Part 15

There is another class of objectors—to another kind of preaching. Those, namely, who resist the force of plain exhortations to repentance, self-denial, submission, obedience, holiness, and the like; by persuading themselves that the preacher urges these severely and unduly. Doth he not speak parables, they say, exaggerating—describing ideal duties? Surely, what he urges is not the thing really required of us; surely, if we escape not with impunity, yet some allowance will be made for our want of it. Would he bring in all guilty? Would he cross every delight and desire of our life? Would he expect us so to subdue the spirit, so to overcome natural impatience, as never to resent, to shrink, to murmur? Must obedience be so uncompromising, so constant, so perfect, to be obedience at all? Is holiness so imperatively necessary? Surely the preacher is unreasonable, he is extravagant, he speaks parables. These objectors are easily answered. In this matter no teaching of our own can be more explicit, more exacting, more positive, and more unsparing, than that of the New Testament. When we enforce these things, we are backed by an authority which cannot be questioned; and are able to prove that our words are those of soberness and truth. “Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish.” “If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me.” “Whosoever doth not this, cannot be my disciple.” “Whosoever loveth me, keepeth my commandments.” “If any man love not the LORD JESUS, let him be anathema maranatha.” “Without holiness no man shall see the LORD.” Are these words parables, are they untrue, figurative, extravagant? And if not, what that we say, or can say, on this head, may be resisted or slighted, under the plea, that is a parable?

Once more. When we discourse from the pulpit, on a living and near Saviour, an indwelling Sanctifier, a surrounding spiritual tempter, on heaven or hell, on enduring as seeing Him who is invisible, on having our conversation in heaven, on the evidence of things unseen, on the feeling and grasping, so to speak, as though they were substantial and at hand, of things hoped for—oh! then, how many there are who hear us as though we were dreamers or narrators of fables, speakers who should be allowed some poetic license; who, to make their speech attractive, or perhaps from the spontaneous dictation of their enthusiasm, use figures of rhetoric and speak parables! I do not mean that these persons wilfully take up this position, that they are intentionally, or in desire, gainsayers of the truth, but merely that they do not enter into its conception, and cannot rise to its height. They lag behind, they are earthy, they see only the visible, feel only the tangible to bodily senses. The temporal to them is real; the spiritual, not through unbelief, nor obstinacy, nor moral blindness, but from infirmity, and earthly-mindedness, and unspirituality, is regarded too nearly as unreal; and, therefore, when it is discoursed upon, they seem to be listening to empty dreams, and the preacher to be displaying flights of fancy.

Dear brethren—I speak to such—I know that many of you wish it were otherwise; you would that your mind could conceive, and that your heart could feel, these truths. In your best moments, you more than suspect that the preacher is right after all, and you are wrong; that _you_ are dreaming, and not he; that his words are a parable only to those who will not see and hear. It is not in man to afford you much help, in coming to a right state. If I refer you to the Bible, which we do but echo from the pulpit, you will still say, Ah! but does not this, too, speak parables? If I bid you go and exercise your reason, or consult others who have done so, it is more than possible that you will come away from the consultation—alas! many do—more convinced than before that we _do_ speak parables, that each one is a GOD to himself, that there is no other devil than a man’s own evil passions, that there is no hell but in a remorseful conscience, that eternity does not mean “for ever!” No; there is no help for you in man, in yourselves, or in others. You must, indeed, purify and elevate your affections, so that they may wish for better things; you must bring down your reason from the high seat where it sits, and speculates, and dictates; you must try to accept the truth that the natural man cannot receive nor judge of spiritual things; but, then, you must go to GOD Himself, and humbly, teachably, earnestly ask for that spiritual discernment which alone can see, and feel, and love the things of GOD. Do this, not once, but often; not negligently or hastily, but earnestly and perseveringly; and presently, if not all at once, yet gradually, most surely, your spiritual eyes shall be opened, you shall see GOD, you shall love CHRIST, you shall perceive the motions of the Holy Spirit. The invisible world shall be unveiled, and shall be found to contain all the beauties, all the horrors, and to hold out all the hopes and fears, to be as real, as near, as sure to be ours, for weal or woe, according as we are, or are not, Christians, as the preacher or the Bible, of which he is the expounder, asserts. Thenceforth you will not complain of spiritual teaching that it is parabolic, of strong assertions of the obligation of Christian graces, that they are immoderate, too exacting, too severe. No! heart and mind will testify, and life will approve, “Lo, now speakest thou plainly, and speakest no proverb.” Yes; and knowing somewhat of GOD, and your relation to Him, and desiring to know more, whenever in your private reading of the Bible a difficulty meets you, or whenever the preacher discourses, as it seems, in parables, you will give the most earnest and interested heed, to see if you cannot divine the mystery; and failing that, instead of remaining in willing ignorance, you will use all the means placed within your reach, the comparing of parallel places, your commentaries, and the private instructions of your clergyman, pleading all the while with CHRIST, and urgently beseeching of Him, “LORD, thou knowest all things, declare unto me this parable.”

