Casting all your cares upon Him, for He careth for you.--_1 Pet.
5, 7._
In that wonderful book which, next to the Bible, has been most
extensively circulated in the English language, _viz._, Bunyan's
"Pilgrim's Progress," there is a scene which is most impressive. It
represents to us Christian fleeing from the city of this world,
with a large bundle upon his shoulders. He comes to a place somewhat
elevated; upon that place stands a cross, and a little below there
is a sepulcher, and as he comes up with the cross, the bundle looses
from off his shoulders and rolls away, till it comes to the mouth
of the sepulcher, where it rolls in and he sees it no more. How
many as they have read or seen the picture of the quaint old story
have wished that it might be so with them as it was with Christian,
that the load which they are bearing might slip off their backs,
leaving the heart light and spirit free. And there is no reason why
it may not, provided they take it, like Christian, to the proper
place. What is set forth in the allegory, that, according to St.
Peter in the text, may be experienced in reality and in truth. God
grant that with the Holy Spirit's aid we may acquire the art. Three
thoughts are set before us: _I. That every child of man has a burden
to bear_; _II. what he should do with it_; III. _why he should so
dispose of it_.
A distinguished German preacher, speaking on the Gospel of this
Sunday, remarked that man in this world has a solemn companion that
follows him whithersoever he goeth. Like a shadow, it will cling to
his footsteps, dogging his every movement and occupying his every
moment. In the silence of the chamber it will steal through the
keyhole, and when slumber is about to fall upon his weary eyelids,
it will whisper rest-disturbing messages into his ear. No spot is
too desolate, no mind immune against its perplexing assaults. The
German calls the name of this dreary attendant "Sorge." Our text
calls it "Care," meaning anxious care, solicitude, distracting fear.
That, as stated, is the burden of every child of Adam. It may not
externally appear so,--it may be hidden behind silken tapestry or
marble apartments,--but it is there. People look at a king; they
gaze upon a rich mansion, see its occupants, driving forth in an
elegant equipage. They think, "What a favored lot is theirs!" They
realize not the dark shadow of care sitting behind the coachman,
and realize not what the poet expresses thus: "Uneasy lies the
head that wears a crown." Nor can it be said that it has lessened.
We have made mighty advancement; never was the world so rich in
material things, never did we possess so many devices for lightening
human toil and tasks, and yet due likely to the speed at which
we have to move, the high pressure at which we have to live, the
complexity of the social organism of which we form a part, it is
a matter of fact that the man and the woman of to-day are getting
more nervous and highly strung, less able to bear their burdens
calmly and patiently. Worry, constant distraction, and disquietude
are wearing out many people before their time. And what are they
worrying about? What is the burden of their care? Various. With
some it is the burden of ill health, bodily indisposition. That's
an extremely heavy burden, one that takes the color out of the sky
and the sweetness out of life, to spend most or a great deal of our
time in bed or on a sofa,--no taste for food, a throbbing head, a
laboring heart, constant and gnawing agony, nights often filled
with sleeplessness and days with weariness. This is trying, indeed.
With others it is business burdens. Rivalry is keen, competition
acute, thousands are the things to harass and perplex and annoy the
man of industry. The Lord, in the Gospel, mentions a whole array of
burdens that rise from the question: "What shall we eat, what shall
we drink, or wherewithal shall we be clothed?" Worldly sustenance,
the apprehension of poverty, of future years, of loss of property,
of health, of coming deaths and sorrow in the family, the changes
and disasters that might come, the miscarrying of our plans, the
possible ill success of our labors,--these things are the burdens
that make men full of worrying cares.
And what can you do to rid yourself of this? There are those who
would drown their worry. They take to the intoxicating cup. It's a
miserable expedient, a ruin to body and soul; and oh! for the shame
and remorse added to the load of ills. Others turn to the gay and
glittering world, to some place and company where men and women are
apparently happy. For a time the thing may work well. As the child
of care goes up and down within the great dance-hall and through
the illuminated gardens, where the merry voices of laughter and
song ring out, and instruments are discoursing sweet music, it may
seem wise to have disposed of the burden that way. But--what when
the entertainment is over, and your wraps carefully labeled with
your name are handed back to you? Then back come the old sorrows,
perhaps with new ones added.--And one other expedient might we think
of: Have some one bear the burden with you. There is good reason
and sound sense in this. Men in trouble instinctively seek human
sympathy; a sorrow shared is a sorrow lessened. Fortunate the person
that has an ear and a heart to which he can apply for comfort and
strength. But there also is danger. Friendship is an uncertain
thing; it is often too delicate to bear much handling, it evaporates
under pressure. Few are the friends that care, or are able to bear,
the burdens of others; and again, there are friends who are not
really such, who will betray your confidence, secretly rejoice over
your ill fortune, and even use it to harm you. Beware of a man whose
breath is in his nostrils.
