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TIRED OF GIVING

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The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Dec 29, 1868

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 33, No. 1.

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TIRED OF GIVING.

By J. A. E.

On a cold morning, Mr. Brown, one of the “merchant princes” of S., was reading in his library. Every thing about him spoke of comfort, amounting even to luxury. Book-cases filled with the goodly treasures of thought and learning; the thick carpet, deadening every footfall; rich and massive furniture; the bright fire in the grate, shedding warmth and light throughout the room,—all spoke of wealth and the good that follows in its train.
Mr. Brown himself was not unfit to be the occupant of such a room. The greater part of his life he had passed in close attention to business, and now he was beginning to reap the fruits of his toil. There was a look of contentment on his handsome face as he sat before the fire, a book in his hand. Outside, the wind was whistling, and the snow and hail were beating against the windows; but no chilling blast touched him as he sat in his comfortably cushioned chair. No care, no anxiety for the future, saddened his eye, nor wrinkled his broad forehead. “I have enough for me and mine,” he said to himself, “I have nothing to worry about.” He let his book fall from his hand, and sat gazing into the fire, musing on his past life, and on the blessings which were so thickly strewing his path. A knock at the door interrupted his meditations. A servant entered, announcing Rev. Mr. Heaton. Mr. Brown rose, and courteously greeted his visitor, an entire stranger to him. He was a tall, spare man, with a form slightly bent by age, or perhaps by the grinding hand of poverty; for he had been for years a hard worker in his Master’s vineyard; and if the good he had done was to be counted by the dollars he had received, then, indeed, had his life been spent in vain. But, God be thanked, his ministers, poor though many of them be, are paid in a higher mode than by mere dollars and cents!
Mr. Heaton’s calm yet energetic face told of many a combat with life’s troubles; but after the troubles had come victory and peace.
He told his story as briefly as possible. He was the pastor of a church in the distant West. The society was poor, and the building too small for the increasing congregation; and he had come to the East to beg for funds to enlarge the borders of their sanctuary. The old, old story. Mr. Brown heard him through to the end without interruption. He was too gentlemanly not to listen patiently to all his visitor had to say. Then he spoke gently but firmly: “Mr. Heaton, I am sorry for you; but I have nothing to give. I have dozens of such applications every day. I believe people think I am made of money. I am tired of giving.”
Mr. Heaton looked sadly at him, and a pensive smile played around his mouth. “Tired of giving!” he murmured. “Ah! where should we be, what would become of us, if the dear Lord should answer our petitions with ‘I am tired of giving?’ O sir! forgive my boldness; but what have you that you have not received from the hands of the Lord? Your wealth, your comforts” (and he glanced around the room as he spoke), “all, all, have come from One, who, blessed be his holy name, is never ‘tired of giving.’ Are you, am I, is any one, ever tired of receiving? What have we of our own? The very breath we draw comes from the Author of all our comforts. O sir! do not say you are ‘tired of giving’ till you are equally ready to say you are ‘tired of receiving.’ If God should be ‘tired of giving’ to you, where would you then be? where would be the wealth you are so proud of having accumulated by your own exertions?”
Mr. Brown sprang up, and caught Mr. Heaton by the hands, saying warmly, “Sir, I thank you; a thousand times I thank you. Ah! how many, many times I have exclaimed, ‘I am tired of giving!’ How thoughtlessly I have said it! I have never been tired of receiving. All my life has been full of blessings. God has, indeed, never ‘tired of giving’ to me; and, oh! how could I ever have been so ungrateful to him for all his goodness, as to say, or even think, ‘I am tired of giving?’ I thank you, sir, for the lesson you have given me this night. I trust I never shall forget it.”
“We need not say after this that Mr. Heaton went away with a gladdened heart; for he had not only done good to another, but he had received besides a check for a goodly sum from Mr. Brown, who was never after heard to utter the complaint, ‘I am tired of giving.’”—J. A. E.