392. One Taking Off

One Taking Off

Mar_10:21 : ’93One thing thou lackest.’94

The young man of the text had a splendid nature. We fall in love with him at the first glance. He was amiable, and frank, and earnest, and educated, and refined, and respectable, and moral, and yet he was not a Christian. And so Christ addresses him in the words that I have read to you: ’93One thing thou lackest.’94 I suppose that that text was no more appropriate to the young man of whom I have spoken than it is appropriate to a great multitude of people in our day. There are many things in which you are not lacking. For instance, you are not lacking in a good home. It is, perhaps, no more than an hour ago that you closed the door, returning to see whether it was well fastened, of one of the best homes in this city. The younger children of the house already asleep, the older ones hearing your returning footsteps, will rush to the door to meet you. And in these long winter evenings the children at the table with their lessons or games, the wife plying the needle, and you reading the book or the paper, you feel that you have a good home. Neither are you lacking in the refinements and courtesies of life. You understand the polite phraseology of invitation, regard, and apology. You have on appropriate apparel. We will wear no better dress attending a wedding than when in the house of God we attend the marriage of the king’92s son. However reckless I may be about my personal appearance at other times, when I come into a consecrated assemblage I shall have on the best dress I have, we an understand the proprieties of every-day life and the proprieties of Sabbath life.

Neither are you lacking in worldly success. You have not made as much money as you would like to make, but you have an income. While others are false when they say they have no income or are making no money, you have never told that falsehood. You have had a livelihood or you have fallen upon old resources, which is just the same thing, for God is just as good to us when he takes care of us by a surplus of the past as by present success. While there are thousands of men with hunger tearing at the throat with the strength of a lion’92s paw, not one of you is hungry. Neither are you lacking in pleasant friendship. You have real good friends. If the scarlet fever should come to-night to your house, you know very well who would come in and sit up with the sick one; or if death should come, you know who would come in and take your hand tight in theirs with that peculiar grip which means, ’93I’92ll stand by you,’94 and after the life has fled from the loved one, take you by the arm and lead you into the next room; and while you are gone to Greenwood they would stay in the house and put aside the garments and the playthings that might bring to your mind too severely your great loss. Friends? You all have friends.

Neither are you lacking in your admiration of the Christian religion. There is nothing that makes you so angry as to hear a man malign Christ. You get red in the face, and you say: ’93Sir, I want you to understand that though I am not myself a Christian, I don’92t like such things as that said in my store,’94 and the man goes off, giving you a parting salutation, but you hardly answer him. You are provoked beyond all bounds. Many of you have been supporters of re-ligion and have given more to the cause of Christ than some who profess his faith. There is nothing that would please you more than to see your son or daughter standing at the altar of Christ, taking the vows of the Christian. It might be a little hard on you, and might make you nervous and agitated for a little while; but you would be man enough to say: ’93My child, that is right. Go on. I am glad you have not been kept back by my example. I hope some day to join you.’94 You believe all the doctrines of religion. A man out yonder says: ’93I am a sinner.’94 You respond: ’93So am I.’94 Some one says: ’93I believe that Christ came to save the world.’94 You say: ’93So do I.’94 Looking at your character, at your surroundings, I find a thousand things about which to congratulate you; and yet I must tell you in the love and fear of God, and with reference to my last account: ’93One thing thou lackest.’94

You need, my friends, in the first place, the element of happiness. Some day you feel wretched. You do not know what is the matter with you. You say: ’93I did not sleep last night. I think that must be the reason of my restlessness;’94 or, ’93I have eaten something that did not agree with me, and I think that must be the reason.’94 And you are unhappy. O my friends, happiness does not depend upon physical condition. Some of the happiest people I have ever known have been those who have been wrapped in consumption, or stung with neuralgia, or burning with the slow fire of some fever. I never shall forget one man in my first parish, who, in excruciation of body, cried out: ’93Mr. Talmage, I forget all my pain in the love and joy of Jesus Christ. I cannot think of my sufferings when I think of Christ.’94 Why, the man’92s face was illumined. There are young men in this house who would give testimony to show that there is no happiness outside of Christ, while there is great joy in his service. There are young men who have not been Christians more than six months, who would stand up, if I should ask them, and say in those six months they have had more joy and satisfaction than in all the years of their frivolity and dissipation. Go to the door of that gin-shop on your way home, and when the gang of young men come out, ask them whether they are happy. They laugh along the street, and they jeer and they shout; but nobody has any idea that they are happy.

