The
Course of Faith, or
The Practical Believer Delineated
By John Angell James, 1852
THE WORK OF FAITH
Man is made not only for contemplation and emotion—but
for action. Activity is an essential attribute of human nature; our
faculties seem scarcely to exist--but in exercise. Everything in our world
is in motion, and in God's great system, there is neither vacuum nor
quiescence. The wheels of nature and of Providence are not made to roll
backward nor to stand still. An idle man is one of the most miserable of
God's creatures, and woe be to him who is self-doomed to suffer the pains
and penalties of indolence. At his creation, man was destined to be a
laborer. In Paradise Adam was a working man. There was, however, this
difference between his condition then and ours now—in Eden his work was
without fatigue, and pain, and draining of his strength—now work is
accompanied with all these. But still, that which in one respect is a curse,
is in another a blessing. The curse does not consist in labor—but in the
concomitants which sin has attached to it. If in Paradise, man would not
have been happy without employment, when he had no dark and troubled
thoughts—no guilty conscience to break in upon his solitude and make his own
companionship unwelcome, and his hours tedious—how much less could he be
happy now, with nothing to do but to converse with his own depraved heart
and burdened conscience. It is not labor then—but the excess of it, which
constitutes the curse—and even the hardest labor would soon to most people
become more tolerable than absolute non-employment.
Man thus must work—yes, and so must the Christian.
The Bible knows nothing of an unworking believer. There will be employment
in heaven. We are not to conceive of the celestial state as one of dreamy
repose. We know very well "there remains a rest for the people of
God," but with our incorruptible, spiritual, and glorified bodies, activity
will be rest, and rest activity. It is beautifully said of that state–
"There his servants shall serve him!" As if it were their sole
employment, honor, and bliss, to serve Him. The flame of love will
not consume itself in the mere fervor of seraphic devotion—but will diffuse
the warmth of life through the glorified soul and body, and sustain the
untiring and unexhausted energies of both, in immortal vigor.
We here take up two or three passages of Holy Scripture.
The apostle, in writing to the Thessalonians, speaks of "the work of
faith," 1 Th. 1:4; 2 Th. 1:11. By this we are to understand, not what
faith is—but what it does. It is of itself a mental work—but
the apostle evidently intends to describe its effects rather than its
nature, and to represent it as a principle, or rather the principle
of Christian activity. We may next refer to what is said in James 2– "What
does it profit, my brethren, though a man says he has faith, and has not
works? Can that faith save him? Faith, if it have not works, is dead, being
alone. Yes, a man may say, You have faith, and I have works—show me your
faith without your works, and I will show you my faith by my works." In that
important practical part of the New Testament, the apostle does not intend
to contradict the apostle Paul, as we showed in a former chapter, where he
states that we are justified by faith without works—but to show that the
faith which stands alone in the justification of a sinner, necessarily draws
after it the good works which justify the profession of the believer. Here,
then, the indispensable necessity of good works as a fruit of faith, and a
condition, though not a meritorious one, of salvation, is most emphatically
insisted upon. How much is said about this subject in other places, even by
Paul, though he so strenuously insisted upon the exclusion of good works
from justification. He describes the real Christian as one who is "zealous
of good works." Titus 2:14. Almost immediately afterwards, he says– "Our
people must learn to devote themselves to doing what is good, in order that
they may provide for daily necessities and not live unproductive lives."
Titus 3:14. And just before this we find the following striking passage–
"This is a trustworthy saying. And I want you to stress these things, so
that those who have trusted in God may be careful to devote themselves to
doing what is good. These things are excellent and profitable for everyone.
Titus 3:8.
The faithful sayings and things which the apostle orders
Titus to affirm, are not what follows—but what went before, that is,
our justification by grace through faith. It is not a mere direction to
Titus to inculcate upon believers the practice of good works—but a direction
as to the most efficient means of maintaining that practice; and that is, a
full exhibition and earnest enforcement of the great essential articles of
evangelical truth—these were to be constantly affirmed, in order that
believers might be careful to maintain good works. Evangelical doctrines
were to be taught as the creative principles of evangelical practice.
Justification by faith without works, was to be exhibited and
applied, for the very purpose of producing works. What an answer to
those who tell us that the doctrines of grace lead to licentiousness! On the
other hand, what a severe rebuke to those who treat these doctrines as mere
theological dogmas, or Christian privileges—but not as practical principles.
