“And some fell among thorns.” What depth, what significance, what suggestive force in these few words! How constantly the thoughtful reader of holy scripture is struck by what we may venture to call its condensing power. Sometimes a whole volume of profound practical truth is wrapped up in a single sentence. What human pen can unfold all that is involved in those few words which we have just quoted? How much is included in that one word “thorns”! Truly, we may say, none but the One who used the figure can interpret to our hearts its marvelous significance; we shall, therefore, quote for the reader the precious exposition of the Master Himself.
“He also that received seed among the thorns, is he that heareth the word; and the care of this world, and the deceitfulness of riches choke the word, and he becometh unfruitful.” Matt. 13:22.
Here we have what may be called two opposite influences both producing the same effect. “Cares” and “riches” seem very unlike, and yet they both alike choke the precious seed of the kingdom. Thousands and hundreds of thousands are so eaten up with cares of this life that they seem not to have a moment to devote to the grand and all-important business of their soul’s salvation. From Monday morning till Saturday night they are driven, as we say, at the very top of their speed, to make both ends meet. They have no time for thought, except in reference to the things of this life; and if, for a few passing moments on the Lord’s day, they are brought under the sound of the word, their minds are so occupied with worldly things that, although the word falls upon their outward ear, it gains no entrance into the heart, by reason of the cares which block up the way. They are filled with anxiety about to-morrow; as to their children; their business; as to how they are to meet the various claims which may come upon them; how they are to get through the anticipated difficulties of the year. In a word, they are “choked with cares of this life.”
Now one great difficulty in reaching the conscience of this class, arises from the fact that the things which engross their time and thought, seem to be quite lawful and right. They are not outwardly immoral. They do not drink, swear, or gamble. They seem to be very worthy, hardworking, well-meaning people, trying to pay their way, support their family, and live respectably. They never appear at a public house, at a theater, a race course, or a billiard table. They live what might be termed a thoroughly harmless life, simply attending to their honest calling, and seeking to maintain their family in a respectable manner. If you venture to offer them a word of counsel as to their immortal souls, and the urgent need of being prepared for that boundless eternity which stretches away beyond the narrow archway of time through which they are so rapidly passing, they will tell you that business must be attended to—they have to live and support the family—rent and taxes have to be paid—food and clothing must be provided. It would be all very well if they had a little money laid by—if the children were all educated and provided for—till then they must work. Indeed, God has so ordained that they should work, and hence it cannot be wrong to do so. Has He not said, “If any provide not for his own, especially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel”? And again, “If any man will not work, neither shall he eat.” It cannot, therefore, be wrong, nay, it is perfectly right to work.
Such are the plausible arguments by which this class of people seek to turn aside the edge of the word, lest it should reach the conscience and penetrate the heart. And then the fact that their manner of life is so far removed from anything like gross immorality, renders it all the more difficult for them to see their true state or realize their imminent danger. They do not understand that “cares” as well as “riches”—“pleasures” and “lusts” choke the word and render it unfruitful. Such people would be greatly shocked to be classed with the openly immoral, the profane, and the pleasure-hunting multitude; and yet with all alike the word is choked, Christ is rejected, the soul is lost.
It may be said that “cares” are not so guilty, not so degrading, as “lusts” and “pleasures;” but if those as well as these cause people to lose their souls—what shall we say? There may be different roads to hell; but hell is hell for all that; and when the careful, plodding, industrious, hard-working man, who has toiled day and night for his wife and family, who never spent a farthing on drink, or an hour in a theater, who has lived a life of blameless morals and honest industry—when such an one finds himself in the lake of fire, side by side with some poor pleasure-hunter, he will not feel much disposed to plume himself on the difference between them. They have both found their way, it may be by different routes, to that terrible place where hope can never come, and where all shall realize the full import of those words, so little understood, so much resisted here—“There is no difference; for all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.”
But some may feel disposed to ask, Are we then to neglect our duties? Must we abandon the sphere of action which providence has assigned to us? Are we not to provide for our families? Are we to lead an idle life in order to think of our souls and eternity? Are we to give ourselves up to a life of idleness and dreamy contemplation?
