A SERMON DELIVERED ON LORD'S-DAY MORNING, MARCH 31, 1872,
BY C. H. SPURGEON,
AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.
"One mightier than I comes, whose sandal strap I am not worthy to
loose." Luke 3:16.
IT was not John's business to attract followers to himself but to point
them to Jesus, and he very faithfully discharged his commission. His
opinion of his Master, of whom he was the herald, was a very high one.
He reverenced Him as the Anointed of the Lord, the King of Israel, and,
consequently, he was not tempted into elevating himself into a rival.
He rejoiced to declare, "He must increase but I must decrease." In the
course of his self-depreciation he uses the expression of our text
which is recorded by each one of the Evangelists with some little
variation. Matthew words it, "whose shoes I am not worthy to bear." He
was not fit to fetch his Lord His shoes.
Mark writes it, "whose shoes I am not worthy to stoop down and
unloose." And John has it very much as in Luke. This putting on and
taking off and putting away of sandals was an office usually left to
menial servants. It was not a work of any repute or honor, yet the
Baptist felt that it would be a great honor to be even a menial servant
of the Lord Jesus. He felt that the Son of God was so infinitely
superior to himself that he was honored if only permitted to be the
meanest slave in His employ. He would not allow men to attempt
comparisons between himself and Jesus–he felt that none could, for a
moment, be allowed.
Now this honest estimate of himself as less than nothing in comparison
with his Master is greatly to be imitated by us. John is to be
commended and admired for this, but better still he is to be carefully
copied. Remember that John was by no means an inferior man. Among all
that had been born of women before his time there had not been a
greater than he. He was the subject of many prophecies and his office
was a peculiarly noble one. He was the friend of the great Bridegroom
and introduced Him to His chosen bride. He was the morning star of the
Gospel day, but he counted himself no light in the Presence of the Sun
of Righteousness whom he heralded. The temperament of John was not that
which bowed or cringed–he was no reed shaken by the wind–no man of
courtly habits fitted for a king's palace.
No. We see in him an Elijah, a man of iron, a son of thunder. He roared
like a young lion on his prey and feared the face of none. Some men are
so naturally meek-spirited, not to say weak-minded, that they naturally
become subservient and set up others as their leaders. Such men are apt
to err in depreciating themselves. But John was every inch a man– his
great soul bowed only before that which was worthy of homage. He was,
in God's strength, as an iron pillar and a bronze wall. He was a hero
for the cause of the Lord, and yet he sat down in the Presence of Jesus
as a little child sits on a stool at his master's feet, and he cried,
"whose sandal strap I am not worthy to stoop down and to loose."
Remember, moreover, that John was a man endowed with great abilities
and these are very apt to make a man proud. He was a Prophet, yes, and
more than a Prophet. When he stood in the wilderness to preach, his
burning eloquence soon attracted the people from Jerusalem and from all
the cities round about! The banks of Jordan saw a vast multitude of
eager hearers crowding around the man clothed with a garment of camel's
hair. Thousands gathered together to listen to the teaching of one who
had not been brought up at the feet of the rabbis, neither had been
taught eloquence after the fashion of the schools!
John was a man of bold, plain, telling, commanding speech! He was no
second-rate teacher, but a master in Israel. Yet he assumed no airs of
self-conceit, but accounted the lowest place in the Lord's service as
too high for him. Note, too, that he was not only a great preacher, but
he had been very successful–not only in attracting the crowds–but in
baptizing them. The whole nation felt the effects of John's ministry
and knew that he was a Prophet! They were swayed to and fro by his
zealous words, as the corn of autumn is moved in the breath of the
wind. A man is very apt, when he feels that he has power over masses of
his fellow creatures, to be lifted up and exalted above measure, but
not so John! It was
safe for the Lord to trust him with a great popularity and a great
success, for though he had all those honors he laid them meekly down at
Jesus' feet, and said, "I am not worthy to be even the lowest slave in
Messiah's household."
