Taking the will for the deed, the sincere intention for the achievement, or the yearning of the heart for the practical accomplishment, is subversive of all our standards of conduct. No business could be run on the basis of paying men in accordance with their readiness to work, irrespective of the service rendered, as is the case in the parable of the laborers in the vineyard. But God seems to be able to run the universe on that basis. No wonder the common people heard Jesus gladly.
Of course the corollary, or rather the premise, of that is that God has faith in us and loves and forgives. That is why He can use such an extraordinary way of estimating worth. He believes in us, believes that we are better than we know ourselves to be, for our knowledge seldom goes to the roots of our being. He can be patient while we are still stumbling through the shallows of existence. Ye know not what spirit ye are of, was Christ's word to those who had not yet caught God's vision of the world.
The one who gets that thought in all its bearings, that this is God's world from the beginning to the end, in all its implications, knows that no effort is ever lost, whatever the apparent outcome. He knows that a real brotherhood is possible, however broken present relationships may be. He knows that God's will cannot permanently be thwarted, however man's futility may interfere. He knows that God and nature, religion and science, truth and experience must eventually meet in one common focus, however separated they may appear. He will echo Maud Royden's fine words: "I am convinced that what I can see others can see—and nothing will persuade me that the world is not ready for an ideal for which I am ready."
There is one further bearing of this central thought, and that is that the divine is everywhere about us—that we are never far from God. If we can serve Him in our fellows, we can meet Him in our fellows. Richard Swain tells of going home one afternoon and finding his children, Philip, eight years old, and Esther, two years younger, playing together. The latter was standing under the electric light, with both arms raised as high as she could stretch them over her head. Seeing her dramatic position, and the unusual look on her face, he remained silent, knowing that something was coming. With intense feeling she said:
"Oh, Philip! of course we could kiss God!" To which Philip replied:
"Oh, you couldn't kiss God. He is a spirit. Why, God is in you—and in me."
Still standing in her dramatic position, with the light shining full on her face, she began lowering her arms slowly, and as her expression of comprehension deepened she said:
"Oh, well, then, Philip, if God is in you and in me, if we were to kiss each other we would kiss God."
"Yes, that is right, you would," was his response. Then she said:
"Let us kiss God." He arose promptly, and the children, throwing their arms tightly around each other, kissed God. They had grasped a fundamental idea and interpreted it in their own sweet way.