493. Every-Day Religion

Every-Day Religion

1Co_10:31 : ’93Whether therefore ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God.’94

When the apostle, in this text, sets forth the idea that so common an action as the taking of food and drink is to be conducted to the glory of God, he proclaims the importance of religion in the ordinary affairs of life. In all ages of the world there has been a tendency to set apart certain days, places, and occasions for worship, and to think those were the chief realms in which religion was to act. Now, holy days and holy places have their importance. They give opportunity for especial performance of Christian duty, and for regaling of the religious appetite; but they cannot take the place of continuous exercise of faith and prayer. In other words, a man cannot be so much of a Christian on Sunday that he can afford to be a worldling all the rest of the week.

If a steamer put out for Southampton, and go one day in that direction, and the other six days go in other directions, how long before the steamer will get to Southampton? It will never get there. And though a man may seem to be voyaging heavenward during the holy Sabbath-day, if, during the following six days of the week, he is going toward the world, and toward the flesh, and toward the devil, he will never ride up into the peaceful harbor of heaven. You cannot eat so much at the Sabbath banquet that you can afford religious abstinence the other six days. Heroism and princely behavior on great occasions are no apology for lack of right demeanor in circumstances insignificant and inconspicuous. The genuine Christian life is not spasmodic; does not go by fits and starts. It toils on through heat and cold, up steep mountains and along dangerous declivities, its eye on the everlasting hills crowned with the castles of the blessed.

I propose, this morning, to make a plea in behalf of what I shall call ’93everyday religion.’94 In the first place, we want to bring the religion of Christ into our everyday conversation. When a dam breaks, and two or three villages in Massachusetts are overwhelmed, or an earthquake in South America swallows a whole city, then people begin to talk about the uncertainty of life, and they imagine that they are engaged in positively religious conversation. No. You may talk about these things, and have no grace of God at all in your heart. We ought every clay to be talking religion. If there is anything glad about it, anything beautiful about it, anything important about it, we ought to be continuously discussing it. I have noticed that men, just in proportion as their Christian experience is shallow, talk about funerals, and graveyards and tombstones, and death-beds. The real, genuine Christian man talks chiefly about this life, and the great eternity beyond, and not so much about the insignificant pass between these two residences. And yet how few circles there are where the religion of Jesus Christ is welcome. Go into a circle, even of Christian people, where they are full of joy and hilarity, and talk about Christ or heaven, and every voice is immediately silenced. As on a summer day, when the forests are full of life, chatter, and chirrup, and carol’97a mighty chorus of bird-harmony, every tree-branch an orchestra’97if a hawk appear in the sky, every voice stops, and the forests are still; just so I have seen a lively religious circle silenced on the appearance of anything like religious conversation. No one had anything to say, save, perhaps, some old patriarch in the corner of the room, who really thinks that something ought to be said, under the circumstances; so he puts one foot over the other, and heaves a long sigh, and says, ’93Oh yes; that’92s so, that’92s so!’94

The religion of Jesus Christ is something to talk about with a glad heart. It is brighter than the waters; it is more cheerful than the sunshine. Do not go around groaning about your religion, when you ought to be singing it or talking it in cheerful tones of voice. How often it is that we find men whose lives are utterly inconsistent, who attempt to talk religion, and always make a failure of it! We must live religion, or we cannot talk it. If a man is cranky, and cross, and uncongenial, and hard in his dealings, and then begins to talk about Christ and heaven, everybody is repelled by it. Yet I have sometimes heard such men say, in whining tones, ’93We are miserable sinners;’94 ’93The Lord bless you;’94 ’93The Lord have mercy on you;’94 their conversation interlarded with such expressions, which mean nothing but canting; and canting is the worst form of hypocrisy. If we have really felt the religion of Christ in our hearts, let us talk it, and talk it with illuminated countenance, remembering that when two Christian people talk, God gives especial attention, and writes down what they say. Mal_3:16 : ’93Then they that feared the Lord spake often one to another; and the Lord hearkened and heard it, and a book of remembrance was written.’94

