All the day.
And to make you quick and true
To obey."[3]
This surrender is for glad, obedient surrendered service.
And note too that it is for _training_ in service. They tell me that
where cattle are yoked for work it is usual to put a young restive beast
with an old, steady-going animal. The old worker sets the pace, and pulls
evenly, steadily ahead, and by and by the young undisciplined beast
gradually comes to learn the pace. That seems to fit in here with graphic
realness. So many of us seem to be full of an undisciplined unseasoned
strength. There are apt to be some hard drives ahead, and then pulling
back with a sudden jerk, and side lunges this way and that. There is
splendid strength, and eager willingness, but not much is accomplished for
lack of the steady, steady going regardless of rocks or ruts.
Jesus says, "Yoke up with Me. Let's pull together, you and I." And if we
will pull steadily along, content to be by His side, and to be hearing His
quiet voice, and _always to keep His pace_, step by step with Him, without
regard to seeing results, all will be well, and by and by the best results
and the largest will be found to have come. And remember that as on the
farm, so here, the yoke is always carefully adjusted so that the young
learner may have the easier pulling.
But it is well to put in this bit of a caution. If a man put his head into
the yoke, and then _pull back_--well, there'll be a man with a badly
chafed, sore neck in that neighborhood, and oil will be in demand. The
one safe rule is swinging straight ahead, steady, steady, without even
stopping to decide if the plow has cut properly, or if it is worth while.
The Scar-marks of Surrender.
Then Jesus adds this: "Learn of Me." I used to wonder just what that
means. But I think I know a part of its meaning now. You remember the
Hebrews had a scheme of qualified slavery.[4] A man might sell his service
for six years but at the end of that time he was scot-free. On the New
Year's morning of the seventh year he was given his full liberty, and
given some grain and oil to begin life with anew.
But if on that morning he found himself reluctant to leave, all his ties
binding him to his master's home, this was the custom among them. He would
say to his master, "I don't want to leave you. This is home to me. I love
you and the mistress. I love the place. All my ties and affections are
here. I want to stay with you always." His master would say, "Do you mean
this?" "Yes," the man would reply, "I want to belong to you forever."
Then his master would call in the leading men of the village or
neighborhood to witness the occurrence. And he would take his servant out
to the door of the home, and standing him up against the door-jamb would
pierce the lobe of his ear through with an awl. I suppose like a
shoemaker's awl. Then the man became not his slave, but his bond-slave,
forever. It was a personal surrender of himself to his master; it was
voluntary; it was for love's sake; it was for service; it was after a
trial; it was for life.
Now that was what Jesus did. If you will turn to that Fortieth Psalm,[5]
from which we read, you will find words that are plainly prophetic of
Jesus, and afterwards quoted as referring to Him. "Mine ears hast Thou
opened, or digged or pierced for me." And in the fiftieth chapter of
Isaiah,[6] revised version, are these words likewise prophetic of Jesus.
"The Lord God hath _opened_ mine ear, and _I was not rebellious, neither
turned away backward._ I gave my back to the smiters, and my cheeks to
them that plucked off the hair; I hid not my face from shame and
spitting."
And the truth is this. May the Spirit of God burn it deep into our hearts.
_Jesus was a surrendered Man._ Stop a bit and think into what that means.
Jesus is the giant Man of the human race, thought of just now as a man,
though He was so much more, too. In His wisdom as a teacher, His calm
poised judgment, the purity of His life, the tremendous power of His
personality in swaying man, He clear overtops the whole race of men. Now
that Master Man, that giant of the race, was a surrendered Man. For
instance run through John's Gospel, and pick out the negatives on His
lips, the "nots." Not His own will, nor His own words, nor His own
teaching, nor His own works.[7] Jesus came to earth to do Somebody's else
will. With all His giant powers He was utterly absorbed in doing what some
One else wished done. And now this giant Man, this surrendered Man, says,
"You do as I have done. Learn of Me: I am wholly given up to doing My
Father's will. You be wholly surrendered to Me, and so together we will
carry out the Father's will."
Some one of a practical turn says, "That sounds very nice, but is it not a
bit fanciful? The lobe of Jesus' ear was not pierced through, was it?" No.
You are right. The scar-mark of Jesus' surrender was not in His ear, as
with the old Hebrew slave. You are quite right. It was in His cheek, and
brow, on His back, in His side and hands and feet. The scar-marks of His
surrender were--are--all over His face and form. Everybody who surrenders
bears some scar of it because of sin, his own or somebody's else.
Referring to the suffering endured in service Paul tenderly reckons it as
a mark of Jesus' ownership--"I bear the scars, the _stigmata_, of the Lord
Jesus." Even of the Master Himself is this so.
And that scarred Jesus whose body told and tells of His surrender to His
Father comes to us. And with those hands eagerly outstretched, and eyes
beaming with the earnestness of His great passion for men, He says, "Yoke
up with Me, please. Let Me have the control of all your splendid powers,
in carrying out our Father's will for a world."
Full Power through Rhythm.
Then Jesus, with a sweep, gathers up all the results in a single sentence,
"Ye shall find rest unto your souls." Some one may be thinking, "I do not
feel the need of rest or peace so much. I am hungry for power." Will you
please notice that Jesus is going to the very root of the thing here.
There must be peace before there can be power. _You_ shall find peace.
_Others_ shall find power. You will be conscious of the sweet sense of
peace within. Others will be conscious of the fragrant power breathing out
of your life, and service, and your very person.
These things, peace and power, are the same. They are different movements
of the same river of God. The presence of God in fine harmony with you,
that it is that brings the sweet peace. And that too it is that brings the
gracious power into the life. The inward flow of the river is peace. The
outward flow of the same stream is power. There cannot be power save as
there is peace. There is nothing that hinders and holds back power as does
friction. That is true in mechanics: a bit of friction grit between the
wheels will check the full working of the machinery. A small nut fallen
down out of place will completely stop the machine and bring all of its
power to a standstill.
This is _heart_ rest. The heart is the center, the citadel of the life.
When the heart rests all is at rest. If the citadel can be captured the
outworks are included. It is a _found_ rest. It comes quietly stealing its
soft way in as you go about your regular round of life. Just where you
are, in the thick of the old circumstances and conditions, there comes
breathing gently into your very being the great fragrant peace of God. You
find it coming in. There is all the zest of finding.
It is rest _in service_. To many folks those two words "yoke" and "rest"
have seemed to jar, as though they did not get along well together. But
they do. The jarring is not in them but in our misunderstanding of them. A
yoke, we have thought, means work. Rest means quitting work; no more need
of work. But that is a bit of the hurt of sin that gets so many things
wrong end to.
"Rest is not quitting
The busy career;
Rest is the fitting
Of self to its sphere."[8]
True rest is in the unhurried rhythm of action. Have you thought of when
your heart rests? It does not stop, of course, while life lasts. But it
rests. It rests between beats. A beat and a rest. A throb of power and a
moment of perfect rest. A mighty motion that sends the warm red life
through all the intricate machinery of the body; then quiet composed rest.
