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Post by Admin on Jan 18, 2024 12:13:23 GMT -5
www.monergism.com/thethreshold/sdg/ryle/Holiness_%20Its%20Nature%20-%20Ryle.pdf
INTRODUCTION
THE twenty papers contained in this volume are a humble contribution to a cause which is exciting much interest in the present day,
—I mean the cause of Scriptural holiness. It is a cause which every one who loves Christ, and desires to advance His kingdom in the world, should endeavor to help forward. Everyone can do something, and I wish to add my mite.
The reader will find little that is directly controversial in these papers. I have carefully abstained from naming modern teachers and modern books. I have been content to give the result of my own study of the Bible, my own private meditations, my own prayers for light, and my own reading of old divines. If in anything I am still in error, I hope I shall be shown it before I leave the world. We all see in part, and have a treasure in earthen vessels. I trust I am willing to learn. I have had a deep conviction for many years that practical holiness and entire self-consecration to God are not sufficiently attended to by modern Christians in this country. Politics, or controversy, or party-spirit, or worldliness, have eaten out the heart of lively piety in too many of us. The subject of personal godliness has fallen sadly into the back-ground. The standard of living has become painfully low in many quarters. The immense importance of "adorning the doctrine of God our Saviour" (Titus 2:10), and making it lovely and beautiful by our daily habits and tempers, has been far too much overlooked. Worldly people sometimes complain with reason that "religious" persons, so-called, are not so amiable and unselfish and good-natured as others who make no profession of religion. Yet sanctification, in its place and proportion, is quite as important as justification. Sound Protestant and Evangelical doctrine is useless if it is not accompanied by a holy life. It is worse than useless: it does positive harm. It is despised by keen-sighted and shrewd men of the world, as an unreal and hollow thing, and brings religion into contempt. It is my firm impression that we want a thorough revival about Scriptural holiness, and I am deeply thankful that attention is being directed to the point.
It is, however, of great importance that the whole subject should be placed on right foundations, and that the movement about it should not be damaged by crude, disproportioned, and one-sided statements. If such statements abound, we must not be surprised. Satan knows well the power of true holiness, and the immense injury which increased attention to it will do to his kingdom. It is his interest, therefore, to promote strife and controversy about this part of God's truth. Just as in time past he has succeeded in mystifying and confusing men's minds about justification, so he is laboring in the present day to make men "darken counsel by words without knowledge" about sanctification. May the Lord rebuke him! I cannot
however give up the hope that good will be brought out of evil, that discussion will elicit truth, and that variety of opinion will lead us all to search the Scriptures more, to pray more, and to become more diligent in trying to find out what is "the mind of the Spirit."
I now feel it a duty, in sending forth this volume, to offer a few introductory hints to those whose attention is specially directed to the subject of sanctification in the present day. I know that I do so at the risk of seeming presumptuous, and possibly of giving offence. But something must be ventured in the interests of God's truth. I shall therefore put my hints into the form of questions, and I shall request my readers to take them as "Cautions for the Times on the subject of holiness."
(1) I ask, in the first place, whether it is wise to speak of faith as the one thing needful, and the only thing required, as many seem to do
now-a-days in handling the doctrine of sanctification?
—Is it wise to proclaim in so bald, naked, and unqualified a way as many do, that the holiness of converted people is by faith only, and not at all by personal exertion? Is it according to the proportion of God's Word? I doubt it. That faith in Christ is the root of all holiness,
—that the first step towards a holy life is to believe on Christ,
—that until we believe we have not a jot of holiness,
—that union with Christ by faith is the secret of both beginning to be holy and continuing holy,
—that the life that we live in the flesh we must live by the faith of the Son of God,
— that faith purifies the heart,
—that faith is the victory which overcomes the world,
—that by faith the elders obtained a good report,
—all these are truths which no well-instructed Christian will ever think of denying.
But surely the Scriptures teach us that in following holiness the true Christian needs personal exertion and work as well as faith. The very same Apostle who says in one place,
"The life that I live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God," says in another place,
"I fight,—I run,—I keep under my body;" and in other places, "Let us cleanse ourselves,—let us labour,—let us lay aside every weight." (Gal. 2:20; 1 Cor. 9:26; 2 Cor. 7:1; Heb. 4:11; 12:1.)
Moreover, the Scriptures nowhere teach us that faith sanctifies us in the same sense, and in the same manner, that faith justifies us!
Justifying faith is a grace that "worketh not," but simply trusts, rests, and leans on Christ. (Rom. 4:5.) Sanctifying faith is a grace of which
the very life is action: it "worketh by love," and, like a main-spring, moves the whole inward man. (Gal. 5:6.) After all, the precise phrase
"sanctified by faith" is only found once in the New Testament. The Lord Jesus said to Saul, "I send thee, that they may receive forgiveness of sins and inheritance among them which are sanctified by faith that is in Me." Yet even there I agree with Alford, that "by faith" belongs to the whole sentence, and must not be tied to the word "sanctified." The true sense is, "that by faith in Me they may receive forgiveness of sins and inheritance among them that are sanctified." (Compare Acts 26:18 with Acts 20:32.)
As to the phrase "holiness by faith," I find it nowhere in the New Testament. Without controversy, in the matter of our justification
before God, faith in Christ is the one thing needful. All that simply believe are justified. Righteousness is imputed "to him that worketh not but believeth." (Rom. 4:5.) It is thoroughly Scriptural and right to say "faith alone justifies." But it is not equally Scriptural and right to say "faith alone sanctifies." The saying requires very large qualification. Let one fact suffice. We are frequently told that a man is "justified by faith without the deeds of the law," by St. Paul. But not once are we told that we are "sanctified by faith without the deeds of the law." On the contrary, we are expressly told by St. James that the faith whereby we are visibly and demonstratively justified before man, is a faith which, "if it hath not works is dead, being alone."* (James 2:17.) I may be told, in reply, that no one of course means to disparage "works" as an essential part of a holy life. It would be well, however, to make this more plain than many seem to make it in these days.
(2) I ask, in the second place, whether it is wise to make so little, as some appear to do, comparatively, of the many practical exhortations to holiness in daily life which are to be found in the Sermon on the Mount, and in the latter part of most of St. Paul's epistles? Is it according to the proportion of God's Word? I doubt it.
That a life of daily self-consecration and daily communion with God should be aimed at by every one who professes to be a believer,
—that we should strive to attain the habit of going to the Lord Jesus Christ with everything we find a burden, whether great or small, and casting it upon Him,
—all this, I repeat, no well-taught child of God will dream of disputing. But surely the New Testament teaches us that we want something more than generalities about holy living, which often prick no conscience and give no offence. The details and particular ingredients of which holiness is composed in daily life, ought to be fully set forth and pressed on believers by all who profess to handle the subject. True holiness does not consist merely of believing and feeling, but of doing and bearing, and a practical exhibition of active and passive grace. Our tongues, our tempers, our natural passions and inclinations,
—our conduct as parents and children, masters and servants, husbands and wives, rulers and subjects,
—our dress, our employment of time, our behavior in business, our demeanor in sickness and health, in riches and in poverty,
—all, all these are matters which are fully treated by inspired writers. They are not content with a general statement of what we should believe and feel, and how we are to have the roots of holiness planted in our hearts. They dig down lower. They go into particulars.
They specify minutely what a holy man ought to do and be in his own family, and by his own fireside, if he abides in Christ. I doubt whether this sort of teaching is sufficiently attended to in the movement of the present day. When people talk of having received "such a blessing," and of having found "the higher life," after hearing some earnest advocate of "holiness by faith and self-consecration," while their families and friends see no improvement and no increased sanctity in their daily tempers and behavior, immense harm is done to the cause of Christ. True holiness, we surely ought to remember, does not consist merely of inward sensations and impressions. It is much more than tears, and sighs, and bodily excitement, and a quickened pulse, and a passionate feeling of attachment to our own favorite preachers and our own religious party, and a readiness to quarrel with everyone who does not agree with us. It is something of "the image of Christ," which can be seen and observed by others in our private life, and habits, and character, and doings. (Rom. 8:29.)
(3) I ask, in the third place, whether it is wise to use vague language about perfection, and to press on Christians a standard of holiness, as attainable in this world for which there is no warrant to be shown either in Scripture or experience? I doubt it.
That believers are exhorted to "perfect holiness in the fear of God,"— to "go on to perfection,"—to "be perfect," no careful reader of his Bible will ever think of denying. (2 Cor. 7:1; Heb. 6:1; 2 Cor. 13:11.)
But I have yet to learn that there is a single passage in Scripture which teaches that a literal perfection, a complete and entire freedom from sin, in thought, or word, or deed, is attainable, or ever has been attained, by any child of Adam in this world. A comparative perfection, a perfection in knowledge, an all-round consistency in every relation of life, a thorough soundness in every point of doctrine,
—this may be seen occasionally in some of God's believing people. But as to an absolute literal perfection, the most eminent saints of God in every age have always been the very last to lay claim to it! On the contrary, they have always had the deepest sense of their own utter unworthiness and imperfection. The more spiritual light they have enjoyed the more they have seen their own countless defects and shortcomings. The more grace they have had the more they have been "clothed with humility." (1 Peter 5:5.)
What saint can be named in God's Word, of whose life many details are recorded, who was literally and absolutely perfect? Which of them all, when writing about himself, ever talks of feeling free from imperfection? On the contrary, men like David, and St. Paul, and St.John, declare in the strongest language that they feel in their own hearts weakness and sin. The holiest men of modern times have always been remarkable for deep humility Have we ever seen holier men than the martyred John Bradford, or Hooker, or Usher, or Baxter, or Rutherford, or M'Cheyne? Yet no one can read the
writings and letters of these men without seeing that they felt themselves "debtors to mercy and grace" every day, and the very last thing they ever laid claim to was perfection!
In the face of such facts as these I must protest against the language used in many quarters, in these last days, about perfection. I must think that those who use it either know very little of the nature of sin, or of the attributes of God, or of their own hearts, or of the Bible, or of the meaning of words. When a professing Christian coolly tells me that he has got beyond such hymns as "Just as I am," and that they are below his present experience, though they suited him when he first took up religion, I must think his soul is in a very unhealthy state! When a man can talk coolly of the possibility of "living without sin" while in the body, and can actually say that he has "never had an evil thought for three months," I can only say that in my opinion he is a very ignorant Christian! I protest against such teaching as this. It not only does no good, but does immense harm. It disgusts and alienates from religion far-seeing men of the world, who know it is incorrect and untrue. It depresses some of the best of God's children, who feel they never can attain to "perfection" of this kind. It puffs up many weak brethren, who fancy they are something when they are
nothing. In short, it is a dangerous delusion.
(4) In the fourth place, is it wise to assert so positively and violently, as many do, that the seventh chapter of the Epistle to the Romans does not describe the experience of the advanced saint, but the experience of the unregenerate man, or of the weak and unestablished believer? I doubt it.
I admit fully that the point has been a disputed one for eighteen centuries, in fact ever since the days of St. Paul. I admit fully that eminent Christians like John and Charles Wesley, and Fletcher, a hundred years ago, to say nothing of some able writers of our own time, maintain firmly that St. Paul was not describing his own present experience when he wrote this seventh chapter. I admit fully that many cannot see what I and many others do see: viz., that Paul says nothing in this chapter which does not precisely tally with the recorded experience of the most eminent saints in every age, and that he does say several things which no unregenerate man or weak believer would ever think of saying, and cannot say. So, at any rate, it
appears to me. But I will not enter into any detailed discussion of the chapter.*
What I do lay stress upon is the broad fact that the best commentators in every era of the Church have almost invariably applied the seventh chapter of Romans to advanced believers. The commentators who do not take this view have been, with a few bright exceptions, the Romanists, the Socinians, and the Arminians. Against them is arrayed the judgment of almost all the Reformers, almost all the Puritans, and the best modern Evangelical divines. I
shall be told, of course that no man is infallible, that the Reformers, Puritans, and modern divines I refer to may have been entirely mistaken, and the Romanists, Socinians, and Arminians may have been quite right! Our Lord has taught us, no doubt, to "call no man master." But while I ask no man to call the Reformers and Puritans "masters," I do ask people to read what they say on this subject, and answer their arguments, if they can. This has not been done yet! To say, as some do, that they do not want human "dogmas" and "doctrines," is no reply at all. The whole point at issue is, "What is the meaning of a passage of Scripture? How is the Seventh chapter of the Epistle to the Romans to be interpreted? What is the true sense of its words?" At any rate let us remember that there is a great fact which cannot be got over. On one side stand the opinions and interpretation of Reformers and Puritans, and on the other the opinions and interpretation of Romanists, Socinians, and Arminians. Let that be distinctly understood.
In the face of such a fact as this I must enter my protest against the sneering, taunting, contemptuous language which has been frequently used of late by some of the advocates of what I must call the Arminian view of the Seventh of Romans, in speaking of the opinions of their opponents. To say the least, such language is unseemly, and only defeats its own end. A cause which is defended by such language is deservedly suspicious. Truth needs no such weapons. If we cannot agree with men, we need not speak of their views with discourtesy and contempt. An opinion which is backed and supported by such men as the best Reformers and Puritans may not carry conviction to all minds in the nineteenth century, but at any rate it would be well to speak of it with respect.
(5) In the fifth place, is it wise to use the language which is often used in the present day about the doctrine of "Christ in us"? I doubt it. Is
not this doctrine often exalted to a position which it does not occupy in Scripture? I am afraid that it is.
That the true believer is one with Christ and Christ in him, no careful reader of the New Testament will think of denying for a moment. There is, no doubt, a mystical union between Christ and the believer.
With Him we died, with Him we were buried, with Him we rose again, with Him we sit in heavenly places. We have five plain texts where we are distinctly taught that Christ is "in us," (Rom. 8:10; Gal.2:20; 4:19; Eph. 3:17; Col. 3:11.) But we must be careful that we understand what we mean by the expression. That "Christ dwells in our hearts by faith," and carries on His inward work by His Spirit, is clear and plain. But if we mean to say that beside, and over, and above this there is some mysterious indwelling of Christ in a believer, we must be careful what we are about. Unless we take care, we shall find ourselves ignoring the work of the Holy Ghost. We shall be forgetting that in the Divine economy of man's salvation election is the special work of God the Father,—atonement, mediation, and intercession, the special work of God the Son,—and sanctification, the special work of God the Holy Ghost. We shall be forgetting that our Lord said, when He went away, that He would send us another Comforter, who should "abide with us" for ever, and, as it were, take His place. (John 14:16.) In short, under the idea that we are honoring Christ, we shall find that we are dishonoring His special and peculiar gift—the Holy Ghost. Christ, no doubt, as God, is everywhere,—in our hearts, in heaven, in the place where two or
three are met together in His name. But we really must remember that Christ, as our risen Head and High Priest, is specially at God's right hand interceding for us until He comes the second time; and that Christ carries on His work in the hearts of His people by the special work of His Spirit, whom He promised to send when He left the world. (John 15:26.) A comparison of the ninth and tenth verses of the eighth chapter of Romans seems to me to show this plainly. It convinces me that "Christ in us" means Christ in us "by His Spirit." Above all, the words of St. John are most distinct and express: Hereby we know that He abides in us by the Spirit which He hath given us."(1 John 3:24.) In saying all this, I hope no one will misunderstand me. I do not say that the expression "Christ in us" is unscriptural. But I do say that I see great danger of giving an extravagant and unscriptural
importance to the idea contained in the expression; and I do fear that many use it now-a-days without exactly knowing what they mean, and unwittingly, perhaps, dishonor the mighty work of the Holy Ghost. If any readers think that I am needlessly scrupulous about the point, I recommend to their notice a curious book by Samuel Rutherford (Author of the well-known letters), called "The Spiritual Antichrist." They will there see that two centuries ago the wildest heresies arose out of an extravagant teaching of this very doctrine of the "indwelling of Christ" in believers. They will find that Saltmarsh,and Dell, and Towne, and other false teachers, against whom good Samuel Rutherford contended, began with strange notions of "Christ in us," and then proceeded to build on the doctrine antinomianism, and fanaticism of the worst description and vilest tendency. They maintained that the separate, personal life of the believer was so completely gone, that it was Christ living in him who repented, and believed, and acted! The root of this huge error was a forced and unscriptural interpretation of such texts as "I live: yet not I, but Christ liveth in me." (Gal. 2:20.) And the natural result of it was that many of the unhappy followers of this school came to the comfortable conclusion that believers were not responsible, whatever they might do! Believers, forsooth, were dead and buried; and only Christ lived in them, and undertook everything for them! The ultimate consequence was, that some thought they might sit still in a carnal security, their personal accountableness being entirely gone, and might commit any kind of sin without fear! Let us never forget that truth, distorted and exaggerated, can become the mother of the most dangerous heresies. When we speak of "Christ being in us," let us take care to explain what we mean. I fear some neglect this in the present day.
(6) In the sixth place, is it wise to draw such a deep, wide, and distinct line of separation between conversion and consecration, or the higher life, so called, as many do draw in the present day? Is this according to the proportion of God's Word? I doubt it. There is, unquestionably, nothing new in this teaching. It is well known that Romish writers often maintain that the Church is divided into three classes,—sinners, penitents, and saints. The modern teachers of this day who tell us that professing Christians are of three sorts,—the unconverted, the converted, and the partakers of the
"higher life" of complete consecration,—appear to me to occupy very much the same ground! But whether the idea be old or new, Romish or English, I am utterly unable to see that it has any warrant of Scripture. The Word of God always speaks of two great divisions of mankind, and two only. It speaks of the living and the dead in sin,—the believer and the unbeliever,—the converted and the unconverted, —the travellers in the narrow way and the travellers in the broad,— the wise and the foolish,—the children of God and the children of the devil. Within each of these two great classes there are, doubtless, various measures of sin and of grace; but it is only the difference between the higher and lower end of an inclined plane. Between
these two great classes there is an enormous gulf: they are as distinct as life and death, light and darkness, heaven and hell. But of a division into three classes the Word of God says nothing at all! I question the wisdom of making new-fangled divisions which the Bible has not made, and I thoroughly dislike the notion of a second conversion.
That there is a vast difference between one degree of grace and another,—that spiritual life admits of growth, and that believers should be continually urged on every account to grow in grace,—all this I fully concede. But the theory of a sudden, mysterious transition of a believer into a state of blessedness and entire consecration, at one mighty bound, I cannot receive. It appears to me to be a man made invention; and I do not see a single plain text to prove it in Scripture. Gradual growth in grace, growth in knowledge, growth in faith, growth in love, growth in holiness, growth in humility, growth in spiritual-mindedness,—all this I see clearly taught and urged in Scripture, and clearly exemplified in the lives of many of God's saints. But sudden, instantaneous leaps from conversion to consecration I fail to see in the Bible. I doubt, indeed, whether we have any warrant for saying that a man can possibly be converted without being consecrated to God! More consecrated he doubtless can be, and will be as his grace increases; but if he was not consecrated to God in the very day that he was converted and born again, I do not know what conversion means. Are not men in danger of undervaluing and underrating the immense blessedness of conversion? Are they not, when they urge on believers the "higher life" as a second conversion, underrating the length, and breadth, and depth, and height, of that great first change which Scripture calls the new birth, the new creation, the spiritual resurrection? I may be mistaken. But I have sometimes thought, while reading the strong language used by many about "consecration," in the last few years, that those who use it must have had previously a singularly low and inadequate view of "conversion," if indeed they knew anything about conversion at all. In short, I have almost suspected that when they were consecrated, they were in reality converted for the first time!
I frankly confess I prefer the old paths. I think it wiser and safer to press on all converted people the possibility of continual growth in grace, and the absolute necessity of going forward, increasing more and more, and every year dedicating and consecrating themselves more, in spirit, soul, and body, to Christ. By all means let us teach that there is more holiness to be attained, and more of heaven to be enjoyed upon earth than most believers now experience. But I decline to tell any converted man that he needs a second conversion, and that he may some day or other pass by one enormous step into a state of entire consecration. I decline to teach it, because I cannot see any warrant for such teaching in Scripture. I decline to teach it, because I think the tendency of the doctrine is thoroughly mischievous, depressing the humble-minded and meek, and puffing up the shallow, the ignorant, and the self-conceited, to a most dangerous extent.
(7) In the seventh and last place, is it wise to teach believers that they ought not to think so much of fighting and struggling against sin, but
ought rather to "yield themselves to God," and be passive in the hands of Christ? Is this according to the proportion of God's Word? I doubt it.
It is a simple fact that the expression "yield yourselves" is only to be found in one place in the New Testament, as a duty urged upon believers. That place is in the sixth chapter of Romans, and there within six verses the expression occurs five times. (See Rom. 6:13 19.) But even there the word will not bear the sense of "placing ourselves passively in the hands of another." Any Greek student can tell us that the sense is rather that of actively "presenting" ourselves for use, employment, and service. (See Rom. 12:1.) The expression therefore stands alone. But, on the other hand, it would not be difficult to point out at least twenty-five or thirty distinct passages in the Epistles where believers are plainly taught to use active personal exertion, and are addressed as responsible for doing energetically what Christ would have them do, and are not told to "yield themselves" up as passive agents and sit still, but to arise and work. A holy violence, a conflict, a warfare, a fight, a soldier's life, a wrestling, are spoken of as characteristic of the true Christian. The account of "the armor of God" in the sixth chapter of Ephesians, one might think, settles the question.*—Again, it would be easy to show that the doctrine of sanctification without personal exertion, by simply "yielding ourselves to God," is precisely the doctrine of the antinomian fanatics in the seventeenth century (to whom I have referred already, described in Rutherford's "Spiritual Antichrist"),
and that the tendency of it is evil in the extreme.—Again, it would be easy to show that the doctrine is utterly subversive of the whole teaching of such tried and approved books as "Pilgrim's Progress," and that if we receive it we cannot do better than put Bunyan's old book in the fire! If Christian in "Pilgrim's Progress" simply yielded himself to God, and never fought, or struggled, or wrestled, I have read the famous allegory in vain. But the plain truth is, that men will persist in confounding two things that differ,—that is, justification and sanctification. In justification the word to be addressed to man is believe,—only believe; in sanctification the word must be, "watch, pray, and fight." What God has divided let us not mingle and confuse. I leave the subject of my introduction here, and hasten to a conclusion. I confess that I lay down my pen with feelings of sorrow and anxiety. There is much in the attitude of professing Christians in this day which fills me with concern, and makes me full of fear for the future.
There is an amazing ignorance of Scripture among many, and a consequent want of established, solid religion. In no other way can I account for the ease with which people are, like children, "tossed to and fro, and carried about by every wind of doctrine." (Eph. 4:14.)
There is an Athenian love of novelty abroad, and a morbid distaste for anything old and regular, and in the beaten path of our forefathers. Thousands will crowd to hear a new voice and a new doctrine, without considering for a moment whether what they hear is true.—There is an incessant craving after any teaching which is sensational, and exciting, and rousing to the feelings.—There is an unhealthy appetite for a sort of spasmodic and hysterical Christianity. The religious life of many is little better than spiritual dram-drinking, and the "meek and quiet spirit" which St. Peter
commends is clean forgotten. (1 Peter 3:4.) Crowds, and crying, and hot rooms, and high-flown singing, and an incessant rousing of the emotions, are the only things which many care for.—Inability to distinguish differences in doctrine is spreading far and wide, and so long as the preacher is "clever" and "earnest," hundreds seem to think it must be all right, and call you dreadfully "narrow and uncharitable" if you hint that he is unsound! Moody and Haweis, Dean Stanley and Canon Liddon, Mackonochie and Pearsall Smith, all seem to be alike in the eyes of such people. All this is sad, very sad. But if, in addition to this, the true-hearted advocates of increased holiness are going to fall out by the way and misunderstand one another, it will be sadder still. We shall indeed be in evil plight.
For myself, I am aware that I am no longer a young minister. My mind perhaps stiffens, and I cannot easily receive any new doctrine. "The old is better." I suppose I belong to the old school of Evangelical theology, and I am therefore content with such teaching about sanctification as I find in the "Life of Faith" of Sibbes and of Manton, and in "The Life, Walk, and Triumph of Faith" of William Romaine.
But I must express a hope that my younger brethren who have taken up new views of holiness will beware of multiplying causeless divisions. Do they think that a higher standard of Christian living is needed in the present day? So do I.—Do they think that clearer, stronger, fuller teaching about holiness is needed? So do I.—Do they think that Christ ought to be more exalted as the root and author of sanctification as well as justification? So do I.—Do they think that believers should be urged more and more to live by faith? So do I.—
Do they think that a very close walk with God should be more pressed on believers as the secret of happiness and usefulness? So do I.—In all these things we agree. But if they want to go further, then I ask them to take care where they tread, and to explain very clearly and distinctly what they mean. Finally, I must deprecate, and I do it in love, the use of uncouth and new-fangled terms and phrases in teaching sanctification. I plead that a movement in favor of holiness cannot be advanced by necoined phraseology, or by disproportioned and one-sided statements,
—or by overstraining and isolating particular texts,—or by exalting one truth at the expense of another,—or by allegorizing and accommodating texts, and squeezing out of them meanings which the Holy Ghost never put in them,—or by speaking contemptuously and bitterly of those who do not entirely see things with our eyes, and do not work exactly in our ways. These things do not make for peace: they rather repel many and keep them at a distance. The cause of true sanctification is not helped, but hindered, by such weapons as these. A movement in aid of holiness which produces strife and
dispute among God's children is somewhat suspicious. For Christ's sake, and in the name of truth and charity, let us endeavor to follow after peace as well as holiness. "What God has joined together let not man put asunder."
It is my heart's desire, and prayer to God daily, that personal holiness may increase greatly among professing Christians in England. But I trust that all who endeavor to promote it will adhere closely to the proportion of Scripture, will carefully distinguish things that differ, and will separate "the precious from the vile." (Jer. 15:19.
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Post by Admin on Jan 18, 2024 12:17:29 GMT -5
I. SIN
"Sin is the transgression of the law."—1 JOHN 3:4
HE that wishes to attain right views about Christian holiness, must
begin by examining the vast and solemn subject of sin. He must dig
down very low if he would build high. A mistake here is most
mischievous. Wrong views about holiness are generally traceable to
wrong views about human corruption. I make no apology for
beginning this volume of papers about holiness by making some
plain statements about sin.
The plain truth is that a right knowledge of sin lies at the root of all
saving Christianity. Without it such doctrines as justification,
conversion, sanctification, are "words and names" which convey no
meaning to the mind. The first thing, therefore, that God does when
He makes any one a new creature in Christ, is to send light into his
heart, and show him that he is a guilty sinner. The material creation
in Genesis began with "light," and so also does the spiritual creation.
God "shines into our hearts" by the work of the Holy Ghost, and then
spiritual life begins. (2 Cor. 4:6.)—Dim or indistinct views of sin are
the origin of most of the errors, heresies, and false doctrines of the
present day. If a man does not realize the dangerous nature of his
soul's disease, you cannot wonder if he is content with false or
imperfect remedies. I believe that one of the chief wants of the
Church in the nineteenth century has been, and is, clearer, fuller
teaching about sin.
(1) I shall begin the subject by supplying some DEFINITION of sin.
We are all of course familiar with the terms "sin" and "sinners." We
talk frequently of "sin" being in the world, and of men committing
"sins." But what do we mean by these terms and phrases? Do we
really know? I fear there is much mental confusion and haziness on
this point. Let me try, as briefly as possible, to supply an answer.
I say, then, that "sin," speaking generally, is, as the Ninth Article of
our Church declares, "the fault and corruption of the nature of every
man that is naturally engendered of the offspring of Adam; whereby
man is very far gone (quam longissimè is the Latin) from original
righteousness, and is of his own nature inclined to evil, so that the
flesh lusteth alway against the spirit; and, therefore, in every person
born into the world, it deserveth God's wrath and damnation." Sin, in
short, is that vast moral disease which affects the whole human race,
of every rank, and class, and name, and nation, and people, and
tongue; a disease from which there never was but one born of woman
that was free. Need I say that One was Christ Jesus the Lord?
I say, furthermore, that "a sin," to speak more particularly, consists
in doing, saying, thinking, or imagining, anything that is not in
perfect conformity with the mind and law of God. "Sin," in short, as
the Scripture saith, is "the transgression of the law." (1 John 3:4.)
The slightest outward or inward departure from absolute
mathematical parallelism with God's revealed will and character
constitutes a sin, and at once makes us guilty in God's sight.
Of course I need not tell any one who reads his Bible with attention,
that a man may break God's law in heart and thought, when there is
no overt and visible act of wickedness. Our Lord has settled that
point beyond dispute in the Sermon on the Mount. (Matt. 5:21–28.)
Even a poet of our own has truly said, "A man may smile and smile,
and be a villain."
Again, I need not tell a careful student of the New Testament, that
there are sins of omission as well as commission, and that we sin, as
our Prayer-book justly reminds us, by "leaving undone the things we
ought to do," as really as by "doing the things we ought not to do."
The solemn words of our Master in the Gospel of St. Matthew place
this point also beyond dispute. It is there written, "Depart, ye cursed,
into everlasting fire:—for I was an hungered, and ye gave Me no
meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave Me no drink." (Matt. 25:41, 42.) It
was a deep and thoughtful saying of holy Archbishop Usher, just
before he died,—"Lord, forgive me all my sins, and specially my sins
of omission."
But I do think it necessary in these times to remind my readers that a
man may commit sin and yet be ignorant of it, and fancy himself
innocent when he is guilty. I fail to see any Scriptural warrant for the
modern assertion that "Sin is not sin to us until we discern it and are
conscious of it." On the contrary, in the 4th and 5th chapters of that
unduly neglected book, Leviticus, and in the 15th of Numbers, I find
Israel distinctly taught that there were sins of ignorance which
rendered people unclean, and needed atonement. (Levit. 4:1–35;
5:14–19; Num. 15:25–29.) And I find our Lord expressly teaching
that "the servant who knew not his master's will and did it not," was
not excused on account of his ignorance, but was "beaten" or
punished. (Luke 12:48.) We shall do well to remember, that when we
make our own miserably imperfect knowledge and consciousness the
measure of our sinfulness, we are on very dangerous ground. A
deeper study of Leviticus might do us much good.
(2) Concerning the ORIGIN AND SOURCE of this vast moral disease
called "sin" I must say something. I fear the views of many professing
Christians on this point are sadly defective and unsound. I dare not
pass it by. Let us, then, have it fixed down in our minds that the
sinfulness of man does not begin from without, but from within. It is
not the result of bad training in early years. It is not picked up from
bad companions and bad examples, as some weak Christians are too
fond of saying. No! it is a family disease, which we all inherit from
our first parents, Adam and Eve, and with which we are born.
Created "in the image of God," innocent and righteous at first, our
parents fell from original righteousness and became sinful and
corrupt. And from that day to this all men and women are born in
the image of fallen Adam and Eve, and inherit a heart and nature
inclined to evil. "By one man sin entered into the world."—"That
which is born of the flesh is flesh."—"We are by nature children of
wrath."—"The carnal mind is enmity against God."—"Out of the heart
(naturally as out of a fountain) proceed evil thoughts, adulteries,"
and the like. (John 3:6; Ephes. 2:3; Rom. 8:7; Mark 7:21.) The fairest
babe that has entered life this year, and become the sunbeam of a
family, is not, as its mother perhaps fondly calls it, a little "angel," or
a little "innocent," but a little "sinner." Alas! as it lies smiling and
crowing in its cradle, that little creature carries in its heart the seeds
of every kind of wickedness! Only watch it carefully, as it grows in
stature and its mind developes, and you will soon detect in it an
incessant tendency to that which is bad, and a backwardness to that
which is good. You will see in it the buds and germs of deceit, evil
temper, selfishness, self-will, obstinacy, greediness, envy, jealousy,
passion,—which, if indulged and let alone, will shoot up with painful
rapidity. Who taught the child these things? Where did he learn
them? The Bible alone can answer these questions!—Of all the
foolish things that parents say about their children there is none
worse than the common saying,—"My son has a good heart at the
bottom. He is not what he ought to be; but he has fallen into bad
hands. Public schools are bad places. The tutors neglect the boys. Yet
he has a good heart at the bottom."—The truth, unhappily, is
diametrically the other way. The first cause of all sin lies in the
natural corruption of the boy's own heart, and not in the school.
(3) Concerning the EXTENT of this vast moral disease of man called
sin, let us beware that we make no mistake. The only safe ground is
that which is laid for us in Scripture. "Every imagination of the
thoughts of his heart" is by nature "evil, and that continually."—"The
heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked." (Gen.
6:5; Jer. 17:9.) Sin is a disease which pervades and runs through
every part of our moral constitution and every faculty of our minds.
The understanding, the affections, the reasoning powers, the will, are
all more or less infected. Even the conscience is so blinded that it
cannot be depended on as a sure guide, and is as likely to lead men
wrong as right, unless it is enlightened by the Holy Ghost. In short,
"from the sole of the foot even unto the head there is no soundness"
about us. (Isa. 1:6.) The disease may be veiled under a thin covering
of courtesy, politeness, good manners, and outward decorum; but it
lies deep down in the constitution.
I admit fully that man has many grand and noble faculties left about
him, and that in arts and sciences and literature he shows immense
capacity. But the fact still remains that in spiritual things he is utterly
"dead," and has no natural knowledge, or love, or fear of God. His
best things are so interwoven and intermingled with corruption, that
the contrast only brings out into sharper relief the truth and extent of
the fall. That one and the same creature should be in some things so
high and in others so low,—so great and yet so little,—so noble and
yet so mean,—so grand in his conception and execution of material
things, and yet so grovelling and debased in his affections,—that he
should be able to plan and erect buildings like those to Carnac and
Luxor in Egypt, and the Parthenon at Athens, and yet worship vile
gods and goddesses, and birds, and beasts, and creeping things,—
that he should be able to produce tragedies like those of Æschylus
and Sophocles, and histories like that of Thucydides, and yet be a
slave to abominable vices like those described in the first chapter of
the Epistle to the Romans,—all this is a sore puzzle to those who
sneer at "God's Word written," and scoff at us as Bibliolaters, But it is
a knot that we can untie with the Bible in our hands. We can
acknowledge that man has all the marks of a majestic temple about
him,—a temple in which God once dwelt, but a temple which is now
in utter ruins,—a temple in which a shattered window here, and a
doorway there, and a column there, still give some faint idea of the
magnificence of the original design, but a temple which from end to
end has lost its glory and fallen from its high estate. And we say that
nothing solves the complicated problem of man's condition but the
doctrine of original or birth-sin and the crushing effects of the fall.
Let us remember, beside this, that every part of the world bears
testimony to the fact that sin is the universal disease of all mankind.
Search the globe from east to west and from pole to pole,—search
every nation of every clime in the four quarters of the earth,—search
every rank and class in our own country from the highest to the
lowest,—and under every circumstance and condition, the report will
be always the same. The remotest islands in the Pacific Ocean,
completely separate from Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, beyond
the reach alike of Oriental luxury and Western arts and literature,—
islands inhabited by people ignorant of books, money, steam, and
gunpowder—uncontaminated by the vices of modern civilization,—
these very islands have always been found, when first discovered, the
abode of the vilest forms of lust, cruelty, deceit, and superstition. If
the inhabitants have known nothing else, they have always known
how to sin! Everywhere the human heart is naturally "deceitful above
all things, and desperately wicked." (Jer. 17:9.) For my part, I know
no stronger proof of the inspiration of Genesis and the Mosaic
account of the origin of man, than the power, extent, and universality
of sin. Grant that mankind have all sprung from one pair, and that
this pair fell (as Gen. 3 tells us), and the state of human nature
everywhere is easily accounted for. Deny it, as many do, and you are
at once involved in inexplicable difficulties. In a word, the uniformity
and universality of human corruption supply one of the most
unanswerable instances of the enormous "difficulties of infidelity."
After all, I am convinced that the greatest proof of the extent and
power of sin is the pertinacity with which it cleaves to man, even
after he is converted and has become the subject of the Holy Ghost's
operations. To use the language of the Ninth Article, "this infection
of nature doth remain,—yea, even in them that are regenerate." So
deeply planted are the roots of human corruption, that even after we
are born again, renewed, "washed, sanctified, justified," and made
living members of Christ, these roots remain alive in the bottom of
our hearts, and, like the leprosy in the walls of the house, we never
get rid of them until the earthly house of this tabernacle is dissolved.
Sin, no doubt, in the believer's heart, has no longer dominion. It is
checked, controlled, mortified, and crucified by the expulsive power
of the new principle of grace. The life of a believer is a life of victory,
and not of failure. But the very struggles which go on within his
bosom, the fight that he finds it needful to fight daily, the watchful
jealousy which he is obliged to exercise over his inner man, the
contest between the flesh and the spirit, the inward "groanings"
which no one knows but he who has experienced them,—all, all
testify to the same great truth, all show the enormous power and
vitality of sin. Mighty indeed must that foe be who even when
crucified is still alive! Happy is that believer who understands it, and
while he rejoices in Christ Jesus has no confidence in the flesh; and
while he says, "Thanks be unto God who giveth us the victory," never
forgets to watch and pray lest he fall into temptation!
(4) Concerning the GUILT, VILENESS, and OFFENSIVENESS of sin
in the sight of God, my words shall be few. I say "few" advisedly. I do
not think, in the nature of things, that mortal man can at all realize
the exceeding sinfulness of sin in the sight of that holy and perfect
One with whom we have to do. On the one hand, God is that eternal
Being who "chargeth His angels with folly," and in whose sight the
very "heavens are not clean." He is One who reads thoughts and
motives as well as actions, and requires "truth in the inward parts."
(Job 4:18; 15:15; Psa. 51:6.) We, on the other hand,—poor blind
creatures, here to-day and gone to-morrow, born in sin, surrounded
by sinners, living in a constant atmosphere of weakness, infirmity,
and imperfection,—can form none but the most inadequate
conceptions of the hideousness of evil. We have no line to fathom it,
and no measure by which to gauge it. The blind man can see no
difference between a masterpiece of Titian or Raphael, and the
Queen's Head on a village signboard. The deaf man cannot
distinguish between a penny whistle and a cathedral organ. The very
animals whose smell is most offensive to us have no idea that they
are offensive, and are not offensive to one another. And man, fallen
man, I believe, can have no just idea what a vile thing sin is in the
sight of that God whose handiwork is absolutely perfect,—perfect
whether we look through telescope or microscope,—perfect in the
formation of a mighty planet like Jupiter, with his satellites, keeping
time to a second as he rolls round the sun,—perfect in the formation
of the smallest insect that crawls over a foot of ground. But let us
nevertheless settle it firmly in our minds that sin is "the abominable
thing that God hateth;"—that God "is of purer eyes than to behold
iniquity, and cannot look upon that which is evil;"—that the least
transgression of God's law makes us "guilty of all;"—that "the soul
that sinneth shall die;"—that "the wages of sin is death;"—that God
shall "judge the secrets of men;"—that there is a worm that never
dies, and a fire that is not quenched;—that "the wicked shall be
turned into hell,"—and "shall go away into everlasting
punishment;"—and that "nothing that defiles shall in any wise enter"
heaven. (Jer. 44:4; Hab. 1:13; James 2:10; Ezek. 18:4; Rom. 6:23;
Rom. 2:16; Mark 9:44; Ps. 9:17; Matt. 25:46; Rev. 21:27.) These are
indeed tremendous words, when we consider that they are written in
the Book of a most merciful God!
No proof of the fulness of sin, after all, is so overwhelming and
unanswerable as the cross and passion of our Lord Jesus Christ, and
the whole doctrine of His substitution and atonement. Terribly black
must that guilt be for which nothing but the blood of the Son of God
could make satisfaction. Heavy must that weight of human sin be
which made Jesus groan and sweat drops of blood in agony at
Gethsemane, and cry at Golgotha, "My God, my God, why hast Thou
forsaken Me?" (Matt. 27:46.) Nothing, I am convinced, will astonish
us so much, when we awake in the resurrection day, as the view we
shall have of sin, and the retrospect we shall take of our own
countless shortcomings and defects. Never till the hour when Christ
comes the second time shall we fully realize the "sinfulness of sin."
Well might George Whitfield say, "The anthem in heaven will be,
What hath God wrought!"
(5) One point only remains to be considered on the subject of sin,
which I dare not pass over. That point is its DECEITFULNESS. It is a
point of most serious importance, and I venture to think it does not
receive the attention which it deserves. You may see this
deceitfulness in the wonderful proneness of men to regard sin as less
sinful and dangerous than it is in the sight of God; and in their
readiness to extenuate it, make excuses for it, and minimize its guilt.
—"It is but a little one! God is merciful! God is not extreme to mark
what is done amiss! We mean well! One cannot be so particular!
Where is the mighty harm? We only do as others!" Who is not
familiar with this kind of language?—You may see it in the long
string of smooth words and phrases which men have coined in order
to designate things which God calls downright wicked and ruinous to
the soul. What do such expressions as "fast," "gay," "wild,"
"unsteady," "thoughtless," "loose" mean? They show that men try to
cheat themselves into the belief that sin is not quite so sinful as God
says it is, and that they are not so bad as they really are.—You may
see it in the tendency even of believers to indulge their children in
questionable practices, and to blind their own eyes to the inevitable
result of the love of money, of tampering with temptation, and
sanctioning a low standard of family religion.—I fear we do not
sufficiently realize the extreme subtlety of our soul's disease. We are
too apt to forget that temptation to sin will rarely present itself to us
in its true colours, saying, "I am your deadly enemy, and I want to
ruin you for ever in hell." Oh, no! sin comes to us, like Judas, with a
kiss; and like Joab, with an outstretched hand and flattering words.
The forbidden fruit seemed good and desirable to Eve; yet it cast her
out of Eden. The walking idly on his palace roof seemed harmless
enough to David; yet it ended in adultery and murder. Sin rarely
seems sin at its first beginnings. Let us then watch and pray, lest we
fall into temptation. We may give wickedness smooth names, but we
cannot alter its nature and character in the sight of God. Let us
remember St. Paul's words: "Exhort one another daily, lest any be
hardened through the deceitfulness of sin." (Heb. 3:13.) It is a wise
prayer in our Litany, "From the deceits of the world, the flesh, and
the devil, good Lord, deliver us."
And now, before I go further, let me briefly mention two thoughts
which appear to me to rise with irresistible force out of the subject.
On the one hand, I ask my readers to observe what deep reasons we
all have for humiliation and self-abasement. Let us sit down before
the picture of sin displayed to us in the Bible, and consider what
guilty, vile, corrupt creatures we all are in the sight of God. What
need we all have of that entire change of heart called regeneration,
new birth, or conversion! What a mass of infirmity and imperfection
cleaves to the very best of us at our very best! What a solemn thought
it is, that "without holiness no man shall see the Lord!" (Heb. 12:14.)
What cause we have to cry with the publican, every night in our lives,
when we think of our sins of omission as well as commission, "God
be merciful to me a sinner!" (Luke 18:13.) How admirably suited are
the general and Communion Confessions of the Prayer-book to the
actual condition of all professing Christians! How well that language
suits God's children which the Prayer-book puts in the mouth of
every Churchman before he goes up to the Communion Table,—"The
remembrance of our misdoings is grievous unto us; the burden is
intolerable. Have mercy upon us, have mercy upon us, most merciful
Father; for Thy Son our Lord Jesus Christ's sake, forgive us all that is
past." "How true it is that the holiest saint is in himself a miserable
sinner," and a debtor to mercy and grace to the last moment of his
existence!
With my whole heart I subscribe to that passage in Hooker's sermon
on Justification, which begins, "Let the holiest and best things we do
be considered. We are never better affected unto God than when we
pray; yet when we pray, how are our affections many times
distracted! How little reverence do we show unto the grand majesty
of God unto whom we speak! How little remorse of our own miseries!
How little taste of the sweet influence of His tender mercies do we
feel! Are we not as unwilling many times to begin, and as glad to
make an end, as if in saying, 'Call upon Me,' He had set us a very
burdensome task? It may seem somewhat extreme, which I will
speak; therefore, let every one judge of it, even as his own heart shall
tell him, and not otherwise; I will but only make a demand! If God
should yield unto us, not as unto Abraham,—If fifty, forty, thirty,
twenty—yea, or if ten good persons could be found in a city, for their
sakes this city should not be destroyed; but, and if He should make
us an offer thus large, Search all the generations of men since the fall
of our father Adam, find one man that hath done one action which
hath passed from him pure, without any stain or blemish at all; and
for that one man's only action neither man nor angel should feel the
torments which are prepared for both. Do you think that this ransom
to deliver men and angels could be found to be among the sons of
men? The best things which we do have somewhat in them to be
pardoned."*
That witness is true. For my part I am persuaded the more light we
have, the more we see our own sinfulness: the nearer we get to
heaven, the more we are clothed with humility. In every age of the
Church you will find it true, if you will study biographies, that the
most eminent saints—men like Bradford, Rutherford, and McCheyne
—have always been the humblest men.
On the other hand, I ask my readers to observe how deeply thankful
we ought to be for the glorious Gospel of the grace of God. There is a
remedy revealed for man's need, as wide and broad and deep as
man's disease. We need not be afraid to look at sin, and study its
nature, origin, power, extent, and vileness, if we only look at the
same time at the Almighty medicine provided for us in the salvation
that is in Jesus Christ. Though sin has abounded, grace has much
more abounded. Yes: in the everlasting covenant of redemption, to
which Father, Son, and Holy Ghost are parties,—in the Mediator of
that covenant, Jesus Christ the righteous, perfect God and perfect
Man in one Person,—in the work that He did by dying for our sins
and rising again for our justification,—in the offices that He fills as
our Priest, Substitute, Physician, Shepherd, and Advocate,—in the
precious blood He shed which can cleanse from all sin,—in the
everlasting righteousness that He brought in,—in the perpetual
intercession that He carries on as our Representative at God's right
hand,—in His power to save to the uttermost the chief of sinners, His
willingness to receive and pardon the vilest, His readiness to bear
with the weakest,—in the grace of the Holy Spirit which He plants in
the hearts of all His people, renewing, sanctifying, and causing old
things to pass away and all things to become new,—in all this—and
oh, what a brief sketch it is!—in all this, I say, there is a full, perfect,
and complete medicine for the hideous disease of sin. Awful and
tremendous as the right view of sin undoubtedly is, no one need faint
and despair if he will take a right view of Jesus Christ at the same
time. No wonder that old Flavel ends many a chapter of his
admirable "Fountain of Life" with the touching words, "Blessed be
God for Jesus Christ."
In bringing this mighty subject to a close, I feel that I have only
touched the surface of it. It is one which cannot be thoroughly
handled in a paper like this. He that would see it treated fully and
exhaustively must turn to such masters of experimental theology as
Owen, and Burgess, and Manton, and Charnock, and the other giants
of the Puritan school. On subjects like this there are no writers to be
compared to the Puritans. It only remains for me to point out some
practical uses to which the whole doctrine of sin may be profitably
turned in the present day.
(a) I say, then, in the first place, that a Scriptural view of sin is one of
the best antidotes to that vague, dim, misty, hazy kind of theology
which is so painfully current in the present age. It is vain to shut our
eyes to the fact that there is a vast quantity of so-called Christianity
now-a-days which you cannot declare positively unsound, but which,
nevertheless, is not full measure, good weight, and sixteen ounces to
the pound. It is a Christianity in which there is undeniably
"something about Christ, and something about grace, and something
about faith, and something about repentance, and something about
holiness;" but it is not the real "thing as it is" in the Bible. Things are
out of place, and out of proportion. As old Latimer would have said,
it is a kind of "mingle-mangle," and does no good. It neither
exercises influence on daily conduct, nor comforts in life, nor gives
peace in death; and those who hold it often awake too late to find
that they have got nothing solid under their feet. Now I believe the
likeliest way to cure and mend this defective kind of religion is to
bring forward more prominently the old Scriptural truth about the
sinfulness of sin. People will never set their faces decidedly towards
heaven, and live like pilgrims, until they really feel that they are in
danger of hell. Let us all try to revive the old teaching about sin, in
nurseries, in schools, in training colleges, in Universities. Let us not
forget that "the law is good if we use it lawfully," and that "by the law
is the knowledge of sin." (1 Tim. 1:8; Rom. 3:20; 7:7.) Let us bring
the law to the front and press it on men's attention. Let us expound
and beat out the Ten Commandments, and show the length, and
breadth, and depth, and height of their requirements. This is the way
of our Lord in the Sermon on the Mount. We cannot do better than
follow His plan. We may depend upon it, men will never come to
Jesus, and stay with Jesus, and live for Jesus, unless they really know
why they are to come, and what is their need. Those whom the Spirit
draws to Jesus are those whom the Spirit has convinced of sin.
Without thorough conviction of sin, men may seem to come to Jesus
and follow Him for a season, but they will soon fall away and return
to the world.
(b) In the next place, a Scriptural view of sin is one of the best
antidotes to the extravagantly broad and liberal theology which is so
much in vogue at the present time. The tendency of modern thought
is to reject dogmas, creeds, and every kind of bounds in religion. It is
thought grand and wise to condemn no opinion whatsoever, and to
pronounce all earnest and clever teachers to be trustworthy, however
heterogeneous and mutually destructive their opinions may be.—
Everything forsooth is true, and nothing is false! Everybody is right,
and nobody is wrong! Everybody is likely to be saved, and nobody is
to be lost?—The Atonement and Substitution of Christ, the
personality of the devil, the miraculous element in Scripture, the
reality and eternity of future punishment, all these mighty
foundation-stones are coolly tossed overboard, like lumber, in order
to lighten the ship of Christianity, and enable it to keep pace with
modern science.—Stand up for these great verities, and you are
called narrow, illiberal, old-fashioned, and a theological fossil! Quote
a text, and you are told that all truth is not confined to the pages of
an ancient Jewish Book, and that free inquiry has found out many
things since the Book was completed!—Now, I know nothing so likely
to counteract this modern plague as constant clear statements about
the nature, reality, vileness, power, and guilt of sin. We must charge
home into the consciences of these men of broad views, and demand
a plain answer to some plain questions. We must ask them to lay
their hands on their hearts, and tell us whether their favourite
opinions comfort them in the day of sickness, in the hour of death, by
the bedside of dying parents, by the grave of beloved wife or child.
