ourselves_. It is not enough that we are able to say, "I live correctly.
I pay every one his due. I discharge all the relations of life with
propriety. I attend to all the outward requirements of Christianity."
There remains behind another question, to which the Bible requires an
answer. "To whom do you live? to yourself or to Christ? What is the
great end, aim, object, and ruling motive in your life?" Let men call
the question extreme if they please. For myself, I can find nothing
short of this in St. Paul's words: "He died for all, that they which
live should not henceforth live unto themselves, but unto Him which died
for them and rose again." (2 Cor. v. 15.) And I draw the conclusion,
that if, like the rich man, we live only to ourselves, we shall ruin our
souls.
(_b_) I believe, further, that this passage is meant to teach us _the
damnable nature of sins of omission_. It does not seem that it was so
much the things the rich man did, but the things he left undone, which
made him miss heaven. Lazarus was at his gate, and he let him alone. But
is not this exactly in keeping with the history of the judgment, in the
twenty-fifth of St. Matthew? Nothing is said there of the sins of
commission of which the lost are guilty. How runs the charge?--"I was an
hungered, and ye gave me no meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me no
drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me not in: naked, and ye clothed me
not: sick, and in prison, and ye visited me not." (Matt. xxv. 42, 43.)
The charge against them is simply that they did not do certain things.
On this their sentence turns. And I draw the conclusion again, that,
except we take heed, sins of omission may ruin our souls. Truly it was a
solemn saying of good Archbishop Usher, on his death-bed: "Lord, forgive
me all my sins, but specially my sins of omission."
(_c_) I believe, further, that the passage is meant to teach us that
_riches bring special danger with them_. Yes! riches, which the vast
majority of men are always seeking after,--riches for which they spend
their lives, and of which they make an idol,--riches entail on their
possessors immense spiritual peril! The possession of them has a very
hardening effect on the soul. They chill. They freeze. They petrify the
inward man. They close the eye to the things of faith. They insensibly
produce a tendency to forget God.
And does not this stand in perfect harmony with all the language of
Scripture on the same subject? What says our Lord? "How hardly shall
they that have riches enter into the kingdom of God! It is easier for a
camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter
the kingdom of God!" (Mark x. 23, 25.) What says St. Paul? "The love of
money is the root of all evil; which while some coveted after, they have
erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows."
(1 Tim vi. 10.) What can be more striking than the fact that the Bible
has frequently spoken of money as a most fruitful cause of sin and evil?
For money Achan brought defeat on the armies of Israel, and death on
himself. For money Balaam sinned against light, and tried to curse God's
people. For money Delilah betrayed Sampson to the Philistines. For money
Gehazi lied to Naaman and Elisha, and became a leper. For money Ananias
and Sapphira became the first hypocrites in the early Church, and lost
their lives. For money Judas Iscariot sold Christ, and was ruined
eternally. Surely these facts speak loudly.
Money, in truth, is one of the most _unsatisfying_ of possessions. It
takes away some cares, no doubt; but it brings with it quite as many
cares as it takes away. There is trouble in the getting of it. There is
anxiety in the keeping of it. There are temptations in the use of it.
There is guilt in the abuse of it. There is sorrow in the losing of it.
There is perplexity in the disposing of it. Two-thirds of all the
strifes, quarrels, and lawsuits in the world, arise from one simple
cause,--_money_!
Money most certainly is one of the most _ensnaring and heart-changing_
of possessions. It seems desirable at a distance. It often proves a
poison when in our hand. No man can possibly tell the effect of money on
his soul, if it suddenly falls to his lot to possess it. Many an one did
run well as a poor man, who forgets God when he is rich.
I draw the conclusion that those who have money, like the rich man in
the parable, ought to take double pains about their souls. They live in
a most unhealthy atmosphere. They have double need to be on their guard.
(_d_) I believe, not least, that the passage is meant to _stir up
special carefulness about selfishness in these last days_. You have a
special warning in 2 Tim. iii. 1, 2: "In the last days perilous times
shall come: for men shall be lovers of their own selves, covetous." I
believe we have come to the last days, and that we ought to beware of
the sins here mentioned, if we love our souls.
