p. 156 | Phil's Offering

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Mar 11, 1886

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 12, No. 10.

Phil's Offering.

Everybody in town liked him, and was proud of him. "A smart young fellow, the world will hear from him yet," said one to another, nodding approvingly, as they met him. "He will make his mark in the world, you see if he don't."

"There's only just one thing to hinder," said Joe Graham, his chum and best friend. "Phil is a little too smart for his own good, according to my way of thinking; and if he doesn't look out pretty sharp, he will find a shoal or two ahead of him in the end."

But Phil only laughed when Joe intimated anything of the kind to him; he felt sure of himself and his capabilities. Why, there wasn't a boy in the academy that could make such brilliant recitations as he, and he never spent half the time preparing them that the rest did! To be sure, upon close examination some of the boys whom Phil secretly rather looked down upon as "pokey," had really come out ahead of him, because they had gone to the root of the matter and thoroughly mastered the subject, while he had only skimmed on the surface of it. Joe's warnings had come to him at such times, and he had been troubled with faint misgivings, lest after all there was some truth in them. But as such thoughts were uncomfortable, he always shook them off as quickly as possible, resolving, however, to be more thorough himself in the future.

But there was always so much to attend to, and, after all, one did not get caught very often; and before Phil knew it, he had forgotten all about his resolve.

But when he was sixteen he gave himself to Christ. He was thoroughly sincere in the consecration, and made many an earnest resolve to be faithful in working for the Master. But he forgot that he could glorify God just as truly in doing his every-day work and duties faithfully as in attending church services; so it came to pass that while his place was never vacant in church, and he never failed to take part in the young people's meeting, his lessons were but poorly prepared.

Joe Graham watched him in silent disapproval. "Phil's either making a mistake, or else there ain't anything to it. I don't believe in a religion that approves of wasting talents like his," he said to himself. "Going to meeting and making prayers are all well enough; but somehow I'd have more faith in and respect for it if it made Phil get his lessons thoroughly and do his work faithfully. His father sent him to mend a piece of fence the other day, and he actually didn't half do it, he was in such a hurry to get off to the meeting. It would hardly stand alone; but he said it would do well enough. As for school, he is just wasting his time there; it's a shame, I say."

In the meantime, Phil was longing to have Joe with him in this, as he had been for years in everything else. It was so hard not to be able to appeal to him for sympathy and counsel; and many an earnest prayer went up from his heart for his friend. He tried time and again to plead with Joe; but somehow, do his best, he could never get a chance to say a word on the subject.

He felt a little hurt over it, and one night as they were going home together, he resolved that he would speak anyway. Perhaps Joe guessed his purpose; for he talked incessantly of the most nonsensical things. Phil could not help laughing, but he would not be bluffed in that manner.

"I say, Joe," he said, interrupting him finally, "just save your nonsense awhile. I want a little talk with you. I—want you with me, Joe. Won't you give yourself to Christ? Can't we try to serve him together?"

Joe walked on a few steps in silence; then he whistled a bar or two of "Sweet Home."

"You say that you have given yourself to Christ, do you?" he said presently.

"I'd always supposed that when we gave away anything, we took special pains with it. I remember when you made that bracket for Miss Gardner you fussed over it more than a little to have it perfectly true. I don't exactly understand you now, Phil."

"And I am sure that I do not understand you," responded Phil, rather stiffly. He was quite sure that Joe was finding fault with him, though he really did not see how; and he had a chronic dislike to being found fault with in anything.

"Why, you say that you have given yourself to Christ. Now if you were going to make a gift to the President, for instance, you wouldn't give anything but the very best that you could get—you would be ashamed to, you know; but it strikes me you are making a poor article of your gift to the Lord. I am not very well versed in the Bible, but if I remember aright, it was a command that only that which was perfect should be offered in sacrifice. It seems to me if I gave myself to him, I would try to make my offering as nearly perfect as possible; for, as I look at it, it would honor and praise him more if I was all that I possibly could be in that direction. I don't mean to hurt your feelings, Phil; but it seems almost insulting for one to complacently offer the Lord what one would never think of offering an earthly friend. Good night," and Joe bounced in at his own door, giving Phil no chance to say anything either way.

He felt very uncomfortable; it had seemed to him that the gift of himself was a great deal. Could it be possible that Joe was right? He remembered how much pains he had taken with that bracket for Miss Gardner; he could never have offered her anything that was not done the very best that he could do it; and yet he was taking no particular pains with the self he had given to God. He knew very well that he was not making half what he might of himself. It came over him as never before how little he was really making of himself.

It was a new idea to him, and not a very comfortable one; for he liked to feel that he and whatever he did, was about right; but before he went to bed at night, he knelt down by the bedside and humbly prayed for help to make his offering as perfect in all ways as possible.

Joe nodded approvingly several times to himself during the next two or three days as he watched Phil closely, and one night when Phil came to him, he met him with outstretched hands.

"O Joe, I am so glad that you spoke to me so; and, God helping me, I will make the most of myself after this, though the best is poor enough; but somehow I never looked at it so before."

"All right, old fellow," responded Joe. "I knew that you would be if you only thought of it, and—I guess—we'll try together after this."—Zion's Herald.