We must ask them whether a vague earnestness, without definite
doctrine, gives them peace at seasons like these. We must challenge
them to tell us whether they do not sometimes feel a gnawing
"something" within, which all the free inquiry and philosophy and
science in the world cannot satisfy. And then we must tell them that
this gnawing "something" is the sense of sin, guilt, and corruption,
which they are leaving out in their calculations. And, above all, we
must tell them that nothing will ever make them feel rest, but
submission to the old doctrines of man's ruin and Christ's
redemption, and simple childlike faith in Jesus.
(c) In the next place, a right view of sin is the best antidote to that
sensuous, ceremonial, formal kind of Christianity, which has swept
over England like a flood in the last twenty-five years, and carried
away so many before it. I can well believe that there is much that is
attractive in this system of religion, to a certain order of minds, so
long as the conscience is not fully enlightened. But when that
wonderful part of our constitution called conscience is really awake
and alive, I find it hard to believe that a sensuous ceremonial
Christianity will thoroughly satisfy us. A little child is easily quieted
and amused with gaudy toys, and dolls, and rattles, so long as it is
not hungry; but once let it feel the cravings of nature within, and we
know that nothing will satisfy it but food. Just so it is with man in the
matter of his soul. Music, and flowers, and candles, and incense, and
banners, and processions, and beautiful vestments, and
confessionals, and man-made ceremonies of a semi-Romish
character, may do well enough for him under certain conditions. But
once let him "awake and arise from the dead," and he will not rest
content with these things. They will seem to him mere solemn
triflings, and a waste of time. Once let him see his sin, and he must
see his Saviour. He feels stricken with a deadly disease, and nothing
will satisfy him but the great Physician. He hungers and thirsts, and
he must have nothing less than the bread of life. I may seem bold in
what I am about to say; but I fearlessly venture the assertion, that
four-fifths of the semi-Romanism of the last quarter of a century
would never have existed if English people had been taught more
fully and clearly the nature, vileness, and sinfulness of sin.
(d) In the next place, a right view of sin is one of the best antidotes to
the overstrained theories of Perfection, of which we hear so much in
these times. I shall say but little about this, and in saying it I trust I
shall not give offence. If those who press on us perfection mean
nothing more than an all-round consistency, and a careful attention
to all the graces which make up the Christian character, reason
would that we should not only bear with them, but agree with them
entirely. By all means let us aim high.—But if men really mean to tell
us that here in this world a believer can attain to entire freedom from
sin, live for years in unbroken and uninterrupted communion with
God, and feel for months together not so much as one evil thought, I
must honestly say that such an opinion appears to me very
unscriptural.—I go even further. I say that the opinion is very
dangerous to him that holds it, and very likely to depress, discourage,
and keep back inquirers after salvation. I cannot find the slightest
warrant in God's Word for expecting such perfection as this while we
are in the body. I believe the words of our Fifteenth Article are
strictly true,—that "Christ alone is without sin; and that all we, the
rest, though baptized and born again in Christ, offend in many
things; and if we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and
the truth is not in us."—To use the language of our first Homily,
"There be imperfections in our best works: we do not love God so
much as we are bound to do, with all our heart, mind, and power; we
do not fear God so much as we ought to do; we do not pray to God
but with many and great imperfections. We give, forgive, believe,
live, and hope imperfectly; we speak, think, and do imperfectly; we
fight against the devil, the world, and the flesh imperfectly. Let us,
therefore, not be ashamed to confess plainly our state of
imperfection."—Once more I repeat what I have said, the best
preservative against this temporary delusion about perfection which
clouds some minds,—for such I hope I may call it,—is a clear, full,
distinct understanding of the nature, sinfulness, and deceitfulness of
sin.
(e) In the last place, a Scriptural view of sin will prove an admirable
antidote to the low views of personal holiness, which are so painfully
prevalent in these last days of the Church. This is a very painful and
delicate subject, I know; but I dare not turn away from it. It has long
been my sorrowful conviction that the standard of daily life among
professing Christians in this country has been gradually falling. I am
afraid that Christ-like charity, kindness, good-temper, unselfishness,
meekness, gentleness, good-nature, self-denial, zeal to do good, and
separation from the world, are far less appreciated than they ought to
be, and than they used to be in the days of our fathers.
Into the causes of this state of things I cannot pretend to enter fully,
and can only suggest conjectures for consideration. It may be that a
certain profession of religion has become so fashionable and
comparatively easy in the present age, that the streams which were
once narrow and deep have become wide and shallow, and what we
have gained in outward show we have lost in quality. It may be that
the vast increase of wealth in the last twenty-five years has insensibly
introduced a plague of worldliness, and self-indulgence, and love of
ease into social life. What were once called luxuries are now comforts
and necessaries, and self-denial and "enduring hardness" are
consequently little known. It may be that the enormous amount of
controversy which marks this age has insensibly dried up our
spiritual life. We have too often been content with zeal for orthodoxy,
and have neglected the sober realities of daily practical godliness. Be
the causes what they may, I must declare my own belief that the
result remains. There has been of late years a lower standard of
personal holiness among believers than there used to be in the days
of our fathers. The whole result is that THE SPIRIT IS GRIEVED!
and the matter calls for much humiliation and searching of heart.
As to the best remedy for the state of things I have mentioned, I shall
venture to give an opinion. Other schools of thought in the Churches
must judge for themselves. The cure for Evangelical Churchmen, I
am convinced, is to be found in a clearer apprehension of the nature
and sinfulness of sin. We need not go back to Egypt, and borrow
semi-Romish practices in order to revive our spiritual life. We need
not restore the confessional, or return to monasticism or asceticism.
Nothing of the kind! We must simply repent and do our first works.
We must return to first principles. We must go back to "the old
paths." We must sit down humbly in the presence of God, look the
whole subject in the face, examine clearly what the Lord Jesus calls
sin, and what the Lord Jesus calls "doing His will." We must then try
to realize that it is terribly possible to live a careless, easy-going, half
worldly life, and yet at the same time to maintain Evangelical
principles and call ourselves Evangelical people! Once let us see that
sin is far viler, and far nearer to us, and sticks more closely to us than
we supposed, and we shall be led, I trust and believe, to get nearer to
Christ. Once drawn nearer to Christ, we shall drink more deeply out
of His fulness, and learn more thoroughly to "live the life of faith" in
Him, as St. Paul did. Once taught to live the life of faith in Jesus, and
abiding in Him, we shall bear more fruit, shall find ourselves more
strong for duty, more patient in trial, more watchful over our poor
weak hearts, and more like our Master in all our little daily ways.
Just in proportion as we realize how much Christ has done for us,
shall we labour to do much for Christ. Much forgiven, we shall love
much. In short, as the Apostle says, "with open face beholding as in a
glass the glory of the Lord, we are changed into the same image even
as by the Spirit of the Lord." (2 Cor. 3:18.)
Whatever some may please to think or say, there can be no doubt
that an increased feeling about holiness is one of the signs of the
times. Conferences for the promotion of "spiritual life" are becoming
common in the present day. The subject of "spiritual life" finds a
place on Congress platforms almost every year. It has awakened an
amount of interest and general attention throughout the land, for
which we ought to be thankful. Any movement, based on sound
principles, which helps to deepen our spiritual life and increase our
personal holiness, will be a real blessing to the Church of England. It
will do much to draw us together and heal our unhappy divisions. It
may bring down some fresh out-pouring of the grace of the Spirit,
and be "life from the dead" in these later times. But sure I am, as I
said in the beginning of this paper, we must begin low, if we would
build high. I am convinced that the first step towards attaining a
higher standard of holiness is to realize more fully the amazing
sinfulness of sin
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Post by Admin on Jan 18, 2024 12:35:16 GMT -5
II. SANCTIFICATION
"Sanctify them through Thy truth."—JOHN 17:17
"This is the will of God, even your sanctification."—1 THESS. 4:3
THE subject of sanctification is one which many, I fear, dislike exceedingly. Some even turn from it with scorn and disdain. The very last thing they would like is to be a "saint," or a "sanctified" man. Yet the subject does not deserve to be treated in this way. It is not an enemy, but a friend.
It is a subject of the utmost importance to our souls. If the Bible be true, it is certain that unless we are "sanctified," we shall not be saved. There are three things which, according to the Bible, are absolutely necessary to the salvation of every man and woman in Christendom. These three are, justification, regeneration, and
sanctification. All three meet in every child of God: he is both born again, and justified, and sanctified. He that lacks any one of these three things is not a true Christian in the sight of God, and dying in that condition will not be found in heaven and glorified in the last day.
It is a subject which is peculiarly seasonable in the present day. Strange doctrines have risen up of late upon the whole subject of sanctification. Some appear to confound it with justification. Others fritter it away to nothing, under the pretense of zeal for free grace, and practically neglect it altogether. Others are so much afraid of works
I. Let us consider, firstly, the true nature of sanctification.
II. Let us consider, secondly, the visible marks of sanctification.
III. Let us consider, lastly, wherein justification and sanctification agree and are like one another, and wherein they differ and are unlike. If, unhappily, the reader of these pages is one of those who care for nothing but this world, and make no profession of religion, I cannot expect him to take much interest in what I am writing. You will
probably think it an affair of "words, and names," and nice questions, about which it matters nothing what you hold and believe. But if you are a thoughtful, reasonable, sensible Christian, I venture to say that you will find it worth while to have some clear ideas about sanctification.
I. In the first place, we have to consider the nature of sanctification. What does the Bible mean when it speaks of a "sanctified" man?
Sanctification is that inward spiritual work which the Lord Jesus Christ works in a man by the Holy Ghost, when He calls him to be a true believer. He not only washes him from his sins in His own blood, but He also separates him from his natural love of sin and the world, puts a new principle in his heart, and makes him practically godly in life. The instrument by which the Spirit effects this work is generally the Word of God, though He sometimes uses afflictions and providential visitations "without the Word" (1 Peter 3:1.) The subject of this work of Christ by His Spirit is called in Scripture a "sanctified" man.*
He who supposes that Jesus Christ only lived and died and rose again in order to provide justification and
forgiveness of sins for His people, has yet much to learn. Whether he knows it or not, he is dishonoring our blessed Lord, and making Him only a half Saviour.
The Lord Jesus has undertaken everything that His people's souls require; not only to deliver them from the guilt of their sins by His atoning death, but from the dominion of their sins, by placing in their hearts the Holy Spirit; not only to justify them, but also to sanctify them. He is, thus, not only their "righteousness," but their "sanctification." (1 Cor. 1:30.) Let us hear what the Bible says: "For their sakes I sanctify myself, that they also might be sanctified."—"Christ loved the Church, and gave Himself for it; that He might sanctify and cleanse it."
—"Christ gave Himself for us, that He might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto Himself a
peculiar people, zealous of good works."
—"Christ bore our sins in His own body on the tree, that we, being dead to sins, should live unto righteousness."
—"Christ hath reconciled (you) in the body of His flesh through death, to present you holy and unblameable and
unreproveable in His sight." (John 17:19; Ephes. 5:25; Titus 2:14; 1 Peter 2:24; Col. 1:22.) Let the meaning of these five texts be carefully considered. If words mean anything, they teach that Christ undertakes the sanctification, no less than the justification of His believing people. Both are alike provided for in that "everlasting covenant ordered in all things and sure," of which the Mediator is Christ. In fact, Christ in one place is called "He that sanctified," and His people, "they who are sanctified." (Heb. 2:11.)
The subject before us is of such deep and vast importance, that it requires fencing, guarding, clearing up, and marking out on every side. A doctrine which is needful to salvation can never be too sharply developed, or brought too fully into light. To clear away the confusion between doctrines and doctrines, which is so unhappily common among Christians, and to map out the precise relation between truths and truths in religion, is one way to attain accuracy in our theology. I shall therefore not hesitate to lay before my readers a series of connected propositions or statements,drawn from Scripture,which I think will be found useful in defining the exact nature of sanctification
(1) Sanctification, then, is the invariable result of that vital union with Christ which true faith gives to a Christian.—"He that abides in Me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit." (John 15:5.)
The branch which bears no fruit is no living branch of the vine. The union with Christ which produces no effect on heart and life is a mere formal union, which is worthless before God. The faith which has not a sanctifying influence on the character is no better than the faith of devils. It is a "dead faith, because it is alone." It is not the gift of God. It is not the faith of God's elect. In short, where there is no sanctification of life, there is no real faith in Christ. True faith worketh by love. It constrains a man to live unto the Lord from a deep sense of gratitude for redemption. It makes him feel that he can never do too much for Him that died for him. Being much forgiven, he loves much. He whom the blood cleanses, walks in the light. He who has real lively hope in Christ, purified himself even as He is pure. (James 2:17–20; Titus 1:1; Gal. 5:6; 1 John 1:7; 3:3.)
(2) Sanctification, again, is the outcome and inseparable consequence of regeneration. He that is born again and made a new creature, receives a new nature and a new principle, and always lives a new life. A regeneration which a man can have, and yet live carelessly in sin or worldliness, is a regeneration invented by uninspired theologians, but never mentioned in Scripture. On the contrary, St. John expressly says, that "He that is born of God doth not commit sin,
—doeth righteousness,
—loveth the brethren,
— keeps himself,
—and overcomes the world." (1 John 2:29; 3:9–14; 5:4–18.) In a word, where there is no sanctification there is no
regeneration, and where there is no holy life there is no new birth.
This is, no doubt, a hard saying to many minds; but,hard or not,it is simple Bible truth. It is written plainly that he who is born of God is one whose "seed remains in him, and he cannot sin, because he is born of God."(1 John 3:9.)
(3) Sanctification, again, is the only certain evidence of that indwelling of the Holy Spirit which is essential to salvation. "If any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of His." (Rom. 8:9.) The Spirit never lies dormant and idle within the soul: He always makes His presence known by the fruit He causes to be borne in heart, character, and life. The fruit of the Spirit," says St. Paul, "is love,joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance," and such like. (Gal. 5:22.) Where these things are to be found, there is the Spirit: where these things are wanting, men are dead before God. The Spirit is compared to the wind, and, like the wind, He cannot be seen by our bodily eyes. But just as we know there is a wind by the effect it produces on waves, and trees, and
smoke, so we may know the Spirit is in a man by the effects He produces in the man's conduct. It is nonsense to suppose that we have the Spirit, if we do not also "walk in the Spirit." (Gal. 5:25.) We may depend on it as a positive certainty, that where there is no holy living, there is no Holy Ghost. The seal that the Spirit stamps on
Christ's people is sanctification. As many as are actually "led by the Spirit of God, they," and they only, "are the sons of God." (Rom.8:14.)
(4) Sanctification, again, is the only sure mark of God's election. The names and number of the elect are a secret thing, no doubt, which God has wisely kept in His own power, and not revealed to man. It is not given to us in this world to study the pages of the book of life, and see if our names are there. But if there is one thing clearly and
plainly laid down about election, it is this,
—that elect men and women may be known and distinguished by holy lives. It is expressly written that they are "elect through sanctification,
—chosen unto salvation through sanctification,
—predestinated to be conformed to the image of God's Son,
—and chosen in Christ before the foundation of the world that they should be holy."
—Hence, when St. Paul saw the working "faith" and laboring "love" and patient "hope" of the Thessalonian believers, he says, "I know your election of God." (1Peter 1:2; 2 Thess. 2:13; Rom. 8:29; Eph. 1:4; 1 Thess. 1:3, 4.) He that
boasts of being one of God's elect, while he is willfully and habitually living in sin, is only deceiving himself, and talking wicked blasphemy. Of course it is hard to know what people really are, and many who make a fair show outwardly in religion, may turn out at last to be rotten-hearted hypocrites. But where there is not, at least, some appearance of sanctification, we may be quite certain there is no election. The Church Catechism correctly and wisely teaches, that the Holy Ghost "sanctifieth all the elect people of God."
(5) Sanctification, again, is a thing that will always be seen. Like the Great Head of the Church, from whom it springs, it cannot be hid. "Every tree is known by his own fruit." (Luke 6:44.) A truly sanctified person may be so clothed with humility, that he can see in himself nothing but infirmity and defects. Like Moses, when he came down
from the Mount, he may not be conscious that his face shines. Like the righteous, in the mighty parable of the sheep and the goats, he may not see that he has done anything worthy of his Master's notice and commendation: "When saw we Thee an hungered, and fed Thee?"
(Matt. 25:37.) But whether he sees it himself or not, others will always see in him a tone, and taste, and character, and habit of life unlike that of other men. The very idea of a man being "sanctified," while no holiness can be seen in his life, is flat nonsense and a misuse of words. Light may be very dim; but if there is only a spark
in a dark room, it will be seen. Life may be very feeble; but if the pulse only beats a little, it will be felt. It is just the same with a sanctified man: his sanctification will be something felt and seen, though he himself may not understand it. A "saint" in whom nothing can be seen but worldliness or sin, is a kind of monster not recognized in the Bible!
(6) Sanctification, again, is a thing for which every believer is responsible. In saying this I would not be mistaken. I hold as strongly as anyone that every man on earth is accountable to God, and that all the lost will be speechless and without excuse at the last day. Every man has power to "lose his own soul." (Matt. 16:26) But while I hold this, I maintain that believers are eminently and peculiarly responsible, and under a special obligation to live holy lives. They are not as others, dead and blind and unrenewed: they are alive unto God, and have light and knowledge, and a new principle within them. Whose fault is it if they are not holy, but their own? On whom can they throw the blame if they are not sanctified, but themselves? God, who has given them grace and a new heart, and a
new nature, has deprived them of all excuse if they do not live for His praise. This is a point which is far too much forgotten. A man who professes to be a true Christian, while he sits still, content with a very low degree of sanctification (if indeed he has any at all), and coolly tells you he "can do nothing," is a very pitiable sight, and a very ignorant man. Against this delusion let us watch and be on our guard. The Word of God always addresses its precepts to believers as accountable and responsible beings. If the Saviour of sinners gives us renewing grace, and calls us by His Spirit, we may be sure that He expects us to use our grace, and not to go to sleep. It is forgetfulness of this which causes many believers to "grieve the Holy Spirit," and makes them very useless and uncomfortable Christians.
(7) Sanctification, again, is a thing which admits of growth and degrees. A man may climb from one step to another in holiness, and be far more sanctified at one period of his life than another. More pardoned and more justified than he is when he first believes, he cannot be, though he may feel it more. More sanctified he certainly may be, because every grace in his new character may be strengthened, enlarged, and deepened. This is the evident meaning
of our Lord's last prayer for His disciples, when He used the words, "Sanctify them;" and of St. Paul's prayer for the Thessalonians, "The very God of peace sanctify you." (John 17:17; 1 Thess. 4:3.) In both cases the expression plainly implies the possibility of increased sanctification; while such an expression as "justify them" is never
once in Scripture applied to a believer, because he cannot be more justified than he is. I can find no warrant in Scripture for the doctrine of "imputed sanctification." It is a doctrine which seems to me to confuse things that differ, and to lead to very evil consequences. Not least, it is a doctrine which is flatly contradicted by the experience of all the most eminent Christians. If there is any point on which God's holiest saints agree it is this: that they see more, and know more, and feel more, and do more, and repent more, and believe more, as they get on in spiritual life, and in proportion to the closeness of their walk with God. In short, they "grow in grace,"as Peter exhorts believers to do; and "abound more and more," according to the words of St. Paul.(2 Pet. 3:18; 1 Thess. 4:1.)
(8) Sanctification, again, is a thing which depends greatly on a diligent use of Scriptural means. When I speak of "means," I have in view Bible-reading, private prayer, regular attendance on public worship, regular hearing of God's Word, and regular reception of the Lord's Supper. I lay it down as a simple matter of fact, that no one
who is careless about such things must ever expect to make much progress in sanctification. I can find no record of any eminent saint who ever neglected them. They are appointed channels through which the Holy Spirit conveys fresh supplies of grace to the soul, and strengthens the work which He has begun in the inward man. Let men call this legal doctrine if they please, but I will never shrink from declaring my belief, that there are no "spiritual gains without pains."
I should as soon expect a farmer to prosper in business who contented himself with sowing his fields and never looking at them till harvest, as expect a believer to attain much holiness who was not diligent about his Bible-reading, his prayers, and the use of his Sundays. Our God is a God who works by means, and He will never bless the soul of that man who pretends to be so high and spiritual that he can get on without them.
(9) Sanctification, again, is a thing which does not prevent a man having a great deal of inward spiritual conflict. By conflict I mean a struggle within the heart between the old nature and the new, the flesh and the spirit, which are to be found together in every believer. (Gal. 5:17.) A deep sense of that struggle, and a vast amount of mental discomfort from it, are no proof that a man is not sanctified. Nay, rather, I believe, they are healthy symptoms of our condition, and prove that we are not dead, but alive. A true Christian is one who has not only peace of conscience, but war within. He may be known by his warfare as well as by his peace. In saying this, I do not forget
that I am contradicting the views of some well-meaning Christians,who hold the doctrine called "sinless perfection." I cannot help that. I believe that what I say is confirmed by the language of St. Paul in the seventh chapter of Romans. That chapter I commend to the careful study of all my readers. I am quite satisfied that it does not describe the experience of an unconverted man, or of a young and unestablished Christian: but of an old experienced saint in close communion with God. None but such a man could say, "I delight in the law of God after the inward man." (Rom. 7:22.) I believe, furthermore, that what I say is proved by the experience of all the most eminent servants of Christ that have ever lived. The full proof is to be seen in their journals, their autobiographies, and their lives.— Believing all this, I shall never hesitate to tell people that inward conflict is no proof that a man is not holy, and that they must not think they are not sanctified because they do not feel entirely free from inward struggle. Such freedom we shall doubtless have in heaven; but we shall never enjoy it in this world. The heart of the best Christian, even at his best, is a field occupied by two rival camps, and the "company of two armies." (Cant. 6:13.) Let the words of the Thirteenth and Fifteenth Articles be well considered by all Churchmen: "The infection of nature doth remain in them that are regenerated." "Although baptized and born again in Christ, we offend in many things; and if we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us."*
(10) Sanctification, again, is a thing which cannot justify a man, and yet it pleases God. This may seem wonderful, and yet it is true. The holiest actions of the holiest saint that ever lived are all more or less full of defects and imperfections. They are either wrong in their motive or defective in their performance, and in themselves are
nothing better than "splendid sins," deserving God's wrath and condemnation. To suppose that such actions can stand the severity of God's judgment, atone for sin, and merit heaven, is simply absurd. "By the deeds of the law shall no flesh be justified."—"We conclude that a man is justified by faith without the deeds of the law." (Rom.3:20–28.) The only righteousness in which we can appear before God is the righteousness of another,—even the perfect righteousness of our Substitute and Representative, Jesus Christ the Lord. His work,and not our work, is our only title to heaven. This is a truth which we should be ready to die to maintain.—For all this, however,the Bible distinctly teaches that the holy actions of a sanctified man, although imperfect, are pleasing in the sight of God."With such sacrifices God is well pleased." (Heb. 13:16.) "Obey your parents, for this is well pleasing to the Lord."(Col. 3:20.) "We do those things that are pleasing in His sight." (1 John 3:22.) Let this never be forgotten, for it is a very comfortable doctrine. Just as a parent is pleased with the efforts of his little child to please him, though it be only by picking a daisy or walking across a room, so is our Father in heaven pleased with the poor performances of His believing children. He looks at the motive, principle, and intention of their actions, and not merely at their quantity and quality. He regards them as members of His own dear Son, and for His sake, wherever there is a single eye, He is well-pleased. Those Churchmen who dispute this would do well to study the Twelfth Article of the Church of England.
(11) Sanctification, again, is a thing which will be found absolutely necessary as a witness to our character in the great day of judgment. It will be utterly useless to plead that we believed in Christ, unless our faith has had some sanctifying effect, and been seen in our lives.
Evidence, evidence, evidence, will be the one thing wanted when the great white throne is set, when the books are opened, when the graves give up their tenants, when the dead are arraigned before the bar of God. Without some evidence that our faith in Christ was real and genuine, we shall only rise again to be condemned. I can find no
evidence that will be admitted in that day, except sanctification. The question will not be how we talked and what we professed, but how we lived and what we did. Let no man deceive himself on this point.
If anything is certain about the future, it is certain that there will be a judgment; and if anything is certain about judgment, it is certain that men's "works" and "doings" will be considered and examined in it.
(John 5:29; 2 Cor. 5:10; Rev. 20:13.) He that supposes works are of no importance, because they cannot justify us, is a very ignorant Christian. Unless he opens his eyes, he will find to his cost that if he comes to the bar of God without some evidence of grace, he had better never have been born.
(12) Sanctification, in the last place, is absolutely necessary, in order to train and prepare us for heaven. Most men hope to go to heaven when they die; but few, it may be feared, take the trouble to consider whether they would enjoy heaven if they got there. Heaven is essentially a holy place; its inhabitants are all holy; its occupations
are all holy. To be really happy in heaven, it is clear and plain that we must be somewhat trained and made ready for heaven while we are on earth. The notion of a purgatory after death, which shall turn sinners into saints, is a lying invention of man, and is nowhere taught in the Bible. We must be saints before we die, if we are to be saints afterwards in glory. The favorite idea of many, that dying men need nothing except absolution and forgiveness of sins to fit them for their great change, is a profound delusion. We need the work of the Holy Spirit as well as the work of Christ; we need renewal of the heart as well as the atoning blood; we need to be sanctified as well as to be justified. It is common to hear people saying on their death-beds, "I only want the Lord to forgive me my sins, and take me to rest." But those who say such things forget that the rest of heaven would be utterly useless if we had no heart to enjoy it! What could an unsanctified man do in heaven, if by any chance he got there? Let that question be fairly looked in the face, and fairly answered. No man can possibly be happy in a place where he is not in his element, and where all around him is not congenial to his tastes, habits, and character. When an eagle is happy in an iron cage, when a sheep is happy in the water, when an owl is happy in the blaze of noonday sun, when a fish is happy on the dry land,—then, and not till then, will I admit that the unsanctified man could be happy in heaven.*
I lay down these twelve propositions about sanctification with a firm persuasion that they are true, and I ask all who read these pages to ponder them well. Each of them would admit of being expanded and handled more fully, and all of them deserve private thought and consideration. Some of them may be disputed and contradicted; but I doubt whether any of them can be overthrown or proved untrue. I only ask for them a fair and impartial hearing. I believe in my conscience that they are likely to assist men in attaining clear views of sanctification.
II. I now proceed to take up the second point which I proposed to consider. That point is the visible evidence of sanctification. In a word, what are the visible marks of a sanctified man? What may we expect to see in him?
This is a very wide and difficult department of our subject. It is wide, because it necessitates the mention of many details which cannot be handled fully in the limits of a paper like this. It is difficult, because it cannot possibly be treated without giving offence. But at any risk truth ought to be spoken; and there is some kind of truth which especially requires to be spoken in the present day.
(1)True sanctification then does not consist in talk about religion. This is a point which ought never to be forgotten. The vast increase of education and preaching in these latter days makes it absolutelynecessary to raise a warning voice. People hear so much of Gospel truth that they contract an unholy familiarity with its words and phrases, and sometimes talk so fluently about its doctrines that you might think them true Christians. In fact it is sickening and disgusting to hear the cool and flippant language which many pour out about "conversion,—the Saviour,—the Gospel,—finding peace,— free grace,"and the like, while they are notoriously serving sin or living for the world. Can we doubt that such talk is abominable in God's sight, and is little better than cursing, swearing, and taking God's name in vain? The tongue is not the only member that Christ bids us give to His service. God does not want His people to be mere empty tubs, sounding brass and tinkling cymbals. We must be sanctified, not only "in word and in tongue, but in deed and truth." (1 John 3:18.)
(2) True sanctification does not consist in temporary religious feelings. This again is a point about which a warning is greatly needed. Mission services and revival meetings are attracting great attention in every part of the land, and producing a great sensation. The Church of England seems to have taken a new lease of life, and exhibits a new activity; and we ought to thank God for it. But these things have their attendant dangers as well as their advantages Wherever wheat is sown the devil is sure to sow tares. Many, it may be feared, appear moved and touched and roused under the preaching of the Gospel, while in reality their hearts are not changed at all. A kind of animal excitement from the contagion of seeing others weeping, rejoicing, or affected, is the true account of their case. Their wounds are only skin deep, and the peace they profess to feel is skin deep also. Like the stony-ground hearers, they "receive the Word with joy" (Matt. 13:20); but after a little they fall away, go back to the world, and are harder and worse than before. Like Jonah's gourd, they come up suddenly in a night and perish in a night. Let these things not be forgotten. Let us beware in this day of healing wounds slightly, and crying, Peace, peace, when there is no peace. Let us urge on every one who exhibits new interest in religion to be content with nothing short of the deep, solid, sanctifying work of the Holy Ghost. Reaction, after false religious excitement, is a
most deadly disease of soul. When the devil is only temporarily cast out of a man in the heat of a revival, and by and by returns to his house, the last state becomes worse than the first. Better a thousand times begin more slowly, and then "continue in the word" steadfastly, than begin in a hurry, without counting the cost, and by and by look back, with Lot's wife, and return to the world. I declare I know no state of soul more dangerous than to imagine we are born again and sanctified by the Holy Ghost, because we have picked up a few religious feelings.
(3) True sanctification does not consist in outward formalism and external devoutness. This is an enormous delusion, but unhappily a very common one. Thousands appear to imagine that true holiness is to be seen in an excessive quantity of bodily religion,—in constant attendance on Church services, reception of the Lord's Supper, and observance of fasts and saints' days,—in multiplied bowings and turnings and gestures and postures during public worship,—in self imposed austerities and petty self-denials,—in wearing peculiar dresses, and the use of pictures and crosses. I freely admit that some people take up these things from conscientious motives, and actually believe that they help their souls. But I am afraid that in many cases this external religiousness is made a substitute for inward holiness; and I am quite certain that it falls utterly short of sanctification of heart.
Above all, when I see that many followers of this outward, sensuous, and formal style of Christianity are absorbed in worldliness, and plunge headlong into its pumps and vanities, without shame, I feel that there is need of very plain speaking on the subject. There may be an immense amount of "bodily service," while there is not a jot of real sanctification.
(4) Sanctification does not consist in retirement from our place in life, and the renunciation of our social duties. In every age it has been a snare with many to take up this line in the pursuit of holiness.
Hundreds of hermits have buried themselves in some wilderness, and thousands of men and women have shut themselves up within the walls of monasteries and convents, under the vain idea that by so doing they would escape sin and become eminently holy. They have forgotten that no bolts and bars can keep out the devil, and that, wherever we go, we carry that root of all evil, our own hearts. To become a monk, or a nun, or to join a House of Mercy, is not the high road to sanctification. True holiness does not make a Christian evade difficulties, but face and overcome them. Christ would have His people show that His grace is not a mere hot-house plant, which can only thrive under shelter, but a strong hardy thing which can flourish in every relation of life. It is doing our duty in that state to which God has called us,—like salt in the midst of corruption, and light in the midst of darkness,—which is a primary element in sanctification. It is not the man who hides himself in a cave, but the man who glorifies God as master or servant, parent or child, in the family and in the street, in business and in trade, who is the Scriptural type of a
sanctified man. Our Master Himself said in His last prayer, "I pray not that Thou shouldest take them out of the world, but that Thou shouldest keep them from the evil." (John 17:15.)
(5) Sanctification does not consist in the occasional performance of right actions. It is the habitual working of a new heavenly principle within, which runs through all a man's daily conduct, both in great things and in small. Its seat is in the heart, and like the heart in the body, it has a regular influence on every part of the character. It is not like a pump, which only sends forth water when worked upon from without, but like a perpetual fountain, from which a stream is ever flowing spontaneously and naturally. Even Herod, when he heard John the Baptist, "did many things," while his heart was utterly wrong in the sight of God. (Mark 6:20.) Just so there are scores of people in the present day who seem to have spasmodical fits of "goodness," as it is called, and do many right things under the
influence of sickness, affliction, death in the family, public calamities, or a sudden qualm of conscience. Yet all the time any intelligent observer can see plainly that they are not converted, and that they know nothing of "sanctification." A true saint, like Hezekiah, will be whole-hearted. He will "count God's commandments concerning all things to be right, and hate every false way." (2 Chron. 31:21; Psalm 119:104.)
(6) Genuine sanctification will show itself in habitual respect to God's law, and habitual effort to live in obedience to it as the rule of life. There is no greater mistake than to suppose that a Christian has nothing to do with the law and the Ten Commandments, because he cannot be justified by keeping them. The same Holy Ghost who
convinces the believer of sin by the law, and leads him to Christ for justification, will always lead him to a spiritual use of the law, as a friendly guide, in the pursuit of sanctification. Our Lord Jesus Christ never made light of the Ten Commandments: on the contrary, in His first public discourse, the Sermon on the Mount, He expounded
them, and showed the searching nature of their requirements. St. Paul never made light of the law: on the contrary, he says, "The law is good, if a man use it lawfully."—"I delight in the law of God after the inward man." (1 Tim. 1:8; Rom. 7:22.) He that pretends to be a saint, while he sneers at the Ten Commandments, and thinks nothing of
lying, hypocrisy, swindling, ill-temper, slander, drunkenness, and breach of the seventh commandment, is under a fearful delusion. He will find it hard to prove that he is a "saint" in the last day!
(7) Genuine sanctification will show itself in an habitual endeavor to do Christ's will, and to live by His practical precepts. These precepts are to be found scattered everywhere throughout the four Gospels, and especially in the Sermon on the Mount. He that supposes they were spoken without the intention of promoting holiness, and that a Christian need not attend to them in his daily life, is really little better than a lunatic, and at any rate is a grossly ignorant person. To hear some men talk, and read some men's writings, one might imagine that our blessed Lord, when He was on earth, never taught anything but doctrine, and left practical duties to,be taught by others! The slightest knowledge of the four Gospels ought to tell us that this is a complete mistake. What His disciples
ought to be and to do is continually brought forward in our Lord's teaching. A truly sanctified man will never forget this. He serves a Master who said, "Ye are my friends if ye do whatsoever I command you." (John 15:14.)
(8) Genuine sanctification will show itself in an habitual desire to live up to the standard which St. Paul sets before the Churches in his writings. That standard is to be found in the closing chapters of nearly all his Epistles. The common idea of many persons that St. Paul's writings are full of nothing but doctrinal statements and
controversial subjects,—justification, election, predestination, prophecy, and the like,—is an entire delusion, and a melancholy proof of the ignorance of Scripture which prevails in these latter days. I defy any one to read St. Paul's writings carefully, without finding in them a large quantity of plain practical directions about the Christian's duty in every relation of life, and about our daily habits, temper, and behavior to one another. These directions were written down by inspiration of God for the perpetual guidance of professing Christians. He who does not attend to them may possibly pass muster as a member of a church or a chapel, but he certainly is not what the Bible calls a "sanctified" man.
(9) Genuine sanctification will show itself in habitual attention to the active graces which our Lord so beautifully exemplified, and especially to the grace of charity. "A new commandment I give unto you, that ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another. By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another." (John 13:34, 35.) A sanctified man will try to do good in the world, and to lessen the sorrow and increase the happiness of all around him. He will aim to be like his Master, full of kindness and love to every one; and this not in word only, by calling people "dear," but by deeds and actions and self-denying work, according as he has opportunity. The selfish Christian professor, who wraps himself up in his own conceit of superior knowledge, and seems to care nothing whether others sink or swim, go to heaven or hell, so long as he walks to church, or chapel in his Sunday best, and is called a "sound member,"—such a man knows nothing of sanctification. He may think himself a saint on earth, but he will not be a saint in heaven. Christ will never be found the Saviour of those who know nothing of following His example. Saving faith and real converting grace will always produce some conformity to the image of Jesus.* (Col. 3:10.)
(10) Genuine sanctification, in the last place, will show itself in habitual attention to the passive graces of Christianity. When I speak of passive graces, I mean those graces which are especially shown in submission to the will of God, and in bearing and forbearing towards one another. Few people, perhaps, unless they have examined the
point, have an idea how much is said about these graces in the New Testament, and how important a place they seem to fill. This is the special point which St. Peter dwells upon in commending our Lord Jesus Christ's example to our notice: "Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an example, that we should follow His steps: Who did no sin, neither was guile found in His mouth: Who, when He was reviled, reviled not again; when He suffered, He threatened not; but committed Himself to Him that judges righteously." (1 Peter 2:2123.)—This is the one piece of profession which the Lord's prayer requires us to make: "Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us;" and the one point that is commented upon at the end of the prayer.—This is the point which occupies one third
of the list of the fruits of the Spirit, supplied by St. Paul. Nine are named, and three of these, "longsuffering, gentleness, and meekness," are unquestionably passive graces. (Gal. 5:22, 23.) I must plainly say that I do not think this subject is sufficiently considered by Christians. The passive graces are no doubt harder to attain than
the active ones, but they are precisely the graces which have the greatest influence on the world. Of one thing I feel very sure,—it is nonsense to pretend to sanctification unless we follow after the meekness, gentleness, long-suffering, and forgivingness of which the Bible makes so much. People who are habitually giving way to peevish and cross tempers in daily life, and are constantly sharp with their tongues, and disagreeable to all around them,—spiteful people,vindictive people, revengeful people, malicious people,—of whom, alas, the world is only too full!—all such know little, as they should know, about sanctification.
Such are the visible marks of a sanctified man. I do not say that they are all to be seen equally in all God's people. I freely admit that in the best they are not fully and perfectly exhibited. But I do say confidently, that the things of which I have been speaking are the Scriptural marks of sanctification, and that they who know nothing
of them may well doubt whether they have any grace at all. Whatever others may please to say, I will never shrink from saying that genuine sanctification is a thing that can be seen, and that the marks I have endeavored to sketch out are more or less the marks of a sanctified man.
III. I now propose to consider, in the last place, the distinction between justification and sanctification. Wherein do they agree, and wherein do they differ?
This branch of our subject is one of great importance, though I fear it will not seem so to all my readers. I shall handle it briefly, but I dare not pass it over altogether. Too many are apt to look at nothing but the surface of things in religion, and regard nice distinctions in theology as questions of "words and names," which are of little real value. But I warn all who are in earnest about their souls, that the discomfort which arises from not "distinguishing things that differ" in Christian doctrine is very great indeed; and I especially advise them, if they love peace, to seek clear views about the matter before us. Justification and sanctification are two distinct things we must always remember. Yet there are points in which they agree and points in which they differ. Let us try to find out what they are. In what, then, are justification and sanctification alike?
(a) Both proceed originally from the free grace of God. It is of His gift alone that believers are justified or sanctified at all.
(b) Both are part of that great work of salvation which Christ, in the eternal covenant, has undertaken on behalf of His people. Christ is,the fountain of life, from which pardon and holiness both flow. The root of each is Christ.
(c) Both are to be found in the same persons. Those who are justified are always sanctified, and those who are sanctified are always justified. God has joined them together, and they cannot be put asunder.
(d) Both begin at the same time. The moment a person begins to be a justified person, he also begins to be a sanctified person. He may not feel it, but it is a fact.
(e) Both are alike necessary to salvation. No one ever reached heaven without a renewed heart as well as forgiveness, without the Spirit's grace as well as the blood of Christ, without a meetness for eternal glory as well as a title. The one is just as necessary as the other. Such are the points on which justification and sanctification agree.
Let us now reverse the picture, and see wherein they differ.
(a) Justification is the reckoning and counting a man to be righteous for the sake of another, even Jesus Christ the Lord. Sanctification is the actual making a man inwardly righteous, though it may be in a very feeble degree.
(b) The righteousness we have by our justification is not our own, but the everlasting perfect righteousness of our great Mediator Christ, imputed to us, and made our own by faith. The righteousness we have by sanctification is our own righteousness, imparted, inherent, and wrought in us by the Holy Spirit, but mingled with much infirmity and imperfection.
(c) In justification our own works have no place at all, and simple faith in Christ is the one thing needful. In sanctification our own pray, and strive, and take pains, and labor.
(d) Justification is a finished and complete work, and a man is perfectly justified the moment he believes. Sanctification is an imperfect work, comparatively, and will never be perfected until we reach heaven.
(e) Justification admits of no growth or increase: a man is as much justified the hour he first comes to Christ by faith as he will be to all eternity. Sanctification is eminently a progressive work, and admits of continual growth and enlargement so long as a man lives.
(f) Justification has special reference to our persons, our standing in God's sight, and our deliverance from guilt. Sanctification has special reference to our natures, and the moral renewal of our hearts.
(g) Justification gives us our title to heaven, and boldness to enter in. Sanctification gives us our meetness for heaven, and prepares us to enjoy it when we dwell there.
(h) Justification is the act of God about us, and is not easily discerned by others. Sanctification is the work of God within us, and cannot be hid in its outward manifestation from the eyes of men. I commend these distinctions to the attention of all my readers, and I ask them to ponder them well. I am persuaded that one great cause of the darkness and uncomfortable feelings of many well-meaning people in the matter of religion, is their habit of confounding, and not distinguishing, justification and sanctification. It can never be too strongly impressed on our minds that they are two separate things. No doubt they cannot be divided, and every one that is a partaker of either is a partaker of both. But never, never ought they to be confounded, and never ought the distinction between them to
be forgotten. It only remains for me now to bring this subject to a conclusion by a few plain words of application. The nature and visible marks of sanctification have been brought before us. What practical reflections ought the whole matter to raise in our minds?
(1) For one thing, let us all awake to a sense of the perilous state of many professing Christians. "Without holiness no man shall see the Lord;" without sanctification there is no salvation. (Heb. 12:14.)
Then what an enormous amount of so-called religion there is which is perfectly useless! What an immense proportion of church-goers and chapel-goers are in the broad road that leadeth to destruction!
The thought is awful, crushing, and overwhelming. Oh, that preachers and teachers would open their eyes and realize the condition of souls around them! Oh, that men could be persuaded to "flee from the wrath to come!" If unsanctified souls can be saved and go to heaven, the Bible is not true. Yet the Bible is true and cannot lie! What must the end be!
(2) For another thing, let us make sure work of our own condition, and never rest till we feel and know that we are "sanctified" ourselves. What are our tastes, and choices, and likings, and inclinations? This is the great testing question. It matters little what we wish, and what we hope, and what we desire to be before we die.
What are we now? What are we doing? Are we sanctified or not? If not, the fault is all our own.
(3) For another thing, if we would be sanctified, our course is clear and plain,—we must begin with Christ. We must go to Him as sinners, with no plea but that of utter need, and cast our souls on Him by faith, for peace and reconciliation with God. We must place ourselves in His hands, as in the hands of a good physician, and cry to Him for mercy and grace. We must wait for nothing to bring with us as a recommendation. The very first step towards sanctification, no less than justification, is to come with faith to Christ. We must first live and then work.
(4) For another thing, if we would grow in holiness and become more sanctified, we must continually go on as we began, and be ever making fresh applications to Christ. He is the Head from which every member must be supplied. (Ephes. 4:16.) To live the life of daily faith in the Son of God, and to be daily drawing out of His fulness the
promised grace and strength which He has laid up for His people,—this is the grand secret of progressive sanctification. Believers who seem at a standstill are generally neglecting close communion with Jesus, and so grieving the Spirit. He that prayed, "Sanctify them," the last night before His crucifixion, is infinitely willing to help every one who by faith applies to Him for help, and desires to be made more holy.
(5) For another thing, let us not expect too much from our own hearts here below. At our best we shall find in ourselves daily cause for humiliation, and discover that we are needy debtors to mercy and grace every hour. The more light we have, the more we shall see our own imperfection. Sinners we were when we began, sinners we shall
find ourselves as we go on; renewed, pardoned, justified,—yet sinners to the very last. Our absolute perfection is yet to come, and the expectation of it is one reason why we should long for heaven.
(6) Finally, let us never be ashamed of making much of sanctification, and contending for a high standard of holiness. While some are satisfied with a miserably low degree of attainment, and others are not ashamed to live on without any holiness at all,— content with a mere round of Church-going and chapel-going, but never getting on, like a horse in a mill,—let us stand fast in the old paths, follow after eminent holiness ourselves, and recommend it
boldly to others. This is the only way to be really happy. Let us feel convinced, whatever others may say, that holiness is happiness, and that the man who gets through life most comfortably is the sanctified man. No doubt there are some true Christians who from ill-health, or family trials, or other secret causes, enjoy little sensible comfort, and go mourning all their days on the way to heaven. But these are exceptional cases. As a general rule, in the long run of life, it will be found true, that "sanctified" people are the happiest people on earth. They have solid comforts which the world can neither give nor take away. "The ways of wisdom are ways of pleasantness."—"Great peace have they that love Thy law."—It was said by One who cannot lie, "My yoke is easy, and my burden is
light."—But it is also written, "There is no peace unto the wicked." (Prov. 3:17; Ps. 119:165; Matt. 11:30; Is. 48:22.)P. S.
THE subject of sanctification is of such deep importance, and the mistakes made about it so many and great, that I make no apology for strongly recommending "Owen on the Holy Spirit" to all who want to study more thoroughly the whole doctrine of sanctification. No single paper like this can embrace it all.
I am quite aware that Owen's writings are not fashionable in the present day, and that many think fit to neglect and sneer at him as a Puritan! Yet the great divine who in Commonwealth times was Dean of Christ Church, Oxford, does not deserve to be treated in this way. He had more learning and sound knowledge of Scripture in His little finger than many who depreciate him have in their whole bodies. I assert unhesitatingly that the man who wants to study experimental theology, will find no books equal to those of Owen and some of his contemporaries, for complete, Scriptural, and exhaustive treatment of the subjects they handle
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Post by Admin on Jan 18, 2024 12:49:11 GMT -5
III. HOLINESS
"Holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord."—HEB. 12:14
THE text which heads this page opens up a subject of deep importance. That subject is practical holiness. It suggests a question which demands the attention of all professing Christians,
—Are we holy? Shall we see the Lord?
That question can never be out of season. The wise man tells us,
"There is a time to weep, and a time to laugh,—a time to keep silence, and a time to speak" (Eccles. 3:4, 7); but there is no time, no, not a day, in which a man ought not to be holy. Are we?
That question concerns all ranks and conditions of men. Some are rich and some are poor,—some learned and some unlearned,—somemasters, and some servants; but there is no rank or condition in life in which a man ought not to be holy. Are we?
I ask to be heard to-day about this question. How stands the account between our souls and God? In this hurrying, bustling world, let us stand still for a few minutes and consider the matter of holiness. I believe I might have chosen a subject more popular and pleasant. I am sure I might have found one more easy to handle. But I feel deeply I could not have chosen one more seasonable and more profitable to our souls. It is a solemn thing to hear the Word of God saying "Without holiness no man shall see the Lord." (Heb. 12:14.)
I shall endeavor, by God's help, to examine what true holiness is, and the reason why it is so needful. In conclusion, I shall try to point out the only way in which holiness can be attained. I have already, in the second paper in this volume, approached this subject from a doctrinal side. Let me now try to present it to my readers in a more plain and practical point of view.
I. First then, let me try to show what true practical holiness is,—what sort of persons are those whom God calls holy A man may go great lengths, and yet never reach true holiness. It is not knowledge,—Balaam had that: nor great profession,—Judas Iscariot had that: nor doing many things,—Herod had that: nor zeal for certain matters in religion,—Jehu had that: nor morality and outward respectability of conduct,—the young ruler had that: nor taking pleasure in hearing preachers,—the Jews in Ezekiel's time had that: nor keeping company with godly people,—Joab and Gehazi and Demas had that. Yet none of these were holy! These things alone are not holiness. A man may have any one of them, and yet never see the Lord.
What then is true practical holiness? It is a hard question to answer.
I do not mean that there is any want of Scriptural matter on the subject. But I fear lest I should give a defective view of holiness, and not say all that ought to be said; or lest I should say things about it that ought not to be said, and so do harm. Let me, however, try to draw a picture of holiness, that we may see it clearly before the eyes
of our minds. Only let it never be forgotten, when I have said all, that my account is but a poor imperfect outline at the best.
(a) Holiness is the habit of being of one mind with God, according as we find His mind described in Scripture. It is the habit of agreeing in God's judgment,—hating what He hates,—loving what He loves,—and measuring everything in this world by the standard of His Word. He who most entirely agrees with God, he is the most holy man.
(b) A holy man will endeavor to shun every known sin, and to keep every known commandment. He will have a decided bent of mind toward God, a hearty desire to do His will,—a greater fear of displeasing Him than of displeasing the world, and a love to all His ways. He will feel what Paul felt when he said, "I delight in the Law of God after the inward man" (Rom. 7:22), and what David felt when He said, "I esteem all Thy precepts concerning all things to be right and I hate every false way." (Psalm 119:128.)
(c) A holy man will strive to be like our Lord Jesus Christ. He will not only live the life of faith in Him, and draw from Him all his daily peace and strength, but he will also labor to have the mind that was in Him, and to be "conformed to His image." (Rom. 8:29.) It will be his aim to bear with and forgive others, even as Christ forgave us,—to be unselfish, even as Christ pleased not Himself,—to walk in love, even as Christ loved us,—to be lowly-minded and humble, even as Christ made Himself of no reputation and humbled Himself. He will remember that Christ was a faithful witness for the truth,—that He came not to do His own will,—that it was His meat and drink to do
His Father's will,—that He would continually deny Himself in order to minister to others,—that He was meek and patient under undeserved insults,—that He thought more of godly poor men than of kings,—that He was full of love and compassion to sinners,—that He was bold and uncompromising in denouncing sin,—that He sought not the praise of men, when He might have had it,—that He went about doing good,—that He was separate from worldly people,
—that He continued instant in prayer,—that He would not let even His nearest relations stand in His way when God's work was to be done. These things a holy man will try to remember. By them he will endeavor to shape his course in life. He will lay to heart the saying of John, "He that saith he abides in Christ ought himself also so to walk, even as He walked" (1 John 2:6); and the saying of Peter, that "Christ suffered for us, leaving us an example that ye should follow His steps." (1 Peter 2:21.) Happy is he who has learned to make Christ his "all," both for salvation and example! Much time would be saved, and much sin prevented, if men would oftener ask themselves
the question, "What would Christ have said and done, if He were in my place?"