I could call upon the aged men in this house to give testimony. There are aged men here who tried the world, and they tried religion, and they are willing to testify on our side. It was not long ago that an aged man arose in a praying circle, and said: ’93Brethren, I lost my son just as he graduated from college, and it broke my heart; but I am glad now he is gone. He is at rest, escaped from all sorrow and from all trouble. And then, in 1857, I lost all my property, and you see I am getting old, and it is rather hard upon me; but I am sure God will not let me suffer. He has not taken care of me for seventy-five years now to let me drop out of his hands.’94 I went into the room of an aged man’97his eyesight nearly gone, his hearing nearly gone’97and what do you suppose he was talking about? The goodness of God and the joys of religion. He said: ’93I would like to go over and join my wife on the other side of the flood, and I am waiting until the Lord calls me. I am happy now. I shall be happy there.’94 What is it that gave that aged man so much satisfaction and peace? Physical exuberance? No; it was all gone. Sunshine? He could not see it. The voices of friends? He could not hear them. It is the grace of God that is brighter than sunshine and that is sweeter than music. If a harpist takes a harp and finds that all the strings are broken but one string, he does not try to play upon it. Yet here I will show you an aged man, the strings of whose joy are all broken save one, and yet he thrums it with such satisfaction, such melody, that the angels of God stop the swift stroke of their wings, and hover about the place until the music ceases. Everywhere religion’92s ’93ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.’94 And if you have not the satisfaction that is to be found in Jesus Christ, I must tell you, with all the concentrated emphasis of my soul: ’93One thing thou lackest.’94

I remark again, that you lack the element of usefulness. Where is your business? You say it is No. 45 such a street, or No. 260 such a street, or No. 300 such a street. My friend immortal, your business is wherever there is a tear to be wiped away or a soul to be saved. You may, before coming to Christ, do a great many noble things. You take a loaf of bread to that starving man in the alley; but he wants immortal bread. You take a pound of candles to that dark shanty; but they want the light that springs from the throne of God, and you cannot take it because you have it not in your own heart. You know that the flight of an arrow depends very much upon the strength of the bow, and I have to tell you that the best bow that was ever made was made out of the cross of Christ; and when religion takes a soul and puts it on that, and pulls it back and lets it fly, every time it brings down a Saul or a Goliath, There are people here of high social position and large means and cultured minds, who, if they would come into the kingdom of God, would set the city on fire with religious awakening. Hear you not the voices of the unconverted, of those dying in sin? They want light; they want bread; they want Christ; they want heaven. Oh that the Lord would make you a flaming evangel! As for myself, I have sworn before high heaven that I will preach this Gospel as well as I can, in all its fulness, until every fibre of my body, and every faculty of my mind, and every passion of my soul, is exhausted. But we all have a work to do. I cannot do your work, nor can you do my work. God points us out the place where we are to serve, and yet are there not many people, thirty, forty, fifty, and sixty years of age, who have not begun the great work for which they were created? With every worldly equipment: ’93One thing thou lackest.’94

Again, you lack the element of personal safety. Where are those people who associated with you twenty years ago? Where are those people that, fifteen years ago, used to cross South Ferry or Fulton Ferry with you to Brooklyn? Walk down the street where you were in business fifteen years ago, and see how all the signs have changed. Where are the people gone? How many of them are landed in eternity I cannot say, but many, many. I went to the village of my boyhood. The houses were all changed. I passed one house in which once resided a man who had lived an earnest, useful life; and he is in glory now. In the next house a miser lived. He devoured widows’92 houses, and spent his whole life in trying to make the world worse and worse. And he is gone’97the good man and the miser both gone to the same place. Ah, did they go to the same place? It is an infinite absurdity to suppose them both in the same place. If the miser had a harp, what tune did he play on it? My hearers, I commend to you this religion as the only personal safety. When you die, where are you going to? When we leave all these scenes, upon what scenes will we enter? When we were on shipboard, and we all felt that we must go to the bottom, was I right in saying to one next me: ’93I wonder if we will reach heaven if we do go down to-night.’94 Was I wise or unwise in asking that question? I tell you that man is a fool who never thinks of the great future.