Perhaps we are poor judges of our own times. We are apt to exaggerate
and magnify their evils, just because we see and feel them. But, after
every allowance, I doubt whether there ever was more need of warnings
against selfishness than in the present day. I am sure there never was a
time when all classes in England had so many comforts and so many
temporal good things. And yet I believe there is an utter disproportion
between men's expenditure on themselves and their outlay on works of
charity and works of mercy. I see this in the miserable one guinea
subscriptions to which many rich men confine their charity. I see it in
the languishing condition of many of our best religious Societies, and
the painfully slow growth of their annual incomes. I see it in the small
number of names which appear in the list of contributions to any good
work. There are, I believe, thousands of rich people in this country who
literally give away nothing at all. I see it in the notorious fact, that
few, even of those who give, give anything proportioned to their means.
I see all this, and mourn over it. I regard it as the selfishness and
covetousness predicted as likely to arise in "the last days."
I know that this is a painful and delicate subject. But it must not on
that account be avoided by the minister of Christ. It is a subject for
the times, and it needs pressing home. I desire to speak to myself, and
to all who make any profession of religion. Of course I cannot expect
worldly and utterly ungodly persons to view this subject in Bible light.
To them the Bible is no rule of faith and practice. To quote texts to
them would be of little use.
But I do ask all professing Christians to consider well what Scripture
says against covetousness and selfishness, and on behalf of liberality
in giving money. Is it for nothing that the Lord Jesus spoke the parable
of the rich fool, and blamed him because he was not "rich towards God"?
(Luke xii. 21.) Is it for nothing that in the parable of the sower He
mentions the "deceitfulness of riches" as one reason why the seed of the
Word bears no fruit? (Matt. xiii. 22.) Is it for nothing that He says,
"Make to yourselves friends of the mammon of unrighteousness"? (Luke
xvi. 9.) Is it for nothing that He says, "When thou makest a dinner or a
supper, call not thy friends, nor thy brethren, neither thy kinsmen, nor
thy rich neighbours; lest they also bid thee again, and a recompense be
made thee. But when thou makest a feast, call the poor, the maimed, the
lame, the blind: and thou shalt be blessed; for they cannot recompense
thee; for thou shalt be recompensed at the resurrection of the just"?
(Luke xiv. 14.) Is it for nothing that He says, "Sell that ye have and
give alms; provide yourselves bags which wax not old, a treasure in the
heavens that faileth not, where no thief approacheth, neither moth
corrupteth"? (Luke xii. 33.) Is it for nothing that He says, "It is more
blessed to give than to receive"? (Acts xx. 35.) Is it for nothing that
He warns us against the example of the priest and Levite, who saw the
wounded traveller, but passed by on the other side? Is it for nothing
that He praises the good Samaritan, who denied himself to show kindness
to a stranger? (Luke x. 34.) Is it for nothing that St. Paul classes
covetousness with sins of the grossest description, and denounces it as
idolatry? (Coloss. iii. 5.) And is there not a striking and painful
difference between this language and the habits and feeling of society
about money? I appeal to any one who knows the world. Let him judge what
I say.
I only ask my reader to consider calmly the passages of Scripture to
which I have referred. I cannot think they were meant to teach nothing
at all. That the habits of the East and our own are different, I freely
allow. That some of the expressions I have quoted are figurative, I
freely admit. But still, after all, a principle lies at the bottom of
all these expressions. Let us take heed that this principle is not
neglected. I wish that many a professing Christian in this day, who
perhaps dislikes what I am saying, would endeavour to write a commentary
on these expressions, and try to explain to himself what they mean.
To know that alms-giving cannot atone for sin is well. To know that our
good works cannot justify us is excellent. To know that we may give all
our goods to feed the poor, and build hospitals and cathedrals, without
any real charity, is most important. But let us beware lest we go into
the other extreme, and because our money cannot save us, give away no
money at all.
Has any one money who reads these pages? Then "take heed and beware of
covetousness." (Luke xii. 15.) Remember you carry weight in the race
towards heaven. All men are naturally in danger of being lost for ever,
but you are doubly so because of your possessions. Nothing is said to
put out fire so soon as earth thrown upon it. Nothing I am sure has such
a tendency to quench the fire of religion as the possession of money.
