Part 35

The idea sometimes is that poor people ought not be asked to give. This is a mistake. Poor people can give, and ought to give, out of their poverty, as well as rich people ought to give out of their riches. Poor people can hurt themselves, and injure their souls, and prove themselves niggardly and illiberal by not giving just as well as rich people can. True, they cannot give as much as the more favored, in the actual amount of their gifts, but they _can_ give as much in proportion to their means.

We often hear people say, if they were only rich, willingly would they contribute to every good cause, and munificent things would they do with their money. But all such charitable words and sentiments are just nothing. The thing is to give the gift of poverty, if poor, without being ashamed of it, and not to sentimentalize about the great things we would do if we were rich. The fact is that few people ever get rich, and if wealth increases, desires, styles of living, and general expenses increase with it, and the wealthy man has so many expenditures, so many demands to meet, so many drains upon him, that he is just about as poor in his riches as he was without them. This is the plain fact in the vast majority of cases. Indeed, exceptions are very rare. It is, therefore, a mere matter of self-deception for people to talk how liberal they would be if they were rich. Moreover, what are we coming to if we regard only the rich as under obligation to give? No! Christian liberality is a thing for the poor as well as the rich, and for the most part facts prove that the poor are more liberal than the rich.

To come back to our text: Such were the donors our Savior recognized, both poor and rich. Let us note, furthermore, their contribution. While the rich gave much, the widow "threw in" only "two mites," which make a farthing, with us half a cent. It is easy to conceive what the givers themselves would think of their donations. The rich would be satisfied, imagining that they had done their duty, if not more than was required of them, while the poor widow would deem what she had done unworthy of notice, and, perhaps, felt ashamed to cast into the treasury such a mean trifle.

Others, too, who were lookers-on, had they known what the parties gave, would have extolled the one as prodigies of liberality, while they would have treated the other with neglect, or reproached her for giving what she could not afford. But how were those two mites viewed by Him whose eyes were as a flame of fire, and who searcheth the reins and the hearts?

"And He called unto Him His disciples, and saith unto them, Verily, I say unto you, That this poor widow hath cast more in than all they which have cast into the treasury. For all they did cast in of their abundance; but she of her want did cast in all she had, even all her living." At first this seems strange, and our Lord could not mean that she had given more than all the others as to quantity, but more as to motive, more as to principle, more, relatively, as to their condition and her circumstances; more comparatively.

These men had given much; they had done it of their abundance and superfluity, and could go home to houses filled with plenty, and to tables spread with delicacies, while she went home to a lonely apartment, and opening her cupboard, found little, and that the earning of her hard toil.

What an encouragement this! And the less favored in this world's goods require it. We have known persons remaining away from the house of God--this house of God--because they could only appear in workday clothing, and others who have been prevented from meeting with the congregation because they felt that they could not do what was expected of them. Let none such, however humble their condition, or limited their means, for a moment suppose that they are less regarded; let them beware of making the sad mistake that because they cannot do much, they are justified in doing nothing. The commendation of Mary was: "She hath done what she could," whereas the condemnation of the unprofitable servant was that because he did not have ten talents, or five, he failed to trade with the one he did have. It's not the inability that God judges you by, but by the indisposition to do what you have. In the light of these two mites let us take heart, and do what dutifulness and gratitude would prompt us to do toward His temple, knowing that it is a small thing that we should be judged by any man's judgment, but that He that judges us is the Lord.

And, again, our Lord's decision teaches us, in fact, seems to be the main inference to be drawn from the subject, that the rule with regard to liberality is proportion. These men gave "much" (much when the amount was considered, much according to their own opinion and their admirers); yet, was it much relatively? much compared with what others gave whose means were unspeakably less? What self-denial was there connected with it? "Charity," an old commentator remarks to these words of our text, "is to be judged of, not by what is given, but by what is left." These men gave of their abundance. They never felt it. True benevolence feels it. The widow did feel it; and many, I take it, among us feel it in the sacrifice of self-decoration, self-gratification, when they put their contribution into the plate in regular service, and occasionally a special donation, as on the Day of Humiliation and Prayer and Church Anniversary. That is the right kind of benevolence that feels it; those are the coins that count in God's treasury which have, as they ring in the basket, a piece of ourselves attached to them, stand for self-denial; that gives them their highest value,--not merely the 1, 5, or 10 stamped upon them.

