Money: The Golden Channel of Service.[16]

(Luke xvi:1-18.)

Touching a Limitless Circle.

There is an inky shadow over the home of God. There is a sharp pain

tugging at the heart of God. It's a family matter; a family disgrace. One

of God's family has gone off from the home circle and made a bad mess of

things. Such an affair is always a source of great grief, especially where

the family is an old one, with fine blood. And here the family is of the

oldest, and the blood the best. The Father feels the sharp edge of the

knife of disgrace very keenly. The hearth fire of God is lonely for the

one gone away.

All of that Father's great love and rare wisdom have centered and blended

on a plan for winning the estranged member of His family back home, of his

own free glad accord. The other members of His family have gazed with

awe-touched faces upon the marvels of that plan. Its tenderness, its

depth, its wondrous love-wisdom have excited their deepest admiration

while they watch breathlessly to see the outcome.

That prodigal is our own splendid planet. Some of us down here have gladly

welcomed the Father's plan and the Father's Son. His Son is His plan. But

most of us don't seem to understand the Father. And that is hard on Him.

And the greater number of us, by far the greater number, haven't even

heard of the Father's plan or of His Son, and have lost the memory of His

loving voice calling. He is always calling. And everyone hears that

calling voice. But very many do not recognize it as the Father's.

In great tenderness the Father's plan for winning all includes the help of

those already won. Through His Son first, and then through His sons,

newborn, reborn, He is reaching out His warm, eager hand to all. He

breathed His own Spirit upon His Son. He breathes that same Spirit upon

each of us who will, that so we may, each of us, touch all the others with

the touch of God.

Five great touches of God there are, each charged with a mighty current of

power. The fragrant life-touch, the musical voice-touch, the warm

service-touch, the potent golden-touch, the secret, subtle prayer-touch.

The first three of these are limited to a narrow circle, the circle of the

immediate personality. The last two are limitless. They are like our own

spirits. They reach directly, resistlessly, clear out through the personal

circle as far as the spirit reaches, even around the whole circle of the

planet.

Just now for a little while we want to talk together about one of these,

the potent yellow golden-touch. The word service has been thought of quite

commonly as referring to certain restricted things that one may do for

another. It has a broader meaning too. Whatever we do to help another is

service. Not merely the direct activities, but praying and giving are

service of most potent influence. Money supplies a channel through which

one may reach most intimately to others, near by and around the world. It

is the golden channel of service.

Peculiar Effects of Money.

Money is queer stuff. The opposites meet in it so strikingly. It may be

the most cruel, exacting tyrant. It may be the most faithful, intelligent

servant. If it come into a man's life unaccompanied by a high, controlling

motive power, it has most peculiar effects upon him. It often wrinkles up

his face, and ties hard knots in the wrinkled lines. It can dwarf a warm

hand into a cold, hard, muscle-bound fist. It drains the warm blood from

the heart, and dries all the sweet, fragrant dew out of the spirit. The

hand suffers much. It is often stricken with a sort of palsy while in the

pocket, and cannot be withdrawn. Sometimes there is a violent cramp, or a

sort of pen paralysis that prevents the signing of the name--to certain

sorts of checks.

But if, on the other hand, it come into a man's possession accompanied by

a pure unselfish motive that _controls_, it comes the nearest to

omnipotence of anything we handle. Gold of itself seems to have the

puckering quality of a green persimmon. The green fruit will contract the

mouth to its smallest proportions. And unmellowed gold acts in the same

way upon the mouth of the pocket.

This is true of all gold and of all pockets. There are no exceptions. The

only possible way of effecting a change is to let a stronger power come in

and counteract the contracting power. Gold has the greatest contracting

power of any earthly substance. Its only sufficient counteractant is God.

God has the greatest expanding power known to angels or men. Gold

contracts. God expands. If God be the dominating motive power in a man's

life, then does gold come the nearest to omnipotence of any tangible

thing. It takes on the quality of Him who breathes upon it.

Jesus' Law for the Use of Money.

Jesus gives us the simple law for the right use of money. It is in that

sixteenth chapter of Luke. He is talking about the dishonest overseer of a

wealthy man's estate. His dishonest practices have been discovered, and he

is required to make a final settlement preliminary to his being

discharged. He has evidently been living extravagantly, for the loss of

position threatens him with beggary. Distressed to know what to do he hits

upon a farther extension of his dishonest practices, and uses the position

he is about to lose to buy up friends for his coming days of want.

As he tells the story Jesus adds this comment: "for the sons of this world

are for their own generation wiser than the sons of light." Practically

they go on the supposition that the present generation is the only one.

For the short space of years making up their own generation they are wiser

than the sons of light. But for the long space of all coming generations

they are the rankest fools. That is included by contrast in Jesus' words.

The man who in his use of money thinks only or chiefly of the years making

up his own present life is--a fool. The man who takes into his reckoning

not only the present generation, but all coming generations, in disposing

of his money is the shrewd financier.

Then occurs the sentence[17] that contains a wonderfully simple statement

for the keen, wise use of gold. The old version runs like this: "Make to

yourselves friends of the mammon of unrighteousness that when ye fail they

may receive you into everlasting habitations." The revised version, both

English and American, reads this way: "Make to yourselves friends by means

of the mammon of unrighteousness that when _it_ shall fail they may

receive you into the eternal tabernacles."

I have ventured to make a rather free translation that I feel sure is true

to the words here in their connection and that gives in simple English

just what Jesus means. "Make to yourselves friends by means of money,

which the unrighteous world reckons riches, that when it fails they may

receive you," and so on. Money is not riches. The world commonly has been

befooled into thinking that it is. Perhaps we have not all quite escaped

that delusion. And money is not unrighteous. It is neither righteous, nor

unrighteous. It gets its moral quality from the man owning it for the time

being. It is as he is. It takes on the color of its ownership.

Make to yourselves friends by means of the money that comes into your

control that when it fails they may receive you. That is to say, exchange

your money into the kind of coin that is current in the kingdom of God.

Exchange your gold into _lives_. That is the sort of coin current in the

homeland. This yellow stuff we call riches they use for paving stones up

in the homeland. Would that we might get it under our feet down here,

instead of being ruled by it.

The current coin of heaven is lives of men. And that too will be reckoned

the precious metal when the Kingdom of God comes to the earth. Exchange

your money into _men_; purified, uplifted, redeemed men. Buy letters of

credit that will be good in the homeland, and in the coming Kingdom days

on the earth, if you would be wealthy.

"That when it fails," Jesus says with fine discernment. Money will fail.

There is an end to the power of gold in itself. Money will be bankrupt

some day. It has enormous buying power now. Some day its buying power will

be all gone. Then it will take the place of cobble-stones. Yet it would

seem to be a failure there unless some new hardening process had been

found for it. Better use it while it has power of purchase. Better not be

caught with much of the yellow stuff sticking to you when the true values

are being settled. It'll all be dead loss then; dead stock, not worth the

space it occupies.

You remember the very old story of the wealthy man who died. And in a

group of people talking together somebody asked the usual question, "How

much did he _leave_?" And a wise man in the company replied tersely,

"Every cent; didn't take a copper along." That story is apt to provoke a

smile. But, do you know, it is sadder than it is witty. The man had gained

great wealth. He must have been endowed with some force and talent to do

that. His whole life and strength and talent had been devoted to making

money and hoarding it. That money was the whole output of the man's life.

Then he died and the whole output of his life was left behind. He passed

out of this life stripped to the skin. Into the other world, where wealth

is reckoned otherwise than in gold, he entered a sheer pauper. The

purchasing power of his wealth stopped at the line of departure out of

this world. _It failed_.

Foreign Exchange.

Exchange your gold into men. Buy up some of the kind of coin they use in

the homeland, so that you may have some wealth when you get there. Suppose

you should be over on the continent of Europe, shopping in Berlin. You buy

some goods in a store and lay down upon the counter a twenty-dollar gold

piece in payment. The salesman would say, "What sort of money is this?"

and you would likely say, "That is good American gold, sir." And he would

probably reply, "I have no doubt that is true, and that it is good money.

But it is not the sort we receive here. You will have to go to the bankers

and get it changed into German marks and then I'll be pleased to complete

this sale." And so you would be obliged to do if you had not thought to

provide yourself with German money.

There are some people that will have an experience like that after a

while, I'm thinking. Some one thinks that that is not a very likely

illustration. A man going to Europe would provide himself with proper

money to use. Maybe it is not a very good illustration for _Europe_. But

how about some other strange lands to which folks go? There seem to be

several people who expect to go to a strange country, and yet do not

provide any of its recognized coinage before going.

Here is a man who gets through his life down on the earth, and goes out

into the other life. Judging by the whole tenor of his life he will

attempt to take some of his belongings with him. Indeed so much are these

belongings a part of his very life that they seem inseparable from him.

Here he comes up to the gateway of the upper world. He is lugging along a

farm or two, some town lots, and houses, and a lot of beautifully engraved

paper, bank stock and railroad bonds and other bonds. They are absorbing

him completely as he puffs slowly along.

And as he gets up to the gateway, the gateman will say, "What's all that

stuff?" "_Stuff!_" he will say, astonished; "this is the most precious

wealth of earth, sir. I have spent my whole life, the cream of my strength

in accumulating this." "Oh, well," the reply will be, "I have no doubt

that is so. I am not disputing your word at all. But that sort of thing

does not pass current up in this land. That has to be exchanged at the

bankers' offices for the sort of coinage we use here."