Thus doing, you will soon find that to you it is given to know the mysteries of religion; and the knowledge, sanctified by the Spirit, will assuredly work in you a greater love of GOD, a more consistent and more successful pursuit of holiness, a growing taste and eagerness for that better state, whence ignorance, in all its degrees, shall be banished for ever, and where we shall know even as now we are known.

SERMON XVII. LIVING AND DYING UNTO GOD.

II. CORINTHIANS, V., 8, 9.

_We are confident and willing rather to be absent from the body_, _and to be present with the_ LORD. _Wherefore we labour_, _that_, _whether present or absent_, _we may be accepted of Him_.

THE apostle had been speaking, in the preceding chapter, of the troubles and persecutions which he daily endured, and of the hopes and consolations—the life by faith rather than by right—which made their endurance easy. Having touched upon the theme, he could not but enlarge upon it; and doing so, his ardent expectations carried him out of the present, and made him covet and attempt to grasp the future. Before his enlightened eye and spiritualised heart, his affliction was light and its continuance brief; the present state was but as a tent, quickly to be taken down, and then in its place should be digged the deep foundation and reared the abiding edifice of a building of GOD eternal in the heavens. Outstretched, then, were his thoughts, and desires, and earnest were his prayers, not so much to get rid of what he had, as to attain what he hoped for and was promised. He knew indeed that the tabernacle must be removed; that his present state must cease—either by actual death or by a change, which the quick at CHRIST’S coming must undergo, much the same as death; he felt the burthen which was upon him; he yearned and groaned to be rid of it; but looking to the end he disregarded the way; dwelling, not upon the change but what was to come after it, he sought not death, but life. He longed, not to be unclothed, but clothed upon. Nay, recognising the good, and so the desirableness of this life, shrinking too naturally from the thought of dissolution, he would keep the present till he had the future, he would have what he wanted _added_ to what he possessed, rather than _substituted_ for it. Present life was in many respects dear to him; he would that the evil were purged away from it, and the good left; and then that the good were augmented, enfolded, absorbed by the transcendent, satisfying perfect blessedness which GOD had promised, and for the attaining whereof He had bestowed His effectually working Spirit.

At this point he seems to have sobered himself, or perhaps rather to have designedly exhibited the latent soberness and contentedness which had guided him all along. “We are confident,” he says, that is, of good cheer, well comforted, easily bearing what is, patiently waiting for the future; preferring, indeed (if a preference be allowed), to be absent from the body and fully present with the LORD; but still chiefly animated, not by a selfish yearning for the quickest attainment of peace and glory, but by the noble, GOD-adoring ambition, of being and doing that which is divinely approved. “Wherefore, in view of all that is and shall be, we make it our chief aim, we devote ourselves, not so much to reach heaven, to gratify self, as whether on earth or in heaven, to enjoy the approval and favour of God.” “Be silent,” he would say, “ye groans for deliverance; check yourselves, ye eager aspirations for glory; let principle rule rather than desire, and let the principle be, whether we live let us live unto the LORD, whether we die let us die unto the LORD. Let not dying or living be the engrossing thought, but that whether we live or die we may be the LORD’S.”

