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"SAY, FELLOWS--"
Fifty Practical Talks with Boys on Life's Big Issues
by
WADE C. SMITH
Author of "The Little Jetts Telling Bible Stories"
[Illustration]
New York Chicago
Fleming H. Revell Company
London and Edinburgh
1921
Adapted from the Author's weekly Sunday School Lesson Treatments in
_The Sunday School Times_, by permission of the Editors.
New York: 158 Fifth Avenue
Chicago: 17 North Wabash Ave.
London: 21 Paternoster Square
Edinburgh: 75 Princes Street
_Dedicated to
her whose instruction and example
first inspired in me the purposes
and ideals which make for patience,
courage, endurance and faith--
MY MOTHER_
Introduction
"My teacher told me to write a composition on the last picture I
looked at," said Henry, a sixth grader, when he came in from school
the other day. "I had seen a picture of a fire engine," he added, "so
I wrote:
"'With a clatter of hoofs and a whirr of wheels, the fire engine
dashed around the corner. The driver was crouched low in the seat. He
was driving like Jehu.'
"But I could not spell Jehu, so I went to my teacher and asked,
'Please, how do you spell Jehu?'
"'Spell what, Henry?'
"'Jehu.'
"'What in the world are you trying to say, boy?'
"'I am trying to tell how fast a fire engine driver goes--as fast as a
chariot driver in the time of King David, I think it was.'
"'Well, Henry, I think you had better say the engine driver drove as
fast as an ancient charioteer.'"
"And did you?" I asked.
"No, sir; I said, 'he was driving like mad.'"
It is plain that this grammar-school teacher had never heard of the
Bible character who had interested her pupil, but the author of this
book knows how to spell "Jehu" to a questioning boy, or to a "gang" of
boys, or to a Sunday-school class of boys.
Is there any boy who does not have a motor in his mind? A writer of a
method article in a recent issue of _The Sunday School Times_ related
an incident of a chap whom he described as "a motor-minded boy." He
said that he was sitting on top of a school desk at recess, kicking
back with his heels, and when asked what he was thinking about,
replied: "I was wondering, if my legs were horses, how fast they would
go!"
It was with a realization of the fact that when a class of
Sunday-school boys assembles, their instinct is of one accord to turn
their legs into horses and to drive them as Jehu drove his pair of
Arabs, that our paper requested Wade Smith to take charge of its
Lesson Help for boys' classes. The management realized the truth of
the statement of Dr. Walter W. Moore, President of Union Theological
Seminary at Richmond, Va., when he said that Mr. Smith was the most
versatile man whom he ever knew.
Although Mr. Smith was already contributing to its columns "The Little
Jetts Teaching the Sunday-school Lesson," he was asked also to
undertake the difficult but important task of writing the lessons for
teachers of, and students in, boys' classes. His highly acceptable
performance of this work is but another evidence of his versatility.
Out of his own richly eventful and happy boyhood, as well as his
experience as a Christian father and a lifelong student of boys, small
and grown up, Mr. Smith wrote the chapters of this book. They appeared
week by week under the title of "Say, Fellows--" Letters from our
readers have testified to their helpfulness. The writer of this
Introduction teaches two Sunday-school classes--one composed of his
two boys in their home preparation for Sunday school, and the other an
Adult Men's class in the church to which he belongs. When his own boys
have finished studying their lesson in their Quarterlies, they almost
invariably come to their father and say, "Now read us what Mr. Smith
says, and then we will be ready for the lesson."
On two occasions I recall introducing the lesson to my adult class by
recounting Mr. Smith's striking stories out of his own experience
about the boy who was drowned and restored to life, illustrating the
Resurrection Lesson (See page 60), and of his first and last deer hunt
(See page 76), and both times the attention of the men was gripped in
an unusual way by these remarkable incidents. No doubt, hundreds of
teachers have had similar experiences in making use of Mr. Smith's
illustrations.
So great has been the helpfulness of the "Say, Fellows--" lessons that
the demand has come for their publication in the delightful book form
in which they now appear. In expressing my own pleasure that these
lesson treatments, having served their immediate purpose, are now to
be rescued from yellowing files and preserved under the covers of a
book, I am but voicing the hearty sentiment of the entire staff of the
paper.
May God's rich blessing rest upon the pages of this book as it takes a
deserved place in the libraries of lovers of Motor-minded,
Jehu-driving boys.
HOWARD A. BANKS,
_Associate Editor "The Sunday School Times."
