Small Beginnings Not to Be Despised

Next Part Small Beginnings Not to Be Despised 2

A sermon, preached for the benefit of the Port of London Society, for promoting Religion among Seamen, on May 9, 1820, by John Angell James.

"The kingdom of heaven is like a grain of mustard seed that a man took and sowed in his field. It is the smallest of all seeds, but when it has grown it is larger than all the garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches." (Matthew 13:31-32)

"For who has despised the day of small things?" Zechariah 4:9.

Despondency paralyzes exertion, but hope stimulates and supports it. The man who commences an undertaking with a foreboding that it will fail, is likely by his fears to ensure the fulfillment of his prediction; while, on the other hand, the hope of success is among the subordinate means of obtaining it. Every great undertaking, especially where the scheme is novel and the difficulties are many, requires in its agents a warmth of soul, if not approaching to enthusiasm, yet very far above lukewarmness or depression. To succeed, we must calculate upon success. It is very true there must be prudence, but it must not be that prudence which creates timidity and chills the ardor of the mind. It must guide but not freeze the current of our zeal.

Despondency is never so likely to be felt as at the commencement of an undertaking, when there are few to support it, and many to oppose it; when the beginning is so small as to excite the apprehensions of its friends, and the derision of its enemies. The Jews who returned from the Babylonish captivity felt this when they applied themselves to the rebuilding of the temple. Few in number, poor in circumstances, disheartened by their poverty, and opposed by the restless malignity of crafty enemies—they proceeded for some time with cheerless heart. When the foundations of the sacred edifice were laid, the sires who had seen the magnitude and splendor of the first temple, wept as they foresaw how inferior to it would be the second.

Their tears must have been as discouraging to the hopes of their younger brethren, as a shower of hail is to the buds and blossoms of spring. The Samaritans derided the work with the most cruel scorn, and tauntingly exclaimed that if only a fox ventured upon the wall, it would demolish the building. To complete the discouragement, the Jews in Chaldea despised the commencement as too feeble to be crowned with success, and on this ground excused themselves from returning to their own land, and to the assistance of their friends. Everything was disheartening. At this critical juncture, the prophet was commissioned to encourage them in the name of the Lord. He was charged to assure them that Zerubbabel, who had laid the foundation, "should bring forth the headstone thereof with shoutings, crying grace, grace unto it," and that therefore the day of small things was not to be despised.

The animating interrogation of the text has become the watchword of Christians in their labors of love; they have repeated it to each other as they have gone forth to their work, and when discouragement has lowered around them, they have, by the power of its fascination, charmed away their fears, and awakened their hopes.

This is my subject, then, on the present interesting occasion, "Small beginnings are not to be despised." I shall consider this sentiment in application to public institutions and to personal religion.

I. I shall apply the sentiment to those PUBLIC INSTITUTIONS which have for their object the glory of God in the salvation of man. The age in which we live is happily and honorably distinguished by a spirit of religious zeal. The church of God, awakened from the slumber of ages, is going forth from the chamber of her too long repose, to do the work appointed to her by the Lord. Ingenuity has been united to benevolence, and the wisdom which descends from above into the mind of man, "has been seeking and watching for new forms of human poverty or misery, that it may meet them with new forms of pity and of aid. So many are the associations throughout our country, for humane and pious purposes of every form, that charity, where it has but a solitary offering, is almost bewildered in its choice." Institutions have arisen, and are still arising, intended and adapted to convey the blessings of eternal life to those who are perishing for lack of knowledge. Some of these are of a novel character, and others formed upon the model of societies which are already in existence, and in successful operation.

Here, the friends of Immanuel unite their energies to send the gospel to the heathen; there, are others associated for the purpose of enlightening the heathen at home. Here, a few pious youths agree to commence a Sunday school in a village; and there, a band of zealous Christians combine their efforts to erect a new place of worship in a benighted part of a large and populous town. Here is commenced a society for distributing tracts, and there another for circulating the Scriptures. Here is a scheme for preaching the gospel to sailors, and there for extending a similar blessing to the inhabitants of a village.

