_THE CHRISTIAN WORTH OF LABOUR._
"Now we command you, brethren, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ,
that ye withdraw yourselves from every brother that walketh
disorderly, and not after the tradition which they received of us.
For yourselves know how ye ought to imitate us: for we behaved not
ourselves disorderly among you; neither did we eat bread for nought
at any man's hand, but in labour and travail, working night and day,
that we might not burden any of you: not because we have not the
right, but to make ourselves an ensample unto you, that ye should
imitate us. For even when we were with you, this we commanded you, If
any will not work, neither let him eat. For we hear of some that walk
among you disorderly, that work not at all, but are busybodies. Now
them that are such we command and exhort in the Lord Jesus Christ,
that with quietness they work, and eat their own bread. But ye,
brethren, be not weary in well-doing. And if any man obeyeth not our
word by this epistle, note that man, that ye have no company with
him, to the end that he may be ashamed. And yet count him not as an
enemy, but admonish him as a brother."--2 THESS. iii. 6-15 (R.V.).
This passage is very similar in contents to one in the fourth chapter
of the First Epistle. The difference between the two is in tone; the
Apostle writes with much greater severity on this than on the earlier
occasion. Entreaty is displaced by command; considerations of
propriety, the appeal to the good name of the church, by the appeal to
the authority of Christ; and good counsel by express directions for
Christian discipline. Plainly the moral situation, which had caused
him anxiety some months before, had become worse rather than better.
What, then, was the situation to which he here addresses himself so
seriously? It was marked by two bad qualities--a disorderly walk and
idleness.
"We hear," he writes, "of some that walk among you disorderly." The
metaphor in the word is a military one; the underlying idea is that
every man has a post in life or in the Church, and that he ought to be
found, not away from his post, but at it. A man without a post is a
moral anomaly. Every one of us is part of a whole, a member of an
organic body, with functions to discharge which can be discharged by
no other, and must therefore be steadily discharged by himself. To
walk disorderly means to forget this, and to act as if we were
independent; now at this, now at that, according to our discretion or
our whim; not rendering the community a constant service, in a place
of our own--a service which is valuable, largely because it can be
counted on. Every one knows the extreme unsatisfactoriness of those
men who never can keep a place when they get it. Their friends plague
themselves to find new openings for them; but without any gross
offence, such as drunkenness or dishonesty, they persistently fall out
of them; there is something about them which seems to render them
incapable of sticking to their post. It is an unfortunate
constitution, perhaps; but it is a grave moral fault as well. Such men
settle to nothing, and therefore they render no permanent service to
others; whatever they might be worth otherwise, they are worth nothing
in any general estimate, simply because they cannot be depended upon.
What is more, they are worth nothing to themselves; they never
accumulate moral, any more than material, capital; they have no
reserve in them of fidelity, sobriety, discipline. They are to be
pitied, indeed, as all sinners are to be pitied; but they are also to
be commanded, in the name of the Lord Jesus, to lay their minds to
their work, and to remember that steadfastness in duty is an
elementary requirement of the gospel. Among the Thessalonians it was
religious excitement that unsettled men, and made them abandon the
routine of duty; but whatever be the cause, the evil results are the
same. And, on the other hand, when we are loyal, constant, regularly
at our post, however humble it be, we render a real service to others,
and grow in strength of character ourselves. It is the beginning of
all discipline and of all goodness to have fixed relations and fixed
duties, and a fixed determination to be faithful to them.
Besides this disorderly walk, with its moral instability, Paul heard
of some who worked not at all. In other words, idleness was spreading
in the church. It went to a great and shameless length. Christian men
apparently thought nothing of sacrificing their independence, and
eating bread for which they had not wrought. Such a state of affairs
was peculiarly offensive at Thessalonica, where the Apostle had been
careful to set so different an example. If any one could have been
excused for declining to labour, on the ground that he was preoccupied
with religious hopes and interests, it was he. His apostolic ministry
was a charge which made great demands upon his strength; it used up
the time and energy which he might otherwise have given to his trade:
he might well have urged that other work was a physical impossibility.
More than this, the Lord had ordained that they who preached the
gospel should live by the gospel; and on that ground alone he was
entitled to claim maintenance from those to whom he preached. But
though he was always careful to safeguard this right of the Christian
ministry, he was as careful, as a rule, to refrain from exercising it;
and in Thessalonica, rather than prove a burden to the church, he had
wrought and toiled, night and day, with his own hands. All this was an
example for the Thessalonians to imitate; and we can understand the
severity with which the Apostle treats that idleness which alleges in
its defence the strength of its interest in religion. It was a
personal insult.
