The wish to succeed is natural. It is seen in a little child, who will sometimes shed tears if he happen to lose the race which he runs with other children. The desire not only to do well, but to excel is the prevailing aspiration with all sane men and women. But the best men always feel as if they came short of the excellence they desire. One of the most eminent and beloved bishops of the Church of England had a book which he intended no one to see but himself, but he omitted to destroy it before he died; and in this book he had written under his name this sentence, “A man who has failed to accomplish his ideal.” Yet he was, indeed, a good man. When John Knox was on his death-bed, his friends said of him in his presence, “How pleasing for him now to remember the great deeds he has done for the gospel of Christ!” He replied, “I bid yon hush. Do not by such remarks add to the reproaches of my conscience, which upbraids me for the many things I have left undone, and the numberless things I ought not to have done; God be merciful to me a sinner!” When wise and good men do succeed, they feel that the result is scarcely due to their efforts, but to the working of the Spirit of God within them. A true artist forgets himself, thinking only of his work, and when he receives praise feels that he is merely the hand used by the spirit of art. In his finest strains the poet feels that it is not his own mind but the Divine muse, which possesses and inspires him to write glowing words. The sculptor, when be has chiselled the most beautiful specimen of his plastic art, feels how greatly distant he is from achieving his ideal of perfection. I have spoken thus to encourage those of you who I believe are truly great, and who feel that the work you do is imperfectly done. All divinely directed men of true genius feel as you do. Be cheered! Persevere in your work, and let not the consciousness of failure distress you too much; for that feeling is the evidence of genius--it is a blessed genius that can detect a flaw or an inferiority in your own work and stimulate you to continued effort. Let me now address those who are satisfied with their efforts, or who fail in them through some wilful fault of their own. “Looking diligently lest any man fail, or come short, of the grace of God.”
1. It may be that some of us fail through our want of continued effort. In nay garden there is a cherry tree. It bore no fruit the first year, but we took great pains with it, and the second year it brought forth one splendid cherry, and that was all. It made its effort and succeeded. Likewise, every tree, every flower, and even the common grass by the wayside makes strenuous efforts to put forth beauty and fruit after its kind. But unfortunately some of us men are not like trees and flowers; we do not make continued efforts.
2. Another reason your life is a failure is because you do not depend upon God, and you live more for yourself than for your fellow-men. What do I mean by “depending upon God”? Well, this. See that ship. The captain has put up the sails, and has done all he can. The ship is trimmed, the sails are set, and the captain waits upon the wind; he feels he is dependent Upon it. In the same way we should be dependent upon God. We should wait for Him. We should do what we can to make ourselves ready for His coming, and then wait for Him to do the rest, and be willing to be guided by Him. There is too much self with many of us, that is why, comparatively speaking, our lives are failures.
3. The reason why others of us fail is because we take not advantage of God’s grace.
4. Another reason for your failure may be that you delay doing your present duty. You do not do the thing that lies nearest you, but wait to do something great in the future. This habit of procrastination not only robs you of present good but of future blessing. In the same way, you are waiting for some great work to do instead of doing the thing at your right hand. Doing little things well is the best preparation for the achievement of great things. (W. Birch.)
Falling short of the grace of God:
To prevent this danger they must look diligently. To this end
1. Every man must have a care of himself, and look to his own soul.
2. They must watch one over another, and if they see any inclining to apostasy, or beginning to doubt of, or decline his profession, they must, by good example, instruction, admonition, reproof, and exhortation, seek to reform him.
3. The minister of the gospel being trusted with man’s soul, must be very watchful above all other; must exhort, reprove, and by his wholesome doctrine, inform the ignorant, strengthen the weak, reform the erroneous, encourage the faint, and suffer no such bitter root to spring up amongst his people.
4. They that have the power of discipline, upon information, must by admonition and lighter censures first seek to reclaim a sinning brother; and if so, they cannot rectify him, they must cast him out, lest others be infected. (G. Lawson.)
