Part 4

The preceding part of this chapter presents us with an awful and instructive example of the fatal consequences which result from an unbelief or distrust of the providential power and goodness of GOD. Contrary to the express command of the Almighty, contrary to the spirit of that dispensation, which inculcated an absolute and implicit reliance upon Heaven in all dangers and difficulties, yea, contrary to an happy experience of the most signal interpositions of Omnipotence; David had rashly issued a commission to the general and officers of his host, to go through all the tribes of Israel, and take a particular and exact account of the numbers of his people. Such a flagrant instance of unfaithfulness to his GOD, after so many merciful deliverances received, drew upon him a most severe chastisement. To humble the haughtiness of his spirit, and convince him of the folly of depending upon the arm of flesh, instead of taking the most HIGH GOD for his shield and defence, a messenger of vengeance was immediately sent forth. From Dan even to Beersheba, he marked his progress with carnage and desolation: seventy thousand men, within the space of a few hours, fell a sacrifice to the devouring pestilence. He soon reached the beloved city, and was preparing to pour his phial of wrath upon the mount of GOD. The eyes of the unhappy monarch were now opened: he saw the destroying angel, humbled himself in the dust, acknowledged his guilt, and deprecated the further progress of the contagion. "Lo, I have sinned, and I have done wickedly: but these sheep, what have they done?" Omnipotence arrested the Angel in his progress: "It is enough--stay now thine hand." And David was directed by the prophet Gad, to rear an altar unto the LORD, on the very spot where the pestilence had ceased. This spot was the threshing-floor of Araunah the Jebusite.

Deeply sensible of the greatness of his deliverance, the king immediately proceeded to execute the divine command. Araunah discovered him at a distance; and with all the submission of a conquered and tributary prince, hastened to meet him, and "bowed himself before the king on his face to the ground." "And Araunah said, Wherefore is my lord the king come unto his servant?" And David said, "To buy the threshing-floor of thee, to build an altar unto the LORD, that the plague may be stayed from the people." Araunah, as a king, with a princely generosity of spirit, immediately offered him, not only the threshing-floor, but also his oxen for the sacrifice, and his threshing instruments for wood. "And the king said unto Araunah, Nay, but I will surely buy it of thee at a price; neither will I offer burnt-offerings unto the LORD my GOD, of that which doth cost me nothing." The plain and obvious meaning of which is undoubtedly this:

Hath GOD favoured me with such an astonishing deliverance? Hath he manifested his goodness and loving-kindness in withdrawing his chastising hand, pardoning my guilt, and sparing me and my people from utter destruction? Surely, then, I will not grudge, the trifling expence of erecting, upon this spot, a monument of his love. Surely I will not accept of the labours of another, or testify my gratitude by burnt-offerings and sacrifices at another's expence. The least I can do is, to make such an acknowledgment, and in such a manner, as will best evidence my sense of the obligation, and the honour that is due to my Almighty Deliverer.

Those who look beyond the letter and the outward history, will readily discern the state of David's mind. They will readily discern this outward action of his, though adapted to the outward dispensation under which he lived, to be highly expressive of that great and fundamental principle, which every dispensation of Truth, from the fall of man down to this very day, hath strongly inculcated, viz. that true religion is an inward life, that cannot rest in external appearances, but manifests itself in an absolute unlimited surrender of the whole man to his Creator. This can never be accomplished without considerable cost and expence on the part of the creature, inasmuch as his will and affections must first be drawn off from all that variety of imaginations, desires and enjoyments, to which his fallen nature strongly allures, and deeply enslaves him.

Hence it is, that our BLESSED LORD makes the very first duty of discipleship to consist in "denying ourselves, taking up our cross, and following him:" that is to say, in bearing, with meekness, the necessary evils of our fallen life, resisting and overcoming its sinful suggestions, and humbly waiting for and co-operating with his Spirit revealed in our hearts.

This is the spiritual warfare, the struggle betwixt the "law in the members," and the "law of the mind;" the fighting "not only against flesh and blood, but against principalities and powers," in which we are all summoned to engage. The whole burnt-offering and sacrifice, the whole price which this must cost us, is nothing less than the turning our wills, with the whole tide of our affections, from the evil to the good principle within us. And that GOD through CHRIST hath given us ability to do this, will appear from the following considerations:

The will of man, as coming forth from the Eternal Will of GOD, must be eternally and essentially free. The will of the fallen angels in hell, was as free as that of the highest archangel now in heaven:

Freely they stood, who stood; and fell, who fell.

The whole difference betwixt them consists in this, that the will of those who fell, is freely turned to evil; the will of those who stood, is freely turned to GOD and Goodness.

