Practical Religion
by J. C. Ryle · English · Gutenberg #38162 · 950,054 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Practical Religion
Author: J. C. Ryle
Release date: November 28, 2011 [eBook #38162]
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/38162
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PRACTICAL RELIGION
Being Plain Papers on the Daily Duties, Experience, Dangers, and
Privileges of Professing Christians
by
JOHN CHARLES RYLE, D.D.,
Baker Book House, Grand Rapids, Michigan
CONTENTS
PREFACE v
I. SELF-INQUIRY 1
II. SELF-EXERTION 23
III. REALITY 46
IV. PRAYER 63
V. BIBLE-READING 97
VI. GOING TO THE TABLE 140
VII. CHARITY 165
VIII. ZEAL 183
IX. FREEDOM 210
X. HAPPINESS 230
XI. FORMALITY 261
XII. THE WORLD 284
XIII. RICHES AND POVERTY 312
XIV. THE BEST FRIEND 336
XV. SICKNESS 352
XVI. THE FAMILY OF GOD 375
XVII. OUR HOME 392
XVIII. HEIRS OF GOD 403
XIX. THE GREAT GATHERING 429
XX. THE GREAT SEPARATION 442
XXI. ETERNITY 472
PREFACE
The volume now in the reader's hands is intended to be a companion to
two other volumes which I have already published, entitled "Knots
Untied," and "Old Paths."
"Knots Untied" consists of a connected series of papers, systematically
arranged, about the principal points which form the subject of
controversy among Churchmen in the present day. All who take interest in
such disputed questions as the nature of the Church, the Ministry,
Baptism, Regeneration, the Lord's Supper, the Real Presence, Worship,
Confession, and the Sabbath, will find them pretty fully discussed in
"Knots Untied."
"Old Paths" consists of a similar series of papers about those leading
doctrines of the Gospel which are generally considered necessary to
salvation. The inspiration of Scripture, sin, justification,
forgiveness, repentance, conversion, faith, the work of Christ, and the
work of the Holy Spirit, are the principal subjects handled in "Old
Paths."
The present volume contains a series of papers about "practical
religion," and treats of the daily duties, dangers, experience, and
privileges of all who profess and call themselves true Christians. Read
in conjunction with another work I have previously put out, called
"Holiness," I think it will throw some light on what every believer
ought to be, to do, and expect.
One common feature will be found in all the three volumes. I avow it
frankly at the outset, and will not keep it back for a moment. The
standpoint I have tried to occupy, from first to last, is that of an
Evangelical Churchman.
I say this deliberately and emphatically. I am fully aware that
Evangelical churchmanship is not popular and acceptable in this day. It
is despised by many, and has "no form or comeliness" in their eyes. To
avow attachment to Evangelical views, in some quarters, is to provoke a
sneer, and to bring on yourself the reproach of being an "unlearned and
ignorant man." But none of these things move me. I am not ashamed of my
opinions. After forty years of Bible-reading and praying, meditation
and theological study, I find myself clinging more tightly than ever to
"Evangelical" religion, and more than ever satisfied with it. It wears
well: it stands the fire. I know no system of religion which is better.
In the faith of it I have lived for the third of a century, and in the
faith of it I hope to die.
The plain truth is, that I see no other ground to occupy, and find no
other rest for the sole of my foot. I lay no claim to infallibility, and
desire to be no man's judge. But the longer I live and read, the more I
am convinced and persuaded that Evangelical principles are the
principles of the Bible, of the Articles and Prayer-book, and of the
leading Divines of the reformed Church of England. Holding these views,
I cannot write otherwise than I have written.
I now send forth this volume with an earnest prayer that God the Holy
Ghost may bless it, and make it useful and helpful to many souls.
J. C. RYLE,
November, 1878. _Vicar of Stradbroke._
PRACTICAL RELIGION
I
SELF-INQUIRY
"_Let us go again and visit our brethren in every city where we
have preached the word of the Lord, and see how they
do._"--Acts xv. 36.
The text which heads this page contains a proposal which the Apostle
Paul made to Barnabas after their first missionary journey. He proposed
to revisit the Churches they had been the means of founding, and to see
how they were getting on. Were their members continuing steadfast in the
faith? Were they growing in grace? Were they going forward, or standing
still? Were they prospering, or falling away?--"Let us go again and
visit our brethren, and see how they do."
This was a wise and useful proposal. Let us lay it to heart, and apply
it to ourselves in the nineteenth century. Let us search our ways, and
find out how matters stand between ourselves and God. Let us "see how we
do." I ask every reader of this volume to begin its perusal by joining
me in self-inquiry. If ever self-inquiry about religion was needed, it
is needed at the present day.
We live in an age of peculiar _spiritual privileges_. Since the world
began there never was such an opportunity for a man's soul to be saved
as there is in England at this time. There never were so many signs of
religion in the land, so many sermons preached, so many services held in
churches and chapels, so many Bibles sold, so many religious books and
tracts printed, so many Societies for evangelizing mankind supported, so
much outward respect paid to Christianity. Things are done everywhere
now-a-days which a hundred years ago would have been thought impossible.
Bishops support the boldest and most aggressive efforts to reach the
unconverted. Deans and Chapters throw open the naves of cathedrals for
Sunday evening sermons! Clergy of the narrowest High Church School
advocate special missions, and vie with their Evangelical brethren in
proclaiming that going to church on Sunday is not enough to take a man
to heaven. In short, there is a stir about religion now-a-days to which
there has been nothing like since England was a nation, and which the
cleverest sceptics and infidels cannot deny. If Romaine, and Venn, and
Berridge, and Rowlands, and Grimshaw, and Hervey, had been told that
such things would come to pass about a century after their deaths, they
would have been tempted to say, with the Samaritan nobleman,--"If the
Lord should make windows of heaven might such a thing be." (2 Kings vii.
19.) But the Lord has opened the windows of heaven. There is more taught
now-a-days in England of the real Gospel, and of the way of salvation by
faith in Jesus Christ, in one week, than there was in a year in
Romaine's time. Surely I have a right to say that we live in an age of
spiritual privileges. But are we any better for it? In an age like this
it is well to ask, "How do we do about our souls?"
We live in an age of peculiar _spiritual danger_. Never perhaps since
the world began was there such an immense amount of mere outward
profession of religion as there is in the present day. A painfully large
proportion of all the congregations in the land consists of unconverted
people, who know nothing of heart-religion, never come to the Lord's
Table, and never confess Christ in their daily lives. Myriads of those
who are always running after preachers, and crowding to hear special
sermons, are nothing better than empty tubs, and tinkling cymbals,
without a jot of real vital Christianity at home.[1] The parable of the
sower is continually receiving most vivid and painful illustrations. The
way-side hearers, the stony-ground hearers, the thorny-ground hearers
abound on every side.
1: It is curious and instructive to observe how history repeats itself,
and how much sameness there is in the human heart in every age. Even in
the Primitive Church, says Canon Robertson, "Many persons were found at
church for the great Christian ceremonies, and at the theatres, or even
at the temples, for the heathen spectacles. The ritual of the Church was
viewed as a theatrical spectacle. The sermons were listened to as the
display of rhetoricians; and eloquent preachers were cheered, with
clapping of hands, stamping of feet, waving of handkerchiefs, cries of
'Orthodox,' 'Thirteenth Apostle,' and such like demonstrations, which
such teachers as Chrysostom and Augustine tried to restrain, that they
might persuade their flocks to a more profitable manner of hearing. Some
went to Church for the sermon only, alleging that they could pray at
home. And when the more attractive parts of the service were over, the
great mass of the people departed without remaining for the
eucharist."--Robertson's "Church History," B. II., ch. vi., p. 356.
The life of many religious professors, I fear, in this age, is nothing
better than a continual course of spiritual dram-drinking. They are
always morbidly craving fresh excitement; and they seem to care little
what it is if they only get it. All preaching seems to come alike to
them; and they appear unable to "see differences," so long as they hear
what is clever, have their ears tickled, and sit in a crowd. Worst of
all, there are hundreds of young unestablished believers who are so
infected with the same love of excitement, that they actually think it a
duty to be always seeking it. Insensibly almost to themselves, they take
up a kind of hysterical, sensational, sentimental Christianity, until
they are never content with the "old paths," and, like the Athenians,
are always running after something new. To see a calm-minded young
believer, who is not stuck up, self-confident, self-conceited, and more
ready to teach than learn, but content with a daily steady effort to
grow up into Christ's likeness, and to do Christ's work quietly and
unostentatiously, at home, is really becoming almost a rarity! Too many
young professors, alas, behave like young recruits who have not spent
all their bounty money. They show how little deep root they have, and
how little knowledge of their own hearts, by noise, forwardness,
readiness to contradict and set down old Christians, and over-weening
trust in their own fancied soundness and wisdom! Well will it be for
many young professors of this age if they do not end, after being tossed
about for a while, and "carried to and fro by every wind of doctrine,"
by joining some petty, narrow-minded, censorious sect, or embracing some
senseless, unreasoning, crotchetty heresy. Surely in times like these
there is great need for self-examination. When we look around us, we may
well ask, "How do we do about our souls?"
In handling this question, I think the shortest plan will be to suggest
a list of subjects for self-inquiry, and to go through them in order. By
so doing I shall hope to meet the case of every one into whose hands
this volume may fall. I invite every reader of this paper to join me in
calm, searching self-examination, for a few short minutes. I desire to
speak to myself as well as to you. I approach you not as an enemy, but
as a friend. "My heart's desire and prayer to God is that you may be
saved." (Rom. x. 1.) Bear with me if I say things which at first sight
look harsh and severe. Believe me, he is your best friend who tells you
the most truth.
(1) Let me ask, in the first place, _Do we ever think about our souls at
all_? Thousands of English people, I fear, cannot answer that question
satisfactorily. They never give the subject of religion any place in
their thoughts. From the beginning of the year to the end they are
absorbed in the pursuit of business, pleasure, politics, money, or
self-indulgence of some kind or another. Death, and judgement, and
eternity, and heaven, and hell, and a world to come, are never calmly
looked at and considered. They live on as if they were never going to
die, or rise again, or stand at the bar of God, or receive an eternal
sentence! They do not openly oppose religion, for they have not
sufficient reflection about it to do so;--but they eat, and drink, and
sleep, and get money, and spend money, as if religion was a mere fiction
and not a reality. They are neither Romanists, nor Socinians, nor
infidels, nor High Church, nor Low Church, nor Broad Church. They are
just _nothing at all_, and do not take the trouble to have opinions. A
more senseless and unreasonable way of living cannot be conceived; but
they do not pretend to reason about it. They simply never think about
God, unless frightened for a few minutes by sickness, death in their
families, or an accident. Barring such interruptions, they appear to
ignore religion altogether, and hold on their way cool and undisturbed,
as if there were nothing worth thinking of except this world.
It is hard to imagine a life more unworthy of an immortal creature than
such a life as I have just described, for it reduces a man to the level
of a beast. But it is literally and truly the life of multitudes in
England; and as they pass away their place is taken by multitudes like
them. The picture, no doubt, is horrible, distressing, and revolting:
but, unhappily, it is only too true. In every large town, in every
market, on every stock-exchange, in every club, you may see specimens of
this class by scores,--men who think of everything under the sun except
the one thing needful,--the salvation of their souls. Like the Jews of
old they do not "consider their ways," they do not "consider their
latter end;" they do not "consider that they do evil." (Isa. i. 3; Hag.
i. 7; Deut. xxxii. 29; Eccles. v. i.) Like Gallio they "care for none of
these things:" they are not in their way. (Acts xviii. 17.) If they
prosper in the world, and get rich, and succeed in their line of life,
they are praised, and admired by their contemporaries. Nothing succeeds
in England like success! But for all this they cannot live for ever.
They will have to die and appear before the bar of God, and be judged;
and then what will the end be? When a large class of this kind exists in
our country, no reader need wonder that I ask whether he belongs to it.
If you do, you ought to have a mark set on your door, as there used to
be a mark on a plague-stricken house two centuries ago, with the words,
"Lord have mercy on us," written on it. Look at the class I have been
describing, and then look at your own soul.
(2) Let me ask, in the second place, _whether we ever do anything about
our souls?_? There are multitudes in England who think occasionally
about religion, but unhappily never get beyond thinking. After a
stirring sermon,--or after a funeral,--or under the pressure of
illness,--or on Sunday evening,--or when things are going on badly in
their families,--or when they meet some bright example of a
Christian,--or when they fall in with some striking religious book or
tract,--they will at the time think a good deal, and even talk a little
about religion in a vague way. But they stop short, as if thinking and
talking were enough to save them. They are always meaning, and
intending, and purposing, and resolving, and wishing, and telling us
that they "know" what is right, and "hope" to be found right at last,
but they never attain to any _action_. There is no actual separation
from the service of the world and sin, no real taking up the cross and
following Christ, no positive _doing_ in their Christianity. Their life
is spent in playing the part of the son in our Lord's parable, to whom
the father said, "Go, work in my vineyard: and he answered, I go, sir,
and went not." (Matt. xxi. 30.) They are like those whom Ezekiel
describes, who liked his preaching, but never practised what he
preached:--"They come unto thee as the people cometh, and they sit
before thee as my people, and they hear thy words, but they will not do
them.... And, lo, thou art unto them as a very lovely song of one that
hath a pleasant voice, and can play well on an instrument: for they hear
thy words, but they do them not." (Ezek. xxxiii. 31, 32.) In a day like
this, when hearing and thinking, without _doing_, is so common, no one
can justly wonder that I press upon men the absolute need of
self-examination. Once more, then, I ask my readers to consider the
question of my text,--"How do we do about our souls?"
(3) Let me ask, in the third place, _whether we are trying to satisfy
our consciences with a mere formal religion_? There are myriads in
England at this moment who are making shipwreck on this rock. Like the
Pharisees of old, they make much ado about the outward part of
Christianity, while the inward and spiritual part is totally neglected.
They are careful to attend all the services of their place of worship,
and regular in using all its forms and ordinances. They are never absent
from Communion when the Lord's Supper is administered. Sometimes they
are most strict in observing Lent, and attach great importance to
Saints' days. They are often keen partisans of their own Church, or
sect, or congregation, and ready to contend with any one who does not
agree with them. Yet all this time there is no _heart_ in their
religion. Any one who knows them intimately can see with half an eye
that their affections are set on things below, and not on things above;
and that they are trying to make up for the want of inward Christianity
by an excessive quantity of outward form. And this formal religion does
them no real good. They are not satisfied. Beginning at the wrong end,
by making the outward things first, they know nothing of inward joy and
peace, and pass their lives in a constant struggle, secretly conscious
that there is something wrong, and yet not knowing why. Well, after all,
if they do not go on from one stage of formality to another, until in
despair they take a fatal plunge, and fall into Popery! When professing
Christians of this kind are so painfully numerous, no one need wonder if
I press upon him the paramount importance of close self-examination. If
you love life, do not be content with the husk, and shell, and
scaffolding of religion. Remember our Saviour's words about the Jewish
formalists of His day: "This people draweth nigh with their mouth, and
honoureth Me with their lips, but their heart is far from Me. In vain do
they worship." (Matt. xv. 9.) It needs something more than going
diligently to church, and receiving the Lord's Supper, to take our souls
to heaven. Means of grace and forms of religion are useful in their way,
and God seldom does anything for His church without them. But let us
beware of making shipwreck on the very lighthouse which helps to show
the channel into the harbour. Once more I ask, "How do we do about our
souls?"
(4) Let me ask, in the fourth place, _whether we have received the
forgiveness of our sins_? Few reasonable Englishmen would think of
denying that they are sinners. Many perhaps would say that they are not
so bad as many, and that they have not been so very wicked, and so
forth. But few, I repeat, would pretend to say that they had always
lived like angels, and never done, or said, or thought a wrong thing all
their days. In short, all of us must confess that we are more or less
"_sinners_," and, as sinners, are guilty before God; and, as guilty, we
must be forgiven, or lost and condemned for ever at the last day.--Now
it is the glory of the Christian religion that it provides for us the
very forgiveness that we need,--full, free, perfect, eternal, and
complete. It is a leading article in that well-known creed which most
Englishmen learn when they are children. They are taught to say, "I
believe in the forgiveness of sins." This forgiveness of sins has been
purchased for us by the eternal Son of God, our Lord Jesus Christ. He
has purchased it for us by coming into the world to be our Saviour, and
by living, dying, and rising again, as our Substitute, in our behalf. He
has bought it for us at the price of His own most precious blood, by
suffering in our stead on the cross, and making satisfaction for our
sins. But this forgiveness, great, and full, and glorious as it is, does
not become the property of every man and woman, as a matter of course.
It is not a privilege which every member of a Church possesses, merely
because he is a Churchman. It is a thing which each individual must
receive for himself by his own personal faith, lay hold on by faith,
appropriate by faith, and make his own by faith; or else, so far as he
is concerned, Christ will have died in vain. "He that believeth on the
Son hath everlasting life, and he that believeth not the Son shall not
see life, but the wrath of God abideth on him." (John iii. 36.) No terms
can be imagined more simple, and more suitable to man. As good old
Latimer said, in speaking of the matter of justification, "It is but
believe and have." It is only faith that is required; and faith is
nothing more than the humble, heartfelt trust of the soul which desires
to be saved. Jesus is able and willing to save; but man must come to
Jesus and believe. All that believe are at once justified and forgiven:
but without believing there is no forgiveness at all.
Now here is exactly the point, I am afraid, where multitudes of English
people fail, and are in imminent danger of being lost for ever. They
know that there is no forgiveness of sin excepting in Christ Jesus. They
can tell you that there is no Saviour for sinners, no Redeemer, no
Mediator, excepting Him who was born of the Virgin Mary, and was
crucified under Pontius Pilate, dead, and buried. But here they stop,
and get no further! They never come to the point of actually laying hold
on Christ by faith, and becoming one with Christ and Christ in them.
They can say, He is a Saviour, but not 'my Saviour,'--a Redeemer, but
not 'my Redeemer,'--a Priest, but not 'my Priest,'--an Advocate, but not
'my Advocate:' and so they live and die unforgiven! No wonder that
Martin Luther said, "Many are lost because they cannot use possessive
pronouns." When this is the state of many in this day, no one need
wonder that I ask men whether they have received the forgiveness of
sins. An eminent Christian lady once said, in her old age,--"The
beginning of eternal life in my soul, was a conversation I had with an
old gentleman, who came to visit my father, when I was only a little
girl. He took me by the hand one day, and said, 'My dear child, my life
is nearly over, and you will probably live many years after I am gone.
But never forget two things. One is, that there is such a thing as
having our sins forgiven while we live. The other is, that there is such
a thing as knowing and feeling that we are forgiven.' I thank God I have
never forgotten his words."--How is it with us? Let us not rest till we
"know and feel," as the Prayer-book says, that we are forgiven. Once
more let us ask,--In the matter of forgiveness of sins, "How do we do?"
(5) Let me ask, in the fifth place, _whether we know anything by
experience of conversion to God_. Without conversion there is no
salvation. "Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye
shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven."--"Except a man be born
again, he cannot see the kingdom of God."--"If any man have not the
Spirit of Christ, he is none of His."--"If any man be in Christ he is a
new creature." (Matt. xviii. 3; John iii. 3; Rom. viii. 9; 2 Cor. v.
17.) We are all by nature so weak, so worldly, so earthly-minded, so
inclined to sin, that without a thorough change we cannot serve God in
life, and could not enjoy Him after death. Just as ducks, as soon as
they are hatched, take naturally to water, so do children, as soon as
they can do anything, take to selfishness, lying, and deceit; and none
pray, or love God, unless they are taught. High or low, rich or poor,
gentle or simple, we all need a complete change,--a change which it is
the special office of the Holy Ghost to give us. Call it what you
please,--new birth, regeneration, renewal, new creation, quickening,
repentance,--the thing must be had if we are to be saved: and if we have
the thing it will be _seen_.
Sense of sin and deep hatred to it, faith in Christ and love to Him,
delight in holiness and longing after more of it, love to God's people
and distaste for the things of the world,--these, these are the signs
and evidences which always accompany conversion. Myriads around us, it
may be feared, know nothing about it. They are, in Scripture language,
dead, and asleep, and blind, and unfit for the kingdom of God. Year
after year, perhaps, they go on repeating the words of the Creed, "I
believe in the Holy Ghost;" but they are utterly ignorant of His
changing operations on the inward man. Sometimes they flatter themselves
they are born again, because they have been baptized, and go to church,
and receive the Lord's Supper; while they are totally destitute of the
marks of the new birth, as described by St. John in his first Epistle.