The man looks a little relieved at this last remark. The other talk has

sounded strange, and given him a queer misgiving in his heart, as he

listened. But "banker" and "exchange"--that sounds familiar. The ground

feels a bit steadier. He picks up new spirit. "Where are the bankers'

offices, please?" he asks eagerly. "They are all down on the earth," comes

the quiet answer. "You must do your exchanging before you get as far up as

this. That stuff is all dead loss now. You can't take it back to the

bankers' now, and it is of no value here. Just leave it over on that dump

heap there outside the gate, and come in yourself." And the man comes in

with a strangely stripped and bare feeling.

What we get and keep for the sake of having, we lose, for we leave it

behind. What we give away freely for _Jesus'_ sake, for men's sake, we

will find by and by we have kept, for we have sent it ahead in a changed

form.

There will be a strange readjustment of values on the other side. Some

men of splendid strength have spent it in accumulating earth's wealth.

They give, even freely it seems to be, in very large amounts. Yet be it

keenly marked the sum given by these men always bears a small proportion

to what is kept.

Others there are of equally splendid strength, and fine powers, who have

been spending that strength in influencing men. Their passion seems to

have been for _men_, for men's _selves_, for men's _lives_. The great bulk

of their strength and time has been deliberately given to this. And some

that have not understood have thought such conduct strange, a sort of fad

with these men. But when values are readjusted by the standards of the

final clearing house, some who have been very wealthy down here will be

reckoned among the very poor. And some who have been reckoned poor will be

found to be the shrewdest of investors. They will be the millionaires of

the Kingdom time and in the homeland. I do not mean _dollar_-millionaires,

but _life-millionaires._ The standard of wealth in the homeland is

_lives_, not dollars.

And some too there will be, and not few in numbers, who have given of

their strength in business pursuits to the making of money, as the Spirit

has guided them, or to whom it has been left in trust by others, and who

have been steadily investing the wealth that has come in the _lives of

men_. Some folks ought to be getting better acquainted at the foreign

exchange desk in the banks where this sort of business is done.

There are a good many banks that make a specialty of this sort of foreign

exchange. The great Church Boards, the International Committee of the

Young Men's Christian Associations, the American Committee of the Young

Women's Christian Associations, the individual churches and associations,

and the Bible Societies are a few of the better known of the banks having

a large exchange business of this sort.

Their methods of business have been very thoroughly systematized for the

convenience of investors. In almost every pew of a church may be found

little deposit envelopes, mediums of exchange. There are weekly

opportunities for making deposits. And the handling of the money has been

so thoroughly systematized, too, that, as a rule, a very small proportion

is taken up in keeping the banks running, the great bulk passing directly

out to the designated place of use.

Gold-Exchanged Lives.

Jesus says that our money in its new form will be waiting our arrival on

the other side. The men and women into whose lives we have been

exchanging it will be eagerly looking for us as the ship pulls into port.

When you get through with your life down here--it will be a long life, I

hope--you will go up and into the homeland. And--I suppose--at the first

you will have eyes and heart for nobody but _Jesus_. My mother used to say

to me, "I have thought that I would like to have a talk with Moses, and

with Elijah, and with John and Paul, but"--with the quick tears of deepest

emotion filling her dark eyes--"I have never been able in my thinking of

it, _to get past Jesus yet_." Even so it will be, no doubt, with all of

us.

But this word of Jesus' own suggests that as you go in you will find some

one coming eagerly up with outstretched hands and such a glad face to meet

you. And he will say, "Oh! I have been looking forward so eagerly to

meeting you; welcome." And you will say, "Well, this is very kind of you.

But, pardon me, I can't just recall your face. Where was it I knew you? in

New York?"

And he will say, with a flush of earnest feeling, "Oh, no! I never saw New

York. And I never saw you before. My home was over in the heart of China.

Our lives were very miserable there. There was a great tugging at my heart

that nothing seemed ever to ease. But one day a stranger came into our

village, with some little books, and as we gathered about him he talked

to us about _Jesus_, and you can never know how that story of Jesus came

to me, and how much it meant. My whole life was changed, and my home and

our village were changed. And since coming up here I have learned that it

was _through you_ that that man came, and I want to thank you. Next to

Jesus I think you're the best friend I have."

And you will be thinking, "I'm so glad I gave that money. I had to pinch

quite a bit, but that's nothing compared to the joy of this." And as that

is flashing swiftly through your thought, here is somebody else eagerly

pressing up, with the same word of welcome, and a face with such a glad

light the sight of which is alone quite enough to even up any sacrifice.

And you will say maybe, "And where did I meet you? are you from China,

too?"

No, this one is from a western frontier settlement where the home

missionary had gone, and now this one elbowing by her with the same

lightened face is from the mountain section of the South. And so they come

eagerly up from many places where you have never been in person but where

you have gone potentially through your money. That is what Jesus means.

Make to yourselves friends by means of money which the unrighteous world

reckons riches, that when it fails they may welcome you eagerly into the

homeland. Exchange your gold into lives.

Spirit Alchemy.

There is a divine alchemy whereby money may be transmuted into redeemed,

purified, uplifted lives. There is another alchemy whereby men, made of

finest gold in the image of God, may be transmuted into the basest metals.

When Moses coming down from the presence of God saw the shocking sight of

the people worshiping a calf made of gold, he reproached Aaron for

permitting it. Do you remember Aaron's answer? He had the gift of speech,

you remember, an easy, smooth way of explaining things. Yet in the light

of the recited facts the answer seems rather lame. It needs a crutch to

steady it up. He said, that he had put in the gold and--"_there came out

this calf_."

A great many men might fairly make use of Aaron's explanation. They have

put into the crucible of life their gold, themselves, God's finest gold

intrusted to their hands. And under their manipulation what has come out

is as a vealy, callow calf, a bull calf at that too, scrub stock, fit only

for the ax.

There is the other, the divine alchemy whereby a man may put in the gold

intrusted to his handling and there shall come out _lives_, sweet, strong,

fragrant lives, made anew in the image of their Maker.

The Fragrance of the Life in the Gift.

It is a part of the peculiar potent value of money that there can be a

practical transfer of personality through its use. For instance I have a

friend whose heart burned to go to a foreign mission field for service

there. But the physician said it would not be wise for her to go. Yielding

to his expert judgment, she still yearned to be of service there. In the

providence of God she became intrusted with large wealth. And so she

arranged to have a man go in her stead to China, she caring for all the

expense involved, while he was so left wholly free for the service.

Tell me, was that not a practical transfer of her personality to the point

of service where he is engaged? Then she arranged for another, and

another, and yet others. It is not only a transfer of personality in

practical results, but a duplication of personality, and a triplication,

and more. For she is busy in her home circle, while her representatives

are busy elsewhere through the influence of her action.

A young woman, graduate of a western college, developed much talent in

speaking to other young women of the Christian life. Her public service

was much blessed in the lives of large numbers of women. She had no

wealth, but was dependent upon her efforts for a livelihood. Another young

woman, in the East, came under the warm spell of her personality and

speech. And her life was blessedly revolutionized by that spell. Her own

heart burned to be doing something of the sort for her sisters out over

the land.

But she seemed not to have gifts of that kind. Yet she had been intrusted

with large means. And so she said to her new friend whom God had so

graciously blessed to her own life, "Let us be partners together. I will

so gladly give what I have, that you may be wholly free to give to others

what you have brought to me." And so it was arranged. And the one woman

gives of the gold of her inheritance while the other gives her life and

her special gift. The one in her home pays and prays. The other goes

constantly here and there, and lives are ever transformed through the

Spirit of God resting upon her.

Is not that a practical transfer of personality? and duplication of

personality, too? Is not this young woman whose own actual personality

remains, in the gracious providence of God, in her home, is she not going

potentially about from place to place winning her sisters up to the

highlands of the best living? It surely is so.

And these two are but illustrations of the many who have come to

understand Jesus' law for the right use of money. And there are to be many

more as the days go by, doing just that sort of thing. And let those of us

who have not been intrusted either with the large amount of money, or

with the large power to earn, remember that the _amount_ involved does not

affect the law of results. All who have felt the blessed contagion of the

Master's example will give freely of what is in store, whether much or

little.

Those whose giving is in smaller amounts by our bulky way of reckoning

values, may still be making that same blessed transfer and doubling their

own capacity for service through the agency of their gold. For the gold

given represents the life that gives. And the gift takes on the quality

and power and fragrance of the life that gives it. I have sometimes

thought that there seems to be a peculiar potency in the smaller gifts,

that represent as they so often do the greatest, most devoted sacrifice.

Could we trace the intricate crossings of the lines of influence in the

web of life, we would be awed many times at the potency of the giving that

is small in amount but tinted red with the life-blood of sacrifice.

It should be remembered that through this strange stuff called money there

is a double transfer of personality going on all the time. Men are

constantly transferring themselves into gold, in a perfectly proper way. A

man gives his labor, and at the end of a specified period he gets a

certain amount of money. That money represents himself. It is himself for

that length of time. That is the first transfer of manhood in money. It is

going on all the time. It is necessarily so, for so we get our food, and

clothing, and home.

Then there is the re-transfer of this money into some other form. As we

choose to use this money, so we are re-transferring ourselves into what

forms we will. The money is the transition state of ourselves. We pass

through it out into the exchange of life. We reveal ourselves in the way

we pass it out. In no way does a man reveal the true inner self more. And

if perchance we let it, or some of it, lie and gather rust, there we are,

some part of us being covered with rust.