But I apply this subject to the aged’97not many here’97not many in any assemblage. People do not live to get old. That is the general rule. Here and there an aged man in the house. You have lived long enough in this world to know that it cannot satisfy an immortal nature. I must talk to you more reverential than I do to these other people, while at the same time I speak with great plainness. O father of the weary step, O mother, bent down under the ailments of life, has thy God ever forsaken thee? Through all these years, who has been your best friend? Seventy years of mercies! Seventy years of food and clothing! How many bright mornings! How many glorious evening hours you have seen! Father, mother, God has been very good to you. Do you feel it? Some of you have children and grandchildren; the former cheered your young life, the latter twine your gray locks in their tiny fingers. Has all the goodness that God has been making pass before you produced no change in your feelings, and must it be said of you, notwithstanding all this: ’93One thing thou lackest’94?

I wish you could feel the hand of Christ smoothing the cares out of wrinkled faces. I wish you could feel the warm arm of Christ steadying your tottering steps. I lift my voice loud enough to break through the deafness of the ear while I cry out: ’93One thing thou lackest.’94 It was an importunate appeal a young man made in a prayer-meeting when he rose up and said: ’93Do pray for my old father. He is seventy years of age and he does not love Christ.’94 That father passed a few more steps on in life and then he went down. He never gave any intimation that he had chosen Jesus. It is a very hard thing for an old man to become a Christian. I know it is. It is so hard a thing that it cannot be done by any human work; but God Almighty can do it by his omnipotent grace; he can bring you at the eleventh hour’97at half-past eleven’97at one minute of twelve he can bring you to the joys of the glorious Gospel.

I must make application of this subject, also, to those who are prospered. Have you, my friends, found that dollars and cents are no permanent consolation to the soul? You have large worldly resources, but have you no treasures in heaven? Is an embroidered pillow all that you want to put your dying head on? You have heard people all last week talk about earthly values. Hear a plain man talk about the heavenly. Do you not know it will be worse for you, O prospered man, if you reject Christ, and reject him finally; that it will be worse for you than those who had it hard in this world, because the contrast will make the discomfiture so much more appalling? As the hart bounds for the water-brooks, as the roe speeds down the hillside, speed thou to Christ. ’93Escape for thy life; look not behind thee, neither stay thou in all the plain; escape to the mountain lest thou be consumed!’94

I must make my application to another class of persons’97the poor. When you cannot pay your rent when it is due, have you nobody but the landlord to talk to? When the flour has gone out of the barrel, and you have not ten cents with which to go to the bakery, and your children are tugging at your dress for something to eat, have you nothing but the world’92s charities to appeal to? When winter comes, and there are no coals, and the ash-barrels have no more cinders, who takes care of you? Have you nobody but the overseer of the poor? But I preach to you a poor man’92s Christ. If you do not have in the winter blankets enough to cover you in the night, I want to tell you of him who had not where to lay his head. If you lie on the bare floor, I want to tell you of him who had for a pillow a hard cross, and whose foot-bath was the streaming blood of his own heart. O you poor man! O you poor woman! Jesus understands your case altogether. Talk it right out to him to-night. Get down on your floor and say: ’93Lord Jesus Christ, thou wast poor and I am poor; help me. Thou art rich now, and bring me up to thy riches!’94 Do you think God would cast you off? Will he? You might as well think that a mother would take the child that feeds on her breast and dash its life out, as to think that God would put aside roughly those who have fled to him for pity and compassion. Yea, the prophet says: ’93A woman may forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb, but I will not forget thee.’94