And all this time the words of Scripture are clear and plain,--"Except
ye be converted, ye shall in no case enter the kingdom." (Matt. xviii.
3.) In times like these, no reader ought to wonder that I press the
subject of conversion on men's souls. No doubt there are plenty of sham
conversions in such a day of religious excitement as this. But bad coin
is no proof that there is no good money: nay, rather it is a sign that
there is some money current which is valuable, and is worth imitation.
Hypocrites and sham Christians are indirect evidence that there is such
a thing as real grace among men. Let us search our own hearts then, and
see how it is with ourselves. Once more let us ask, in the matter of
conversion, "How do we do?"
(6) Let me ask, in the sixth place, _whether we know anything of
practical Christian holiness_? It is as certain as anything in the Bible
that "without holiness no man shall see the Lord." (Heb. xii. 14.) It is
equally certain that it is the invariable fruit of saving faith, the
real test of regeneration, the only sound evidence of indwelling grace,
the certain consequence of vital union with Christ.--Holiness is not
absolute perfection and freedom from all faults. Nothing of the kind!
The wild words of some who talk of enjoying "unbroken communion with
God" for many months, are greatly to be deprecated, because they raise
unscriptural expectations in the minds of young believers, and so do
harm. Absolute perfection is for heaven, and not for earth, where we
have a weak body, a wicked world, and a busy devil continually near our
souls. Nor is real Christian holiness ever attained, or maintained,
without a constant fight and struggle. The great Apostle, who said "I
fight,--I labour,--I keep under my body and bring it into subjection" (1
Cor. ix. 27), would have been amazed to hear of _sanctification without
personal exertion_, and to be told that believers only need to sit
still, and everything will be done for them!
Yet, weak and imperfect as the holiness of the best saints may be, it is
a real true thing, and has a character about it as unmistakable as light
and salt. It is not a thing which begins and ends with noisy profession:
it will be _seen_ much more than _heard_. Genuine Scriptural holiness
will make a man do his duty at home and by the fireside, and adorn his
doctrine in the little trials of daily life. It will exhibit itself in
passive graces as well as in active. It will make a man humble, kind,
gentle, unselfish, good-tempered, considerate for others, loving, meek,
and forgiving. It will not constrain him to go out of the world, and
shut himself up in a cave, like a hermit. But it will make him do his
duty in that state to which God has called him, on Christian principles,
and after the pattern of Christ. Such holiness, I know well, is not
common. It is a style of practical Christianity which is painfully rare
in these days. But I can find no other standard of holiness in the Word
of God,--no other which comes up to the pictures drawn by our Lord and
His Apostles. In an age like this no reader can wonder if I press this
subject also on men's attention. Once more let us ask,--In the matter of
holiness, how is it with our souls? "How do we do?"
(7) Let me ask, in the seventh place, _whether we know anything of
enjoying the means of grace_? When I speak of the means of grace, I have
in my mind's eye five principal things,--the reading of the Bible,
private prayer, public worship, the sacrament of the Lord's Supper, and
the rest of the Lord's day. They are means which God has graciously
appointed, in order to convey grace to man's heart by the Holy Ghost, or
to keep up the spiritual life after it has begun. As long as the world
stands, the state of a man's soul will always depend greatly on the
_manner and spirit_ in which he uses means of grace. The manner and
spirit, I say deliberately and of purpose. Many English people use the
means of grace regularly and formally, but know nothing of enjoying
them: they attend to them as a matter of duty, but without a jot of
feeling, interest, or affection. Yet even common sense might tell us
that this formal, mechanical use of holy things, is utterly worthless
and unprofitable. Our _feeling_ about them is just one of the many tests
of the state of our souls. How can that man be thought to love God who
reads about Him and His Christ, as a mere matter of duty, content and
satisfied if he has just moved his mark onward over so many
chapters?--How can that man suppose he is ready to meet Christ, who
never takes any trouble to pour out his heart to Him in private as a
Friend, and is satisfied with saying over a string of words every
morning and evening, under the name of "prayer," scarcely thinking what
he is about?--How could that man be happy in heaven for ever, who finds
the Sunday a dull, gloomy, tiresome day,--who knows nothing of hearty
prayer and praise, and cares nothing whether he hears truth or error
from the pulpit, or scarcely listens to the sermon?--What can be the
spiritual condition of that man whose heart never "burns within him,"
when he receives that bread and wine which specially remind us of
Christ's death on the cross, and the atonement for sin? These inquiries
are very serious and important. If means of grace had no other use, and
were not mighty helps toward heaven, they would be useful in supplying a
test of our real state in the sight of God. Tell me what a man does in
the matter of Bible-reading and praying, in the matter of Sunday, public
worship, and the Lord's Supper, and I will soon tell you what he is, and
on which road he is travelling. How is it with ourselves? Once more let
us ask,--In the matter of means of grace, "How do we do?"
(8) Let me ask, in the eighth place, _whether we ever try to do any good
in the world_? Our Lord Jesus Christ was continually "going about doing
good," while He was on earth. (Acts x. 38.) The Apostles, and all the
disciples in Bible times, were always striving to walk in His steps. A
Christian who was content to go to heaven himself, and cared not what
became of others, whether they lived happy and died in peace or not,
would have been regarded as a kind of monster in primitive times, who
had not the Spirit of Christ. Why should we suppose for a moment that a
lower standard will suffice in the present day? Why should fig trees
which bear no fruit be spared in the present day, when in our Lord's
time they were to be cut down as "cumberers of the ground"? (Luke xiii.
7.) These are serious inquiries, and demand serious answers.
There is a generation of professing Christians now-a-days, who seem to
know nothing of caring for their neighbours, and are wholly swallowed up
in the concerns of number one,--that is, their own and their family's.
They eat, and drink, and sleep, and dress, and work, and get money, and
spend money, year after year; and whether others are happy or miserable,
well or ill, converted or unconverted, travelling toward heaven or
toward hell, appear to be questions about which they are supremely
indifferent. Can this be right? Can it be reconciled with the religion
of Him who spoke the parable of the good Samaritan, and bade us "go and
do likewise"? (Luke x. 37.) I doubt it altogether.
There is much to be done on every side. There is not a place in England
where there is not a field for work, and an open door for being useful,
if any one is willing to enter it. There is not a Christian in England
who cannot find some good work to do for others, if he has only a heart
to do it. The poorest man or woman, without a single penny to give, can
always show his deep sympathy to the sick and sorrowful, and by simple
good-nature and tender helpfulness, can lessen the misery and increase
the comfort of somebody in this troubled world. But alas, the vast
majority of professing Christians, whether rich or poor, Churchmen or
Dissenters, seem possessed with a devil of detestable selfishness, and
know not the luxury of doing good. They can argue by the hour about
baptism, and the Lord's supper, and the forms of worship, and the union
of Church and State, and such-like dry-bone questions. But all this time
they seem to care nothing for their neighbours. The plain practical
point, whether they love their neighbour, as the Samaritan loved the
traveller in the parable, and can spare any time and trouble to do him
good, is a point they never touch with one of their fingers. In too
many English parishes, both in town and country, true love seems almost
dead, both in church and chapel, and wretched party-spirit and
controversy are the only fruits that Christianity appears able to
produce. In a day like this, no reader should wonder if I press this
plain old subject on his conscience. Do we know anything of genuine
Samaritan love to others? Do we ever try to do any good to any one
beside our own friends and relatives, and our own party or cause? Are we
living like disciples of Him who always "went about doing good," and
commanded His disciples to take Him for their "example"? (John xiii.
15.) If not, with what face shall we meet Him in the judgment day? In
this matter also, how is it with our souls? Once more I ask, "How do we
do?"
(9) Let me ask, in the ninth place, _whether we know anything of living
the life of habitual communion with Christ_? By "communion," I mean that
habit of "abiding in Christ" which our Lord speaks of, in the fifteenth
chapter of St. John's Gospel, as essential to Christian fruitfulness.
(John xv. 4-8.) Let it be distinctly understood that union with Christ
is one thing, and communion is another. There can be no communion with
the Lord Jesus without union first; but unhappily there may be union
with the Lord Jesus, and afterwards little or no communion at all. The
difference between the two things is not the difference between two
distinct steps, but the difference between the higher and lower ends of
an inclined plane. Union is the common privilege of all who feel their
sins, and truly repent, and come to Christ by faith, and are accepted,
forgiven, and justified in Him. Too many believers, it may be feared,
_never get beyond this stage_! Partly from ignorance, partly from
laziness, partly from fear of man, partly from secret love of the world,
partly from some unmortified besetting sin, they are content with a
little faith, and a little hope, and a little peace, and a little
measure of holiness. And they live on all their lives in this
condition--doubting, weak, halting, and bearing fruit only "thirty-fold"
to the very end of their days!
Communion with Christ is the privilege of those who are continually
striving to grow in grace, and faith, and knowledge, and conformity to
the mind of Christ in all things,--who do not "look to the things
behind," and "count not themselves to have attained," but "press toward
the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus."
(Phil. iii. 14.) Union is the bud, but communion is the flower: union is
the babe, but communion is the strong man. He that has union with Christ
does well; but he that enjoys communion with Him does far better. Both
have one life, one hope, one heavenly seed in their hearts,--one Lord,
one Saviour, one Holy Spirit, one eternal home: but union is not so good
as communion! The grand secret of communion with Christ is to be
continually "living the life of faith in Him," and drawing out of Him
every hour the supply that every hour requires. "To me," said St. Paul,
"to live is Christ."--"I live: yet not I, but Christ liveth in me."
(Gal. ii. 20; Phil. i. 21.)
Communion like this is the secret of the abiding "joy and peace in
believing," which eminent saints like Bradford and Rutherford
notoriously possessed. None were ever more humble, or more deeply
convinced of their own infirmities and corruption. They would have
told you that the seventh chapter of Romans precisely described
their own experience. They would have endorsed every word of the
"Confession" put into the mouths of true believers, in our
Prayer-book Communion Service. They would have said continually,
"The remembrance of our sins is grievous unto us; the burden of them
is intolerable." But they were ever looking unto Jesus, and in Him
they were ever able to rejoice.--Communion like this is the secret
of the splendid victories which such men as these won over sin, the
world, and the fear of death. They did not sit still idly, saying,
"I leave it all to Christ to do for me," but, strong in the Lord,
they used the Divine nature He had implanted in them, boldly and
confidently, and were "more than conquerors through Him that loved
them." (Rom. viii. 37.) Like St. Paul they would have said, "I can
do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me." (Phil iv.
13.)--Ignorance of this life of communion is one among many reasons
why so many in this age are hankering after the Confessional, and
strange views of the "real presence" in the Lord's Supper. Such
errors often spring from imperfect knowledge of Christ, and obscure
views of the life of faith in a risen, living, and interceding
Saviour.
Is communion with Christ like this a common thing? Alas! it is very rare
indeed! The greater part of believers seem content with the barest
elementary knowledge of justification by faith, and half-a-dozen other
doctrines, and go doubting, limping, halting, groaning along the way to
heaven, and experience little either of the sense of victory or joy. The
Churches of these latter days are full of weak, powerless, and
uninfluential believers, saved at last, "but so as by fire," but never
shaking the world, and knowing nothing of an "abundant entrance." (1
Cor. iii. 15; 2 Pet. i. 11.) Despondency and Feeble-mind and
Much-afraid, in "Pilgrim's Progress," reached the celestial city as
really and truly as Valiant-for-the-truth and Greatheart. But they
certainly did not reach it with the same comfort, and did not do a tenth
part of the same good in the world! I fear there are many like them in
these days! When things are so in the Churches, no reader can wonder
that I inquire how it is with our souls. Once more I ask,--In the matter
of communion with Christ, "How do we do?"
(10) Let me ask, in the tenth and last place, _whether we know anything
of being ready for Christ's second coming_? That He will come again the
second time is as certain as anything in the Bible. The world has not
yet seen the last of Him. As surely as He went up visibly, and in the
body, on the Mount of Olives, before the eyes of His disciples, so
surely will He come again in the clouds of heaven, with power and great
glory. (Acts i. 11.) He will come to raise the dead, to change the
living, to reward His saints, to punish the wicked, to renew the earth,
and take the curse away,--to purify the world, even as He purified the
temple,--and to set up a kingdom where sin shall have no place, and
holiness shall be the universal rule. The Creeds which we repeat and
profess to believe, continually declare that Christ is coming again. The
ancient Christians made it a part of their religion to look for His
return. _Backward_ they looked to the cross and the atonement for sin,
and rejoiced in Christ crucified. _Upward_ they looked to Christ at the
right hand of God, and rejoiced in Christ interceding. _Forward_ they
looked to the promised return of their Master, and rejoiced in the
thought that they would see Him again. And we ought to do the same.
What have we really got from Christ? and what do we know of Him? and
what do we think of Him? Are we living as if we long to see Him again,
and love His appearing?--Readiness for that appearing is nothing more
than being a real, consistent Christian. It requires no man to cease
from his daily business. The farmer need not give up his farm, nor the
shopkeeper his counter, nor the doctor his patients, nor the carpenter
his hammer and nails, nor the bricklayer his mortar and trowel, nor the
blacksmith his smithy. Each and all cannot do better than be found doing
his duty, but doing it _as a Christian_, and with a heart packed up and
ready to be gone. In the face of truth like this no reader can feel
surprised if I ask, How is it with our souls in the matter of Christ's
second coming? The world is growing old and running to seed. The vast
majority of Christians seem like the men in the time of Noah and Lot,
who were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, planting
and building, up to the very day when flood and fire came. Those words
of our Master are very solemn and heart-searching,--"Remember Lot's
wife."--"Take heed lest at any time your heart be overcharged with the
cares of this life, and that day come upon you unawares." (Luke xvii.
32; xxi. 34.) Once more I ask,--In the matter of readiness for Christ's
second coming, "How do we do?"
I end my inquiries here. I might easily add to them; but I trust I have
said enough, at the beginning of this volume, to stir up self-inquiry
and self-examination in many minds. God is my witness that I have said
nothing that I do not feel of paramount importance to my own soul. I
only want to do good to others. Let me now conclude all with a few words
of practical application.
(_a_) Is any reader of this paper _asleep and utterly thoughtless about
religion_? Oh, awake and sleep no more! Look at the churchyards and
cemeteries. One by one the people around you are dropping into them, and
you must lie there one day. Look forward to a world to come, and lay
your hand on your heart, and say, if you dare, that you are fit to die
and meet God. Ah! you are like one sleeping in a boat drifting down the
stream towards the falls of Niagara! "What meanest thou, oh sleeper!
Arise and call upon thy God!"--"Awake thou that sleepest, and arise from
the dead, and Christ shall give thee light!" (Jonah i. 6; Eph v. 14.)
(_b_) Is any reader of this paper _feeling self-condemned, and afraid
that there is no hope for his soul_? Cast aside your fears, and accept
the offer of our Lord Jesus Christ to sinners. Hear Him saying, "Come
unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you
rest." (Matt. xi. 28.) "If any man thirst, let him come unto Me and
drink." (John vii. 37.) "Him that cometh unto Me I will in no wise cast
out." (John vi. 37.) Doubt not that these words are for you as well as
for any one else. Bring all your sins, and unbelief, and sense of guilt,
and unfitness, and doubts, and infirmities,--bring all to Christ. "This
Man receiveth sinners," and He will receive you. (Luke xv. 2.) Do not
stand still, halting between two opinions, and waiting for a convenient
season. "Arise: He calleth thee!" Come to Christ this very day. (Mark x.
49.)
(_c_) Is any reader of this paper a professing believer in Christ, but a
_believer without much joy and peace and comfort_? Take advice this day.
Search your own heart, and see whether the fault be not entirely your
own. Very likely you are sitting at ease, content with a little faith,
and a little repentance, a little grace and a little sanctification, and
unconsciously shrinking back from extremes. You will never be a very
happy Christian at this rate, if you live to the age of Methuselah.
Change your plan, if you love life and would see good days, without
delay. Come out boldly, and act decidedly. Be thorough, thorough, very
thorough in your Christianity, and set your face fully towards the sun.
Lay aside every weight, and the sin that doth so easily beset you.
Strive to get nearer to Christ, to abide in Him, to cleave to Him, and
to sit at His feet like Mary, and drink full draughts out of the
fountain of life. "These things," says St. John, "we write unto you that
your joy may be full." (1 John i. 4.) "If we walk in the light as He is
in the light, we have fellowship one with another." (1 John i. 7.)
(_d_) Is any reader of this paper _a believer oppressed with doubts and
fears_, on account of his feebleness, infirmity, and sense of sin?
Remember the text that says of Jesus, "A bruised reed will He not break,
and smoking flax shall He not quench." (Matt. xii. 20.) Take comfort in
the thought that this text is for you. What though your faith be feeble?
It is better than no faith at all. The least grain of life is better
than death. Perhaps you are expecting too much in this world. Earth is
not heaven. You are yet in the body. Expect little from self, but much
from Christ. Look more to Jesus, and less to self.
(_e_) Finally, is any reader of this paper _sometimes downcast_ by the
trials he meets with in the way to heaven, bodily trials, family trials,
trials of circumstances, trials from neighbours, and trials from the
world? Look up to a sympathizing Saviour at God's right hand, and pour
out your heart before Him. He can be touched with the feeling of your
infirmities, for He suffered Himself being tempted.--Are you alone? So
was He. Are you misrepresented and calumniated? So was He. Are you
forsaken by friends? So was He. Are you persecuted? So was He. Are you
wearied in body and grieved in spirit? So was He.--Yes! He can feel for
you, and He can help as well as feel. Then learn to draw nearer to
Christ. The time is short. Yet a little time, and all will be over: we
shall soon be "with the Lord." "There is an end; and thine expectation
shall not be cut off." (Prov. xxiii. 18.) "Ye have need of patience,
that, after ye have done the will of God, ye might receive the promise.
For yet a little while, and He that shall come will come, and will not
tarry." (Heb. x. 36, 37.)
II
SELF-EXERTION
"_Strive to enter in at the strait gate: for many, I say unto
you, will seek to enter in, and shall not be able._"--Luke
xiii. 24.
There was once a man who asked our Lord Jesus Christ a very deep
question. He said to Him, "Lord, are there few that be saved?"
Who this man was we do not know. What his motive was for asking this
question we are not told. Perhaps he wished to gratify an idle
curiosity: perhaps he wanted an excuse for not seeking salvation
himself. The Holy Ghost has kept back all this from us: the name and
motive of the inquirer are both hidden.
But one thing is very clear, and that is the vast importance of the
saying of our Lord to which the question gave rise. Jesus seized the
opportunity to direct the minds of all around Him to their own plain
duty. He knew the train of thought which the man's inquiry had set
moving in their hearts: He saw what was going on within them. "Strive,"
He cries, "to enter in at the strait gate." Whether there be few saved
or many, your course is clear;--strive to enter in. Now is the accepted
time. Now is the day of salvation. A day shall come when many will seek
to enter in and shall not be able. "Strive to enter in now."
I desire to call the serious attention of all who read this paper to the
solemn lessons which this saying of the Lord Jesus is meant to teach.
It is one which deserves special remembrance in the present day. It
teaches unmistakeably that mighty truth, our own personal responsibility
for the salvation of our souls. It shows the immense danger of putting
off the great business of religion, as so many unhappily do. On both
these points the witness of our Lord Jesus Christ in the text is clear.
He, who is the eternal God, and who spoke the words of perfect wisdom,
says to the sons of men,--"Strive to enter in at the strait gate: for
many, I say unto you, will seek to enter in, and shall not be able."
I. Here is a _description_ of the way of salvation. Jesus calls it
"the strait gate."
II. Here is a plain _command_. Jesus says, "Strive to enter in."
III. Here is an awful _prophecy_. Jesus says, "Many will seek to
enter in, and shall not be able."
May the Holy Ghost apply the subject to the hearts of all into whose
hands this paper may fall! May all who read it know the way of salvation
experimentally, obey the command of the Lord practically, and be found
safe in the great day of His second coming!
I. Here is a _description___ of the way of salvation. Jesus calls it
"_the strait gate_."
There is a gate which leads to pardon, peace with God, and heaven.
