Love, the Motive and Power for Service
Chapter 2
Love, the Motive and Power for Service
Let me call your attention to the thirteenth chapter of Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians. As we read this passage, let’s use the word love instead of the original word charity. Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels and have not love, I am become as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not love, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor and though I give my body to be burned and have not love, it profits me nothing (vv. 1-3).
It’s great to be a prophet like Daniel, Isaiah, Elijah, or Elisha, but it is greater, we are told here, to be full of love than to be filled with the spirit of prophecy. Mary of Bethany, who was so full of love, held a higher position than these great prophets did.
Love suffers long and is benign; love envies not; love does nothing without due reason, is not puffed up, is not injurious, seeks not her own, is not easily provoked, thinks no evil, rejoices not in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love is never lost, but prophecies shall come to an end, tongues shall cease, and knowledge shall come to an end. For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see as through a mirror, in darkness, but then we shall see face to face; now I know in part, but then I shall know even as I also am known. And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love. (vv. 4-13)
The Enemy had found his way into that church at Corinth established by Paul, and it resulted in strife among the disciples. One said, “I am of Apollos”; another, “I am of Cephas”; and another, “I am of Paul.” Paul saw that this biased strife and lack of love among God’s dear people would be disastrous to the church and so he wrote this letter.
I’ve often said that if every true believer could move into this chapter and live in the spirit of it for twelve months, the church would double its numbers within that time. One of the great obstacles in the way of God’s work today is this lack of love among the disciples of the Lord Jesus Christ.
If we love a person, we won’t be pointing out his failings all the time. It is said:
Many rules of eloquence have been set forth, but, strange, to say, the first and most essential of all has been overlooked, namely, love. To address people fittingly they must be loved much. Whatever they may be, be they ever so guilty, or indifferent, or ungrateful, or however deeply sunk in crime, before all, and above all, they must be loved. Love is the sap of the gospel, the secret of lively and effectual preaching, the power of eloquence. The goal of preaching is to reclaim the hearts of men for God, and nothing but love can find out the mysterious avenues which lead to the heart. If then you do not feel a fervent love and profound pity for humanity, be assured that the gift of Christian eloquence has been denied you. You will not win souls, neither will you acquire that most excellent of earthly sovereignties − sovereignty over human hearts. An Arab proverb runs thus – “The neck is bent by the sword, but heart is only bent by heart.” Love is irresistible.[1]
Look at these words again: [Love] suffers long and is benign; [love] envies not. So often, if one person outshines another, it leads to envy in our hearts toward that one. We need a great deal of grace to keep it in check. [Love] does nothing without due reason, is not puffed up. One of the worst enemies Christians have to contend with is this spirit of rivalry − this feeling of, “Who shall be the greatest?” Then there arose a dispute among them, which of them should be the greatest (Luke 9:46).
Some years ago, I read a book that did me a great deal of good. It was titled The Training of the Twelve. The writer said that during the three years Christ was engaged publicly going about His Father’s business, He spent most of His time training twelve men. The training He gave them was very different from the training of present-day schools. The world teaches men that they must seek to be great. Christ taught His disciples that they must be little − that in honor, they must prefer one another and are not to be puffed up. Nor are they to harbor feelings of envy, but are to be full of meekness, gentleness, and lowhness of heart.
When a well-known painter was asked to paint a perfect likeness of Alexander the Great, he found the request difficult. In war, Alexander had been struck by a sword which left an immense scar across his forehead. The painter said, “If I keep the scar, it will be an offense to the admirers of the monarch, and if I omit it, it will fail to be a perfect likeness. What shall I do?” He hit upon a happy, pragmatic solution. He represented the emperor leaning on his elbow, with his forefinger on his brow, accidentally, as it seemed, covering the scar on his forehead. Isn’t it possible for us to represent each other with the finger of love on the scar, instead of representing the scar deeper and blacker than it really is? Christians can learn a lesson of charity − of human kindness and of love even from the nonbelieving world.
This spirit of seeking to be the greatest has nearly ruined the church at different times in history. If the church were not divine, it would have completely disintegrated long ago. Today, through this miserable spirit of ambition and self-seeking, there’s hardly any movement of reform that hasn’t been in danger of being thwarted and destroyed. May God empower us to get above this, to cast away our conceit and pride, and to accept Christ as our teacher so He can show us the spirit in which His work should be done.
