The Art of Giving

“Let each man do according as he hath purposed in his heart, not grudgingly, or of necessity; for God loveth a cheerful giver.” — 2 CoE. ix. 7.

That is a description of Christian beneficence of fine and superlative order. And yet the statement is all maimed and bleeding; it is torn away from so many vital kinships, in which its life consists. That is the ever-besetting peril of textual exposition, the peril of regarding an amputated limb as the entire body. And this is particularly true of all moral counsels, of all those ethical injunctions which seem to be detached from spiritual sanctions: we handle them in their apparent separateness, and we do not see that they are damaged and bleeding members. It is the simple truth to say that in the word of God you cannot remove anything without hurting it; anything and everything can only be safely regarded when seen in its profound and manifold nervekinships with the central life of the entire book.

Let me change my figure. Here is this fair grace of Christian beneficence growing before us in this verse. You cannot lift it out of its setting and hopefully plant it elsewhere. It would not be the same if you cut it out and inserted it in the columns of our daily press. There are some plants of which you can safely say, “You can grow them anywhere!” There are others which require a peculiar and specially compounded soil, and only in this combination can they thrive. And this wild flower of the kingdom at which I am asking you to gaze is particularly one of the kind which demand a rich and special soil, and it has got such a soil in the ground-bed of this great epistle. It is not a bit of good merely admiring the size and shape and colour of this exquisite plant, and utterly ignoring the wealthy setting in which it finds its nutriment. You might as well dig up some flower of the woods, growing there in a bed as rich as a bride’s cake, and plant it in the dry innutritions gravel of a backyard, and expect a continuance of the woodland glory, as take graces like these from their beds of fat sustenance and expect them to flourish in chance and impoverished surroundings. we cannot grow fine graces in lean soils. There is only one thing more depressing than to see an ill-fed plant lifting its sickly head out of a pauperised soil, and that is the spectacle of a pinched and anaemic virtue raising its slender and uncertain life out of poverty-stricken resource. The roots of all these apostolic graces run right throughout the epistles, and every moral maxim is imbedded in profound devotion. It is not my present purpose to analyse the soil of this particular epistle; it is sufficient to emphasise the richness of its quality. Investigate for yourselves the rich section exposed in the fifth chapter, or that splendid layer at the end of the sixth chapter; or give patient examination to this rare representative portion of the eighth chapter, Ye know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though He was rich, yet for your sakes He became poor, that ye through His poverty might become rich “: or take the wealthy culmination of this very chapter, ‘’ Thanks be to God for His unspeakable gift ‘”: and I think you will feel that these practical precepts emerge out of the Infinite, and suck their nutriment from the very heart of God.

The fact of the matter is, the liberality of the apostle Paul is always a fruit, and never a work, and it is the product of his communion with the Eternal. First of all, he had passed through a mighty spiritual experience which he can only describe as a transition from darkness to light, from slavery to freedom, from utter poverty to ^’ unsearchable riches in Christ.’’ That glorious emancipation had made him the love-slave of His Deliverer, and he watched with vigilant love-eyes for the faintest indication of his Master’s will. ‘’ The love of Christ constraineth me! “And out of this liberty of the love-slave there emerges a spontaneous and fervent gratitude which expresses itself in every form of liberal and bountiful service. Paul was a great giver because he had so greatly received. He gave thanks “without ceasing,” and his substance followed hard in the track of his praise. Paul’s liberality can be traced to Calvary; all his giving had its roots at the Cross.

