'And He said unto His disciples, Therefore I say unto
you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat;
neither for the body, what ye shall put on. 23. The
life is more than meat, and the body is more than
raiment. 24. Consider the ravens: for they neither sow
nor reap; which neither have storehouse nor barn; and
God feedeth them: how much more are ye better than the
fowls? 25. And which of you with taking thought can
add to his stature one cubit? 26. If ye then be not
able to do that thing which is least, why take ye
thought for the rest? 27. Consider the lilies how they
grow: they toil not, they spin not; and yet I say unto
you, that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed
like one of these. 28. If then God so clothe the grass,
which is to-day in the field, and to-morrow is cast
into the oven; how much more will He clothe you, O ye
of little faith! 29. And seek not ye what ye shall eat,
or what ye shall drink, neither be ye of doubtful mind.
30. For all these things do the nations of the world
seek after: and your Father knoweth that ye have need
of these things. 31. But rather seek ye the kingdom of
God; and all these things shall he added unto you.'
--LUKE xii. 22-31.
The parable of the rich fool was spoken to the multitude, but our
Lord now addresses the disciples. 'Therefore' connects the following
with the foregoing teachings. The warnings against anxiety are
another application of the prohibition of laying up treasure for
self. Torturing care is the poor man's form of worldliness, as
luxurious self-indulgence is the rich man's. There are two kinds of
gout, as doctors tell us--one from high living, and one from poverty
of blood. This passage falls into two parts--the prohibition against
anxious care (vs. 22-31), and the exhortation to set the affections
on the true treasure (vs. 31-34).
I. The first part gives the condemnation of anxiety about earthly
necessities. The precept is first stated generally, and then
followed by a series of reasons enforcing it. As to the precept, we
may remark that the disciples were mostly poor men, who might think
that they were in no danger of the folly branded in the parable.
They had no barns bursting with plenty, and their concern was how to
find food and clothing, not what to do with superfluities. Christ
would have them see that the same temper may be in them, though it
takes a different shape. Dives and Lazarus may be precisely alike.
The temper condemned here is 'self-consuming care,' the opposite of
trust. Its misery is forcibly expressed by the original meaning of
the Greek word, which implies being torn in pieces, and thus paints
the distraction and self-inflicted harrassment which are the lot of
the anxious mind. Prudent foresight and strenuous work are equally
outside this prohibition. Anxiety is so little akin to foresight
that it disables from exercising it, and both hinders from seeing
what to do to provide daily bread, and from doing it.
The disciples' danger of being thus anxious may be measured by the
number and variety of reasons against it given by Jesus. The first
of these is that such anxiety does not go deep enough, and forgets
how we come to have lives to be fed and bodies to be clothed. We
have received the greater, life and body, without our anxiety. The
rich fool could keep his goods, but not his 'soul' or 'life.' How
superficial, then, after all, our anxieties are, when God may end
life at any moment! Further, since the greater is given, the less
which it needs will also be given. The thought of God as 'a faithful
creator' is implied. We must trust Him for the 'more'; we may trust
Him for the less.
The second reason bids us look with attention at examples of
unanxious lives abundantly fed. Perhaps Elijah's feathered
providers, or the words of the Psalmist (Ps. cxlvii. 9), were in
Christ's mind. The raven was one of the 'unclean' birds, and of ill
omen, from Noah's days, and yet had its meat in due season, though
that meat was corpses. Notice the allusions to the preceding parable
in 'sow not, neither reap,' and in 'neither have storehouse nor
barn.' In these particulars the birds are inferior to us, and, so to
speak, the harder to care for. If they who neither work nor store
still get their living, shall not we, who can do both? Our superior
value is in part expressed by the capacity to sow and reap; and
these are more wholesome occupations for a man than worrying.
How lovingly Jesus looked on all creatures, and how clearly He saw
everywhere God's hand at work! As Luther said, 'God spends every
year in feeding sparrows more than the revenues of the King of
France.'
The third reason is the impotence of anxiety (ver. 25). It is
difficult to decide between the two possible renderings here. That
of 'a cubit' to the 'stature' corresponds best with the growth of
the lilies, while 'age' preserves an allusion to the rich fool, and
avoids treating the addition of a foot and a half to an ordinary
man's height as a small thing. But age is not measured by cubits,
and it is best to keep to 'stature.'
At first sight, the argument of verse 23 seems to be now inverted,
and what was 'more' to be now 'least.' But the supposed addition, if
possible, would be of the smallest importance as regards ensuring
food or clothing, and measured by the divine power required to
effect it, is less than the continual providing which God does. That
smaller work of His, no anxiety will enable us to do. How much less
can we effect the complicated and wide-reaching arrangements needed
to feed and clothe ourselves! Anxiety is impotent. It only works on
our own minds, racking them in vain, but has no effect on the
material world, not even on our own bodies, still less on the
universe.
The fourth reason bids us look with attention at examples of
unanxious existence clothed with beauty. Christ here teaches the
highest use of nature, and the noblest way of looking at it. The
scientific botanist considers how the lilies grow, and can tell all
about cells and chlorophyll and the like. The poet is in raptures
with their beauty. Both teach us much, but the religious way of
looking at nature includes and transcends both the others. Nature is
a parable. It is a visible manifestation of God, and His ways there
shadow His ways with us, and are lessons in trust.