Man stands in an intermediate state, betwixt light and darkness, betwixt life and death, betwixt heaven and hell. The whole tenor of Scripture, from beginning to end, represents him in this critical situation; represents his Heavenly Father, as calling to him and inviting him to "eschew evil, and to do good;" to "love light rather than darkness;" to "come to him, that he may have life." All which certainly implies, that GOD, by his Grace, hath given him a power of choosing, and has made his salvation or destruction to proceed from himself, and not from any predetermining divine decree.

JESUS CHRIST is always spoken of, as a freely given Saviour; but salvation, as "a treasure to be purchased, as a race to be run, as a battle to be fought, as a work to be accomplished, even with fear and trembling." The power or capacity of being saved, the whole merit of salvation, comes from CHRIST; the using of this power, the availing ourselves of this merit, from ourselves. "Why WILL YE die, O house of Israel? TURN YOURSELVES, and live ye. Ye WILL NOT come to me, that ye might have life. How often would I have gathered you, as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye WOULD NOT!"

Upon this principle of forsaking sin, and turning our will to Goodness, are founded all those Gospel precepts, which speak of "crucifying the flesh with its affections and lusts, destroying the old man, dying to sin, suffering with CHRIST, cutting off a right hand, plucking out a right eye, passing through much tribulation;" all which plainly shews, that True Religion is a perpetual sacrifice; and that this sacrifice cannot be "offered to the LORD our GOD, of that which doth cost us nothing;" that the price will be far more, than "fifty shekels of silver," the purchase of Araunah's threshing-floor and implements; yea, that it will be no less than the "whole body of sin," which we carry about us, with all its affections and lusts; which we must, with meekness and humility, surrender to our BLESSED REDEEMER, to be burnt up and consumed upon the fire of his altar.

Having thus endeavoured to establish this fundamental principle, that "true religion is a costly and a perpetual sacrifice;" let us now, to prevent any dangerous deception, turn our eyes to those false appearances of it, which we frequently meet with in the world, which are very easily assumed, and which cost nothing.

The man of moral honesty first steps forth, and puts in his claim to the character of religious. He looks upon any Revelation from Heaven to be quite unnecessary; and, with all the forwardness and presumption of his own blind reason, pronounces those books, which Christians believe to be of Divine Authority, to be idle and chimerical. His religion, he will tell you, is, "to do as he would be done by." Poor man! it were well, if he even practised this golden rule; it might lead him to something further: for, by endeavouring to fulfil this, he might be brought to a view and feeling of his own natural inability; of the evil tempers and passions of his soul, which, in innumerable instances, hurry him on to do to others, what he would, by no means, have them to do to him. His religion, therefore, is properly visionary. Every thing to him is just and right, that comes within those bounds of honesty, which have been fixed by the laws of the land. A right life is not, with him, a right principle in the heart; but only a set of outward actions, that in the eyes of the world give him the character of an honest man.

The religion of such a person "costs him nothing." He has nothing to sacrifice, but much to gain by the practice of it; at least, much of worldly happiness; for he can have no idea of any other. Being wholly destitute of all sensibility with respect to the evil of his fallen life, he is not in the least desirous of purchasing a better, at the price it will cost. Before he can form any conception of the necessity of religion, as a real inward change and renewal of heart, he must first be made sensible of his present error and misery: "for they that are whole need not a physician, but they that are sick."

Next comes the nominal Christian, who hath been baptized, and professes to believe the great truths of the Gospel, and joins with some publick assembly of Christians in outward worship. Surely his claim to the religious character, hath a better foundation than the preceding one: he purchases it at an higher price; it costs him more to support it. He neglects no outward duty, either moral or instituted; you never miss him at church, or at the sacrament: he hath been strictly educated from his infancy; he is sober, virtuous, kind, and charitable. In a word, he appears to be, what it were to be wished every man in the world really was. Thus far he is undoubtedly right: a strict observance of all the outward duties of religion, a minute attention to things in themselves indifferent, and a prudent abstaining from every appearance of evil, are doubtless incumbent, even upon those who have made the greatest progress in the Divine Life.

Let us, however, remember, that this outward strictness will avail little, without a conformity of our inward man to the temper and disposition of CHRIST; without being "born again," and commencing a new life, even a life of Heaven upon earth. The nominal Christian is a stranger to this blessed process. Talk to him of the necessity of regeneration, of doing all that he does from a principle of Divine Love, and with a view to God's glory, and not to any self-satisfaction, and he will not understand you. His round of duties seems to be the God whom he worships; at least, he makes them the _opus operatum_. He is never tormented with spiritual doubts and temptations; he knows nothing of the severe conflicts which real Christians sustain, and the dreadful pangs they must suffer, before their purification is accomplished; before they can "bow their heads," with the great Captain of their Salvation, and say with him, "It is finished." He is willing to go to Heaven by an easier and less thorny path, and to purchase glory at a cheaper rate.

