The Rich Christian
“Rich toward God.” — Luke xii, 21.
‘’ What is he worth ‘i “Used in its full significance, this woukl be the most pregnant, the most just, and the most comprehensive question that could be propounded in regard to any immortal being. When asked in the ordinary way, it simply means, How large ar( his estates? how much gold has he in his bank vaults? And the ordinary answer would be, ‘’The man is worth twenty thousand, or a hundred thousand dollars.” Then we can only say that he will have twenty thousand or a hundred thousand dollars to account for at the bar of God. Then will he be either the happy reaper of immortal joys when every well employed coin shall nod like a golden ear in the full sheaf of his heavenly harvest; or else he must meet thousands of scorpions to torment his soul through his dreary eternity of despair. Is a man worth uncounted thousands in bullion or bank stock, in real estate or rare commodities 1 Then he ought to be worth a vast deal to the community in which he lives, and to the Church of Jesus Christ. He ought to be worth bread to the hungry, schooling to the ignorant, Bibles to the unevangelized, and mission schools to the heathen children at our doors. He ought to be rich toward God in the large and liberal employment of his high stewardship.
For not every rich man is “rich toward God.” Else our Saviour would not have uttered the parable from which our text is taken. He probably had in his mind just such a person as I could easily iind in a ten minutes’ walk through this commercial city — a self-complacent Croesus, shriveled in soul, but corpulent in purse; a man in whom avarice has devoured all the other appetites of the heart, as voracious sharks gulp down whole shoals of smaller fish; one who could call uj) his immortal part, and address it in the same siirit in which he would talk to a silkenhaired pet spaniel, “Now, my little soul, thou hast much goods laid up for thyself! “Not for others, observe. Not for God. But for thyself. “Now eat, drink and be merry. Satiate thyself. Feast thy eyes on full barns, full board, full bags, full bank-vaults. Gloat over them. They are all thine. Never will I be so weak-headed as to be cheated out of them — never so weak-hearted as to squander them on foolish charities.” “Thou fool!’’ thunders the voice of God above him — “thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee: then whose shall those things be which thou hast provided?”
This terrible satire of divine indignation is not expended upon the subject of this parable because he was rich in earthly goods. The Bible has no controversy with men of wealth. It never discourages the acquisition of gold, as long as the heart owns the gold, and the gold does not own the heart. The anathema of the parable is not against riches, but against selfishness, the mammon-worship which dethrones Jehovah. And by as much as this selfishness is the selfishness of wealth, by just so much is it the more abominable and hateful. For when God makes an individual worth tens of thousands, and he makes himself worth less than nothing to his Creator and his fellow-men, God will curse such selfishness with the most crushing condemnation. Even at the bar of final judgment, one test-question will be, in regard to you and to me, and to every man, “How much is he worth — worth to his Saviour and the Saviour’s cause? How much has he been worth to his fellow-men?” In that great day of decision I should like to stand up as the pastor of a rich church — exceeding rich in faith and good works. If so, you must begin now, with a holy covetousness, to lay up spiritual and eternal treasures. Let me point out to you a few simple rules for becoming “rich toward God.”
I. And, first, let me remind you that every soul on earth is horn poor. There is no exemx3tion from this hard lot. Whether in royal nurseries, where the heir to the throne is well-nigh smothered in down, or in the pauper’s thatched hovel, every immortal soul begins its existence poor. Sin spares not a solitary child of Adam. Sin writes its moral poverty on every occupant of every cradle. As the emptiness of the purse makes one poor financially, so the entire emptiness of the heart as to all holy emotions, holy desires and purposes, constitutes our native moral poverty. Who would go to the ragged urchin in the Industrial School for a loan 1 Yet it would be quite as wise to expect a depraved heart to give forth what it has never yet possessed — one pure, holy emotion.
How, then, can any soul become rich toward God? He does not inherit spiritual wealth, but rather the entire and most pitiable want of it. He inherits guilt. He inherits evil passions. Noble faculties and capacities are his inheritance, but not one particle of native grace comes with them. The more gifted in intellect, the more dangerous will he become, if those mental powers are wholly uncontrolled by the law of God. Without grace, he is a guilty creature on earth and a lost creature through eternity.