The secret of the immeasurable power of this organ we call the heart lies
just here. There is enough power in a normal human heart to batter down
Bunker Hill Monument if it could be centered upon it. The secret of that
power is in the rhythm of action that combines motion with rest. We call
rhythm of color, beauty. Rhythm of sound is music. Rhythm of action is
power.
I have often stood as a boy on the streets of old Philadelphia, and
watched a gang of foreign laborers at work. As a rule they could speak
only the language of their own fatherland. There would be a gang-boss to
direct their movements. Perhaps it was a huge stone to be moved, or a
piece of structural iron, or a heavy rail to be torn up. The ends of their
crowbars were fitted under the thing to be moved. Then they waited a
moment for the gang-boss to give the word. He would say, "heave ho!"
Then all together they would sing "heave ho," and push. And a "heave ho,"
and push; a "heave ho," and a push. They made perfect music. There was
always a small crowd gathered, watching and enjoying the simple music.
Their work was easier because done rhythmically. This, of course, is the
simple philosophy that provides music for soldiers on march. The men can
walk much longer, and farther, with less fatigue if they go to the sound
of music.
The story is told of the contracts for some bridge-building in the Soudan
being carried off by American bidders. Their competitors in the bidding
specified a year's time or so, for the work. The Americans agreed to do it
in three months. They were awarded the contract, and to the others'
surprise had the work completed within the specified time.
One of the contractors who had bid for the job on the basis of a year's
time said afterwards to the successful contractor, "I wish, if you
wouldn't mind doing so, you would tell me how you ever got that work done
in so short a time with those undisciplined Soudanese natives for
workmen. I have had them on other contracts and I know I couldn't have
done it. How did you ever do it?"
And the American, whose blood was British a generation or two back, and
farther back yet Teutonic, smiled as he quietly said, "We had a band of
native musicians playing the liveliest music they knew within earshot of
every gang of laborers, while our gang-bosses kept them steadily at work."
Rhythm is the secret of power. Full rhythm is possible only where there is
full obedience to nature. The man in full sweet harmony with God in all of
his life knows the stilling ecstasy of peace, and the marvelous outgoings
of real power. You shall find within your heart the great stilling calm of
God, as steadying as the rock of ages, as exhilarating as the subtle
fragrance of flowers, and as restful as a mother's bosom to her babe.
He is Our Peace.
But there is something here finer yet by far than this. Everything God
provides for us is personal. There is always the personal touch and
presence. Do you remember that during the earlier days of the recent war
with Spain this occurrence frequently took place? In the Caribbean waters
a Spanish merchantman would be overtaken by an American warship. A few
shots were sent over the bows of the merchantman with a demand for
surrender. And then the Spanish flag was seen to drop from the
merchantman's masthead in token of surrender.
Then this was the method of procedure. A prize crew, consisting of an
officer with a few ensigns, was lowered from the American boat, pulled
across, and taken aboard the captured boat. The moment the prize crew
stepped aboard they were masters of the boat in their government's name.
Their presence signified the surrender of the foreigner, and the forced
peace now between the two boats.
On a much higher plane this is what takes place with us. There has been
flying at my masthead a flag with a big I upon it. As quickly as I drop it
in token of my surrender to Somebody else, a prize crew is sent aboard to
take possession, and assume control. Who is the prize crew? The Holy
Spirit, whom Jesus the Master sends to represent Himself. He steps aboard
at once.
He paces the deck as the ship's Master. His presence is peace. "He is our
peace." "The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, _peace_." And while He
occupies the captain's quarters, with full cheery obedience on board,
there is ever the fine aroma of peace everywhere, and the fullness of
power.
The Master's Touch.
One morning a number of years ago in London a group of people had gathered
in a small auction shop for an advertised sale of fine old antiques and
curios. The auctioneer brought out an old blackened, dirty-looking violin.
He said, "Ladies and gentlemen, here is a remarkable old instrument I have
the great privilege of offering to you. It is a genuine Cremona, made by
the famous Antonius Stradivarius himself. It is very rare, and worth its
weight in gold. What am I bid?" The people present looked at it
critically. And some doubted the accuracy of the auctioneer's statements.
They saw that it did not have the Stradivarius name cut in. And he
explained that some of the earliest ones made did not have the name. And
that some that had the name cut in were not genuine. But he could assure
them that this was genuine. Still the buyers doubted and criticised, as
buyers have always done. Five guineas in gold were bid, but no more. The
auctioneer perspired and pleaded. "It was ridiculous to think of selling
such a rare violin for such a small sum," he said. But the bidding seemed
hopelessly stuck there.
Meanwhile a man had entered the shop from the street. He was very tall and
very slender, with very black hair, middle-aged, wearing a velvet coat. He
walked up to the counter with a peculiar side-wise step, and without
noticing anybody in the shop picked up the violin, and was at once
absorbed in it. He dusted it tenderly with his handkerchief, changed the
tension of the strings, and held it up to his ear lingeringly as though
hearing something. Then putting the end of it up in position he reached
for the bow, while the murmur ran through the little audience, "Paganini."
The bow seemed hardly to have touched the strings when such a soft
exquisite note came out filling the shop, and holding the people
spellbound. And as he played the listeners laughed for very delight, and
then wept for the fullness of their emotion. The men's hats were off, and
they all stood in rapt reverence, as though in a place of worship. He
played upon their emotions as he played upon the old soil-begrimed violin.
By and by he stopped. And as they were released from the spell of the
music the people began clamoring for the violin. "Fifty guineas," "sixty,"
"seventy," "eighty," they bid in hot haste. And at last it was knocked
down to the famous player himself for one hundred guineas in gold, and
that evening he held a vast audience of thousands breathless under the
spell of the music he drew from the old, dirty, blackened, despised
violin.
It was despised till the master-player took possession. Its worth was not
known. The master's touch revealed the rare value, and brought out the
hidden harmonies. He gave the doubted little instrument its true place of
high honor before the multitude. May I say softly, some of us have been
despising the worth of the man within. We have been bidding five guineas
when the real value is immeasurably above that _because of the Maker_. Do
not let us be underbidding God's workmanship.
The violin needed dusting, and readjustment of its strings before the
music came. Shall we not each of us yield this rarest instrument, his own
personality, to the Master's hand? There will be some changes needed, no
doubt, as the Master-player takes hold. And then will go singing out of
our persons and our lives, the rarest music of God, that shall enthrall
and bring all within earshot to the Master-musician.
A Passion for Winning Men: The Motive-power of Service.
A Day off.
Moved with Compassion.
Counting on Us.
The Secret of Winsomeness.
"As the Stars."
The Finest Wisdom.
Three Essentials.
A Blessed Library Corner.
"Two Missing"--"Go Ye."
A Passion for Winning Men: The Motive-power of Service.
(Mark vi:30-34.)
A Day off.
One morning toward the end, in the midst of His busiest campaigning, Jesus
was very tired. It is one of the touches of His humanness. So He said to
His disciples, "Let us take a day _off_." And they could see the sense of
it. They were tired too. So they got a boat, and boarded her, and set
sail, and headed out across the lake. And meanwhile a crowd of people had
come down to the beach to be talked to, and healed, and helped in various
ways.
