Unprofitable Servants

A Sermon Delivered on Lord's-day Morning, June 6th, 1880, by Charles Spurgeon

"Cast the unprofitable servant into the outer darkness. There will be weeping and gnashing of teeth!" Matthew 25:30.

"So likewise you, when you shall have done all those things which are commanded you, say: We are unprofitable servants; we have only done that which was our duty to do." Luke 17:10.

"His lord said unto him, Well done, good and faithful servant." Matthew 25:21.

There is a narrow path between indifference and morbid sensibility.

Some men seem to feel no holy anxiety: they place their Master's talent in the earth, leave it there, and take their pleasure and their ease without a moment's compunction.

Others profess to be so anxious to be right, that they come to the conclusion that they can never be so, and fall under a horror of God, viewing his service as a drudgery, and himself as a hard master--though probably they never say so.

Between these two lines there is a path, narrow as a razor's edge, which only the grace of God can enable us to trace; it is free alike from carelessness, and from bondage, and consists in a sense of responsibility bravely borne by the help of the Holy Spirit. The right way usually lies between two extremes: it is the narrow channel between the rock and the whirlpool. There is a sacred way which runs between self-congratulation and despondency, a very difficult track to find, and very hard to keep. There are great perils in the consciousness that you have done well, and that you are serving God with all your might; for you may come to think that you are a deserving person, worthy to rank among the princes of Israel. The danger of being puffed up can hardly be overestimated: a dizzy head soon brings a fall. But perhaps equally to be dreaded on the other side is that sense of unworthiness which paralyzes all exertion, making you feel that you are incapable of anything that is great or good. Under this impulse have men fled from the service of God, into a life of solitude; they felt that they could not behave valiantly in the battle of life, and therefore they fled from the field before the fight began, to become hermits or monks; as if it were possible to do the Lord's perfect will by doing nothing at all, and to discharge the duties to which they were born by an unnatural mode of existence. Blessed is that man who finds the strait and narrow way between high thoughts of self--and hard thoughts of God; between self-esteem and a timid shrinking from all effort. My desire is that the Spirit of God may guide our minds into the golden means where holy graces blend, and the contending vices, equally natural to our evil hearts, are all excluded. May the Spirit of God bless our three texts and the three subjects suggested by them, so that we may be put right, and then by infinite mercy may be kept right until the great day of account.

Let us read Matthew 25:30, "And cast the unprofitable servant into outer darkness: there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth."

 

In this our first text we have THE VERDICT OF JUSTICE upon the man who did not use his talent. The man is here styled an "unprofitable servant" because he was slothful, useless, worthless. He did not bring his master interest for his money nor render him any sincere service. He did not faithfully discharge the trust reposed in him, as his fellow servants did.

Notice, first, that this unprofitable person was a servant. He never denied that he was a servant; in fact, it was by his position as a servant that he became possessed of his one talent, and to that possession he never demurred. If he had been capable of receiving more, there is no reason why he should not have had two talents, or five; for the Scripture tells us that the master gave to every man according to his ability. He owned the rule of his master even in the act of burying the talent, and in appearing before him to give an account.

This makes the subject the more heart-searching for you and for me; for we, too, profess to be servants--servants of the Lord our God. Judgment must begin at the house of God; that is, with those who are in the house of the Lord as children and servants: let us, therefore, look well to our goings. If judgment first begins with us, then "what shall be the end of those who obey not the gospel of God?" "If the righteous scarcely be saved, then where shall the ungodly and the sinner appear?" If this in our text is judgment upon servants, then what will be the judgment upon enemies?

This man acknowledged that he was a servant even to the last; and though he was impertinent and impudent enough to express a most wicked and slanderous opinion about his master--yet he neither denied his own position as a servant, nor the fact that his talent was his lord's, for he said, "Behold! you have that is yours." In thus speaking he went rather further than some professing Christians do, for they live as if Christianity were all eating the fat and drinking the sweet and not serving at all; as if religion had many privileges but no precepts, and as if, when men were saved, they became licensed loiterers to whom it is a matter of honor to magnify free grace by standing all the day idle in the market-place. Alas, I know some who never do a hand's turn for Christ, and yet call him Master and Lord. It will fare badly with them at his coming.