Whosoever goes in by that gate shall be saved. Never, surely, was a gate
more needed. Sin is a vast mountain between man and God. How shall a man
climb over it?--Sin is a high wall between man and God. How shall man
get through it?--Sin is a deep gulf between man and God. How shall man
cross over it?--God is in heaven, holy, pure, spiritual, undefiled,
light without any darkness at all, a Being who cannot bear that which
is evil, or look upon iniquity. Man is a poor fallen worm, crawling on
earth for a few years,--sinful, corrupt, erring, defective,--a being
whose imagination is only evil, and whose heart is deceitful above all
things, and desperately wicked. How shall man and God be brought
together? How shall man ever draw near to his Maker without fear and
shame? Blessed be God, there is a way! There is a road. There is a path.
There is a door. It is the gate spoken of in the words of Christ,--"the
strait gate."
This gate was _made for sinners by the Lord Jesus Christ_. From all
eternity He covenanted and engaged that He would make it. In the fulness
of time He came into the world and made it, by His own atoning death on
the cross. By that death He made satisfaction for man's sin, paid man's
debt to God, and bore man's punishment. He built a great gate at the
cost of His own body and blood. He reared a ladder on earth whose top
reached to heaven. He made a door by which the chief of sinners may
enter into the holy presence of God, and not be afraid. He opened a road
by which the vilest of men, believing in Him, may draw near to God and
have peace. He cries to us, "I am the door: by Me if any man enter in,
he shall be saved." (John x. 9.) "I am the way: no man cometh unto the
Father but by Me." (John xiv. 6.) "By Him," says Paul, "we have boldness
and access with confidence." (Eph. iii. 12.) Thus was the gate of
salvation formed.
This gate is called _the strait gate_, and it is not called so without
cause. It is always strait, narrow, and difficult to pass through to
some persons, and it will be so as long as the world stands. It is
narrow to all who love sin, and are determined not to part with it. It
is narrow to all who set their affection on this world, and seek first
its pleasures and rewards. It is narrow to all who dislike trouble, and
are unwilling to take pains and make sacrifices for their souls. It is
narrow to all who like company, and want to keep in with the crowd. It
is narrow to all who are self-righteous, and think they are good people,
and deserve to be saved. To all such the great gate, which Christ made,
is narrow and strait. In vain they seek to pass through. The gate will
not admit them. God is not unwilling to receive them; their sins are not
too many to be forgiven: but they are not willing to be saved in God's
way. Thousands, for the last eighteen centuries, have tried to make the
gate-way wider: thousands have worked and toiled to get to heaven on
lower terms. But the gate never alters. It is not elastic: it will not
stretch to accommodate one man more than another. It is still the strait
gate.
Strait as this gate is, it is _the only one by which men can get to
heaven_. There is no side door; there is no bye-path; there is no gap or
low-place in the wall. All that are ever saved will be saved only by
Christ, and only by simple faith in Him.--Not one will be saved by
repentance. To-day's sorrow does not wipe off yesterday's score.--Not
one will be saved by his own works. The best works that any man can do
are little better than splendid sins.--Not one will be saved by his
formal regularity in the use of the outward means of grace. When we have
done all, we are poor "unprofitable servants." Oh, no! it is mere waste
of time to seek any other road to eternal life. Men may look right and
left, and weary themselves with their own devices, but they will never
find another door. Proud men may dislike the gate if they will.
Profligate men may scoff at it, and make a jest of those who use it.
Lazy men may complain that the way is hard. But men will discover no
other salvation than that of faith in the blood and righteousness of a
crucified Redeemer. There stands between us and heaven one great gate:
it may be strait; but it is the only one. We must either enter heaven by
the strait gate, or not at all.
Strait as this gate is, it is _a gate ever ready to open_. No sinners of
any kind are forbidden to draw near: whosoever will may enter in and be
saved. There is but one condition of admission: that condition is that
you really feel your sins and desire to be saved by Christ in His own
way. Art thou really sensible of thy guilt and vileness? Hast thou a
truly broken and contrite heart? Behold the gate of salvation, and come
in. He that made it declares,--"Him that cometh unto Me I will in no
wise cast out." (John vi. 37.) The question to be considered is not
whether you are a great sinner or a little sinner--whether you are elect
or not,--whether you are converted or not. The question is simply
this, "Do you feel your sins? Do you feel labouring and heavy-laden? Are
you willing to put your soul into Christ's hand?" Then if that be the
case, the gate will open to you at once. Come in this very day.
"Wherefore standest thou without?" (Gen. xxiv. 31.)
Strait as this gate is, it is _one through which thousands have gone in
and been saved_. No sinner was ever turned back, and told he was too bad
to be admitted, if he came really sick of his sins. Thousands of all
sorts have been received, cleansed, washed, pardoned, clothed, and made
heirs of eternal life. Some of them seemed very unlikely to be admitted:
you and I might have thought they were too bad to be saved. But He that
built the gate did not refuse them. As soon as they knocked, He gave
orders that they should be let in.
Manasseh, King of Judah, went up to this gate. None could have been
worse than he. He had despised his good father Hezekiah's example and
advice. He had bowed down to idols. He had filled Jerusalem with
bloodshed and cruelty. He had slain his own children. But as soon as his
eyes were opened to his sins, and he fled to the gate for pardon, the
gate flew wide open, and he was saved.
Saul the Pharisee went up to this gate. He had been a great offender.
He had been a blasphemer of Christ, and a persecutor of Christ's people.
He had laboured hard to stop the progress of the Gospel. But as soon as
his heart was touched, and he found out his own guilt and fled to the
gate for pardon, at once the gate flew wide open, and he was saved.
Many of the Jews who crucified our Lord went up to this gate. They had
been grievous sinners indeed. They had refused and rejected their own
Messiah. They had delivered Him to Pilate, and entreated that He might
be slain. They had desired Barabbas to be let go, and the Son of God to
be crucified. But in the day when they were pricked to the heart by
Peter's preaching, they fled to the gate for pardon, and at once the
gate flew open, and they were saved.
The jailer at Philippi went up to this gate. He had been a cruel, hard,
godless man. He had done all in his power to ill-treat Paul and his
companion. He had thrust them into the inner prison, and made their feet
fast in the stocks. But when his conscience was aroused by the
earthquake, and his mind enlightened by Paul's teaching, he fled to the
gate for pardon, and at once the gate flew open, and he was saved.
But why need I stop short in Bible examples? Why should I not say that
multitudes have gone to "the strait gate" since the days of the
Apostles, and have entered in by it and been saved? Thousands of all
ranks, classes, and ages,--learned and unlearned, rich and poor, old and
young,--have tried the gate and found it ready to open,--have gone
through it and found peace to their souls. Yes: thousands of persons yet
living have made proof of the gate, and found it the way to real
happiness. Noblemen and commoners, merchants and bankers, soldiers and
sailors, farmers and tradesmen, labourers and workmen, are still upon
earth, who have found the strait gate to be "a way of pleasantness and a
path of peace." They have not brought up an evil report of the country
inside. They have found Christ's yoke to be easy, and His burden to be
light. Their only regret has been that so few enter in, and that they
themselves did not enter in before.
This is the gate which I want every one to enter, into whose hand this
paper may fall. I want you not merely to go to church or chapel, but to
go with heart and soul to the gate of life. I want you not merely to
believe there is such a gate, and to think it a good thing, but to enter
by faith and be saved.
Think _what a privilege_ it is to have a gate at all. The angels who
kept not their first estate, fell, never to rise again. To them there
was no door of escape opened.--The heathen never heard of any way to
eternal life. What would not many a black man and many a red man give,
if he only heard one plain sermon about Christ?--The Jews in Old
Testament times only saw the gate dimly and far away. "The way into the
holiest was not made manifest, while the first tabernacle was standing."
(Heb. ix. 8.) You have the gate set plainly before you: you have Christ
and full salvation offered to you, without money and without price. You
never need be at a loss which way to turn. Oh, consider what a mercy
this is! Beware that you do not despise the gate and perish in unbelief.
Better a thousand times not to know of the gate than to know of it and
yet tarry outside. How indeed will you escape if you neglect so great
salvation?
Think _what a thankful man_ you ought to be if you have really gone in
at the strait gate. To be a pardoned, forgiven, justified soul,--to be
ready for sickness, death, judgment and eternity,--to be ever provided
for in both worlds,--surely this is matter for daily praise. True
Christians ought to be more full of thanksgivings than they are. I fear
that few sufficiently remember what they were by nature, and what
debtors they are to grace. A heathen remarked that singing hymns of
praise was one special mark of the early Christians. Well would it be
for Christians in the present day, if they knew more of this frame of
mind. It is no mark of a healthy state of soul when there is much
complaining and little praise. It is an amazing mercy that there is any
gate of salvation at all; but it is a still greater mercy when we are
taught to enter in by it and be saved.
II. In the second place, here is a plain _command_.--Jesus says to us,
"_Strive to enter in at the strait gate_." There is often much to be
learned in a single word of Scripture. The words of our Lord Jesus in
particular, are always full of matter for thought. Here is a word which
is a striking example of what I mean. Let us see what the great Teacher
would have us gather out of the word "_Strive_."
"STRIVE" teaches that a man must use means diligently, if he would have
his soul saved. There are means which God has appointed to help man in
his endeavours to approach Him. There are ways in which a man must walk,
if he desires to be found of Christ. Public Worship, reading the Bible,
hearing the Gospel preached,--these are the kind of things to which I
refer. They lie, as it were, in the middle, between man and God.
Doubtless no one can change his own heart, or wipe away one of his sins,
or make himself in the least degree acceptable to God; but I do say that
if man could do nothing but sit still, Christ would never have said
"Strive."
"STRIVE" teaches that man is a free agent, and will be dealt with by God
as a responsible being. The Lord Jesus does not bid us to wait, and
wish, and feel, and hope, and desire. He says, "Strive." I call that
miserable religion which teaches people to be content with saying, "We
can do nothing of ourselves," and makes them continue in sin. It is as
bad as teaching people that it is not their fault if they are not
converted, and that God only is to blame if they are not saved. I find
no such theology in the New Testament. I hear Jesus saying to sinners,
"Come--repent--believe--labour--ask--seek--knock." I see plainly that
our salvation, from first to last, is entirely _of God_; but I see with
no less plainness that our ruin, if lost, is wholly and entirely _of
ourselves_. I maintain that sinners are always addressed as accountable
and responsible; and I want no better proof of this than is contained in
the word "Strive."
"STRIVE" teaches that a man must expect many adversaries and a hard
battle, if he would have his soul saved. And this, as a matter of
experience, is strictly true. There are no "gains without pains" in
spiritual things any more than in temporal. That roaring lion, the
devil, will never let a soul escape from him without a struggle. The
heart which is naturally sensual and earthly will never be turned to
spiritual things without a daily fight. The world, with all its
opposition and temptations, will never be overcome without a conflict.
But why should all this surprise us? What great and good thing was ever
done without trouble? Wheat does not grow without ploughing and sowing;
riches are not obtained without care and attention; success in life is
not won without hardships and toil; and heaven, above all, is not to be
reached without the cross and the battle. The "violent take the kingdom
by force." (Matt xi. 12.) A man must "strive."
"STRIVE" teaches that it is worth while for a man to seek salvation.
That may well be said. If there be anything that deserves a struggle in
this world, it is the prosperity of the soul. The objects for which the
great majority of men strive are comparatively poor and trifling things.
Riches, and greatness, and rank, and learning, are "a corruptible
crown." The incorruptible things are all within the strait gate. The
peace of God which passeth all understanding,--the bright hope of good
things to come,--the sense of the Spirit dwelling in us,--the
consciousness that we are pardoned, safe, ready, insured, provided for
in time and eternity, whatever may happen,--these are true gold, and
durable riches. Well may the Lord Jesus call on us to "strive."
"STRIVE" teaches that laziness in religion is a great sin. It is not
merely a misfortune, as some fancy,--a thing for which people are to be
pitied, and a matter for regret. It is something far more than this. It
is a breach of a plain commandment. What shall be said of the man who
transgresses God's law, and does something which God says, Thou shalt
not do? There can be but one answer. He is a sinner. "Sin is the
transgression of the law." (1 John iii. 4.) And what shall be said of
the man who neglects his soul, and makes no effort to enter the strait
gate? There can be only one reply. He is omitting a positive duty.
Christ says to him, "Strive," and behold, he sits still!
"STRIVE" teaches that all outside the strait gate are in great danger.
They are in danger of being lost for ever. There is but a step between
them and death. If death finds them in their present condition, they
will perish without hope. The Lord Jesus saw that clearly. He knew the
uncertainty of life and the shortness of time: He would fain have
sinners make haste and delay not, lest they put off soul business too
late. He speaks as one who saw the devil drawing near to them daily, and
the days of their life gradually ebbing away. He would have them take
heed they be not too late: therefore He cries, "Strive."
That word "Strive," raises solemn thoughts in my mind. It is brimful of
condemnation for thousands of baptized persons. It condemns the ways and
practices of multitudes who profess and call themselves Christians. Many
there are who neither swear, nor murder, nor commit adultery, nor
steal, nor lie; but one thing unhappily cannot be said of them: they
cannot be said to "strive" to be saved. The "spirit of slumber"
possesses their hearts in everything that concerns religion. About the
things of the world they are active enough: they rise early, and late
take rest; they labour; they toil; they are busy; they are careful: but
about the one thing needful they never "strive" at all.
What shall I say of those who are irregular about public worship on
Sundays? There are thousands all over Great Britain who answer this
description. Sometimes, if they feel disposed, they go to some church or
chapel, and attend a religious service; at other times they stay at home
and read the paper, or idle about, or look over their accounts, or seek
some amusement. _Is this "striving"_? I speak to men of common sense.
Let them judge what I say.
What shall I say of those who come regularly to a place of worship, but
come entirely as a matter of form? There are many in every parish of
Great Britain in this condition. Their fathers taught them to come;
their custom has always been to come: it would not be respectable to
stay away. But they care nothing for the worship of God when they do
come. Whether they hear law or Gospel, truth or error, it is all the
same to them. They remember nothing afterwards. They put off their form
of religion with their Sunday clothes, and return to the world. And _is
this "striving"_? I speak to men of common sense. Let them judge what I
say.
What shall I say of those who seldom or never read the Bible? There are
thousands of persons, I fear, who answer this description. They know the
Book by name; they know it is commonly regarded as the only Book which
teaches us how to live and how to die: but they can never find time for
reading it. Newspapers, reviews, novels, romances, they can read, but
not the Bible. And _is this "striving"_ to enter in? I speak to men of
common sense. Let them judge what I say.
What shall I say of those who never pray? There are multitudes, I firmly
believe, in this condition. Without God they rise in the morning, and
without God they lie down at night. They ask nothing; they confess
nothing; they return thanks for nothing; they seek nothing. They are all
dying creatures, and yet they are not even on speaking terms with their
Maker and their Judge! And _is this "striving"_? I speak to men of
common sense. Let them judge what I say.
It is a solemn thing to be a minister of the Gospel. It is a painful
thing to look on, and notice the ways of mankind in spiritual matters.
We hold in our hands that great statute Book of God, which declares that
without repentance, and conversion, and faith in Christ, and holiness,
no man living can be saved. In discharge of our office we urge on men to
repent, believe, and be saved; but, alas, how frequently we have to
lament that our labour seems all in vain. Men attend our churches, and
listen, and approve, but do not "strive" to be saved. We show the
sinfulness of sin; we unfold the loveliness of Christ; we expose the
vanity of the world; we set forth the happiness of Christ's service; we
offer the living water to the wearied and heavy laden sons of toil: but,
alas, how often we seem to speak to the winds. Our words are patiently
heard on Sundays; our arguments are not refuted: but we see plainly in
the week that men are not "striving" to be saved. There comes the devil
on Monday morning, and offers his countless snares; there comes the
world, and holds out its seeming prizes: our hearers follow them
greedily. They work hard for this world's goods; they toil at Satan's
bidding: but for the one thing needful they will not "strive" at all.
I am not writing from hear-say. I speak what I have seen. I write down
the result of thirty-seven years' experience in the ministry. I have
learned lessons about human nature during that period which I never
knew before. I have seen how true are our Lord's words about the narrow
way. I have discovered how few there are that "strive" to be saved.
Earnestness about temporal matters is common enough. Striving to be rich
and prosperous in this world is not rare at all. Pains about money, and
business, and politics,--pains about trade, and science, and fine arts,
and amusements,--pains about rent, and wages, and labour, and
land,--pains about such matters I see in abundance both in town and
country. But I see few who take pains about their souls. I see few any
where who "strive" to enter in at the strait gate.
I am not surprised at all this. I read in the Bible that it is only what
I am to expect. The parable of the great supper is an exact picture of
things that I have seen with my own eyes ever since I became a minister.
(Luke xiv. 16.) I find, as my Lord and Saviour tells me, that "men make
excuse." One has his piece of land to see; another has his oxen to
prove; a third has his family hindrances. But all this does not prevent
my feeling deeply grieved for the souls of men. I grieve to think that
they should have eternal life so close to them, and yet be lost because
they will not "strive" to enter in and be saved.
I know not in what state of soul many readers of this paper may be. But
I warn you to take heed that you do not perish for ever for want of
"striving." Do not suppose that it needs some great scarlet sin to bring
you to the pit of destruction. You have only to sit still and do
nothing, and you will find yourself there at last. Yes! Satan does not
ask you to walk in the steps of Cain, and Pharaoh, and Ahab, and
Belshazzar, and Judas Iscariot. There is another road to hell quite as
sure,--the road of spiritual indolence, spiritual laziness, and
spiritual sloth. Satan has no objection to your being a respectable
member of the Christian Church. He will let you pay your tithes, and
rates, and pew rents; he will allow you to sit comfortably in church
every Sunday you live. He knows full well, that so long as you do not
"strive," you must come at last to the worm that never dies, and the
fire that is not quenched. Take heed that you do not come to this end. I
repeat it, _you have only to do nothing, and you will be lost_.
If you have been taught to "strive" for your soul's prosperity, I
entreat you never to suppose you can go too far. Never give way to the
idea that you are taking too much trouble about your spiritual
condition, and that there is no need for so much carefulness. Settle it
rather in your mind that "in all labour there is profit," and that no
labour is so profitable as that bestowed on the soul. It is a maxim
among good farmers that the more they do for the land the more the land
does for them. I am sure it should be a maxim among Christians that the
more they do for their religion the more their religion will do for
them. Watch against the slightest inclination to be careless about any
means of grace. Beware of shortening your prayers, your Bible reading,
your private communion with God. Take heed that you do not give way to a
thoughtless, lazy manner of using the public services of God's house.
Fight against any rising disposition to be sleepy, critical, and
fault-finding, while you listen to the preaching of the Gospel. Whatever
you do for God, do it with all your heart and mind and strength. In
other things be moderate, and dread running into extremes. In soul
matters fear moderation just as you would fear the plague. Care not what
men think of you. Let it be enough for you that your Master says,
"STRIVE."
III. The last thing I wish to consider in this paper is the _awful
prophecy which the Lord Jesus delivers_. He says, "Many will seek to
enter in, and shall not be able."
When shall this be? At what period shall the gate of salvation be shut
for ever? When shall "striving" to enter be of no use? These are
serious questions. The gate is now ready to open to the chief of
sinners; but a day comes when it shall open no more.
The time foretold by our Lord is the time of His own second coming to
judge the world. The long-suffering of God will at last have an end. The
throne of grace will at length be taken down, and the throne of judgment
shall be set up in its place. The fountain of living waters shall at
length be closed. The strait gate shall at last be barred and bolted.
The day of grace will be passed and over. The day of reckoning with a
sin-laden world shall at length begin. And then shall be brought to pass
the solemn prophecy of the Lord Jesus,--"Many will seek to enter in, and
shall not be able."
All prophecies of Scripture that have been fulfilled hitherto, have been
fulfilled to the very letter. They have seemed to many unlikely,
improbable, impossible, up to the very time of their accomplishment; but
not one word of them has ever failed.
The promises of _good things_ have come to pass, in spite of
difficulties that seemed insuperable. Sarah had a son when she was past
bearing; the children of Israel were brought out of Egypt and planted in
the promised land; the Jews were redeemed from the captivity of Babylon,
after seventy years, and enabled once more to build the temple; the Lord
Jesus was born of a pure virgin, lived, ministered, was betrayed, and
cut off, precisely as Scripture foretold. The Word of God was pledged in
all these cases, that it should be. _And so it was._
The predictions of _judgments_ on cities and nations have come to pass,
though at the time they were first spoken they seemed incredible. Egypt
is the basest of kingdoms; Edom is a wilderness; Tyre is a rock for
drying nets; Nineveh, that "exceeding great city," is laid waste, and
become a desolation; Babylon is a dry land and a wilderness,--her broad
walls are utterly broken down; the Jews are scattered over the whole
earth as a separate people. In all these cases the Word of God foretold
that it should be so. _And so it was._
The prophecy of the Lord Jesus Christ which I press on your attention
this day, shall be fulfilled in like manner. Not one word of it shall
fail when the time of its accomplishment is due. "Many will seek to
enter in, and shall not be able."
