Quiet Talks on Power | Page 6

in your heart, a filling
up from above until the blessed stream had to find an outlet somewhere,

and produce a harvest? A harvest outside means a rising of the tide
inside. A flooding of the heart always brings a harvest in the life. A few
years ago there were great floods in the southern states, and the cotton
and corn crops following were unprecedented. Paul reminded his
Roman friends that when the Holy Spirit has free swing in the life "the
love of God floods our hearts."[2]
Please notice, too, the source of the stream--"out of his belly." Will you
observe for a moment the rhetorical figure here? I used to suppose it
meant "out of his heart." The ancients, you remember, thought the
heart lay down in the abdominal region. But you will find that this book
is very exact in its use of words. The blood is the life. The heart pumps
the blood, but the stomach makes it. The seat of life is not in the heart,
but in the stomach. If you will take down a book of physiology, and
find the chart showing the circulation of the blood, you will see a
wonderful network of lines spreading out in every direction, but all
running, through lighter lines into heavier, and still blacker, until every
line converges in the great stomach artery. And everywhere the blood
goes there is life. Now turn to a book of physical geography and get a
map showing the water system of some great valley like the Mississippi,
and you will find a striking reproduction of the other chart. And if you
will shut your eyes and imagine the reality back of that chart, you will
see hundreds of cool, clear springs flowing successively into runs,
brooks, creeks, larger streams, river branches, rivers, and finally into
the great river--the reservoir of all. And everywhere the waters go there
is life. The only difference between these two streams of life is in the
direction. The blood flows from the largest toward the smallest; the
water flows from the smallest toward the largest. Both bring life with
its accompaniments of beauty and vigor and fruitfulness. There is Jesus'
picture of the Christian down in the world. As the red stream flows out
from the stomach, and, propelled by the force-pump of the heart,
through a marvelous network of minute rivers takes life to every part of
the body, so "he that believeth on Me"--that is the vital connecting link
with the great origin of this stream of life--out of the very source of life
within him shall go a flood-tide of life, bringing refreshing, and
cleansing, and beauty, and vigor everywhere within the circle of his life,
even though, like the red streams and the water streams, he be

unconscious of it.
An Unlikely Channel.
What a marvelous conception of the power of life! How strikingly it
describes Jesus' own earthly life! But there is something more
marvelous still--He means that ideal to become real in you, my friend,
and in me. I doubt not there are some here whose eager hearts are
hungry for just such a life, but who are tremblingly conscious of their
own weakness. Your thoughts are saying: "I wish I could live such a
life, but certainly this is not for me; this man talking doesn't know
me--no special talent or opportunity: such strong tides of temptation
that sweep me clean off my feet--not for me." Ah, my friend, I verily
believe you are the very one the Master had in mind, for He had John
put into his gospel a living illustration of this ideal of His that goes
down to the very edge of human unlikeliness and inability. He goes
down to the lowest so as to include all. What proved true in this case
may prove true with you, and much more. The story is in the fourth
chapter. It is a sort of advance page of the Book of Acts. A sample of
the power of Pentecost before the day of Pentecost. You and I live on
the flood-side of Pentecost. This illustration belongs back where the
streams had only just commenced trickling. It is a miniature. You and I
may furnish the life-size if we will.
It is the story of a woman; not a man, but a woman. One of the weaker
sex, so called. She was ignorant, prejudiced, and without social
standing. She was a woman of no reputation. Aye, worse than that, of
bad reputation. She probably had less moral influence in her town than
any one here has in his circle. Could a more unlikely person have been
used? But she came in touch with the Lord Jesus. She yielded herself to
that touch. There lies the secret of what