Nothing more strikingly proves and represents the practical nature of the
gospel, than this; nor more beautifully exhibits the union of Christian
theology with Christian morality. Justification and sanctification are not
only inseparably joined together—but the former is to be taught for the
purpose of producing the latter.
We come then to this great and important conclusion, that
true faith is inseparable from, and productive of, good works. It may be
well here to describe GOOD
WORKS.
1. They must be good in nature—materially
good—good in themselves. By which we mean
they must be something which God has
commanded. The rule of actions which are
entitled to this epithet, is the Word of God. True religion consists in
doing just what God has enjoined and nothing more—all unprescribed services,
however imposing in appearance; however mortifying to the flesh; however
commanded by men or by ecclesiastical authority; instead of being good
works--are bad ones. All that mass of ceremony with which Popery has
overlaid the simplicity that is in Christ, is a wicked invasion of the
authority of God, and a corruption of his religion, and meets with no other
reception from him, than the hypocritical formalism of the Jews, in
reference to which he said– "Who has required this at your hands?" To
command what God has not commanded, and thus add to his laws, is a
reflection upon his wisdom and goodness, and an usurpation of his rights;
for if it be good and right to be done, why did he neglect to require it? if
it is bad, who so wicked as to prescribe it? Is this not setting up another
authority than his--to require what he has not required? What would be said
of any one who should presume to add to the laws of this kingdom, and who
made it the duty of her Majesty's subjects to obey them? Upon this absurd
notion of our doing something more than what God has commanded, and than
what it is our duty to do, the popish doctrine of purgatory and indulgences
is founded. The merit of this surplus of duty goes to form a treasury,
placed at the disposal of the Pope, who can deal it out in such measures as
he thinks fit, for the benefit of the souls in purgatory, to lessen the
weight or shorten the duration of their sufferings in that disciplinary
state. How horrid an idea! But what a power it gives to that accursed
system! Surely true piety may find enough to do in what is commanded,
without inventing and doing what is not.
By good works then, we are to understand all the great
duties of Christian morals—all that we owe to God according to the
prescriptions of the moral law and the Christian economy; together with all
that we owe to our neighbor according to the second table of the law—and all
that we owe to ourselves in the way of self-government of our appetites and
propensities. Justice, truth, chastity, mercy, social and domestic
virtue—these are the virtues, the excellence of which is acknowledged by all
nations; the necessity of which to the well-being of society, has been
admitted by moralists of every country and every age; to the neglect or
practice of which, historians have traced the prosperity or the decline of
nations. These are the good works which Christianity enjoins. Her religious
rites are few and simple; her ceremonies occupy a very small and secondary
place in her system; the main space being left for the whatever things are
true, and honest, and pure, and just, and lovely, and of good report. Her
place on earth is not merely the sanctuary of religion—but the scenes of
social and domestic life. Her business is not only to regulate the
ceremonial of the temple—but the transactions of the exchange. And her
object is not only to make the devotee—but the good member of social life.
And this is its excellence and its glory.
But while the whole range of moral duties is included
within the circle of "good works," and are all the fruits of faith,
there is one species of sacred virtue, which in the Scripture, by way of
special emphasis, is designated "good," and that is beneficence.
Hence by the injunction– "Do good," the apostle intends, acts of
benevolence. This also is his meaning where he says– "For scarcely for a
righteous man, will one die—yet peradventure for a good (that is,
benevolent) man, some would even dare to die." From thus it is evident, that
in those days eminent philanthropy was supposed to be the crown of
virtue—the man who to justice added mercy, was considered the perfection of
humanity—a perfection very rarely exhibited in the heathen world. Here we
have occasion again to note and admire the excellence of Christianity,
inasmuch as it inculcates not only good works in general—but especially that
particular species, which by way of eminence and emphasis, is set forth as
the best of the good—and clearly shows that a Christian is to be
distinguished above all others by his abounding beneficence.
2. Good works are such as spring from faith in the system
of Divine truth ; but as this is included in
the general subject, I need not enlarge upon it, farther than to say, that
good works cannot precede—but must follow the exercise of faith. Not only
must there be faith in God—but in Christ—not only faith in general—but
saving faith—not only faith for sanctification—but for justification, before
good works can be performed. We would however hesitate to call that amiable,
useful, and lovely virtues which are practised by some unconverted people,
in the full sense of the phrase, bad or wicked works. That they do not
constitute holiness, cannot be accepted by God as morally excellent, and can
avail nothing to salvation, is quite clear—but they may be characterized as
defective, and therefore sinful, rather than wicked, except where they are
performed under the impulse of pride or vanity. Until a man really
believes in Christ, there certainly can be no works that are spiritually
good. The Article of the Church of England– "On Works done before
Justification,'' is very explicit on this subject. "Works done before the
grace of Christ, and the inspiration of His Spirit, are not pleasant to God,
forasmuch as they spring not of faith in Jesus Christ, neither do they make
men fit to receive grace, or deserve grace; for as they are not done as God
has willed and commanded them to be done, we doubt not but that they have
the nature of sin."