In this, as in so many other respects, our bright exemplar, Paul, shows us both what we may allow and what we should aim at.

And first he shows us that even the saint—the approved of GOD—may shrink from the thought of dissolution. “We groan, being burthened, because” (this is the right translation) “we would not be unclothed,” we would not die. I envy not the man—there is something unnatural, yea, and unspiritual, too, in him—who does not shrink from the first thought of death coming to himself or to those whom he loves. For death, in its best form, is a remembrancer of the wrath of GOD against the sinner, and it is in a sense a triumph—no matter that it is short—it is a defiling and withering touch—no matter that it shall soon be wiped away, and its blasting undone—of the foul and fierce enemy of GOD and holy man. It is that, too, which cuts asunder the ties which we are allowed and encouraged to fasten here between ourselves and loved friends and delightful pursuits and pleasing possessions. It is that, too, which abruptly closes the period of probation and preparation for heaven; which stays all cleansing and perfecting, which says imperatively to us, “No more shall you remove, no more shall you acquire—as you are shall you face GOD—stereotyped are you for eternity.” It is that, too, which enthrals and deadens the one half of us, though it liberates and quickens the other, which separates the body from GOD, while it joins the spirit to Him, which, while it exalts the latter to Paradise, consigns the former to the grave, to corruption, to temporary annihilation. Terrible is death to many, awful to all—undesirable even to the saint—and only tolerable because not so much of the soul’s immediate gain as of the body’s future hope. For if it were proposed to us to choose for eternity between perfect disembodied bliss, and very imperfect bliss in the body, there is no one, I conceive, who knows the capabilities of the body, both of rendering to GOD and receiving of Him, who would not prefer, and I think rightly, life in the flesh to life out of it.

The words of St. Paul exhibit in himself, and seem to allow in others, this shrinking from dissolution, this desire to keep the body, albeit changed, perfected, caught up into the heavens; to be spared the pulling down of the earthly tabernacle, even to make way for the heavenly eternal building.

But St. Paul goes on to show that this desire was secondary to that of exchanging faith for sight, imperfection for perfection. He would not on any account remain earthy: he longed for the fullest and most glorious presence of GOD, and if it needs must be that the desired change and attainment could only be brought about by dissolution, oh, then he was ready, he was willing rather to be absent from the body. He returned from the shrinking; he rallied from the fear; he was confident, well content, and desirous to die.

And herein he is the pattern of a true Christian. He is not so in love with death that he can see nothing in it to shrink from or fear, nothing to disturb him. He does not so hate this life as to hurry to be quit of it. With all its trials, and disappointments, and hindrances, and miseries, there is much in it which is dear to him, in which he finds delight, from which he is loth to part. GOD, too, is felt here, and seen by faith, and bestows appreciable blessings; here GOD’S work is to be done, here GOD’S glory to be promoted. Therefore “to live is CHRIST.” But still there are greater and better things beyond. There is a place where trouble never comes, where happiness is perfect, whose company, and possessions, and pleasures, are such, that nought on earth is worth having or thinking of in comparison of them. There is a state in which GOD’S work may be done as angels do it, without hindrance from within or without; in which glory to GOD is easily, and fully, and delightfully rendered. There is a presence of GOD which is visible and palpable, where His voice is clearly heard, where He is beheld face to face, where the everlasting arms are substantially felt as they embrace and uphold, where His love is perfectly realised and enjoyed, and perfectly reciprocated.

