Listed below are articles abstracted from past issues of PELITA
Source/Author: By The Rev. Theodore Runyan, of Wesley Church, Ipoh
Church art has, I am afraid, used saints rather badly. In paintings and statuary they have often been depicted as anaemic, bloodless creatures with piteous expressions on their faces. In 1930 I visited an old Spanish Church on the island Guam, and the statues I saw of saints would lead one to believe that saintliness involved being queer and hungry. The walls were lined with images of emaciated, sinken-cheeked, hollow-eyed individuals with their hands folded on their breasts. These were supposed to be likenesses of God’s saints. Such an impression is, I think, historically false.
The saints of Caesar’s household were not other-worldly creatures. They were a real part of the world in which they moved. They performed certain duties in the royal household, and a great majority of their daily associates were not Christians. On the contrary, they worked among worldly, depraved, sensual people. But Paul did not advise them to leave Caesar’s house-hold and seek employment elsewhere. He taught them to show Christ’s spirit and to exemplify Christian principles even in a corrupt royal court.
The true saint is not one who shuts himself up alone in a room so that he will not be corrupted by contact with the world. The true saint is one who in spite of the sinfulness and corruption of the world, keeps himself unspotted from the world. The true saint is one who instead of being changed and spoiled by his environment, will bring his knowledge and influence and character to bear in order to change and improve his environment.
This was Christ’s plan for making saints — not withdrawal from the world but active participation in the affairs of the world. He prayed, “I pray not that thou shouldst take them out of the world, but that thou shouldn’t keep them from evil.”
Now I wish to transport you from the environment of Caesar’s household and from the fellowship of Caesar’s saints to the presence of Jesus as he prepared to enter Jerusalem on that last journey to the Holy City. As he singled out two of his followers and sent them into the city to borrow an ass on which he could ride, he said words which ought to burn themselves into the memory of each and every one of us—these words, “The Lord hath need.” It is a strange thought that the Lord should ever have need of anything. With all power at His command we would naturally expect God to supply His own needs, and yet, I wonder if there isn’t more truth in these words than we are accustomed to realize—”The Lord hath need.”