II. The bearing of this faithfulness in regard to the lower wealth
on our possession of the higher.
Jesus says in this context, twice over, that faithfulness with
regard to the former is the condition of our being entrusted with
the latter. Now, remember, by way of illustration of this thought,
what all this outward world of goodness and beauty is mainly meant
for. What? It is all but scaffolding by which, and within the area
of which, the building may arise. The meaning of the world is to
make character. All that we have, aye! and all that we do, and the
whole of the events and circumstances with which we come in contact
here on earth, are then lifted to their noblest function, and are
then understood in their deepest meaning when we look upon them as
we do upon the leaping-poles and bars and swings of a gymnasium,--as
meant to develop thews and muscles, and make men of us. That is what
they are here for, and that is what we are here for. Not enjoyment,
and not sorrow, except in so far as these two are powers in
developing character, not plunging ourselves in the enjoyments of
sense. Wealth and poverty, gain and loss, love gratified and love
marred, possessions sweet, when preserved, and possessions that
become sweeter by being removed; all these are simply meant as
whetstones on which the keen blade may be sharpened, as forces
against which, trying ourselves, our deftness and strength may be
increased. They are all meant to make us men, and if we faithfully
use these externals with a recognition of their source, with a wise
estimate of their subordination so as that our desires shall not
cleave to them solely, and with a fixed determination to use them as
ministers to make ourselves nobler, wiser, stronger, liker to God
and His Christ, then the world will minister to our possession of
God, and being 'faithful in that which is least,' we shall thereby
be more capable of receiving that which is greatest. But if, on the
other hand, we so forget our true wealth, and become so besotted and
absorbed in our adhesion to, and our desires after, fleeting good,
then the capacities that were noble will fade and shrivel, being
unused; aims and purposes that were elevated and pure will die out
unsatisfied; windows in our souls which commanded a wide, glorious
prospect will gradually be bricked up; burdens which hinder our
running will be piled upon our backs, and the world will have
conquered us, whilst we are dreaming that we have conquered the
world. You look at a sea anemone in a pool on the rocks when the
tide is out, all its tendrils outstretched, and its cavity wide
open. Some little bit of seaweed, or some morsel of half-putrefying
matter, comes in contact with it, and instantly every tentacle is
retracted, and the lips are tightly closed, so that you could not
push a bristle in. And when your tentacles draw themselves in to
clutch the little portion of worldly good, of whatever sort it is,
that has come into your hold, there is no room to get God in there,
and being 'unfaithful in that which is least' you have made it
impossible that you should possess 'that which is most.' Ah! there
are some of us that were far better Christians long ago, when we
were poorer men, than we are to-day, and there are some of us that
know what it is to have the heart so filled with baser liquors that
there is no room for the ethereal nectar. If the world has filled my
soul, where is God to dwell?
There is another way in which we may look at this matter. I have
said that the main use of these perishable and fragmentary good
things around us is to develop character, by our administration of
them. Another way of putting the same thought is that their main use
is to show us God. If we faithfully use the lesser good it will
become transparent, and reveal to us the greater. We hear a great
deal about deepening the spiritual life by prayers, and conventions,
and Bible readings and the like. I have no word to say except in
full sympathy with all such. But I do believe that the best means,
the most powerful means, by which the great bulk of Christian men
could deepen their spiritual lives would be a more honest and
thoroughgoing attempt to 'be faithful in that which is least.' We
have so much to do with it necessarily, that few, if any, things
have more power in shaping our whole characters than our manner of
administering the wealth, the material good, that comes to our
hands.
And so, dear brethren, I beseech you remember that the laws of
perspective are such as that a minute thing near at hand shuts out
the vision of a mighty thing far off, and a hillock by my side will
hide the Himalayas at a distance, and a sovereign may block out God;
and 'that which is least' has the diabolical power of seeming
greater to us than, and of obscuring our vision of, 'that which is
most.'
May I remind you that all these thoughts about the bearing of
faithfulness in administering the lower of our possessions, on the
attainment of higher, apply to us whatever be the amount of these
outward goods that we have? I suppose there were not twelve poorer
men in all Palestine that day than the twelve to whom my text was
originally addressed. Three of them had left their nets and their
fishing-boats, one of them we know had left his counting-house, as a
publican, and all his receipts and taxes behind him. What they had
we know not, but at all events they were the poor of this world. Do
not any of you that happen to be modestly or poorly off think that
my sermon is a sermon for rich men. It is not what we have, but how
we handle it, that is in question. 'The cares of this world, and the
deceitfulness of riches,' were bracketed together by Jesus Christ as
the things that 'choke the word,' and make it unfruitful. The poor
man who wants, and the rich man who uses unfaithfully, are alike hit
by the words of my text.