So, then, we are shut up to one effective resource, and that is the
course given in the text: "Casting all your cares upon Him." What
does that mean? It means two things: In the first place, it means
trust in God's providence. There is a Providence which has brought
us into this world and is taking us through it. And it is for us to
practically, not only theoretically, believe this. Theoretically, we
may hold very correct views on the subject, but it is practically,
in the application to the affairs and scenes of our own life, that
we may fall short. And alas! that many of those who call themselves
Christians do fall short. Else why these perplexing anxieties, this
tormenting solicitude? If they believe in God, who has pledged
that He will ever provide for them, and without whose permission
not a hair of their head can fall, why do they yield to the same
unbelieving fears as the worldling?
We Christians believe in an almighty Maker and Provider, that He has
given us these bodies, our families and all. We furthermore believe
that He knows what our wants really are, and we hold that it is
in His power to supply our wants. Besides, He has pledged Himself
by His almighty character to supply them. Surely, it is a great
inconsistency and unbelief to find Christians showing the spirit
of worldly carefulness, losing the comfort of trust in God amidst
a host of distracting cares. If there is a word more expressive of
Christian character than any other, it is this one, trust,--trust
in God, trust in Jesus to save, in His Spirit to sanctify, in His
providence to provide; trust amidst perplexity and mystery, for the
future, the present, in life and in death,--in all things trust in
God.
Yes, dear child of affliction and sorrow, God loves you. He has
redeemed you by the blood of His own dear Son. He cares for you.
He knows your ailments, and He would not permit His children to
suffer anything to their hurt. Believe that. To give way to contrary
feeling and expressions is to dishonor and provoke God. When a
father knows that he can uphold a child in any threatening danger,
he does not like to hear the continual expression of that child's
fears and apprehensions. It vexes him. When we have chosen a pilot,
he would be offended, were he to find us trembling as to the safety
of the ship; he would throw up the helm, and tell us to guide for
ourselves, since we had no confidence in His skill. It is doubting
our heavenly Father's wisdom, it is distrusting His power and
goodness, and contradicting His gracious powers and pledges to be
overanxious. The thing is to look up to, and confide in Him: "God
never does forsake in need the soul that trusts in Him indeed." And
with this trust goes something else, and that something else is
prayer.
"Be careful for nothing," says the Apostle in another place, "but in
everything by prayer and supplication let your requests be known to
God." Prayer: What is there to it? Nothing, if you have never tried
it; and since ours is such a prayerless age, it is such an anxious
age. Would they be cured of the evil, they must follow the Apostle's
direction, so simple and yet so effective. Prayer is God's specific,
His antidote, against care. In one of two ways God answers the
request of every care-worn soul. Sometimes He takes away the thing
that troubles it. Sometimes He still allows them to remain, but
fills the soul itself with such grace and strength that it learns
to smile at its old fears, and refuses to be fretted and worried
any more. Try it, thou anxious, distracted, worried soul, go to the
Lord, speak out in His ear whatsoever gives thee worry,--anxiety
for worldly sustenance, illness, concern of family, solicitude for
those who are at a distance, and how many moments of dejection you
might save yourself. As an old commentator says: "Care cannot live
in the presence of prayer; but prayer extinguisheth care as water
extinguisheth fire."
To conclude, there will always be burdens, and anxieties will
never fail, but we have God's instruction as to how to treat them.
Let us commit to memory such a text as this. Let us in moments of
gloom repeat it over and over again, and oh! how like Christian in
"Pilgrim's Progress" anxious cares will roll off your shoulders;
distrust, impatience, and fear will yield to holy hope, prayerful
committal, humble and peaceful trust. God bless and impress His Word
to that effect! Amen.