(d) A holy man will follow after meekness, longsuffering, gentleness, patience, kind tempers, government of his tongue. He will bear much, forbear much, overlook much, and be slow to talk of standing on his rights. We see a bright example of this in the behavior of David when Shimei cursed him,—and of Moses when Aaron and Miriam spake against him. (2 Sam. 16:10; Num. 12:3.)
(e) A holy man will follow after temperance and self-denial. He will labor to mortify the desires of his body,—to crucify his flesh with his affections and lusts,—to curb his passions,—to restrain his carnal inclinations, lest at any time they break loose. Oh, what a word is that of the Lord Jesus to the Apostles, "Take heed to yourselves, lest
at any time your hearts be overcharged with surfeiting and drunkenness, and cares of this life" (Luke 21:34); and that of the Apostle Paul, "I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection, lest that by any means when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway." (1 Cor. 9:27.)
(f) A holy man will follow after charity and brotherly kindness. He will endeavor to observe the golden rule of doing as he would have men do to him, and speaking as he would have men speak to him. He will be full of affection towards his brethren,—towards their bodies, their property, their characters, their feelings, their souls. "He that
loveth another," says Paul, "hath fulfilled the law." (Rom. 13:8.) He will abhor all lying, slandering, backbiting, cheating, dishonesty, and unfair dealing, even in the least things. The shekel and cubit of the sanctuary were larger than those in common use. He will strive to adorn his religion by all his outward demeanor, and to make it
lovely and beautiful in the eyes of all around him. Alas, what condemning words are the 13th chapter of 1 Corinthians, and the Sermon on the Mount, when laid alongside the conduct of many professing Christians!
(g) A holy man will follow after a spirit of mercy and benevolence towards others. He will not stand all the day idle. He will not be content with doing no harm,—he will try to do good. He will strive to be useful in his day and generation, and to lessen the spiritual wants and misery around him, as far as he can. Such was Dorcas, "full of
good works and almsdeeds, which she did,"—not merely purposed and talked about, but did. Such an one was Paul: "I will very gladly spend and be spent for you," he says, "though the more abundantly I love you the less I be loved." (Acts 9:36; 2 Cor. 12:15.)
(h) A holy man will follow after purity of heart. He will dread all filthiness and uncleanness of spirit, and seek to avoid all things that might draw him into it. He knows his own heart is like tinder, and will diligently keep clear of the sparks of temptation. Who shall dare to talk of strength when David can fall? There is many a hint to be gleaned from the ceremonial law. Under it the man who only touched a bone, or a dead body, or a grave, or a diseased person, became at once unclean in the sight of God. And these things were emblems and figures. Few Christians are ever too watchful and too particular about this point.
(i) A holy man will follow after the fear of God. I do not mean the fear of a slave, who only works because he is afraid of punishment, and would be idle if he did not dread discovery. I mean rather the fear of a child, who wishes to live and move as if he was always before his father's face, because he loves him. What a noble example Nehemiah
gives us of this! When he became Governor at Jerusalem he might have been chargeable to the Jews, and required of them money for his support. The former Governors had done so. There was none to blame him if he did. But he says, "So did not I, because of the fear of God." (Neh. 5:15.)
(j) A holy man will follow after humility. He will desire, in lowliness of mind, to esteem all others better than himself. He will see more evil in his own heart than in any other in the world. He will understand something of Abraham's feeling, when he says, "I am dust and ashes;"—and Jacob's, when he says, "I am less than the least of all Thy mercies;"—and Job's, when he says, "I am vile;"—and Paul's, when he says, "I am chief of sinners." Holy Bradford, that faithful martyr of Christ, would sometimes finish his letters with these words, "A most miserable sinner, John Bradford." Good old Mr Grimshaw's last words, when he lay on his death-bed, were these,
"Here goes an unprofitable servant."
(k) A holy man will follow after faithfulness in all the duties and relations in life. He will try, not merely to fill his place as well as others who take no thought for their souls, but even better, because he has higher motives, and more help than they. Those words of Paul should never be forgotten, "Whatever ye do, do it heartily, as unto the Lord,"—"Not slothful in business, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord." (Col. 3:23; Rom. 12:11.) Holy persons should aim at doing everything well, and should be ashamed of allowing themselves to do anything ill if they can help it. Like Daniel, they should seek to give no "occasion" against themselves, except "concerning the law of their God." (Dan. 6:5.) They should strive to be
good husbands and good wives,
good parents and good children,
good masters and good servants,
good neighbors, good friends,
good subjects, good in private and good in public,
good in the place of business and good by their firesides.
Holiness is worth little indeed, if it does not bear this kind of fruit. The Lord Jesus puts a searching question to His people, when He says, "What do ye more than others?" (Matt. 5:47.)
(l) Last, but not least, a holy man will follow after spiritual mindedness. He will endeavor to set his affections entirely on things above, and to hold things on earth with a very loose hand. He will not neglect the business of the life that now is; but the first place in his mind and thoughts will be given to the life to come. He will aim
to live like one whose treasure is in heaven, and to pass through this world like a stranger and pilgrim travelling to his home. To commune with God in prayer, in the Bible, and in the assembly of His people,—these things will be the holy man's chief enjoyments. He will value every thing and place and company, just in proportion as it draws him nearer to God. He will enter into something of David's feeling, when he says, "My soul follows hard after Thee."
"Thou art my portion." (Psalm 63:8; 119:57.) Such is the outline of holiness which I venture to sketch out. Such is the character which those who are called "holy" follow after. Such are the main features of a holy man.
But here let me say, I trust no man will misunderstand me. I am not without fear that my meaning will be mistaken, and the description I have given of holiness will discourage some tender conscience. I would not willingly make one righteous heart sad, or throw a stumbling-block in any believer's way. I do not say for a moment that holiness shuts out the presence of indwelling sin. No: far from it. It is the greatest misery of a holy man that he carries about with him a "body of death;"—that often when he would do good "evil is present with him;" that the old man is
clogging all his movements, and, as it were, trying to draw him back at every step he takes. (Rom. 7:21.) But it is the excellence of a holy man that he is not at peace with indwelling sin, as others are. He hates it, mourns over it, and longs to be free from its company. The work of sanctification within him is like the wall of Jerusalem,—the
building goes forward "even in troublous times." (Dan. 9:25.)
Neither do I say that holiness comes to ripeness and perfection all at once, or that these graces I have touched on must be found in full bloom and vigor before you can call a man holy. No: far from it.
Sanctification is always a progressive work. Some men's graces are in the blade, some in the ear, and some are like full corn in the ear. All must have a beginning. We must never despise "the day of small things." And sanctification in the very best is an imperfect work. The history of the brightest saints that ever lived will contain many a
"but," and "howbeit," and "notwithstanding," before you reach the end. The gold will never be without some dross,—the light will never shine without some clouds, until we reach the heavenly Jerusalem.
The sun himself has spots upon his face. The holiest men have many a blemish and defect when weighed in the balance of the sanctuary. Their life is a continual warfare with sin, the world, and the devil; and sometimes you will see them not overcoming, but overcome. The flesh is ever lusting against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh,
and "in many things they offend all." (Gal. 5:17; James 3:2.)
But still, for all this, I am sure that to have such a character as I have faintly drawn, is the heart's desire and prayer of all true Christians.
They press towards it, if they do not reach it. They may not attain to it, but they always aim at it. It is what they strive and labor to be, if it is not what they are. And this I do boldly and confidently say, that true holiness is a great reality. It is something in a man that can be seen, and known, and marked, and felt by all around him. It is light: if it exists, it will show itself. It is salt: if it exists, its savor will be perceived. It is a precious ointment: if it exists, its presence cannot be hid.
I am sure we should all be ready to make allowance for much backsliding, for much occasional deadness in professing Christians. I know a road may lead from one point to another, and yet have many a winding and turn; and a man may be truly holy, and yet be drawn aside by many an infirmity. Gold is not the less gold because mingled with alloy, nor light the less light because faint and dim, nor grace the less grace because young and weak. But after every allowance, I cannot see how any man deserves to be called "holy," who willfully allows himself in sins, and is not humbled and ashamed because of them. I dare not call any one "holy" who makes a habit of willfully neglecting known duties, and willfully doing what he knows God ha commanded him not to do. Well says Owen, "I do not understand
how a man can be a true believer unto whom sin is not the greatest burden, sorrow, and trouble."
Such are the leading characteristics of practical holiness. Let us examine ourselves and see whether we are acquainted with it. Let us prove our own selves.
II. Let me try, in the next place, to show some reasons why practical holiness is so important
Can holiness save us? Can holiness put away sin,—cover iniquities,— make satisfaction for transgressions,—pay our debt to God? No: not a whit. God forbid that I should ever say so. Holiness can do none of these things. The brightest saints are all "unprofitable servants." Our purest works are no better than filthy rags, when tried by the light of God's holy law. The white robe which Jesus offers, and faith puts on, must be our only righteousness,—the name of Christ our only confidence,—the Lamb's book of life our only title to heaven. With all our holiness we are no better than sinners. Our best things are stained and tainted with imperfection. They are all more or less incomplete, wrong in the motive or defective in the performance. By the deeds of the law shall no child of Adam ever be justified. "By grace are ye saved through faith, and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God: not of works, lest any man should boast." (Ephes. 2:8, 9.)
Why then is holiness so important? Why does the Apostle say, "Without it no man shall see the Lord"? Let me set out in order a few reasons.
(a) For one thing, we must be holy, because the voice of God in
Scripture plainly commands it. The Lord Jesus says to His people,
"Except your righteousness shall exceed the righteousness of the
scribes and Pharisees, ye shall in no case enter into the kingdom of
heaven." (Matt. 5:20.) "Be ye perfect, even as your Father which is in
heaven is perfect." (Matt. 5:48.) Paul tells the Thessalonians, "This is
the will of God, even your sanctification." (1 Thess. 4:3.) And Peter
says, "As He which hath called you is holy, so be ye holy in all
manner of conversation; because it is written, Be ye holy, for I am
holy." (1 Peter 1:15, 16.) "In this," says Leighton, "law and Gospel
agree."
(b) We must be holy, because this is one grand end and purpose for
which Christ came into the world. Paul writes to the Corinthians, "He
died for all, that they which live should not henceforth live unto
themselves, but unto Him which died for them and rose again." (2
Cor. 5:15.) And to the Ephesians, "Christ loved the Church, and gave
Himself for it, that He might sanctify and cleanse it." (Ephes. 5:25,
26.) And to Titus, "He gave Himself for us, that He might redeem us
from all iniquity, and purify unto Himself a peculiar people, zealous
of good works." (Titus 2:14.) In short, to talk of men being saved
from the guilt of sin, without being at the same time saved from its
dominion in their hearts, is to contradict the witness of all Scripture.
Are believers said to be elect?—it is "through sanctification of the
Spirit." Are they predestinated?—it is "to be conformed to the image
of God's Son." Are they chosen?—it is "that they may be holy." Are
they called?—it is "with a holy calling." Are they afflicted?—it is that
they may be "partakers of holiness." Jesus is a complete Saviour. He
does not merely take away the guilt of a believer's sin, He does more,
—He breaks its power. (1 Peter 1:2; Rom. 8:29; Eph. 1:4; Heb. 12:10.)
(c) We must be holy, because this is the only sound evidence that we
have a saving faith in our Lord Jesus Christ. The Twelfth Article of
our Church says truly, that "Although good works cannot put away
our sins, and endure the severity of God's judgment, yet are they
pleasing and acceptable to God in Christ, and do spring out
necessarily of a true and lively faith; insomuch that by them a lively
faith may be as evidently known as a tree discerned by its fruits."
James warns us there is such a thing as a dead faith,—a faith which
goes no further than the profession of the lips, and has no influence
on a man's character. (James 2:17.) True saving faith is a very
different kind of thing. True faith will always show itself by its fruits,
—it will sanctify, it will work by love, it will overcome the world, it
will purify the heart. I know that people are fond of talking about
death-bed evidences. They will rest on words spoken in the hours of
fear, and pain, and weakness, as if they might take comfort in them
about the friends they lose. But I am afraid in ninety-nine cases out
of a hundred such evidences are not to be depended on. I suspect
that, with rare exceptions, men die just as they have lived. The only
safe evidence that we are one with Christ, and Christ in us, is holy
life. They that live unto the Lord are generally the only people who
die in the Lord. If we would die the death of the righteous, let us not
rest in slothful desires only; let us seek to live His life. It is a true
saying of Traill's, "That man's state is naught, and his faith unsound,
that finds not his hopes of glory purifying to his heart and life."
(d) We must be holy, because this is the only proof that we love the
Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity. This is a point on which He has
spoken most plainly, in the fourteenth and fifteenth chapters of
John. "If ye love Me, keep my commandments."—"He that hath my
commandments and keeps them, he it is that loveth Me."—"If a
man love Me he will keep my words."—"Ye are my friends if ye do
whatsoever I command you." (John 14:15, 21, 23; 15:14.)—Plainer
words than these it would be difficult to find, and woe to those who
neglect them! Surely that man must be in an unhealthy state of soul
who can think of all that Jesus suffered, and yet cling to those sins
for which that suffering was undergone. It was sin that wove the
crown of thorns,—it was sin that pierced our Lord's hands, and feet,
and side,—it was sin that brought Him to Gethsemane and Calvary,
to the cross, and to the grave. Cold must our hearts be if we do not
hate sin and labor to get rid of it, though we may have to cut off the
right hand and pluck out the right eye in doing it.
(e) We must be holy, because this is the only sound evidence that we
are true children of God. Children in this world are generally like
their parents. Some, doubtless, are more so, and some less,—but it is
seldom indeed that you cannot trace a kind of family likeness. And it
is much the same with the children of God. The Lord Jesus says, "If
ye were Abraham's children ye would do the works of Abraham."—"If
God were your Father ye would love Me." (John 8:39, 42.) If men
have no likeness to the Father in heaven, it is vain to talk of their
being His "sons." If we know nothing of holiness we may flatter
ourselves as we please, but we have not got the Holy Spirit dwelling
in us: we are dead, and must be brought to life again,—we are lost,
and must be found. "As many as are led by the Spirit of God, they,"
and they only, "are the sons of God." (Rom. 8:14.) We must show by
our lives the family we belong to.—We must let men see by our good
conversation that we are indeed the children of the Holy One, or our
son-ship is but an empty name. "Say not," says Gurnall, "that thou
hast royal blood in thy veins, and art born of God, except thou canst
prove thy pedigree by daring to be holy."
(f) We must be holy, because this is the most likely way to do good to
others. We cannot live to ourselves only in this world. Our lives will
always be doing either good or harm to those who see them. They are
a silent sermon which all can read. It is sad indeed when they are a
sermon for the devil's cause, and not for God's. I believe that far
more is done for Christ's kingdom by the holy living of believers than
we are at all aware of. There is a reality about such living which
makes men feel, and obliges them to think. It carries a weight and
influence with it which nothing else can give. It makes religion
beautiful, and draws men to consider it, like a lighthouse seen afar
off. The day of judgment will prove that many besides husbands have
been won "without the word" by a holy life. (1 Pet. 3:1.) You may talk
to persons about the doctrines of the Gospel, and few will listen, and
still fewer understand. But your life is an argument that none can
escape. There is a meaning about holiness which not even the most
unlearned can help taking in. They may not understand justification,
but they can understand charity.
I believe there is far more harm done by unholy and inconsistent
Christians than we are at all aware of. Such men are among Satan's
best allies. They pull down by their lives what ministers build with
their lips. They cause the chariot wheels of the Gospel to drive
heavily. They supply the children of this world with a never ending
excuse for remaining as they are.—"I cannot see the use of so much
religion," said an irreligious tradesman not long ago; "I observe that
some of my customers are always talking about the Gospel, and faith,
and election, and the blessed promises, and so forth; and yet these
very people think nothing of cheating me of pence and halfpence,
when they have an opportunity. Now, if religious persons can do
such things, I do not see what good there is in religion."—I grieve to
be obliged to write such things, but I fear that Christ's name is too
often blasphemed because of the lives of Christians. Let us take heed
lest the blood of souls should be required at our hands. From murder
of souls by inconsistency and loose walking, good Lord, deliver us!
Oh, for the sake of others, if for no other reason, let us strive to be
holy!
(g) We must be holy, because our present comfort depends much
upon it. We cannot be too often reminded of this. We are sadly apt to
forget that there is a close connection between sin and sorrow,
holiness and happiness, sanctification and consolation. God has so
wisely ordered it, that our well-being and our well-doing are linked
together. He has mercifully provided that even in this world it shall
be man's interest to be holy. Our justification is not by works,—our
calling and election are not according to our works,—but it is vain for
any one to suppose that he will have a lively sense of his justification,
or an assurance of his calling, so long as he neglects good works, or
does not strive to live a holy life. "Hereby we do know that we know
Him, if we keep His commandments."—"Hereby we know that we are
of the truth, and shall assure our hearts." (1 John 2:3; 3:19.) A
believer may as soon expect to feel the sun's rays upon a dark and
cloudy day, as to feel strong consolation in Christ while he does not
follow Him fully. When the disciples forsook the Lord and fled, they
escaped danger, but they were miserable and sad. When, shortly
after, they confessed Him boldly before men, they were cast into
prison and beaten; but we are told "they rejoiced that they were
counted worthy to suffer shame for His name." (Acts 5:41.) Oh, for
our own sakes, if there were no other reason, let us strive to be holy!
He that follows Jesus most fully will always follow Him most
comfortably.
(h) Lastly, we must be holy, because without holiness on earth we
shall never be prepared to enjoy heaven. Heaven is a holy place. The
Lord of heaven is a holy Being. The angels are holy creatures.
Holiness is written on everything in heaven. The book of Revelation
says expressly, "There shall in no wise enter into it anything that
defiles, neither whatsoever worketh abomination, or maketh a lie."
(Rev. 21:27.)
I appeal solemnly to every one who reads these pages, How shall we
ever be at home and happy in heaven, if we die unholy? Death works
no change. The grave makes no alteration. Each will rise again with
the same character in which he breathed his last. Where will our
place be if we are strangers to holiness now?
Suppose for a moment that you were allowed to enter heaven
without holiness. What would you do? What possible enjoyment
could you feel there? To which of all the saints would you join
yourself, and by whose side would you sit down? Their pleasures are
not your pleasures, their tastes not your tastes, their character not
your character. How could you possibly be happy, if you had not
been holy on earth?
Now perhaps you love the company of the light and the careless, the
worldly-minded and the covetous, the reveler and the pleasure
seeker, the ungodly and the profane. There will be none such in
heaven.
Now perhaps you think the saints of God too strict and particular,
and serious. You rather avoid them. You have no delight in their
society. There will be no other company in heaven.
Now perhaps you think praying, and Scripture-reading, and hymn
singing, dull, and melancholy, and stupid work,—a thing to be
tolerated now and then, but not enjoyed. You reckon the Sabbath a
burden and a weariness; you could not possibly spend more than a
small part of it in worshipping God. But remember, heaven is a
never-ending Sabbath. The inhabitants thereof rest not day or night,
saying, "Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty," and singing the praise
of the Lamb. How could an unholy man find pleasure in occupation
such as this?
Think you that such an one would delight to meet David, and Paul,
and John, after a life spent in doing the very things they spoke
against? Would he take sweet counsel with them, and find that he
and they had much in common?—Think you, above all, that he would
rejoice to meet Jesus, the Crucified One, face to face, after cleaving to
the sins for which He died, after loving His enemies and despising
His friends? Would he stand before Him with confidence, and join in
the cry, "This is our God; we have waited for Him, we will be glad
and rejoice in His salvation"? (Isa. 25:9.) Think you not rather that
the tongue of an unholy man would cleave to the roof of his mouth
with shame, and his only desire would be to be cast out! He would
feel a stranger in a land he knew not, a black sheep amidst Christ's
holy flock. The voice of Cherubim and Seraphim, the song of Angels
and Archangels, and all the company of heaven, would be a language
he could not understand. The very air would seem an air he could not
breathe.
I know not what others may think, but to me it does seem clear that
heaven would be a miserable place to an unholy man. It cannot be
otherwise. People may say, in a vague way, "they hope to go to
heaven;" but they do not consider what they say. There must be a
certain "meetness for the inheritance of the saints in light." Our
hearts must be somewhat in tune. To reach the holiday of glory, we
must pass through the training school of grace. We must be
heavenly-minded, and have heavenly tastes, in the life that now is, or
else we shall never find ourselves in heaven, in the life to come.
And now, before I go any further, let me say a few words, by way of
application.
(1) For one thing, let me ask every one who may read these pages,
Are you holy? Listen, I pray you, to the question I put to you this day.
Do you know anything of the holiness of which I have been speaking?
I do not ask whether you attend your church regularly,—whether you
have been baptized, and received the Lord's Supper,—whether you
have the name of Christian,—I ask something more than all this: Are
you holy, or are you not?
I do not ask whether you approve of holiness in others,—whether you
like to read the lives of holy people, and to talk of holy things, and to
have on your table holy books,—whether you mean to be holy, and
hope you will be holy some day,—I ask something further: Are you
yourself holy this very day, or are you not?
And why do I ask so straitly, and press the question so strongly? I do
it because the Scripture says, "Without holiness no man shall see the
Lord." It is written, it is not my fancy,—it is the Bible, not my private
opinion,—it is the word of God, not of man,—"Without holiness no
man shall see the Lord" (Heb. 12:14.)
Alas, what searching, sifting words are these! What thoughts come
across my mind, as I write them down! I look at the world, and see
the greater part of it lying in wickedness. I look at professing
Christians, and see the vast majority having nothing of Christianity
but the name. I turn to the Bible, and I hear the Spirit saying,
"Without holiness no man shall see the Lord."
Surely it is a text that ought to make us consider our ways, and
search our hearts. Surely it should raise within us solemn thoughts,
and send us to prayer.
You may try to put me off by saying, "You feel much, and think much
about these things: far more than many suppose." I answer, "This is
not the point. The poor lost souls in hell do as much as this. The
great question is not what you think, and what you feel, but what you
DO."
You may say, "It was never meant that all Christians should be holy,
and that holiness, such as I have described, is only for great saints,
and people of uncommon gifts." I answer, "I cannot see that in
Scripture. I read that every man who hath hope in Christ purifieth
himself." (1 John 3:3.)—"Without holiness no man shall see the
Lord."
You may say, "It is impossible to be so holy and to do our duty in this
life at the same time: the thing cannot be done." I answer, "You are
mistaken." It can be done. With Christ on your side nothing is
impossible. It has been done by many. "David, and Obadiah, and
Daniel, and the servants of Nero's household, are all examples that
go to prove it."
You may say, "If you were so holy you would be unlike other people."
I answer, "I know it well. It is just what you ought to be. Christ's true
servants always were unlike the world around them,—a separate
nation, a peculiar people;—and you must be so too, if you would be
saved!"
You may say, "At this rate very few will be saved." I answer, "I know
it. It is precisely what we are told in the Sermon on the Mount." The
Lord Jesus said so 1800 years ago. "Strait is the gate, and narrow is
the way, that leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it." (Matt.
7:14.) Few will be saved, because few will take the trouble to seek
salvation. Men will not deny themselves the pleasures of sin and
their own way for a little season. They turn their backs on an
"inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away." "Ye
will not come unto Me," says Jesus, "that ye might have life." (John
5:40.)
You may say, "These are hard sayings: the way is very narrow." I
answer, "I know it. So says the Sermon on the Mount." The Lord
Jesus said so 1800 years ago. He always said that men must take up
the cross daily, and that they must be ready to cut off hand or foot, if
they would be His disciples. It is in religion as it is in other things,
"there are no gains without pains." That which costs nothing is worth
nothing.
Whatever we may think fit to say, we must be holy, if we would see
the Lord. Where is our Christianity if we are not? We must not
merely have a Christian name, and Christian knowledge, we must
have a Christian character also. We must be saints on earth, if ever
we mean to be saints in heaven. God has said it, and He will not go
back: "Without holiness no man shall see the Lord." "The Pope's
calendar," says Jenkyn, "only makes saints of the dead, but Scripture
requires sanctity in the living." "Let not men deceive themselves,"
says Owen; "sanctification is a qualification indispensably necessary
unto those who will be under the conduct of the Lord Christ unto
salvation. He leads none to heaven but whom He sanctifies on the
earth. This living Head will not admit of dead members."
Surely we need not wonder that Scripture says "Ye must be born
again." (John 3:7.) Surely it is clear as noon-day that many
professing Christians need a complete change,—new hearts, new
natures,—if ever they are to be saved. Old things must pass away,—
they must become new creatures. "Without holiness no man," be he
who he may, "no man shall see the Lord."
(2) Let me, for another thing, speak a little to believers. I ask you this
question, "Do you think you feel the importance of holiness as much
as you should?"
I own I fear the temper of the times about this subject. I doubt
exceedingly whether it holds that place which it deserves in the
thoughts and attention of some of the Lord's people. I would humbly
suggest that we are apt to overlook the doctrine of growth in grace,
and that we do not sufficiently consider how very far a person may go
in a profession of religion, and yet have no grace, and be dead in
God's sight after all. I believe that Judas Iscariot seemed very like the
other Apostles. When the Lord warned them that one would betray
Him, no one said, "Is it Judas?" We had better think more about the
Churches of Sardis and Laodicea than we do.
I have no desire to make an idol of holiness. I do not wish to
dethrone Christ, and put holiness in His place. But I must candidly
say, I wish sanctification was more thought of in this day than it
seems to be, and I therefore take occasion to press the subject on all
believers into whose hands these pages may fall. I fear it is
sometimes forgotten that God has married together justification and
sanctification. They are distinct and different things, beyond
question, but one is never found without the other. All justified
people are sanctified, and all sanctified are justified. What God has
joined together let no man dare to put asunder. Tell me not of your
justification, unless you have also some marks of sanctification.
Boast not of Christ's work for you, unless you can show us the Spirit's
work in you. Think not that Christ and the Spirit can ever be divided.
I doubt not that many believers know these things, but I think it good
for us to be put in remembrance of them. Let us prove that we know
them by our lives. Let us try to keep in view this text more
continually: "Follow holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord."
I must frankly say, I wish there was not such an excessive
sensitiveness on the subject of holiness as I sometimes perceive in
the minds of believers. A man might really think it was a dangerous
subject to handle, so cautiously is it touched! Yet surely when we
have exalted Christ as "the way, the truth, and the life," we cannot err
in speaking strongly about what should be the character of His
people. Well says Rutherford, "The way that crieth down duties and
sanctification, is not the way of grace. Believing and doing are blood
friends."
I would say it with all reverence, but say it I must,—I sometimes fear
if Christ were on earth now, there are not a few who would think His
preaching legal; and if Paul were writing his Epistles, there are those
who would think he had better not write the latter part of most of
them as he did. But let us remember that the Lord Jesus did speak
the Sermon on the Mount, and that the Epistle to the Ephesians
contains six chapters and not four. I grieve to feel obliged to speak in
this way, but I am sure there is a cause.
That great divine, John Owen, the Dean of Christ Church, used to
say, more than two hundred years ago, that there were people whose
whole religion seemed to consist in going about complaining of their
own corruptions, and telling everyone that they could do nothing of
themselves. I am afraid that after two centuries the same thing might
be said with truth of some of Christ's professing people in this day. I
know there are texts in Scripture which warrant such complaints. I
do not object to them when they come from men who walk in the
steps of the Apostle Paul, and fight a good fight, as he did, against
sin, the devil, and the world. But I never like such complaints when I
see ground for suspecting, as I often do, that they are only a cloak to
cover spiritual laziness, and an excuse for spiritual sloth. If we say
with Paul, "O wretched man that I am," let us also be able to say with
him, "I press toward the mark." Let us not quote his example in one
thing, while we do not follow him in another. (Rom 7:24; Philip.
3:14.)
I do not set up myself to be better than other people. and if anyone
asks, "What are you, that you write in this way?" I answer, "I am a
very poor creature indeed." But I say that I cannot read the Bible
without desiring to see many believers more spiritual, more holy,
more single-eyed, more heavenly-minded, more whole-hearted than
they are in the nineteenth century. I want to see among believers
more of a pilgrim spirit, a more decided separation from the world, a
conversation more evidently in heaven, a closer walk with God,—and
therefore I have written as I have.
Is it not true that we need a higher standard of personal holiness in
this day? Where is our patience? Where is our zeal? Where is our
love? Where are our works? Where is the power of religion to be
seen, as it was in times gone by? Where is that unmistakable tone
which used to distinguish the saints of old, and shake the world?
Verily our silver has become dross, our wine mixed with water, and
our salt has very little savour. We are all more than half asleep. The
night is far spent, and the day is at hand. Let us awake, and sleep no
more. Let us open our eyes more widely than we have done hitherto.
"Let us lay aside every weight, and the sin that doth so easily beset
us."—"Let us cleanse ourselves from all filthiless of flesh and spirit,
and perfect holiness in the fear of God."—(Heb. 12:1; 2 Cor. 7:1.) "Did
Christ die," says Owen, "and shall sin live? Was He crucified in the
world, and shall our affections to the world be quick and lively? Oh,
where is the spirit of him, who by the cross of Christ was crucified to
the world, and the world to him!"
III. Let me, in the last place, offer a word of advice to all who desire
to be holy Would you be holy? Would you become a new creature? Then you
must begin with Christ. You will do just nothing at all, and make no
progress till you feel your sin and weakness, and flee to Him. He is
the root and beginning of all holiness, and the way to be holy is to
come to Him by faith and be joined to Him. Christ is not wisdom and
righteousness only to His people, but sanctification also. Men
sometimes try to make themselves holy first of all, and sad work they
make of it. They toil and labour, and turn over many new leaves, and
make many changes; and yet, like the woman with the issue of blood,
before she came to Christ, they feel "nothing bettered, but rather
worse." (Mark 5:26.) They run in vain, and labour in vain; and little
wonder, for they are beginning at the wrong end. They are building
up a wall of sand; their work runs down as fast as they throw it up.
They are baling water out of a leaky vessel: the leak gains on them,
not they on the leak. Other foundation of "holiness" can no man lay
than that which Paul laid, even Christ Jesus. "Without Christ we can
do nothing." (John 15:5.) It is a strong but true saying of Traill's,
"Wisdom out of Christ is damning folly,—righteousness out of Christ
is guilt and condemnation,—sanctification out of Christ is filth and
sin,—redemption out of Christ is bondage and slavery."
Do you want to attain holiness? Do you feel this day a real hearty
desire to be holy? Would you be a partaker of the Divine nature?
Then go to Christ. Wait for nothing. Wait for nobody. Linger not.
Think not to make yourself ready. Go and say to Him, in the words of
that beautiful hymn,—
"Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to Thy cross I cling;
Naked, flee to Thee for dress;
Helpless, look to Thee for grace."
There is not a brick nor a stone laid in the work of our sanctification
till we go to Christ. Holiness is His special gift to His believing
people. Holiness is the work He carries on in their hearts, by the
Spirit whom He puts within them. He is appointed a "Prince and a
Saviour, to give repentance" as well as remission of sins.—"To as
many as receive Him, He gives power to become sons of God." (Acts
5:31; John 1:12, 13.) Holiness comes not of blood,—parents cannot
give it to their children: nor yet of the will of the flesh,—man cannot
produce it in himself: nor yet of the will of man,—ministers cannot
give it you by baptism. Holiness comes from Christ. It is the result of
vital union with Him. It is the fruit of being a living branch of the
True Vine. Go then to Christ and say, "Lord, not only save me from
the guilt of sin, but send the Spirit, whom Thou didst promise, and
save me from its power. Make me holy. Teach me to do Thy will."
Would you continue holy? Then abide in Christ. He says Himself,
"Abide in Me and I in you,—he that abideth in Me and I in him, the
same beareth much fruit." (John 15:4, 5.) It pleased the Father that
in Him should all fulness dwell,—a full supply for all a believer's
wants. He is the Physician to whom you must daily go, if you would
keep well. He is the Manna which you must daily eat, and the Rock of
which you must daily drink. His arm is the arm on which you must
daily lean, as you come up out of the wilderness of this world. You
must not only be rooted, you must also be built up in Him. Paul was
a man of God indeed,—a holy man,—a growing thriving Christian,—
and what was the secret of it all? He was one to whom Christ was "all
in all." He was ever "looking unto Jesus." "I can do all things," he
says, "through Christ which strengthened me." "I live, yet not I, but
Christ liveth in me. The life that I now live, I live by the faith of the
Son of God." Let us go and do likewise. (Heb. 12:2; Phil. 4:13; Gal. 2:20.)
May all who read these pages know these things by experience, and
not by hearsay only! May we all feel the importance of holiness, far
more than we have ever done yet! May our years be holy years with
our souls, and then they will be happy ones! Whether we live, may we
live unto the Lord; or whether we die, may we die unto the Lord: or if
He comes for us, may we be found in peace, without spot, and
blameless!
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Post by Admin on Jan 18, 2024 12:58:50 GMT -5
IV. THE FIGHT
"Fight the good fight of faith."—1 TIMOTHY 6:12
IT is a curious fact that there is no subject about which most people feel such deep interest as "fighting." Young men and maidens, old men and little children, high and low, rich and poor, learned and unlearned, all feel a deep interest in wars, battles, and fighting.
But there is another warfare of far greater importance than any war that was ever waged by man. It is a warfare which concerns not two or three nations only, but every Christian man and woman born into the world. The warfare I speak of is the spiritual warfare. It is the fight which every one who would be saved must fight about his soul.
This warfare, I am aware, is a thing of which many know nothing. Talk to them about it, and they are ready to set you down as a madman, an enthusiast, or a fool. And yet it is as real and true as any war the world has ever seen. It has its hand-to-hand conflicts and its wounds. It has its watching's and fatigues.It has its sieges and assaults. It has its victories and its defeats. Above all, it has consequences which are awful, tremendous, and most peculiar. In earthly warfare the consequences to nations are often temporary and remediable. In the spiritual warfare it is very different. Of that warfare, the consequences, when the fight is over, are unchangeable and eternal.
It is of this warfare that St. Paul spoke to Timothy, when he wrote those burning words, "Fight the good fight of faith; lay hold on eternal life." It is of this warfare that I propose to speak in this paper. I hold the subject to be closely connected with that of sanctification and holiness. He that would understand the nature of true holiness
must know that the Christian is "a man of war." If we would be holy we must fight.
I. The first thing I have to say is this:True Christianity is a fight True Christianity! Let us mind that word true There is a vast quantity of religion current in the world which is not true, genuine Christianity. It passes muster; it satisfies sleepy consciences; but it is not good money. It is not the real thing which was called Christianity
eighteen hundred years ago. There are thousands of men and women who go to churches and chapels every Sunday, and call themselves Christians. Their names are in the baptismal register. They are reckoned Christians while they live. They are married with a Christian marriage-service. They mean to be buried as Christians when they die. But you never see any "fight" about their religion! Of spiritual strife, and exertion, and conflict, and self-denial, and watching, and warring, they know literally nothing at all. Such Christianity may satisfy man, and those who say anything against it may be thought very hard and uncharitable; but it certainly is not the Christianity of the Bible. It is not the religion which the Lord Jesus founded, and His Apostles preached. It is not the religion which produces real holiness. True Christianity is "a fight."
The true Christian is called to be a soldier, and must behave as such from the day of his conversion to the day of his death. He is not meant to live a life of religious ease, indolence, and security. He must never imagine for a moment that he can sleep and doze along the way to heaven, like one travelling in an easy carriage. If he takes his standard of Christianity from the children of this world, he may be content with such notions; but he will find no countenance for them in the Word of God. If the Bible is the rule of his faith and practice, he will find his course laid down very plainly in this matter. He must "fight."
With whom is the Christian soldier meant to fight? Not with other Christians. Wretched indeed is that man's idea of religion who fancies that it consists in perpetual controversy!
He who is never satisfied unless he is engaged in some strife between church and church, chapel and chapel, sect and sect, faction and faction, party and party, knows nothing yet as he ought to know. No doubt it may be absolutely needful sometimes to appeal to law courts, in order to ascertain the right interpretation of a Church's Articles, and rubrics, and formularies. But, as a general rule, the cause of sin is never so much helped as when Christians waste their strength in quarrelling with one another, and spend their time in petty squabbles. No, indeed! The principal fight of the Christian is with the world, the flesh, and the devil. These are his never-dying foes. These are the three chief enemies against whom he must wage war. Unless he gets the victory over these three, all other victories are useless and vain. If he had a nature like an angel, and were not a fallen creature, the warfare would not be so essential. But with a corrupt heart, a busy devil, and an ensnaring world, he must either "fight" or be lost. He must fight the flesh. Even after conversion he carries within him a nature prone to evil, and a heart weak and unstable as water. That heart will never be free from imperfection in this world, and it is a miserable delusion to expect it. To keep that heart from going astray, the Lord Jesus bids us "watch and pray." The spirit may be ready, but the flesh is weak. There is need of a daily struggle and a daily wrestling in prayer. "I keep under my body," cries St. Paul, "and bring it into subjection."
—"I see a law in my members warring against the law of mind, and bringing me into captivity."
—"O wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this death?"
—"They that are Christ's have crucified the flesh with the affections and lusts."
—"Mortify your members which are upon the earth." (Mark 14:38; 1 Cor. 9:27; Rom. 7:23, 24; Gal. 5:24; Col.3:5.)
He must fight the world. The subtle influence of that mighty enemy must be daily resisted, and without a daily battle can never be overcome. The love of the world's good things,
—the fear of the world's laughter or blame,
—the secret desire to keep in with the world,
—the secret wish to do as others in the world do, and not to run into extremes,
—all these are spiritual foes which beset the Christian continually on his way to heaven, and must be conquered. "The friendship of the world is enmity with God: whosoever therefore will be a friend of the world is the enemy of God."
—"If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him."
—"The world is crucified to Me, and I unto the world."
—"Whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world."
—"Be not conformed to this world."(James 4:4; 1 John 2:15; Gal. 6:14; 1 John 5:4; Rom. 12:2.)
He must fight the devil. That old enemy of mankind is not dead. Ever since the fall of Adam and Eve he has been "going to and fro in the earth, and walking up and down in it," and striving to compass one great end,—the ruin of man's soul. Never slumbering and never sleeping, he is always "going about as a lion seeking whom he may devour." An unseen enemy, he is always near us, about our path and about our bed, and spying out all our ways. A "murderer and a liar" from the beginning, he labors night and day to cast us down to hell. Sometimes by leading into superstition, sometimes by suggesting infidelity, sometimes by one kind of tactics and sometimes by another, he is always carrying on a campaign against our souls. "Satan hath desired to have you, that he may sift you as wheat." This mighty adversary must be daily resisted if we wish to be saved. But "this kind goes not out" but by watching and praying, and fighting, and putting on the whole armor of God. The strong man armed will never be kept out of our hearts without a daily battle. (Job 1:7; 1 Peter 5:8; John 8:44; Luke 22:31; Ephes. 6:11.)
Some men may think these statements too strong. You fancy that I am going too far, and laying on the colors too thickly. You are secretly saying to yourself, that men and women in England may surely get to heaven without all this trouble and warfare and fighting.
Listen to me for a few minutes and I will show you that I have something to say on God's behalf. Remember the maxim of the wisest General that ever lived in England,—"In time of war it is the worst mistake to underrate your enemy, and try to make a little war."
This Christian warfare is no light matter. Give me your attention and consider what I say. What saith the Scripture?
—"Fight the good fight of faith. Lay hold on eternal life."
—"Endure hardness as a good soldier of Jesus Christ."
—"Put on the whole armor of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers,
against the ruler of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places. Wherefore take unto you the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all to stand."
—"Strive to enter in at the strait gate."
—"Labour for the meat that endures unto everlasting life."
—"Think not that I came to send peace on the earth: I came not to send peace but a sword
—"He that hath no sword let him sell his garment and buy one."
—"Watch ye, stand fast in the faith: quit you like men, be strong."
—"War a good warfare, holding faith and a good conscience." (1 Tim. 6:12; 2 Tim. 2:3; Ephes. 6:11–13; Luke 13:24; John 6:27; Matt. 10:34; Luke 22:36; 1 Cor. 16:13; 1 Tim. 1:18, 19.)
Words such as these appear to me clear, plain, and unmistakable. They all teach one and the same great lesson, if we are willing to receive it. That lesson is, that true Christianity is a struggle, a fight, and a warfare. He that pretends to condemn "fighting" and teaches that we ought to sit still and "yield ourselves to God," appears to me to misunderstand his Bible, and to make a great mistake. What says the Baptismal Service of the Church of England? No doubt that Service is uninspired, and, like every uninspired composition, it has its defects; but to the millions of people all over the globe, who profess and call themselves English Churchmen, its voice ought to speak with some weight. And what does it say? It tells us that over every new member who is admitted into the Church of England the
following words are used,—"I baptize thee in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost."—"I sign this child with the sign of the cross, in token that hereafter he shall not be ashamed to confess the faith of Christ crucified, and manfully to fight under His banner against sin, the world, and the devil, and to continue Christ's faithful soldier and servant unto his life's end."—Of course we all know that in myriads of cases baptism is a mere form, and that parents bring their children to the font without faith or prayer or thought, and consequently receive no blessing. The man who supposes that baptism in such cases acts mechanically, like medicine, and that godly and ungodly, praying and prayerless parents, all alike get the same benefit for their children, must be in a strange state of mind. But one thing, at any rate, is very certain. Every baptized Churchman is by his profession a "soldier of Jesus Christ," and is pledged "to fight under His banner against sin, the world, and the devil." He that doubts it had better take up his Prayer-book, and read, mark, and learn its contents. The worst thing about many very zealous Churchmen is their total ignorance of what their own Prayer-book contains.
Whether we are Churchmen or not, one thing is certain,—this Christian warfare is a great reality, and a subject of vast importance. It is not a matter like Church government and ceremonial, about which men may differ, and yet reach heaven at last. Necessity is laid upon us. We must fight. There are no promises in the Lord Jesus Christ's Epistles to the Seven Churches, except to those who "overcome." Where there is grace there will be conflict. The believer is a soldier. There is no holiness without a warfare. Saved souls will always be found to have fought a fight.
It is a fight of absolute necessity. Let us not think that in this war we can remain neutral and sit still. Such a line of action may be possible in the strife of nations,but it is utterly impossible in that conflict which concerns the soul. The boasted policy of non-interference,— the "masterly inactivity" which pleases so many statesmen,
—the plan of keeping quiet and letting things alone,
—all this will never do in the Christian warfare. Here at any rate no one can escape serving under the plea that he is "a man of peace." To be at peace with the world, the flesh and the devil, is to be at enmity with God, and in the broad way that leadeth to destruction. We have no choice or option. We must either fight or be lost.
It is a fight of universal necessity. No rank, or class, or age, can plead exemption, or escape the battle. Ministers and people, preachers and hearers, old and young, high and low, rich and poor, gentle and simple, kings and subjects, landlords and tenants, learned and unlearned,—all alike must carry arms and go to war. All have by nature a heart full of pride, unbelief, sloth, worldliness, and sin. All are living in a world beset with snares, traps, and pitfalls for the soul. All have near them a busy, restless, malicious devil. All, from the Queen in her palace down to the pauper in the workhouse, all must fight, if they would be saved. It is a fight of perpetual necessity. It admits of no breathing time, no armistice, no truce. On week-days as well as on Sundays,
—in private as well as in public,
—at home by the family fireside as well as abroad,
—in little things like management of tongue and temper, as well as in great ones like the government of kingdoms,
—the Christian's warfare must unceasingly go on. The foe we have to do with keeps no
holidays, never slumbers, and never sleeps. So long as we have breath in our bodies we must keep on our armor, and remember we are on an enemy's ground. "Even on the brink of Jordan," said a dying saint, "I find Satan nibbling at my heels." We must fight till we die.
Let us consider well these propositions. Let us take care that our own personal religion is real, genuine, and true. The saddest symptom about many so-called Christians, is the utter absence of anything like conflict and fight in their Christianity. They eat, they drink, they dress, they work, they amuse themselves, they get money, they spend money, they go through a scanty round of formal religious services once or twice every week. But of the great spiritual warfare,
—its watchings and strugglings, its agonies and anxieties, its battles and contests,
—of all this they appear to know nothing at all. Let us take care that this case is not our own. The worst state of soul is "when the strong man armed keepeth the house, and his goods are at peace,"
— when he leads men and women "captive at his will," and they make no resistance. The worst chains are those which are neither felt nor seen by the prisoner. (Luke 11:21; 2 Tim. 2:26.)
We may take comfort about our souls if we know anything of an inward fight and conflict. It is the invariable companion of genuine Christian holiness. It is not everything, I am well aware, but it is something.
Do we find in our heart of hearts a spiritual struggle?
Do we feel anything of the flesh lusting against the spirit and the spirit against the flesh, so that we cannot do the things we would? (Gal. 5:17.) Are we conscious of two principles within us, contending for the mastery?
Do we feel anything of war in our inward man? Well, let us thank God for it! It is a good sign. It is strongly probable evidence of the great work of sanctification. All true saints are soldiers.
Anything is better than apathy, stagnation, deadness, and indifference. We are in a better state than many. The most part of so called Christians have no feeling at all. We are evidently no friends of Satan. Like the kings of this world, he wars not against his own subjects. The very fact that he assaults us, should fill our minds with hope. I say again, let us take comfort The child of God has two great marks about him, and of these two we have one. HE MAY BE KNOWN BY HIS INWARD WARFARE, AS WELL AS BY HIS INWARD PEACE.
II. I pass on to the second thing which I have to say in handling my subject: True Christianity is the fight of faith In this respect the Christian warfare is utterly unlike the conflicts of this world. It does not depend on the strong arm, the quick eye, or the swift foot. It is not waged with carnal weapons, but with spiritual. Faith is the hinge on which victory turns. Success depends entirely on believing.
A general faith in the truth of God's written Word is the primary foundation of the Christian soldier's character. He is what he is, does what he does, thinks as he thinks, acts as he acts, hopes as he hopes, behaves as he behaves, for one simple reason;
—he believes certain propositions revealed and laid down in Holy Scripture. "He that cometh to God must believe that He is, and that He is a Rewarder of them that diligently seek Him." (Heb. 11:6.)
A religion without doctrine or dogma, is a thing which many are fond of talking of in the present day. It sounds very fine at first. It looks very pretty at a distance. But the moment we sit down to examine and consider it, we shall find it a simple impossibility. We might as well talk of a body without bones and sinews. No man will ever be anything or do anything in religion, unless he believes something. Even those who profess to hold the miserable and uncomfortable views of the Deists are obliged to confess that they believe something. With all their bitter sneers against dogmatic theology and Christian credulity, as they call it, they themselves have a kind of faith.
As for true Christians, faith is the very backbone of their spiritual existence. No one ever fights earnestly against the world, the flesh, and the devil, unless he has engraven on his heart certain great principles which he believes. What they are he may hardly know, and may certainly not be able to define or write down. But there they are, and, consciously or unconsciously, they form the roots of his religion. Wherever you see a man, whether rich or poor, learned or unlearned, wrestling manfully with sin, and trying to overcome it, you may be sure there are certain great principles which that man believes. The poet who wrote the famous lines,— "For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight, He can't be wrong whose life is in the right," was a clever man, but a poor divine. There is no such thing as right living without faith and believing.
A special faith in our Lord Jesus Christ's person, work, and office, is the life, heart, and mainspring of the Christian soldier's character. He sees by faith an unseen Saviour, who loved him, gave Himself for him, paid his debts for him, bore his sins, carried his transgressions, rose again for him, and appears in heaven for him as his Advocate at the right hand of God. He sees Jesus, and clings to Him. Seeing this Saviour and trusting in Him, he feels peace and hope, and willingly does battle against the foes of his soul.
He sees his own many sins,—his weak heart, a tempting world, a busy devil; and if he looked only at them he might well despair. But he sees also a mighty Saviour, an interceding Saviour, a sympathizing Saviour,—His blood, His righteousness, His everlasting priesthood,— and he believes that all this is his own. He sees Jesus, and casts his whole weight on Him. Seeing Him he cheerfully fights on, with a full confidence that he will prove "more than conqueror through Him that loved him." (Rom. 8:37.)
Habitual lively faith in Christ's presence and readiness to help is the secret of the Christian soldier fighting successfully.
It must never be forgotten that faith admits of degrees. All men do not believe alike, and even the same person has his ebbs and flows of faith, and believes more heartily at one time than another. According to the degree of his faith the Christian fights well or ill, wins victories, or suffers occasional repulses, comes off triumphant, or loses a battle. He that has most faith will always be the happiest and most comfortable soldier. Nothing makes the anxieties of warfare sit so lightly on a man as the assurance of Christ's love and continual protection. Nothing enables him to bear the fatigue of watching, struggling, and wrestling against sin. like the indwelling confidence that Christ is on his side and success is sure. It is the "shield of faith" which quenches all the fiery darts of the wicked one.
—It is the man who can say, "I know whom I have believed,"
—who can say in time of suffering, "I am not ashamed."
—He who wrote those glowing words, "We faint not,"
—"Our light affliction which endures but for a moment worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory,"
—was the man who wrote with the same pen, "We look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal."
—It is the man who said, "I live by the faith of the Son of God," who said, in the same Epistle, "the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world."
—It is the man who said, "To me to live is Christ," who said, in the same Epistle, "I have learned in whatsoever state I am therewith to be content."
—"I can do all things through Christ."
—The more faith the more victory! The more faith the more inward peace! (Eph. 6:16; 2 Tim. 1:12; 2 Cor. 4:17, 18; Gal. 2:20; 6:14; Phil. 1:21; 4:11, 13.)
I think it impossible to overrate the value and importance of faith. Well may the Apostle Peter call it "precious." (2 Pet. 1:1.) Time would fail me if I tried to recount a hundredth part of the victories which by faith Christian soldiers have obtained.
Let us take down our Bibles and read with attention the eleventh chapter of the Epistle to the Hebrews. Let us mark the long list of worthies whose names are thus recorded, from Abel down to Moses, even before Christ was born of the Virgin Mary, and brought life and immortality into full light by the Gospel. Let us note well what battles they won against the world, the flesh, and the devil. And then let us remember that believing did it all. These men looked forward to the promised Messiah. They saw Him that is invisible. "By faith the elders obtained a good report." (Heb. 11:2–27.)