Many of us acknowledge that we are servants, that everything we have belongs to our Master, and that we are bound to live for him. So far, so good; but we may get as far as that, and yet in the end we may be found to be unprofitable servants, and so be cast into outer darkness, where there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth. Let us take heed of this.

This man, though a servant, thought ill of his master, and disliked his service: he said, "I knew that you are a hard man, reaping where you have not sown, and gathering where you have not strawed." Certain professors who have stolen into the church are of the same mind: they dare not say that they regret their having joined the church, and yet they so act that all may conclude that if it could be undone, then they would not do the like again. They do not find pleasure in the service of God, but continue to pursue its routine as a matter of habit or a hard obligation. They get into the spirit of the elder brother, and they say, "Lo; these many years have I served you, neither transgressed I at any time your commandments, and yet you never gave me a young goat that I might make merry with my friends." They sit down on the shady side of godliness, and never bask in the sun which shines fully upon it. They forget that the father said to the elder son, "Son, you are ever with me, and all that I have is yours." He might have had as many feastings, as many lambs as he desired, he would have been denied no good thing. The presence of his father, ought to have been his joy and his delight; and better than all merry-makings with his friends; and it would have been so if he had been in a proper state of heart. The man who hid his talent had carried the evil and petulant spirit much further than that elder brother; but the heart issues are the same, and we must mind that we crush them at the beginning.

This unprofitable servant looked upon his master as one that reaped where he never sowed, and used the rake to gather together what he had never scattered: he meant that he was a hard, exacting, and unjust person, whom it was difficult to please. He judged his lord to be one who expected more of his servants than he had any right to look for, and he had such a hatred of his unjust conduct, that he resolved to tell him to his face what he thought of him. This spirit may readily creep over the minds of professors; I fear it is brooding over many even now, for they are not content with Christ. If they want pleasure, then they go outside the church to get it: their joys are not within the circle of which Christ is the center. Their religion is their labor, not their delight; their God is their dread, not their joy. They do not delight themselves in the Lord, and therefore he does not give them the desire of their hearts, and so they grow more and more discontented. They could not call him "God, my exceeding joy," and so he is a terror to them. Devotion is a dreary engagement to them; they wish that they could escape from it with an easy conscience. They do not say as much to their secret selves: but you can read between the lines these words, "What a weariness it is!" It is no wonder when things come to this pass: that a professor becomes an unprofitable servant; for who can do a work well, which he hates to do? Forced service is not desirable. God wants not slaves to grace his throne. A servant who is not pleased with his situation, had better leave; if he is not content with his Master, then he had better find another, for their mutual relationship will be unpleasant and unprofitable. When it comes to this, that you and I are discontented with our God, and dissatisfied with his work, we had better look out for another lord, if any such will have us, for we shall certainly be unprofitable to the Lord Jesus, from our lack of love to him.

Note next, that, albeit this man was doing nothing for his master, he did not think himself an unprofitable servant. He exhibited no self-depreciation, no humbling, no contrition. He was as bold as brass, and said unblushingly, "Behold! there you have what is yours." He came before his master with no apologies or excuses. He did not join with those who have done all, and then say, "We are unprofitable servants"; for he felt that he had dealt with his Lord as the justice of the case deserved; indeed, instead of acknowledging any fault, he turned to accusing his lord.

It is even so with false professors. They have no idea that they are hypocrites, the thought does not cross their minds. They have no notion that they are unfaithful. Hint at it, and see how they will defend themselves. If they are not living as they ought to do, they claim to be pitied rather than blamed; the blame lies with Providence; it is the fault of circumstances: it is the fault of anybody but themselves. They have done nothing, and yet they feel more at ease than those who have done everything. They have taken the trouble to dig in the earth and hide their talent, and they as good as ask--what more do you want? Is God so exacting, as to expect me to bring more to him than he gave me? I am as grateful and prayerful as God makes me--what more will he require? There is you see, no bowing in the dust with a sense of imperfection, but an arrogant casting upon God of all blame; and this, too, under the pretense of honoring his sovereign grace! Ah me! that men should be able to torture truth into such presumptuous falsehood.

