value. The more fortunate boy will be going to school nine months of
the year. He is preparing for a later very much higher value than the
boy who is denied an education, and while he may not be earning money
now, he is earning a certain knowledge, skill, and development which
will give him equipment of high value. At any rate, sooner or later,
fellows, you find yourself with a capacity for earning and
accumulating money. And, remember, in your relation to your money,
that after all it is not _yours_, but God's--no matter how it comes
into your hands.
In Luke 16 is the account of Dives, whom God permitted to be rich, but
who made the fatal mistake of using his wealth for the sole purpose of
gratifying himself. He built a luxurious home, he bought fine clothes
and feasted every day on costly food. There were suffering and want
all about him, but he turned his face away from the needy. One poor
fellow named Lazarus, too weak to walk and all covered with sores, was
laid at this rich man's gate where he was bound to see him day after
day.
The dogs came and licked the poor man's sores, but Dives passed him
by. Lazarus got a servant to ask for the scraps taken from the rich
man's table, but he needed other help. God gave Dives money and gave
him an opportunity to serve his fellow-man with it, but Dives failed
to catch the idea, somehow. He foolishly spent his money upon himself,
and one night Dives lay down to sleep on a full stomach and woke up in
torment.
Fellows, money was his undoing. Money can be a curse, or it can be a
blessing. All depends upon whether or not you recognize God's
ownership, acknowledge it, and act upon it. Some of the saddest lives
ever lived are those built around a wrong conception of their relation
to money. Some of the happiest and most successful lives are those
built upon the principle that money is a God-given trust to be used
for Him.
Fellows, what are you going to be worth--to God, and to your
fellow-man?
_Read Luke 16:19-31._
XIII
TALENTS
Say, fellows, one morning in spring a boy came to me and said: "Dad,
let's go fishing; I saw the bass jumping in the lake just now, and
that means they are ready to bite."
"All right," I replied, "you get the bait and the lines ready and we
will go at four this afternoon." He did so.
Then we went around to the point on the lake where he had seen the
fish jumping. I made a dandy throw, first try, and as the bait began
bobbing in and out among the flags I could just see myself hanging a
beauty. I was watching the line so hard that I forgot the boy for two
or three minutes; then, turning, I saw him standing there looking very
sad.
"What's the matter," I said, "why don't you unwrap your line and
fish?"
He whimpered: "I want to fish for bass, with a big line, like yours."
"Why," I said, "you couldn't handle a big rod and line like this; and
if you could, you would get it tangled up in those flags out there;
now you just unwrap your little line, put a little worm on your little
hook and drop it over there by that stump, and you will catch a little
perch."
Well, he didn't want to do it, but because I ordered him to do it he
cast in his hook. In the meantime, I was watching my minnow again; it
was playing beautifully, but getting no strike. I was still watching
it intently, when all of a sudden I heard a great splashing beside me,
and looking around--there was a sight! That boy's little pole was
nearly bent double, and at the end of his line threshing and churning
the water at a terrific rate was a big fish! The boy was having the
time of his life; oh, he played him, he tightened him and slacked him,
but all the time bringing him nearer to the bank.
In about a half minute (it seemed much longer) there was _a
pound-and-a-half bass_ flapping out there on the grass. In the
meantime, the big hook continued to do nothing--and it never did, that
afternoon. We went home with the one bass, and that night the family
sat around the supper table and greatly enjoyed the fish _caught on
the little hook_.
God will honour the fellow that does the best he can _with what he has
in his hand_. And perhaps it will be a far greater honour than you
ever dreamed of.
When our Lord told the parable He did not mean to make small of the
fellow who has only small ability. He condemned the fellow who refused
to use what ability he had because it was small and because he did not
have as much as somebody else to work with. Let's suppose the last
part of that parable had read this way:
"Then he which had received the One Talent came and said, Lord, you
only gave me one talent, and when I saw you giving that other fellow
five and still another two, I was all cut up about it. I did not see
why you should give them more to work with than you gave me. I boiled
inside. I said to myself, Well, if that is the way he treats me, I
will simply take his talent and bury it until he comes back; then I
will dig it up and hand it back to him just as he handed it to me.