Having spent so much time in emphasising the far-stretching relationship of this great virtue, I am now ready to consider its prominent characteristics. What is the nature of a fine beneficence? The apostle begins his description by proclaiming the negative aspects of the grace. First of all, there is an absence of ‘’ grudging,” That is a very expressive word, and its real content is given in the margin, where we find the alternative phrase “of sorrow.’’ That is to say, there are some people whose giving is ^’ of sorrow,” as though they were in pain, and the transaction is done to the accompaniment of sighs and groans. Who does not know that profound sigh which encounters the appeal, as if the very pillars of the soul were yielding? There is no wedding air about the ministry: it is possessed by the tearful sombreness of the grave! It is not that the gift is withheld: it is that it comes so reluctantly, as though some heart-strings were snapping in the passage. The thing is done, but it is more than halfspoilt in the doing! And what is the explanation of this pain of apparent martyrdom? Just this: the soul is wedded to a thing instead of to an ideal, and the extraction of the thing is an agonising divorce. Now the apostle declares that Christian beneficence has this plain characteristic, it is not grudging, it is not ‘’ of sorrow.” There is no sigh of collapse, there is no frictional sound in the transference, there is no sulky warder at the gate who opens the treasure house with grim reluctance. The door is open, there is sunshine on the step, and there is a sound of welcome within. “Not grudgingly!” And then he mentions a second negative characteristic; true liberality is not “of necessity,” By which phrase the apostle most clearly implies that there are people who give just because they are compelled to give. They give because they must, and not because they desire. They would not give if they could find a way out of it. Their liberality is a ‘^ forced ‘’ product, and, like all forced things, lacking nature’s matured sweetness and charm. They give to the poor through the poor rate, but most certainly they would not if they could help it! If the poor-rate collector had no more compulsory force behind him than a tract distributor, the springs of their liberality would dry up in a day! They give ‘’ of necessity.” But there are other necessitating ministries besides the police. Social conventions can exercise a compulsion which elicits apparent liberality. Some people give because others are giving, and it will not pay to be out! This is not a liberality that pioneers and makes discoveries for itself: it is always found in the tracks which others have made. It is never in the van: it is always in the rear. It never initiates, it only follows. It is like the slip of paper lying in the railway track, snatched up in the suction of a passing train and whirled along in the path of common destiny. This liberality is caught in fashionable currents, and transiently moves of “necessity.” Now the apostle teaches that no such small ‘’ necessity ‘^ characterises the Christian grace. It does not give because it must, it gives because it wants. There is no outer compulsion upon it, tyrannically ruling its reluctant heart. Its constraint is quite otherwise, the gentle constraint of devotional love. ‘’ Not of necessity!”

But the apostle leaves these merely negative and somewhat colourless attributes and proceeds to more positive characteristics. True liberality is simple, having been born in the “heart.” It is not engendered in the regions of calculation and expediency, but in that deep, elementary, vibratory region, the abode of the sympathetic chords of the life. There can be no fine liberality if these are untouched and unstirred. All men are equipped with the fundamental, resonant chords of humanity, and it is only when these are struck and give out a vibratory response that we obtain the conditions of Christian beneficence. But let no one imagine that the apostle is proclaiming the intended domination of blind emotions. This basal sympathy is to express itself in intelligent purpose. ‘’ Accordirig as he hath purposed in his heart,” True liberality is inclusive of both; heart and purpose; emotion and understanding; it is not symbolised in the dark, moving waters of a restless sea, but in these same disturbed waters in the light of the full moon. Christian graces are not blind dispositions; they are lit up by the ministry of a vigilant understanding. And further, this virtue of liberality is not only simple, and intelligent, it is warmed through and through with a most genial heat — “God loveth a cheerful giver! ‘’ I do not think the phrase needs any elaboration, certainly not for clearness, and possibly only for emphasis. But can there be any more gracious and welcome experience than this one of having to do the King’s business with a man whose heart is stirred, and whose purpose is clear, and who just baptises you with sunshine that he has caught from the countenance of his Lord? If you have discovered a more delightful experience than that, I should like to know in what fields you have been pasturing! And yet, after all, there is a more delightful experience than so gracious a meeting with this so gracious a man, and that is, to be the man yourself, with your own heart stirred like harp chords, and your own purpose clear with the counsels of the Almighty, and your own sunlit face throwing reflected beams of cheery good will upon every form of noble enterprise. Surely that is better and more delightful still; and away in the heights of these superlative compassions, ‘’ be mine this better part! ‘’ ‘’ Let each man do according as he hath purposed in his heart: not grudgingly,- or of necessity: for God loveth a cheerful giver.”

