The apostle John has set this quality and operation
before us in a clear and positive manner—"Every man that has this hope (in
Christ), in him, purifies himself, even as he is pure," 1 John 3:3. Every
view we can take of the work of redemption, shows its connection with
holiness. The Father has "chosen us before the foundation of the
world, that we might be holy." The Son did not die merely to save us
from hell, and bring us to heaven—but to "redeem us from all iniquity, and
purify unto himself a peculiar people, zealous for good works." The
Spirit is given to "create us anew unto good works." If we are called,
it is "with a holy calling." If we are afflicted, it is that we might "be
partakers of God's holiness." If we possess the Scriptures, it is
"that we might be sanctified by the truth."
Holiness is the image of God, stamped upon man's soul
at his creation—which Satan marred, when his malignity could not reach the
divine original. And to restore us to holiness, is the ultimate object of
redeeming mercy. What would justification be without holiness—but like
throwing a vestment of purple and gold over a leprous body? What is
heaven—but the region, the home, the very center of holiness? Take away
holiness from an angel, and he becomes a devil. Add holiness to the nature
of a devil, and he becomes an angel. Were a man without holiness to enter
heaven, its blessed inhabitants would run from him with horror and alarm—as
we would run from a person with the plague! Without holiness, a soul in
heaven would be like a nauseated man at a feast; he would desire nothing,
taste nothing, relish nothing. Hence, therefore, the meaning and force of
the apostle's declaration, that hope is the great purifier. Fear of hell may
do something in this way—hope of heaven will do more!
The MODEL of Christian holiness is Christ, not merely
in his divine—but in his human nature; and that nature, not only in its
heavenly—but in its earthly state. Christ as the man of sorrows—as exposed
to temptation—as subject to affliction—as the servant of God—as the Son
learning obedience by the things which he suffered—as separate from sin and
sinners, though dwelling in the midst of them. Here is our model; the
infinite, eternal, almighty God, exhibited in the miniature form of the
perfect man, presented in dimensions the eye can comprehend. In our zeal for
Christ's divinity, let us not forget his humanity. The man Christ, the
divine man, the model man, must be before us, and our eye must be ever upon
our copy and our page.
"Every man who has this hope in him, purifies himself."
While as a weak, ignorant and sinful creature, his dependence is to be upon
the Spirit of God. But as a rational creature, he is to exert all his
faculties of intellect, heart, will, conscience, memory, in this great work
of moral purification. The apostle teaches us in this language that each
individual's moral cleansing depends, under God, principally upon
himself—not upon ministers, nor sermons, nor ordinances, nor books—but upon
himself—upon his care to watch over the motions of his own heart—upon his
vigilance to guard against temptations from without—upon his meditation upon
Christ's example—upon his assiduity to seek, by prayer, the support of God's
grace.
A man that would cleanse his person from defilement would
not merely place himself beneath a falling shower of rain—but would collect
the descending water and apply it to his body. He would purify himself—and
so must we our souls.
Hope prompts to this purification; helps us in it; and
gives energy and success to our endeavors. All men act as they hope—their
desires and expectations dictate and ensure the appropriate conduct. This is
an instinct of their nature, a moral necessity, an infallible result. If a
man has before him any worldly object of desire and expectation—and there is
some prerequisite which he must possess, in order to gain his ulterior
end—he will labor to secure this prerequisite as absolutely indispensable.
Now the Christian's desire and expectation are fixed upon heaven, his heart
is upon heaven—but he is told "without holiness no man shall see the Lord."
Then he knows, he feels, he determines, that he must be holy.
If we have some cherished object of desire, and there is
something which must fit us for enjoying it when it is possessed, we
naturally labor to gain that preparedness. The Christian knows that he could
not enjoy heaven without holiness, if he were admitted to its felicities—and
therefore his hope sets him upon this personal purification as his "fitness
for the inheritance of the saints in light." The desire and expectation of
an earthly object makes us eager at once to get as much of it as we can,
even before we come into full possession and fruition.
The Christian knows that the chief felicity of heaven
consists in absolute sinless perfection. It is his bliss to think that there
he shall, according to his measure, be as holy as God is holy. It would be
no heaven to him—if he must take his sin with him. Holiness is the richest,
ripest fruit that grows on the tree of life, in the midst of the paradise of
God. The believer's hope therefore prompts him to hunger and thirst after
righteousness, as a means of enjoying a pledge, a foretaste of heavenly
bliss. Hope like the truehearted spies sent by Joshua to search the promised
land, crosses the Jordan, and plucking the grapes of Eshcol, returns to bid
the soul go forward.
When we are very intent on gaining an object, we are very
glad to meet with evidence that we are in the right way to obtain it,
and we search very diligently for as much proof as we can accumulate. What
is the evidence, the only evidence, that can be depended on that we are
going to heaven? Holiness—conformity to the example of Christ. Now he who is
in earnest to reach the heavenly Canaan, whose heart is set on that sublime
and glorious object, will feel an intense solicitude to know if he is in the
way to it. A serious doubt on this subject is distressing to him. Knowing
that holiness is the proof of safety, he will ever be anxious to conform
himself to the example of Christ. He who is studying the life of Jesus, as a
child studies his copy to do reproduce it, need not doubt his state. He may
not, and will not be a perfect resemblance to Christ, any more than the boy
at school will equal his copy—but the great Master will approve of the
sincere and diligent attempt to do well, although there may be some defects,
and dissimilarities, and the writing have some irregularities, and the page
some blots.
Nor is this all; the very contemplation of heaven, in
which hope indulges—has a transforming power. This passion naturally
and necessarily assimilates the mind of the person who cherishes it, to the
object which he has before him. The miser becomes more miserly; the
sensualist more sensual; the ambitious man more ambitious; the warrior more
warlike—by their hopes. Desire and expectation, in relation to earthly
things, have a mighty power of assimilation, and may be carried to such an
extent, that the man's soul becomes quite possessed with the object on which
his heart is set. So is it, in rational measure, with the expectants of
eternal glory.
What is heaven? We have again and again answered that
question. It is not a Roman Elysium; nor a Mohammedan Paradise—but a state
where we shall see Christ as he is, and be like him. It is the region of
moral purity. Its inhabitants are holy—the holy Father, the holy Savior, the
holy Spirit, holy angels, and holy men. Its occupations are holy—the service
of God—the song of cherubim and seraphim, crying Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God
Almighty; and all other things in harmony with this sacred employment and
felicity.
Now every contemplation of this holy heavenly state tends
to assimilate the soul to its likeness. While gazing upon it, delighting in
it, longing for it—we grow in resemblance to it. Like as when a man turns
his face to the sun, its rays fall and dwell upon his countenance; or as
when a polished mirror is turned to the great luminary, it reflects its
splendor—so the soul of the believer turned heavenwards, becomes
heavenly.
If, then, hope produces holiness, how important is it to
keep up the power of the cause—in order to the production of the effect.
Despondency has a chilling, withering influence upon the holy energies of
the soul, like the cold north wind on flowers and blossoms. While hope is
the sunshine of the soul, which cherishes the moral vegetation, and makes it
look verdant and flourishing. The Christian who would grow in grace, and
make advances in spiritual purity, should keep up a good hope. His
doubts and fears are not only hindrances to his happiness—but to his
holiness also. Despondency is not only uncomfortable—but unholy.