There is a time coming when seeking God shall be useless. Oh, that men
would remember that! Too many seem to fancy that the hour will never
arrive when they shall seek and not find: but they are sadly mistaken.
They will discover their mistake one day to their own confusion, except
they repent. When Christ comes "many shall seek to enter in, and _not be
able_."
There is a time coming when many shall be shut out from heaven for ever.
It shall not be the lot of a few, but of a great multitude; it shall not
happen to one or two in this parish, and one or two in that: it shall be
the miserable end of a vast crowd. "_Many_ will seek to enter in, and
shall not be able."
Knowledge shall come to many too late. They shall see at last the value
of an immortal soul, and the happiness of having it saved. They shall
understand at last their own sinfulness and God's holiness, and the
glorious fitness of the Gospel of Christ. They shall comprehend at last
why ministers seemed so anxious, and preached so long, and entreated
them so earnestly to be converted. But, alas, they shall know all this
_too late_!
Repentance shall come to many too late. They shall discover their own
exceeding wickedness and be thoroughly ashamed of their past folly. They
shall be full of bitter regret and unavailing lamentations, of keen
convictions and of piercing sorrows. They shall weep, and wail, and
mourn, when they reflect on their sins. The remembrance of their lives
will be grievous to them; the burden of their guilt will seem
intolerable. But, alas, like Judas Iscariot, they will repent _too
late_!
Faith shall come to many too late. They will no longer be able to deny
that there is a God, and a devil, a heaven, and a hell. Deism, and
scepticism, and infidelity shall be laid aside for ever; scoffing, and
jesting, and free-thinking shall cease. They will see with their own
eyes, and feel in their own bodies, that the things of which ministers
spoke were not cunningly devised fables, but great real truths. They
will find out to their cost that evangelical religion was not cant,
extravagance, fanaticism, and enthusiasm: they will discover that it was
the one thing needful, and that for want of it they are lost for ever.
Like the devil, they will at length believe and tremble, but _too late_!
A desire of salvation shall come to many too late. They shall long after
pardon, and peace, and the favour of God, when they can no more be had.
They will wish they might have one more Sunday over again, have one more
offer of forgiveness, have one more call to prayer. But it will matter
nothing what they think, or feel, or desire then: the day of grace will
be over; the gate of salvation will be bolted and barred. It will be
_too late_!
I often think what a change there will be one day in the price and
estimation at which things are valued. I look round this world in which
my lot is cast; I mark the current price of everything this world
contains; I look forward to the coming of Christ, and the great day of
God. I think of the new order of things, which that day will bring in; I
read the words of the Lord Jesus, when He describes the master of the
house rising up and shutting the door; and as I read, I say to myself,
"There will be a great change soon."
What are the _dear things_ now? Gold, silver, precious stones, bank
notes, mines, ships, lands, houses, horses, carriages, furniture, meat,
drink, clothes, and the like. These are the things that are thought
valuable; these are the things that command a ready market; these are
the things which you can never get below a certain price. He that has
much of these things is counted a wealthy man. Such is the world!
And what are the _cheap things_ now? The knowledge of God, the free
salvation of the Gospel, the favour of Christ, the grace of the Holy
Ghost, the privilege of being God's son, the title to eternal life, the
right to the tree of life, the reversion of a mansion in heaven, the
promises of an incorruptible inheritance, the offer of a crown of glory
that fadeth not away. These are the things that no man hardly cares for.
They are offered to the sons of men without money and without price:
they may be had for nothing,--freely and gratuitously. Whosoever will
may take his portion. But, alas, there is no demand for these things!
They go a begging. They are scarcely looked at. They are offered in
vain. Such is the world!
But a day is coming upon us all when the value of everything shall be
altered. A day is coming when bank-notes shall be as useless as rags,
and gold shall be as worthless as the dust of the earth. A day is coming
when thousands shall care nothing for the things for which they once
lived, and shall desire nothing so much as the things which they once
despised. The halls and palaces will be forgotten in the desire of a
"house not made with hands." The favour of the rich and great will be no
more remembered, in the longing for the favour of the King of kings. The
silks, and satins, and velvets, and laces, will be lost sight of in the
anxious want of the robe of Christ's righteousness. All shall be
altered, all shall be changed in the great day of the Lord's return.
"Many will seek to enter in, and shall not be able."
It was a weighty saying of some wise man, that "hell is truth known too
late." I fear that thousands of professing Christians in this day will
find this out by experience. They will discover the value of their
souls when it is too late to obtain mercy, and see the beauty of the
Gospel when they can derive no benefit from it. Oh, that men would be
wise betimes! I often think there are few passages of Scripture more
awful than that in the first chapter of Proverbs,--"Because I have
called, and ye refused; I have stretched out my hand, and no man
regarded; but ye have set at nought all my counsel, and would none of my
reproof: I also will laugh at your calamity; I will mock when your fear
cometh; when your fear cometh as desolation, and your destruction cometh
as a whirlwind; when distress and anguish cometh upon you. Then shall
they call upon Me, but I will not answer; they shall seek Me early, but
they shall not find Me: for that they hated knowledge, and did not
choose the fear of the Lord: they would none of my counsel; they
despised all my reproof. Therefore shall they eat of the fruit of their
own way, and be filled with their own devices." (Prov. i. 24-31.)
Some reader of this paper may be one of those who neither like the faith
nor practice which the Gospel of Christ requires. You think us extreme
when we beseech you to repent and be converted. You think we ask too
much when we urge you to come out from the world, and take up the cross,
and follow Christ. But take notice that you will one day confess _that
we were right_. Sooner or later, in this world or the next, you will
acknowledge that you were wrong. Yes! it is a melancholy consideration
for the faithful minister of the Gospel, that all who hear him will one
day allow that his counsel was good. Mocked, despised, scorned,
neglected as his testimony may be on earth, a day is coming which shall
prove effectually that truth was on his side. The rich man who hears us
and yet makes a god of this world,--the tradesman who hears us and yet
makes his ledger his Bible,--the farmer who hears us and yet remains
cold as the clay on his land,--the labourer who hears us and feels no
more for his soul than a stone,--all, all will at length acknowledge
before the world that they were wrong. All will at length desire
earnestly that very mercy which we now set before them in vain. "They
will seek to enter in, and shall not be able."
Some reader of this paper may be one of those who love the Lord Jesus
Christ in sincerity. Such an one may well take comfort when he looks
forward. You often suffer persecution now for your religion's sake. You
have to bear hard words and unkind insinuations. Your motives are often
misrepresented, and your conduct slandered. The reproach of the cross
has not ceased. But you may well take courage when you look forward and
think of the Lord's second coming. That day shall make amends for all.
You will see those who now laugh at you because you read the Bible, and
pray, and love Christ, in a very different state of mind. They will come
to you as the foolish virgins came to the wise, saying, "Give us of your
oil, because our lamps are gone out." (Matt. xxv. 8.) You will see those
who now hate you and call you fools because, like Caleb and Joshua, you
bring up a good report of Christ's service, altered, changed, and no
longer like the same men. They will say, "Oh, that we had taken part
with you! You have been the truly wise, and we the foolish." Then fear
not the reproach of men. Confess Christ boldly before the world. Show
your colours, and be not ashamed of your Master. Time is short: eternity
hastens on. The cross is only for a little season: the crown is for
ever. Make sure work about that crown: leave nothing uncertain. "Many
will seek to enter in, and shall not be able."
And now let me offer to every one who reads this paper a few parting
words, in order to apply the whole subject to his soul. You have heard
the words of the Lord Jesus unfolded and expounded. You have seen the
picture of the way of salvation: it is a strait gate.--You have heard
the command of the King: "Strive to enter in."--You have been told of
His solemn warning: "Many shall seek to enter in, and shall not be
able."--Bear with me a little longer while I try to impress the whole
matter on your conscience. I have yet something to say on God's behalf.
(1) For one thing, I will ask you a plain question. _Have you entered in
at the strait gate or not?_ Old or young, rich or poor, churchman or
dissenter, I repeat my question, Have you entered in at the strait gate?
I ask not whether you have heard of it, and believe there is a gate. I
ask not whether you have looked at it, and admired it, and hope one day
to go in. I ask whether you have gone up to it, knocked at it, been
admitted, and _are now inside_?
If you are not inside, what good have you got from your religion? You
are not pardoned and forgiven. You are not reconciled to God. You are
not born again, sanctified, and meet for heaven. If you die as you are,
the devil will have you for ever, and your soul will be eternally
miserable.
Oh, think, think what a state this is to live in! Think, think above all
things, what a state this is to die in! Your life is but a vapour. A few
more years at most and you are gone: your place in the world will soon
be filled up; your house will be occupied by another. The sun will go on
shining; the grass and daises will soon grow thick over your grave; your
body will be food for worms, and your soul will be lost to all eternity.
And all this time there stands open before you a gate of salvation. God
invites you. Jesus Christ offers to save you. All things are ready for
your deliverance. One thing only is wanting, and that is that you should
be willing to be saved.
Oh think of these things, and be wise!
(2) For another thing, I will give plain advice to all who are not yet
inside the strait gate. That advice is simply this: _to enter in without
a day's delay_.
Tell me, if you can, of any one who ever reached heaven excepting
through "the strait gate." I know of none. From Abel, the first who
died, down to the end of the list of Bible names, I see none saved by
any way but that of faith in Christ.
Tell me, if you can, of any one who ever entered in at the strait gate
without "striving." I know of none excepting those who die in infancy.
He that would win heaven must be content to fight for it.
Tell me, if you can, of any one who ever strove earnestly to enter, and
failed to succeed. I know of none. I believe that however weak and
ignorant men may be, they never seek life heartily and conscientiously,
at the right door, and are left without an answer of peace.
Tell me, if you can, of any one who ever entered in at the strait gate,
and was afterwards sorry. I know of none. I believe the footsteps on the
threshold of that gate are all one way. All have found it a good thing
to serve Christ, and have never regretted taking up His cross.
If these things are so, seek Christ without delay, and enter in at the
gate of life while you can! Make a beginning this very day. Go to that
merciful and mighty Saviour in prayer, and pour out your heart before
Him. Confess to Him your guilt and wickedness and sin. Unbosom yourself
freely to Him: keep nothing back. Tell Him that you cast yourself and
all your soul's affairs wholly on His hands, and ask Him to save you
according to His promise, and put His Holy Spirit within you.
There is everything _to encourage you to do this_. Thousands as bad as
you have applied to Christ in this way, and not one of them has been
sent away and refused. They have found a peace of conscience they never
knew before, and have gone on their way rejoicing. They have found
strength for all the trials of life, and none of them have been allowed
to perish in the wilderness. Why should not you also seek Christ?
There is everything to encourage you to do what I tell you _at once_. I
know no reason why your repentance and conversion should not be as
immediate as that of others before you. The Samaritan woman came to the
well an ignorant sinner, and returned to her home a new creature. The
Philippian jailor turned from darkness to light, and became a professed
disciple of Christ in a single day. And why should not others do the
same? Why should not you give up your sins, and lay hold on Christ this
very day?
I know that the advice I have given you is good. The grand question is,
Will you take it?
(3) The last thing I have to say shall be a request to all who have
really entered in at the strait gate. That request is, that you will
_tell others_ of the blessings which you have found.
I want all converted people to be missionaries. I do not want them all
to go out to foreign lands, and preach to the heathen; but I do want all
to be of a missionary spirit, and to strive to do good at home. I want
them to testify to all around them that the strait gate is the way to
happiness, and to persuade them to enter in by it.
When Andrew was converted he found his brother Peter, and said to him,
"We have found the Messias, which is, being interpreted, the Christ. And
he brought him to Jesus." (John i. 41, 42.) When Philip was converted he
found Nathaniel, and said to him, "We have found Him, of whom Moses in
the law, and the prophets did write, Jesus of Nazareth, the son of
Joseph. And Nathaniel said unto him, Can there any good thing come out
of Nazareth? Philip said unto him, Come and see." (John i. 45, 46.) When
the Samaritan woman was converted, she "left her waterpot, and went into
the city, and said to the men, Come, see a man which told me all things
that ever I did: is not this the Christ?" (John iv. 28, 29.) When Saul
the Pharisee was converted, "Straightway he preached Christ in the
synagogues, that He is the son of God." (Acts ix. 20.)
I long to see this kind of spirit among Christians in the present day. I
long to see more zeal to commend the strait gate to all who are yet
outside, and more desire to persuade them to enter in and be saved.
Happy indeed is that Church whose members not only desire to reach
heaven themselves, but desire also to take others with them!
The great gate of salvation is yet ready to open, but the hour draws
near when it will be closed for ever. Let us work while it is called
to-day, for "the night cometh when no man can work." (John ix. 4.) Let
us tell our relatives and friends, that we have proved the way of life
and found it pleasant, that we have tasted the bread of life and found
it good.
I have heard it calculated that if every believer in the world were to
bring one soul to Christ each year, the whole human race would be
converted in less than twenty years. I make no comment on such a
calculation. Whether such a thing might be or not, one thing is sure:
that thing is, that many more _souls might probably be converted to God,
if Christians were more zealous to do good_.
This, at least, we may remember, that God is "not willing that any
should perish, but that all should come to repentance." (2 Pet. iii. 9.)
He that endeavours to show his neighbour the strait gate is doing a work
which God approves. He is doing a work which angels regard with
interest, and with which the building of a pyramid will not compare in
importance. What saith the Scripture? "He which converteth a sinner from
the error of his way, shall save a soul from death, and shall hide a
multitude of sins." (James v. 20.)
Let us all awaken to a deeper sense of our responsibility in this
matter. Let us look round the circle of those among whom we live, and
consider their state before God. Are there not many of them yet outside
the gate, unforgiven, unsanctified, and unfit to die? Let us watch for
opportunities of speaking to them. Let us tell them of the strait gate,
and entreat them to "strive to enter in."
Who can tell what "a word spoken in due season" may do? Who can tell
what it may do when spoken in faith and prayer? It may be the
turning-point in some man's history. It may be the beginning of thought,
prayer, and eternal life. Oh, for more love and boldness among
believers! Think what a blessing to be allowed to speak one converting
word!
I know not what the feelings of my readers may be on this subject. My
heart's desire and prayer is that you may daily remember Christ's solemn
words,--"Many will seek to enter in, and shall not be able." Keep these
words in mind, and then be careless about the souls of others, if you
can.
III
REALITY
"_Reprobate silver._"--Jer. vi. 30.
"_Nothing but leaves._"--Mark xi. 13.
"_Let us not love in word, neither in tongue, but in deed and
in truth._"--1 John iii. 18. "_Thou hast a name that thou
livest, and art dead._"--Rev. iii. 1.
If we profess to have any religion at all, let us take care that it is
real. I say it emphatically, and I repeat the saying: Let us mind that
our religion is real.
What do I mean when I use the word "real." I mean that which is genuine,
and sincere, and honest, and thorough. I mean that which is not base,
and hollow, and formal, and false, and counterfeit, and sham, and
nominal. "Real" religion is not mere show, and pretence, and skin-deep
feeling, and temporary profession, and outside work. It is something
inward, solid, substantial, intrinsic, living, lasting. We know the
difference between base coin and good money,--between solid gold and
tinsel,--between plated metal and silver,--between real stone and
plaster imitation. Let us think of these things as we consider the
subject of this paper. What is the character of our religion? Is it
real? It may be weak, and feeble, and mingled with many infirmities.
That is not the point before us to-day. Is our religion real? Is it
true?
The times in which we live demand attention to this subject. A want of
reality is a striking feature of a vast amount of religion in the
present day. Poets have sometimes told us that the world has passed
through four different states or conditions. We have had a golden age,
and a silver age, a brazen age, and an iron age. How far this is true, I
do not stop to inquire. But I fear there is little doubt as to the
character of the age in which we live. It is universally an age of base
metal and alloy. If we measure the religion of the age by its apparent
quantity, there is much of it. But if we measure it by its quality,
there is very little indeed. On every side we want MORE REALITY.
I ask attention, while I try to bring home to men's consciences the
question of this paper. There are two things which I propose to do:--
I. In the first place, I will show the _importance of reality in
religion_.
II. In the second place, I will supply _some tests by which we may
prove whether our own religion is real._
Has any reader of this paper the least desire to go to heaven when he
dies? Do you wish to have a religion which will comfort you in life,
give you good hope in death, and abide the judgment of God at the last
day? Then, do not turn away from the subject before you. Sit down, and
consider calmly, whether your Christianity is real and true, or base and
hollow.
I. I have to show _the importance of reality in religion._
The point is one which, at first sight, may seem to require very few
remarks to establish it. All men, I shall be told, are fully convinced
of the importance of reality.
But is this true? Can it be said indeed that reality is rightly esteemed
among Christians? I deny it entirely. The greater part of people who
profess to admire reality, seem to think that every one possesses
it!--They tell us "that all have got good hearts at bottom,"--that all
are sincere and true in the main, though they may make mistakes. They
call us uncharitable, and harsh, and censorious, if we doubt anybody's
goodness of heart. In short, they destroy the value of reality, by
regarding it as a thing which almost every one has.
This wide-spread delusion is precisely one of the causes why I take up
this subject. I want men to understand that _reality_ is a far more rare
and uncommon thing than is commonly supposed. I want men to see that
_unreality_ is one of the great dangers of which Christians ought to
beware.
What saith the Scripture? This is the only judge that can try the
subject. Let us turn to our Bibles, and examine them fairly, and then
deny, if we can, the importance of reality in religion, and the danger
of not being real.
(1) Let us look then, for one thing, at the parables spoken by our Lord
Jesus Christ. Observe how many of them are intended to put in strong
contrast the true believer and the mere nominal disciple. The parables
of the sower, of the wheat and tares, of the draw-net, of the two sons,
of the wedding garment, of the ten virgins, of the talents, of the great
supper, of the pounds, of the two builders, have all one great point in
common. They all bring out in striking colours the difference between
reality and unreality in religion. They all show the uselessness and
danger of any Christianity which is not real, thorough, and true.
(2) Let us look, for another thing, at the language of our Lord Jesus
Christ about the scribes and the Pharisees. Eight times over in one
chapter we find Him denouncing them as "hypocrites," in words of almost
fearful severity.--"Ye serpents, ye generation of vipers," He says, "How
can ye escape the damnation of hell?" (Matt. xxiii. 33.) What may we
learn from these tremendously strong expressions? How is it that our
gracious and merciful Saviour used such cutting words about people who
at any rate were more moral and decent than the publicans and harlots?
It is meant to teach us the exceeding abominableness of false profession
and mere outward religion in God's sight. Open profligacy and wilful
obedience to fleshly lusts are no doubt ruinous sins, if not given up.
But there seems nothing which is so displeasing to Christ as hypocrisy
and unreality.
(3) Let us look, for another thing, at the startling fact, that there is
hardly a grace in the character of a true Christian of which you will
not find a counterfeit described in the Word of God. There is not a
feature in a believer's countenance of which there is not an imitation.
Give me your attention, and I will show you this in a few particulars.
Is there not an unreal _repentance_? Beyond doubt there is. Saul and
Ahab, and Herod, and Judas Iscariot had many feelings of sorrow about
sin. But they never really repented unto salvation.
Is there not an unreal _faith_? Beyond doubt there is. It is written of
Simon Magus, at Samaria, that he "believed," and yet his heart was not
right in the sight of God. It is even written of the devils that they
"believe and tremble." (Acts viii. 13; James ii. 19.)
Is there not an unreal _holiness_? Beyond doubt there is. Joash, king of
Judah, became to all appearance very holy and good, so long as Jehoiada
the priest lived. But as soon as he died the religion of Joash died at
the same time. (2 Chron. xxiv. 2.)--Judas Iscariot's outward life was as
correct as that of any of the apostles up to the time that he betrayed
his Master. There was nothing suspicious about him. Yet in reality he
was "a thief" and a traitor. (John xii. 6.)