In many of these cases, things are sufficiently discouraging at the beginning. Little patronage smiles upon the scheme, little property enriches its funds, little assistance is brought to its labors. The timid are afraid to act, the ignorant question, the caviling object, the contemptuous sneer. And even many from whom better things might be expected, refuse their help, until at length even the friends of the scheme themselves begin to fear that it must be abandoned. They only who have known by experience what it is to originate a new institution, especially if it be outside of the ordinary routine of Christian effort, can form an adequate idea of the labor, patience, and heroism, which are requisite to carry it to maturity, amidst the doubts of the skeptical, the mistakes of the ignorant, the misrepresentations of the slanderous, and the cold and selfish calculations of the lukewarm. But still, small beginnings are not to be despised; and I shall assign some reasons on which this sentiment is founded.

1. In many instances, the most wonderful effects have resulted from causes apparently very small. It is so in nature. (The author is indebted to Mr. Jay's sermon on the same text for the ideas which suggested these illustrations of the sentiment.) Theoak, in whose mighty shade a herd of cattle repose and ruminate in comfort, was once an acorn, which an infant might have grasped in his hand, or a sparrow have carried in her beak.

The river that floats a navy, and becomes the means of fertility and the inlet of wealth to an empire, if traced to its source, would be found a stream which the traveler might cover with his foot. It is the same in the intellectual world. There was a time when Johnson was learning his alphabet, Newton laying the basis of his mathematical fame in committing to memory the multiplication table, and Milton catching the inspiration of poetry upon his mother's knee, from the crude hymns of his time. It is the same in the political world. Kingdoms, if traced to the first occasion of their eminence, would be found beginning with a thought or feeling in the bosom of ambition, a waking vision, or a midnight dream.

But this idea is most strikingly exemplified in the world of grace. Survey the commencement of the Christian religion. You know to what an extent the gospel has prevailed. At one time it had spread over a great part of Asia and Africa, as well as of Europe. You know how many nations still profess to believe it. You know also that its influence shall be extended in the millennial period of the church, even until the whole earth shall be filled with the knowledge of the Lord. A time is at hand when not a vestige of many a wide-spread superstition shall be found upon the face of the earth, except in the museums of missionary societies.

And what was the commencement of this universal religion? It happened that as a Jewish couple were journeying to be enrolled in their native city, they arrived at a village, where, not obtaining accommodation in the inn, they took up with the shelter of the stable. In this crude place, Mary was overtaken by the pangs of labor. She delivered a child, which, for lack of a cradle, she laid in a feeding trough. There was the commencement upon earth of that scheme which shall fill the world with its blessings, and eternity with its fame. The child then introduced to mortal existence was the Son of God and the Savior of men. All the past triumphs of the gospel, all that it is now doing, all the glorious victories it is yet to achieve, originated in the stable of Bethlehem.

Retrace the cause of Protestantism to its commencement. Look abroad on that great portion of Europe which has shaken off the yoke of Rome, and is now enjoying the light of a purer faith—England, Scotland, Holland, Switzerland, the Protestant States of Germany, Sweden, Denmark—all once followed the 'Roman beast' and bore his image. Fifty million are now asserting their right to worship God according to the dictates of their own consciences, who, three centuries ago, were groaning beneath the fetters of the man of sin.

And what was Protestantism in its origin? A confederation of monarchs and bishops uniting their energies to resist and break the tyranny that had so long oppressed the world? Nothing of the sort. It was merely the opposition of an Augustine monk to a Dominican friar respecting the monstrous practice of selling indulgences. It was confined to the bosom of Luther, who himself knew no more where his zeal was carrying him than his opponent did. His increasing efforts in opposition to the papal superstition were for a long time despised by those who had the greatest interest in opposing and arresting them.