Over against this shallow pretence, Paul sets the Christian virtue of
industry, with its stern law, "If any man _will_ not work, neither let
him eat." If he claims to lead a superhuman angelic life, let him
subsist on angels' food. What we find in this passage is not the
exaggeration which is sometimes called the gospel of work; but the
soberer and truer thought that work is essential, in general, to the
Christian character. The Apostle plays with the words when he writes,
"That work not at all, but are busybodies"; or, as it has been
reproduced in English, who are busy only with what is not their
business. This is, in point of fact, the moral danger of idleness, in
those who are not otherwise vicious.[29] Where men are naturally bad,
it multiplies temptations and opportunities for sin; Satan finds some
mischief still for idle hands to do. But even where it is the good who
are concerned, as in the passage before us, idleness has its perils.
The busybody is a real character--a man or a woman who, having no
steady work to do, which must be done whether it is liked or disliked,
and which is therefore wholesome, is too apt to meddle in other
people's affairs, religious or worldly; and to meddle, too, without
thinking that it _is_ meddling; an impertinence; perhaps a piece of
downright, stone-blind Pharisaism. A person who is not disciplined and
made wise by regular work has no idea of its moral worth and
opportunities; nor has he, as a rule, any idea of the moral
worthlessness and vanity of such an existence as his own.
There seem to have been a good many fussy people in Thessalonica,
anxious about their industrious neighbours, concerned for their lack
of interest in the Lord's coming, perpetually meddling with them--and
living upon them. It is no wonder that the Apostle expresses himself
with some peremptoriness: "If any man will not work, neither let him
eat." The difficulty about the application of this rule is that it has
no application except to the poor. In a society like our own, the
busybody may be found among those for whom this law has no terror;
they are idle, simply because they have an income which is independent
of labour. Yet what the Apostle says has a lesson for such people
also. One of the dangers of their situation is that they should
under-estimate the moral and spiritual worth of industry. A retired
merchant, a military or naval officer on half-pay, a lady with money
in the funds and no responsibilities but her own,--all these have a
deal of time on their hands; and if they are good people, it is one of
the temptations incident to their situation, that they should have
what the Apostle calls a busybody's interest in others. It need not be
a spurious or an affected interest; but it misjudges the moral
condition of others, and especially of the labouring classes, because
it does not appreciate the moral content of a day full of work. If the
work is done honestly at all, it is a thing of great price; there are
virtues embedded in it, patience, courage, endurance, fidelity, which
contribute as much to the true good of the world and the true
enrichment of personal character as the pious solicitude of those who
have nothing to do but be pious. Perhaps these are things that do not
require to be said. It may rather be the case in our own time that
mere industry is overvalued; and certainly a natural care for the
spiritual interests of our brethren, not Pharisaic, but Christian, not
meddlesome, but most earnest, can never be in excess. It is the
busybody whose interference is resented; the brother, once he is
recognised as a brother, is made welcome.
Convinced as he is that for mankind in general "no work" means "no
character," Paul commands and exhorts in the Lord Jesus all such as he
has been speaking of to work with quietness, and to eat their own
bread. Their excitement was both unnatural and unspiritual. It was
necessary for their moral health that they should escape from it, and
learn how to walk orderly, and to live at their post. The quietness of
which he speaks is both inward and outward. Let them compose their
minds, and cease from their fussiness; the agitation within, and the
distraction without, are equally fruitless. Far more beautiful, far
more Christlike, than any busybody, however zealous, is he who works
with quietness and eats his own bread. Probably the bulk of the
Thessalonian Church was quite sound in this matter; and it is to
encourage them that the Apostle writes, "But ye, brethren, be not
weary in well-doing." The bad behaviour of the busybodies may have
been provoking to some, infectious in the case of others; but they are
to persevere, in spite of it, in the path of quiet industry and good
conduct. This has not the pretentiousness of an absorbed waiting for
the Lord, and a vaunted renunciation of the world; but it has the
character of moral loveliness; it exercises the new man in the powers
of the new life.
Along with his judgment on this moral disorder, the Apostle gives the
Church directions for its treatment. It is to be met with reserve,
protest, and love.
First, with reserve: "Withdraw yourselves from every brother that
walketh disorderly, and not after the tradition which they received of
us; ... note that man, that ye have no company with him." The
Christian community has a character to keep, and that character is
compromised by the misconduct of any of its members. To such
misconduct, therefore, it cannot be, and should not be, indifferent:
indifference would be suicidal. The Church exists to maintain a moral
testimony, to keep up a certain standard of conduct among men; and
when that standard is visibly and defiantly departed from, there will
be a reaction of the common conscience in the Church, vigorous in
proportion to her vitality. A bad man may be quite at home in the
world; he may find or make a circle of associates like himself; but
there is something amiss, if he does not find himself alone in the
Church. Every strong life closes itself against the intrusion of what
is alien to it--a strong moral life most emphatically of all. A wicked
person of any description ought to feel that the public sentiment of
the Church is against him, and that as long as he persists in his
wickedness he is virtually, if not formally, excommunicated. The
element of communion in the Church is spiritual soundness; "If we walk
in the light as He is in the light, we have fellowship one with
another." But if any one begins to walk in darkness, he is out of the
fellowship. The only hope for him is that he may recognise the justice
of his exclusion, and, as the Apostle says, be ashamed. He is shut out
from the society of others that he may be driven in upon himself, and
compelled, in spite of wilfulness, to judge himself by the Christian
standard.
