. An earnest young Christian wrote to her pastor: "I find myself ever asking, as I read the New Testament, "These things are very beautiful, but do we know that they are true?'" Several years since a writer told of two girls who were overheard one evening talking as if in perplexity, and one of them said: "Yes, but why has no one ever seen God?" This was all that was heard of the conversation, but that single sentence revealed the questioner's state of mind. Evidently she had been talking about the apparent unreality of spiritual things. Why had nobody ever seen God? She had heard a great deal about God, about his love, his care, his interest in human lives, his kindness. glimpse of him. But she had never had a How could she know that all she had heard about him was true? How could she know that the things of Christian faith and hope were real? Can Such questions will arise with all who think. Does God indeed love me? If he does, why must I suffer so? If he does, how can I explain all the accidents, calamities, and troubles of life? It is not surprising if sometimes we cannot understand the mysteries of Christian faith. All life is full of things we cannot comprehend. you understand how, on the bushes in your garden, which in March were bare and briery, there are coming masses of glorious roses? In the most common things there is mystery. A great botanist said that there was enough mystery in a handful of moss to give one a lifetime's study. There really are but few things we can understand. How do your eyes see? How do your ears hear? How does your mind think? Shall we refuse to believe these things because we cannot explain them? We have read how the cry of the wireless went out from the wrecked ship, and was heard far and wide over the sea—a prayer of distress and how help came swiftly. No one doubts this pathetic experience of the sea. Why, then, should we doubt that when a mother sat by her suffering child the other night, and pleaded with God, her prayer reached the ears of her Heavenly Father? Why do we question that God loves us, when we believe that our human friends love us? You cannot see the love in your friend's heart any more than you can see the love in God's heart. You say that your friend is true, is patient, is kind, that he is a tower of strength to you; but you cannot see these qualities in him. Your friend is much out of your sight, and you cannot set spies on him to know that he is always faithful. Yet you never doubt him. How can you not in like manner believe in the love of God, which you cannot see? A sorrow breaks in upon you. You cannot understand it. We would be far happier sometimes if we did not try to understand things. Sir Robertson Nicoll says: "There are some very devout people who know far too much. They can explain the whole secret and purpose of pain, evil, and death in the world. They prate about the mystery of things as if they were God's spies. It is far humbler and more Christian to admit that we do not fully discern a reason and method in this long, slow tragedy of human existence." But really God does show himself to us, and we do see him oftener than we think. There is a picture of Augustine and his mother which represents them looking up to heaven with deep earnestness and longing. One is saying: "If God would only speak to us!" The other replies: "Perhaps he is speaking to us, and we do not hear his voice!" Philip said to Jesus: "Lord, show us the Father;" and have you noticed what Jesus said to him in reply? "Have I been so long time with you, and hast thou not known me? He that has seen me hath seen the Father." What Philip had in mind when he |