Sacrifice Hallows and Increases the Gift.

But there is more yet to be said here. The great blending of the spirit

forces with gold comes out wondrously in this: that _sacrifice hallows

what it touches_. And under its hallowing touch values increase by long

leaps and big bounds. Here is a fine opportunity for those who would

increase the value of gifts that seem small in amount. Without stopping

now for the philosophy of it, this is the tremendous fact.

Perhaps the annual foreign missionary offering is being taken up in your

church. The pastor has preached a special sermon, and it has caught fire

within you. You find yourself thinking as he preaches, and during the

prayer following, "I believe I can easily make it fifty dollars this year.

I gave thirty-five last time." You want to be careful _not_ to make it

fifty dollars, because you can do that _easily_. If you are shrewd to have

your money count the most, you will pinch a bit somewhere and make it

sixty-two fifty. For the extra amount that you pinch to give will hallow

the original sum and increase its practical value enormously. Sacrifice

hallows what it touches, and the hallowing touch acts in geometrical

proportion upon the value of the gift.

Better turn your gown, and readjust your hat, for the sacrifice involved

will give a new beauty to the spirit looking out through your face. And

real folks will not be able to get past the beauty of face to the

incidentals of your apparel. Wear your derby another season, and get your

shoes half-soled, and some deft mending done. Let that extra horse go to

other buyers, and the automobile be picked up by somebody who has not yet

mined any of the fine gold of sacrifice. The coming rainy day will never

be able to use up all that some folks are salting down for it.

And yet some folks, many folks, should be spending more on their bodies

and giving less. The giving should never intrench upon the strength of

one's personality. That is a treasure to be sacredly guarded. All the

power of one's life, in serving, in giving, in praying, in speaking, and

in personal contact, the power of all roots down in the personality. The

safe rule, and the only safe rule, is to decide such questions with the

knee-joint bent, and the door shut, and the spirit willing. A strong will

played upon by the Holy Spirit, mellowed by emotions that have been moved

by the need, and held steady by a disciplined judgment must attend to

loosening the purse-strings.

But the one fact being emphasized here just now is that the element of

sacrifice must be in the giving if it is to be effective. Sacrifice was

the dominant factor in _God's_ giving of His Son, real sacrifice. It was

dominant in _Jesus'_ giving of His own self and His life, keen cutting

sacrifice. Who will follow in _their_ train? Whoever will, will be getting

a post-graduate course in financiering and in multiplying of values. He

will be astonished at the results working out, and most astonished at the

final disclosures.

Keeping out of circulation more than one's wants, properly adjusted, call

for is poor financiering. For that which is held back is not earning

anything. All beyond one's needs should be out in circulation for the

Master in His campaign for a world. Yet nowhere is there finer chance or

greater need for the play of keen judgment than in deciding that question

of need. Mistakes are made on both sides. It looks very much as though the

most serious mistakes are being made on the side of too little sacrifice

or none. Yet clearly some serious mistakes are made on the other side

too. But no one may criticise another. Each must decide for himself. In

the judgment of charity we are to presume that each is doing what he

thinks right and best. We are, none of us, the keeper of our brother's

purse.

A Living Sacrifice.

There is a simple story told that contains its truth in its very

naturalness and simplicity. It reveals a bit of the real life ever going

on all around us unnoticed. A minister in a certain small town in an

eastern state received from the home mission board of his church a letter

asking for a special offering for a needy field in the West. With the

letter was literature setting forth the need. The call appealed to him and

with good heart he prepared a special sermon, calling the attention of his

people to the great need.

Sabbath morning came and he preached the sermon. But somehow it did not

just seem to hook in. That banker down there on the left looked listless,

and yawned a couple of times behind his hand. And the merchant over on the

right, who could give freely, examined his watch secretly more than once.

And so it was with a little tinge of discouragement insistently creeping

into his spirit that he finished, and sat down. And he remained with head

bowed in prayer that the results might prove better than seemed likely,

while the church officers passed down the aisles with the collection

plates.

Meanwhile something unseen by human eye was going on in the very last pew.

Back there, sitting alone, was a little girl of a poor family. She had met

with a misfortune which left her crippled. And her whole life seemed so

dark and hopeless. But some kind friends in the church, pitying her

condition, had made up a small fund and bought her a pair of crutches. And

these had seemed to transform her completely. She went about her rounds

always as cheery and bright as a bit of sunshine.

She had listened to the sermon, and her heart had been strangely warmed by

the preacher's story of need. And as he was finishing she was thinking,

"How I wish I might give something. But I haven't anything to give, not

even a copper left." And a very soft voice within seemed to say very

softly, but very distinctly, "There are your crutches." "Oh," she gasped

to herself as though it took away her very breath, "my crutches? I

couldn't give my _crutches_; they're my _life_." And that strangely clear

voice went on, so quietly, "Yes--you _could_--and then some one would know

of Jesus--if you did--and that would mean so much to them--He's meant so

much to you--give your crutches." And her breath seemed to fail her at the

thought. And so the little woman had her fight all unseen and unknown by

those in the church. And by and by the victory came. And she sat with a

beautiful light in her tearful eyes, and a smile coming to her lips,

waiting for the plate to get to her pew.

And the man with the plate came down the aisle to the end. It seemed

hardly worth while reaching it into the last pew. Just little Maggie

sitting there alone, with her one foot dangling above the floor. But with

fine courtesy he stopped and passed the plate in. And Maggie in her

childlike simplicity lifted her crutches, and tried rather awkwardly to

put them on the collection plate. Quick as a flash the man caught her

thought, and with a queer lump in his throat reached out and steadied her

strange gift on the plate.

And then he turned back and walked slowly up the aisle toward the pulpit,

carrying the plate in one hand and steadying the crutches on it with the

other. And people commenced to look. And eyes quickly dimmed. Everybody

knew the crutches. _Maggie_--giving her _crutches_! And the banker over

here blew his nose suddenly and reached for his pencil, and the merchant

reached out to stop the man returning up his aisle.

As the pastor stood with his eyesight not very clear to receive the

morning's offering, he said, "Surely our little crippled friend is giving

us a wonderful example." Then the plates were called back toward the

pews. And somebody paid fifty dollars for the crutches, and sent them back

to that end pew. When the offering was counted up it contained several

hundred dollars. And the little girl, crippled in body but not in any

other way, hobbled out of church the happiest little woman in the world.

She had recognized and obeyed the inner voice. That was the simple

explanation of her giving. And her gift, small in itself, _touched with

sacrifice_, became worth several hundred dollars in its earning power. And

the original investment was returned for its usual service. And her gift

has been increasing in its earning power as its recital has reached other

hearts, and the end is not yet. I do not know just where Maggie is now.

But I do know that she will be a greatly surprised woman some day when she

finds out what God has done with her sacrifice-hallowed gift. She

recognized and obeyed the inner Voice. That is the one law of giving, as

of all living.

Worry: A Hindrance to Service.

Fear Not.

A Fence of Trust.

A Lord of the Harvest.

Do Your Best--Leave the Rest.

Anxious for Nothing.

Thankful for Anything.

Prayerful about Everything.

A Steamer Chair for His Friend.

He Has You on His Heart.

Paul's Prison Psalm.

He Touched Her Hand.

Worry: A Hindrance to Service.

(Psalm xxxvii:1-11; Matthew vi:19-34, Philippians iv:6-7. American

Revision.)

Fear Not.

There is nothing commoner than worry. Everybody seems to worry. Men worry.

Women worry. It is commonly supposed that women worry more than men. I

doubt it. After watching both pretty closely under all sorts of

circumstances I doubt it. Yet if it be true that woman does worry the

more, I think it is because, being more sensitively organized, she is more

keenly alive to the issues involved and to the responsibilities of life.

Poor people worry. Those with enough money to be easy worry. And those

with the largest wealth seem to worry too. Busy folks worry. And so do the

idle. The cultured and scholarly touch elbows with the ignorant here.

Americans are supposed to be specialists in worrying. The name

Americanitis has been given to a certain run-down condition of the nerves.

Well, we may possibly have set the pace, and may be making new records.

But certainly there are plenty of pushing followers. Our Canadian

neighbors seem not to be wholly strangers to worry. Nor our British and

Dutch forbears. The European continentals, and those of the East nearer

and farther off seem to be good or bad at worrying. It is a characteristic

of the race everywhere, the difference being merely in the degree. It

seems inbred in man.

There are two "don't-worry" chapters in this old Bible, one in the Old

Testament and one in the New. In the Old Testament is the Thirty-seventh

Psalm with its oft-repeated "fret not." The word under that English phrase

"fret not" is significant. It is so blunt as to sound almost like a bit of

American slang. Literally it means "don't get hot." The New Testament has

the sixth chapter of Matthew with Jesus' own words. One should be careful

here to note the better reading of the revision. The old version says

"take no thought," and that has been misunderstood by many who have not

thought about its meaning. The newer translations are truer to the meaning

on Jesus' lips. Do not take _anxious_ thought, "be not anxious." But apart

from these two chapters there is a phrase running through these pages

clear through the whole Book, a phrase shot through, piercing everywhere,

even as the glorious sunlight pierces through the thick cloud and fog. I

mean the phrase "fear not." All worry roots down its tenacious tendrils

in fear.

A Fence of Trust.

It will help to understand just what worry is. It is always an advantage

to get an enemy clearly defined and keep it so, so you can hit it harder,

and make every blow tell on a vital part of its anatomy.

