Preachers sometimes tell us, in urging us to live a useful life, that it costs but little to do good. In a sense this is true. Without large outlay of money, and without great expenditure of strength — one may do many helpful things and make one’s life a rich blessing in the world; yet there is a deeper sense, in which one cannot be a true blessing in this world, except with much cost.
Such helpful ministries seem to cost nothing: they flow from lip and hand and heart, as quietly and naturally as if no effort were required to perform them. Yet the least of them is the fruit of self-denial and sacrifice. They cost heart’s blood. No real good or blessing of any kind, do we ever get, which has not cost some other one, a pang or a tear. Nor can we in our turn do good to others — without cost. The life that is to be a beneficent one, cannot be one of ease and selfish enjoyment. Even a grain of wheat must fall into the ground and die — before it can yield any harvest. To become useful and helpful, we must die to SELF and to personal ambitions and longings: “He that loveth his life shall lose it; and he that hateth his life in this world shall keep it unto life eternal” (John 12:25).
We may have our choice. We may live for SELF, taking good care of our lives, not exposing them to danger, not making personal sacrifices, having a keen eye always for our own interests and advancement. By this plan of life, we may come to old age hale and with our strength unabated. People may congratulate us on our well-preserved state, and we may have considerable pride in the outcome of our prudence and carefulness. There certainly seems to be something quite pleasant and attractive in such a life — yet really it is only the grain of wheat remaining safe and dry in the garner, and kept from falling into the earth. It is well preserved — but there is no harvest from it. The life abides by itself alone, well enough kept — but with no increase. It has been no blessing to the world. It has wrought no ministry of love.
But there is another way to live. It is altogether to forget self — not to think of nor care for one’s own life — but to throw it away in obedience to God and in the service of others. People will say we are foolish thus to waste our golden life, to wear ourselves out in toils that bring us no return, to make sacrifices for others who are not worthy. They sought to hold Jesus back from his cross. They said his life was too precious to be wasted in such a way — that it ought to be kept for crowning and for reigning among men. But we understand now that Jesus made no mistake when he chose the way of sacrifice. The grain of wheat let fall into the ground — has yielded a most glorious harvest. Jesus has never been sorry for the choice he made; he has never regretted Calvary.
The heart of the lesson is that we cannot be blessings in this world and at the same time live for our own selfish pleasures and desires. That which has cost us nothing is worth nothing to others. This principle applies in every life and in all spheres. All along the ages, whatever is good and beautiful and worthy has been the fruit of suffering and pain. Civilization has advanced through wars, through revolutions and failures, through the ruin, decay and overturning of empires and kingdoms. Every thoughtful reader of the world’s history understands this. What Christian civilization is today — it is as the harvest of long, sad centuries of weary struggle, toil and oppression. Earth’s thrones of power are built on the wreck of hopes that have been crushed. Every advance worth recording, has been made through carnage and disaster.
It seems that without shedding of blood, there is not only no remission of sin — but no progress in life, no growth (Hebrews 9:22). Heaven’s victorious throngs wearing white robes and waving branches of palm, have come up out of great tribulation (Revelation 7:14). Even Jesus appears in glory as a Lamb that has been slain; his blessedness and his saving power — are the fruit of suffering and death (Revelation 5:6). We know, too, that all the joys and honors of redemption come from the Savior’s cross, and that personal holiness can be reached only through struggle, conflict and the crucifixion of SELF. Thus, whatever is good in earth and in heaven is the outcome of pain, sacrifice and death.
The lessons alone which have cost us pain, which we have learned in struggle, which have been born out of anguish of heart — will heal and really bless others.
It is only when we have passed through the bitterness of temptation, wrestling with evil and sore beset ourselves, victorious only through the grace of Christ — that we are ready to be helpers of others in temptation.
It is only when we have known sorrow, when the chords of our love have been swept by it and when we have been comforted by divine grace and helped to endure — that we are fitted to become comforters of others in their sorrow.
This law prevails, therefore, in all life. We yield blessing — only through dying.
Work for others that costs nothing — is scarcely worth doing. At least, it takes heart’s blood to heal hearts. Too many of us are ready to work for Christ and do good to our fellow-men, only so long as it is easy and requires no sacrifice or self-denial; but if we stop there, we stop just where our service is likely to become of use. This saving of life proves, in the end — the losing of it. It is those who sow in tears — who shall reap in joy. It is he who goes forth and weeps, bearing precious seed — who shall come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him (Psalm 126:5-6). We may take easy work if we will — work that costs us nothing, that involves no pain or self-denial — but we must not then be surprised if our hands are empty in the great harvest-time.
J. R. Miller (1840-1912) was a pastor and former editorial superintendent of the Presbyterian Board of Publication from 1880 to 1911. His works are now in the public domain.