Philadelphia, Pa._
Contents
1. BUILDING 13
2. WORK 16
3. INVISIBLE! 19
4. MR. ALMOST 22
5. FISHING 25
6. SHOWING OFF 28
7. KEEPING FIT 31
8. QUESTIONING 34
9. LOYALTY 37
10. A GOOD SPORT 40
11. FEASTING 44
12. STEWARDSHIP 47
13. TALENTS 50
14. FIGHTING 54
15. DRIFTING 57
16. RESURRECTION 60
17. KNOWING HOW 63
18. FRIENDSHIP 66
19. ALABASTER 69
20. TELLING IT 72
21. READY! 76
22. REMEMBERING 79
23. GETTING EVEN 82
24. GREATNESS 85
25. "PAW, I WANTA BE SOMEBODY!" 88
26. "LET DOWN YOUR FEET!" 92
27. AN "UNASSISTED TRIPLE PLAY" 96
28. FORGIVING 100
29. PARADOX 103
30. FRAUD 106
31. THE BIG TASK 110
32. POWER 113
33. CHRISTMAS 116
34. AIMING HIGH 119
35. WAITING 122
36. ACTION 125
37. A CORONATION 128
38. DO IT RIGHT 130
39. KEEPING FAITH 133
40. THE GAME THAT CAME NEAR BLOWING
UP IN THE SEVENTH INNING 135
41. THE BITTEN APPLE 138
42. MY KINGDOM 141
43. A TOOL BOX 144
44. SAUL NIAGARA 148
45. "TURNING THE BATTLE AT THE GATE" 152
46. A KING IN RAGS 155
47. SHAKING UP PHILIPPI 158
48. GO IN YET--AND WIN! 162
49. GREEN FRUIT 166
50. THE BEDOUIN SLAVE 170
I
BUILDING
Say, fellows, look at Solomon building a temple! Ever see anything
like that? Yes, I have. I saw some boys building a dam. It was a peach
of a dam when they got it finished; and the little stream that
trickled along between the hillsides filled it up by next day, making
a lake big enough to put a boat in. But, oh, how those fellows worked!
For a whole week they brought rocks--big rocks--logs, and mud. Some of
those stones and logs were dragged and rolled a quarter of a mile.
They built right skillfully, too; they ricked it and they anchored the
cribs; they piled in the rocks and braced the supports.
Work? I should think they did. From early morning until dark they
worked, hardly stopping long enough for meals. But it was truly _some_
dam when they got through. Then came the big moment for which they had
laboured and endured: they closed the small outlet protected by
several sections of terra-cotta pipe at the base--and let her fill!
Solomon went at building the temple pretty much the same way. The boys
who built the dam said they were going to make the best _boys'_ dam in
all that country around, and they did. Solomon said he was going to
put up the largest, the strongest, the finest, the best-looking
temple of all for God. He put one hundred and fifty thousand strong
men in the forests and in the quarries, getting out the finest timber
and the best stone; he had these materials brought by sea and by land;
he employed workers in brass, and stone-cutters and gold-beaters
wherever he could find the most skillful, regardless of the cost, and
he himself directed the work.
Well, it was a peach of a temple, too. Nothing like it had ever been
seen before. Crowning the highest hill in Jerusalem, overlooking all
the country around, its marble walls, its shining brass pillars, its
white chiselled columns, and its golden interior, it shone like a gem
of dazzling beauty. When Solomon had finished it, he invited the Lord
to come into it, and "the glory of the Lord filled the house."
Fellows, we are all building some kind of a temple, and we build some
on it every day. I saw a bleary-eyed dope fiend going along the street
the other day. He has built a temple--a temple to the god Appetite.
His temple is truly a sorry looking shack, but it is good enough for
the god he serves. I know a very seedy individual, going around
begging a living of whomsoever will give him a dime or a nickel. He
has built his temple to the god Idleness. It is a ramshackle affair,
to be sure, but it is plenty good for the god he serves. I know
another fellow who has built a very ordinary looking temple--rather
poor inside and out. He served the god "Let Well Enough Alone." There
are many temples like his, and little joy is in them; but they are
good enough for the god "Do-Little."
I think of one more temple builder. Early in his boyhood he learned
that the human body, with its wonderful soul, is a temple for God to
live in. Said he, "If God is to live in my body, then it must be fit."
He began to think of everything he did for his health, for the
training of his mind, his hands and other members, as fitting or
_un_fitting the temple, according to whether it was good or bad. He
quickly saw that his choices of entertainment and recreation were as
important as his work, in the building he was putting up for God's
dwelling. One day he made the most important discovery of all: it was
that after all he might do to make the temple fit, it could never be
so until the doors were flung wide and the Lord Himself should come
in. Then, like Solomon, he "dedicated" it--and the Lord Jesus came in
and made the temple fit, for "the glory of the Lord filled the house."
Which simply means that he surrendered his life to Jesus Christ. A
fellow's biggest and best and grandest work is the Temple of the Lord.
Let's get at the job.
_Read 2 Chronicles 5:1-14._
II
WORK
Say, fellows, shake hands with Mr. Work. Humanly speaking, the way in
which you meet and hook up with this gentleman will have more to do
with determining your success in life than any other one thing. Mr.
Work is a member of the most amazingly successful concern in the
community. His senior partner is Mr. Faith. "Faith and Work,
Unlimited"--that's the style of the firm, and they certainly have put
across the biggest contracts ever known to the world.
Some time I hope we may have the senior partner with us, but Mr. Work
is here to-day, and we shall get a-plenty from him. In fact, "Plenty"
is his middle name. Let's look him over. He is full of life and
vigour. See his muscles, firm and hard. Watch the flash of his eye.
Something there that inspires a fellow. Notice how he is in demand.
Everywhere, people want him. Get that cheery smile; it grew on a well
done job, and stays there by repetition of well done jobs. Observe his
steadiness, his confidence, and, withal, his acceptable humility. Why,
he looks good either in Scotch cheviot or in overalls.
I want to tell you a secret about this fellow. He is often mistaken
for another celebrated and much honoured one--Mr. Genius. Thomas
Edison says that genius is just another name for conscientious hard
work. That being so, any fellow can make a success and an honoured
name who is willing to dig--and dig intelligently.