And you can just see the look of disappointment in their faces as they
say, "Why, He's going away." And for a few moments they stand there
utterly dejected. Then somebody--for a long while I have thought it was a
woman--somebody with eyes keenly watching the direction of the boat, said,
"I believe He's going so and so"--naming a place across the lake--"let's
run around the head of the lake, and meet Him when He gets out."
And the crowd was taken with that. And they ran--literally _ran_--around
the head of the lake. And as they went they spread the word, "The Master's
going so and so. Come along with us." And the people came eagerly out of
the villages and cross-roads. And the crowd thickened and the longer way
around in distance proved the shorter way there in time. For by and by
when Peter ran the nose of the boat into the sand on the other side, and
the Master got out for _a day off_, there were five thousand men, maybe
ten thousand people waiting to receive Him.
Do you think that Peter scrooged down his eyebrows, and in a jerky voice
said, "They might have given Him _one_ day to Himself. Can't they see He's
tired?" Do you think that likely John chimed in, with that fire in his
voice which the after years mellowed and sweetened but never lost,--"Yes,
how inconsiderate a crowd is!" _Do_ you think so? _I_ do. Because they
were so much like us. But _He_--the most tired of them all--"_was moved
with compassion_," and spent the whole day in teaching, and talking
personally, and healing. And then when they had gone He went off to the
mountain for the quiet time at night He could not get in the daytime.
Moved with Compassion.
There is a great word used of Jesus, and by Him, nine times[9] in these
brief records, the word _compassion_. The sight of a leprous man, or of a
demon-distressed man, _moved_ Him. The great multitudes huddling together
after Him, so pathetically, like leaderless sheep, eager, hungry, tired,
always stirred Him to the depths. The lone woman, bleeding her heart out
through her eyes, as she followed the body of her boy out--He couldn't
stand that at all.
And when He was so moved, He always did something. He clean forgot His own
bodily needs so absorbed did He become in the folks around Him. The
healing touch was quickly given, the demonized man released from his sore
bonds, the disciples organized for a wider movement to help, the bread
multiplied so the crowds could find something comforting between their
hunger-cleaned teeth.
The sight of suffering always stirred Him. The presence of a crowd seemed
always to touch and arouse Him peculiarly. He never learned that sort of
city culture that can look unmoved upon suffering or upon a leaderless,
helpless crowd. That word compassion, used of Him, is both deep and
tender in its meaning. The word, actually used under our English means to
have the bowels or heart, the seat of emotion, greatly stirred.
The kindred word, sympathy, means to have the heart yearning, literally to
be suffering the same distress, to be so moved by somebody's pain or
suffering that you are suffering within yourself the same pain too. Our
plain English word, fellow-feeling, is the same in its force. Seeing the
suffering of some one else so moves you that the same suffering is going
on inside you as you see in them. This is the great word used so often of
Jesus, and by Him.
There never lived a man who had such a passion for men as Jesus. He lived
to win them out of their distressed, sinful, needy lives up to a new
level. He _died_ to win them. His last act was dying to win men. His last
word was, "Go ye and win men." And His first act when He got back home,
all scarred and marred by His contact with earth, was to send down the
same Spirit as swayed Him those human years to live in us that we might
have the same passion for winning men as He. Aye, and the same exquisite
tact in doing it as He had.
I said the last act was dying to win men. And you remember that even in
the act of dying, He forgot the keen pain of body, and the far keener pain
of spirit, to turn His head as far as He could turn it, and speak the
word to the fellow by His side that meant the difference of _a world_ to
him. Surely it was the ruling passion with Him to win men, strong in
death, aye, strongest in death, and finding its strongest expression in
His death.
Counting on Us.
Somebody has supposed the scene that he thinks may have taken place after
Jesus went back. The last the earth sees of Him is the cloud--not a rain
cloud, a _glory_ cloud--that sweeps down and conceals Him from view. And
the earth has not seen Him since. Though the old Book does say that some
day He's coming back in just the same way as He went away, and some of us
are strongly inclined to think it will be as the Book says in that regard.
But--have you ever tried to think of what took place on the other side of
that cloud? He has been gone down there on the earth thirty-odd years.
It's a long time. And they're fairly hungry in their eyes for a look again
at that blessed old face. And I have imagined them crowding down to where
they may get the first glimpse of His face again. And, do you know, lately
I have been wondering, with the softening of awe creeping into the
thought, whether--the Father--did not come the very first of them all
and--touch His lips up to where--the _scars_ were in Jesus' brow and
cheeks--yes, His hands--and His feet, too. Tell me, you fathers here
listening, would you not have done something like that with _your_ boy,
under such circumstances?
You mothers, wouldn't you have been doing something like that with your
boy? And all the fatherhood of earth is named after the fatherhood of
heaven, we're told. And with God fatherhood means motherhood too, you
know. I do not _know_ if it were so. But I think it's likely. It would be
just like God.
But this friend I speak of has supposed that, after the first flush of
feeling has spent itself--the way _we_ speak of such things done here, the
Master is walking down the golden street one day, arm in arm with Gabriel,
talking intently, earnestly. Gabriel is saying,
"Master, you died for the whole world down there, did you not?"
"Yes."
"You must have suffered much," with an earnest look into that great face
with its unremovable marks.
"Yes," again comes the answer in a wondrous voice, very quiet, but
strangely full of deepest feeling.
"And do they all know about it?"
"Oh, no! Only a few in Palestine know about it so far."
"Well, Master, what's your plan? What have you done about telling the
world that you died for, that you _have_ died for them? What's your plan?"
"Well," the Master is supposed to answer, "I asked Peter, and James and
John, and little Scotch Andrew, and some more of them down there just to
make it the business of their lives to tell others, and the others are to
tell others, and the others others, and yet others, and still others,
until the last man in the farthest circle has heard the story and has felt
the thrilling and the thralling power of it."
And Gabriel knows us folk down here pretty well. He has had more than one
contact with the earth. He knows the kind of stuff in us. And he is
supposed to answer, with a sort of hesitating reluctance, as though he
could see difficulties in the working of the plan, "Yes--but--suppose
Peter fails. Suppose after a while John simply _does not_ tell others.
Suppose their descendants, their successors away off in the first edge of
the twentieth century, get _so busy about things_--some of them proper
enough, some may be not quite so proper--that _they do not_ tell
others--_what then?_"
And his eyes are big with the intenseness of his thought, for he is
thinking of--the _suffering,_ and he is thinking too of the difference to
the man who hasn't been told--"what then?"
And back comes that quiet wondrous voice of Jesus, "Gabriel, _I haven't
made any other plans--I'm counting on them_."
The Secret of Winsomeness.
That's a bit of this friend's imagination, it's true. But--it's the whole
Gospel story, through and through. Jesus has made that plan. He has not
made any other plan. He's counting on us, each of us, each in his own
circle, in his own way, as comes best, most natural to him tactfully,
quietly, earnestly--simply that, but all of that. And--if--we
fail--Him--let me be saying it very softly so the seriousness of it may
get into the inner cockles of our hearts--if we _fail Him_, just that far
we make _Jesus' dying a failure_ so far as concerns those whom we touch.
