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Let us be thankful to God for putting within our reach the high honour of glorifying Him, for introducing us to a life so pure in its springs, for His kindly help in every step of its progress, and for the hope that it will one day reach its happy consummation.

IX.
UNCONSCIOUS INFLUENCE

“I say unto you, That every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give account thereof in the day of judgment. For by thy words thou shalt be justified, and by thy words thou shalt be condemned.” – Matthew xii. 36, 37.

This is a startling, terrifying text; one of many which tempt men to limitations and compromises of their meaning. Some persons would not hesitate to accuse it of extravagance, and even devout Christians sometimes pause and ask whether it is to be taken in its absolute literalness. “Every idle word.” Is not this the kind of thing which is least amenable to a vigorous judgment? Is not the “idle,” the vain, the worthless, at the worst, thereby negative? Christ says, No. Speech is a gift to be put to sanctified uses; and the non-use as well as the abuse of every gift is sinful. This utterance of our Divine Master, to be vindicated, needs only to be understood. Underlying it are vital moral considerations which should be devoutly studied.

There are many ways in which a man can manifest himself. By his thought, he is always known to God and to his own heart, but not to his fellow men. To reveal himself to them, his thought must somehow find expression. His actions are mostly intentional and deliberate; but they are liable to be prompted, inspired, checked, or controlled by circumstances. So, too, may be his speech; but there is a spontaneousness, a freedom, in that, which belongs to no other manifestation of the man’s inward self. Thus it is by his words that he is best judged. The largest part of our practical life is resolvable into speech.

Christianity itself is amenable to this law. Think of the streams of holy speech which have been flowing through the world for ages, and of the life they have conveyed to thirsty souls. Think of these streams as they are flowing to-day in tens of thousands of Christian congregations, and in innumerable Sabbath schools. Compare their influence with that of the dark utterances of heathenism, and the disturbing teachings of unbelief. Think of the countless rills of Christian speech which are flowing to-day from the lips of those who love the Saviour, and who are endeavouring to make Him known in the home, in the sick-chamber, in the prison-house, and in their various intercourse with those around them. Compare their influence with that of the idle, thoughtless, impious, profane talk of the millions who are living without God; and then say whether Christianity may or may not be judged by its words! Lord Jesus, Thou needest no justification from such imperfect creatures as we are; but if Thou didst, it would be enough for us to recall the gracious words that proceeded out of thine own mouth, and then to challenge the wisdom of the ages, saying, “Never man spake like this man!”

The general drift of the passage before us is this, that man speaks as he is, and is as he speaks, and that, therefore, by his words he shall be judged. His words are signs which reveal his character. Whilst, at the last, he will be judged by his character, single words and unnoticed deeds will, if need be, be adduced as proofs of inner and underlying principles. Of course it is not meant that words will be the only tests; but our Lord’s language shows that they form a far more important element of proof than is commonly supposed. In this light, no manifestation of character is insignificant. Everything tells. Words, looks, even gestures, have their meaning. Often to men’s eyes, and always to God’s (though He does not need them) they are as straws on the stream, showing the course of the current.

These general reflections supply the basis of the further reflections I have to offer. My purpose is twofold: first, to show that, for good or ill, the life of every one of us is an incessant exercise of influence; and secondly, to deduce from this fact some important lessons.

I. Now, generally, when men speak of exerting influence, the thought present to their minds is of something exceptional, attractive, commanding, or formal. Thus, such a phrase as “a person of influence” is understood to denote a man who stands in a position of special advantage, either (for instance) of wealth, or of mental power, or of social importance. Hence the notion of influence is narrowed, and ultimately it becomes false. It does so in two ways: partly by restricting influence to a few, and then by confining it among these few to certain peculiarities of character or of circumstance. The truth is that influence is always going forth from every man, and from everything in man.