Let us turn to the pages of early Church history. Let us see how the primitive Christians held fast their religion even unto death, and were not shaken by the fiercest persecutions of heathen Emperors. For centuries there were never wanting men like Polycarp and Ignatius, who were ready to die rather than deny Christ. Fines, and prisons, and torture, and fire, and sword, were unable to crush the spirit of the noble army of martyrs. The whole power of imperial Rome, the mistress of the world, proved unable to stamp out the religion which began with a few fishermen and publicans in Palestine! And then let us remember that believing in an unseen Jesus was the Church's strength. They won their victory by faith.
Let us examine the story of the Protestant Reformation. Let us study the lives of its leading champions,—Wycliffe, and Huss, and Luther, and Ridley, and Latimer, and Hooper. Let us mark how these gallant soldiers of Christ stood firm against a host of adversaries, and were ready to die for their principles. What battles they fought! What controversies they maintained! What contradiction they endured!
What tenacity of purpose they exhibited against a world in arms!
And then let us remember that believing in an unseen Jesus was the secret of their strength. They overcame by faith.
Let us consider the men who have made the greatest marks in Church history in the last hundred years. Let us observe how men like Wesley, and Whitfield, and Venn, and Romaine, stood alone in their day and generation,and revived English religion in the face of opposition from men high in office, and in the face of slander, ridicule, and persecution from nine-tenths of professing Christians in our land.
Let us observe how men like William Wilberforce, and Havelock, and Hedley Vicars, have witnessed for Christ in the most difficult positions, and displayed a banner for Christ even at the regimental mess-table, or on the floor of the House of Commons. Let us mark how these noble witnesses never flinched to the end, and won the respect even of their worst adversaries. And then let us remember that believing in an unseen Christ is the key to all their characters. By faith they lived, and walked, and stood, and overcame.
Would any one live the life of a Christian soldier? Let him pray for faith. It is the gift of God; and a gift which those who ask shall never ask for in vain. You must believe before you do. If men do nothing in religion, it is because they do not believe. Faith is the first step toward heaven.
Would any one fight the fight of a Christian soldier successfully and prosperously? Let him pray for a continual increase of faith. Let him abide in Christ, get closer to Christ, tighten his hold on Christ every day that he lives. Let his daily prayer be that of the disciples,—"Lord, increase my faith." (Luke 17:5.) Watch jealously over your faith, if you have any. It is the citadel of the Christian character, on which the safety of the whole fortress depends. It is the point which Satan loves to assail. All lies at his mercy if faith is overthrown. Here, if we love life, we must especially stand on our guard.
III. The last thing I have to say is this: True Christianity is a good fight"Good" is a curious word to apply to any warfare. All worldly war is more or less evil. No doubt it is an absolute necessity in many cases,
—to procure the liberty of nations, to prevent the weak from being trampled down by the strong,
—but still it is an evil. It entails an awful amount of bloodshed and suffering. It hurries into eternity myriads who are completely unprepared for their change. It calls forth the worst passions of man. It causes enormous waste and destruction of property. It fills peaceful homes with mourning widows and orphans. It spreads far and wide poverty, taxation, and national distress. It disarranges all the order of society. It interrupts the work of the Gospel and the growth of Christian missions. In short, war is an immense and incalculable evil, and every praying man should cry night and day, "Give peace in our times." And yet there is one warfare which is emphatically "good," and one fight in which there is no evil. That warfare is the Christian warfare. That fight is the fight of the soul.
Now what are the reasons why the Christian fight is a "good fight"? What are the points in which his warfare is superior to the warfare of this world? Let me examine this matter, and open it out in order. I dare not pass the subject, and leave it unnoticed. I want no one to begin the life of a Christian soldier without counting the cost. I would not keep back from any one that if he would be holy and see the Lord he must fight, and that the Christian fight though spiritual, is real and severe. It needs courage, boldness, and perseverance. But I want my readers to know that there is abundant encouragement, if they will only begin the battle. The Scripture does not call the Christian fight "a good fight" without reason and cause. Let me try to show what I mean.
(a) The Christian's fight is good because fought under the best of generals. The Leader and Commander of all believers is our Divine Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ,—a Saviour of perfect wisdom, infinite love, and almighty power. The Captain of our salvation never fails to lead His soldiers to victory. He never makes any useless movements, never errs in judgment, never commits any mistake. His eye is on all His followers, from the greatest of them even to the least. The humblest servant in His army is not forgotten. The weakest and most sickly is cared for, remembered, and kept unto salvation. The souls whom He has purchased and redeemed with His own blood are far too precious to be wasted and thrown away. Surely this is good!
(b) The Christian's fight is good, because fought with the best of helps. Weak as each believer is in himself, the Holy Spirit dwells in him, and his body is a temple of the Holy Ghost. Chosen by God the Father, washed in the blood of the Son, renewed by the Spirit, he does not go a warfare at his own charges, and is never alone. God the Holy Ghost daily teaches, leads, guides, and directs him. God the Father guards him by His almighty power. God the Son intercedes for him every moment, like Moses on the mount, while he is fighting in the valley below. A threefold cord like this can never be broken! His daily provisions and supplies never fail. His commissariat is never defective. His bread and his water are sure. Weak as he seems in himself, like a worm, he is strong in the Lord to do great exploits. Surely this is good!
(c) The Christian fight is a good fight, because fought with the best of promises. To every believer belong exceeding great and precious promises,
—all Yea and Amen in Christ,
—promises sure to be fulfilled, because made by One who cannot lie, and has power as well
as will to keep His word. "Sin shall not have dominion over you."
—"The God of peace shall bruise Satan under your feet shortly."
—"He that has begun a good work will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ."
—"When thou passeth through the waters I will be with thee, and through the floods, they shall not overflow thee."
—"My sheep shall never perish, neither shall any one pluck them out of my hand."
—"Him that cometh unto Me I will in no wise cast out."
—"I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee."
—"I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor things present, nor things to come, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus." (Rom. 6:14; Rom. 16:20; Philip. 1:6; Isa. 43:2; John 10:28; John 6:37; Heb. 13:5; Rom. 8:38.) Words like these are worth their weight in gold! Who does not know that promises of coming aid have cheered the defenders of besieged cities, like Lucknow, and raised them above their natural strength? Have we never heard that the promise of "help before night" had much to say to the mighty victory of Waterloo? Yet all such promises are as nothing compared to the rich treasure of believers, the eternal promises of God. Surely this is good!
(d) The Christian's fight is a good fight, because fought with the best of issues and results. No doubt it is a war in which there are tremendous struggles, agonizing conflicts, wounds, bruises, watchings, fastings, and fatigue. But still every believer, without exception, is "more than conqueror through Him that loved him." (Rom. 8:37.) No soldiers of Christ are ever lost, missing, or left dead on the battlefield. No mourning will ever need to be put on, and no tears to be shed for either private or officer in the army of Christ. The muster roll, when the last evening comes, will be found precisely the same that it was in the morning. The English Guards marched out of London to the Crimean campaign a magnificent body of men; but many of the gallant fellows laid their bones in a foreign grave, and never saw London again. Far different shall be the arrival of the Christian army in "the city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God." (Heb. 11:10.) Not one shall be found lacking. The words of our great Captain shall be found true: "Of them which Thou hast given Me I have lost none." (John 18:9) Surely this is good!
(e) The Christian's fight is good, because it does good to the soul of him that fights it. All other wars have a bad, lowering, and demoralizing tendency. They call forth the worst passions of the human mind. They harden the conscience, and sap the foundations of religion and morality. The Christian warfare alone tends to call forth the best things that are left in man. It promotes humility and charity, it lessens selfishness and worldliness, it induces men to set their affections on things above. The old, the sick, the dying, are never known to repent of fighting Christ's battles against sin, the world, and the devil. Their only regret is, that they did not begin to serve Christ long before. The experience of that eminent saint, Philip Henry, does not stand alone. In his last days he said to his family, "I take you all to record that a life spent in the service of Christ is the happiest life that a man can spend upon earth." Surely this is good!
(f) The Christian's fight is a good fight, because it does good to the world. All other wars have a devastating, ravaging, and injurious effect. The march of an army through a land is an awful scourge to the inhabitants. Wherever it goes it impoverishes, wastes, and does harm. Injury to persons, property, feelings, and morals invariably accompanies it. Far different are the effects produced by Christian soldiers. Wherever they live they are a blessing. They raise the standard of religion and morality. They invariably check the progress of drunkenness, Sabbath-breaking, profligacy, and dishonesty. Even their enemies are obliged to respect them. Go where you please, you will rarely find that barracks and garrisons do good to the neighborhood. But go where you please, you will find that the presence of a few true Christians is a blessing. Surely this is good!
(g) Finally, the Christian's fight is good, because it ends in a glorious reward for all who fight it. Who can tell the wages that Christ will pay to all His faithful people? Who can estimate the good things that our Divine Captain has laid up for those who confess Him before men? A grateful country can give to her successful warriors medals, Victoria crosses, pensions, peerages, honors, and titles. But it can give nothing that will last and endure for ever, nothing that can be carried beyond the grave. Palaces like Blenheim and Strathfieldsay can only be enjoyed for a few years. The bravest generals and soldiers must go down one day before the King of Terrors. Better, far better, is the position of him who fights under Christ's banner, against sin, the world, and the devil. He may get little praise of man while he lives, and go down to the grave with little honor; but he shall have that which is far better, because far more enduring. He shall have "a crown of glory that fadeth not away."
(1 Pet. 5:4.) Surely this is good!
Let us settle it in our minds that the Christian fight is a good fight,— really good, truly good, emphatically good. We see only part of it yet. We see the struggle, but not the end; we see the campaign, but not the reward; we see the cross, but not the crown. We see a few humble, broken-spirited, penitent, praying people, enduring hardships and despised by the world; but we see not the hand of God over them, the face of God smiling on them, the kingdom of glory prepared for them. These things are yet to be revealed. Let us not judge by appearances. There are more good things about the Christian warfare than we see.
And now let me conclude my whole subject with a few words of practical application. Our lot is cast in times when the world seems thinking of little else but battles and fighting. The iron is entering into the soul of more than one nation, and the mirth of many a fair district is clean gone. Surely in times like these a minister may fairly call on men to remember their spiritual warfare. Let me say a few parting words about the great fight of the soul.
(1) It may be you are struggling hard for the rewards of this world. Perhaps you are straining every nerve to obtain money, or place, or power, or pleasure. If that be your case, take care. You are sowing a crop of bitter disappointment. Unless you mind what you are about your latter end will be to lie down in sorrow. Thousands have trodden the path you are pursuing, and have awoke too late to find it end in misery and eternal ruin. They have fought hard for wealth, and honor, and office, and promotion, and turned their backs on God, and Christ, and heaven, and the world to come.
And what has their end been? Often, far too often, they have found out that their whole life has been a grand mistake. They have tasted by bitter experience the feelings of the dying Statesman who cried aloud in his last hours, "The battle is fought: the battle is fought: but the victory is not won."
For your own happiness' sake resolve this day to join the Lord's side. Shake off your past carelessness and unbelief. Come out from the ways of a thoughtless, unreasoning world. Take up the cross, and become a good soldier of Christ. "Fight the good fight of faith," that you may be happy as well as safe.
Think what the children of this world will often do for liberty, without any religious principle. Remember how Greeks, and Romans, and Swiss, and Tyrolese, have endured the loss of all things, and even life itself, rather than bend their necks to a foreign yoke. Let their example provoke you to emulation. If men can do so much for a corruptible crown, how much more should you do for one which is incorruptible! Awake to a sense of the misery of being a slave. For life, and happiness, and liberty, arise and fight. Fear not to begin and enlist under Christ's banner. The great Captain of your salvation rejects none that come to Him. Like David in the cave of Adullam, He is ready to receive all who apply to Him, however unworthy they may feel themselves. None who repent and believe are too bad to be enrolled in the ranks of Christ's array. All who come to Him by faith are admitted, clothed, armed, trained, and finally led on to complete victory. Fear not to begin this very day. There is yet room for you. Fear not to go on fighting, if you once enlist. The more thorough and whole-hearted you are as a soldier, the more comfortable will you find your warfare. No doubt you will often meet with trouble, fatigue, and hard fighting, before your warfare is accomplished. But let none of these things move you. Greater is He that is for you than all they that be against you. Everlasting liberty or everlasting captivity are the alternatives before you. Choose liberty, and fight to the last.
(2) It may be you know something of the Christian warfare, and are a tried and proved soldier already. If that be your case, accept a parting word of advice and encouragement from a fellow-soldier. Let me speak to myself as well as to you. Let us stir up our minds by way of remembrance. There are some things which we cannot remember too well.
Let us remember that if we would fight successfully we must put on the whole armor of God, and never lay it aside till we die. Not a single piece of the armor can be dispensed with. The girdle of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, the shield of faith, the sword of the Spirit, the helmet of hope,—each and all are needful. Not a single day can we dispense with any part of this armor. Well says an old veteran in Christ's army, who died 200 years ago, "In heaven we shall appear, not in armor, but in robes of glory. But here our arms are to be worn night and day. We must walk, work, sleep in them, or else we are not true soldiers of Christ." (Gurnall's "Christian Armour.")
Let us remember the solemn words of an inspired warrior, who went to his rest 1800 years ago: "No man that warreth entangles himself with the affairs of this life; that he may please him who hath chosen him to be a soldier." (2 Tim. 2:4.) May we never forget that saying!
Let us remember that some have seemed good soldiers for a little season, and talked loudly of what they would do, and yet turned back disgracefully in the day of battle.
Let us never forget Balaam, and Judas, and Demas, and Lot's wife. Whatever we are, and however weak, let us be real, genuine, true, and sincere.
Let us remember that the eye of our loving Saviour is upon us, morning, noon, and night. He will never suffer us to be tempted above that we are able to bear. He can be touched with the feeling of our infirmities, for He suffered Himself being tempted. He knows what battles and conflicts are, for He Himself was assaulted by the Prince of this world. Having such a High Priest, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold fast our profession. (Heb. 4:14.)
Let us remember that thousands of soldiers before us have fought the same battle that we are fighting, and come off more than conquerors through Him that loved them. They overcame by the blood of the Lamb; and so also may we. Christ's arm is quite as strong as ever, and Christ's heart is just as loving as ever. He that saved men and women before us is one who never changes. He is "able to save to the uttermost all who come unto God by Him." Then let us cast doubts and fears away. Let us "follow them who through faith and patience inherit the promises," and are waiting for us to join them. (Heb. 7:25; 6:12.)
Finally, let us remember that the time is short, and the coming of the Lord draweth nigh. A few more battles and the last trumpet shall sound, and the Prince of Peace shall come to reign on a renewed earth. A few more struggles and conflicts, and then we shall bid an eternal good-bye to warfare, and to sin, to sorrow, and to death.
Then let us fight on to the last, and never surrender. Thus saith the Captain of our salvation,—"He that overcometh shall inherit all things; and I will be his God, and he shall be my son." (Rev. 21:7.)
Let me conclude all with the words of John Bunyan, in one of the most beautiful parts of "Pilgrim's Progress." He is describing the end of one of his best and holiest pilgrims:—
"After this it was noised abroad that Mr. Valiant-for-truth was sent for by a summons, by the same party as the others. And he had this word for a token that the summons was true, 'The pitcher was broken at the fountain.' (Eccl. 12:6.) When he understood it, he called for his friends, and told them of it. Then said he, 'I am going to my Father's house; and though with great difficulty I have got hither, yet now I do not repent me of all the troubles I have been at to arrive where I am. My sword I give to him that shall succeed me in my pilgrimage, and my courage and skill to him that can get it. My marks and scars I carry with me, to be a witness for me that I have fought His battles, who will now be my rewarder.' When the day that he must go home was come, many accompanied him to the river-side, into which, as hewent down, he said, 'O death where is thy sting?' And as he went down deeper, he cried, 'O grave, where is thy victory?' So he passed over, and all the trumpets sounded for him on the other side." May our end be like this! May we never forget that without fighting there can be no holiness while we live, and no crown of glory when we die!
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Post by Admin on Jan 18, 2024 13:49:22 GMT -5
V. THE COST
"Which of you, intending to build a house, sitteth not down first
and counteth the cost?"—LUKE 14:28
THE text which heads this page is one of great importance. Few are
the people who are not often obliged to ask themselves,—"What does
it cost?"
In buying property, in building houses, in furnishing rooms, in
forming plans, in changing dwellings, in educating children, it is wise
and prudent to look forward and consider. Many would save
themselves much sorrow and trouble if they would only remember
the question,—"What does it cost?"
But there is one subject on which it is specially important to "count
the cost." That subject is the salvation of our souls. What does it cost
to be a true Christian? What does it cost to be a really holy man?
This, after all, is the grand question. For want of thought about this,
thousands, after seeming to begin well, turn away from the road to
heaven, and are lost for ever in hell. Let me try to say a few words
which may throw light on the subject.
I. I will show, firstly, what it costs to be a true Christian.
II. I will explain, secondly, why it is of such great importance to count the cost.
III. I will give, in the last place, some hints which may help men to count the cost rightly.
We are living in strange times. Events are hurrying on with singular
rapidity. We never know "what a day may bring forth;" how much
less do we know what may happen in a year!—We live in a day of
great religious profession. Scores of professing Christians in every
part of the land are expressing a desire for more holiness and a
higher degree of spiritual life. Yet nothing is more common than to
see people receiving the Word with joy, and then after two or three
years falling away, and going back to their sins. They had not
considered "what it costs" to be a really consistent believer and holy
Christian. Surely these are times when we ought often to sit down
and "count the cost," and to consider the state of our souls. We must
mind what we are about. If we desire to be truly holy, it is a good
sign. We may thank God for putting the desire into our hearts. But
still the cost ought to be counted. No doubt Christ's way to eternal
life is a way of pleasantness. But it is folly to shut our eyes to the fact
that His way is narrow, and the cross comes before the crown.
I. I have, first, to show what it costs to be a true Christian
Let there be no mistake about my meaning. I am not examining what
it costs to save a Christian's soul. I know well that it costs nothing
less than the blood of the Son of God to provide an atonement, and
to redeem man from hell. The price paid for our redemption was
nothing less than the death of Jesus Christ on Calvary. We "are
bought with a price." "Christ gave Himself a ransom for all." (1 Cor.
6:20; 1 Tim. 2:6.) But all this is wide of the question. The point I
want to consider is another one altogether. It is what a man must be
ready to give up if he wishes to be saved. It is the amount of sacrifice
a man must submit to if he intends to serve Christ. It is in this sense
that I raise the question, "What does it cost?" And I believe firmly
that it is a most important one.
I grant freely that it costs little to be a mere outward Christian. A
man has only got to attend a place of worship twice on Sunday, and
to be tolerably moral during the week, and he has gone as far as
thousands around him ever go in religion. All this is cheap and easy
work: it entails no self-denial or self-sacrifice. If this is saving
Christianity, and will take us to heaven when we die, we must alter
the description of the way of life, and write, "Wide is the gate and
broad is the way that leads to heaven!"
But it does cost something to be a real Christian, according to the
standard of the Bible. There are enemies to be overcome, battles to
be fought, sacrifices to be made, an Egypt to be forsaken, a
wilderness to be passed through, a cross to be carried, a race to be
run. Conversion is not putting a man in an arm-chair and taking him
easily to heaven. It is the beginning of a mighty conflict, in which it
costs much to win the victory. Hence arises the unspeakable
importance of "counting the cost."
Let me try to show precisely and particularly what it costs to be a
true Christian. Let us suppose that a man is disposed to take service
with Christ, and feels drawn and inclined to follow Him. Let us
suppose that some affliction, or some sudden death, or an awakening
sermon, has stirred his conscience, and made him feel the value of
his soul and desire to be a true Christian. No doubt there is
everything to encourage him. His sins may be freely forgiven,
however many and great. His heart may be completely changed,
however cold and hard. Christ and the Holy Spirit, mercy and grace,
are all ready for him. But still he should count the cost. Let us see
particularly, one by one, the things that his religion will cost him.
(1) For one thing, it will cost him his self-righteousness. He must cast
away all pride and high thoughts, and conceit of his own goodness.
He must be content to go to heaven as a poor sinner saved only by
free grace, and owing all to the merit and righteousness of another.
He must really feel as well as say the Prayer-book words,—that he
has "erred and gone astray like a lost sheep," that he has "left undone
the things he ought to have done, and done the things he ought not
to have done, and that there is no health in him." He must be willing
to give up all trust in his own morality, respectability, praying, Bible
reading, church-going, and sacrament-receiving, and to trust in
nothing but Jesus Christ.
Now this sounds hard to some. I do not wonder. "Sir," said a godly
ploughman to the well-known James Hervey, of Weston Favell, "it is
harder to deny proud self than sinful self. But it is absolutely
necessary." Let us set down this item first and foremost in our
account. To be a true Christian it will cost a man his self
righteousness.
(2) For another thing, it will cost a man his sins. He must be willing
to give up every habit and practice which is wrong in God's sight. He
must set his face against it, quarrel with it, break off from it, fight
with it, crucify it, and labour to keep it under, whatever the world
around him may say or think. He must do this honestly and fairly.
There must be no separate truce with any special sin which he loves.
He must count all sins as his deadly enemies, and hate every false
way. Whether little or great, whether open or secret, all his sins must
be thoroughly renounced. They may struggle hard with him every
day, and sometimes almost get the mastery over him. But he must
never give way to them. He must keep up a perpetual war with his
sins.
It is written,—"Cast away from you all your transgressions."
—"Break off thy sins and iniquities."—"Cease to do
evil."—(Ezek. 18:31; Daniel 4:27; Isa. 1:16.)
This also sounds hard. I do not wonder. Our sins are often as dear to
us as our children: we love them, hug them, cleave to them, and
delight in them. To part with them is as hard as cutting off a right
hand, or plucking out a right eye. But it must be done. The parting
must come. "Though wickedness be sweet in the sinner's mouth,
though he hide it under his tongue; though he spare it, and forsake it
not," yet it must be given up, if he wishes to be saved. (Job 20:12, 13.)
He and sin must quarrel, if he and God are to be friends. Christ is
willing to receive any sinners. But He will not receive them if they
will stick to their sins. Let us set down that item second in our
account. To be a Christian it will cost a man his sins.
(3) For another thing, it will cost a man his love of ease. He must
take pains and trouble, if he means to run a successful race towards
heaven. He must daily watch and stand on his guard, like a soldier on
enemy's ground. He must take heed to his behaviour every hour of
the day, in every company, and in every place, in public as well as in
private, among strangers as well as at home. He must be careful over
his time, his tongue, his temper, his thoughts, his imagination, his
motives, his conduct in every relation of life. He must be diligent
about his prayers, his Bible-reading, and his use of Sundays, with all
their means of grace. In attending to these things he may come far
short of perfection; but there is none of them that he can safely
neglect. "The soul of the sluggard desireth, and hath nothing: but the
soul of the diligent shall be made fat." (Prov. 13:4.)
This also sounds hard. There is nothing we naturally dislike so much
as "trouble" about our religion. We hate trouble. We secretly wish we
could have a "vicarious" Christianity, and could be good by proxy,
and have everything done for us. Anything that requires exertion and
labour is entirely against the grain of our hearts. But the soul can
have "no gains without pains." Let us set down that item third in our
account. To be a Christian it will cost a man his love of ease.
(4) In the last place, it will cost a man the favour of the world. He
must be content to be thought ill of by man if he pleases God. He
must count it no strange thing to be mocked, ridiculed, slandered,
persecuted, and even hated. He must not be surprised to find his
opinions and practices in religion despised and held up to scorn. He
must submit to be thought by many a fool, an enthusiast, and a
fanatic,—to have his words perverted and his actions
misrepresented. In fact, he must not marvel if some call him mad.
The Master says,—"Remember the word that I said unto you, The
servant is not greater than his Lord. If they have persecuted Me, they
will also persecute you; if they have kept my saying, they will keep
yours also." (John 15:20.)
I dare say this also sounds hard. We naturally dislike unjust dealing
and false charges, and think it very hard to be accused without cause.
We should not be flesh and blood if we did not wish to have the good
opinion of our neighbours. It is always unpleasant to be spoken
against, and forsaken, and lied about, and to stand alone. But there is
no help for it. The cup which our Master drank must be drunk by His
disciples. They must be "despised and rejected of men." (Isa. 53:3.)
Let us set down that item last in our account. To be a Christian it will
cost a man the favour of the world.
Such is the account of what it costs to be a true Christian. I grant the
list is a heavy one. But where is the item that could be removed? Bold
indeed must that man be who would dare to say that we may keep
our self-righteousness, our sins, our laziness, and our love of the
world, and yet be saved!
I grant it costs much to be a true Christian. But who in his sound
senses can doubt that it is worth any cost to have the soul saved?
When the ship is in danger of sinking, the crew think nothing of
casting overboard the precious cargo. When a limb is mortified, a
man will submit to any severe operation, and even to amputation, to
save life. Surely a Christian should be willing to give up anything
which stands between him and heaven. A religion that costs nothing
is worth nothing! A cheap Christianity, without a cross, will prove in
the end a useless Christianity, without a crown.
II. I have now, in the second place, to explain why "counting the
cost" is of such great importance to man's soul
I might easily settle this question by laying down the principle, that
no duty enjoined by Christ can ever be neglected without damage. I
might show how many shut their eyes throughout life to the nature of
saving religion, and refuse to consider what it really costs to be a
Christian. I might describe how at last, when life is ebbing away, they
wake up, and make a few spasmodic efforts to turn to God. I might
tell you how they find to their amazement, that repentance and
conversion are no such easy matters as they had supposed, and that
it costs "a great sum" to be a true Christian. They discover that habits
of pride, and sinful indulgence, and love of ease, and worldliness, are
not so easily laid aside as they had dreamed. And so, after a faint
struggle, they give up in despair, and leave the world hopeless,
graceless, and unfit to meet God! They had flattered themselves all
their days, that religion would be easy work when they once took it
up seriously. But they open their eyes too late, and discover for the
first time, that they are ruined because they never "counted the cost."
But there is one class of persons to whom especially I wish to address
myself in handling this part of my subject. It is a large class,—an
increasing class,—and a class which in these days is in peculiar
danger. Let me in a few plain words try to describe this class. It
deserves our best attention.
The persons I speak of are not thoughtless about religion: they think
a good deal about it. They are not ignorant of religion: they know the
outlines of it pretty well. But their great defect is that they are not
"rooted and grounded" in their faith. Too often they have picked up
their knowledge second hand, from being in religious families, or
from being trained in religious ways, but have never worked it out by
their own inward experience. Too often they have hastily taken up a
profession of religion under the pressure of circumstances, from
sentimental feelings, from animal excitement, or from a vague desire
to do like others around them, but without any solid work of grace in
their hearts. Persons like these are in a position of immense danger.
They are precisely those, if Bible examples are worth anything, who
need to be exhorted "to count the cost."
For want of "counting the cost" myriads of the children of Israel
perished miserably in the wilderness between Egypt and Canaan.
They left Egypt full of zeal and fervour, as if nothing could stop them.
But when they found dangers and difficulties in the way, their
courage soon cooled down. They had never reckoned on trouble.
They had thought the promised land would be all before them in a
few days. And so, when enemies, privations, hunger, and thirst began
to try them, they murmured against Moses and God, and would fain
have gone back to Egypt. In a word, they had "not counted the cost,"
and so lost everything, and died in their sins.
For want of "counting the cost," many of our Lord Jesus Christ's
hearers went back after a time, and "walked no more with Him."
(John 6:66.) When they first saw His miracles, and heard His
preaching, they thought "the kingdom of God would immediately
appear." They cast in their lot with His Apostles, and followed Him
without thinking of the consequences. But when they found that
there were hard doctrines to be believed, and hard work to be done,
and hard treatment to be borne, their faith gave way entirely, and
proved to be nothing at all. In a word, they had not "counted the
cost," and so made shipwreck of their profession.
For want of "counting the cost," King Herod returned to his old sins,
and destroyed his soul. He liked to hear John the Baptist preach. He
"observed" and honoured him as a just and holy man. He even "did
many things" which were right and good. But when he found that he
must give up his darling Herodias, his religion entirely broke down.
He had not reckoned on this. "He had not counted the cost." (Mark
6:20.)
For want of "counting the cost," Demas forsook the company of St.
Paul, forsook the Gospel, forsook Christ, forsook heaven. For a long
time he journeyed with the great Apostle of the Gentiles, and was
actually a "fellow-labourer." But when he found he could not have
the friendship of this world as well as the friendship of God, he gave
up his Christianity and clave to the world. "Demas hath forsaken
me," says St. Paul, "having loved this present world." (2 Tim. 4:10.)
He had not "counted the cost."
For want of "counting the cost," the hearers of powerful Evangelical
preachers often come to miserable ends. They are stirred and excited
into professing what they have not really experienced. They receive
the Word with a "joy" so extravagant that it almost startles old
Christians. They run for a time with such zeal and fervour that they
seem likely to outstrip all others. They talk and work for spiritual
objects with such enthusiasm that they make older believers feel
ashamed. But when the novelty and freshness of their feelings is
gone, a change comes over them. They prove to have been nothing
more than stony-ground hearers. The description the great Master
gives in the Parable of the Sower is exactly exemplified. "Temptation
or persecution arises because of the Word, and they are offended."
(Matt. 13:21.) Little by little their zeal melts away, and their love
becomes cold. By and by their seats are empty in the assembly of
God's people, and they are heard of no more among Christians. And
why? They had "never counted the cost."
For want of "counting the cost," hundreds of professed converts,
under religious revivals, go back to the world after a time, and bring
disgrace on religion. They begin with a sadly mistaken notion of what
is true Christianity. They fancy it consists in nothing more than a so
called "coming to Christ," and having strong inward feelings of joy
and peace. And so, when they find, after a time, that there is a cross
to be carried, that our hearts are deceitful, and that there is a busy
devil always near us, they cool down in disgust, and return to their
old sins. And why? Because they had really never known what Bible
Christianity is. They had never learned that we must "count the
cost."*
For want of "counting the cost," the children of religious parents
often turn out ill, and bring disgrace on Christianity. Familiar from
their earliest years with the form and theory of the Gospel,—taught
even from infancy to repeat great leading texts,—accustomed every
week to be instructed in the Gospel, or to instruct others in Sunday
schools,—they often grow up professing a religion without knowing
why, or without ever having thought seriously about it. And then
when the realities of grown-up life begin to press upon them, they
often astound every one by dropping all their religion, and plunging
right into the world. And why? They had never thoroughly
understood the sacrifices which Christianity entails. They had never
been taught to "count the cost."
These are solemn and painful truths. But they are truths. They all
help to show the immense importance of the subject I am now
considering. They all point out the absolute necessity of pressing the
subject of this paper on all who profess a desire for holiness, and of
crying aloud in all the churches—"Count the cost."
I am bold to say that it would be well if the duty of "counting the
cost" were more frequently taught than it is. Impatient hurry is the
order of the day with many religionists. Instantaneous conversions,
and immediate sensible peace, are the only results they seem to care
for from the Gospel. Compared with these all other things are thrown
into the shade. To produce them is the grand end and object,
apparently, of all their labors. I say without hesitation that such a
naked, one-sided mode of teaching Christianity is mischievous in the
extreme.
Let no one mistake my meaning. I thoroughly approve of offering
men a full, free, present, immediate salvation in Christ Jesus. I
thoroughly approve of urging on man the possibility and the duty of
immediate instantaneous conversion. In these matters I give place to
no one. But I do say that these truths ought not to be set before men
nakedly, singly, and alone. They ought to be told honestly what it is
they are taking up, if they profess a desire to come out from the
world and serve Christ. They ought not to be pressed into the ranks
of Christ's army without being told what the warfare entails. In a
word, they should be told honestly to "count the cost."
Does any one ask what our Lord Jesus Christ's practice was in this
matter? Let him read what St. Luke records. He tells us that on a
certain occasion "There went great multitudes with Him: and He
turned and said unto them, If any come to Me, and hate not his
father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters,
yea, and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple. And whosoever
doth not bear his cross and come after Me, cannot be my disciple."
(Luke 14:25–27. I must plainly say, that I cannot reconcile this
passage with the proceedings of many modern religious teachers.
And yet, to my mind, the doctrine of it is as clear as the sun at noon
day. It shows us that we ought not to hurry men into professing
discipleship, without warning them plainly to "count the cost."
Does any one ask what the practice of the eminent and best
preachers of the Gospel has been in days gone by? I am bold to say
that they have all with one mouth borne testimony to the wisdom of
our Lord's dealing with the multitudes to which I have just referred.
Luther, and Latimer, and Baxter, and Wesley, and Whitfield, and
Berridge, and Rowland Hill, were all keenly alive to the deceitfulness
of man's heart. They knew full well that all is not gold that glitters,
that conviction is not conversion, that feeling is not faith, that
sentiment is not grace, that all blossoms do not come to fruit. "Be not
deceived," was their constant cry. "Consider well what you do. Do not
run before you are called. Count the cost."
If we desire to do good, let us never be ashamed of walking in the
steps of our Lord Jesus Christ. Work hard if you will, and have the
opportunity, for the souls of others. Press them to consider their
ways. Compel them with holy violence to come in, to lay down their
arms, and to yield themselves to God. Offer them salvation, ready,
free, full, immediate salvation. Press Christ and all His benefits on
their acceptance. But in all your work tell the truth, and the whole
truth. Be ashamed to use the vulgar arts of a recruiting sergeant. Do
not speak only of the uniform, the pay, and the glory; speak also of
the enemies, the battle, the armor, the watching, the marching, and
the drill. Do not present only one side of Christianity. Do not keep
back "the cross" of self-denial that must be carried, when you speak
of the cross on which Christ died for our redemption. Explain fully
what Christianity entails. Entreat men to repent and come to Christ;
but bid them at the same time to "count the cost."
III. The third and last thing which I proposed to do, is to give some
hints which may help men to "count the cost" rightly
Sorry indeed should I be if I did not say something on this branch of
my subject. I have no wish to discourage any one, or to keep any one
back from Christ's service. It is my heart's desire to encourage every
one to go forward and take up the cross. Let us "count the cost" by all
means, and count it carefully. But let us remember, that if we count
rightly, and look on all sides, there is nothing that need make us
afraid.
Let me mention some things which should always enter into our
calculations in counting the cost of true Christianity. Set down
honestly and fairly what you will have to give up and go through, if
you become Christ's disciple. Leave nothing out. Put it all down. But
then set down side by side the following sums which I am going to
give you. Do this fairly and correctly, and I am not afraid for the
result.
(a) Count up and compare, for one thing, the profit and the loss, if
you are a true-hearted and holy Christian. You may possibly lose
something in this world, but you will gain the salvation of your
immortal soul. It is written,—"What shall it profit a man, if he shall
gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?" (Mark 8:36.)
(b) Count up and compare, for another thing, the praise and the
blame, if you are a true-hearted and holy Christian. You may possibly
be blamed by man, but you will have the praise of God the Father,
God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost. Your blame will come from
the lips of a few erring, blind, fallible men and women. Your praise
will come from the King of kings and Judge of all the earth. It is only
those whom He blesses who are really blessed. It is written,
—"Blessed are ye when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and
say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake. Rejoice and be
exceeding glad, for great is your reward in heaven." (Matt. 5:11, 12.)
(c) Count up and compare, for another thing, the friends and the
enemies, if you are a true-hearted and holy Christian. On the one
side of you is the enmity of the devil and the wicked. On the other,
you have the favour and friendship of the Lord Jesus Christ. Your
enemies, at most, can only bruise your heel. They may rage loudly,
and compass sea and land to work your ruin; but they cannot destroy
you. Your Friend is able to save to the uttermost all them that come
unto God by Him. None shall ever pluck His sheep out of His hand.
It is written,—"Be not afraid of them that kill the body, and after that
have no more that they can do. But I will forewarn you whom ye shall
fear: Fear Him, which after He hath killed hath power to cast into
hell; yea, I say unto you, fear Him." (Luke 12:5.)
(d) Count up and compare, for another thing, the life that now is and
the life to come, if you are a true-hearted and holy Christian. The
time present, no doubt, is not a time of ease. It is a time of watching
and praying, fighting and struggling, believing and working. But it is
only for a few years. The time future is the season of rest and
refreshing. Sin shall be cast out. Satan shall be bound. And, best of
all, it shall be a rest for ever. It is written,—"Our light affliction,
which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and
eternal weight of glory; while we look not at the things which are
seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are
seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal." (2
Cor. 4:17, 18.)
(e) Count up and compare, for another thing, the pleasures of sin and
the happiness of God's service, if you are a true-hearted and holy
Christian. The pleasures that the worldly man gets by his ways are
hollow, unreal, and unsatisfying. They are like the fire of thorns,
flashing and crackling for a few minutes, and then quenched for ever.
The happiness that Christ gives to His people is something solid,
lasting, and substantial. It is not dependent on health or
circumstances. It never leaves a man, even in death. It ends in a
crown of glory that fadeth not away. It is written,—"The joy of the
hypocrite is but for a moment."—"As the crackling of thorns under a
pot, so is the laughter of the fool." (Job 20:5; Eccl. 7:6.) But it is also
written,—"Peace I leave with you, my peace give I unto you: not as
the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled,
neither let it be afraid." (John 14:27.)
(f) Count up and compare, for another thing, the trouble that true
Christianity entails, and the troubles that are in store for the wicked
beyond the grave. Grant for a moment that Bible-reading, and
praying, and repenting, and believing, and holy living, require pains
and self-denial. It is all nothing compared to that "wrath to come"
which is stored up for the impenitent and unbelieving. A single day
in hell will be worse than a whole life spent in carrying the cross. The
"worm that never dies, and the fire that is not quenched," are things
which it passes man's power to conceive fully or describe. It is
written,—"Son, remember that thou in thy life-time receives thy
good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things; but now he is
comforted and thou art tormented." (Luke 16:25.)
(g) Count up and compare, in the last place, the number of those who
turn from sin and the world and serve Christ, and the number of
those who forsake Christ and return to the world. On the one side
you will find thousands;—on the other you will find none. Multitudes
are every year turning out of the broad way and entering the narrow.
None who really enter the narrow way grow tired of it and return to
the broad. The footsteps in the downward road are often to be seen
turning out of it. The footsteps in the road to heaven are all one way.
It is written,—"The way of the wicked is darkness."—"The way of
transgressors is hard." (Prov. 4:19; 13:15.) But it is also written,
—"The path of the just is as the shining light, which shineth more
and more unto the perfect day." (Prov. 4:18.)
Such sums as these, no doubt, are often not done correctly. Not a
few, I am well aware, are ever "halting between two opinions." They
cannot make up their minds that it is worth while to serve Christ.
The losses and gains, the advantages and disadvantages, the sorrows
and the joys, the helps and the hindrances appear to them so nearly
balanced that they cannot decide for God. They cannot do this great
sum correctly. They cannot make the result so clear as it ought to be.
They do not count right.
But what is the secret of their mistakes? It is want of faith. To come
to a right conclusion about our souls, we must have some of that
mighty principle which St. Paul describes in the 11th chapter of his
Epistle to the Hebrews. Let me try to show how that principle
operates in the great business of "counting the cost."
How was it that Noah persevered in building the ark? He stood alone
amidst a world of sinners and unbelievers. He had to endure scorn,
ridicule, and mockery. What was it that nerved his arm, and made
him patiently work on and face it all? It was faith. He believed in a
wrath to come. He believed that there was no safety, excepting in the
ark that he was preparing. Believing, he held the world's opinion very
cheap. He "counted the cost" by faith, and had no doubt that to build
the ark was gain.
How was it that Moses forsook the pleasures of Pharaoh's house, and
refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter? How was it that
he cast in his lot with a despised people like the Hebrews, and risked
everything in this world in carrying out the great work of their
deliverance from bondage? To the eye of sense he was losing
everything and gaining nothing. What was it that moved him? It was
faith. He believed that there was One far above Pharaoh, who would
carry him safe through all his undertaking. He believed that the
"recompense of reward" was far better than all the honours of Egypt.
He "counted the cost" by faith, as "seeing Him that is invisible," and
was persuaded that to forsake Egypt and go forth into the wilderness
was gain.
How was it that Saul the Pharisee could ever make up his mind to
become a Christian? The cost and sacrifices of the change were
fearfully great. He gave up all his brilliant prospects among his own
people. He brought on himself instead of man's favour, man's hatred,
man's enmity, and man's persecution, even unto death. What was it
that enabled him to face it all? It was faith. He believed that Jesus,
who met him on the way to Damascus, could give him a hundredfold
more than He gave up, and in the world to come everlasting life. By
faith he "counted the cost," and saw clearly on which side the balance
lay. He believed firmly that to carry the cross of Christ was gain.
Let us mark well these things. That faith which made Noah, Moses,
and St. Paul do what they did, that faith is the great secret of coming
to a right conclusion about our souls. That same faith must be our
helper and ready-reckoner, when we sit down to count the cost of
being a true Christian. That same faith is to be had for the asking.
"He giveth more grace." (James 4:6.) Armed with that faith we shall
set things down at their true value. Filled with that faith we shall
neither add to the cross nor substract from the crown. Our
conclusions will be all correct. Our sum total will be without error.
(1) In conclusion, let every reader of this paper think seriously,
whether his religion costs him anything at present. Very likely it
costs you nothing. Very probably it neither costs you trouble, nor
time, nor thought, nor care, nor pains, nor reading, nor praying, nor
self-denial, nor conflict, nor working, nor labour of any kind. Now
mark what I say. Such a religion as this will never save your soul. It
will never give you peace while you live, nor hope while you die. It
will not support you in the day of affliction, nor cheer you in the hour
of death. A religion which costs nothing is worth nothing. Awake
before it is too late. Awake and repent. Awake and be converted.
Awake and believe. Awake and pray. Rest not till you can give a
satisfactory answer to my question, "What does it cost?"
(2) Think, if you want stirring motives for serving God, what it cost
to provide a salvation for your soul. Think how the Son of God left
heaven and became Man, suffered on the cross, and lay in the grave,
to pay your debt to God, and work out for you a complete
redemption. Think of all this and learn that it is no light matter to
possess an immortal soul. It is worth while to take some trouble
about one's soul.
Ah, lazy man or woman, is it really come to this, that you will miss
heaven for lack of trouble? Are you really determined to make
shipwreck for ever, from mere dislike to exertion? Away with the
cowardly, unworthy thought. Arise and play the man. Say to yourself,
"Whatever it may cost, I will, at any rate, strive to enter in at the
strait gate." Look at the cross of Christ, and take fresh courage. Look
forward to death, judgment, and eternity, and be in earnest. It may
cost much to be a Christian, but you may be sure it pays.
(3) If any reader of this paper really feels that he has counted the
cost, and taken up the cross, I bid him persevere and press on. I dare
say you often feel your heart faint, and are sorely tempted to give up
in despair. Your enemies seem so many, your besetting sins so
strong, your friends so few, the way so steep and narrow, you hardly
know what to do. But still I say, persevere and press on.
The time is very short. A few more years of watching and praying, a
few more tossings on the sea of this world, a few more deaths and
changes, a few more winters and summers, and all will be over. We
shall have fought our last battle, and shall need to fight no more.
The presence and company of Christ will make amends for all we
suffer here below. When we see as we have been seen, and look back
on the journey of life, we shall wonder at our own faintness of heart.
We shall marvel that we made so much of our cross, and thought so
little of our crown. We shall marvel that in "counting the cost" we
could ever doubt on which side the balance of profit lay. Let us take
courage. We are not far from home. IT MAY COST MUCH TO BE A
TRUE CHRISTIAN AND A CONSISTENT HOLY MAN; BUT IT
PAYS
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Post by Admin on Jan 18, 2024 14:01:01 GMT -5
VI. GROWTH
"Grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour
Jesus Christ."—2 PETER 3:18
THE subject of the text which heads this page is one which I dare not
omit in this volume about Holiness. It is one that ought to be deeply
interesting to every true Christian. It naturally raises the questions,
Do we grow in grace? Do we get on in our religion? Do we make
progress?
To a mere formal Christian I cannot expect the inquiry to seem worth
attention. The man who has nothing more than a kind of Sunday
religion,—whose Christianity is like his Sunday clothes, put on once a
week, and then laid aside,—such a man cannot, of course, be
expected to care about "growth in grace." He knows nothing about
such matters. "They are foolishness to him." (1 Cor. 2:14.) But to
every one who is in downright earnest about his soul, and hungers
and thirsts after spiritual life, the question ought to come home with
searching power. Do we make progress in our religion? Do we grow?
The question is one that is always useful, but especially so at certain
seasons. A Saturday night, a Communion Sunday, the return of a
birthday, the end of a year,—all these are seasons that ought to set us
thinking, and make us look within. Time is fast flying. Life is fast
ebbing away. The hour is daily drawing nearer when the reality of
our Christianity will be tested, and it will be seen whether we have
built on "the rock" or on "the sand." Surely it becomes us from time
to time to examine ourselves, and take account of our souls? Do we
get on in spiritual things? Do we grow?
The question is one that is of special importance in the present day.
Crude and strange opinions are floating in men's minds on some
points of doctrine, and among others on the point of "growth in
grace," as an essential part of true holiness. By some it is totally
denied. By others it is explained away, and pared down to nothing.
By thousands it is misunderstood, and consequently neglected. In a
day like this it is useful to look fairly in the face the whole subject of
Christian growth.
In considering this subject there are three things which I wish to
bring forward and establish:—
I. The reality of religious growth. There is such a thing as "growth in
grace."
II. The marks of religious growth. There are marks by which "growth
in grace" may be known.
III. The means of religious growth. There are means that must be
used by those who desire "growth in grace."
I know not who you are, into whose hands this paper may have
fallen. But I am not ashamed to ask your best attention to its
contents. Believe me, the subject is no mere matter of speculation
and controversy. It is an eminently practical subject, if any is in
religion. It is intimately and inseparably connected with the whole
question of "sanctification." It is a leading mark of true saints that
they grow. The spiritual health and prosperity, the spiritual
happiness and comfort of every true-hearted and holy Christian, are
intimately connected with the subject of spiritual growth.
I. The first point I propose to establish is this: There is such a thing
as growth in grace
That any Christian should deny this proposition, is at first sight a
strange and melancholy thing. But it is fair to remember that man's
understanding is fallen no less than his will. Disagreements about
doctrines are often nothing more than disagreements about the
meaning of words. I try to hope that it is so in the present case. I try
to believe that when I speak of "growth in grace" and maintain it, I
mean one thing, while my brethren who deny it mean quite another.
Let me therefore clear the way by explaining what I mean.
When I speak of "growth in grace," I do not for a moment mean that
a believer's interest in Christ can grow. I do not mean that he can
grow in safety, acceptance with God, or security. I do not mean that
he can ever be more justified, more pardoned, more forgiven, more
at peace with God, than he is the first moment that he believes. I
hold firmly that the justification of a believer is a finished, perfect,
and complete work; and that the weakest saint, though he may not
know and feel it, is as completely justified as the strongest. I hold
firmly that our election, calling, and standing in Christ admit of no
degrees, increase, or diminution. If any one dreams that by "growth
in grace" I mean growth in justification, he is utterly wide of the
mark, and utterly mistaken about the whole point I am considering. I
would go to the stake, God helping me, for the glorious truth, that in
the matter of justification before God every believer is "complete in
Christ." (Col. 2:10.) Nothing can be added to his justification from
the moment he believes, and nothing taken away.
When I speak of "growth in grace" I only mean increase in the
degree, size, strength, vigour, and power of the graces which the Holy
Spirit plants in a believer's heart. I hold that every one of those
graces admits of growth, progress, and increase. I hold that
repentance, faith, hope, love, humility, zeal, courage, and the like,
may be little or great, strong or weak, vigorous or feeble, and may
vary greatly in the same man at different periods of his life. When I
speak of a man "growing in grace," I mean simply this,—that his
sense of sin is becoming deeper, his faith stronger, his hope brighter,
his love more extensive, his spiritual-mindedness more marked. He
feels more of the power of godliness in his own heart. He manifests
more of it in his life. He is going on from strength to strength, from
faith to faith, and from grace to grace. I leave it to others to describe
such a man's condition by any words they please. For myself I think
the truest and best account of him is this,—he is "growing in grace."
One principal ground on which I build this doctrine of "growth in
grace," is the plain language of Scripture. If words in the Bible mean
anything, there is such a thing as "growth," and believers ought to be
exhorted to "grow."—What says St. Paul? "Your faith groweth
exceedingly." (2 Thess. 1:3.) "We beseech you that ye increase more
and more." (1 Thess. 4:10.) "Increasing in the knowledge of God."
(Col. 1:10.) "Having hope, when your faith is increased." (2 Cor.
10:15.) "The Lord make you to increase in love." (1 Thess. 3:12.)
"That ye may grow up into Him in all things." (Eph. 4:15.) "I pray
that your love may abound more and more." (Phil. 1:9.) "We beseech
you, as ye have received of us how ye ought to walk and to please
God, so ye would abound more and more." (1 Thess. 4:1.)—What says
St. Peter? "Desire the sincere milk of the Word, that ye may grow
thereby." (1 Pet. 2:2.) "Grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our
Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ." (2 Pet. 3:18.) I know not what others
think of such texts. To me they seem to establish the doctrine for
which I contend, and to be incapable of any other explanation.
Growth in grace is taught in the Bible. I might stop here and say no
more.
The other ground, however, on which I build the doctrine of "growth
in grace," is the ground of fact and experience. I ask any honest
reader of the New Testament, whether he cannot see degrees of grace
in the New Testament saints whose histories are recorded, as plainly
as the sun at noon-day?—I ask him whether he cannot see in the very
same persons as great a difference between their faith and
knowledge at one time and at another, as between the same man's
strength when he is an infant and when he is a grown-up man?—I
ask him whether the Scripture does not distinctly recognise this in
the language it uses, when it speaks of "weak" faith and "strong"
faith, and of Christians as "new-born babes," "little children," "young
men," and "fathers"? (1 Pet. 2:2; 1 John 2:12–14.) I ask him, above
all, whether his own observation of believers, now-a-days, does not
bring him to the same conclusion?—What true Christian would not
confess that there is as much difference between the degree of his
own faith and knowledge when he was first converted, and his
present attainments, as there is between a sapling and a full-grown
tree? His graces are the same in principle: but they have grown. I
know not how these facts strike others: to my eyes they seem to
prove, most unanswerably, that "growth in grace" is a real thing.
