Oh, fellows, it is the only life!

_Read Matthew 25:14-30._

XXVI

"LET DOWN YOUR FEET!"

Say, fellows, something happened two summers ago at a well-known resort in the mountains, which even at this late day it quickens my pulse to recall. I was one of the very few eyewitnesses of the "tragedy," and it nearly put me to bed with nervous prostration. It was about twilight one evening when I pa.s.sed near the lake on my way to our cottage for supper.

The gay throng of swimmers had apparently all dispersed to the hotels and cottages for the evening meal and preparation for the concert in the auditorium. That lake was a very popular place in the afternoon; there were accommodations for all grades of swimmers--from the expert divers who used the platform, spring-board, and tall diving ladder on the deep side, to the smallest children, who paddled and waded in the shallow water under the watchful care of their nurses on the other side. The lake was not over a hundred yards wide at the widest.

I was just noting how deserted and quiet was the place which only a few moments before had been fairly alive with a happy throng of sport lovers, little and big, when I saw coming toward the platform from the bath house a tall, thin man in his bathing suit. He looked so pale and weak and thin that I wondered if he could possibly be thinking of going into that cold water at that time of evening and _alone_!

I had not long to be in doubt about it, for straight out on the platform he went and then _on the spring-board_! He lifted his arms above his head and pointed his hands together as a man going to dive.

The man looked so weak and thin that I felt positive he would not be able to swim in that water, so chilled by the mountain springs that fed it. I wondered if he knew how cold it was and how weak he was.

Should I run the risk of "b.u.t.ting in," and warn him? Suppose I did not and he should begin to sink, could I jump in that fifteen-foot water with my clothes on and save him? These thoughts flashed rapidly through my mind, but in the twinkling of an eye he was off the spring-board, head downward into the water.

I held my breath and waited for him to rise. It seemed he had gone to the bottom and stuck there; the water became actually smooth again, and almost still, where he had disappeared. I thought he would never come up. My heart jumped into my throat.

Then he came up--very near where he had gone down--and faintly struck out swimming. I thought of course he would at once make for the piers of the platform; surely a fellow swimming as weakly as that, all alone, and in water cold and deep, would not risk himself far from sh.o.r.e. But, to my amazement, he was apparently starting for the other side!

It was then I discovered I was not the only witness. On the other side of the lake, down close to the water's edge, and watching with evident anxiety, was a lady. It was easy to see by her movements that she had a strong personal interest in the swimmer's actions, and that she was very anxiously watching him. She had evidently come down to keep him company, or as a precaution, while he took his solitary evening swim.

These things, which were taken in at a glance, coupled with the fact that the swimmer was plainly growing weaker and making very poor progress, confirmed all my apprehensions, and I was just thinking I must quickly take measures for his relief when I saw coming out of the bath house on a dead run, two husky young fellows in bathing suits, making for the spring-board.

At the same time the lady shouted: "Father! Father! can you make it?"

The swimmer gurgled something which sounded like, "No."

He had gotten about half-way across and was merely struggling to keep his head above water. The two huskies went off the spring-board so close one behind the other that it looked foolhardy, and struck out rapidly for the drowning man, but he had gone down his second time already.

It was a race between life and death. I said: "They will never reach him in time." The lady screamed. Then a new voice broke upon the still evening air. A boy over on the walkway by the dam shouted at the top of his lungs: "_Mister! Let down your feet!_" The struggling man heard it; he did let down his feet, rose up about waist deep in the water _and walked out_!

Fellows, as I walked on up the hill toward supper, trying to work my heart back down where it belonged, I did some tall thinking. Had _I_ ever "drowned" in shallow water? Sure, I had. The great big things G.o.d has planned for you and me to do seem impossible because we do not take into account that they are to be done through G.o.d's power and not our own.

We summon the nerve to tackle the task, but, forgetting Him, like Peter trying to walk on the water, we sink. We foolishly try to do the thing in our own strength, when there at our hand is the great power of Almighty G.o.d just waiting to flow through us and accomplish it gloriously.

Oh, fellows, if you would just let down your feet on the mighty power of G.o.d, you would walk out of all your difficulty. Here is a great overpowering temptation getting the best of you--and you, drowning in shallow water.

Let down your feet! Here is an inspiring challenge out of G.o.d's Word, to put forth your hand and heart and mind and help win the world for Him. You are tempted to say: "Who am I?" Let down your feet, and you'll see who you are. You are a child of G.o.d, through whom He is willing to do mighty works.

And you will rise upon your feet, you poor, weak fellow, and you will hold aloft the Banner of the Cross, and you will achieve for G.o.d in a way that will set all the bells of heaven ringing.

_Read Matthew 28:16-20._

XXVII

AN "UNa.s.sISTED TRIPLE PLAY"

Say, fellows, when that "Indian," Wambganss, put three men out with one una.s.sisted play in the world's series and retired the Brooklyn Dodgers with bases full, twenty thousand frantic Cleveland fans rose as one man and sent up a yell that sounded like the roar of Niagara.

