The Whole Heart | AdventAI

Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Jan 12, 1882

The Whole Heart.

Our times demand not only a wise and prudent service of the Master, but a whole-hearted, self-forgetful service. It is not sufficient to say, I do my share. In a world where as a rule, all fail, to do only one's share is to do badly. A man's excellence begins where he exceeds his share, his equal part of what is done. The real question is, Can I not do more? If I can, my duty, my share is not done. Very few of us have actually done our best for God or for his church, or our race, or our neighbors, or even for ourselves. Flesh and blood must be kept out of every council for God or for humanity. It is as much out of place in such councils as Satan was among the sons of God.

The sacrifice of all our property for righteousness sake may be the best use that we can make of it. You have your fine farm, your good wife has toiled hard with you, for it, and she deserves to enjoy it. It is rightfully yours; you can now support your family and educate your children. On a chance visit to the county seat you learn there is a flaw in the title. It is of a kind that the oath of a good man like yourself would remedy it. You look the alternative in the face—a false oath and plenty—truth and poverty. It is for an instant only. You go home and tell your wife that she is poor and homeless; that the children must be taken out of school, and that you must begin life again as a poor man and beyond middle age. Your wife tells you a good name is better than riches, and she goes down into poverty with you with a graceful resignation that adds to the bitterness of your lot. That night the regiment of angels that encamp around them that fear him, gather in close and watchful bands about you, and say to one another, he is a braver and better man, and he is nearer to God than he ever was before.

Faith rejects flesh and blood as a factor in Christian character, one who is above the baser elements of self, on a higher plane than the lower motives of life, will be ready to lose time, to give service beyond his share, to labor without stint, to risk reputation or even life. Such a character costs a great deal. All valuable things cost. "Cost nothing, worth nothing," holds alike on change and in church. The vacillating self-counseling one, the eye-servant, man-pleaser, who is whirled by the changing wind is worth nothing to himself, to the church, or to the world.—Golden Censer.