Acts 4:23

Like To Like

And being let go, they went to their own company. Acts 4:23 (AV).

Who were the men who “went to their own company”? They were Peter and John, the disciples of Jesus. Do you remember the story? The two disciples had healed a lame man who lay at the Beautiful Gate of the Temple and the event had caused great excitement among the people. Now you know what happens in our own towns when anything unusual occurs a big crowd gathers. It was just the same in Jerusalem. The people ran together to see what was the matter, and I shouldn't be a bit surprised to learn that there were a great many small boys in that crowd.

Peter began to speak to the people about how they had crucified Christ and how He had risen again, and many of them were won over to the side of Jesus.

But when the priests heard about it, they were very much alarmed, so they shut up Peter and John in prison for the night. The following morning the rulers and elders and scribes had Peter and John brought into their midst, and they tried to get them to promise not to speak any more to the people. But when the disciples refused to do this, the council, after threatening them, let them go, for they were afraid of the people. And Peter and John, being let go, “went to their own company.”

Who were the companions to whom Peter and John went? They were also disciples of Jesus, and the next few verses tell us what kind of men they were. They were good men, and they were brave men, praying that they might still have boldness to speak the word in spite of the threats that had been made.

Do you know that if we had learned nothing more about Peter and John than what is told us in our text and what is said about the company to which they joined themselves, we could still have guessed what kind of men they were. I wonder why? Well, it's just like this. A man or a woman, a boy or a girl, is known by the company they choose when they are free to choose. If we had been told what kind of company Peter and John had in prison we shouldn't have known what kind of men they themselves were. Very likely they had beside them robbers and murderers, but that did not mean that they were robbers and murderers. Their companions were chosen for them. But as soon as they were free they went to the companions they had chosen of their own accord, and people do not choose companions unless they like them and have something in common with them.

Now if somebody were to ask me about one of you “What kind of boy is that?” or, “What do you think of that girl?” I should say to them, “Will you give me a few days to find out, and then I shall tell you?” Of course I should have to put on a sort of invisible cap, because if you knew I was watching you, you might be a different kind of boy or girl not exactly the real boy or girl.

Well, suppose I wore my invisible cap and set out to watch you, where do you think I should go? Perhaps you imagine I should follow you into school and stand behind your form or sit on your desk to see how you did your lessons. Oh dear no! I shouldn't think of wasting time over that. I should know that while you were in school you had to keep certain rules and do certain things, that you were just one of a number who had to keep these same rules and do these same things. So while you were in school I should take a little nap to prepare me for the hard work I should have later on.

But when school hours were over, when you were “let go,” I should stand beside the door and watch you coming out; I should follow you to the playground and notice what kind of games you played, and how you played them; I should notice what sort of temper you showed at games, whether you played fair, and whether you gave the other boy credit for playing fair; I should follow you on the way home; I should notice the groups you formed and who were your chums. Then when your lessons were learned in the evening and your books put away, I should watch how you used your spare time. And this is what I might see.

Here is a boy or girl who takes up a book and sits down to devour it quite oblivious of all that is going on around. They are the book-worms of the school. Here are others who get out their cricket bat or their tennis racquet. They are fond of games. Here is a boy who seizes his tools and starts whittling and hammering at something. He has a taste for engineering. Here is a girl who likes to bake or sew. She is going to be a good housewife. Here is another girl who takes out her paint-box and her pencil. She has a love for art. Here is a boy who hangs about the street idle. He is in danger of getting into serious mischief and making a mess of his life. Here is a girl who is so tired of everything, and thinks there is nothing nice to do. She is laying the foundations of an unhappy nature, and if she doesn't pull herself together, she will turn out a bore to herself and to her friends.

Yes, it isn't how we behave when we are being watched and held in that shows what we really are: it is the way we act when we are free and nobody is looking on. Are we just as straight and upright behind our mother's and our father's back as we would be if they were looking on?

There is a story of an American statesman who lost his wife, and on her tombstone he had these words carved “Sacred to the memory of Jocelyn, wife of J. Sterling Morton and mother of Paul, Mark and Joy Morton.” One day a friend who had seen the tombstone remarked on the strangeness of the inscription, and asked Mr. Morton why he had the boys' names put there. And what do you think the statesman replied? “I have taken my boys to see the tombstone, and I have told them that if one of them does anything to dishonor his mother's memory I will have that one's name chiseled off the stone.”

I think those boys would be very careful always to be honorable, and clean, and true. I think they would be anxious never to do anything mean or unworthy. And I think it is a splendid rule for all of us, whether our mothers are with us still, or whether they are waiting for us in our Home above, never to do anything anywhere, of which they would be ashamed.