But the best thing that can be said about work is to repeat what our
Lord said: "My Father worketh hitherto, and I work." Work is a divine
characteristic, a divine institution. Our great God works. Jesus
Christ His royal Son worked incessantly when upon earth, and works now
continually. God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit are
the most tireless workers in the universe. Now what do you think of
anybody who could despise work? What would you think of one who
refused the work at hand and sat idly by, or went off on some useless
excursion to escape it, while God, unwilling to lose a minute,
ceaselessly works?
Of course, fellows, I'm not saying we should never go a-fishing or
play a game of ball. Recreation is in the divine program. Every proper
recreation is a help to good work. We owe it to our job and to
ourselves to keep fit, and recreation is a part of the keep fit
schedule. We only need to be careful and keep work and recreation in
their right proportions.
The bitterest pills a fellow has to take are those produced by
idleness. Idleness usually lets down the portcullis and the devil
comes across and takes charge. Not that work alone is sufficient to
keep us clean and out of trouble; oh, no, that would be a fatal error,
and many have fallen by it. The firm, you remember, is "Faith and
Work, Unlimited." Mr. Christian Faith is the senior partner of this
firm, and is absolutely necessary to the truly successful career in
the great business of life. We are simply looking over Mr. Work
to-day.
One other wonderful thought, to me, about this matter of work,
fellows, is that when a boy is born into the world, his work is born
with him--his own particular task, his life-work. God Himself arranges
it. Isn't that fine? Who could do it so wisely? So you may depend your
job somewhere awaits you, if you have not already discovered it, and
it is a perfect fit.
How to know your task? First, ask God. Pray over this thing. Then do
the thing next at hand, the duty calling now. Do it the best way you
know and put your level best into it. It is the surest way I know for
a fellow to find his best level; and usually you _work upward_ to it
when you seek it in that way.
Listen, fellows, this is Gospel--"Well done, good and faithful
servant: thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will set thee
over many things; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord."
_Read Romans 12:11 and Proverbs 22:29._
III
INVISIBLE!
Say, fellows, have you ever thought what a fight you could put up if
you were invisible? Why, you could walk right up in front of a fellow
and smash his nose or knock him down before he could put up his guard
or smash back--and even then he couldn't see you to hit you. Of course
that would be a cowardly thing to do, but I'm just saying "Suppose."
And this is to introduce right here your arch enemy, the devil, who is
not a "suppose" at all, but is very real, very personal, and very
invisible,--always present and ready to do his cowardly, dirty work.
Somebody said people are like a lot of safes. We may be generally of
the same pattern, but each has a different combination. Perhaps none
of us knows the combination to any but our own, but the devil carries
them all in his note-book, and he never makes the mistake of trying to
throw a fellow with a drink when his combination is a cigarette, or
vice versa.
The devil's finger is in all our affairs, and we can keep nothing
secret from him. No matter what we try to do, he is ever present to
try to make us do it his way. Even when we worship God, or pray, or
sing, he has the audacity to try to make suggestions. You think the
Wright brothers were clever to "conquer the air," and they were; but
the devil has won the title of "Prince of the power of the air"! His
airplane is instantaneous and noiseless; he requires no special
landing field, but can light on the lobe of your ear with a precision
that is uncanny, and, lighting there, he whispers things into your
heart that you would not dare to utter with your lips. _There_ are
three points scored on the Wrights in one breath, and there are many
others.
The devil has won victories over the best men we can think of. Oh, how
he got David, and spoiled a wonderful record being made by the "man
after God's own heart." All in a trice he tripped David and led him to
break six of the ten Commandments at once--five to ten inclusive! And
he got Moses for a bad fall, and Elijah and Abraham and Jacob. He
simply crept up unseen and caught them with their guards down.
But in spite of the fact that he took a fall out of each of those
strong and saintly characters, he met his match and more than his
match when he tackled our Saviour. He made the strongest attack that
could have been made, but Jesus overthrew him and put him to flight,
and to-day's big news is that there is _a way_ for you and me to throw
this fellow down. Simple enough, if you are on your guard. Did you
notice how Jesus handled him? He quoted Scripture to him. Scripture to
the devil is just like salt on a snail. He can't stand it.
Jesus used God's Word, and that is invincible even against the devil,
our mightiest foe. Go into your Bible and select an assortment of
"devil-chasers." Memorize them and have them ready for instant use.
Like David, choose five smooth stones from the "Brook" and put them in
your scrip; then you will be ready for this giant, who stalks abroad
as a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour. Only, he doesn't roar:
he is noiseless and invisible--don't forget that.
_Read Matthew 4:1-11._
IV
MR. ALMOST
Say, fellows, meet Mr. Almost!
He is one of the saddest, most pathetic figures in all the Bible
story, not because he was a villain or a murderer come to judgment,
but because he was so good and fine, and so nearly perfect, "on
points," and yet--flunked!
But he was a lot lower down on the honour roll than he thought. "What
lack I yet?" he asked Jesus. Really, he couldn't see that he lacked
anything at all--and that alone was a sign of failure, if he had only
been wise enough to see it.
