We have a long catalogue, very interesting in many respects, of the
various gifts that the people brought. Such sentences as these occur
over and over again--'And every man with whom was found' so-and-so
'brought it'; 'And all the women did spin with their hands, and brought
that which they had spun'; 'And the rulers brought' so-and-so. Such
statements embody the very plain truism that what we have settles what
we are bound to give. Or, to put it into grander words, capacity is the
measure of duty. Our work is cut out for us by the faculties and
opportunities that God has given us.
That is a very easy thing to say, but it is an uncommonly hard thing
honestly to apply. For there are plenty of people that are smitten with
very unusual humility whenever you begin to talk to them about work.
'It is not in my way,' 'I am not capable of that kind of service,' and
so on, and so on. One would believe in the genuineness of the excuse
more readily if there were anything about which such people said,
'Well, I _can_ do that, at all events'; but such an all-round modesty,
which is mostly observable when service is called for, is suspicious.
It might be well for some of these retiring and idle Christians to
remember the homely wisdom of 'You never know what you can do till you
try.' On the other hand, there are many Christians who, for want of
honest looking into their own power, for want of what I call sanctified
originality, are content to run in the ruts that other people's
vehicles have made, without asking themselves whether that is the gauge
that their wheels are fit for. Both these sets of people flagrantly
neglect the plain law that what we have settles what we should give.
The form as well as the measure of our service is determined thereby.
'She hath done what she could,' said Jesus Christ about Mary. We often
read that, as if it were a kind of apology for a sentimental and
useless gift, because it was the best that she could bestow. I do not
hear that tone in the words at all. I hear, rather, this, that duty is
settled by faculty, and that nobody else has any business to interfere
with that which a Christian soul, all aflame with the love of God,
finds to be the spontaneous and natural expression of its devotion to
the Master. The words are the vindication of the form of loving
service; but let us not forget that they are also a very stringent
requirement as to its measure, if it is to please Christ. 'What she
could'; the engine must be worked up to the last ounce of pressure that
it will stand. All must be got out of it that can be got out of it. Is
that the case about us? We talk about hard work for Christ. Have any of
us ever, worked up to the edge of our capacity? I am afraid that if the
principles that lie in this catalogue were applied to us, whether about
our gold and silver, or about our more precious spiritual and mental
possessions, _we_ could not say, 'Every man with whom was found' this,
that, and the other, 'brought it for the work.'
III. Notice, again, how in this list of offerings there comes out the
great thought of the infinite variety of forms of service and offering,
which are all equally needful and equally acceptable.
The list begins with 'bracelets, and earrings, and rings, and tablets,
all jewels of gold.' And then it goes on to 'blue, and purple, and
scarlet, and fine linen, and red skins of rams, and badgers' skins, and
shittim wood.' And then we read that the 'women did spin with their
hands, and brought that which they had spun'--namely, the same things
as have been already catalogued, 'the blue, and purple, and scarlet,
and fine linen.' That looks as if the richer gave the raw material, and
the women gave the labour. Poor women! they could not give, but they
could spin. They had no stores, but they had ten fingers and a distaff,
and if some neighbour found the stuff, the ten fingers joyfully set the
distaff twirling, and spun the yarn for the weavers. Then there were
others who willingly undertook the rougher work of spinning, not dainty
thread for the rich soft stuffs whose colours were to glow in the
sanctuary, but the coarse black goat's hair which was to be made into
the heavy covering of the roof of the tabernacle. No doubt it was less
pleasant labour than the other, but it got done by willing hands. And
then, at the end of the whole enumeration, there comes, 'And the rulers
brought precious stones, and spices, and oil,' and all the expensive
things that were needed. The large subscriptions are at the bottom of
the list, and the smaller ones are in the place of honour. All this
just teaches us this--what a host of things of all degrees of
preciousness in men's eyes go to make God's great building!
So various were the requirements of the work on hand. Each man's gift
was needed, and each in its place was equally necessary. The jewels on
the high-priest's breastplate were no more nor less essential than the
wood that made some peg for a curtain, or than the cheap goat's-hair
yarn that was woven into the coarse cloth flung over the roof of the
Tabernacle to keep the wet out. All had equal consecration, because all
made one whole. All was equally precious, if all was given with the
same spirit. So there is room for all sorts of work in Christ's great
house, where there are not only 'vessels of gold and of silver, but
also of wood and of earth,' and all 'unto honour ... meet for the
Master's use.' The smallest deed that co-operates to a great end is
great. 'The more feeble are necessary.' Every one may find a corner
where his special possession will work into the general design. If I
have no jewels to give, I can perhaps find some shittim wood, or, if I
cannot manage even that, I can at least spin some other person's yarn,
even though I have only a distaff, and not a loom to weave it in. Many
of us can do work only when associated with others, and can render best
service by helping some more highly endowed. But all are needed, and
welcomed, and honoured, and rewarded. The owner of all the slaves sets
one to be a water-carrier, and another to be his steward. It is of
little consequence whether the servant be Paul or Timothy, the Apostle
or the Apostle's helper. 'He worketh the work of the Lord, as I also
do,' said the former about the latter. All who are associated in the
same service are on one level.
I remember once being in the treasury of a royal palace. There was a
long gallery in which the Crown valuables were stored. In one
compartment there was a great display of emeralds, and diamonds, and
rubies, and I know not what, that had been looted from some Indian
rajah or other. And in the next case there lay a common quill pen, and
beside it a little bit of discoloured coarse serge. The pen had signed
some important treaty, and the serge was a fragment of a flag that had
been borne triumphant from a field where a nation's destinies had been
sealed. The two together were worth a farthing at the outside, but they
held their own among the jewels, because they spoke of brain-work and
bloodshed in the service of the king. Many strangely conjoined things
lie side by side in God's jewel-cases. Things which people vulgarly
call large and valuable, and what people still more vulgarly call small
and worthless, have a way of getting together there. For in that place
the arrangement is not according to what the thing would fetch if it
were sold, but what was the thought in the mind and the emotion in the
heart which gave it. Jewels and camel's hair yarn and gold and silver
are all massed together. Wood is wanted for the Temple quite as much as
gold and silver and precious stones.
So, whatever we have, let us bring that; and whatever we are, let us
bring that. If we be poor and our work small, and our natures limited,
and our faculties confined, it does not matter. A man is accepted
'according to that he hath, and not according to that he hath not.' God
does not ask how much we have given or done, if we have given or done
what we could. But He does ask how much we have kept back, and takes
strict account of the unsurrendered possessions, the unimproved
opportunities, the unused powers. He gives much who gives all, though
his all be little; he gives little who gives a part, though the part be
much. The motive sanctifies the act, and the completeness of the
consecration magnifies it. 'Great' and 'small' are not words for God's
Kingdom, in which the standard is not quantity but quality, and quality
is settled by the purity of the love which prompts the deed, and the
consequent thoroughness of self-surrender which it expresses. Whoever
serves God with a whole heart will render to Him a whole strength, and
will thus bring Him the gifts which He most desires.