These are questions put by the Teacher of teachers. They are related; we may consider them as one. Simple, like unto all the Master's teachings—for high precept and profound philosophy are embodied in the interrogatory—the question is searching, peremptory, challenging. Who that hears or reads can brush it aside? Compelling in its incisive brevity, it is of haunting directness. Once considered, even cursorily, it will not down; once admitted to the inner consciousness, it will not out. The baubles of earth are set over against the priceless jewels of heaven; the fleeting things of mortality are put in contrast with the enduring verities of eternity.
Granted that this is a material world, and that experience in material affairs is a pervading and indispensable element in the curriculum of life's school, it is no less truly a fact that earth-life is neither the beginning nor the end of individual existence and progression.
Material belongings, relative wealth or poverty, physical environment—the things on which we are prone to set our hearts and anchor our aspirations, the things for which we sweat and strive, ofttimes at the sacrifice of happiness and to the forfeiture of real success—these after all are but externals, the worth of which in the reckoning to come shall be counted in terms of the use we have made of them.
Is the plow more than the field to be furrowed, or the sickle than the ripened grain? Can gold stay the hunger pangs better than the nourishing food that the money may buy?
The context with which occurs the crucial interrogation quoted above points the question sharply: "Whosoever will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me. For whosoever will save his life shall lose it; but whosoever shall lose his life for my sake and the gospel's; the same shall save it."
The cross to be taken up may be heavy, perhaps to be dragged because too burdensome to be borne. We are apt to assume that self-denial is the sole material of our cross; but this is true only as we regard self-denial in its broadest sense, comprising both positive and negative aspects. One man's cross may consist mostly in refraining from doings to which he is inclined, another's in doing what he would fain escape. One's besetting sin is evil indulgence; his neighbor's a lazy inattention to the activities required by the Gospel of Jesus Christ, coupled perchance with puritanical rigor in other observances.
But the great question, striking home to every thoughtful soul, is that of the Master—"For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul?" (Matt. 16:26).
It is possible then for a man to lose his own soul. To deny is to reject the Lord's own doctrine. The safeguard against such incalculable loss is specifically indicated—to follow the Savior; and this can mean only keeping His commandments, whatever the temporary suffering or worldly sacrifice may be.
The occasion of Christ's question with its accompanying brief but forceful discourse was this: He had reiterated to the disciples, with greater directness than ever before, the facts of His approaching death and the ignominy that would be forced upon Him. Peter, impetuous and impulsive as ever, exclaimed "Be it far from thee Lord: this shall not be unto thee." In that remark, though well-intended and bold, lay the suggestion that Jesus should avert the impending tragedy to Himself, and save His own life. The Lord's reply to Peter was a rebuke of the severest kind.
Then followed the avowal that one who saves his life at the cost of righteous duty shall lose it, and the comforting assurance that he who is ready to sacrifice his life in the Master's service shall find it. If this be true with life as the stake, how more so shall it be with wealth, station, worldly power, or pet but false theory and doctrine, as the thing to be gained or lost?