Think of it, fellows, here was a man clean and safe and upright, as
touching the law, yet the fires of torment were leaping up to meet
him, along with Ananias the liar, and Judas the betrayer. Ananias did
give a _part_ of his money to the Lord, and Judas threw his blood
money back into the bribers' faces, but this Mr. Almost closed his
fingers tight over all his gold when the Lord called for it.
Mr. Almost kept the Commandments from the time he was a boy. He
worshipped God only; he bowed down to no idol; was very careful to
speak God's name reverently; wouldn't carry so much as a toothpick
around on Sunday because it would be hauling wood and breaking the
Sabbath; honoured his parents; of course he never killed a person;
was pure in deed; took nothing which did not belong to him; told no
lie on his neighbours; and he never wished another's property might be
his own! Mr. Almost was _a pious man_.
Jesus saw through Mr. Almost, saw through his luxurious robe and his
clean, washed skin, clear down into his stingy heart, and put his
finger instantly on the trouble. Jesus has a way of doing that.
"Having kept all the Commandments, and wanting to be perfect," said
Jesus, "now go, sell your property, and give the money to these poor
starving, dying people about you."
Mr. Almost had actually _run_ to meet Jesus, to ask Him that question,
"What lack I yet?" says Mark's Gospel. Yes, _ran_. He evidently had no
suspicion as to the answer he would get. Doubtless he thought the
great Master would tell him of one more hand-washing necessary before
retiring, or possibly some gnat's burden which Mr. Almost had been
carrying around on his sleeve on the Sabbath. Flick that off and be
perfect! Mr. Almost wanted to make his perfection secure. He had all
kinds of earthly securities; now this one more, the security of
heaven, guaranteed by Jesus, and he would rest satisfied. He would
just nail that down in passing. But Jesus touched him _where he
lived_, and he crumpled up like some high floating dirigible whose gas
tank explodes in mid-air.
Fellows, really I didn't want to bring Mr. Almost into this volume. He
gets on my nerve--and do you know why, fellows? _He's too much like
me!_ for I am rich. Yes, rich in all the abundance of God's wealth
which He has given me. I live in a wonderful land, a land of freedom
and independence and opportunity--the richest and most powerful in all
the world--and as a citizen of it all its resources are mine. I have
plenty to eat and sufficient to wear, lots of friends and
well-wishers. Life is beautiful and bright and comfortable; while just
at my elbow, fellows, are many poor, starving, dying human
beings--men, women, little children. The world is closely drawn
together now, and there is never a time but that in some section of it
there is famine and suffering. If we have the means to give and will
give it to relieve human suffering, there are always reputable
agencies ready to properly dispense it.
None of us can despise Mr. Almost, fellows, if we eat a square meal
and turn a deaf ear to the calls to help the suffering and the needy.
This is the acid test.
_Read Mark 10:17-27._
V
FISHING
Say, fellows, the biggest and finest surprise a certain boy ever got
was on that day when he was called out of the shop to the manager's
office, and, reaching there trembling with fright, was told that he
was promoted and would from that time have a share in the profits of
the business!
It was almost too good to be true. Immediately the shop looked
different--the whole plant looked different--the men, the tools, the
materials, the very smoke from the big chimney, all took on a kind of
glory. The rows of machines looked like a parade and the mingled roar
and grinding of them sounded like a brass band at a picnic. The dull
routine of a daily schedule was suddenly changed to a thrilling
program in every detail.
Something had happened--not to the shop, but to him. His interest was
changed. Now, instead of simply doing his daily task for daily pay, he
was to share in the big objectives of the whole plant; he was taken
into confidence and partnership with the management. He was actually
to share and rejoice in the achievements of a business which exported
its products to every corner of the world! With what joy he realized
that his capacity for higher and larger service had been recognized,
and that now he would have fellowship not only with the men of the
shop, but also with the head of the plant.
Fellows, that is about what happened to Peter and Andrew and James and
John that morning on the shore of the lake. They were simply engaged
in making a living. One day was pretty much like another. Sometimes,
perhaps, the fishing was good, sometimes not so good. Life was just a
day to day affair, and rather disappointing somehow, to souls with
capacity for so much larger and finer things. Suddenly the Master, the
Creator and Proprietor of the world, appeared and said: "Boys, it's a
dull life at best--just fishing for fish; come and join me in a really
big and worth-while task--fishing for men!"
And those four men caught the vision and followed Jesus. Life for them
took on a new meaning that day. Instead of a daily grind it became an
inspiring program with a grand objective.
I am glad that God is so great and that His plans are so large that He
is still calling out men to share them with Him and work out their
fulfillment. And you and I, if we are wise, will gladly hear that call
and promptly respond, for we will realize that the transient things we
daily seek are not sufficient to give us any real or permanent
satisfaction, and that we have a capacity for larger and better
things.
Oh, I don't suppose we can all be ministers and missionaries, though
many of us may have that highest of all privileges, but we shall also
find that a merchant's life can be so planned as to be a means of rich
service to God; that a lawyer, after all, can be a force for Christ's
kingdom; that an engineer can lay out his life-work so as to make
straight the path and level the road for the King; that a
school-teacher can use his influence to bring pupils to the Master
Teacher; that a physician has peculiar opportunity to quicken the
spiritual lives of his patients; and that any legitimate occupation
can be made to serve man's chief end, which is "to glorify God and
enjoy him forever."