There are two ways in which men act upon one another. They do so either directly, deliberately, and intentionally, or, otherwise, indirectly and unconsciously. Thus, if I want to make men around me generous, I may write, preach, speak, use arguments, multiply incentives, enforce appeals. In all this I am conscious that I have a purpose to accomplish, and in everything I say I keep that purpose in view. If I succeed, I do so through the intentional influence I have put into operation. I have tried to realise a definite result, and I have not been disappointed. But I can teach generosity in another way. Obedient to the impulses of my own heart, I may relieve the need of some poor blind beggar on the road, who implores the passer-by to help him. This act may be noticed by a third person whom I did not know to be near, and it may so impress him as to open his heart and his hand to do the kindness he had not thought of doing. Now I had no such design with respect to him; for the time, I had nothing in view beyond meeting an appeal for help which came personally to myself. I was unconscious of the influence I exerted upon the person who followed my example, and yet I did for him as much as if I had set myself to develop an argument or to enforce a claim.

Now, if at this point the question be asked: “Are we responsible for this undesigned influence?” the answer is that we certainly are so, inasmuch as it springs from, and manifests, character. We must not be misled by the fact that this quiet, unconscious action is not that of which the world takes much notice. Men do not speak of it, as they do of the striking and commanding agencies which form so large a portion of the history of the day. Some of these are powerful on a wide scale, as in the case of a popular preacher, or a great philanthropist. But the influence of which we are speaking is exerted within narrower circles. It acts, not upon the masses by wide-spread impressions, but upon individuals by single strokes; not upon the broad platform of public enterprise, but within the more contracted sphere of personal life. The supposition that it is feeble on that account is a grave mistake. Our personal relationships are more numerous and more continuous than our public avocations, and it is in the former rather than in the latter that we are most effectually training our fellow creatures for good or evil. Sometimes, too, this quiet influence is brought to light with important results, as when John Bright was discovered reading the Scriptures in the cottage of a poor blind woman. No public act of his – splendid as all his public acts are – could furnish a truer indication of character than this simple and, to most people’s eyes, this unimportant incident in his history.

That the value of direct influence in promoting the well-being of mankind is incalculable there can be no doubt. All our great undertakings – social, political, and religious – are of this kind. The progress which the world has made in every right direction is greatly due to the combined efforts put forth by societies or bodies of men who have had truth to propagate, or blessing to diffuse, and who have steadily directed their energies to the end in view. Associations for Political Reform, Temperance Societies, British Schools, Ragged Schools, Sunday Schools, Tract Societies, Missionary Agencies, Mothers’ Meetings, Church, Chapel, out-door, and theatre services, are all of this sort; and the harvest of good reaped from them only God knows, at whose inspiration and in whose name all good is done. Statistics tell us much, but far more remains untold. All this well-directed action is in accordance with the Divine order. God wills that we should use judiciously and zealously applied effort for each other’s welfare, especially in connection with the spread of His truth. Every Christian agency is a form of obedience to the great command: “Preach the gospel to every creature.” Such action, moreover, is in accordance with our convictions. We must labour, formally and intentionally, on behalf of any and every cause which lies near to our hearts. Imagine all these direct agencies to be suddenly and completely withdrawn – what would then become of our poor world? Would it not speedily lapse into a mournful, moral waste – a training-school for present and everlasting perdition? Multiplied and energetically worked as these agencies are, the condition of the world is bad enough. The appalling needs of the world demand heroic effort; and, as I have said, the amount of good already wrought by this is beyond calculation.

Nevertheless, the other kind of influence – the indirect and unconscious – is invested also with an importance which is incalculable; and it will be a blessed time both for the Church and for the world when this truth comes to be practically remembered as it should be. Let us consider this matter a little further, bearing in mind, as we do so, that the application of the subject must be to the Christian conscience of us all.

I. Notice some differences between the two kinds of influence which have been named.

1. We have already said the influence which we consciously exert is the result of forethought, and deliberately contemplates an end, the attainment of which is steadily kept in view; whilst our unconscious influence is spontaneous, and has no premeditation or calculation about it. We need only add here, that the action of this unconscious influence is very immediate; a fact which is explained by the mysterious insight which enables men to look into, and to understand, one another. We form judgments of men every day without data that we can adduce. These judgments are instinctive, and they are more frequently right than wrong. How is it that we conceive a sudden repugnance to one, and at first sight fall in love with another? The impression made needed only a word, a tone, a look, a gesture, a smile, a tear; on so slender a basis a judgment was formed which will last a life-time, or which years will be required to modify.