If you have ever been on the sea, you have been surprised in the first voyage to find there are so few sails in sight. Sometimes you go along two, three, four, five, six, and seven days, and do not see a single sail; but when a vessel does come in sight, the sea glasses are lifted to the eye, the vessel is watched; and if it come very near, then the captain, through the trumpet, cries loudly across the water: ’93Whither bound?’94 So you and I meet on this sea of life. We come and we go. Some of us have never met before. Some of us will never meet again. But I hail you across the sea, and with reference to the last great day, and with reference to the two great worlds, I cry across the water: ’93Whither bound? Whither bound?’94 I know what service that craft was made for, but hast thou thrown overboard the compass? Is there no helm to guide it? Is the ship at the mercy of the tempest? Is there no gun of distress booming through the storm? With priceless treasures’97with treasures aboard worth more than all the Indies’97wilt thou never come up out of the trough of that sea? O Lord God, lay hold of that man! Son of God, if thou wert ever needed anywhere, thou art needed here. There are so many sins to be pardoned. There are so many wounds to be healed. There are so many souls to be saved. Help, Jesus! Help, Holy Ghost! Help, ministering angels from the throne! Help, all sweet memories of the past! Help, all prayers for our future deliverance! Oh, that now, in this the accepted time and the day of salvation, you would hear the voice of mercy and live. Taste and see that the Lord is gracious. In this closing moment of the service, when everything in the house is so favorable, when everything is so still, when God is so loving and heaven is so near, drop your sins and take Jesus. Do not cheat yourself out of heaven. Do not do that. God forbid that at the last, when it is too late to correct the mistake, a voice should rise from the pillow or drop from the throne uttering just four words’97four sad, annihilating words: ’93One thing thou lackest.’94 If you pay money, you take a receipt. If you buy land, you record the deed. Why? Because everything is so uncertain, you want it down in black-and-white, you say. For a house and lot twenty-five feet front by one hundred feet deep, all security; but for a soul, vast as eternity, nothing, nothing! If some man or woman, standing in some of these aisles, should drop down, where would you go to? Which is your destiny? Suppose a man is prepared for the future world, what difference does it make to him whether he goes to his home to-day or goes into glory? Only this difference: if he dies he is better off. Where he had one joy on earth, he will have a million in heaven. Where he has a small sphere here, he will have a grand sphere there. Perhaps it would cost you sixty or one hundred or one hundred and fifty dollars to have your physical life insured and yet, free of charge, I offer you insurance on your immortal life, payable, not at your decease, but now and to-morrow and every day and always.

My hope in Christ is not so bright as many Christians’92, I know; but I would not give it up for the whole universe, in one cash payment, if it were offered me. It has been so much comfort to me in time of trouble; it has been so much comfort to me when I have been assailed; it has been so much rest to me when I have been perplexed, and it is around my heart such an encasement of satisfaction and blessedness that I can stand here before God, and say: take away my health, take away my life, take everything rather than rob me of this hope’97this plain, simple hope which I have in Jesus Christ my Lord. I must have this robe when the last chill strikes through me. I must have this light when all other lights go out in the blast that comes up from the cold Jordan. I must have this sword with which to fight my way through all those foes on my way heavenward. When I was in London I saw there the wonderful armor of Henry VIII and Edward III. And yet I have to tell you that there is nothing in chain-mail or brass plate or gauntlet or halberd that makes a man so safe as the armor in which the Lord God clothes his dear children. Oh, there is a safety in religion! You will ride down all your foes. Look out for that man who has the strength of the Lord God with him.

In olden times the horsemen used to ride into battle with lifted lances, and the enemy fled the field. The Lord on the white horse of victory and with lifted lances of divine strength rides into the battle, and down goes the spiritual foe, while the victor shouts the triumph through the Lord Jesus Christ. As a matter of personal safety, my dear friends, you must have this religion.

I apply my subject to several classes of people, chiefly to that great multitude of young people who are growing up. Some of these young men are in boarding-houses. They have but few social advantages. They think that no one cares for their souls. Many of them are on small salaries, and they are cramped and bothered perpetually, and sometimes their heart fails them. Young man, to-night, at your bedroom door on the third floor, you will hear a knocking. It will be the hand of Jesus Christ, the young man’92s friend, saying: ’93O young man, let me come in; I will help thee; I will comfort thee; I will deliver thee.’94 Take the Bible out of your trunk, if it has been hidden away. If you have not the courage to lay it on the shelf or the table, take that Bible that was given to you long ago by some loved one, and lay it down on the bottom of the chair, then kneel down beside it, and read and pray, and pray and read, until all your disturbance is gone, and you feel that peace which neither earth nor hell can rob you of. Thy father’92s God, thy mother’92s God, waits for thee, O young man! Escape for thy life! Escape now! ’93One thing thou lackest.’94

Autor: T. De Witt Talmage