Yes, I know that sounds very serious. I'd rather not be saying it. I'm
_sure_, by the Book, it is so. And so, do you see the genius--may I use
that word very reverently of Him who was a man and far more than man--the
genius of His plan? He sent down the same Spirit that swayed Him those
human years to live in us, and control us, that we might have the same
fine passion for men as He, and the same exquisite tact in winning them as
He had.
It must be a _passion_; a fire burning with the steady flame of anthracite
fed by a constant stream of oil. If it be less we will be swept off our
feet by the tides all around, or sucked under by their swift current. And
many a splendid man to-day is being swept off his feet and sucked under by
the tides and currents of life because no such passion as this is mooring
and steadying and driving his whole life.
It must be a passion for _winning_ men; not driving nor dragging,
_drawing_. Not argument nor coercion but warm, winsome wooing. Today the
sun up yonder is drawing up toward itself thousands of tons' weight of
water. Nobody sees it going, except perhaps in very small part. There's no
noise or dust. But the water rises up irresistibly toward the sun because
of the winning power in the sun for the water. It must be something like
that in this higher sphere. A winsomeness in us that will win men to us
and through us to the Master.
"Oh! well," some one says, "if you put the thing that way you'll have to
count me out. I'm not winsome that way." Well, maybe you need not have
bothered to say it. We could easily know that without your saying it. We
are not winsome this way, any of us, of ourselves. But when we allow this
Jesus Spirit to take possession of us He imparts His winsomeness. For the
real secret of a transfigured life is a _transmitted_ life. Somebody else
living in us, with a capital S for that Somebody, looking out of our
eyes, giving His beauty to our faces, and His winningness to our
personality.
"As the Stars."
The language used in the Scriptures for this sort of thing is full of
intense interest. Some time ago I was reading in the old prophecy of
Daniel. I was not thinking of this matter of winning men but simply trying
to get a fresh grasp of that wonderfully fascinating old bit of prophecy.
And all at once I came across that gem in the last chapter. I knew it was
there. You know it is there. Yet it came to me with all the freshness of a
new delightful surprise. "They that are wise shall shine with the
brightness of the firmament; and they that turn many to righteousness as
the stars forever and ever."[10]
Four times in those last two chapters of Daniel it refers to those that
are "wise"; literally, those that are _teachers_. Those who have
themselves learned the truth and are patiently, faithfully, winsomely
telling and teaching others. The word used for influencing the others is
full of practical picturesque meaning. "They that _turn_ many." As if a
man were going the wrong way on a dangerous road. And _I know_ it's the
wrong way. There's a sharp precipice ahead. But he is going steadily on,
head down, all absorbed, not noticing where the road leads.
I might go up to him, and strike him sharply on the shoulder to get his
attention, and say, "See here, you're going the wrong way; can't you see
the danger ahead there? Come this way," with a vigorous pull. I have
sometimes seen that done, in just that way. And if the man is an American,
or an Englishman, or a German,--we're all very much alike,--he will say
coldly, "Excuse me. I think I can take care of myself. Thank you. I'll
look out for this individual."
Or, I might slip gently up to the man, and get my arm in his, and begin to
turn, very gently at first, and turn, and turn, and then turn some more,
and then farther around still, and walk him off the other way. You will
have to get _close_ to a man to do that. Some folks never do. And you'll
have to be at least half-way decent in your life to get close. Some folks
never can. And you will need to be warm enough all the time inside, to
melt through the icy cloak of indifference beneath which his heart may be
wrapped up. But I can tell you this: the old world where you and I live is
fairly hungry at its heart, with an eating hunger for turners of that
sort.
And the promise of that old prophetic bit is this: "They shall _shine_."
You know everybody wants to shine. It is right to be ambitious, with a
right ambition. But if any of you are ambitious to shine in some other sky
than this, in your profession, in social life or in some firmament lower
than this, may I gently make this suggestion to you? Do your best shining
_now_. Get on the brightest shining surface possible now. For this is your
shining time. This is the sky-time for that sort of thing. It won't last
long, I must tell you frankly. And at the end a bitter biting at your
heart.
I am fond of watching a display of fireworks on a Fourth of July night.
Perhaps the night is clear, the sky full of stars, bright and sparkling. A
sky rocket is sent off. It goes up with a rush and a noise. There is a
dash of many colored beautiful fire-stars. And a murmur of admiration from
the crowd. For a few moments you can see nothing as you look up but this
handful of fire-stars. The clear quiet stars beyond are eclipsed for a
narrow circle of space, and for a few moments of time.
It doesn't last long. A small fraction of a minute at the most. Then it's
all over. And all that is left is a charred stick that sticks in the mud,
nobody knows where, nor cares. But look up yonder, the stars you could not
see a moment ago for these momentary ones are shining more brightly than
ever by contrast,
"... And singing as they shine.
The hand that made us is divine."
You shine in the lower skies if you will. And of course you will if you
will. You will do as you will to do. But, at the end--a charred stick, a
bad taste in your mouth, a sharp tugging at your heart. And the story's
told. The last chapter's ended. The book is shut. But they whose one
absorbing ambition it is to turn others to righteousness may not shine
much here in earth's skies. And they may a bit, and it recks precious
little either way. But they _shall_ shine as the stars, as bright and as
long.
It does not mean Atlantic coast stars. It means desert stars, Babylonian
stars, where one can see so many more than here. They shake their wondrous
fire-light down into your face, and fairly dazzle your eyes. You "shall
shine as the stars," as bright and as long.
The Finest Wisdom.
James, the head of the Jerusalem Church, closes up his letter to the
dispersed Jews with this same word as Daniel uses. He would have all to
whom he is writing understand that he that _turns_ another from the wrong
way will save a soul from death and hide away out of sight and reach a
mass of sin.[11] The old world needs more saving societies and saving
individuals of this sort.
We have gotten great skill in saving dollars. Men give their whole
strength and time to that. There is something much higher, infinitely
higher, saving souls, rescuing lives, treasuring up precious men and
women. These people, James says, are famous for their use of the fine
cloak of charity. They make the best use of it in hiding away beyond any
chance of being found a great mass of ugly, crooked, poisonous sins.
The man with the reputation of being the wisest man gives a special
definition of wisdom. The old version runs, "he that winneth souls is
wise."[12] This is a great statement from Solomon's pen. He had searched
into all the avenues of men's pursuits. He was a great experimenter.
Everything was put to a personal test. He amassed wealth beyond all
others. He delved into the fascinations of intellectual delights, of deep
intricate philosophies and problems.
He knew the subtle appeal to strong men that there is in deftly handling
and controlling men, personally and in large numbers. He had tasted the
rich wines of pleasure as had few. This is his conclusion: the wise man is
he that gives his strength with all of its fine-grained cunning to wooing
men back, through the old Eden gate, up to the tree of life.
This is the finest fruitage any life can yield. This will be to the bearer
of it a tree of life giving twelve crops of fruits, a crop of every month,
a perennial, alike in heat and frost, in storm and drought, and with a
peculiar healing quality in its green leaves for all men.
