e are Christ's.'

THE THREE TRIBUNALS

'But with me it is a very small thing that I should be
judged of you, or of man's judgment: yea, I judge not
mine own self. 4. For I know nothing by myself; yet am
I not hereby justified; but he that judgeth me is the
Lord.'--1 COR. iv. 3, 4.

The Church at Corinth was honeycombed by the characteristic Greek
vice of party spirit. The three great teachers, Paul, Peter, Apollos,
were pitted against each other, and each was unduly exalted by those
who swore by him, and unduly depreciated by the other two factions.
But the men whose names were the war-cries of these sections were
themselves knit in closest friendship, and felt themselves to be
servants in common of one Master, and fellow-workers in one task.

So Paul, in the immediate context, associating Peter and Apollos with
himself, bids the Corinthians think of '_us_' as being servants
of Christ, and not therefore responsible to men; and as stewards of
the mysteries of God, that is, dispensers of truths long hidden but
now revealed, and as therefore accountable for correct accounts and
faithful dispensation only to the Lord of the household. Being
responsible to Him, they heeded very little what others thought about
them. Being responsible to Him, they could not accept vindication
by their own consciences as being final. There was a judgment beyond
these.

So here we have three tribunals--that of man's estimates, that of our
own consciences, that of Jesus Christ. An appeal lies from the first
to the second, and from the second to the third. It is base to depend
on men's judgments; it is well to attend to the decisions of
conscience, but it is not well to take it for granted that, if
conscience approve, we are absolved. The court of final appeal is
Jesus Christ, and what He thinks about each of us. So let us look
briefly at these three tribunals.

I. First, the lowest--men's judgment.

'With me it is a very small thing that I should be judged of you,'
enlightened Christians that you are, or by the outside world. Now,
Paul's letters give ample evidence that he was keenly alive to the
hostile and malevolent criticisms and slanders of his untiring
opponents. Many a flash of sarcasm out of the cloud like a lightning
bolt, many a burst of wounded affection like rain from summer skies,
tell us this. But I need not quote these. Such a character as his
could not but be quick to feel the surrounding atmosphe