Anxiety for souls:
Fleming mentions one John Welsh, often, in the coldest winter nights, found weeping on the ground, and wrestling with the Lord, on account of his people, and saying to his wife when she pressed him for an explanation of his distress,” I have the souls of three thousand to answer for, while I know not how it is with many of them.”
Piloting stalls
As the pilot-boats cruise far out, watching for every whitening sail, and hover, through day and night, all about the harbour, vigilant to board every ship, that they may bring safely through the narrows all the wanderers of the ocean; so should we watch off the gate of salvation for all the souls, tempest-tossed, beating in from the sea of sin, and guide them through the perilous straits, that at last in still waters they may east the anchor of their hope. (H. W. Beecher.)
Grace should permeate the entire man:
In the camphor-tree every part is impregnated with the precious perfume; from the highest twig to the lowest root the powerful gum will exude. Thus grace should permeate our whole nature, and be seen in every faculty, every word, every act, and even every desire. If it be “in us and abound,” it will be so. An unsanctified part of our frame must surely be like a dead branch, deforming and injuring the tree.
Root of bitterness springing up
Roots of bitterness:
Sin, whether in men or among them--whether viewed as inherent in the individual, or spread through the community--sin may well be compared to a root. This analogy does much to point out the nature, and the origin, and the consequences, and the cure of that one evil which offends God and afflicts men.
I. The analogy of a root serves to illustrate the NATURE of the evil. An accurate knowledge of the danger goes far to constitute a defence. The figure directs our thoughts at once to the heart as the seat of the affections. “Out of the heart proceed evil thoughts,” and words, and actions. Our care must not be exclusively directed to the deeds--the fruit above ground--we must seek to reach that hidden root which grows in the soul unseen, generating actual transgression in the life of men. There are many points in which the analogy holds good between a root and the sinful disposition of soul which gives birth to unrighteous action.
1. The root is below ground--unseen. The surface of the field, when you pass by, may be naked, and clean, and smooth--not a green blade to be seen, far less an opening flower, or ripening fruit; yet there may be in that field a multitude of thriving, vigorous roots, that will soon cover and possess its surface with thorns and thistles. So in a church, or a family, or a single member of it, though for the time all that meets the eye be fair, there may be in the soul within a germ of evil already swelling, and ready to burst out into open wickedness.
2. The root not only is, but grows. It has a vital self-increasing principle. Unless you kill it, you cannot keep it down. So with the sinful disposition in the heart. It is not the existence of the thing merely that we have to dread, but its vitality. The Scripture (Eph_2:2-3) speaks of men being dead in sins, and yet walking according to the course of this world. In like manner, though the guilty state of the soul be called death, yet it is a death that lives and grows. It not only bears fruit upward, but strikes root downward; and the more vigorously it shoots its fibres down into the soil, the heavier a harvest of wickedness it bears.
3. Though you may be able to destroy the fruit, and cut down the branches, the root may be beyond your reach. Though the branches be lopped off, and the stem cut down close by the ground, yet the root left in the soil will keep its hold, and send up another stem, and spread out other branches. So with this sin. Much may be done to check its outward exhibition. Many agencies may be brought to bear upon it, which will not only prevent the ripening of the fruit, but will blight the opening blossom, and maim the spreading branches. Many schemes may be tried, and tried successfully, to stop the committing of sins, while the disposition to sin lives as vigorous, and grows as rank as ever in the soul.
