God’s Work and Man’s Work

Philippians ii. 12, 13 v.

“Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling: for it is God which worketh in you both to will and to do of His good pleasure.”

There are two parts in every great work — a working in and a working out. The working in is always the Divine part. It is very easy to work out an idea when once you have got it; but the mystery is the getting of it. What is the mystery of the bee-hive? It is not the making of the hive; it is the conceiving of it. If you can tell me how the idea was worked in, I will tell you how the plan was worked out. The thing which wakes my wonder is the instinct — the process toithin the bee; I call it (rod’s work. So it is with my soul. I, too, am helping to build a hive — a great home of humanity, named the Kingdom of God. I know not how it is done; I know not even what part of the building I am aiding to construct; I only know that an impulse of life moves me. That impulse is God working within me. Whither it tends I cannot see. The making of the hive eludes me. I am travelling through the night — carrying I know not what, to places I know not where. Only, the impulse says “go,” and I do go; I work out what God works in. I cannot fathom His designs; He has inspired me to the work by designs less than His own. He sends me to chase a butterfly when He means me to win a kingdom. No matter, I work what I will not; I compass what I conceive not; I perform what I plan not. I do what is not in my dream by the very effort to fulfil it. I seek, like Abraham, a foreign country, and I find myself in the land of Canaan.

Son of Man, help me to work out the plan of Thy salvation. Even though it should be by lower motives, guide me to build the hive. Cause me to lay my stores of honey in the right place — I mean, the right place for Thee. Put it where its sweetness may refresh others, even though its investment may be a failure to myself. Fill me with fear and trembling at the solemnity of my own position. Impress me with the awfulness of being an unconscious worker for Thee. Teach me the untold possibilities of my smallest action. Tell me that the stone which I leave in the desert may be one day the centre of Thy city — not because it has changed its place, but because Thy places have come round it. Let me consecrate by prayer my most common deed ere ever it quits my hand, knowing that Thou hast a motive behind my motive. It shall be cast further than my utmost strength can throw, for it is impelled by a purpose higher than its own.