The last I shall mention, but the most specious appearances of religion, are those which are exhibited by the pharisaical professors of Christianity. And here I would willingly throw a veil over those follies and extravagancies, to which false enthusiasm frequently gives the name of spiritual exercises and experiences. But my duty calls upon me to put you on your guard against these delusive appearances; as I cannot but think, that spiritual pride, or an over-weening conceit and forward exhibition of our own fancied spiritual attainments, is the most fatal rock, upon which the Christian can make "shipwreck of his faith."

In an age, wherein every appearance of religion ought to be encouraged and promoted, it is melancholy to think, that we should be under a necessity of speaking even against some appearances. But that you may form a right notion of what I mean by a pharisaical profession of religion, I will endeavour to draw the character of a modern Pharisee.

In the first place, he is one, who talks much in a religious strain, but takes care to make himself the chief subject of conversation. His own illuminations and experiences, his conviction and conversion, with all the particular circumstances attending them, he never fails to communicate, without distinction, to all those who will give him an hearing; and to communicate in such a manner, as to let them know, that he considers his own experiences as the infallible standard by which he measures the experiences of others.

In the next place, you will generally find him insisting upon points of controversy, rather than those of practice; urging your assent to such and such articles of his faith, calling upon you to apply for instruction to some favourite Rabbi of his own sect, or some favourite system which himself has adopted, instead of sending you immediately to him, who is the Fountain of all Wisdom, and "who giveth it liberally" to those that ask it of him.

You will find him careful to "pay tithes of mint, and annise, and cummin;" to go to what he calls a gospel-sermon, though he should neglect the necessary duties of his occupation; and to spend hours in talking about religion, whilst he passes by "the weightier matters of the law, judgment, and mercy, and faith." Tell him of the necessity "of dying daily to sin, of suffering with CHRIST, of mortifying the flesh, denying himself, cutting off a right hand, &c." he will answer you, that his peace is made, that his sins are pardoned, that he has a full assurance of everlasting life. Tell him of the necessity of being "born again," of having the righteous nature, temper, and disposition of the HOLY JESUS in his heart; he will reply, that he knows of no righteousness but that of CHRIST imputed, and that his Saviour's personal obedience is accepted by GOD instead of his own; and though he may not go so far as to deny the great doctrine of sanctification, but will even allow and insist upon it, yet it is such sanctification, as will turn to very little account. For, who that looks upon his work as already done, will chuse to labour any longer? Who that believes his sins to be already pardoned, will think it necessary to implore the forgiveness of God, or to obtain the healing influences of the Spirit of Grace?

In a word, if we may judge from his conversation, he thinks himself perfect--if we may judge from his actions, he is indeed very far from it. He shews the utmost bitterness against every one that happens to dissent from his opinion; and looks upon all those as carnal and unregenerate, who do not walk in his footsteps. Meekness, humility, benevolence and charity, the most characteristical graces of the true disciples of JESUS, are not to be found in any part of his conduct. His life, therefore, is not in CHRIST, but in a set of doctrines and opinions, supported by a "zeal that is not according to knowledge." Till he is taught to see his own pride and presumption; till he discovers, and strives to eradicate, the selfish principle that lurks at the centre of his heart; he cannot be said to offer any other sacrifices to GOD, than such as "cost him nothing."

To conclude: Having seen what those real sacrifices of religion are, which will be acceptable to GOD, and in how many instances men deceive themselves, and others, by false appearances; let us determine to judge of our acquaintance with and progress in True Religion, not merely by outward observances, nor yet by any transient fits or lively and pleasant frames of devotion; but rather by the discovery which GOD is pleased to make to us of our weakness and misery, by our sincere desire of being united to CHRIST, and in heart and spirit assimilated to his nature. Thus having followed a Suffering Master, "travelling in the greatness of his strength," through the ensanguined paths of a spiritual warfare, we shall at length "come forth out of great tribulation;" and, having "washed our robes in the Blood of the Lamb," shall be partakers of his triumphs; and receive the accomplishment of his great and glorious promise: "To him that overcometh, will I grant to sit with me in my throne; even as I also overcame, and am set down with my Father in his throne."

DISCOURSE VI. Truth, the only Friend of Man.

GALATIANS, CHAP. iv. VER. 16.

"AM I THEREFORE BECOME YOUR ENEMY, BECAUSE I TELL YOU THE TRUTH?"

