I Am Debtor
“I am debtor both to the Greeks and to the BarhariaDS^ both to the wise and to the unwise.” — Rom. i, 14.
This text raises a question on each of three points which, in mercantile phraseology, would be designated — The Business, the Debt, and the Composition.
I. The Business: the nature, sphere, and extent of the trade in which his talents were laid out and his capital invested.
II. The Debt: how, with whom, and to what extent he had become involved.
III. The Composition: in what manner and to what amount the insolvent proposed to pay.
We shall consider these three in their order, drawing our doctrines exclusively from the Scripture, but applying them freely to ourselves and our circumstances as we go along.
I. The Business: the nature, sphere, and extent of the trade in which his talents were laid out and his capital invested.
A merchant, whose capital and credit are embarked in an extensive foreign trade, has gradually fallen into the
habit of doing business also, in a great variety of articles and a great number of petty transactions, with his nearest neighbours at home. The law which reigns majestically among the heavenly bodies soon shows itself paramount also in this terrestrial sphere; a smaller body near attracts more powerfully than a larger at a distance. The home trade of this merchant is so small, that though all its receipts were profits, it would not feed his famity; but it is near, and therefore occupies his time and attention much more than in proportion to its worth. Coming personally, on this field, into contact with every customer, he insensibly contracts a passion for dealing in small bargains with every passenger on the wayside. So keen has his appetite become for this species of stimulant that he has lost the faculty of taking an enlarged view, and perceiving the insignificance of the aggregate results. He will higgle an hour with a neighbour for a penny, and spend a day in catering for orders which will scarcely add a shilling to his balance. His heart is in the business, and into it, accordingly, must time and talents go: the remonstrances of reason within, and of friends without, go for nothing. In the meantime rumours are rife that, in one foreign market prices had suddenly fallen before his goods arrived; that in another his agents had sold his cargo and absconded with the proceeds; and that in a third direction an investment, not insured, had been lost at sea. He declines to examine these reports, not because he is sure they are false, but because he does not like the subject. He will not even look into the books of his great foreign trade, because a secret, uncomfortable presentiment lurks about his heart that the business is not in a prosperous state. To discover that all his capital is gone, and bankruptcy impending, would be unpleasant, and therefore he indefinitely postpones the day of balancing; but to keep his mind free from these painful reflections, he throws himself with redoubled energy into his huckstering, and exults over the pence or half-pence of profit which each transaction produces.
The man is mad, you say: he is; but probably “thou art the man.”
We are all merchants. We have business with both worlds; but our stake in the one is slight, in the other all but infinite.
It becomes a practical question of the deepest importance to every one of us, whether we distribute our attention between these two in due proportion to their comparative worth. Alas, there are many foolish traders amongst us who seem to pour out their souls in anxiety about the balance of their accounts for time, and leave the interests of their own eternity to sink or swim.
This petty trade is in its own place lawful, necessary, and salutary; it is neither our interest nor our duty to abandon it. The sin and danger lie not in mastering our temporal afiairs, but in allowing them to master us: they are good servants, but bad masters. Looking to its sphere, and extent, and returns, this retail traffic at our door is not worth so much care as is generally devoted to it. It does not run so deep as to justify a very absorbing study, a very ardent devotion. Although you succeed in it, you cannot gain much; although you fail in it, you cannot lose much. A house by the way of larger or smaller dimensions, covering for the body more or less elegant, food more or less sumptuous to satisfy hunger, — these, and a few others of minor moment constitute all the stake that any of us have in our trade with the present world. In the trade with heaven we have a deeper interest: pardon of sin and peace with God, a new heart and a holy life, a glorious resurrection and a life eternal, — these are the treasures which may be lost or won by the indolence or enterprise of dying yet immortal merchantmen. The loss of the larger venture would swamp all the gains of time: although the gain should amount to a whole world, the loss of the soul would turn the balance to the other side.
Paul was a diligent and energetic man. Had he been a merchant, the keenest wit in all the Exchange could not have over-reached him. He closely examined the worth of an article, and nicely calculated how much it would bring. He embarked all in one business, and then pushed it to the uttermost. He did not neglect the necessary and lawful affairs of this life, but his treasure was in heaven, and his heart followed it. News from the far country, where his wealth lay, came like cold water to his thirsting soul. Sometimes, while he was waiting anxiously, a kind of secret telegraphic message reached his heart, intimating that in the hands of his Advocate with the Father his affairs were prospering; — that his investment was safe, and his venture successful; — that already it had secured godliness, a great gain for the present, and for reversion in the future, a crown of glory.