Remember, also, that John was a religious leader and he had the
opportunity, if he had pleased, of becoming the leader of a powerful
sect. The people were evidently willing to follow him. There were some,
no doubt, who would not have gone over to Christ, Himself, if John had
not bid them go, and testified, "Behold the Lamb of God," and confessed
over and over again, saying, "I am not the Christ." We read of some,
who years after the Baptist was dead, still remained his disciples so
that he had the opportunity of leading away a multitude who would have
become his followers, and so of setting up his own name among men. But
he scorned it!
His elevated view of his Master prevented his entertaining any desire
for personal leadership. Putting himself down not in the place of a
captain of the lord's hosts, but as one of the least soldiers in the
army, he says, "His sandal straps I am not worthy to loose." What was
the reason, do you think, of John's always retaining his proper
position? Was it not because he had a high idea of his Master and a
deep reverence for Him? Ah, Brothers and Sisters, because of our little
estimate of Christ it is often unsafe for the Lord to trust us in any
but the very lowest positions. I believe many of us might have been 10
times as useful–only it would not have been safe for God to have
allowed us to be so–we would have been puffed up and, like
Nebuchadnezzar, we would have boasted, "Behold this great Babylon that
I have built."
Many a man has had to fight in the back ranks and serve his Master but
little–and enjoy but little success in that service because he did not
reverence Christ enough–did not love his Lord enough, and,
consequently self would soon have crept in to his own overturning–to
the grief of the Church, and to the dishonor of his Lord. Oh, for high
thoughts of Christ, and low thoughts of ourselves! Oh, to see Jesus as
All in All, and to see ourselves as less than nothing before
Him!
Having thus introduced the subject, our object this morning is to draw
instruction from the expression which John here and elsewhere used with
regard to himself and his Lord–"Whose sandal strap I am not worthy to
loose." I gather from this, first, that no form of holy service is to
be lightly esteemed. Secondly, that our unworthiness is apparent in the
presence of any sort of holy work. And that, thirdly, this unworthiness
of ours, when most felt, should rather stimulate us to action than
discourage us–for so it doubtless operated in the case of John the
Baptist.
I. First, then, note THAT NO FORM OF HOLY SERVICE IS TO BE LIGHTLY
ESTEEMED. To unloose the straps of Christ's sandals might seem very
trivial. It might even seem as if it involved the loss of self-respect
for a man of position and influence to stoop to offices which a servant
might quite as well perform. Why should I bring myself down to that? I
will learn of Christ–I will distribute bread among the multitude for
Christ–I will have my boat by the sea shore ready for Christ to preach
in, or I will go and fetch the donkey upon which He shall ride in
triumph into Jerusalem. But what need can there be for the disciple to
become a mere menial?
Such a question as that is here forever silenced and the spirit which
dictates it is practically rebuked. Nothing is dishonorable by which
Jesus may be honored! Nothing lowers a man, if, thereby, he honors his
Lord! It is not possible for any godly work to be beneath our
dignity–rather ought we to know that the lowest grade of service
bestows dignity upon the man who heartily performs it. Even the least
and most obscure form of serving Christ is more high and lofty than we
are worthy to undertake.
Now, note that little works for Christ–little sandal bearings and
strap loosening often have more of the child's spirit in them than
greater works. Outside, in the streets, a man's companion will do him a
kindness and the action performed is friendly. But for filial acts you
must look inside the house. There the child does not lend money to its
father, or negotiate business–yet in his little acts there is more
than sonship. Who is it that comes to meet Father when the day is over?
And what is the action which often indicates childhood's love? Look,
the little child comes tottering forward with father's slippers and
runs off with his boots as he takes them off! The service is little,
but it is loving and filial–and has more of filial affection in it
than the servant's bringing in the meal, preparing the bed, or any
other more essential service. It gives the little one great pleasure
and expresses his love.
No one who is not my child, or who does not love me in something like
the same way, would ever dream of making such a service his specialty.
The littleness of the act fits it to the child's capacity, and there is
also something in it which makes it a suitable expression of a child's
affection. So, also, in little acts for Jesus! Oftentimes men of the
world will give their money to the cause of Christ, putting down large
sums for charity or for missions. But they will not weep in secret
over other men's sins, or speak a word of comfort to an afflicted
saint. To visit a poor sick woman, teach a little child, reclaim a
street Arab, breathe a prayer for enemies or whisper a promise in the
ear of a desponding saint may show more of sonship than building a row
of almshouses or endowing a Church! In little acts for Christ it is
always to be remembered that the little things are as necessary to be
done as the greater acts.