One of the saddest things in the life of Christ was the working of this spirit of pride among His disciples, even in the last hours of His interaction with them, just before He was led away to be crucified. In Luke 22:21-27, we read: But with all this, behold, the hand of him that betrays me is with me on the table. And truly the Son of man goes as it was determined; but woe unto that man by whom he is betrayed! And they began to enquire among themselves, which of them it was that should do this thing. And there was also a contention among them, which of them should be accounted the greatest. Then he said unto them, The kings of the Gentiles exercise lordship over them, and those that exercise authority upon them are called well-doers. But ye shall not be so, but he that is greatest among you, let him be as the younger; and he that is prince, as he that doth serve. For who is greater, he that sits at the table or he that serves? Is it not he that sits at the table? But I am among you as he that serves.
Right there, on that memorable night, when Jesus instituted the Last Supper, after they’d eaten of the Passover lamb and the Savior was on His way to the cross − even there this spirit arose among them about who would be the greatest.
A charming tradition that is connected with the site on which the temple of Solomon was erected tells the tale of two brothers who were said to occupy the land at one time. One of the brothers had a family; the other had none. On this spot, a field of wheat was sown and on the evening following the harvest, the wheat had been gathered in separate shocks. The older brother said to his wife, “My younger brother is unable to bear the burden and heat of the day; I will arise, take from my shocks, and place them with his without his knowledge.” The younger brother, being motivated by the same benevolent intentions, said to himself, “My elder brother has a family, and I have none. I will arise, take of my shocks, and place it with his.”
Imagine their mutual astonishment when, on the following day, they found their respective shocks undiminished. This course of events transpired for several nights, when each of the brothers resolved to stand guard and solve the mystery. They did so on the following night and they met each other halfway between their respective shocks with their arms full. On ground sanctified by such associations as this, the temple of Solomon was erected − spacious and magnificent – to the wonder and admiration of the world. Sadly, these days, how many would sooner steal their brother’s entire shock of grain than add a single sheaf to it?
If we want to be wise in winning souls and to be vessels for the Master’s use, we must get rid of the accursed spirit of self-seeking. That is the purpose of this thirteenth chapter in Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians. He told them that a man might be full of faith and zeal and that he might even be very kind, but if he didn’t have love, he was like sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal. I believe many ministers might as well go into the pulpit and blow a tin horn Sunday after Sunday as to go on preaching without love. A man can preach the truth. He can be perfectly sound in doctrine, but if there is no love in his heart going out to those whom he addresses, and if he is doing it only professionally, the apostle says he is only sounding brass.
It isn’t always more work that we need so much as a better motive. Many of us do a lot of work, but we must remember that God looks at the motive. The only tree on this earth that can produce fruit which is pleasing to God is the tree of love.
When writing to Titus, Paul says, But speak thou the things which are expedient unto sound doctrine, that the aged men be temperate, venerable, prudent, sound in faith, in charity, in tolerance (Titus 2:1-2). What good is a sermon, no matter how sound in doctrine, if it isn’t delivered with love and in patience? What are our prayers worth without the spirit of love?
People ask, “Why isn’t there a blessing? Our minister’s sermons and prayers are very good.” Most likely, you’ll find it is because the whole thing is done professionally as a job. The words glisten like icicles in the sun, and they are just as cold. There’s no spark of love in them. If that is the case, there will be very little power. You can have your prayer meetings, your praise meetings, your faith and hope meetings; you can talk about all these things, but if there is no love mingled with them, God says you are as sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal.
Now a man can be a very good doctor and yet have no love for his patients. He can be a very clever and successful lawyer and have no love for his clients. A merchant can prosper greatly in business without caring at all about his customers. A person can have the ability to explain the wonderful mysteries of science or theology without any love. But no one can be a true worker for God and a successful winner of souls without love. He can be a great preacher in the eyes of the world and have crowds flocking to hear him, but if love of God and souls isn’t the motivating power, the effects will all pass away like the morning cloud and early dew.
It is said that when the men of Athens went to hear Demosthenes speak they were genuinely stirred up, and felt they must go and fight Philip of Macedon. Another orator of that day might have carried them away by his eloquence, but when the oration was over, all the influence vanished. It was nothing but fine words.
A man can be very eloquent and use great flowing language − he can sway the multitudes while they are under his influence, but if there’s no love behind what he says, it will all be for nothing. It was Demosthenes’ love for his country that stirred him, and then he stirred the people.
When we reach a higher plane of love, it won’t be hard for us to work for the Lord. We will be glad to do anything, however small. God hates the countless big things in which love is not the motivating power, but He delights in the little things prompted by love. A cup of cold water given to a disciple in the spirit of love is of far more value in God’s sight than the taking of a kingdom done out of ambition and vainglory.