The revised version gives a fine turn to this old bit, exactly reversing
the first statement. "He that is wise winneth souls." The old philosopher
says that here is the real test of wisdom. He that is a wise man gives the
cream of his thought and wisdom to personal influence with men. He thinks
the thing best worth while is drawing a man through the inner reach upon
his thinking and affections and will away from the impure and ignoble and
deceptive up into touch with his first Friend.
And he finds too that nothing he has ever undertaken calls for a finer
play of all his powers at their best. All the diplomacy and fineness and
tact and keen management at his command will be called upon. He must be a
wise man to do such work. It is no fool's errand this. It demands the best
in the best.
There is no body of men more keen or skilled in the handling and
influencing of men, than the politicians. And I use the word in its fine
meaning, as well as in its cheaper meanings. As democracy has won its way
increasingly among the governments of earth these politicians have
increased in number and in influence. Great measures of government have
depended on their skill in manipulating men. Rarest subtlety and
adroitness and rugged honesty have blended in the strongest of these
leaders.
The fishing simile so commonly used in the winning of men over to one's
side is a peculiarly attractive, a matchless simile. And all of this
handling of men has often been for personal ends, often for wholly selfish
ends, often for strong national ends. Almost never has it been for the
benefit of the man being won, save at times very remotely.
But Jesus would have us become skilled diplomats in winning men for their
own sakes. Getting them to climb the hills for the sake of the air and
view they will get, and enjoy. We are to win strong men full of life and
vigor and manly force up into touch with their Friend, Himself.
There is too a most attractive winsome phrase on the Master's lips at the
close of that fishing story in Luke's fifth chapter,[13] "From henceforth
thou shall _catch_ men" is the reading. But the revised margin gives this
added bit of color: "Thou shalt take men alive." They should get, not dead
fish, but living men. Men full of vigor and life--thou shalt have power
to sway these and induce them up to the highlands of a new life.
Three Essentials.
There are three simple essentials here for the man who would be following
his Master fully. The first is that a man shall surrender himself wholly
to Jesus as a Master. That so Jesus may have the full control of all.
Maybe some one thinks, "There is that strong word surrender again. Cannot
I help a man be better without going so far as that word seems to imply?"
Will you kindly notice that the Spirit of Jesus _fills_ the surrendered
man? And it is only as that Spirit does fill and sway that there can be
any such passion for men as Jesus had, and, too, the fine tact that He
always used. This is the first simple indispensable essential.
The second is this: a bit of quiet time alone with Jesus daily over His
Word. The door should be shut. Outside things shut outside. And one's self
shut in alone with the Master. This is not a good thing--merely. I am not
recommending it to you. I am saying very much more. It is an _essential_
thing with every one who would follow the Master simply and fully. It is
time spent in coaling up, taking out the dead ashes, and readjusting the
drafts, so the fires will be kept burning steadily and clearly. This is
the second great essential.
The third essential is this: a purpose, deep-seated, rock-rooted,
underlying every other purpose, taking precedence of every other, of
trying to win others, one by one, bit by bit, over to knowing Jesus
personally. I say "trying." I like that word. There may be some blunders,
some bad steps, some untactful work. But these will not turn one aside
from this purpose but simply make him more determined to become skilled in
this finest art.
I mean something like this. Here is a young woman moving in a social
circle, just as bright and winsome as God meant every young woman to be.
And as she moves about, she is thinking--no, it is thinking itself out,
underneath in her subtle sub-consciousness,--"How can I drop the word
here, and touch there, and leave the light impress here, that shall count
with these lives for my Master?"
Here is a man transacting business with another. And even while he is
dealing with figures, and contract terms, he is thinking,--no, again,--it
is so deeply rooted in that the thought, like the fine trendils of a
plant, is ever weaving itself intangibly but surely into the web of his
passing mental operations, "How can I tactfully leave the impress here,
perhaps speak the direct word, that shall be a doorway for Jesus into
this life?"
A Blessed Library Corner.
I think I might tell you best just what I mean by a bit from a real life.
The bit that has been such a real inspiration to myself. It is about a
friend of mine, a business man, with large responsible interests, keen and
shrewd in his business dealings, a very earnest Christian man, with a
delightful, winning personality, and I am grateful to say who was a warm
friend of mine. He is in the presence of his Master now. He was a man much
my senior in years, who helped me very greatly. Whenever we chanced to
meet in our travels I would drop my affairs as far as I could to spend all
the time possible with him, both for the delight of his presence, and for
the practical help he always was. The last time we were ever together was
in Columbus, Ohio. We met there to attend an anniversary meeting of the
Young Men's Christian Association, in Dr. Gladden's Church, on the Capitol
Square. And Monday morning before taking our trains away in different
directions we went for a drive, to get the air, and talk a bit. I made the
suggestion of driving, for I knew I would get something from him. And I
was right. I did get something that I never forgot, and never shall.
As we were driving, and talking, by and by, in a little lull of the talk,
he said very quietly, "Gordon, do you know what I have been doing lately?"
And I said, "No." "Well," he said, "it's been the delight of my life," and
I could see the gleam of light in his eyes. And I said, "Tell me what it
is that has been such a pleasure to you." And he said, "Well, I will."
Then he went on in a very taking way he had to tell this simple story. And
he was speaking as to a friend, for he was very modest, and would not have
spoken of the thing; except to _help_; that would always bring anything he
had.
He said when he was at home--he travelled much--he would think about the
young men whom he knew who were not Christians. Splendid men, some of
them; full of power; clubmen, some of them. But who did not know Jesus
personally. And he would think, "Now there's such a man. I wonder what's
his easy side of approach." And he would think about him, and pray some
about him. And then make an opportunity to ask him up to his home for
dinner some evening. His position in the city would make any young man
feel honored with such an invitation.
He said to me, "We have a pleasant time at the dinner table with the
family, and afterwards, a bit of music and so on. Then," with a quiet
smile he said, "I ask him into my library corner, my little study den,
and by and by we come to close quarters. I tell him what I'm thinking
about. I tell him what a Friend Jesus is. And how it helps to have Him in
all of one's life as a Friend and Master. Then I ask him softly if he
won't let Jesus be his Friend."
He said, "I try to be as tactful as though I were selling a contract of
cars. Though there's a fine reverence here that never gets into business
talk. And then if it seems good, without causing him any embarrassment, we
have a bit of prayer together. Not always, but often." And he said to me,
with a tender eagerness in his voice, "Gordon, it's been the _delight_ of
my life to have man after man accept Jesus in my library corner."
And I looked at him. We were driving along the busiest block of the
busiest street in Columbus. The Capitol building on this side. And the old
Neil Hotel on this. And all around us were the electrics, and wagons and
carriages; so much noise and dust. And there that man sat by my side so
quiet, with his eyes dancing as they looked off at something I could not
see. And if ever Moses' face shined or Stephen's, his did that morning.
I was caught as I looked. That was the _delight_ of his life. Not his
money, nor his business, nor his social relations, though he took keen
interest in all of these, but this. And the sound of his voice, and the
sight of his face that morning, seemed to kindle the fires in my heart
that I might, in my own way, as came best to me, be doing something of
that same sort. That is what I mean by a deep-seated purpose, under every
other, to try to win men.
