The Muck-Rake That Blinds Us to the Crown

Christ's heart grew chill when He perceived the vast gulf between His own thoughts and those of the man who interrupted His solemn teaching on confession and eternal reward. While our Lord spoke of the Holy Spirit's aid and the blessing of angels' acknowledgment, this hearer's mind never left his father's inheritance dispute. His request was curt dismissal worthy: 'Man'—a word as frigid as ice itself.

This reveals a penetrating truth: our deepest wants shape our conception of Christ. The man saw in Jesus merely a rabbi useful for settling property disputes, nothing more. So too do many today—they perceive in Him chiefly a social reformer because they imagine the world's greatest need is economic restructuring for earthly comfort. They mistake the symptom for the disease.

Maclaren invokes Bunyan's unforgettable figure: the man with the muck-rake, eyes so riveted to the filth beneath his feet that he never glimpsed the crown suspended above his head. How many worshippers during sermon-time calculate investments and business ventures instead?

The root evil is covetousness—that greedy clutching after 'more'—which wears manifold disguises beyond mere money-lust. It lies dormant in all of us. Unless we exercise vigilant, assiduous skeptomai (see, inspect ourselves) we shall be enslaved without suspicion. Christ's emphatic command rings forth: 'Take heed, and keep yourselves.' Covetousness grows swift and subtle; without constant vigilance, it overgrows the entire nature. We cannot see the crown while our gaze remains locked upon the muck.