Mark well, that the verdict of justice at last may turn out to be the very opposite of that which we pronounce upon ourselves. He who proudly thinks himself to be profitable, shall be found unprofitable; and he who modestly judges himself to be unprofitable may in the end come to hear his Master say, "Well done, good and faithful servant." So little are we able, through the defects of our conscience, to form a right estimate of ourselves, that we frequently reckon ourselves to be rich and increased in goods, and having need of nothing; when, indeed, we are naked, and poor, and miserable. Such was the case with this unfaithful servant: he wrapped himself up in the conceit that he was even more just than his lord, and had an argument to plead which he thought would exonerate him from all blame.

It should give rise to much searching of heart, when we notice what this unprofitable servant did, or, rather, what he did not do. He carefully deposited his talent where no one was able to find it and steal it; and there was an end of his service. We ought to observe that he did not spend that talent upon himself, or use it in business for his own benefit. He was not a thief, nor in any way a misappropriator of moneys placed under his charge. In this he excels many who profess to be the servants of God, and yet live to themselves only. What little talent they have, is used in their own business, and never upon their Lord's concerns. They have the power of getting money, but their money is not made for Christ; such an idea never occurs to them. Their efforts are all for themselves, or to use other words to express the same thing--for their families. Yonder is a man who has the gift of eloquent speech, and he uses it, not for Christ, but for himself, that he may win popularity, that he might arrive at a respectable position: the one end and object of his most earnest speech, is to bring grist to his own mill, and gain to his own estate. Everywhere this is to be seen among professors, that they are living for themselves: they are not adulterers or drunkards, far from it; neither are they thieves or spendthrifts; they are a decent, orderly, quiet sort of people; but still, they begin and end with self. What is this but to be an unprofitable servant? What is a servant to me, if he works hard for himself and does nothing for me? A professing Christian may toil until he becomes a rich man, an alderman in the City, a Mayor, a member of Parliament, a millionaire; but what does that prove? Why, that he could work and did work well for himself; and if all this while he has done little or nothing for Christ, then he is all the more condemned by his own success: if he had worked for his Lord as he worked for himself, then what might he not have accomplished? The unprofitable servant in the parable was not so bad as that--and yet he was cast into outer darkness. What then will become of some of you!

Furthermore, the wicked servant did not go and mis-spend his talent: he did not waste it in self-indulgence and wickedness as the prodigal son did, who spent his substance in riotous living. Oh no; he was a much better man than that. He would not waste a half-penny; he was all for saving and running no risks. The talent was as he received it, only wrapped up in a napkin and hidden in the earth--put into a bank, in fact, but a bank which gave no interest. He never touched a penny of it for a feast or a revel, and therefore could not be accused of being a spendthrift with his lord's money; in all this, he was superior to those who yield their strength to sin, and use their abilities to gratify the sinful passions of themselves and others.

I grieve to add that some who call themselves servants of Christ lay out their strength to undermine the gospel they profess to teach; they speak against the holy name by which they are named, and thus they use their talent against their Master. This man did not do so; he was bad enough in heart for anything, but he had never openly become so base a traitor. He never employed learning in order to raise needless doubts, or to resist the plain doctrines of the Word of God; this has been reserved for divines of these latter days--days which produce monsters unknown to less educated times.

This man's talent had not been wasted under his hand, it was as he had received it, and he therefore reckoned that he had been faithful. Ah! but this is not what Christ calls faithfulness--just to keep where we are. If you think you have grace and only keep what you have, without obtaining more, then it will be hiding your talent in the earth and keeping it a barren thing. It is not enough to retain; you must advance. The capital may be there, but where is the interest? To be living without aim or purpose beyond that of keeping up your position, is to be a wicked and slothful servant, condemned already. While meditating upon this subject may we each one say to himself, "Lord, is it I?"

His lord called this servant "wicked." Is it, then, a wicked thing to be unprofitable? Surely wickedness must mean evil actions. No. Not to do right, is to be wicked; not to live for Christ, is to be wicked; not to be of use in the world, is to be wicked; not to bring glory to the name of the Lord, is to be wicked; to be slothful, is to be wicked. It is clear that there are many wicked people in the world, who would not like to be called so. "Wicked and slothful;" these are the two words which are riveted together by the Lord Jesus, whose speech is always wise.