Let each of the assembly here worshiping examine himself accordingly. There is no law in the case. Christianity does not tax, coerce, dictate how much in exact proportion to your income and means you ought to give. It is not for you to tell me how much I am to do for God and Church, nor for me to tell you. That is my business and yours, left to us individually. Only this are we to observe: All are expected to give, and all who are really touched with the Spirit of Christ and true religion give and will give, and it is for them to give in proportion as God has blessed them.

Giving is a thing of character, which, like every other, must grow little by little, more by more, until through diligent practice and repeated acts it becomes a habit. To give once in a while, impulsively, as one is moved by this or that plea, is good enough, but far more fruitful and blessed is systematic giving, however small the amount be at a time. The plan which has God's authority, and which has borne the most encouraging results, is the one which St. Paul has laid down in 1 Cor. 16: "On the first day of the week," on Sunday, when men's thoughts are turned from earth to heaven, from the things of this world to the next, when God's unspeakable gift is brought to our mind and our duties to the good Lord, then "let every one of you lay by him in store as the Lord hath prospered him."

To aid you in doing that, the system of envelopes has been introduced. The idea has never been to burden any one, to tax any one, or to prescribe to any one, but to present an easy and secure method for collecting what each one, in conscience and calmness, might consider his or her proper gift to the Lord and His treasury. The very boxes bear that name, "The Lord's Treasury," and I hope that each time as you scan the words you will think of the "widow's mites."

Nor do we have any reason to be dissatisfied with results. The waters that flow down the great Niagara with such rush and roar, and then sweep onward in deep majesty to the ocean are formed by countless brooks and rills and trickling streamlets and melting snows and little raindrops, and so the results that have all wrought for our congregation, and the amount upon which it is still largely dependent, comes from the small contributions of our members, regularly and systematically given. In view of the fact that a large indebtedness rests upon us, I feel warranted to bring this matter before you in the pulpit, asking for a faithful continuation of the plan.

"The widow's two mites"--what grand services they have accomplished, what an immense harvest of good they have brought forth to the whole world. Remembering how His all-seeing eye still scans the church receptacle, let us not allow selfishness, avarice, and a carnal greed to hinder what conscience dictates; rather let us strive to secure this commendation which this poor widow received, and be blessed in our deeds. Amen.

HUMILIATION AND PRAYER SUNDAY.

TEKEL: Thou art weighed in the balances, and art found wanting.--_Dan. 5, 27_.

The words of our text connect with an account of Old Testament story which, if once heard, is never forgotten. The place was Babylon, a city so vast in extent that after its capture it was three days before the fact was known all over it. The scene was in the royal palace, a marvelous structure within the walls of which were the famous "hanging gardens," which the world has agreed to number among its "seven great wonders." There, in the most sumptuous of all his banquet halls, at a table groaning with the burdens of massive plate and the rarest and richest of viands and wines, reclined the proud and voluptuous King of Babylon, Belshazzar. Around him reclined a thousand of his lords and the fairest women of his harem. A more magnificent banquet was never given or enjoyed. Golden lamps, suspended from a ceiling, paneled with ivory and pearl, shed soft luster on walls pillared with statues, on a floor paved with alabaster, and carpeted with richest rugs from the looms of India, on couches mounted with silver and cushioned with velvet, on illustrious princes, gorgeous costumes, in the most bewildering splendor, whilst over it all floated the sweet strains of music and song. Every heart in that glittering company was wild with delight. No one seemed troubled with care.

In the midst of the feasting an impious deed suggests itself to the king's mind. Calling a servant, he orders him to bring the golden and silver vessels which his grandfather, Nebuchadnezzar, had carried away from God's altar in Jerusalem. They were brought and placed before him in a glittering row. They had been consecrated to the service of God centuries before, and had never been put to any common use. For any man to use them, unless he were a heavenly-appointed priest serving at the altar of Jehovah, would be sacrilege of the most damning kind, Belshazzar knew that, but he was resolved to insult Jehovah in the presence of that great company, and so, at his command, those consecrated vessels were filled with intoxicating drink, and he and his princes, and his wives and his concubines, drank from them, amid profane jests and ridicule, to the health of the god of Babylon, whose images of gold, silver, brass, and stone adorned the hall where the wild revel was held. Suddenly a cry of agony is heard. There sat Belshazzar, pale as marble, pointing to an object on the wall. With horror unutterable they look and see the fingers of a human hand slowly tracing a style across the wall,--that was all that was visible. The pen and hand vanished, and nothing remained but the writing. At that the banqueters stared, transfixed with speechless terror. No one in that drunken crowd was able to read it, until Daniel, the Lord's prophet, was summoned. This was the inscription: "Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin." The prophet gave their hidden meaning: "Mene: God has numbered thy kingdom and finished it. Tekel: Thou art weighed in the balances, and art found wanting. Upharsin: Thy kingdom is divided, and given to the Medes and Persians." And so it was. That very night, by an underground channel, Darius the Mede entered the city of Babylon, and Belshazzar was hewn to pieces.