"But then I thought again, and I remembered that it was your property
you were distributing, and you had a perfect right to do it as you
chose. I remembered that you are both a wise and a kind master; you
have never given me a reason to question your love for me and your
interest in me; and you know me and my capacity for handling your
property far better than I know myself. So I decided to take that One
Talent and work with it and do the very best I could with it. And,
Lord, I did; and here, see--I have gained another one to go with it;
here are _two talents_."
Bless your life, fellows, do you know what his lord would have said to
that man? He would have said to him exactly what he said to the other
two men.
A poor boy in New York got himself a job at a little lunch stand. He
found he had a little talent for making the lunches attractive and
people would buy them. He stuck at it, saved his earnings, and after a
while bought out the lunch stand. He enlarged the variety of his
lunches and added some other goods. And, to make a long story short,
he is now acknowledged to be the greatest hotel man in the world.
The fellow who uses the talent he has, be it one, two, or five, and
takes Jesus for his partner, is bound to be a success.
_Read Matthew 25:14-30._
XIV
FIGHTING
Say, fellows! of all the boys in the Old Testament, David is my
choice. There was something about that chap that was "real class."
If David were to happen in your bunch, doubtless when you got to
knowing him every one of you would want him for a chum. He was the
kind of fellow that real boys like: not a braggart and not a "sissy,"
but generally when it came to his turn to bat he smashed the ball for
a clean hit. Or if he should happen to strike out, he didn't slam the
stick to the ground, but with a smile stepped back and turned a
handspring and lit on his feet rooting for the next man up. Of course,
you know there was not any baseball in those days, but that is about
the way David would have played the game.
Out there minding the sheep, David didn't get moody. It might have
been a slow job for others, but not for him. No, he had a harp and he
made music with it. He had a sling, and could hit a quarter on a
telegraph pole with it--if there had been quarters and telegraph
poles. But there were other things to use that sling on, and they gave
David a touch of real life.
David knew that lions, bears, and wolves lurked in the forests near
the pastures in which his sheep must graze, and he got ready for them.
Notice, fellows, here is one of the secrets of David's success: he was
always ready. His big opportunity came when he arrived at King Saul's
camp on that errand for his father, and he was ready for it.
He was ready, first, because he believed God's power was greater than
any army, and that God would fight for any one who fought for Him. Did
you notice in the Bible account how David told the king that God would
handle the matter; and how he also told Goliath out there on the
field, while all men held their breath, that it was Goliath plus
sword, spear, and shield, against David plus God?
And so God helped. One smooth stone, the first out of the sling,
crunched through that big bluffer's head like a baseball through a
stained glass window, and the Philistine fell on his face.
Everybody's giant comes some day. Every fellow's big opportunity comes
one time, at least, and he can be just as ready for it as David was.
That's the big news to-day.
I like to think of the five smooth stones as representing five
characteristics of David's readiness.
_First Stone:_ (the one he slung) _Faith._ We have been talking about
that--faith in God. David prayed as he picked up those stones, you
know he did.
_Second Stone: A pure heart._ God searched it that day at Bethlehem
and approved him for anointing. David was clean. You would never hear
him telling smutty stories, nor did he think them.
_Third Stone: Industrious habits._ Think of his skill in playing the
harp, and his effectiveness with that deadly sling.
_Fourth Stone: A courageous spirit._ A lion's mane, a bear's skin, and
a giant's head, of which we know, bear testimony to this. No wonder
the shepherd boy could stand before a king and reason with him in the
presence of a national crisis.
_Fifth Stone: A humble spirit._ Listed last, but not least by a good
deal. "Thy servant will go and fight this Philistine"; "Thy servant
kept his father's sheep and--" "The Lord will" do this thing--not I.
David's humility throughout his boyhood and young manhood--indeed
throughout his whole life--is one of the fine and strong points of his
character.
In the brook that runs alongside your lives, fellows, these five
smooth stones and others are waiting for each one of you. Put them in
your "scrip" _now_ and be ready for life's opportunities; for they are
coming, head on, to meet you, and _God wants to be on your side_.
_Read the seventeenth chapter of 1 Samuel._
XV
DRIFTING
Say, fellows, there is a little animal in the North Woods, called the
weasel. In coldest winter its fur turns snow white and its pelt is
very valuable. The white fur of the weasel (sometimes called the
ermine) is used to make some of the most beautiful and expensive
stoles that elegant and wealthy ladies wear. Therefore, in very cold
winters, trapping the weasel is profitable as well as interesting.