Reader, your own conscience, without a single word from us, gives the answer to such inquiries. You know full well that no such thing is taught or implied. But bear in mind, we pray you, that the first duty—the one great care—the all-absorbing interest of a lost sinner is to think of his sours eternal salvation. Till this is divinely settled, all other duties, cares, and interests are of less moment than the small dust of the balance. When our Lord was asked by the men of His day, “What must we do that we may work the works of God?” What was His reply? Mark it well, and give it your deep, earnest, and immediate attention. “This is the work of God, that ye believe on him whom he hath sent.” This is the first grand duty of every man, woman, and child on the face of the earth; and to do this is eternal life—eternal salvation—eternal glory; and whatever hinders you in this momentous business is not and cannot be a duty but a sin and snare—some of the “thorns” wherewith the devil seeks to choke the word. Depend upon it, dear friend, until your soul is saved, you can do no duty for God; but when it is saved, you can eat and drink to His glory. He has afore prepared a path of good works in which His redeemed people are to tread; but in order to tread it, “you must be born again,” for none but the redeemed can walk therein. There, blessed be God, neither duties nor cares can choke the word, inasmuch as the duties can be discharged to His praise; and as to the “cares,” He commands us to cast them all on Him.
But we must not forget that there are other “thorns” “beside “the care of this world.” Our divine Teacher speaks also of “the deceitfulness of riches.” It may be that the poor man imagines that if he only had riches, he could then take time to think of his soul’s salvation. Alas! alas! there is no more terrible hindrance than riches. They deceive the soul and draw it away from God—away from Christ—away from heaven. “ The rich man” builds upon his wealth. He is lifted above want and care, unless it be that he wants to make more money—to increase his capital—to spread himself “like a green bay tree.” Our Lord Himself has said, “It is impossible for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.” He cannot enter it in that capacity. God can, blessed be His name, save rich men, by giving them to see and to feel and own their deep poverty—to know and confess that they are poor and miserable and wretched and blind and naked; and then drawing them to Jesus in whom they find “unsearchable riches,” yea, “durable riches and righteousness.”
But “a rich man” as such is far removed from the kingdom of God. He is the subject of another kingdom altogether. He gives the allegiance of his heart to another than Christ. He worships at the shrine of the god of this world. Wealth is his object—money his idol—gain his pursuit. His riches deceive his heart by hiding from his view his true condition of moral need and spiritual misery. The poor man is eaten up with cares; the rich man is surfeited with his riches. In both alike the seed of the kingdom is choked; both alike reject the truth—turn their backs upon Christ, and descend to the gloomy shades of a never ending hell. Yes, reader, “cares” and “riches” do, both alike, ruin immortal souls and send them to eternal perdition. So the blessed Master teaches us; and to His heavenly teaching we do well to take heed.
But how awful the thought of a man dropping from the lap of luxury into the lake of fire! How dreadful to think of one who has lived a life of ease, softness, elegance and splendor, passing, in one moment, into all the horrors of that place where there is not so much as a single drop of water to cool the burning tongue! What a contrast! On earth he knew no want. He was surrounded with everything that wealth could procure. His table was ever covered with all the delicacies of the season. Liveried attendants anticipated his every desire. His cellar was filled with the richest and rarest wines. He rolled about the streets in his splendid equipage, gazed at by the passers by. He avoided the nipping frosts of winter and summer’s scorching sun by traveling from clime to clime. He could exchange the fogs of London for the bright blue sky of Italy, or the sunny region of the south of France.
Thus the rich man lived on earth. But, ah! how changed I “In hell he lifted up his eyes, being in torments, and seeth Abraham afar off, and Lazarus in his bosom. And he cried and said, Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus, that he may dip the tip of his finger in water, and cool my tongue; for I am tormented in this flame.”