He must begin, then, on that grace — on God’s free gift to him through Christ. Just as a liberal father establishes his son in commercial business by furnishing him a certain sum as his capital, so (if we may thus speak) our heavenly Father gives the new heart as a Christian capital. This is the starting-point. As soon as converting grace enters the soul its condition changes. At that moment, by that act, the seeking sinner becomes the forgiven, the accepted, the adopted heir of God. And the religious principle, then implanted by the Holy Ghost, is the spiritual capital with wliicli the new-made heir begins his stewardship. Sometimes this cax)ital is furnished in childhood or in early youth, and then a long “threescore and ten” witnesses the growth of that soul into vast iossessions. Sometimes a ]3erson begins late in life; and then, like those who mistake their secular callings and only get hold of the right occupation at forty, he seldom becomes a sx3iritual millionaire. In fact, he does not get far beyond his original capital. It is hard work to make a “first-class” Christian out of an aged sinner. Old habits of sin have become inveterate. The best soil of the heart has been worn out in growing enormous crops of tares. There is a want of spring and pliability in an old man’s temperament; he does not readily adapt himself to new positions and new duties. As the merchants who have accumulated the most gigantic fortunes are commonly those who began to be rich before thirty, so the richest Christians are usually to be found among the converts of the Bible-class room and the Sabbath school. Begin young, my friends, if you would attain to great riches. Those who are no longer young may still be saved if they will come heartily to Jesus; but I doubt if they often do much toward saving others. God reserves the highest reward to those who enlist the earliest, and serve the hardest and the longest.
II. In the second place, let me remind you that lie who would amass large wealth must not sit down content loith his original capital. He makes investments. He plants his gold in a well tilled farm, or sends it seaward in strongbottomed ships, or sets it to spinning new fortunes in the factory. He must venture what he has, if he would gain more.
Even so in the spiritual world: that professor is but a lean, poverty-stricken starveling, who never gets beyond the infantile condition in which he stood for the first time at Christ’s table. Such professors there be in every church. Their single talent is hidden in a napkin — a very small napkin. What God bestowed upon them at the time of conversion is all that they have now; if there has been any change, it has been rather a reduction than a growth. Such began small — they continue smaller. They never were anything but rivulets, trickling with slender thread of water among the barren stones, at the mercy of every August drought, and well-nigh drunk up by every thirsty noonday sun. Year after year they trickle — trickle — trickle — until death dries them up, and nobody misses them. They watered nothing; they refreshed nobody, and blessed no living thing. Earth is little the poorer for losing them; heaven scarcely the richer for gaining them.
But a growing believer’s course is like yonder river’s — its birthplace some secluded fountain under the mossy rock. Cool and clear, it steers its modest path whithersoever God shall lead it, laughing evermore and leaping to its own silvery music. For long we lose sight of it. Then we meet it again, no longer a wayside brook, but a deep-voiced river beating against its banks — swelling up to kiss the marge of green meadows — winding around the highland’s base — rolling on its majestic march until it spreads out into a hosiiitable bay, on whose placid bosom fleets ride at anchor, and in whose azure depths the banners of all nations are mirrored. Such is the outflow of a rich soul — every day widening in influence, every day deepening in experience, every day running purer and purer. To human eyes such believers may move more slowly as old age draws on. But it is because the volume of their graces is
66 THE RICH CHllISTIAN.
increasing, and they are nearing the ocean of eternity. How these lives gladden the regions through which they pass! How they mirror back the glory of Christ’s gracious handiwork! How they bear up human hopes, and spread themselves out like broad, patient rivers, to carry all burdens that are launched on their bosoms!
Yet such a glorious Christian career, so beautiful in its daily flow, and so beneficent in its results, is only the original grace of conversion emiloyed at compound interest. This mighty river of holy influence is only the original fountain magnified. Behold the virtue of accumulatlon! To this the apostle exhorted when he urged his brethren to ‘’’’grow in grace.” To accumulate soul wealth for God is the purport of that apostolic injunction, ‘’Add to your faith virtue; and to virtue knowledge; and to knowledge temperance; and to temperance patience; and to patience godliness; and to godliness brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness charity.” Brethren, I repeat and re-enforce the exhortation: Grow in Grace. Expand. Absorb every down-pouring of heavenly influence. Catch every descending drop of spiritual blessing. Open your hearts to every stream of Bible knowledge. Be filled with the fullness of Christ. So shall ye be neither empty nor unfruitful, but “always abounding in the work of the Lord.”