Now here comes the queer part of this story: The weasel is small, and
any scar made upon its snow-white coat is doubly conspicuous. If the
pelt is torn or injured it is rejected; so the trapper must take his
captive clean and scarless. The weasel will not enter a cage trap, and
the much used snap-jaw steel trap would tear the skin. But the weasel
likes to lick a smooth surface, especially if it is the slightest bit
greasy; so the trapper smears with grease the blade of a large knife
and lays it on top of the snow, secured by a chain attached to the
handle, and covers the chain with snow to hide it.
The weasel comes along and immediately indulges its natural desire to
lick the smooth blade, and instantly the end of its tongue clings fast
to the cold steel. Try as it may, it cannot pull loose without tearing
its tongue out, which usually it will not do, but sits quietly by,
until released by the trapper, released only to die. Luckless weasel,
trapped by the tongue.
Now, fellows, the weasel does no more wicked thing than to follow its
natural inclinations; but natural inclinations are not safe guides;
they more frequently lead to death. We folks are much like the weasel;
we are much of the time dead bent in the direction of what is worst
for us. Is not our God good to give us the plain warnings which we as
intelligent beings can see and understand--and, seeing and
understanding, "Stop, Look, and Listen!"--turn about and head toward
safety, success, and happiness! Surely, He _is good_. But what matters
how good God is and how plain His warnings if we go right on in the
wrong direction?
If a weasel could understand a warning and should say, "Yes, I know,
but I am just going to lick this once," what would it matter how clear
the warning was?
God's warnings are such as should turn us face about; right now,
before we are hard and fast in one of the devil's many crafty snares,
for he always lays his snares along the path of our _natural
inclinations_. God warns: "Abhor evil," learn to hate it, pray to hate
it. "Cleave to the good," learn to love it, pray to love it.
Naturally, we seek our own praise, but face about! seek the praise for
another, in true brotherly spirit. Naturally, we are lazy and would
shirk our task; but brace up! put vim in the job; that honours God,
and incidentally, puts both success and joy in the work. When we get
in trouble, naturally we chafe and become impatient; God says, "Be
patient in tribulation." That's a "Right-about-face!" for you. We pray
once and quit--naturally. God says keep on praying. When folks nag at
us and pester us, naturally we blaze out at them. God says, don't
blaze, but bless. And that's "To the rear! Hey!"
Naturally, our noses turn up and our heads are lifted to salute the
lofty ones; God says look around for those not so well off as we are,
and lavish our sociability on _them_. Naturally, we try to "get even"
with the fellow who does us a mean turn; God says turn that matter
over to Him; He will take care of it. And when that fellow needs help,
as surely he will sooner or later (maybe right now), make him the
special object of our kindness.
Oh, yes, I know, fellows, it is much easier to do the way you feel
like doing. But when your boat is drifting down the current, which is
the natural way, it takes a Real Fellow to dig his oars in and turn
and row up-stream. And that's what you propose to be: a Real Fellow,
and the best part of it is you then become a Yoke-fellow with Jesus
Christ; and let me tell you, _He pulls a good oar_!
Fellows, drifting means "over the falls." "There is a way which
seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death"
(Prov. 16:25). Pulling up-stream with Christ means getting to the
sunshine of the eternal hills. "But the path of the righteous is as
the dawning light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day"
(Prov. 4:18).
Fellows, I had rather PULL with Christ than DRIFT with the devil,
wouldn't you?
_Read the twelfth chapter of Romans._
XVI
RESURRECTION
Say, fellows, I'll never forget one exciting morning on the banks of
the Etowah River, a treacherous stream that threads its way through
the red hills of northwest Georgia. A bunch of us boys were spending
that morning in swimming. Not much swimming, either, for only one boy
in the crowd could swim, and all except him were under thirteen years
old. Bob was fifteen, and a good swimmer. One of the boys waded out
pretty deep, and the undercurrent swept him off his feet. There was a
cry, and he sank.
