2 Timothy 2

2 Timothy 2:15

Put Your Heart Into It A workman that needeth not to be ashamed.—2 Timothy 2:15.In the fifteenth century there lived in the city of Florence two great sculptors, Brunelleschi and Donatello. Brunelleschi designed and partly executed the beautiful dome of Florence Cathedral. This dome is one of the finest bits of architecture in Europe. It took forty years to build, and although it was not finished till fifteen years after Brunelleschi’s death, so perfect were his plans and so wonderful his methods that those who followed after him had not the slightest difficulty in completing his work.Donatello confined himself chiefly to the carving of statues. His statues are famous all the world over, and one of them—a statue of St. George clothed in mail—is so life-like that when Michael Angelo saw it he shouted “March!”Brunelleschi and Donatello were firm friends although Brunelleschi was older by nearly ten years.

When Donatello was fifteen they went to Rome together, the boy to study his art, the older man to make copies and plans of the famous buildings in the city so that he might have material for the designing of his wonderful dome.Now Donatello at this time conceived the idea of carving a life-size figure of Christ on the Cross. He carved it in wood, and when he had finished his task he sent for his friend that he might have his criticism of the work.

But when Brunelleschi saw the statue he told the boy that he had carved the figure like a laborer, and that when he was engaged on such a task he must put all his heart and soul into it, and all his skill. Thereupon Donatello challenged his friend to do better, and Brunelleschi accepted the challenge.For weeks he labored with wonderful love and skill, until the statue stood complete. Then he went to Donatello’s rooms and invited him to dine with him. He was carrying the materials for the dinner and these he handed to the boy, telling him to go on before and he would follow.When Brunelleschi arrived home he found Donatello standing in front of the statue gazing in rapt wonder. On the floor were smashed eggs and other remains of what should have been the dinner.Brunelleschi reproached his friend for spoiling the meal, but the other turned upon him, “What does it matter?” he cried, “I have had feast enough! You have carved the figure of Christ like an artist; mine is the work of a day-laborer.”Do you know, boys and girls, that Donatello discovered a wonderful secret that day—I wonder if you have discovered it yet?—the secret that the work that is most worth doing, the only work that is worth doing is the work into which we put all our heart, and soul, and mind, and strength.

Shall I tell you why? I think there are two reasons.1.

First, because it makes the work more pleasant. You are not carving statues, boys and girls, you are just wrestling with multiplication tables, or Latin verbs, or problems in algebra. Or perhaps you are starting life as an errand boy; and you have to sweep out the shop, and clean the windows, and polish the brasses, and tidy up after other people.Well, these things don’t seem very glorious, but you can make them glorious. There are two ways you can do your work. You can just get through it because it has to be got through, or you can put your heart into it. You can take a pride in having your verbs correct or getting into the inner meaning of your problems.

You can take a pride in having your windows cleaner than anybody else’s and your brasses brighter. And when you do that your work will become a joy, not just a labor.There was a boy, once, who was sent from school into a lawyer’s office.

He thought law was the driest subject under the sun, and he grumbled so much about it that the other clerks nicknamed him “Grumbling Geoffrey.”One day the lawyer, who was a friend of Geoffrey’s father, sent for the boy and gave him a bit of sound advice. He told him, among other things, that there were just two kinds of workers in the world—those who worked to live and those who lived to work. The first class worked just for bread and butter; the second loved their work and made it their hobby. And there was no question as to which class got the most pleasure out of their work.Well, Geoffrey was possessed of a good deal of common sense in spite of his grumbling. He had been trying the “work to live” plan and that had failed, so he thought he would try the other for a change. He began to ask questions about what he was doing, to take notice of the letters and deeds he had to copy, to dip into law-books.

Later the subject began to interest him, and he got more fascinated as time went on. If any legal question cropped up at home, he was always ready to discuss it and give his advice.One day a friend said to him, “It’s a dreary subject law, isn’t it?” “Dreary,” said Geoffrey, “why, it’s the most interesting subject in the world.”2.

But there is a bigger reason why we should put our heart into our work, and that is because by so doing we do better work. The work that is done with a grudge is never done well. It is done scantily and shabbily and often without thoroughness. It won’t stand inspection. It is often not even nice to look at from a distance.And, boys and girls, remember that the work you are doing is the work Christ has given you to do, and He is worthy of our very best. He gave the best for us. Should we not give our best for Him?On the top of a hill at Athens stands the ruins of the Parthenon—one of the most beautiful temples in the world. It was built more than four hundred years before Christ in honor of the goddess Athena Parthenos.

