The more we ponder the question which has been occupying our attention, namely, What is devotedness? the more we are convinced of its immense practical importance. It puts the soul in immediate contact with the Lord Himself, and opens a path, for each one, along which he can move in calm and steady confidence, let his surroundings be what they may.
But just in proportion to the importance of the subject of devotedness is the need of clearness as to the true ground, spirit, and object thereof. We have already sought to present to the reader, the truth as to the first two points; and it now only remains to dwell, for a little, in the third place, on The Object or Devotedness.
How much hangs on the answer which the heart gives to this question, “What is my object in life?” It is, undoubtedly, one of the very gravest questions which anyone can put to himself. It is the object which stamps the character. Let us remember this. What was it that gave character to Abraham’s journey to Moriah, and to his actings when he arrived there? What was it that drew the attention of heaven to the scene? Was it the mere fact that a father was going to offer up his son as a sacrifice? Nay; thousands of fathers have done that. Thousands of sons have been sacrificed on the altars of false gods, and that, too, in so-called devotedness. But what was it that distinguished the act of the father of the faithful? It was this — let us hear it and mark it with the heart’s deepest attention — “Now I know that thou fearest God, seeing thou hast not withheld thy son, thine only son, from me.” (Gen. 22:1212And he said, Lay not thine hand upon the lad, neither do thou any thing unto him: for now I know that thou fearest God, seeing thou hast not withheld thy son, thine only son from me. (Genesis 22:12).) Here, we have Abraham’s object, and on this point let us meditate for a few moments.
The heart may propose to itself a thousand objects, and these objects may be good enough in themselves, and yet not one of them be the object which characterizes christian devotedness. We once knew a man who prayed for seven hours a day. We have seen him on his knees at four o’clock in the morning; and, after the toils of the day, we have seen him on his knees again — till the midnight hour. We have seen him in agonies of devotion. His flesh was worn from his bones by constant kneeling. He was, withal, a blameless, amiable man. Those who marked the course of his daily life could not put their finger on a single moral blemish in his conduct as a man. And yet when we have approached that man in order to whisper into his ear some word about Christ, he has shrunk from us and refused to listen. In a word, he was devoted to his religion; but he hated Christ.
Again, a man may devote himself to philanthropy; he may devote his life and his fortune to the objects of benevolence, and make the most splendid sacrifices in order to carry out his schemes: he may fix the wondering gaze of millions upon his career, and, all the while, be a total stranger to Christ.
But, further, a man may devote himself to what may seem to be the work of the Lord; he may seem to be a laborious student of Scripture; an active, earnest, self-denying evangelist; he may go forth to the fields of foreign mission, leaving his country, his kindred, and his home, in devotion to his work; he may do all this, and much more, and yet not exhibit one atom of true christian devotedness, simply because Christ was not his object in all that in which he was engaged.
All this is deeply solemn. We may be religious, devotional, benevolent, active in the Lord’s work, in all its departments, whether as evangelists, pastors, or teachers, and yet not have Christ before our souls at all. A man may start in a work which, to all outward appearance, seems a real work of God, and he may seem to be most simple in his devotion to that work, and, yet, it may turn out in the end that his heart was engrossed with the work to the total exclusion of Christ as an object. True christian devotedness is embodied in this brief sentence, “To me, to live is Christ.” He does not say, “To me to live is work” — though where was there ever such a workman, save the perfect Workman? He does not say, “To me to live is religion, or benevolence, or morality,” though who more religious, benevolent, or moral, than Paul. It is not that he loved these things less, but he loved Christ more. This makes all the difference. I may wear myself out with religious exercises, such as prayers, fastings, and vigils; I may bestow all my goods to feed the poor; I may give my body to be burnt, and there may not be in all these things one particle of genuine devotedness to Christ.
Is not this a very weighty consideration in this day of religious activity, forms of piety, and schemes of benevolence? Should we not, dear christian reader, look well to the question as to what is our real object? Is it not too true that one may spend a whole life in the exercise of religion and philanthropy, and yet live and die a stranger to that One who is God’s only object, heaven’s only center —Christ Jesus? Alas! the truth of this is illustrated in the history of millions. The god of this world is blinding the minds of countless multitudes. And with what does he most effectually blind them? With schemes of benevolence and forms of piety. Oh! Christendom, Christendom, hear it — thy formularies, thy forms, and thy schemes are blinding the minds, hardening the hearts, and searing the consciences, of untold millions.