A schoolboy was asked by his master, "What are you doing, John?" He was called up; and thought to be quite clear by saying, "I was doing nothing, sir;" but his master answered, "That is the very thing for which I called you out, for you ought to have been doing the lesson which I gave you." It will be no excuse at the last for you to cry, "I was doing nothing, sir!" Were not those on the left hand made to depart with a curse upon them, because they did nothing? Is it not written: "Curse Meroz, said the angel of the Lord, curse bitterly the inhabitants thereof; because they came not to the help of the Lord, to the help of the Lord against the mighty." He who does nothing is a "wicked and slothful servant!"

This man was condemned to outer darkness. Notice this: he was condemned to be as he was, for Hell, in one light, may be described as the great Captain's saying, "As you were." "He who is unjust, then let him be unjust still; and he who is filthy, then let him be filthy still." In the eternal world there is permanence of character: enduring holiness is Heaven, continual evil is Hell. This man was outside of the family of his lord. He thought his lord a hard master, and so proved that he had no love to him, and that he was not really one of his household.

He was outside in heart, and so his lord said to him, "Remain outside."

Besides that, he was in the dark: he had wrong notions of his master; for his lord was not an austere and hard man, he did not gather where he had not strawed, nor reap where he had not sown. Therefore his lord said, "You are willfully in the dark--abide there in the darkness which is outside."

This man was envious: he could not endure his master's prosperity; he gnashed his teeth at the thought of it. He was sentenced to continue in that mind, and so to gnash his teeth forever. This is a dreadful idea of eternal punishment, this permanence of character in an immortal spirit: "He who is unjust, then let him be unjust still." While the character of the ungodly will be permanent, it will also be more and more developed along its own lines: the bad points will become worse, and, with nothing to restrain it, evil will become viler still.

In the next world, where there are no hindrances from the existence of a church and a gospel, the man will ripen to a more hideous maturity of enmity against God, and a more horrible degree of consequent misery. Sorrow is bound up with sin: abiding in sinfulness, a man must necessarily abide in wretchedness; for the wicked is like the troubled sea which cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt. What must it be to be forever outside the family of God! Never to be God's child! Forever in the dark! Never to see the light of holy knowledge, and purity, and hope! Forever to gnash one's teeth with painful contempt and abhorrence of God, whom to hate is Hell! O for grace to be made to love him, whom to love is Heaven.

The unprofitable servant had a dreadful wage to take when his master reckoned with him, but who can say that he had not well earned it? He had the due recompense of his deeds. O our God! grant that such may not be the lot of any one of us!

I must now call your attention to the second text:

"So likewise you, when you shall have done all those things which are commanded, say: We are unprofitable servants: we have done that which was our duty to do." Luke 17:10.

This is THE VERDICT OF SELF-ABASEMENT, given forth from the heart of servants who had laboriously discharged the full work of the day. This is a part of a parable intended to rebuke all notions of self-importance and human merit. When a servant has been ploughing or feeding cattle, his master does not say to him, "Sit down, and I will wait upon you, for I am deeply in your debt." No, his master bids him to prepare the evening meal and to wait upon him. His services are due, and therefore his master does not praise him as if he were a wonder and a hero. He is only doing his duty if he perseveres from morning light to set of sun, and he by no means expects to have his work held up to admiration or rewarded with extra pay and humble thanks. Neither are we to boast of our services, but think little of them, confessing that we are unprofitable servants.