And when you and I catch and follow that vision of our life task,
whatever it is, the whole plant changes, whether our job is in the
shop or in the office, or on the farm or in the schoolroom or pulpit,
because we have tasted of the power and fellowship of a Spirit-filled
life and a God-used career.
Listen, fellows, He stands now in the morning of life, on the shore of
your little lake and calls you to a wonderful partnership!
Let's follow Him!
_Read Matthew 4:18-22._
VI
SHOWING OFF
Say, fellows, it's great fun to "show off." Honest now, isn't that so?
If you've got some rare thing the other fellows haven't got, what fun
to have them come from all over the block to go up in the attic with
you to see it and watch you "work it"!
I knew a boy who made an airplane. Of course it was just a toy, but it
had all the parts. He had gotten a pattern from a mechanical magazine,
with explicit instructions; he scoured around and got the dozen or
more materials necessary, then worked for days and some nights in the
basement. Finally, the thing was completed. It had a twist-rubber
propeller, and would actually fly a little--not much. But it was a
thing of beauty, and its varnished butterfly planes spread
majestically and glistened in the sunlight. There were the stays and
the rudder, the pilot's seat and the complicated triggers by which it
was supposed to be governed. Well, the boys came from far and near to
look at it, and the biggest fun the owner had was showing it to some
new boy who hadn't seen it before. That is all right, too, if you do
it in the proper spirit, but nobody likes to see a fellow get "cocky"
over his luck, no matter how good or how rare it is.
Solomon had the show stuff all right. The Queen of Sheba heard about
it away down south in her African kingdom, and came many miles with a
caravan of camels to see for herself. This man Solomon was a wonder.
He answered her best riddles without batting an eyelash--and she had
some corking hard riddles, too. When she tired of testing him he
showed his wonderful house, his gorgeous throne of ivory overlaid with
gold, his great flocks and herds for his household table, his army of
servants, his courtly ministers, his treasuries piled with gold, and a
hundred other sights richer and finer than she had ever known.
But the big event of that show day was the temple! Of course it was,
for Solomon had made it the biggest and finest thing in the kingdom.
Even if he hadn't told her she would have seen that. And there was but
one way to explain it: Solomon's God, to whom the temple had been
built, was the secret of Solomon's glory and power. That was the
impression the queen carried home.
It is said that when one of the princes of India visited England, he
was overcome by the display of the wealth and grandeur of the empire.
After seeing the palaces of Buckingham and Windsor, and the Halls of
Parliament; after getting a glimpse of British shipping and commerce
plying to every known port; after viewing the greatest navy in the
world and witnessing a review of the army at Aldershot--he exclaimed
to Queen Victoria:
"Tell me, Your Majesty, what is the secret of it all?"
In answer the queen took a Bible from a near-by table and placed it
in the prince's hand. "This," she said, "God's Word, is the basis of
all--God is the giver."
Fellows, if there is anything you take pride in, remember the Giver.
Don't make the mistake of Nebuchadnezzar, who actually talked to
himself about how clever he was and how great he was to build Babylon
by the might of his own power (Dan. 4:30, 31). Even while he spoke
those boasting words God punished him by taking it all away from him.
But it is not sufficient simply to refrain from boasting. You and I
must see to it that God gets the glory, for God has given whatever we
have that is worth-while. Let the presentation be so made that whoever
witnesses it will pass out saying: "Surely God is the secret of that
fellow's success!"
Real and permanent greatness is the kind that exalts God above all.
_Read 1 Kings 10:1-10._
VII
KEEPING FIT
Say, fellows, I wouldn't take a lot for the privilege of handing you
young champions this message: for it comes right out of the heart of a
King to the princes of the Blood.
Yes, something doing in athletics this time,--and the Big Event for
which each one of you is preparing, whether you know it or not.
"Find all that in the Bible?"
Sure! that and more. Why, fellows, don't you know the Bible has more
dealings right where you live and play and work and study and eat than
any other book that was ever written? Just let me read you a part of
to-day's Scripture lesson out of Weymouth's translation, which is the
same as your Bible--only saying it in the kind of language spoken
to-day instead of that of many years ago.
Listen to First Corinthians 9:24-27: "Do you not know that in the
foot-race the runners all run, but that only one gets the prize? You
must run like him, in order to win with certainty. But every
competitor in an athletic contest practises abstemiousness in all
directions. They indeed do this for the sake of securing a perishable
wreath, but we for the sake of securing one that will not perish. That
is how I run, not being in any doubt as to my goal. I am a boxer who
does not inflict blows on the air, but I hit hard and straight at my
own body and lead it off into slavery, lest possibly, after I have
been a herald to others, I should myself be rejected."
Now, fellows, it was Paul saying that--writing to the Corinthians, who
knew all about the Corinthian games and races, and contests of
strength, skill, and endurance. And so do you know how the coach lays
his hand on your shoulder, looks you straight in the eye, and says:
"Listen, son, we've got to win that game,--you understand? From this
on, cut the big eats. No rich stuff and no stuffing. Simple diet. No
smoking. No late hours. Early to bed. Keep clean; exercise daily
according to directions. Keep fit! Do you get me?"
And you meekly nod and say: "Yes, sir, boss." Do you have to do that?
Oh, no, you could drop off the team if you didn't like the conditions,
but you don't want to drop off and you comply with the conditions. You
surprise yourself by your self-control. You are in on that game, and
you're in to win. It is the event of the season. It will be the thrill
of a lifetime to win. So you are temperate because you want the glory
of winning--glory for your team; glory for your school.
