The proper limits of human anxiety.
The evil dealt with in this passage is "undue secular anxiety." "Think of the uncertainty of almost everything we have—life, health, friendship, domestic relationships and affections, riches, commerce. Life has many sad surprises and disappointments. Our own day is full of care." Where is abundant cause for anxiety. But Christ reminds us of a truth which should put our earthly care into strict limitations. We have a Father who is actually and effectively concerned in securing the constant and the highest well-being of his children. The children ought to have proper children's anxieties, but they should not take upon them cares which belong to their Father, who "knoweth what they have need of before they ask him."
I. THE EARTHLINESS OF THE UNEARTHLY MAN. Think of the Christian as the "unearthly man," and then see that his unearthliness ought not to be all-absorbing. It should be placed under wise limitations. He is in the body. He stands in relations. He has duties and responsibilities. It is no true spirituality to escape from common earthly responsibilities into monasteries, nunneries, and hermit-cells. "The Son of man came eating and drinking." Human interests were sought by him, and human cares were borne by him. A saint must never forget that he is husband, or father, or brother, or friend, or citizen. Earthly anxiety is God's present burden for his saints; and it has to be cheerfully taken up and borne.
II. THE UNEARTHLINESS OF THE EARTHLY MAN. This is turning the figure round, in order to warn the spiritual man how very absorbing earthly care may become, and to advise him that his supreme anxiety should be soul-culture. "Taking thought" is but an older form of our idea of "worrying," which is "anxiety overdone." "What the Lord bids us guard against is conjectural brooding over the possible necessities of the future, and our possible lack of the resources required for their supply." The spiritual man should be "using the world as not abusing it." In safe limitations keeping both earthly and unearthly.—R.T.
The God of the fowls and the flowers.
The point which seems to be prominently suggested here is this: Fowls and flowers represent the creatures and the adornments of the Father's house. Disciples represent the children of the Father's house. It is fair and forcible argument; it comes close home to us, by its appeal to our common everyday observations and experiences, that if the Father cares, in a very marked way, for the creatures and the adornments (show a mother's daily care to feed her birds and tend her flowers), he will much more anxiously care for every welfare of his children (see the way of that same mother with her babe). The following line of thought will be readily illustrated.
I. Man is a part of God's creation, just as truly as fowls and flowers are, and must be just as fully included in the Creator's daily care. "The eyes of all wait on thee."
II. But, if included, man must he included as man, and as God knows man, and all his wants, bodily and spiritual, seeing that God created him, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life.
III. For God's care—if we are to conceive of it as worthy of God—must be in precise adaptation to each creature for whom he cares.
IV. Then we may be sure that God cares for man so far as man is kin with the fowls and the flowers.
V. Then we may be sure that God cares for man so far as man is superior to the fowls and the flowers. Remember Mungo Park's reflection when, in a time of utter despair, he found a small moss, and, admiring its root, leaves, and capsule, thought thus: "Can that Being who planted, watered, and brought to perfection, in this obscure part of the world, a thing which appears of so small importance, look with unconcern upon the situation and sufferings of creatures formed after his own image? Surely not." That reflection inspired new effort, which resulted in Park's rescue.—R.T.