The Larger Blessing, and the Less

‘I have showed you all things, how that so labouring ye ought to support the weak, and to remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how he said, It is more blessed to give than to receive.” — Acts xx. 35.

THIS “word of the Lord Jesus,” like the great apostle who has reported it, is one “born out of due time.” It found no place in the evangelic histories: it lay silent in loving hearts, or flowed in whispers from loving lips when the disciples met after their Master had departed, until, spoken by Paul on the sea-shore to the weeping elders of Ephesus, it was recorded by Luke, his companion, for the use of the Church in all coming time. In another aspect this word is like the man who quoted it at Miletus; — if it, among the words of Christ, like Paul among his apostles, was late in coming, it is, like him, not a whit behind the chief of them in preciousness and power, now that it has come.

Luke reports the speech of Paul, and Paul’s speech holds in its bosom a priceless fragment of the Redeemer’s word. It is as when a seaman in a shipwreck has seized in his strong arms a servant of the family as she was sinking; and when she is raised, the spectators discover that she holds the infant son of the family living in her arms.

Here then we have a word of Christ rescued from sinking into oblivion — a word of Christ with a word of Paul wrapped round it; the jewel and its setting — the kernel and its shell are both here.

“It is more blessed to give than to receive:” these words were indeed employed by Paul as a practical maxim to stimulate and direct the Christians at Ephesus in their charitable contributions; but if you limit your view to that specific application, you will miss the deepest of their meaning. An untaught barbarian, or an undeveloped child, sees in the stars some small twinkling lights set in the blue canopy higher than the clouds that flit across its face; but you know more of their grandeur and of their Maker’s might when you look upon them as central suns, with subject systems of their own, while they also acts as lights to the darkened hemisphere of our earth. As the difference between the intrinsic greatness of the fixed stars, and their incidental usefulness to this world at night, is the difference between these words in their origin as the declared experience of God our Saviour, and these words in their application as a stimulant to liberality in Christian contributions. We must consider these words in the depth of their Divine fountain, and not confine our view to the particular stream that happens to flow from them here. Before we speak of the object to which the maxim is here applied, we must reverently look to the source whence it was taken.

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When our Redeemer said, “It is more blessed to give than to receive,” He expressed his own experience. This word of Christ is beyond conception precious, especially to “the meek and poor afflicted ones” among his disciples. When, conscious of our own unworthiness, and especially of our backsliding, we tremble even before a throne of grace, it is sweet to learn that the Giver of pardon takes pleasure in giving. He who loves a cheerful giver, is a cheerful Giver. A penitent may encourage his soul to come near in confidence, not only with the argument which the spectators addressed to the blind man at Jericho, “Be of good comfort, rise; he calleth thee,” but with the much stronger reason, — the cure of the disease will impart greater joy to the Physician than to the patient. This word of Christ, rightly accepted, is enough to drive away all the dread of fearful souls, as wind drives smoke away.

Forms of amazing elegance and beauty may be thrown off in millions by the hands of common workmen; but the one type whence all the specimens have derived their shape grew slowly, like the germs of life in the secret of a greater soul. So, off the experience of Immanuel in his work of Redemption, from its beginning in the eternal purpose till its finishing in the fulness of time, was this maxim taken, which Paul found useful to stimulate the liberality of the Ephesians, — which we find useful to stimulate liberality amongst ourselves to-day. The love wherewith Christ loved us is the mould on which the practical rule was cast. Unless he had lived in the world, the world would never have possessed such a rule for the regulation of its course. This principle is not of the earth. It bears the mark of another origin. It at once reveals the character of its author, and gives shape to the aspirations of his followers. It is a print of his footsteps, marked by the Spirit in the word, to direct the way of his people through all time.

This feature belongs indeed to the lessons of every true teacher who undertakes to mould into better forms the spirit and conduct of his neighbours. All apostles who have left a beneficent mark on the world have first practised what they afterwards preached. In this respect the Apostle and High Priest of our profession was made like unto his brethren. He lived this lesson first, and taught it then. He tasted the blessedness of giving, and thereafter told his disciples how sweet it is.

The redemption which Christ accomplished, and the gospel reveals, is a system of giving and receiving. It consists of these two, and of these two only. The whole transaction between the Saviour and the saved is comprehended in giving and getting. He gives; they get. This is the sum of the whole matter. Christ gives all, and gets nothing; Christians get all, and give nothing.

The Lord Jesus speaks from experience when he explains how pleasant it is to give. He is entitled to speak on that point with authority. On that subject he speaks what he knows. He has had much to do with giving, first and last. If there is sweetness in the act, he must have enjoyed that pleasure to the fulL

He gave himself for us: this is a gift unspeakable. We have no line wherewith we may measure its greatness. It is as when a little child looks down into the blue heavens mirrored in a still lake; the child exclaims, “These skies are deep, deep!” But how deep he cannot conceive, far less adequately express. Inconceivable to men and angels, — infinite is the gift which our Redeemer bestowed when he offered himself to take sin away. The Giver of Himself knows what giving is, and is entitled to speak with authority on the amount of blessedness involved in the act.

Nor has the giving ceased, now that he is exalted. He continues to dispense his bounties. When he ascended after his ministry on earth was done, it was for the express purpose of giving. He gives the Spirit: he gives pardon and peace day by day to “him that coineth.” He gives grace in this life, and glory in the next. On his part, it is all giving: his bounties are waters that fail not. And he is “not weary in well-doing.” When he was hungry and faint at the well of Samaria, it was not the water from the woman’s vessel or bread from the baskets carried by the twelve that refreshed him. “I have meat to eat,” he said, “that ye know not of.” And his meat was giving — giving to a needy sinner the gift of eternal life.