What can be valued, or can interest in comparison of all this? What can content that is short of this? What can deter from the seeking of this? what valley seem dark and uninviting at the end of which this glory shines? what way be dreary and lonely, along which GOD’S rod and staff are offered as supporters and comforters? This being the end and the aim, if to attain it death must be passed through, then welcome death! We are confident, full of cheer at the prospect, eager to set out—“To die is gain.”

But the best feature of the Christian, as exhibited in St. Paul, remains for us to gaze on. After all, it is not the holiest ambition to aspire to heaven; it is not the highest vocation to enrich and perfect self. GOD has made us capable of heavenly bliss. He offers it to us. He would have us seek it; He blesses and will reward the seeking. But still He did not make and redeem us, He does not sanctify us only or chiefly for this. The Christian’s vocation is the service of GOD. The end of his being is the glory of GOD. And so our chief thoughts, and aspirations, and endeavours, are not to be deliverance from troubles, perfection in joy, getting out of the present into the future, exchanging earth for heaven; but, being and doing what GOD approves, wherever, in whatever circumstances, GOD appoints. “Wherefore we labour, that whether present or absent we may be accepted of Him;” that whether it pleases GOD to come to us while we are in the body, or to call us to Him out of the body, He may find us prepared for what in either case awaits us; “for we must all appear before the judgment-seat of CHRIST, that every one may receive according to the things done in the body.”

The Christian may shrink from the first thought of death, and wish not to be unclothed. He ought to aspire to heaven, and that he may reach it, be well content, willing rather, to be absent from the body. But above all he must labour in whatever state he is, therein so to be serving GOD, as to have His present acceptance and always to be prepared for His coming judgment.

We want to feel this and to act upon it. To put self with even its most innocent instincts and best interests and noblest aspirations somewhat aside, that GOD may be more nearly all in all; to be less filled with groaning and coveting on our own account and more occupied in serving and glorifying CHRIST. It is well not to love this world, to have realised its vanity and misery, to have broken the links that would bind us to it, to refuse to find our perfect joy in aught that belongs to it. It is well to yearn for deliverance from all that vexes and hinders and hurts; to desire ardently—even to pray earnestly and continually for—presence with the LORD, and all that that presence implies, in Paradise, in Heaven. But when by GOD’S grace we have come to this state, we are not perfect, we have not _begun_ to be perfect. No! we have only qualified ourselves in mind and heart for the commencement of that which is demanded of us in life, the single, contented, glad, immediate, and constant service of GOD in the state and circumstances in which He has placed us.

Brethren, we are all dwelling in tabernacles, tents that have no firm foundation; which are to be taken down and soon. The general judgment may tarry, CHRIST may not come in His glorious majesty, and meet us while in the body: but if not then _death_ will surely come, and out of the body we must go to meet CHRIST. How soon shall that be? How soon shall we meet Him? Do you ever give these things a serious thought? Do you ever consider that the apparently capricious last enemy is wont to take the young and strong as often as the old and feeble, and, _as_ he chooses, sometimes to sound the warning note from afar off, sometimes to come silently, suddenly as a thief in the night? Do you feel—I single out each man, each woman, each child that hears me, and in GOD’S name I ask that individual—Do you feel that _you_ may be Death’s next victim, that ere the day is over you may be gone to your account, or at least the seeds of mortal disease may be beginning to grow in you? Oh, do not resist this appeal by persuading yourselves that the thing is improbable. Let it be enough that you know (and you do know) that it is possible, and, if possible, that you ought to entertain the possibility.

