“What is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul ? ”—(Matt. xvi. 26).
IT may be all very well—perhaps it is all right and our duty—to devote ourselves to God, and lead a holy and heavenly life. But what is to become of our profits, our business, our interests? Such is the argument, in brief and in substance, by which so many among us are turning aside the edge of all appeals to them in behalf of the blessed God—persuading themselves to prefer the world to their Maker, earth to heaven, sin to holiness, time to eternity. In the text, our Lord condescends to meet them on their own ground—on the ground of profits, of calculations, of self-interest—“What is a man profited?” He does not ask here how they will answer to God or to His law for a life of ungodliness and sin, but how they will answer for it to themselves, and their own interests and gains. It is a simple question of profit He asks them to settle, “What is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” Three things demand our attention here: first, a case supposed—the whole world gained; second, another case supposed—the soul lost; and, third, the question, how stands the reckoning, the account, in the end and upon the whole?
I. First, we have a case supposed—the whole world gained.
Of course, it is only a supposed case—one which was never realized in fact. No man ever yet bartered his soul for a world, or anything approaching it. Ah! it is for a very small part of a world, a mere shred of one, men lose their souls every day—for a very little show—a very little gain—a very little notice, applause—a very little satisfaction, delight. Alexander the Great’s case was a rare one indeed; and even his regrets were but a kind of impassioned figure, when, after conquering the world (as they spoke of the world at that time)—some tolerable part of it, that is to say—he shed tears because he had not another world to conquer. But Christ will give this first side of the account the benefit of the supposition—the whole world gained. He puts this case, that what Satan once offered to Him, if He would fall down and worship him, He is able to make good, and does bestow on you—the world’s accumulated whole wealth, pleasures, kingdoms, amusements, honours, together. Well; and the profit? Now, we will, if you please, and the more thoroughly to test the profit on this side of the account, leave out of view for the present the other side altogether—the soul, and the loss of it. We will try to forget eternity for a little. We will take the world’s side of the reckoning by itself, and suppose death to be the end of you, and of your very soul, and world, and all. And meanwhile you have gained it, according to the supposition—the whole of it.
But I think it is something very like a dream, a phantom, a shadow, you have got. For, first, how little a portion of this world of yours can you make any use of! And second, how intolerable the anxiety of keeping such a world, when you have gained it! And third, how little real inward satisfaction from it, supposing it kept ever so easily! And fourth, and above all, death hastens, at any moment to sweep it all away together.
1. First, I say, how little a portion of your world can you make use of!
And if you will insist on using more, because it is your own, and you have a right to do with it as you will, then it is but a surfeit and a misery, not a satisfaction, an enjoyment. You call it your own, but to what purpose of profit, beyond a very little part of it? The only advantage of property, I suppose, is in reference to some use or account to which it can be turned. There is no limit to the mere name of property—the limits to its use, and especially on a man’s self, are reached very soon indeed. Have you not noticed how some plain man, who has the charge of the pleasure-grounds of a great proprietor (especially if he happens to be a person of sense and piety), has a great deal more of the actual use of them, oftentimes, than the owner himself, who, perhaps, has ceased to care much for them, and prefers to live abroad, leaving his domains for the use and enjoyment of humbler dependants? How little a portion of your world can you make any use of!
2. But second, how intolerable the anxiety of keeping the rest,—keeping such a world when you have gained it!
Ah, you are not the master of it. It is the master of you. It is the proprietor—you are the slave, held in the bondage daily of its thoughts and cares, difficulties, dangers, vexations. I can imagine you right glad to throw off the incumbrance of your world again, and have your gains reduced once more within very different dimensions.
3. But third, supposing you could keep such a world with perfect ease, yet, alas, how little real inward satisfaction from it! and that is profit.