Worry is not concern, but distress of mind. Some one said to me at the

close of a talk on worry, "some folks ought to worry more." Of course he

meant that some people should bear their share of the responsibilities of

life, instead of selfishly and lazily shirking them. There is a proper

concern about matters for which we are responsible. A man never makes a

good speech unless there is a feeling of concern, of apprehension lest

there be failure in that for which he is pleading. A strong sensitive

spirit feels the responsibility and does the best to meet it. Worry is

mental distress. It is sinking under the sense of responsibility. It is

_yielding_ to the fear that there may be failure, instead of gripping the

lines and whip and determining to ride down the chance of its coming.

Sometimes worry is carrying to-morrow's load with to-day's strength;

carrying two days in one. It is moving into to-morrow ahead of time.

There is just one day in the calendar of action; that's to-day. Planning

should include a wide swing of days; wise planning must. But action

belongs to one day only, to-day.

"Build a little fence of trust

Around to-day;

Fill the space with living work

And therein stay;

Look not through the sheltering bars

Upon to-morrow;

God will help thee bear what comes

Of joy or sorrow."

"Live for to-day, to-morrow's sun

To-morrow's cares will bring to light,

Go like the infant to thy sleep

And heaven thy morn shall bless."

A Lord of the Harvest.

Sometimes worry is carrying a load that one should not carry at all. I

think it was Lyman Beecher who said that he got along very comfortably

after he gave up running the universe. Some good earnest people are

greatly concerned about the way things in the world are going, I'm obliged

to confess to some pretty serious blunders there. It seemed to me that

there was so much to be done, so many people needing help, so much of

wrong and sin to fight that I must be ever pushing and never sleeping. I

had to sleep of course; but all my burden, which meant the burden of the

world's need as I saw it, was lugged faithfully to bed every night. There

was a lot of pillow-planning. But I found that the wrinkles grew thick,

and the physical strength gave out, and yet at the end of vigorous

campaigning there _seemed_ about as much left to do as ever.

Then one day my tired eyes lit upon that wondrous phrase, "the lord of the

harvest." It caught fire in my heart at once. "Oh! there is a _Lord_ of

the harvest," I said to myself. I had been forgetting that. He is a Lord,

a masterful one. He has the whole campaign mapped out, and each one's part

in helping mapped out too. And I let the responsibility of the campaign

lie over where it belonged. When night time came I went to bed to sleep.

My pillow was this, "There is a _Lord_ of the harvest."

My keynote came to be _obedience_ to Him. That meant keen ears to hear,

keen judgment to understand, keeping quiet so the sound of His voice would

always be distinctly heard. It meant trusting Him when things didn't seem

to go with a swing. It meant sweet sleep at night, and new strength at the

day's beginning. It did not mean any less work. It did seem to mean less

friction, less dust. Aye, it meant better work, for there was a swing to

it, and a joyous abandon in it, and a rhythm of music with it. And the

undercurrent of thought came to be like this: There is a _Lord_ to the

harvest. He is taking care of things. My part is full, faithful,

intelligent obedience to Him. He is a Master, a masterful One. He is

organizing victory. And the fine tingle of victory was ever in the air.

Do Your Best--Leave the Rest.

I knew a mother one of whose sons was not a Christian man, and not of good

habits. She was a devoted true Christian woman, bearing her part in life's

service with fine faith and a keen sweet spirit. The children were all

Christians but this one, her first-born, the beginning of her strength.

The thought of him troubled her much. She prayed fervently, and used her

best endeavor, and the years grew on without change. And her face showed

the burden upon her fine spirit. We would talk together about her son, and

pray together, but her brow remained clouded.

Then I marked a change. The lines of tension in her face relaxed. A new

quiet light came into her eye. There seemed a gentle intangible, but very

sure, peace breathing about her. And I knew there was no change in him. So

one day in conversation I ventured to ask about the change. And I shall

always remember the gentle voice and the quiet strength with which she

said, "I have given him over to my Father. And I know He will not fail

me. I am still praying, of course, as ever, and I am _trusting_ for him."

She had been carrying a load that she should not have been carrying. And

now while the mother-heart was still concerned as much as ever, the sense

of assured victory brought the change in her spirit.

Sometimes worry is fretting over past mistakes; it is chafing about what

we do not understand, or about plans of _ours_ that have failed. A good

deal of worry comes from pride and over-sensitiveness. The roots here, it

will be noticed, of all alike are down in our own failures, our own

selves. And there would be cause for more worry if we had only ourselves.

But we have _a Father_.

A very great deal of worry is wholly due to physical causes. Overworked

nerves always see things distorted. Huge phantom shapes loom up before us.

Overwork always makes a sensitive spirit worry, and worry usually makes us

overwork until we drop from exhaustion. When the cause is here, there are

some simple _human_ helps. Some--a good bit--of _God's_ fresh air will

work wonders. Even good people seem unchangeably opposed to _God's_ air,

and insist on breathing old, worn-out, used-up second-hand air. God would

be greatly glorified if housekeepers and church sextons were given a

practical course in the use of fresh air, God's air. With that should be

simple food, and simple dress, and abundant sleep, and simple standards of

life.

Worry is utterly _useless_. It never serves a good purpose. It brings no

good results. "Which of you can by being anxious add a single span to the

measure of his life?" Jesus asks in that sixth of Matthew. But much more

can be said. _It brings bad results_. The revision brings out the clear,

simple meaning of the Thirty-seventh Psalm, eighth verse. The old version

seems a bit puzzling, "Fret not thyself in anywise to do evil." The

revision reads, "Fret not thyself, it tendeth only to evil doing." The

results of worrying are always bad. The judgment is impaired. One cannot

think so clearly nor see so clearly. The temper is ruffled. The door is

quickly opened to worse things.

It is _sinful_ to worry. For the Master repeatedly commands us, "Be _not_

anxious." It helps to get a habit labeled correctly. Here to tack on

"sinful" in block letters, black ink, white paper, so as to get greatest

contrast is a decided help. And worrying is a reproach upon Jesus. Let the

Gentiles, the outsiders, the people who have not taken Jesus into their

lives, let them worry if they _will_. But _we_ must not. For we have

_Jesus_. Let these who leave Him out grow crow-toes, and deeply-bitten

wrinkles, and turkey-foot markings. Without Him how can they help

themselves? But we folk who have _Jesus_ should have smoothly rounded

faces, the lines all filled up and ironed out. It reproaches Jesus before

folks for us to be as they are in this regard.

Out of the midst of a great pressure of work, with a body tired out, Dr.

Charles F. Deems, the busy pastor of The Church of The Strangers in New

York City, wrote these lines years ago:

"The world is wide,

In time and tide,

And God is quick;

Then _do not hurry_.

"That man is blest,

Who _does his best_,

And _leaves_ the rest;

Then _do not worry_."

A man should do his _best_. There should be no _shirking_. Yet I need

hardly say that here, because shirking people, lazy people do not worry.

They haven't enough snap about them to worry. But it steadies one to put

the thing just as Dr. Deems put it. "_Do your best, and_, then _leave_ all

the rest to God." And when sleep time comes, sleep.

Anxious for Nothing.

Likely as not some one will say, "We knew all that before. But how are we

going to quit worrying? That's what we need to be told." Well, I can tell

you. Sometimes a man speaks cautiously, but here one can speak with great

positiveness. There are three simple rules how not to worry. They are

infallible. I heard of a society whose purpose it was to cure worry. There

were _thirty-seven_ rules, I think. It would worry some of us a good bit

to memorize any such length of instruction as that. The remedy seems to be

on a high shelf. And in standing up on a chair and reaching there is some

danger that the chair may tip over and the last state not be an

improvement on the first.

But here are three very simple rules, easy to follow, and they will never

fail. They are not my rules, that is, not of my making, or I might not be

speaking so positively. They are given by the blessed Holy Spirit, through

our dear old friend Paul. In Philippians, chapter four, verses six and

seven, are the words that contain the rules: "In nothing be anxious; but

in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your

requests be made known unto God. And the peace of God, which passeth all

understanding, shall guard your hearts and your thoughts in Christ Jesus."

The first rule is this, _anxious for nothing._ In other words, _don't_

worry. Deliberately refuse to think about annoying things. Set yourself

against being disturbed by disturbing things. Say to yourself, it is

useless, it has bad results, it is sinful, it is reproaching my Master, I

_won't._ That is the first simple rule.

Thankful for Anything.

The second helps to carry out the first. It is this, _thankful for

anything._ Thanksgiving and praise are always associated with singing.

When you feel the worry mood creeping on--it is a mood that attacks

you--when it comes sing something, especially something with Jesus' name

in it. These temptations to worry are from the Evil One. He can come in

only through an _open_ door. Remember that. Yet the open doors seem

plenty. Even when we trustingly and resolutely keep every door of evil

shut the circle in which we move will open doors upon us. Singing

something with Jesus' name in it sends him or any of his brood off

quickly. They hate that Name of their Conqueror. They get away from the

sound of it as fast as they can.

A friend was calling upon another and began pouring out a stream of

personal woes. This had gone wrong, and this, and this other would go

wrong. Everything was wrong. And her friend, who knew her quite well, had

her get a pencil and paper and asked her if possibly there was _one_ thing

for which she could be thankful. Reluctantly from her lips came the

mention of some particular thing for which she felt indeed grateful. Then

a second was gradually recalled, and then more. And as the train of

thought grew on her she suddenly asked, "Why was I so despondent when I

came in? Everything seems so changed."