It is not merely amid the haunts of vice, in all its abominable forms, that God’s faithful messengers are called to raise a warning voice, but on the broad and well-trodden highway of religious profession, along which multitudes are rushing to eternal perdition. The devil’s grand object is to keep Christ out of the heart, and he cares not by what means he attains this object. He will use a man’s lusts, or he will use his superstitious fears. Forms of vice and forms of piety are all alike to him. He hates Christ, and will seek by all means, to keep souls away from Him. He will let a man he religious, benevolent, amiable, moral; but he will not, if he can help it, let him be a Christian; and when any one has, through grace, become a Christian in reality, Satan’s one aim is to draw his heart and turn his eye away from Christ. He will seek to engage him with objects professedly christian, in order to divert him from the only object that really forms the Christian —Christ Himself. He will give him lots of work to do, yea, he will overwhelm him with work, and get him a name as a most wonderful workman; and yet, by means of this very work, he will sap the foundation of a man’s Christianity, and so deceive and pervert his heart that, in process of time, he will become occupied with himself and his doings, instead of with Christ and His service.
Hence the importance of having the one object ever before the heart, and that object Christ. “To me to live is Christ.” “Thou hast not withheld thy son, thine only son from me.” Christ is the great standard for everyone and everything. All must be measured by Him. Everything is to be regulated and valued with reference to Him. The question is not, how much work am I doing? but to whom is it done? Searching question! “Then shall the king say unto them on his right hand, Come ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink; I was a stranger, and ye took me in; naked, and ye clothed me; I was sick, and ye visited me; I was in prison, and ye came unto me......inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” (Matt. 25:34-4034Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: 35For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: 36Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me. 37Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungred, and fed thee? or thirsty, and gave thee drink? 38When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? or naked, and clothed thee? 39Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee? 40And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me. (Matthew 25:34‑40).)
Here lies the secret of all acceptable service, and all true devotedness. We may feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit, the sick, but if the King cannot say, “Ye did it unto me,” it will be valueless.
And oh! what a privilege to be allowed to do any little thing for Christ! To be enabled to have Him ever before the heart. It is this which gives real value and true elevation to all that we may be called to do, in this world, whether it be sweeping a crossing or evangelizing a nation. Christian service is that which is done to Christ. Nothing else deserves the name; nothing else will be so esteemed in God’s account; nothing else will pass as genuine metal through the fire of that great testing day which is rapidly approaching. All the thoughts of God center round Jesus. It is His eternal purpose to exalt and glorify that Name. The whole universe will yet be called upon to find in Jesus its central sun. The beams of His glory shall, ere long, shine forth over the whole creation.
Thus it will be, by and by; and now the Christian is called to anticipate that day, and to make Jesus his one absorbing, commanding object, in all things. If he gives an alms, it is to be in the name of Jesus j if he preaches the gospel for the conversion and gathering of souls, it is to be with his eye fixed directly upon Jesus, and for the glory of His Name. Will this contract the sphere or measure of his benevolence? Will it lessen his interest in the work of evangelization? Quite the reverse; it will greatly enlarge the former, and intensify the latter; and while it does all this, it will elevate the tone of his spirit in the work, and impart stability to all his service, inasmuch as it will ever keep his heart and mind occupied with the very highest object, even Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, today, and forever.
I may enter upon a certain line of work, under the influence of excitement, or in imitation of others, or to get a name for myself, from all manner of motives. I may work with an energy and zeal which puts others to shame. I may be greatly looked up to, get a great name among my fellows; be puffed, flattered, and applauded; my name may appear as a celebrity in all the religious journals of the day, and, after all the Lord may not be able to say, as to a single act of all my service, “You did it unto me.”