3. Good works must proceed from a renewed heart.
The tree must be made good, before the fruit can
be good. The fruits of the Spirit can be yielded only by a heart sanctified
by the Spirit. There is a material difference, as in a former chapter we
have considered, between the morality of a worldly man, and that of a
Christian; not in outward appearance—but in inward principle; not in
matter—but in rule, motive, end; not in benefit to the object—but in reward
to the subject.
4. Good works are such as are directed to the glory of
God. The end of
an action is its moral characteristic. It is not only what I do that
constitutes moral excellence—but for what end and purpose I do it. A man may
be exceedingly kind to a fellow-creature, and really promote his happiness,
and yet it may not be out of any regard to the welfare of the individual
whom he thus favors—but merely to promote some personal end of his own.
Under the guise of bounty he may conceal the most detestable selfishness. So
whatever works, materially excellent, a man may perform towards God, yet
they are not good in the scriptural sense of the word, unless they are
performed with an intelligent and voluntary regard to that injunction–
"Whatever you do, do all to the glory of God." Leave out God as the end of
our actions, and everything we do falls short of true piety, however
excellent it may appear in itself, and however beneficial it may be to
others.
We can now clearly perceive, that in all this, faith
bears a most distinguished part—faith recognizes the Word of God as the rule
of conduct, which teaches us what good works are required of us—faith brings
us into a state of acceptance with God, on the ground of which our works are
accepted—faith unites us to Christ, and derives from him, as the branch from
the tree, the spiritual life which enables us to bring forth good fruit—and
faith acknowledges God to be the end of all our actions.
There is one beautiful exhibition of the operation of
faith, which deserves separate and special notice, as presenting us with a
very complete and very attractive representation– "For in Jesus Christ
neither circumcision avails anything—nor uncircumcision; but faith which
works by LOVE." Gal. 5:6. In this one passage—in these few plain
words—the whole Christian scheme comes out upon us in all its simplicity,
sublimity, and beauty. We learn it both in its negative form, as setting
light by ceremony, and in its positive nature, as consisting of spiritual
exercises and moral duties. Here is an epitome of gospel truth and gospel
practice—of Christian duty and Christian privilege. Who, in comparing with
this the gorgeous ritual of Popery, and its humble imitations in Puseyism,
does not perceive that the system of the New Testament and that of these
corruptions of it, are two entirely different things. How opposed to the
spirit of this simple and beautiful language is the spirit of that formalism
which has become so fashionable in these modern times. What do we find in
this passage, or any other in the New Testament, of that zeal for
architecture and sculpture—for ecclesiastical vestments and robes—for
postures and genuflexions—for sacraments and ceremonies—for fasts and
festivals—for apostolical succession and episcopal ordination—for priestly
mediation and prelatical authority—for absolution and confession—for the
position of a font and the furniture of the altar—which enter so largely
into the religion of so many in these days?
How melancholy does it make an intelligent and ardent
lover of his New Testament, to see Christianity, which came into our world
to raise human nature not only to its manhood—but to its real and noble
sainthood, degraded to the task of substituting endless frivolities for
substantial excellences; to see her compelled to mimic the ceremonies of
Paganism, and to go back to the obsolete system of Judaism, in order to
restore to us a religion of the 'senses' instead of the 'intellect'. And
thus, while the world around is growing in strength and stature, exhibiting
the church sinking into a second childhood, and becoming a pupil of the Pope
instead of Christ. But no! Christianity does not, will not sanction this; it
may be done in her name—but it is without her authority, and against her
precepts and her principles. She that in the person of her Divine Lord was
born in a stable—brought up at Nazareth—delivered her lessons on mountains
and in streets—chose her apostles from the boats of fishermen—and summed up
all she is and all she taught in these few simple words—FAITH THAT WORKS BY
LOVE—she, I say, turns with the mingled smile of contempt, and frown of
indignation, from the trumperies which the false religious priests are
palming off upon this generation--for pure and undefiled religion.