It's a fine thing to go about one's work singing some hymn with praise in

it, and with Jesus' name in it. And if singing may not always be allowable

under all circumstances, you can _hum_ a tune. And that brings up to the

memory the words connected with it. I know of a woman who was much given

to worrying. She made it a rule to sing the long-meter doxology whenever

things seemed not right. Ofttimes she could hardly get her lips shaped up

to begin the first words. But she would persist. And by the time the

fourth line came it was ringing out and her atmosphere had changed without

and within.

This was David's rule. He said: "Thy statutes have been my songs in the

house of my pilgrimage."[18] He is not speaking of the time when he was

acknowledged king over both Judah and all Israel, when the fortress of

Jerusalem was his own capital. No, he is talking of the earlier days of

his _pilgrimage_. When he was being hunted over the Judean fastnesses by

King Saul. When with his band of faithful men he was ever fleeing for his

life. He slept in caves and dens or out in the open, and always with one

eye open. There he used to sing God's praises. A messenger would come

breathlessly in some morning with the news that Saul was just over yonder

ravine with a thousand men. And as David planned what best to do, and

arranged his men, he would be singing.

Maybe he would sing that Twenty-third Psalm:

"For Thou art with me; and Thy rod

And staff me comfort still."

Or, maybe sometimes,

"To Thee I lift my soul;

O Lord, I trust in Thee:

My God, let me not be ashamed

Nor foes triumph o'er me."

Or, likely, he often sang:

"The Lord's my light and saving health;

Who shall make me dismayed?

My life's strength is the Lord; of whom

Then shall I be afraid?"

Or if perhaps Ezra wrote this psalm it takes one back to his weary,

dangerous journey over from Babylon to Jerusalem and the very difficult

work he was undertaking in Jerusalem in reorganizing the life of the

people again. He used to sing on the way, and through all his

difficulties.

It is a great rule.

"When the day is gloomy

Sing some happy song;

Meet the world's repining

With a courage strong."

Some one asked me if whistling would do. She was a busy housewife and said

that was her rule. I have gone to singing myself. But maybe whistling is

just as good. I'm inclined to favor giving it a place within the range of

this rule.

There's a bit of deep, simple philosophy here. Music is divine. There is

no music in the headquarters of the enemy. He has used it a great deal on

the earth. That's a bit of his cunning. But he always has to steal it from

God's sphere, and work it over to suit his own crafty purposes. Music,

singing, is an open doorway for the Spirit of God to come in, and come in

anew and move freely. Its sweet harmonies found their birth in the

presence of God where sweetest harmonies reign. Lovers of music should be

lovers of God, for He is the one great Master-musician.

When Elisha was asked to prophesy victory for Israel over the enemy at one

time, he refused. He was not in harmony with this king nor his associates.

His spirit refused to respond to their request. But at their urgent

request he yielded, and called for a musician. And as the strains of music

fell upon his ear and entered into his spirit he felt the divine presence

and influence anew. We should use the musician more in our days of

battle. And God has wonderfully provided every one of us with a music-box

of sweet melodies. If we would only open the lid, and let frequent use

wear off the rust, and sing His praise more. In music God speaks to us

anew with great power. This is the second rule, _thankful for anything_.

Prayerful about Everything.

The third rule helps to make both first and second effective. These three

are closely interwoven. They always work together. Each suggests the other

two. They are an interwoven trinity. The third is this, _prayerful about

everything_. There are some unusually fine bits from the old Book to help

here. Referring to the discipline which God's love makes Him use, David

says: "For His anger is but for a moment: His _favor_ is for _a lifetime_.

Weeping _may_ come in to lodge at even, but joy cometh in the

morning."[19] There _may_ be weeping. There _shall_ be joy. Weeping won't

stay long.

There's a morning coming, always a morning coming, with the sunshine and

the chorus of the birds. Love's discipling touch that seems at the moment

like anger is only for a moment. (The printer wanted to change that word

discipling to disciplining; but God's tenderness comes to us anew when we

realize that _disciplining_ with its sharp edge means the same as

_discipling_ with its softer warmer touch.) The loving favor is for

always, a lifetime of eternal life.

Again David says, "Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and He shall _sustain_

thee."[20] The margin explains that the thing that weighs as a burden is

something God has given us. He has sent it or allowed it to come. He has

strong purpose in all He does. Here the promise is not that the burden

will be removed, but that He will pick up both you and your burden into

His arms and carry both. Many a man has praised God for the burden that

made him know the tender touch of strong arms.

The same thing is repeated in the Sixty-eighth Psalm[21] with tender

variations. "Blessed be the Lord who day by day beareth our burden."

Probably Peter knew a good bit about this subject. His temperament was of

the impulsive sort that knows quick squalls at sea. But he had learned how

to ride through them undisturbed to the calmer waters. He says, "Casting

all your anxiety upon Him because He careth for you."[22] The force of the

French version is said to be "_unloading_ your anxiety upon Him." Back the

cart up, tilt it over, let down the tail-board, let it all slip out over

upon Him. The literal reading of that last half is, "_He has you on His

heart_."

"Is not this enough alone

For the gladness of the day?"

But many of us have an inner feeling that some matters are too small, too

trivial to take to God. We will take the great things, the serious things

to Him and find the help needed. But it seems childish almost to be

bothering the great God about trifling details, we are apt to think. We

are even annoyed with ourselves to think that we have allowed such petty

things to make us lose our balance and control. We want to underscore and

italicize this fact: _if a thing is big enough to concern you, it is not

too small for Him "because He has you on His heart_." For _your_ sake He

is eager to help in anything, however small in itself it may seem.

Indeed it is the little things that fret and tease and nag so. The big

things are more easily handled. But the little insectivorous details that

will not down! Have you ever had this experience? You have retired on a

hot summer night, tired and heavy with sleep. You are almost off when a

mosquito that in some inexplicable way has eluded all screens and nettings

comes singing its way about your face. It is just one. It seems so small.

If it were only big enough to hit, something worthy of one's strength. But

the mean little nagging specimen seems to elude every effort of yours.

Maybe you take calm, deliberate measures to end its existence, but

meanwhile you are thoroughly aroused and lose quite a bit of the sleep you

need.

Just such a mosquito warfare do the little cares make upon one's strength,

frittering it away. It cannot be too insistently repeated that whatever is

big enough to cause me any thought is not too small for my God. He is

concerned because I am concerned.

A Steamer Chair for His Friend.

It helps immensely here to recall the necessary qualities of a great

executive, one who is concerned about the conduct of large affairs. There

are two great qualities absolutely needful in any one occupying such a

position. There must be the ability to grasp the whole scheme involved,

and to keep one's finger upon every detail, as well. God is a great

executive, _the_ great executive of the universe. He planned the vast

scheme of worlds making up the universe, and every detail. The whole

universe in its immensity, and the intricacy of its movements, is kept in

motion by Him. And every detail down to the smallest, the falling of one

of the smallest birds, is ever under His thoughtful eye and touch. And He

is our God. He has each of us on His heart.

We may learn of God by looking at man, made in His image. A story is told

of a merchant well known on both sides of the water, illustrating this.

His business interests are very extensive, with great stores in three of

the world's great cities. He has displayed great genius for controlling

the details of his vast enterprise. It is said that at one time when his

business was developing its greatness, this was his habit. He would come

to a clerk's desk unexpectedly and, sitting down quietly, note the

transactions that came along. Here was a sales slip; three yards of

calico, seven cents per yard, twenty-one cents; a bolt of tape, three

cents, total twenty-four cents; cash fifty cents, twenty-six cents change.

He would very quietly note the calculations, and call attention to any

inaccuracies.

He might stay there a half-hour. Then he was away again. It was never

known when he might come, nor where. He was always marked for his genial

courtesy toward all his employees. That was his habit for years, I am

told. His talent for details amounts to positive genius. And with this

goes the ability to originate and build up and keep ever growing his vast

business operations. And this man is but one of a very large class in our

day of specialized organization. This faculty of controlling both the

whole, and each detail, is a bit of the image of God in these men. Only

man is ever less than God. The best organization slips sometimes,

somewhere. But God never fails. Each of us is personal to Him. He can

think of each as though there were no other needing His thought, and He

does.

A little incident is told of George Müller of Bristol, England. He is the

man who taught the whole world anew how to trust God. Poor in his own

holdings, he expended millions of dollars in caring for orphans,

supporting missionaries, and distributing printed truth. He never asked

any man for money nor made any needs known. He trusted God for all and for

each. The two thousand and more orphans, and the cutting of his quill pen

were alike subjects of prayer with him.

At one time, in the course of his missionary travels around the world, he

was embarking on an ocean voyage. He was an old man at the time, and

accompanied by a young man who attended to the details of travel. After

they had boarded the steamer his companion came up hurriedly to say that

the steamer chair for Mr. Müller's use was not on board and he could not

get any trace of it. It would of course be a very necessary convenience

for the steamer trip. Mr. Müller inquired if the proper notice had been

sent to have it on board. Yes, all had been done that should have been

done. And now the time was very short.

Mr. Müller breathed a quiet prayer, and then said to his companion not to

be disturbed, that he felt sure it would be on hand in time. The attendant

went off again to see what could be done, came back evidently annoyed at

the possibility of his elder distinguished companion being inconvenienced.

But Mr. Müller quieted him with the assurance that the chair would come.

They stood at the side rail above, overlooking the dock.

At the very last moment, just as the hawsers were about to be thrown off,

and the gang plank pulled away, a truck of luggage was hurriedly run on

board, and on top of the pile the friends watching above could plainly see

a steamer chair with G. M. marked on it. Mr. Müller, standing in his group

of friends, looked up past them and quietly said, "Father, I thank Thee."