But reserve, impressive as it may be, is not enough. The erring
brother is to be admonished; that is, he is to be gravely spoken to
about his error. Admonition is a difficult duty. Not every one feels
at liberty, or _is_ at liberty, to undertake it. Our own faults
sometimes shut our mouths; the retort courteous, or uncourteous, to
any admonition from us, is too obvious. But though such considerations
should make us humble and diffident, they ought not to lead to
neglect of plain duty. To think too much of one's faults is in some
circumstances a kind of perverted vanity; it is to think too much of
oneself. We have all our faults, of one kind or another; but that does
not prohibit us from aiding each other to overcome faults. If we avoid
anger, and censoriousness; if we shun, as well as disclaim, the spirit
of the Pharisee, then with all our imperfections God will justify us
in speaking seriously to others about their sins. We do not pretend to
judge them; we only appeal to themselves to say whether they are
really at ease when they stand on one side, and the word of God and
the conscience of the Church on the other. In a sense, this is
specially the duty of the elders of the Church. It is they who are
pastors of the flock of God, and who are expressly responsible for
this moral guardianship; but there is no officialism in the Christian
community which limits the interest of any member in all the rest, or
exempts him from the responsibility of pleading the cause of God with
the erring. How many Christian duties there are which seem never to
have come in the way of some Christians.
Finally, in the discipline of the erring, an essential element is
love. Withdraw from him, and let him feel he is alone; admonish him,
and let him be convinced he is gravely wrong; but in your admonition
remember that he is not an enemy, but a brother. Judgment is a
function which the natural man is prone to assume, and which he
exercises without misgiving. He is so sure of himself, that instead of
admonishing, he denounces; what he is bent upon is not the
reclamation, but the annihilation, of the guilty. Such a spirit is
totally out of place in the Church; it is a direct defiance of the
spirit which created the Christian community, and which that community
is designed to foster. Let the sin be never so flagrant, the sinner is
a brother; he is one for whom Christ died. To the Lord who bought him
he is inexpressibly valuable; and woe to the reprover of sin who
forgets this. The whole power of discipline which is committed to the
Church is for edification, not for destruction; for the building up of
Christian character, not for pulling it down. The case of the offender
is the case of a brother; if we are true Christians, it is our own. We
must act toward him and his offence as Christ acted toward the world
and its sin: no judgment without mercy, no mercy without judgment.
Christ took the sin of the world on Himself, but He made no compromise
with it; He never extenuated it; He never spoke of it or treated it
but with inexorable severity. Yet though the sinful felt to the depth
of their hearts His awful condemnation of their sins, they felt that
in assenting to that condemnation there was hope. To them, as opposed
to their sins, He was winning, condescending, loving. He received
sinners, and in His company they sinned no more.
Thus it is that in the Christian religion everything comes back to
Christ and to the imitation of Christ. He is the pattern of those
simple and hardy virtues, industry and steadfastness. He wrought at
his trade in Nazareth till the hour came for Him to enter on His
supreme vocation; who can undervalue the possibilities of goodness in
the lives of men who work with quietness and eat their own bread, that
remembers it was over a village carpenter the heavenly voice sounded,
"This is My beloved Son"? Christ is the pattern also for Christian
discipline in its treatment of the erring. No sinner could feel
himself, in his sin, in communion with Christ: the Holy One
instinctively withdrew from him, and he felt he was alone. No offender
had his offence simply condoned by Jesus: the forgiveness of sins
which He bestows includes condemnation as well as remission; it is
wrought in one piece out of His mercy and His judgment. But neither,
again, did any offender, who bowed to Christ's judgment, and suffered
it to condemn him, find himself excluded from His mercy. The Holy One
was the sinner's friend. Those whom He at first repelled were
irresistibly drawn to Him. They began, like Peter, with "Depart from
me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord"; they ended, like him, with "Lord,
to whom shall we go?" This, I say, is the pattern which is set before
us, for the discipline of the erring. This includes reserve,
admonition, love, and much more. If there be any other commandment, it
is summarily comprehended in this word, "Follow Me."
[29] _Cf._ 1 Tim. v. 13: "And withal they learn also to be idle, going
about from house to house; and not only idle, but tattlers also and
busybodies, speaking things which they ought not."