The Christian Life Part 7

LUKE xi. 25.

_When he cometh, he findeth it swept and garnished_.

JOHN v. 42.

_I know you, that ye have not the love of G.o.d in you_.

These pa.s.sages, of which the first is taken from the gospel of this morning's service, the other from the second lesson, differ in words, but their meaning is very nearly the same. The house which was empty, swept and garnished, was especially one empty of the love of G.o.d.

Whatever evil there may not have been in it; whatever good there may have been in those of whom Christ spoke in the second pa.s.sage: yet it and they agreed in this; one thing they had not, which alone was worth, all the rest besides; they had not the love of G.o.d.

And so it is still; many are the faults which we have not; many are the good qualities which we have; but the life is wanting. What is so rare as to find one who is not indifferent to G.o.d? What so rare, even rarer than the other, as to find one who actually loves him?

Therefore it is that those who go in at the broad gate of destruction are many, and those who go in at the narrow gate of life are few. For destruction and life are but other terms for indifference to G.o.d on the one hand, and love to him on the other. All who are indifferent to him, die; a painless death of mere extinction, if, like the brute creation, they have never been made capable of loving him; or a living death of perpetual misery, if, like evil spirits and evil men, they might have loved him and would not. And so all who love him, live a life, from first to last, without sin and sorrow, if, like the holy angels, they have loved him always; a life partaking at first of death, but brightening more and more unto the perfect day, if, like Christians, they were born in sin, but had been redeemed and sanctified to righteousness.

Whoever has watched human character, whether in the young or the old, must be well aware of the truth of this: he will know that the value of any character is in proportion to the existence or to the absence of this feeling, or rather, I should say, this principle. An exception may, perhaps, be made for a small, a very small number of fanatics; an apparent exception likewise exists in the case of many who seem to be religious, but who really are not so. The few exceptions of the former case are so very few, that we need not now stop to consider them, nor to inquire how far even these would be exceptions if we could read the heart as G.o.d reads it. The seeming exceptions being cases either of hypocrisy, or of very common self-deceit, we need not regard either; for they are, of course, no real objection to the truth of the general statement. It remains true, then, generally, that the value of any character is in proportion to the existence, or to the absence, in it of the love of G.o.d.

But is there not another exception to be made for the case of children, and of very young persons? Are they capable of loving G.o.d? and are not their earthly relations, their parents especially, put to them, as it were, in the place of G.o.d, as objects of trust, of love, of honour, of obedience, till their minds can open to comprehend the love of their Father who is in heaven? And does not the Scripture itself, in the few places in which it seems directly to address children, content itself with directing them to obey and honour their parents? Some notions of this sort are allowed, I believe, to serve sometimes as an excuse, when young persons are blamed for being utterly wanting in a sense of duty to G.o.d.

The pa.s.sages which direct children to obey their parents, are of the same kind with those, directing slaves to obey their masters, and masters to be kind to their slaves; like those, also, which John the Baptist addressed to the soldiers and publicans: in none of all which there is any command to love G.o.d, but merely a command to fulfil that particular duty which most arose out of the particular relation, or calling of the persons addressed. In fact, when parents are addressed, they are directed only to do their duties to their children, just as children are directed to do theirs to their parents; in both cases alike, the common duty of parents and children to G.o.d is not dwelt upon, because that is a duty which does not belong to them as parents, or as children, but as human beings; and as such, it belongs to all alike. In fact, the very language of St. Paul's command to children implies this; for he says, "Children, obey your parents in the Lord: for this is right:" right, that is, in the sight of G.o.d: so that the very reason for which children are to discharge their earthly duties is, because that earthly duty is commanded by, or involved in, their heavenly duty; if they do not do it, they will not please G.o.d. But it is manifest that, in this respect, there is for all of us one only law, so soon as we are able to understand it. The moment that a child becomes capable of understanding anything about G.o.d and Christ,--and how early that is, every parent can testify,--that moment the duty to love G.o.d and Christ begins. It were absurd to say, that this duty has not begun at the age of boyhood. A boy is able to understand the force of religious motives, as well as he can that of earthly motives: he cannot understand either, perhaps, so well as he will hereafter; but he understands both enough, for the purposes of his salvation; enough, to condemn him before G.o.d, if he neglects them; enough to make him derive the greatest benefit from faithfully observing them.