Fellows, thus your body becomes the temple of a living hope. And it is
all right. Bless your hearts, there are few things finer than that
self-mastery which enables a boy to deny his natural appetite for the
sake of an ideal--even though it be a sporting ideal.
And I think God designed it so. He is continually teaching us the
deeper and richer truths by leading us up to them through our
experiences with things we can touch and taste and see and hear.
To-day He is pointing you and me, not to the temporary honour of an
athletic victory, but to the eternal honour of gaining the mastery
over our appetites for the sake of keeping our bodies, minds, and
hearts for His own indwelling. And He, Himself, is our Coach, doing
something which no other coach can--remaining constantly beside us,
within us, establishing that wonderful endurance--that indescribable
something within us which strives and strives and conquers!
Fellows, talk about thrills! there is nothing like the thrill that
comes of being used--effectively used--by Him. The thrills of our
athletic victories die away with the shouting, but the deep
satisfaction of "keeping fit" for God's service grows finer and finer
as the days go by.
Oh, say, fellows, _this_ is the thrill of Real Life!
_Read 1 Corinthians 6:13-20._
VIII
QUESTIONING
Say, fellows, make a note of this: If you question Jesus in the effort
to trip Him, you throw yourself down; but if you question Jesus in
order to know and do His will, you may confidently stand upon your
feet and defy anything that threatens your peace, your happiness, or
your success.
"How can a fellow question Jesus in these days, like the Pharisees?"
did I hear you ask? This way: You can question God's Word, its truth,
its justice, its wisdom in your particular case. Millions are to-day
questioning in that way; millions who do not want to change their
ways, millions who would like to overthrow God's laws, because they
want to go on in their wickedness and our Lord's teachings are a
continual reproach to them. But they are having no better success in
it than the Scribes and Pharisees had in Jesus' day.
"Last eve I paused beside a blacksmith's door,
And heard the anvil ring the vesper chimes;
Then, looking in, I saw upon the floor
Old hammers worn with beating years of time.
"'How many anvils have you had,' said I,
'To wear and batter all these hammers so?'
'Just one,' said he, and then with twinkling eye,
'The anvil wears the hammers out, you know.'
"'And so,' I thought, 'the Anvil of God's Word
For ages skeptic blows have beat upon,
Yet, though the noise of falling blows was heard,
The Anvil is unharmed, the hammers gone.'"
Now, fellows, those Scribes and Pharisees ought to have known better
than to try to tangle Jesus in His talk. Already they had been
astonished by the wise words He said, by the unmistakable "authority"
shown in His manner and teachings, by the power of His mere word over
diseases and devils. These men were the devil's own servants. There
are many such to-day, and they never seem to realize until too late
that _their_ master will allow them to walk right into a hopeless
fix--caught in their own trap.
Let's run our eye down the closing verse of this chapter of Matthew,
as it tells better than any other how completely squelched were these
critics of Jesus: "And no one was able to answer him a word, neither
durst any man from that time forth ask him any more questions."
But there is a kind of questioning which we do want to practise. One
of the wisest and finest things a fellow can do is to make it a rule
to ask Jesus _some_ questions every day in His Word. Make a place in
your day's schedule--make it in the morning, first thing if possible,
or very soon after you are up. Open your Bible with a question, and
let that question be: "Lord Jesus, what would you like to tell me
to-day out of these verses of Scripture which I am about to read?
What thing in my life would you warn me against, or what thing should
I do which I am not doing? Or, is there a better way I should try?
"Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth."
Fellows, start a day like that--honestly--and _you cannot fail_!
_Read Matthew 22:15-46._
IX
LOYALTY
Say, fellows, what is the most loyal thing you ever did? I should like
to know. Was it when you waded into a big bully who was licking your
little brother, and took the drubbing yourself? Or was it when some
fellows accused you of being tied to your mother's apron strings, and
you flashed back at them: "Yes, and she is the finest mother a boy
ever had!" Or was it when you sat up all night in a coach on a
railroad trip to root for your team next day on the enemy's field?
I heard of a British boy in Flanders who was brought back of the lines
for surgical treatment, and when they opened his shirt they found
tattooed on his breast the words: _For My King!_ I read of a French
lad whose arm had to be amputated at the shoulder, having been
shattered by a German shell. When he regained consciousness, the
surgeon, moved with deep sympathy, said, "Oh, my poor boy, I am so
sorry you lost your arm!" The boy's eyes snapped as he answered:
"Lost! No, don't say that; I _gave_ it to France!"
Each one of you fellows has a tremendous capacity for being loyal to
some thing, some principle, or _somebody_. It is a costly part of your
make-up, because it will cause you to make sacrifice. What are you
choosing as the object of your loyalty?
Fellows, I want to offer you King Jesus as the One upon whom you can
spend your loyalty to the limit. There is none like Him. He is the
chief among ten thousand. When He gives you a task He gives you at the
same time the power to do it. When He sends you to men, He opens the
hearts of those to whom you are sent. You can undertake anything for
King Jesus without fear, no matter how difficult or how impossible the
task may seem.
Why, fellows, think of those two disciples going after that colt for
Jesus their King to ride upon! He sent them for it. The beast belonged
to some one else, yet they were to untie it and bring it. If the owner
objected, all they were to say was: "The Lord hath need of him." That
would settle it. They brought it as directed. That was faith, and that
was loyalty.