I feel almost ashamed to dwell so long upon this part of my subject.
In fact, if any man means to say that the faith, and hope, and
knowledge, and holiness of a newly-converted person, are as strong
as those of an old-established believer, and need no increase, it is
waste of time to argue further. No doubt they are as real, but not so
strong,—as true, but not so vigorous,—as much seeds of the Spirit's
planting, but not yet so fruitful. And if any one asks how they are to
become stronger, I say it must be by the same process by which all
things having life increase,—they must grow. And this is what I mean
by "growth in grace."*
Let us turn away from the things I have been discussing, to a more
practical view of the great subject before us. I want men to look at
"growth in grace" as a thing of infinite importance to the soul. I
believe whatever others may think, that our best interests are
concerned in a right view of the question,—Do we grow?
(a) Let us know then that "growth in grace" is the best evidence of
spiritual health and prosperity. In a child, or a flower, or a tree, we
are all aware that when there is no growth there is something wrong.
Healthy life in an animal or vegetable will always show itself by
progress and increase. It is just the same with our souls. If they are
progressing and doing well they will grow.†
(b) Let us know, furthermore, that "growth in grace" is one way to be
happy in our religion. God has wisely linked together our comfort
and our increase in holiness. He has graciously made it our interest
to press on and aim high in our Christianity. There is a vast
difference between the amount of sensible enjoyment which one
believer has in his religion compared to another. But you may be sure
that ordinarily the man who feels the most "joy and peace in
believing," and has the clearest witness of the Spirit in his heart, is
the man who grows.
(c) Let us know, furthermore, that "growth in grace" is one secret of
usefulness to others. Our influence on others for good depends
greatly on what they see in us. The children of the world measure
Christianity quite as much by their eyes as by their ears. The
Christian who is always at a standstill, to all appearance the same
man, with the same little faults, and weaknesses, and besetting sins,
and petty infirmities, is seldom the Christian who does much good.
The man who shakes and stirs minds, and sets the world thinking, is
the believer who is continually improving and going forward. Men
think there is life and reality when they see growth.*
(d) Let us know, furthermore, that "growth in grace" pleases God. It
may seem a wonderful thing, no doubt, that anything done by such
creatures as we are can give pleasure to the Most High God. But so it
is. The Scripture speaks of walking so as to "please God." The
Scripture says there are sacrifices with which "God is well-pleased."
(1 Thess. 4:1; Heb. 13:16.) The husbandman loves to see the plants on
which he has bestowed labour flourishing and bearing fruit. It cannot
but disappoint and grieve him to see them stunted and standing still.
Now what does our Lord Himself say? "I am the true vine, and my
Father is the husbandman."—"Herein is my Father glorified, that ye
bear much fruit; so shall ye be my disciples." (John 15:1, 8.) The Lord
takes pleasure in all His people,—but specially in those that grow.
(e) Let us know, above all, that "growth in grace" is not only a thing
possible, but a thing for which believers are accountable. To tell an
unconverted man, dead in sins, to "grow in grace" would doubtless
be absurd. To tell a believer, who is quickened and alive to God, to
grow, is only summoning him to a plain Scriptural duty. He has a
new principle within him, and it is a solemn duty not to quench it.
Neglect of growth robs him of privileges, grieves the Spirit, and
makes the chariot wheels of his soul move heavily. Whose fault is it, I
should like to know, if a believer does not grow in grace? The fault, I
am sure, cannot be laid on God. He delights to "give more grace;" He
"hath pleasure in the prosperity of His servants." (James 4:6; Psa.
35:27.) The fault, no doubt, is our own. We ourselves are to blame,
and none else, if we do not grow.
II. The second point I proposed to establish is this: There are marks
by which growth in grace may be known
Let me take it for granted that we do not question the reality of
growth in grace and its vast importance.—So far so good. But you
now want to know how any one may find out whether he is growing
in grace or not? I answer that question, in the first place, by
observing that we are very poor judges of our own condition, and
that bystanders often know us better than we know ourselves. But I
answer further, that there are undoubtedly certain great marks and
signs of growth in grace, and that wherever you see these marks you
see a "growing" soul. I will now proceed to place some of these marks
before you in order.
(a) One mark of "growth in grace" is increased humility. The man
whose soul is "growing," feels his own sinfulness and unworthiness
more every year. He is ready to say with Job, "I am vile,"—and with
Abraham, I am "dust and ashes,"—and with Jacob, "I am not worthy
of the least of all Thy mercies,"—and with David, "I am a worm,"—
and with Isaiah, "I am a man of unclean lips,"—and with Peter, "I am
a sinful man, O Lord." (Job 40:4; Gen. 18:27; 32:10; Ps. 22:6; Isa.
6:5; Luke 5:8.) The nearer he draws to God, and the more he sees of
God's holiness and perfections, the more thoroughly is he sensible of
his own countless imperfections. The further he journeys in the way
to heaven, the more he understands what St. Paul meant when he
says, "I am not already perfect,"—"I am not meet to be called an
Apostle,"—"I am less than the least of all saints,"—"I am chief of
sinners." (Phil. 3:12; 1 Cor. 15:9; Ephes. 3:8; 1 Tim. 1:15.) The riper
he is for glory, the more, like the ripe corn, he hangs down his head.
The brighter and clearer is his light, the more he sees of the
shortcomings and infirmities of his own heart. When first converted,
he would tell you he saw but little of them compared to what he sees
now. Would anyone know whether he is growing in grace? Be sure
that you look within for increased humility.*
(b) Another mark of "growth in grace" is increased faith and love
towards our Lord Jesus Christ. The man whose soul is "growing,"
finds more in Christ to rest upon every year, and rejoices more that
he has such a Saviour. No doubt he saw much in Him when first he
believed. His faith laid hold on the atonement of Christ and gave him
hope.—But as he grows in grace he sees a thousand things in Christ
of which at first he never dreamed. His love and power,—His heart
and His intentions,—His offices as Substitute, Intercessor, Priest,
Advocate, Physician, Shepherd, and Friend, unfold themselves to a
growing soul in an unspeakable manner. In short, he discovers a
suitableness in Christ to the wants of his soul, of which the half was
once not known to him. Would anyone know if he is growing in
grace? Then let him look within for increased knowledge of Christ.
(c) Another mark of "growth in grace" is increased holiness of life
and conversation. The man whose soul is "growing" gets more
dominion over sin, the world, and the devil every year. He becomes
more careful about his temper, his words, and his actions. He is more
watchful over his conduct in every relation of life. He strives more to
be conformed to the image of Christ in all things, and to follow Him
as his example, as well as to trust in Him as his Saviour. He is not
content with old attainments and former grace. He forgets the things
that are behind and reaches forth unto those things which are before,
making "Higher!" "Upward!" "Forward!" "Onward!" his continual
motto. (Phil. 3:13.) On earth he thirsts and longs to have a will more
entirely in unison with God's will. In heaven the chief thing that he
looks for, next to the presence of Christ, is complete separation from
all sin. Would anyone know if he is growing in grace? Then let him
look within for increased holiness.*
(d) Another mark of "growth in grace" is increased spirituality of
taste and mind. The man whose soul is "growing" takes more interest
in spiritual things every year. He does not neglect his duty in the
world. He discharges faithfully, diligently, and conscientiously every
relation of life, whether at home or abroad. But the things he loves
best are spiritual things. The ways, and fashions, and amusements,
and recreations of the world have a continually decreasing place in
his heart. He does not condemn them as downright sinful, nor say
that those who have anything to do with them are going to hell. He
only feels that they have a constantly diminishing hold on his own
affections, and gradually seem smaller and more trifling in his eyes.
Spiritual companions, spiritual occupations, spiritual conversation,
appear of ever-increasing value to him. Would anyone know if he is
growing in grace? Then let him look within for increasing spirituality
of taste.*
(e) Another mark of "growth in grace" is increase of charity. The man
whose soul is "growing" is more full of love every year,—of love to all
men, but especially of love towards the brethren. His love will show
itself actively in a growing disposition to do kindnesses, to take
trouble for others, to be good-natured to everybody, to be generous,
sympathizing, thoughtful, tender-hearted, and considerate. It will
show itself passively in a growing disposition to be meek and patient
toward all men, to put up with provocation and not stand upon
rights, to bear and forbear much rather than quarrel. A growing soul
will try to put the best construction on other people's conduct, and to
believe all things and hope all things, even to the end. There is no
surer mark of backsliding and falling off in grace than an increasing
disposition to find fault, pick holes, and see weak points in others.
Would any one know if he is growing in grace? Then let him look
within for increasing charity.
(f) One more mark of "growth in grace" is increased zeal and
diligence in trying to do good to souls. The man who is really
"growing" will take greater interest in the salvation of sinners every
year. Missions at home and abroad, efforts of every kind to spread
the Gospel, attempts of any sort to increase religious light and
diminish religious darkness,—all these things will every year have a
greater place in his attention. He will not become "weary in well
doing" because he does not see every effort succeed. He will not care
less for the progress of Christ's cause on earth as he grows older,
though he will learn to expect less. He will just work on, whatever the
result may be,—giving, praying, preaching, speaking, visiting,
according to his position,—and count his work its own reward. One
of the surest marks of spiritual decline is a decreased interest about
the souls of others and the growth of Christ's kingdom. Would any
one know whether he is growing in grace? Then let him look within
for increased concern about the salvation of souls.
Such are the most trustworthy marks of growth in grace. Let us
examine them carefully, and consider what we know about them. I
can well believe that they will not please some professing Christians
in the present day. Those high-flying religionists, whose only notion
of Christianity is that of a state of perpetual joy and ecstasy,—who
tell you that they have got far beyond the region of conflict and soul
humiliation,—such persons no doubt will regard the marks I have
laid down as "legal," "carnal," and "gendering to bondage." I cannot
help that. I call no man master in these things. I only wish my
statements to be tried in the balance of Scripture. And I firmly
believe that what I have said is not only Scriptural, but agreeable to
the experience of the most eminent saints in every age. Show me a
man in whom the six marks I have mentioned can be found. He is the
man who can give a satisfactory answer to the question, DO WE GROW?
III. The third and last thing I proposed to consider is this:—The
means that must be used by those who desire to grow in grace. The
words of St. James must never be forgotten: "Every good gift and
every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of
lights." (James 1:17.) This is no doubt as true of growth in grace, as it
is of everything else. It is the "gift of God." But still it must always be
kept in mind that God is pleased to work by means. God has
ordained means as well as ends. He that would grow in grace must
use the means of growth.*
This is a point, I fear, which is too much overlooked by believers.
Many admire growth in grace in others, and wish that they
themselves were like them. But they seem to suppose that those who
grow are what they are by some special gift or grant from God, and
that as this gift is not bestowed on themselves they must be content
to sit still. This is a grievous delusion, and one against which I desire
to testify with all my might. I wish it to be distinctly understood that
growth in grace is bound up with the use of means within the reach
of all believers, and that, as a general rule, growing souls are what
they are because they use these means.
Let me ask the special attention of my readers while I try to set forth
in order the means of growth. Cast away for ever the vain thought
that if a believer does not grow in grace it is not his fault. Settle it in
Your mind that a believer, a man quickened by the Spirit, is not a
mere dead creature, but a being of mighty capacities and
responsibilities. Let the words of Solomon sink down into your heart:
"The soul of the diligent shall be made fat." (Prov. 13:4.)
(a) One thing essential to growth in grace is diligence in the use of
private means of grace. By these I understand such means as a man
must use by himself alone, and no one can use for him. I include
under this head private prayer, private reading of the Scriptures, and
private meditation and self-examination. The man who does not take
pains about these three things must never expect to grow. Here are
the roots of true Christianity. Wrong here, a man is wrong all the way
through! Here is the whole reason why many professing Christians
never seem to get on. They are careless and slovenly about their
private prayers. They read their Bibles but little, and with very little
heartiness of spirit. They give themselves no time for self-inquiry and
quiet thought about the state of their souls.
It is useless to conceal from ourselves that the age we live in is full of
peculiar dangers. It is an age of great activity, and of much hurry,
bustle, and excitement in religion. Many are "running to and fro," no
doubt, and "knowledge is increased." (Dan. 12:4.) Thousands are
ready enough for public meetings, sermon-hearing, or anything else
in which there is "sensation." Few appear to remember the absolute
necessity of making time to "commune with our own hearts, and be
still." (Psalm 4:4.) But without this there is seldom any deep spiritual
prosperity. I suspect that English Christians two hundred years ago
read their Bibles more, and were more frequently alone with God,
than they are in the present day. Let us remember this point! Private
religion must receive our first attention, if we wish our souls to grow.
(b) Another thing which is essential to growth in grace, is carefulness
in the use of public means of grace. By these I understand such
means as a man has within his reach as a member of Christ's visible
Church. Under this head I include the ordinances of regular Sunday
worship, the uniting with God's people in common prayer and praise,
the preaching of the Word, and the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper. I
firmly believe that the manner in which these public means of grace
are used has much to say to the prosperity of a believer's soul. It is
easy to use them in a cold and heartless way. The very familiarity of
them is apt to make us careless. The regular return of the same voice,
and the same kind of words, and the same ceremonies, is likely to
make us sleepy, and callous, and unfeeling. Here is a snare into
which too many professing Christians fall. If we would grow we must
be on our guard here. Here is a matter in which the Spirit is often
grieved and saints take great damage. Let us strive to use the old
prayers, and sing the old hymns, and kneel at the old communion
rail, and hear the old truths preached, with as much freshness and
appetite as in the year we first believed. It is a sign of bad health
when a person loses relish for his food; and it is a sign of spiritual
decline when we lose our appetite for means of grace. Whatever we
do about public means, let us always do it "with our might." (Eccles.
9:10.) This is the way to grow!
(c) Another thing essential to growth in grace is watchfulness over
our conduct in the little matters of everyday life. Our tempers, our
tongues, the discharge of our several relations of life, our
employment of time,—each and all must be vigilantly attended to if
we wish our souls to prosper. Life is made up of days, and days of
hours, and the little things of every hour are never so little as to be
beneath the care of a Christian. When a tree begins to decay at root
or heart, the mischief is first seen at the extreme end of the little
branches. "He that despiseth little things," says an uninspired writer,
"shall fall by little and little." That witness is true. Let others despise
us, if they like, and call us precise and over-careful. Let us patiently
hold on our way, remembering that "we serve a precise God," that
our Lord's example is to be copied in the least things as well as the
greatest, and that we must "take up our cross daily" and hourly,
rather than sin. We must aim to have a Christianity which, like the
sap of a tree, runs through every twig and leaf of our character, and
sanctifies all. This is one way to grow!
(d) Another thing which is essential to growth in grace is caution
about the company we keep and the friendships we form. Nothing
perhaps affects man's character more than the company he keeps.
We catch the ways and tone of those we live and talk with, and
unhappily get harm far more easily than good. Disease is infectious,
but health is not. Now if a professing Christian deliberately chooses
to be intimate with those who are not friends of God and who cling to
the world, his soul is sure to take harm. It is hard enough to serve
Christ under any circumstances in such a world as this. But it is
doubly hard to do it if we are friends of the thoughtless and ungodly.
Mistakes in friendship or marriage-engagements are the whole
reason why some have entirely ceased to grow. "Evil communications
corrupt good manners." "The friendship of the world is enmity with
God." (1 Cor. 15:33; James 4:4.) Let us seek friends that will stir us
up about our prayers, our Bible-reading, and our employment of
time,—about our souls, our salvation, and a world to come. Who can
tell the good that a friend's word in season may do, or the harm that
it may stop? This is one way to grow.*
(e) There is one more thing which is absolutely essential to growth in
grace,—and that is regular and habitual communion with the Lord
Jesus. In saying this, let no one suppose for a minute that I am
referring to the Lord's Supper. I mean nothing of the kind. I mean
that daily habit of intercourse between the believer and his Saviour,
which can only be carried on by faith, prayer, and meditation. It is a
habit, I fear, of which many believers know little. A man may be a
believer and have his feet on the rock, and yet live far below his
privileges. It is possible to have "union" with Christ, and yet to have
little if any "communion" with Him. But, for all that, there is such a
thing.
The names and offices of Christ, as laid down in Scripture, appear to
me to show unmistakably that this "communion" between the saint
and his Saviour is not a mere fancy, but a real true thing. Between
the "Bridegroom" and his bride,—between the "Head" and His
members,—between the "Physician" and His patients,—between the
"Advocate" and His clients,—between the "Shepherd" and His sheep,
—between the "Master" and His scholars,—there is evidently implied
a habit of familiar intercourse, of daily application for things needed,
of daily pouring out and unburdening our hearts and minds. Such a
habit of dealing with Christ is clearly something more than a vague
general trust in the work that Christ did for sinners. It is getting close
to Him, and laying hold on Him with confidence, as a loving,
personal Friend. This is what I mean by communion.
Now I believe that no man will ever grow in grace who does not know
something experimentally of the habit of "communion." We must not
be content with a general orthodox knowledge that Christ is the
Mediator between God and man, and that justification is by faith and
not by works, and that we put our trust in Christ. We must go further
than this. We must seek to have personal intimacy with the Lord
Jesus, and to deal with Him as a man deals with a loving friend. We
must realize what it is to turn to Him first in every need, to talk to
Him about every difficulty, to consult Him about every step, to
spread before Him all our sorrows, to get Him to share in all our joys,
to do all as in His sight, and to go through every day leaning on and
looking to Him. This is the way that St. Paul lived: "The life which I
now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God." "To me to
live is Christ." (Gal. 2:20; Phil. 1:21.) It is ignorance of this way of
living that makes so many see no beauty in the book of Canticles. But
it is the man who lives in this way, who keeps up constant communion with Christ,
—this is the man, I say emphatically, whose soul will grow.
I leave the subject of growth in grace here. Far more might be said
about it, if time permitted. But I have said enough, I hope, to
convince my readers that the subject is one of vast importance.—Let
me wind up all with some practical applications.
(1) This paper may fall into the hands of some who know nothing
whatever about growth in grace. They have little or no concern about
religion. A little proper Sunday church-going or chapel-going makes
up the sum and substance of their Christianity. They are without
spiritual life, and of course they cannot at present grow. Are you one
of these people? If you are, you are in a pitiable condition.
Years are slipping away and time is flying. Graveyards are filling up
and families are thinning. Death and judgment are getting nearer to
us all. And yet you live like one asleep about your soul! What
madness! What folly! What suicide can be worse than this?
Awake before it be too late; awake, and arise from the dead, and live
to God. Turn to Him who is sitting at the right hand of God, to be
your Saviour and Friend. Turn to Christ, and cry mightily to Him
about your soul. There is yet hope! He that called Lazarus from the
grave is not changed. He that commanded the widow's son at Nain to
arise from his bier can do miracles yet for your soul. Seek Him at
once: seek Christ, if you would not be lost for ever. Do not stand still
talking, and meaning, and intending, and wishing, and hoping. Seek
Christ that you may live, and that living you may grow.
(2) This paper may fall into the hands of some who ought to know
something of growth in grace, but at present know nothing at all.
They have made little or no progress since they were first converted.
They seem to have "settled on their lees." (Zep. 1:12.) They go on
from year to year content with old grace, old experience, old
knowledge, old faith, old measure of attainment, old religious
expressions, old set phrases. Like the Gibeonites, their bread is
always mouldy, and their shoes are patched and clouted. They never
appear to get on. Are you one of these people? If you are, you are
living for below your privileges and responsibilities. It is high time to
examine yourself.
If you have reason to hope that you are a true believer and yet do not
grow in grace, there must be a fault, and a serious fault somewhere.
It cannot be the will of God that your soul should stand still. "He
giveth more grace." He "takes pleasure in the prosperity of His
servants." (James 4:6; Ps. 35:27.) It cannot be for your own
happiness or usefulness that your soul should stand still. Without
growth you will never rejoice in the Lord. (Phil. 4:4.) Without growth
you will never do good to others. Surely this want of growth is a
serious matter! It should raise in you great searchings of heart. There
must be some "secret thing." (Job 15:11.) There must be some cause.
Take the advice I give you. Resolve this very day that you will find
out the reason of your standstill condition. Probe with a faithful and
firm hand every corner of your soul. Search from one end of the
camp to the other, till you find out the Achan who is weakening your
hands. Begin with an application to the Lord Jesus Christ, the great
Physician of souls, and ask Him to heal the secret ailment within you,
whatever it may be. Begin as if you had never applied to Him before,
and ask for grace to cut off the right hand and pluck out the right eye.
But never, never be content, if your soul does not grow. For your
peace sake, for your usefulness sake, for the honor of your Maker's
cause, resolve to find out the reason why.
(3) This paper may fall into the hands of some who are really
growing in grace, but are not aware of it, and will not allow it. Their
very growth is the reason why they do not see their growth! Their
continual increase in humility prevents them feeling that they get
on.* Like Moses, when he came down from the mount from
communing with God, their faces shine. And yet, like Moses, they are
not aware of it. (Ex. 34:29.) Such Christians, I grant freely, are not
common. But here and there such are to be found. Like angels' visits,
they are few and far between. Happy is the neighborhood where
such growing Christians live! To meet them and see them and be in
their company, is like meeting and seeing a bit of "heaven upon earth."
Now what shall I say to such people? What can I say? What ought I
to say? Shall I bid them awake to a consciousness of their own
growth and be pleased with it? I will do nothing of the kind.—Shall I
tell them to plume themselves on their own attainments, and look at
their own superiority to others? God forbid! I will do nothing of the
kind.—To tell them such things would do them no good. To tell them
such things, above all, would be useless waste of time. If there is any
one feature about a growing soul which specially marks him, it is his
deep sense of his own unworthiness. He never sees anything to be
praised in himself. He only feels that he is an unprofitable servant
and the chief of sinners. It is the righteous, in the picture of the
judgment-day, who say, 'Lord, when saw we Thee an hungred, and
fed Thee?' (Matt. 25:37.) Extremes do indeed meet strangely
sometimes. The conscience-hardened sinner and the eminent saint
are in one respect singularly alike. Neither of them fully realizes his
own condition. The one does not see his own sin, nor the other his
own grace!
But shall I say nothing to growing Christians? Is there no word of
counsel I can address to them? The sum and substance of all that I
can say is to be found in two sentences: "Go forward!" "Go on!"
We can never have too much humility, too much faith in Christ, too
much holiness, too much spirituality of mind, too much charity, too
much zeal in doing good to others.
Then let us be continually
forgetting the things behind, and reaching forth unto the things
before. (Phil. 3:13.) The best of Christians in these matters is
infinitely below the perfect pattern of his Lord. Whatever the world
may please to say, we may be sure there is no danger of any of us
becoming "too good."
Let us cast to the winds as idle talk the common notion that it is
possible to be "extreme" and go "too far" in religion. This is a
favourite lie of the devil, and one which he circulates with vast
industry. No doubt there are enthusiasts and fanatics to be found
who bring an evil report upon Christianity by their extravagancies
and follies. But if any one means to say that a mortal man can be too
humble, too charitable, too holy, or too diligent in doing good, he
must either be an infidel or a fool. In serving pleasure and money it
is easy to go too far. But in following the things which make up true
religion, and in serving Christ there can be no extreme.
Let us never measure our religion by that of others, and think we are
doing enough if we have gone beyond our neighbors. This is
another snare of the devil.
Let us mind our own business. "What is
that to thee?" said our Master on a certain occasion: "Follow thou Me." (John 21:22.)
Let us follow on, aiming at nothing short of
perfection. Let us follow on, making Christ's life and character our only pattern and example.
Let us follow on, remembering daily that at our best we are miserable sinners.
Let us follow on, and never forget that it signifies nothing whether we are better than others or
not. At our very best we are far worse than we ought to be. There will
always be room for improvement in us. We shall be debtors to
Christ's mercy and grace to the very last.
Then let us leave off looking at others and comparing ourselves with others.
We shall find enough to do if we look at our own hearts.
Last, but not least, if we know anything of growth in grace, and
desire to know more, let us not be surprised if we have to go through
much trial and affliction in this world. I firmly believe it is the
experience of nearly all the most eminent saints. Like their blessed
Master they have been "men of sorrows, acquainted with grief," and
"perfected through sufferings." (Isa. 53:3; Heb. 2:10.) It is a striking
saying of our Lord, "Every branch in Me that beareth fruit, my Father
purgeth it, that it may bring forth more fruit." (John 15:2.) It is a
melancholy fact, that constant temporal prosperity, as a general rule,
is injurious to a believer's soul. We cannot stand it. Sicknesses, and
losses, and crosses, and anxieties, and disappointments seem
absolutely needful to keep us humble, watchful, and spiritual
minded. They are as needful as the pruning knife to the vine, and the
refiner's furnace to the gold. They are not pleasant to flesh and
blood. We do not like them, and often do not see their meaning. "No
chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous:
nevertheless, afterward, it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of
righteousness." (Heb. 12:11.) We shall find that all worked for our
good when we reach heaven.
Let these thoughts abide in our minds,
if we love growth in grace. When days of darkness come upon us, let
us not count it a strange thing. Rather let us remember that lessons
are learned on such days, which would never have been learned in
sunshine.
Let us say to ourselves, "This also is for my profit, that I
may be a partaker of God's holiness. It is sent in love. I am in God's
best school. Correction is instruction. This is meant to make me
grow."
I leave the subject of growth in grace here. I trust I have said enough
to set some readers thinking about it. All things are growing older:
the world is growing old; we ourselves are growing older. A few more
summers, a few more winters, a few more sicknesses, a few more
sorrows, a few more weddings, a few more funerals, a few more
meetings, and a few more partings, and then,—what? Why the grass
will be growing over our graves!
Now would it not be well to look within, and put to our souls a simple
question? In religion, in the things that concern our peace, in the
great matter of personal holiness, are we getting on? DO WE GROW?
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Post by Admin on Jan 18, 2024 14:16:28 GMT -5
VII."ASSURANCE"
"I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at
hand."
"I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have
kept the faith:"
"Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness,
which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at that day:
and not to me only, but unto all them also that love His
appearing."—2 TIM. 4:6, 7, 8.
IN the words of Scripture which head this page, we see the Apostle
Paul looking three ways,—downward, backward, forward;—
downward to the grave,—backward to his own ministry,—forward to
that great day, the day of judgment!
It will do us good to stand by the Apostle's side a few minutes, and
mark the words he uses. Happy is that soul who can look where Paul
looked, and then speak as Paul spoke!
(a) He looks downward to the grave, and he does it without fear.
Hear what he says:—
"I am ready to be offered."—I am like an animal brought to the place
of sacrifice, and bound with cords to the very horns of the altar. The
drink-offering, which generally accompanies the oblation, is already
being poured out. The last ceremonies have been gone through.
Every preparation has been made. It only remains to receive the
death-blow, and then all is over.
"The time of my departure is at hand."—I am like a ship about to
unmoor and put to sea. All on board is ready. I only wait to have the
moorings cast off that fasten me to the shore, and I shall then set sail,
and begin my voyage.
These are remarkable words to come from the lips of a child of Adam
like ourselves! Death is a solemn thing, and never so much so as
when we see it close at hand. The grave is a chilling, heart-sickening
place, and it is vain to pretend it has no terrors. Yet here is a mortal
man, who can look calmly into the narrow "house appointed for all
living," and say, while he stands upon the brink, "I see it all, and am
not afraid."
(b) Let us listen to him again. He looks backward to his ministerial
life, and he does it without shame. Hear what he says:—
"I have fought a good fight."—There he speaks as a soldier. I have
fought that good fight with the world, the flesh, and the devil, from
which so many shrink and draw back.
"I have finished my course."—There he speaks as one who has run for
a prize. I have run the race marked out for me. I have gone over the
ground appointed for me, however rough and steep. I have not
turned aside because of difficulties, nor been discouraged by the
length of the way. I am at last in sight of the goal.
"I have kept the faith."—There he speaks as a steward. I have held
fast that glorious Gospel which was committed to my trust. I have
not mingled it with man's traditions, nor spoiled its simplicity by
adding my own inventions, nor allowed others to adulterate it
without withstanding them to the face. "As a soldier,—a runner,—a
steward," he seems to say, "I am not ashamed."
That Christian is happy who, as he quits the world, can leave such
testimony behind him. A good conscience will save no man,—wash
away no sin,—not lift us one hair's breadth toward heaven. Yet a
good conscience will be found a pleasant visitor at our bed-side in a
dying hour. There is a fine passage in "Pilgrim's Progress" which
describes Old Honest's passage across the river of death. "The river,"
says Bunyan, "at that time overflowed its banks in some places; but
Mr. Honest in his lifetime had spoken to one Good Conscience to
meet him there; the which he also did, and lent him his hand, and so
helped him over." We may be sure, there is a mine of truth in that
passage.
(c) Let us hear the Apostle once more. He looks forward to the great
day of reckoning, and he does it without doubt. Mark his words:—
"Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which
the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at that day: and not to
me only, but unto all them also that love His appearing."—"A
glorious reward," he seems to say, "is ready and laid up in store for
me,—even that crown which is only given to the righteous. In the
great day of judgment the Lord shall give this crown to me, and to all
beside me who have loved Him as an unseen Saviour, and longed to
see Him face to face. My work on earth is over. This one thing now
remains for me to look forward to, and nothing more."
Let us observe that the Apostle speaks without any hesitation or
distrust. He regards the crown as a sure thing, as his own already. He
declares with unfaltering confidence his firm persuasion that the
righteous Judge will give it to him. Paul was no stranger to all the
circumstances and accompaniments of that solemn day to which he
referred. The great white throne,—the assembled world,—the open
books,—the revealing of all secrets,—the listening angels,—the awful
sentence,—the eternal separation of the lost and saved,—all these
were things with which he was well acquainted. But none of these
things moved him. His strong faith overleaped them all, and only
saw Jesus, his all-prevailing Advocate, and the blood of sprinkling,
and sin washed away. "A crown," he says, "is laid up for me." "The
Lord Himself shall give it to me." He speaks as if he saw it all with his
own eyes.
Such are the main things which these verses contain. Of most of
them I shall not speak, because I want to confine myself to the
special subject of this paper. I shall only try to consider one point in
the passage. That point is the strong "assurance of hope," with which
the Apostle looks forwards to his own prospects in the day of
judgment.
I shall do this the more readily, because of the great importance
which attaches to the subject of assurance, and the great neglect with
which, I humbly conceive, it is often treated in this day.
But I shall do it at the same time with fear and trembling. I feel that I
am treading on very difficult ground, and that it is easy to speak
rashly and un-scripturally in this matter. The road between truth and
error is here especially a narrow pass; and if I shall be enabled to do
good to some without doing harm to others, I shall be very thankful.
There are four things I wish to bring forward in speaking of the
subject of assurance, and it may clear our way if I name them at
once.
I. First, then, I will try to show that an assured hope, such as Paul
here expresses, is a true and Scriptural thing.
II. Secondly, I will make this broad concession,—that a man may
never arrive at this assured hope, and yet be saved.
III. Thirdly, I will give some reasons why an assured hope is
exceedingly to be desired.
IV. Lastly, I will try to point out some causes why an assured hope is
so seldom attained.
I ask the special attention of all who take an interest in the great
subject of this volume. If I am not greatly mistaken, there is a very
close connection between true holiness and assurance. Before I close
this paper I hope to show my readers the nature of that connection.
At present, I content myself with sayings that where there is the most
holiness, there is generally the most assurance.
I. First, then, I will try to show that an assured hope is a true and
Scriptural thing
Assurance, such as Paul expresses in the verses which head this
paper, is not a mere fancy or feeling. It is not the result of high
animal spirits, or a sanguine temperament of body. It is a positive
gift of the Holy Ghost, bestowed without reference to men's bodily
frames or constitutions, and a gift which every believer in Christ
ought to aim at and seek after.
In matters like these, the first question is this,—What saith the
Scripture? I answer that question without the least hesitation. The
Word of God appears to me to teach distinctly that a believer may
arrive at an assured confidence with regard to his own salvation.
I lay it down fully and broadly, as God's truth, that a true Christian, a
converted man, may reach such a comfortable degree of faith in
Christ, that in general he shall feel entirely confident as to the pardon
and safety of his soul,—shall seldom be troubled with doubts,—
seldom be distracted with fears,—seldom be distressed by anxious
questionings,—and, in short, though vexed by many an inward
conflict with sin, shall look forward to death without trembling, and
to judgment without dismay.* This, I say, is the doctrine of the Bible.
Such is my account of assurance. I will ask my readers to mark it
well. I say neither less nor more than I have here laid down.
Now such a statement as this is often disputed and denied. Many
cannot see the truth of it at all.
The Church of Rome denounces assurance in the most unmeasured
terms. The Council of Trent declares roundly, that a "believer's
assurance of the pardon of his sins is a vain and ungodly confidence;"
and Cardinal Bellarmine, the well-known champion of Romanism,
calls it "a prime error of heretics."
The vast majority of the worldly and thoughtless Christians among
ourselves oppose the doctrine of assurance. It offends and annoys
them to hear of it. They do not like others to feel comfortable and
sure, because they never feel so themselves. Ask them whether their
sins are forgiven, and they will probably tell you they do not know!
That they cannot receive the doctrine of assurance is certainly no
marvel.
But there are also some true believers who reject assurance, or
shrink from it as a doctrine fraught with danger. They consider it
borders on presumption. They seem to think it a proper humility
never to feel sure, never to be confident, and to live in a certain
degree of doubt and suspense about their souls. This is to be
regretted, and does much harm.
I frankly allow there are some presumptuous persons, who profess to
feel a confidence for which they have no Scriptural warrant. There
are always some people who think well of themselves when God
thinks ill, just as there are some who think ill of themselves when
God thinks well. There always will be such. There never yet was a
Scriptural truth without abuses and counterfeits. God's election,—
man's impotence,—salvation by grace,—all are alike abused. There
will be fanatics and enthusiasts as long as the world stands. But, for
all this, assurance is a reality and a true thing; and God's children
must not let themselves be driven from the use of a truth, merely
because it is abused.*
My answer to all who deny the existence of real, well-grounded
assurance, is simply this,—What saith the Scripture? If assurance be
not there, I have not another word to say.
But does not Job say, "I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that He
shall stand at the latter day upon the earth; and though after my skin
worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God." (Job 19:25,26.)
Does not David say, "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow
of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy
staff they comfort me." (Psalm 23:4.)
Does not Isaiah say, "Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose
mind is stayed on Thee, because he trusteth in Thee." (Isaiah 26:3.)
And again, "The work of righteousness shall be peace; and the effect
of righteousness quietness, and assurance for ever." (Isaiah 32:17.)
Does not Paul say to the Romans, "I am persuaded that neither
death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things
present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other
creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in
Christ Jesus our Lord." (Rom. 8:38, 39.)
Does he not say to the Corinthians, "We know that if our earthly
house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God,
an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." (2 Cor. 5:1.)
And again, "We are always confident, knowing that, whilst we are at
home in the body, we are absent from the Lord." (2 Cor. 5:6.)
Does he not say to Timothy, "I know whom I have believed, and am
persuaded that He is able to keep that which I have committed to
Him." (2 Tim. 1:12.)
And does he not speak to the Colossians of "the full assurance of
understanding" (Coloss. 2:2), and to the Hebrews of the "full
assurance of faith," and the "full assurance of hope." (Heb. 6:11;
10:22.)
Does not Peter say expressly, "Give diligence to make your calling
and election sure." (2 Peter 1:10.)
Does not John say, "We know that we have passed from death unto
life." (1 John 3:14.)
And again, "These things have I written unto you that believe on the
name of the Son of God, that ye may know that ye have eternal life."
(1 John 5:13.)
And again, "We know that we are of God." (1 John 5:19.)
What shall we say to these things? I desire to speak with all humility
on any controverted point. I feel that I am only a poor fallible child of
Adam myself. But I must say that in the passages I have just quoted I
see something far higher than the mere "hopes" and "trusts," with
which so many believers appear content in this day. I see the
language of persuasion, confidence, knowledge,—nay, I may almost
say, of certainty. And I feel, for my own part, if I may take these
Scriptures in their plain obvious meaning, the doctrine of assurance is true.
But my answer, furthermore, to all who dislike the doctrine of
assurance, as bordering on presumption, is this:—It can hardly be
presumption to tread in the steps of Peter, and Paul, of Job, and of
John. They were all eminently humble and lowly-minded men, if
ever any were; and yet they all speak of their own state with an
assured hope. Surely this should teach us that deep humility and
strong assurance are perfectly compatible, and that there is not any
necessary connection between spiritual confidence and pride.*
My answer, furthermore, is, that many have attained to such an
assured hope as our text expresses, even in modern times. I will not
concede for a moment that it was a peculiar privilege confined to the
Apostolic day. There have been in our own land many believers, who
have appeared to walk in almost uninterrupted fellowship with the
Father and the Son,—who have seemed to enjoy an almost unceasing
sense of the light of God's reconciled countenance shining down
upon them, and have left their experience on record. I could mention
well-known names, if space permitted. The thing has been, and is,—
and that is enough.
My answer, lastly, is, It cannot be wrong to feel confidently in a
matter where God speaks unconditionally,—to believe decidedly
when God promises decidedly,—to have a sure persuasion of pardon
and peace when we rest on the word and oath of Him that never
changes. It is an utter mistake to suppose that the believer who feels
assurance is resting on anything he sees in himself. He simply leans
on the Mediator of the New Covenant, and the Scripture of truth. He
believes the Lord Jesus means what He says, and takes Him at His
word. Assurance after all is no more than a full-grown faith; a
masculine faith that grasps Christ's promise with both hands,—a
faith that argues like the good centurion, If the Lord "speak the word
only," I am healed. Wherefore then should I doubt? (Matt. 8:8.)*
We may be sure that Paul was the last man in the world to build his
assurance on anything of His own. He who could write himself down
"chief of sinners" (1 Tim. 1:15), had a deep sense of his own guilt and
corruption. But then he had a still deeper sense of the length and
breadth of Christ's righteousness imputed to him.—He who could
cry, "O wretched man that I am" (Rom. 7:24), had a clear view of the
fountain of evil within his heart. But then he had a still clearer view
of that other Fountain which can remove "all sin and uncleanness."—
He who thought himself "less than the least of all saints" (Ephes.
3:8), had a lively and abiding feeling of his own weakness. But he had
a still livelier feeling that Christ's promise, "My sheep shall never
perish" (John 10:28), could not be broken.—Paul knew, if ever man
did, that he was a poor, frail bark, floating on a stormy ocean. He
saw, if any did, the rolling waves and roaring tempest by which he
was surrounded. But then he looked away from self to Jesus, and was
not afraid. He remembered that anchor within the veil, which is both
"sure and steadfast." (Heb. 6:19.) He remembered the word, and
work, and constant intercession of Him that loved him and gave
Himself for him. And this it was, and nothing else, that enabled him
to say so boldly, "A crown is laid up for me, and the Lord shall give it
to me;" and to conclude so surely, "The Lord will preserve me: I shall
never be confounded."*
I may not dwell longer on this part of the subject. I think it will be
allowed I have shown some good ground for the assertion I made,
that assurance is a true thing.
II. I pass on to the second thing I spoke of. I said, a believer may
never arrive at this assured hope, which Paul expresses, and yet be
saved
I grant this most freely. I do not dispute it for a moment. I would not
desire to make one contrite heart sad that God has not made sad, or
to discourage one fainting child of God, or to leave the impression
that men have no part or lot in Christ, except they feel assurance.
A person may have saving faith in Christ, and yet never enjoy an
assured hope, such as the Apostle Paul enjoyed. To believe and have
a glimmering hope of acceptance is one thing; to have "joy and
peace" in our believing, and abound in hope, is quite another. All
God's children have faith; not all have assurance. I think this ought
never to be forgotten.
I know some great and good men have held a different opinion. I
believe that many excellent ministers of the Gospel, at whose feet I
would gladly sit, do not allow the distinction I have stated. But I
desire to call no man master. I dread as much as any one the idea of
healing the wounds of conscience slightly; but I should think any
other view than that I have given, a most uncomfortable Gospel to
preach, and one very likely to keep souls back a long time from the
gate of life.*
I do not shrink from saying, that by grace a man may have sufficient
faith to flee to Christ; sufficient faith really to lay hold on Him,—
really to trust in Him,—really to be a child of God,—really to be
saved; and yet to his last day be never free from much anxiety, doubt,
and fear.
"A letter," says an old writer, "may be written, which is not sealed; so
grace may be written in the heart, yet the Spirit may not set the seal
of assurance to it."
A child may be born heir to a great fortune, and yet never be aware of
his riches; may live childish, die childish, and never know the
greatness of his possessions. And so also a man may be a babe in
Christ's family, think as a babe, speak as a babe, and, though saved,
never enjoy a lively hope, or know the real privileges of his
inheritance.
Let no man mistake my meaning, when I dwell strongly on the
reality, privilege, and importance of assurance. Do not do me the
injustice to say, I teach that none are saved except such as can say
with Paul, "I know and am persuaded,—there is a crown laid up for
me." I do not say so. I teach nothing of the kind.
Faith in the Lord Jesus Christ a man must have, beyond all question,
if he is to be saved. I know no other way of access to the Father. I see
no intimation of mercy, excepting through Christ. A man must feel
his sins and lost estate,—must come to Jesus for pardon and
salvation,—must rest his hope on Him, and on Him alone. But if he
only has faith to do this, however weak and feeble that faith may be, I
will engage, from Scripture warrants, he shall not miss heaven.
Never, never let us curtail the freeness of the glorious Gospel, or clip
its fair proportions. Never let us make the gate more strait and the
way more narrow than pride and the love of sin have made it already.
The Lord Jesus is very pitiful, and of tender mercy. He does not
regard the quantity of faith, but the quality: He does not measure its
degree, but its truth. He will not break any bruised reed, nor quench
any smoking flax. He will never let it be said that any perished at the
foot of the cross. "Him that cometh unto Me," He says, "I will in no
wise cast out." (John 6:37.)*
Yes! Though a man's faith be no bigger than a grain of mustard seed,
if it only brings him to Christ, and enables him to touch the hem of
His garment, he shall be saved,—saved as surely as the oldest saint in
paradise,—saved as completely and eternally as Peter, or John, or
Paul. There are degrees in our sanctification. In our justification
there are none. What is written, is written, and shall never fail:
"Whosoever believeth on Him,"—not whosoever has a strong and
mighty faith,—"Whosoever believeth on Him shall not be ashamed."
(Rom. 10:11.)
But all this time, be it remembered, the poor believing soul may have
no full assurance of his pardon and acceptance with God. He may be
troubled with fear upon fear, and doubt upon doubt. He may have
many an inward question, and many an anxiety,—many a struggle,
and many a misgiving,—clouds and darkness,—storm and tempest to
the very end.
I will engage, I repeat, that bare simple faith in Christ shall save a
man, though he may never attain to assurance; but I will not engage
it shall bring him to heaven with strong and abounding consolations.
I will engage it shall land him safe in harbour; but I will not engage
he shall enter that harbour in full sail, confident and rejoicing. I shall
not be surprised if he reaches his desired haven weather-beaten and
tempest-tossed, scarcely realizing his own safety, till he opens his
eyes in glory.
I believe it is of great importance to keep in view this distinction
between faith and assurance. It explains things which an inquirer in
religion sometimes finds it hard to understand.
Faith, let us remember, is the root, and assurance is the flower.
Doubtless you can never have the flower without the root; but it is no
less certain you may have the root and not the flower.
Faith is that poor trembling woman who came behind Jesus in the
press, and touched the hem of His garment. (Mark 5:25.) Assurance
is Stephen standing calmly in the midst of his murderers, and saying,
"I see the heavens opened, and the Son of man standing on the right
hand of God." (Acts 7:56.)
Faith is the penitent thief, crying, "Lord, remember me." (Luke
23:42.) Assurance is Job, sitting in the dust, covered with sores, and
saying, "I know that my Redeemer liveth" (Job 19:25); "Though He
slay me, yet will I trust in Him." (Job 13:15.)
Faith is Peter's drowning cry, as he began to sink: "Lord, save me!"
(Matt. 14:30.) Assurance is that same Peter declaring before the
Council in after times, "This is the stone which was set at nought of
you builders, which is become the head of the corner. Neither is
there salvation in any other: for there is none other name under
heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved." (Acts 4:11, 12.)
Faith is the anxious, trembling voice, "Lord, I believe: help Thou
mine unbelief." (Mark 9:24.) Assurance is the confident challenge,
"Who shall lay anything to the charge of God's elect? Who is he that
condemneth?" (Rom. 8:33, 34.) Faith is Saul praying in the house of
Judas at Damascus, sorrowful, blind, and alone. (Acts 9:11.)
Assurance is Paul, the aged prisoner, looking calmly into the grave,
and saying, "I know whom I have believed. There is a crown laid up
for me." (2 Tim. 1:12; 4:8.)
Faith is life. How great the blessing! Who can describe or realize the
gulf between life and death? "A living dog is better than a dead lion."
(Eccles. 9:4.) And yet life may be weak, sickly, unhealthy, painful,
trying, anxious, weary, burdensome, joyless, smileless to the very
end. Assurance is more than life. It is health, strength, power, vigour,
activity, energy, manliness, beauty.
It is not a question of "saved or not saved," that lies before us, but of
"privilege or no privilege."—It is not a question of peace or no peace,
but of great peace or little peace.—It is not a question between the
wanderers of this world and the school of Christ: it is one that
belongs only to the school: it is between the first form and the last.
He that has faith does well. Happy should I be, if I thought all
readers of this paper had it. Blessed, thrice blessed are they that
believe! They are safe. They are washed. They are justified. They are
beyond the power of hell. Satan, with all his malice, shall never pluck
them out of Christ's hand. But he that has assurance does far better,
—sees more, feels more, knows more, enjoys more, has more days
like those spoken of in Deuteronomy, even "the days of heaven upon
the earth." (Deut. 11:21.)*
III. I pass on to the third thing of which I spoke. I will give some
reasons why an assured hope is exceedingly to be desired
I ask special attention to this point. I heartily wish that assurance
was more sought after than it is. Too many among those who believe
begin doubting and go on doubting, live doubting and die doubting,
and go to heaven in a kind of mist.
It would ill become me to speak in a slighting way of "hopes" and
"trusts." But I fear many of us sit down content with them, and go no
further. I should like to see fewer "peradventurers" in the Lord's
family, and more who could say, "I know and am persuaded." Oh,
that all believers would covet the best gifts, and not be content with
less! Many miss the full tide of blessedness the Gospel was meant to
convey. Many keep themselves in a low and starved condition of soul,
while their Lord is saying, "Eat and drink abundantly, O beloved."
"Ask and receive, that your joy may be full." (Cant. 5:1; John 16:24.)
(1) Let us remember then, for one thing, that assurance is to be
desired, because of the present comfort and peace it affords.
Doubts and fears have power to spoil much of the happiness of a true
believer in Christ. Uncertainty and suspense are bad enough in any
condition,—in the matter of our health, our property, our families,
our affections, our earthly callings,—but never so bad as in the affairs
of our souls. And so long as a believer cannot get beyond "I hope,"
and "I trust," he manifestly feels a degree of uncertainty about his
spiritual state. The very words imply as much. He says "I hope,"
because he dares not say, "I know."
Now assurance goes far to set a child of God free from this painful
kind of bondage, and thus ministers mightily to his comfort. It
enables him to feel that the great business of life is a settled business,
the great debt a paid debt, the great disease a healed disease, and the
great work a finished work; and all other business, diseases, debts,
and works, are then by comparison small. In this way assurance
makes him patient in tribulation, calm under bereavements,
unmoved in sorrow, not afraid of evil tidings, in every condition
content, for it gives him a FIXEDNESS of heart. It sweetens his bitter
cups; it lessens the burden of his crosses; it smooths the rough places
over which he travels; it lightens the valley of the shadow of death. It
makes him always feel that he has something solid beneath his feet,
and something firm under his hands,—a sure friend by the way, and
a sure home at the end.*
Assurance will help a man to bear poverty and loss. It will teach him
to say, "I know that I have in heaven a better and more enduring
substance. Silver and gold have I none, but grace and glory are mine,
and these can never make themselves wings and flee away. Though
the fig tree shall not blossom, yet I will rejoice in the Lord." (Habak.
3:17, 18.)
Assurance will support a child of God under the heaviest
bereavements, and assist him to feel "It is well." An assured soul will
say, "Though beloved ones are taken from me, yet Jesus is the same,
and is alive for evermore. Christ, being raised from the dead, dieth
no more. Though my house be not as flesh and blood could wish, yet
I have an everlasting covenant, ordered in all things and sure." (2
Kings 4:26; Heb. 13:8; Rom. 6:9; 2 Sam. 23:5.)
Assurance will enable a man to praise God, and be thankful, even in
prison, like Paul and Silas at Philippi. It can give a believer songs
even in the darkest night, and joy when all things seem going against
him.* (Job 35:10; Psalm 42:8.)
Assurance will enable a man to sleep with the full prospect of death
on the morrow, like Peter in Herod's dungeon. It will teach him to
say, "I will both lay me down in peace and sleep, for Thou, Lord, only
makest me to dwell in safety." (Psalm 4:8.)
Assurance can make a man rejoice to suffer shame for Christ's sake,
as the Apostles did when put in prison at Jerusalem. (Acts 5:41.) It
will remind him that he may "rejoice and be exceeding glad" (Matt.
5:12), and that there is in heaven an exceeding weight of glory that
shall make amends for all. (2 Cor. 4:17.)
Assurance will enable a believer to meet a violent and painful death
without fear, as Stephen did in the beginning of Christ's Church, and
as Cranmer, Ridley, Hooper, Latimer, Rogers, and Taylor did in our
own land. It will bring to his heart the texts, "Be not afraid of them
which kill the body, and after that have no more that they can do."
