Hard Work And Bad Pay.

Adapted from a Sermon

First delivered on lord’s-day evening, November 8th, 1868, by

Archibald g. Brown, at Stepney Green Tabernacle

For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Rom 6:23

Our studies in the book of Ephesians have much for the saints of God; much of the teaching there can only be enjoyed by those who have already tasted that the “Lord was gracious.” But this morning the aim is to address the sinner, and by the Spirit’s aid speak such words as will arrest the attention, arouse the conscience, convince the soul, and cause it to escape from the wrath to come.

It is without a doubt pleasant as fellow-pilgrims on the road to the celestial city, to overcome the distance by talk concerning its glories, and the mercy of its King; the fellowship of saints often causes many a section of road which would otherwise be steep and rough, to become easy and pleasant. But let us not be so taken with our own prospects as to forget there are thousands yet dwelling in the city of destruction, nor be so occupied with mutual edification as to forget to cry out to the enslaved inhabitants: “Escape for your life.”

Let us endeavour to throw some planks and spars to those who are yet struggling in the dark waters, and fast sinking to rise no more. The text which was chosen for this purpose is the solemn summing up of the argument in the previous part of the chapter. Paul had, in his own masterly style, clearly demonstrated that it was impossible for those who had been renewed by grace still to remain the servants of sin: at the very thought of such blasphemy he breaks forth into the exclamation,

“By no means! How can we who died to sin still live in it?” Rom 6.2 He thanks God that those to whom he is writing are no longer the blinded slaves to sin they once were, but have now “become slaves of God,” having the fruit which “leads to sanctification and its end, eternal life.” Rom 6.22

In your own private reading, have you noticed the striking contrasts set forth in the words used by the apostle in this passage? You have “sin” in contrast with “God,” “death” in contrast with “life,” and most suggestively “wages” in contrast with “gift.”

Thoughts arising from the last-mentioned contrast will constitute our theme for this morning. The first portion will be dark enough — terribly dark — it is hoped that it will be — may God help us to make it so, not that there is any pleasure in so preaching, far from it, but only that it may serve as a black background to highlight more brilliantly the glory of the second part. The darker the night, the more brilliant the daylight appears. The text divides itself naturally into two divisions. Hard work and bad pay; No work and rich reward. Let these then be our divisions.

I. First then — hard work and bad pay. By way of opening up the subject, let us notice,

1. Who are the servants who receive the bad pay?

All, by nature. There is not a single one born of woman who is not born into this awful service. It is the inheritance left to all mankind by our first father Adam. When he, our representative and head, yielded to the subtle tempter and ate of the forbidden fruit, he by that act not only made himself the servant to whom he obeyed, but brought about the accursed service, from that time onwards, on all his children. We are slaves born in the state of sin. The trappings of servitude are on us from our very birth.

But let us remember that if we are servants by nature so are we by voluntary choice. Shame to that man who is mean, base, and blasphemous enough to lay his guilt at Adam’s door, and so try to remove from his own shoulders the responsibility of his guilt. There is not a sinner that has not willingly, and with the full consent of his heart, chosen sin; nor has Satan a servant who has not of his own free will entered his service, glories in it, calls it liberty, and views all else as bondage.

No sooner does a man arrive at what the world calls “the age of majority” than his language concerning Christ is, “We do not want this man to reign over us,” Luke 19.14 and throwing to one side with scorn the gentle yoke of Jesus, he hires himself out to the Devil, and his service becomes his delight; his chains he views as bracelets; the deceptive flowers of this world’s pleasures entwined around them hide from his sight the rusty iron, and the clatter of his fetters that he mistakes for music.

Offer him freedom, and he will laugh you to scorn, and tell you he has it. He looks upon the saint with pity, and, dancing in his chains like a maniac, calls him a fool to endure such bondage. Satan has no mere eye-service menials in his employment — they are all those who entered his service cheerfully, and will cheerfully remain there to the end, doing his bidding unless sovereign grace intervenes.

The servants of Satan are many. His workshop is the world. Go where you please, at home or abroad, you find his uniformed servants, those who constantly receive his wages. Unlike other employers, he never diminishes the number of his hands, for if any are persuaded by grace to leave his service, it goes much against his grain. It does not matter to him whether business is slow or not, he can always find employment for all; such a thing as his ever laying off or firing a man was never known. Out of the vast number of his servants then, there may well be some here today; how solemn the thought that among us this morning, there may be souls whom the Devil claims as his own; souls who are employed in the work of perdition; souls who are only waiting for the wages of Hell. It is to be sorrowfully mourned that in spite of all the invitations to Zion, despite all the means the church puts forth, Satan’s band of slaves yet remains an innumerable company.