If Christ's feet are not washed. If His sandals are not loosed He may
suffer and His feet may be lamed so that a journey may be shortened,
and many villages may miss the blessing of His Presence. So with other
minor things. There is as much need for the quiet intercessions of
saints as for the public delivery of God's Truth before the assembled
thousands. It is as necessary that babes be taught their little hymns
as that monarchs be rebuked for sin. We remember the old story of the
losing of the battle through the missing of a single nail in a
horseshoe, and perhaps up to this moment the Church may have lost her
battle for Christ because some minor work which ought to have been done
for Jesus has been neglected.
I should not wonder if it should turn out that many Churches have been
without prosperity because, while they have looked to the public
ministry and the visible ordinances, they have been negligent of
smaller service to their Master. Many a cart comes to grief through
inattention to the linchpin. A very small matter turns an arrow aside
from the target. To teach a child to sing, "Gentle Jesus," and to point
its young heart to the Redeemer may seem a trifle, but yet it may be a
most essential part of the process of that gracious work of religious
education by which that child shall afterwards become a Believer, a
minister and a winner of souls! Omit that first lesson and it may be
you have turned aside a life.
Take another instance. A preacher once found himself obligated to
preach in an obscure village. The storm was terrible, and, therefore,
though he kept his appointment, he found only one person present in the
place of meeting. He preached a sermon to that one hearer with as much
earnestness as if the house had been crowded. Years later he found
Churches all over the district, and he discovered that his audience of
one had been converted on that day and had become the Evangelist of the
whole region! Had he declined to preach to one, what blessings might
have been withheld! Brethren, never neglect the loosing of the sandal
strap for Christ since you do not know what may hang upon it.
Human destiny often turns upon a hinge so small as to be invisible.
Never say within yourself, "This is trivial"– nothing is trivial for
the Lord! Never say, "But this surely might be omitted without much
loss." How do you know? If it is your duty, He who allotted you your
task knew what He did. Do not you, in any measure, neglect any portion
of His orders, for in all His commands there is consummate wisdom–and
on your part it will be wisdom to obey them, even to the jots and
tittles. Little things for Christ, again, are often the best tests of
the truth of our religion. Obedience in little things has much to do
with the character of a servant. You engage a servant in your own house
and you know very well whether she is a good or bad servant if the main
duties of the day are pretty sure to be attended to. The meals will be
cooked, the beds will be prepared, the house will be swept, the door
will be answered–but the difference between a servant who makes the
house happy and another who is its plague lies in a number of small
matters, which, perhaps, you could not put down on paper–but which
make up a very great deal of domestic comfort or discomfort, and so
determine the value of a servant.
So I believe it is in Christian life. I do not suppose that the most of
us here would ever omit the weightier matters of the Law. As Christian
men we endeavor to maintain integrity and uprightness in our actions,
and we try to order our households in the fear of God in great matters.
But it is in the looking to the Lord upon minor details that the spirit
of obedience is most displayed. It is seen in our keeping our eyes up
to the Lord, as the eyes of the handmaidens are to their mistresses for
daily orders about this step and that transaction. The really obedient
spirit wishes to know the Lord's will about everything, and if there is
any point which to the world seems trifling, for that very reason the
obedient spirit says, "I will attend to it to prove to my Lord that
even in the minutiae I desire to submit my soul to His good pleasure."
In small things lie the crucibles and the touchstones. Any hypocrite
will come to Lord's-Day worship, but it is not every hypocrite that
will attend Prayer Meetings, or read the Bible in secret, or speak
privately of the things of God to the saints. These are less things, so
they judge, and therefore they neglect them and so condemn themselves!
Where there is deep religion, prayer is loved–where religion is
shallow only public acts of worship are cared for. You shall find the
same true in other things. A man who is no Christian will very likely
not tell you a downright lie by saying that black is white, but he will
not hesitate to declare that whitey-brown is white–he will go that
length.