And what can have been the purpose with which the only particular of our Lord's early life has been handed down to us, if it were not to direct our attention to this special truth, that our youth, no less than our riper age, belongs to G.o.d? "Wist ye not that I must be about my Father's business?" were words spoken by our Lord when he was no more than twelve years old. At twelve years old, he thought of preparing himself for the duties of his after-life; and of preparing himself for them, because they were G.o.d's will. He was to be about his Father's business. This is Christ's example for the young; this, and scarcely anything more than this, is recorded of his early years. Those are not like Christ who, at that same age, or even older, never think at all of the business of their future lives, still less would think of it, not as the means of their own maintenance or advancement, but as the duty which they owe to G.o.d.

Such as these are the very persons whose hearts are like the house in the parable, empty, swept, and garnished. The house so described in the parable is one out of which an evil spirit has just departed. In case of the young, the evil spirit in this sense, that is, as representing some one particular favourite sin, may perhaps have never entered it. That empty, swept, and garnished house, how like is it to what I have seen, to what I am seeing so continually, when a boy comes here with much still remaining of the innocence of childhood! Evil spirit, in the sense of any one particular vice, there is none to be found in that heart, nor has there been any ever. It is empty, swept, and garnished: there is the absence of evil; there are the various faculties, the furniture, as they may be called, of the house of our spirits, which the spirit uses either for evil or for good. There is innocence, then; there is, also, the promise of power. G.o.d hath richly endowed the earthly house of our tabernacle: various and wonderful is the furniture of body and mind with which it is supplied. How can we help admiring that open and cheerful brow which, as yet, no care or sin has furrowed; those light and active limbs, full of health and vigour; the eye so quick; the ear so undulled; the memory so ready; the young curiosity so eager to take in new knowledge; the young feelings, not yet spoiled by over-excitement, ready to admire, ready to love? There is the house, the house of G.o.d's building, the house which must abide for ever; but where is the spirit to inhabit it? Evil spirit there is none: is it, then, possessed by the Spirit of G.o.d? Has the fire from heaven as yet descended upon that house,--the living sign of G.o.d's presence, which alone can convert the house of perishable clay into the everlasting temple?

Can that blessed Spirit of G.o.d be indeed there, and yet no sign of his presence be manifest? It may be so, or to speak more truly, it might have been supposed to be so, if G.o.d's word had not declared the contrary. What G.o.d's secret workings are; in how many ways, to us inscrutable, he may pervade all nature; in how many cases he may be near us, and we know it not; may, perhaps, be amongst those real mysteries, those truths revealed to none, nor to be revealed; those yet uncleared forests, so to speak, of the world of nature, into which the light of grace has not been permitted to penetrate. But all such mysteries are to us as if they did not exist at all: we have nothing to do with them. G.o.d has told us nothing of his unseen and undiscernible presence; when and where he is so present, he is to us as if he were not present at all.

G.o.d was in the wilderness of h.o.r.eb before the bush was kindled; but he was not there for Moses. G.o.d, in some sense discernible, it may be, to other beings, may be in that house which, to us is empty; but G.o.d, our own G.o.d, the Holy Spirit, into whose service we were baptized, where he is, the house is not empty to us, but full of light. Invisible in himself, the signs of his presence are most visible: where no works, no fruits of the Holy Spirit are to be discerned, there, according to our Lord's express declaration, there the Holy Spirit is not.

But the light which declares his presence may indeed be a little spark; just to be seen, and no more. It may show that he has not abandoned all his right to the house of our tabernacle as yet; that he would desire to possess us fully. Such a little spark, such an evidence of the Holy Spirit's presence, is to be found in the outward profession of Christianity. They who call Jesus Lord, do it by the Holy Ghost; and, therefore, it is quite true in this sense, that in every baptized Christian, who has not utterly apostatized, there is that faint sign of the Holy Spirit's still having a claim upon him; he is not yet utterly cast off. This is true; but it is not to our present purpose; such a feeble sign is a sign of G.o.d's yet unwearied mercy, but no sign of our salvation. The presence with which the parable is concerned, is a far more effectual presence than this; the house in which there is no more than such a faint sign of a divine inhabitant, is, in the language of the parable, empty. To no purpose of our salvation is the Spirit of G.o.d present in the house, when the light of his presence does not flash forth from every part of it, when it is not manifest, not only that he has not quite cast it off to go to ruin, but that he has been pleased to make it his temple.