Is there not an unreal _love and charity_? Beyond doubt there is. There
is a love which consists in words and tender expressions, and a great
show of affection, and calling other people "dear brethren," while the
heart does not love at all. It is not for nothing that St. John says,
"Let us not love in word, neither in tongue, but in deed and in truth."
It was not without cause that St. Paul said: "Let love be without
dissimulation." (1 John iii. 18; Rom. xii. 19.)
Is there not an unreal _humility_? Beyond doubt there is. There is a
pretended lowliness of demeanour, which often covers over a very proud
heart. St. Paul warns us against a "voluntary humility," and speaks of
"things which had a show of wisdom in will-worship and humility." (Col.
ii. 18, 23.)
Is there not unreal _praying_? Beyond doubt there is. Our Lord denounces
it as one of the special sins of the Pharisees--that for a "pretence
they made long prayers." (Matt. xxiii. 14.) He does not charge them with
not praying, or with praying too shortly. Their sin lay in this, that
their prayers were not real.
Is there not unreal _worship_? Beyond doubt there is. Our Lord says of
the Jews: "This people draw nigh to Me with their mouths, and honour Me
with their lips, but their heart is far from Me." (Matt. xv. 8.) They
had plenty of formal services in their temples and their synagogues. But
the fatal defect about them was want of reality and want of heart.
Is there not unreal _talking_ about religion? Beyond doubt there is.
Ezekiel describes some professing Jews who talked and spoke like God's
people "while their hearts went after their covetousness." (Ezek.
xxxiii. 31.) St. Paul tells us that we may "speak with the tongue of men
and angels," and yet be no better than sounding brass and a tinkling
cymbal. (1 Cor. xiii. 1.)
What shall we say to these things? To say the least they ought to set us
thinking. To my own mind they seem to lead to only one conclusion. They
show clearly the immense importance which Scripture attaches to reality
in religion. They show clearly what need we have to take heed lest our
Christianity turn out to be merely nominal, formal, unreal, and base.
The subject is of deep importance in every age. There has never been a
time, since the Church of Christ was founded, when there has not been a
vast amount of unreality and mere nominal religion among professing
Christians. I am sure it is the case in the present day. Wherever I turn
my eyes I see abundant cause for the warning,--"Beware of base metal in
religion. Be genuine. Be thorough. Be real. Be true."
How much religion among some members of the Church of England consists
of _nothing but churchmanship_! They belong to the Established Church.
They are baptized at her fonts, married at her communion rails, buried
in her churchyards, preached to on Sundays by her ministers. But the
great doctrines laid down in her Articles and Liturgy have no place in
their hearts, and no influence on their lives. They neither think, nor
feel, nor care, nor know anything about them. And is the religion of
these people real Christianity? It is nothing of the kind. It is mere
base metal. It is not the Christianity of Peter, and James, and John,
and Paul. It is _Churchianity_, and no more.
How much religion among some Dissenters from the Church of England
consists of _nothing but dissent_! They pride themselves on having
nothing to do with the Establishment. They rejoice in having no liturgy,
no forms, no bishops. They glory in the exercise of their private
judgment, and the absence of everything like ceremonial in their public
worship. But all this time they have neither grace, nor faith, nor
repentance, nor holiness, nor spirituality of conduct or conversation.
The experimental and practical piety of the old Nonconformists is a
thing of which they are utterly destitute. Their Christianity is as
sapless and fruitless as a dead tree, and as dry and marrowless as an
old bone. And is the Christianity of these people real? It is nothing
of the kind. It is base metal. It is not the Christianity of Owen, and
Manton, and Goodwin, and Baxter, and Traill. It is _Dissentianity_, and
nothing more.
How much Ritualistic religion is utterly unreal! You will sometimes see
men boiling over with zeal about vestments, and gestures, and postures,
and church decorations, and daily services, and frequent communions,
while their hearts are manifestly in the world. Of the inward work of
the Holy Ghost,--of living faith in the Lord Jesus,--of delight in the
Bible and religious conversation,--of separation from worldly follies
and amusements,--of zeal for the conversion of souls to God,--of all
these things they are profoundly ignorant. And is such Christianity as
this real? It is nothing of the kind. It is a mere name.
How much Evangelical religion is completely unreal? You will sometimes
see men professing great affection for the pure "Gospel," while they are
practically inflicting on it the greatest injury. They will talk loudly
of soundness in the faith, and have a keen nose for heresy. They will
run eagerly after popular preachers, and applaud Protestant speakers at
public meetings to the very echo. They are familiar with all the phrases
of evangelical religion, and can converse fluently about its leading
doctrines. To see their faces at public meetings, or in church, you
would think them eminently godly. To hear them talk you would suppose
their lives were bound up in religious Societies, the "Record" or "Rock"
newspapers, and Exeter Hall. And yet these people in private will
sometimes do things of which even some heathens would be ashamed. They
are neither truthful, nor straightforward, nor honest, nor manly, nor
just, nor good-tempered, nor unselfish, nor merciful, nor humble, nor
kind! And is such Christianity as this real? It is not. It is a
miserable imposture, a base cheat and caricature.
How much Revivalist religion in the present day is utterly unreal! You
will find a crowd of false professors bringing discredit on the work of
God wherever the Holy Spirit is poured out. You will see a mixed
multitude of Egyptians accompanying the Israel of God, and doing it
harm, whenever Israel goes out of Egypt. How many now-a-days will
profess to be suddenly convinced of sin,--to find peace in Jesus,--to be
overwhelmed with joys and ecstacies of soul,--while in reality they have
no grace at all. Like the stony-ground hearers, they endure but for a
season. "In the time of temptation they fall away." (Luke viii. 13) As
soon as the first excitement is passed off, they return to their old
ways, and resume their former sins. Their religion is like Jonah's
gourd, which came up in a night and perished in a night. They have
neither root nor vitality. They only injure God's cause and give
occasion to God's enemies to blaspheme. And is Christianity like this
real? It is nothing of the kind. It is base metal from the devil's mint,
=and= is worthless in God's sight.
I write these things with sorrow. I have no desire to bring any section
of the Church of Christ into contempt. I have no wish to cast any slur
on any movement which begins with the Spirit of God. But the times
demand very plain speaking about some points in the prevailing
Christianity of our day. And one point, I am quite persuaded, that
demands attention, is the abounding want of reality which is to be seen
on every side.
No reader, at any rate, can well deny that the subject of the paper
before him is of vast importance.
II. I pass on now to the second thing which I propose to do. _I will
supply some tests by which we may try the reality of our religion._
In approaching this part of my subject, I ask every reader of this paper
to deal fairly, honestly, and reasonably with his soul. Dismiss from
your mind the common idea,--that of course all is right if you go to
church or to chapel. Cast away such vain notions for ever. You must look
further, higher, deeper than this, if you would find out the truth.
Listen to me, and I will give you a few hints. Believe me, it is no
light matter. It is your life.
(1) For one thing, if you would know whether your religion is real, try
it by _the place which it occupies_ in your inner man. It is not enough
that it is in your _head_. You may know the truth, and assent to the
truth, and believe the truth, and yet be wrong in God's sight.--It is
not enough that it is on your _lips_. You may repeat the creed daily.
You may say "Amen" to public prayer in church, and yet have nothing more
than an outward religion.--It is not enough that it is in your
_feelings_. You may weep under preaching one day, and be lifted to the
third heaven by joyous excitement another day, and yet be dead to
God.--Your religion, if it is real, and given by the Holy Ghost, must be
in your _heart_. It must occupy the citadel. It must hold the reins. It
must sway the affections. It must lead the will. It must direct the
tastes. It must influence the choices and decisions. It must fill the
deepest, lowest, inmost seat in your soul. Is this your religion? If
not, you may well doubt whether it is "_real_" and true. (Acts viii. 21;
Rom. x. 10.)
(2) In the next place, if you would know whether your religion is real,
try it by the _feelings towards sin_ which it produces. The Christianity
which is from the Holy Ghost will always have a very deep view of the
sinfulness of sin. It will not merely regard sin as a blemish and
misfortune, which makes men and women objects of pity and compassion. It
will see in sin the abominable thing which God hates, the thing which
makes man guilty and lost in his Maker's sight, the thing which deserves
God's wrath and condemnation. It will look on sin as the cause of all
sorrow and unhappiness, of strife and wars, of quarrels and contentions,
of sickness and death,--the blight which has blighted God's fair
creation, the cursed thing which makes the whole earth groan and travail
in pain. Above all, it will see in sin the thing which will ruin us
eternally, except we can find a ransom,--lead us captive, except we can
get its chains broken,--and destroy our happiness, both here and
hereafter, except we fight against it, even unto death. Is this your
religion? Are these your feelings about sin? If not, you may well doubt
whether your religion is "_real_."
(3) For another thing, if you would know whether your religion is real,
try it by the _feelings toward Christ_ which it produces. Nominal
religion may believe that such a person as Christ existed, and was a
great benefactor to mankind. It may show Him some external respect,
attend His outward ordinances, and bow the head at His name. But it will
go no further. Real religion will make a man glory in Christ, as the
Redeemer, the Deliverer, the Priest, the Friend, without whom he would
have no hope at all. It will produce confidence in Him, love towards
Him, delight in Him, comfort in Him, as the mediator, the food, the
light, the life, the peace of the soul. Is this your religion? Do you
know anything of feelings like these toward Jesus Christ? If not, you
may well doubt whether your religion is "_real_."
(4) For another thing, if you would know whether your religion is real,
try it by _the fruit it bears in your heart and life_. The Christianity
which is from above will always be known by its fruits. It will produce
in the man who has it repentance, faith, hope, charity, humility,
spirituality, kind temper, self-denial, unselfishness, forgivingness,
temperance, truthfulness, brotherly-kindness, patience, forbearance. The
degree in which these various graces appear may vary in different
believers. The germ and seeds of them will be found in all who are the
children of God. By their fruits they may be known. Is this your
religion? If not, you may well doubt whether it is "_real_."
(5) In the last place, if you would know whether your religion is real,
try it by your _feelings and habits about means of grace_. Prove it by
the Sunday. Is that day a season of weariness and constraint, or a
delight and a refreshment, and a sweet foretaste of the rest to come in
heaven?--Prove it by the public means of grace. What are your feelings
about public prayer and public praise, about the public preaching of
God's Word, and the administration of the Lord's Supper? Are they things
to which you give a cold assent, and tolerate them as proper and
correct? Or, are they things in which you take pleasure, and without
which you could not live happy?--Prove it, finally, by your feelings
about private means of grace. Do you find it essential to your comfort
to read the Bible regularly in private, and to speak to God in prayer?
Or, do you find these practices irksome, and either slur them over, or
neglect them altogether? These questions deserve your attention. If
means of grace, whether public or private, are not as necessary to your
soul as meat and drink are to your body, you may well doubt whether your
religion is "_real_."
I press on the attention of all my readers the five points which I have
just named. There is nothing like coming to particulars about these
matters. If you would know whether your religion is "real," genuine, and
true, measure it by the five particulars which I have now named. Measure
it fairly: test it honestly. If your heart is right in the sight of God,
you have no cause to flinch from examination. If it is wrong, the sooner
you find it out the better.
And now I have done what I proposed to do. I have shown from Scripture
the unspeakable importance of reality in religion, and the danger in
which many stand of being lost for ever, for want of it. I have given
five plain tests, by which a man may find out whether his Christianity
is real. I will conclude all by a direct application of the whole
subject to the souls of all who read this paper. I will draw my bow at a
venture, and trust that God will bring an arrow home to the hearts and
consciences of many.
(1) My first word of application shall be _an inquiry_. Is your own
religion real or unreal? genuine or base? I do not ask what you think
about others. Perhaps you may see many hypocrites around you. You may be
able to point to many who have no "reality" at all. This is not the
question. You may be right in your opinion about others. But I want to
know about yourself. Is your own Christianity real and true? or nominal
and base?
If you love life, do not turn away from the question which is now before
you. The time must come when the whole truth will be known. The judgment
day will reveal every man's religion, of what sort it is. The parable of
the wedding-garment will receive an awful fulfilment. Surely it is a
thousand times better to find out _now_ your condition, and to repent,
than to find it out too late in the next world, when there will be no
space for repentance. If you have common prudence, sense, and judgment,
consider what I say. Sit down quietly this day, and examine yourself.
Find out the real character of your religion. With the Bible in your
hand, and honesty in your heart, the thing may be known. Then resolve to
find out.
(2) My second word of application shall be a _warning_. I address it to
all who know, in their own consciences, that their religion is not real.
I ask them to remember the greatness of their danger, and their
exceeding guilt in the sight of God.
An unreal Christianity is specially offensive to that Great God with
whom we have to do. He is continually spoken of in Scripture as the God
of Truth. Truth is peculiarly one of His attributes. Can you doubt for a
moment that He abhors everything that is not genuine and true? Better, I
firmly believe, to be found an ignorant heathen at the last day, than to
be found with nothing better than a nominal religion. If your religion
is of this sort, beware!
An unreal Christianity is sure to fail a man at last. It will wear out;
it will break down; it will leave its possessor like a wreck on a
sandbank, high and dry and forsaken by the tide; it will supply no
comfort in the hour when comfort is most needed,--in the time of
affliction, and on the bed of death. If you want a religion to be of any
use to your soul, beware of unreality! If you would not be comfortless
in death, and hopeless in the judgment day, be genuine, be real, be
true.
(3) My third word of application shall be _advice_. I offer it to all
who feel pricked in conscience by the subject of this paper. I advise
them to cease from all trifling and playing with religion, and to become
honest, thorough-going, whole-hearted followers of the Lord Jesus
Christ.
Apply without delay to the Lord Jesus, and ask Him to become your
Saviour, your Physician, your Priest, and your Friend. Let not the
thought of your unworthiness keep you away: let not the recollection of
your sins prevent your application. Never, never forget that Christ can
cleanse you from any quantity of sins, if you only commit your soul to
Him. But one thing He does ask of those who come to Him: He asks them to
be real, honest, and true.
Let reality be one great mark of your approach to Christ, and there is
everything to give you hope. Your repentance may be feeble, but let it
be real; your faith may be weak, but let it be real; your desires after
holiness may be mingled with much infirmity, but let them be real. Let
there be nothing of reserve, of double-dealing, of part-acting of
dishonesty, of sham, of counterfeit, in your Christianity. Never be
content to wear a cloak of religion. Be all that you profess. Though you
may err, be real. Though you may stumble, be true. Keep this principle
continually before your eyes, and it will be well with your soul
throughout your journey from grace to glory.
(4) My last word of application shall be _encouragement_. I address it
to all who have manfully taken up the cross, and are honestly following
Christ. I exhort them to persevere, and not to be moved by difficulties
and opposition.
You may often find few with you, and many against you. You may often
hear hard things said of you. You may often be told that you go too far,
and that you are extreme. Heed it not. Turn a deaf ear to remarks of
this kind. Press on.
If there is anything which a man ought to do thoroughly, really, truly,
honestly, and with all his heart, it is the business of his soul. If
there is any work which he ought never to slur over, and do in a
slovenly fashion, it is the great work of "working out his own
salvation." (Phil. ii. 12.) Believer in Christ, remember this! Whatever
you do in religion, do it well. Be real. Be thorough. Be honest. Be
true.
If there is anything in the world of which a man need not be ashamed, it
is the service of Jesus Christ. Of sin, of worldliness, of levity, of
trifling, of time-wasting, of pleasure-seeking, of bad temper, of pride,
of making an idol of money, dress, dancing, hunting, shooting,
card-playing, novel-reading, and the like,--of all this a man may well
be ashamed. Living after this fashion he makes the angels sorrow, and
the devils rejoice. But of living for his soul,--caring for his
soul,--thinking of his soul,--providing for his soul,--making his soul's
salvation the principal and chief thing in his daily life,--of all this
a man has no cause to be ashamed at all. Believer in Christ, remember
this! Remember it in your Bible-reading and your private praying.
Remember it on your Sabbaths. Remember it in your worship of God. In all
these things never be ashamed of being whole-hearted, real, thorough,
and true.
The years of our life are fast passing away. Who knows but this year may
be the last in his life? Who can tell but that he may be called this
very year to meet his God? As ever you would be found ready, be a real
and true Christian. Do not be base metal.
The time is fast coming when nothing but reality will stand the fire.
Real repentance towards God,--real faith towards our Lord Jesus
Christ,--real holiness of heart and life,--these, these are the things
which will alone pass current at the last day. It is a solemn saying of
our Lord Jesus Christ, "Many shall say in that day, Lord, Lord, have we
not prophesied in Thy name, and in Thy name have cast out devils, and in
Thy name done many wonderful works? And then will I profess to them, I
never knew you. Depart from Me, ye that work iniquity." (Matt. vii. 22,
23.)
IV
PRAYER
"_Men ought always to pray._"--Luke xviii. 1.
"_I will that men pray everywhere._"--1 Tim. ii. 8.
Prayer is the most important subject in practical religion. All other
subjects are second to it. Reading the Bible, keeping the Sabbath,
hearing sermons, attending public worship, going to the Lord's
Table,--all these are very weighty matters. But none of them are so
important as private prayer.
I propose in this paper to offer seven plain reasons why I use such
strong language about prayer. I invite to these reasons the attention of
every thinking man into whose hands this paper may fall. I venture to
assert with confidence that they deserve serious consideration.
I. In the first place, _Prayer is absolutely needful to a man's
salvation_.
I say absolutely needful, and I say so advisedly. I am not speaking now
of infants and idiots. I am not settling the state of the heathen. I
remember that where little is given, there little will be required. I
speak especially of those who call themselves Christians, in a land like
our own. And of such I say no man or woman can expect to be saved who
does not pray.
I hold salvation by grace as strongly as any one. I would gladly offer a
free and full pardon to the greatest sinner that ever lived. I would not
hesitate to stand by his dying bed, and say, "Believe on the Lord Jesus
Christ even now, and you shall be saved." But that a man can have
salvation without _asking_ for it, I cannot see in the Bible. That a man
will receive pardon of his sins, who will not so much as lift up his
heart inwardly, and say, "Lord Jesus, give it to me," this I cannot
find. I can find that nobody will be saved by his prayers, but I cannot
find that without prayer anybody will be saved.
It is not absolutely needful to salvation that a man should _read_ the
Bible. A man may have no learning, or be blind, and yet have Christ in
his heart. It is not absolutely needful that a man should _hear_ the
public preaching of the Gospel. He may live where the Gospel is not
preached, or he may be bedridden, or deaf. But the same thing cannot be
said about prayer. It is absolutely needful to salvation that a man
should _pray_.
There is no royal road either to health or learning. Princes and kings,
poor men and peasants, all alike must attend to the wants of their own
bodies and their own minds. No man can eat, drink, or sleep by proxy. No
man can get the alphabet learned for him by another. All these are
things which everybody must do for himself, or they will not be done at
all.
Just as it is with the mind and body, so it is with the soul. There are
certain things absolutely needful to the soul's health and well-being.
Each one must attend to these things for himself. Each must repent for
himself. Each must apply to Christ for himself. And for himself each one
must speak to God and pray. You must do it for yourself, for by nobody
else can it be done.
How can we expect to be saved by an "unknown" God? And how can we know
God without prayer? We know nothing of men and women in this world,
unless we speak with them. We cannot know God in Christ, unless we speak
to Him in prayer. If we wish to be with Him in heaven, we must be His
friends on earth. If we wish to be His friends on earth, _we must pray_.
There will be many at Christ's right hand in the last day. The saints
gathered from North and South, and East and West, will be "a multitude
that no man can number." (Rev. vii. 9.) The song of victory that will
burst from their mouths, when their redemption is at length complete,
will be a glorious song indeed. It will be far above the noise of many
waters, and of mighty thunders. But there will be no discord in that
song. They that sing will sing with one heart as well as one voice.
Their experience will be one and the same. All will have believed. All
will have been washed in the blood of Christ. All will have been born
again. All will have prayed. Yes, we must pray on earth, or we shall
never praise in heaven. We must go through the school of prayer, or we
shall never be fit for the holiday of praise. In short, to be prayerless
is to be without God,--without Christ,--without grace,--without
hope,--and without heaven. It is to be in the road to hell.
II. In the second place, _a habit of prayer is one of the surest marks
of a true Christian_.
All the children of God on earth are alike in this respect. From the
moment there is any life and reality about their religion, they pray.
Just as the first sign of life in an infant when born into the world, is
the act of breathing, so the first act of men and women when they are
born again, is _praying_.