But the Christian will not go halfway to falsehood, no, he scorns to go
an inch on that road! He will no more cheat you out of two pence
farthing, than he would out of 2,000 pounds. He will not rob you of an
inch any more than of an yard! It is in the little that the genuineness
of the Christian is made to appear. The Goldsmiths' hallmark is a small
affair, but you know true silver by it. There is a vast deal of
difference between the man who gladly bears Christ's sandals and
another who will not stoop to anything which he thinks beneath him.
Even a Pharisee will ask Christ to his house to sit at meat with
him–he is willing to entertain a great religious leader at his table.
But it is not everyone who will stoop down and loose His sandal straps,
for that very Pharisee who made the feast neither brought Him water to
wash His feet, nor gave Him the kiss of welcome. He proved the
insincerity of his hospitality by forgetting the little things.
I will be bound to say Martha and Mary never forgot to loose His sandal
straps and that Lazarus never failed to see that His feet were washed.
Look then, I pray you, as Christians, to the service of Christ in the
obscure things, in the things that are not recognized by men–in the
matters which have no honor attached to them–for by this shall your
love be tried. Mark, with regard to little works, that very often there
is about them a degree of personal fellowship with Christ which is not
seen in greater work. For instance, in the one before us, to unloose
the straps of His sandals brings me into contact with Himself, though
it is only His feet I touch.
And I think if I might have the preference between going forth to cast
out devils and to preach the Gospel and to heal the sick, or to stay
with Him and always loose His sandal straps, I should prefer this last,
because the first act Judas did– he went with the 12 and saw Satan,
like lightning, fall from Heaven–but he perished because he failed in
the acts that came into contact with Christ. In keeping Christ's purse
he was a thief, and in giving Christ the kiss he was a traitor. He who
does not fail in things relating personally to Christ is the sound
man–he has the evidence of righteousness of heart. There was never a
grander action done beneath the stars than when the woman broke her
alabaster box of precious ointment and poured it upon Him! Though the
poor did not get anything out of it. Though no sick man was the better
for it–the act was done distinctly unto Him–and therefore there was a
peculiar sweetness in it.
Oftentimes similar actions, because they do not encourage other people,
for they do not know of them–but because they may not be of any very
great value to our fellow men–are lightly esteemed. Yet seeing they
are done for Christ, they have about them a peculiar charm as
terminating upon His blessed Person. True, it is but the loosening of
sandal straps, but then they are His sandals and that ennobles the
deed! Dear fellow Christians, you know what I mean, though I cannot put
it into very good language this morning.
I mean just this–that if there is some little thing I can do for
Christ–though my minister will not know about it, though the deacons
and elders will not know and nobody will know. And if I leave it undone
nobody will suffer any calamity because of it, but, if I do it, it will
please my Lord and I shall enjoy the sense of having done it for Him,
therefore will I attend to it, for it is no slight work if it is for
Him. Mark, also, once more, concerning those gracious actions which are
but little esteemed by the most of mankind, that we know God accepts
our worship in little things! He allowed His people to bring their
bullocks, others of them to bring their rams, and offer them to Him.
And these were persons of sufficient wealth to be able to afford a
tribute from their herds and flocks.
But He also permitted the poor to offer a pair of turtledoves, or two
young pigeons, and I have never found in God's Word that He cared less
for the turtledove offering than He did for the sacrifice of the
bullock. I do know, too, that our ever blessed Lord, Himself, when He
was here, loved the praise of little children. They brought neither
gold nor silver like the wise men from the East, but they cried,
"Hosanna," and the Lord was not angry with their Hosannas–He accepted
their boyish praise. And we remember that a widow woman cast into the
treasury two mites, which only made a farthing, but, because it was all
her living, He did not reject the gift, but rather recorded it to her
honor.
We are now quite familiar with the incident, but for all that it is
very wonderful. Two mites that make a farthing given to the infinite
God! A farthing accepted by the King of kings! A farthing acknowledged
by Him who made the heavens and the earth, who says, "If I were hungry
I would not tell you, for the cattle on a thousand hills are Mine." Two
mites received with pleasure by the Lord of All! It was scarcely so
much as a drop thrown into the sea, and yet He thought much of it!