Contemplate the progress of Methodism, from its small beginnings, under its indefatigable founder. That system which now reckons nearly half a million members and a thousand preachers, which has its missionaries in every quarter of the globe, which is continually and deservedly rising in public esteem, was, about seventy years ago, confined to two ministers, and some thirty or forty members, who had to work their way against the brutal violence of the mob, the injustice of magistrates, the frowns of lukewarm Christians, and the contempt of infidels. The history of this indefatigable, zealous, and useful denomination, will stand to the end of time, as a check to the despondency, and an encouragement to the hopes, of those who are anxious to glorify God in seeking the salvation of their fellow-creatures.

Meditate upon the beginnings of the most illustrious of the missionary institutions which are now employed for the benefit of the human race. The London Missionary Society, which expends nearly thirty thousand pounds a year in the spread of the gospel among the heathen; which has more than a hundred missionaries spread over Europe, Asia, Africa, and America; which has been the means of abolishing idolatry in eight islands of the Southern Pacific Ocean, and establishing churches in the heart of South Africa, and printing the Scriptures in a language spoken by a fourth part of the inhabitants of the globe, was, twenty-six years ago, confined to the consultations of nine ministers, who met in the metropolis to make the matter a subject of conference and prayer.

The Baptist Mission to the East, whose labors in the department of translating the Scriptures into the oriental languages, are so incredibly great and successful, as to render almost superfluous the gift of tongues; which can number among its agents men whose fame in Eastern literature has eclipsed the splendor of Sir William Jones's name; which has infused the leaven of Christian truth and Christian principle into many parts of the great mass of the Indian population, from the mouths of the Ganges to the banks of the Indus. This distinguished society was, eight and twenty years ago the project of a few ministers associated at Kettering, the most active and zealous of whom, notwithstanding, his present unrivaled literary renown, was then working at one of the humblest trades; and though distributing the bread of life to others on a sabbath, was on other days earning his own daily bread by the sweat of his brow.

The British and Foreign Bible Society, that most splendid luminary in the firmament of religious benevolence, holding its high station, surrounded by a thousand satellites, and perpetually pouring the light of revelation it upon millions who, without it, must sit in darkness; that most glorious society, which has already spent (if we take into calculation what has been expended by similar institutions abroad) a million sterling, and put into circulation three million copies of the Scriptures; whose praises are heard in nearly all lands, for nearly all lands on earth receive its benefits; that sublime association was, sixteen years ago, no more than a purpose entertained by a few Christians met together as a committee to transact the business of another religious institution; a purpose arising incidentally out of an application then made by a minister present for assistance to supply his Welsh brethren with an edition of the Scriptures in their own tongue. Had the most optimistic enthusiast heard their conversation and their purpose, and seen them meet again and again, as the object swelled in magnitude, and brightened in glory upon their view—would he have anticipated a hundredth part of what has been done; or had he ventured to predict that so much would have been accomplished in sixteen years, would not more cool and calculating minds have declared that his enthusiasm had risen to madness?

All these instances are striking illustrations of the sentiment that "small beginnings are not to be despised;" and that the most astonishing effects frequently arise from causes apparently feeble. Let the Christian philanthropist, who, amidst the difficulties with which he has to contend in the prosecution of his schemes, is ready to despond, look at these sublime monuments of Christian zeal, thank God, and take courage. Let him see from what little springs of benevolence, have arisen the mightiest rivers which ever flowed through the wilderness of human ignorance, poverty, and misery.

2. We should not despise the day of small things, because the power of God can still render the feeblest instruments productive of the greatest results. Omnipotence is among the most sublime and glorious attributes of Jehovah. It is celebrated in the loftiest strains upon the pages of revelation, and is manifested by all the works and wonders of creation. God's omnipotence is the terror of the wicked, and the confidence of the righteous. God's omnipotence is the comfort and the refuge of human weakness. By omnipotence we mean God's ability to do everything which his wisdom determines right to be done. In relation to such a being, difficulty is a word without meaning. He can work by feeble means, without means, or against them. He spoke and it was done; he commanded and it stood fast. In innumerable instances he has employed, and rendered successful, instruments which were the last that we should have chosen. The rod of Moses was, in all probability, a rough, shapeless, and fragile stick, and yet what wonders were wrought by it. Who would have thought of besieging a fortified city with the blast of rams' horns, or attacking an entrenched camp with lamps and pitchers; or overcoming the powers of darkness, and foiling the gates of hell, by the crucifixion of their Opponent.