This is one of the common marks of all the elect of God: "They cry unto
Him day and night." (Luke xviii. 1.) The Holy Spirit, who makes them new
creatures, works in them the feeling of adoption, and makes them cry,
"Abba, Father." (Rom. viii. 15.) The Lord Jesus, when He quickens them,
gives them a voice and a tongue, and says to them, "Be dumb no more."
God has no dumb children. It is as much a part of their new nature to
pray, as it is of a child to cry. They see their need of mercy and
grace. They feel their emptiness and weakness. They cannot do otherwise
than they do. They _must_ pray.
I have looked carefully over the lives of God's saints in the Bible. I
cannot find one of whose history much is told us, from Genesis to
Revelation, who was not a man of prayer. I find it mentioned as a
characteristic of the godly, that "they call on the Father," that "they
call on the name of the Lord Jesus Christ." I find it recorded as a
characteristic of the wicked, that "they call not upon the Lord." (1
Peter i. 17; 1 Cor. i. 2; Psalm xiv. 4.)
I have read the lives of many eminent Christians who have been on earth
since the Bible days. Some of them, I see, were rich, and some poor.
Some were learned, and some unlearned. Some of them were Episcopalians,
some Presbyterians, some Baptists, some Independents. Some were
Calvinists, and some Arminians. Some have loved to use a liturgy, and
some to use none. But one thing, I see, they all had in common. They
have all been _men of prayer_.
I study the reports of Missionary Societies in our own times. I see with
joy that heathen men and women are receiving the Gospel in various parts
of the globe. There are conversions in Africa, in New Zealand, in
Hindostan, in America. The people converted are naturally unlike one
another in every respect. But one striking thing I observe at all the
Missionary stations. The converted people _always pray_.
I do not deny that a man may pray without heart, and without sincerity.
I do not for a moment pretend to say that the mere fact of a person
praying proves everything about his soul. As in every other part of
religion, so also in this, there is plenty of deception and hypocrisy.
But this I do say,--that not praying is a clear proof that a man is not
yet a true Christian. He cannot really feel his sins. He cannot love
God. He cannot feel himself a debtor to Christ. He cannot long after
holiness. He cannot desire heaven. He has yet to be born again. He has
yet to be made a new creature. He may boast confidently of election,
grace, faith, hope, and knowledge, and deceive ignorant people. But you
may rest assured it is all vain talk _if he does not pray_.
And I say furthermore, that of all the evidences of real work of the
Spirit, a habit of hearty private prayer is one of the most satisfactory
that can be named. A man may preach from false motives. A man may write
books, and make fine speeches, and seem diligent in good works, and yet
be a Judas Iscariot. But a man seldom goes into his closet, and pours
out his soul before God in secret, unless he is in earnest. The Lord
Himself has set His stamp on prayer as the best proof of a true
conversion. When He, sent Ananias to Saul in Damascus, He gave him no
other evidence of his change of heart than this,--"_Behold, he
prayeth_." (Acts ix. 11.)
I know that much may go on in a man's mind before he is brought to pray.
He may have many convictions, desires, wishes, feelings, intentions,
resolutions, hopes, and fears. But all these things are very uncertain
evidences. They are to be found in ungodly people, and often come to
nothing. In many a case they are not more lasting than "the morning
cloud, and the dew that goeth away." (Hos. vi. 4.) A real hearty prayer,
flowing from a broken and contrite spirit, is worth all these things put
together.
I know that the elect of God are chosen to salvation from all eternity.
I do not forget that the Holy Spirit, who calls them in due time, in
many instances leads them by very slow degrees to acquaintance with
Christ. But the eye of man can only judge by what it sees. I cannot
call any one justified until he believes. I dare not say that any one
believes until he prays. I cannot understand a dumb faith. The first act
of faith will be to speak to God. Faith is to the soul what life is to
the body. Prayer is to faith what breath is to life. How a man can live
and not breathe is past my comprehension, and how a man can believe and
not pray is past my comprehension too.
Let no one be surprised if he hears ministers of the Gospel dwelling
much on the importance of prayer. This is the point we want to bring you
to,--we want to know that you pray. Your views of doctrine may be
correct. Your love of Protestantism may be warm and unmistakeable. But
still this may be nothing more than head knowledge and party spirit. The
great point is this,--whether you can speak _to_ God as well as speak
_about_ God.
III. In the third place, _there is no duty in religion so neglected as
private prayer_.
We live in days of abounding religious profession. There are more places
of public worship now than there ever were before. There are more
persons attending them than there ever have been since England was a
nation. And yet in spite of all this public religion, I believe there is
a vast neglect of private prayer.
I should not have said so a few years ago. I once thought, in my
ignorance, that most people said their prayers, and many people prayed.
I have lived to think differently. I have come to the conclusion that
the great majority of professing Christians do not pray at all.
I know this sounds very shocking, and will startle many. But I am
satisfied that prayer is just one of those things which is thought a
"matter of course," and, like many matters of course, is shamefully
neglected. It is "everybody's business;" and, as it often happens in
such cases, it is a business carried on by very few. It is one of those
private transactions between God and our souls which no eye sees, and
therefore one which there is every temptation to pass over and leave
undone.
I believe that thousands _never say a word of prayer at all_. They eat;
they drink; they sleep; they rise; they go forth to their labour; they
return to their homes; they breathe God's air; they see God's sun; they
walk on God's earth; they enjoy God's mercies; they have dying bodies;
they have judgment and eternity before them. But they _never speak to
God_! They live like the beasts that perish; they behave like creatures
without souls; they have not a word to say to Him in whose hand are
their life, and breath, and all things, and from whose mouth they must
one day receive their everlasting sentence. How dreadful this seems! But
if the secrets of men were only known, how common!
I believe there are tens of thousands _whose prayers are nothing but a
mere form_,--a set of words repeated by rote, without a thought about
their meaning. Some say over a few hasty sentences picked up in the
nursery when they were children. Some content themselves with repeating
the Belief, forgetting that there is not a request in it. Some add the
Lord's Prayer, but without the slightest desire that its solemn
petitions may be granted. Some among the poor, even at this day, repeat
the old popish lines:--
"Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John,
Bless the bed that I lie on."
Many, even of those who use good forms, mutter their prayers over after
they have got into bed, or scramble over them while they wash or dress
in the morning. Men may think what they please, but they may depend that
in the sight of God _this is not praying_. Words said without heart are
as utterly useless to our souls as the drum-beating of the poor heathen
before their idols. Where there is _no heart_, there may be lip-work
and tongue-work, but there is nothing that God listens to,--there is _no
prayer_. Saul, I have no doubt, said many a long prayer before the Lord
met him on the way to Damascus. But it was not till his heart was broken
that the Lord said, "He prayeth."
Does this surprise any reader? Listen to me and I will show you that I
am not speaking as I do without reason. Do you think that my assertions
are extravagant and unwarrantable? Give me your attention, and I will
soon show you that I am only telling you the truth.
Have you forgotten that it is _not natural_ to any one to pray? The
carnal mind is enmity against God. The desire of man's heart is to get
far away from God, and to have nothing to do with Him. His feeling
toward Him is not love but fear. Why then should a man pray when he has
no real sense of sin, no real feeling of spiritual wants,--no thorough
belief in unseen things,--no desire after holiness and heaven? Of all
these things the vast majority of men know and feel nothing. The
multitude walk in the broad way. I cannot forget this. Therefore I say
boldly, I believe that few pray.
Have you forgotten that it is _not fashionable_ to pray? It is just one
of the things that many would be rather ashamed to own. There are
hundreds who would sooner storm a breach, or lead a forlorn hope, than
confess publicly that they make a habit of prayer. There are thousands
who, if obliged by chance to sleep in the same room with a stranger,
would lie down in bed without a prayer. To ride well, to shoot well, to
dress well, to go to balls, and concerts, and theatres, to be thought
clever and agreeable,--all this is fashionable, but not to pray. I
cannot forget this. I cannot think a habit is common which so many seem
ashamed to own. I believe that few pray.
Have you forgotten _the lives that many live_? Can we really suppose
that people are praying against sin night and day, when we see them
plunging right into it? Can we suppose they pray against the world, when
they are entirely absorbed and taken up with its pursuits? Can we think
they really ask God for grace to serve Him, when they do not show the
slightest desire to serve Him at all? Oh, no! It is plain as daylight
that the great majority of men either ask nothing of God, or _do not
mean what they say_ when they do ask,--which is just the same thing.
Praying and sinning will never live together in the same heart. Prayer
will consume sin, or sin will choke prayer. I cannot forget this. I look
at men's lives. I believe that few pray.
Have you forgotten _the deaths that many die_? How many, when they draw
near death, seem entirely strangers to God. Not only are they sadly
ignorant of His Gospel, but sadly wanting in the power of speaking to
Him. There is a terrible awkwardness, and shyness, and newness, and
rawness, in their endeavours to approach Him. They seem to be taking up
a fresh thing. They appear as if they wanted an introduction to God, and
as if they had never talked with Him before. I remember having heard of
a lady who was anxious to have a minister to visit her in her last
illness. She desired that he would pray with her. He asked her what he
should pray for. She did not know and could not tell. She was utterly
unable to name any one thing which she wished him to ask God for her
soul. All she seemed to want was the form of a minister's prayers. I can
quite understand this. Death-beds are great revealers of secrets. I
cannot forget what I have seen of sick and dying people. This also leads
me to believe that few pray.
IV. In the fourth place, _prayer is that act in religion to which there
is the greatest encouragement_.
There is everything on God's part to make prayer easy, if men will only
attempt it. "All things are ready" on His side. (Luke xiv. 17.) Every
objection is anticipated. Every difficulty is provided for. The crooked
places are made straight, and the rough places are made smooth. There is
no excuse left for the prayerless man.
There is _a way_ by which any man, however sinful and unworthy, may draw
near to God the Father. Jesus Christ has opened that way by the
sacrifice He made for us upon the cross. The holiness and justice of God
need not frighten sinners and keep them back. Only let them cry to God
in the name of Jesus,--only let them plead the atoning blood of
Jesus,--and they shall find God upon a throne of grace, willing and
ready to hear. The name of Jesus is a never-failing passport to our
prayers. In that name a man may draw near to God with boldness, and ask
with confidence. God has engaged to hear him. Think of this. Is not this
encouragement?
There is _an advocate_ and intercessor always waiting to present the
prayers of those who will employ Him. That advocate is Jesus Christ. He
mingles our prayers with the incense of His own almighty intercession.
So mingled they go up as a sweet savour before the throne of God. Poor
as they are in themselves, they are mighty and powerful in the hand of
our High Priest and elder brother. The bank-note without a signature at
the bottom is nothing but a worthless piece of paper. A few strokes of a
pen confer on it all its value. The prayer of a poor child of Adam is a
feeble thing in itself, but once endorsed by the hand of the Lord Jesus
it availeth much. There was an officer in the city of Rome who was
appointed to have his doors always open, in order to receive any Roman
citizen who applied to him for help. Just so the ear of the Lord Jesus
is ever open to the cry of all who want mercy and grace. It is His
office to help them. Their prayer is His delight. Think of this. Is not
this encouragement?
There is _the Holy Spirit_ ever ready to help our infirmities in prayer.
It is one part of His special office to assist us in our endeavours to
speak to God. We need not be cast down and distressed by the fear of not
knowing what to say. The Spirit will give us words if we will only seek
His aid. He will supply us with "thoughts that breathe and words that
burn." The prayers of the Lord's people are the inspiration of the
Lord's Spirit,--the work of the Holy Ghost who dwells within them as the
Spirit of grace and supplications. Surely the Lord's people may well
hope to be heard. It is not they merely that pray, but the Holy Ghost
pleading in them. (Rom. viii. 26.) Think of this. Is not this
encouragement?
There are exceeding great and precious _promises_ to those who pray.
What did the Lord Jesus mean when He spoke such words as these, "Ask,
and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall
be opened unto you: for every one that asketh receiveth; and he that
seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened." (Matt.
vii. 7, 8.) "All things, whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer believing, ye
shall receive." (Matt. xxi. 22.) "Whatsoever ye shall ask in my name,
that will I do, that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If ye shall
ask any thing in my name, I will do it." (John xiv. 13, 14.) What did
the Lord mean when He spoke the parables of the friend at midnight and
the importunate widow? (Luke xi. 5, and xviii. 1.) Think over these
passages. If this is not encouragement to pray, words have no meaning at
all.
There are wonderful _examples_ in Scripture of the power of prayer.
Nothing seems to be too great, too hard, or too difficult for prayer to
do. It has obtained things that seemed impossible and out of reach. It
has won victories over fire, air, earth, and water. Prayer opened the
Red Sea. Prayer brought water from the rock and bread from heaven.
Prayer made the sun stand still. Prayer brought fire from the sky on
Elijah's sacrifice. Prayer turned the counsel of Ahithophel into
foolishness. Prayer overthrew the army of Sennacherib. Well might Mary,
Queen of Scots, say, "I fear John Knox's prayers more than an army of
ten thousand men." Prayer has healed the sick. Prayer has raised the
dead. Prayer has procured the conversion of souls. "The child of many
prayers," said an old Christian to Augustine's mother, "shall never
perish." Prayer, pains, and faith can do anything. Nothing seems
impossible when a man has the Spirit of adoption. "Let me alone," is the
remarkable saying of God to Moses, when Moses was about to intercede for
the children of Israel. (Exod. xxxii. 10.) The Chaldee version has it
"Leave off praying." So long as Abraham asked mercy for Sodom, the Lord
went on giving. He never ceased to give till Abraham ceased to pray.
Think of this. Is not this encouragement?
What more can a man want to lead him to take any step in religion than
the things I have just told him about prayer? What more could be done to
make the path to the mercy-seat easy, and to remove all occasions of
stumbling from the sinner's way? Surely if the devils in hell had such a
door set open before them they would leap for gladness, and make the
very pit ring with joy.
But where will the man hide his head at last who neglects such glorious
encouragements? What can be possibly said for the man who after all dies
without prayer? God forbid that any reader of this paper should be that
man.
V. In the fifth place, _diligence in prayer is the secret of eminent
holiness_.
Without controversy there is a vast difference among true Christians.
There is an immense interval between the foremost and the hindermost in
the army of God.
They are all fighting the same good fight;--but how much more valiantly
some fight than others! They are all doing the Lord's work;--but how
much more some do than others! They are all light in the Lord;--but how
much more brightly some shine than others! They are all running the same
race;--but how much faster some get on than others! They all love the
same Lord and Saviour;--but how much more some love Him than others! I
ask any true Christian whether this is not the case. Are not these
things so?
There are some of the Lord's people who seem _never able to get on_ from
the time of their conversion. They are born again, but they remain
babies all their lives. They are learners in Christ's school, but they
never seem to get beyond A B C, and the lowest form. They have got
inside the fold, but there they lie down and get no further. Year after
year you see in them the same old besetting sins. You hear from them the
same old experience. You remark in them the same want of spiritual
appetite,--the same squeamishness about anything but the milk of the
Word, and the same dislike to strong meat,--the same childishness,--the
same feebleness,--the same littleness of mind,--the same narrowness of
heart,--the same want of interest in anything beyond their own little
circle, which you remarked ten years ago. They are pilgrims indeed, but
pilgrims like the Gibeonites of old;--their bread is always dry and
mouldy,--their shoes always old and clouted, and their garments always
rent and torn. (Josh. ix. 4, 5.) I say this with sorrow and grief. But I
ask any real Christian, Is it not true?
There are others of the Lord's people who seem to be _always getting
on_. They grow like the grass after rain. They increase like Israel in
Egypt. They press on like Gideon,--though sometimes "faint, yet always
pursuing." (Judges viii. 4.) They are ever adding grace to grace, and
faith to faith, and strength to strength. Every time you meet them
their hearts seem larger, and their spiritual stature bigger, taller,
and stronger. Every year they appear to see more, and know more, and
believe more, and feel more in their religion. They not only have good
works to prove the reality of their faith, but they are _zealous_ of
them. They not only do well, but they are _unwearied_, in well-doing.
(Titus ii. 14; Gal. vi. 9.) They attempt great things, and they do great
things. When they fail they try again, and when they fall they are soon
up again. And all this time they think themselves poor unprofitable
servants, and fancy they do nothing at all!--These are those who make
religion lovely and beautiful in the eyes of all. They wrest praise even
from the unconverted, and win golden opinions even from the selfish men
of the world. These are those whom it does one good to see, to be with,
and to hear. When you meet them, you could believe that, like Moses,
they had just come out from the presence of God. When you part with them
you feel warmed by their company, as if your soul had been near a fire.
I know such people are rare. I only ask, Is it not so?
Now, how can we account for the difference which I have just described?
What is the reason that some believers are so much brighter and holier
than others? I believe the difference, in nineteen cases out of twenty,
arises from different habits about private prayer. I believe that those
who are not eminently holy pray _little_, and those who are eminently
holy pray _much_.
I daresay this opinion will startle some readers. I have little doubt
that many look on eminent holiness as a kind of special gift, which none
but a few must pretend to aim at. They admire it at a distance, in
books: they think it beautiful when they see an example near themselves.
But as to its being a thing within the reach of any but a very few, such
a notion never seems to enter their minds. In short, they consider it a
kind of monopoly granted to a few favoured believers, but certainly not
to all.
Now I believe that this is a most dangerous mistake. I believe that
spiritual, as well as natural, greatness, depends far more on the use of
means within everybody's reach, than on anything else. Of course I do
not say we have a right to expect a miraculous grant of intellectual
gifts. But this I do say, that when a man is once converted to God,
whether he shall be eminently holy or not depends chiefly on his own
diligence in the use of God's appointed means. And I assert confidently,
that the principal means by which most believers have become great in
the Church of Christ is the habit of _diligent private prayer_.
Look through the lives of the brightest and best of God's servants,
whether in the Bible or not. See what is written of Moses, and David,
and Daniel, and Paul. Mark what is recorded of Luther and Bradford, the
Reformers. Observe what is related of the private devotions of
Whitfield, and Cecil, and Venn, and Bickersteth, and M'Cheyne. Tell me
of one of all the goodly fellowship of saints and martyrs, who has not
had this mark most prominently,--he was _a man of prayer_. Oh, depend
upon it, prayer is power!
Prayer obtains fresh and continued outpourings of the Spirit. He alone
begins the work of grace in a man's heart: He alone can carry it forward
and make it prosper. But the good Spirit loves to be entreated. And
those who ask most, will always have most of His influence.
Prayer is the surest remedy against the devil and besetting sins. That
sin will never stand firm which is heartily prayed against: that devil
will never long keep dominion over us which we beseech the Lord to cast
forth. But, then, we must spread out all our case before our Heavenly
Physician, if He is to give us daily relief: we must drag our
indwelling devils to the feet of Christ, and cry to Him to send them
back to the pit.
Do we wish to grow in grace and be very holy Christians? Then let us
never forget the value of prayer.
VI. In the sixth place, _neglect of prayer is one great cause of
backsliding_.
There is such a thing as going back in religion, after making a good
profession. Men may run well for a season, like the Galatians, and then
turn aside after false teachers. Men may profess loudly, while their
feelings are warm, as Peter did; and then, in the hour of trial, deny
their Lord. Men may lose their first love, as the Ephesians did. Men may
cool down in their zeal to do good, like Mark, the companion of Paul.
Men may follow an apostle for a season, and then, like Demas, go back to
the world.--All these things men may do.
It is a miserable thing to be a backslider. Of all unhappy things that
can befall a man, I suppose it is the worst. A stranded ship, a
broken-winged eagle, a garden overrun with weeds, a harp without
strings, a church in ruins,--all these are sad sights; but a backslider
is a sadder sight still. That true grace shall never be extinguished,
and true union with Christ never be broken off, I feel no doubt. But I
do believe that a man may fall away so far that he shall lose sight of
his own grace, and despair of his own salvation. And if this is not
hell, it is certainly the next thing to it! A wounded conscience, a mind
sick of itself, a memory full of self-reproach, a heart pierced through
with the Lord's arrows, a spirit broken with a load of inward
accusation,--all this is _a taste of hell_. It is a hell on earth. Truly
that saying of the wise man is solemn and weighty,--"The backslider in
heart shall be filled with his own ways." (Prov. xiv. 14.)
Now, what is the cause of most backsliding? I believe, as a general
rule, one of the chief causes is neglect of private prayer. Of course
the secret history of falls will not be known till the last day. I can
only give my opinion as a minister of Christ and a student of the heart.
That opinion is, I repeat distinctly, that backsliding generally first
begins with _neglect of private prayer_.