Because God in his wisdom, gave to his church in its
infancy a Bible of hieroglyphics and a religion of symbols, these men would
prevent the church from coming to the unity of the faith, and a knowledge of
the Son of God, unto a perfect man, unto the "measure of the stature of the
fullness of Christ." Here, then, are our activities—not a moving round and
round in the enchanted circle of the church--instead of the Bible; of
ceremonial observances--rather than moral duties; ever in motion—but never
in progress. No! But instead of this, cherishing the faith that works by
love. We do not mean to contend that this excludes the observance of public
worship, baptism, and the Lord's supper; but, we do mean to say that, by
implication, it places these below the exercise of faith and love, as far
inferior to them.
We have, now to consider, in following out the
consideration of this passage,
What that LOVE is, which faith produces.
And this of course begins with God. He is the supreme object of holy love.
True religion is love, and love begins with God. The very substance of true
conversion is a change from supreme selfishness--to this Divine affection.
Every unconverted sinner is supremely selfish; that is, he loves himself,
and all that pertains to himself, instead of God. He goes further in
depravity than this; for he not only does not love God—but he dislikes him.
"The carnal mind is enmity against God." He views God as his enemy. Under a
consciousness that he has sinned against God, he is afraid of him, and
retires from him; and would forever avoid him if he could. He likes nothing
that appertains to him, neither his people—nor his Word—nor his service.
Though a sense of his dependence may sometimes lead him to ask for his pity
and help; yet in other circumstances and moods, he is repelled from God,
especially when viewed in his moral attributes of holiness and justice.
Conscious guilt, therefore, works by enmity.
In this state, the mind, and heart, and conscience, of
the sinner remains--and ever must remain, until faith comes into his heart.
There he is, as long as he is ignorant of the gospel, and destitute of faith
in Christ, a sullen wanderer from God, feeling, if not saying– "Depart from
me! I desire not the knowledge of your ways!" But the hour of mercy arrives.
His attention is arrested either by a sermon, or by some other means, and
fixed upon the glad tidings of salvation. He is convinced by the Spirit, not
only of sin—but of righteousness. The message of Divine love in Christ's
death as an atonement, not only reaches his ear—but enters, like heavenly
music, into his very soul. Yes, it is a fact—a great and glorious fact—that
God has loved him; Christ died for him; salvation is offered
him. He believes it—really believes it—not only hears of it,
talks of it, desires it—but believes it. He commits his soul, by an act of
confidence, into the hands of Christ. There is his faith—simple, firm,
hopeful. That faith has changed everything. It has wrought an entire
revolution of thought, feeling, and willing. For see what he has believed—he
believes God has good-will towards him; wills not his death; delights in his
salvation, and has been all along during the days of his stubborn
unregeneracy waiting to be gracious to him. He hears his voice saying– "Come
unto me. Turn to me! Why will you die?—Can a man really believe that, and
not be changed? Impossible! His sullenness gives way—his heart melts—all his
views of God are changed, and so are all his feelings towards him.
"He loves me! God loves me!" he exclaims with
astonishment. "Wicked as I have been—wretch that I have proved myself
towards him—he has sent his Son to die for me, and has pursued me by his
Spirit in my wanderings, and has at length brought me to himself. Oh, my
father, my father, you have conquered me by your love--and now what can I do
but love you in return. Yes, you who were once the object of my
hatred--are now the object of my supreme affection. You who were once the
point of repulsion for my poor guilty soul--are the sovereign attraction.
What now shall I render to you for your infinite mercies towards me? Truly I
am your servant, you have loosed my bonds!"
What a change! Now, God appears infinitely lovely. Every
attribute of his nature is a separate glory, and all combined are
transcendent beauty. Even justice and holiness, which once so terrified him
and drove him away like the flaming sword of the cherubim repelling Adam
from Eden, are all loveliness, as well as mercy. Wonder, gratitude, love,
joy--all by turns, take possession of his soul. All that is God's, now
delights—his character, his Word, his people, his day, his service.
And especially is Jesus an object of affection. Once a
cold and careless thought, and this only occasional, was all he gave to
Christ. He saw no beauty that he should desire him—no worth that he should
choose him. His bosom never glowed with a beam of gracious warmth. The cross
itself was a sound that awakened no emotion. Neither Gethsemane nor Calvary
had any charms for him. He considered the joys of believers as wild
enthusiasm; and their attestations to the preciousness of him whom unseen
they loved--as little better than cant. But now, what a change has come over
him in reference to the Savior of his soul. His name, is music; his person,
the object of admiration, love, and delight; his work, the cause of
unbounded gratitude; his example, the perfection of beauty; and his
commandments, a law most pleasant to be obeyed. He is indeed "precious," the
chief among ten thousand, and the altogether lovely one.