Well now, let me farther ask, Are you prepared, are you preparing to die? Are you going to leave the vast concerns of an eternal state to the consideration of a moment, a moment too which may be denied you, if not by the instant cutting of life’s thread, by mortal fears and lingerings, and recoilings, by the engrossing pains of the body, by the locking up of the senses in stupor or delirium? Are you putting off concern; heedless of thought and preparation for meeting GOD? Are you calculating upon being able to think and feel aright when you will, to ask and obtain pardon for all that is wrong, to be excused for all deficiencies in a moment, to do the work of life on a sick-bed, to satisfy GOD with the dregs of the cup of life, to become a passive recipient of the necessary holiness which GOD bids all acquire actively? Do you suppose it will suffice to think of these things when the doctor tells you you cannot recover; to send for the clergyman to teach and move you when the faculty of heeding is well nigh gone, to pray for you, if you are unable to pray for yourself, to sigh over your body, if, alas! the soul has fled? Or are you now more or less possessed with religious thought and feeling, sitting loose to this world, weaning yourselves more and more from it, nerving yourselves for the last hour, sighing over and confessing your sins, trusting to CHRIST’S mercy, aspiring to heaven, praying for acceptance? Whether you are indifferent to or merely postponing concern, for self’s best interests, or whether you are already absorbed by self’s best interests, let me remind you—without presuming to set any bounds to GOD’S mercy, without disputing that GOD has sometimes received those who first turned to Him on a death-bed, without caring to satisfy those who want to know how little religion will save a man—let me remind you, I say, and do not be weary of the repetition, that to be truly acceptable to GOD, it is not enough that you entertain some religious thoughts, and go through some religious forms at the last, or even that you are filled with religious thoughts and feelings all your life long, you must be serving GOD now, in the day of your ability, at the call of every opportunity, in whatever state and circumstances you are placed, doing it as so much work set you to do and presently to be scrutinised and accounted for, rendering it as the faithful, grateful homage of a pardoned and sanctified and loving sinner. Let this be your rule, a rule to be observed not only in theory but in practice also; not only in the rendering of obedience, but in the treating of all that you have, and the accepting of all that happens to you, as from the LORD—“Whether we live, we live unto the LORD, or whether we die, we die unto the LORD.”

SERMON XVIII. RELIGIOUS ZEAL.

II. KINGS, X., 16.

_Come with me_, _and see my zeal for the_ LORD.

JEHU, the son of Nimshi, one of the captains of Israel, had been selected and anointed by Divine command, to supplant King Joram, to smite the whole house of Ahab, and to avenge the poured-out blood of GOD’S servants, the prophets. It is easy to account for the choice of such an agent. GOD, we believe, performs no miracle unnecessarily. When what He wants exists already, He searches it out and uses it; instead of making a new creation, or changing and converting what, so to speak, comes first to hand. At this time He had need, for His purposes respecting Israel, of a man bold, impetuous, full of vigour, prompt to undertake, resolute, courageous, uncompromising to perform. Such an one pre-eminently, was Jehu; and therefore, said the LORD, “I have anointed thee king over the people of the LORD, even over Israel, and thou shalt smite the house of Ahab thy master, that I may avenge the blood of My servants the prophets, and the blood of all the servants of the LORD, at the hand of Jezebel.”

We know with what alacrity Jehu assumed his office, and set about the discharge of its stern and bloody duties; how he drove furiously to slay Joram, assailing him the while with loud reproaches for tolerating the wicked doings of Jezebel; how he caused Ahaziah, king of Judah, to be slain; how he commanded Jezebel to be thrown from the window, and trod her under foot; how he effected the wholesale slaughter of seventy persons of King Ahab’s sons, of all his great men, and his kinsfolks, and his priests, until he left him none remaining; and how, too, returning from this destruction, he met forty-two of the brethren of King Ahaziah, and caused them all to be slain at the pit of the shearing house. The words of the text introduce us to his last recorded deed of this kind, namely, the destruction by subtlety of all the followers of Baal, and the suppression of his worship throughout the land of Israel.

In reading this narrative, the questions naturally arise, How far were the deeds of Jehu a performance of the Divine will? Was Jehu in any respect, and if so, in what, a holy character? Under what influence did he act, and forbear to act? May we consider these questions rightly, and learn from them lessons of wisdom by GOD’S grace to be carried out into holy practice!