It was a solemn message which Buchanan, on his death-bed, sent to his
old pupil, James I.: "He was going to a place where few kings and great
men would come." It is possible, no doubt, for you to be saved as well
as others. With God nothing is impossible. Abraham, Job, and David were
all rich, and yet saved. But oh, take heed to yourself! Money is a good
servant, but a bad master. Let that saying of our Lord's sink down into
your heart: "How hardly shall they that have riches enter into the
kingdom of God." (Mark x. 23.) Well said an old divine: "The surface
above gold mines is generally very barren." Well might old Latimer begin
one of his sermons before Edward VI by quoting three times over our
Lord's words: "Take heed and beware of covetousness," and then saying,
"What if I should say nothing else these three or four hours?" There are
few prayers in our Litany more wise and more necessary than that
petition, "In all time of our _wealth_, good Lord deliver us."
Has any one little or no money who reads these pages? Then do not envy
those who are richer than yourself. Pray for them. Pity them. Be
charitable to their faults. Remember that high places are giddy places,
and be not too hasty in your condemnation of their conduct. Perhaps if
you had their difficulties you would do no better yourself. Beware of
the "love of money." It is the "root of all evil." (1 Tim. vi. 10.) A
man may love money over-much without having any at all. Beware of the
love of self. It may be found in a cottage as well as in a palace. And
beware of thinking that poverty alone will save you. If you would sit
with Lazarus in glory, you must not only have fellowship with him in
suffering, but in grace.
Does any reader desire to know the remedy against that love of self
which ruined the rich man's soul, and cleaves to us all by nature, like
our skin? I tell him plainly there is only one remedy, and I ask Him to
mark well what that remedy is. It is not the fear of hell. It is not the
hope of heaven. It is not any sense of duty. Oh, no! The disease of
selfishness is far too deeply rooted to yield to such secondary motives
as these. Nothing will ever cure it but an experimental knowledge of
Christ's redeeming love. You must know the misery and guilt of your own
estate by nature. You must experience the power of Christ's atoning
blood sprinkled upon your conscience, and making you whole. You must
taste the sweetness of peace with God through the mediation of Jesus,
and feel the love of a reconciled Father shed abroad in your heart by
the Holy Ghost.
_Then_, and not till then, the mainspring of selfishness will be broken.
_Then_, knowing the immensity of your debt to Christ, you will feel that
nothing is too great and too costly to give to Him. Feeling that you
have been loved much when you deserved nothing, you will heartily love
in return, and cry, "What shall I render unto the Lord for all His
benefits?" (Ps. cxvi. 12.) Feeling that you have freely received
countless mercies, you will think it a privilege to do anything to
please Him to whom you owe all. Feeling that you have been "bought with
a price," and are no longer your own, you will labour to glorify God
with body and spirit, which are His. (1 Cor. vi. 20.)
Yes: I repeat it this day. I know no _effectual_ remedy for the love of
self, but a believing apprehension of the love of Christ. Other remedies
may palliate the disease: this alone will heal it. Other antidotes may
hide its deformity: this alone will work a perfect cure.
An easy, good-natured temper may cover over selfishness in one man. A
love of praise may conceal it in a second. A self-righteous asceticism
and an affected spirit of self-denial may keep it out of sight in a
third. But nothing will ever cut up selfishness by the roots but the
love of Christ revealed in the mind by the Holy Ghost, and felt in the
heart by simple faith. Once let a man see the full meaning of the words,
"Christ loved me and gave Himself for me," and then he will delight to
give himself to Christ, and all that he has to His service. He will live
to Him, not in order that he may be secure, but because he is secure
already. He will work for Him, not that he may have life and peace, but
because life and peace are his own already.
Go to the cross of Christ, all you that want to be delivered from the
power of selfishness. Go and see what a price was paid there to provide
a ransom for your soul. Go and see what an astounding sacrifice was
there made, that a door to eternal life might be provided for poor
sinners like you. Go and see how the Son of God gave Himself for you,
and learn to think it a small thing to give yourself to Him.
The disease which ruined the rich man in the parable may be cured. But
oh, remember, there is only one real remedy! If you would not live to
yourself you must live to Christ. See to it that this remedy is not only
known, but applied,--not only heard of, but used.
(1) And now let me conclude all by _urging on every reader of these
pages, the great duty of self-inquiry_.
A passage of Scripture like this parable ought surely to raise in many
an one great searchings of heart.--"What am I? Where am I going? What am
I doing? What is likely to be my condition after death? Am I prepared to
leave the world? Have I any home to look forward to in the world to
come? Have I put off the old man and put on the new? Am I really one
with Christ, and a pardoned soul?" Surely such questions as these may
well be asked when the story of the rich man and Lazarus has been heard.