What has produced this change of sentiment, feeling, and
choice? What is it that has made the subject of this change thus voluntarily
take up the yoke he once spurned, and which impels him on to works of
devotedness, obedience, and self-denial? FAITH! The man has now really
believed, which he never did before, the testimony concerning Christ. He had
read it with a careless eye, and heard it with a half-closed ear—but without
a single fixed thought, or one conviction of truth; but now he understands,
believes--and all is changed! O, what a revolution was wrought in that hour
when faith opened the door of the heart, and let in the testimony to Christ
contained in the Gospel.
And we can understand this easily enough by analogy.
There is a fellow-creature whom your misconduct has made your enemy. He is
powerful, and can avenge the insult you have done, and the injury you have
inflicted. You dread him, and in equal proportion is your hatred of him. You
shun him, for you are afraid of him, since you imagine he can entertain no
purpose towards you but of revenge. But you mistake his character and his
intentions. He is generous and forgiving, and out of mere kindness sends you
a message that he is willing to pardon you and receive you to his
friendship. At first you cannot credit the assertion, and retain your dread
and hate. The message of mercy is repeated and confirmed by evidence you
cannot resist—your stubborn unbelief, and sullen ill-will relax, and you
begin to think more favorably of his disposition towards you, and to feel a
change coming over your disposition towards him. At length you
are brought into full confidence in his unmerited and surprising favor.
"Yes," you exclaim– "it is really true—he who could have ruined me, pities
me and pardons me—I cannot doubt it, I believe it. I am vanquished by love.
O my benefactor, my benefactor, I thank you—I love you—and from this hour I
will serve you."
What is this? Faith working by love—and a resemblance of
the operation of the grace of faith in the sinner's heart towards Jesus
Christ, and his Divine Father. "We love him because he first loved us," and
the cause of that entire change in all our views of and feelings towards
God, which constitutes conversion, is thus stated by the apostle– "We have
known and believed the love that God has to us. God is love. He who dwells
in love, dwells in God, and God in him." 1 John 4:16. Herein is verified his
own beautiful language to the Jews– "I drew them with cords of a man, with
bands of love." Hosea 11:4. O wondrous power of love! Mighty conqueror of
man's stony heart! How soft, yet how invincible your influence! But it must
be believed to be victorious.
Doubts and fears of its reality, or its sincerity,
deprive it of its force. Even the infinite, omnipotent love of the eternal
God can have no power over the soul that is steeled in unbelief. It is faith
that unlocks, unbolts, unbars the gate of "Mansoul," for love, which is
besieging it in vain until then, to enter and take full possession. And in
every after stage of the Christian life, it is this same faith keeping up
the same lively sense of God's love to us, that keeps up our love to God.
Love being thus brought into the soul by faith, and kept
there also, remains not idle or inert—but sets instantly to work. Love is
the most active thing in all the world. See it in the conduct of a
tender and faithful wife towards the husband of her heart. See it in the
mother's sleepless activities towards the babe at her bosom. See it in the
devoted servant towards the master of his choice. What will love not do
in the way of constant, self-denying, untiring activity? What will love not
bear in the way of privation and suffering? How hard--yet how
willingly, and cheerfully, and pleasantly--it works for its object. Work is
pleasure—labor is delight. Love seems to resemble the cherubic figure,
having the courage of the lion, the patience of the ox, the wing of the
eagle--and all directed by the intelligence and will of the man.
All this is true of
love to GOD,
which is the strongest, the tenderest, and most invincible of all loves. It
is the sublime of love, the loftiest and noblest exercise of this master
passion of the human soul.
Love also works in the way of obedience– "For this
is the love of God, that we keep his commandments." 1 John 5:3. Love is not
a mere emotion—but a principle; not only a matter of the sensibility—but of
the will; not the mere genial warmth of a soul of softer mold—but the
steady, and in some cases stern resolve of a mind that lays hold of the
strength of God, and says– "I will serve you even unto death!" The works
love performs are all things that God has enjoined. It takes up the moral
law, and says– "All this will I do—my delight is to do your will, O God." It
allows of no selections or exceptions—but says– "Then shall I not be
ashamed, when I have respect to all your commandments." It makes no
stipulations—but surrenders itself to any conditions or circumstances. It
covenants for no limitations of time or place—but is eager to serve
everywhere, on earth and in heaven; and always--unto death and through
eternity. There is one thing, and one only in all the universe which love
hates, and which it hates with an intense and unquenchable animosity in all
its forms and degrees—and that is sin! And there is one thing which love
covets, seeks, and prays for, with all its heart, and soul, and strength—and
that is holiness. Such is love, such the working of faith by
love.