Then it was that Bob did a fine thing, which has caused the rest of us
to look upon him as a real hero ever since. He ran along the bank,
down-stream a little way, and jumped in, rapidly made his way to a
point a few yards below where the boy had gone down, dived, and came
up with him. The rest of us waded out as far as we dared, to meet him,
and all together we drew the couple to shore. But, fellows, that boy
was dead--at least he seemed to be, and we were certain of it.
We lifted his limp body out of the water and laid it on the ground. We
were three miles from town. Scared? We were terrified! All of us were
trembling from head to foot with fright. There were no Boy Scouts in
those days, and boys had not learned the scientific way to restore a
drowned person to life. We were alone and helpless in the presence of
sudden death, and knew not what to do.
One boy suggested that we ought to "get the water out of him," and
that was followed by another suggestion, to put the body over the
lower limb of a near-by tree letting the head hang down, so the water
could run out of the mouth. This we proceeded to do, with a great deal
of difficulty, but finally we got it up there, hanging across the
limb, pretty much like a wet necktie.
After the body had hung in the tree about five minutes, while we stood
about, panting, pale, and terror-stricken, we again took it down and
laid it out on the ground. All of a sudden, to our amazement there was
a movement about the mouth and a little gasp, as for breath. The rough
handling of the body getting it in and out of the tree had had some
effect.
Instinctively we began to roll him over and move his arms about. We
knew nothing of the proper method, but the mouth opened and he
breathed again--then again--and as we let him rest a moment on his
back, he opened his eyes and looked at us, from one to the other.
Fellows, can you imagine how we felt? Well, we couldn't speak; we just
jumped around like Indians and shouted and laughed and cried. It was
wonderful--the most thrilling experience I think I ever had, but I was
wobbly in the knees for a week afterward.
The thing which tremendously impressed me was the coming back from
death to life--for so it seemed to us. But what do you suppose must
have been the feelings of those two women and the disciples, on that
astonishing morning when the two Marys went at early dawn with spices
to place about the Lord's body,--the body which they had seen die upon
the cross two days before; the body they had seen lifted down from the
cross and which they had helped to prepare for burial; the body they
had seen sealed up in the tomb as the sun went down on the darkest,
saddest day the world ever knew?
What must have been their feelings, I say, fellows, when suddenly He
appeared before them _alive_ and _well_ and _speaking_? How they must
have leaped to do the thing their risen Lord commanded: "Go
quickly--tell."
Do you know what it all means to you fellows who have accepted Him as
your Saviour and Friend and Guide?
It means this: that you in your youth, full of life and with all
the thrill of growing strength and manhood, have no dead and
lifeless program to follow, no fickle and disappointing "rewards"
which perish with using; but yours is always a forward, up-going
experience--something doing every day that is worth while, something
that brings a thrill which does not die out and leave you weaker, but
makes you stronger every day, and prepares you for a yet bigger
task,--a _living_ task and a _living_ reward--Eternal Life!
_Read John 20:1-21._
XVII
KNOWING HOW
Say, fellows, have you heard of the expert who was called in to start
the big engine? Every wheel in the plant had come to a sudden
standstill. Something had gone wrong in the engine room, and the
engineer was nonplused. To save his life he could not locate the
trouble. The superintendent was down there mad as a hornet. A thousand
operatives were idle on full pay, and it was like burning money on an
ash heap. Still that engineer fumbled around. The "super" telephoned
for the expert to come at once and see what was the matter.
Directly, he walked quietly in, glanced at the steam gauge and turned
the throttle wheel a bit. Then, with a tiny hammer which he drew from
his pocket he lightly tapped some parts of the machine, here and
there. He paused at a certain pipe leading to the steam chest, called
for a wrench, removed a tap and a plate, peered in, then carefully
picked out a piece of cotton waste and replaced the plate and tap.
"Now open your throttle," he said to the engineer. The big engine
moved off like a thing of life, pulleys began to whirl and belts to
whirr, and a thousand hands resumed their work.
In the office the expert handed in his memorandum charge. It was fifty
dollars and fifty cents.
"It is all right," said the superintendent, "we're glad to pay it,
but would you mind telling me what the fifty cents is for?"
The expert smiled, "Why, that is my charge for the one minute spent in
locating your trouble, the fifty dollars is for _knowing how_."