II. In the text the root is significantly called A hoot OF BITTERNESS. The analogy of a root suggests the existence, and the life, and the growth, and the power of a principle, without determining whether it be good or bad; but the distinguishing characteristic of the root spoken of is “bitterness.” Everything depends on the nature of the root that is bedded in the soil. There is a plant called the nightshade, which is in some respects like a vine. Like the vine, its branches are slender, and unless supported, they trail upon the ground. Its bunches of fruit, too, are very similar, both in form and colour, to clusters of grapes. Its fruit is a poison. From its nature, it gets the name of the deadly nightshade. Now, this plant may grow beside a vine--may cling to the branches of a vine, and intermingle its clusters of fruit, so that you could scarcely distinguish the one from the other. Nay, more; in such a case the roots of the two plants will shoot down into the same soil--they will intertwine with each other in the earth--they will drink up the same sap at the same place. It would require a very close examination to distinguish the fibres that belong to each; yet this root converts the sap into delicious food--that into deadly poison. The result does not depend on air and sun, and moisture and earth--these were all the same in this case. The fruit takes its character from the root. If it be a root of bitterness, it turns everything into poison. Such is the distinguishing characteristic of a sinful affection. Our living souls are the seat of many thoughts and emotions they constitute the soil which nourishes many roots. Some roots grow there bearing sweet fruit to the glory of God and the good of men; but they are “the planting of the Lord.” It is the root of bitterness that springs first, and spreads farthest. There are the shattered remnants of much good in the human soul. There are in it many materials which may be turned to good account, when a new heart has been given--a new spirit created. But in all at first, and in many still, a strong one has possession. A bitter root occupies and sucks the soil, wasting its strength in bringing forth death. Pride, envy, worldliness, ungodliness--these, and other roots, pervade the ground, and drain off all its fatness. The natural powers and emotions of the soul--the sap which these roots feed upon--would nourish trees of righteousness, if they were but planted there. There are many precious qualities of mind, efficient for good or for evil, just as they are employed. You have known a man possessed of many good qualities--such qualities as attract and bind to their possessor a wide circle of friends. He is, in the common sense of the term, a good-hearted man. He is generous, and kind, and honest. He will not maliciously resent an injury--he gives liberally of his goods to feed the poor--he renders to every man his due; but he is a drunkard. A bitter root has fastened in that generous soil, and drinks up all its riches. Oh! it is sad to see that strong one keeping possession of a wealthy place. It is sad to see so promising a field exhausted in bearing the filthiest fruit. Avarice is another root of equal bitterness. There is no more pitiable creature on earth than a man whose heart’s warm affections have been sucked out by the lust of gold. The power of understanding and judging, of liking and disliking, of hoping and fearing--all these, as natural capabilities of the human soul, are wielded by the presiding will either on the side of righteousness or the side of sin. The same learning and ardour which Saul of Tarsus employed to waste the Church, Paul, an apostle of Jesus Christ, plied as the instruments of extending and establishing it. Paul had met the Lord in the way, and received into his heart the seed of a new life. This is the one needful thing. These understandings and memories, and all these natural powers that are now wasted on sin, the same instruments will do for serving God, when the quickening Spirit has implanted the new life within Deu_29:14-18). The root that beareth gall and wormwood is a heart that turneth away from God; and to that spring of evil must the cure be applied. Although it be “ a root out of a dry ground,” all will be well, if it be not a “root of bitterness.” If the root be holy, so also will the branches be. (W. Arnot.)
How bitterness grows
A young girl had but few social opportunities. She fell into habits of excessive self-inspection, and a morbid sensitiveness to criticism. With good gifts, and refined tastes, and careful culture, she began to grow conscious of a kind of superiority to most of those about her. But the absence of lively sympathies fostered reserve and taciturnity, so that few found out or appreciated her real attainments. While her own standard of character was rising, others ceased to care what so indifferent and haughty a spirit might know or be. Presently a sense of injustice began to spring up in her. Each new acquirement only seemed to separate her more and more from her neighbours. Even her equals failed to appreciate the hidden merit. Gradually, as years went on, a silent resentment was kindled. Temper was a little soured; speech grew sarcastic; judgment grew bitter. She revenged herself for neglect by withdrawing further and further from the world. Those of her own sex were alienated, and as to those of the other, they were a little frightened. Very few men value criticism enough to marry it. And so, every way, society loses in the person of this fine capable young woman an ornament and a strength. (T. D.Huntingdon.)