And is there nothing in this piece of ancient history, transferred to God's Book and interpreted by God's prophet, that has value and application to us? Is not everything that we find recorded in the Scripture written for our learning, our warning? Those four words, and particularly, the one chosen for our immediate devotion, "Tekel," has it no spiritual warning for us? We have met this morning for that very purpose--to weigh ourselves. Fifty-two Sundays--another year of grace has come and has departed in the church calendar--we are invited to solemn retrospect and thoughtful review, to consider what report we have to make. Let us, then, honestly and conscientiously, address ourselves to it on the basis of the text, and may God's Holy Spirit touch your hearts and solemnize your minds!

"Tekel: Thou art weighed in the balances." We all know what a balance is, a pair of scales. The beam is suspended exactly in the middle. The two arms are equal, and supplied with a pan, not to differ by a hair's thickness. If equal weights are placed in the two pans, the beam rests perfectly level. Such is God's balance. It is sensitive to the last degree. It weighs men's acts; it weighs men's words; it weighs men's thoughts; it weighs men's characters. It weighs them accurately, and every weight is set down in the book of divine memory. At the judgment on that Great Day that book will be opened, and every one shall be judged out of those things which are written in the book, according to their works. Ask you me the name of God's balances, I answer: Justice,--that's God's balance.

But in weighing there are two scales. On the one pan is placed that which is weighed, and in the other that against which it is weighed, the standard, the weight. And so God, in weighing man, uses weights which have been tested by a perfect standard. Conscience is such a weight, that "still, small voice" which speaks to you out of your own soul, that forceful monitor in your breast, that weighs against your acts and words and thoughts, excusing or else accusing you, from whose troubling thoughts you cannot escape, and which, as the saying is, makes cowards of us all. Conscience--that's one.

Another, heavier than the first--for it is made out of stone--we recognize at once: God's Ten Commandments, a holy standard. "Thou shalt have no other gods before me," reads the first line, and we know that means that an idolater is not he alone who bows down to rocks and stones; whosoever worships self in greed or manner, or bestows supreme regard for anything short of the true and only God, sets up an idol and is an idolater. And so he is not the only murderer, according to the sense and spirit of these tables, who has killed a fellow-mortal, but he already that hateth his brother, that indulges the malicious feeling, the revengeful desire. Nor is he the only lewd man who has given himself to lewdness, but according to this sixth line on that measure, the impure thought, the sensual look, and the cherished unchaste hope already fix the guilt of adultery. We observe, then, it is an exact weight, and so if all that a man has thought and said and done is up to the standard, the beam hangs level, and the divine face of the weigher is wreathed with smiles. If not, the Judge frowns, and from His lips issues the verdict: "Wanting!"

The third weight that God employs when He wishes to learn the avoirdupois of your soul is opportunity. Into one scale He puts the man's character and life; into the other He puts all the opportunities which he has enjoyed for getting and doing good. That includes such things as these: godly parents, godly example, a Christian school, Confirmation, the preaching of the true and pure Gospel, the faithful ministry of the Word and Sacraments. It includes bereavements, disappointments, startling events of Providence, losses of health, fortune, family, all of which were to direct you nearer to God. It includes every example of holy living which you have witnessed, every occasion presented you to glorify your Master and bless your fellow-men. All these and such like opportunities, impulses, and impressions to move the soul and bring it into saving harmony with God, make up the sum of his opportunities, and if the weight of what the man has done and is, equals the sum of all these opportunities, it is well; if otherwise, God's scale goes up, and the sentence is: "Wanting!"

And one more weight must be named. We shall not dwell lengthily upon it, for we can all see it so conveniently. It lies before me. Let us take it and put it into the pan of the scales--the Bible; as your Savior says: "Ye have Moses and the prophets,--ye have the Evangelists and Apostles,--hear ye them." That is your standard, your measure, placed against you; by its precepts you shall be weighed.