Again, I remark: We must bring the religion of Christ into our everyday employments. ’93Oh,’94 you say, ’93that is very well if a man handle large sums of money, or if he have an extensive traffic; it is very well for this importer of silks, for the bankers and shippers, for the Rothschilds and the Vanderbilts; but in my thread-and-needle store, in my trimming establishment, in the humble work in life that I am called to, the sphere is too small for the action of such grand heavenly principles.’94 Who told you so? Do you not know that God watches the faded leaf on the brook’92s surface as certainly as he does the path of a blazing sun? And the moss that creeps up the side of the rock makes as much impression upon God’92s mind as the waving tops of Oregon pine and Lebanon cedar; and the alder, crackling under the cow’92s hoof, sounds as loud in God’92s ear as the roar of a world’92s conflagration. When you have anything to do in life, however humble it may seem to be, God is always there to help you do it. If your work is that of a fisherman, then God will help you, as he helped Simon when he dragged Gennesaret. If your work is drawing water, then he will help you, as when he talked at the well-curb to the Samaritan woman. If you are engaged in the custom-house, he will lead you, as he led Matthew sitting at the receipt of customs. A religion that is not good in one place is not worth anything in another place. The man who has only a day’92s wages in his pocket as certainly needs the guidance of religion as he who rattles the keys of a bank, and could abscond with a hundred thousand hard dollars.

There are those prominent in the churches who seem to be, on public occasions, very devout, who do not put the principles of Christ’92s religion into practice. They are the most inexorable of creditors. They are the most grasping of dealers. They are known as sharpers on the street. They fleece every sheep they can catch. A country merchant comes in to buy spring or fall goods, and he gets into the store of one of these professed Christian men who have really no grace in their hearts, and he is completely swindled. He is so overcome that he cannot get out of town during the week. He stays in town over Sunday, goes into some church to get Christian consolation, when, what is his amazement to find that the very man who hands him the poor-box in the church is the one who relieved him of his money! But never mind; the deacon has his black coat on now. He looks solemn, and goes home talking about ’93the blessed sermon.’94 If the wheat in the churches should be put into a hopper, the first turn of the crank would make the chaff fly, I tell you.

Some of these men are great sticklers for Gospel preaching. They say, ’93You stand there in bands and surplice and gown, and preach’97preach like an angel, and we will stand out here and attend to business. Don’92t mix things. Don’92t get business and religion in the same bucket. You attend to your matters, and we will attend to ours.’94 They do not know that God sees every cheat they have practiced in the last six years; that he can look through the iron wall of their fire-proof safe; that he has counted every dishonest greenback they have in their pocket, and that a day of judgment will come. These inconsistent Christian men will sit on the Sabbath night in the house of God, singing at the close of the service, ’93Rock of Ages, Cleft for Me,’94 and then, when the benediction is pronounced, shut the pew-door, and say, as they go out, ’93Good bye, Religion. I’92ll be back next Sunday.’94

I think that the Church of God and the Sabbath are only an armory where we are to get weapons. When war comes, if a man wants to fight for his country he does not go to Troy or Springfield to do battling, but he goes there for swords and rifles. I look upon the Church of Christ and the Sabbath day as only the place and time where and when we are to get armed for Christian conflict; but the battlefield is on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. ’93St. Martin’92s,’94 and ’93Lenox,’94 and ’93Old Hundred’94 do not amount to anything unless they sing all the week. A sermon is useless unless we can take it with us behind the plow and the counter. The Sabbath day is worthless if it last only twenty-four hours.

