Bad Motives in Good Work
“Some indeed preach Christ even of envy and strife” (Phil. i. 15-19).
How fearful the combination. A gracious evangel may be upon the lips, and a most unlovely motive in the heart; the boat may be all right, but the devil may be at the helm. We may “preach Christ” for the sake of winning a selfish victory, or of gratifying an envious and quarrelsome spirit. We may use our Lord’s gospel just to deck our brow with controversial garlands, to humiliate our opponents, and to bring eclat to an ecclesiastical sect. The envious hand may deal out the waters of life! It is possible for a denomination to open a church in a neighbourhood, not primarily for the glory of the Lord, but just
to preoccupy the ground before another denomination appears. Churches are frequently built as the outcome of angry divisions. We can preach the gospel of love in a bad temper; pride can dictate the proclamation of peace. All these are amazing and almost incredible conjunctions, but daily experience brings them before us in near and depressing reality. On every hand we can see men using the Lord’s gun, while the aim is directed by the devil. “Some indeed preach Christ even of envy and strife.”
“And some also of good will.” The black hand has not always hold of the white robe. The Lord’s messenger frequently shares the Lord’s spirit; the desire of the heart accords with the evangel of the lips. There is no hidden poison, no dark and unclean secret pool. Such men “preach Christ,” and they glory in the gospel, and all the inner bias of their life is firmly set toward the honour of the Lord. They have no private aim, no ulterior purpose, no selfish “feathering of their own nest”; all their motives are Christianised and refined, and every piece of shining armour, every consecrated power, is eagerly placed at the disposal of their King.
“The one do it of love.” Their service is born of love, like a river issuing out of a lake. Love is the very central power in their life, and everything takes its rise in its profound and lucid depths. This is the birthplace of all the soul’s activities; nothing is born elsewhere. Its hopes, its desires, its designs, its endeavours are all created in love and “of love,” and therefore they all harmonise with the glad tidings of our Lord Jesus Christ. How infinite is the contrast between these love-possessed and loverefined souls, and those who “proclaim Christ of faction, not sincerely”; doing it from shallow and irritable partisanship, with no sincerity in their hearts, but everything cheapened and defiled by the base alloy of self-seeking and irreligious jealousy. Such unclean labours are ever accompanied by a certain insensitiveness, and frequently by a purposed and successful cruelty. “Thinking to raise up affliction for me in my bonds.” If only they could injure Paul, and make his chains to gall him, their evil desires would be gratified, and they would rest in the consciousness of something done.
“What then? Only that in every zvay, whether in pretence or in truth, Christ is proclaimed; and therein I rejoice, yea, and will rejoice.” The Apostle is gloriously optimistic. Even in the midst of these evil-motived men Christ is talked about, even though the devil has hidden himself in the messenger’s heart; and the devil’s ministry shall be frustrated and nullified, and the proclamation of the Gospel shall have free course and be glorified. The Holy Spirit shall contrive against the devil’s “God shall make the wrath of man to praise Him.” A mystic antiseptic influence shall play upon the speech of the jealous-minded ambassador, and it shall become a minister of health and healing, and shall accomplish purposes quite other than he ever dreamed. “My word shall not return unto me void,” even when it is spoken by a man whose heart is a bitter pool of envy and strife. Not because of such a man, but in spite of such a man shall
Christ our Lord be glorified. Let the story of the Saviour’s love be made known, and the very word itself shall be energised by the Spirit, and it shall fall as a seed of life into some dead and barren soil, and there shall come a resurrection and a great awakening. “And therein I rejoice, yea, and will rejoice.” And well he may, and well we all may! The devil is awake, but our Lord is more awake. Sin abounds, but grace doth much more abound. “He bringeth the devices of the wicked to nought,” and “He getteth unto Himself the victory.”
“For I know that this shall turn to my salvation.” It shall all end well. The great Apostle is in captivity at Rome. His surroundings are hostile. His plans are all thrown into confusion, and his far-reaching missionary campaign has been ruthlessly checked. But the apparent circumstances are not all the circumstances. Beneath the transient there is the eternal; within the frowning antagonisms there works the hidden friendship of God. At present circumstances may seem to march against him with the bristling threatening armaments of an overbearing foe. But there shall be a “turn,” things shall receive a mysterious twist; an unseen but friendly hand shall guide the hostile hosts, and instead of being the ministers of destruction, they shall become the agents of a larger good. “I know that this shall turn to my salvation.” And how is this gracious turning of circumstances to be brought about? What are the ministries which are to effect the transformation? The Apostle mentions them. “Through your supplications.” The men and women in Philippi are to play an influential part in changing the influence of the circumstances in Rome. It is a marvellously daring association of ideas. Rome was the very heart of imperial power, and all the forces of empire seemed to be moving in opposition to the Apostle Paul. And yet this little company of obscure men and women in Philippi have a lever in their hands which can divert the battalions of unfriendly circumstances to a friendly and undreamed-of end! And this lever is the great prerogative of prayer. Has the Church of Christ adequately realised the vast wealth of her spacious inheritance? She has a power which can raze mountains to their base, and divert the channels* of the floods. “And the supply of the Spirit of Jesus Christ.” This is the second of the great ministries made possible by the first. Our prayers cut channels for the river of God’s gracious Spirit. No sincere prayer ever fails. It cuts a path for God; it prepares “the way of the Lord.” And therefore the Christians at Philippi were sacredly qualified to minister to the great Apostle at Rome, and to be the means of enriching him with amazing supplies of the Divine grace. And so it came to pass that the circumstances at Rome could be deflected and “turned to salvation” by a company of humble saints, who were praying in some obscure home in a distant city.