I’m getting sick and tired of hearing the word duty. You hear so many talk about it being their duty to do this or that. My experience is that such Christians have very little success. Isn’t there a much higher platform than mere duty? Can’t we engage in the service of Christ because we love Him? When that is the compelling power it is so easy to do the work. It isn’t hard for a mother to watch over a sick child. She doesn’t look at it as a hardship. You never hear Paul talking about what a hard time he had in his Master’s service. He was compelled by his love of Christ and by the love of Christ to him. He counted it a joy to labor, and even to suffer, for his blessed Master. Count it all joy when ye fall into diverse trials (James 1:2).
Perhaps you’re thinking I shouldn’t speak against duty, because a good amount of work wouldn’t get done at all if it wasn’t done out of a sense of duty. But I want you to see what a poor, sad motive that is, and how you can reach a higher level of service.
I’m thinking of going back to my home soon. In my mind, I see my old, white-haired mother living on the banks of the Connecticut River in the same little town where she’s lived for the last eighty years. Suppose when I return I take her some present, and when I give it to her, I say, “You have been so very kind to me in the past that I thought it was my duty to bring you a present.” What would she think? The real question is, how is this different than if I told her I gave it to her simply because of my strong love for her? How much more would she value it? God also wants His children to serve Him because of something other than duty. He doesn’t want us to feel it is difficult to do His will.
Take an army that fights because it is forced to do so. The soldiers won’t gain many victories. But how different it is when they are full of love for their country and for their commanders. Then nothing can stand in their way. Don’t think you can do any work for Christ and hope to succeed if you aren’t driven by love.
Napoleon tried to establish a kingdom by the force of arms. So did Alexander the Great, Caesar, and other great warriors, but they utterly failed. Jesus founded His kingdom on love, and it is going to stand. When we reach this level of love, then all selfish and unworthy motives will disappear, and our work will stand the fire when God puts it to the test.
Another thing I want you to bear in mind is that love never looks to see what it is going to get in return. In the gospel of Matthew, we read of the parable of the man who went out to hire laborers so he could send them to work in his vineyard. After he hired and sent out some in the morning, he found others standing idle later in the day. He sent them to work also. It so happened that those who went out last got back first. Those who went out early in the morning thought they would be rewarded with more wages than those who went to work at the eleventh hour. When they learned they were only to get the same amount of money, they began to murmur and complain. But what was the good man’s answer? He answered one of them and said, Friend, I do thee no wrong; didst not thou agree with me for a denarius? Take that which is thine and go, for I desire to give unto this last one, even as unto thee. Is it not lawful for me to do what I will with mine own? Is thine eye evil because I am good? So the first shall be last, and the last first (Matthew 20:13-16).
I have generally found that those workers who are looking to see how much they are going to get from the Lord all the time are never satisfied. But love does its work and makes no bargain – no deal expecting something in return. Let us make no bargains with the Lord, but be ready to go out and do whatever He hires us to do.
I am sure if we go out cherishing love in our hearts for those we are going to try and reach, every barrier will be swept out of the way. Love results in love, just like hatred precipitates hatred. Love is the key to the human heart. Someone once said, “Light is for the mind, and love is for the heart.” When you can reach men’s hearts, then you can turn them toward Christ. But first, we must win them to ourselves.
You may have heard of the boy whose home was near the woods. One day he was in the woods, and he thought he heard the voice of another boy nearby. He shouted, “Hello there!” and the voice shouted back, “Hello there!” He didn’t know it was the echo of his own voice, and he shouted again, “You are a mean boy!” Again, the cry came back, “You are a mean boy!” After more of the same, he went into the house and told his mother about the bad boy in the woods.
His mother, who understood what had happened, said to him, “Oh no! Speak kindly to him, and see if he doesn’t speak kindly to you.” He went to the woods again and shouted, “Hello there!” “Hello there!” came the reply. “You are a good boy.” Of course, the reply came, “You are a good boy.” “I love you.” “I love you,” said the other voice.
You smile at that, but this little story explains the secret of the whole thing. Some of you may think you have bad and disagreeable neighbors. If that’s the case, it is most likely that the trouble is with you. If you love your neighbors, they will love you. As I said before, love is the key that will unlock every human heart. No man or woman in all this land is so low and so degraded that you can’t reach them with love, gentleness, and kindness. It may take years, but it can be done.