Was God in that simple occurrence? He surely was. He was concerned that

His faithful friend should have the chair for his bodily comfort. Man's

arrangements seemed in danger of slipping. His overruling touch was put in

for His friend's sake. A chair wasn't too small for God because it was for

His friend, Mr. Müller.

He Has You on His Heart.

I got a similar story from Dr. James H. Brookes of St. Louis, a number of

years ago while in his home over night. It was about J. Hudson Taylor,

founder of the China Inland Mission, who had learned through many years of

trusting how faithful God is. Mr. Taylor had been speaking in Dr. Brookes'

church, and was to go to a town in southern Illinois to speak at the

Sabbath services. Saturday morning they went down to the railroad station

to get the train, and stepped into the station just as the train was

pulling out at the other end. There was no possible chance of catching it.

It seemed all the more exasperating that they could see the train moving

away out of reach.

Dr. Brookes of course felt much chagrined. Mr. Taylor being a stranger in

the country, and the guest of Dr. Brookes, had trusted his arrangements.

Inquiries were quickly made about other trains. But there would not be

another train out that way until night. And as they were questioning and

talking the station-master said, "There's that train over there; it runs

into Illinois and crosses another road down to where you want to go. They

are supposed to make connections, but they never do." Dr. Brookes said he

went off to make further inquiries, and coming back in a few moments was

surprised to find Mr. Taylor standing on the rear platform of the train

that never made the connection.

He said, "Why, Mr. Taylor, that won't make the connection." And Mr.

Taylor smiled and in his very quiet way said, "Good-bye, Doctor, my Father

runneth the trains." That seemed to sound well for a sermon. But to Dr.

Brookes' misgivings there came again the quiet "Good-bye, Doctor, my

Father runneth the trains." After starting Mr. Taylor explained the

situation to the conductor, the importance of his engagement, and of

making the desired connection, hoping the trainman might be of some

service. The man hoped he would get the train, but said it was very

doubtful as they rarely did. Mr. Taylor thanked him, and sat quietly

praying.

Was the connection made? As Mr. Taylor's train pulled in the other was

standing at the station. The conductor said, "Well, there it is, but I

didn't expect it." There was quite enough time to get across the platform

without hurrying and into the other train when it moved off. Was God in

that? I have no difficulty at all in understanding that He was. What

concerned His friend, in a strange land, on an errand for Himself surely

concerned Him. What concerns any trusting child of His concerns Him, for

He has us on His heart.

I recall a personal experience in Boston one summer day. It was a very hot

day. I was to meet my mother and sister in the North Union station, where

we were to take a train out. I had their tickets. I reached the station

from my errands, hot and tired and with my head aching, ideal conditions

for worry. As I stepped into the station I realized at once that our

appointment to meet was not very definite. For the large station was

crowded. There was not much time before our train would go. And I

commenced to be agitated, which is a gentler way of saying worried. What

_would_ I do? It would be extremely inconvenient, especially for my

mother, to miss the train. And the time was short, and--and--.

You see I was not a _graduate_ in this don't-worry school. I'm not yet;

still studying; expect to enter for post work when I do graduate. The

school is still open; open to all; instruction given _individually_ only;

the Teacher has had long _experience_ Himself on the earth, in the thick

of things.

Well, I said as I stood a moment in the thick crowd, "Master, you know

where they are. Please take me to them. Maybe I should have been more

careful about the appointment, but I was tired at the start. Please--thank

you." And in less time than it takes to tell you I met them right in the

thick of the great crowd. And I felt sure that Peter got his putting of it

straight when he said of the Master, "_He has you on His heart_."

Paul's Prison Psalm.

Did Paul follow his own rules? The best answer to that is this little

four-chaptered epistle where the rules are found. Philippians is a prison

psalm. The clanking of chains resounds throughout its brief pages. At one

end is Philippi; at the other Rome. Here is the Philippian end. In the

inner dungeon of a prison, dark, dirty, damp, is a man, Paul. His back is

bleeding and sore from the whipping-post. His feet are fast in the stocks.

His position is about as cramped and painful as it can be. It is midnight.

Paul would be asleep for weariness and exhaustion, but the position and

the pain hinder.

Does no temptation come to him? He had been following a _vision_ in coming

over to Philippi. This is a great ending to the vision he's been having.

Did no such temptation come? Very likely it did. But Paul is an old

campaigner. He knows best what to do. He begins singing. His music is

pitched in the major too. Most likely he is singing one of the old Hebrew

psalms that he knew by heart. It was a psalm of praise. That is one end of

this epistle.

At the other end Paul is a prisoner at Rome. As he sits dictating his

letter, if he gets tired and would swing one limb over the other for a

change, a heavy chain at his ankle reminds him of his bonds. As he reaches

for a quill to put a loving touch to the end of the parchment, again the

forged steel pulls at his wrist. That is the setting of Philippians, the

prison psalm. What is its key word? Is it patience? That would seem

appropriate. Is it long-suffering? More appropriate yet. Some of us know

about short-suffering, but we are apt to be a bit short on long-suffering.

The keyword is _joy_, with its variations of rejoice, and rejoicing.

And notice what joy is. It is the cataract in the stream of life. Peace is

the gentle even flowing of the river. Joy is where the waters go bubbling,

leaping with ecstatic bound, and forever after, as they go on, making the

channel deeper for the quiet flow of peace. Paul had put his no-worry

rules through the crucible of experience. He follows the Master in that.

These three rules really mean living ever in that Master's presence. When

we realize that He is ever alongside then it will be easier to be

Anxious for nothing,

Thankful for anything,

Prayerful about everything.

He Touched Her Hand.

One morning on waking, a woman charged with the care of a home began

thinking of the day's simple duties. And as she thought they seemed to

magnify and pile up. There was her little daughter to get off to school

with her luncheon. Some of the church ladies were coming that morning for

a society meeting, and she had been planning a dainty luncheon for them.

The maid in the kitchen was not exactly ideal--yet. And as she thought

into the day her head began aching.

After breakfast, as her husband was leaving for the day's business, he

took her hand and kissed her good-bye. "Why," he said, "my dear, your hand

is feverish. I'm afraid you've been doing too much. Better just take a day

off." And he was gone. And she said to herself, "A day off! The idea! Just

like a _man_ to think that I could take a day off." But she had been

making a habit of getting a little time for reading and prayer after

breakfast. Pity she had not put it in earlier, at the day's very start.

Yet maybe she could not. Sometimes it is not possible. Yet _most times_ it

is possible, by planning.

Now she slipped to her room and, sitting down quietly, turned to the

chapter in her regular place of reading. It was the eighth of Matthew. As

she read she came to the words, "And _He touched her hand_, and the _fever

left her_; and she arose and ministered unto Him." And she knelt and

breathed out the soft prayer for a touch of the Master's hand upon her

own. And it came as she remained there a few moments. And then with much

quieter spirit she went on into the day.

The luncheon for the church ladies was not quite so elaborate as she had

planned. There came to her an impulse to tell her morning's experience.

She shrank from doing it. It seemed a sacred thing. They might not

understand. But the impulse remained and she obeyed it, and quietly told

them. And as they listened there seemed to come a touch of the Spirit's

presence upon them all. And so the day was a blessed one. Its close found

her husband back again. And as he greeted her he said quietly, "My dear,

you did as I said, didn't you? The fever's gone."

Gideon's Band: Sifted for Service.

God Wants the Best.

God's Use of Weak Things.

Call for Volunteers.

A Willing People.

Courageous Volunteers.

Irresistible Logic.

Hot Hearts.

God Still Sifting.

Gideon's Band: Sifted for Service.

(1 Corinthians i:18-31; Judges vi and vii.)

God Wants the Best.

Salvation is for all. Service is for those chosen for it. All _may_ serve.

That all do not is simply because service requires qualities which all do

not have. Yet, again, all may have them who will, for the required

qualities are _heart qualities_. And every one of us can cultivate the

heart qualities. There is special service, chiefly of leadership,

requiring brain qualities as well as heart. But the Master attends to the

choosing of men for such service.

And where His spirit has touched human hearts there will be a glad doing

of just what service He appoints. It will be an honor to do just what He

asks because He asks. What it may happen to be will be a small matter in

itself. It is for Him, at His desire, and that is full enough to bring out

the best we have.

Our old Tarsus and Antioch friend and leader has written a special word

about this matter of being chosen for service. It is in his first letter

to the recently organized church at Corinth. It is really his second

letter, for he seems to have written one before it that has not been

preserved.[23] There were some very serious matters in this new church

requiring strong treatment by its much-loved founder. Among them was one

about service.

There were some who had gifts in service that seemed more attractive and

desirable than others had, it might be said more showy. And their

brethren, not free from the old worldly spirit, were envious and jealous.

And these who had such gifts were not free from a boasting spirit.

Factions or parties had arisen as a result. It was the bad world spirit of

competition and rivalry in among Christ's followers where it should never

come, yet where it still does come. In writing this letter Paul throughout

blends great plainness and common sense with great tenderness.

In the beginning of his letter he calls attention to the fact that there

are not many among them of those who were reckoned by the world's

standards as wise or mighty or noble. On the contrary, in choosing His

leaders God had purposely chosen those reckoned by the world's standards

foolish that He might show plainly the shallowness of what they deem wise.