2. Our unconscious influence is a perpetual emanation from ourselves. Direct effort need not truly express us at all. It may be imposed upon us by circumstances which we cannot control. Often we should avoid it if we could. Moreover, when it is voluntary and unconstrained, it is a thing of times, seasons, places, and conditions in life, and is therefore more or less fitful, partial, and intermittent. The other kind of influence acts continuously – without pauses, without breaks, without paroxysms. It is thus that every man – high or low – in spheres extended or narrow, without intention, forethought or consciousness of the fact, is always leading some one more or less closely after him: it may be wife, friend, little child, or stranger; but some one most surely.

3. This unconscious influence is necessarily simple. It makes its appeal to all kinds of human judgment, and to all degrees of human insight. It is quickly apprehended, by the ignorant and the young as well as by the learned and mature. Many of our direct and most definitely-arranged efforts are misunderstood. They tax people’s thought; they demand reflection; and they frequently excite differences of opinion. How many instances there are in which the most cogent and strongly-urged arguments are lost, while the quiet and undesigned force of example succeeds.

4. Our unconscious influence is the more powerful because it excites no suspicion. It is intuitively felt to represent our inner self in the direction, and within the range, of its present meaning. Many of our direct efforts put men upon their guard. If they are hostile to our intentions, they resist our formal endeavours; if they are indifferent, they become impatient of our zeal. But direct efforts, moreover, are often thought to be mainly professional, and this impression concerning them places them at a disadvantage. On the other hand, our unconscious influence wins men unconsciously to themselves – wins them when they are off their guard – and thus wins them in spite of themselves.

II. How, then, does this fact of our unconscious influence touch the question of our responsibility? In what sense, and on what grounds, are we accountable for it?

1. It is conditioned by our character. It reproduces outwardly what we are within. If our character, or, as the Divine Master terms it, our “heart” be good, then our unconscious influence must be good likewise; if our character – our “heart” – be evil, our unconscious influence must also be evil. As we are responsible for the motives which actuate us, so are we responsible for every form of conduct that proceeds therefrom. It must, of course, be admitted that even in a fundamentally holy character there are ever and anon exceptional mistakes, inconsistencies, and flaws. How many of these, He only knows who forgives all. But we are speaking of great moral tendencies; and concerning these we are in no doubt. They reveal character, and they share the responsibility, in regard to their influence, which belongs to character.

2. It is by this unconscious influence that we act most on those who are nearest to us. Children, members of our families, fellow-workmen, and acquaintances – all these are much more affected by the general tenour of our conduct, and the so-thought trivial indications of our character, than by our more formal efforts. Alas, it often happens that these latter are made ineffectual by the operation of the former. A practical inconsistency in a parent’s life at home will drive away from the mind and conscience of a child the force of the best and most frequently repeated precept. Even when direct and well-meant effort is put forth, it is often comparatively powerless apart from the help it derives from the unconscious influence that accompanies it. A smile, a look, a sigh, a tear, will often put life into an argument which may be sound enough in itself, but which, without such an auxiliary, would be dry, uninteresting, and therefore ineffective. Is all this influence outside the range of our responsibility?

3. Our indirect influence is our truest. It best represents us. In formal effort, there is room for a more or less transient enthusiasm, love of excitement, love of applause, self-seeking, hypocrisy. But our unconscious influence belongs to us at all times – follows us, and is as true to us as the shadow follows, and is true to, the substance. We cannot escape from it. It proceeds from us spontaneously, without our volition; and it mirrors externally what we are radically and in the recesses of our real being. If we be responsible for what we really are, we must be responsible for the influence we thus spontaneously and inevitably exert.