Love must be active. As someone has said, “A man can hoard up his money. He can bury his talents in a napkin, but there is one thing he can’t hoard up − love.” You can’t bury it. It must flow out from us. It can’t feed upon itself. It must have an object.
A few years ago, when we had yellow fever in one of the Southern cities, I read about a family that had just moved into an unfamiliar neighborhood. The father was stricken with the fever. There were so many fatal cases happening that the authorities didn’t stop to give them a decent burial. The dead-cart went through the streets where the poor lived, and the bodies were carried away for burial.
The neighbors of this family were afraid. No one would visit the house because of the fever. It wasn’t long before the mother was stricken with it too. Before she died, she called her boy to her and said, “I will soon be gone, but when I am dead, Jesus will come and take care of you.” She had no one on earth to whom she could commit him. In a little while, she too was gone, and they carried her body away to the cemetery. Her young son followed her to the grave. He saw where they laid her, and then he came back to the house.
He found it very lonely, and when it grew dark, he became afraid and couldn’t stay in the house. He went out and sat on the step and began to weep. Finally, he went back to the cemetery, and finding the lot where his mother was buried, he laid down and wept himself to sleep.
The next morning, a stranger passing that way found him on the grave still weeping. “What are you doing here, my boy?”
“Waiting for the Savior.”
The man wanted to know what he meant, and the boy told the story of what his mother had said to him. It touched the heart of the stranger, and he said, “Well, my boy, Jesus has sent me to take care of you.”
The boy looked up and replied, “You have been a long while coming.”
If we have the love of our Master, are you telling me that these outlying masses wouldn’t be reached? There isn’t a drunkard who wouldn’t be reached. There’s not a poor fallen one, or a blasphemer, or an atheist, who wouldn’t be influenced for good. Atheists can’t get over the power of love. It will upset atheism and every false system quicker than anything else. Nothing will break the stubborn heart so quickly as the love of Christ.
I was in a certain home a few years ago where a boy lived who was treated like one of the family, and yet he didn’t have the same name as the rest of the family. One night I asked the lady of the house to explain this to me. I said, “I have noticed that you treat him exactly like your own children, yet he is not your boy.”
“Oh no,” she said. “He isn’t, but it’s quite true I treat him as my own child.”
She went on to tell me his father and mother were American missionaries in India. They had five children. The time came when the children had to be sent away from India, because they couldn’t receive an education there. They were to be sent to America for that purpose. The father and mother had been blessed in India, but didn’t feel as though they could give up their children. They thought they would leave their missionary work in the foreign field and go back to America.
Back in America, they weren’t blessed to the same extent as they had been in India. The natives wrote to them asking them to return. After a time, they decided that the call to return to India was so loud that the father must go back. The mother said to him, “I can’t let you go alone. I must go with you.”
“But how can you leave the children?” he asked. “You have never been separated from them.”
She said, “I can do it for Christ’s sake.” Thank God for such love as that.
When it became known that they wanted to leave their children in good homes, this lady with whom I was staying told the mother that if she left one of them with her she would treat the child as her own. The mother came and stayed a week in the house to see that everything was right. The last morning came. When the carriage drove up to the door the mother said, “I want to leave my boy without shedding a tear. I can’t bear to have him think it costs me tears to do what God has for me to do.”
My friend saw the great struggle going on, because she heard the mother crying in the adjoining room. The mother cried, “O God, give me strength for the hour. Help me now.” She came downstairs with a beautiful smile on her face. She hugged her boy to her bosom, kissed him, and left him without a tear. She left all her children, and went back to work for Christ in India, and before very long, she left the shores of India to be with her Master in heaven. That is what a weak woman can do when love for Christ is the motivating force. Sometime after that, the dear boy passed away to be with the mother.
A few years ago, when preaching in a certain city, I found a young man very active in bringing boys from the street into the church meetings. If there was a difficult case in the city, he was sure to come across it. He could often be found in the inquiry room with a whole crowd around him. I became deeply interested in the young man and grew close to him. I learned he was another son of that same distinguished, glorious missionary. I found that all their sons were in training to go out as foreign missionaries, to take the place of the mother and father who had gone to their reward. It made such an impression on me that I couldn’t shake it off. These boys have all gone out among the unbelieving heathen to tell the story of Christ and His love.
