Not with eye-service, as men-pleasers; but as the servants of Christ, doing the will of God from the heart.
Not with eye-service
This exhortation is addressed to “servants,” i.e., to those who serve, whatever their position as servants may be; whether in the position of bond slaves as in the days of Paul, or of hired servants as in our own day, or of merchants, physicians, lawyers, ministers, or young men, who, for remuneration of any kind, undertake to serve individuals or the public, To all such the exhortation of our text is, that they should discharge their duties, “not with eye-service, as men-pleasers, but with fear and trembling, in singleness of heart, as unto Christ.” But the exhortation of our text is of far wider application. It is equally applicable to “masters”--to those who are served, as truly as to those who serve. For immediately after addressing himself to “servants,” or “slaves,” Paul said (Ephesians 6:9), “And ye masters, do the same things unto them.” Paul had “the same rule for masters and for servants. And he gave the reason of this, saying, “Ye masters, do the same things unto them, knowing that your Master also is in heaven”--or, as in the margin, “knowing that your and their Master is in heaven; neither is there respect of persons with Him.”
I. The manner in which we should discharge our duties to our fellow men.
1. Negatively--how it should not be done. “Not with eye-service.” This is a word which Paul coined and struck in the royal mint of his own ardent and honest mind. I am not aware that it was ever heard before. But it is a word so true and graphic that it tells its own meaning. “Eye-service” is either service done only to please the eye, but which cannot bear to be tested; or it is good and real service, but only given when the eye of a master sees it. “Not with eye-service” is happily associated with that other word, “not as men-pleasers.” For “eye-servants” care only to “please men.” The rule of their duty is, not what is fair and honourable, nor even what may reasonably be expected from them, but only as much as will please the eye of their employers. All else is neglected and left undone, if only the failure in service does not appear to be in them. How much there is of eye-service and men-pleasing in all classes!
2. The positive description of our duty--how it should be done: “With fear and trembling, in singleness of heart, as unto Christ.” “With fear and trembling.” From other parts of Scripture where this expression is found, it is plain that it does not mean “with fear” of punishment, as the slave fears the lash, nor “with trembling” before men, as the slave trembles before his master, but that it means with anxious and tremulous desire to do our duty. And as this “anxiety” to discharge our duty is the opposite of “eye-service,” so also, “In singleness of heart as to Christ” is the opposite or contrary to, “as men-pleasers.” “Not as men-pleasers,” but “in singleness of heart, as to Christ.”
II. The motive by which Paul calls us to the discharge of our ordinary earthly duties. He exhorts us to sanctify, to hallow, to ennoble our earthly duties, by doing them “not as to men, but as unto the Lord.” Now, consider this motive.
1. Observe, it is addressed to the disciples of Christ--to those who knew and owned Him as their “Lord”; to the blood bought, the redeemed, the renewed disciples of Christ; to those who, believing in Him, have been pardoned for all past transgressions, and have been born again of His Holy Spirit. It is not now the Law with its lash and its rewords urging men in general, and saying, “Do this and live”--do it or die. It is Christ the Saviour who speaks to His saved ones, and says, “Ye live, therefore do this--Ye live through Me, do this to Me.”
2. Mark how this motive sweetens, sanctifies, ennobles our earthly work. It then becomes a part of our worship. Animated by such a thought, the school boy diligently, joyfully applies himself to his task. The clerk needs no other master’s eye over him to keep him to his work. The tradesman carefully executes his orders to the last stitch, when he feet is not a position of distraction from which he would fain escape, but a position of solid repose. To be grasped and drawn by either of these emotions alone would bend and break a man; to be attracted equally by both produces a delicious equilibrium. The spiritual fact may be explained by a material example. Suppose a man is standing aloft upon a pedestal where he finds room to plant his feet and no more. Suppose that one neighbour stands near him on the right hand, and another near him on the left. If one of these grasp and draw him, his posture immediately becomes uneasy and dangerous. Under the strain he does not keep his footing easily, and will not keep it long. But if both should grasp him, either seizing a hand, and draw with equal force in opposite directions, the result would be an erect attitude and an easy position. Such precisely in the spiritual department is the equilibrium of a believer who is held and drawn by both these desires at once. It is the strait betwixt two that makes him easy. Either of these desires wanting the other would distress him in proportion to its strength. On the one hand, a desire to abide in the flesh without a balancing desire to depart and to be with Christ, is a painful condition. The weight hanging on one side racks the person all over. Most men are crushed in this manner all their days. The Redeemer knows this sorrow and provides relief. One specific design of His coming was “to deliver them who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage.” As soon as one of these tremblers is begotten again into a living hope, by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, the balance is restored and deliverance effected. On the other hand, the converse is equally true, although not equally common. To experience a desire to depart, unbalanced by a desire to abide in the flesh, is also a painful experience. Many Christians pass through at least a short period of this unevenness and uneasiness before they are set free. Whatever may be the immediate causes which have made life wearisome to a Christian, whenever the desire to abide dies out, the desire to depart distracts him. It may be that most of us at present would gladly bargain for such a state of mind at the close of life, as being the safest; but it is, notwithstanding, and not the less a painful state of mind. (W. Arnot, D. D.)