II. The Debt; how, with whom, and to what extent he had become involved. He was diligent in his business; and yet was not able to pay his way. This demands inquiry.
However good the position of some may be in regard to the material interests of the present world, it is certain that in their greatest business all men begin in debt. It is an unpropitious starting point. There is nothing in the commencement to warrant or excuse subsequent neglect. We inherit a debt which no actual efforts of our own ca.n ever discharge.
Some heirs would fain get quit of their heritage. When a man discovers that the property which has fallen to him is burdened, not only beyond its own worth, but beyond the worth of all that he possesses, or can ever hope to win, he tries to shake off the encumbrance, but fails. He has laid hold of it, and it has laid hold of him. If there were any hope of success, he might lay his mind to his lot, and strive by industry to diminish gradually his burden; but if the debt is obviously so great that, in spite of all his efforts, its amount will grow greater every year, he will lose heart and relapse into indolence. The discovery that the case is hopeless cuts the sinews of exertion, and the man abandons himself to his fate.
Such is the condition of men in relation to God. We are born with a debt; and when we come to the years of understanding, we find out that the capital of that debt has increased during our minority. When we become more skilful in examining the accounts, we discover that the amount of our liabilities, instead of being diminished, is still increasing day by day. The law, meantime, is laying its awful hand upon the trembler, and dragging him toward the judgment-seat of God: “The soul that sinneth, it shall die.”
In this extremity our help was laid upon a mighty One. A daysman came in between the Judge and the guilty, laying his hand upon both. The Son of God, in the covenant, took our nature, and bare his people’s sin. He suffered, the just for the unjust. He paid the debt, and bestowed the righteousness; ‘’ There is therefore now no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus.’’ The handwriting that was against them is blotted out: the bond is cancelled, and they are free.
The forgiven sinner is clear in the book of God’s judgment; there is absolutely nothing standing against him there; he may hold up his head at the last great tribunal as confidently as the angels who never sinned. The Mediator took his sins, and he has obtained the Mediator’s righteousness. In that righteousness he is “without spot and blameless;” but it is self-evident that although he is now out of debt, he is still indebted. Although he owes nothing to the law, he owes much to that Redeemer who bore its curse for him: he owes himself, and his eternal life, to Christ. He is as deeply in debt as ever, but it is of another kind, and due to another creditor. It is now the debt of gratitude, and he owes it to Christ. It is greater than the man can ever pay; but its magnitude is no burden. The more he realizes its greatness, the happier he grows. The apostolic precept regarding debt in human transactions, “Owe no man anything, but to love one another,” seems to have been borrowed from the relation between the saint and his Saviour. In excluding all other kinds of debt, the precept makes an exception in favour of one, leaving it to be inferred that the more of it the better. The one thing which man should owe to man is love; and love is the debt which the redeeemed owe to their Redeemer. It is not the same thing that they owe now, nor to the same creditor. Formerly, they owed to the law a perfect righteousness; and because they were hopelessly insolvent, the relations between the creditor and the debtors were of the angriest kind. The hatred was deep, and it was reciprocal. That debt was like a burning fire; but the debt which the forgiven owe to their divine substitute, now that they are free, is totally different in its nature and effects. They owe all to Christ; and to him they owe only love. The amount of the debt is, indeed, to them as good as infinite, and immeasurably beyond all hope of payment in full; but, strange to say, that characteristic which is a sting of torment in other debts, makes this debt unspeakably delightful. When the debt is love, and that due to the Son of God, our Saviour, its sweetness lies in its exhaustless depth. After the debtor has paid all that he was worth during a long life, the debt, instead of being reduced in amount, will be found to have grown greater. It is this that makes the debtor glad. If it were possible that at any period of futurity he should owe less of love to Christ, his joy would be marred. He is a new creature now, and in a new condition. His new condition is, in many respects.
the opposite of the old; and especially in this, that whereas the greatness of his debt of obedience to the lawconstituted his chief misery, the greatness of his debt of love to Christ constitutes the chief element of his contentment. Here the tender word of Jesus holds true in the experience of his people: “My yoke is easy, and my burden is light,”
Thus far all is plain. Paul was a debtor to Christ — that we can understand; but here he confesses that he is a debtor to the Greeks and to the Barbarians, to the wise and to the unwise, — that is, to every nation under heaven, and to all classes in each. He intimates that he is a debtor to every human being, without respect to country, character, or condition in life. How comes this? Those Greeks and Barbarians had never done him any good; some of them had done him as much injury as they were able; yet he was labouring night and day to serve them, and exclaiming after he had done his bes.t that he owed them still more.