Whatever of pain may have been caused by the first part of the discourse, I trust it will only prepare us the more deeply to enter into the spirit of our second text. Both of these texts are engraved on my heart as with an iron pen, by a merciless wound, inflicted when I was too feeble to bear it. When I was exceedingly ill in the South of France, and deeply depressed in spirit--so deeply depressed and so sick and ill that I scarcely knew how to live--one of those malicious people who commonly haunt all public men, and especially ministers, sent me anonymously a letter, openly directed to "That unprofitable servant Charles Spurgeon." This letter contained tracts directed to the enemies of the Lord Jesus, with passages marked and underlined, with notes applying them to myself. How many Rabshekahs have in their day written to me! Ordinarily I read them with the patience which comes of use, and they go to light the fire. I do not look for exemption from this annoyance, nor do I usually feel it hard to bear, but in the hour when my spirits were depressed, and I was in terrible pain, then this reviling letter cut me to the quick. I turned upon my bed and asked--Am I, then, an unprofitable servant? I grieved exceedingly, and could not lift up my head, or find rest. I reviewed my life, and saw its infirmities and imperfections, but knew not how to put my case until this second text came to my relief, and answered as the verdict of my bruised heart. I said to myself, "I hope I am not an unprofitable servant in the sense in which this person intends to call me so; but I am assuredly so in the other sense." I cast myself upon my Lord and Master once again with a deeper sense of the meaning of the text than I had felt before: his sin-atoning sacrifice revived me, and in humble faith I found rest.

By the way, I wonder that any human being should find pleasure in trying to inflict pain upon those who are sick and depressed; yet are there people who delight to do so. Surely, the servants of the Lord Jesus receive painful proofs of their activity. Let me, then, if you have felt any pain from the first text, lead you to the point at which I personally arrived when at last I could thank God for that letter, and feel that it was beneficial medicine to my spirit.

This which is put into our mouths as a confession that we are unprofitable servants, is meant to rebuke us when we think we are somebody, and have done somewhat worthy of praise. Our text is meant to rebuke us if we think that we have done enough, that we have borne the burden and heat of the day a long time, and have been kept at our post beyond our own watch. If we conclude that we have achieved a fine day's work of harvesting, and ought to be invited home to rest, then the text upbraids us. If we feel an inordinate covetousness after comfort, and wish the Lord would give us some present and striking reward for what we have done, then the text shames us. This is a proud, unchildlike, unservantlike spirit, and it must be put down with a firm hand.

In the first place, in what way can we have profited God? Eliphaz has well said, "Can a man be profitable unto God, as he who is wise may be profitable unto himself? Is it any pleasure to the Almighty, that you are righteous? Or is it gain to him, that you make your ways perfect?" If we have given to God of our substance, then is he our debtor? In what way have we enriched him to whom all the silver and gold belongs? If we have laid our lives out with the devotion of martyrs and missionaries for his sake, then what is that to him, whose glory fills the heavens and the earth? How can we dream of putting the Eternal in debt to us? The right spirit is to say with David, "O my soul, you have said unto the Lord, You are my Lord: my goodness extends not to you." How can a man place his Maker under an obligation to him? Let us not dote so blasphemously.

Dear brethren, we ought to recollect that whatever service we have been able to render, has been a matter of debt. I hope our morality is not fallen so low that we take credit to ourselves for paying our debts. I do not find men in business priding themselves and saying, "I paid a thousand pounds this morning to such a one." "Well, did you give it to him?" "Oh no; it was all owing to him." Is that any great thing? Have we come to such a low state of spiritual morals, that we think we have done a great deal when we give to God his due? "It is he who made us, and not we ourselves." Jesus Christ has bought us: "we are not our own," for we are "bought with a price." We have also entered into covenant with him, and given ourselves over to him voluntarily. Were we not baptized into his name and into his death? Whatever we may do, is only what he has a right to claim at our hands from our creation, redemption, and professed surrender to him. When we have persevered in the hard work of ploughing until no field is left untilled, when we have done the pleasanter work of feeding the sheep and when we have finished by spreading the table of communion for our Lord; when we have done all, then we have done no more than was our duty to have done. Why do we boast, then, or cry for a discharge, or look for thanks?