It comes but once in a generation for a lone baseball player to make an "una.s.sisted triple play" in a world's series, and doubtless that night the Cleveland second baseman was the most envied baseball player in the world. For one man to do, alone, what thousands of onlookers could not do, was enough to turn all fandom topsy-turvy in a delirium of amazement.

There is something in you and me, fellows, that leaps to its feet and screeches with delight when we see any one rise to the demands of a crisis and do the fine thing. Now, I want you to turn to a place in the Bible where is described a finer thing than could happen in any world's series. It has always seemed to me to be about the most wonderful event that ever happened. It is John's account of one of the most wonderful miracles that Jesus performed.

More than five thousand hungry people lingered on the hillsides near the lake sh.o.r.e, and there was nothing for them to eat. Jesus was testing His men that day to see how far they had recognized His divine power. He turned to Philip and said: "Where shall we get food for them?" Philip did not know it was a test question; neither did he realize that Jesus could turn every blade of gra.s.s to a loaf of bread if He chose to do so. Therefore, Philip replied: "I do not know, Lord; it looks as if they will have to go home hungry."

Now Andrew was casting about to see what he might discover to help out the situation, and his eye fell upon a boy standing near by with a rather familiar shaped bundle in the folds of his tunic. Andrew sniffed, and saw the tails of two dried fish sticking through. Andrew had a long nose for fish. He knew what it was: the boy had brought a lunch with him.

"How many barley cakes have you, son?" inquired Andrew. "Five,"

answered the boy. "Wait a minute," said Andrew. Something had flashed into his mind. It was a big moment for Andrew; he was on the verge of doing a fine thing, himself, and he stepped quickly to where Jesus stood.

"Master!" he said, his eyes snapping with the very thought of what _might happen_--"Master, there's a lad here with five barley cakes and two small fishes--" and (oh, the tragedy of it!) then he must have caught Philip's hard-boiled eye. He must have thought, "Now, Philip is saying I'm a fool for suggesting such a thing--and I guess I am"; for he quickly added "--_but what are they among so many?_"

Jesus calmly turned His eyes on Andrew, as though He said: "Almost!--Andrew--almost did your faith win a victory; make the men sit down on the gra.s.s, and bring the lad's lunch to me."

Now, fellows, I can imagine Andrew going back to that boy and saying, "Son, the Master has need of this food you have brought; shall I take it to Him?" And this boy's first thought, naturally, was: "Then, what will I do? I'm a long way from home; I'm hungry, and I was just fixing to eat it myself--but--"

The boy had been listening to Jesus as He talked to the crowd. He had seen those wonderful eyes melting with compa.s.sion. His own eyes had feasted upon that majestic countenance, and his ears had tingled, and his boyish heart thrilled with the marvellous words which fell from the Master's lips. "Surely," he had thought, "this _must_ be the Messiah, for no other could speak like Him, nor work these marvellous cures." So quickly he brushed aside his self-interest, and held out the little bundle of fishes and bread.

Now, fellows, watch--What?--a triple play at a world series and twenty thousand fans leaping and yelling like mad? Bless you, no. Something happened right then which will be remembered a millennium after baseball has been forgotten. Jesus took the boy's lunch and fed five thousand hungry men, besides women and children, until they could eat no more.

I have many times tried to picture in my imagination that glad and astonished boy. His eyes must have nearly popped out when he saw what was going on, the Master giving out the bread and fishes--and the bread and fishes _never giving out_!

And the big news to-day, fellows, is that you and I can make a play like that. No matter what it is you've got in your hand, let Jesus use it. He can do more with it than we can. No matter whether it is much or little, give it to Him. In fact, that's the way to save it and make the most of it. He said so (Luke 9:24) Himself; give it to Him. It matters not so much _what_ it is in your hand; the thing that matters is _what you do with it_. Give it to Him. You may not hear the bleachers roar over your gift, but, listen, fellows, when a life is surrendered to Christ the battlements of heaven ring with a shout that encircles G.o.d's throne, and the score is for Eternity!

Fellows, let's play the REAL GAME.

_Read John 6:5-14._

XXVIII

FORGIVING

Say, fellows, I want you to take a look at Simon Peter to-day. He is as interesting as a fast game of volley ball. And he did get some hot ones handed to him. Impulsive fellow that he was, he was always getting his foot into it. Peter was a plunger; he wanted to _do things_, and do them right now. Loyal soul--he would fight for his friend at the drop of a hat; but he was subject to fits of depression, and at such times his heart would fail him, or he would lose his grip on himself and do something to regret sorely afterward.

Now, fellows, Jesus loved Peter with a mighty love, and He spent much time helping him to gain self-control and learn to be a steady, thoroughgoing, dependable Christian. Many times Jesus had to call him down sharply. Once He even called Peter "Satan" (see Mark 8:33). It really was Satan to whom Jesus spoke--Satan operating in Peter, as he operates in you and me sometimes when we are weak enough to permit it; but it must have been an awful jolt to Peter to get that from his Master.