Bread of Deceit

We are tempted to think that a deed done is done with, and to grasp at momentary pleasure, and ignore its abiding consequences. But of all the delusions by which men are blinded to the true solemnity of life none is more fatal than that which ignores the solemn “afterwards” that has to be taken into account. For, whatever issues in outward life our actions may have, they have all a very real influence on their doers. Each action tends to modify character, to form habits, to drag after itself a whole train of consequences. Each strikes inwards and works outwards.

The whole of a life may be set forth in the powerful figure, “A sower went forth to sow”, and “Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.” The seed may lie long dormant, but the green shoots will appear in due time, and pass through all the stages of “first the blade, and then the ear, and after that the full corn in the ear.” The sower has to become the reaper, and the reaper has to eat the bread made from the product of the long past sowing.

Shall we have to reap a harvest of poisonous tares, or of wholesome wheat? A momentary pause to ask ourselves, when tempted to evil, “And what then?” would burst not a few of the painted bubbles after which we often chase.

Is there any reason to suppose that these permanent consequences of our transient actions are confined in their operation to this life? Does not such a present, that is mainly the continuous result of the whole past, seem at least to prophesy and guarantee a similar future?

Such sweetness in its very essence is momentary, and even, whilst being [chewed], “bread of deceit” turns into gravel. A mouthful of it breaks the teeth, [tears] the gums, interferes with breathing, and ministers no nourishment. The metaphor has all too familiar illustrations in the experience of us all. How often have we flattered ourselves with the thought, ‘If I could but get this or that, how happy I should be’? How often, when we got it, have we been as happy as we expected? We had forgotten the voice of conscience that may be overborne for a moment, but begins to speak more threateningly when its prohibitions have been neglected. We had forgotten that there is no satisfying our hungry desires with “bread of deceit”, but that those desires grow much faster than the “bread” can be presented to them. We had forgotten that evil is strengthened in us when it has been fed. We had forgotten that remembrance of past delights often becomes a present sorrow and shame. We had forgotten avenging consequences of many sorts that follow surely in the train of sweet satisfactions that are wrong.

So, even in this life nothing that is wrong keeps its sweetness, and nothing that is sweet and wrong avoids an aftertaste of most intense bitterness. And all that bit­terness will be increased in another world, when God gives us to read the book of our lives that we ourselves have written. Many a page that records past sweetness will then be felt to be written, “within and without”, with lamentation and woe.

All bitterness of what is sweet and wrong makes it certain that sin is the most stupid, as well as the most wicked, thing that a man can do.