Or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?
The folly of setting the heart on things below, and not on things above
No ransom can purchase life. You may remember, as I do, the dying hours of a monarch who emphatically lived to pamper the flesh, to serve lusts and pleasures, but not for God or his fellow men. When he knew the fatal hour was approaching, he said to the medical men about him, “Oh, I would give any sum you name, if you would but give me another year of life.” But it was of no use. They could not; they could but shake their heads and tell him that One only could give life, and when He saw fit He would take it away-God, even God. There is nothing in this world that a man can find, which will bribe death to stop away. Kings die, and their sceptre and crown roll in the dust, Philosophers succumb, and all their busy chambers of the brain, which have been occupied by deep researches, become occupied by the worms of the earth. The young man, glorying in his beauty and strength, succumbs to death, and his sun sets at noonday. And the pretty babe, which is just opening like a bud in all its infantine beauty-ah, how often does death lay its cold hand on that! There is no conceivable thing capable of saving a man, woman, or child, whom God has appointed to die. By the question in the text, our Lord means this; and He means more than this. He refers also to the life of the world to come. What ransom shall a man give for that life? There is such a ransom. There is One who has found a ransom. It is Jesus. He is the life of the world. He that hath the Son hath life. Have you found this ransom? (R. W. Dibdin, M. A.)
The soul’s ransom
What is the world, but the means of having food and raiment and ease, in greater variety and abundance than others have them-a distinction which, if viewed narrowly, is not worth half the pains and labour by which only it can be obtained. But what is the sold? It is the immortal and everlasting principle of all thought and feeling in man’s nature-the subject in which abide all hope and fear, all joy and sorrow, all happiness and all misery. It is that part of our intellectual frame which cannot die, forget, cease to be conscious, or fly from itself; but which lives forever, either beloved and cherished by its Almighty Creator, or expelled from His presence in horror and despair. If threescore years and ten were to bring it to an end, and make all its thoughts perish; if, after death, there were no judgment; if the worm of remorse were to become extinct on the bed where the last breath goes forth, and to cease its gnawings with the mortal pains of the body,-then might we hesitate between the interests of the present and the future, and adopt the maxim of the atheist, “Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die.” But, as these things cannot be; as the soul, which sinneth and repenteth not, has to die a death which will never be completed, a death of horror and despair, of which the sighs and agony and groaning ascend up perpetually; the question which should now interest us the most is, “What shall we give in exchange for our souls?” We must, in the first place, present before God, on the altar of faith, the Atonement which He Himself has provided, the sole procuring cause of human salvation; we must offer up to Him a broken and contrite heart, weaned from the world, and devoted to His service; we must solicit His mercy with the tears of penitence and vows of reformation, entreating that His grace may be sufficient for us, and His strength made perfect in our weakness;-and these are the things which the Lord will accept in exchange for our souls. (Bp. Russell.)
Incomputable value of the soul
Whatwould a man not give? If he had the whole world, would he not willingly give it, provided he really knew, believed, or felt, that otherwise he would be utterly lost? King Richard, in Shakespeare, says, “My kingdom for a horse!” How many kingdoms would be surrendered-if man were not utterly infatuated-for the safety of the soul? The Saviour has gone forward in thought, and takes His standpoint in eternity. It is from that standpoint that He puts His question. It is implied that the time will come, in the experience of the persistently infatuated, when kingdom upon kingdom-were they available-would be an insufficient exchange for the soul. (J. Morison, D. D.)
Nothing can compensate for loss of soul
“I was called upon,” says an American clergyman, “some years ago, to visit an individual, a part of whose face had been eaten away by a most loathsome cancer. Fixing my eyes on this man in his agony, I said, ‘Supposing that Almighty God were to give you your choice, which would you prefer, your cancer, your pain, and your sufferings, with a certainty of death before you, but of immortality hereafter; or health, prosperity, long life in this world, and the risk of losing your immortal soul?’ ‘Ah, sir!’ said the man, ‘give me the cancer and the pain, with the Bible and the hope of heaven, and others may take the world, long life, and prosperity.’”
Gain cannot satisfy the heart
Mr. Jeremiah Burroughs, a pious minister, mentions the case of a rich man who, when he lay on his death bed, called for his bags of money; and, having laid a bag of gold to his heart, after a little he bade them take it away, saying, “It will not do; it will not do.”
Exchange for his soul-Cost of an estate
“What is the value of this estate?” said a gentleman to another with whom he was riding, as they passed a fine mansion surrounded by fair and fertile fields. “I don’t know what it is valued at; I know what it cost its late possessor.” “How much?” “Hissoul, Early in life, he professed faith in Christ, and obtained a subordinate position in a mercantile establishment. He continued to maintain a reputable religious profession, till he became a partner in the firm. Then he gave less attention to religion, and more and more to business; and the care of this world choked the Word. He became exceedingly rich in money, but so poor and miserly in soul, that none would have suspected he had ever been religious. At length he purchased this large estate, built a costly mansion, and then sickened and died. Just before he died, he remarked, “My prosperity has been my ruin!”
No satisfaction from the world at death
The dying tell us that earthly possessions cannot satisfy us in death. Philip II of Spain cried, “O would God I had never reigned! O that I had lived alone with God! What doth all my glory profit, but that I have so much the more torment in death.” Albert the Good said, “I am surrounded with wealth and rank, but if I trusted only to them, I should be a miserable man.” Salmasius declared, “I have lost a world of time. Oh, sirs! mind the world less, and God more.” Bunsen exclaimed, “My riches and experience is having known Jesus Christ. All the rest is nothing.”