Can aught be more awful than this? How dreadful the contrast between the purple, the fine linen and the sumptuous fare on earth, and the tormenting flames of hell! It is perfectly appalling. The very thought of it is overwhelming. And, be it remembered, that in all this we have a picture drawn by the Master’s own hand. It is no monastic legend or old wife’s fable. No, no, reader, it is nothing of this kind. It is the blessed Lord Himself who thus draws aside the curtain and shows us the actual condition, and gives us the veritable utterance of a rich man in hell. It is not the turgid effort of the human imagination to produce something sensational. It is the solemn and holy presentation of the real truth of the case, from the lips of Him who spake as never man spake before or since. It is He who tells us of hell-fire. Indeed He has said very much more about it than any or all of His holy apostles. Again and again, He speaks of it; and in the passage from which we have just been quoting, He goes into the most solemnizing detail. “Send Lazarus that he may dip the tip of his finger in water, and cool my tongue; for I am tormented in this flame.”
But there is not one drop of water in hell—no heart to think of it—no hand to administer it. There is nothing in that dreadful region save excruciating agony and ineffable misery: and all this forever—and ever—and ever! The bare contemplation is too much for the heart. What will the actual, living experience be? God grant the reader may never know it. If he has not already, may he even now—just now—flee from the wrath to come. If he be a rich man, we would say to him, in all loving solicitude, Let not your riches hinder you, for a moment. Trust not in them; lean not on them; cling not to them. In themselves they are but dust in your hands; used of Satan, they are rust on your soul. Let them not stand in your way. What are they all worth? In one moment they may all pass away. Your sovereigns may melt like snowflakes beneath the mid-day sun, and your bank notes may be scattered like autumn leaves before the blast. Why let such things keep you from Christ—from heaven—from eternal glory? Why let them deceive you? Why suffer them to choke the word? O, do come, just now, to Christ. Linger not, we beseech thee. Time is short. Eternity is at hand, Do come!
But we must draw this paper to a close; and ere doing so shall briefly glance at another class of “thorns” indicated by that most suggestive term, “The lusts of other things.”
What a wide field is opened to us here! Who can attempt to explore it fully? It takes in that extensive range over which the poor human heart, in its insatiable longings, is wont to travel in search of objects of amusement and gratification. “Lusts of other things”—unholy cravings, wandering desires which can never be satisfied by the shifting scenes of a world that lieth in the arms of the wicked one. It is not within the compass of this wide, wide world, to fill the void—the aching void in the heart; Christ alone can do that, and He does it forever, blessed be His name!
We shall not attempt, in a paper like this, to enter upon an elaborate exposition of the weighty and comprehensive clause now before us; it would be a simple impossibility to detail “the lusts of other things;” they are positively numberless and nameless. But we may just say, that scripture speaks of two very distinct classes of lusts or desires, namely, “Lusts of the flesh,” and “Lusts of the mind.” These differ widely in their outward development. The former stand connected with all that is gross, vile, repulsive, and abominable. The latter, on the contrary, present the idea of what is refined, polished, cultivated, and elegant.
The reader will do well to ponder this distinction. Let us conceive an example of each class. Take, on the one hand, a wretched, degraded, drunken profligate, whose very breath pollutes the atmosphere, whose very look suggests the thought of all that is thoroughly vile and abominable. He wallows in the indulgence of every impure desire that springs up in a heart reprobate as to all good works.
We shall not enlarge. But take another case—that of a highly cultivated, polished, and educated gentleman—a man of refined taste, elegant manners—scientific pursuits—a splendid scholar, a profound thinker, a thorough philosopher—one whose society is courted by all who have a taste for the refined and the elegant—the center of a wide circle of educated, literary, scientific men—an extensive reader—a popular author—a man of unblemished morals—a large-hearted philanthropist.
Can two such cases ever be classed together? Is it possible that both these may be found in the same category, and on the same platform? Can we conceive such extremes meeting in one common point? Alas! alas! reader, it is even so. They may both find a common ground here in rejecting Christ; and common ground hereafter in the lake of fire. In both alike the word is choked. Both alike are carried away by “the lusts of other things.”
True, the one is governed by “the lusts of the flesh;” the other by “the lusts of the mind;” and moreover, the latter might disdain to be ranked with the former; but, just like “the lewd fellows of the baser sort,” and “the devout and honorable women,” in the Acts of the Apostles, though so unlike outwardly, they find a point of contact in rejecting the gospel and in hating, with equal intensity, the preachers of it.
Reader, let us thoughtfully muse on these things.
(To be concluded in our next.)