On the other hand, a man may pursue a path of quiet, unobtrusive, unostentatious service, unknown and unnoticed, and not wishing to be noticed; the stream of his benevolence may flow copiously, unknown to all save those who are refreshed by its influence, and, for the most part, not even by them. The lanes, the alleys, the courtyards, the prisons, the hospitals, are visited; the widows tear is; dried, her sorrow soothed, her wants supplied; the orphan is thought of; the sons and daughters of toil and misery are looked after; the precious tidings of salvation are sounded in many a garret; the gospel tract slipped into many a hand; and all the while, little is heard or known, down here, of the doer of these precious, these most fragrant acts of service and self-sacrifice. But! the odor goes up to the throne — the record is above — it is all engraved on the Masters heart. He remembers it all and will bring it all out in due time, and that, too, after such a fashion that the doer would not recognize his own work.
Who knew what was in Abraham’s heart, when he started on that marvelous journey to Moriah — a journey which has only been exceeded in marvelous mystery by that from Gethsemane to Calvary? Who knew what he was going to do? Who would ever have known it, if the Holy Ghost had not recorded it on the eternal page of inspiration? “I and the lad will go yonder and worship.”— “They went both of them together.” — “Thou hast not withheld thy son, thine only son from me.” Abraham was engrossed with God Himself, from first to last. From the moment he rose from his couch on that memorable morning, until he stretched forth his hand to take the knife, his soul was absorbed with the living God. It was this that gave holy elevation to the entire scene. It was done to God.
Thus it is always. Whatever is done to Christ will be remembered and rewarded; whatever is not will sink into eternal oblivion, or be burnt up in judgment. It is not the quantity but the quality of the work that will be tried and made manifest before the judgment-seat of Christ. Look at the parable of the laborers in Matt. 20. What a seasonable lesson does that parable read out to our hearts! The laborers who were first hired, were the only ones with whom an agreement was made; all the rest worked in the confidence that their Master would give them what was right. If any of the first set of laborers had been asked, during the day, “What are you to get as a reward for your work?” They would have said, “A penny.” They were working for a penny. But if any of the others had been asked the same question, they would have said, “I don’t know; but I am sure the Master will do what is right.”
This makes all the difference. The moment I work for reward, it ceases to be christian service. It is not that christian service will not be rewarded: it most assuredly will; but just so far as it is christian service, will it be rendered apart from all thought of reward. “The love of Christ,” not the hope of reward, “constraineth us.” Why did the wicked and slothful servant hide his talent in the earth? Because he did not know his Lord. Had he known Him, he would have loved Him, and served Him for love’s sake, which is the only service that Christ values.
It was, we may rest assured, joy to Abraham’s soul to have a son to lay on the altar of God. And so with the true Christian now; it is his joy to be permitted to render any little service to that Lord whom he loves supremely. Nor will it be a question with him as to the kind of service, or the sphere in which it is to be rendered, or the amount of the work; it is enough for him if his Lord can say, “You did it unto me.” “Why trouble ye the woman? for she hath wrought a good work upon me.” It does not matter in the least what we are doing, provided only it be done directly to Christ, with the eye fixed on Him, and the heart filled with Him. It is this that imparts value to every little act of service; and if there be one thing more than another which the heart longs for, it is the ability to do all one’s work, of what kind soever it be, with a single eye to Christ.
But ah! the heart is so treacherous and so prone to admit mixed motives. We are apt to attach importance and interest to things because of our connection with them, to engage in service for service’ sake, to be more occupied with our work than with the Master. May we have grace ever to remember that all that is not done directly to the Lord Himself is absolutely worthless, however showy it may be in the eyes of man; and, on the other hand, that the smallest thing done in love to Jesus, and in singleness of heart to Him, will never be forgotten.
It would be truly pleasant to the heart to dwell a little longer on this blessed theme; but we must close, and, ere we do so, we would desire to leave with the reader this one solemn question, namely, “What is your real object?” We feel the weight of this question, and we look to the Spirit of God to give it weight in the heart and conscience of the reader.
To everyone who can say, in calm confidence, and spiritual intelligence, “I am saved,” the next grand point is, to be able to say, “Christ is my object — to me to live is Christ.” Alas, how few of us can say it! We stop short. We are occupied with our salvation, our peace and blessing, our comfort and liberty; or it may be we are taken up with our service, we get into some machinery of work. In a word, it is not Christ — it is not abiding in Him, feeding on Him, and acting for Him. It is really self, and this is downright misery. We should never rest satisfied with anything short of having Jesus as a covering for our eyes and an object for our hearts. This would, in very deed, be to understand experimentally, the ground, the spirit, and the object of true devotedness.