And now let us proceed to put something into the other side of the scale to counterbalance, and watch the result. Let us judge in the light of conscience, God's Law, our opportunities, and the Lord's Bible, our beloved congregation. They tell us that knowledge of one's self is one of the hardest and most unpleasant attainments, but the most needful and most salutary for all that. Weighing ourselves, what report have these fifty-two Sundays to give of our congregation as a whole and of you, my dear member, as an individual? How has it been with the worship, the attendance at services? Nothing to boast of, in most cases something to be ashamed of. Some are hovering near the verge of church discipline for their laxity and deficiency; particularly does this pertain to the male portion of the flock.

"Thou shalt sanctify the holyday," reads the third and unalterable command of their God, yet months pass at a time, and their face appears not in the assembly of the worshipers. But for the visitors and strangers, especially at the evening services, these pews would be deplorably depleted. Others come with a commendable degree of regularity, but is there participation in the services and punctuality in arriving? Do not the hymns drag along at times so dull and spiritless because many never open their lips? How listless and devotionless the hearers betimes appear, their eyes roaming about elsewhere, and even closing in sleep. Remember every attendance is weighed in the balance. Occasions when every member ought to regard it a loss to be absent, like Pentecost, Reformation, Easter, Church Dedication, little increase in the audience is noted. Announce a particular topic for the following Sunday, and it would seem as if some deliberately stay away. O what a poor thing it must appear in the case of the average Christian, of the most of us!

Is it much different--to take up another point--with our partaking of the Lord's Supper? What drudgery, what shrinking and hesitancy with regard to the sacred feast! The Lord says: "This do, as oft as ye drink it, in remembrance of Me." Paul the Apostle directs: "As oft as ye eat this bread and drink this cup." Luther, in his preface to the Small Catechism, thus interprets this "oft:" "If a person does not seek nor desire the Lord's Supper at least some four times a year, it is to be feared that he despises the Sacrament, and is not a Christian." Weighed in this balance, what shall we say of our Communion Table? How many times have you gone in these twelve months, these fifty-two Sundays? Observe the handwriting on the wall! Read those letters: "Wanting," and ask yourself, Does that mean me?

But permit me to pass briefly to an examination of your hearts and your homes. Have you grown in grace and in the knowledge of your Lord and Savior? Do the fruits of your discipleship abound in greater liberality and activity? Do you read God's Word at home, say grace at table, have family devotion? Are you increasingly imbibing and personifying the temper of your religion in the control of your passion, in the subduing of your pride, in the cultivating of a forgiving spirit? Do you pray thoughtfully, regularly, cheerfully? For you to live--is it Christ? As you grow in age, do you grow in heavenly-mindedness, draw closer to your God? To serve the Lord, to speak for Him, is this your delight? I need not press these inquiries. With each one of you the scale takes an upward turn, and I hear you saying with sighing of heart: "Enter not into judgment with Thy servant, O Lord," for this servant is wanting, _wanting_.

And what is to be done, with the scales always rising higher and higher and striking the very beam? First of all, repent; learn to understand and acknowledge your dismal condition. That was the fault with Belshazzar--his security and vain confidence; as God said to him through Daniel: "O Belshazzar, thou hast not humbled thine heart, but hast lifted up thyself against the Lord of heaven." Therefore, in the dust with thee! Let ours be the publican's cry: "God be merciful to me, a sinner!" "If Thou, O Lord, shouldst mark iniquity, O Lord, who shall stand?" With the balances suspended, God's Law, God's Bible, conscience, against us, repentance, conviction and confession of sin, is the first thing required of you. But that alone would lead to despair. Dear hearer, observe the scales as they are held by the stern and just hand of divine Justice, the one down, the other with man's soul, asking for mercy. Behold, another hand appears. It is a soft, delicate hand; in its palm is a wound, from that wound there oozes out a drop of blood upon the weighed and wanting soul. Instantly the scales go down, till the beam hands are evenly poised, and a voice is heard: "The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin." Faith in that blood, belief in Christ Jesus, your Savior, is the next thing necessary. And the last is renewed consecration, earnest, honest resolve with God's help to do better, firm determination that the incoming year of grace shall be characterized by a brightening of faith, an advance in holiness, a progress in all lines that grace a follower of Christ, that it find you at its close a more intelligent, a more humble, a more sanctified Christian than to-day.

Beloved, cast another look at the handwriting on the wall, lest it be written against you on the day of Judgment. Repent, believe in Christ, amend--in this may God help us! Amen.

REFORMATION.

His foundation is in the holy mountains. The Lord loveth the gates of Zion more than all the dwellings of Jacob. Glorious things are spoken of thee, O city of God. Selah.--_Ps. 87, 1-3._