What Shall I Do With Jesus? # 3

What Shall I Do With Jesus? # 3

Poor Pilate! The blood of Jesus has been on you for nineteen hundred years in hell. It will be on you through an unending eternity. You had your chance that day in front of the gang in Jerusalem, but you were willing to let them nail Him to the Cross rather than stand by the side of Jesus Christ and His truth.

"What shall I do then with Jesus which is called Christ?"

He didn't have the courage of his convictions. He was convinced that Jesus was right. Oh, if Pilate had bared his back and said, "This Man is on the level; you can take me and crucify me, but you can't touch one hair of His head" - he would have taken his stand in the same company with Joseph of Arimathaea and other famous men. We would have been glad to name our children after him. But tonight we speak his name with ignominy and repulsion. He had the chance. He was a miserable, white-livered coward.

Now, when old Pilate heard that Herod was in town he was glad to get rid of Jesus. So he shoved Him over to Herod. Herod thought that Jesus was sort of a sleight-of-hand performer - legerdemain, Chantaugua entertainer and had a bunch of high rollers; so he asked Jesus to come up and perform a few miracles just to entertain the crowd. Jesus answered the old fox never a word.

So they secured Him and sent Him back to old Pilate. Herod had heard John the Baptist preach. John had said: "it isn't right for you to have your brother Philip's wife." Herod wanted Jesus and his brother Philip's wife, too. but he could not have both. So he turned down Jesus and kept his brother Philip's wife, which was against the law.

Is William Jennings Bryan a fool? Is he a believer in Jesus Christ as the Son of God? What are you going to do with the Christ of these Christian men?

Was the late William McKinley a fool? When the assassin's bullet struck him down, at Buffalo, fondly and reverently did he pray that he would be spared. When they gave him the anesthetic and the doctors bent over him to catch what he might have been his last words, he was muttering the Lord's prayer. We smiled, dried our tears, shook hands and forgot our political differences. Then the relapse came and we were informed that he was growing worse. They sent for his wife. He looked up and said, "It's God's will. His way, not ours, be done." McKinley started to repeat, "Nearer, My God to Thee, Nearer to Thee," and the lamp of life flickered and went out forever.

Down the streets of Buffalo went the funeral procession and the band played, "Nearer, My God to Thee." The railroad track from Buffalo to Washington was lined with people who stood with bowed, uncovered heads and tear-stained cheeks as they sang, "Nearer, My God to Thee."

I journeyed to Canton that I might be present at the funeral. Five hours I stood on the street corner, opposite the Stark Courthouse where his body was to lie in state. The booming cannon told us that the funeral train had arrived. Down the funeral procession came, and bands, with muffled drum, played, "Nearer, My God to Thee."

The hearse stopped opposite to where I stood, and the detachment of sailors from the battleship Indiana and soldiers from the regular army drew out the coffin and carried it into the courthouse where it was to lie in state.

Up dashed a carriage. Out leaned that giant of the west, Theodore Roosevelt. By his side was Elihu Root. By his side was Doctor Ritchie. I stood and watched Admiral Croinshield and Admiral Farquhar. Then I saw General Otis, just returned from the Philippines, and General Gillespie, both Roman Catholics, but both earnest, devout Christians who believed in Jesus Christ. By their side walked the finest specimen of manhood I have ever looked upon - Lieutenant General Nelson A. Miles.

Up the steps hobbled my friend, General David B. Henderson, of Dubuque, Iowa, then speaker of the House of Representatives. By his side was William B. Ellison. I stood and gazed upon men from the North and men from the South; Democrats and Republicans of all classes. They they were given the privilege to walk through, and I was among the first two hundred to go through. When I looked at the dead  president's pale, upturned face, my eyes were blinded with tears and I groped my way out of the north door.

I stood there bathed in the perfect sunlight of a perfect September day, and as I stood there I said to myself: "Hail to God! I stand with the best men of this nation when I stand beneath the Cross of Jesus Christ, the Son of God."

What are you to do with the Christ when from the north, the south, the east and the west the trumpet of Gabriel sounds and the unsaved dead come out of their graves to the last judgment?

~Billy Sunday~

(continued with # 4)