This glimpse into the heart of our Redeemer is a salve that reaches to the deepest of all sores. Brother, when you begin really to know yourself, it is not easy to hope that it will be well with you in the great day. When you measure the deceit and corruption of your own heart, you know that it will require a great deal of giving on the part of Christ to make you right. Perhaps you could hope more easily if your debt were smaller. You are afraid to expect that it will be all freely forgiven, because it is so great. When you have looked a while into your own heart to see its emptiness and measure how much you need to receive, turn round and look a while unto Jesus to learn how much he possesses, how much he bestows, and how much delight he takes in bestowing. There is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth; and the joy is expressly said to be like the joy that filled the shepherd’s heart when he got his wanderer home again. The joy therefore is the joy of the Lord, which surrounding angels see gleaming in his face, when he feels that virtue has gone out of him to save a sinner. Every time that from the depths of sin and misery on this world another draft is made upon his love, another throb of joy rebounds in the Redeemer’s breast.

Humble and contrite hearts, that sigh and cry for the light of God’s countenance, should drink in great consolation from these words of the Lord Jesus. If giving were a pain to him, he would have long ago ceased to give. If he gave grudgingly, he would not give at all; for there is no constraint laid on him, except the compulsion of his own unmerited love. When our Lord with his disciples made the journey from Judaea to Galilee, it is written that “he must needs go through Samaria.” There was indeed a geographical necessity on the surface, for Samaria lay right across their path; but there was a deeper necessity — a necessity compelling the Lord to make that journey at that time: it was his hunger for the meat that his fellow-travellers knew not of, which then consumed him — the appetite for giving mercy and newness of life to a chief sinner in Sychar. He must go that way, for there lay the savoury food that his soul desired.

In his goings forth from eternity, he must go by this world. All these glorious worlds that are scattered over the infinite belong to him: but it is not necessary that he should dwell in any of them and take part of the nature of their inhabitants. These were not needing anything: these remained as God had made them — all very good. He would have enjoyed no giving there, and a sojourn there would not have been blessed to him.

Tor this joy that was set before him — for this greater blessedness — the blessedness of giving, he came and companied with the empty and the lost.

Let us bear these words of the Lord Jesus on our hearts when we pray. To be assured that he counts it blessedness to give, should greatly encourage us in asking.

The words do not say and do not mean that it is unpleasant to receive. When the receiver is needy, and the gift good, and the giver generous, it is blessed to receive. Tell it, ye who have come to the Lord — wretched and miserable, and blind and naked, and have received from him pardon and peace and eternal life, — tell it to his glory. Is it not a blessed experience to receive? Hark! they tell it who already stand round the throne in white clothing, — Thou hast redeemed us and washed us from our sins in thy blood. Sing unto the Lord, for he hath triumphed gloriously. These jubilant hosts who have passed in safety through the Eed Sea are not givers; they are only receivers. They are rejoicing with a joy that is unspeakable and full of glory; but it is a joy of receiving that swells in their hearts and thrills through their frames. When the Lord intimated that the blessedness of giving is the greater, he did not intimate that the blessedness of receiving was small. He proclaims in one sentence the twofold truth, that the joy of his people in obtaining salvation is great, and his own in bestowing it is greater.

There is an amazing affluence in the words of God, both in the covenant of his mercy and the creation of his hand. “And God made two great lights; the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night: the stars also” (Gen. i. 16). After the chief lights were provided, he needed some smaller sparks to supplement the moon’s rays in the work of diminishing the darkness of night on this world. For this purpose, he employed a multitude of glorious orbs, many of them mightier far than the sun and all its system.

It is thus in the covenant. God needs a motive to urge his people during their probation here to greater liberality in their charity; and for that purpose reveals the experience of his Son in the work of redemption. He needed a lamp for our feet at a rough step on the journey; and lo, in order to obtain it, he draws aside the veil, rends the heavens, and displays to view the love and joy that burn in the bosom of God our Saviour! No wonder that the ravished pilgrim forgets for a time the step on earth thus illumined, and gazes on the glory that sheds down the needed light.

In a subordinate sense, the Lord’s people also give to him, and he receives from them. He loves this receiving. Evidence that he delighted in the self- consecration of his disciples crops out everywhere in the evangelic histories. In the case of the woman who poured out the precious contents of the alabaster box to anoint his body for the burial, he gives unmistakable indications that he was much pleased with the lavish offering. In the case of the ten lepers, too, he does not conceal that he rejoiced in the thanksgiving of the grateful one, and missed the acknowledgments of the selfish majority.

It was kind in him to let us know that he values our gifts, although we render to him only what we have received. It would have thrown a discouraging damp over every grateful aspiration, if he had left us to suppose that, not needing our offerings to supply any lack, he was indifferent to all the loving gifts that loving hearts and hands might lay at his feet. Sometimes a little child is permitted to present a flower to the sovereign on occasion of a public procession. The sovereign takes real pleasure in the offering and the offerer: the sovereign’s condescension is a mighty encouragement to the child. It is in some such way that disciples, who have attained to some measure

The Chitrch in the House.

of the little child’s spirit, are encouraged to present their thank-offerings, by knowing that he loves to receive them.

And now that he has gone beyond our reach, it is his own express will that we should consider the poor as receivers for him. We have no Saviour present to the senses on whose head we might pour our precious ointment now; but the poor we have always at hand; and the Master’s command is that we should turn the ointment into cash, and with the proceeds help our needy brother.