Measure not little actions by human scales and measures, but estimate
them as God does–for the Lord has respect unto the hearts of His
people. He regards not so much their deeds in themselves as the motives
by which they are actuated. Therefore, value the loosing of the
Savior's sandal straps, and despise not the day of small things.
II. Now, Brothers and Sisters, I wish to conduct you, in the second
place, to the consideration of OUR OWN UNWORTHINESS, which is sure to
be felt by us whenever we come practically into contact with any real
Christian service. I believe, as a general rule, that a man who does
nothing at all thinks himself a fine fellow. You shall usually find
that the sharpest critics are those who never write, and the best
judges of battles are those who keep at a prudent distance from the
guns.
Christians of the kid-gloved order, who never make an attempt to save
souls, are marvelously quick to tell us when we are too rough or too
light in our speech–and they readily detect us if our modes of action
are irregular or too enthusiastic. They have a very keen sense for
anything like fanaticism or disorder. For my part, I feel pretty safe
when I have the censures of these gentlemen–we are not far wrong when
they condemn us! Let a man begin earnestly to work for the Lord Jesus
and he will soon find out that he is unworthy of the meanest place in
the employ of One so glorious! Let us turn over that fact a minute.
Dear Brothers and Sisters, when we remember what we used to be I am
sure we must feel unworthy to do the very least thing for Christ. You
know how Paul describes the wickedness of certain offenders, and he
adds, "But such were some of you"? What hardness of heart some of us
exhibited towards God! What rebellion! What obstinacy! What quenching
of His Spirit! What love of sin! Why, if I might stoop down to loose
the sandal strap of that foot which was crucified for me, I must bedew
the nail print with my tears, and say, "My Savior, can it be that I am
allowed to touch Your feet?" Surely, the prodigal, if he ever unloosed
his father's shoes, could say to himself, "Why, these hands fed swine!
These hands were often polluted by harlots! I lived in uncleanness, and
was first a reveler, and then a swineherd, and it is amazing love which
permits me, now, to serve so good a father." Angels in Heaven might
envy the man who is permitted to do the least thing for Christ, and yet
they never sinned! Oh, what a favor that we who are defiled with sin
should be called to serve the sinless Savior!
But, then, another reflection comes at the back of it–we recollect
what we are as well as what we were–I say what we are, for though
washed in Jesus' blood and endowed with a new heart and a right spirit,
yet we start aside like a deceitful bow, for corruption dwells in us!
It is sometimes hard work to maintain even a little faith. We are so
double-minded, so unstable, so hot, so cold, so earnest, and then so
negligent. We are so everything except what we ought to be, that we may
well wonder that Christ allows us to do the least thing for Him! If he
were to shut us in prison and keep us there, so long as He did not
actually execute us He would be dealing with us according to mercy and
not giving us our full deserts! Yet He calls us out of prison and puts
us in His service, and therefore we feel that we are unworthy to
perform the least action in His House.
Besides, Beloved, even small services, we feel, require a better state
of heart than we often have. I am sure the service of preaching the
Gospel here often brings to my sight my unworthiness far more than I
should otherwise see it. If it is a gracious thing to see one's
sinfulness, I may thank God I preach the Gospel, for it makes me see
it. Sometimes we come to preach about Jesus Christ and glorify Him and
yet our heart is not warm towards Him and we do not value Him aright.
While the text we are preaching from seats Him on a high throne, our
heart is not setting Him there. And oh, then we think we could tear our
heart out of our very body if we could get rid of the black drops of
its depravity which prevent our feeling in unison with the glorious
Truth before us!