In this sense, therefore, in this practical, scriptural, Christian sense, those many young minds, which we have seen so often, may truly be called empty. But will they remain so long? How often have I seen the early innocence of boyhood overcast; the natural simplicity of boyhood, its open truth, its confident affection, its honest shame, perverted, blunted, hardened! How often have I seen the seven evil spirits enter in and dwell there,--I know not, and never may know, whether to be cast out again, or to abide for ever. But I have seen them enter, and, whilst the person was yet within my view, I have not seen them depart. And why have they entered; why have they marred that which was so beautiful? For one only reason,--because the house was empty, because the Spirit of G.o.d was not there: there was no love of G.o.d, no thought of G.o.d. Mere innocence taints and spoils as surely before the influence of the world, as true principle flourishes in spite of it, and strengthens. This, too, I have seen, not once only: I have seen the innocence of early boyhood sanctified by something better than innocence, which gave a promise of abiding. I have seen, in other words, that the house was not empty; that the Spirit of G.o.d was there. I have watched the effect of those influences, which you know so well: the second half-year came, a period when mere innocence is sure to be worn away, greatly tainted, if not utterly gone; but still, in the cases which I am now alluding to, the promise of good was not less, but greater, there was a more tried, and, therefore, a stronger goodness. I have watched this, too, till it pa.s.sed on, out of my sight. I never saw the blessed Spirit of G.o.d depart from the house which he had chosen: I well believe that he abides in it still, and will abide in it even to the day of Jesus Christ.

This I have seen, and this I shall continue to see; for still the great work of evil and of good is going on; still the house, at first empty, is possessed by the spirits of evil, or by the Spirit of G.o.d. And if we do not see the signs of the Spirit of G.o.d, we are but too sure that the evil spirit is there. We know him by the manifold signs of folly, coa.r.s.eness, carelessness; even when we see not, as yet, his worse fruits of falsehood and profligacy. We know him by the sign of an increased, and increasing selfishness, the everlasting cry of the thousand pa.s.sions of our nature, all for ever calling out, "Give, give;" all for ever impatient, complaining, when their gratification is withheld, when the call of duty is set before them. We know him by pride and self-importance, as if nothing was so great as self, as if our own opinions, judgment, feelings were to be consulted in all things. We know him by the deep unG.o.dliness which he occasions--no thought of G.o.d, much less any love of him; living utterly without him in the world, or, at least, whilst health and prosperity continue. These are the fatal signs which show that the house is no longer empty; that the evil spirits have entered in, and dwell there, to make it theirs, as too often happens, for time and for eternity.

LECTURE XVI.

MATHEW xi. 10.

_I send my messenger before thy face, who shall prepare thy way before thee_.

If it was part of G.o.d's dispensation, that there should be one to prepare the way before Christ's first coming, it may be expected much more, that there should be some to prepare the way before his second.

And so it is expressed in the collect for the third Sunday in Advent: "O Lord Jesus Christ, who at thy first coming didst send thy messenger to prepare thy way before thee; grant that the ministers and stewards of thy mysteries may likewise so prepare and make ready thy way, by turning the hearts of the disobedient to the wisdom of the just, that at thy second coming to judge the world we may be found an acceptable people in thy sight, who livest and reignest with the Father and the Holy Spirit, ever one G.o.d, world without end. Amen." NOW, in what does this preparing for him consist; and what is its object? The Scripture will inform us as to both. The object is, "Lest he come and smite the earth with a curse;"

lest, when he shall come, his coming, which should be our greatest joy and happiness, should be our everlasting destruction; for there can abide before him nothing that is evil. This is the object of preparing for Christ's coming. Next, in what does the preparation consist? It consists in teaching men to live above the common notions of their age and country; to raise their standard higher; to live after what is right in G.o.d's judgment, which often casts away, as faulty and bad, what men were accustomed to think good. And as the people of Israel, although they had G.o.d's revelation among them, had yet let their standard of good and evil become low, even so it has been in the Christian Israel. We have G.o.d's will in our hands, yet our judgments are not formed upon it; and, therefore, they who would prepare us for Christ's coming, must set before us a commandment which is new, although old: in one sense old, in every generation, inasmuch as it is the same which we had from the beginning; in another sense, in every generation more new, inasmuch, as the habits opposed to it have become the more confirmed; and the longer the night has lasted, the more strange to our eyes is the burst of the returning light.

