Calvary Love
by Amy Carmichael
If I belittle those whom I am called to serve, talk of their weak points in contrast perhaps with what I think of as my strong points; if I adopt a superior attitude, forgetting "Who made thee to differ? And what hast thou that thou hast not received?" then I know nothing of Calvary love.
If
I find myself taking lapses for granted, "Oh, that's what they always
do," "Oh, of course she talks like that, he acts like that," then I know
nothing of Calvary love.
If
I can enjoy a joke at the expense of another; if I can in any way
slight another in conversation, or even in thought, then I know nothing
of Calvary love.
If I can write an unkind letter, speak an unkind word, think an unkind thought without grief and shame, then I know nothing of Calvary love.
If I do not feel far more for the grieved Savior than for my worried self when troublesome things occur, then I know nothing of Calvary love.
If I can rebuke without a pang, then I know nothing of Calvary love.
If
my attitude be one of fear, not faith, about one who has disappointed
me; if I say, "Just what I expected" if a fall occurs, then I know
nothing of Calvary love.
If
I am afraid to speak the truth, lest I lose affection, or lest the one
concerned should say, "You do not understand," or because I fear to lose
my reputation for kindness; if I put my own good name before the
other's highest good, then I know nothing of Calvary love.
If
I am content to heal a hurt slightly, saying "Peace, peace," where
there is no peace; if I forget the poignant word "Let love be without
dissimulation" and blunt the edge of truth, speaking not right things
but smooth things, then I know nothing of Calvary love.
If I hold on to choices of any kind, just because they are my choice, then I know nothing of Calvary love.
If I am soft to myself and slide comfortably into self-pity and self-sympathy; If I do not by the grace of God practice fortitude, then I know nothing of Calvary love.
If
I myself dominate myself, if my thoughts revolve round myself, if I am
so occupied with myself I rarely have "a heart at leisure from itself,"
then I know nothing of Calvary love.
If,
the moment I am conscious of the shadow of self crossing my threshold, I
do not shut the door, and keep that door shut, then I know nothing of Calvary love.
If
I cannot in honest happiness take the second place (or the twentieth);
if I cannot take the first without making a fuss about my unworthiness,
then I know nothing of Calvary love.
If
I take offense easily, if I am content to continue in a cool
unfriendliness, though friendship be possible, then I know nothing of Calvary love.
If
I feel injured when another lays to my charge things that I know not,
forgetting that my sinless Savior trod this path to the end, then I know
nothing of Calvary love.
If
I feel bitter toward those who condemn me, as it seems to me, unjustly,
forgetting that if they knew me as I know myself they would condemn me
much more, then I know nothing of Calvary love.
If souls can suffer alongside, and I hardly know it, because the spirit of discernment is not in me, then I know nothing of Calvary love.
If
the praise of others elates me and their blame depresses me; if I
cannot rest under misunderstanding without defending myself; if I love
to be loved more than to love, to be served more than to serve, then I
know nothing of Calvary love.
If I crave hungrily to be used to show the way of liberty to a soul in bondage, instead of caring
only that it be delivered; if I nurse my disappointment when I fail,
instead of asking that to another the word of release may be given, then
I know nothing of Calvary love.
If
I do not forget about such a trifle as personal success, so that it
never crosses my mind, or if it does, is never given room there; if the
cup of flattery tastes sweet to me, then I know nothing of Calvary love.
If
in the fellowship of service I seek to attach a friend to myself, so
that others are caused to feel unwanted; if my friendships do not draw
others deeper in, but are ungenerous (to myself, for myself), then I
know nothing of Calvary love.
If
I refuse to allow one who is dear to me to suffer for the sake of
Christ, if I do not see such suffering as the greatest honor that can be
offered to any follower of the Crucified, then I know nothing of Calvary love.
If
I slip into the place that can be filled by Christ alone, making myself
the first necessity to a soul instead of leading it to fasten upon Him,
then I know nothing of Calvary love.
If
my interest in the work of others is cool; if I think in terms of my
own special work; if the burdens of others are not my burdens too, and
their joys mine, then I know nothing of Calvary love.
If
I wonder why something trying is allowed, and press for prayer that it
may be removed; if I cannot be trusted with any disappointment, and
cannot go on in peace under any mystery, then I know nothing of Calvary love.
If
the ultimate, the hardest, cannot be asked of me; if my fellows
hesitate to ask it and turn to someone else, then I know nothing of Calvary love.
If I covet any place on earth but the dust at the foot of the Cross, then I know nothing of Calvary love.
That which I know not, teach Thou me, O Lord, my God.
Amy Carmichael, "Calvary Love," from If, by Dohnavur Fellowship. Fort Washington, PA: CLC Ministries, n.d. Used by permission.