In the complicated processes of modern merchandise, a man often finds himself in debt to persons whom he never saw, and with whom he never had any deahngs. It occurs in this manner: you have engaged in a series of transactions with a merchant at a distance, and the result is a pecuniary balance to a greater or less extent in his favour; while in another series of transactions in which he is engaged with another party, the balance is against him. With a view to the convenience both of himself and his correspondent, instead of getting money from you, and paying money to his creditor, he hands over to that creditor the claim which he holds against you. Or, to make the analogy more complete, you may suppose that the merchant to whom you owe a sum of money, desires to help certain destitute persons in your city, and to them makes over the bill as an equivalent for money. The person who possesses that claim so transferred, whether the merchant or the pauper, presents it for payment at your desk, and you must pay. You cannot repudiate: the law will enforce the demand in full. Thus you become debtors to persons whom you never saw.
Thus Paul became a debtor to the Greeks and Barbarians of his own day. He owed all that he possessed, and himself besides, to Christ his Redeemer. But he could not directly pay any part of that debt; a man’s goodness cannot reach to God. He is not on that account absolved from the duty of paying: the Lord to whom he owes all has transferred his claim to the poor, and Paul is bound to honour it. Paul cannot reach the treasury of heaven to pay his instalments there; Paul’s great Creditor, therefore, makes the debt payable on earth; offices are open everywhere to receive it. Wherever there is a creature of the same flesh and blood with ourselves in want, spiritual or temporal, or both combined, there a legal claim is presented to the disciples of Christ; and if they repudiate, they dishonour their Lord.
This principle is exhibited with marvellous clearness and fulness in the story of the woman with the alabaster box of ointment, as recorded in Mark xiv. 3-9. The woman’s ardent and profuse devotion to Christ in his own person gives occasion to some ignorant, selfish observers to set up the claim of alms-giving co the poor, as against devotion to the Lord. These two together — the act and the adverse criticism of it — drew forth from the great Teacher’s own lips a lesson which is authoritative to his disciples in all time coming.
The root and life of true religion is personal devotion to a personal Redeemer; thereafter and thereon grows active service in his cause. The first is the heart’s devotion to the Lord; the second is the hand’s work upon the world. These are the first and second commandments of the New Testament decalogue. Neither of these two can thrive alone: every attempt to separate them ends in some mischievous hypocrisy. Devotion without work degenerates into monkery; work without devotion sinks into a shallow, fitful secularism. The woman lavished on the Lord a devotion which in due time would have borne fruits of charity; the men who found fault with her proposed charity instead of devotion. Christ sanctioned the woman’s deed, and reproved the objectors. He accepted the personal homage; but he did not put it in place of kindness to the poor. He permitted the well to open in love to himself, and then, on retiring, left the poor in his place permanently to receive the flow. Me ye have not always: Ye have the poor with you always. He asserted his own rights, and then transferred them to the needy. To himself by redeeming love he draws forth the legacy; and then, ascending into heaven, leaves the poor his heirs.
The woman’s impetuous, profuse adoration, and the men’s dry, carping, utilitarian proposal to turn the ointment into cash, lie before us like the pair of pictures, taken from different view points, which either separately or conjointly have scarcely any meaning to the unaided eye: the word of Jesus lays them in the stereoscope, and on the instant, out of the two dim, unintelligible pictures, starts one beautiful, deeply-relieved, life-like truth: On Christ to whom they owe themselves, Christians are pouring out their precious offerings; and these are all falling into the lap of the poor, whom he at his ascension left in his place.
It is thus that we become debtors to every needy brother of the human family. If we have gotten mercy from Christ, we owe mercy to men. Whatever may be the form of the effort, whether a contribution in money or a personal visit to the poor; whether the aim for the time be to enlighten the soul or satisfy the body; whether the field of operation be at home or abroad; when a Christian acts, and suffers, and gives for the good of men, he is not entitled to comphments for generosity; he is paying a debt. If he refused to pay it, he would be a dishonest man.