Let me further say that his servants belong to all ages. It is heart-breaking to behold at what an early age the badge of his service is worn. Children not in their teens, and young people not out of them, are every day, astonishing even a sinful world with their expertness in guilt; and side by side with them, stands the aged criminal, whose strength has been withered, and whose hair has grown white in the service of the same relentless master. None are disqualified through age; none too young to be received; none too old to be retained.

His servants belong to both sexes. Yes, sister, you who shudder when hearing the brutal oath; you who tremble on meeting the reeling drunkard — you who have been brought up amid every comfort, and nurtured in the home of piety; you also, unless converted by the grace of God, are among the number of those whom Satan reckons as his own.

His servants also belong to all grades of society. None can boast exemption on the ground of social standing. “Ah,” says the fashionable wealthy citizen of Rockliffe Park, “it is indeed shocking to think of the awful depravity which shows itself in the inner city, and lurks in the back streets of the Market. It is really quite painful to contemplate it.” Then don’t. Look nearer home; for we imagine that in the sight of God there is not much to choose between Rockliffe Park and Lower Town. The only difference is that, in one neighbourhood, the Devil clothes his servants in more attractive clothing; the repulsiveness of sin is hidden, but sin itself is just as rampant. A lovely dress may conceal quite as leprous a body as filthy tattered rags leave bare. High and low, rich and poor, it is all the same. There is the despot glorying in his power; boasting that a single word of his can make the nations quake, proudly asserting that at his word a million men would march into the field for war; and while he boasts, the Devil laughs, and well he may, for the tyrant is his tool. Kings, princes, emperors, statesmen, and paupers are all equally his servants.

Let us now consider,

2. The work they have to perform.

To be Satan’s servant is no office that demands only minimal duties. He finds employment for all. His work is both hard and constant. To one he says, “Get rich;” and at the word of command the poor wretch at once begins to work, and hard work it is. He works, driven on by an unseen lash, as no slave ever could or would. All his thoughts are tinged with gold. All the generous impulses he ever had are dried up and withered away by the burning fever of avarice; his health fails, his spirit loses all its elasticity, but still on and on he is forced to toil; he is maddened with a golden thirst; and the more he has, the more intolerable the craving grows.

He is like the shipwrecked seaman who, after drifting for many days in the open boat beneath a tropical sun, without a drop of cooling water, at last in his desperation drinks the salty sea, and in horror finds his agonies increased a thousand fold; but having once started, he feels compelled to take draught after draught, until at last he dies deliriously. His home soon loses all its sweetness; its comforts are hidden from his eyes by the veil of gold. It would be far better, for many, if the wealth had never come. A hundredfold happier were those times when, with but little income, and often with many trials, they still felt that they had their all in the comforts of home.

And do you think the poor slave has any satisfaction in his gainings? No! not all; Satan is too hard a master to allow his servants even the small gratification of having some pleasure in the success of their work. Never does the Devil set a man to harder work than when he says, “Servant get rich.” And thousands of such poor wretched slaves there are in world, and it is a snare we are all prone to fall into to a greater or lesser degree.

To another he gives an order, summed up in the word indulge, and is not obedience to that command hard work? Do you think there is any real pleasure to the abuse of any substance whether it be drink, food or any form of drug? Ask the one addicted to one of these. Let him tell you about the inward gnawing, the awful physical cost of his dependency; not to speak of all the mental torture he undergoes. Hard work! Yes, there is no slavery more killing, both to body and soul than slavery to the an indulged substance.

The child of God will find his sweetest joys at home. The religion of Jesus endears the man’s own fireside to him. The rest in his family is welcome. Not so with the devotee of pleasure. Possessed with the evil spirit, he goes here and there seeking rest and finding none. The quiet of the home he terms dull and slow; so he constantly seeks excitements here and there and tries to persuade himself he is happy. Delusive thought! He knows and feels his misery: and finds that though he may have excitement, he is an utter stranger to satisfaction.

