1. There are many very useful people in the world who are not appreciated because they are overshadowed by someone especially conspicuous. They are dwarfed by comparison with a giant. They are forgotten because the attention of men is fixed on the greater one near them. They are like tall trees and huge rocks on a mountain side: tall and huge though they be, they look small by contrast with the great peak itself. Such people may be really useful, worthy of study and imitation; their lives may be terrible tragedies; the pathos of their existence may be unutterable, or the value of their work may be actually more than that of another who towers over them; but by reason of the other's nearness they are passed by without notice.
We are often quite arbitrary in the selection of our models and heroes. We confine our admiration to a few whom, indeed, it is scarcely possible to imitate, while scores of others present excellences which are not less worthy of praise, and which may be more nearly within our reach. They are cast into the shade, however, by the more conspicuous object near which it is their fortune to be. So was it with Andrew. He was Simon Peter's brother. He was more distinguished, therefore, by his connexion with Simon than by what lie was or did. No figure stands out more prominently in the annals of the Early Church than that of Peter. How often his name is mentioned in the Gospels! How much we hear of him in the earlier part of the Book of Acts! What a great number of precious practical lessons has he been the means of our learning! What a mighty character was his-that Luther of the Apostolic Age-towering, as Luther did, above all but a few of his fellow-Christians! But the very fact that to distinguish Andrew more clearly it was easiest to call him Simon Peter's brother has tended to obscure the merit of the less renowned disciple. He is presented to us in the gospel history in the shadow of his brother's giant shape. This puts him at a disadvantage.
Not that Christian historians have been wrong in their estimate of the two-Peter was the greater; but that Christ, by choosing Andrew also to the apostleship, recognized his worth, where history has scarcely done so. He is a fair type, we doubt not, of multitudes of useful people whose worth is unrecognized because men either see or are looking for someone of very extraordinary characteristics.
2. Thus Andrew occupied an uncertain and most difficult position. If we look at the lists of the Apostles given to us in the Gospels, we find Andrew's name always mentioned in the first group, along with those of Peter and James and John. And yet, when we come to examine the gospel history, we discover that he was certainly not on an equality with the great three. He was not admitted into the intimacy of Christ; he was not made a witness of the great experiences of Christ as were they. Andrew was left behind when Jesus took Peter and James and John to witness His first struggle with the power of death in Jairus' house. Andrew was left behind when Jesus took Peter and James and John to behold His transfiguration glory on the Holy Mount. Andrew was left behind when Jesus took Peter and James and John to share His sorrow in the garden.
Of all places in the Apostolate, this that Andrew held was the most calculated to test the qualities of a man's soul. Andrew was “betwixt and between.” He was above the second, and not quite in the first rank. And of all places to test a man's character, that was the place. It would have been an intolerable place for James and John. With their keen and absorbing desire to be first they would have turned sick with envy had they occupied Andrew's position. But it is to Andrew's everlasting credit and honour that, in this most trying and terrible place, he preserved the sweetness and serenity of his temper. He did not mope or murmur when Peter and James and John were taken and he was left. No trace of jealousy found a lodging in his large and generous heart. He was content to be passed over; he was content to fill a subordinate place.
He was not as gifted as Peter or James or John. But he had that rare ornament, the brightest gem in the whole chaplet of Christian graees-he had the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit. And in that great day when judgment will go by character and not by gifts, when first shall be last and last first, it may be that this man Andrew, this self-forgetful, self-effacing Andrew, will be found among the chiefest in the Kingdom of God.
The longer I live, the more I learn to dread and hate that ugly, universal and well-nigh ineradicable sin of envy. “Love envieth not,” says Paul. Applying that test, how many of us can lay claim to the possession of Christian love?1 [Note: J. D. Jones.]
Lord, I read at the transfiguration that Peter, James, and John were admitted to behold Christ; but Andrew was excluded. So again at the reviving of the daughter of the ruler of the synagogue, these three were let in, and Andrew shut out. Lastly, in the agony the aforesaid three were called to be witnesses thereof, and still Andrew left behind. Yet he was Peter's brother, and a good man, and an apostle; why did not Christ take the two pair of brothers? was it not pity to part them? But methinks I seem more offended thereat than Andrew himself was, whom I find to express no discontent, being pleased to be accounted a loyal subject for the general, though he was no favourite in these particulars. Give me to be pleased in myself, and thankful to Thee, for what I am, though I be not equal to others in personal perfections. For such peculiar privileges are courtesies from Thee when given, and no injuries to us when denied.2 [Note: Thomas Fuller, Good Thoughts for Bad Times.]
3. Andrew appears a faithful, useful man, doing good work in a quiet way, even in advance of Peter in practical suggestions and, perhaps, in the understanding of Christ's mission; not fitted, indeed, to fill his brother's place, not the man to stand up at Pentecost and preach to thousands, but the man to add by constant, personal, practical work to the power of the common cause. Every Simon Peter needs an Andrew, every preacher needs the practical workers to unite with him, just as every general needs subordinate officers. If Andrew be undervalued because of his brother's brilliance and publicity, he will not be when we remember how little the latter could have done, humanly speaking, without the aid of the former. Beyond doubt the Master's choice was good. Simon Peter's brother was as useful in his way and as truly an Apostle as Simon Peter himself.
There are some men who will only work if they are put into prominent positions; they will not join the army unless they can be made officers. James and John had a good deal of that spirit; they wanted to be first in the Kingdom. They and Peter and the rest were always wrangling which should be greatest. But Andrew never took part in those angry debates; he had no craving for prominence. Andrew anticipated Christina Rossetti, and said to his Lord-
Give me the lowest place; not that I dare
Ask for that lowest place, but Thou hast died
That I might live and share Thy glory by Thy side.
Give me the lowest place: or if for me
That lowest place too high, make one more low
Where I may sit and see my God and love Thee Son_1:1-17 [Note: J. D. Jones.]
Mark Guy Pearse is an expert fisher, and rarely does a year pass without his paying a visit to the rivers of Northumberland. And he has more than once laid down what he considers to be the three essential rules for all successful fishing, and concerning which he says, “It is no good trying if you don‘t mind them. The first rule is this: keep yourself out of sight; and secondly, keep yourself further out of sight; and thirdly, keep yourself further out of sight!” Mr. Pearse's counsel is confirmed by every fisher. A notable angler, writing recently in one of our daily papers, summed up all his advice in what he proclaims a golden maxim: “Let the trout see the angler, and the angler will catch no trout.” Now this is a first essential in the art of man-fishing: the suppression and eclipse of the preacher.2 [Note: J. H. Jowett, The Passion for Souls, 62.]