Men are generally too apt to consider religion as unfriendly to their happiness, and incapable of yielding them any satisfactions, equal to those which they derive from the pursuit of worldly objects. Hence, the aversion to exercises of piety, and the society and conversation of the good and virtuous. Hence, the listlessness and unconcern about the state of their souls, whilst the whole attention of their minds, their thoughts, their desires and affections, their hands and their hearts, are all busily and constantly employed, in making provision for the support, ornament, and gratification, of a perishing body. Surely, such a strange conduct as this, must proceed from a secret persuasion, that religion will interrupt their pursuit of some present favourite objects, and damp and deaden all the sprightliness of enjoyment. Were they, indeed, charged with holding such principles as these, they would doubtless take it exceedingly amiss; and look upon that man as their enemy, who should presume thus to arraign their conduct, and ascribe it to motives, which they would blush to own.

The tender and affectionate expostulation in my text, is evidently founded upon an intimate knowledge of human nature. The sagacious Apostle readily discovered the secret workings of pride and disgust, in the hearts of his Galatian converts. After having expressed his astonishment, that "they were so soon removed from him, that called them into the Grace of CHRIST, unto another Gospel;" after having charged them with folly, for suffering themselves to be "bewitched," as he expresses it, by the artifices of deceivers; after having declared his fears and apprehensions lest he should have bestowed upon them labour in vain; and, after having enumerated some former testimonies of their reciprocal regard and affection for each other; he, at length, addresses himself to their consciences, and solemnly calls upon them to declare, whether they could, with the least justice or propriety, change their former sentiments of him, or deem him unfriendly to their best interests, "because he told them the Truth;" because, by his Christian and apostolical reprehensions, he sought to rescue them from the dominion of passion and prejudice: "Am I therefore become your enemy, because I tell you the Truth?"

One would think, that such well-meant remonstrances, from the ministers of Truth and friends of Virtue, would be kindly received, and have a salutary influence upon the hearts of sinners; but experience, alas! tells us the contrary. There have been many instances, and some, perhaps, within our own personal knowledge, in which resentment, rather than gratitude, hath been awakened by such expostulations; and where, instead of humbling the spirit, they have produced a reply that bore the marks of passion, checked and disappointed in its favourite pursuits.

Considered with respect to the real state of his soul, every man, who lives under the dominion of any evil passion, or suffers himself to be drawn aside from the paths of virtue by the delusive arts of vice, is doubtless in a situation similar to that of these Galatians. For though his passions and prejudices may not be exactly the same, yet they proceed from the same source, and enmity to GOD and Goodness is at the bottom.

But, blessed be GOD! there are no Galatians without an Apostle; no sinner without an higher messenger of GOD than St. Paul; a greater witness, and more awful reprover of his evil ways; a friend that speaks to him at all times and seasons, in the hurry of the day, and the silence of the night, amidst the anxiety of expectation, and the ardour of possession; vigorously remonstrating against every sinful suggestion, and sharply censuring and reproving the mind for every sinful act.

The fallen spirit of man, it is true, brooks not the frequent appearance of this Heavenly Messenger; but, as the Apostle says of the Galatians, treats him as an enemy, and replies to all his friendly remonstrances and affectionate warnings, with indignation and disdain.

"Go thy way for this time," was the language of voluptuous greatness to the same blessed Apostle. "Go thy way for this time," is still the language of every unconverted heart, when it is checked or interrupted in its vicious and lawless pursuits, by the voice of this Inward Monitor--why art thou perpetually intruding upon my hours of business, pleasure, or repose, and teizing and disquieting me with thine ill-timed admonitions or rebukes?

Who amongst us, let me ask, hath not, in innumerable instances, given such a rash and impatient answer to the Servant of GOD within us? When some darling passion hath importunately solicited for immediate indulgence; some pretty fantastical object presented itself to our desires; some impetuous call of pride, envy, covetuousness, or resentment, demanded an immediate answer; have we not, though we were, at the very instant, warned against the artifice and delusion, by this constant and inseparable Friend, have we not petulantly rejected his counsel, bid him "away for that time" at least, and treated him with more contempt than we would dare to shew to an earthly enemy?

His meekness, however, is not discomposed by our rising wrath; his fortitude is not daunted by our repeated insults; his persevering love is not in the least abated by the stubbornness and obduracy of our hearts. He still keeps close to our side, accompanies us whithersoever we go, and, "whether we will hear, or whether we will forbear," ceases not, at one time, to whisper to us in the soft language of heavenly instruction; and, at another, to thunder in our ears the most alarming reproofs and menaces.

But who is this Apostle, this Messenger of GOD, this Inward Witness and Monitor, whom deluded mortals are so apt to consider as an enemy to their peace?--Hear, O sinner, and let thy face be covered with confusion! let thine hard heart break with deep compunction for its past obduracy, whilst thou art told, that this enemy, as thou hast hitherto deemed and treated him, is no other than the ETERNAL SPIRIT OF THY GOD AND THY REDEEMER, who, by continually opposing the language of truth to the suggestions of error, hath been endeavouring to emancipate thy soul from its grievous bondage, and to bring it forth into light and liberty.