He that findeth his life.
The love of life
I. The nature and end of this love of life. This attachment not engendered since the fall-a degraded exhibition of some early beauty. Adam loved life; but the life he loved was a fragment of immortality. He loved it as an unbroken walk with the Eternal; we commonly cling to life as a removal from His presence. Adam loved an immortality begun; we an immortality put off. But a Divine purification of our nature and the old lineaments shall start forth from the canvass. This love of life of Divine implantation; it survives all pleasure in life; and is not accounted for by dread of the future. The Almighty appointed that it should act as a powerful engine in the furtherance of His several dispensations. Take it away, and society is shaken in every part. Evidence that man is far even from original righteousness in the eagerness with which he clings to absence from his Maker. The love of life a perpetual source of honour to God by the opportunity afforded for the display of His grace.
II. When the principle takes a right direction, and when a wrong direction. We have shown that the principle which in fallen man is the love of life, was in unfallen man the love of immortality; hence as it is our own aim to return to the privileges of the unfallen state, we give the principle its right direction when we draw it off from the mortal, and fasten it upon the immortal. To find by losing is the principle rightly applied; for this is the mortal surrendered to the immortal. To lose by finding is the principle wrongly applied; for this is the immortal basely exchanged for the mortal. We call upon you to love life, but you must understand what life is; not mere existence. (H. Melvill.)
Nothing to lose
He that would loss nothing, must learn to have nothing. (Farindon.)
Finding by losing
A remarkable instance of the literal fulfilment of this promise, even with regard to this life, is furnished by a circumstance lately mentioned to us by one who knew the subject of it well. A devoted Christian woman had been in the habit of carrying on extensive religious work in a large and important town, especially in the infirmary of the workhouse, which she was constantly in the habit of visiting. When no longer young, in fact she must have been nearly fifty, Miss G-became seriously ill, and her medical advisers pronounced it their opinion that she could not recover. She requested to be told how long, according to their calculation, she could possibly live, and the reply was, “At the longest about a year, but you must take perfect rest, and give up all work and exertion.” “No,” replied Miss G-; “if I am to live so short a time, I must work all the more heartily for my Master.” She did so, continuing her classes, visits, etc., but it did not shorten her life. At the present time, fifteen years after, Miss G-still lives, and still works actively, though between sixty and seventy years of age.
Losing life for others
Ernest entered heartily into the sport of marble-playing when that season came round; and, as he played for “keeps,” it was not long before complaints began to be made against him. He was a good player and did win a good many marbles; and nobody likes to lose at play, be it money or marbles. Ernest resented the hard talk about his playing, and one day when he met his pastor he told him how unjust and unkind the boys were. The pastor listened kindly; he was one of the men who have the good sense and the good taste to love boys. When Ernest paused he said: “Well, Ernest, you do win a good many marbles, don’t you?” “Why, yes, sir; of course I do.” “I wonder, now, if you ever ask the Lord Jesus about this marble playing?” “Yes, sir; I do,” answered Ernest, heartily. “And what do you ask Him?” “I ask Him to let me hit.” “Ernest, do you ever ask Him to let another boy hit?” “No, sir; of course I don’t.” “Why not? … Why, I want to get all the marbles I can.” “It seems as if the other boys might like to win sometimes,” said Mr. Burch, thoughtfully. “Ernest, are you trying to show God to the boys? Yes, Mr. Burch; I am,” very earnestly. “Do you ever talk to them about God? Yes, sir, I do; I’d like to have the boys know Him.” “Well, do they seem to want to love Him much?” “No, Mr. Burch; I think the boys don’t care much about God.” “Well, Ernest, I don’t know that I wonder much at it. The God that they see is your God. He lets you have all that you want, but does not tell you to ask Him to give them anything! You are not showing them the God who laid down His life.” “What do you mean by that, Mr. Burch?” “Giving up the thing that we want is the very heart of Christ’s religion. Christ laid down His life for us, and we are to lay clown our lives for others. If we lose our life-that is, our will, our way, our pleasure, our advantage-for Christ’s sake, we shall find the real life, which He only can give. Try it, Ernest; lose your life among the boys, and see if they won’t think better of your God.”