Street Meeting Thirty Third

The Gospel of Matthew. Twenty fifth chapter. Verses fourteen up till thirtieth.

One Master. Three servants. Each received according to his several ability, yet none was sent away empty-handed. When their lord departed, two immediately applied themselves to the business committed unto them. The other, possessing an unworthy fear of his master, rendered his talent useless by withholding it from the very purpose for which it had been entrusted. The faithful were commended, not because they had been given much, but because they had proved faithful in little. The wicked and slothful servant, though he had done nothing, presumed even to accuse his lord and commend himself, "I may not have added to what is thine, I have not taken away from it either." Yet the master's expectation remained unchanged: that what had been entrusted should yield increase.

So it is with us. Time is the most precious commodity committed unto our stewardship, and yet it is that which we squander with the greatest carelessness. We live upon borrowed time, entrusted with borrowed gifts, to be employed for God's glory rather than our own. The day of reckoning draws ever near, when every soul that has ever lived shall give an account of his stewardship. I tremble to consider how little we accomplish in so brief a span, with so much yet to be done and so little time afforded unto us. 

Realize in life how foolish boasting is when all you have is simply entrusted to you, and how it is equally foolish to harbor envy since everyone has something entrusted to them.

More than clearer doctrine or better sermons, we stand in need of a heaven-born understanding of eternity, that, seeing by faith the weight of everlasting things, we may be constrained to redeem the time and spend ourselves more willingly for the dreadful day when we must give account before our gracious yet just Master.

As creatures, the manner in which we spend our time reveals what we esteem most highly. Our Lord declared, "Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also;" and though these words are easily committed to memory, how seldom are they laid to heart. Show me that upon which a man willingly spends his days, and I shall soon discern where his treasure lies. Show me where his treasure lies, and I shall tell you who—or what—his god is.

The mere religionist desires the privileges of a covenant whilst refusing its obligations. He would have his wife wholly devoted unto himself, yet remain free from every duty which marriage requires in return. He covets the comforts of marriage together with the liberties of singleness. So also he would be godly and worldly at once, seeking to possess both Christ and the present world without forsaking either. It is the old deceit of the sinful heart—to obtain much whilst surrendering little, and to claim every benefit without yielding the obedience which love requireth.

Such is the spirit with which many regard the Gospel. "I thank Thee, O Christ, that Thou hast given Thy life for me; but far be it from me to give mine for Thee." Though none would dare to utter such words, a great many proclaim them by the manner in which they live. They conceive of Christianity as a cheap transaction wherein the creature receiveth every blessing, whilst the Lord requires nothing in return. Yet Christ hath never admonished men merely to receive His benefits, but to deny themselves, take up their cross, and follow Him. Where there is no surrender of the heart, there is little reason to suppose that the grace of God hath ever been truly received.

If our affections reveal what we love, our stewardship reveals what we have done with what we been entrusted.

There is a day when stewardship is committed unto us, and there is a day when an account shall be required of that stewardship. Great honor awaiteth those who have been faithful in little, and fearful judgment those who have despised the trust committed unto them. If every passing minute were a single coin placed into our hand, we will find that at the close of each day, how much we have already thrown away, and how carelessly do we burn what can never be recovered. The hour draweth on when we shall reach into the purse for the last coin, and find there is no more.

Once to live. Once to die. After this, the judgment. Every man shall receive according to that which he hath done in the body, according to the opportunities and mercies entrusted unto him. To the proud, death is the end of every selfish ambition; but to the faithful steward, it is the blessed entrance into those glorious days for which he hath long labored and hoped.

For several days the rain had scarcely ceased, and more than once I found myself drenched on the journey home. This day proved no different. (In the morning it rained hard during the children's church, but I was confident in the Lord, as He has always done so on many occasions, that He will make a space in the weather for us to do our work that afternoon. We went out, believing there will be no rain during the time for the street meeting, and it was so.) After the gathering of the saints, I encouraged the brethren to spend the remainder of the day in rest, whilst I resolved, by the Lord's help, to continue in that work unto which we had committed ourselves.

Having risen shortly after midnight the previous evening, I was overcome with drowsiness, and thought to steal but a single hour of sleep before setting out. I purposed to rise at four o'clock in the afternoon, yet awoke only as the hour approached five. At first I was disappointment within me as we made our way toward the park. But the Lord gently reminded me that all things work together for our good. He had not granted me one hour's rest, but two. And I could not but wonder whether He had ordered even this small delay for some gracious purpose of His own. Perhaps there was an appointment prepared which I knew nothing of, and an encounter waiting which could only be met at the hour He Himself had ordained.

This young saint's name is M***. As she passed by, she received a tract and simply continued on her way. Yet the Lord would not suffer her to go on in quietness. Conviction rested so heavily upon her heart that she turned back, compelled by a single desire: she wished to pray for us. Indeed, she felt that she must.

There is little we covet more in this labor than the prayers of God's people. Such kindness is seldom shown in so unexpected a manner, and it came at the very time I had been seeking fresh assurance from the Lord. Her simple, childlike prayer on our behalf was no ordinary kindness, but a gracious token from heaven itself. To receive so precious a gift from so tender a heart filled mine with quiet joy and renewed confidence in the goodness of our God. In obeying the Spirit to turn back, she was blessed. In praying for us, we were blessed. It was not many listeners that blessed us in our labor today, it was the prayer of an obedient saint.

The Lord is indeed good unto all His children, and He knoweth well how to strengthen those who spend themselves in His service.