Ministries
Resources
Matthew 16:2-3:
2He answered and said unto them, When it is evening, ye say, It will be fair weather: for the sky is red.
3And in the morning, It will be foul weather to day: for the sky is red and lowering. O ye hypocrites, ye can discern the face of the sky; but can ye not discern the signs of the times?
Times differ. It is not, age upon age, one monotonous sameness. Rather there is constant alternation and ceaseless change. And even to a century like the one that has just ended, which as the nineteenth century almost imagined itself to have been the discoverer of the abiding light, it is already evident that Psalm 102 (vs. 26) can be applied: "It shall wax old as doth a garment, and shall be changed."
From this difference comes the "difference of signs" not unlike to difference in the weather. Sailor and farmer, both dependent upon the weather for navigation and agriculture, learned from their youth up to observe these signs. Not as wondrous signs of something that had never been seen before. As already the preacher at Jerusalem exclaimed: "That which has been is now and that which is to be hath already been" (Ecclesiastes 3:15). These "signs of the times," even as the signs in the weather, show themselves for the most part exclusively in a different degree of intensity from that with which the ordinary phenomena appear, and hence in their mutual relation. Whether the sky in the evening shows itself bright red or dull red depends upon the greater or lesser density with which mist or vapor places itself between our eye and the red glow of the setting sun. And so in the spirit world, also, an altogether different constellation presents itself according as the cloud of religion enters into the life with fullness of weight, or remains suspended, light and extremely transparent over the waters of life.
The difference in this respect between age and age becomes evident.
In the age of the Reformation the dreadful controversy of religion filled almost all of life. In the court room, in the council of princes, in public opinion, in the pulpit, in the market place and especially in the family, religion was then more than anything else the deciding factor. From every side the sky glowed a bright fiery red.
And compare with this the eighteenth century. How dull its red was then. All brightness had paled, all warmth of religion had withdrawn within a single mystical group, and, moreover, in public life religion was debased to trivial reasoning, stupid self-conceit, laughter and scorn.
Then came the nineteenth century, by revolution and Napoleonic war strung to a higher seriousness. Within the religious domain it brought us three signs: first, in the Christian domain and in a very limited circle the Reveille; secondly, as a new find, the quickly exhausted modern theology; and, thirdly, alongside, and on account of this, within the broad domain of science, endless doubt or proud materialism, and in society cold unbelief and a breaking with all religion.
Now, on the other hand, in our twentieth century the table turns again. There is once more a reveille, but not in the Christian domain. A reveille far more of the mystic religious feeling. Altogether outside of Christianity. Mostly rejecting the way of truth and seeking ways of its own. And so of itself falling back into the ways which in earlier times man himself had discovered. Spiritism, Theosophy, Buddhism are now the asked-for articles. A few (though this is the exception) even fall back upon the Crescent again. What alone is not observed is return upon a broad scale, to the Man of Sorrows. One wills to become religious but must be permitted to remain anti-clerical.
In the eighteenth century, the falling into slumber. In the nineteenth century, the pouring out of the spirit of deep sleep. At present, in the twentieth century, a gradual waking up of religion, but still dozing in false mystical dreams.
The Christ and His Cross are passed by.
To such "signs of the times" the pharisee pays no attention (see Matthew 16). He thinks, and continues to think, that in his more limited circle everything is good and healthy, and everything outside of it is evil and unholy, and he does not even surmise from afar the influence which the change in the spirit of the times exerts upon him and upon his circle.
But the true disciples of Jesus do not do so. They know better. They feel and understand right well that in spiritual concerns also the waters of life continually flow into one another. They observe it in themselves and they see it in their family and in their surroundings, how general conditions of spirits influence one another on every side. And with every new change they ask of themselves to what criticism this must urge them, to what discharge of duty this must constrain them.
They hold their ground. Naturally! They do this by virtue of the grace that is in them, by the Spirit's urge that operates in them. Though they should have to die for Jesus, they can not let go their hold upon His Cross. With ties which they can not loosen, that Cross lies bound upon their heart.
They feel themselves as in an oasis around which, as far as eye can see, grins the grey spiritual barrenness of the desert.
In this oasis they rejoice. In it they drink from the fountain, they enjoy the bread and the shade of the palm trees. They make their children enjoy it with them. They give thanks, they glory, they jubilate.
Only nothing in themselves makes boast of this. God Almighty has brought them into this oasis. And that, not because of any good that was in them. In nothing do they know themselves to be better than any one else. They rather dress each day again the bleeding wound of their own heart. It is grace and nothing but grace. A grace which in its entirety was, and remained, nothing but grace.
But the desert round about this oasis troubles them, nevertheless. The sand-wave from it flies upward. The hot wind travels through it. And then, they that there wander about in that desert, are they not in many respects their fellow-countrymen, nof infrequently of their own family? Sometimes their own friends. And also apart from this, what talent, what civic virtue, what noble sense, does not frequently mark those wanderers. Much that is low, much that is common, much that is coarse that is true. Many are so, but not all.