But when we thus speak of the common notions of our age and country being deficient, and thus, in effect, commend notions which would be singular, do we not hold a language inconsistent with our common language and practice? Do we not commonly regard singularity as a fault, and attach a considerable authority to the consent of men in general?

Nay, do we not often appeal to this consent as to a proof which a sane mind must admit as decisive? Even in speaking of good and evil, have not the very words gained their present sense because the common consent of mankind has agreed to combine notions of self-satisfaction, of honour, and of love, with what we call good, and the contrary with what we call evil?

A short time may, perhaps, not be misapplied in endeavouring to explain this matter; in showing where, and for what reasons, the common opinion of our society is to be followed, where it is to be suspected, and where it is absolutely to be shunned or trampled under foot, as clearly and certainly evil.

I must begin with little things, in order to show the whole question plainly. Take those tastes in us which most resemble the instincts of a brute; and you will find that in these, as with instinct, common consent becomes a sure rule. When I speak of those tastes which most resemble instincts, I mean those in which nature, doing most for us at first, leaves least for us to learn for ourselves. This seems the character of instinct: it is far more complete than reason in its first stage, but it admits of no after improvement; the brute in the thousandth generation is no way advanced beyond the brute in the first. Of our tastes, even of those belonging to our bodily senses, that which belongs to what are called particularly our organs of taste is the one most resembling an instinct: we have less to do for its improvement than in any other instance. Men being here, then, upon an equality, with a faculty given to all by nature, and improved particularly by none, those who differ from the majority are likely to differ not from excellence but from defect: not because they have a more advanced reason, but because they have a less healthy instinct, than their neighbours. Thus, in those matters which relate to the sense of taste--I am obliged to take this almost trivial instance, because it so well ill.u.s.trates the principle of the whole question--we hold the consent of men in general to be a good rule. If any one were to choose to feed upon what this common taste had p.r.o.nounced to be disgusting, we should not hesitate to say that such an appet.i.te was diseased and monstrous.

Now, let us take our senses of sight and hearing, and we shall find that just in the proportion in which these less resemble instincts than the sense of taste, so is common consent a less certain rule. Up to a certain point they are instincts: there are certain sounds which, I suppose, are naturally disagreeable to the ear; while, on the other hand, bright and rich colours are, perhaps, naturally attractive to the eye. But, then, sight and hearing are so connected with our minds that they are susceptible of very great cultivation, and thus differ greatly from instincts. As the mind opens, outward sights and sounds become connected with a great number of a.s.sociations, and thus we learn to think the one or the other beautiful, for reasons which really depend very much on the range of our own ideas. Consider, for a moment, the beautiful in architecture. If the model of the leaning tower of Pisa were generally adopted in our public buildings, all men's common sense would cry out against it as a deformity, because a leaning wall would convey to every mind the notion of insecurity, and every body would feel that it was unpleasant to see a building look exactly as if it were going to fall down. Now, what I have called common sense is, in a manner, the instinct of our reason: it is that uniform level of reason which all sane persons reach to, and the wisest in matters within its province do not surpa.s.s. But go beyond this, and architecture is no longer a matter of mere common sense, but of science, and of cultivated taste. Here the standard of beauty is not fixed by common consent; but, in the first instance, devised or discovered by the few: and, so far as it is received by the many, received by them on the authority of the few, and sanctioned, so to speak, not so much from real sympathy and understanding, as from a reasonable trust and deference to those who are believed the best judges.

Here, then, we suppose that the common judgment is right; but we perceive a difference between this case and the one mentioned before, inasmuch as in the first instance the right judgment of the ma.s.s of mankind is their own; in the second instance, they have adopted it out of deference to others. Not only, then, will men's common judgment be right in matters of instinct and of common sense, but also in higher matters, where, although they could not have discovered what was right, yet they were perfectly willing to adopt it, when discovered by others.