Oh, “the eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing.” That inner soul will not fill with outward things. “Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again.” That soul of yours will still be crying, “give, give,”—“who will show us any good?” Alexander’s tears because he had not another world to conquer, have a great and enduring lesson for us here—even that what little happiness he had found, had been more in the excitement of the pursuit than in the thing pursued,—in the conquering than in the conquests. You remember these memorable words, “I said in my heart, Go to now, I will prove thee with mirth; therefore enjoy pleasure . . . I made me great works; I builded me houses; I planted me vineyards; I made me gardens and orchards, and I planted trees in them of all kind of fruits; I made me pools of water, to water therewith the wood that bringeth forth trees; I got me servants and maidens, and had servants born in my house; I gathered me also silver and gold, and the peculiar treasure of kings and of the provinces; I got me men singers, and women singers, and the delights of the sons of men, as musical instruments, and that of all sorts. So I was great, and increased more than all that were before me in Jerusalem: also my wisdom”—my learning, science, philosophy—“remained with me. And whatsoever mine eyes desired I kept not from me; I withheld not my heart from any joy. Then I looked on all the works that my hands had wrought, and on the labour that I had laboured to do; and, behold, all was vanity and vexation of spirit, and there was no profit under the sun.”
4. But the chief and most affecting element on this side of the account remains.
For, supposing you were able to use all your world together; and supposing you could keep it with perfect ease; and supposing it were fitted, in its own nature, to impart ever so much rest and satisfaction, yet, all the while, you are as the man set down to a feast of viands with a sword suspended over his head by a single hair. For death hastens, at any moment to sweep all away together. And thus does it come to a very simple alternative, as regards this first side of the reckoning. For either we were right, and there never was much profit, much that was fitted to impart rest and satisfaction, in your gained world at the best, or we were somehow wrong, and there was a great deal. If we were right, and there was very little profit at the best, then it scarce needed even death to come and finish it. But if we were wrong,—if there was much in this supposed world fitted in its own nature to give you rest and satisfaction, yet the terrible certainty of death, in one view of it, and terrible uncertainty of it in another, come in to spoil and neutralize all. And this at least is beyond all possible dispute, that so soon as death has come, and inflicted its stroke, then all former profit, real or supposed, is at an end for ever—much as some man, who is a bankrupt now, is none the less so, none the less destitute of all, that he may have been a wealthy man once. All is gone now.
II. So that, on the whole, brethren, the loss on the other side of this great reckoning—for to that we must now pass—would need to be a very small one, if there is to be any profit on the entire great account. Ah, a small loss on the other side of it—the soul lost!
Why, the only possible difficulty here is to make any approach to an estimate of the loss. For we have been leaving eternity purposely out of view as yet. But eternity is everything. Sixty or seventy years before eternity are nothing, less than nothing, and vanity. We can speak somewhat accurately and confidently of the profit, or no profit, on the world’s side of the account. But how shall we now speak, secondly, of the soul lost, on the other? The first thing, if one would form any kind of estimate of what the loss of the soul is, would be to estimate if possible, to try to estimate, the value of the soul itself. Then should we approach at least to an idea of what the loss of it must be. Well, take these views, rapidly, of the worth, the value, of the soul.
1. First, it is yourself, my hearer.
The soul is the man. That wondrous thing in you which thinks, and wills, and reasons, remembers, anticipates, rejoices, sorrows, is you, is the man. And accordingly our text, in the parallel passage of Luke, is thus expressed, “What is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose himself?” For he who loses his soul, loses himself, loses all. The soul is the man. The soul shall survive the body—shall live when the body is mouldering in the grave. And although, indeed, the body shall be raised again, yet, in its re-union with the soul, it shall but follow the soul’s character and destinies. As the soul is, such shall the body be for ever.
2. Or, the value of the soul might appear from this consideration, that it has nothing in the whole world like it, resembling it.
If you would find the likeness of the soul, you must seek it in a far other world. God made the soul in His own glorious likeness. When He made the other creatures, He simply said, “let them be”—”let there be a firmament—let the waters be gathered together—let the dry land appear—let the earth bring forth abundantly.” But when He made man, God said, “let us make man in our image, after our likeness. So God created man”—the soul—”in His own image, in the image of God created He him.” O that pearl, priceless gem—that soul with its capacities, its faculties of reason, and will, and memory, and conscience! A Christian poet sings—
“What is the thing of greatest price
The whole creation round,
That which was lost in paradise,
That which in Christ is found?
The soul of man—Jehovah’s breath,
Which keeps two worlds at strife:
Hell moves beneath to work its death,
Heaven stoops to give it life.”
