Acts 11:26

THE NAME ‘CHRISTIAN’

‘And the disciples were called Christians first in Antioch.’

Acts 11:26

This is an interesting fact for all of us, since, whatever our differences, we are all proud of the name of Christians—more proud of that name than of any other name. Let us inquire (1) When, (2) Where, (3) Why, it was given to us.

I. When?—Not until twelve years apparently after the Ascension. Twelve long years of most intense life, of persecution, trial, growth, development, had passed over the Church before its members received any distinctive and abiding name. This serves to remind us that God cares for things, not names. God makes the things; man gives the names. Yet how much controversy is merely about names.

II. Where?—In Antioch. And if we ask what sort of place it was, we find:—

(a) It was beautiful. Situate on the Orontes, where it breaks through between Lebanon and Taurus; the scenery magnificent; itself splendidly adorned, and surrounded by groves and gardens.

(b) It was rich; the capital of Syria and third city of the world; centre of traffic and commerce between East and West.

(c) It was pleasure-loving; the meeting-place of lively Greek and self-indulgent Eastern, with every inducement and every advantage for enjoyment.

(d) It was wicked; always so in ancient heathen cities, but Antioch was exceptionally depraved. Rome was horribly bad; but when the satirist wished to say that Rome was made tenfold more corrupt, he wrote that the Orontes had emptied itself into the Tiber.

(e) It was heathen, very heathen. Here were the notorious groves of Daphne, where Apollo was worshipped with all magnificence and vice.

III. Why?—That is not quite so certain; but we may safely say it came about in this manner. The men of Antioch noticed some amongst them who differed from others—not that they were strangers by name or by face, but their behaviour was strange. The heathen were astonished and curious, and asked them: ‘Who has taught you this? Who has made you so different from what you were? Who has given you this new-fangled idea of the beauty and wealth and pleasure and sin (as you call it) of Antioch? Who has forbidden you to worship our gods with us, who are so kind to us, and let us enjoy ourselves so well?’ To this the answer was ever, ‘Christ.’ Christ has taught us that the world and its beauty pass away; but He has told us of a new heaven and a new earth far better. Christ has taught us to think but little of this world’s wealth, for He has given us treasure in heaven. Christ has taught us to look for higher pleasures than these of yours. Christ has taught us, above all, to know and to hate sin because He hates it. Christ has taught us not to worship your false gods, because He alone is worthy to be worshipped. ‘So,’ they would say, ‘this is your God and your Teacher, this Man Who was crucified and dead and buried under Pontius Pilate.’ ‘Yes,’ they would reply, ‘He was. For love of us He died; but He rose again and ascended into heaven, and He will come again to take us out of this world to Himself. Meanwhile we are His; we belong to Him, and serve Him, and wait for Him.’ Then some among the heathen would believe; the rest would scoff and call them ‘Christians.’

—Canon Winterbotham.

Illustration

‘The object of a name is to distinguish persons and things from others with which they might be confused. The followers of our Lord Jesus Christ were originally content to be called “the brethren,” “the Disciples,” or “the way.” They were few in number in their different neighbourhoods, and they knew what they meant by those terms. But it was not long before something more definite was required, and at Antioch a new and clearer designation grew into use. Probably their friends who did not share their change of opinions, but had no great hostility to them in consequence, invented for them the descriptive title by which they were henceforth to be known; Christ-people they were called, Christians, the followers of Christ. Nothing could be more simple and true. For a long time no other appellation was necessary. But as the heresies which the Apostles predicted grew and multiplied, some further nomenclature was required. The heretics all called themselves Christians; something was needed to point out those who all over the civilised world continued united in the Apostles’ fellowship and doctrine. The adoption of a name, or its repudiation, very often means a vast deal more than is seen on the surface. For these the word Catholic, or Universal, came to be employed; as an early writer, Pacian, expressed it, “Christian is my name, Catholic or Universal my surname.” The Universals were those who did not render themselves Particularlists by some special division of opinion, but who everywhere held to the common doctrine of the united Churches of Christendom.’

(SECOND OUTLINE)

WHAT IS IT TO BE A CHRISTIAN?

‘What is it to be a Christian?’ It is a name lightly, and variously, and capriciously used; and there is the more need of an accurate definition.

I. One of Christ’s.—The first and simplest and truest answer to that question might be found in the very word itself. It is a person in whose heart Christ is as inwrought as the word Christ’ is wrapped up in the word ‘Christian.’ A Christian—according, therefore, to the root of the word would be a person who is one of Christ’s; just as a ‘Ro-man’—a Roman—is one of the Romans. It is evident from the very word itself that Christ must be everywhere. He must be at the beginning, in the middle, and at the end. It is the Christ in you, and you in Christ, which makes a Christian.