Round the walls of this temple were wonderful carved figures. The backs of these statues were placed against the wall and were never meant to be seen, and yet they were as carefully carved as the fronts, “for,” said the sculptor, “they are for the goddess.”The work you are doing, boys and girls, the character you are carving as you work, is for a far greater than any heathen goddess. Your work may be very plain and humble, but it is what Jesus wants you to do for Him. Take pains to do it in the very best way you can, study to show yourself “a workman that needeth not to be ashamed.” Then some day you will hear His glad “Well done I”

2 Timothy 2:21

A Vessel Unto Honor A vessel unto honor . . . meet for the master’s use.— 2 Timothy 2:21.Do you know what happens when somebody special is coming to pay you a visit, or when you are going to have a party at your house? I can tell you. Mother gets out all the best silver and the best dishes to honor your guest or guests. The best silver teapot, the best cream jug and sugar bowl are taken out of the bags in which they have been laid away, and they are polished up till they shine like mirrors and reflect you and everything else in the room. The best spoons and forks also come out of their cases, and they, too, get a “shine up,” and so do the company knives. Then mother takes a chair to the pantry and hands down the good dishes from the top shelf, and they are all washed or dusted.

It is a lot of trouble, this “making ready,” but you don’t grudge it. You are so anxious to honor your visitors and put before them the best you have.But I hope that when you are trying to have things extra nice what happened to a certain missionary’s wife in South Africa will never happen to you.

The Governor of the Province was coming to dine, and she was naturally most anxious that everything should be right. She planned the dinner, and she lectured the black cook, and she made the black boys who were to wait go through a rehearsal of waiting at table. At the last minute she paid a flying visit to the kitchen to see if all was going well, and she noticed that the paper frill or collar for the pudding dish was not laid out in readiness. So she said to the cook, “Be sure not to forget the collar for the pudding.” Now, it was a pity she said “collar,” for poor black cookie thought she must mean something else, something specially grand in honor of the Governor. So he paid a hurried visit to his master’s room. And lo and behold! half an hour later when the pudding appeared at table, the dish was surrounded by two of the missionary’s white collars neatly pinned together!Now, to come to our text.

St. Paul was thinking when he wrote it of something rather like this honoring of a guest by setting before him the best dishes.

He was thinking of God’s children as dishes or vessels in a great house. He was a prisoner in Rome at the time, and very likely he was living not far from one of the palaces of the Caesars, where costly dishes of gold and silver were used at the Emperor’s table.But the apostle was thinking not only of the costly vessels, but of the plain useful vessels too—those of wood and earthenware which did not appear on the Emperor’s table but were kept in the kitchen. And St. Paul said God’s children were like these two kinds of dishes. Some were plain humble earthenware sort of people, who would never make a show in the world, but would live a quiet life doing jobs that were not at all ornamental. Others were gold or silver, they had a fine education and a high position and perhaps a name that was famous.

But, said St. Paul, though God’s children resembled the different dishes so far, they were unlike them in one particular.

Humble or exalted, poor or wealthy, earthenware or gold—it mattered not—each was a vessel unto honor, fit for the master’s table and meet for the master’s use if—and this was the one condition—if they were clean.Now, this seems to me a very cheerful text, for it tells me that I don’t need to be a great person in the world’s eyes before I can serve Christ. He can use me though I be ever so humble. You see, we can’t all be kings or dukes or governors or statesmen or M.P.’s. Lots of us have to be shopkeepers and engineers and masons and plumbers and carpenters and scavengers. It doesn’t matter a bit to God whether we call our work a trade or a profession. All he asks is that we should be clean.What do I mean by clean?

I don’t mean scrubbed and shining with soap, though that, of course, is important too. What I mean is that we should be morally clean—straight and true and honorable, above all meanness, scorning all deceit, hating all lowness of whatsoever kind it be. “Death rather than dishonor,” should be our motto, and the earlier we begin to make it our watchword the better.Two men who had been schoolfellows when they were boys met one day in a foreign land.

They began chatting about the other boys who had sat at the same desk with them. “What’s become of Brown?” said one. “Oh,” replied the other, “he’s manager of a Bank in London now. One or two fellows have told me he is the most honorable man in the city—straight as a die.” “I’m not surprised,” said the first man, “he was always so straight at school. And what about Smith?”“Ah well, poor Smith!—that’s a sad business! He came a cropper, and made a horrible mess of life. Just before I left England he was sent to prison for ten years—he was a lawyer, you remember—for taking his clients’ money.” “That’s hard,” said the other, “but I don’t wonder. He was a horrid little cheat at school.”Boys—yes, and girls too—one of the teachers of Harrow used to say something like this to his boys the day they left school: “Whether you are very clever or very popular does not matter much.

But if it is known by those about you that you would not for any consideration in the world depart by a hair’s breadth from the strict line of honor, then, there is nothing— nothing too hard for you in life.”Yes, and I would add this—there is no limit to how you may serve Christ if you refuse to do what is unkind or nasty or low or disgraceful. Honor yourselves, children.

So doing you will honor God and become “a vessel unto honor . . . meet for the master’s use.”