And prayer, also for these wanderers, again and again, involuntarily ascends from their perplexed hearts.
Even in the deepest depth of the life of their soul they undergo the perceptible influence of this change in the signs of the times.
To be near unto God, and to remain near unto God, is so much easier when everything round about you warmly calls for the honor of God, than when the spirit of the times opposes everything that is holy. Herein hid the godly secret of a long period in the Middle Ages, the secret also of the fifteenth and part of the sixteenth century. Almost everything then pressed after God's nearness. Religion was the atmosphere which of itself was breathed in everywhere. Hence from both these periods came our over-pious traditions.
But, ever since, the thermometer has gone down. First it became cool, then cold, then ice-cold. Then everything broke down, everything put itself in the way when the soul went out to seek the nearness of God. So much that blossomed before, now froze!
Thereby the seeking of God and your approach to His nearness now demanded an effort before unknown. It became a struggle. A climbing with hands and feet in order to scale the holy mountain. And when the top was reached what mists still intervened that cut off the outlook from you, what effort it took to keep your standing there. And above all, what painful distance between that high mountain top and that world below at the foot of the mountain, which yet remained your world and into which your daily task called you.
Surely there is a gain. That which results from such constant, serious and holy effort goes deeper, is richer in its enjoyment, and gives you more intense blessedness. He who in spite of contrary current and storm yet drops anchor in the harbor knows the joy of a higher order than he who drifted with weather, wind and tide.
But it brings weariness. It exhausts the mind and the heart. And it is the aftermath of this exhaustion that involves the danger of the spirit of the world outwitting you, and makes you dread still more a new course, attended with danger, perchance of death.
If you stand true, then, to be near unto God in such times is more blessed, but the enjoyment of it less constant.
And more times of wandering away and of estrangement come in between.
And, moreover, this unfavorable change in the signs of the times brings new duties.
The captain who himself through current and storm safely made the harbor can not be indifferent to the other sailors, who less fortunate, out at sea, still struggle with death. Or, likewise, he who himself reached the oasis, quenches his thirst and satisfies his hunger with good things, must not be indifferent about the long caravan, that still wanders among mortal dangers in the desert.
And so also, you who by grace, and by nothing but grace, refresh yourself in the nearness of God, you may not, you can not, if rightly disposed, be indifferent about those thousands and thousands who, lost in the byways, know not the Christ, understand not the Cross, and, therefore live without God in the world.
For them, therefore, no hardness, but in your soul a deeply implanted divine compassion. No pity that spitefully scorns and repels, but a compassion that by valor invites and as a holy magnet attracts.
Never hide or cloak your own religion. Never let there be a guilty silence, or a putting on of manner as though you were one of them. Never the cowardice that deems itself love.
But by all means understand them, enter into their condition, show them not your wisdom but your heart. Always show them that you care about their eternal salvation.
And in order to be able to do this, do not hold yourself aloof, but take part in actual life. Be at home in what the things of the world, under God's providence, produce of interest and of beauty. Always keep open a ground on which you can meet them, discover yourself to them, and converse with them.
Surely their estrangement can become ill-will and resistance. There can come a moment when you, by forgetting yourself, might cause the holy to be made a laughing-stock. And then breaking away can become duty.
But as your Saviour on the way to the Cross ever had His eye upon the world, and on the Cross still prayed for the forgiveness of those who knew not what they did, so shall the eye of your seeking love ever remain upon those who have wandered away from God, and your prayer continually rise in their behalf.
Moreover in this seeking love and in that prayer you will have the surest token that you are not mistaken, but that in all reality you yourself are near unto your God.
* * * * * * *This devotional classic offers 110 meditations on a single thought from Psalm 73: "As for me, it is good to be near to God." The author states, "The fellowship of being near unto God must become reality ... it must permeate and give color to our feeling, our perceptions, our sensations, our thinking, our imagining, our willing, our acting, our speaking. It must not stand as a foreign factor in our life, but it must be the passion that breathes throughout our whole existence."
The meditations reflect the blending of spiritual vigor with doctrinal loyalty so consistently expressed in the life of Abraham Kuyper. These are devotions with true substance, avoiding the extremes about which Kuyper adds a word of caution: "Stress in creedal confession, without drinking from the Living Fountain, runs dry in barren orthodoxy, just as truly as spiritual emotion, without clearness in confessional standards, makes one sink in the bog of sickly mysticism."
Abraham Kuyper (1837-1920) was a Dutch political leader and Calvinist theologian. Elected to parliament in 1874, he became Prime Minister in 1901 and served in that capacity until 1905. As a theologian, he revived a systematic, orthodox Calvinism. He founded the Free Reformed Church and the Free University of Amsterdam. His other works include Principles of Sacred Theology, Lectures on Calvinism, and The Work of the Holy Spirit
Further information about Abraham Kuyper's life can be seen in the translator's "Biographical Note"; further information about To Be Near Unto God can be Abraham Kuyper's "Preface" to that book.
© 2025 The Orthodox Presbyterian Church