Nor does the world’s apathy release a Christian from his obligations. If a company of very poor people held a claim against a citizen for a large sum of money; and if he should take advantage of their ignorance and poverty to evade the payment, he would be cast out from society as a dishonourable man. In like manner, although those who now hold Christ’s claim on us, not knowing its value, do not present it for payment, we are bound in honour to seek them out and discharge our obligations. Christians owe more to the poor than they can ever pay.
When they have done all they are unprofitable servants, The opportunity of being generous does not lie within their reach: when their aim rises highest they are only striving to be just.
III. The Composition; in what manner, and to what amount the insolvent proposed to pay.
Let it be carefully observed here at the outset, that the most devoted life of a saved man is not offered as an adequate return to the Saviour. As well might he purchase his pardon at first from the Judge, as repay the Redeemer for it afterwards. He pays, not in the spirit of bondage, but in the spirit of grateful love; not that he looks to a time when the debt will be paid ofi*, but that he delights in the act of paying it. Having announced his principle, the apostle, as his manner was, plunged at once into its practical details; verse 15, “So, as much as in me is, I am ready to preach the gospel to you that are at Rome also.”
No further exposition of the doctrines seems necessary now, and the way is clear for applying them directly to our own circumstances. Adopting the order which is at once natural and scriptural, we shall suggest first some instalments of the debt that are due to parties at home, and then some that are due to parties abroad.
1. At Home. It is not necessary that the debtors should go far away, in order to find a person authorized to receive the payments as they become due. The original creditor has secured that properly qualified receivers should be at hand; both in the crowded centres
38 2 I AjVI debtoe.
of population and the bleak outskirts of the country, are multitudes to whom Christians are deeply in debt. Our master has supplied us with an unerring formula for determining in every case the validity of the claim: “Love one another as I have loved you.’’ Discover what claim you had on Christ, and that is the claim which a needy brother has on you. Your only claim on the Redeemer’s love was your wretchedness; you had no goodness to constitute a right, and your wickedness did not shut you out from his mercy. Wherever, therefore, there is a human being in wretchedness within your reach, to that human being you are a debtor; and you are bound to pay as far as your means will go; behold the open spring of all home-mission effort! It has been observed that when certain reformatory institutions, which at first were supported by voluntary contributions, were transferred to a tax imposed on the community by imperial authority, the difiiculties of the managers disappeared, and the coffers were kept full. Ah, the treasury of missions would be always charged, if the authority of Christ’s kingdom were as effective in the hearts of Christians, as that of the government on the means and substance of the citizens.
But though we refer to pecuniary revenue for the purpose of illustration, let it not be supposed that it is in money only or chiefly that Christians should pay their debt: if we pay only in money, we do not pay at all. Personal service is the legal tender, and it is only to a limited extent and in certain circumstances that money may be received as an equivalent. Personal dealing with persons is the law of Christ’s kingdom, and the liking of its subjects, when they are in a quickened state. This is the need of our day; this is the direction in which an advance should be sought. It is a conspicuous characteristic of present revivals, that converts are brought more consciously and more closely into personal communion with the Lord Jesus; this is doubtless designed, in the Spirit’s administration, to increase the number and the energy of those who go down into the world and grapple, person with person, to bring the lost to the Saviour. When Christ is closer to Christians, Christians will come closer to the world. When every member of the Church shall feel debt to Christ pressing like hunger at his heart, and the work of winning souls like the food which satisfies it, the kingdom of God will advance with rapid strides across the world; these waters issuing from the sanctuary, which now trickle scarcely seen beneath the grass, will speedily become “waters to swim in” (Ezek. xlvii.) Poor Ireland! Loud complaints are uttered against certain sections of her population, — sections which the recent revival has scarcely reached, — how they settle on our shores, and inoculate the inhabitants with their superstition and their crimes. With a mixture of impatience and levity, it is sometimes said that to dip Ireland for a day beneath the sea would be an effectual cure. It would, — even as to have dipped this world into hell would have rid God’s beautiful work of the spots that defiled it. God did not so treat ns; for this we are indebted to him; that debt he has made payable to the wretched who partake of our common nature, whatever their character and deserts may be. Here is a principle which would make this wilderness a garden soon.
2. Abroad. In order to keep our illustration within reasonable limits, let us observe its operation on one field only, and that field India. The many millions of India are, from the Christian view-point, emphatically poor; and they are “with” us in a more intimate sense than other heathen tribes. They are with us as they are not with the French or Portuguese, who once held what seemed a firm footing on their shores. India was taken from nations who have not the gospel, and given to a nation that has the gospel; the providential design it is not difficult to perceive. But the case against this country for not giving the truth to India, becomes much stronger when we look more narrowly into the means by which we acquired possession.