(Luke 12:4.) "Lord Jesus receive my spirit." (Acts 7:59.)†
Assurance will support a man in pain and sickness, make all his bed,
and smooth down his dying pillow. It will enable him to say, "If my
earthly house fail, I have a building of God." (2 Cor. 5:1.) "I desire to
depart and be with Christ." (Phil. 1:23.) "My flesh and my heart may
fail, but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever."*
(Psalm 73:26.)
The strong consolation which assurance can give in the hour of death
is a point of great importance. We may depend on it, we shall never
think assurance so precious as when our turn comes to die. In that
awful hour there are few believers who do not find out the value and
privilege of an "assured hope," whatever they may have thought
about it during their lives. General "hopes" and "trusts" are all very
well to live upon while the sun shines and the body is strong; but
when we come to die, we shall want to be able to say, "I know" and "I
feel." The river of death is a cold stream, and we have to cross it
alone. No earthly friend can help us. The last enemy, the king of
terrors, is a strong foe. When our souls are departing, there is no
cordial like the strong wine of assurance.
There is a beautiful expression in the Prayer-book service for the
Visitation of the Sick: "The Almighty Lord, who is a most strong
tower to all them that put their trust in Him, be now and evermore
thy defence, and make thee know and feel that there is none other
name under heaven, through whom thou mayest receive health and
salvation, but only the name of our Lord Jesus Christ." The
compilers of that service showed great wisdom there. They saw that
when the eyes grow dim, and the heart grows faint, and the spirit is
on the eve of departing, there must then be knowing and feeling what
Christ has done for us, or else there cannot be perfect peace.*
(2) Let us remember, for another thing, that assurance is to be
desired, because it tends to make a Christian an active working
Christian.
None, generally speaking, do so much for Christ on earth as those
who enjoy the fullest confidence of a free entrance into heaven, and
trust not in their own works, but in the finished work of Christ. That
sounds wonderful, I dare say, but it is true.
A believer who lacks an assured hope, will spend much of his time in
inward searchings of heart about his own state. Like a nervous,
hypochondriacal person, he will be full of his own ailments, his own
doubtings and questionings, his own conflicts and corruptions. In
short, you will often find he is so taken up with his internal warfare
that he has little leisure for other things, and little time to work for
God.
But a believer, who has, like Paul, an assured hope, is free from these
harassing distractions. He does not vex his soul with doubts about
his own pardon and acceptance. He looks at the everlasting covenant
sealed with blood, at the finished work, and never-broken word of his
Lord and Saviour, and therefore counts his salvation a settled thing.
And thus he is able to give an undivided attention to the work of the
Lord, and so in the long run to do more.*
Take, for an illustration of this, two English emigrants, and suppose
them set down side by side in New Zealand or Australia. Give each of
them a piece of land to clear and cultivate. Let the portions allotted
to them be the same both in quantity and quality. Secure that land to
them by every needful legal instrument; let it be conveyed as
freehold to them and their's for ever; let the conveyance be publicly
registered, and the property made sure to them by every deed and
security that man's ingenuity can devise.
Suppose then that one of them shall set to work to clear his land and
bring it into cultivation, and labour at it day after day without
intermission or cessation.
Suppose in the meanwhile that the other shall be continually leaving
his work, and going repeatedly to the public registry to ask whether
the land really is his own,—whether there is not some mistake,—
whether after all there is not some flaw in the legal instruments
which conveyed it to him.
The one shall never doubt his title, but just work diligently on. The
other shall hardly ever feel sure of his title, and spend half his time in
going to Sydney or Melbourne or Auckland, with needless inquiries
about it.
Which now of these two men will have made most progress in a
year's time? Who will have done the most for his land, got the
greatest breadth of soil under tillage, have the best crops to show, be
altogether the most prosperous?
Any one of common sense can answer that question. I need not
supply an answer. There can only be one reply. Undivided attention
will always attain the greatest success.
It is much the same in the matter of our title to "mansions in the
skies." None will do so much for the Lord who bought him as the
believer who sees his title clear, and is not distracted by unbelieving
doubts, questionings, and hesitations. The joy of the Lord will be that
man's strength. "Restore unto me," says David, "the joy of Thy
salvation; then will I teach transgressors Thy ways." (Psalm 51:12.)
Never were there such working Christians as the Apostles. They
seemed to live to labour. Christ's work was truly their meat and
drink. They counted not their lives dear to themselves. They spent
and were spent. They laid down ease, health, worldly comfort, at the
foot of the cross. And one grand cause of this, I believe, was their
assured hope. They were men who could say, "We know that we are
of God, and the whole world lieth in wickedness." (1 John 5:19.)
(3) Let us remember, for another thing, that assurance is to be
desired, because it tends to make a Christian a decided Christian.
Indecision and doubt about our own state in God's sight is a grievous
evil, and the mother of many evils. It often produces a wavering and
unstable walk in following the Lord. Assurance helps to cut many a
knot, and to make the path of Christian duty clear and plain.
Many, of whom we feel hopes that they are God's children, and have
true grace, however weak, are continually perplexed with doubts on
points of practice. "Should we do such and such a thing? Shall we
give up this family custom? Ought we to go into that company? How
shall we draw the line about visiting? What is to be the measure of
our dressing and our entertainments? Are we never, under any
circumstances, to dance, never to touch a card, never to attend
parties of pleasure?" These are a kind of questions which seem to
give them constant trouble. And often, very often, the simple root of
their perplexity is, that they do not feel assured they are themselves
children of God. They have not yet settled the point, which side of the
gate they are on. They do not know whether they are inside the ark or
not.
That a child of God ought to act in a certain decided way, they quite
feel; but the grand question is, "Are they children of God
themselves?" If they only felt they were so, they would go
straightforward, and take a decided line. But not feeling sure about
it, their conscience is for ever hesitating and coming to a dead lock.
The devil whispers, "Perhaps after all you are only a hypocrite: what
right have you to take a decided course? Wait till you are really a
Christian." And this whisper too often turns the scale, and leads on to
some miserable compromise, or wretched conformity to the world!
I believe we have here one chief reason why so many in this day are
inconsistent, trimming, unsatisfactory, and half-hearted in their
conduct about the world. Their faith fails. They feel no assurance that
they are Christ's, and so feel a hesitancy about breaking with the
world. They shrink from laying aside all the ways of the old man,
because they are not quite confident they have put on the new. In
short, I have little doubt that one secret cause of "halting between
two opinions" is want of assurance. When people can say decidedly,
"The Lord, He is the God," their course becomes very clear. (1 Kings
18:39.)
(4) Let us remember, finally, that assurance is to be desired, because
it tends to make the holiest Christians.
This, too, sounds wonderful and strange, and yet it is true. It is one of
the paradoxes of the Gospel, contrary at first sight to reason and
common sense, and yet it is a fact. Cardinal Bellarmine was seldom
more wide of the truth than when he said, "Assurance tends to
carelessness and sloth." He that is freely forgiven by Christ will
always do much for Christ's glory, and he that enjoys the fullest
assurance of this forgiveness will ordinarily keep up the closest walk
with God. It is a faithful saying and worthy to be remembered by all
believers, "He that hath this hope in Him purifieth himself, even as
He is pure." (1 John 3:3.) A hope that does not purify is a mockery, a
delusion, and a snare.*
None are so likely to maintain a watchful guard over their own hearts
and lives as those who know the comfort of living in close
communion with God. They feel their privilege, and will fear losing
it. They will dread falling from the high estate, and marring their
own comforts, by bringing clouds between themselves and Christ. He
that goes on a journey with little money about him takes little
thought of danger, and cares little how late he travels. He, on the
contrary, that carries gold and jewels will be a cautious traveller. He
will look well to his roads, his lodgings, and his company, and run no
risks. It is an old saying, however unscientific it may be, that the
fixed stars are those which tremble most. The man that most fully
enjoys the light of God's reconciled countenance, will be a man
tremblingly afraid of losing its blessed consolations, and jealously
fearful of doing anything to grieve the Holy Ghost.
I commend these four points to the serious consideration of all
professing Christians. Would you like to feel the Everlasting Arms
around you, and to hear the voice of Jesus daily drawing nigh to your
soul, and saying, "I am thy salvation"?—Would you like to be a useful
labourer in the vineyard in your day and generation?—Would you be
known of all men as a bold, firm, decided, single-eyed,
uncompromising follower of Christ?—Would you be eminently
spiritually-minded and holy?—I doubt not some readers will say,
"These are the very things our hearts desire. We long for them. We
pant after them: but they seem far from us."
Now, has it never struck you that your neglect of assurance may
possibly be the main secret of all your failures,—that the low measure
of faith which satisfies you may be the cause of your low degree of
peace? Can you think it a strange thing that your graces are faint and
languishing, when faith, the root and mother of them all, is allowed
to remain feeble and weak?
Take my advice this day. Seek an increase of faith. Seek an assured
hope of salvation like the Apostle Paul's. Seek to obtain a simple,
childlike confidence in God's promises. Seek to be able to say with
Paul, "I know whom I have believed: I am persuaded that He is mine,
and I am His."
You have very likely tried other ways and methods and completely
failed. Change your plan. Go upon another tack. Lay aside your
doubts. Lean more entirely on the Lord's arm. Begin with implicit
trusting. Cast aside your faithless backwardness to take the Lord at
His word. Come and roll yourself, your soul, and your sins, upon
your gracious Saviour. Begin with simple believing, and all other
things shall soon be added to you.*
IV. I come now to the last thing of which I spoke. I promised to point
out some probable causes why an assured hope is so seldom
attained. I will do it very shortly.
This is a very serious question, and ought to raise in all of us great
searchings of heart. Few, certainly, of Christ's people seem to reach
up to this blessed spirit of assurance. Many comparatively believe,
but few are persuaded. Many comparatively have saving faith, but
few that glorious confidence which shines forth in the language of St.
Paul. That such is the case, I think we must all allow.
Now, why is this so?—Why is a thing which two Apostles have
strongly enjoined us to seek after, a thing of which few believers have
any experimental knowledge in these latter days? Why is an assured
hope so rare?
I desire to offer a few suggestions on this point, with all humility. I
know that many have never attained assurance, at whose feet I would
gladly sit both in earth and heaven. Perhaps the Lord sees something
in the natural temperament of some of His children, which makes
assurance not good for them. Perhaps, in order to be kept in spiritual
health, they need to be kept very low. God only knows. Still, after
every allowance, I fear there are many believers without an assured
hope, whose case may too often be explained by causes such as these.
(1) One most common cause, I suspect, is a defective view of the
doctrine of justification.
I am inclined to think that justification and sanctification are
insensibly confused together in the minds of many believers. They
receive the Gospel truth,—that there must be something done IN US,
as well as something done FOR US, if we are true members of Christ:
and so far they are right. But then, without being aware of it,
perhaps, they seem to imbibe the idea that their justification is, in
some degree, affected by something within themselves. They do not
clearly see that Christ's work, not their own work—either in whole or
in part, either directly or indirectly—is the alone ground of our
acceptance with God; that justification is a thing entirely without us,
for which nothing whatever is needful on our part but simple faith,—
and that the weakest believer is as fully and completely justified as
the strongest.*
Many appear to forget that we are saved and justified as sinners, and
only sinners; and that we never can attain to anything higher, if we
live to the age of Methuselah. Redeemed sinners, justified sinners,
and renewed sinners doubtless we must be,—but sinners, sinners,
sinners, we shall be always to the very last. They do not seem to
comprehend that there is a wide difference between our justification
and our sanctification. Our justification is a perfect finished work,
and admits of no degrees. Our sanctification is imperfect and
incomplete, and will be so to the last hour of our life. They appear to
expect that a believer may at some period of his life be in a measure
free from corruption, and attain to a kind of inward perfection. And
not finding this angelic state of things in their own hearts, they at
once conclude there must be something very wrong in their state.
And so they go mourning all their days,—oppressed with fears that
they have no part or lot in Christ, and refusing to be comforted.
Let us weigh this point well. If any believing soul desires assurance,
and has not got it, let him ask himself, first of all, if he is quite sure
he is sound in the faith, if he knows how to distinguish things that
differ, and if his eyes are thoroughly clear in the matter of
justification. He must know what it is simply to believe and to be
justified by faith before he can expect to feel assured.
In this matter, as well as in many others, the old Galatian heresy is
the most fertile source of error, both in doctrine and in practice.
People ought to seek clearer views of Christ, and what Christ has
done for them. Happy is the man who really understands
"justification by faith without the deeds of the law."
(2) Another common cause of the absence of assurance is,
slothfulness about growth in grace.
I suspect many true believers hold dangerous and unscriptural views
on this point; I do not of course mean intentionally, but they do hold
them. Many appear to think that, once converted, they have little
more to attend to, and that a state of salvation is a kind of easy chair,
in which they may just sit still, lie back, and be happy. They seem to
fancy that grace is given them that they may enjoy it, and they forget
that it is given, like a talent, to be used, employed, and improved.
Such persons lose sight of the many direct injunctions "to increase,—
to grow,—to abound more and more,—to add to our faith," and the
like; and in this little-doing condition, this sitting-still state of mind,
I never marvel that they miss assurance.
I believe it ought to be our continual aim and desire to go forward,
and our watchword on every returning birthday, and at the
beginning of every year, should be, "More and more" (1 Thess. 4:1):
more knowledge,—more faith,—more obedience,—more love. If we
have brought forth thirtyfold, we should seek to bring forth sixty;
and if we have brought forth sixty, we should strive to bring forth a
hundred. The will of the Lord is our sanctification, and it ought to be
our will too. (Matt. 13:23; 1 Thess. 4:3.)
One thing, at all events, we may depend upon,—there is an
inseparable connection between diligence and assurance. "Give
diligence," says Peter, "to make your calling and election sure." (2
Peter 1:10.) "We desire," says Paul, "that every one of you do show
the same diligence to the full assurance of hope unto the end." (Heb.
6:11.) "The soul of the diligent," says Solomon, "shall be made fat."
(Prov. 13:4.) There is much truth in the old maxim of the Puritans:
"Faith of adherence comes by hearing, but faith of assurance comes
not without doing."
Is any reader of this paper one of those who desires assurance, but
have not got it? Mark my words. You will never get it without
diligence, however much you may desire it. There are no gains
without pains in spiritual things, any more than in temporal. "The
soul of the sluggard desireth and hath nothing." (Prov. 13:4.)*
(3) Another common cause of a want of assurance is, an inconsistent
walk in life.
With grief and sorrow I feel constrained to say that I fear nothing
more frequently prevents men attaining an assured hope than this.
The stream of professing Christianity in this day is far wider than it
formerly was, and I am afraid we must admit at the same time it is
much less deep.
Inconsistency of life is utterly destructive of peace of conscience. The
two things are incompatible. They cannot and they will not go
together. If you will have your besetting sins, and cannot make up
your minds to give them up,—if you will shrink from cutting off the
right hand and plucking out the right eye when occasion requires it,
—I will engage you will have no assurance.
A vacillating walk,—a backwardness to take a bold and decided line,
—a readiness to conform to the world,—a hesitating witness for
Christ,—a lingering tone of religion,—a flinching from a high
standard of holiness and spiritual life,—all these make up a sure
receipt for bringing a blight upon the garden of your soul.
It is vain to suppose you will feel assured and persuaded of your own
pardon and acceptance with God, unless you count all God's
commandments concerning all things to he right, and hate every sin,
whether great or small. (Psalm 119:128.) One Achan allowed in the
camp of your heart will weaken your hands, and lay your
consolations low in the dust. You must be daily sowing to the Spirit,
if you are to reap the witness of the Spirit. You will not find and feel
that all the Lord's ways are ways of pleasantness, unless you labour
in all your ways to please the Lord.*
I bless God that our salvation in no wise depends on our own works.
By grace we are saved,—not by works of righteousness,—through
faith,—without the deeds of the law. But I never would have any
believer for a moment forget that our SENSE of salvation depends
much on the manner of our living. Inconsistency will dim our eyes,
and bring clouds between us and the sun. The sun is the same behind
the clouds, but you will not be able to see its brightness or enjoy its
warmth, and your soul will be gloomy and cold. It is in the path of
well doing that the day-spring of assurance will visit you, and shine
down upon your heart.
"The secret of the Lord," says David, "is with them that fear Him, and
He will show them His covenant." (Psalm 25:14.)
"To him that ordereth his conversation aright, will I show the
salvation of God." (Psalm 50:23.)
"Great peace have they which love Thy law, and nothing shall offend
them." (Psalm 119:165.)
"If we walk in the light, as He is in the light, we have fellowship one
with another." (1 John 1:7.)
"Let us not love in word, neither in tongue; but in deed and in truth;
and hereby we know that we are of the truth, and shall assure our
hearts before Him." (1 John 3:18, 19.)
"Hereby we do know that we know Him, if we keep His
commandments." (1 John 2:3.)
Paul was a man who exercised himself to have always a conscience
void of offence toward God and toward man. (Acts 24:16.) He could
say with boldness, "I have fought the good fight, I have kept the
faith." I do not therefore wonder that the Lord enabled him to add
with confidence, "Henceforth there is a crown laid up for me, and the
Lord shall give it me at that day."
If any believer in the Lord Jesus desires assurance, and has not got it,
let him think over this point also. Let him look at his own heart, look
at his own conscience, look at his own life, look at his own ways, look
at his own home. And perhaps when he has done that, he will be able
to say, "There is a cause why I have no assured hope."
I
leave the three matters I have just mentioned to the private
consideration of every reader of this paper. I am sure they are worth
examining. May we examine them honestly. And may the Lord give
us understanding in all things.
(1) And now in closing this important inquiry, let me speak first to
those readers who have not yet given themselves to the Lord, who
have not yet come out from the world, chosen the good part, and
followed Christ.
I ask you then to learn from this subject, the privileges and comforts
of a true Christian.
I would not have you judge of the Lord Jesus Christ by His people.
The best of servants can give you but a faint idea of that glorious
Master. Neither would I have you judge of the privileges of His
kingdom, by the measure of comfort to which many of His people
attain. Alas, we are most of us poor creatures! We come short, very
short, of the blessedness we might enjoy. But, depend upon it, there
are glorious things in the city of our God, which they who have an
assured hope taste, even in their life-time. There are lengths and
breadths of peace and consolation there, which it has not entered
into your heart to conceive. There is bread enough and to spare in
our Father's house, though many of us certainly eat but little of it,
and continue weak. But the fault must not be laid to our Master's
charge: it is all our own.
And, after all, the weakest child of God has a mine of comforts within
him, of which you know nothing. You see the conflicts and tossings of
the surface of his heart, but you see not the pearls of great price
which are hidden in the depths below. The feeblest member of Christ
would not change conditions with you. The believer who possesses
the least assurance is far better off than you are. He has a hope,
however faint, but you have none at all. He has a portion that will
never be taken from him, a Saviour that will never forsake him, a
treasure that fadeth not away, however little he may realize it all at
present. But, as for you, if you die as you are, your expectations will
all perish. Oh, that you were wise! Oh, that you understood these
things! Oh, that you would consider your latter end!
I feel deeply for you in these latter days of the world, if I ever did. I
feel deeply for those whose treasure is all on earth, and whose hopes
are all on this side the grave. Yes! when I see old kingdoms and
dynasties shaking to the very foundation,—when I see, as we all saw a
few years ago, kings and princes and rich men and great men fleeing
for their lives, and scarce knowing where to hide their heads,—when
I see property dependent on public confidence melting like snow in
spring, and public stocks and funds losing their value,—when I see
these things, I feel deeply for those who have no better portion than
this world can give them, and no place in that kingdom which cannot
be removed.*
Take advice of a minister of Christ this very day. Seek durable riches,
—a treasure that cannot be taken from you,—a city which hath
lasting foundations. Do as the Apostle Paul did. Give yourself to the
Lord Jesus Christ, and seek that incorruptible crown He is ready to
bestow. Take His yoke upon you, and learn of Him. Come away from
a world which will never really satisfy you, and from sin which will
bite like a serpent, if you cleave to it, at last. Come to the Lord Jesus
as lowly sinners, and He will receive you, pardon you, give you His
renewing Spirit, fill you with peace. This shall give you more real
comfort than the world has ever done. There is a gulf in your heart
which nothing but the peace of Christ can fill. Enter in and share our
privileges. Come with us, and sit down by our side.
(2) Lastly, let me turn to all believers who read these pages, and
speak to them a few words of brotherly counsel.
The main thing that I urge upon you is this,—if you have not got an
assured hope of your own acceptance in Christ, resolve this day to
seek it. Labour for it. Strive after it. Pray for it. Give the Lord no rest
till you "know whom you have believed."
I feel, indeed, that the small amount of assurance in this day, among
those who are reckoned God's children, is a shame and a reproach.
"It is a thing to be heavily bewailed," says old Traill, "that many
Christians have lived twenty or forty years since Christ called them
by His grace, yet doubting in their life." Let us call to mind the
earnest "desire" Paul expresses, that "every one" of the Hebrews
should seek after full assurance; and let us endeavour, by God's
blessing, to roll this reproach away. (Heb. 6:11.)
Believing reader, do you really mean to say that you have no desire to
exchange hope for confidence, trust for persuasion, uncertainty for
knowledge? Because weak faith will save you, will you therefore rest
content with it? Because assurance is not essential to your entrance
into heaven, will you therefore be satisfied without it upon earth?
Alas, this is not a healthy state of soul to be in; this is not the mind of
the Apostolic day! Arise at once and go forward. Stick not at the
foundations of religion: go on to perfection. Be not content with a
day of small things. Never despise it in others, but never be content
with it yourself.
Believe me, believe me, assurance is worth the seeking. You forsake
your own mercies when you rest content without it. The things I
speak are for your peace. If it is good to be sure in earthly things, how
much better is it to be sure in heavenly things! Your salvation is a
fixed and certain thing. God knows it. Why should not you seek to
know it too? There is nothing unscriptural in this. Paul never saw the
Book of Life, and yet Paul says, "I know and am persuaded."
Make it then your daily prayer that you may have an increase of faith.
According to your faith will be your peace. Cultivate that blessed root
more, and sooner or later, by God's blessing, you may hope to have
the flower. You may not perhaps attain to full assurance all at once.
It is good sometimes to be kept waiting: we do not value things which
we get without trouble. But though it tarry, wait for it. Seek on, and
expect to find.
There is one thing, however, of which I would not have you ignorant:
—You must not be surprised if you have occasional doubts, after you
have got assurance. You must not forget you are on earth, and not yet
in heaven. You are still in the body, and have indwelling sin: the flesh
will lust against the spirit to the very end. The leprosy will never be
out of the walls of the old house till death takes it down. And there is
a devil, too, and a strong devil: a devil who tempted the Lord Jesus,
and gave Peter a fall; and he will take care you know it. Some doubts
there always will be. He that never doubts has nothing to lose. He
that never fears possesses nothing truly valuable. He that is never
jealous knows little of deep love. But be not discouraged: you shall be
more than conqueror through Him that loved you.*
Finally, do not forget that assurance is a thing which may be lost for
a season, even by the brightest Christians, unless they take care.
Assurance is a most delicate plant. It needs daily, hourly watching,
watering, tending, cherishing. So watch and pray the more when you
have got it. As Rutherford says, "Make much of assurance." Be
always upon your guard. When Christian slept in the arbour, in
Pilgrim's Progress, he lost his certificate. Keep that in mind.
David lost assurance for many months by falling into transgression.
Peter lost it when he denied his Lord. Each found it again
undoubtedly, but not till after bitter tears. Spiritual darkness comes
on horseback, and goes away on foot. It is upon us before we know
that it is coming. It leaves us slowly, gradually, and not till after
many days. It is easy to run down hill. It is hard work to climb up. So
remember my caution,—when you have the joy of the Lord, watch
and pray.
Above all, grieve not the Spirit. Quench not the Spirit. Vex not the
Spirit. Drive Him not to a distance, by tampering with small bad
habits and little sins. Little jarrings between husbands and wives
make unhappy homes, and petty inconsistencies, known and
allowed, will bring in a strangeness between you and the Spirit.
Hear the conclusion of the whole matter.
The man who walks with God in Christ most closely, will generally be
kept in the greatest peace.
The believer who follows the Lord most fully and aims at the highest
degree of holiness will ordinarily enjoy the most assured hope, and
have the clearest persuasion of his own salvation.
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Post by Admin on Jan 18, 2024 14:31:44 GMT -5
VIII. MOSES: AN EXAMPLE
"By faith Moses, when he was come to years, refused to he called
the son of Pharaoh's daughter:"
"Choosing rather to suffer affliction with the people of God, than
to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season;"
"Esteeming the reproach of Christ greater riches than the
treasures in Egypt: for he had respect unto the recompence of
the reward."—HEBREWS 11:24–26
THE characters of God's most eminent saints, as drawn and
described in the Bible, form a most useful part of Holy Scripture.
Abstract doctrines, and principles, and precepts, are all most
valuable in their way; but after all nothing is more helpful than a
pattern or example. Do we want to know what practical holiness is?
Let us sit down and study the picture of an eminently holy man. I
propose in this paper to set before my readers the history of a man
who lived by faith, and left us a pattern of what faith can do in
promoting holiness of character. To all who want to know what
"living by faith" means, I offer Moses as an example.
The eleventh chapter of the Epistle to the Hebrews, from which my
text is taken, is a great chapter: it deserves to be printed in golden
letters. I can well believe it must have been most cheering and
encouraging to a converted Jew. I suppose no members of the early
Church found so much difficulty in a profession of Christianity as the
Hebrews did. The way was narrow to all, but preeminently so to
them. The cross was heavy to all, but surely they had to carry double
weight. And this chapter would refresh them like a cordial,—it would
be as "wine to those that be of heavy hearts." Its words would "be
pleasant as the honey-comb, sweet to the soul, and health to the
bones." (Prov. 31:6; 16:24.)
The three verses I am going to explain are far from being the least
interesting in the chapter. Indeed I think few, if any, have so strong a
claim on our attention. And I will explain why I say so.
It seems to me that the work of faith described in the story of Moses
comes home more especially to our own case. The men of God who
are named in the former part of the chapter are all examples to us
beyond question. But we cannot literally do what most of them did,
however much we may drink into their spirit. We are not called upon
to offer a literal sacrifice like Abel,—or to build a literal ark like Noah,
—or to leave our country literally, and dwell in tents, and offer up our
Isaac like Abraham. But the faith of Moses comes nearer to us. It
seems to operate in a way more familiar to our own experience. It
made him take up a line of conduct such as we must sometimes take
up ourselves in the present day, each in our own walk of life, if we
would be consistent Christians. And for this reason I think these
three verses deserve more than ordinary consideration.
Now I have nothing but the simplest things to say about them. I shall
only try to show the greatness of the things Moses did, and the
principle on which he did them. And then perhaps we shall be better
prepared for the practical instruction which the verses appear to hold
out to every one who will receive it.
I. First, then, I will speak of what Moses gave up and refused
Moses gave up three things for the sake of his soul. He felt that his
soul would not be saved if he kept them;—so he gave them up. And in
so doing, I say that he made three of the greatest sacrifices that
man's heart can possibly make. Let us see.
(1) He gave up rank and greatness.
"He refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter." We all know
his history. The daughter of Pharaoh had preserved his life, when he
was an infant. She had gone further than that: she had adopted him
and educated him as her own son.
If some writers of history may be trusted, she was Pharaoh's only
child. Some go so far as to say that in the common order of things,
Moses would one day have been King of Egypt!* That may be, or may
not; we cannot tell. It is enough for us to know that, from his
connection with Pharaoh's daughter, Moses might have been, if he
had pleased, a very great man. If he had been content with the
position in which he found himself at the Egyptian court, he might
easily have been among the first (if not the very first) in all the land
of Egypt.
Let us think, for a moment, how great this temptation was.
Here was a man of like passions with ourselves. He might have had
as much greatness as earth can well give. Rank, power, place,
honour, titles, dignities,—all were before him, and within his grasp.
These are the things for which many men are continually struggling.
These are the prizes which there is an incessant race in the world
around us to obtain. To be somebody, to be looked up to, to raise
themselves in the scale of society, to get a handle to their names,—
these are the very things for which many sacrifice time, and thought,
and health, and life itself. But Moses would not have them at a gift.
He turned his back upon them. He refused them. He gave them up!
(2) And more than this,—he refused pleasure.
Pleasure of every kind, no doubt, was at his feet, if he had liked to
take it up,—sensual pleasure, intellectual pleasure, social pleasure,—
whatever could strike his fancy. Egypt was a land of artists, a
residence of learned men, a resort of every one who had skill, or
science of any description. There was nothing which could feed the
"lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, or the pride of life," which one in
the place of Moses might not easily have commanded and possessed
as his own. (1 John 2:16.)
Let us think again, how great was this temptation also.
Pleasure, be it remembered, is the one thing for which millions live.
They differ, perhaps, in their views of what makes up real pleasure,
but all agree in seeking first and foremost to obtain it. Pleasure and
enjoyment in the holidays is the grand object to which a school boy
looks forward. Pleasure and satisfaction in making himself
independent is the mark on which the young man in business fixes
his eye. Pleasure and ease in retiring from business with a fortune is
the aim which the merchant sets before him. Pleasure and bodily
comfort at his own home is the sum of the poor man's wishes.
Pleasure and fresh excitement in politics, in travelling, in
amusements, in company, in books,—this is the goal towards which
the rich man is straining. Pleasure is the shadow which all alike are
hunting,—high and low, rich and poor, old and young, one with
another,—each, perhaps, pretending to despise his neighbour for
seeking it,—each in his own way seeking it for himself,—each secretly
wondering that he does not find it,—each firmly persuaded that
somewhere or other it is to be found. This was the cup that Moses
had before his lips. He might have drunk as deeply as he liked of
earthly pleasure; but he would not have it. He turned his back upon
it. He refused it. He gave it up!
(3) And more than this,—he refused riches.
"The treasures in Egypt" is an expression that seems to tell of
boundless wealth which Moses might have enjoyed, had he been
content to remain with Pharaoh's daughter. We may well suppose
these "treasures" would have been a mighty fortune. Enough is still
remaining in Egypt to give us some faint idea of the money at its
King's disposal. The pyramids, and obelisks, and temples, and
statues are still standing there as witnesses. The ruins at Carnac, and
Luxor, and Denderah, and many other places, are still the mightiest
buildings in the world. They testify to this day that the man who gave
up Egyptian wealth, gave up something which even our English
minds would find it hard to reckon up and estimate.
Let us think once more, how great was this temptation.
Let us consider, for a moment, the power of money,—the immense
influence that "the love of money" obtains over men's minds. Let us
look around us and observe how men covet it, and what amazing
pains and trouble they will go through to obtain it. Tell them of an
island many thousand miles away, where something may be found
which may be profitable, if imported, and at once a fleet of ships will
be sent to get it. Show them a way to make one per cent more of their
money, and they will reckon you among the wisest of men,—they will
almost fall down and worship you. To possess money seems to hide
defects,—to cover over faults,—to clothe a man with virtues. People
can get over much, if you are rich! But here is a man who might have
been rich, and would not. He would not have Egyptian treasures. He
turned his back upon them. He refused them. He gave them up!
Such were the things that Moses refused,—rank, pleasure, riches, all
three at once.
Add to all this that he did it deliberately. He did not refuse these
things in a hasty fit of youthful excitement.—He was forty years old.
He was in the prime of life. He knew what he was about. He was a
highly educated man, "learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians."
(Acts 7:22.) He could weigh both sides of the question.
Add to it that he did not refuse them because he was obliged. He was
not like the dying man, who tells us "he craves nothing more in this
world;" and why?—Because he is leaving the world, and cannot keep
it. He was not like the pauper, who makes a merit of necessity, and
says "he does not want riches;" and why?—Because he cannot get
them. He was not like the old man, who boasts, that "he has laid
aside worldly pleasures;" and why?—Because he is worn out, and
cannot enjoy them. No! Moses refused what he might have enjoyed.
Rank, pleasure, and riches did not leave him, but he left them.
And then judge whether I am not right in saying that his was one of
the greatest sacrifices mortal man ever made. Others have refused
much, but none, I think, so much as Moses. Others have done well in
the way of self-sacrifice and self-denial, but he excels them all.
II. And now let me go on to the second thing I wish to consider. I will
speak of what Moses chose
I think his choices as wonderful as his refusals. He chose three things
for his soul's sake. The road to salvation led through them, and he
followed it; and in so doing he chose three of the last things that man
is ever disposed to take up.
(1) For one thing he chose suffering and affliction.
He left the ease and comfort of Pharaoh's court, and openly took part
with the children of Israel. They were an enslaved and persecuted
people,—an object of distrust, suspicion, and hatred; and any one
who befriended them was sure to taste something of the bitter cup
they were daily drinking.
To the eye of sense there seemed no chance of their deliverance from
Egyptian bondage, without a long and doubtful struggle. A settled
home and country for them must have appeared a thing never likely
to be obtained, however much desired. In fact, if ever man seemed to
be choosing pain, trials, poverty, want, distress, anxiety, perhaps
even death, with his eyes open, Moses was that man.
Let us think how wonderful was this choice.
Flesh and blood naturally shrink from pain. It is in us all to do so. We
draw back by a kind of instinct from suffering, and avoid it if we can.
If two courses of action are set before us, which both seem right, we
generally take that which is the least disagreeable to flesh and blood.
We spend our days in fear and anxiety when we think affliction is
coming near us, and use every means to escape it. And when it does
come, we often fret and murmur under the burden of it; and if we
can only bear it patiently we count it a great matter.
But look here! Here is a man of like passions with ourselves, and he
actually chooses affliction! Moses saw the cup of suffering that was
before him if he left Pharaoh's court, and he chose it, preferred it,
and took it up.
(2) But he did more than this, he chose the company of a despised
people.
He left the society of the great and wise, among whom he had been
brought up, and joined himself to the children of Israel. He who had
lived from infancy in the midst of rank, and riches, and luxury, came
down from his high estate, and cast in his lot with poor men,—slaves,
serfs, helots, pariahs, bondservants, oppressed, destitute, afflicted,
tormented,—labourers in the brick-kiln.
How wonderful, once more, was this choice!
Generally speaking we think it enough to carry our own troubles. We
may be sorry for others whose lot is to be mean and despised.—We
may even try to help them,—we may give money to raise them,—we
may speak for them to those on whom they depend; but here we
generally stop.
But here is a man who does far more. He not merely feels for
despised Israel, but actually goes down to them, adds himself to their
society, and lives with them altogether. You would wonder if some
great man in Grosvenor or Belgrave Square were to give up house,
and fortune, and position in society, and go to live on a small
allowance in some narrow lane in Bethnal Green, for the sake of
doing good. Yet this would convey a very faint and feeble notion of
the kind of thing that Moses did He saw a despised people, and he
chose their company in preference to that of the noblest in the land.
He became one with them,—their fellow, their companion in
tribulation, their ally, their associate, and their friend.
(3) But he did even more. He chose reproach and scorn.
Who can conceive the torrent of mockery and ridicule that Moses
would have to stem, in turning away from Pharaoh's court to join
Israel? Men would tell him he was mad, foolish, weak, silly, out of his
mind. He would lose his influence; he would forfeit the favour and
good opinion of all among whom he had lived. But none of these
things moved him. He left the court and joined the slaves!
Let us think again, what a choice this was!
There are few things more powerful than ridicule and scorn. It can
do far more than open enmity and persecution. Many a man who
would march up to a cannon's mouth, or lead a forlorn hope, or
storm a breach, has found it impossible to face the mockery of a few
companions, and has flinched from the path of duty to avoid it. To be
laughed at! To be made a joke of! To be jested and sneered at! To be
reckoned weak and silly! To be thought a fool!—There is nothing
grand in all this, and many, alas, cannot make up their minds to
undergo it!
Yet here is a man who made up his mind to it, and did not shrink
from the trial. Moses saw reproach and scorn before him, and he
chose them, and accepted them for his portion.
Such then were the things that Moses chose: affliction,—the
company of a despised people,—and scorn.
Set down beside all this, that Moses was no weak, ignorant, illiterate
person, who did not know what he was about. You are specially told
he was "mighty in words and in deeds;" and yet he chose as he did!
(Acts 7:22.)
Set down, too, the circumstances of his choice. He was not obliged to
choose as he did. None compelled him to take such a course. The
things he took up did not force themselves upon him against his will.
He went after them; they did not come after him. All that he did, he
did of his own free choice,—voluntarily, and of his own accord.
And then judge whether it is not true that his choices were as
wonderful as his refusals. Since the world began, I suppose, none
ever made such a choice as Moses did in our text.
III. And now let me go on to a third thing:—let me speak of the
principle which moved Moses, and made him do as he Did
How can this conduct of his be accounted for? What possible reason
can be given for it? To refuse that which is generally called good, to
choose that which is commonly thought evil, this is not the way of
flesh and blood. This is not the manner of man; this requires some
explanation. What will that explanation be?
We have the answer in the text. I know not whether its greatness or
its simplicity is more to be admired. It all lies in one little word, and
that word is "FAITH."
Moses had faith. Faith was the mainspring of his wonderful conduct.
Faith made him do as he did, choose what he chose, and refuse what
he refused. He did it all because he believed.
God set before the eyes of his mind His own will and purpose. God
revealed to him that a Saviour was to be born of the stock of Israel,
that mighty promises were bound up in these children of Abraham,
and yet to be fulfilled, that the time for fulfilling a portion of these
promises was at hand; and Moses put credit in this, and believed.
And every step in his wonderful career, every action in his journey
through life after leaving Pharaoh's court,—his choice of seeming
evil, his refusal of seeming good,—all, all must be traced up to this
fountain; all will be found to rest on this foundation. God had spoken
to him, and he had faith in God's word.
He believed that God would keep His promises,—that what He had
said He would surely do, and what He had covenanted He would
surely perform.
He believed that with God nothing was impossible. Reason and sense
might say that the deliverance of Israel was out of the question: the
obstacles were too many, the difficulties too great. But faith told
Moses that God was all-sufficient. God had undertaken the work, and
it would be done.
He believed that God was all wise. Reason and sense might tell him
that his line of action was absurd; that he was throwing away useful
influence, and destroying all chance of benefiting his people, by
breaking with Pharaoh's daughter. But faith told Moses that if God
said "Go this way," it must be the best.
He believed that God was all merciful. Reason and sense might hint
that a more pleasant manner of deliverance might be found, that
some compromise might be effected, and many hardships be
avoided. But faith told Moses that God was love, and would not give
His people one drop of bitterness beyond what was absolutely
needed.
Faith was a telescope to Moses. It made him see the goodly land afar
off,—rest, peace, and victory, when dimsighted reason could only see
trial and barrenness, storm and tempest, weariness and pain.
Faith was an interpreter to Moses. It made him pick out a
comfortable meaning in the dark commands of God's handwriting,
while ignorant sense could see nothing in it but mystery and
foolishness.
Faith told Moses that all this rank and greatness was of the earth,
earthy, a poor, vain, empty thing, frail, fleeting, and passing away;
and that there was no true greatness like that of serving God. He was
the king, he the true nobleman who belonged to the family of God. It
was better to be last in heaven, than first in hell.
Faith told Moses that worldly pleasures were "pleasures of sin." They
were mingled with sin, they led on to sin, they were ruinous to the
soul, and displeasing to God. It would be small comfort to have
pleasure while God was against him. Better suffer and obey God,
than be at ease and sin.
Faith told Moses that these pleasures after all were only for a
"season." They could not last; they were all short-lived; they would
weary him soon; he must leave them all in a few years.
Faith told him that there was a reward in heaven for the believer far
richer than the treasures in Egypt, durable riches, where rust could
not corrupt, nor thieves break through and steal. The crown there
would be incorruptible; the weight of glory would be exceeding and
eternal;—and faith bade him look away to an unseen heaven if his
eyes were dazzled with Egyptian gold.
Faith told Moses that affliction and suffering were not real evils.—
They were the school of God, in which He trains the children of grace
for glory;—the medicines which are needful to purify our corrupt
wills;—the furnace which must burn away our dross;—the knife
which must cut the ties that bind us to the world.
Faith told Moses that the despised Israelites were the chosen people
of God. He believed that to them belonged the adoption, and the
covenant, and the promises, and the glory; that of them the seed of
the woman was one day to be born, who should bruise the serpent's
head; that the special blessing of God was upon them; that they were
lovely and beautiful in His eyes;—and that it was better to be a door
keeper among the people of God, than to reign in the palaces of
wickedness.
Faith told Moses that all the reproach and scorn poured out on him
was "the reproach of Christ;"—that it was honourable to be mocked
and despised for Christ's sake;—that whoso persecuted Christ's
people was persecuting Christ Himself;—and that the day must come
when His enemies would bow before Him and lick the dust. All this,
and much more, of which I cannot speak particularly, Moses saw by
faith. These were the things he believed, and believing, did what he
did. He was persuaded of them, and embraced them,—he reckoned
them as certainties,—he regarded them as substantial verities,—he
counted them as sure as if he had seen them with his own eyes,—he
acted on them as realities;—and this made him the man that he was.
He had faith. He believed.
Marvel not that he refused greatness, riches, and pleasure.—He
looked far forward. He saw with the eye of faith kingdoms crumbling
into dust,—riches making to themselves wings and fleeing away,—
pleasures leading on to death and judgment,—and Christ only and
His little flock enduring for ever.
Wonder not that he chose affliction, a despised people, and reproach.
—He beheld things below the surface. He saw with the eye of faith
affliction lasting but for a moment,—reproach rolled away, and
ending in everlasting honour,—and the despised people of God
reigning as kings with Christ in glory.
And was he not right? Does he not speak to us, though dead, this
very day? The name of Pharaoh's daughter has perished, or at any
rate is extremely doubtful.—The city where Pharaoh reigned is not
known.—The treasures in Egypt are gone.—But the name of Moses is
known wherever the Bible is read, and is still a standing witness that
"whoso liveth by faith, happy is he."
IV. And now let me wind up all by trying to set forth in order some
practical lessons, which appear to me to follow, as legitimate
consequences, from this history of Moses
What has all this to do with us? some men will say. We do not live in
Egypt,—we have seen no miracles,—we are not Israelites,—we are
weary of the subject.
Stay a little, if this be the thought of your heart, and by God's help I
will show you that all may learn here, and all may be instructed. He
that would live a Christian life, and be a really holy man, let him
mark the history of Moses and get wisdom.
(1) For one thing, if you would ever be saved, you must make the
choice that Moses made,—you must choose God before the world.
Mark well what I say. Do not overlook this, though all the rest be
forgotten. I do not say that the statesman must throw up his office,
and the rich man forsake his property. Let no one fancy that I mean
this. But I say, if a man would be saved, whatever be his rank in life,
he must be prepared for tribulation. He must make up his mind to
choose much which seems evil, and to give up and refuse much
which seems good.
I dare say this sounds strange language to some who read these
pages. I know well you may have a certain form of religion, and find
no trouble in your way. There is a common worldly kind of
Christianity in this day, which many have, and think they have
enough,—a cheap Christianity which offends nobody, and requires
no sacrifice,—which costs nothing, and is worth nothing. I am not
speaking of religion of this kind.
But if you really are in earnest about your soul,—if your religion is
something more than a mere fashionable Sunday cloak,—if you are
determined to live by the Bible,—if you are resolved to be a New
Testament Christian, then, I repeat, you will soon find you must
carry a cross.—You must endure hard things, you must suffer in
behalf of your soul, as Moses did, or you cannot be saved.
The world in the nineteenth century is what it always was. The hearts
of men are still the same. The offence of the cross is not ceased. God's
true people are still a despised little flock. True Evangelical religion
still brings with it reproach and scorn. A real servant of God will still
be thought by many a weak enthusiast and a fool.
But the matter comes to this. Do you wish your soul to be saved?
Then remember, you must choose whom you will serve. You cannot
serve God and mammon. You cannot be on two sides at once. You
cannot be a friend of Christ, and a friend of the world at the same
time. You must come out from the children of this world, and be
separate; you must put up with much ridicule, trouble, and
opposition, or you will be lost for ever. You must be willing to think
and do things which the world considers foolish, and to hold
opinions which are only held by a few. It will cost you something.
The stream is strong, and you have to stem it. The way is narrow and
steep, and it is no use saying it is not. But, depend on it, there can be
no saving religion without sacrifices and self-denial.
Now are you making any sacrifices? Does your religion cost you
anything? I put it to your conscience in all affection and tenderness,
—Are you, like Moses, preferring God to the world, or not? I beseech
you not to take shelter under that dangerous word "we:" "we ought,"
and "we hope," and "we mean," and the like. I ask you plainly, What
are you doing yourself? Are you willing to give up anything which
keeps you back from God? or are you clinging to the Egypt of the
world, and saying to yourself, "I must have it, I must have it: I cannot
tear myself away"? Is there any cross in your Christianity? Are there
any sharp corners in your religion, anything that ever jars and comes
in collision with the earthly-mindedness around you? or is all smooth
and rounded off, and comfortably fitted into custom and fashion? Do
you know anything of the afflictions of the Gospel? Is your faith and
practice ever a subject of scorn and reproach? Are you thought a fool
by any one because of your soul? Have you left Pharaoh's daughter,
and heartily joined the people of God? Are you venturing all on
Christ? Search and see.
These are hard inquiries and rough questions. I cannot help it. I
believe they are founded on Scripture truths. I remember it is
written, "There went great multitudes with Jesus, and He turned,
and said unto them, If any man come to Me and hate not his father,
and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea
and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple. And whosoever doth
not bear his cross, and come after Me, cannot be my disciple." (Luke
14:25–27.) Many, I fear, would like glory, who have no wish for
grace. They would fain have the wages, but not the work; the harvest,
but not the labour; the reaping, but not the sowing; the reward, but
not the battle. But it may not be. As Bunyan says, "the bitter must go
before the sweet." If there is no cross, there will be no crown.
(2) The second thing I say is this,—nothing will ever enable you to
choose God before the world, except faith.
Nothing else will do it. Knowledge will not, feeling will not, a regular
use of outward forms will not, good companions will not. All these
may do something, but the fruit they produce has no power of
continuance: it will not last. A religion springing from such sources
will only endure so long as there is no "tribulation or persecution
because of the Word;" but as soon as there is any, it will dry up. It is a
clock without mainspring or weights; its face may be beautiful, you
may turn its fingers round, but it will not go. A religion that is to
stand must have a living foundation, and there is none other but
faith.
There must be a real heartfelt belief that God's promises are sure and
to be depended on;—a real belief that what God says in the Bible is
all true, and that every doctrine contrary to this is false, whatever any
one may say. There must be a real belief that all God's words are to
be received, however hard and disagreeable to flesh and blood, and
that His way is right and all others wrong. This there must be, or you
will never come out from the world, take up the cross, follow Christ,
and be saved.
You must learn to believe promises better than possessions;—things
unseen better than things seen;—things in heaven out of sight better
than things on earth before your eyes;—the praise of the invisible
God better than the praise of visible man. Then, and then only, you
will make a choice like Moses, and prefer God to the world.
Now I ask every reader of this paper, have you got this faith? If you
have, you will find it possible to refuse seeming good, and choose
seeming evil.—You will think nothing of to-day's losses, in the hope
of to-morrow's gains.—You will follow Christ in the dark, and stand
by Him to the very last. If you have not, I warn you, you will never
war a good warfare, and "so run as to obtain."—You will soon be
offended and turn back to the world.
Above all this there must be a real abiding faith in the Lord Jesus
Christ. The life that you live in the flesh you must live by the faith of
the Son of God. There must be a settled habit of continually leaning
on Jesus, looking unto Jesus, drawing out of Jesus, and using Him as
the manna of your soul. You must strive to be able to say, "To me to
live is Christ." "I can do all things through Christ which
strengtheneth me." (Philip. 1:21; 4:13.)
This was the faith by which the old saints obtained a good report.
This was the weapon by which they overcame the world. This made
them what they were.
This was the faith that made Noah go on building his ark, while the
world looked on and mocked,—and Abraham give the choice of the
land to Lot, and dwell on quietly in tents,—and Ruth cleave to
Naomi, and turn away from her country and her gods,—and Daniel
continue in prayer, though he knew the lions'den was prepared,—and
the three children refuse to worship idols, though the fiery furnace
was before their eyes,—and Moses forsake Egypt, not fearing the
wrath of Pharaoh. All these acted as they did because they believed.
They saw the difficulties and troubles of this course. But they saw
Jesus by faith above them all, and they pressed on. Well may the
Apostle Peter speak of faith as "precious faith." (2 Peter 1:1.)
(3) The third thing I say is this,—the true reason why so many are
worldly and ungodly persons is that they have no faith.
We must be aware that multitudes of professing Christians would
never think for a moment of doing as Moses did. It is useless to speak
smooth things, and shut our eyes to the fact. That man must be blind
who does not see thousands around him who are daily preferring the
world to God,—placing the things of time before the things of
eternity, and the things of the body before the things of the soul. We
may not like to admit this, and we try hard to blink the fact. But so it
is.
And why do they do so? No doubt they will all give us reasons and
excuses. Some will talk of the snares of the world,—some of the want
of time,—some of the peculiar difficulties of their position,—some of
the cares and anxieties of life,—some of the strength of temptation,—
some of the power of passions,—some of the effects of bad
companions. But what does it come to after all? There is a far shorter
way to account for the state of their souls,—they do not believe. One
simple sentence, like Aaron's rod, will swallow up all their excuses,—
they have no faith.
They do not really think what God says is true. They secretly flatter
themselves with the notion, "It will surely not be fulfilled,—there
must surely be some other way to heaven beside that which ministers
speak of,—there cannot surely be so much danger of being lost." In
short, they do not put implicit confidence in the words that God has
written and spoken, and so do not act upon them. They do not
thoroughly believe hell, and so do not flee from it,—nor heaven, and
so do not seek it,—nor the guilt of sin, and so do not turn from it,—
nor the holiness of God, and so do not fear Him,—nor their need of
Christ, and so do not trust in Him, nor love Him. They do not feel
confidence in God, and so venture nothing for Him. Like the boy
Passion, in "Pilgrim's Progress," they must have their good things
now. They do not trust God, and so they cannot wait.
