The Will for the Deed

Ephesians vi. 15 v.

“Your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace.”

“Shod with the preparation of the gospel,” “shod with preparedness to rim on the message of peace,” — is that all we should expect from the walk of Christian life? To prepare to run seems a small thing. Why does not Paul say that the feet of the soldier of Christ have been hardened by the actual running — strengthened, not by the preparation, but by the proclamation, of the gospel? Because, if he had said that, he would have cut off the larger part of the army. It is only a limited number of Christ’s soldiers who are allowed to serve in the field; the most part have to be content with readiness to serve. The souls who do great things in the world are the minority; the mass can only will to do them. I may say, “How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings,” and yet my own feet may be moveless.

I may be forbidden to join the band of active workers. I may be an invalid. I may be weighted with the care of an invalid. I may be struggling with poverty. I may be a victim of nerves. I may be cumbered with much household service. I may be hopelessly commonplace. In all these things my Father says to me “Stay at home.” But, spite of all these things, I have the will to go; I would go if these did not forbid me; I do go in spirit every day. I carry messages with the feet of my heart. I am armed with the preparation to be a Christian soldier — with the readiness to serve if service were possible. I have given to God my will to give, and He has accepted it as my uniform; He has ordered me a soldier’s pay. Isaac, thou son of Abraham, art thou lamenting the want of thy father’s armour? Art thou sighing that, while he conquered nations, thou art only permitted to dig wells? Nay, but the sigh is itself a panoply to thee. Thy feet are shod with the preparation, the readiness to go. Thine is the red fire of Mount Moriah, though it is all within. Thine is the resistance unto blood, though the fight is seen by none. Thine is the sacrifice unto death, although thou didst not die. In thy wells of water God beholds the possibilities of the deep sea. In thy petty strifes God hears the roar of the great battle. In the troubles of thy tiny pool God imputes to thee the wrestling of the angel. Thy sphere is narrow but thy heart is wide; stand forth and take thy crown — the crown of intentions unfulfilled, the prize for mighty deeds designed to do. Thy monument is side by side with Abraham’s: his has the inscription — “the man who journeyed “; thine has the tribute of a larger hope — “the man who was prepared to go.”