But still this is only one aspect of love--though it must
be admitted the loftiest aspect of love. God is the first and supreme—but
not the only object of Christian affection. There is a second as well as a
first table of the law, which demands
love to our Christian BRETHREN,
even as the first table, which demands love for God. And even to this second
table of the law the gospel adds a supplement, and demands a holy regard for
our Christian brother—both of which are conjoined by the apostle, where he
says– "add to godliness brotherly kindness, and to brotherly kindness love."
How frequently, how variously, and how earnestly are we
enjoined both by our Lord, and by that disciple whom Jesus loved, and who by
leaning on his bosom seemed to have caught most of his spirit, to love our
brethren. Love to the brethren is the law of Christ's kingdom– "This
is my commandment, that you love one another." Love to the brethren is
the badge of discipleship– "Hereby shall all men know that you
are my disciples, if you love one another." Love to the brethren is the
evidence of conversion– "We know that we have passed from death unto
life, because we love the brethren." Love to the brethren is the grand
inference from the cross– "Beloved, if God so loved us, we ought also to
love one another." Love to the brethren is the natural yearning of the
renewed heart—the instinctive promptings of the new nature—the reaching
forth of the arm too feeble and too short to clasp the neck of the Divine
Father, to entwine around his image in his children!
And what is the spring of this affection? Why faith. See
how these two are united– "Hearing of your love and faith, which you have
toward the Lord Jesus, and toward all saints." Phil. 5. As if it were
impossible to have faith in Christ without love towards the saints. And so
it is utterly and absolutely impossible—and the more faith we have in Christ
the more love we shall have towards the saints. Believing the love that
Christ has towards them, viewing them as the purchase of his blood and the
objects of his tenderest affection, our hearts will by a kind of necessity
be knit to them. Every fresh view of the cross will endear them to our
hearts.
If each limb of our body were the seat of a separate
consciousness, how strong a regard, and tender a sympathy, might it be
supposed would exist between the members, and how all would love each, and
each all, on account of the one animating and presiding soul which was their
center of unity. Now in the mystical body of Christ, this is the case; each
has a separate individual soul, while all are united to the same Divine
Head, and each loves all, and all love each other, on account of the Divine
Head to which all are united by faith; and as each presses nearer to the
great center, they all press nearer to one another.
And why is it that the members of this body do not love
one another more, and allow such comparatively trifling matters to alienate
them from each other? How is it that sectarianism gains such an ascendency
over the members of the redeemed family, and introduces so much coldness,
distance, and even hostility? Just because the faith of the church is so
weak. Did we more powerfully realize the fact that Christ has died for us
all—that he loves us all—that he claims us all—that he delights in us
all—would not the effect of this persuasion be to check the progress of
alienation and draw us closer to each other?
Are there not happy, holy moments, rich in blessing, when
gazing upon the cross, and melting into love, we feel as if we really did
love without one alien feeling, all for whom Christ died. Before
that strong and steady belief, which comprehended the whole plan, purpose,
and objects of redeeming mercy--every enmity was subdued, and all
indifference was warmed into affection, and we felt on rising from our knees
as if there were not a Christian in existence of any sect, creed, or party,
around whose neck we could not throw the arms of love, and say– "My brother,
my brother!" It is only from a stronger faith--that a stronger love can grow
up in the Christian church, and all attempts to bring about union that do
not begin here will most assuredly fail. The first movement, therefore, in
this direction, must be towards the cross.
But then,
KINDNESS must be added love. By the latter,
as distinguished from the former, we are to understand good-will to all
mankind, irrespective of character. The one is brother-love—the other is
neighbor-love. The one is obedience to the law, the other is the fruit of
the gospel—but both are the fruits of a working faith. It is of this love
the apostle speaks in that beautiful chapter, the thirteenth of the First
Epistle to the Corinthians. The subject of that wonderful and glorious
portion of Scripture is the love which we are to add to our
brotherly-kindness. That one chapter is worth incalculably more than all the
volumes the pen of moral philosophy ever wrote. What a happy world, how
nearly resembling heaven, we would live in--if that were the rule of conduct
everywhere, always, in all things, and for all men. Earth would reflect the
face of heaven, even as in the mirror of a peaceful lake, the quiet,
noiseless, blue sky is to be seen.
"Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or
boastful or proud or rude. Love does not demand its own way. Love is not
irritable, and it keeps no record of when it has been wronged. It is never
glad about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never
gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every
circumstance." 1 Cor. 13:4-7. What a seraph! But where is she to come--and
what is to bring her? Where? From heaven! What? Faith! No, there is nothing
like this on earth. She has lain in the bosom of God; and next to his Son,
is his darling offspring, which, at the prayer of faith, he sends down to
bless the world. He who dwells in love, dwells in God and God in him.
Charity, or good-will to all, a desire of the happiness
of all, and a will to promote it, is the very culminating point—the crown
and glory of love, so far as creatures are its object. Even the whole church
is not enough—nor the whole world—but the great universe of God. All being,
created or uncreated--is the object of his regard; and happiness, the
happiness of the whole, his desire. His heart works outward in its wishes to
the remotest circle. And what is the impulsive power? Faith. He believes in
God, and in God's love. He believes in Christ, and in Christ's love. He
believes that "God so loved the world as to give his only begotten
Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish—but have everlasting
life." He believes that Christ shed his blood as a propitiation for the sins
of the world. He would love all whom God and Christ love, and with the same
kind of love. He would keep pace in the workings of his benevolence with the
workings of that which is Divine. His universal benevolence is a very
different thing from that which infidelity prates about. It takes its
pattern from God's, which recognizes the social ties and their charities,
and leaves in all their strength, order, and working, the relations of man
to man; but which at the same time, moves onward from particulars to
generals.
He who has most faith, will have most charity. The
predominance of this all-working, ever-working, mighty-working principle of
faith, would convert the whole church into a company of philanthropists.
When the full power of the cross is felt in the hearts of believers—when all
the constraining influence of the love of Christ is experienced—when the
whole church is fully possessed with the spirit of faith, and rooted and
grounded in love—the scene so beautifully exhibited in the second chapter of
the Acts of the Apostles, will in some form and extent be repeated, and no
man call anything that he has, his own—with this only difference, that the
love of believers will not stay in the church—but go out into all the world.
The Howards, the Clarksons, the Wilberforces, the Buxtons, the Allens, the
Frys--whose zeal and humanity were produced by faith, will no longer be the
rare and beautiful exceptions to the ordinary believers—but the ordinary
race of Christians. And the Schwartzs, the Brainerds, the Careys, the
Morrisons, the Martyns, the Vanderkemps, the Williamses, the Moffats, will
be only the average standard of professing Christians.
The full power of faith would make the whole church
willing to be philanthropists, missionaries, reformers, or martyrs, as God
should require. Then, when faith has acquired this power, will the church
exhibit its characteristic loveliness as the benefactress of the world. To
do good is its calling. The church is God's representative in our world;
and, as bearing his image, to teach the world what he is, it should bear
upon its lofty front this inscription– "The church is love, for God is
love." All professing Christians should feel that benevolence is their
appropriate duty, their very work of works. The love of worldly things would
appear to be destroyed. That eager ambition after wealth, for the sake of
the luxuries and splendors which it enables its possessor to command, should
be transmuted into a desire to be rich in order to be liberal. The glory of
affluence should, in their estimation, lie in the opportunity it affords to
do good. Instead of an anxiety to obtain noble mansions, elegant furniture,
handsome equipages, and expensive entertainments, and all the other luxuries
of taste and fashion--the followers of Him, who though rich, yet for their
sakes became poor, and of his equally poor apostles--should be distinguished
by an obvious simplicity of habit and living. In this way, among others,
their faith should gain the victory over the world; in this way, should work
by love; in this way, labor for the good of mankind. They should shrink
their luxuries that they may enlarge their charities. Frugality of living
should provide the resources of their liberality; and they should spend too
much upon others, to have much to spend upon themselves, instead of
reversing this as many do, who spend too much upon themselves, to have much
to spend upon others. And a stronger faith must and would inevitably lead to
this. For who could embrace, by a vigorous belief, the self-denying
doctrines, precepts, and example of Christ, and not realize their
obligations and perform their duties?
Here then is the "labor of love," springing from the work
of faith.