Now, if this high quality of liberality is to be manifested in our life, there are one or two matters to which we must give attention, altogether apart from those primary and radical conditions to which

I referred at the outset. The spirit of liberality requires to be kept informed. To deny the information is to refuse the requisite incitement. Liberality cannot work in a vacuum any more than sound can travel in a vacuum. Liberality works through certain prepared conditions, and one of the requisite conditions is that we should provide it with news. That is true in reference to all manner of noble enterprise, both at home and abroad. There will be no liberality where nothing is known: and therefore next to our knowledge of God we require the facts of himaan life. Liberality and ignorance will never consort together. But even facts themselves may lie in the mind as infertile as marbles in a boy’s pocket. If facts are to become operative and incentive, our imaginations must be brought to play upon them. The majority of us only see facts superficially, we do not see them cubicallv: we see the surface, we do not see the depth. Now the imagination is the God-given implement for discovering the cubical contents of a fact, and it is onlv when we sit down and patiently use that implement that this hidden significance is disclosed. It is a profoimd conviction of my life that the majority of people do not use their imaginations; they use what they call their imaginations, but in reality they are only employing a certain power of fancy which lightly pictures things that are not, and not this tremendous instnmient for seeing things as they are. I declare that if we could see things as they are in the more desolate portion of such a city as Birmingham — I do not mean merely to go and see a grey and dingy court, or even to enter into a house which abides in constant twilight, for even things seen may be facts unknown, we may see and not perceive — but if we could imaginatively enter into its inner significances, significances that cannot be told in speech, and if we could track some of its far-reaching relationships, and open out these stubborn facts like the opening of a chestnut burr, everybody’s liberality would leap to the enterprise of institutional work. And what applies to this applies to the entire field of Christian service. We must get to know the insides of our facts, and we must use every available means to obtain the knowledge. One fact, imaginatively realised, is worth a ton of insignificant facts, tumbled upon the floor of the most retentive memory. There would be no grudging, and no giving ‘’ of necessity,’’ but an abundance of cheerful giving, if those who are “in Christ” would endeavour to realise the cubical content of our common life.

But, after all that I have said, I do not think I have completed the enumeration of the conditions that are requisite for a free and cheery spirit of liberality. Even with all this, the heart would still be exposed to the most insidious snares. There are people who are most unquestionably in Christ, and who even exercise such imagination as I have tried to describe, and yet, through lack of ordinary business arrangement, their giving is marked by niggard-Uness and stint. I am the keeper of no man’s conscience, and it is not mine to dictate to any man’s conscience, but I am dealing with a most clamant defect in modern Christian life in this very want of reasonable system in our beneficence. I am perfectly sure that no liberality will continue generous and ready and cheery imless there is some basal and systematic arrangement. In the old Jewish dispensation the brotherhood of God’s people were commanded to set aside one-tenth of their income for unselfish service. I am persuaded that in the case of men of affluence, and even of moderately wealthy incomes, this is by no means an adequate proportion. I do not think a man with a thousand a year ought to be contented with the consecration of a tenth. Recently I heard very directly of one conspicuously wealthy man in our country, who began in very humble circumstances, and who in his comparative poverty systematically assigned a tenth for service, but he increased the proportion with the increase of his wealth, and he now assigns one-third to the service of his fellows and his Lord. But my purpose just now is to urge the necessity and the delight of some reasonable svstem in our beneficence. Set aside a certain proportion: determine that proportion in the very presence of your Lord. And what will be the effect? In the first place, it will save you from the peril of assmning you have given more, money than you really have. There are some people who unfortunately estimate their liberality by the number of appeals that are made to them, and not by their responses. Another appeal!’^ they say! “And yet another! “” Another still! ‘’ And they forget that this was their only response, and they have come to count the very appeal as righteousness! Now, systematic giving will save us from that. And it will save us further from countless worries and petty casuistries. We shall not have to be continually arguing with ourselves, and pleading with ourselves, and excusing ourselves. ISTo, there will be the simple enquiry: There are our resources, and here is the appeal: can it be met? And last of all, systematic giving makes liberality a delight. To go to your consecrated money, to your dedicated tenth, or whatever the proportion may be, is like having a private bank in which you can draw for the work of the Lord. Try it, and you will add your seal to the witness that this is true!

‘’ Ood loveth” such a giver! What an inheritance! What a baptism! Such a man lives in the love of the Almighty. It is enough. In this divine good life will reach its consummation and its crown. The man is even now ‘^ for ever with the Lord.’’