When a new religion was to be established upon the ruins of those previously existing in the world, and all nations were to be converted to it from systems to which they were riveted by all the power of prejudice, pride, and superstition—who would have selected fishermen to be its apostles, or what could have rendered them successful in their mission? "For consider your calling, brothers: not many of you were wise according to worldly standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God;" and "that the excellency of the power might be of God." What could be a brighter display of divine power than empowering men whose knowledge was confined to the best method of catching fish, and mending nets—to contend with and conquer the sages, the systems and the pride of philosophy, and to break down a religion supported by authority and literature, the power of education, and the force of example.

But this view of the Divine operations does not warrant us in any pretension to an extraordinary commission, or any enthusiastic expectation; we are not to assume that we are raised up for some great purpose, and to accomplish some great revolution, and appeal to the power of God as containing our inexhaustible resources. However, we may contrast the thought of what God has done, and what he can do—to that desponding sense of our own feebleness, which would chill all the energies of the soul, and freeze the stream of benevolence at its source. Man requires in every case, an apparatus proportioned to the effects to be produced, and his physical power must be raised to the measure of the expected result. It is not so in the moral world and with God. Here there are no data on which to found a calculation.

All is the effect of a sovereign agent who works when, and how, and by whom he will. We are certainly to use appropriate and adequate means, so far as the judgment of reason goes, but the greater may be inefficient, and the lesser effectual. The religious tract may impress where the Bible has failed. The feeblest preacher may be the honored instrument of conversion, when the most eloquent has preached in vain. All this should certainly encourage us to persevere amidst many things calculated to produce discouragement and despondency. When we have formed our schemes as they ever ought to be formed, upon scripture principles, and with religious discretion, let us then take them by prayer to the footstool of the divine throne, where, for our comfort we shall hear it declared, "that power belongs unto God."

3. It should guard us against despising the day of small things, to remember that, how ever discouraging appearances may be, we never know what God really intends to do by us. The power of penetrating into futurity is wisely and mercifully denied us. Man would be no gainer, so far as his happiness is concerned, by being the prophet of his own history. In some cases we would be cheered by a foresight of success, and the joys in store for us; but upon the whole, it is infinitely in our favor that both our joys and our sorrows should be disclosed to us only by the moments that give them birth. So we can never presently see the result of our actions, in their future influence upon others. No man who devotes himself to the cause of Christian benevolence can say what use God intends to make of him, but it is often far greater than he is aware.

Little did it enter into the mind of Robert Raikes, when, touched with compassion for the ignorant and wicked youth of Gloucester, he collected them to learn their letters, and then led the little ragged group from the scene of instruction to the house of God; that he was at that time laying the foundation of a system of 'Sunday schools' which would spread throughout England, and, finally, over the world; which could follow in the train of Christianity to whatever land she directed her course. As little did it enter the mind of Wesley, when he formed his first class of serious Christians, that he was originating in the religious world, a new denomination, which is bidding fair to rival the others in numbers, as it certainly excels them in zeal.

So when a friend of the rising generation collects a Sunday school for poor children, it is not for him to conjecture what characters are to emerge thence to reform the world, or bless the church. Talents crude, misshapen—and mingled even with the basest properties, like gold in a rock, may there be elicited, preparatory to their being at last exhibited to the world in the character of the eloquent preacher, or the faithful missionary. When a new place of Christian worship is erected, who will undertake to predict where the stream of ministerial success shall first gush forth—what shall be its meandering course, where it shall touch in its progress, what moral fertility it shall produce, and how long it shall be before it is lost in the ocean of universal good?

If anyone converts a sinner from the error of his ways and saves a soul from death, he may seem to have performed one single act of usefulness—but that one single act may be the commencement of a series, which, in breadth may reach to the ends of the earth, and in length, to the end of time. That converted sinner may be, in his turn, the instrument of conversion to another, who removing to a distant climate, may carry the glad tidings of salvation to India or Thailand. And again, the first convert becoming the head of a family, may transmit religion to his children, and they to theirs, until the stream of good flowing onward from generation to generation, and widening as it flows, shall be arrested only by the blast of the archangel's trumpet.

