The king's potters had not to till the land nor do any work but to
mould clay into vessels for use and beauty. For that purpose they had
their huts and bits of ground assigned them. So with us, Christ has a
purpose in His provision for us. We are set down on His domains, and
we enjoy His presence and providing in order that, set free from
carking cares and low ends, we may, with free and joyous hearts, yield
ourselves to His joyful service. The law of our life should be that we
please not ourselves, nor consult our own will in choosing our tasks,
nor seek our own profit or gratification in doing them, but ever ask
of Him: 'Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?' and when the answer
comes, as come it will to all who ask with real desire to learn and
with real inclination to do His will, that we 'make haste and delay
not, but make haste to keep His commandments.' The spirit which should
animate our active lives is plainly enough taught us in that little
word, they 'dwelt with the king for his work.'
Nor are we to forget that, in a very profound sense, dwelling with the
King must go before doing His work. Unless we are living continually
under the operation of the stimulus of communion with Jesus, we shall
have neither quickness of ear to know what He wishes us to do, nor any
resolute concentration of ourselves on our Christ-appointed tasks. The
spring of all noble living is communion with noble ideals, and
fellowship with Jesus sets men agoing, as nothing else will, in
practical lives of obedience to Jesus. Time given to silent, retired
meditation on that sweet, sacred bond that knits the believing soul to
the redeeming Lord is not lost with reference to active work for
Jesus. The meditative and the practical life are not antagonistic, but
complementary, Mary and Martha are sisters, though sometimes they
differ, and foolish people try to set them against each other.
But we must beware of a common misconception of what the King's work
is. The royal potters did not make only things of beauty, but very
common vessels designed for common and ignoble uses. There were
vessels of dishonour dried in their kilns as well as vessels 'meet for
the master's use.' There is a usual and lamentable narrowing of the
term 'Christian work,' to certain conventional forms of service, which
has done and is doing an immense amount of harm. The King's work is
far wider in scope than teaching in Sunday-schools, or visiting the
sick, or any similar acts that are usually labelled with the name. It
covers all the common duties of life. A shallow religion tickets some
selected items with the name; a robuster, truer conception extends the
designation to everything. It is not only when we are definitely
trying to bring others into touch with Jesus that we are doing Him
service, but we may be equally serving Him in everything. The
difference between the king's work and the poor potters' own lay not
so much in the nature as in the motive of it, and whatever we do for
Christ's sake and with a view to His will is work that He owns, while
a regard to self in our motive or in our end decisively strikes any
service tainted by it out of the category.
We are to hallow all our deeds by drawing the motive for them from the
King and by laying the fruits of them at His feet. Thus, and only
thus, will the most 'secular' actions be sanctified and the narrowest
life be widened to contain a present Christ.
There are subsidiary motives which may legitimately blend with the
supreme one. The potters would be stimulated to work hard and with
their utmost skill when they thought of how well they were paid in
house and store for their work. We have ample reasons for dedicating
our whole selves to Jesus when we think of His gift of Himself to us,
of His wages beforehand, of His joyful presence with His eye ever on
us, marking our purity of motive and our diligence.
There is a final thought that may well stimulate us to put all our
skill and effort into our work. The potters' work went to Jerusalem.
It was for the king. What can be too good for him? He will see it,
therefore let us put our best into it. And we shall see it too, when
we too enter 'the city of the great King.' Jars that perhaps were
wrought by these very workmen of whom we have been speaking turn up
to-day in the excavations in Palestine. So much has perished and they
remain, speaking symbols of the solemn truth that nothing human ever
dies. Our 'works do follow us.' Let us so live that these may be
'found unto praise and honour and glory' at the appearing of 'the
King.'