And this opens a very wide field. For in all matters which come under the dominion of fashion, where the avowed object is the convenience or gratification of society, men listen to those who profess to teach them with almost an excess of docility: they will adopt sometimes fashions which are not convenient. But yet, as men can tell well enough by experience whether they do find a thing convenient and agreeable or not, so it is most likely that fashions which continue long and generally prevalent are founded upon sound principles; because else men, being well capable of knowing what convenience is, and being also well disposed to follow it, would neither have been very long or very generally mistaken in this matter; nor would have acquiesced in their mistake contentedly.

We do perfectly right, then, to regard the common opinion as a rule in all points of dress, in our houses and furniture, in those lighter usages of society which come under the denomination of manners, as distinguished from morals. In all these, if the ma.s.s of mankind could not find out what would best suit them, yet they are quite ready to adopt it when it is found out; and so they equally arrive at truth. But take away this readiness, and the whole case is altered. If there be any point in which men are not ready to adopt what is best for them; if they are either indifferent, or still more, if they are averse to it; if they thus have neither the power of discovering it for themselves, nor the will to avail themselves of it, when discovered for them; then it is clear that, in such a point, the common judgment will be of no value, nay, there will even be a presumption that it is wrong.

Now as the common consent of mankind was most sure in matters where their sense most resembled instinct, that is, where nature had done most for them, and left them least to do for themselves; as here, therefore, they who are sound are the great majority, and the exceptions are no better than disease; so if there be any part of us which is the direct opposite to instinct, a part in which nature has done next to nothing for us, and all is to be done by ourselves; then, here the common consent of mankind will be of the least value; here the majority will be helpless and worthless; and they who are happy enough to be exceptions to this majority, will be no other than Christ's redeemed.

Now, again, if this deficient part of our nature could be seen purely distinct from every other; if it alone dictated our language, and inspired our actions, then it would follow, that language which must ever be fixed by the majority, would be, in fact, the language of the world of infinite evil; and our actions those of mere devils. Then, whoever of us would be saved, must needs begin by forswearing, altogether, both the language and the actions of his fellow-men. But this is not so; in almost every instance this deficient part of our nature acts along with others that are not so corrupted; it mars their work, undoubtedly; it often confuses and perverts our language; it always taints our actions; but it does not wholly usurp either the one or the other; and thus, by G.o.d's blessing, man's language yet affords a high witness to divine truth, and even men's judgments and actions testify, though with infinite imperfection, to the existence and excellence of goodness.

And this it is which forms one of the great perplexities of life; for as there is enough of what is right in men's judgments and conduct to forbid us from saying, that we must take the very rule of contraries, and think and do just the opposite to the opinions and practice of men in general; so, on the other hand, there is always so much wrong in them, that we may never dare to follow them as a standard, but shall find, that if trusted to as such, they will inevitably betray us. So that in points of greater moment than mere manners and fashion, it will ever be true, that if we would be prepared for Christ's coming, we must rise to a far higher standard than that of society in general; that in the greatest concerns of human life, the practice of the majority, though always containing something of good, is yet in its prevailing character, as regards G.o.d, so evil, that they who are content to follow it cannot be saved.

This is the explanation of the apparent difficulty in the general, and thus, while acknowledging that there are points in which men, by common consent, make out what is best; and others in which, although they do not make it out, nor at first appreciate it, yet they are very willing to adopt it upon trust, and so come by experience to value it; while, therefore, there are a great many things in which singularity is either a disease or a foolishness; so again there are other points in which men in general have not the power to make out what is good, nor yet the docility to adopt it; and, therefore, in these points, which relate to the great matters of life, singularity is wisdom and salvation, and he who does as others do, perishes. That is what is called the corruption of human nature. I shall attempt, on another occasion, to go into some further details, and show, by common examples, how strangely our judgment and practice contain, with much that is right, just that one taint or defect which, as a whole, spoils them. And this one defect will be found to be, as the Scripture declares, a defect in our sense of our relation towards G.o.d.

LECTURE XVII.

1 CORINTHIANS ii. 12.

_We have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit which is of G.o.d_.