And it is to be recollected, that the righteous are to be rewarded, not only according to their doings, but according to the fruit of their doings—not only for the single act of sowing the good seed of the kingdom in one barren spot, but for all the waving harvests, which, during a long succession of ages, shall have sprung by the power of reproduction from the original grain.

4. We should not despise the day of small things, because, in religion, what may seem little by comparison, is, when viewed positively and absolutely, immensely great. In the administration of temporal benevolence, we naturally require the prospect of success in some measure proportionate, as to the number of objects relieved, to our labor and expense. Who would build a hospital for the sake of receiving a single patient, or an almshouse to accommodate a single pauper? In such a case benevolence would be really defeated in its object, and it would not be worth while to do so much for the accomplishment of so little. There is nothing in the individual object which can give it importance; this must be derived from an aggregate of many such.

But this remark will not apply to the objects of religious benevolence. The soul of man derives from its immortality, a worth which defies all calculation. It waits not for an accession of others of its species before it can assume that degree of importance which would justify extended, laborious, or expensive means for its salvation. Its individual value is immense and incalculable. "What shall it profit a man if he gains the whole world—and loses his own soul?" was a question proposed by Him, who, having made both the world and the soul, must know their relative value, and cannot be suspected of unduly elevating the one, or depreciating the other. "What, my brethren, if it be lawful to indulge such a thought, what would be the funeral rites of a lost soul? Where shall we find the tears fit to be wept at such a spectacle? Or could we realize the calamity in all its extent, what tokens of commiseration and concern would be deemed equal to the occasion? Would it suffice for the sun to veil his light, and the moon her brightness; to cover the ocean with mourning, and the heavens with sackcloth; or, were the whole fabric of nature to become animated and vocal, would it be possible for her to utter a groan too deep, or a cry too piercing—to express the magnitude and extent of such a catastrophe?" Surely then, no effort or expense can be thought ill bestowed or unsuccessful which has been the means of averting, even in a single instance, so indescribable a catastrophe.

How comes it to pass, then, that we are so little affected by the salvation of a single soul—when from time to time it occurs? How is it that when we do not hear of many souls converted, we seem to feel as if nothing had been done? There can be but one reason assigned, and that is, we look at the innumerable multitude which are seen to remain in the gall of bitterness and bonds of iniquity. It is a dreadful state of things where the prevalence of evil is so great that we feel almost discouraged from attempting to counteract it by individual instances of good. Just as a person who beheld the ravages of the plague, would scarcely think it worth while to save one or two of his fellow-creatures from death, while hundreds and thousands were expiring weekly. So amidst the millions who are dying under the power of sin—that moral pestilence which rages through the earth, we think too little of rescuing one and another from the prevailing ruin; indeed, the very excess of destruction seems to blunt our feelings.

In gazing around upon an extensive churchyard, the thought of death itself is less through the number of its subjects; the mind wanders off from the evil itself to its COMMONNESS, and then returns from this commonness to the evil, with its sensibilities wonderfully hardened. One single hillock in a desert, where a fellow-creature sleeps in solitude, or one uncoffined corpse, will probably affect us more than the most crowded burial grounds. We view our success relatively, and judge of it by comparison. If only a single child in a school is devoutly impressed, we immediately ask what is one out of two or three hundred? When a solitary individual in a congregation is converted from the error of his ways, we make a similar enquiry; especially are we in danger of this when we hear of the conversion of only a small number of the heathen.

What are they, we exclaim, out of so many? What is even a hundred reclaimed from six hundred millions? Small, it is admitted, very small indeed. But let us judge of our achievements by their absolute value. Let us individualize each case, let us set the soul of one man apart by itself. Let us view it in its amazing value; let us think what the eternal salvation or the loss of but one human spirit includes! Such is the worth of the soul and the measureless importance of its interests, that if only one human spirit had strayed from the fold of God, all the angels in glory would think themselves well employed to go in quest of the wanderer. The recovery of this single immortal from the horrors of perdition, would be accounted an object of sufficient importance, to combine and employ the energies of the universe.