To-day King Jesus wants messengers--not to send out for asses, but
into the haunts of sin for lost men and women; and into the social,
commercial, and industrial world to present His claims. Some, hearing
the call, are answering, "But how do I know I will succeed in that
sort of business? Will I be contented in such work? Will it pay? Will
it keep me in a comfortable living? Will men come when I tell them?"
Listen, fellows, King Jesus says: "All power is given unto
me--Go!--and lo, I am with you alway!" That is sufficient, it is the
King's own word for it; and here is the place where you can exercise
your priceless loyalty to the limit, and never know a moment's
regret. The King Himself goes with you.
The loyal servants of King Jesus never have to root for a losing game;
victory is assured from the beginning.
_Read Mark 11:1-11._
X
A GOOD SPORT
Say, fellows, I overheard a remark the other day as I passed a bunch
of boys down on the corner. One of the boys was saying, "Oh, he's a
good sport, all right," and I wondered just what that boy thought it
took to make a good sport. About that time one of the boys whom I knew
pulled out of the crowd and coming my way overtook me, so I asked him
who was the "good sport" the fellows were talking about.
"Why," he said, "it was Jim Love; when he was in the two-mile
cross-country foot race the other day, with a good chance of getting
ahead of Tom Locke, who won it, Jim stopped long enough to help a guy
across a footlog with a sack of potatoes or something--and even then
came in just a few yards behind Tom. He would have won, but for that
stop; but he said the old man looked as if he was about to fall off
the footlog. Tom saw it, too, but he waded the creek and got a better
lead on Jim."
It did me good to think of those fellows classing Jim up as "a good
sport," after I knew what had happened. They had the right idea. I
believe our Lord would have called Jim a good sport, too, if He had
been telling the boys of to-day about it, because the Christ spirit in
a fellow is what makes him a "good sport" in the highest sense. Once
when a proud Pharisee was trying to trap our Lord with a "catch
question," Jesus answered him with a story very much like that which
made the boys call Jim Love a good sport.
The Pharisee asked Jesus, "Who is my neighbour?" and Jesus told him
about the Good Samaritan. A man was travelling from Jerusalem down the
rough mountain road to Jericho, and was attacked by bandits, beaten,
robbed, and left lying beside the road half dead. A priest came along,
but he was in a hurry; he had important religious duties awaiting him,
and besides, that fellow looked as if he was in bad and it would take
a lot of time and trouble to "undertake" him, so Mr. Priest just
hummed a little tune to himself, looked at the sky and passed on.
Then came a Levite. He got down off his donkey and stepped over and
looked at the poor fellow. Yes, he was breathing, but so near dead he
probably would not last long, so why worry? So passed on the Levite.
But next came along a man whom the priest and the Levite despised
because he was a Samaritan. They regarded him as a very poor sort of a
citizen.
But the Samaritan had a heart in him and he had a way of saying to
himself when he saw anybody in distress: "Suppose I was in that
fellow's fix, what would I like to have done for me?" When he asked
himself that question on this occasion, the answer came quick and
strong: "Get down and help him all you can; yes, your business is
urgent, too, but here is a fellow-man in hard luck and you've got the
stuff to help with!"
That is the way the heart of a good sport talks back to a fellow, and
a good sport listens when his heart speaks, and a good sport acts
quickly. So the Samaritan got down off his donkey and ran to the man,
felt his pulse, spoke to him, loosened his shirt and looked into that
ugly wound all bleeding. Then back to his travelling sack and out with
the oil and wine.
Pouring in the soothing and healing stuff, he doubtless said: "There
now, old fellow, you're feeling better already; just keep steady a
bit, and we'll get you out of this; a little water? yes, hold on a
minute--" and down to the trickling stream he runs and brings a cool
drink in his little leather cup.
Ah, it was fine to see that beaten man revive! He opened his eyes wide
and looked the gratitude he was not yet able to speak. Soon the
Samaritan got the whole story of the attack, listening with
sympathetic indignation as the wounded man told how it happened, how
he was taken by surprise by those cowardly ruffians, stripped, robbed,
and beaten into insensibility. Directly he was trying to raise up on
his elbow, and the Samaritan said:
"Now you just put your arm around my neck and hold steady while I
lift. That's it, get your weight on your right foot, lean forward, and
I'll get you atop this beast. Ah! that's the stuff, you're getting
stronger every minute--now steady just a moment, let me pick up that
oil bottle--all right--Get up! Bess--steady, girl, keep your hoofs in
the path, and we'll make it fine. There, that's the movement.
"The inn is only a mile down the road now, friend, and there is food
and a good bed awaiting you--oh, well, that's all right about your
money being taken, I'll take care of that. The innkeeper and I are
good friends, and likely with the good treatment you'll get you will
be on your way in a couple of days--"
And so they go, the donkey picking her way carefully over the rougher
places under the restraining voice of her master, while the wounded
man leans heavily upon his benefactor.
Then, you know the rest, fellows. That despised Samaritan saw the
thing clean through. He did not leave "his neighbour" until he had
spent a night with him at the inn and had an understanding next
morning with the innkeeper as to his safekeeping until able to resume
the journey.