4. Another ground of this responsibility is that, on reflection, we know that it is by these unconscious exhibitions of character that the world is constantly judging us. Often the judgment of the world is harsh, and commonly uncharitable; but it is shrewd, and generally there is a rough justice about it which marks its worth.

These considerations, and many more that might be adduced, show how solemn is our responsibility with respect to the impressions we are constantly and unconsciously producing on those around us. As in nature, so in human life, the most unobtrusive and silent forces are the strongest. The nightly dew effects more good than the occasional storm-shower, and light works more wonders than lightning.

III. From all this we learn some weighty lessons. It teaches us —

1. The importance of each act in our life. The text before us is no exaggeration. Everything tells, because there is character in everything, and consequently power for good or ill. It is impossible for any one of us to be in the world without responsibility. There is no escape for us. Simply to be in the world, whatever we may be, is to exert an influence, subtle, quiet, powerful – an influence compared with which argument and expostulation and entreaty are feeble. We say we mean well; we think that at least we are injuring nobody and doing no harm; but is it so? It cannot be so, unless our influence be always on the side of God and of goodness. By looks, glances, unpremeditated words and deeds, we are perpetually exerting an influence which may turn the scale of some man’s eternal destiny!

2. The necessity of conversion. If our unconscious influence is to be of a wholesome kind, we must undergo a radical moral change, out of which will proceed an all-pervading sanctification. Blessed be God for the revelation of the Holy Spirit. Up to this point, the consideration of our subject may have prompted some to ask: “Are we, then, to be anxiously, feverishly, incessantly watching ourselves in order that we may make no mistakes, and do no evil? Such vigilance – would it not take all our time, and absorb all our strength? Such a life – would it not be a terrible bondage? Is it necessary?” We reply, “Yes, and no.” That is to say, there will always be the necessity for watchfulness and prayer; but the true secret of doing good lies in being good. The path of the just is as a shining light; he shines because he is luminous. The tree is known by its fruit; not by the fruit which is tacked on, as in the case of a Christmas tree, but by the fruit which is the produce of the tree’s own interior life. “Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. A good man out of the treasure of the heart bringeth forth good things, and an evil treasure bringeth forth evil things.” Before a man can impart the higher order of blessing to his fellow men, he himself must receive the blessing of a new nature from God.

The question is often asked why the triumphs of Christianity are not more marked in the world, and why spiritual growth is not more marked in the Church. The answer is found partly, no doubt, in the imperfections of the direct efforts which are put forth with these ends in view; but not in these alone. No small portion of it is to be traced to the deleterious elements which mingle with the undesigned influences which emanate from many of the professors of Christ’s religion. When Moses was on the Mount with God, his face became luminous. Was he conscious of its shining? Not until the people were “afraid to come nigh him.” Then he had to cover his face with a vail! How few are “luminous” enough to need “vailing” now!

X.
SECULAR ANXIETY

“Take no thought for your life.” – Matthew vi. 25.

“Take no thought for the morrow.” – Matthew vi. 31.

Let us survey the entire passage of which the first of these texts is the commencement, and of which the second is the close. It brings before us a common evil, and for this evil it proposes a sovereign remedy.

The evil is secular anxiety. Perhaps we need not be greatly surprised at its prevalence, when we consider what the life-experience of most of us is. Think of the uncertainty of almost everything we know – life, health, friendship, domestic relationships and affections, riches, commerce. Life has many sad surprises and disappointments. Our own day is especially full of care. The age is mad with speculation – thousands making haste to be rich, and so bringing upon themselves many temptations. For many others, the time is full of hard necessities, and the outlook is one of possible or even probable poverty. The admonitions given by our Lord in the verses before us are needed now more than ever.