The pleasure that once enchanted him, by being frequently indulged becomes bland; something stronger, more enticing is needed to stimulate his jaded spirits. He goes from bad to worse, until at last every sinful pleasure has in its turn been tried, and in its turn grown tame. His hateful and hating master still goads him on, and he works like a slave at a mill, grinding on at pleasures which have long since failed to yield him any.

Of all the sad sights on earth, that of an aged dissolute man is the most miserable, unable to find an ounce of pleasure in the things that once delighted him, yet hankering after them with an unabated longing.

Satan sets another to act the hypocrite, and for this service he pays the highest wages, and right he should, for the work must be tremendous. How great a strain, to always have to remember the part he has to act. Never to dare to be natural, ever dreading exposure, always being something in appearance directly opposed to what he is in reality, to have to carry the externals of a religion without any of its inward comforts, to be obliged to renounce the pleasures of time, without the hope of any in eternity.

Surely the wages of the hypocrite are hard-earned. But whatever the work may be to which the sinner is set, it is work without a pause. Satan has no old pensioners permitted to end their days in peaceful idleness, they must keep on to the end.

Before that great blot of slavery was wiped away from the southern states of America, many were deeply burdened at reading, with tears and burning indignation of the weary, jaded, trembling band, driven out to the field in early morning, and kept unceasingly to the work by the whip until some dropped among the cotton trees, and at last found rest in death. Feelings welled up from many stricken hearts at that time.

Behold a sadder sight still, and may similar emotions be felt. Look at the vast mass of your fellow creatures, slaves to a greater tyrant than ever breathed down in the southern states. Look at them driven on with blows and curses to perdition. Behold how fast they fall in the field; and in that fall they find no rest, but only enter a far deeper woe, the payment of their wages. They are everywhere, and so lift up your hearts and pray that the Lord would intervene and let the captive sinner free.

Trusting that the second point has now been made clear, namely, that Satan’s servants have to work, let us now turn in the third and last place under this heading to

3. the wages paid them.

“The wages of sin is death.” Is the reward for all that toil death? Yes, simply death! What extraordinary wages, but more extraordinary still, that any should be found to work for them. The death of the body is but the result of sin. If sin had not found its way into God’s beautiful earth, death also would have been forever a stranger. Death is the dark shadow sin casts. For six thousand years men have been receiving the wages of sin. Death has passed on all men for all have sinned.

Think of the mountain of sorrow that has fallen on this world through death, the fruit of sin. Could all the groans that have burst from broken-hearted mourners since our first parents wept over their murdered son, be gathered into one, what a deep thunder-peal of anguish it would be! Were all the tears collected that death has caused to flow, what an ocean they would constitute.

Let those who dare, call sin a trivial thing, but to the believer it is clear that what could bring on man so awful a curse as death, must in itself be something unutterably horrible: and yet death, mere physical death, is the least that is meant here. If this was all the Lord meant, if men when they die, die like dogs, there would be no reason for the agony of soul we often have. But sadly, tragically, the death referred to here is a death that never dies; it is placed in contrast to “eternal life,” it means eternal death; in another word, Hell.

Here, poor sinner, are your wages; here is the result of a life’s toil for Satan. It must be said moreover, that sin pays some of its wages in advance; it gives sometimes an instalment of Hell on earth. The effects of the love of money, fame and success, the results of substance abuse, often take a heavy toll on the physical and mental health of the victim in this life. And if the only wages for sin were those received in a lifetime, we could be calmer. But oh, Eternity, Eternity is one long pay-day; and the wages paid is death.

Let us close this dark division of the subject with an illustration, which was used by a certain minister when preaching on this same text. “Suppose,” he said, “a person were to go to a blacksmith and say to him ‘I want you to make me a long and heavy chain; have it done by such a time and I will pay you cash for it.’ The blacksmith, though pressed with other work, for the sake of the money, starts the work; and after toiling hard for some time, finishes it. The person calls, and says on looking at it, ‘Yes, it is a good chain, but not long enough; work on it another week, I will then come back and pay you for it.’ Encouraged by the promise of full reward, the blacksmith toils on, adding link to link. When his employer calls again he praises him as before, but still insists that ‘the chain is too short.’ ‘But,’ says the blacksmith, ‘I can do no more; my iron is all gone, and my strength too.’

‘Oh, never mind, add a few more links, the chain will then answer my purpose, and you will be well paid.’ The blacksmith, with his remaining strength, and last few scraps of iron, adds the last link he can. ‘The chain will now do,’ says the man, ‘you have worked hard and long; I will now pay you your wages.’ And taking the chain, he suddenly bound the labourer hand and foot, and cast him into a furnace of fire. ‘Such’ said the preacher, ‘are the wages of sin.” It promises much, but its reward is death.