3. But that is another standard to measure the worth of the soul by.
The value of anything may be tested by the price which one thoroughly acquainted with it will require for it, or will give for it, as the case might be. A price was once required, and once given, for the soul, by parties infallibly acquainted with its character and value. O see its worth in the ransom price which the eternal Father required, and the eternal Son gave, for its redemption. See it in the word of the Father, “Awake, O sword, against my Shepherd, and against the Man that is my Fellow, saith the Lord of hosts; smite the Shepherd.” See it in the agony, the bloody sweat and accursed death, of that fellow of the Lord of hosts. See it, when the Creator of all worlds became an infant of days—became a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief, a homeless wanderer on the earth which He made—yea, became “sin,” and “a curse,” that we might be redeemed from the curse of the law!
4. Or, the value of the soul comes solemnly out in the single fact of its immortality, its ever-enduring existence.
Ah! that eternity which we left purposely out of view in looking at the first side of the account, is necessarily the grand determining element in the whole. The world, were it ever so profitable otherwise, is worthless from this one circumstance, that it passeth away, and the lust of it. But when the earth and the works that are therein shall be burned up, the soul shall only have begun to live; and when millions of years more have passed, it shall be no nearer an end. But thus I am led to observe, that we have a simpler and more direct way of getting at some estimate of what the loss of the soul is.
For we know directly, however unable fully to realize, what the loss of the soul will involve. We know that the loss of it will involve, first, the loss of an eternal heaven, and, second, the incurring of an eternal hell! The loss of an eternal heaven. You sometimes say, I have lost such a thing—but it matters little—I can replace it—it is not of much consequence. Can you replace that everlasting kingdom? Can you replace those mansions in the Father’s House? Can you replace that crown of life and of glory? Can you replace what these words tell of, “they shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat : for the Lamb, which is in the midst of the throne, shall feed them, and lead them unto living fountains of waters ; and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes ? ”
And yet the loss of all this might be borne, at least, by those who have never known such a blessedness, and never even much desired it. But the loss of the soul, besides the forfeiture of an eternal heaven, is the incurring of an eternal hell ! “ Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels ”—that is the loss of the soul. “ Everlasting destruction from the presence of the Lord, and from the glory of His power ”—that is the loss of the soul. “ The rich man died, and was buried ; and in hell he lifted up his eyes, being in torments . . . . Have mercy on me, and send Lazarus, that he may dip the tip of his finger in water, and cool my tongue ; for I am tormented in this flame . . . . Between us and you there is a great gulf fixed : so that they which would pass from hence to you cannot ; neither can they pass to us that would come from thence ”—that is the loss of the soul. But “ who knoweth the power of His anger ? ” What the loss of the soul is, will be fully known only to those who shall find it when the discovery shall come too late.
III. And now the question of our third and last head of discourse has been answered already—we do not need to enlarge on it—how stands the reckoning, the account, in the end and upon the whole?
For, as to the one side of it, we have seen that the profit of a whole world gained, small enough even before death, is swept wholly away in the hour of it. And, as to the other side, we have seen that the loss here is beyond all possibility of calculation—the loss of ourselves—the loss of that which has its likeness only in the adorable God—which found its price only in the incarnation and death of His co-equal Son—the loss of our eternity—the loss of an eternal heaven—the incurring of an eternal hell ! And, therefore, in place of enlarging on the question further, I would fain address myself for a moment or two, in the way of affectionate expostulation, to those among us who are madly preferring the world to God—bartering a soul of such priceless value—incurring a loss so manifold and incalculable—not for a whole world, but for a miserable fragment of one—for a little gain, or show, or satisfaction—a little emolument, or applause, or sensual delight—for the lust of the flesh, or the lust of the eye, or the pride of life. Beloved hearers, the folly were very greatly less if the salvation of the soul were either no longer within your reach, or very doubtfully, at least, and uncertainly within it. But it is the Saviour of the soul who speaks in the text—who is crying “ye will not come to me, that ye might have life”—“if any man thirst, let him come unto me, and drink”—“God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” We should but smile at an infant who, when you placed a little bit of polished copper before it, along with an old, hundred pound note, should prefer the bright copper. But you, with your eyes open, are preferring that worthless shining dust before unsearchable riches, before an everlasting kingdom! “Be astonished, O ye heavens, at this, and be horribly afraid, be ye very desolate, saith the Lord; for my people have forsaken me, the fountain of living waters, and hewed them out cisterns, broken cisterns, that can hold no water.” “How long, ye simple ones, will ye love simplicity? and scorners delight in their scorning, and fools hate knowledge?” Oh, what arguments are here for plucking out the right eye—cutting off and casting away the right hand, that would come between you and the Saviour of the lost! What arguments are here for coming to Him even this day, casting yourselves down at His feet, laying the weight of your whole eternity upon Him, giving that soul of yours into His hand to be saved by Him in His own way, surrendering yourselves to His everlasting service! I doubt not, however, that there are among us who have already done this; and the whole subject will be found fraught with lessons for such of the highest value.
