The trouble with His law is made by us. Some of us try to get out of paying at all; some of us are angry because we would rather pay in something we have not. We would rather pay for food and clothes with money only, instead of with a little money and much thought and labour. We would like to buy our friend a birthday gift, instead of writing that birthday letter which costs us thoughtfulness and an ache in our pride. Because we cannot afford a holiday, we will not pay for comfort and pleasantness at home with the coin of gaiety, or a favourite dessert, or a new book from the Library.
Each of you, and I, whatever our incomes, have our choices of this kind to make, and the price of them to pay.
--It is prayer-meeting night. Shall we stay at home?--Or rub up a penny?
WHEN a family have made a plan of yearly expenditure, they must have some way of testing at short intervals whether they are keeping to it or not, and some record by which at the end of the year they can tell whether their plan is a good one. These tests and records are furnished by _accounts_.
Accounts are as old as the brick books of Assyria. They have been found necessary to business transactions for ages. One of the reasons that housekeeping does not receive its proper recognition as a business and a profession is that it does not bear the stamp of either in the form of accurate accounts and statistics. Perhaps these are lacking because so many women are driven to tears or fury by accounts. It is odd that they are, too, for they keep golf and tennis scores, and devote themselves to whist, and are madly fascinated with jig-saw puzzles, and all these things are a good deal like accounts.
A favourite excuse for not keeping accounts is this: "I have just so much, and I can't spend what I haven't, so what's the use?" This ignores two things. The first is, that spending a little more than one's income, and thus gradually running up a debt, is an extremely easy thing to do. The second is, that people who do not plan their expenditures, deprive themselves of the chance to choose what their expenditures shall be made for. If you plan to have strawberries and cream on the first Monday in February, and bread and tea on the next Saturday, and you like that, then there is nothing more to say--except to hope for improvement in the next generation. If, however, in the exuberance of appetite or hospitality you have strawberries and cream on the first Monday in February, and are awfully surprised to find you can only afford bread and tea on Saturday--then you need to realize that you have deprived yourself of the freedom of choice, whether right or wrong, and that you had better keep a few accounts. The moment a family have one penny more than they need to buy the food which will keep them alive, there comes to be an element of choice in the spending of that penny. When the penny grows to an amount not easily calculated mentally, that freedom of choice is only obtainable by accepting the bondage of some sort of accounts. It is like the bondage of the truth, it makes us free.