Whatsoever Ye Do, do all to the glory of God (I Cor. 10:31). Do not as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may have glory of men. Matthew 6:2.
How many of our activities are done strictly for “the glory of God”? Here is a little test, based on some words of Jesus himself. When was the last time you went into your bedroom, closed the door, and prayed in secret to your Father, who is unseen? How many times last week? Last Year? Be honest!
A few days ago I had to make a trip for personal reasons into the mountains of central Jamaica. I took the opportunity of making a surprise visit to the two ecclesias in that remote area.
Mt. Pleasant and Argyle Mountain
I had never been to Mount Pleasant ecclesia before. The members there get few visitors. For one thing they are separated from other brethren and sisters by formidable mountain ranges and cratered roads. For another, they have to be self sufficient, with little or no outside support.
Sunday morning was a thrilling and eye-opening experience. The partly built shack that is their embryonic meeting hall was lovingly prepared, with Bibles and hymn books laid out on the crude benches ready for visitors. On a large board was the day’s programme. The Lord’s Supper was laid out on “fine linen, clean and white.” The president had obviously dutifully prepared every detail for the meeting in advance, assisted and reminded by a diligent and loving wife. There were twenty-one of us including children, perching on bending planks, the majority being keenly interested friends. Surprise, surprise, hardly anyone was late. In Jamaica, that’s an unbelievable achievement! Praise the Lord hymns were sung in a manner that Hoddesden would envy. Our spirits flew like eagles in the air. The prayers were eloquent and reverent. Young mothers soothed and nursed potentially noisy infants. The meeting hall is on a minor track with no passing traffic, so there were no “men” to impress and give glory. All this heaven-soaring worship was done to the glory of God alone.
I went on to Argyle Mountain, a desperately poor, terribly shabby village, with its Christadelphian Hall tucked away on a rocky lane in a tiny valley, shaded by giant breadfruit trees, hidden almost totally from human view. I had not been to the ecclesia for years, and this visit was unannounced. The meeting hall and its garden were tidy, “swept and garnished.” Most striking of all were two pots of beautiful flowers — real not artificial — one on each side of the entrance like the leafy pillars Jachin and Boaz in Solomon’s temple. There is one sister in Argyle Mountain who is widely known for her love of flowers. She displays them, at her home and at the temple of the Lord, for the glory of God alone.
The Origin of the Organic World – Part One