I was telling this story one night to some people in his state, not
thinking that I was within maybe two hundred miles of his home. And as the
audience was dismissed I saw a man coming up the aisle toward the pulpit,
apparently to meet me. So I went down his way. He looked like a business
fellow, with a clean-cut way about him, and a strong manly face. Before we
met I noticed something glistening in his eye, and yet a smile across his
lips.
And he _gripped_ my hand. I can feel that grip now. And he half-blurted
out, "_I'm_ one of those fellows! And there are a lot of us that are
thanking God with full hearts for that man's library room." And the grip
of that hand seemed to make the fires within burn just a bit stiffer.
In an after conversation this friend told me how he had wanted to be a
Christian, but didn't seem to know just how. And nobody had ever spoken to
him about it, he said, though so often he had wished somebody would. There
are a great many just like him in that.
"Two Missing"--"Go Ye."
Same years ago I was a guest at a small wedding dinner party in New York
City. A Scotch-Irish gentleman, well known in that city, an old friend,
spoke across the table to me. He said he had heard recently a story of the
Scottish hills that he wanted to tell. And we all listened as he told this
simple tale. I have heard it since from other lips, variously told. But
good gold shines better by the friction of use. And I want to tell it to
you as my old friend from the Scotch end of Ireland told it that evening.
It was of a shepherd in the Scottish hills who had brought his sheep back
to the fold for the night, and as he was arranging matters for the night
he was surprised to find that two of the sheep were missing. He looked
again. Yes, two were missing. And he knew which two. These shepherds are
keen to know their sheep. He was much surprised, and went to the out-house
of his dwelling to call his collie.
There she lay after the day's work suckling her own little ones. He called
her. She looked up at him. He said, "Two are missing"--holding up two
fingers--"Away by, Collie, and get them." Without moving she looked up
into his face, as though she would say, "You wouldn't send me out again
to-night?--it's been a long day--I'm so tired--not again to-night." So her
eyes seemed to say. And again as many a time doubtless, "Away by, and get
the sheep," he said. And out she went.
About midnight a scratching at the door aroused him. He found one of the
sheep back. He cared for it. A bit of warm food, and the like. Then out
again to the out-house. There the dog lay with her little ones. Again
he called her. She looked up. "Get the other sheep," he said. I do not
know if you men listening are as fond of a good collie as I am. Their
eyes seem human to me, almost, sometimes. And hers seemed so as she
looked up and seemed to be saying out of their great depths--"Not
_again_--to-night?--haven't I been faithful?--I'm so tired--not again!"
And again as I suppose many a time before, "Away by, and get the sheep."
And out she went. About two or three, again the scratching. And he found
the last sheep back; badly torn; been down some ravine or gully. And the
dog was plainly played. And yet she seemed to give a bit of a wag to her
tired tail as though she would say, "There it is--I've done as you bade
me--it's back."
And he cared for its needs, and then before lying down again to his own
rest, thought he would go and praise the dog for her faithful work. You
know how sensitive collies are to praise or criticism. He went out and
stooped over with a pat and a kindly word, and was startled to find that
the life-tether had slipped its hold. She lay there lifeless, with her
little ones tugging at her body.
That was only a dog. We are men. Shall I apologize for using a _dog_ for
an illustration? No. I will not. One of God's creatures, having a part in
His redemption. That was to save sheep. You and I are sent, not to save
sheep, but to save _men_. And how much then is a _man_ better than a
sheep, or anything else!
And our Master stands here to-day. Would that you and I might see His face
with the thorn marks of His trip to this earth. He points out with His
hand. And you can't miss a peculiar hole in its palm. He says, "There are
_two missing_--aye, more than two--that you know--that you touch--that you
can touch--that I died for--go _ye_."
Shall we go? For Jesus' sake? Yes, for men's sake; splendid men, befooled
about Jesus, who can get Him only through us in touch with Him--for men's
sake, in Jesus' great Name.
Deep-Sea Fishing: The Ambition of Service.
A Water Haul.
Living up in the Spirit Realm.
Saved to Serve.
Ambition in Service.
Use What You Have.
Expectancy in Service.
Jesus Went into the Deeps.
Deep-Sea Fishing: The Ambition of Service.
(Luke v:1-11.)
A Water Haul.
Jesus was very fond of the outdoors. The Gospels have a woodsy smell. He
taught in the synagogues, but He seemed to prefer the open air. He would
go out on a country road, or down by the beach of the Galilean lake, and
the people would eagerly gather around Him, and He would talk to them. One
morning He had gone down to the lake shore. The people crowded in about
Him and He commenced as usual to talk to them.
But so eager were they not to miss a word that they pressed in about Him
very close. He was standing with His back to the water likely, and the
people seemed likely to crowd Him over into the water. So He looked around
for something to do. He was ever practical to the point of being
matter-of-fact. A practical idealist was Jesus, _the_ practical Idealist.
Peter was down there, just a short distance off, with his partners and
crew in their fishing boats, cleaning up after the night's haul. Lifting
His voice a little, Jesus called out, "Peter, will you pull around here,
please."
And Peter did. And Jesus, stepping into the boat, sat down, and went on
talking to the people. Interruptions never seemed to disturb Him. He
seemed to regard them in the light of possible index fingers pointing out
the next thing to be done. Every missionary, foreign and home, has to get
practised in just that, while holding steady to his underlying purpose.
When He had finished talking, He turned to Peter and said quietly, "Launch
out into the deep, and let down your nets for a draught." And Peter smiled
at the very idea, as he said, "Master, we've been out the whole night, and
haven't caught a thing, nothing but a water haul, but"--with a thoughtful
earnestness taking the place of the critical smile--"if you say so, of
course we will." And the Master said so. And now they can't handle the
haul.
I want to bring to you anew this old word of command from Jesus' lips:
"Launch out into the deep, and let down your nets for a draught." These
men in the story had failed. They had gone out the evening before
intending and expecting to bring home a fine haul of fish for the
Capernaum or the Bethsaida market. They came back with nothing for the
night's work but tired muscles and torn nets. This message is for men who
have failed, or who have seemed to fail. There is no failure to an earnest
man. A man cannot fail without his own consent. Every seeming failure is
the seed of a coming success to earnest men.
If any of us have seemed to fail, our boots have lead in them, and our
hearts are heavy too, for lack of success--this message is for us, "Launch
out, and let down." Failure is very apt to breed discouragement. Your
clothing seems damp and heavy with the dew of a fruitless night.
Oftentimes the best thing for that is action. Mix yourself with the action
of boats and nets and men. That's the Master's word here.
Living up in the Spirit Realm.
There are three facts that group about the message of Jesus in this story.
And those same three facts need to group themselves in bold outline about
our using of it, too. The first is this: there was _contact with Jesus as
a Master_. That must come in, and come in strong, before there can be any
right using of this word of command.
There needs to be the first contact when a man turns over the control of
his life to Jesus as Master. There needs to be close contact that the
Master's plan of service may be clearly seen and faithfully started upon.
There must be continual contact that so His mastery may control and guide
at every step.
