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CHARITY ENVIETH NOT

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Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Sep 3, 1901

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 78, No. 36.

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CHARITY ENVIETH NOT.

By Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

MRS. L. D. AVERY-STUTTLE.
Somebody remarked, the other day, that Jack Brown’s wife had unexpectedly fallen heir to a large inheritance. The day had not passed before I heard quite a number of times the selfish exclamation: “It’s queer I never could be lucky!”
Well, perhaps this remark sounded a trifle better than to have said: “I only wish it could have been me instead of Mrs. Brown!”
Of course it would never do to say that, especially when one can make a commonplace remark—one that everybody else makes use of—which means exactly the same.
The good Book cautions us to follow after charity, and then assures us that “charity envieth not.” Envy is the twin sister of selfishness; and they look and act so much alike you can hardly tell the difference—indeed, wherever you find one, you will always find the other.
Some people never can bear to hear another praised. They can endure hearing the sharp tongue of censure or criticism—or even the cruel tongue of slander—as it berates “the other fellow,” without a protest. But venture to give a word of honest, heartfelt, appreciation to a neighbor or acquaintance, and O, how quickly somebody’s unregenerate heart rises up!
“Neighbor A’s little daughter is making fine progress with her music.”
“Well, who couldn’t, with the chance she has? My daughter has twice the talent.”
“Mr. B’s wheat crop is looking the best of any I have seen.”
“So would mine look well, too, if it hadn’t been so dry. I never could be lucky.”
You feel like asking if it wasn’t just as dry weather over at neighbor B’s as it was anywhere, but you wisely decide not to arouse ill-temper.
The people of God have had to contend with this miserable spirit of envy in all ages of the world.
One day Goliath defied the armies of Israel. David, the young stripling fresh from the sheep-cots of Bethlehem-Judah, being zealous for the honor of Jehovah, asked how it was that this boastful blasphemy was permitted.
Eliab was older than David, and we have a plain intimation that he was a magnificent-looking specimen of manhood, which in all probability Eliab knew. He and his two brothers next him in age and dignity were brave soldiers in the king’s army. David was nothing but a boy, anyway: what was he asking questions about this giant for? Eliab’s jealousy and envy were stirred at once. He remembered well how his rosy-cheeked brother had killed a fierce lion at one time, and a savage bear at another. He envied David’s God-given strength: But this was not all. Not long before that, Eliab’s expectations had been aroused by the visit of Samuel, who came with his horn of holy anointing oil, and called for the sons of Jesse. O how straight Eliab walked, and how high he held his head, when he was called to pass before the prophet! If his comeliness made such an impression upon the godly old seer, we may be sure Eliab was not unconscious of it.
But I can almost see his head droop on his massive shoulders, and his bearded lip quiver with disappointed ambition, as he was bidden to “pass on.” Finally young David was sent for,—the killer of the bear,—the slayer of the lion. Ah! he is the one. “Arise, anoint him: for this is he.” I can see the ruddy cheek of the youth of Bethlehem-Judah grow still ruddier, as the oil of anointing is poured upon his head, “in the midst of his brethren.”
The fire of envy glows in Eliab’s eyes. He cannot forgive his brother for being chosen Israel’s king, instead of himself. And so, never dreaming that his hateful, spiteful words would be traced by the pen of inspiration, and the story of his silly envy be read by the millions of every age, he forgets his dignity as a soldier, and sneeringly asks his young brother: “Why camest thou down hither? and with whom hast thou left those few sheep in the wilderness?” He would not even give him the credit of being the keeper of a large flock—“those FEW sheep!”—capable of caring for only a few lambs away off in the wilderness! What are you doing here? I know your pride, and the naughtiness of your heart. You feel very grand because you were lucky enough to trap those wild animals, and because Samuel poured a few drops of oil on your head! What does that signify! You are hoping to get a little more notice!
O Eliab, Eliab! Shame on thine envy! What must have been the bitterness of thy heart when this hated brother stands—a mighty hero—over the fallen body of the enemy of Israel!
But we can never know how his brother’s cruel envy and heartless words spoiled the joy of victory for the young hero in his hour of triumph—victory which the God of Israel had seen fit to give him.
Then, that song of the women! that was a very trying thing for Saul. He was glad the shepherd boy had killed the dreaded giant, if people would only keep still about it. What was the use of telling anybody who did it? He was rejoiced that the enemies of Israel had fled in dismay, but, ah me! “they have ascribed unto David ten thousands, and to me they have ascribed but thousands!” So the king was his enemy, and eyed him from that day.
The Sauls and the Eliabs are not all dead yet. The Lord anoints one to do a certain thing, another to do something of an entirely different nature. Shall the first say of the second, “Thou art not anointed; with whom hast thou left those few sheep? I can slay the giant as well as thou”?
The spirit of envy is the spirit which caused war in heaven, and it will cause the same on earth. It is as old as Lucifer, but age brings it no honor.
“Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone,” is only partially true. It is easier for the carnal heart to “weep with them that weep,” than to “rejoice with them that do rejoice.” What would we think of one so hard hearted as to refuse sympathy in time of sorrow? But the one command is no more obligatory than the other. Talmage says there is no crime so hard for our friends to forgive us, as the crime of success. Those who have had only a little measure of it, can testify to the truthfulness of the expression.
Shall we kill forever this wicked spirit of envy? Shall we cease to indulge it in ever so small a degree? Shall we as soldiers of Jesus Christ remember that though we give our body to be burned and have not charity, it profiteth nothing—and that “charity envieth not”?