Bibles read without prayer, sermons heard without prayer, marriages
contracted without prayer, journeys undertaken without prayer,
residences chosen without prayer, friendships formed without prayer, the
daily act of private prayer itself hurried over or gone through without
heart,--these are the kind of downward steps by which many a Christian
descends to a condition of spiritual palsy, or reaches the point where
God allows him to have a tremendous fall.
This is the process which forms the lingering Lots, the unstable
Samsons, the wife-idolizing Solomons, the inconsistent Asas, the pliable
Jehoshaphats, the over-careful Marthas, of whom so many are to be found
in the Church of Christ. Often the simple history of such cases is
this,--they became _careless about private prayer_.
We may be very sure that men fall in private long before they fall in
public. They are backsliders on their knees long before they backslide
openly in the eyes of the world. Like Peter, they first disregard the
Lord's warning to watch and pray; and then, like Peter, their strength
is gone, and in the hour of temptation they deny their Lord.
The world takes notice of their fall, and scoffs loudly. But the world
knows nothing of the real reason. The heathen succeeded in making
Origen, the old Christian Father, offer incense to an idol, by
threatening him with a punishment worse than death. They then triumphed
greatly at the sight of his cowardice and apostacy. But the heathen did
not know the fact, which Origen himself tells us, that on that very
morning he had left his bedchamber hastily, and without finishing his
usual prayers.
If any reader of this paper is a Christian indeed I trust he will never
be a backslider. But if you do not wish to be a backsliding Christian,
remember the hint I give you,--Mind your prayers.
VII. In the seventh place, _prayer is one of the best receipts for
happiness and contentment_.
We live in a world where sorrow abounds. This has always been its state
since sin came in. There cannot be sin without sorrow. And till sin is
driven out from the world it is vain for any one to suppose he can
escape sorrow.
Some, without doubt, have a larger cup of sorrow to drink than others.
But few are to be found who live long without sorrows or cares of one
sort or another. Our bodies, our property, our families, our children,
our relations, our servants, our friends, our neighbours, our worldly
callings,--each and all of these are fountains of care. Sicknesses,
deaths, losses, disappointments, partings, separations, ingratitude,
slander,--all these are common things. We cannot get through life
without them. Some day or other they find us out. The greater are our
affections, the deeper are our afflictions; and the more we love, the
more we have to weep.
And what is the best receipt for cheerfulness in such a world as this?
How shall we get through this valley of tears with least pain? I know no
better receipt than the habit of _taking everything to God in prayer_.
This is the plain advice that the Bible gives, both in the Old Testament
and the New. What says the Psalmist? "Call upon Me in the day of
trouble: I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify Me." (Psalm l. 15.)
"Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and He shall sustain thee: He shall
never suffer the righteous to be moved." (Psalm lv. 22.) What says the
Apostle Paul? "Be careful for nothing; but in everything by prayer and
supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto
God. And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep
your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus." (Phil. iv. 6, 7.) What says
the Apostle James? "Is any afflicted among you? let him pray." (James v.
13.)
This was the practice of all the saints whose history we have recorded
in the Scriptures. This is what Jacob did, when he feared his brother
Esau. This is what Moses did, when the people were ready to stone him in
the wilderness. This is what Joshua did, when Israel was defeated before
Ai. This is what David did, when he was in danger at Keliah. This is
what Hezekiah did, when he received the letter from Sennacherib. This is
what the Church did, when Peter was put in prison. This is what Paul
did, when he was cast into the dungeon at Philippi.
The only way to be really happy, in such a world as this is to be ever
casting all our cares on God. It is the trying to carry their own
burdens which so often makes believers sad. If they will only tell their
troubles to God He will enable them to bear them as easily as Samson did
the gates of Gaza. If they are resolved to keep them to themselves they
will find one day that the very grasshopper is a burden. (Eccles. xii.
5.)
There is a friend ever waiting to help us, if we will only unbosom to
Him our sorrow,--a friend who pitied the poor, and sick, and sorrowful,
when He was upon earth,--a friend who knows the heart of a man, for He
lived thirty-three years as a man amongst us,--a friend who can weep
with the weepers, for He was a man of sorrows and acquainted with
grief,--a friend who is able to help us, for there never was earthly
pain He could not cure. That friend is Jesus Christ. The way to be happy
is to be always opening our hearts to Him. Oh, that we were all like
that poor Christian negro, who only answered, when threatened and
punished, "_I must tell the Lord_."
Jesus can make those happy who trust Him and call on Him, whatever be
their outward condition. He can give them peace of heart in a
prison,--contentment in the midst of poverty,--comfort in the midst of
bereavements,--joy on the brink of the grave. There is a mighty fulness
in Him for all His believing members,--a fulness that is ready to be
poured out on every one who will ask in prayer. Oh, that men would
understand that happiness does not depend on outward circumstances, but
on the state of the heart!
Prayer can lighten crosses for us however heavy. It can bring down to
our side One who will help us to bear them.--Prayer can open a door for
us when our way seems hedged up. It can bring down One who will say,
"This is the way, walk in it."--Prayer can let in a ray of hope, when
all our earthly prospects seem darkened. It can bring down One who will
say, "I will never leave thee nor forsake thee."--Prayer can obtain
relief for us when those we love most are taken away, and the world
feels empty. It can bring down One who can fill the gap in our hearts
with Himself, and say to the waves within, "Peace: be still!" Oh, that
men were not so like Hagar in the wilderness, blind to the well of
living waters close beside them! (Gen. xxi. 19.)
I want the readers of this paper to be really happy Christians. I am
certain I cannot urge on them a more important duty than prayer.
And now it is high time for me to bring this paper to an end. I trust I
have brought before my readers things that will be seriously considered.
I heartily pray God that this consideration may be blessed to their
souls.
(1) Let me speak a parting word _to those who do not pray_. I dare not
suppose that all who read these pages will be praying people. If you are
a prayerless person, suffer me to speak to you this day on God's behalf.
Prayerless friend, I can only warn you; but I do warn you most solemnly.
I warn you that you are in a position of fearful danger. If you die in
your present state you are a lost soul. You will only rise again to be
eternally miserable. I warn you that of all professing Christians you
are most utterly without excuse. There is not a single good reason that
you can show for living without prayer.
It is useless to say you _know not how_ to pray. Prayer is the simplest
act in all religion. It is simply speaking to God. It needs neither
learning, nor wisdom, nor book-knowledge to begin it. It needs nothing
but heart and will. The weakest infant can cry when he is hungry. The
poorest beggar can hold out his hand for an alms, and does not wait to
find fine words. The most ignorant man will find something to say to
God, if he has only a mind.
It is useless to say you have _no convenient place_ to pray in. Any man
can find a place private enough, if he is disposed. Our Lord prayed on a
mountain; Peter on the house-top; Isaac in the field; Nathanael under
the fig-tree; Jonah in the whale's belly. Any place may become a closet,
an oratory, and a Bethel, and be to us the presence of God.
It is useless to say _you have no time_. There is plenty of time, if men
will only employ it. Time may be short, but time is always long enough
for prayer. Daniel had all the affairs of a kingdom on his hands, and
yet he prayed three times a day. David was ruler over a mighty nation,
and yet he says, "Evening and morning and at noon will I pray." (Psalm
lv. 17.) When time is really wanted, time can always be found.
It is useless to say you _cannot pray till you have faith and a new
heart_, and that you must sit still and wait for them. This is to add
sin to sin. It is bad enough to be unconverted and going to hell. It is
even worse to say, "I know it, but I will not cry for mercy." This is a
kind of argument for which there is no warrant in Scripture. "Call ye
upon the Lord," saith Isaiah, "while He is near." (Isaiah lv. 6.) "Take
with you words, and come unto the Lord," says Hosea. (Hosea xiv. 1.)
"Repent and pray," says Peter to Simon Magus. (Acts viii. 22.) If you
want faith and a new heart, go and cry to the Lord for them. The very
attempt to pray has often been the quickening of a dead soul. Alas,
there is no devil so dangerous as a dumb devil.
Oh, prayerless man, who and what are you that you will not ask anything
of God? Have you made a covenant with death and hell? Are you at peace
with the worm and the fire? Have you no sins to be pardoned? Have you no
fear of eternal torment? Have you no desire after heaven? Oh, that you
would awake from your present folly! Oh, that you would consider your
latter end! Oh, that you would arise and call upon God! Alas, there is a
day coming when men shall pray loudly, "Lord, Lord, open to us," but all
too late;--when many shall cry to the rocks to fall on them, and the
hills to cover them, who would never cry to God. In all affection I warn
you. Beware lest this be the end of your soul. Salvation is very near
you. Do not lose heaven for want of asking.
(2) Let me speak in the next place _to those who have real desires for
salvation_, but know not what steps to take or where to begin. I cannot
but hope that some readers may be in this state of mind, and if there be
but one such I must offer him encouragement and advice.
In every journey there must be a first step. There must be a change from
sitting still to moving forward. The journeyings of Israel from Egypt to
Canaan were long and wearisome. Forty years passed away before they
crossed Jordan. Yet there was someone who moved first when they marched
from Rameses to Succoth. When does a man really take his first step in
coming out from sin and the world? He does it in the day when he first
prays with his heart.
In every building the first stone must be laid, and the first blow must
be struck. The ark was 120 years in building. Yet there was a day when
Noah laid his axe to the first tree he cut down to form it. The temple
of Solomon was a glorious building. But there was a day when the first
huge stone was laid at the foot of Mount Moriah. When does the building
of the Spirit really begin to appear in a man's heart? It begins, so far
as we can judge, when he first pours out his heart to God in prayer.
If any reader of this paper desires salvation, and wants to know what to
do, I advise him to go this very day to the Lord Jesus Christ, in the
first private place he can find, and entreat Him in prayer to save his
soul.
Tell Him that you have heard that He receives sinners, and has said,
"Him that cometh unto Me I will in nowise cast out." (John vi. 37.) Tell
Him that you are a poor vile sinner, and that you come to Him on the
faith of His own invitation. Tell Him you put yourself wholly and
entirely in His hands,--that you feel vile and helpless, and hopeless in
yourself,--and that except He saves you, you have no hope to be saved at
all. Beseech Him to deliver you from the guilt, the power, and the
consequences of sin. Beseech Him to pardon you and wash you in His own
blood. Beseech Him to give you a new heart, and plant the Holy Spirit in
your soul. Beseech Him to give you grace, and faith, and will, and power
to be His disciple and servant from this day for ever. Yes: go this very
day, and tell these things to the Lord Jesus Christ, if you really are
in earnest about your soul.
Tell Him in your own way and your own words. If a doctor came to see you
when sick you could tell him where you felt pain. If your soul really
feels its disease you can surely find something to tell Christ.
Doubt not His willingness to save you, because you are a sinner. It is
Christ's office to save sinners. He says Himself, "I came not to call
the righteous, but sinners to repentance." (Luke v. 32.)
Wait not, because you feel unworthy. Wait for nothing: wait for nobody.
Waiting comes from the devil. Just as you are, go to Christ. The worse
you are, the more need you have to apply to Him. You will never mend
yourself by staying away.
Fear not because your prayer is stammering, your words feeble, and your
language poor. Jesus can understand you. Just as a mother understands
the first babblings of her infant, so does the blessed Saviour
understand sinners. He can read a sigh, and see a meaning in a groan.
Despair not, because you do not get an answer immediately. While you are
speaking, Jesus is listening. If He delays an answer, it is only for
wise reasons, and to try if you are in earnest. Pray on, and the answer
will surely come. Though it tarry, wait for it: it will surely come at
last.
If you have any desire to be saved, remember the advice I have given you
this day. Act upon it honestly and heartily, and you shall be saved.
(3) Let me speak, lastly, _to those who do pray_. I trust that some who
read this paper know well what prayer is, and have the Spirit of
adoption. To all such I offer a few words of brotherly counsel and
exhortation. The incense offered in the tabernacle was ordered to be
made in a particular way. Not every kind of incense would do. Let us
remember this, and be careful about the matter and manner of our
prayers.
If I know anything of a Christian's heart, you to whom I now speak are
often sick of your own prayers. You never enter into the Apostle's
words, "When I would do good, evil is present with me" (Rom. vii. 21),
so thoroughly as you sometimes do upon your knees. You can understand
David's words, "I hate vain thoughts." You can sympathize with that poor
converted Hottentot, who was overheard praying, "Lord, deliver me from
all my enemies; and, above all, from that bad man myself!"--There are
few children of God who do not often find the season of prayer a season
of conflict. The devil has special wrath against us when he sees us on
our knees. Yet I believe that prayers which cost us no trouble should be
regarded with great suspicion. I believe we are very poor judges of the
goodness of our prayers, and that the prayer which pleases us _least_
often pleases God _most_. Suffer me then, as a companion in the
Christian warfare, to offer you a few words of exhortation. One thing,
at least, we all feel,--we must pray. We cannot give it up: we must go
on.
(_a_) I commend, then, to your attention the importance of _reverence
and humility_ in prayer. Let us never forget what we are, and what a
solemn thing it is to speak with God. Let us beware of rushing into His
presence with carelessness and levity. Let us say to ourselves, "I am on
holy ground. This is no other than the gate of heaven. If I do not mean
what I say, I am trifling with God. If I regard iniquity in my heart,
the Lord will not hear me." Let us keep in mind the words of Solomon:
"Be not rash with thy mouth, and let not thine heart be hasty to utter
anything before God; for God is in heaven, and thou on earth." (Eccles.
v. 2.) When Abraham spoke to God, he said, "I am dust and ashes." When
Job spoke, he said, "I am vile." (Gen. xviii. 27; Job xl. 4.) Let us do
likewise.
(_b_) I commend to you, in the next place, the importance of praying
_spiritually_. I mean by this that we should labour always to have the
direct help of the Spirit in our prayers, and beware above all things of
formality. There is nothing so spiritual but that it may become a form,
and this is specially true of private prayer. We may insensibly get into
the habit of using the fittest possible words, and offering the most
Scriptural petitions; and yet we may do it all by rote, without feeling
it, and walk daily round an old beaten path, like a horse in a mill. I
desire to touch this point with caution and delicacy. I know that there
are certain great things we daily want, and that there is nothing
necessarily formal in asking for these things in the same words. The
world, the devil, and our hearts, are daily the same. Of necessity we
must daily go over old ground. But this I say,--we must be very careful
on this point. If the skeleton and outline of our prayers be by habit
almost a form, let us strive that the clothing and filling up of our
prayers be as far as possible of the Spirit. As to praying out of a
book, it is a habit I cannot praise. If we can tell our doctors the
state of our bodies without a book, we ought to be able to tell the
state of our souls to God. I have no objection to a man using crutches,
when he is first recovering from a broken limb. It is better to use
crutches than not to walk at all. But if I saw him all his life on
crutches, I should not think it matter for congratulation. I should like
to see him strong enough to throw his crutches away.
(_c_) I commend to you, in the next place, the importance of making
prayer _a regular business of life_. I might say something of the value
of regular times in the day for prayer. God is a God of order. The hours
for morning and evening sacrifice in the Jewish temple were not fixed as
they were without a meaning. Disorder is eminently one of the fruits of
sin. But I would not bring any under bondage. This only I say, that it
is essential to your soul's health to make praying a part of the
business of every twenty-four hours in your life. Just as you allot time
to eating, sleeping, and business, so also allot time to prayer. Choose
your own hours and seasons. At the very least, speak with God in the
morning, before you speak with the world; and speak with God at night,
after you have done with the world. But settle it down in your minds
that prayer is one of the great things of every day. Do not drive it
into a corner. Do not give it the scraps, and leavings, and parings of
your day. Whatever else you make a business of, make a business of
prayer.
(_d_) I commend to you, in the next place, the importance of
_perseverance_ in prayer. Once having begun the habit, never give it up.
Your heart will sometimes say, "We have had family prayers; what mighty
harm if we leave private prayer undone?"--Your body will sometimes say,
"You are unwell, or sleepy, or weary; you need not pray."--Your mind
will sometimes say, "You have important business to attend to to-day;
cut short your prayers." Look on all such suggestions as coming direct
from the devil. They are all as good as saying, "Neglect your soul." I
do not maintain that prayers should always be of the same length;--but I
do say, let no excuse make you give up prayer. It is not for nothing
that Paul said, "Continue in prayer," and "Pray without ceasing."
(Colos. iv. 2; 1 Thess. v. 7.) He did not mean that men should be always
on their knees, as an old sect, called the Euchitae, supposed. But he did
mean that our prayers should be like the continual burnt offering,--a
thing steadily persevered in every day;--that it should be like
seed-time and harvest, and summer and winter,--a thing that should
unceasingly come round at regular seasons;--that it should be like the
fire on the altar, not always consuming sacrifices, but never completely
going out. Never forget that you may tie together morning and evening
devotions by an endless chain of short ejaculatory prayers throughout
the day. Even in company, or business, or in the very streets, you may
be silently sending up little winged messengers to God, as Nehemiah did
in the very presence of Artaxerxes. (Neh. ii. 4.) And never think that
time is wasted which is given to God. A nation does not become poorer
because it loses one year of working days in seven by keeping the
Sabbath. A Christian never finds he is a loser in the long run by
persevering in prayer.
(_e_) I commend to you, in the next place, the importance of
_earnestness_ in prayer. It is not necessary that a man should shout,
or scream, or be very loud, in order to prove that he is in earnest. But
it is desirable that we should be hearty, and fervent, and warm, and ask
as if we were really interested in what we were doing. It is the
"effectual fervent" prayer that "availeth much," and not the cold,
sleepy, lazy, listless one. This is the lesson that is taught us by the
expressions used in Scripture about prayer. It is called, "crying,
knocking, wrestling, labouring, striving." This is the lesson taught us
by Scripture examples. Jacob is one. He said to the angel at Penuel, "I
will not let thee go, except thou bless me." (Gen. xxxii. 26.) Daniel is
another. Hear how he pleaded with God: "O Lord, hear; O Lord, forgive; O
Lord, hearken and do; defer not, for thine own sake, O my God." (Dan.
ix. 19.) Our Lord Jesus Christ is another. It is written of Him, "In the
days of His flesh He offered up prayer and supplication, with strong
crying and tears." (Heb. v. 7.) Alas, how unlike is this to many of our
supplications! How tame and lukewarm they seem by comparison! How truly
might God say to many of us, "You do not really want what you pray for!"
Let us try to amend this fault. Let us knock loudly at the door of
grace, like Mercy in "Pilgrim's Progress," as if we must perish unless
heard. Let us settle it down in our minds, that cold prayers are a
sacrifice without fire. Let us remember the story of Demosthenes, the
great orator, when one came to him, and wanted him to plead his cause.
He heard him without attention, while he told his story without
earnestness. The man saw this, and cried out with anxiety that it was
all true. "Ah!" said Demosthenes, "I believe you _now_."
(_f_) I commend to you, in the next place, the importance of _praying
with faith_. We should endeavour to believe that our prayers are always
heard, and that if we ask things according to God's will, we shall
always be answered. This is the plain command of our Lord Jesus Christ:
"Whatsoever things ye desire, when ye pray, believe that ye receive
them, and ye shall have them." (Mark xi. 24). Faith is to prayer what
the feather is to the arrow: without it prayer will not hit the mark. We
should cultivate the habit of pleading promises in our prayers. We
should take with us some promise, and say, "Lord, here is Thine own word
pledged. Do for us as Thou hast said." (2 Sam. vii. 25.) This was the
habit of Jacob, and Moses, and David. The 119th Psalm is full of things
asked, "according to Thy word." Above all, we should cultivate the habit
of expecting answers to our prayers. We should do like the merchant who
sends his ships to sea. We should not be satisfied unless we see some
return. Alas, there are few points on which Christians come short so
much as this. The Church at Jerusalem made prayer without ceasing for
Peter in prison; but when the prayer was answered, they would hardly
believe it. (Acts xii. 15.) It is a solemn saying of old Traill's,
"There is no surer mark of trifling in prayer, than when men are
careless what they get by prayer."
(_g_) I commend to you, in the next place, the importance of _boldness_
in prayer. There is an unseemly familiarity in some men's prayers, which
I cannot praise. But there is such a thing as a holy boldness, which is
exceedingly to be desired. I mean such boldness as that of Moses, when
he pleads with God not to destroy Israel: "Wherefore," says he, "should
the Egyptians speak and say, For mischief did He bring them out, to slay
them in the mountains? Turn from Thy fierce anger." (Exod. xxxii. 12.) I
mean such boldness as that of Joshua, when the children of Israel were
defeated before Ai: "What," says he, "wilt Thou do unto Thy great name?"
