our best, wherever the place of service. He will look after the
reward. He is even more ambitious for us than our mothers are.
_Read Matthew 20:20-28._
XXV
"PAW, I WANTA BE SOMEBODY!"
Say, fellows, away back in the mountains of western North Carolina,
far up on the mountainside, at the head of a cove, there lived a
fifteen-year-old boy. He had sisters and brothers and parents, but
they dwelt in a little tumble-down shack and were wretchedly poor.
Jake was the oldest of the children, and he had to work hard in the
little patch of corn on the steep mountainside, which barely yielded a
crop.
Down the path a mile or so there was a little log schoolhouse where a
lady teacher gave some of the mountain children lessons in "readin',
ritin', and 'rithmetic." Jake had passed and repassed that schoolhouse
many times and wished that he might "go thar and larn," but Jake was
too important a hand on "the farm" to "waste enny time at sich"--so
thought his parents, neither of whom could read or write. "An' Jake
was pow'ful handy 'bout fixin' things, like tools en sich."
One day, when "the crop" was pretty well "laid by," Jake came to the
shack and, throwing his hoe into the corner, said: "Paw, I wanta be
Somebody!" Then Jake went on to say he had been thinking that now the
corn was in shape to go ahead and make what it would, he "might put
in some time ev'y day at the schoolhouse a-larnin' how to read and
write."
"But y'ain't got nothin' to buy books," was suggested.
"I'll see 'bout that 'ar," said Jake.
Next morning when the teacher arrived, Jake was waiting at the
schoolhouse door.
"Teacher," said he, "I ain't got no money to buy books, but I kin git
up the wood ev'y day for the stove, 'n I kin sweep out the schoolhouse
'n keep it clean--cain't ye loan me a book 'n let me come 'n larn?"
Jake's terms were accepted. No boy was ever prouder of a university
scholarship than Jake was of that chance to "larn" in the little
mountain schoolhouse. Jake went after "larnin'" as a boy goes for pie
at the picnic dinner.
A few months later, the school was visited by the superintendent of
one of the large North Carolina mountain mission schools. When the
teacher told him about Jake, he offered him an opportunity to enter
the mission school and succeeded in persuading his parents to let him
go. Jake was put to work taking care of the farm machinery in the
agricultural department of the mission, but with ample time to pursue
his studies in the schoolroom.
It was noticed that he had special aptitude for fixing the farm
implements and adjusting the parts--even making some of the missing
parts at the old blacksmith forge. The superintendent was so impressed
with this that as soon as Jake's education had made pretty fair
progress, he secured him a position in the dynamo room of a large
manufacturing plant in a near-by town. Jake had accepted Jesus Christ
as his Saviour and Master while at the mission school, owned his
Bible, read it faithfully every day, and was a consistent young
Christian.
It was a triumph for Jake, when he got a discarded dynamo out of its
corner and saved the purchase of a new machine. His employers soon saw
that he was entitled to even a better chance than they could give him,
and after they had some correspondence with a great electrical
manufacturing firm in New England, Jake one day bade farewell to his
"Tarheel" friends and took a north-bound train.
At the great electrical plant, his career was continuously upward.
It takes five figures to name his salary. Every Sunday morning you
will see Jake and his family get into their big car and motor into the
city, where Jake teaches a large and enthusiastic class of young men.
The mountain boy has realized his wish: he is Somebody!
No fellow can do a finer thing than make his life count as a force in
Christianizing the nation--to make it stand out a shining light,
pointing the world to Christ. And one effective way to do that is to
apply himself, with a Christ-loving heart, to the opportunity that
comes to his hands to build himself up in a Christian way and in a
business way. For good business and Christian integrity are twin screw
propellers.
The fellow that gets the good job, the fellow that suddenly finds
himself in a position of power and privileged service to his world
about him is the fellow who is found faithful to the smaller work or
the smaller opportunity that lies next to his hand.
Oh, fellows, it is the only life!
_Read Matthew 25:14-30._
XXVI
"LET DOWN YOUR FEET!"