There are many Christians who say, ’93We are willing to serve God, but we do not want to do it in these spheres about which we are talking; it seems so insipid and monotonous. If we had some great occasion, if we had lived in the time of Luther, if we had been Paul’92s traveling companion, if we could serve God on a great scale, we would do it; but we can’92t in this everyday life.’94 I admit that a great deal of the romance and knight-errantry of life have disappeared before the advance of this practical age. The ancient temples of Rouen have been changed into storehouses and smithies. The residences of poets and princes have been turned into brokers’92 shops. The classic mansion of Ashland has been cut up into walking-sticks. The groves where the poets said the gods dwelt have been carted out for firewood. The muses that we used to read about have disappeared before the immigrant’92s axe and the trapper’92s gun, and a Vermonter can go over the Alleghany and Rocky mountains, and never see an oread or a sylph; and that man who is waiting for a life bewitched of wonders will never find it. There is, however, a field for endurance and great achievement, but it is in everyday life. There are Alps to scale, there are Hellesponts to swim, there are fires to brave; but they are all around us now. This is the hardest kind of martyrdom to bear. It took grace to lead Latimer and Ridley through the fire triumphantly when their armed enemies and their friends were looking on; but it requires more grace now to bring men through persecution, when nobody is looking on. I could show you a woman who has had rheumatism for twenty years, who has endured more suffering and exhausted more grace than would have made twenty martyrs pass triumphantly through the fire. If you are not faithful in an insignificant position in life, you would not be faithful in a grand mission. If you cannot stand the bite of a midge, how could you endure the breath of a basilisk?

Do not think that any work God gives you to do in the world is on too small a scale for you to do. The whole universe is not ashamed to take care of one little daisy. I say, ’93What are you doing down here in the grass, you poor little daisy? Are you not afraid nights? You will be neglected, you will die of thirst, you will not be fed. Poor little daisy!’94 ’93No,’94 says a star, ’93I’92ll watch over it to-night.’94 ’93No,’94 says a cloud, ’93I’92ll give it drink.’94 ’93No,’94 says the sun, ’93I’92ll warm it in my bosom.’94 Then I see the pulleys going, and the clouds are drawing water, and I say, ’93What are you doing there, O clouds?’94 And they reply, ’93We are giving drink to that daisy.’94 Then the wind rises, and comes bending down the wheat, and sounding its psalm through the forest, and I cry, ’93Whither away on such swift wing, O wind?’94 And it replies, ’93We are going to cool the cheek of that daisy.’94 And then I bow down and say, ’93Will God take care of the grass of the field?’94 And a flower at my foot responds, ’93Yes; he clothes the lilies of the field, and never yet has forgotten me, a poor little daisy.’94 Oh! when I see the great heavens bending themselves to what seems insignificant ministration, when I find out that God does not forget any blossom of the spring or any snow-flake of the winter, I come to the conclusion that we can afford to attend to the minute things in life, and that what we do we ought to do well, since there is as much perfection in the construction of a spider’92s eye as in the conformation of flaming galaxies.

Plato had a fable which I have now nearly forgotten, but it ran something like this: He said spirits of the other world came back to this world to find a body and find a sphere of work. One spirit came and took the body of a king, and did his work. Another spirit came and took the body of a poet, and did his work. After a while Ulysses came, and he said, ’93Why, all the fine bodies are taken, and all the grand work is taken. There is nothing left for me.’94 And some one replied, ’93Ah! the best one has been left for you.’94 Ulysses said, ’93What’92s that?’94 And the reply was, ’93The body of a common man, doing a common work, and for a common reward.’94 A good fable for the world, and just as good a fable for the Church. Whether we eat or drink, or whatsoever we do, let us do it to the glory of God.

Again, we need to bring the religion of Christ into our everyday trials. For severe losses, for bereavement, for trouble that shocks like an earthquake and that blasts like a storm, we prescribe religious consolation; but, business man, for the small annoyances of last week, how much of the grace of God did you apply? ’93Oh!’94 you say, ’93these trials are too small for such application.’94 My brother, they are shaping your character, they are souring your temper, they are wearing out your patience, and they are making you less and less of a man. If you cannot successfully contend against these small sorrows that come down single-handed, what will you do when the great disasters of life come down with thundering artillery, rolling over your soul?

