'Woe is me if I preach not the Gospel.' I suppose Paul is thinking
mainly of a future issue, but not exclusively of that. At all events,
let me point you, in a word or two, to the plain penalties of silence
here, and to the awful penalties of silence hereafter.
'Woe is me if I preach not the Gospel.' If you are a dumb and idle
professor of Christ's truth, depend upon it that your dumb idleness
will rob you of much communion with Jesus Christ. There are many
Christians who would be ever so much happier, more joyous, and more
assured Christians if they would go and talk about Christ to other
people. Because they have locked up God's word in their hearts it
melts away unknown, and they lose more than they suspect of the
sweetness and buoyancy and assured confidence that might mark them,
for no other reason than because they seek to keep their morsel to
themselves. Like that mist that lies white and dull over the ground
on a winter's morning, which will be blown away with the least puff
of fresh air, there lie doleful dampnesses, in their sooty folds,
over many a Christian heart, shutting out the sun from the earth, and
a little whiff of wholesome activity in Christ's cause would clear
them all away, and the sun would shine down upon men again. If you
want to be a happy Christian, work for Jesus Christ. I do not lay
that down as a specific by itself. There are other things to be taken
in conjunction with it, but yet it remains true that the woe of a
languid Christianity attaches to the men who, being professing
Christians, are silent when they should speak, and idle when they
should work.
There is, further, the woe of the loss of sympathies, and the gain of
all the discomforts and miseries of a self-absorbed life. And there
is, further, the woe of the loss of one of the best ways of
confirming one's own faith in the truth--viz. that of seeking to
impart it to others. If you want to learn a thing, teach it. If you
want to grasp the principles of any science, try to explain it to
somebody who does not understand it. If you want to know where, in
these days of jangling and controversy, the true, vital centre of the
Gospel is, and what is the essential part of the revelation of God,
go and tell sinful men about Jesus Christ who died for them; and you
will find out that it is the Cross, and Him who died thereon, as
dying for the world, that is the power which can move men's hearts.
And so you will cleave with a closer grasp, in days of difficulty and
unsettlement, to that which is able to bring light into darkness and
to harmonise the discord of a troubled and sinful soul. And, further,
there is the woe of having none that can look to you and say, 'I owe
myself to thee.' Oh, brethren! there is no greater joy accessible to
a man than that of feeling that through his poor words Christ has
entered into a brother's heart. And you are throwing away all this
because you shut your mouths and neglect the plain commandment of
your Lord.
Ay! but that is not all. There is a future to be taken into account,
and I think that Christian people do far too little realise the
solemn truth that it is not all the same _then_ whether a man
has kept his Master's commandments or neglected them. I believe that
whilst a very imperfect faith saves a man, there is such a thing as
being 'saved, yet so as through fire,' and that there is such a thing
as having 'an abundant entrance ministered unto us into the
everlasting kingdom.' He whose life has been very slightly influenced
by Christian principle, and who has neglected plain, imperative
duties, will not stand on the same level of blessedness as the man
who has more completely yielded himself in life to the constraining
power of Christ's love, and has sought to keep all His commandments.
Heaven is not a dead level. Every man there will receive as much
blessedness as he is capable of, but capacities will vary, and the
principal factor in determining the capacity, which capacity
determines the blessedness, will be the thoroughness of obedience to
all the ordinances of Christ in the course of the life upon earth.
So, though we know, and therefore dare say, little about that future,
I do beseech you to take this to heart, that he who there can stand
before God, and say, 'Behold! I and the children whom God hath given
me' will wear a crown brighter than the starless ones of those who
saved themselves, and have brought none with them.
'Some on boards, and some on broken pieces of the ship, they all came
safe to land.' But the place where they stand depends on their
Christian life, and of that Christian life one main element is
obedience to the commandment which makes them the apostles and
missionaries of their Lord.
III. Lastly, note the glad obedience which transcends the limits of
obligation.
'If I do this thing willingly I have a reward.' Paul desired to bring
a little more than was required, in token of his love to his Master,
and of his thankful acceptance of the obligation. The artist who
loves his work will put more work into his picture than is absolutely
needed, and will linger over it, lavishing diligence and care upon
it, because he is in love with his task. The servant who seeks to do
as little as he can scrape through with without rebuke is actuated by
no high motives. The trader who barely puts as much into the scale as
will balance the weight in the other is grudging in his dealings; but
he who, with liberal hand, gives 'shaken down, pressed together, and
running over' measure, gives because he delights in the giving.
And so it is in the Christian life. There are many of us whose
question seems to be, 'How little can I get off with? how much can I
retain?'--many of us whose effort is to find out how much of the
world is consistent with the profession of Christianity, and to find
the minimum of effort, of love, of service, of gifts which may free
us from obligation.
And what does that mean? It means that we are slaves. It means that
if we durst we would give nothing, and do nothing. And what does that
mean? It means that we do not care for the Lord, and have no joy in
our work. And what does that mean? It means that our work deserves no
praise, and will get no reward. If we love Christ we shall be
anxious, if it were possible, to do more than He commands us, in
token of our loyalty to the King, and of our delight in the service.
Of course, in the highest view, nothing can be more than necessary.
Of course He has the right to all our work; but yet there are heights
of Christian consecration and self-sacrifice which a man will not be
blamed if he has not climbed, and will be praised if he has. What we
want, if I might venture to say so, is extravagance of service. Judas
may say, 'To what purpose is this waste?' but Jesus will say, He
'hath wrought a good work on Me,' and the fragrance of the ointment
will smell sweet through the centuries.
So, dear brethren, the upshot of the whole thing is, Do not let us do
our Christian work reluctantly, else it is only slave's work, and
there is no blessing in it, and no reward will come to us from it. Do
not let us ask, 'How little may I do?' but 'How much can I do?' Thus,
asking, we shall not offer as burnt offering to the Lord that which
doth cost us nothing. On His part He has given the commandment as a
sign of His love. The stewardship is a token that He trusts us, the
duty is an honour, the burden is a grace. On our parts let us seek
for the joy of service which is not contented with the bare amount of
the tribute that is demanded, but gives something over, if it were
possible, because of our love to Him. They who thus give to Jesus
Christ their all of love and effort and service will receive it all
back a hundredfold, for the Master is not going to be in debt to any
of His servants, and He says to them all, 'I will repay it, howbeit I
say not unto thee how thou owest unto Me even thine own self
besides.'