III. This leads me, in the third place, to speak of the methods of si:>iritual wealtligetting. How shall a believer become “rich toward God?” We answer that the rules for securing success in secular affairs will apply to the advancement of the soul in grace. The real currency in commerce is metallic, the broad earth over. And the gold and silver which make up the basis of personal wealth, are the jjroduct of the miner’s hard toil with sieve or with mattock. Now, the currency of God’s kingdom is truth; and the Bible is the ore-bed. To every one of you this mine is open. He must be a blind or a careless miner who does not come out of this inexhaustible ore-bed with some new and massive “nugget” as the result of every hour’s research. Do you consider every bank solvent whose vaults are the hiding-place for solid bullion, amply sufficient to meet its liabilities? So is he a solvent Christian whose secret soul is stored with gosiel principles, all coined and stamped for daily use. Nor should any Christian ask credit any further than lie can fully redeem his promises and professions by the ready money of consistent godly conduct.
To make a rich believer, something more than faith is needed. More, too, than Scriptural knowledge. There must be, also, experience. Ah, this is a costly iDossession! Nothing is bought so dear; and yet it is worth all it costs us. This is a part of the souPs wealth that no one can purchase for us; no dearest friend can make it over to us as a gift. We must “go and buy for ourselves,” and exorbitant is the price we often pay for it.
There are sometimes rare and beautiful wares brought into the market that are invoiced at almost fabulous rates. Ignorant people wonder why they are xi’iced so high. The simple reason is that they cost so much to procure. That luxurious article labeled £200 was procured by the adventurous hunter, who, at the hazard of his neck, brought down the wild mountain-goat, out of whose glossy hair the fabric was wrought. Yonder pearl that flashes on the brow of the bride is precious, because it was rescued from the great deep at the risk of the pearl-fisher’s life, as he was lifted into the boat half dead, with the blood gushing from his nostrils. Yonder ermine, flung so carelessly over the 13roud beauty’s shoulder, cost terrible battles with P(ilar ice and hurricane. All choicest things are reckoned the dearest. So is it, too, in Heaven’s inventories. The universe of God has never witnessed aught to be reckoned in comparison with the redemption of a guilty world. That mighty ransom no such contemptible things as silver and gold could procure. Only by one price could the Church of God be redeemed from hell, and that, the precious blood of the Lamb — the Lamb without blemish or spot — the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world.
And so it is that the best i)art of a Christian character is that which was procured at the sorest cost. Patience is a beautiful trait, but it is not worn oftenest by those who walk on life’s sunny side in silver slipijers. It is the product of dark nights of temi3est, and of those days of adversity whose high noon is but a midnight. For “the trial of your faith worketh patience.” Purity of soul is like purity in gold, where the hottest fires turn out the most refined and precious metals from the crucible. Joseph found his crucible in an Egyitian prison; but he came out thence with the soul of a virgin. Purity of character is often bought in this wicked city by the bitter price of a crust of bread eaten with a good conscience in an attic; when a guilty connivance would have been rewarded wdth French satins and a harlot’s sumptuous couch.
The knowledge of our own besetting sins is a knowledge we all crave. AVe imagine that Ave would be willing to pay liberally for the insight into our own hearts which shall reveal all our weak points, not knowing how soon some unexpected emergency might develop some foible or some vice of character hitherto unsuspected. But men have paid dearly, for such discoveries. David paid for his self-knowledge with the life of a darling child and a broken heart; Hezekiah paid for his by the wearisome suiferings of a sick-chamber; Peter for his by the bitter agonies in Pilate’ s garden. But the discoveries were worth all they cost. Among God’s jewels, there is no brilliant which flashes with such luster as the tear of true penitence. Yet God only knoweth what heart-pressure, as in a vise, — what Avringings and rendings of soul, what crushings of pride, and wrestlings of agony, — may have been needful in order to press out that jewel drop upon the cheek of the stubborn sufferer! We have sometimes met with a person in social circles who i)ossessed a peculiar gentleness and docility of character. As we came to know her better, we were amazed and charmed by her calm self-poise, and her heroic submissiveness to God under sudden shocks of calamity. We admired so beautiful a character. We envied its possessor. We coveted such a spirit for ourselves. Ah, we little knew at what fearful price of severe chastisements and bitter disappointments, of hopes desolated and expectations crossed, of faith put to the rack, and patience burned bright in seven-times heated furnaces, all that meek loveliness of character had been gained! So true is it, dear brethren, that he is the most rich toward God who is ready to toil the hardest, and to bear the most to gain his acquisition.