And, therefore, he goes on to say, our language is different from that of others, and not always understood by them; the natural man receiveth not the things of G.o.d, for they are foolishness unto him; neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned. That is, they are discerned only by a faculty which he has not, namely, by the Spirit; and, therefore, as beings devoid of reason cannot understand the truths of science, or of man's wisdom, for they are without the faculty which can discern them; so beings devoid of G.o.d's Spirit cannot understand the truths of G.o.d.

Now, in order to turn this pa.s.sage to our profit, we need not consider those who are wholly without G.o.d's Spirit, or inquire whether, indeed, there be any such; it is not that there are two broadly marked divisions of all men, those who have not the Spirit of G.o.d at all, and those who have it abundantly: if it were so, the separation of the great day of judgment would be begun already, nor would it require, in order to effect it rightly, the wisdom of Him who trieth the very hearts and reins. No doubt there will be at last but two divisions of us all, the saved and the lost; but now the divisions are infinite; so much so that the great body of us offer much matter for hope as well as for fear. We cannot say, that they are without the Spirit of G.o.d; yet neither can we say that they are led by the Spirit, so as to be G.o.d's true servants. We cannot say, that the things of G.o.d's are absolutely to them as foolishness; yet certainly, we cannot say either, that they are to them as the divinest wisdom.

And here we return to the subject on which I was speaking last Sunday.

It is because we are not led by the Spirit of G.o.d, but have within us much of the spirit of the world, that our judgments of right and wrong are so faulty; and that this faultiness is particularly seen in our faint sense of our relations to G.o.d. These relations seem continually foolishness to us, because they are spiritually discerned, and we have so little of G.o.d's Spirit to enable us to discern them. And our blindness here affects our whole souls; we have, in consequence of it, a much fainter perception even of those truths which reason can discern by herself; or, at any rate, if we do not doubt them, they have over us much less influence.

Now we will first see how much of natural reason, and even of the Spirit of G.o.d, does exist in our common judgments; for it is fair to see and to allow what there is of right in our language and sentiments, as well as to note what is wrong. Reason influences thus much, that we not only commend good generally, and blame evil; but even, in particular cases, we commend, I think, each separate virtue, and we blame each separate vice. I never heard of justice, truth, kindness, self-denial, &c., being other than approved of in themselves; or injustice, falsehood, malice, and selfishness being other than condemned. And the Spirit of G.o.d influences at least thus much, that we shrink from direct blasphemy and profaneness; we cannot but respect those whom we believe to be living sincerely in the fear of G.o.d; and further, if we thought our death near, we should desire to hear of G.o.d, and to depart from this life under his favour. No doubt, all such feelings, so far as they go, are the work of G.o.d's Spirit: whatever is good and right in our minds towards G.o.d, that proceeds not from the spirit of the world, but from the Spirit of G.o.d.

Where, then, is the great defect which yet continually makes our practical judgments quite wrong; which makes us, in fact, so often countenance and support evil, and discountenance and discourage good?

First, it is owing to the spirit of carelessness. One of the most emphatic terms by which a good man is expressed in the language of the Greek philosophers, is that of [Greek: opdouiaos], "one who is in earnest." To be in earnest is, indeed, with, most of us, the same as to be good; it is not that we love evil, but that we are indifferent both to it and to good. Now, many of us are very seldom in earnest. By this I mean, that the highest part of our minds, and that which judges of the highest things, is generally slumbering or but half awake. We may go through, a very busy day, and yet not be, in this true sense, in earnest at all; our best faculties may, as it were, be all the while sleeping or playing. It is notorious how much this is so in the common intercourse of society in the world. Light anecdotes; playful remarks; discussions, it may be, about the affairs of the neighbourhood, or, in some companies, on questions of science or party politics; all these may be often heard; but we may talk on all these brilliantly and well, and yet our best nature may not once be called to exert itself. So again, in mere routine business, it is the same: the body may toil; the pen move swiftly; the thoughts act in the particular matter before them vigorously; and yet we our proper selves, beings understanding and choosing between good and evil, have never bestirred ourselves at all.

It has been but a skirmishing at the outposts; not a sword had been drawn in the main battle. Take younger persons, and the same thing is the case even more palpably. Here there is less of business in the common sense of the term; the mind is almost always unbraced and resting. We pa.s.s through the good and evil of our daily life, and our proper self scarcely ever is aroused to notice either the one or the other.