Say, fellows, something happened two summers ago at a well-known
resort in the mountains, which even at this late day it quickens my
pulse to recall. I was one of the very few eyewitnesses of the
"tragedy," and it nearly put me to bed with nervous prostration. It
was about twilight one evening when I passed near the lake on my way
to our cottage for supper.
The gay throng of swimmers had apparently all dispersed to the hotels
and cottages for the evening meal and preparation for the concert in
the auditorium. That lake was a very popular place in the afternoon;
there were accommodations for all grades of swimmers--from the expert
divers who used the platform, spring-board, and tall diving ladder on
the deep side, to the smallest children, who paddled and waded in the
shallow water under the watchful care of their nurses on the other
side. The lake was not over a hundred yards wide at the widest.
I was just noting how deserted and quiet was the place which only a
few moments before had been fairly alive with a happy throng of sport
lovers, little and big, when I saw coming toward the platform from the
bath house a tall, thin man in his bathing suit. He looked so pale and
weak and thin that I wondered if he could possibly be thinking of
going into that cold water at that time of evening and _alone_!
I had not long to be in doubt about it, for straight out on the
platform he went and then _on the spring-board_! He lifted his arms
above his head and pointed his hands together as a man going to dive.
The man looked so weak and thin that I felt positive he would not be
able to swim in that water, so chilled by the mountain springs that
fed it. I wondered if he knew how cold it was and how weak he was.
Should I run the risk of "butting in," and warn him? Suppose I did not
and he should begin to sink, could I jump in that fifteen-foot water
with my clothes on and save him? These thoughts flashed rapidly
through my mind, but in the twinkling of an eye he was off the
spring-board, head downward into the water.
I held my breath and waited for him to rise. It seemed he had gone to
the bottom and stuck there; the water became actually smooth again,
and almost still, where he had disappeared. I thought he would never
come up. My heart jumped into my throat.
Then he came up--very near where he had gone down--and faintly struck
out swimming. I thought of course he would at once make for the piers
of the platform; surely a fellow swimming as weakly as that, all
alone, and in water cold and deep, would not risk himself far from
shore. But, to my amazement, he was apparently starting for the other
side!
It was then I discovered I was not the only witness. On the other side
of the lake, down close to the water's edge, and watching with evident
anxiety, was a lady. It was easy to see by her movements that she had
a strong personal interest in the swimmer's actions, and that she was
very anxiously watching him. She had evidently come down to keep him
company, or as a precaution, while he took his solitary evening swim.
These things, which were taken in at a glance, coupled with the fact
that the swimmer was plainly growing weaker and making very poor
progress, confirmed all my apprehensions, and I was just thinking I
must quickly take measures for his relief when I saw coming out of the
bath house on a dead run, two husky young fellows in bathing suits,
making for the spring-board.
At the same time the lady shouted: "Father! Father! can you make it?"
The swimmer gurgled something which sounded like, "No."
He had gotten about half-way across and was merely struggling to keep
his head above water. The two huskies went off the spring-board so
close one behind the other that it looked foolhardy, and struck out
rapidly for the drowning man, but he had gone down his second time
already.
It was a race between life and death. I said: "They will never reach
him in time." The lady screamed. Then a new voice broke upon the still
evening air. A boy over on the walkway by the dam shouted at the top
of his lungs: "_Mister! Let down your feet!_" The struggling man heard
it; he did let down his feet, rose up about waist deep in the water
_and walked out_!
Fellows, as I walked on up the hill toward supper, trying to work my
heart back down where it belonged, I did some tall thinking. Had _I_
ever "drowned" in shallow water? Sure, I had. The great big things God
has planned for you and me to do seem impossible because we do not
take into account that they are to be done through God's power and not
our own.
We summon the nerve to tackle the task, but, forgetting Him, like
Peter trying to walk on the water, we sink. We foolishly try to do the
thing in our own strength, when there at our hand is the great power
of Almighty God just waiting to flow through us and accomplish it
gloriously.
Oh, fellows, if you would just let down your feet on the mighty power
of God, you would walk out of all your difficulty. Here is a great
overpowering temptation getting the best of you--and you, drowning in
shallow water.