Oh, that the Holy Ghost may incline many a reader's heart to ask them!
(2) In the next place, _I invite_ all readers who desire to have their
souls saved, and have no good account to give of themselves at present,
to seek salvation while it can be found. I do entreat you to apply to
Him by whom alone man can enter heaven and be saved,--even Jesus Christ
the Lord. He has the keys of heaven. He is sealed and appointed by God
the Father to be the Saviour of all that will come to Him. Go to Him in
earnest and hearty prayer, and tell Him your case. Tell Him that you
have heard that "He receiveth sinners," and that you come to Him as
such. (Luke xv. 2.) Tell Him that you desire to be saved by Him in His
own way, and ask Him to save you. Oh, that you may take this course
without delay! Remember the hopeless end of the rich man. Once dead
there is no more change.
(3) Last of all, _I entreat_ all professing Christians to encourage
themselves in habits of liberality towards all causes of charity and
mercy. Remember that you are God's stewards, and give money liberally,
freely, and without grudging, whenever you have an opportunity. You
cannot keep your money for ever. You must give account one day of the
manner in which it has been expended. Oh, lay it out with an eye to
eternity while you can!
I do not ask rich men to leave their situations in life, give away all
their property, and go into the workhouse. This would be refusing to
fill the position of a steward for God. I ask no man to neglect his
worldly calling, and to omit to provide for his family. Diligence in
business is a positive Christian duty. Provision for those dependent on
us is proper Christian prudence. But I ask all to look around
continually as they journey on, and to remember the poor,--the poor in
body and the poor in soul. Here we are for a few short years. How can we
do most good with our money while we are here? How can we so spend it as
to leave the world somewhat happier and somewhat holier when we are
removed? Might we not abridge some of our luxuries? Might we not lay
out less upon ourselves, and give more to Christ's cause and Christ's
poor? Is there none we can do good to? Are there no sick, no poor, no
needy, whose sorrows we might lessen, and whose comforts we might
increase? Such questions will never fail to elicit an answer from some
quarter. I am thoroughly persuaded that the income of every religious
and charitable Society in England might easily be multiplied tenfold, if
English Christians would give in proportion to their means.
There are none surely to whom such appeals ought to come home with such
power as professing believers in the Lord Jesus. The parable of the text
is a striking illustration of our position by nature, and our debt to
Christ. We all lay, like Lazarus, at heaven's gate, sick unto the death,
helpless, and starving. Blessed be God! we were not neglected, as he
was. Jesus came forth to relieve us. Jesus gave Himself for us, that we
might have hope and live. For a poor Lazarus-like world He came down
from heaven, and humbled Himself to become a man. For a poor
Lazarus-like world He went up and down doing good, caring for men's
bodies as well as souls, until He died for us on the cross.
I believe that in giving to support works of charity and mercy, we are
doing that which is according to Christ's mind,--and I ask readers of
these pages to begin the habit of giving, if they never began it before;
and to go on with it increasingly, if they have begun.
I believe that in offering a warning against worldliness and
covetousness, I have done no more than bring forward a warning specially
called for by the times, and I ask God to bless the consideration of
these pages to many souls.
XIV
THE BEST FRIEND
"_This is my friend._"--Cant. v. 16.
A friend is one of the greatest blessings on earth. Tell me not of
money: affection is better than gold; sympathy is better than lands. He
is the poor man who has no friends.
This world is full of sorrow because it is full of sin. It is a dark
place. It is a lonely place. It is a disappointing place. The brightest
sunbeam in it is a friend. Friendship halves our troubles and doubles
our joys.
A real friend is scarce and rare. There are many who will eat, and
drink, and laugh with us in the sunshine of prosperity. There are few
who will stand by us in the days of darkness,--few who will love us when
we are sick, helpless, and poor,--few, above all, who will care for our
souls.
Does any reader of this paper want a real friend? I write to recommend
one to your notice this day. I know of One "who sticketh closer than a
brother." (Prov. xviii. 24.) I know of One who is ready to be your
friend for time and for eternity, if you will receive Him. Hear me,
while I try to tell you something about Him.
The friend I want you to know is Jesus Christ. Happy is that family in
which Christ has the foremost place! Happy is that person whose chief
friend is Christ!