Over and above this there is the sad reflection that, alas, in all we have done, we have been unprofitable through being imperfect. In the ploughing, there have been baulks; in the feeding of the cattle, there have been harshness and forgetfulness; in the spreading of the table, the viands have been unworthy of such a Lord as we serve. How must our service appear to him of whom we read, "Behold! he puts no trust in his servants, and he charged his angels with folly." Can any of you look back upon your service of your Lord with satisfaction? If you can, I cannot say I envy you, for I do not sympathize with you in the least degree, but tremble for your safety. As for myself, I am compelled to say with solemn truthfulness, that I am not content with anything I have ever done. I have half wished to live my life over again, but now I regret that my proud heart allowed me so to wish, since the probabilities are that I would do worse the second time. Whatever grace has done for me, I acknowledge with deep gratitude; but so far as I have done anything myself, then I beg pardon for it. I pray God to forgive my prayers, for they have been full of fault; I beseech him to forgive even this confession, for it is not as humble as it ought to be; I beseech him to wash my tears and purge my devotions, and to baptize me into a true burial with my Savior, that I may be quite forgotten in myself, and only remembered in him. Ah, Lord, you know how far we fall short of the humility we ought to feel. Pardon us in this thing. We are all of us unprofitable servants, and if you should judge us by the law, then we must be cast away.

Once more, we cannot congratulate ourselves at all, even if we have had success in our Lord's work, since for all that we have done, we are indebted to our Lord's abundant grace. If we had done all our duty, we would not have done anything, if his grace had not enabled us to do it. If our zeal no respite knows, it is he who keeps the fire burning. If our tears of repentance flow, it is he who strikes the rock and fetches the waters from it. If there be any virtue, if there be any praise, if there be any faith, if there be any ardor, if there be any likeness to Christ, then we are his workmanship, created by him, and therefore to ourselves we dare not take a particle of the praise. Of your own, have we given unto you, great God! So far as anything has been worth your accepting, it was your own beforehand. Hence the best are still unprofitable servants.

If we have special cause of regret because of some evident error, we shall be wise to go in a lowly spirit and confess the fault, and then go on doing the work of each day in a plodding, hopeful spirit. Whenever you get distressed because you cannot do what you would; whenever you see the faultiness of your own service, and condemn yourself for it, then the best thing is to go and do something more in the strength of the Lord. If you have not served Jesus well up to now, then go and do better. If you make a blunder do not tell everybody, and say that you will never try again, but do two good things to make up for the failure. Say, "My blessed Lord and Master shall not be more a loser by me than I can help. I will not so much fret over the past, as amend the present and wake up for the future."

Brethren, try to be more profitable, and ask for more grace. The servant's business is not to hide himself in a corner of the field and cry, but to go on ploughing; not to bleat with sheep, but feed them, and so prove your love to Jesus. You are not to stand at the head of the table and say, "I have not spread the table for my Master as well as I could have desired." No, go and spread it better. Have courage; you are not serving a hard Master after all; and, though you very properly call yourself an unprofitable servant, then be of good cheer, for a gentler verdict shall be pronounced upon you before long. You are not your own judge either for good or ill; another judge is at the door, and when he comes, then he will think better of you than your self-abasement permits you to think of yourself: he will judge you by the rule of grace, and not by law, and he will end all that dread which comes of a legal spirit, and hovers over you with vampire wings.

Thus I have brought you to the third text,

"His lord said unto him, Well done, good and faithful servant!" Matthew 25:21.

I shall not try to preach upon that cheering word, but shall only say a word or two upon it. It is much too grand a text to be treated upon at the end of a sermon. We find the Lord saying to those who had used their talents industriously, "Well done, good and faithful servant!"

This is THE VERDICT OF GRACE. Blessed is the man who shall own himself to be an unfaithful servant; and blessed is the man to whom his Lord shall say, "You good and faithful servant."

Observe here that the "Well done" of the Master is given to faithfulness. It is not "Well done, you good and brilliant servant;" for perhaps the man never shone at all in the eyes of those who appreciate glare and glitter. It is not, "Well done, you great and distinguished servant;" for it is possible that he was never known beyond his native village. He conscientiously did his best with his "few things," and never wasted an opportunity for doing good, and thus he proved himself faithful.

The same praise was given to the man with two talents as to his fellow-servant with five. Their stations were very different; but their reward was the same. "Well done, good and faithful servant," was won and enjoyed by each of them.