Let down your feet! Here is an inspiring challenge out of God's Word,
to put forth your hand and heart and mind and help win the world for
Him. You are tempted to say: "Who am I?" Let down your feet, and
you'll see who you are. You are a child of God, through whom He is
willing to do mighty works.
And you will rise upon your feet, you poor, weak fellow, and you will
hold aloft the Banner of the Cross, and you will achieve for God in a
way that will set all the bells of heaven ringing.
_Read Matthew 28:16-20._
XXVII
AN "UNASSISTED TRIPLE PLAY"
Say, fellows, when that "Indian," Wambganss, put three men out with
one unassisted play in the world's series and retired the Brooklyn
Dodgers with bases full, twenty thousand frantic Cleveland fans rose
as one man and sent up a yell that sounded like the roar of Niagara.
It comes but once in a generation for a lone baseball player to make
an "unassisted triple play" in a world's series, and doubtless that
night the Cleveland second baseman was the most envied baseball player
in the world. For one man to do, alone, what thousands of onlookers
could not do, was enough to turn all fandom topsy-turvy in a delirium
of amazement.
There is something in you and me, fellows, that leaps to its feet and
screeches with delight when we see any one rise to the demands of a
crisis and do the fine thing. Now, I want you to turn to a place in
the Bible where is described a finer thing than could happen in any
world's series. It has always seemed to me to be about the most
wonderful event that ever happened. It is John's account of one of the
most wonderful miracles that Jesus performed.
More than five thousand hungry people lingered on the hillsides near
the lake shore, and there was nothing for them to eat. Jesus was
testing His men that day to see how far they had recognized His
divine power. He turned to Philip and said: "Where shall we get food
for them?" Philip did not know it was a test question; neither did he
realize that Jesus could turn every blade of grass to a loaf of bread
if He chose to do so. Therefore, Philip replied: "I do not know, Lord;
it looks as if they will have to go home hungry."
Now Andrew was casting about to see what he might discover to help out
the situation, and his eye fell upon a boy standing near by with a
rather familiar shaped bundle in the folds of his tunic. Andrew
sniffed, and saw the tails of two dried fish sticking through. Andrew
had a long nose for fish. He knew what it was: the boy had brought a
lunch with him.
"How many barley cakes have you, son?" inquired Andrew. "Five,"
answered the boy. "Wait a minute," said Andrew. Something had flashed
into his mind. It was a big moment for Andrew; he was on the verge of
doing a fine thing, himself, and he stepped quickly to where Jesus
stood.
"Master!" he said, his eyes snapping with the very thought of what
_might happen_--"Master, there's a lad here with five barley cakes and
two small fishes--" and (oh, the tragedy of it!) then he must have
caught Philip's hard-boiled eye. He must have thought, "Now, Philip is
saying I'm a fool for suggesting such a thing--and I guess I am"; for
he quickly added "--_but what are they among so many?_"
Jesus calmly turned His eyes on Andrew, as though He said:
"Almost!--Andrew--almost did your faith win a victory; make the men
sit down on the grass, and bring the lad's lunch to me."
Now, fellows, I can imagine Andrew going back to that boy and saying,
"Son, the Master has need of this food you have brought; shall I take
it to Him?" And this boy's first thought, naturally, was: "Then, what
will I do? I'm a long way from home; I'm hungry, and I was just fixing
to eat it myself--but--"
The boy had been listening to Jesus as He talked to the crowd. He had
seen those wonderful eyes melting with compassion. His own eyes had
feasted upon that majestic countenance, and his ears had tingled, and
his boyish heart thrilled with the marvellous words which fell from
the Master's lips. "Surely," he had thought, "this _must_ be the
Messiah, for no other could speak like Him, nor work these marvellous
cures." So quickly he brushed aside his self-interest, and held out
the little bundle of fishes and bread.
Now, fellows, watch--What?--a triple play at a world series and twenty
thousand fans leaping and yelling like mad? Bless you, no. Something
happened right then which will be remembered a millennium after
baseball has been forgotten. Jesus took the boy's lunch and fed five
thousand hungry men, besides women and children, until they could eat
no more.