I am convinced of this: When these hard-hearted people who now reject the Savior are thoroughly awake to the fact that love is prompting our efforts on their behalf, the hardness will begin to soften, and their stubborn wills will begin to bend. This key of love will unlock their hearts. We can turn them, with God’s help, from the darkness of this world to the light of the gospel. For the God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, has shined in our hearts to bring forth the light of the knowledge of the clarity of God in the face of Jesus Christ (2 Corinthians 4:6).
Christ gave His disciples a badge. Some of you wear a blue ribbon and others wear a red ribbon, but the badge that Christ gave to His disciples was love – love not only for those who are Christians, but love also for the fallen. The Good Samaritan had love for the poor man who had fallen among thieves. If we are filled with such love as that, the world will soon find out that we are the followers of the Lord Jesus Christ. By this shall everyone know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another (John 13:35). It will do more to upset unfaithfulness and rebellion against God than anything else.
Speaking about difficult people being reached for Christ reminds me of a time I was in a home in London. A young lady in that home felt she wasn’t doing as much for Christ as she would like and decided to start a class for boys. She now has fifteen to twenty of these lads, ranging from age thirteen to sixteen − a very difficult age to deal with. This Christian young lady made up her mind that she would first try and win the friendship of these boys for herself, and then seek to lead them to the Savior. It is a beautiful sight to see how she has won their young hearts for herself, and I believe she will win them all to a pure and godly life. If we are willing to work among the young with such a spirit, boys such as these will be saved. Instead of helping to fill our prisons and poorhouses, they will become useful members of God’s church and a blessing to society.
I have a friend who has a large Sunday school. When he began, he made up his mind that if a boy didn’t have good training in his own home, he couldn’t get it anywhere but in Sunday school, and so he resolved that, if possible, when a boy was rebellious and headstrong he wouldn’t turn him away purposeless.
One boy came to the school whom no teacher seemed able to manage. One after another came to the superintendent and said, “You must take him out of my class. He’s demoralizing all the others. He uses profane language and is doing more harm than all the good I can do.”
Finally, my friend made up his mind that he would have the boy expelled publicly. He told a few of the teachers what he planned to do, but a wealthy young lady said, “I wish you would let me try with the boy. I will do all I can to win him.”
My friend was sure she wouldn’t have the patience needed to deal with him for very long, but he put the boy in her class as she requested. It didn’t take long for the little fellow to break the rules in the class, and she corrected him. He got so angry that he lost his temper and spat in her face. She quietly took a handkerchief and wiped her face. At the close of the lesson, she asked him if he would walk home with her when school was over. “No,” he said. “I don’t want to speak to you.” He finished by telling her that he wasn’t coming back to that old school any more. She asked if he would let her walk along with him. Again, he said, “No.
She looked at him and said, “Well, I’m sorry you are going, but if you will call at my house on Tuesday morning and ring the front doorbell, there will be a small parcel waiting for you.” She made it clear that she wouldn’t be at home at the time, but if he asked the servant, he would receive it.
He replied, “You can keep your old parcel. I don’t want it.” However, she thought he would be there.
By Tuesday morning, the little fellow was over his mad fit, and he came to her house and rang the doorbell. The servant handed him the parcel. When he opened it, he found it contained a little vest, a necktie, and, best of all, a note written by the teacher. She told him how every night and every morning since he had been in her class she had prayed for him. Now that he was going to leave her, she wanted him to remember that as long as she lived she would pray for him, and she hoped he would grow up to be a good man.
The next morning the boy was in the drawing room waiting to see her before she came downstairs from her bedroom. When she did come down, she found him crying as if his heart would break. She kindly asked him what was wrong. “Oh,” he said as he wiped the tears from his face. “I have had no peace since I got your letter. You have been so kind to me, and I have been so unkind to you. I wish you would forgive me.”
Since then, my friend the superintendent has said, “There are about eighteen hundred children in the school, and there isn’t a better boy among them.”
Can’t we do the same as that young lady did? Let us rededicate ourselves now to God and to His service.
Had I the tongues of Greeks and Jews,
And nobler speech than angels use,
If love be absent, I am found,
Like tinkling brass, an empty sound.
Were I inspired to preach and tell
All that is done in heaven and hell;
Or could my faith the world remove,
Still I am nothing without love.
Should I distribute all my store
To feed the bowels of the poor;
Or give my body to the flame,
To gain a martyr’s glorious name,
If love to God, and love to men
Be absent, all my hopes are vain;
Nor tongues, nor gifts, nor fiery zeal
The work of love can e’er fulfill.
– Isaac Watts
[1] The Homiletic Review, Volume 20, Page 103.