Fellows, your life is a great big costly engine, built with infinite
skill, and you are the engineer. It is a wonderful thing running that
engine,--wonderful because it is the motive power to turn many wheels
and affect many lives. Rightly understood and properly handled it will
produce great values, and be a blessing to the world. Misunderstood
and carelessly handled, it will cause loss and suffering to you and
perhaps many others.
As a boy, I used to go to the engine room of my father's mill and
watch the engineer. Continually, he moved about, watching its
movements, its big flywheel half below in the pit, half above, and the
broad belt that glided over it and disappeared through the brick wall
into the mill; now he would be refilling the oil cups, now noting the
steam gauge, or polishing the shining brass trimmings almost with a
caress. He was the first man on hand in the morning, and the last man
to leave at night. Oh, how well he must know his engine, how carefully
he must guard its movements, how always he must be on the job, if he
would be a capable, successful, happy engineer!
And what is God's Word telling us about it to-day? Listen, "Happy is
the man that findeth wisdom [to know God, to know himself, to know his
engine], and the man that getteth understanding [how to run his
engine]. For the merchandise of it is better than the merchandise of
silver, and the gain thereof than fine gold. Length of days is in her
right hand [a long and happy career of productive energy] and in her
left hand riches [the actual wealth which God promises to those who
obey His law and love His service, and the inexpressible satisfaction
which comes with the honour that honours God first of all]."
Every fellow can have this wisdom for the asking. Every fellow can
know how to run his life engine, to avoid the breakdowns, to keep the
wheels humming the song of industry and success. Life is the most
interesting thing in the world, and God gives it abundantly. "If any
of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men
liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him."
Now, fellows, here is the whole matter in a nutshell: Your life
machine is the most wonderful, the most mysterious, and at the same
time the most "runnable" thing that the great God has created; but to
run it successfully, as God designed it to be run, you must get your
instructions from Him, the Maker of it. His Book of Rules, the Bible,
must be your daily guide, and through it He will speak to you in your
wonderful day as you live it in His companionship.
Fellows, it is the Life!
_Read Psalm 119:1-11._
XVIII
FRIENDSHIP
Say, fellows, if you were blindfolded and walking a plank above
Niagara Falls, humanly speaking your chances would be about as good as
David's were when King Saul in a frenzy of rage and jealousy was
seeking his life. David sized it up when he said: "There is but a step
between me and death."
If ever a fellow needed a friend, David needed one at that time.
And a friend he had--a friend with a backbone, a true friend--as brave
as any knight who sat at King Arthur's Table Round or followed in the
train of Richard Coeur de Lion.
Young gentlemen, meet Prince Jonathan!
He never got to be a king, but he had a kingly spirit--if that means
something high and noble. He never deserted a cause which had a claim
upon him. He was true to Saul, his father; he fell at Gilboa fighting
by his side. He was true to David, his friend, unto the point of
death.
You may recall that in a former chapter I mentioned the opinion that
David was the kind of a fellow any red-blooded boy would like. On that
day of wonders, when in the twinkling of an eye the shepherd lad
became the champion of two armies, when the musical fingers of the
boy who played a harp and tended sheep did the execution which routed
the enemy and laid a giant's head at the feet of the king--that day
Jonathan's soul was knit to the soul of David in a lifelong
friendship. It was the kind of friendship which stands the test of
adversity.
It was no wonder that David could have the admiring friendship even of
a prince on the day of his triumph and for days afterward when all
people were singing his praises and he moved upon the high places of
royal and popular favour. If the tide had not turned, Jonathan's
friendship would have been only an incident upon the page of history,
if it had been recorded at all. It would not have been a thing so
fine, so inspiring, as to have thirty millions of Sunday-school folks
discussing it to-day.
But the tide turned, and there came a day when it was expensive and
hazardous to be a friend of David. Jonathan's position became both
delicate and perilous. Saul his father was a despot who would take his
own son's life if he sought to excuse or defend one whom the king
conceived to be his enemy. Jonathan's friendship stood the test. His
own life hung lightly in the balance, but Jonathan would rather have
given his life than fail his friend. He took it in his hand that
evening at the royal feast of the new moon; and he played with death
as the javelin of the infuriated Saul came hurtling across the table.