And so things reckoned weak had been chosen to give the conception of

what true strength is. And things even base, and despised, and not counted

at all had been used that so men might learn the God-standards of wisdom

and strength and honor and of what is worth while. The purpose being that

men should quit glorying in themselves and glorify Him from whom

everything had come, and was ever coming.

The passage has oftentimes been quoted as though God prefers weakness;

never put so bluntly as that perhaps, but plainly meaning that. That of

course is not true. God wants the best we have. He needs the best. And for

leadership often His plans must wait till a man of the sort needed can be

gotten. And gotten frequently means broken, shattered, and then made over

wholly new, that the native strength may be used according to true

standards.

Jacob was chosen rather than his elder brother Esau, not because of

Jacob's goodness but because of Esau's weakness. God was narrowed to these

two grandsons in carrying out the promise to Abraham. Jacob was

contemptible in his moral dealings, but he had qualities of leadership

wholly lacking in his brother. His moral character was a serious

hindrance. God had to handle him heroically before He could get the use of

his stronger mental equipment. Jacob had to get a bad throw-down before he

would be willing to let God have His way. His body must be weakened

before his mental power would yield. That was the weakness of his

stubbornness. Stubbornness is strength not strong enough to yield.

God's Use of Weak Things.

It is true that over and over again God has used men utterly weak and

foolish and despised in the light of life's common standards. He wants men

of the best mental strength, of the finest mental training, and He uses

such when they are willing to be used, and governed by the true

God-standards of life. But talent seems specially beset with temptation.

The very power to do great things seems often to bewilder the man

possessing it. Wrong ambition gets the saddle and the reins and whip too,

and rides hard.

Frequently some man who had not guessed he had talent, born in some lonely

walk of life, without the training of the schools, is used for special

leadership. It takes longer time always. Early mental training is an

enormous advantage. Carey the cobbler had mental talents to grace a

Cambridge chair. It took a little longer time to get him into shape for

the pioneer work he did in India. Duff's training gave him a great

advantage.

But God is never in a hurry. He can wait. What He asks is that we shall

bring the best we have natively, with the best possible training, and let

Him use us absolutely as He may wish. And always remember that every

mental power is a gift from Him; that actual power in life must be through

Him only; and that mental gifts are not serviceable save as they are ever

inbreathed by His own Spirit.

This word of Paul's finds most graphic illustration in the book of Judges.

Judges should be put alongside of the first chapter of First Corinthians.

It is a series of pictorial illustrations of what Paul is saying there.

These two books, Joshua and Judges, side by side in the Old Testament

stand in sharpest contrast. The keynote of Joshua is victory; of Judges

defeat. There's music in both, but contrasted music. Joshua rings with

songs in the major key, triumphant, militant, joyous, victorious.

The music of Judges is in the minor, sad and weeping, with the harps

hanging on the willows. Joshua is upon the mountain top with sun shining

and air bracing and outlook inspiring. Judges is down in the valley

bottoms, dark and gloomy, and depressing. Yet Judges has bright spots, and

has spurts of good music interspersed. It is a study in lights and

shadows, bright lights, and dark shadowings, but with the blacker tints

intensifying and overcoming the others.

There are here seven striking illustrations of God's use of strange

unusual means, such as are reckoned weak and trivial. A _left-handed_ man

uses that peculiarity to get a great victory and eighteen years of freedom

for the nation.[24] A farmer with as homely a weapon as an _ox-goad_

delivers his people from oppression.[25] Men came to be so scarce, that is

men that were men enough to take their true place as leaders, that a

_woman_ had to step into the breach, and assume leadership. But the

student of history and of modern times is used to that. The result was

great victory, and a forty years' rest from the nation's enemies.[26]

A _nail_ or _tent-pin_, only a wooden peg, in the hands of a woman with a

hammer helps to make the enemy's defeat more decisive.[27] _Three hundred_

young men with _pitchers and trumpets_ completely rout the three armies of

three nations, and bring another deliverance.[28] Another time _a piece of

a millstone_ shoved over the wall by a woman turns the tide of battle

favorably.[29] And as contemptible a thing as the _jawbone of an ass_ in

the hands of one strong man is used to slay a thousand men.[30]

Call for Volunteers.

It is of one of these, one of the most striking of these, that we are to

talk together awhile; the graphic story of Gideon and his band of three

hundred young fellows. Things were in bad shape in the nation; about as

bad in every way as they could be. This time it was the Midianites who

overran the land, and held the leaderless people in most abject slavery.

With them were joined two other nations, the Amalekites and the Children

of the East. When the crops were almost ready to harvest, these raiders

swooped in in great numbers and destroyed all the crops and drove away all

the stock.

They harried the Israelites so that life was made very miserable for them.

They were forced to flee from their farms and take refuge in caves and

dens and the fastnesses among the hills. Then, as usual, when they got

into bad shape the people remembered God, and cried for help, and, as

usual with Him, He at once forgave them and planned another great

deliverance.

First of all Gideon the leader is chosen out, and put through a bit of

schooling. That is a fascinating story of great helpfulness. Then this

trained young leader gathers his band of helpers. And we want to mark

keenly how these three hundred men were sifted out of the thousands for

service. They were sifted out. They sifted themselves out. In that army

of thousands were just three hundred who had the needed qualifications for

the bit of service God wanted done.

Look over the gathered thousands: which are the chosen three hundred? No

man knew. They didn't know themselves until the tests came. They chose

themselves out by the way they stood the three tests applied. Even so is

God ever sifting out men for service. The more difficult the service, the

higher the grade of leadership needed, the severer the test. The testing

both reveals the qualities, and in part makes them.

The first quality these men had was _willingness._ They were all

_volunteers_. When the call came they rallied to the leader's side. Gideon

sent runners, criers, out throughout that whole section. They went first

to his own family clan, then to his tribe, then to three neighboring

tribes. They said that God had called upon Gideon to lead a movement

against the Midianites and their allies and he wanted every man to come

and help. The messengers went swiftly through the whole territory of these

neighboring tribes, arousing the men to action and calling for volunteers.

A good many did not respond to the summons. Some were simply indifferent.

They could not help hearing the call, but there was no response without or

within. No change of expression in the eye or face. They went right on in

their heavy, dull way as though they hadn't heard. They were utterly

indifferent to the call. Some were reluctant. They stopped and listened,

but with a heavy slant backwards to their bodies. Their heels bore most of

their weight. It was a good idea to get up such a movement, the enemy

ought to be driven back and out, but--but--and their eyes are half shut

already.

Some criticised. Who was Gideon? A young upstart! trying to push himself

forward as a leader. He had no skill or experience. And the people had no

weapons. The enemy had stolen everything of the sort away. And they were

clear outnumbered. There wasn't a ghost of a show. It would only make bad

matters worse. This young upstart Gideon would soon be sorry enough when

he butted his head against the experienced Midianite leaders.

And--and--and--there they are talking, criticising, but not responding to

the call. Such critics seldom respond, and helpers criticise in a very

different way. It takes less brain to criticise unwisely, captiously, far

less than to help. Almost any hare-brain can tear a thing to pieces. And

nothing is commoner than just such criticism.

Some ridiculed. "Ha! ha! ha! Gideon going to be national leader; ha! ha!

ha! And whip the enemy. Ridiculous! Absurd!" And some were outrightly

opposed. They objected. The people would be aroused, their hopes awakened

only to be dashed. The whole thing was wrong, for it was impossible. And

these men tried to keep others from going.

A Willing People.

But many came. A crowd of volunteers came hurrying from farms and caves,

bringing such weapons probably as they had been able to keep in hiding.

They were willing to respond. It was a motley crowd, no doubt. There were

thirty-two thousand of them. These four tribes had once numbered as many

as one hundred and eighty-four thousand five hundred fighting men. And at

another, later, enumeration they had two hundred and twelve thousand men

of war age. Their numbers may be smaller now, though possibly not. It

looks as though only a small minority of all had responded, maybe one in

six or so.

These men had the first great qualification for service, they were

willing. They were actively willing. They willed to come down to the front

and help fight the enemy, and deliver their nation. It is a great quality

this of being willing. That prophetic One Hundred and Tenth Psalm mentions

this as the great characteristic of those who shall rally about God's King

in a coming day of power. God reckons our service not by our ability but

by our willingness.[31]

Whatever is given out of a warm, willing heart is eagerly accepted by

Him. The Hebrew tabernacle was constructed of free-will offerings. The

people came willingly with their offerings and left them for Moses' use.

Some brought gold and silver, some finely woven tapestries and silks. Here

was one poor woman who wanted to give but had very little. So she went out

to her little flock of goats whereby her living came to her, and cut off a

big bunch of goat's hair, and then with much pains dyed it red.

And then one day she went up to where they were presenting their gifts and

timidly laid her bunch of goat's hair on the pile of offerings, and

quietly, quickly slipped away. It seemed very small on that pile of gold

and silver and richly-colored weavings. But it was the gift of her heart.

They had to have goat's hair as well as gold. And her offering was

acceptable because it came from a willing heart. Willingness is a heart

quality. It is the heart volunteering.

"Our wills are ours to make them Thine."

This was the first test. Thirty-two thousand out of four tribes stood this

test. Gideon's army had one great qualification at the start.

Courageous Volunteers.

Now these men are put to a second test. The next morning God surprised

Gideon by telling him that he had too many men. If a victory was given

them with so many men they would feel that they had done the thing

themselves. They would grow so large as to shut God out of their

landscape. There would be no getting along with them. Each man would feel

that he was the essential factor. They would go back to the homefolks to

tell of themselves. God seems to know us folk down on the earth fairly

well.