Another time, perhaps, we have to invite sinners and seek to bring them
to Christ, and that needs so much sympathy that if Christ were
preaching our sermon He would bedew it with His tears–but we deliver
it with dry eyes, almost without emotion–and then we flog our hard
heart that it will not stir and cannot be made to feel. It is just the
same in other duties. Have you not felt, "I have to go and teach my
class this afternoon, but I am not fit, I have been worried all the
week with cares and my mind is not up to the mark now. I hope I love my
Lord, but I hardly know whether I do or not. I ought to be earnest
about these boys and girls–but it is very likely I shall not be
earnest–I shall sit down and go through my teaching as a parrot would
go through it, without life, without love"? Yes, then you painfully
feel that you are not worthy to loose the straps of your Lord's
sandals.
Possibly you are going, this afternoon to visit a dying man and you
will try and talk to him about the way to Heaven. He is unconverted.
Now, you need a tongue of fire to speak with, and instead of that you
have a tongue of ice! You feel, "O God, how can it be that I shall sit
by that bedside and think of that poor man who will be in the flames of
Hell, perhaps, within a week, unless he receives Christ, and yet I
shall treat his tremendously perilous condition as
though it were a matter of the very slightest consequence?" Yes, yes,
yes we have had hundreds of times to feel that we are in and of
ourselves not fit for anything! If the Lord wanted dishwashers in His
kitchen, He could get better than we are! And if He needed someone to
shovel out the refuse of His house, He could find better men than we
are for that. To such a Master we are unworthy to be servants.
The same feeling arises in another way. Have we not to confess,
Brothers and Sisters, in looking upon what we have done for Christ,
that we have far too much eye to self in our conduct? We pick and
choose our work, and the picking and choosing is guided by the instinct
of self-respect. If we are asked to do that which is pleasant to
ourselves we do it. If we are requested to attend a meeting where we
shall be received with acclamation. If we are asked to perform a
service which will lift us up in the social scale, or that will commend
us to our fellow Christians, we jump at it like a fish at a fly! But,
suppose the work would bring us shame? Suppose it would reveal to the
public our inefficiency rather than our ability? We excuse ourselves!
The spirit which Moses felt a little of when the Lord called him, is
upon many of us. "If I were to speak for Christ," says one, "I should
stutter and stammer." As if God did not make stuttering mouths as well
as intent mouths, and as if, when He chose a Moses, He did not know
what He was doing! Moses must go and stammer for God and glorify God by
stammering! But Moses does not like that–and many in similar cases
have not had Grace enough to go to the work at all. Why, if I cannot
honor the Lord with 10 talents, shall I refuse to serve Him with one?
If I cannot fly like a strong-winged angel through the midst of Heaven
and sound the shrill-mouthed trumpet so as to wake the dead, shall I
refuse to be a little bee and gather honey at God's bidding? Because I
cannot be a leviathan, shall I refuse to be an ant? What folly and what
rebellion if we are so perverse!
And, if you have performed any holy work, have you not noticed that
pride is ready to rise? God can hardly let us succeed in any work but
what we become big-headed. "Oh, how well we have done it!" We do not
need anybody to say, "Now, that was very cleverly, and nicely, and
carefully, and earnestly done," for we say all that to ourselves, and
we add, "yes, you were zealous about that work, and you have been doing
what a great many would not have done, and you have not boasted of it
either! You do not call in any neighbor to see it. You have been doing
it simply out of love to God, and, therefore, you are an uncommonly
humble fellow and none can say you are vain."
Alas, what flattery, but truly, "the heart is deceitful above all
things, and desperately wicked." We are not worthy to loose the straps
of Jesus' sandals because, if we do, we begin to say to ourselves,
"What great folks we are. We have been allowed to loose the Lord's
sandal straps." If we do not tell somebody else about it with many an
exultation, we at least tell ourselves about it and feel that we are
something, after all, and ought to be held in no small repute! My
Brothers and Sisters, we ought to feel that we are not worthy to do the
lowest thing we can do for Christ because, when we have gone to the
lowest, Jesus always goes lower down than we have gone!
Is it a little thing to bear His shoes? What, then, was His
condescension when He washed His disciples' feet? To put up with a
cross-tempered brother, to be gentle with him, and feel, "I will give
way to him in everything because I am a Christian"–that is going very
low–but then our Lord has borne far more from us! He was patient with
His people's infirmities and forgave even to 70 times seven. And
suppose we are willing to take the lowest place in the Church, yet
Jesus took a lower place than we can, for He took the place of the
curse–He was made sin for us, even He that knew no sin–that we might
be made the righteousness of God in Him.