II. How does a person become a Christian?—Where does it begin? It begins by an action of the Holy Ghost in the heart. The Holy Ghost working in a man’s soul breathes there a sense of sin; a feeling of need. Then the same Spirit reveals Christ to that soul as meeting that need, as the only thing that can meet it. And the man, convicted by his conscience, sees in that Christ just what he wants. The Holy Ghost draws him to Christ. He seeks Christ; he believes in Christ; he gives himself to Christ; he rests on Christ. Thus, by a secret process, he is received into Christ. Christ is in him, and he is in Christ. That man has become a Christian.

III. A Christian carries Christ with him wherever he goes.—Christ is now a felt, living Presence. They commune. There is a voice and there is an echo. It is as true as if he saw a person. He has it in his daily walks; he has it in his conscience; he has it in his pleasures; he has it in secret places; he has it in public worship; and he has it in the Holy Communion tenfold. And so—as is wont—with very much converse he gradually takes the mind of Christ. He sees things as Christ sees them. And love springs up, and increases, every day—love growing into intensity.

IV. Can that love have no results?—What are the results? Sin is become hateful to that man, because Jesus hates it; and in every sin to which he is tempted he sees a nail which fastens his dear Saviour to His Cross! And the higher love has now superseded the lower and the grovelling affections of his nature. What is anything to him in which Christ is not? Can he find pleasure—when he cannot find Him? His standard has gone up. He has higher aims. His life now is to do all the good he can in the world for Christ’s sake. He has the very savour of Christ. And every one that sees that man, ‘takes knowledge of him that he has been with Jesus.’

—Rev. James Vaughan.

Illustration

‘We do not know whether the name of Christian was given by the enemies of Christianity as a term of reproach, or whether the early Church adopted it as a title of honour. At any rate, the word itself occurs three times in the New Testament: in our text; Acts 26:28; Acts 1 St. Peter Acts 4:16. We know the word Christ means Anointed: therefore a Christian is one anointed by the Holy Spirit. A true Christian has the Holy Spirit: “As many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God.” Of course, some Christians are Christians only in name. They profess and call themselves so, but they have no faith in Christ and no love to the brethren of Christ.’

(THIRD OUTLINE)

THE TRUE-HEARTED CHRISTIAN

The true-hearted Christian is

I. A man in Christ.—So St. Paul speaks of himself (2 Corinthians 12:2). And he says all believers were chosen in Him before the foundation of the world (Ephesians 1:4).

II. A man for Christ.—He has given himself to Christ (2 Corinthians 8:5). He is Christ’s property in a very special sense. Not his own, for he has been bought with a price. Therefore his eyes, his mouth, his tongue, his ears, his hands, his knees, his feet, intellect, money, influence, are dedicated to his Master. In one word, he is what St. Paul loved to call himself—a slave of Jesus Christ.

III. A man like Christ.—I know the portrait is defaced and blurred with sin; but still, more or less, his features are like the children of the King. And the likeness will be completed one day (Romans 8:29). You know what Christ did. ‘Christ pleased not Himself’—that was His inward life. ‘He went about doing good’—that was His outward life.

IV. A man with Christ (Acts 4:13).—He has a foretaste of the fruits of the Tree of Life. He finds to his endless comfort that the streets of heaven stretch down to earth. ‘Ye are come unto Mount Zion.’ Yes; Christ’s presence to the believer is a ‘living, bright reality.’

—Rev. F. Harper.

Illustration

‘There was a terrible accident which happened in the North some years ago. One of those tall factory chimneys came down. Before it fell there had been some talk in the works about the danger of it. There was a little lad who lived with his mother, a widow, and supported her by his work in this factory. He woke up one morning and said he could not work that day, “for,” he added, “I am sure that chimney is coming down.” It was one of those strange instances of “coming events casting their shadows before.” It was stated that at the inquest, when the mother told the story, there was not a dry eye in the room. She reasoned with the lad, and said, “You must go”; and he replied, “I don’t want to.” At last she said, “You must go, my boy; the rent is due.” Without another word, constrained by a mother’s loving heart, that lad got up and went out in the darkness of the morning, saying, “Mother, I will go for thee.” She never saw him again until he was carried home dead on a stretcher. And if we are Christians indeed should we not say, “Saviour, I will go for Thee”—to that heavy cross, to that disagreeable duty, to bear the scorn and cold indifference of the world—“Saviour, I will go for thee”?’