We should never be content with a narrow life. We are made for breadth and fullness, and we rob God when we fail to reach our best. Some people assert that Christianity’s ideal for life is narrow, that it cramps and limits us, making no room for physical or intellectual development, or for art, music, science, and the many phases of human activity. They say it presents only the moral side — conscience, obedience to heavenly laws, spiritual attainments, and achievements.
The answer is that while Christianity may not name the things of the intellect, or call men directly to noble achievements in art, exploration, invention, research, or the culture of the beautiful — it includes everything that will add to the fullness and completeness of life and character. It excludes only what is sinful: disobedience to law, impurity, selfishness, and uncharity. These do not broaden and enrich life — they narrow and debase it.
Our Christian faith places no limitation on life except what would mar, blot, or debase character. The call of Christianity is always for whole men — men reaching up to their best and out to their broadest in every way. Jesus Christ, our pattern, would have us become full-grown men. As leaders, teachers, and followers of Christ, our influence should be toward the enriching and broadening of lives.
A recent book was dedicated to a distinguished scholar and teacher, called an enlarger of human lives. There is no better friendship than to make another’s life fuller, truer, more loving, and more helpful.
Yet many people’s lives are small. Michael Angelo, visiting Raphael’s studio, saw a human figure outlined on canvas — beautiful, but too small. Taking a brush, he wrote beneath it the word “Larger.” That word could be written under many lives. They may be good and beautiful, but they are too small.
Some people live in only one room, so to speak, though meant to dwell in a great house — with rooms of mind, heart, taste, imagination, and feeling. A Scotch nobleman built better homes for his tenants, but they continued to live in one room, letting out the rest. They had not learned to live in larger ways. The true way to help is from within — in mind and heart.
It is not a larger house a man needs, but a larger man in the house. He is not enlarged by money, furniture, or luxuries, but by knowledge, wisdom, good principles, strength of character, and love. A vine kept in a cold climate for ten years grew only three feet and never blossomed. Moved to a warmer place, it thrived and bore fruit. Many lives live in a chill atmosphere and amount to little. Give them the warmth of love and hope, and they will expand into beauty and fruitfulness.
Some lives are narrowed by circumstances. Poverty does not always cause this — many poor live as wide as the sky in gladness, while some wealthy live narrowly. Some carry heavy burdens: illness, discomfort, uncongenial surroundings, and long discouragement. Yet the message is still: “Enlarge the place of your tent.” No matter the reasons for discouragement, a Christian should not let bitterness blind him to the blue sky and shining stars.
Look at Christ’s life. Could any life have been narrower in outward conditions? Yet He was never discouraged or embittered. The secret was love. The world hated Him, yet He loved on. Love is the only secret that saves from bitterness.
One woman, embittered by sickness and wrong, reluctantly took in a motherless child. With the child came Christ, and the narrowness began to enlarge. She welcomed other needs, and in blessing others, she was blessed.
Some are limited by opportunity, health, or failure. But the gospel brings hope: “Enlarge the place of your tent.” Sometimes we overdo our contentment, accepting obstacles meant to inspire courage. Many barriers are meant to be overcome. Difficulties are not intended to stop us, but to rouse us to our best.
Hard conditions do not necessarily mean failure. In New England, when asked, “What do you raise from these rocks?” the answer was, “We raise men!” If there can be no physical victory, there can still be moral victory. The spirit may be free though the body is bound.
An English writer tells of two birds caged side by side. The starling beat against the bars; the canary accepted its captivity and sang, filling the air with joy. Which do we resemble when shut up in narrow conditions?
Life should never cease to widen. People speak of a “dead line” after which a man cannot do his best. It is not true. A man ought to be at his best in his last years, always enlarging the place of his tent — until its curtains are finally pushed out into the limitless spaces of immortality.
J. R. Miller (1840-1912) was a pastor and former editorial superintendent of the Presbyterian Board of Publication from 1880 to 1911. His works are now in the public domain.