Death, a departure
I shall never forget the cry of the late Rev. Dr. De Witt, of New York, as he stood at the grave of his wife. After the body had been lowered to its resting place, that venerable man of God leaned over the open space and said: “Farewell, my honoured, faithful, beloved wife. The bond that bound us is severed, thou art in glory, I am still on earth, but we shall meet again. Farewell, farewell!” (T. De Witt Talmage.)
Heaven our home
As a home the believer delights to think of it. Thus when, lately bending over a dying saint, and expressing our sorrow to see him laid so low, with the radiant countenance rather of one who had just left heaven, than of one about to enter it, he raised and clasped his hands, and exclaimed in ecstasy, “I am going home.” Happy the family of which God is the Father, Jesus the elder Brother, and all the “saints in light” are brethren. (T. Guthrie.)
Longing for home
I have heard a story of the celebrated Mr. William Dawson, who used to call himself “Billy” Dawson, much to the point. On one occasion, when he and some other Methodist friends were spending the evening together, a dear friend of mine happened to be present, and heard what passed. They were praying that Mr. Dawson’s life might be spared for many years to come, that such an earnest man might be kept in the Church for the next twenty or thirty years. At last, as they were just in the middle of prayer, William Dawson said, “Lord, don’t hear ‘em: I want to get my work done, and go home; I don’t want to be here any longer than there is needs be;” and the brethren stopped their prayers, thunderstruck as they witnessed his emotion. Now I believe that feeling will often pass over the earnest working Christian. “Oh,” saith he, “I am not lazy; I am not idle; but still, I would like to get my work done.” (C. H. Spurgeon.)
Death a gain
The most you can do to a good man is to persecute him; and the worst that persecution can do is to kill him. And killing a good man is as bad as it would be to spite a ship by launching it. The soul is built for heaven, and the ship for the ocean, and blessed be the hour that gives both to the true element. (H. W. Beecher.)
The desire to depart
As birds in the hour of transmigration feel the impulse of southern lands, and gladly spread their wings for the realm of light and bloom, so may we, in the death hour, feel the sweet solicitations of the life beyond, and joyfully soar from the chill and shadow of earth to fold our wings and sing in the summer of an eternal heaven! (H. W. Beecher.)
To depart is to be with Christ
The Rev. Alexander Fisher, of Dunfermline, an excellent young minister, in the afternoon of the day on which he died, inquired what the hour was, and on being informed, said, “What would you think if I were in heaven tonight?” It was answered, “Then you will be with your Saviour, and see Him face to face.” His pale emaciated countenance seemed to beam with delight, and his faltering lips uttered, “Glory, glory, glory!”
Ready for heaven
A little child was playing with her mother, and they were talking about heaven. The mother had been telling of the joy and glories of that happy world. The matchless beauty of the angels, the golden streets and pearly gates, and the exultant song of redemption. “There is no sickness in those bright realms, no pain, no death, no sorrow, nor sighing, nor tears, no sin; for all will be pure and holy.” “Oh, dear mother!” exclaimed the little child, in her amazement and delight, “let us all go now!” “We must wait a little,” said the mother, “wait until God shall send for us.” “Well, dear mother,” responded the child, in a tone of disappointment, “if we can’t start now, as any rate, let us pack up and be ready!” There is a whole sermon in that one sentence: “Let us pack up and be ready!” Oh, what a world of difference between being ready and unready! (J. N. Norton, D. D.)
Christ, heaven’s supreme attraction
Being with Christ is so great a thing that he mentioned it alone, because his love was so concentrated upon Christ that he could think of nothing else in connection with heaven. There is a wife here, perhaps, and her husband is in India. He has been long away, and the years of his forced absence have been weary to her. She has had loving messages from him and kind letters, but often has she sighed, and her heart has looked out of the windows towards the east, yearning for his return; but now she has received a letter entreating her to go out to her husband, and without hesitation she has resolved to go. Now, if you ask her what she is going to India for, the reply will be, “I am going to my husband.” But she has a brother there, she has many old friends there, her husband has a handsome estate there. Yes, there may be other inducements to make the voyage, but to be with her beloved is the master object of her journey. She is going to the man she loves with all her soul, and she is longing for the country, whatever that country may be, because he is there. It is so with the Christian, only enhanced in a tenfold degree. (C. H. Spurgeon.)
Depart
The word “depart” means strictly to take to pieces. The living man is contemplated as a complex machine, and it is intimated that at death its joints are loosed, and the whole is broken up into its constituent elements. This life in the body is like a watch. By food, and drink, and air, it is wound up daily, and so kept going. At last the machinery, by gradual wear and tear, or by some sudden accident, is brought to a stand. Then it is taken down--taken to pieces--in order that it may be purified and perfected, and set agoing again, not to measure then the changing seasons of time, but to move on, without waste or weariness, in a limitless eternity. More immediately, the dissolution or untying probably refers to the separation of soul and body. The band that knit them together is broken at death. The soul escapes, and the body, meantime, returns to dust. In this view the works of the watch never stand still. When life from God was first breathed into that immortal being, it was wound up, once for all, to go for ever. At the shock of death it is severed from its case of flesh. Outer casement, and figured dial, and pointed hands, all remain with us, and all stand still. But these never were the moving springs. These were shells to protect the tender from injury where the road was rough, and indices to make the movements palpable to bodily sense; but the vital motion of the departed spirit continues uninterrupted, unimpeded, in a region where no violence is dreaded, and no sign to the senses is required. (W. Arnot, D. D.)