Now how is it with ourselves? Do we believe all the Bible? Let us ask
ourselves that question. Depend on it, it is a much greater thing to
believe all the Bible than many suppose. Happy is the man who can
lay his hand on his heart and say, "I am a believer."
We talk of infidels sometimes as if they were the rarest people in the
world. And I grant that open avowed infidelity is happily not very
common now. But there is a vast amount of practical infidelity
around us, for all that, which is as dangerous in the end as the
principles of Voltaire and Paine. There are many who Sunday after
Sunday repeat the creed, and make a point of declaring their belief in
all that the Apostolic and Nicene forms contain. And yet these very
persons will live all the week as if Christ had never died, and as if
there were no judgment, and no resurrection of the dead, and no life
everlasting at all. There are many who will say, "Oh, we know it all,"
when spoken to about eternal things and the value of their souls. And
yet their lives show plainly they know not anything as they ought to
know; and the saddest part of their state is that they think they do!
It is an awful truth, and worthy of all consideration, that knowledge
not acted upon, in God's sight, is not merely useless and
unprofitable. It is much worse than that. It will add to our
condemnation and increase our guilt in the judgment day. A faith
that does not influence a man's practice is not worthy of the name.
There are only two classes in the Church of Christ,—those who
believe and those who do not. The difference between the true
Christian and the mere outward professor just lies in one word;—the
true Christian is like Moses, "He has faith;"—the mere outward
professor has none. The true Christian believes, and therefore lives
as he does; the mere professor does not believe, and therefore is what
he is. Oh, where is our faith? Let us not be faithless, but believing.
(4) The last thing I say is this,—the true secret of doing great things
for God is, to have great faith.
I believe that we are all apt to err on this point. We think too much,
and talk too much, about graces, and gifts, and attainments, and do
not sufficiently remember that faith is the root and mother of them
all. In walking with God, a man will go just as far as he believes, and
no further. His life will always be proportioned to his faith. His
peace, his patience, his courage, his zeal, his works,—all will be
according to his faith.
You read the lives of eminent Christians, of such men as Wesley, or
Whitefield, or Venn, or Martyn, or Bickersteth, or Simeon, or
M'Cheyne. And you are disposed to say, "What wonderful gifts and
graces these men had!" I answer, you should rather give honour to
the mother-grace which God puts forward in the eleventh chapter of
the Epistle to the Hebrews,—you should give honour to their faith.
Depend on it, faith was the mainspring in the character of each and
all.
I can fancy some one saying, "They were so prayerful;—that made
them what they were." I answer, why did they pray much?—Simply
because they had much faith. What is prayer, but faith speaking to
God?
Another perhaps will say, "They were so diligent and laborious,—that
accounts for their success." I answer, why were they so diligent?—
Simply because they had faith. What is Christian diligence, but faith
at work?
Another will tell me, "They were so bold,—that rendered them so
useful." I answer, why were they so bold?—Simply because they had
much faith. What is Christian boldness, but faith honestly doing its
duty?
And another will cry, "It was their holiness and spirituality,—that
gave them their weight." For the last time I answer, what made them
holy?—Nothing but a living realizing spirit of faith. What is holiness,
but faith visible and faith incarnate?
Now does any reader of this paper desire to grow in grace, and in the
knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ? Would you bring forth much
fruit? Would you be eminently holy and useful? Would you be bright,
and shine as a light in your day? Would you, like Moses, make it clear
as noon-day that you have chosen God before the world? I dare be
sure that every believer will reply, "Yes! yes! yes! these are the things
we long for and desire."
Then take the advice I give you this day:—go and cry to the Lord
Jesus Christ, as the disciples did, "Lord, increase our faith." Faith is
the root of a real Christian's character. Let your root be right, and
your fruit will soon abound. Your spiritual prosperity will always be
according to your faith. He that believeth shall not only be saved, but
shall never thirst,—shall overcome,—shall be established,—shall walk
firmly on the waters of this world,—and shall do great works.
Reader, if you believe the things contained in this paper, and desire
to be a thoroughly holy man, begin to act on your belief. Take Moses
for your example. Walk in his steps. Go and do likewise
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Post by Admin on Jan 18, 2024 15:53:51 GMT -5
IX. LOT: A BEACON "He lingered."—GEN. 19:16
THE Holy Scriptures, which were written for our learning, contain
beacons as well as patterns. They show us examples of what we
should avoid, as well as examples of what we should follow. The man
whose name heads this page is set for a beacon to the whole Church
of Christ. His character is put before us in one little word:—"He
lingered." Let us sit down and look at this beacon for a few minutes.
Let us consider Lot.
Who is this man that lingered?—It is the nephew of faithful
Abraham. And when did he linger?—The very morning Sodom was to
be destroyed. And where did he linger?—Within the walls of Sodom
itself. And before whom did he linger?—Under the eyes of the two
angels, who were sent to bring him out of the city. Even then "he
lingered!"
The words are solemn, and full of food for thought. They ought to
sound like a trumpet in the ears of all who make any profession of
religion. I trust they will make every reader of this paper think. Who
knows but they are the very words your soul requires? The voice of
the Lord Jesus commands you to "remember Lot's wife." (Luke
17:32.) The voice of one of His ministers invites you this day to
remember Lot.
Let me try to show,—
I. What Lot was himself:
II. What the text already quoted tells you of him:
III. What reasons may account for his lingering:
IV. What kind of fruit his lingering brought forth.
I ask the special attention of all who have reason to hope they are
real Christians, and desire to live holy lives. Let it be a settled
principle in our minds, if we follow holiness, that we must not
"linger." Once more, I say, "Lot is a beacon."
I. What was Lot?
This is a most important point. If I leave it unnoticed, I shall perhaps
miss that class of professing Christians I want especially to benefit. If
I did not make it quite clear, many would perhaps say, after reading
this paper, "Ah! Lot was a bad man,—a poor, wicked, dark creature,—
an unconverted man,—a child of this world!—no wonder he lingered."
But mark now what I say. Lot was nothing of the kind. Lot was a true
believer,—a converted person,—a real child of God,—a justified soul,
—a righteous man.
Has any one of my readers grace in his heart?—So also had Lot. Has
any one of my readers a hope of salvation?—So also had Lot. Is any
one of my readers a "new creature"?—So also was Lot. Is any one of
my readers a traveller in the narrow way which leads unto life?—So
also was Lot.
Let no one think this is only my private opinion,—a mere arbitrary
fancy of my own,—a notion unsupported by Scripture. Let no one
suppose I want him to believe it merely because I say it. The Holy
Ghost has placed the matter beyond controversy, by calling him
"just" and "righteous" (2 Peter 2:7, 8), and has given us good
evidence of the grace that was in him.
One evidence is, that he lived in a wicked place, "seeing and hearing"
evil all around him (2 Peter 2:8), and yet was not wicked himself.
Now to be a Daniel in Babylon,—an Obadiah in Ahab's house,—an
Abijah in Jeroboam's family,—a saint in Nero's court, and a
"righteous man" in Sodom, a man must have the grace of God.
Without grace it would be impossible.
Another evidence is, that he "vexed his soul with the unlawful deeds"
he beheld around him. (2 Peter 2:8.) He was wounded, grieved,
pained, and hurt at the sight of sin. This was feeling like holy David,
who says, "I beheld the transgressors, and was grieved, because they
kept not Thy word." "Rivers of waters run down mine eyes, because
they keep not Thy law." (Psalm 119:136, 158.) This was feeling like St.
Paul, who says, "I have great sorrow and continual heaviness in my
heart,—for my brethren, my kinsmen according to the flesh." (Rom.
9:2, 3.) Nothing will account for this but the grace of God.
Another evidence is, that he "vexed his soul from day to day" with the
unlawful deeds he saw. (2 Peter 2:8.) He did not at length become
cool and lukewarm about sin, as many do. Familiarity and habit did
not take off the fine edge of his feelings, as too often is the case.
Many a man is shocked and startled at the first sight of wickedness,
and yet becomes at last so accustomed to see it, that he views it with
comparative unconcern. This is especially the case with those who
live in towns and cities, or with English people who travel on the
Continent. Such persons often become utterly indifferent about
Sabbath-breaking, and many forms of open sin. But it was not so
with Lot. And this, again, is a great mark of he reality of his grace.
Such an one was Lot,—a just and righteous man, a man sealed and
stamped as an heir of heaven by the Holy Ghost Himself.
Before we pass on, let us remember that a true Christian may have
many a blemish, many a defect, many an infirmity, and yet be a true
Christian nevertheless. We do not despise gold because it is mixed
with much dross. We must not undervalue grace because it is
accompanied by much corruption. Read on, and you will find that
Lot paid dearly for his "lingering." But do not forget, as you read,
that Lot was a child of God.
II. Let us pass on to the second thing I spoke of. What does the text,
already quoted, tell us about Lot's behaviour?
The words are wonderful and astounding: "He lingered."—The more
we consider the time and circumstances, the more wonderful we
shall think them.
Lot knew the awful condition of the city in which he stood. "The cry"
of its abominations "had waxen great before the Lord." (Gen. 19:13.)
And yet "he lingered."
Lot knew the fearful judgment coming down on all within its walls.
The angels had said plainly, "The Lord hath sent us to destroy it."
(Gen. 19:13.) And yet "he lingered."
Lot knew that God was a God who always kept His word, and if He
said a thing would surely do it. He could hardly be Abraham's
nephew, and live long with him, and not be aware of this. Yet "he
lingered."
Lot believed there was danger,—for he went to his sons-in-law, and
warned them to flee. "Up!" he said, "Get you out of this place; for the
Lord will destroy this city." (Gen. 19:14.) And yet "he lingered."
Lot saw the angels of God standing by, waiting for him and his family
to go forth. He heard the voice of those ministers of wrath ringing in
his ears to hasten him:—"Arise! take thy wife and thy two daughters
which are here; lest thou be consumed in the iniquity of the city."
(Gen. 19:15.) And yet "he lingered."
He was slow when he should have been quick,—backward when he
should have been forward,—trifling when he should have been
hastening,—loitering when he should have been hurrying,—cold
when he should have been hot. It is passing strange! It seems almost
incredible! It appears too wonderful to be true! But the Spirit writes
it down for our learning. And so it was.
And yet, wonderful as it may appear at first sight, I fear there are
many of the Lord Jesus Christ's people very like Lot.
I ask every reader of this paper to mark well what I say. I repeat it
that there may be no mistake about my meaning. I have shown you
that Lot "lingered."—I say that there are many Christian men and
Christian women in this day very like Lot.
There are many real children of God who appear to know far more
than they live up to, and see far more than they practise, and yet
continue in this state for many years. Wonderful that they go as far
as they do, and yet go no further!
They hold the Head, even Christ, and love the truth. They like sound
preaching, and assent to every article of Gospel doctrine, when they
hear it. But still there is an indescribable something which is not
satisfactory about them. They are constantly doing things which
disappoint the expectations of their ministers, and of more advanced
Christian friends. Marvellous that they should think as they do, and
yet stand still!
They believe in heaven, and yet seem faintly to long for it;—and in
hell, and yet seem little to fear it. They love the Lord Jesus; but the
work they do for Him is small. They hate the devil; but they often
appear to tempt him to come to them. They know the time is short;
but they live as if it were long. They know they have a battle to fight;
yet a man might think they were at peace. They know they have a
race to run; yet they often look like people sitting still. They know the
Judge is at the door, and there is wrath to come; and yet they appear
half asleep. Astonishing they should be what they are, and yet be
nothing more!
And what shall we say of these people? They often puzzle godly
friends and relations. They often cause great anxiety. They often give
rise to great doubts and searchings of heart. But they may be classed
under one sweeping description: they are all brethren and sisters of
Lot. They linger.
These are they who get the notion into their minds, that it is
impossible for all believers to be so very holy and very spiritual! They
allow that eminent holiness is a beautiful thing. They like to read
about it in books, and even to see it occasionally in others. But they
do not think that all are meant to aim at so high a standard. At any
rate, they seem to make up their minds it is beyond their reach.
These are they who get into their heads false ideas of charity, as they
call it. They are morbidly afraid of being illiberal and narrow
minded, and are always flying into the opposite extreme. They would
fain please everybody, and suit everybody, and be agreeable to
everybody. But they forget they ought first to be sure that they please
God.
These are they who dread sacrifices, and shrink from self-denial.
They never appear able to apply our Lord's command, to "take up the
cross," and "cut off the right hand and pluck out the right eye."
(Matt. 5:29, 30.) They cannot deny that our Lord used these
expressions, but they never find a place for them in their religion.
They spend their lives in trying to make the gate more wide, and the
cross more light. But they never succeed.
These are they who are always trying to keep in with the world. They
are ingenious in discovering reasons for not separating decidedly,
and in framing plausible excuses for attending questionable
amusements, and keeping up questionable friendships. One day you
are told of their attending a Bible reading: the next day perhaps you
hear of their going to a ball. One day they fast, or go to the Lord's
table and receive the sacrament: another day they go to the race
course in the morning, and the opera at night. One day they are
almost in hysterics under the sermon of some sensational preacher:
another day they are weeping over some novel. They are constantly
labouring to persuade themselves that to mix a little with worldly
people on their own ground does good. Yet in their case it is very
clear they do no good, and only get harm.
These are they who cannot find it in their hearts to quarrel with their
besetting sin, whether it be sloth, indolence, ill-temper, pride,
selfishness, impatience, or what it may. They allow it to remain a
tolerably quiet and undisturbed tenant of their hearts. They say, "it is
their health, or their constitutions, or their temperaments, or their
trials, or their way. Their father, or mother, or grandmother, was so
before themselves, and they are sure they cannot help it." And when
you meet after the absence of a year or so, you hear the same thing!
But all, all, all may be summed up in one single sentence. They are
the brethren and sisters of Lot. They linger.
Ah, if you are a lingering soul, you are not happy! You know you are
not. It would be strange indeed if you were so. Lingering is the sure
destruction of a happy Christianity. A lingerer's conscience forbids
him to enjoy inward peace.
Perhaps at one time you did run well. But you have left your first
love;—you have never felt the same comfort since, and you never will
till you return to your "first works." (Rev. 2:5.) Like Peter, when the
Lord Jesus was taken prisoner, you are following the Lord afar off;
and, like him, you will find the way not pleasant, but hard.
Come and look at Lot. Come and mark Lot's history. Come and
consider Lot's "lingering," and be wise.
III. Let us next consider the reasons that may account for Lot's lingering
This is a question of great importance, and I ask most serious
attention to it. To know the root of a disease is one step towards a
remedy. He that is forewarned is forearmed.
Who is there among the readers of this paper that feels secure, and
has no fear of lingering? Come and listen while I tell you a few
passages of Lot's history. Do as he did, and it will be a miracle indeed
if you do not get into the same state of soul at last.
One thing then I observe in Lot is this,—he made a wrong choice in
early life.
There was a time when Abraham and Lot lived together. They both
became rich, and could live together no longer. Abraham, the elder of
the two, in the true spirit of humility and courtesy, gave Lot the
choice of the country, when they resolved to part company:—"If
thou," he said, "wilt take the left hand, then I will go to the right; or if
thou depart to the right hand, then I will go to the left." (Gen. 13:9.)
And what did Lot do?—We are told he saw that the plains of Jordan,
near Sodom, were rich, fertile, and well watered. It was a good land
for cattle, and full of pastures. He had large flocks and herds, and it
just suited his requirements. And this was the land he chose for a
residence, simply because it was a rich, "well watered land." (Gen.13:10.)
It was near the town of Sodom! He cared not for that.—The men of
Sodom, who would be his neighbours, were wicked! It mattered not.
—They were sinners before God exceedingly! It made no difference to
him.—The pasture was rich. The land was good. He wanted such a
country for his flocks and herds. And before that argument all
scruples and doubts, if indeed he had any, at once went down.
He chose by sight, and not by faith. He asked no counsel of God, to
preserve him from mistakes. He looked to the things of time, and not
of eternity. He thought of his worldly profit, and not of his soul. He
considered only what would help him in this life. He forgot the
solemn business of the life to come. This was a bad beginning.
But I observe also that Lot mixed with sinners when there was no
occasion for his doing so.
We are first told that he "pitched his tent toward Sodom." (Gen.
13:12.) This, as I have already shown, was a great mistake.
But the next time he is mentioned, we find him actually living in
Sodom itself. The Spirit says expressly, "He dwelt in Sodom." (Gen.
14:12.) His tents were left. The country was forsaken. He occupied a
house in the very streets of that wicked town.
We are not told the reasons of this change. We are not aware that any
occasion could have arisen for it. We are sure there could have been
no command of God. Perhaps his wife liked the town better than the
country, for the sake of society. It is plain she had no grace herself.
Perhaps she persuaded Lot it was needful for the advantage of his
daughters, that they might marry, and get settled in life. Perhaps the
daughters urged living in the town for the sake of gay company: they
were evidently light-minded young women. Perhaps Lot liked it
himself, in order to make more of his flocks and herds. Men never
want reasons to confirm their wills. But one thing is very clear,—Lot
dwelt in the midst of Sodom without good cause.
When a child of God does these two things which I have named, we
never need be surprised if we hear, by and by, unfavourable accounts
about his soul. We never need wonder if he becomes deaf to the
warning voice of affliction, as Lot was (Gen. 14:12), and turns out a
lingerer in the day of trial and danger, as Lot did.
Make a wrong choice in life,—an unscriptural choice,—and settle
yourself down unnecessarily in the midst of worldly people, and I
know no surer way to damage your own spirituality, and to go
backward about your eternal concerns. This is the way to make the
pulse of your soul beat feebly and languidly. This is the way to make
the edge of your feeling about sin become blunt and dull. This is the
way to dim the eyes of your spiritual discernment, till you can
scarcely distinguish good from evil, and stumble as you walk. This is
the way to bring a moral palsy on your feet and limbs, and make you
go tottering and trembling along the road to Zion, as if the
grasshopper was a burden. This is the way to sell the pass to your
worst enemy,—to give the devil vantage ground in the battle,—to tie
your arms in fighting,—to fetter your legs in running,—to dry up the
sources of your strength,—to cripple your energies,—to cut off your
own hair, like Samson, and give yourself into the hands of the
Philistines, to put out your own eyes, grind at the mill, and become a
slave.
I call on every reader of this paper to mark well what I am saying.
Settle these things down in your mind. Do not forget them. Recollect
them in the morning. Recall them to memory at night. Let them sink
down deeply into your heart. If ever you would be safe from
"lingering," beware of needless mingling with worldly people. Beware
of Lot's choice! If you would not settle down into a dry, dull, sleepy,
lazy, barren, heavy, carnal, stupid, torpid state of soul, beware of
Lot's choice!
(a) Remember this in choosing a dwelling-place, or residence. It is
not enough that the house is comfortable,—the situation good,—the
air fine,—the neighbourhood pleasant,—the rent or price small,—the
living cheap. There are other things yet to be considered. You must
think of your immortal soul. Will the house you think of help you
towards heaven or hell?—Is the Gospel preached within an easy
distance?—Is Christ crucified within reach of your door?—Is there a
real man of God near, who will watch over your soul? I charge you, if
you love life, not to overlook this. Beware of Lot's choice.
(b) Remember this in choosing a calling, a place, or profession in life.
It is not enough that the salary is high,—the wages good,—the work
light,—the advantages numerous,—the prospects of getting on most
favourable. Think of your soul, your immortal soul. Will it be fed or
starved? Will it be prospered or drawn back? Will you have your
Sundays free, and be able to have one day in the week for your
spiritual business? I beseech you, by the mercies of God, to take heed
what you do. Make no rash decision. Look at the place in every light,
—the light of God as well as the light of the world. Gold may be
bought too dear. Beware of Lot's choice.
(c) Remember this in choosing a husband or wife, if you are
unmarried. It is not enough that your eye is pleased,—that your
tastes are met,—that your mind finds congeniality,—that there is
amiability and affection,—that there is a comfortable home for life.
There needs something more than this. There is a life yet to come.
Think of your soul, your immortal soul. Will it be helped upwards or
dragged downwards by the union you are planning?—Will it be made
more heavenly, or more earthly,—drawn nearer to Christ, or to the
world?—Will its religion grow in vigour, or will it decay?—I pray you,
by all your hopes of glory, allow this to enter into your calculations.
"Think," as old Baxter said, and "think, and think again," before you
commit yourself. "Be not unequally yoked." (2 Cor. 6:14.) Matrimony
is nowhere named among the means of conversion. Remember Lot's
choice.
(d) Remember this, if you are ever offered a situation on a railway.—
It is not enough to have good pay and regular employment,—the
confidence of the directors, and the best chance of rising to a higher
post. These things are very well in their way, but they are not
everything. How will your soul fare if you serve a railway company
that runs Sunday trains? What day in the week will you have for God
and eternity? What opportunities will you have for hearing the
Gospel preached? I solemnly warn you to consider this. It will profit
you nothing to fill your purse, if you bring leanness and poverty on
your soul. Beware of selling your Sabbath for the sake of a good
place! Remember Esau's mess of pottage. Beware of Lot's choice!
Some reader may perhaps think, "A believer need not fear; he is a
sheep of Christ, he will never perish, he cannot come to much harm.
It cannot be that such small matters can be of great importance."
Well, you may think so. But I warn you, if you neglect these matters,
your soul will never prosper. A true believer will certainly not be cast
away, although he may linger. But if he does linger, it is vain to
suppose that his religion will thrive. Grace is a tender plant. Unless
you cherish it and nurse it well, it will soon become sickly in this evil
world. It may droop, though it cannot die. The brightest gold will
soon become dim when exposed to a damp atmosphere. The hottest
iron will soon become cold. It requires pains and toil to bring it to a
red heat: it requires nothing but letting alone, or a little cold water,
to become black and hard.
You may be an earnest, zealous Christian now. You may feel like
David in his prosperity: "I shall never be moved." (Psalm 30:6.) But
be not deceived. You have only got to walk in Lot's steps and make
Lot's choice, and you will soon come to Lot's state of soul. Allow
yourself to do as he did, presume to act as he acted, and be very sure
you will soon discover you have become a wretched "lingerer" like
him. You will find, like Samson, the presence of the Lord is no longer
with you. You will prove, to your own shame, an undecided,
hesitating man, in the day of trial. There will come a canker on your
religion, and eat out its vitality without your knowing it. There will
come a slow consumption on your spiritual strength, and waste it
away insensibly. And at length you will wake up to find your hands
hardly able to do the Lord's work, and your feet hardly able to carry
you along the Lord's way, and your faith no bigger than a grain of
mustard seed; and this, perhaps, at some turning point in your life,
at a time when the enemy is coming in like a flood, and your need is
the sorest.
Ah, if you would not become a lingerer in religion, consider these
things! Beware of doing what Lot did!
IV. Let us inquire now what kind of fruit Lot's lingering spirit bore at
last
I would not pass over this point for many reasons, and especially in
the present day. There are not a few who will feel disposed to say,
"After all Lot was saved: he was justified,—he got to heaven. I want
no more. If I do but get to heaven, I shall be content." If this be the
thought of your heart, just stay a moment, and listen to me a little
longer. I will show you one or two things in Lot's history which
deserve attention, and may perhaps induce you to alter your mind.
I think it of first importance to dwell upon this subject. I always will
contend that eminent holiness and eminent usefulness are most
closely connected,—that happiness and "following the Lord fully" go
side by side,—and that it believers will linger, they must not expect to
be useful in their day and generation, or to be very saintly and
Christ-like, or to enjoy great comfort and peace in believing.
(a) Let us mark, then, for one thing, that Lot did no good among the
inhabitants of Sodom.
Lot probably lived in Sodom many years. No doubt he had many
precious opportunities for speaking of the things of God, and trying
to turn away souls from sin. But Lot seems to have effected just
nothing at all. He appears to have had no weight or influence with
the people who lived around him. He possessed none of that respect
and reverence which even the men of the world will frequently
concede to a bright servant of God.
Not one righteous person could be found in all Sodom, outside the
walls of Lot's home. Not one of his neighbours believed his
testimony. Not one of his acquaintances honoured the Lord whom he
worshipped. Not one of his servants served his master's God. Not one
of "all the people from every quarter" cared a jot for his opinion
when he tried to restrain their wickedness. "This one fellow came in
to sojourn," said they, "and he will needs be a judge." (Gen. 19:9.) His
life carried no weight; his words were not listened to; his religion
drew none to follow him.
And, truly, I do not wonder! As a general rule, lingering souls do no
good to the world and bring no credit to God's cause. Their salt has
too little savour to season the corruption around them. They are not
"Epistles of Christ" who can be "known and read of all." (2 Cor. 3:2.)
There is nothing magnetic, and attractive, and Christ-reflecting
about their ways. Let us remember this.
(b) Let us mark, for another thing, that Lot helped none of his family,
relatives, or connections towards heaven.
We are not told how large his family was. But this we know,—he had
a wife and two daughters at least, in the day he was called out of
Sodom, if he had not more children besides.
But whether Lot's family was large or small, one thing, I think, is
perfectly clear,—there was not one among them all that feared God!
When he "went out and spake to his sons-in-law, which married his
daughters," and warned them to flee from the judgments coming on
Sodom, we are told, "he seemed to them as one that mocked." (Gen.
19:14.) What fearful words those are! It was as good as saying, "Who
cares for anything you say?" So long as the world stands, those things
will be a painful proof of the contempt with which a "lingerer" in
religion is regarded.
And what was Lot's wife? She left the city in his company, but she did
not go far. She had not faith to see the need of such a speedy flight.
She left her heart in Sodom when she began to flee. She looked back
from behind her husband, in spite of the plainest command not to do
so (Gen. 19:17), and was at once turned into a pillarof salt.
And what were Lot's two daughters? They escaped, indeed, but only
to do the devil's work. They became their father's tempters to
wickedness, and led him to commit the foulest of sins.
In short, Lot seems to have stood alone in his family! He was not
made the means of keeping one soul back from the gates of hell!
And I do not wonder. Lingering souls are seen through by their own
families; and, when seen through, they are despised. Their nearest
relatives understand inconsistency, if they understand nothing else
in religion. They draw the sad, but not unnatural, conclusion,
"Surely, if he believed all he professes to believe, he would not go on
as he does." Lingering parents seldom have godly children. The eye
of the child drinks in far more than the ear. A child will always
observe what you do much more than what you say. Let us remember
this.
(c) Let us mark, for a third thing, that Lot left no evidences behind
him when he died.
We know but little about Lot after his flight from Sodom, and all that
we do know is unsatisfactory.
His pleading for Zoar, because it was "a little one,"—his departure
from Zoar afterwards,—and his conduct in the cave,—all, all tell the
same story. All show the weakness of the grace that was in him, and
the low state of soul into which he had fallen.
We know not how long he lived after his escape. We know not where
he died, or when he died,—whether he saw Abraham again,—what
was the manner of his death,—what he said or what he thought. All
these are hidden things. We are told of the last days of Abraham,
Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, David,—but not one word about Lot. Oh, what
a gloomy death-bed the death-bed of Lot must have been!
The Scripture appears to draw a veil around him on purpose. There
is a painful silence about his latter end. He seems to go out like an
expiring lamp, and to leave an ill-savour behind him. And had we not
been specially told in the New Testament that Lot was "just" and
"righteous," I verily believe we should have doubted whether Lot was
a saved soul at all.
But I do not wonder at his sad end. Lingering believers will generally
reap according as they have sown. Their lingering often meets them
when their spirit is departing. They have little peace at the last. They
reach heaven, to be sure; but they reach it in poor plight, weary and
footsore, in weakness and tears, in darkness and storm. They are
saved, but "saved so as by fire." (1 Cor. 3:15.)
I ask every reader of this paper to consider the three things which I
have just mentioned. Do not misunderstand my meaning. It is
amazing to observe how readily people catch at the least excuse for
misunderstanding the things that concern their souls!
I do not tell you that believers who do not "linger" will, as a matter of
course, be great instruments of usefulness to the world. Noah
preached one hundred and twenty years, and none believed him. The
Lord Jesus was not esteemed by His own people, the Jews.
Nor yet do I tell you that believers who do not linger, will, as a matter
of course, be the means of converting their families and relatives.
David's children were, many of them, ungodly. The Lord Jesus was
not believed on even by His own brethren.
But I do say it is almost impossible not to see some connection
between Lot's evil choice and Lot's lingering;—and between Lot's
lingering and his unprofitableness to his family and the world. I
believe the Spirit meant us to see it. I believe the Spirit meant to
make him a beacon to all professing Christians. And I am sure the
lessons I have tried to draw from the whole history, deserve serious
reflection.
And now let me speak a few parting words to all who read this paper,
and especially to all who call themselves believers in Christ.
I have no wish to make your hearts sad. I do not want to give you a
gloomy view of the Christian course. My only object is to give you
friendly warnings. I desire your peace and comfort. I would fain see
you happy as well as safe,—and joyful, as well as justified. I speak as I
have done for your good.
You live in days when a lingering, Lot-like religion abounds. The
stream of profession is far broader than it once was, but far less deep
in many places. A certain kind of Christianity is almost fashionable
now. To belong to some party in the Church of England, and show a
zeal for its interests,—to talk about the leading controversies of the
day,—to buy popular religious books as fast as they come out, and lay
them on your table,—to attend meetings,—to subscribe to Societies,—
to discuss the merits of preachers,—to be enthusiastic and excited
about every new form of sensational religion which crops up,—all
these are now comparatively easy and common attainments. They no
longer make a person singular. They require little or no sacrifice.
They entail no cross.
But to walk closely with God,—to be really spiritually-minded,—to
behave like strangers and pilgrims,—to be distinct from the world in
employment of time, in conversation, in amusements, in dress,—to
bear a faithful witness for Christ in all places,—to leave a savour of
our Master in every society,—to be prayerful, humble, unselfish,
good-tempered, quiet, easily pleased, charitable, patient, meek,—to
be jealously afraid of all manner of sin, and tremblingly alive to our
danger from the world,—these, these are still rare things! They are
not common among those who are called true Christians, and, worst
of all the absence of them is not felt and bewailed as it should be.
In a day like this I venture to offer counsel to every believing reader
of this paper. Do not turn away from it. Do not be angry with me for
plain speaking. I bid you "give diligence to make your calling and
election sure." (2 Peter 1:10.) I bid you not to be slothful,—not to be
careless, not to be content with a small measure of grace,—not be
satisfied with being a little better than the world. I solemnly warn
you not to attempt doing what never can be done,—I mean, to serve
Christ, and yet keep in with the world. I call upon you, and beseech
you to be a whole-hearted Christian, to follow after eminent holiness,
to aim at a high degree of sanctification, to live a consecrated life, to
present your body a "living sacrifice" unto God, to "walk in the
Spirit." (Rom. 12:1; Gal. 5:25.) I charge you, and exhort you,—by all
your hopes of heaven, and desires of glory, if you would be happy, if
you would be useful,—do not be a lingering soul.
Would you know what the times demand?—The shaking of nations,—
the uprooting of ancient things,—the overturning of kingdoms,—the
stir and restlessness of men's minds—what do they say? They all cry
aloud,—Christian! do not linger!
Would you be found ready for Christ at His second appearing,—your
loins girded,—your lamp burning. yourself bold, and prepared to
meet Him? Then do not linger!
Would you enjoy much sensible comfort in your religion,—feel the
witness of the Spirit within you,—know whom you have believed,—
and not be a gloomy, complaining, sour, downcast, and melancholy
Christian? Then do not linger!
Would you enjoy strong assurance of your own salvation, in the day
of sickness, and on the bed of death?—Would you see with the eye of
faith heaven opening, and Jesus rising to receive you? Then do not
linger!
Would you leave great broad evidences behind you when you are
gone?—Would you like us to lay you in the grave with comfortable
hope, and talk of your state after death without a doubt? Then do not
linger!
Would you be useful to the world in your day and generation?—
Would you draw men from sin to Christ, adorn your doctrine, and
make your Master's cause beautiful and attractive in their eyes? Then
do not linger!
Would you help your children and relatives towards heaven, and
make them say, "We will go with you"?—and not make them infidels
and despisers of all religion? Then do not linger!
Would you have a great crown in the day of Christ's appearing, and
not be the least and smallest star in glory, and not find yourself the
last and lowest in the kingdom of God? Then do not linger!
Oh, let not one of us linger! Time does not,—death does not,—
judgment does not,—the devil does not,—the world does not. Neither
let the children of God linger.
Does any reader of this paper feel that he is a lingerer? Has your
heart felt heavy, and your conscience sore, while you have been
reading these pages? Does something within you whisper, "I am the
man"? Then listen to what I am saying.—It is not well with your soul.
Awake, and try to do better.
If you are a lingerer, you must just go to Christ at once and be cured.
—You must use the old remedy; you must bathe in the old fountain.
You must turn again to Christ and be healed. The way to do a thing is
to do it. Do this at once?
Think not for a moment your case is past recovery. Think not,
because you have been long living in a dry, sleepy, and heavy state of
soul, that there is no hope of revival. Is not the Lord Jesus Christ an
appointed Physician for all spiritual ailments? Did He not cure every
form of disease when He was upon earth? Did not He cast out every
kind of devil? Did He not raise poor backsliding Peter, and put a new
song in his mouth? Oh, doubt not, but earnestly believe that He will
yet revive His work within you! Only turn from lingering, and confess
your folly, and come,—come at once to Christ. Blessed are the words
of the prophet: "Only acknowledge thine iniquity."—"Return, ye
backsliding children, and I will heal your backsliding." (Jerem. 3:13, 22.)
And let us all remember the souls of others, as well as our own. If at
any time we see any brother or sister lingering, let us try to awaken
them,—try to arouse them,—try to stir them up. Let us all "exhort one
another" as we have opportunity. "Let us provoke unto love and good
works." (Heb. 3:13; 10:24.) Let us not be afraid to say to each other,
"Brother, or sister, have you forgotten Lot? Awake! and remember
Lot!—Awake, and linger no more.
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Post by Admin on Jan 18, 2024 16:09:21 GMT -5
X. A WOMAN TO BE REMEMBERED
"Remember Lot's Wife."—LUKE 17:32
THERE are few warnings in Scripture more solemn than that which
heads this page. The Lord Jesus Christ says to us, "Remember Lot's
wife."
Lot's wife was a professor of religion: her husband was a "righteous
man." (2 Peter 2:8.) She left Sodom with him on the day when
Sodom was destroyed; she looked back towards the city from behind
her husband, against God's express command; she was struck dead
at once, and turned into a pillar of salt. And the Lord Jesus Christ
holds her up as a beacon to His Church: He says, "Remember Lot's
wife."
It is a solemn warning, when we think of the person Jesus names. He
does not bid us remember Abraham, or Isaac, or Jacob, or Sarah, or
Hannah, or Ruth. No: He singles out one whose soul was lost for
ever. He cries to us, "Remember Lot's wife."
It is a solemn warning, when we consider the subject Jesus is upon.
He is speaking of His own second coming to judge the world: He is
describing the awful state of unreadiness in which many will be
found. The last days are on His mind, when He says, "Remember
Lot's wife."
It is a solemn warning, when we think of the person who gives it. The
Lord Jesus is full of love, mercy, and compassion: He is one who will
not break the bruised reed nor quench the smoking flax. He could
weep over unbelieving Jerusalem, and pray for the men that
crucified Him; yet even He thinks it good to remind us of lost souls.
Even He says, "Remember Lot's wife."
It is a solemn warning, when we think of the persons to whom it was
first given. The Lord Jesus was speaking to His disciples: He was not
addressing the scribes and Pharisees, who hated Him, but Peter,
James, and John, and many others who loved Him; yet even to them
He thinks it good to address a caution. Even to them He says,
"Remember Lot's wife."
It is a solemn warning, when we consider the manner in which it was
given. He does not merely say, "Beware of following,—take heed of
imitating,—do not be like Lot's wife." He uses a different word: He
says, "Remember." He speaks as if we were all in danger or forgetting
the subject; He stirs up our lazy memories; He bids us keep the case
before our minds. He cries, "Remember Lot's wife."
I propose to examine the lessons which Lot's wife is meant to teach
us. I am sure that her history is full of useful instruction to the
Church. The last days are upon us; the second coming of the Lord
Jesus draws nigh; the danger of worldliness is yearly increasing in
the Church. Let us be provided with safeguards and antidotes against
the disease that is around us; and, not least, let us become familiar
with the story of Lot's wife.
There are three things which I shall do, in order to bring the subject
before our minds in order.
I. I will speak of the religious privileges which Lot's wife enjoyed.
II. I will speak of the sin which Lot's wife committed.
III. I will speak of the judgment which God inflicted upon her
I. I will first speak of the religious privileges which Lot's wife enjoyed
In the days of Abraham and Lot, true saving religion was scarce upon
earth: there were no Bibles, no ministers, no churches, no tracts, no
missionaries. The knowledge of God was confined to a few favoured
families; the greater part of the inhabitants of the world were living
in darkness, ignorance, superstition, and sin. Not one in a hundred
perhaps had such good example, such spiritual society, such clear
knowledge, such plain warnings as Lot's wife. Compared with
millions of her fellow-creatures in her time, Lot's wife was a favoured
woman.
She had a godly man for her husband: she had Abraham, the father
of the faithful, for her uncle by marriage. The faith, the knowledge,
and the prayers of these two righteous men could have been no
secret to her. It is impossible that she could have dwelt in tents with
them for any length of time, without knowing whose they were and
whom they served. Religion with them was no mere formal business;
it was the ruling principle of their lives and the mainspring of all
their actions. All this Lot's wife must have seen and known. This was
no small privilege.
When Abram first received the promises, it is probable Lot's wife was
there. When he built his altar by his tent between Hai and Bethel, it
is probable she was there. When her husband was taken captive by
Chedorlaomer, and delivered by God's interference, she was there.
When Melchizedek, king of Salem, came forth to meet Abraham with
bread and wine, she was there. When the angels came to Sodom and
warned her husband to flee, she saw them; when they took them by
the hand and led them out of the city, she was one of those whom
they helped to escape. Once more, I say, these were no small
privileges.
Yet what good effect had all these privileges on the heart of Lot's
wife? None at all. Notwithstanding all her opportunities and means
of grace,—notwithstanding all her special warnings and messages
from heaven, she lived and died graceless, godless, impenitent, and
unbelieving. The eyes of her understanding were never opened; her
conscience was never really aroused and quickened; her will was
never really brought into a state of obedience to God; her affections
were never really set upon things above. The form of religion which
she had was kept up for fashion's sake and not from feeling: it was a
cloak worn for the sake of pleasing her company, but not from any
sense of its value. She did as others did around her in Lot's house:
she conformed to her husband's ways: she made no opposition to his
religion: she allowed herself to be passively towed along in his wake:
but all this time her heart was wrong in the sight of God. The world
was in her heart, and her heart was in the world. In this state she
lived, and in this state she died.
In all this there is much to be learned: I see a lesson here which is of
the deepest importance in the present day. You live in times when
there are many persons just like Lot's wife: come and hear the lesson
which her case is meant to teach.
Learn, then, that the mere possession of religious privileges will save
no one's soul. You may have spiritual advantages of every
description; you may live in the full sunshine of the richest
opportunities and means of grace; you may enjoy the best of
preaching and the choicest instruction; you may dwell in the midst of
light, knowledge, holiness, and good company. All this may be, and
yet you yourself may remain unconverted, and at last be lost for ever.
I dare say this doctrine sounds hard to some readers. I know that
many fancy they want nothing but religious privileges in order to
become decided Christians. They are not what they ought to be at
present, they allow: but their position is so hard, they plead, and
their difficulties are so many. Give them a godly husband, or a godly
wife,—give them godly companions, or a godly master,—give them
the preaching of the Gospel,—give them privileges, and then they
would walk with God.
It is all a mistake. It is an entire delusion. It requires something more
than privileges to save souls. Joab was David's captain; Gehazi was
Elisha's servant; Demas was Paul's companion; Judas Iscariot was
Christ's disciple; and Lot had a worldly unbelieving wife. These all
died in their sins. They went down to the pit in spite of knowledge,
warnings, and opportunities; and they all teach us that it is not
privileges alone that men need. They need the grace of the Holy
Ghost.
Let us value religious privileges, but let us not rest entirely upon
them. Let us desire to have the benefit of them in all our movements
in life, but let us not put them in the place of Christ. Let us use them
thankfully, if God grants them to us, but let us take care that they
produce some fruit in our heart and life. If they do not do good, they
often do positive harm: they sear the conscience, they increase
responsibility, they aggravate condemnation. The same fire which
melts the wax hardens the clay; the same sun which makes the living
tree grow, dries up the dead tree, and prepares it for burning.
Nothing so hardens the heart of man as a barren familiarity with
sacred things. Once more I say, it is not privileges alone which make
people Christians, but the grace of the Holy Ghost. Without that no
man will ever be saved.
I ask the members of Evangelical congregations, in the present day,
to mark well what I am saying. You go to Mr. A's, or Mr. B's church:
you think him an excellent preacher; you delight in his sermons; you
cannot hear any one else with the same comfort; you have learned
many things since you attended his ministry; you consider it a great
privilege to be one of his hearers! All this is very good. It is a
privilege. I should be thankful if ministers like yours were multiplied
a thousandfold. But after all, what have you got in your heart? Have
you yet received the Holy Ghost? If not, you are no better than Lot's
wife.
I ask the servants of religious families to mark well what I am saying.
It is a great privilege to live in a house where the fear of God reigns.
It is a privilege to hear family prayers morning and evening, to hear
the Word of God regularly expounded, to have a quiet Sunday, and to
be able always to go to church. These are the things that you ought to
seek after when you try to get a situation: these axe the things which
make a really good place. High wages and light work will never make
up for a constant round of worldliness, Sabbath-breaking, and sin.
But take heed that you do not rest content with these things: do not
suppose because you have all these spiritual advantages, that you will
of course go to heaven. You must have grace in your own heart, as
well as attend family prayers. If not, you are at present no better than
Lot's wife.
I ask the children of religious parents to mark well what I am saying.
It is the highest privilege to be the child of a godly father and mother,
and to be brought up in the midst of many prayers. It is a blessed
thing indeed to be taught the Gospel from our earliest infancy, and to
hear of sin, and Jesus, and the Holy Spirit, and holiness, and heaven,
from the first moment we can remember anything. But, oh, take heed
that you do not remain barren and unfruitful in the sunshine of all
these privileges: beware lest your heart remains hard, impenitent
and worldly, notwithstanding the many advantages you enjoy. You
cannot enter the kingdom of God on the credit of your parents'
religion. You must eat the bread of life for yourself, and have the
witness of the Spirit in your own heart. You must have repentance of
your own faith of your own, and sanctification of your own. If not,
you are no better than Lot's wife.
I pray God that all professing Christians, in these days, may lay these
things to heart. May we never forget that privileges alone cannot save
us. Light and knowledge, and faithful preaching, and abundant
means of grace, and the company of holy people are all great
blessings and advantages. Happy are they that have them! But, after
all, there is one thing without which privileges are useless: that one
thing is the grace of the Holy Ghost. Lot's wife had many privileges:
but Lot's wife had no grace.
II. I will next speak of the sin which Lots wife committed
The history of her sin is given by the Holy Ghost in few and simple
words:—"She looked back from behind her husband, and she became
a pillar of salt." We are told no more than this. There is a naked
solemnity about the history. The sum and substance of her
transgression lies in these three words, "She looked back."
Does that sin seem small in the eyes of any reader of this paper?
Does the fault of Lot's wife appear a trifling one to be visited with
such a punishment? This is the feeling, I dare say, that rises in some
hearts. Give me your attention while I reason with you on the
subject. There was far more in that look than strikes you at first
sight: it implied far more than it expressed. Listen, and you shall
hear.
(a) That look was a little thing, but it revealed the true character of
Lot's wife. Little things will often show the state of a man's mind
even better than great ones, and little symptoms are often the signs
of deadly and incurable diseases. The apple that Eve ate was a little
thing, but it proved that she had fallen from innocence and become a
sinner. A crack in an arch seems a little thing, but it proves that the
foundation is giving way, and the whole fabric is unsafe. A little
cough in a morning seems an unimportant ailment, but it is often an
evidence of failing in the constitution, and leads on to decline,
consumption, and death. A straw may show which way the wind
blows, and one look may show the rotten condition of a sinner's
heart. (Matt. 5:28.)
(b) That look was a little thing, but it told of disobedience in Lot's
wife. The command of the angel was strait and unmistakable: "Look
not behind thee." (Gen. 19:17.) This command Lot's wife refused to
obey. But the Holy Ghost says, that "to obey is better than sacrifice,"
and that "rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft." (1 Sam. 15:22, 23.)
When God speaks plainly by His Word, or by His messengers, man's
duty is clear.
(c) That look was a little thing, but it told of proud unbelief in Lot's
wife. She seemed to doubt whether God was really going to destroy
Sodom: she appeared not to believe there was any danger, or any
need for such a hasty flight. But without faith it is impossible to
please God. (Heb. 11:6.) The moment a man begins to think he knows
better than God, and that God does not mean anything when He
threatens, his soul is in great danger. When we cannot see the reason
of God's dealings, our duty is to hold our peace and believe.
(d) That look was a little thing, but it told of secret love of the world
in Lot's wife. Her heart was in Sodom, though her body was outside.
She had left her affections behind when she fled from her home. Her
eye turned to the place where her treasure was, as the compass
needle turns to the pole. And this was the crowning point of her sin.
"The friendship of the world is enmity with God." (James 4:4.) "If
any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him." (1 John
2:15.)
I ask the special attention of my readers to this part of our subject. I
believe it to be the part to which the Lord Jesus particularly intends
to direct our mind. I believe He would have us observe that Lot's wife
was lost by looking back to the world. Her profession was at one time
fair and specious, but she never really gave up the world. She seemed
at one time in the road to safety, but even then the lowest and
deepest thoughts of her heart were for the world. The immense
danger of worldliness is the grand lesson which the Lord Jesus
means us to learn. Oh, that we may all have an eye to see and a heart
to understand!
I believe there never was a time when warnings against worldliness
were so much needed by the Church of Christ as they are at the
present day. Every age is said to have its own peculiar epidemic
disease: the epidemic disease to which the souls of Christians are
liable just now is the love of the world. It is a pestilence that walketh
in darkness, and a sickness that destroyeth at noonday. It "hath cast
down many wounded; yea, many strong men have been wounded by
it." I would fain raise a warning voice, and try to arouse the
slumbering consciences of all who make a profession of religion. I
would fain cry aloud, "Remember the sin of Lot's wife." She was no
murderess, no adulteress, no thief:—but she was a professor of
religion, and she looked back.
There are thousands of baptized persons in our churches who are
proof against immorality and infidelity, and yet fall victims to the
love of the world. There are thousands who run well for a season, and
seem to bid fair to reach heaven, but by and by give up the race, and
turn their backs on Christ altogether. And what has stopped them?
Have they found the Bible not true? Have they found the Lord Jesus
fail to keep His word? No: not at all. But they have caught the
epidemic disease: they are infected with the love of this world. I
appeal to every true-hearted Evangelical minister who reads this
paper: I ask him to look round his congregation. I appeal to every
old-established Christian: I ask him to look round the circle of his
acquaintance. I am sure that I am speaking the truth. I am sure that
it is high time to remember the sin of Lot's wife.
(a) How many children of religious families begin well and end ill! In
the days of their childhood they seem full of religion. They can repeat
texts and hymns in abundance; they have spiritual feelings and
convictions of sin; they profess love to the Lord Jesus and desires
after heaven; they take pleasure in going to church and hearing
sermons; they say things which are treasured up by their fond
parents as indications of grace; they do things which make relations
say, "What manner of child will this be?" But, alas, how often their
goodness vanishes like the morning cloud, and like the dew that
passes away! The boy becomes a young man, and cares for nothing
but amusements, field-sports, reveling, and excess. The girl becomes
a young woman, and cares for nothing but dress, gay company,
novel-reading, and excitement. Where is the spirituality which once
appeared to promise so fair? It is all gone: it is buried; it is
overflowed by the love of the world. They walk in the steps of Lot's
wife. They look back.
(b) How many married people do well in religion to all appearance,
until their children begin to grow up,—and then they fall away! In the
early years of their married life they seem to follow Christ diligently,
and to witness a good confession. They regularly attend the
preaching of the Gospel: they are fruitful in good works; they are
never seen in vain and dissipated society. Their faith and practice are
both sound, and walk hand in hand. But, alas, how often a spiritual
blight comes over the household when a young family begins to grow
up, and sons and daughters have to be brought forward in life. A
leaven of worldliness begins to appear in their habits, dress,
entertainments, and employment of time. They are no longer strict
about the company they keep and the places they visit. Where is the
decided line of separation which they once observed? Where is the
unswerving abstinence from worldly amusements which once
marked their course? It is all forgotten. It is all laid aside, like an old
almanack. A change has come over them: the spirit of the world has
taken possession of their hearts. They walk in the steps of Lot's wife.
They look back.
(c) How many young women seem to love decided religion until they
are twenty or twenty-one, and then lose all! Up to this time of their
life their conduct in religious matters is all that could be desired.
They keep up habits of private prayer; they read their Bibles
diligently; they visit the poor, when they have opportunity; they
teach in Sunday schools, when there is an opening; they minister to
the temporal and spiritual wants of the poor; they like religious
friends; they love to talk on religious subjects; they write letters full
of religious expressions and religious experience. But, alas, how often
they prove unstable as water, and are ruined by the love of the world!
Little by little they fall away and lose their first love. Little by little
the "things seen" push out of their minds the "things unseen," and,
like the plague of locusts, eat up every green thing in their souls. Step
by step they go back from the decided position they once took up.
They cease to be jealous about sound doctrine; they pretend to find
out that it is "uncharitable" to think one person has more religion
than another; they discover it is "exclusive" to attempt any
separation from the customs of society. By and by they give their
affections to some man who makes no pretense to decided religion.
At last they end by giving up the last remnant of their own
Christianity, and becoming thorough children of the world. They
walk in the steps of Lot's wife. They look back.