Is it not very sweet to think that though I may have only one talent, then I shall not thereby be debarred from my Lord's praise? It is my faithfulness on which he will fix his eye, and not upon the number of my talents. I may have made many mistakes, and have confessed my faults with great grief; but he will commend me as he did the woman of whom he said, "She has done what she could!" It is better to be faithful in the infant-school, than to be unfaithful in a noble class of young men. Better to be faithful in a hamlet over two or three score of people, than to be unfaithful in a great city parish, with thousands perishing in consequence. Better to be faithful in a cottage meeting, speaking of Christ crucified to half-a-hundred villagers, than to be unfaithful in a great building where thousands congregate. I entreat you to be faithful in laying out all that you are and have for God. As long as you live, whatever faults you have, be not half-hearted or double-minded, but be faithful in intent and desire. This is the point of the Judge's praise--the servant's faithfulness.

This verdict was given of sovereign grace. The reward was not according to the work, for the servant had been "faithful in a few things," but he was made "ruler over many things." The verdict itself is not after the rule of works, but according to the law of grace. Our good works are evidences of grace within us; our faithfulness, therefore, as servants, will be the evidence of our having a loving spirit towards our Master--evidence therefore, that our heart is changed, and that we have been made to love him for whom once we had no affection. Our works are the proof of our love, and hence they stand as evidence of the grace of God. God first gives us grace, and then rewards us for it. He works in us, and then counts the fruit as our work. We work out our own salvation, because "he works in us to will and to do of his own good pleasure." If he shall ever say, "Well done!" to you and to me, then it will be because of his own rich grace, and not because of our merits. And, indeed, this is where we must all come and where we must all keep; for the idea that we have any personal merit will soon make us find fault with our Master and his service, as being austere and hard.

 

I know that if I am saved or rewarded, then it must be by grace alone, for I can have no other hope. As for those who have done much for the church, we know that they will disclaim all praise, saying, "Lord, when did we see You hungry and feed You, or thirsty and give You something to drink?" All the Lord's faithful servants will sing, Not unto us. Not unto us--but to you be all the glory!

Lastly, brethren, with what infinite delight will Jesus fill our hearts if, through divine grace, we are happy enough to hear him say, "Well done, good and faithful servant!" Oh, if we shall hold on to the end despite the temptations of Satan, and the weakness of our nature, and all the entanglements of the world, and keep our garments unspotted from the world, preaching Christ according to our measure of ability, and winning souls for him, then what an honor it will be! What bliss for him to say, "Well done!" The music of these two words will have Heaven in them to us.

How different it will be from the verdict of our fellow-men, who are often finding fault with this and that, though we do our best. We never could please them, but we have pleased our Lord. Men were always misinterpreting our words and misjudging our motives, but he sets all right by saying, "Well done!" Little will it matter then, what all the rest have said: neither the flattering words of friends, nor the harsh condemnations of enemies--will have any weight with us when he says, "Well done!" Not with pride shall we receive that eulogy; for we shall reckon ourselves even then to have been unprofitable servants; but oh how we shall love him for setting such an estimate upon the cups of cold water we gave to his disciples, and the poor broken service we tried to render to him. What condescension to call that well done, which we feel was so ill done!

I ask God's servants here, who this morning first began with searching themselves, and then went on to confess their imperfections, now to close by rejoicing in the fact that, if we are believing in Christ Jesus, and are really consecrated to him, then we shall conclude this life and begin the next with that blessed verdict of "Well done!" Mind, however, that you are those who are doing all, and are faithful.

I hear some people speak against self-righteousness, to whom I would say, "You need not say much about that matter, for it does not concern you, since you have no righteousness to be proud of." I hear people speak against salvation by good works, who are in no danger of falling into that error, since good works and their lives have long parted company. What I do admire is to see a man like Paul, who lived for Jesus, and was ready to die for him--yet saying at the close of his life, "But whatever was gain to me I count as loss for the sake of Christ. More than that, I count all things as loss compared to the surpassing excellence of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in Him, not having my own righteousness from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God on the basis of faith!" Philippians 3:7–9

Go on, brothers, and think not of resting until your day's work is done. Serve God with all your might. Do more than the Pharisees, who hope to be saved by their zeal. Do more than your brethren expect of you, and then, when you have done all, lay it at your Redeemer's feet with this confession, "I am an unprofitable servant!" It is to those who blend faithfulness with humility and ardor with self-abasement, that Jesus will say, "Well done, good and faithful servant! Enter into the joy of your Lord."

Portion of scripture read before sermon--Matthew 25:14–16.