1. As, for example, what thanks do you owe to the grace which alone opened your eyes on the hollowness of the world, and the incomparable preciousness of the Lord Jesus!
For no mere demonstrations of the world’s emptiness shall ever persuade men to part with it, and with their sins, till the Holy Ghost has opened their hearts to the higher glory and excellency of the Saviour. Till then, having nothing better, they will cling to the earth as their all. It is the power of the new and nobler affection that alone shall expel the old and lower one. “By grace are ye saved,” believers, “through faith; and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God.” And what a salvation! What a soul saved, and saved at such a cost! hell escaped, heaven gained! unsearchable riches! a pearl of even still greater price than the soul, found in the Saviour who redeemed it! And I think you have more real satisfaction now, in whatever even of the world you possess, than when you had nothing besides. You have heard of the poor godly woman who, in taking up her barley cake, thanked God for it as a very treasure from His hand, saying, “this, Lord, and heaven too!” Perhaps you do not now prosper less, possibly more, and I am sure more solidly and satisfactorily, even in your earthly calling. It is written at least, “seek first the kingdom of God; and all other things shall be added unto you”—”all things are yours, whether the world, or life, or death, or things present, or things to come; and ye are Christ’s, and Christ is God’s.” “How sweet,” exclaims old Augustine in his Confessions, “did it at once become to me to want the sweetnesses of those toys! and what I feared to be parted from was now a joy to part with. For thou didst cast them forth from me, thou true and highest sweetness. Thou castedst them forth, and, for them, enteredst in thyself, sweeter than all pleasure.” Thanks, thanks be unto God for His unspeakable gift!
2. But again, what lessons are here for you of Christian moderation in the use of the world—of using, as not abusing it—of asserting a holy superiority over it—of refusing to let
the earth you tread on become again your master—of declining all dishonourable shifts and artifices in your worldly business—diligent in it, indeed, on manifold accounts, but remembering ever that you have riches of a nobler kind laid up in the Lord Jesus, and kept secure for you by him, in the possession of which you can afford to forego whatsoever is contrary to His honour and will.
3. And thus, further, what materials of consolation are here for you under trials and losses in the world!
For you might take the text conversely, and ask, what shall a man suffer much, if he lose the whole world, and gain his own soul? Certainly this may well sustain you under partial losses—however severe—of your substance. How memorable those words of the apostle, “Our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory; while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal!”
4. And once more, what arguments might be found here for giving, liberally and cheerfully, at all times, of your substance, whether for the relief of temporal distress, or for the advancement of the cause and kingdom of the Lord Jesus!
It is not much, as we have seen, of the things of this world you can make use of on yourselves. But you can make much larger use of them for the benefit, temporal or spiritual, of those around you. And the more you use of them thus, the wealthier are you in the nobler and better riches—for “whosoever shall give to drink unto one of these little ones a cup of cold water only in the name of a disciple, verily I say unto you, he shall in nowise lose his reward.”—“Sell that ye have, and give alms; provide for yourselves bags that wax not old, a treasure in the heavens which faileth not, where no thief approacheth, neither moth corrupteth.”—“Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: for I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink; I was a stranger, and ye took me in; naked, and ye clothed me; I was sick, and ye visited me; I was in prison, and ye came unto me . . . Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”