Our Debt to Others
“Brother, we are surely bound On the same journey, and our eyes alike Turn up and onward; wherefore, now thou risest, Lean on mine arm, and let us for a space Pursue the path together.”
BUCHANAN.
THE true standard of greatness is service. It is not what our life is in gifts, in culture, in strength, but what we do with our life, that is the real test of character. Our Lord taught this truth when he said, “Whosoever would become great among you shall be your minister; and whosoever would be first among you shall be your servant.” It has been well said: “He only is great of heart who floods the world with a great affection. He only is great of mind who stirs the world with great thoughts. He only is great of will who does something to shape the world to a great career. And he is greatest who does the most of all these things and does them best.” We are to hold all that is in us at the service of our fellow-men, in Christ’s name.
St. Paul speaks of himself as debtor to every one, Greek and barbarian, wise and foolish. It was love that he owed, — the only kind of debt that he believed in. “Owe no man anything,” he said elsewhere, “save to love one another.” Love is a debt which never can be altogether settled. You may pay it all off to-day, but to-morrow you will find it heavy as ever. It is a debt which everybody owes to everybody. Nor can it be paid off with any mere sentimental love. It cost St. Paul a great deal to settle his obligations and pay his debts to other men. There is a sort of philanthropic sentiment which some people have which does not cost them very much, — an eloquent speech now and then in behalf of their pet cause, and perhaps an occasional contribution of money. But to pay his debts to men, St. Paul gave up all he had, and then gave himself up to service, suffering, and sacrifice to the very uttermost.
ing always costs. We cannot save our own
life and pay the debts of love we owe.
We are in debt to everybody. It is not hard to recognize this indebtedness to the gentle, cultured, well-to-do Greeks. Anybody can love them and be kind to them, they are so beautiful and sweet. The trouble is with the barbarians. They are not of “our set;” they are not refined. They are rude and wicked; they are heathens. It is not so hard, either, to love them in a philanthropic way as heathens, far off and out of our sight, as it is in a close, personal, practical way, when they come to live next door to us, and when we must meet them every day. But the truth is, we are as really debtors to these barbarians as we are to the Greeks. Perhaps our debt to them is even greater, because they need us more.
It is well that we should get a very clear idea of our true relation as Christians to all other people. We owe love to every one, and love always serves. Serving is an essential quality of love. Love does not stand among people commanding attention and demanding to be ministered unto, exacting rights, honor, respect. Love seeks to give, to minister, to be of use, to do good to others. There are many people who want to have friends, meaning by friends pleasant persons who will come into their life to do things for them, who will minister to their comfort, who will advance their interests, who will flatter their vanity, who will make living easier for them. But that is not the way Christ would define friendship. He would put it just the other way. The true Christian desire is to be a friend to others, to do things for them, to minister to their comfort, to further their interests, to be a help and a blessing to them. That was St. Paul’s thought when he said that he was a debtor to every man. He wanted to be every one’s ministering friend. When a man stood before him, Paul’s heart yearned to do him good in some way, went out to him in loving thought, longed to impart to him some spiritual gift, to add to his comfort, happiness, or usefulness. It is thus we should relate ourselves to every human being who
66 THE BUILDING OF C//AKACT/-.A’.
comes within our influence. To every person uv meet we have an errand. One has put it well in the following lines:
“May every soul that touches mine — Be it the slightest contact — get therefrom some
good,
Some little grace, one kindly thought, One inspiration yet unfelt, one bit of courage For the darkening sky, one gleam of faith To brave the thickening ills of life, One glimpse of brighter skies beyond the gathering mists,
To make this life worth while,
And heaven a surer heritage.”
This does not mean that we should be officious and obtrusive in pressing our help upon those we meet. There is a story of one whose prayer was that he might be permitted to do a great deal of good without even knowing it. That is the best helpfulness which flows out of the heart and life as light from a star, as fragrance from a flower. Love works most tively when it works unconsciously, almost instinctively, inspired from within. Then it bestows its blessing or does its good unobtru sively. You do not know you are being helped. Your friend does not come to you and say, “I want to cheer you up. I want to cure you of that bad habit. I want to give you more wis dom. I want to help you to be noble.” If he came thus, announcing with flourish of trumpets his benevolent intention toward you, he would probably defeat his purpose. But he comes as your friend, with no programme, no heralding of his desire; comes simply loving you, and bringing into your life the best that is in his own life, sincerely yearning in some way to be a help to you. Then virtue passes from him to you, and new happiness and blessing come to you from him, you know not how. You have new courage, new gladness, new inspiration. Sin seems even more ignoble and unworthy, and holiness shines with brighter radiance. You are strengthened in your pur pose to live worthily. You are more eager to make the most of your life. Thus love unconsciously, and without any definite plan, quickens inspires another life to do its best. There is no other way of paying our debt to which is so Christlike as this. Love itself, its own very life, to become life to others.
