finger instantly on the trouble. Jesus has a way of doing that.
"Having kept all the Commandments, and wanting to be perfect," said
Jesus, "now go, sell your property, and give the money to these poor
starving, dying people about you."

Mr. Almost had actually _run_ to meet Jesus, to ask Him that question,
"What lack I yet?" says Mark's Gospel. Yes, _ran_. He evidently had no
suspicion as to the answer he would get. Doubtless he thought the
great Master would tell him of one more hand-washing necessary before
retiring, or possibly some gnat's burden which Mr. Almost had been
carrying around on his sleeve on the Sabbath. Flick that off and be
perfect! Mr. Almost wanted to make his perfection secure. He had all
kinds of earthly securities; now this one more, the security of
heaven, guaranteed by Jesus, and he would rest satisfied. He would
just nail that down in passing. But Jesus touched him _where he
lived_, and he crumpled up like some high floating dirigible whose gas
tank explodes in mid-air.

Fellows, really I didn't want to bring Mr. Almost into this volume. He
gets on my nerve--and do you know why, fellows? _He's too much like
me!_ for I am rich. Yes, rich in all the abundance of God's wealth
which He has given me. I live in a wonderful land, a land of freedom
and independence and opportunity--the richest and most powerful in all
the world--and as a citizen of it all its resources are mine. I have
plenty to eat and sufficient to wear, lots of friends and
well-wishers. Life is beautiful and bright and comfortable; while just
at my elbow, fellows, are many poor, starving, dying human
beings--men, women, little children. The world is closely drawn
together now, and there is never a time but that in some section of it
there is famine and suffering. If we have the means to give and will