Present servants of sin and Satan, behold your future doom; be honest, and confess that your service is hard work and bad pay. May the Lord make you feel it so, then you will be more willing to close in with the wonderful offer contained in the second part of the verse.

II. No work and rich reward.

In this second clause of the text you have nothing about work or wages. The pivot word of the whole is “gift.” God absolutely refuses to sell salvation. He will give to any, but trade with none. His terms are “without money and without price.” (Is 55:1) Behold then how lovely a contrast we have in the text. On one side is hard, unceasing, slave-driving work, with its wages of misery and eternal death; on the other, confronting it like an angel of light, you have the full, free, loving gift of eternal life.

But is it not strange that the very freeness of salvation is the great stumbling block in the way of its being accepted? Not more strange than true. Human pride revolts against it; to receive as a pauper that for which all payment is refused, is too humbling. If eternal life was for sale, the vast majority would be buyers.

But how comforting would this word “gift” be to those present who feel they have nothing to pay; to those who are conscious of spiritual bankruptcy. Here is a salvation that meets your case exactly. Nothing required from those who have nothing. Will you not close in with so blessed an offer? Make this bargain with the Lord, to receive all, and for the all, pay nothing? Believing is nothing less than freely accepting with the heart, that which God freely offers through our Lord Jesus Christ.

Notice, what is more, the blessing specified. “Eternal life;” and this the Lord permits his children to enjoy on earth; for just as part of the wages of sin is paid in advance, in this life, so even in this life, foretastes of the gift of God are enjoyed by the saints. Isaac Watts expresses it beautifully in the hymn we have sometimes sung: (Hymn 700)

“The men of grace have found

Glory begun below;

Celestial limits on earthly ground

From faith and hope may grow.

The hill of Zion yields

A thousand sacred sweets;

Before we reach the heavenly fields,

Or walk the golden streets.”

Contentment, conscious peace with God, inward peace of soul, quiet trustfulness as to the future, beside a thousand other joys, are some of the clusters of the grapes of Eschol, that refresh the wearied traveller on his journey to the land where the vine grows. And how about the end, when the gift is received in full? What doesn’t “eternal life” include? An entrance through the pearly gates into the city — a position before the throne — the company of angels — the never-ceasing song of the redeemed — the entire absence of all shade of sorrow; these and bliss unutterable are all included in “eternal life;” and all this is “in Jesus Christ our Lord.”

Believer in Christ, in your joy do not forget the channel through whom it flows; it is a gift to you, because your Lord paid all. Our peace is through his chastisement, our joy through his sorrow, our songs through his sighs, our cleansing through his blood, our acceptance through his righteousness, our crown through his cross.

Sinner, do you want to be saved; are you tired and sick of your present service? Behold then the way of escape; accept as a sinner the free salvation of God offered to you in the person of Jesus. Trust him, trust him only, throw overboard all other hopes; take him as your Saviour; cease from your works and trust to his; let it no longer be what you have done, or what you may hope to do; but what he has done. Do not reject this morning the free gift of God, nor in your madness, still work for deadly wages.

There is a thought, and it is an oppressive one, that this sermon may be the deciding step in the history of some; the scales are on the balance, but they will turn today. Which way? Eternity hangs on the answer.

Let me try in closing to drive this thought home by an illustration. Imagine two great rivers having their sources within a few yards of each other upon the summit of a great mountain range. A breath of wind either from east or west will decide into which stream the rain drops fall. But once they have begun their downward course upon the mountain side, what power on earth can stop their progress? They mingle with other streams; they dash and foam over precipices, and roll with irresistible power towards the ocean. Those on the west side are borne out into the calm shores of the Pacific, while those upon the east roll into the stormy billows of the Atlantic.

Sinner, you stand upon the top of the mountain. On the one side of you far distant lies the ocean of God’s love — boundless, stormless and Pacific, with which the river of life is connected. On the other side a muddy, inky stream rushes from your very feet into the roaring Atlantic of God’s wrath. Perhaps this morning’s sermon is the breeze which will decide into which stream you are carried. Which will it be?

May the Lord save you. God forbid that there should be a single one here present who will ever learn by bitter, eternal experience that “the wages of sin is death.”