“O Lord! that I could waste my life for others,
With no ends of my own; That I could pour myself into my brothers, And live for them alone!”
The whole drift of Christian teaching and impulse is on the line of this lesson. Our Lord’s definitions and illustrations of love all emphasize this quality of helpful serving. “Not to be ministered unto, but to minister,” was the saying that epitomized the whole motive of his own blessed life. The good Samaritan was the Master’s ideal of the working of love in human experience. When asked who was greatest in the kingdom of heaven, his reply was very plain and clear, — he who serves the most fully and the most unselfishly.
St. Paul, who so wondrously caught the spirit of his Master, has many words which show varying phases of the truth that love’s very essential quality is unselfish helpfulness, the carrying of the life with all its rich gifts and powers in such a way that it may be a blessing to every other life it touches. “Love seeketh not its own.” Its thought and service are for others. “Ye ought to help the weak.” “We then that are strong ought to bear the infirmities of the weak, and not to please our selves.” There are those who are weak in body, and must lean on the strength of others. We ofttimes see illustrations of this in homes where the invalid of the household draws the strength of all the family to his helping. But physical weakness is not the only weakness. There are those who are spiritually weak, — feeble in purpose, broken by long sinning, until almost no strength remains in them, or enfeebled by sorrow. The law of love, that the strong should bear the infirmities of the weak, is quite as applicable in this sphere of life as in the case of physical weakness.
“Lift a little — lift a little!
Many they who need thine aid,
Many lying on the roadside
‘Neath misfortune’s dreary shade.
Pass not by, like priest and Levite,
Heedless of thy fellow-man;
But with heart and arms extended
Be the good Samaritan.”
In these late days men are doing wonderful things for those who are suffering from infirmities. They educate the blind, until the privation of blindness is almost blotted out. They teach the dumb to speak. They take imbeciles and the feeble-minded, and with almost infinite patience they find the soul, as it were, that lies hidden in the remote depths of the being, and call it out, ofttimes restoring to sanity and to usefulness lives that seemed hopelessly imbecile. This is very beautiful. It is all the work of Christianity. Heathen civilizations had no sympathy with weakness, and no patience with it. The sickly child, they said, would better die. The lame, the blind, the dumb, the in sane, were simply cast out to perish. Christianity has filled the world with love. The other night four of the wisest physicians in a great city sat by a young child’s crib through all the watches, doing all that science and skill
OUR DEBT TO OTHERS. Jl
could do to save the little one’s life. It is Christianity that has taught such lessons as this.
We want the same interest in the spiritual helping of those who are weak. Those who are strong should give of their strength to support and uphold the weak. Those who have experience should become guides to the inexperienced. Those who have been comforted should carry comfort to those who are sorrowing. We are to be to others what Jesus would be if he were in our place. The best that is in us should ever be at the service of even the least worthy who stand before us needing sym pathy or help. If we have this feeling, we should look at no human life with disdain. It will put an end to all our miserable pride, to all our petty tyrannies and despotisms. It will lead us to ask concerning every one who passes before us, not, “What can I get from this man for my own gain? How can I make him serve me?” But rather, “What can I do to help this brother of mine, to add to his happiness, to re lieve his trouble, to put him in the way of suecessful life, to comfort his sorrow, and to give him pleasure?”
If this were the habitual attitude of love, paradise would soon be restored. We live continually in the midst of great human needs, and every one has something to give, something that would help a little, at least, in supplying these needs. If we have but our five barley loaves, and bring them to our Master for his blessing, we can go forth and with them feed thousands.
Then we need not fear that in giving out our paltry store we shall impoverish ourselves. No, it is by selfishly withholding our little that impoverishment will come to us. Had the woman refused to feed the hungry stranger at her gate, her meal and oil would have sufficed for only one little day for herself and her son. But she recognized her debt to this wayfarer, and shared with him her scanty supply; and, lo! it lasted for them both through all the days of the famine. If we use what we have for ourselves alone, it will waste and soon be done, and we shall starve. But if we pay our debt of love, and share our little, it will multiply, and will last unto the end. Ida Whipple Benham writes: —
“Keep it not idly by thee — hoard it not!
Thy friend hath need of it; behold, he stands Waiting to take the bounty of thy hands; Pay him the debt thou owest, long forgot, Or — hast thou paid already — ease his lot
Of that which he would sell, or loaf, or lands — Whate’er his need can spare and thine demands; So shall thy wealth be clean and without spot.
Dost thou not know? hast thou not understood? The stagnant pool breeds pestilence, disease;
The hurrying stream bears bounty on its tide. Pass on thy gold, a messenger of good; Swift let it speed on gracious ministries; Wing it with love and let its flight be wide.”