I have many times tried to picture in my imagination that glad and
astonished boy. His eyes must have nearly popped out when he saw what
was going on, the Master giving out the bread and fishes--and the
bread and fishes _never giving out_!
And the big news to-day, fellows, is that you and I can make a play
like that. No matter what it is you've got in your hand, let Jesus use
it. He can do more with it than we can. No matter whether it is much
or little, give it to Him. In fact, that's the way to save it and make
the most of it. He said so (Luke 9:24) Himself; give it to Him. It
matters not so much _what_ it is in your hand; the thing that matters
is _what you do with it_. Give it to Him. You may not hear the
bleachers roar over your gift, but, listen, fellows, when a life is
surrendered to Christ the battlements of heaven ring with a shout that
encircles God's throne, and the score is for Eternity!
Fellows, let's play the REAL GAME.
_Read John 6:5-14._
XXVIII
FORGIVING
Say, fellows, I want you to take a look at Simon Peter to-day. He is
as interesting as a fast game of volley ball. And he did get some hot
ones handed to him. Impulsive fellow that he was, he was always
getting his foot into it. Peter was a plunger; he wanted to _do
things_, and do them right now. Loyal soul--he would fight for his
friend at the drop of a hat; but he was subject to fits of depression,
and at such times his heart would fail him, or he would lose his grip
on himself and do something to regret sorely afterward.
Now, fellows, Jesus loved Peter with a mighty love, and He spent much
time helping him to gain self-control and learn to be a steady,
thoroughgoing, dependable Christian. Many times Jesus had to call him
down sharply. Once He even called Peter "Satan" (see Mark 8:33). It
really was Satan to whom Jesus spoke--Satan operating in Peter, as he
operates in you and me sometimes when we are weak enough to permit it;
but it must have been an awful jolt to Peter to get that from his
Master.
Peter gradually improved. He was making an honest effort to be the man
he ought to be; but there one thing which gave him more trouble than
anything else. He got to the point where he could close his jaws
tight and keep from calling down the fellow who made him mad, but he
couldn't keep from surging inside. He would surge when he went to bed,
and he would be still surging when he got up--all inside. After a
while he got to where he could forgive, but when the offense was
repeated it was "all off," and Peter would find himself surging again.
Now the second surging was just as uncomfortable and made him feel as
mean as the first, so Peter began to wonder just what would be the
limit, according to Jesus' idea, to which a man must forgive and then
surge and feel good over it. You see, Peter was trying to train by the
rules of Jesus, so it was quite the proper thing for him to ask Jesus
about it when in doubt. A good sport is always ready to listen to the
Coach.
Jesus was teaching the Golden Rule, the law of kindness and of
good-will. He had just been showing how to make peace with one who has
done you an injury, when Peter spoke up and asked the question which
brought forth one of Jesus' most remarkable parables. Peter said:
"Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him?
until seven times?"
Seven times! Think of that. It was going some, wasn't it? Doubtless
Peter thought so. Perhaps he said to himself: "Well, for once I have
proposed something which will show the Lord that I have learned to be
a longsuffering Peter. Just imagine it: Forgave him Sunday; he
repeated the offense Monday, and I forgave him again; also the same on
Tuesday. He deliberately did that dirty trick again on Wednesday, and
I still stood my ground on the forgiving program. Thursday and Friday
the rascal repeated the offense, and I forgave, and did it again on
Saturday; that was seven times, and lo! when Sunday came the
ungrateful wretch was at it again, and I'm done. Seven times! It was a
wonderful test of my control, and I shall present it to the Lord--"
And what did Jesus say? Why, Peter must have staggered under that
answer, for it revealed to him far more than the "four hundred and
ninety times" program. In the light of that parable in Matthew
18:21-35, it revealed to Peter that God had already forgiven so much
that was sinful in him that he might just as well settle down to a
program of forgiving his brother every day for the balance of his
life, if he did not want to forfeit the forgiveness of God. No more
surging for Peter.
And that is what the lesson means for you and for me to-day. A
missionary once said, "We cannot outgive God." It is quite as true
that we cannot out-forgive God. And, moreover, we dare not harbour
unforgiveness in our hearts against any fellow-being, for when we do
it we are dangerously close to the edge of a fearful precipice, where
one slip would put us--with the Tormentors.