And what did our Lord teach in that graphic story? Why, simply this:
Anybody whom you can help is your neighbour. If there is a poor man at
my door needing something I can give, he is my neighbour. Or, if there
is a rich Chinaman six thousand miles across the seas, needing the
spiritual help I can send him through my prayers, my gifts, or my
personal attention--he is my neighbour. Distance, short or long, is
not the measure of neighbourhood; but need and my ability to help are
the tests which determine how near by is my brother man.
The Boy Scouts have a fine motto: "Do a Good Turn Daily." There is
just one better--"Do a Good Turn Whenever You Can," and that is loving
your neighbour.
_Read Luke 10:25-37._
XI
FEASTING
Say, fellows, a man raised a glass of water to his mouth to take a
drink; some one passing struck his elbow, and--! Now an interesting
thing has happened: each one of you fellows got a picture, complete in
all details, to a climax. Yet there was no real picture; it was all in
your imagination, spurred by twenty-one simple words. And it was a
_moving picture_, too, and it went away past the word-spurs, because
you painted the balance of it yourselves like a flash. You saw the
glass fall and smash on the floor, and you saw the water spatter the
man's feet and trousers--then some of you saw him jump back and look
up quick and kind of mad like at the person passing, and maybe say
something rough.
Well, that's a wonderful machine you've got there, fellows; anything
that can make a moving picture out of a thin line of material like
that--a really for-the-moment interesting picture, with all the
finishing touches--has a most valuable and useful outfit. Now Jesus
knew His hearers had outfits of that wonderful kind, so in speaking to
them He helped them draw pictures which would enable them to see some
very interesting and startling things--things which they needed to
know worse than a dying man needs a doctor.
Most of the pictures which He drew in this way were to show what the
kingdom of heaven is like. Men in those days, just as nowadays, were
walking around bumping right up against the kingdom of heaven without
knowing it. So Jesus drew pictures to help them see this wonderful
kingdom, in order that they might not only become glad citizens of it
but also to escape an awful fate.
The picture I want to present is of a great and rich king who was also
both good and generous, making a marriage feast for his son and
inviting a large number of guests.
Now, fellows, use your fine imagination again. You saw the king's
surprise when the first servants reported; you saw him knit his brows
(like this) and stand silently thinking a moment before deciding to
send a second word; but can you imagine his astonishment a little
later, when two of that second squad came running in, all breathless,
and told him that though they fully explained the magnificence of the
wedding supper, some turned upon their heels with a flimsy excuse,
others rudely laughed outright in the messengers' faces, and--oh, the
horror of it!--still others actually stoned and beat some of the
messengers to death!--and their bodies were even at that moment lying
in the street, being licked by dogs.
I say, can you see the king now? I think you can, for you have heard
what he did. Yes, his servants went out again to those same people,
but this time with swords and spears and fire, a terrible army of
them, marching to the dread drum-beat of judgment, "and destroyed
those murderers and burned up their city."
Yes, fellows, I know what you are saying. You are saying, "Well, I
don't see how anybody could be as big a fool as that!" And yet, do you
know that people are just as foolish to-day? Jesus told that parable
to help us, too. The kingdom of heaven is just as close to you and to
me; the greatest King of all--that's Jesus--is inviting boys and men
to come in to the feast of usefulness and happiness and joy of an
out-and-out Christian life, a feast which He has Himself prepared, and
some are turning their backs upon His call, unwilling to take the
King's own word for it that they will have the time of their lives,
which will grow sweeter and finer and better as the days go by, and
never, never end!
I tell you, fellows, there's nobody who can make a feast like Jesus;
things taste even a lot better than they look on the card, for He
always gives more than He promises. Don't _you_ make the mistake of
turning down His invitation. It would be a tragedy. Let's answer His
gracious call to-day like this:
"I'll go where you want me to go, dear Lord,
Over mountain or plain or sea;
I'll say what you want me to say, dear Lord;
I'll be what you want me to be."
_Read Matthew 22:1-10._
XII
STEWARDSHIP
Say, fellows, how much is a boy worth in money? The United States
Labour Bureau in 1914 estimated the average cost of rearing a boy to
the age of sixteen was then $1,325. It must average at least $1,500
now. Well, fellows, that is what you cost; are you worth it? I am
talking of actual, not sentimental, values. Father and mother wouldn't
take a million dollars for any one of you, I suppose, but that does
not mean you are worth it. An investment of $1,500 ordinarily is
expected to yield at least six per cent. a year, which is $90.
I know a fourteen-year-old boy who is earning $7 a week. He gives it
all to his widowed mother on Saturday night. She gives him back a
dollar of it. He first takes out ten cents for his church pledge and
five cents for Sunday-school. Then he puts fifty cents in his savings
bank. He has about $25 in the bank. The remainder, thirty-five cents,
he spends as his fancy dictates. He is a steady boy and it is
reasonable to count upon his putting in eleven months a year at his
work, allowing one month for vacation. His gross financial value to
his mother for the year, therefore, is not less than $280. It costs
her about $12.50 a month to provide his food and clothing. That takes
off $150, so his net financial value a year is $130, which is six per
cent. on $2,166. Thus you see that fourteen-year-old boy is a paying
investment on considerably more than the average cost of a
sixteen-year-old boy, and I do not wonder that that fellow's mother
would not take a million for him, for the money part of his value is
the least of all.