(d) How many communicants in our churches were at one time
zealous and earnest professors, and have now become torpid, formal,
and cold! Time was when none seemed so much alive in religion as
they were: none were so diligent in their attendance on the means of
grace; none were so anxious to promote the cause of the Gospel, and
so ready for every good work; none were so thankful for spiritual
instruction; none were apparently so desirous to grow in grace. But
now, alas, everything seems altered! The "love of other things" has
taken possession of their hearts, and choked the good seed of the
Word. The money of the world, the rewards of the world, the
literature of the world, the honors of the world, have now the first
place in their affections. Talk to them, and you will find no response
about spiritual things. Mark their daily conduct, and you will see no
zeal about the kingdom of God. A religion they have indeed, but it is
living religion no more. The spring of their former Christianity is
dried up and gone; the fire of the spiritual machine is quenched and
cold: earth has put out the flame which once burned so brightly.
They have walked in the steps of Lot's wife. They have looked back.
(e) How many clergymen work hard in their profession for a few
years, and then become lazy and indolent from the love of this
present world! At the outset of their ministry they seem willing to
spend and be spent for Christ: they are instant in season and out of
season; their preaching is lively and their churches are filled. Their
congregations are well looked after: cottage lectures, prayer
meetings, house-to-house visitation, are their weekly delight. But,
alas, how often after "beginning in the Spirit" they end "in the flesh,"
and, like Sampson, are shorn of their strength in the lap of that
Delilah, the world! They are preferred to some rich living; they marry
a worldly wife; they are puffed up with pride, and neglect study and
prayer. A nipping frost cuts off the spiritual blossoms which once
bade so fair. Their preaching loses its unction and power; their week
day work becomes less and less; the society they mix in becomes less
select; the tone of their conversation becomes more earthly. They
cease to disregard the opinion of man: they imbibe a morbid fear of
"extreme views," and are filled with a cautious dread of giving
offence. And at last the man who at one time seemed likely to be a
real successor of the apostles and a good soldier of Christ, settles
down on his lees as a clerical gardener, farmer, or diner-out, by
whom nobody is offended and nobody is saved. His church becomes
half empty; his influence dwindles away; the world has bound him
hand and foot. He has walked in the steps of Lot's wife. He has
looked back.*
It is sad to write of these things, but it is far more sad to see them. It
is sad to observe how professing Christians can blind their
consciences by specious arguments on this subject, and can defend
positive worldliness by talking of the "duties of their station," the
"courtesies of life," and the necessity of having a "cheerful religion."
It is sad to see how many a gallant ship launches forth on the voyage
of life with every prospect of success, and springing this leak of
worldliness, goes down with all her freight in full view of the harbour
of safety. It is saddest of all to observe how many flatter themselves it
is all right with their souls when it is all wrong, by reason of this love
of the world. Grey hairs are here and there upon them, and they
know it not. They began with Jacob, and David, and Peter, and they
are likely to end with Esau, and Saul, and Judas Iscariot. They began
with Ruth, and Hannah, and Mary, and Persis, and they are likely to
end with Lot's wife.
Beware of a half-hearted religion. Beware of following Christ from
any secondary motive,—to please relations and friends,—to keep in
with the custom of the place or family in which you reside,—to
appear respectable and have the reputation of being religious. Follow
Christ for His own sake, if you follow Him at all. Be thorough, be
real, be honest, be sound, be Whole-hearted. If you have any religion
at all, let your religion be real. See that you do not sin the sin of Lot's
wife.
Beware of ever supposing that you may go too far in religion, and of
secretly trying to keep in with the world. I want no reader of this
paper to become a hermit, a monk, or a nun: I wish every one to do
his real duty in that state of life to which he is called. But I do urge on
every professing Christian who wishes to be happy, the immense
importance of making no compromise between God and the world.
Do not try to drive a hard bargain, as if you wanted to give Christ as
little of your heart as possible, and to keep as much as possible of the
things of this life. Beware lest you overreach yourself, and end by
losing all. Love Christ with all your heart, and mind, and soul, and
strength. Seek first the kingdom of God, and believe that then all
other things shall be added to you. Take heed that you do not prove a
copy of the character John Bunyan draws,—Mr. Facing-both-ways.
For your happiness' sake, for your usefulness' sake, for your safety's
sake, for your soul's sake, beware of the sin of Lot's wife. Oh, it is a
solemn saying of our Lord Jesus, "No man having put his hand to the
plough and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God." (Luke 9:62.)
III. I will now speak, in the last place, of the punishment which God
inflicted on Lot's wife
The Scripture describes her end in few and simple words. It is
written that "she looked back and became a pillar of salt." A miracle
was wrought to execute God's judgment on this guilty woman. The
same Almighty hand which first gave her life, took that life away in
the twinkling of an eye. From living flesh and blood she was turned
into a pillar of salt.
That was a fearful end for a soul to come to! To die at any time is a
solemn thing. To die amidst kind friends and relations, to die calmly
and quietly in one's bed, to die with the prayers of godly men still
sounding in your ears, to die with a good hope through grace in the
full assurance of salvation, leaning on the Lord Jesus, buoyed up by
Gospel promises,—to die even so, I say, is a serious business. But to
die suddenly and in a moment, in the very act of sin, to die in full
health and strength, to die by the direct interposition of an angry
God,—this is fearful indeed. Yet this was the end of Lot's wife. I
cannot blame the Prayer-book Litany, as some do, for retaining this
petition, "From sudden death, good Lord, deliver us."
That was a hopeless end for a soul to come to! There are cases where
one hopes, as it were, against hope, about the souls of those we see
go down to the grave. We try to persuade ourselves that our poor
departed brother or sister may have repented unto salvation at the
last moment, and laid hold on the hem of Christ's garment at the
eleventh hour. We call to mind God's mercies; we remember the
Spirit's power; we think on the case of the penitent thief; we whisper
to ourselves, that saving work may have gone on even on that dying
bed which the dying person had not strength to tell. But there is an
end of all such hopes when a person is suddenly cut down in the very
act of sin. Charity itself can say nothing when the soul has been
summoned away in the very midst of wickedness, without even a
moment's time for thought or prayer. Such was the end of Lot's wife.
It was a hopeless end. She went to hell.
But it is good for us all to mark these things. It is good to be
reminded that God can punish sharply those who sin wilfully, and
that great privileges misused bring down great wrath on the soul.
Pharaoh saw all the miracles which Moses worked;—Korah, Dathan,
and Abiram had heard God speaking from Mount Sinai;—Hophni
and Phinehas were sons of God's High Priest;—Saul lived in the full
light of Samuel's ministry;—Ahab was often warned by Elijah the
prophet;—Absalom enjoyed the privilege of being one of David's
children;—Belshazzar had Daniel the prophet hard by his door;—
Ananias and Sapphira joined the Church in the days when the
apostles were working miracles;—Judas Iscariot was a chosen
companion of our Lord Jesus Christ Himself. But they all sinned with
a high hand against light and knowledge; and they were all suddenly
destroyed without remedy. They had no time or space for
repentance. As they lived, so they died: as they were, they hurried
away to meet God. They went with all their sins upon them,
unpardoned, unrenewed, and utterly unfit for heaven. And being
dead they yet speak. They tell us, like Lot's wife, that it is a perilous
thing to sin against light, that God hates sin, and that there is a hell.
I feel constrained to speak freely to my readers on the subject of hell.
Suffer me to use the opportunity which the end of Lot's wife affords.
I believe the time is come when it is a positive duty to speak plainly
about the reality and eternity of hell. A flood of false doctrine has
lately broken in upon us. Men are beginning to tell us "that God is
too merciful to punish souls for ever,—that there is a love of God
lower even than hell,—and that all mankind, however wicked and
ungodly some of them may be, will sooner or later be saved." We are
invited to leave the old paths of apostolic Christianity. We are told
that the views of our fathers about hell, and the devil, and
punishment, are obsolete and old-fashioned. We are to embrace
what is called a "kinder theology," and treat hell as a Pagan fable, or
a bugbear to frighten children and fools. Against such false teaching I
desire, for one, to protest. Painful, sorrowful, distressing as the
controversy may be, we must not blink it, or refuse to look the
subject in the face. I, for one, am resolved to maintain the old
position, and to assert the reality and eternity of hell.
Believe me, this is no mere speculative question. It is not to be
classed with disputes about liturgies and Church government. It is
not to be ranked with mysterious problems, like the meaning of
Ezekiel's temple or the symbols of Revelation. It is a question which
lies at the very foundation of the whole Gospel. The moral attributes
of God, His justice, His holiness, His purity, are all involved in it. The
necessity of personal faith in Christ, and the sanctification of the
Spirit, are all at stake. Once let the old doctrine about hell be
overthrown, and the whole system of Christianity is unsettled,
unscrewed, unpinned, and thrown into disorder.
Believe me, the question is not one in which we are obliged to fall
back on the theories and inventions of man. The Scripture has
spoken plainly and fully on the subject of hell. I hold it to be
impossible to deal honestly with the Bible, and to avoid the
conclusions to which it will lead us on this point. If words mean
anything, there is such a place as hell. If texts are to be interpreted
fairly, there are those who will be cast into it. If language has any
sense belonging to it, hell is for ever. I believe that the man who finds
arguments for evading the evidence of the Bible on this question, has
arrived at a state of mind in which reasoning is useless. For my own
part, it seems just as easy to argue that we do not exist, as to argue
that the Bible does not teach the reality and eternity of hell.
(a) Settle it firmly in your mind, that the same Bible which teaches
that God in mercy and compassion sent Christ to die for sinners,
does also teach that God hates sin, and must from His very nature
punish all who cleave to sin, or refuse the salvation He has provided.
The very same chapter which declares, "God so loved the world,"
declares also, that "the wrath of God abides" on the unbeliever.
(John 3:16, 36.) The very same Gospel which is launched into the
earth with the blessed tidings, "He that believeth and is baptized
shall be saved," proclaims in the same breath, "He that believeth not
shall be damned." (Mark 16:16.)
(b) Settle it firmly in your mind, that God has given us proof upon
proof in the Bible that He will punish the hardened and unbelieving,
and that He can take vengeance on His enemies, as well as show
mercy on the penitent. The drowning of the old world by the flood,—
the burning of Sodom and Gomorrah.—the overthrow of Pharaoh
and all his host in the Red Sea—the judgment on Korah, Dathan, and
Abiram,—the utter destruction of the seven nations of Canaan,—all
teach the same awful truth. They are all given to us as beacons, and
signs, and warnings, that we may not provoke God. They are all
meant to lift up the corner of the curtain which hangs over things to
come, and to remind us that there is such a thing as the wrath of
God. They all tell us plainly that "the wicked shall be turned into
hell." (Psalm 9:17.)
(c) Settle it firmly in your mind, that the Lord Jesus Christ Himself
has spoken most plainly about the reality and eternity of hell. The
parable of the rich man and Lazarus contains things which should
make men tremble. But it does not stand alone. No lips have used so
many words to express the awfulness of hell, as the lips of Him who
spake as never man spake, and who said "The word which ye hear is
not Mine, but the Father's which sent Me." (John 14:24.) Hell, hell
fire, the damnation of hell, eternal damnation, the resurrection of
damnation, everlasting fire, the place of torment, destruction, outer
darkness, the worm that never dies, the fire that is not quenched, the
place of weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth, everlasting
punishment—these, these are the words which the Lord Jesus Christ
Himself employs. Away with the miserable nonsense which people
talk in this day, who tell us that the ministers of the Gospel should
never speak of hell! They only show their own ignorance, or their
own dishonesty, when they talk in such a manner. No man can
honestly read the four Gospels and fail to see that he who would
follow the example of Christ must speak of hell.
(d) Settle it, lastly, in your mind, that the comforting ideas which the
Scripture gives us of heaven are at an end, if we once deny the reality
or eternity of hell. Is there no future separate abode for those who die
wicked and ungodly? Are all men after death to be mingled together
in one confused multitude? Why then, heaven will be no heaven at
all! It is utterly impossible for two to dwell happily together except
they be agreed.—Is there to be a time when the term of hell and
punishment will be over? Are the wicked after ages of misery to be
admitted into heaven? Why then, the need of the sanctification of the
Spirit is cast aside and despised! I read that men can be sanctified
and made meet for heaven on earth: I read nothing of any
sanctification in hell. Away with such baseless and unscriptural
theories! The eternity of hell is as clearly affirmed in the Bible as the
eternity of heaven. Once allow that hell is not eternal, and you may
as well say that God and heaven are not eternal. The same Greek
word which is used in the expression, "everlasting punishment," is
the word that is used by the Lord Jesus in the expression, "life
eternal," and by St. Paul, in the expression, "everlasting God." (Matt.
25:46; Rom. 16:26.)
I know that all this sounds dreadful in many ears. I do not wonder.
But the only question we have to settle is this,—Is it Scriptural? Is it
true? I maintain firmly that it is so: and I maintain that professing
Christians ought to be often reminded that they may be lost and go to
hell.
I know that it is easy to deny all plain teaching about hell, and to
make it odious by invidious names. I have often heard of "narrow
minded views, and old-fashioned notions, and brimstone theology,"
and the like. I have often been told that "broad" views are wanted in
the present day. I wish to be as broad as the Bible, neither less nor
more. I say that he is the narrow-minded theologian, who pares
down such parts of the Bible as the natural heart dislikes, and rejects
any portion of the counsel of God.
God knows that I never speak of hell without pain and sorrow. I
would gladly offer the salvation of the Gospel to the very chief of
sinners. I would willingly say to the vilest and most profligate of
mankind on his death-bed, "Repent, and believe on Jesus, and thou
shalt be saved." But God forbid that I should ever keep back from
mortal man that Scripture reveals a hell as well as heaven, and that
the Gospel teaches that men may be lost as well as saved. The
watchman who keeps silence, when he sees a fire, is guilty of gross
neglect,—the doctor who tells us we are getting well when we are
dying, is a false friend; and the minister who keeps back hell from his
people in his sermons is neither a faithful nor a charitable man.
Where is the charity of keeping back any portion of God's truth? He
is the kindest friend who tells me the whole extent of my danger.
Where is the use of hiding the future from the impenitent and the
ungodly? Surely it is like helping the devil, if we do not tell them
plainly that "the soul that sinneth shall surely die." Who knows but
the wretched carelessness of many baptized persons arises from this,
that they have never been told plainly of hell? Who can tell but
thousands might be converted, if ministers would urge them more
faithfully to flee from the wrath to come? Verily, I fear we are many
of us guilty in this matter: there is a morbid tenderness amongst us
which is not the tenderness of Christ. We have spoken of mercy, but
not of judgment; we have preached many sermons about heaven, but
few about hell: we have been carried away by the wretched fear of
being thought "low, vulgar, and fanatical." We have forgotten that He
who judgeth us is the Lord, and that the man who teaches the same
doctrine that Christ taught cannot be wrong.
If you would ever be a healthy Scriptural Christian, I entreat you to
give hell a place in your theology. Establish it in your mind as a fixed
principle, that God is a God of judgment, as well as of mercy; and
that the same everlasting counsels which laid the foundation of the
bliss of heaven, have also laid the foundation of the misery of hell.
Keep in full view of your mind that all who die unpardoned and
unrenewed, are utterly unfit for the presence of God and must be lost
for ever. They are not capable of enjoying heaven: they could not be
happy there. They must go to their own place: and that place is hell.
—Oh, it is a great thing in these days of unbelief to believe the whole
Bible!
If you would ever be a healthy and Scriptural Christian, I entreat you
to beware of any ministry which does not plainly teach the reality
and eternity of hell. Such a ministry may be soothing and pleasant,
but it is far more likely to lull you to sleep than to lead you to Christ,
or build you up in the faith. It is impossible to leave out any portion
of God's truth without spoiling the whole. That preaching is sadly
defective which dwells exclusively on the mercies of God and the joys
of heaven, and never sets forth the terrors of the Lord and the
miseries of hell. It may be popular, but it is not Scriptural: it may
amuse and gratify, but it will not save. Give me the preaching which
keeps back nothing that God has revealed. You may call it stern and
harsh; you may tell us that to frighten people is not the way to do
them good. But you are forgetting that the grand object of the Gospel
is to persuade men to "flee from the wrath to come," and that it is
vain to expect men to flee unless they are afraid. Well would it be for
many professing Christians if they were more afraid about their souls
than they now are!
If you desire to be a healthy Christian, consider often what your own
end will be. Will it be happiness, or will it be misery? Will it be the
death of the righteous, or will it be a death without hope, like that of
Lot's wife? You cannot live always: there must be an end one day.
The last sermon will one day be heard; the last prayer will one day be
prayed; the last chapter in the Bible will one day be read;—meaning,
wishing, hoping, intending, resolving, doubting, hesitating,—all will
at length be over. You will have to leave this world and to stand
before a holy God. Oh, that you would be wise! Oh, that you would
consider your latter end!
You cannot trifle for ever: a time will come when you must be
serious. You cannot put off your soul's concerns for ever: a day will
come when you must have a reckoning with God. You cannot be
always singing, and dancing, and eating, and drinking, and dressing,
and reading, and laughing, and jesting, and scheming, and planning,
and money-making. The summer insects cannot always sport in the
sunshine; the cold chilly evening will come at last, and stop their
sport for ever. So will it be with you. You may put off religion now,
and refuse the counsel of God's ministers: but the cool of the day is
drawing on, when God will come down to speak with you. And what
will your end be? Will it be a hopeless one, like that of Lot's wife?
I beseech you, by the mercies of God, to look this question fairly in
the face. I entreat you not to stifle conscience by vague hopes of
God's mercy, while your heart cleaves to the world. I implore you not
to drown convictions by childish fancies about God's love, while your
daily ways and habits show plainly that "the love of the Father is not
in you." There is mercy in God, like a river,—but it is for the penitent
believer in Christ Jesus. There is a love in God towards sinners which
is unspeakable and unsearchable,—but it is for those who "hear
Christ's voice and follow Him." Seek to have an interest in that love.
Break off every known sin; come out boldly from the world; cry
mightily to God in prayer; cast yourself wholly and unreservedly on
the Lord Jesus for time and eternity; lay aside every weight. Cling to
nothing, however dear, which interferes with your soul's salvation;
give up everything, however precious, which comes between you and
heaven. This old shipwrecked world is fast sinking beneath your feet:
the one thing needful is to have a place in the life-boat and get safe to
shore. Give diligence to make your calling and election sure.
Whatever happens to your house and property, see that you make
sure of heaven. Oh, better a million times be laughed at and thought
extreme in this world, than go down to hell from the midst of the
congregation, and end like Lot's wife!
And now, let me conclude this paper by offering to all who read it, a
few questions to impress the subject on their consciences. You have
seen the history of Lot's wife,—her privileges, her sin, and her end.
You have been told of the uselessness of privileges without the gift of
the Holy Ghost, of the danger of worldliness, and of the reality of
hell. Suffer me to wind up all by a few direct appeals to your own
heart. In a day of much light, and knowledge, and profession, I desire
to set up a beacon to preserve souls from shipwreck. I would fain
moor a buoy in the channel of all spiritual voyagers, and paint upon
it, "Remember Lot's wife."
(a) Are you careless about the second Advent of Christ? Alas, many
are! They live like the men of Sodom, and the men of Noah's day:
they eat, and drink, and plant, and build, and marry, and are given in
marriage, and behave as if Christ was never going to return. If you
are such an one, I say to you this day, Take care: "Remember Lot's
wife."
(b) Are you lukewarm, and cold in your Christianity? Alas, many are!
They try to serve two masters: they labour to keep friends both with
God and mammon. They strive to be a kind of spiritual bat, neither
one thing nor the other: not quite a thorough-going Christian, but
not quite men of the world. If you are such an one, I say to you this
day, Take care: "Remember Lot's wife."
(c) Are you halting between two opinions, and disposed to go back to
the world? Alas, many are! They are afraid of the cross: they secretly
dislike the trouble and reproach of decided religion. They are weary
of the wilderness and the manna, and would fain return to Egypt, if
they could. If you are such an one, I say to you this day. Take care:
"Remember Lot's wife."
(d) Are you secretly cherishing some besetting sin? Alas, many are!
They go far in a profession of religion; they do many things that are
right, and are very like the people of God. But there is always some
darling evil habit, which they cannot tear from their heart. Hidden
worldliness, or covetousness, or lust, sticks to them like their skin.
They are willing to see all their idols broken, but this one. If you are
such an one, I say to you this day, Take care: "Remember Lot's wife."
(e) Are you trifling with little sins? Alas, many are! They hold the
great essential doctrines of the Gospel. They keep clear of all gross
profligacy, or open breach of God's law; but they are painfully
careless about little inconsistencies, and painfully ready to make
excuses for them. "It is only a little temper, or a little levity, or a little
thoughtlessness, or a little forgetfulness,"—they tell us:—"God does
not take account of such little matters. We are none of us perfect:
God will never require it."—If you are such an one, I say to you this
day, Take care: "Remember Lot's wife."
(f) Are you resting on religious privileges? Alas, many do! They enjoy
the opportunity of hearing the Gospel regularly preached, and of
attending many ordinances, and means of grace: and they settle
down on their lees. They seem to be "rich, and increased with goods,
and have need of nothing" (Rev. 3:17); while they have neither faith,
nor grace, nor spiritual-mindedness, nor meetness for heaven. If you
are such an one, I say to you this day, Take care: "Remember Lot's
wife."
(g) Are you trusting to your religious knowledge? Alas, many do!
They are not ignorant, as other men: they know the difference
between true doctrine and false. They can dispute, they can reason,
they can argue, they can quote texts; but all this time they are not
converted, and they are yet dead in trespasses and sins. If you are
such an one, I say to you this day, Take care: "Remember Lot's wife."
(h) Are you making some profession of religion, and yet clinging to
the world? Alas, many do! They aim at being thought Christians.
They like the credit of being serious, steady, proper, regular church
going people; yet all the while their dress, their tastes, their
companions, their entertainments tell plainly they are of the world. If
you are such an one, I say to you this day, Take care: "Remember
Lot's wife."
(i) Are you trusting that you will have a death-bed repentance? Alas,
many do so! They know they are not what they ought to be: they are
not yet born again, and fit to die. But they flatter themselves that
when their last illness comes they shall have time to repent and lay
hold on Christ, and go out of the world pardoned, sanctified, and
meet for heaven. They forget that people often die very suddenly, and
that as they live they generally die. If you are such an one, I say to
you this day, Take care: "Remember Lot's wife."
(j) Do you belong to an Evangelical congregation? Many do, and,
alas, go no further! They hear the truth Sunday after Sunday, and
remain as hard as the nether-millstone. Sermon after sermon sounds
in their ears. Month after month they are invited to repent, to
believe, to come to Christ, and to be saved. Year after year passes
away, and they are not changed. They keep their seat under the
teaching of a favourite minister, and they also keep their favourite
sins. If you are such an one, I say to you this day, Take care:
"Remember Lot's wife."
Oh, may these solemn words of our Lord Jesus Christ be deeply
graven on all our hearts! May they awaken us when we feel sleepy,—
revive us when we feel dead,—sharpen us when we feel dull,—warm
us when we feel cold! May they prove a spur to quicken us when we
are falling back, and a bridle to check us when we are turning aside!
May they be a shield to defend us when Satan casts a subtle
temptation at our heart; and a sword to fight with, when he says
boldly, "Give up Christ, come back to the world, and follow me!" Oh,
may we say, in such hours of trial, "Soul, remember thy Saviour's
warning! Soul, soul, hast thou forgotten His words? Soul, soul,
'REMEMBER LOT'S WIFE:' "
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Post by Admin on Jan 18, 2024 16:24:48 GMT -5
XI. CHRIST'S GREATEST TROPHY
"And one of the malefactors which were hanged railed on Him,
saying, If Thou be Christ, save Thyself and us."
"But the other answering rebuked him, saying, Dost not thou
fear God, seeing thou art in the same condemnation?"
"And we indeed justly; for we receive the due reward of our
deeds: but this Man hath done nothing amiss."
"And he said unto Jesus, Lord, remember me when Thou comest
into Thy kingdom."
"And Jesus said unto him, Verily I say unto thee, To-day shalt
thou be with Me in paradise."—LUKE 23:39–43.
THERE are few passages in the New Testament which are more
familiar to men's ears than the verses which head this paper. They
contain the well-known story of "the penitent thief."
And it is right and good that these verses should be well known. They
have comforted many troubled minds; they have brought peace to
many uneasy consciences; they have been a healing balm to many
wounded hearts; they have been a medicine to many sin-sick souls;
they have smoothed down not a few dying pillows. Wherever the
Gospel of Christ is preached, they will always be honoured, loved,
and had in remembrance.
I wish to say something about these verses. I will try to unfold the
leading lessons which they are meant to teach. I cannot see the
peculiar mental state of anyone into whose hands this paper may fall.
But I can see truths in this passage which no man can ever know too
well. Here is the greatest trophy which Christ ever won.
I. First of all, we are meant to learn from these verses, Christ's power
and willingness to save sinners
This is the main doctrine to be gathered from the history of the
penitent thief. It teaches us that which ought to be music in the ears
of all who hear it,—it teaches us that Jesus Christ is "mighty to save."
(Isa. 63:1.)
I ask anyone to say whether a case could look more hopeless and
desperate than that of this penitent thief once did?
He was a wicked man,—a malefactor,—a thief, if not a murderer. We
know this, for such only were crucified. He was suffering a just
punishment for breaking the laws. And as he had lived wicked, so he
seemed determined to die wicked,—for at first, when he was
crucified, he railed on our Lord.
And he was a dying man. He hung there, nailed to a cross, from
which he was never to come down alive. He had no longer power to
stir hand or foot. His hours were numbered: the grave was ready for
him. There was but a step between him and death.
If ever there was a soul hovering on the brink of hell, it was the soul
of this thief. If ever there was a case that seemed lost, gone, and past
recovery, it was his. If ever there was a child of Adam whom the devil
made sure of as his own, it was this man.
But see now what happened. He ceased to rail and blaspheme, as he
had done at the first: he began to speak in another manner
altogether. He turned to our blessed Lord in prayer. He prayed Jesus
to "remember him when he came into His kingdom." He asked that
his soul might be cared for, his sins pardoned, and himself thought of
in another world. Truly this was a wonderful change!
And then mark what kind of answer he received. Some would have
said he was too wicked a man to be saved; but it was not so. Some
would have fancied it was too late: the door was shut, and there was
no room for mercy; but it proved not too late at all. The Lord Jesus
returned him an immediate answer,—spoke kindly to him,—assured
him he should be with Him that day in paradise,—pardoned him
completely—cleansed him thoroughly from his sins,—received him
graciously,—justified him freely—raised him from the gates of hell,—
gave him a title to glory. Of all the multitude of saved souls, none
ever received so glorious an assurance of his own salvation as did
this penitent thief. Go over the whole list, from Genesis to
Revelation, and you will find none who had such words spoken to
him as these,—"To-day shalt thou be with Me in paradise."
I believe the Lord Jesus never gave so complete a proof of His power
and will to save, as He did upon this occasion. In the day when He
seemed most weak, He showed that He was a strong deliverer. In the
hour when His body was racked with pain, He showed that He could
feel tenderly for others. At the time when He Himself was dying, He
conferred on a sinner eternal life.
Now, have I not a right to say, Christ is "able to save to the uttermost
them that come unto God by Him"? (Heb. 7:25.) Behold the proof of
it. If ever sinner was too far gone to be saved, it was this thief. Yet he
was plucked as a brand from the fire.
Have I not a right to say, Christ will receive any poor sinner who
comes to Him with the prayer of faith, and cast out none? Behold the
proof of it. If ever there was one that seemed too bad to be received,
this was the man. Yet the door of mercy was wide open even for him.
Have I not a right to say, By grace ye may be saved through faith, not
of works: fear not, only believe? Behold the proof of it. This thief was
never baptized: he belonged to no visible Church; he never received
the Lord's Supper; he never did any work for Christ; he never gave
money to Christ's cause! But he had faith, and so he was saved.
Have I not a right to say, The youngest faith will save a man's soul, if
it only be true? Behold the proof of it. This man's faith was only one
day old; but it led him to Christ, and preserved him from hell.
Why then should any man or woman despair with such a passage as
this in the Bible? Jesus is a Physician who can cure hopeless cases.
He can quicken dead souls, and call the things which be not as
though they were.
Never should any man or woman despair! Jesus is still the same now
that He was eighteen hundred years ago. The keys of death and hell
are in His hand. When He opens none can shut.*
What though your sins be more in number than the hairs of your
head? What though your evil habits have grown with your growth,
and strengthened with your strength? What though you have
hitherto hated good, and loved evil, all the days of your life? These
things are sad indeed; but there is hope, even for you. Christ can heal
you: Christ can raise you from your low estate. Heaven is not shut
against you. Christ is able to admit you, if you will humbly commit
your soul into His hands.
Are your sins forgiven? If not, I set before you this day a full and free
salvation. I invite you to follow the steps of the penitent thief: come
to Christ and live. I tell you that Jesus is very pitiful, and of tender
mercy. I tell you He can do everything that your soul requires.
Though your sins be as scarlet, He can make them white as snow;
though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool. Why should
you not be saved as well as another? Come unto Christ and live.
Are you a true believer? If you are, you ought to glory in Christ. Glory
not in your own faith, your own feelings, your own knowledge, your
own prayers, your own amendment, your own diligence. Glory in
nothing but Christ. Alas! the best of us know but little of that
merciful and mighty Saviour. We do not exalt Him and glory in Him
enough. Let us pray that we may see more of the fulness there is in
Him.
Do you ever try to do good to others? If you do, remember to
tell them about Christ.
Tell the young,
tell the poor,
tell the aged,
tell the ignorant,
tell the sick,
tell the dying,
tell them all about Christ.
Tell them of His power,
and tell them of His love;
tell them of His doings, and
tell them of His feelings;
tell them what He has done for the chief of sinners;
tell them what He is willing to do to the last day of time:
tell it them over and over again
Never be tired of speaking of
Christ. Say to them broadly and fully, freely and unconditionally,
unreservedly and undoubtingly, "Come unto Christ, as the penitent
thief did; come unto Christ, and you shall be saved."
II. The second lesson we are meant to learn from this passage is this.
—If some are saved in the very hour of death, others are not
This is a truth that never ought to be passed over, and I dare not
leave it unnoticed. It is a truth that stands out plainly in the sad end
of the other malefactor, and is only too often forgotten. Men forget
that there were "two thieves."
What became of the other thief who was crucified? Why did he not
turn from his sin, and call upon the Lord? Why did he remain
hardened and impenitent? Why was he not saved? It is useless to try
to answer such questions. Let us be content to take the fact as we
find it, and see what it is meant to teach us.
We have no right whatever to say this thief was a worse man than his
companion: there is nothing to prove it. Both plainly were wicked
men; both were receiving the due reward of their deeds; both hung
by the side of our Lord Jesus Christ; both heard Him pray for His
murderers, both saw Him suffer patiently. But while one repented,
the other remained hardened; while one began to pray, the other
went on railing; while one was converted in his last hours, the other
died a bad man, as he had lived; while one was taken to paradise, the
other went to his own place,—the place of the devil and his angels.
Now these things are written for our warning. There is warning, as
well as comfort in these verses, and that is a very solemn warning
too.
They tell me loudly, that though some may repent and be converted
on their death-beds, it does not at all follow that all will. A death-bed
is not always a saving time.
They tell me loudly, that two men may have the same opportunities
of getting good for their souls, may be placed in the same position,
see the same things, and hear the same things,—and yet only one of
the two shall take advantage of them, repent, believe, and be saved.
They tell me, above all, that repentance and faith are the gifts of God
and are not in a man's own power; and that if any one flatters himself
he can repent at his own time, choose his own season, seek the Lord
when he pleases, and, like the penitent thief, be saved at the very last,
—he may find at length he is greatly deceived.
And it is good and profitable to bear this in mind. There is an
immense amount of delusion in the world on this very subject. I see
many allowing life to slip away, quite unprepared to die. I see many
allowing that they ought to repent, but always putting off their own
repentance. And I believe one grand reason is, that most men
suppose they can turn to God just when they like!
They wrest the parable of the laborer in the vineyard, which speaks of the eleventh
hour, and use it as it never was meant to be used. They dwell on the
pleasant part of the verses I am now considering, and forget the rest.
They talk of the thief that went to paradise, and was saved, and they
forget the one who died as he had lived,—and was lost.*
I entreat every man of common sense who reads this paper, to take
heed that he does not fall into this mistake.
Look at the history of men in the Bible, and see how often these
notions I have been speaking of are contradicted. Mark well how
many proofs there are that two men may have the same light offered
them, and only one use it; and that no one has a right to take liberties
with God's mercy, and presume he will be able to repent just when he likes.
Look at Saul and David. They lived about the same time; they rose
from the same rank in life; they were called to the same position in
the world; they enjoyed the ministry of the same prophet, Samuel;
they reigned the same number of years!—Yet one was saved, and the
other lost.
Look at Sergius Paulus and Gallio. They were both Roman
governors; they were both wise and prudent men in their generation;
they both heard the Apostle Paul preach! But one believed and was
baptized,—the other "cared for none of those things." (Acts 18:17.)
Look at the world around you. See what is going on continually
under your eyes. Two sisters will often attend the same ministry,
listen to the same truths, hear the same sermons; and yet only one
shall be converted unto God, while the other remains totally unmoved.
Two friends often read the same religious book: one is so
moved by it, that he gives up all for Christ; the other sees nothing at
all in it, and continues the same as before. Hundreds have read
Doddridge's "Rise and Progress" without profit: with Wilberforce it
was one of the beginnings of spiritual life. Thousands have read
Wilberforce's "Practical View of Christianity," and laid it down again
unaltered: from the time Legh Richmond read it he became another
man. No man has any warrant for saying, "Salvation is in my own power."
I do not pretend to explain these things. I only put them before you
as great facts; and I ask you to consider them well.
You must not misunderstand me. I do not want to discourage you. I
say these things in all affection, to give you warning of danger. I do
not say them to drive you back from heaven.—I say them rather to
draw you on, and bring you to Christ, while He can be found.
I want you to beware of presumption. Do not abuse God's mercy and
compassion. Do not continue in sin, I beseech you, and think you can
repent, and believe, and be saved, just when you like, when you
please, when you will, and when you choose. I would always set
before you an open door. I would always say, "While there is life
there is hope." But if you would be wise, put nothing off that
concerns your soul.
I want you to beware of letting slip good thoughts and godly
convictions, if you have them. Cherish them and nourish them, lest
you lose them for ever. Make the most of them, lest they take to
themselves wings and flee away. Have you an inclination to begin
praying? Put it in practice at once. Have you an idea of beginning
really to serve Christ? Set about it at once. Are you enjoying any
spiritual light? See that you live up to your light. Trifle not with
opportunities, lest the day come when you will want to use them, and
not be able. Linger not, lest you become wise too late.
You may say, perhaps, "It is never too late to repent." I answer,—
That is right enough: but late repentance is seldom true. And I say
further, you cannot be certain if you put off repenting, you will
repent at all.
You may say, "Why should I be afraid?—the penitent thief was
saved." I answer,—"That is true: but look again at the passage which
tells you that the other thief was LOST."
III. The third lesson we are meant to learn from these verses is this:
The Spirit always leads saved souls in one way
This is a point that deserves particular attention, and is often
overlooked. Men look at the broad fact that the penitent thief was
saved when he was dying, and they look no further.
They do not consider the evidences this thief left behind him. They
do not observe the abundant proof he gave of the work of the Spirit
in his heart. And these proofs I wish to trace out. I wish to show you
that the Spirit always works in one way, and that,—whether He
converts a man in an hour, as He did the penitent thief, or whether
by slow degrees, as He does others,—the steps by which He leads
souls to heaven are always the same.
Let me try to make this clear to every one who reads this paper. I
want to put you on your guard. I want you to shake off the common
notion that there is some easy royal road to heaven from a dying bed.
I want you thoroughly to understand, that every saved soul goes
through the same experience, and that the leading principles of the
penitent thief's religion were just the same as those of the oldest
saint that ever lived.
(a) See then, for one thing, how strong was the faith of this man.
He called Jesus "Lord." He declared his belief that He would have a
"kingdom." He believed that He was able to give him eternal life and
glory, and in this belief prayed to Him. He maintained His innocence
of all the charges brought against Him. "This Man," said he, "hath
done nothing amiss." Others perhaps may have thought the Lord
innocent,—none said so openly but this poor dying man.
And when did all this happen? It happened when the whole nation
had denied Christ,—shouting, "Crucify Him, crucify Him: we have no
king but Cæsar,"—when the chief priests and Pharisees had
condemned and found Him "guilty of death,"—when even His own
disciples had forsaken Him and fled,—when He was hanging, faint,
bleeding, and dying on the cross, numbered with transgressors, and
accounted accursed. This was the hour when the thief believed in
Christ, and prayed to Him! Surely such faith was never seen since the
world began.*
The disciples had seen mighty signs and miracles. They had seen the
dead raised with a word,—and lepers healed with a touch,—the blind
receiving sight,—the dumb made to speak,—the lame made to walk.
They had seen thousands fed with a few loaves and fishes. They had
seen their Master walking on the water as on dry land. They had all
of them heard Him speak as no man ever spake, and hold out
promises of good things yet to come. They had some of them had a
foretaste of His glory in the mount of transfiguration. Doubtless their
faith was "the gift of God," but still they had much to help it.
The dying thief saw none of the things I have mentioned. He only
saw our Lord in agony, and in weakness, in suffering, and in pain. He
saw Him undergoing a dishonourable punishment; deserted,
mocked, despised, blasphemed. He saw Him rejected by all the great,
and wise, and noble of His own people,—His strength dried up like a
potsherd, His life drawing nigh to the grave. (Ps. 22:15; 88:3.) He
saw no sceptre, no royal crown, no outward dominion, no glory, no
majesty, no power, no signs of might. And yet the dying thief
believed, and looked forward to Christ's kingdom.
Would you know if you have the Spirit? Then mark the question I put
to you this day.—Where is your faith in Christ?
(b) See, for another thing, what a right sense of sin the thief had. He
says to his companion, "We receive the due reward of our deeds." He
acknowledges his own ungodliness, and the justice of his
punishment. He makes no attempt to justify himself, or excuse his
wickedness. He speaks like a man humbled and self-abased by the
remembrance of past iniquities. This is what all God's children feel.
They are ready to allow they are poor hell-deserving sinners. They
can say with their hearts as well as with their lips, "We have left
undone the things that we ought to have done, and we have done
those things that we ought not to have done, and there is no health in
us."
Would you know if you have the Spirit? Then mark my question.—Do
you feel your sins?
(c) See, for another thing, what brotherly love the thief showed to his
companion. He tried to stop his railing and blaspheming, and bring
him to a better mind. "Dost not thou fear God," he says, "seeing thou
art in the same condemnation?" There is no surer mark of grace than
this! Grace shakes a man out of his selfishness, and makes him feel
for the souls of others. When the Samaritan woman was converted,
she left her water-pot, and ran to the city, saying, "Come, see a man
that told me all things that ever I did: is not this the Christ?" (John
4:28, 29.) When Saul was converted, immediately he went to the
synagogue at Damascus, and testified to his brethren of Israel that
"Christ was the Son of God." (Acts 9:20.)
Would you know if you have the Spirit? Then where is your charity
and love to souls?
In one word, you see in the penitent thief a finished work of the Holy
Ghost. Every part of the believer's character may be traced in him.
Short as his life was after conversion, he found time to leave
abundant evidence that he was a child of God. His faith, his prayer,
his humility, his brotherly love, are unmistakable witnesses of the
reality of his repentance. He was not a penitent in name only, but in
deed and in truth.
Let no man therefore think, because the penitent thief was saved,
that men can be saved without leaving any evidence of the Spirit's
work. Let such an one consider well what evidences this man left
behind, and take care.
It is mournful to hear what people sometimes say about what they
call death-bed evidences. It is perfectly fearful to observe how little
satisfies some persons, and how easily they can persuade themselves
that their friends have gone to heaven. They will tell you when their
relative is dead and gone, that "he made such a beautiful prayer one
day,—or that he talked so well—or that he was so sorry for his old
ways, and intended to live so differently if he got better,—or that he
craved nothing in this world,—or that he liked people to read to him,
and pray with him." And because they have this to go upon, they
seem to have a comfortable hope that he is saved! Christ may never
have been named,—the way of salvation may never have been in the
least mentioned. But it matters not; there was a little talk of religion,
and so they are content!
Now I have no desire to hurt the feelings of any one who reads this
paper, but I must and will speak plainly upon this subject.
Once for all, let me say, that as a general rule, nothing is so
unsatisfactory as death-bed evidences. The things that men say, and
the feelings they express when sick and frightened, are little to be
depended on. Often, too often, they are the result of fear, and do not
spring from the ground of the heart. Often, too often, they are things
said by rote; caught from the lips of ministers and anxious friends,
but evidently not felt. And nothing can prove all this more clearly
than the well-known fact, that the great majority of persons who
make promises of amendment on a sick bed, and then for the first
time talk about religion, if they recover, go back to sin and the world.
When a man has lived a life of thoughtlessness and folly, I want
something more than a few fair words and good wishes to satisfy me
about his soul, when he comes to his death-bed. It is not enough for
me that he will let me read the Bible to him, and pray by his bedside,
—that he says, "he has not thought so much as he ought of religion,
and he thinks he should be a different man if he got better." All this
does not content me: it does not make me feel happy about his state.
It is very well as far as it goes, but it is not conversion. It is very well
in its way, but it is not faith in Christ. Until I see conversion, and
faith in Christ, I cannot and dare not feel satisfied. Others may feel
satisfied if they please, and after their friend's death say, they hope
he is gone to heaven. For my part I would rather hold my tongue and
say nothing. I would be content with the least measure of repentance
and faith in a dying man, even though it be no bigger than a grain of
mustard seed. But to be content with anything less than repentance
and faith, seems to me next door to infidelity.
What kind of evidence do you mean to leave behind as to the state of
your soul? Take example by the penitent thief, and you will do well.
When we have carried you to your narrow bed, let us not have to
hunt up stray words, and scraps of religion, in order to make out that
you were a true believer. Let us not have to say in a hesitating way
one to another, "I trust he is happy; he talked so nicely one day; and
he seemed so pleased with a chapter in the Bible on another
occasion; and he liked such a person, who is a good man." Let us be
able to speak decidedly as to your condition. Let us have some solid
proof of your repentance, your faith, and your holiness, so that none
shall be able for a moment to question your state. Depend on it,
without this, those you leave behind can feel no solid comfort about
your soul. We may use the form of religion at your burial, and
express charitable hopes. We may meet you at the church-yard gate,
and say, "Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord." But this will not
alter your condition! If you die without conversion to God,—without
repentance, and without faith,—your funeral will only be the funeral
of a lost soul; you had better never have been born.
IV. We are meant, in the next place, to learn from these verses, that
believers in Christ when they die are with the Lord
This you may gather from our Lord's words to the penitent thief:
"This day shalt thou be with Me in paradise." And you have an
expression very like it in the Epistle to the Philippians, where Paul
says he has a desire to "depart and be with Christ." (Phil. 1:23.)
I shall say but little on this subject. I would simply lay it before you,
for your own private meditations. To my own mind it is very full of
comfort and peace.
Believers after death are "with Christ." That answers many a difficult
question, which otherwise might puzzle man's busy, restless mind.
The abode of dead saints, their joys, their feelings, their happiness,
all seem met by this simple expression,—they are "with Christ."
I cannot enter into full explanations about the separate state of
departed believers. It is a high and deep subject, such as man's mind
can neither grasp nor fathom. I know their happiness falls short of
what it will be when their bodies are raised again, in the resurrection
at the last day, and Jesus returns to earth. Yet I know also they enjoy
a blessed rest, a rest from labour,—a rest from sorrow,—a rest from
pain,—and a rest from sin. But it does not follow because I cannot
explain these things, that I am not persuaded they are far happier
than they ever were on earth. I see their happiness in this very
passage, "They are with Christ," and when I see that I see enough.
If the sheep are with the Shepherd,—if the members are with the
Head,—if the children of Christ's family are with Him who loved
them and carried them all the days of their pilgrimage on earth, all
must be well, all must be right.
I cannot describe what kind of place paradise is, because I cannot
understand the condition of a soul separate from the body. But I ask
no brighter view of paradise than this,—that Christ is there.* All
other things in the picture which imagination draws of the state
between death and resurrection, are nothing in comparison of this.
How He is there, and in what way He is there, I know not. Let me
only see Christ in paradise when my eyes close in death, and that
sufficeth me. Well does the Psalmist say, "In Thy presence is fulness
of joy." (Psa. 16:11.) It was a true saying of a dying girl, when her
mother tried to comfort her by describing what paradise would be.
"There," she said to the child, "there you will have no pains, and no
sickness; there you will see your brothers and sisters, who have gone
before you, and will be always happy." "Ah, mother!" was the reply,
"but there is one thing better than all, and that is, Christ will be
there."
It may be you do not think much about your soul. It may be you
know little of Christ as your Saviour, and have never tasted by
experience that He is precious. And yet perhaps you hope to go to
paradise when you die. Surely this passage is one that should make
you think. Paradise is a place where Christ is. Then can it be a place
that you would enjoy?
It may be you are a believer, and yet tremble at the thought of the
grave. It seems cold and dreary. You feel as if all before you was dark
and gloomy, and comfortless. Fear not, but be encouraged by this
text. You are going to paradise, and Christ will be there.
V. The last thing we are meant to learn from these verses is this: The
eternal portion of every man's soul is close to him
"To-day," says our Lord to the penitent thief, "to-day shalt thou be
with Me in paradise." He names no distant period;—He does not talk
of His entering into a state of happiness as a thing "far away," He
speaks of to-day,—"this very day in which thou art hanging on the
cross."
How near that seems! How awfully near that word brings our
everlasting dwelling-place! Happiness or misery,—sorrow or joy,—
the presence of Christ or the company of devils,—all are close to us.
"There is but a step," says David, "between me and death." (1 Sam.
20:3.) There is but a step, we may say, between ourselves and either
paradise or hell.
We none of us realize this as we ought to do. It is high time to shake
off the dreamy state of mind in which we live on this matter. We are
apt to talk and think, even about believers, as if death was a long
journey,—as if the dying saint had embarked on a long voyage. It is
all wrong, very wrong! Their harbour and their home is close by, and
they have entered it.
Some of us know by bitter experience what a long and weary time it
is between the death of those we love, and the hour when we bury
them out of our sight. Such weeks are the slowest, saddest, heaviest
weeks in all our lives. But, blessed be God, the souls of departed
saints are free from the very moment their last breath is drawn.
While we are weeping, and the coffin is preparing, and the mourning
being provided, and the last painful arrangements being made, the
spirits of our beloved ones are enjoying the presence of Christ. They
are freed for ever from the burden of the flesh. They are "where the
wicked cease from troubling, and the weary be at rest." (Job 3:17.)
The very moment that believers die they are in paradise. Their battle
is fought: their strife is over. They have passed through that gloomy
valley we must one day tread they have gone over that dark river we
must one day cross. They have drank that last bitter cup which sin
has mingled for man: they have reached that place where sorrow and
sighing are no more. Surely we should not wish them back again! We
should not weep for them, but for ourselves.
We are warring still, but they are at peace. We are labouring, but they
are at rest. We are watching, but they are sleeping. We are wearing
our spiritual armour, but they have for ever put it off. We are still at
sea, but they are safe in harbour. We have tears, but they have joy.
We are strangers and pilgrims, but as for them they are at home.
Surely, better are the dead in Christ than the living! Surely the very
hour the poor saint dies, he is at once higher and happier than the
highest upon earth.*
I fear there is a vast amount of delusion on this point. I fear that
many, who are not Roman Catholics, and profess not to believe in
purgatory, have, notwithstanding, some strange ideas in their minds
about the immediate consequences of death.
I fear that many have a sort of vague notion that there is some
interval or space of time between death and their eternal state. They
fancy they shall go through a kind of purifying change, and that
though they die unfit for heaven, they shall yet be found meet for it
after all!
But this is an entire mistake. There is no change after death: there is
no conversion in the grave: there is no new heart given after the last
breath is drawn. The very day we go, we launch for ever: the day we
go from this world, we begin an eternal condition. From that day
there is no spiritual alteration,—no spiritual change. As we die, so we
shall receive our portion after death: as the tree falls, so it must lie.
If you are an unconverted man, this ought to make you think. Do you
know you are close to hell? This very day you might die; and if you
died out of Christ, you would open your eyes at once in hell, and in
torment.
If you are a true Christian, you are far nearer heaven than you think.
This very day if the Lord should take you, you would find yourself in
paradise. The good land of promise is near to you. The eyes that you
closed in weakness and pain would open at once on a glorious rest,
such as my tongue cannot describe.
And now let me say a few words in conclusion, and I have done.
(1) This paper may fall into the hands of some humble-hearted and
contrite sinner.—Are you that man? Then here is encouragement for
you. See what the penitent thief did, and do likewise. See how he
prayed; see how he called on the Lord Jesus Christ; see what an
answer of peace he obtained. Brother or sister, why should not you
do the same? Why should not you also be saved?
(2) This paper may fall into the hands of some proud and
presumptuous man of the world.—Are you that man? Then take
warning. See how the impenitent thief died as he had lived and
beware lest you come to a like end. Oh, erring brother or sister, be
not too confident, lest you die in your sins! Seek the Lord while He
may be found. Turn you, turn: why will you die?
(3) This paper may fall into the hands of some professing believer in
Christ. Are you such an one? Then take the penitent thief's religion
as a measure by which to prove your own. See that you know
something of true repentance and saving faith, of real humility and
fervent charity. Brother or sister, do not be satisfied with the world's
standard of Christianity. Be of one mind with the penitent thief, and
you will be wise.
4) This paper may fall into the hands of some one who is mourning
over departed believers.—Are you such an one? Then take comfort
from this Scripture. See how your beloved ones are in the best of
hands. They cannot be better off. They never were so well in their
lives as they are now. They are with Jesus, whom their souls loved on
earth. Oh, cease from your selfish mourning! Rejoice rather that they
are freed from trouble, and have entered into rest.
(5) And this paper may fall into the hands of some aged servant of
Christ. Are you such an one? Then see from these verses how near
you are to home. Your salvation is nearer than when you first
believed. A few more days of labor and sorrow, and the King of
kings shall send for you; and in a moment your warfare shall be at
end, and all shall be peace
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