I. Do we want _a friend in need_? Such a friend is the Lord Jesus
Christ.
Man is the neediest creature on God's earth, because he is a sinner.
There is no need so great as that of sinners: poverty, hunger, thirst,
cold, sickness, all are nothing in comparison. Sinners need pardon, and
they are utterly unable to provide it for themselves; they need
deliverance from a guilty conscience and the fear of death, and they
have no power of their own to obtain it. This need the Lord Jesus Christ
came into the world to relieve. "He came into the world to save
sinners." (1 Tim. i. 15.)
We are all by nature poor dying creatures. From the king on his throne
to the pauper in the workhouse, we are all sick of a mortal disease of
soul. Whether we know it or not, whether we feel it or not, we are all
dying daily. The plague of sin is in our blood. We cannot cure
ourselves: we are hourly getting worse and worse. All this the Lord
Jesus undertook to remedy. He came into the world "to bring in health
and cure;" He came to deliver us "from the second death;" He came "to
abolish death, and bring life and immortality to light through the
Gospel." (Jer. xxxiii. 6; Rev. ii. 11; 2 Tim. i. 10.)
We are all by nature imprisoned debtors. We owed our God ten thousand
talents, and had nothing to pay. We were wretched bankrupts, without
hope of discharging ourselves. We could never have freed ourselves from
our load of liabilities, and were daily getting more deeply involved.
All this the Lord Jesus saw, and undertook to remedy. He engaged to
"ransom and redeem us;" He came to "proclaim liberty to the captives,
and the opening of the prison to them that are bound;" "He came to
redeem us from the curse of the law." (Hos. xiii. 14; Isai. lxi. 1; Gal.
iii. 13.)
We were all by nature shipwrecked and cast away. We could never have
reached the harbour of everlasting life. We were sinking in the midst of
the waves, shiftless, hopeless, helpless, and powerless; tied and bound
by the chain of our sins, foundering under the burden of our own guilt,
and like to become a prey to the devil. All this the Lord Jesus saw and
undertook to remedy. He came down from heaven to be our mighty "helper;"
He came to "seek and to save that which was lost;" and to "deliver us
from going down into the pit." (Psalm lxxxix. 19; Luke xix. 10; Job
xxxiii. 24.)
Could we have been saved without the Lord Jesus Christ coming down from
heaven? It would have been impossible, so far as our eyes can see. The
wisest men of Egypt, and Greece, and Rome never found out the way to
peace with God. Without the friendship of Christ we should all have been
lost for evermore in hell.
Was the Lord Jesus Christ obliged to come down to save us? Oh, no! no!
It was His own free love, mercy, and pity that brought Him down. He came
unsought and unasked because He was gracious.
Let us think on these things. Search all history from the beginning of
the world,--look round the whole circle of those you know and love: you
never heard of such friendship among the sons of men. There never was
such a real friend in need as Jesus Christ.
II. Do you want _a friend in deed_? Such a friend is the Lord Jesus
Christ.
The true extent of a man's friendship must be measured by his deeds.
Tell me not what he says, and feels, and wishes; tell me not of his
words and letters: tell me rather what he does. "Friendly is that
friendly does."
The doings of the Lord Jesus Christ for man are the grand proof of His
friendly feeling towards him. Never were there such acts of kindness and
self-denial as those which He has performed on our behalf. He has not
loved us in word only but in deed.
For our sakes He took our nature upon Him, and was born of a woman. He
who was very God, and equal with the Father, laid aside for a season His
glory, and took upon Him flesh and blood like our own. The almighty
Creator of all things became a little babe like any of us, and
experienced all our bodily weaknesses and infirmities, sin only
excepted. "Though He was rich He became poor, that we through His
poverty might be rich." (2 Cor. viii. 9.)
For our sakes He lived thirty-three years in this evil world, despised
and rejected of men, a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief. Though
He was King of kings, He had not where to lay His head: though He was
Lord of lords, He was often weary, and hungry, and thirsty, and poor.
"He took on Him the form of a servant, and humbled Himself." (Philipp.
iii. 7, 8.)
For our sakes He suffered the most painful of all deaths, even the death
of the cross. Though innocent, and without fault, He allowed Himself to
be condemned, and found guilty. He who was the Prince of Life was led as
a lamb to the slaughter, and poured out His soul unto death. He "died
for us." (1 Thess. v. 10.)