In Luke's account an intensely practical word is added to Jesus' remark: "Let him take up his cross _daily_." A cat is said to have nine lives, because it is so hard to kill. I do not know what your experience may have been, but, judged by this rule, the self in me is tougher-lived than that. It has about ninety-nine, or nine hundred and ninety-nine lives. I put it on the cross to-day in the purpose of my will by the power of the Spirit, and I find it trying to sneak down and step into active control again to-morrow through some sly, subtle suggestion which it hopes may get past the vigilance of my sentinel. That word _daily_ becomes, of necessity, my constant keynote--a _daily_ conflict, a _daily_ sleepless vigilance, and, thank God, a _daily victory_. Every man's heart is a battlefield. If self has possession, Jesus is lovingly striving to get possession. If possession has been yielded to Jesus, there is a constant besieging by the forces of self. And self is a skilled strategist. In every heart there is a cross, and a throne, and each is occupied. If Jesus is on the throne, ruling, self is on the cross, dying. But if self is being obeyed, and so is ruling, then it is on the throne. And self on the throne means that _Jesus has been put on the cross_. And it seems to be only too pathetically true that not only in New Testament times, but in these times, there are numbers of professing christians, who, in the practice of daily life, are crucifying the Son of God afresh, and openly exposing Him to shame before the eyes of the crowd. Suppose that to-night I determine to make this absolute surrender to Jesus as my Master. To-morrow in some matter, possibly a small matter--speaking a word to some one--asking a silent blessing at the meal--making a change in some personal habit--or some other apparently trivial matter--the Spirit quietly makes clear _His wish_ as to what I should do. But I hesitate: it seems hard. I do not say that I will not obey, but actually _I do not_. Let me plainly understand that in such a single failure to obey, self is again mounting the throne, and Jesus is being dethroned and put over yonder on the cross. Do some of us still hesitate at this forking of the roads, irresolute? A crowned Christ is attractive. But self's tendrils, though small, are tenaciously tough, and twine into so many corners and around some hidden things. And the uprooting and outcutting mean sharp pain. Is that so? And you hesitate? Please take another frank look. Lock-Step. These two forks differ radically. They differ in direction. One is to the _left_; the other to the _right_. And these two words are significant of more than direction. They differ in grade. This left-hand road does not seem to have any grade. It is smooth and level, and straightaway, _apparently_. But a keener look reveals a slant _down_, very slight at first, but steadily increasing, not only in its downward grade, but in the _proportionate_ grade down.