But it is time to draw this chapter to a close,
and what better close can be given to it, than most emphatically again to
remind the reader, that true religion is work—hard work—a great work! It is
by multitudes fearfully mistaken. All along the page of inspired truth, the
word is continually occurring—work, work, work. "Let your light so shine
before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which
is in heaven." "Work out your salvation with fear and trembling." "Be
zealous for good works." "Be careful to maintain good works." "I know your
works." These are but specimens of Scripture language on this subject.
I am afraid that many are deceiving themselves with a
religion which is neither work nor pleasure—but only a name. They have
perverted the doctrine of 'justification by faith without works'--into an
excuse for the neglect of works altogether. They seem to imagine that
faith is an opiate--instead of a stimulant. They seem to imagine that
Calvary a place of slumber--instead of labor. They seem to imagine that
the cross a goal--instead of a starting-point. When we are converted,
instead of considering our labor done, we should remember it is but just
began.
When the Israelites were possessed of Canaan, they had
the Amorites and other enemies to conquer and drive out before them. Every
man has corrupt and sinful habits that have overspread themselves in the
heart, and as it were garrisoned themselves in the heart--and which can be
reduced only by a tedious and valorous siege. Or to change the metaphor,
habits like weeds that by an accursed fertility are ever springing up in the
soil of our moral nature, sprout afresh as often as they are cut down. Let a
man make experiment in any one sin of his heart, whether it be pride, or
malice, or covetousness; and does it suddenly and easily fall before his
attempts at mortification? Does the first baffle or blow make him
victorious, and enable him to set his foot upon the neck of his conquered
enemy? No! are there not many vicissitudes in the combat? Is he not
sometimes victor, and at other times vanquished? And perhaps after all his
conflicts with it, many a Christian goes out of the world only with this
half-trophy, enough indeed just to save him, that he was not overcome. Alas,
of how few can it, be said that "they are more than conquerors."
Then let it be remembered also, the work of
mortification of sin is but half the work a Christian has to do; for
there is also vivification of graces, which is the other half.
Religion ends not in negatives. No man ploughs his field, or tills his
garden, merely to kill weeds—but to sow corn and to plant flowers. A room
may be clean--and yet empty. It is not enough for our hearts to be
swept--unless they be also furnished. A man may not in disposition be a
tiger or a demon--and yet he may not be a saint or an angel. Now our
religion requires not only putting away our pride, our malice, our
covetousness, and our injustice—but also cultivating humility, liberality,
love, and generosity. True religion is of an aspiring nature, requiring us
to proceed from grace to grace; to faith adding virtue, to virtue adding
patience, to patience adding temperance, to temperance adding godliness, to
godliness adding brotherly-kindness, and to brotherly-kindness adding love;
thus ascending by degrees, until at length the top of the lofty staircase
reaches to heaven, and lands the soul so qualified in the mansions of glory!
And who knows not that the ascent by such a steep flight of steps is a work
of labor and difficulty?
Nothing but faith can enable the soul to accomplish this;
and this it does, as we have shown in the chapter on sanctification, by
obtaining through Christ that aid of the Holy Spirit, by whom alone our good
works can be accomplished.
I conclude this chapter with the words of Bishop Jeremy
Taylor– "From these premises we may see but too evidently, that though a
great part of mankind pretend to be saved by faith, yet they know not what
it is, or willfully mistake it--and place their hopes upon sand or the more
unstable waters. Mere head-knowledge is the least thing in a justifying
faith. Alas, the niceties of a 'clear understanding', and the curious
nothings of a 'useless speculation', and all the opinions of men that make
the divisions of heart, and do nothing else, cannot bring us one drop of
comfort in the day of tribulation; and therefore are no parts of the
strength of faith. No, when a man begins truly to fear God, and is in the
agonies of mortification, all these 'new nothings and curiosities' will be
neglected, as baubles are by children when they are deadly sick.
"But that alone is true faith, which makes us to love
God, to do his will, to suffer his inflictions, to trust his promises, to
see through a cloud, to overcome the world, to resist the devil, to stand in
the day of trial, and to be comforted in all our sorrows. This is that
precious faith, so mainly necessary to be insisted on, that by it we may be
the sons of the free woman; that the true Isaac may be in us, which is
Christ according to the Spirit; the wisdom and power of God; a Divine vigor
and life, whereby they are enabled with joy and cheerfulness to walk in the
way of God.
"There are but three things that make the integrity of
Christian faith—believing the words of God; confidence in his goodness; and
keeping his commandments."
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