In the different realms of life, light must take different forms. In the physical universe, it takes the form of the illuminating ray that makes daylight out of darkness. In the life of man, it takes the form of the knowledge of the truth which makes him free. Wherever the influence of God goes, it carries with it the illuminating agency of schools, teachers, and books. No land remains ignorant under the sway of the gospel. The Christianization of a land is simply the carrying of the creative process on into new realms of life, and early in every such creative process is heard the majestic edict: “Let there be light.” The answer to the edict is ever the same: “And there was light.” God permitted darkness as a stage in creation, but never as a permanent condition. He may permit the darkness of ignorance or sin or both—for they go hand in hand—in a life as a stage in its development. But wherever a continuance of the conditions is insisted upon a day longer than necessity requires, the results must be disastrous. There is a certain life-giving strength in light. There is a wide difference between the pale and twisted plant that grows under a board in the garden and the plant from the same parent that has had the good fortune to grow in the sunlight. Much the same difference may be observed in the case of two lives between which there has been a similar difference. There is nothing in the purpose or the kingdom of God that needs fear the light. What will not stand the light is not of His designing. The best that His gospel and His power can ask is to be investigated and tested. There need be no fear of what will happen when all men investigate for themselves. The Yoke (1915) There seems to exist a general misconception of the purpose of a yoke. Because of it the command of Jesus to accept and wear His yoke is often much more dreadful than there is reason that it should be. We often fail to catch or refuse to believe the added assurance that “the yoke is easy.” This assurance is true both in figure and fact. Anyone who has been personally familiar with the working of oxen under the yoke is sure to understand that the yoke is used not to increase the burden they bear, but to furnish them with a means of bearing the burden they already have. A yoke does not demand the use of more energy than would otherwise be called into play. The beast of burden would expend the same amount of energy in a day’s time. If that strength were not expended in the performance of a useful task it would be wasted. The yoke concentrates the energy at command to the performance of a task worth while. The burden-bearer is no wearier, neither has it borne any greater burden. It has only borne the same burden with greater ease and to better purpose.