The glorious colours of the lily come from no dyer's vats, nor the
marvellous texture of their petals from any loom. They are inferior
to us in that they do not toil or spin, and in their short
blossoming time. Man's 'days are as grass; as a flower of the field
so he flourisheth'; but his date is longer, and therefore he has a
larger claim on God. 'God clothes the grass of the field' is a truth
quite independent of scientific truths or hypotheses about how He
does it. If the colours of flowers depend on the visits of insects,
God established the dependence, and is the real cause of the
resulting loveliness.
The most modern theories of the evolutionist do not in the least
diminish the force of Christ's appeal to creation's witness to a
loving Care in the heavens. But that appeal teaches us that we miss
the best and plainest lesson of nature, unless we see God present
and working in it all, and are thereby heartened to trust quietly in
His care for us, who are better than the ravens because we have to
sow and reap, or than the lilies because we must toil and spin.
Verse 29 adds to the reference to clothing a repeated prohibition as
to the other half of our anxieties, and thus rounds off the whole
with the same double warning as in verse 22. But it gives a striking
metaphor in the new command against 'being of doubtful mind.' The
word so rendered means to be lifted on high, and thence to be tossed
from height to depth, as a ship in a storm. So it paints the
wretchedness of anxiety as ever shuttlecocked about between hopes
and fears, sometimes up on the crest of a vain dream of good,
sometimes down in the trough of an imaginary evil. We are sure to be
thus the sport of our own fancies, unless we have our minds fixed on
God in quiet trust, and therefore stable and restful.
Verse 30 gives yet another reason against not only anxiety, but
against that eager desire after outward things which is the parent
of anxiety. If we 'seek after' them, we shall not be able to avoid
being anxious and of doubtful mind. Such seeking, says Christ, is
pure heathenism. The nations of the world who know not God make
these their chief good, and securing them the aim of their lives. If
we do the like, we drop to their level. What is the difference
between a heathen and a Christian, if the Christian has the same
objects and treasures as the heathen? That is a question which a
good many so-called Christians at present would find it hard to
answer.
But the crowning reason of all is kept for the last. Much of what
precedes might be spoken by a man who had but the coldest belief in
Providence. But the great and blessed faith in our Father, God,
scatters all anxious care. How should we be anxious if we know that
we have a Father in heaven, and that He knows our needs? He
recognises our claims on Him. He made the needs, and will send the
supply. That is a wide truth, stretching far beyond the mere earthly
wants of food and raiment. My wants, so far as God has made me to
feel them, are prophecies of God's gifts. He has made them as doors
by which He will come in and bless me. How, then, can anxious care
fret the heart which feels the Father's presence, and knows that its
emptiness is the occasion for the gift of a divine fullness? Trust
is the only reasonable temper for a child of such a father. Anxious
care is a denial of His love or knowledge or power.
II. Verses 31-34 point out the true direction of effort and
affection, and the true way of using outward good so as to secure
the higher riches. It is useless to tell men not to set their
longings or efforts on worldly things unless you tell them of
something better. Life must have some aim, and the mind must turn to
something as supremely good. The only way to drive out heathenish
seeking after perishable good is to fill the heart with the love and
longing for eternal and spiritual good. The ejected demon comes back
with a troop at his heels unless his house be filled. To seek 'the
kingdom,' to count it our highest good to have our wills and whole
being bowed in submission to the loving will of God, to labour after
entire conformity to it, to postpone all earthly delights to that,
and to count them all but loss if we may win it--this is the true
way to conquer worldly anxieties, and is the only course of life
which will not at last earn the stern judgment, 'Thou fool.'
That direction of all our desires and energies to the attainment of
the kingdom which is the state of being ruled by the will of God, is
to be accompanied with joyous, brave confidence. How should they
fear whose desires and efforts run parallel with the 'Father's good
pleasure'? They are seeking as their chief good what He desires, as
His chief delight, to give them. Then they may be sure that, if He
gives that, He will not withhold less gifts than may be needed. He
will not 'spoil the ship for a ha'p'orth of tar,' nor allow His
children, whom He has made heirs of a kingdom, to starve on their
road to their crown. If they can trust Him to give them the kingdom,
they may surely trust Him for bread and clothes.
Mark, too, the tenderness of that 'little flock.' They might fear
when they contrasted their numbers with the crowds of worldly men;
but, being a flock, they have a shepherd, and that is enough to
quiet anxiety.
Seeking and courage are to be crowned by surrender of outward good
and the use of earthly wealth in such manner as that it will secure
an unfailing treasure in heaven. The manner of obeying this command
varies with circumstances. For some the literal fulfilment is best;
and there are more Christian men to-day whose souls would be
delivered from the snares if they would part with their possessions
than we are willing to believe.
Sometimes the surrender is rather to be effected by the conscientious
consecration and prayerful use of wealth. That is for each man to
settle for himself. But what is not variable is the obligation to set
the kingdom high above all else, and to use all outward wealth, as
Christ's servants, not for luxury and self-gratification, but as in
His sight and for His glory. Let us not be afraid of believing what
Jesus and His Apostles plainly teach, that wealth so spent here is
treasured in heaven, and that a Christian's place in the future life
depends upon this among other conditions--how he used his money here.