The second fact is this: obedience to the Master's word. Obedience, mind
you, whether the thing you are told to do seems a likely thing to do or
not. Here with the fishermen there were some things that pulled the other
way. They had been out all night and failed. The very sense of failure
strong within them was against obedience. Discouraged men seldom succeed
at anything. And there was a very unlikely chance ahead. The time for
fishing with them was in the night. Failure behind, and a poor chance
ahead! Yet they obeyed.
If Peter had acted the way some modern folks do he would have said
something like this: "You'll excuse me, Master, for saying it; but--this
is no time to fish in these waters. Pardon me, sir, I have no doubt you
know about carpentering. But _I'm a fisherman_. When it comes to yokes and
plows I'll gladly yield to you. But fishing--you see, I've been fishing
ever since I was a boy. Maybe up around Nazareth, in the brooks and ponds
up there, you can catch something in daylight, but not down here."
I have heard many people talking that way. But Peter didn't. Aren't you
glad he didn't? He stumbled often. He talked foolishly to Jesus more than
once, but not this time. He obeyed. It was against his habit, against his
ideas of what was best, but the message was clear and he obeyed it. Happy
is the man who listens to the inner Voice, learns keenly how to hear
distinctly and accurately, and obeys. Faith is never contrary to reason,
but it is frequently _higher up_. The spirit realm is the highest.
A man should reach up _through_ his bodily life, _through_ a keen, strong
intellectual perception and grasp, up into the spirit realm and abide
there. Many a man of splendid ability and earnestness never shakes off his
intellectual scaffolding in the upward building. It remains to hamper and
mar. Through a mastered body, and a disciplined mind, up to the spirit
level is the full swing. Obedience to the clearly discerned voice of
command from the Master is the one pathway of full power.
The third fact was sure to follow these two. It came last. There were
unexpectedly large results. There always will be where the first two facts
are faithfully gotten in.
Saved to Serve.
There is a growth in this message of Jesus. There are four steps up and
out. First comes the plain call to _service: "Launch out_." This is the
ringing service call. It is a familiar word to a follower of Jesus. He was
always saying, "Go ye." To every man He said first of all, "Come." Then,
as quickly as a man came, the word was changed to "go."
I like greatly the motto of the Salvation Army. It must have been born for
those workers in the warm heart of the mother of the Army, Catharine
Booth. That mother explains much of the marvelous power of that
organization. Their motto is, "_Saved to Serve_." Some seem to put the
period in after the first word. That's bad punctuation and worse
Christianity. We are saved to be savers. There is needed the divine Savior
and the human saver. Only he who has been saved can help save somebody
else. The tingle of experience in the blood attracts men.
The Master says, "Launch out." Get down into the thick of the fight. One
should not unwisely wear out his strength. But on the other hand, it's
better to wear out than to rust out. You'll last longer, and any loss of
strength is to be preferred to the loss through yellow, eating rust. A
minister noted for his striking way of putting truth was preaching upon
the words that were spoken of Paul and his companions: "These that have
turned the world upside down are come hither also."[14] He said there were
three points to his sermon: first, the world was wrong side up; second, it
had to be gotten right side up; third, _we're the fellows to do it_. That
is the first note of this message, _we_ are the fellows to do it.
Ambition in Service.
The second step in this ringing call to service is this: _ambition_ in
service. "Launch out _into the deep_." The shore waters are largely
over-fished. Out in the deeps are fish that have never had smell or sight
of bait or net. Here, near shore, the lines get badly tangled sometimes,
and committees have to be appointed to try to untangle the lines and
sweeten up the fishermen.
And the fish get very particular about the sort and shape of the bait.
Some men have taken to fishing wholly with pickles, but with very
unsatisfactory results. The fish nibble, but are seldom landed apparently.
And just a little bit out are fish that never have gotten a suggestion of
a good bite.
There are deeps all around. One might fairly give an inward personal turn
to the word. There are _personal deeps_ that have not yet been sounded.
There are untouched deeps in prayer, in Bible study, and in the winning of
others. There are deeps in acquaintance with Jesus, in purity of life, in
sacrifice and in giving whose bottom no greasy lead has yet touched. "Out
into the deep," comes that quiet intense inner voice of Jesus spoken into
one's innermost heart.
There are the great _deeps in service_ waiting our coming. Roundabout
every church is a fringe of deep, sometimes a deep fringe and broad, of
those practically untouched by the warm message of Jesus; and around every
Christian Association of men and of women. In the heart and on the edges
of every village and town and city unfathomed deeps lie; deeps in a man's
own state, deeps in our land, great untouched deeps in the world.
Wherever there is a man who has not felt the warm side of the story of
Jesus' dying there is a deep. Wherever a group of such can be found is a
deep increased in depth by the number in the group. Wherever the great
crowds are gathered together to whom no word at all has come, neither by
personal touch nor printed page nor any other wise, there is the deepest
deep. With a deep glow in His eyes as He speaks the word, and the
tenderness and softness of deep emotion, and the earnestness of one who
has Himself been in the deep Jesus says anew to us to-day, "out into the
_deep_."
We are to be ambitious in service. Jesus was ambitious. He reached out for
all, those nearest, those farthest. He talked of all nations, of a world.
His follower must have a long reach to keep up. That word ambition has
been much abused. It has been used much in connection with selfish
self-seeking, until that meaning has become almost its whole meaning in
the thinking of many people. But with the purpose dominant in Jesus we can
properly use it in its old literal meaning. Originally it simply meant
going around, being used in the sense of going out among people soliciting
their favor or their votes.
It has the fine vitality of that word "go" in it. That for which a man is
ambitious decides the quality of the word. A pure, holy purpose makes the
intense reaching for it pure and holy too. An intense reaching out to the
farthest reach of the Master's word, that finds expression in the dominant
spirit of the life, in the service, in the giving, the sacrificing, the
praying--this is the true ambition.
Paul uses three times a word that has the force of our word ambition.[15]
The American Revision uses ambition in the margin for it. In advising the
group of followers in Thessalonica he says, "_Study_ to be quiet." The
practical force of the phrase there is this: be ambitious to be
unambitious in the world's abused meaning of ambitious. In writing the
second time to the friends at Corinth where his motives had been much
criticised he said, "I make it my aim (or ambition) to be well-pleasing
unto Him."
And later, in writing to the Christians at Rome, whom he had never seen,
he said that he had made it his aim or had been ambitious to preach the
Gospel where nobody had yet gone. The literal meaning of the word he uses
is something like this, striving from a love of honor. And we may find a
fine meaning in that which was doubtless used otherwise.
It was a matter of honor with Paul to do as he was doing. And he would
have the honor of having fully carried out his Master's wish. He coveted
earnestly the honor of being always pleasing to his Master both in life
and in the sort and reach of his service. Here are Paul's three ambitions:
to be wholly free of the fires of worldly ambitions; to be well-pleasing
to Jesus, his Lord; to reach out beyond, where nobody had yet gone with
the story of Jesus' dying and living again.
Paul was obeying Jesus. Jesus said to those fishermen on Galilee's waters,
"Launch out into the deep, and let down your nets for a draught." Paul
said, "I have steadily made it the one thing I drove hard at in service,
to get out beyond all other lines and nets to where nobody has yet gone."
Use What You Have.