(Josh. vii. 9.) This is the boldness for which Luther was remarkable.
One who heard him praying said, "What a spirit,--what a confidence was
in his very expressions! With such a reverence he sued, as one begging
of God, and yet with such hope and assurance, as if he spake with a
loving father or friend." This is the boldness which distinguished
Bruce, a great Scotch divine of the 17th century. His prayers were said
to be "like bolts shot up into heaven." Here also I fear we sadly come
short. We do not sufficiently realize the believer's privileges. We do
not plead as often as we might, "Lord, are we not Thine own people? Is
it not for Thy glory that we should be sanctified? Is it not for Thine
honour that thy Gospel should increase?"
(_h_) I commend to you, in the next place, the importance of _fulness_
in prayer. I do not forget that our Lord warns us against the example of
the Pharisees, who for pretence made long prayers, and commands us, when
we pray, not to use vain repetitions. But I cannot forget, on the other
hand, that He has given His own sanction to large and long devotions, by
continuing all night in prayer to God. At all events we are not likely
in this day to err on the side of praying _too much_. Might it not
rather be feared that many believers in this generation pray _too
little_? Is not the actual amount of time that many Christians give to
prayer in the aggregate very small? I am afraid these questions cannot
be answered satisfactorily. I am afraid the private devotions of many
are most painfully scanty and limited,--just enough to prove they are
alive, and no more. They really seem to want little from God. They seem
to have little to confess, little to ask for, and little to thank Him
for. Alas, this is altogether wrong! Nothing is more common than to hear
believers complaining that they do not get on. They tell us that they do
not grow in grace, as they could desire. Is it not rather to be
suspected that many have quite as much grace as they ask for? Is it not
the true account of many, that they have little, because they ask
little? The cause of their weakness is to be found in their own stunted,
dwarfish, clipped, contracted, hurried, little, narrow, diminutive
prayers. _They have not because they ask not._ Oh, reader, we are not
straitened in Christ, but in ourselves. The Lord says, "Open thy mouth
wide, and I will fill it." But we are like the king of Israel who smote
on the ground thrice and stayed, when he ought to have smitten five or
six times. (Psalm lxxxi. 10; 2 Kings xiii. 18, 19.)
(_i_) I commend to you, in the next place, the importance of
_particularity_ in prayer. We ought not to be content with great general
petitions. We ought to specify our wants before the throne of grace. It
should not be enough to confess we are sinners. We should name the sins
of which our conscience tells us we are most guilty. It should not be
enough to ask for holiness. We should name the graces in which we feel
most deficient. It should not be enough to tell the Lord we are in
trouble. We should describe our trouble and all its peculiarities. This
is what Jacob did, when he feared his brother Esau. He tells God exactly
what it is that he fears. (Gen. xxxii. 11.) This is what Eliezer did,
when he sought a wife for his master's son. He spreads before God
precisely what he wants. (Gen. xxiv. 12.) This is what Paul did, when he
had a thorn in the flesh. He besought the Lord. (2 Cor. xii. 8.) This is
true faith and confidence. We should believe that nothing is too small
to be named before God. What should we think of the patient who told his
doctor he was ill, but never went into particulars? What should we think
of the wife who told her husband she was unhappy, but did not specify
the cause? What should we think of the child who told his father he was
in trouble, but nothing more? Let us never forget that Christ is the
true bridegroom of the soul,--the true physician of the heart,--the
real father of all His people. Let us show that we feel this, by being
unreserved in our communications with Him. Let us hide no secrets from
Him. Let us tell Him all our hearts.
(_j_) I commend to you, in the next place, the importance of
_intercession_ in our prayers. We are all selfish by nature, and our
selfishness is very apt to stick to us, even when we are converted.
There is a tendency in us to think only of our own souls,--our own
spiritual conflict,--our own progress in religion, and to forget others.
Against this tendency we have all need to watch and strive, and not
least in our prayers. We should study to be of a public spirit. We
should stir ourselves up to name other names beside our own before the
throne of grace. We should try to bear in our hearts the whole
world,--the heathen,--the Jews,--the Roman Catholics,--the body of true
believers,--the professing Protestant Churches,--the country in which we
live,--the congregation to which we belong,--the household in which we
sojourn,--the friends and relations we are connected with. For each and
all of these we should plead. This is the highest charity. He loves me
best who loves me in his prayers. This is for our soul's health. It
enlarges our sympathies and expands our hearts. This is for the benefit
of the Church. The wheels of all machinery for extending the Gospel are
oiled by prayer. They do as much for the Lord's cause who intercede like
Moses on the mount, as they do who fight like Joshua in the thick of the
battle. This is to be like Christ. He bears the names of His people on
His breast and shoulders as their High Priest before the Father. Oh, the
privilege of being like Jesus! This is to be a true helper to ministers.
If I must needs choose a congregation, give me a people that prays.
(_k_) I commend to you, in the next place, the importance of
_thankfulness_ in prayer. I know well that asking God is one thing, and
praising God is another. But I see so close a connection between prayer
and praise in the Bible, that I dare not call that true prayer in which
thankfulness has no part. It is not for nothing that Paul says, "By
prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your request be made
known unto God." (Phil. iv. 6.) "Continue in prayer, and watch in the
same with thanksgiving." (Coloss. iv. 2.) It is of mercy that we are
not in hell. It is of mercy that we have the hope of heaven. It is of
mercy that we live in a land of spiritual light. It is of mercy that we
have been called by the Spirit, and not left to reap the fruit of our
own ways. It is of mercy that we still live, and have opportunities of
glorifying God actively or passively. Surely, these thoughts should
crowd on our minds whenever we speak with God. Surely, we should never
open our lips in prayer without blessing God for that free grace by
which we live, and for that loving-kindness which endureth for ever.
Never was there an eminent saint who was not full of thankfulness. St.
Paul hardly ever writes an Epistle without beginning with thankfulness.
Men like Whitfield in the last century, and Bickersteth, and Marsh, and
Haldane Stewart, in our own time, were ever running over with
thankfulness. Oh, if we would be bright and shining lights in our day,
we must cherish a spirit of praise! And above all, let our prayers be
thankful prayers.
(_l_) I commend to you, in the last place, the importance of
_watchfulness over your prayers_. Prayer is that point of all others in
religion at which you must be on your guard. Here it is that true
religion begins: here it flourishes, and here it decays. Tell me what a
man's prayers are, and I will soon tell you the state of his soul.
Prayer is the spiritual pulse: by this the spiritual health may always
be tested. Prayer is the spiritual weather-glass: by this we may always
know whether it is fair or foul with our hearts. Oh, let us keep an eye
continually upon our private devotions! Here is the pith, and marrow,
and backbone of our practical Christianity. Sermons, and books, and
tracts, and committee meetings, and the company of good men, are all
good in their way; but they will never make up for the neglect of
private prayer. Mark well the places, and society, and companions, that
unhinge your hearts for communion with God, and make your prayers drive
heavily. _There be on your guard._ Observe narrowly what friends and
what employments leave your soul in the most spiritual frame, and most
ready to speak with God. _To these cleave and stick fast._ If you will
only take care of your prayers, I will engage that nothing shall go very
wrong with your soul.
I offer these points for private consideration. I do it in all humility.
I know no one who needs to be reminded of them more than I do myself.
But I believe them to be God's own truth, and I should like myself and
all I love to feel them more.
I want the times we live in to be praying times. I want the Christians
of our day to be praying Christians. I want the Church of our age to be
a praying Church. My heart's desire and prayer in sending forth this
paper is to promote a spirit of prayerfulness. I want those who never
prayed yet, to arise and call upon God; and I want those who do pray, to
improve their prayers every year, and to see that they are not getting
slack, and praying amiss.
V
BIBLE-READING
"_Search the Scriptures._"--John v. 39.
"_How readest thou?_"--Luke x. 26.
Next to praying there is nothing so important in practical religion as
Bible-reading. God has mercifully given us a book which is "able to make
us wise unto salvation through faith which is in Christ Jesus." (2 Tim.
iii. 15.) By reading that book we may learn what to believe, what to be,
and what to do; how to live with comfort, and how to die in peace. Happy
is that man who possesses a Bible! Happier still is he who reads it!
Happiest of all is he who not only reads it, but obeys it, and makes it
the rule of his faith and practice!
Nevertheless it is a sorrowful fact that man has an unhappy skill in
abusing God's gifts. His privileges, and power, and faculties, are all
ingeniously perverted to other ends than those for which they were
bestowed. His speech, his imagination, his intellect, his strength, his
time, his influence, his money,--instead of being used as instruments
for glorifying his Maker,--are generally wasted, or employed for his own
selfish ends. And just as man naturally makes a bad use of his other
mercies, so he does of the written Word. One sweeping charge may be
brought against the whole of Christendom, and that charge is neglect and
abuse of the Bible.
To prove this charge we have no need to look abroad: the proof lies at
our own doors. I have no doubt that there are more Bibles in Great
Britain at this moment than there ever were since the world began. There
is more Bible buying and Bible selling,--more Bible printing and Bible
distributing,--than ever was since England was a nation. We see Bibles
in every bookseller's shop,--Bibles of every size, price, and
style,--Bibles great, and Bibles small,--Bibles for the rich, and Bibles
for the poor. There are Bibles in almost every house in the land. But
all this time I fear we are in danger of forgetting, that to _have_ the
Bible is one thing, and to _read_ it quite another.
This neglected Book is the subject about which I address the readers of
this paper to-day. Surely it is no light matter _what you are doing with
the Bible_. Surely, when the plague is abroad, you should search and see
whether the plague-spot is on you. Give me your attention while I supply
you with a few plain reasons why every one who cares for his soul ought
to value the Bible highly, to study it regularly, and to make himself
thoroughly acquainted with its contents.
I. In the first place, _there is no book in existence written in such a
manner as the Bible_.
The Bible was "given by inspiration of God." (2 Tim. iii. 16.) In this
respect it is utterly unlike all other writings. God taught the writers
of it what to say. God put into their minds thoughts and ideas. God
guided their pens in setting down those thoughts and ideas. When you
read it, you are not reading the self-taught compositions of poor
imperfect men like yourself, but the words of the eternal God. When you
hear it, you are not listening to the erring opinions of short-lived
mortals, but to the unchanging mind of the King of kings. The men who
were employed to indite the Bible, spoke not of themselves. They "spake
as they were moved by the Holy Ghost." (2 Peter i. 21.) All other books
in the world, however good and useful in their way, are more or less
defective. The more you look at them the more you see their defects and
blemishes. The Bible alone is absolutely perfect. From beginning to end
it is "the Word of God."
I shall not waste time by attempting any long and laboured proof of
this. I say boldly, that the Book itself is the best witness of its own
inspiration. It is utterly inexplicable and unaccountable in any other
point of view. It is the greatest standing miracle in the world. He that
dares to say the Bible is not inspired, let him give a reasonable
account of it, if he can. Let him explain the peculiar nature and
character of the Book in a way that will satisfy any man of common
sense. The burden of proof seems to my mind to lie on him.
It proves nothing against inspiration, as some have asserted, that the
writers of the Bible have each a different style. Isaiah does not write
like Jeremiah, and Paul does not write like John. This is perfectly
true,--and yet the works of these men are not a whit less equally
inspired. The waters of the sea have many different shades. In one place
they look blue, and in another green. And yet the difference is owing to
the depth or shallowness of the part we see, or to the nature of the
bottom. The water in every case is the same salt sea.--The breath of a
man may produce different sounds, according to the character of the
instrument on which he plays. The flute, the pipe, and the trumpet, have
each their peculiar note. And yet the breath that calls forth the notes,
is in each case one and the same.--The light of the planets we see in
heaven is very various. Mars, and Saturn, and Jupiter, have each a
peculiar colour. And yet we know that the light of the sun, which each
planet reflects, is in each case one and the same. Just in the same way
the books of the Old and New Testaments are all inspired truth, and yet
the aspect of that truth varies according to the mind through which the
Holy Ghost makes it flow. The handwriting and style of the writers
differ enough to prove that each had a distinct individual being; but
the Divine Guide who dictates and directs the whole is always one. All
is alike inspired. Every chapter, and verse, and word, is from God.
Oh, that men who are troubled with doubts, and questionings, and
sceptical thoughts about inspiration, would calmly examine the Bible for
themselves! Oh, that they would act on the advice which was the first
step to Augustine's conversion,--"Take it up and read it!--take it up
and read it!" How many Gordian knots this course of action would cut!
How many difficulties and objections would vanish away at once like mist
before the rising sun! How many would soon confess, "The finger of God
is here! God is in this Book, and I knew it not."
This is the Book about which I address the readers of this paper. Surely
it is no light matter _what you are doing with this Book_. It is no
light thing that God should have caused this Book to be "written for
your learning," and that you should have before you "the oracles of
God." (Rom. iii. 2; xv. 4.) I charge you, I summon you to give an honest
answer to my question. What art thou doing with the Bible?--Dost thou
read it at all?--HOW READEST THOU?
II. In the second place, _there is no knowledge absolutely needful to a
man's salvation, except a knowledge of the things which are to be found
in the Bible_.
We live in days when the words of Daniel are fulfilled before our
eyes:--"Many run to and fro, and knowledge is increased." (Dan. xii. 4.)
Schools are multiplying on every side. New colleges are set up. Old
Universities are reformed and improved. New books are continually coming
forth. More is being taught,--more is being learned,--more is being
read,--than there ever was since the world begun. It is all well. I
rejoice at it. An ignorant population is a perilous and expensive burden
to any nation. It is a ready prey to the first Absalom, or Catiline, or
Wat Tyler, or Jack Cade, who may arise to entice it to do evil. But this
I say,--we must never forget that all the education a man's head can
receive, will not save his soul from hell, unless he knows the truths of
the Bible.
A man _may have prodigious learning, and yet never be saved_. He may be
master of half the languages spoken round the globe. He may be
acquainted with the highest and deepest things in heaven and earth. He
may have read books till he is like a walking cyclopaedia. He may be
familiar with the stars of heaven,--the birds of the air,--the beasts of
the earth, and the fishes of the sea. He may be able, like Solomon, to
"speak of trees, from the cedar of Lebanon to the hyssop that grows on
the wall, of beasts also, and fowls, and creeping things, and fishes."
(1 King iv. 33.) He may be able to discourse of all the secrets of fire,
air, earth, and water. And yet, if he dies ignorant of Bible truths, he
dies a miserable man! Chemistry never silenced a guilty conscience.
Mathematics never healed a broken heart. All the sciences in the world
never smoothed down a dying pillow. No earthly philosophy ever supplied
hope in death. No natural theology ever gave peace in the prospect of
meeting a holy God. All these things are of the earth, earthy, and can
never raise a man above the earth's level. They may enable a man to
strut and fret his little season here below with a more dignified gait
than his fellow-mortals, but they can never give him wings, and enable
him to soar towards heaven. He that has the largest share of them, will
find at length that without Bible knowledge he has got no lasting
possession. Death will make an end of all his attainments, and after
death they will do him no good at all.
A man _may be a very ignorant man, and yet be saved_. He may be unable
to read a word, or write a letter. He may know nothing of geography
beyond the bounds of his own parish, and be utterly unable to say which
is nearest to England, Paris or New York. He may know nothing of
arithmetic, and not see any difference between a million and a thousand.
He may know nothing of history, not even of his own land, and be quite
ignorant whether his country owes most to Semiramis, Boadicea, or Queen
Elizabeth. He may know nothing of the affairs of his own times, and be
incapable of telling you whether the Chancellor of the Exchequer, or the
Commander-in-Chief, or the Archbishop of Canterbury is managing the
national finances. He may know nothing of science, and its
discoveries,--and whether Julius Caesar won his victories with gunpowder,
or the apostles had a printing press, or the sun goes round the earth,
may be matters about which he has not an idea. And yet if that very man
has heard Bible truth with his ears, and believed it with his heart, he
knows enough to save his soul. He will be found at last with Lazarus in
Abraham's bosom, while his scientific fellow-creature, who has died
unconverted, is lost for ever.
There is much talk in these days about science and "useful knowledge."
But after all a knowledge of the Bible is the one knowledge that is
needful and eternally useful. A man may get to heaven without money,
learning, health, or friends,--but without Bible knowledge he will never
get there at all. A man may have the mightiest of minds, and a memory
stored with all that mighty mind can grasp,--and yet, if he does not
know the things of the Bible, he will make shipwreck of his soul for
ever. Woe! woe! woe to the man who dies in ignorance of the Bible!
This is the Book about which I am addressing the readers of these pages
to-day. It is no light matter _what you do with such a book_. It
concerns the life of your soul. I summon you,--I charge you to give an
honest answer to my question. What are you doing with the Bible? Do you
read it? HOW READEST THOU?
III. In the third place, _no book in existence contains such important
matter as the Bible_.
The time would fail me if I were to enter fully into all the great
things which are to be found in the Bible, and only in the Bible. It is
not by any sketch or outline that the treasures of the Bible can be
displayed. It would be easy to fill this volume with a list of the
peculiar truths it reveals, and yet the half of its riches would be left
untold.
How glorious and soul-satisfying is the description it gives us of God's
plan of salvation, and the way by which our sins can be forgiven! The
coming into the world of Jesus Christ, the God-man, to save
sinners,--the atonement He has made by suffering in our stead, the just
for the unjust,--the complete payment He has made for our sins by His
own blood,--the justification of every sinner who simply believes on
Jesus,--the readiness of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, to receive,
pardon, and save to the uttermost,--how unspeakably grand and cheering
are all these truths! We should know nothing of them without the Bible.
How comforting is the account it gives us of the great Mediator of the
New Testament,--the man Christ Jesus! Four times over His picture is
graciously drawn before our eyes. Four separate witnesses tell us of His
miracles and His ministry,--His sayings and His doings,--His life and
His death,--His power and His love,--His kindness and His patience,--His
ways, His words, His works, His thoughts, His heart. Blessed be God,
there is one thing in the Bible which the most prejudiced reader can
hardly fail to understand, and that is the character of Jesus Christ!
How encouraging are the examples the Bible gives us of good people! It
tells us of many who were of like passions with ourselves,--men and
women who had cares, crosses, families, temptations, afflictions,
diseases, like ourselves,--and yet "by faith and patience inherited the
promises," and got safe home. (Heb. vi. 12.) It keeps back nothing in
the history of these people. Their mistakes, their infirmities, their
conflicts, their experience, their prayers, their praises, their useful
lives, their happy deaths,--all are fully recorded. And it tells us the
God and Saviour of these men and women still waits to be gracious, and
is altogether unchanged.
How instructive are the examples the Bible gives us of bad people! It
tells us of men and women who had light, and knowledge, and
opportunities, like ourselves, and yet hardened their hearts, loved the
world, clung to their sins, would have their own way, despised reproof,
and ruined their own souls for ever. And it warns us that the God who
punished Pharaoh, and Saul, and Ahab, and Jezebel, and Judas, and
Ananias and Sapphira, is a God who never alters, and that there is a
hell.
How precious are the promises which the Bible contains for the use of
those who love God! There is hardly any possible emergency or condition
for which it has not some "word in season." And it tells men that God
loves to be put in remembrance of these promises, and that if He has
said He will do a thing, His promise shall certainly be performed.
How blessed are the hopes which the Bible holds out to the believer in
Christ Jesus! Peace in the hour of death,--rest and happiness on the
other side of the grave,--a glorious body in the morning of the
resurrection,--a full and triumphant acquittal in the day of
judgment,--an everlasting reward in the kingdom of Christ,--a joyful
meeting with the Lord's people in the day of gathering together;--these,
these are the future prospects of every true Christian. They are all
written in the book,--in the book which is all true.
How striking is the light which the Bible throws on the character of
man! It teaches =us= what men may be expected to be and do in every
position and station of life. It gives us the deepest insight into the
secret springs and motives of human actions, and the ordinary course of
events under the control of human agents. It is the true "discerner of
the thoughts and intents of the heart." (Heb. iv. 12.) How deep is the
wisdom contained in the books of Proverbs and Ecclesiastes! I can well
understand an old divine saying, "Give me a candle and a Bible, and shut
me up in a dark dungeon, and I will tell you all that the whole world is
doing."
All these are things which men could find nowhere except in the Bible.
We have probably not the least idea how little we should know about
these things if we had not the Bible
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