Now He would lessen their numbers, but in doing it He will pick out the

best. The men are encamped on the hillsides overlooking a valley. Across

the valley to the north lay the encamped armies of three nations. They

were a vast host. They were spread out as thick as the grasshoppers of

Egypt had been years before. Everywhere you looked there they were

swarming.

Gideon spoke to his men. He said, "Gentlemen, Fellow-Israelites, there is

the enemy. Take a good look at them." And his followers looked, and as

they looked some of them began to get scared. They had not realized just

what was involved. Their footwear seemed to grow too large. They were

shaking in their boots. And their eyes grew big and their faces white

under the tan.

Then Gideon said, "Now, every man of you that thinks it can't be done--I

wish you would get right out of this, and go back home." And he watched.

And I imagine even Gideon shook a bit inside as he watched. They

commenced to move away in squads, in scores, in fifties. Great gaps were

left in the mob of men. Here is a fellow standing, looking. He thinks, "It

looks pretty bad, sure enough; but then, I suppose, if God is planning--"

hello, the fellow by his side has gone, and on this other side too--"I

guess I'd better go too." And off he goes. Fear is very contagious. There

is great power in feeling a man by your side. And two-thirds of them

disappear over the hills.

The motto of these disappearing men was this: "It can't be done." They

must have organized themselves into a society to perpetuate their own

idea. If so the society has shown great vitality. Many of its members

abide with us until this day. No, probably they didn't organize. They

didn't have enough gumption to. And such a sentiment grows like a weed

without any cultivation.

I recall a certain town in Ohio where I had gone to talk about an

enlargement and re-vitalizing of the Young Men's Christian Association.

Thousands of young men in the place needed just such help as that

organization is supposed to provide. I outlined the plan to a clergyman.

He said it was a good plan, there was great need, the thing should be

done, "but," he said, with an air of settling the thing, "it can't be done

in _this town_."

Among others I talked with a business man. He listened attentively,

approved the plans, agreed upon the great need, and then settling back in

his chair with the same air of finality, used exactly the same words, with

the same emphasis, "It can't be done in _this town_." I got that same

reply from several men that day. And I said to myself, "They are right; it

can't be done _with them_; but it can be done without them." And it was.

Irresistible Logic.

But there remained ten thousand. These men by their staying said, "It

ought to be done. What ought to be done can be done. What can be done _we_

can do. What we can do we _will_ do." Here is another man standing looking

at that vast host across the valley. He is thinking that it is a desperate

case, but he thinks of God's call through Gideon. Just then he notices

that his neighbor on the left has taken to his heels, and on his right

also. That shakes him for a moment. His heels say, "You go too." His heart

said, "No, stay." He obeyed his heart. He said, "I'll stay if I stay

alone."

That was the stuff in these remaining ten thousand. They stood a double

test in remaining, the desperate situation seen in the presence of such an

enormous army, and the desertion of their fellows. They had _courage_;

not only willingness but courage. Courage is a heart quality. Courage is

the heart fighting. It faces fearful odds and keeps right straight ahead

regardless.

A prize was offered once for the best definition of "pluck." The

definition that won the prize said, "Pluck is fighting with the scabbard

after the sword is broken." What a picture in a single sentence! The man

is fighting with might and main in the thick of the enemy, up and down,

parry and thrust, and just about holding his own, when suddenly, without a

moment's warning, the blade snaps close up to the hilt. The game's up now

surely. This accident decides the day. _Maybe_--for _some_ men. But not

for this fellow. He simply sets his jaws a bit firmer as, quick as

lightning, he grabs the scabbard by his side and fights with it.

Such a man can't be whipped. He doesn't know when he is whipped. And the

man who doesn't know when he is whipped, never _is_ whipped. No man can be

whipped without his own consent. I said courage is a heart quality. These

ten thousand were not chicken-hearted nor downhearted. They were

lion-hearted, stout-hearted. They had hearts of oak.

It was a keen stroke of generalship on Gideon's part that sent the timid,

discouraged ones back home. Nothing is more demoralizing than the presence

of such people. And there was no discipline much finer for those who

remained than to feel their fellows leaving them. It's hard to be left by

those who have been in touch. It is hard to stand alone.

There is no harder test of character than that. And too there is no finer

thing to make character. Think how the fiber of those ten thousand

toughened and strengthened as they _stood_ there, with men on every side

hurrying away. This was the second test. But the men who can stand testing

are growing fewer. Thirty-two thousand men were willing. Only a third of

them are both willing and courageous. These men are more than volunteers.

They have seen the foe. Their fiber has stood the test, and toughened in

the test. They are _courageous_ volunteers.

Hot Hearts.

But there is a third test. God comes to Gideon and says, "You have too

many men yet, Gideon." And Gideon's eyes bulge out a bit. Too many! Yes,

this is to be a quality fight. No common fighting here. God works best

with the men who come nearest to having His own thought of things. Numbers

don't count. You can't count men for service. You must weigh them, and

feel the firmness of their fiber.

There is a little running brook down the valley. Gideon gives an order to

his men to advance a bit. And he watches them. Most of them as they come

to the water stretch out leisurely on the ground and putting their mouths

to the water take a good long drink, and another, and again. They seem to

say by their action, "Well, there's some tough work ahead, but we must

take care of ourselves. A man must look out for number one. We must not

get unduly stirred up over the thing. We're not fighting yet."

But one fellow comes along with a quick, nervous step, and his eye still

on the enemy. He is all on tenter-hooks. His eye flashes fire. He reaches

down with a quick movement and gathers up some water in his hand, up to

his mouth, and hurries on. Then a second fellow, and a third, and more.

Gideon is watching. As each of these comes along he calls him off to one

side. When the whole number of men have passed the brook there are just

three hundred of the hot-hearted, intense-spirited fellows.

God said, "Gideon, keep these men; send the others back." These thousands

sent back were sturdy men. They would make good fighters in many a

campaign, but they would not do for this higher kind of campaigning

planned for that day. The little band remaining had stood a third test,

they were willing, and courageous, _and enthusiastic_.

Enthusiasm is the heart _burning_. These fellows had spring and snap to

them. Yet it was a _tempered_ spring and snap, the sort that would last.

By their action at the brook they said, "If there's fighting to be done,

let's do it quickly; let's go at the enemy with a vim and a rush. Oh! let

us at them."

God Still Sifting.

Yet, mark you, their enthusiasm was _seasoned_. It grew _under fire_, or

practically so, in the presence of the danger. There is always an

abundance of the green article of enthusiasm, but it's not worth much for

steady ditch-work. There is a sort of wood enthusiasm, apple-wood. You

know how apple-wood burns in a fire. It catches quickly, throws out a good

many sparks, makes a loud crackling noise, but doesn't last long.

There is another sort, a soft-coal enthusiasm. It's better than wood. But

it needs a lot of attention continually to keep a steady fire. Then

there's the hard-coal enthusiasm that will burn steadily and faithfully by

the hour. Yet no kind, mark you, will run long without fresh fuel. We need

in our service more of the seasoned enthusiasm.

It has been said of General Grant that one great reason for his success as

a soldier was in his coolness. While the fighting and firing were hottest

he sat on his horse quietly, coolly watching, listening, and giving his

orders. And much of his power has been attributed to that quality. Well,

if coolness is a qualification for success in Christian service there

seems to be a large number of persons splendidly qualified. They are cool

all the time; cool as icebergs at the North Pole; cool from the topmost

layer of hair to the bottommost cuticle--about certain things.

We want coolness of head such as General Grant had and hotness of heart

such as he had, too. The ideal combination is a cool head and a hot heart.

The head should resemble a refrigerator, and the heart a flaming furnace.

There is one bother, however, among many people. Either the coolness of

the head works down too much and affects the heart, and that is bad, or,

else the heat of the heart gets up into the head, and a hot head is always

bad.

Yet there is a sure key to preserving the poise between the two. It is in

the quiet time daily with Jesus, over the Book, with the knee bent, and

the ear keen, and the spirit quiet. In that time there comes, and comes

ever more, the calmness for the brain, and the fresh fuel for the heart,

and new steadiness for the will that holds all under its strong hand.

Many difficulties will yield only to fire. When you cannot reason your way

through a problem, or a difficulty, or into a man's heart, _burn_ your

way through. Nothing can withstand fire. It is very remarkable that the

symbol used most for God in the Bible is fire. A man never amounts to

anything until he catches fire.

The proportions are worth noticing here. Thirty-two thousand were

_volunteers_. A third of that number are _courageous_ volunteers. About a

thirty-third of these, less than a hundredth of the original, are

_hot-hearted, courageous_ volunteers.

This is Gideon's Band; three hundred young men fresh from the farm, who

were _willing_, and _courageous_, and _hot-hearted_, all heart qualities.

They stood every test. They had faced a foe that humanly they had no

chance to overcome, and because of God's call they were not only willing,

and stout-hearted, but intense in their desire to get at the fighting.

Then under Gideon's leadership they were well fed, and organized; they

proved individually faithful in the thick of the fight, and they pushed

persistently on even when bodily tired out. And the nation knew a great

victory over its enemies, and a time of prosperity for years after.

God is still sifting men for service. He will use gladly every man who is

willing to be used. When a man stands the first test well, there comes a

second. That, stood well, means others. These are our promotion tests. He

lets those who stand all testings into the thickest of the fight and up to

the highest heights of victory.

Master, help us to endure every test as seeing Him who is invisible.