A rich man dies, leaving a large family of young children; and another man, rich too, obtains the guardianship of the orphans. Partly by law and partly by violence, he drives ofi” all competitors, and constitutes himself sole trustee of the wealthy minors: he then proceeds to enrich himself out of the inheritance of his wards, leaving them scarcely enough of food to satisfy their hunger, or of clothing to cover them from the cold. Like the crowned culprit of old, this regal people would doubtless say, when the parable is spoken, “The man that hath done this thing shall surely die.” Oh, for some Nathan, commissioned and qualified by the Almighty protector of the poor, to pierce this proud community with that sharp sword of the Spirit: “Thou art the man”
We have masterfully, not to say unjustly, ousted all other claimants, and assumed absolute guardianship over the vast populations of the Indian peninsula. We have enriched ourselves by the inheritance of those little children, and withheld from them the bread of life. One dreadful warning the Supreme Governor has lately given us; but, although there was a general confession of error while the danger pressed, the nation, if we judge by the sentiments of those who are in power, seems to be relapsing into its former dishonest indifference. As a Christian nation we are debtors to those tribes, whether we count them Greeks or Barbarians, wise or unwise; and after all the chastisement we have endured, we still evince a sullen determination to evade the claim. In this crisis it becomes every disciple of Christ to exert all his influence in his own station, to infuse into the community a better spirit, and so constrain the rulers to desist from an enormous wrong. Let those who govern neither propagate idolatry nor obstruct the gospel; and let the disciples of Jesus, as subjects of another kingdom, combine to pour in the light of life on every portion of that dreary land.
Nor should we adopt the notion, as if it were a fixed principle, that the work in all the stages of its progress, must be slow and gradual: the consummation may come sooner than we deem. Analogies, both from human art and from divine Providence, suggest rather the probability, that by a slow, painful process with scarcely any apparent result, the crisis may be reached, and then the grand object, a nation’s birth, be accomplished in a day.
The national life of India seems like a great river frozen. It is covered and bound from bank to bank by a hard, cold coating of superstition which has been gradually thickening throughout an uninterrupted winter of many ages. Having grown out of the nation’s life, it has fitted itself on so tightly, that it seems absolutely impossible to extricate the child from its horrid swaddling band. Christian instruction communicated here and there to individuals of the vast population, seems as ineffectual for general results, as an effort to melt the ice of a great river by touching it here and there with burning coals. But these puny artificial fires have nothing in common with our method of melting; we depend on the sun-light, and call upon the God of seasons to send round quickly a genial spring. Yielding ourselves as his instruments, we strive to direct the melting rays upon the young sources of the great life-stream. Some swelling has already commenced, and loud premonitory rendings have been heard running along the ice at various portions of the river’s course. When, through the increasing warmth of spring in the fountain-heads, the body of the stream rises to a certain point, the long persistent ice gives way with a crash, and its gigantic fragments rearing and plunging wildly in their defeat, are borne swiftly, inexorably into the sea. It is strangely sweet to stand next day on the brink of that emancipated stream, and see it, completely rid of the cold encumbrance which yesterday bestrode its body, gently rippling on the shore, and brightly glancing in the sunshine as it flows.
It is more probable that the mighty superstitions of India which begird and choke the life of the nation, will thus be hurried off in a day, than that they will keep their hold, until they are melted piece-meal. Perhaps we may see that consummation sooner than some fainting hearts expect.
In the meantime, it is our part to pay, from day to day, our debt into those hands which the Lord has commissioned to receive it. We concede that these are poor, shrivelled hands which India stretches out, — foully stained, if you will, with the best of British blood; but, nevertheless, ’tis in the bond that we should do them good. Whether we ought to pay into those hands, does not depend on their cleanness or their foulness, but upon the validity of the claim which they hold. Let your full, bursting hearts pour out their choicest treasures on the head that drooped dying on the cross for you,; and, as He does not need your fragrant ointments now, he lets them fall on guilty, wretched India to heal her sores. This is his will and way; you love it, and fall in with it because it is his. Behold the theory and practice of missions! Love to the Lord that bought us opens the spring and draws forth the stream; that stream, by a divinely imposed spiritual law, ever seeks the lowest place; a Christian’s compassion, like Christ’s, gravitates downward, and fixes on those who need it most.