There are persons who, under the influence of pride and false notions of manliness, consider careworn Christians – Christians labouring and struggling amid the difficulties of the way – undeserving of sympathy. “After all,” they say, “what are the ills of life, that we should make so much ado? Be men!” Sometimes we meet with superficial Christians who profess that this life is really so insignificant, that it shows a low state of piety to be painfully affected by common ills. As to the first, nothing but stoicism, or the hard-heartedness which is sometimes the result of prosperity, can make the soul unsusceptible to the ordinary troubles of life, or independent of the antidote which the religion of Christ supplies. As to the second, do not let them talk in a way which implies that they are wiser than their Lord. He knew how heavily care pressed upon the hearts He loved, and condescended to offer them the appropriate and all-sufficient relief.

And how does the great Teacher speak to the careworn in these verses? Is it not unspiritual to take arguments for the comfort of our Christian life from lower things? Must we go to the irrational and inanimate creation for gospels of blessing for our spiritual need? Christ drew His arguments from the birds and the flowers; clearly showing that we should accustom ourselves to see God’s hand, His love, His teaching, in all things. Let Him not be excluded from the least part of His creation. Every part of it may subserve the purposes of His grace. “Consider” the fowls of the air and the flowers of the fields; make them objects of study. To the thoughtful they often suggest “thoughts that lie too deep for tears;” to the Christian they may well suggest thoughts which shall inspire thanksgiving and prayer.

Note the condescension, the simplicity, and the power of our Lord’s argument. His appeals are homely. He seeks no far-fetched reasonings or facts from antiquity. He points to birds and flowers; an argument for simple people, but equally effective for the learned and the refined. We have no need to go far for lessons of comfort.

We must not overlook the necessary limitations of our Lord’s teaching in these verses. Those limitations are found in the nature of things. Observe, then,

I. Christ does not forbid all anticipations of the future. He cannot mean so much as this when He says, “Take no thought for the morrow.” Man is an inhabitant of two worlds – one material, the other spiritual. This being so, two distinct sets or classes of wants press upon him – the wants of the body, and those of the soul. The wants of the soul point to a future state of existence, for which we must prepare. In relation to these, carelessness – the absence of forethought – would be fatal. According to the state of our souls, the thought of the future gives us terror or joy. To the Christian, the future is the scene of his perfected spiritual growth, and of his consummated happiness. Every aspiration of his soul bounds joyfully towards it, and he instinctively leaves the things that are behind to press forward. In the words before us, Christ does not touch such matters as these. It is not fore-thought which is condemned, but fore-boding.

II. Nor does He discountenance earnest activity in the duties of the present. Work is God’s oldest law. It is only in wilful blindness or in unaccountable delusion that men can plead this teaching as an excuse for indolence. “If any man will not work, neither shall he eat.” Work is often spoken of as a curse; but it is a blessing. With a Christian spirit, it may be gloriously consecrated. It links us in our activity with God who “worketh hitherto,” and with Christ who worked His full day.

III. Christ does not even condemn a legitimate forethought in connection with secular interests. There is a legitimate forethought such as this. Nature teaches it. We must sow in order to reap. We must toil to-day for results which cannot come till to-morrow. “If any provide not for his own, and specially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an unbeliever.” The faith to live by is that which prompts not to sitting down and doing nothing, but to trustful and persevering enterprise. Keep in mind the distinction between forethought and foreboding. It is forethought in a man which leads him to sow for a future harvest; it is foreboding that would fill his heart with fears that the harvest will be a bad one. Forethought is the grand distinction between the civilized and the savage; foreboding is the weakness of distrust.

What the Lord bids us guard against, then, is conjectural brooding over the possible necessities of the future, and our possible lack of the resources required for their supply. “Taking thought” means giving way to anxiety – the constant occupation and worry of the heart in looking forward, gazing into, and dreading the possibilities of the days and years yet to come. “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.” Be warned against forebodings of evil to-morrow. The lesson is, “Do the day’s work as it is appointed by God; accept the day’s mercy, bear the day’s evil; and be not anxious about the evil which to-morrow may bring.”