This is evident from the fact of there being joy among the angels of God over every sinner that repents. All heaven partakes of new raptures, not merely when a nation is born in a day, but at the nativity of every child of God. Let us, then, look at our success more in the abstract. Not that we should be content to seek for little, or be indifferent whether we have little or much. I am not now stating the consideration which should regulate a Christian's desires, but such as may dissipate his gloom, and resist his despondency in a season of comparative discouragement. If it be the will of God to grant it us, we should seek to turn many to righteousness; but where this is denied, we should think of the amount of good which has been achieved, if but a single soul has been saved by our instrumentality. In this case, instead of looking with a desponding eye upon the multitude who are not saved—let us look with delight upon the one who is, and think of the infinite and eternal happiness which will be connected with that solitary instance of success.

We may offend against the injunction of the text by INATTENTION. Whenever a scheme is submitted to our notice, professing to have for its object the glory of God and the best interests of man, let us not turn away with heedless indifference, and refuse to examine its claims. It may be novel, it may be apparently insignificant, but let it be examined. I am not advocating an indiscriminate precipitate zeal. There may be a spirit of speculation in the religious world, as well as in commerce, which is no less injurious to solid piety in the one, than to mercantile confidence in the other. We are not to countenance the wild projects of every religious adventurer, but examination is desirable in every case, to detect and expose what is bad, as well as to support what is good.

SCORN is another way of despising the day of small things. If the object of a scheme be good, if the means appear adapted to the end, let it not be contemned because it is at present in the infancy of its age and of its strength. Its supporters may be few and poor, its funds may be low, its commencement may be feeble, but let the benevolence of its design protect it from the sneer of contempt. All that is sublime in Christianity was once confined to a little circle of poor men and women. To despise an institution because it is yet limited and contracted in its operations, is like ridiculing an infant for not being a man at once.

NEGLECT is another way of sinning against the letter and spirit of the text. There are some, who, although convinced that the object of an institution is good, and who, on this ground, are kept from treating it with contempt, yet deem it prudent to withhold their support until it has become more generally known, and more firmly established. They wait until it has been tried and tested. If it be successful, they will assist its operations; if it be popular, they will join the train of its admirers. But they forget that if all men acted upon their starving prudence, it is impossible that any scheme should prosper. Every society which is now shedding blessings upon the world, would, upon this principle, have withered in the bud for lack of nourishment.

Many a noble philanthropic plan, has, we fear, perished at the feet of its unselfish originator, while men of cold and calculating prudence were waiting to see if it succeeded. To assist an object when it is in the zenith of its prosperity has little merit, it is sure then to find friends; but it is a noble and heroic zeal to come forward in its support when it is struggling for existence amidst its own weakness and the suspicion, inattention, neglect, and ridicule of bystanders. Let us take care of the poor friendless infant; the popular and prosperous man can take care of himself. There is a period in the history of every society when our help would be tenfold more valuable than at any other time; in such a crisis, whenever it occurs, let us not be backward.

Especially, let those who are the principal LEADERS in schemes of benevolence, beware of despising the day of small things. Let them not too soon sink into a state of discouragement. Despondency will not only paralyze their own energies, and thus prevent the success they covet, but it will operate like the touch of the plague, on all that come within their reach. They must not be too optimistic to be prudent—but a little enthusiasm is far better than much despondency. They are leaders, and a panic in the commander is sure to communicate itself to the troops. They must appear cheerful amidst discouragement, and hopeful amidst defeat. If they have fears, they must conceal them, and exhibit only their hopes. Their courage must be the rallying point and the inspiring theme for all the circle. The neglect and inattention of others must have no other effect than to increase their own diligence, and like a mother who loves her babe the more for the persecution and abuse to which it is exposed, they must cling the closer to their favorite object, in proportion as others, who do not understand it, treat it with contempt.

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