Let's all shake hands--hard!
_Read Matthew 18:21-35._
XXIX
PARADOX
Say, fellows, do you know what a paradox is? It is something which
seems to contradict itself. I saw a man hold in his hand something
worth one hundred dollars. I would have been willing to give him one
hundred dollars for it. He destroyed it right before my eyes; yet his
action caused nobody any loss. Now there is a paradox, and it seems
quite puzzling, doesn't it? It looks quite impossible, you may say.
But the explanation is very simple. What the man held in his hand was
his own check on the bank. He had made a slight scratch on it which
did not affect its value, only its neatness, and he preferred to tear
it to pieces and rewrite it.
Here now in the eleventh chapter of Matthew, our Lord in His
impressive way is teaching in a paradox, and you may mark it well, for
it indicates a specially important proposition. He says: "Come unto
me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in
heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls." It seems queer that in
coming in answer to that invitation you should have a yoke to put on.
But your first wrong impression is that the Lord is sorry for folks
who work. Not at all; work is a blessed privilege. Pity the poor
idler, not the worker. Be sorry for him who is by any cause debarred
from working, not for the red-blooded fellow who is feeling the thrill
of accomplishing something. Our Lord is sorry for those who are "heavy
laden" while they work--laden with worry, with anxiety, with fears and
forebodings--yes, even with a guilty conscience.
Then the yoke. Who would think of a yoke in connection with rest? I
suppose you fellows have seen oxen wearing yokes. They do not look
very restful, do they? Yet Jesus clearly says His yoke is "easy"!
Well, let's see.
For a moment, think of life as a great game. In many respects it is
just that. It takes skill and wit and patience and determination to
win the ordinary game; also the willingness to take a lot of
punishment at times. There are three things about the game of life
which are like all other games: (1) We must either win or lose; (2)
there is uncertainty; and (3) we all want to win. But there are also
three things true of the life game which are not true about other
games.
The first of these three dissimilarities is that in the life game you
have got to play whether you will or no. You can beg off from a game
of tennis, or baseball, or dominoes; but the life game you have got to
play, willing or unwilling, sick or well, fit or not fit. There's no
choice; you've got to play--_you are already playing._
Second, you must play against an adversary who is not only more
skillful, more speedy, more enduring, but is _invisible_, and whom,
humanly speaking, it is absolutely impossible to beat. Such a game!
Such an adversary!
But the third dissimilarity is the most remarkable of all, and it is
the shot which carries the big news to-day,--there is a rule by which
you can certainly win. Can you say that about any other game? In other
games, your rival can apply the rule as well as you, but in the game
of life the rule is only available for you, and it is an absolutely
sure winner. Turn to your Bibles and look at it, in the twenty-fourth
verse of the ninth chapter of Luke: "Whosoever will save his life
shall lose it; but whosoever will lose his life for my sake, the same
shall save it."
Losing your life for Jesus--which simply means _investing_ it for Him.
Whatever you do, do that thing in His name and in a way worthy of Him.
Your _life_, you know, is simply made up of the events of the
twenty-four hours of each day. Invest each event with Jesus. That
means your play as well as work. It means clean play and good hard
playing to win, but in the way Christ would approve, honest, fair,
chivalrous--and it is true sport, I tell you. That is a part of what
it means, wearing Jesus' yoke, simply doing the thing as Jesus would
do it.
_Read Matthew 11:28-30._
XXX
FRAUD
Say, fellows, the greatest circus man who ever lived said the American
people like to be humbugged, and proceeding on that theory, P.T.
Barnum got together more animals and performers and freaks under
canvas than had ever been seen before. He made a tremendous fortune.
There is something in human nature which makes us an easy mark for any
pretentious thing that comes down the pike with banners flying. The
bigger the claim and the larger the figures, the more readily we fall
for it, but simple things must be proved.
When we are told there are 290,680,493,115 stars we accept it without
question, but if there is a sign saying "FRESH PAINT" we touch the
paint with our fingers to see if it is really so.