How common a weakness – nay, rather let us say, how common a sin – this taking anxious thought for the morrow is! We see the lines of care in thousands of faces every day. Anxiety has marked its furrows round lips which every morning say, “Give us this day our daily bread.” It is a calamity as well as a sin. It disturbs the heart, so that there can be no enjoyment of present mercies. It adds to the present the weight of an unknown but dreaded future. It paralyses religious feeling, and checks religious activity. It defeats its end by shortening the life it would fain prolong.

Now Christ shows that this kind of anxiety reckons falsely, because it is founded on a false estimate of life; and He further shows that to gauge our position aright we must reckon according to the Divine thought respecting it. The whole of the teaching before us on this subject is perfectly plain, consisting of a few simple and obvious points. We cannot hope, indeed, to bring it within the understanding of the mere worldling. The man who has no filial confidence in God has no antidote for care. Anxiety can only be subdued in the heart of him who can look upward, and say, “Father, I trust in Thee!”

What, then, is the first point? It is this, that God – the Author of our life, the Creator of our bodies – will surely give that which, however necessary, is yet less important and less valuable. In bringing us into existence, He has done more than He can do in giving to us any secular blessing which we can need. “Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment?” We have our life from Him; our bodies are His handiwork. Why should we suspect that He will be indisposed to give us whatever may be needful for the existence thus created? Will He, by neglect, frustrate His own purpose? The greater gift can only be sustained and made valid by the lesser ones. Without food and raiment the body must decay, and its life must perish. God does not give imperfectly.

Another point is this, that anxious care answers no good purpose. It is useless. If we could by means of it gain an exemption from future evil, common prudence would dictate it as a wise expedient. But it is not so. Christ puts this consideration very strongly. No amount of foreboding can add a single moment to our life, for the boundaries of our life have been fixed by God. The future is utterly unknown to us; and foreboding will not help us in the least degree to forecast its difficulties and its trials, though it may unfit us for the endurance of them. Whether we are cognizant of it or not, God will take His plan with us, and will carry it out. If we could not believe in the love that He hath towards us, the thought of this would be a dark sorrow; but, assured of His love as we may be, we can also be assured that He will do all things well. At any rate, no over-anxiety of ours will facilitate the order of life we long for. “The morrow shall take thought for the things of itself.” It will have anxieties enough of its own in spite of every effort of ours to set it free from them. Every day, to the end, will have its own “evil,” and the “evil” of each day will require all our strength for coping with it. So that anxiety for the morrow will not remove care from the morrow; it will only take strength and joy from to-day. Trust in God, and all that He gives you of trouble for to-day will be accompanied by the gift of the strength necessary to enable you to bear it. But do not expect Him to give you strength to bear unnecessary sorrows – sorrows of your own making – the sorrows which spring from worldliness and unbelief. “As thy day” – the day that now is – “so thy strength shall be.”

A third point is, that, reasoning from analogy, we may be sure that God will provide for us. He feeds the birds, and He clothes the lilies. They can do nothing for themselves; yet how well are they provided for! “Are not ye much better than they?” A wonderfully simple, beautiful, and effective argument this! How grand the view it gives us of God’s position in His universe! What knowledge must be His! What power! What vastness – what variety of resource! What minuteness of kindly, loving interest! Who would not gladly entertain such a conception of God and of His Providence as this, in preference to the atheism and the materialism which have intruded so grievously into the science of our times? “Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they?.. Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: and yet I say unto you, that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven, shall He not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?” Thus, God is not content with giving what is simply necessary for life; He gives for beauty also. Showing His goodness in such a manner to objects inferior to man, why should man suspect that the same goodness will be denied to him? Observe, that Christ does not teach that birds and flowers are better than men because of their immunity from toil. His meaning is, that creatures which do not and cannot toil – creatures which do not and cannot forecast the future – are clothed and fed; will God neglect the nobler creatures to whom He has given the power of thought, and whom He has put under the obligation to labour? Even with these higher powers, man is still as dependent as any of the inferior creatures around him. Will his needs be overlooked, while theirs are supplied? Such a question is all the more pertinent when we remember, that whilst they live for a day, he was created for eternity, and needs the special gifts which can shape his present life into a preparation and a discipline.