Again, we must bring the religion of Christ into our everyday blessings. When the autumn comes, and the harvests are in, and the governors make proclamation, we assemble in churches, and we are very thankful. But every day ought to be a thanksgiving day. We do not recognize the common mercies of life. We have to see a blind man led by his dog before we begin to bethink ourselves of what a grand thing it is to have eyesight. We have to see some one afflicted with St. Vitus’92s dance before we are ready to thank God for the control of our physical energies. We have to see some wounded man hobbling on his crutch, or with his empty coatsleeve pinned up, before we learn to think what a grand thing God did for us when he gave us healthy use of our limbs. We are so stupid that nothing but the misfortunes of others can rouse us up to our blessings. As the ox grazes in the pasture up to its eyes in clover, yet never thinking who makes the clover, and as the bird picks up the worm from the furrow, not knowing that it is God who makes every thing, from the animalcula in the sod to the seraph on the throne, so we go on eating, drinking, and enjoying, but never thanking, or seldom thanking; or, if thanking at all, with only half a heart.

I compared our indifference to the brute; but perhaps I wronged the brute. I do not know but that, among its other instincts, it may have an instinct by which it recognizes the Divine hand that feeds it. I do not know but that God is, through it, holding communication with what we call ’93irrational creation.’94 The cow that stands under the willow by the watercourse, chewing its cud, looks very thankful; and who can tell how much a bird means by its song? The aroma of the flowers smells like incense, and the mist arising from the river looks like the smoke of a morning sacrifice. Oh that we were as responsive! Yet who thanks God for the water that gushes up in the well, and that foams in the cascade, and that laughs over the rocks, and that patters in the showers, and that claps its hands in the sea? Who thanks God for the air, the fountain of life, the bridge of sunbeams, the path of sound, the great fan on a hot summer’92s day? Who thanks God for this wonderful physical organism’97this sweep of the vision’97this chime of harmony struck into the car’97this soft tread of a myriad delights over the nervous tissue’97this rolling of the crimson tide through artery and vein’97this drumming of the heart on our march to immortality? We take all these things as a matter of course.

But suppose God should withdraw these common blessings! Your body would become an Inquisition of torture, the cloud would refuse rain, every green thing would crumble up, and the earth would crack open under your feet. The air would cease its healthful circulation, pestilence would swoop, and every house would become a place of skulls. Streams would first swim with vermin, and then dry up; and thirst, and hunger, and anguish, and despair would lift their sceptres. Oh, compare such a life as that with the life you live this morning with your families about you! Is it not time that, with every word of our lips and with every action of our life, we began to acknowledge these everyday mercies? ’93Whether ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God.’94 Do I address a man or a woman who has not rendered to God one single offering of thanks?

I was preaching one Thanksgiving day, and announced my text: ’93Oh, give thanks unto the Lord; for He is good; for His mercy endureth forever.’94 I do not know whether there was any other blessing on the sermon or not; but the text went straight to a young man’92s heart. He said to himself, as I read the text, ’93’91Oh, give thanks unto the Lord; for He is good’97’92Why, I have never rendered Him any thanks. Oh, what an ingrate I have been!’94 Can it be, my brother, that you have been fed by the good hand of God all these days’97that you have had clothing and shelter and all beneficent surroundings, and yet have never offered your heart to God? Oh, let a sense of the Divine goodness shown you in the everyday blessings melt your heart; and if you have never before uttered one earnest note of thanksgiving, let this be the day which shall hear your song.

What I say to one, I say to all. Take this practical religion I have recommended into your everyday life. Make every day a Sabbath, and every meal a sacrament, and every room you enter a Holy of Holies. We all have work to do; let us be willing to do it. We all have sorrows to bear; let us cheerfully bear them. We all have battles to fight; let us courageously fight them. If you want to die right, you must live right. Negligence and indolence will win the hiss of everlasting scorn, while faithfulness will gather its garlands, and wave its sceptre, and sit upon its throne, long after this earth has put on ashes, and eternal ages have begun their march. You go home today, and attend to your little sphere of duties. I will go home, and attend to my little sphere of duties. Every one in his own place. So our every step in life shall be a triumphal march, and the humblest footstool on which we are called to sit will be a conqueror’92s throne.

Autor: T. De Witt Talmage