The third step in this service-call is this: _practicality in service_:
"Let down your nets." I can imagine Peter saying, "Master, if we had known
your plans for this morning, I would have sent up to Tyre for the newest
patented nets, or down to Cairo. These nets of ours have been patched and
patched. They are so old." The Master says, "Let down _your_ nets."
There is a very common delusion that holds us back from doing something
because we are not skilled in doing it. "Let the pastor speak to that
young man; I can't do it very well." "I can't teach very well; let some
one else take that class." The Master says, "Use what you have." Do your
best. Your best may not be _the_ best, but if it be your best, it will be
God-blest, and always bring a harvest.
Use what you have. Do not despise the stuff God put into you. Train and
discipline it the best you can, and use it. And in using it you will be
training it. The best training is in _use_. Brains and pains and prayer
are an irresistible trinity. When the gray matter and the finger tips and
the knees get into a combination great results always come.
The old Hebrew farmer Shamgar had only a long ox-goad with which to prod
his beasts in the field. The traditional enemy, the Philistine, comes up
over the hill. Shamgar's neighbors have taken to their heels. But Shamgar
is made of different stuff. He asks a man hurrying by, "How many do you
think there are?" And the man calls out, "About six hundred, I should
say."
Shamgar sets his jaws together hard, gets a fresh grip on his ox-goad,
digs his heels into the ground for a good hold, and mutters to himself, "I
guess they are about four hundred short." And he smites, left and right,
up and down, hip and thigh, with his strange weapon. And a great victory
comes to the nation under its new leader.
David had only a leather sling, home-made likely, and a few smooth stones
out of the running brook. He had skill in slinging stones, a keen trained
eye, a steady nerve, a practiced arm, and well-knit muscles. But what were
these against a giant almost twice his height and years, and armed to the
teeth? Yet the ruddy-faced stripling had something better yet along with
his sling and stones and skill. He had a simple trust in God. He had a hot
protest in his heart against the slandering of God's people by this
heathen giant. He _combined_ all he had, sling, stones, skill, and faith,
and the laughing, sneering giant is soon under his feet, and feeling the
edge of his own sword. "Let down your nets." Use what you have.
There was a woman living down by the east coast of the Mediterranean Sea a
good while ago. Her heart had been touched by God, and ever after beat
warm for others. But what could _she_ do? She couldn't make speeches, nor
write papers for the missionary society, nor preside over its meetings.
She seemed to have one special gift. She could sew. She could do plain
sewing and overcast, cross-stitch and hem-stitch. I suppose she knew the
herring-bone-stitch and feather-stitch, and other sorts too.
And so she just busied herself finding out poor folks who needed clothing,
some women too hard-worked to care for their children's clothing. And she
sewed for them. She was a seamstress for Jesus' sake to all the needy
folks she could find. I expect she stuck pretty closely to the plain
stitching, though likely as not she would put in some of the fancy too to
please the people she was winning to her Master.
And she sewed the story of Jesus, and the heart of Jesus, into coats and
skirts and such. All through Joppa her message went into homes not
otherwise open perhaps. And the women read the story of her heart in the
stitches and they found Jesus through her needle. She used what she had.
And the women of the church have rightly honored her name in their
societies.
But mark keenly this: while using to the full, and faithfully, just what
you have, there must needs be utter dependence upon God. Not what you
have, nor what you can do, but Somebody _in_ what you have, and _through_
what you do. Notice, "Their nets were _breaking_." They were to use their
nets, but the power was somewhere else. As we are made up, there
frequently needs to be a breaking before the glory of God is revealed. It
need not be so, necessarily.
Yet as a matter of fact most people have to stub their toes and then go
stumbling down with a clash, measuring their length on the earth, and
getting some scars that stay before they can be mightily used. So many
strong wills are strong enough to be stubborn, but not strong enough to
yield. Gideon's pitchers had to be broken before the lights flashed out
and brought panic to the enemy.
It was when the alabaster box was broken that its fine fragrance filled
the house, and spread out into all the world. Somebody prayed, "O Lord,
take me, and break me, and make me." That is the usual order as a matter
of fact. Yet if the strength of stubbornness that must be broken down to
change its direction, were but swung God's way at once--But most folks
that have been greatly used have some of this sort of scars. Utter
dependence upon God's strength in doing God's service is the lesson of the
breaking nets.
Expectancy in Service.
The climax of this message of Jesus is in its end: "Let down your nets
_for a draught_." There is to be _expectancy in service_. Ideas of
draughts changed that day. "Peter, what would you call a good draught?"
"Well," the old fisherman says, as he sits stitching up the holes in his
nets, "after last night I think if we got a boat half full it wouldn't be
a bad haul." "Andrew, what's a draught?" And Andrew says, "I think after
this water haul we've had, a haul of holes, Peter hits it pretty close."
"Master, how much is _a draught_?" And His answer comes back over the
water, "Twice as much as you are able to take care of, and then more."
They filled that boat, sent for another, filled that, and then didn't land
all they had caught.
How much do you reckon a draught in your life, in your church, in your
mission, your field, _how much_ are you _saying_?--"Master, what is your
reckoning of a draught here in this man's life, out here in this field of
service?" And from this Galilean story there comes back anew to our hearts
the Master's reply, "Twice as much as you have planned for, and then
more."
Expectancy is the eye of faith. Faith always has a watch-tower. When
Elijah went to the tiptop of Carmel to pray, he was careful to send his
servant to watch the sea. Prayer is faith looking up. Expectancy is faith
looking out.
Jesus Went into the Deeps.
And so to every one of us to-day comes afresh that ringing command,
"Launch out into the deep and let down your nets for a draught."
"'Launch out into the deep;'
The awful depth of a world's despair;
Hearts that are breaking and eyes that weep;
Sorrow and ruin and death are there.
And the sea is wide;
And its pitiless tide
Bears on its bosom away.
Beauty and youth,
In relentless ruth,
To its dark abyss for aye.
But the Master's voice comes over the sea,
'Let down your nets for a draught for Me.'
And He stands in our midst,
On our wreck-strewn strand.
And sweet and loving is His command.
His loving word is to each, to all.
And wherever that loving word is heard,
There hang the nets of the royal Word.
Trust to the nets, and not to your skill;
Trust to the royal Master's will.
Let down the nets this day, this hour;
For the word of a king is a word of power,
And the King's own word comes over the sea,
Let down your nets for a draught for Me.'"
There is a last word that comes up insisting to be said. It is this: Jesus
went down into the deeps for us. Deeper deeps than we know or ever shall
He sounded with the line of His own life on our behalf. He got badly
scarred that night of darkness. It is this scarred Jesus who earnestly
asks us to come along after Him so far as we can. His voice with a
tenderness of love wrought into it on the cross says to us, "Launch out
into the deep, and let down your nets for a draught."
Money: The Golden Channel of Service.
Touching a Limitless Circle.
Peculiar Effects of Money.
Jesus' Law for the Use of Money.
Foreign Exchange.
Gold-Exchanged Lives.
Spirit Alchemy.
The Fragrance of the Life in the Gift.
Sacrifice Hallows and Increases the Gift.
A Living Sacrifice.