01.05 The choked soil
IV. THE CHOKED SOIL
Again, there is the choked -soil the soil in which the alien growths of the cares and pleasures of life choke and strangle the growth of God’s seed.
“Other seed fell amidst the thorns: and the thorns grew with it and choked it.”
“These are they that have heard and as they go on their way they are choked with cares and riches and pleasures of this life, and bring no fruit to perfection” (Luk 7:7). Here, you will notice, the fault is not with the soil itself: it has great possibilities: it is rich and deep enough, but it wants weeding. It wastes its strength in nourishing the weeds. It is not enough that the seed should find a root: it must have room to grow.
(I) It is very noteworthy that our Lord expressly puts “the care of this world,” “the care of this life,” among the thorns which strangle the growth of the true life, By “care” He means, not quiet and purposeful thought, but that division of the heart (such is the force of the Greek word), that over-pressing anxiety, that fretting, which exhausts the energies of life. How hard it is for any “fruits of the Spirit” to grow up in the midst of this fretting care any knowledge of the lives of the masses of our labouring folk abundantly shows. I do not think I can do better than quote the following words from the recent striking charge of the Bishop of Southwark (then Bishop of Rochester).* “The great French preacher, Lacordaire, discussing the salvation of the many or the few, declared that the great mass of mankind would find their salvation through toil. But there is another side to the matter; the sociologist will also tell you that compulsory exertion in the form of excessive and protracted labour blunts and stunts all the faculties and our appeal is to one of the most sensitive and delicate of these faculties man’s moral and spiritual sense... When we have made *”The Church’s Failure and the Work of Christ,” the most of the blessings of drudgery and of occupied hands, we must still feel that this heavy mechanical overstrain of task-work yields but little of that which should quicken and instruct the best interests of man and draw his heart to God.” No one can doubt that the patience, the cheerfulness, the neighbourliness of the hard-working poor betoken a true and rich soil of human nature, but its capacities are strained and exhausted by this all-compelling “care.”
I was much struck by the remark made to me not long ago by a good working-man “You wonder why the likes of me take so little thought for religion. Well, the fact is, we are mostly tired out.” The good soil is “tired out”: it becomes incapable of moral and spiritual effort. The energies of the soul cannot stand the double strain.
Every effort, therefore, to lighten the pressure of toil, to make work more interesting in itself, shorter in its duration, more assured of its wage, makes for religion. And yet it remains true that the Gospel is very specially meant for tired folk, for the weary and heavy laden. It is to them a gift of rest the rest, the freedom from fret, which comes with a tranquil trust in the constant love of God. By that trust the spirit rises to the calm of the Divine Will; it is there refreshed and strengthened, and thence it returns to the toil and spreads its own tranquillity over it. Trust in God’s care takes the care which is anxious out of the heart of toil, “casting all your care upon Him for He careth for you.” That patience which is always pathetic becomes in God’s servants have we not often seen it? a certain heroic serenity: it speaks of triumph rather than endurance, of mastery rather than submission. The toil of a man whose spirit rises to God and keeps hold on Him becomes a discipline which helps, not a “care” which strangles, the growth of the soul. I am sure that we all, whatever our life task may be, have need of renewing that primary faith in the reality of Providence. The simplicity which really trusts and acts upon the truth that life is ordered by the Will of God always brings with it calmness and strength. “Sit down” said Carlyle’s father to his sons who rose from the family prayers, when a gust of wind shook the cottage, to protect the stacks of corn “sit down: there cannot a straw be touched but by the Will of God.” A simple faith, no doubt, and perhaps crudely expressed, but the faith by which the “still, strong man” is made.
(2) “The deceitfulness of riches,” “the pleasures of this life” these also choke the seeds of God. There is even more danger in the pursuit of wealth and pleasure than in the compulsion of toil. Not even the large-hearted Lacordaire could say that some men could be saved by their comforts or their amusements. The soul is more prone to be atrophied by comfort than to be worn out by toil. Any honest selfscrutiny shows most of us plainly enough the astonishing subtlety and closeness with which the little comforts of life entangle the spirit. They are innocent in themselves, so that we are put off our guard, but in the bulk they are very Delilah’s cords, and when the spirit is called to make some effort or sacrifice it finds itself tied and bound.
“Come, follow me.” “When he heard this he was very sorrowful for he was very rich.”
We know not when or how the summons may come to test the strength and freedom of the spirit: let us prepare for it by preventing these comforts of life from becoming its masters. Let us keep the upper hand over them by deliberate acts of self-denial; use them, as those who are ready at any moment to dispense with them. It is sadly true that “vocations are missed daily” through mere softness of living. The spirit cannot work its way through the network of comforts which have been allowed to become indispensable. You do not accuse a gardener of spoiling his garden because he does some weeding every day. Neither do we spoil or thwart life by deliberate rules of self-discipline. We only strengthen it and maintain its freedom, give room in it for the seeds of the spirit to grow.
I have not spoken of the more absorbing “pleasures of this life.” It is enough simply to say that it is sternly impossible for that large class which exists to amuse itself and makes pleasure its all-engrossing business to “save” its soul. Is it too much to say that the Thames on a Sunday afternoon would be to any eyes which knew the truth about human life and its destiny an infinitely more pitiful sight than a dingy street crowded with white and worn toilers?
(3) But there is a phrase in S. Mark’s version of the parable which perhaps comes nearer to the conscience of most of us. The seed is choked by “the lusts of other things entering in” “The lusts of other things” the jostle of all sorts of desires and impulses. Is it not a phrase descriptive of a type of character very common in these days? They are days of perpetual movement, distraction, dissipation of thought and energy. Modern character takes its hue from this environment. I saw the other day a bill on a music-hall door, “Lightning changes: programme constantly varied.” It seemed a faithful caricature of our modern life so hurried, so distracted by a thousand influences of newspapers, magazines, opinions, all of which find some response within us. There is, indeed, a very real craving for religion the very restlessness of men brings a desire for faith, their very nervousness becomes a plea for rest. But these promptings of the true spirit, the reaching forth of the real needs of the soul, are choked by the medley of manifold influences and dissipated desires. The prophet’s warning to our day and generation indeed, to ourselves, for we are all influenced by the spirit of the time must be not only “Repent,” but also very specially “Simplify your life” Go thinning in the garden of your soul; select the plants which you mean to grow: there is no room for all.
If we are to be Christians it must be, not by custom or even by mere desire and aspiration, but by the deliberate choice of the will.
We must choose which of the contending claims of business, pleasure, society, ambition, Christ, we mean in the last resort to prevail. There is no other way of success, If we are content with these over-crowded characters we shall “bring no fruit to perfection.” If we try to keep both pleasure and Christ as our main motives of living, we shall lose both. Those who are able to learn moral truth through striking paradox might read, on this stern law of life, Browning’s “Statue and the Bust” or Kipling’s “Tomlinson.” The one quite certain way of spoiling life is the way of the divided will. It is really not worth while to have a half-hearted religion, for a half-hearted religion (as we shall shall learn from another parable) spoils not only the service of God but also the service of mammon. We cannot hope our religion to be either a joy to ourselves or a help to others unless and until we have settled once for all that the Master who has the right of the last word in all debates of duty or desire is not self, or the world, but Christ. So far as it rests with us to make our religion a happiness and a power the one thing needful is singleheart and sincere choice of it as the supreme rule of life, TAGS: [Parables]