I have sometimes felt willing to go to the gates of Hell to save a
soul, but the Redeemer went further, for He suffered the wrath of God
for souls. If there should be any Christian here who is so humble that
he has no lofty thoughts about himself, but prefers to be least among
his brethren and so proves his graciousness, yet, my dear Brother, you
are not so lowly as Christ made Himself, for He "made Himself of no
reputation," and you have some reputation left. And He took upon
Himself the form of a servant, and He became obedient to death–you
have not come to that yet–even the death of the Cross. The felon's
death upon the gallows–you will never be brought to that.
Oh, the condescending of the Redeemer's amazing love! Let us, from this
hour on, contend how low we can go side by side with Him. But remember
when we have gone to the lowest, He descends lower still–so that we
can truly feel that the very lowest place is too high for us because He
has gone lower. Beloved Friends, to put these things in a practical
shape it may seem to be a very small duty for any of you to do–to
speak to one person alone about his soul. If you were asked to preach
to a hundred you would try it. I ask you solemnly, in God's name, not
to let the sun go down today till
you have spoken to one man or woman, alone, about his or her soul. Will
you do that? Is it too little for you? Then I must be honest with you
and say you are not worthy to do it.
Speak today to some little child about his soul. Do not say, "Oh, we
cannot talk to children, we cannot stoop to them." Let no such feeling
occupy any of our minds, for if this work is as the loosing of the
Master's sandal straps, let us do it. Holy Brainerd, when he was dying
and could no longer preach to the Indians, had a little Indian boy at
his bedside, and taught him his letters. And he remarked to one who
came in, "I asked God that I might not live any longer than I could be
of use, and so, as I cannot preach any more, I am teaching this poor
little child to read the Bible." Let us never think that we are
stooping when we teach children! But if it is stooping let us stoop!
There are some of you, perhaps, who have the opportunity to do good to
fallen women. Do you shrink from such work? Many do. They feel as if
they could do anything rather than speak to such. Is it the loosening
of the straps of your Master's sandals? It is, then, an honorable
business! Try it, Brother. It is not beneath you if you do it for
Jesus. It is even above the best of you–you are not worthy to do it.
Possibly there is near your house a district of very poor people. You
do not like going in among them. They are dirty and perhaps infected
with disease. Well, it is a pity that poor people should so often be
dirty, but pride is dirty, too.
Do you say, "I cannot go there"? Why not? Are you such a mighty fine
gentleman that you are afraid of soiling your hands? You will not
unloose your Master's sandal strap, then, is that it? The Lord lived
among the poor, and was poorer even than they, for He had nowhere to
lay His head. Oh, shame on you, you wicked and proud servant of a
condescending, loving Lord! Go about your business and unloose the
straps of His sandals! Instead of imagining that you would be lowered
by such work for Jesus, I tell you it would honor you! Indeed, you are
not fit for it–the honor is too great for you–and it will fall to the
lot of better men. It comes to this, Beloved–anything that can be done
for Christ is too good for us to do!
Somebody wanted to keep the door! Somebody wanted to rout out the back
lanes! Somebody wanted to teach ragged roughs! Somebody wanted to ask
people to come to the place of worship and to lend them their seats,
and stand in the aisle while they sit. Well, be it what it may, I had
rather be a door keeper in the House of the Lord, or the doormat, even,
than I would be accounted among the noblest in the tents of wickedness.
Anything for Jesus, the lower the better! Anything for Jesus, the
humbler the better! Anything for Jesus! The more going down into the
deeps! The more thrusting the arms up to the elbows in the mud to find
precious jewels! The more of that the better!
This is the true spirit of the Christian religion. Not the soaring up
there to sit among the choristers and sing in grand style! Not the
putting on of apparel and preaching in lawn sleeves! Not the going
through gaudy and imposing ceremonies–all that is of Babylon–but to
strip yourself to the shirt sleeves to fight the battle for Christ! To
go out among men as a humble worker, resolved by any means to save
some–this is what your Lord would have you to do, for this is the
unloosing the straps of His sandals.
