July 3

Sprinkle the salt discreetly

“And he went forth unto the spring of the waters, and cast the salt in there, and said, Thus saith the Lord, I have healed these waters; there shall not be from thence any more death or barren land” (2 Kings 2:21).

In the story of old when the water was bitter and the land was barren, the prophet took a cruse of salt and cast it into the spring. At once the fountain was healed, and the land became fruitful. Christ’s true disciple is just such a cruse of salt in the Master’s hand, one whose presence has power to heal life’s bitterness, making the water of life sweet for those about us, and planting the waste and desolate places of life with a beauty like the garden of the Lord. Surely Heaven itself could have no fairer sight for our blessed Master than such a disciple here in the midst of our busy life, one whose noiseless influence is like a breath of Heaven, bringing wholesomeness, sweetness and strength. To come into contact with such an one is to find a healing virtue.


Think, then, how Christ is saddened and what a sense of failure hurts Him when anyone stands forth as His disciple, and yet brings no blessing, never healing the springs of bitterness or turning the barren places into beauty. The salt that is without savor is no salt at all. Fling it away! White it may be, and in the most orthodox of saltcellars, but if it is not sweetening the life about you, fling it away and cry to God for some better.
Salt, so needful, so wholesome, yet it is to be wisely used. There is a kind of good people who find it saves so much trouble to deal out religion in large doses, especially, perhaps, to servants and children, giving them a long and solemn lecture on religion at some solemn time, or when one is in the mood for it, or, still more likely, when some grave offense is committed, as if religion were only a supplementary punishment. No wonder such sufferers never like the taste of it again. Salt discreetly sprinkled over all the common dishes of life, giving all things a savor and sweetness—this our Master seeks to make us.
—Mark Guy Pearse.

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