To be truly rich, all these graces of patience and purity and meekness and long-suffering are indispensable. Cost what they will, they must be attained. By prayer and by iractice they must be sought after, and so sought as to secure them. He is a meager, unfinished, unripe, and unimpressive Christian who does not possess those peculiar graces which are only to be won by suffering and trial. Do not draw back from the possession of any siiritual treasure, I beseech you, from the dread of paying dearly for it. The worldling withholds no toil, no sacrifices that are needful to secure his coveted gains or honors. The merchant begrudges not the evenings spent away from his own fireside, if those extra hours over his ledgers will give but an extra dividend of profits. The sculytor counts not the long months wasted which see him with hammer and chisel pursuing the imprisoned figure which his keen eye detects within the block of Parian marble. And the children of light must carry into their service of Christ the same untiring ardor, the same zeal, and the same self-denial by which the children of the world win wealth and honor and emoluments. Oh, for a holy enthusiasm! a holy covetousness to become rich toward God!
ly. The fourth and last principle that I shall present is, that whoever would become rich in spiritual treasure must give atoay l)ountifully. Tlis is the truest paradox in
Christian economy He that saves for self only loses; he that loses for Christ’s sake is sure to save. Would you grow rich toward God? Then learn to give. God loveth a cheerful giver. Nor do I limit this rule to the donation of the purse. The mere gift of gold is but a part of Christian benevolence, though by no means an unimportant part. I often wish that I were the possessor of the wealth of James Lenox or Frederick Marquand, provided that I had always, too, the wealth of heart-love to do good that those i)rincely men had. But a rich soul can be always giving; as the noonday sun overflows his golden urn of ceaseless radiance, and is yet none the poorer in warmth and glory when a whole universe has been lighted.
We must freely give of everything that we have freely received from the Lord. If we have the heart to pray, let us give of our prayers. No legacy that a rich father could have left me would compare in value with my widowed mother’s prayers for me at the mercy-seat. You, that have acquired the wisdom which age and experience confer, can give those counsels which are apples of gold in baskets of silver to the young, the inexperienced, and the unfortunate. Give your personal labors, too, for Christ. Many a rich man seeks to compound with his conscience by bestowing bank- checks in lieu of his own presence in the mission school, the prayer-meetings, or the abodes of suffering. Oh, man of wealth! God gave thee that very leisure thou en joy est in order to do the very work of charity which thy poorer, hard-toiling neighbor has no time to perform. Those that have not money, or counsel, or charitable deeds to bestow, can, at least, afford a godly example. And so a godly life may be, from first to last, all expenditure; just as the Temple lamps consumed themselves away in giving light. But the life and the heart grow the fuller, the brighter, the stronger, the more they expend. What were rich-souled Christians given to the world for but to be reservoirs of blessings!
Happy is the man who can bring the very atmosphere of heaven with him whenever he approaches us! who acts upon our spirits as the May breezes act upon the first shoots of the tulip and the violet! He is a bountiful giver. He confers on us light; he beams goodness into our souls; he teaches us patience; he showers on us brotherly kindness; he illustrates for us faith; he exhibits’ the true beauty of meekness; he sheds hope by his very presence, and his unflinching bravery has often been an inspiration of valor to our failing hearts. Next to Christ himself, there is no blessing to the community like a Christlike Christian.
My dear reader, I covet for you the best gifts. Ask of Gfod, who giveth liberally, that ye all be rich — rich in faith, rich in good works, rich in revenues of joy, rich in heart holiness and the love of Jesus. And then, although your frame be wrapped in coarse raiment, your soul shall be enfolded in the shining garniture of Christ’s righteousness. Though your dwelling-place be lowly, yet your heaven- seeking affection may be at home in the celestial courts before the throne of God and of the Lamb. Although your purse be scanty, your heart will be a palace whose chambers are filled vpith “all j)leasant and all precious riches.” So shall you be made meet to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light.