III. And, now, our last remark shall be that ALL THIS OUGHT TO
STIMULATE US AND NOT DISCOURAGE
US. Though we are not worthy to do it, that is the reason why we should
avail ourselves of the condescending Grace which honors us with such
employ. Do not say, "I am not worthy to loose the straps of His
sandals, and therefore, I shall give up preaching." Oh no! But preach
away with all the greater vigor! John did so, and to his preaching he
added warning. Warn people as well as preach to them! Tell them of the
judgment to come and separate between the precious and the vile.
We should perform our work in all ways, not omitting the more painful
part of it, but going through with whatever God has appointed to us.
John was called to testify of Christ. He felt unworthy to do it, but he
did not shirk the work. It was his life-long business to cry, "Behold,
behold, behold the Lamb of God!" and he did it earnestly. He never
paused in that cry. He was busy in baptizing, too. It was the
initiatory rite of the new dispensation, and there he stood continually
immersing those who believed! Never a more indefatigable worker than
John the Baptist–he threw his whole soul into it because he felt he
was not worthy to do the work!
Brothers and Sisters, your sense of unworthiness will, if you are idle,
sadly hamper you! But if the love of God is in your soul, you will
feel, "Since I do so badly when I do my best, I will always do my
utmost. Since it comes to so little when the most is done, I will at
least do the most." Could I give all my substance to Him, and give my
life, and then give my body to be burned it would be a small return for
love so amazing, so Divine, as that which I have tasted! Therefore, if
I cannot do all that, at any rate I will give the Lord Jesus all I can.
I will love Him all I can. I will pray to Him all I can. I will talk
about Him all I can, and I will spread His Gospel all I can. And no
little thing will I count beneath me if His cause requires it.
Brethren, John lived hard, for his meat was locusts and wild honey. His
dress was not the soft raiment of men who live in palaces. He wrapped
about him the rough camel's skin, and as he lived hard he died hard,
too–his boldness brought him into a dungeon. His courageous fidelity
earned him a martyr's death. Here was a man who lived in self-denial
and died witnessing for the Truth of God and righteousness–and all
this because he had a high esteem of his Master. May our esteem of
Christ so grow and increase that we may be willing to put up with
anything in life for Christ, and even to lay down our lives for His
name's sake!
Certain Moravian missionaries, in the old times of slavery, went to one
of the West Indian Islands to preach and they found they could not be
permitted to teach there unless they, themselves, became slaves. And
they did so–they sold themselves into bondage, never to return–that
they might save slaves' souls. We have heard of another pair of holy
men who actually submitted to be confined in a leper house that they
might save the souls of lepers, knowing as they did that they would
never be permitted to come out again. They went there to take the
leprosy and to die, if by so doing they might save souls.
I have read of one, Thome de Jesu, who went to Barbary among the
Christian captives, and there lived and died in banishment and bondage
that he might cheer his Brothers and Sisters and preach Jesus to them.
Brethren, we have never reached to such devotion! We fall far short of
what Jesus deserves. We give Him little–we give Him what we are
ashamed not to give Him. Often we give Him our zeal for a day or two
and then grow cool. We wake up all of a sudden and then sleep all the
more soundly. We seem, today, as if we would set the world on fire, and
tomorrow we scarcely keep our own lamp trimmed. We vow at one time that
we will push the Church before us and drag the world after us, but
by-and-by we, ourselves, are like Pharaoh's chariots with the wheels
taken off–and drag along right heavily.
Oh, for a spark of the love of Christ in the soul! Oh, for a living
flame from off Calvary's altar to set our whole nature blazing with
Divine enthusiasm for the Christ who gave Himself for us that we might
live! From this hour on take upon yourselves in the solemn intent of
your soul this deep resolve–"I will loose the sandal straps. I will
seek out the little things, the mean things, the humble things. And I
will do them as unto the Lord and not unto men–and may He accept me
even as He has saved me through His precious blood." Amen.
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Joy in a Reconciled God