The Christian Life Part 12

Again, "the Comforter, whom Christ will send unto us from the Father, even the Spirit of Truth, which proceedeth from the Father, he shall testify of Christ." What words are here! "The Spirit of Truth," "the Spirit proceeding from the Father;" the Spirit "whom Christ will send,"

and "send from the Father." Can any created being understand, to the full, such "heavenly things" as these? But would Christ have uttered to his disciples mere unintelligible words, which could tell them nothing, and excite in them no feeling but mere wonder? Not so; but the words told them that Christ was not to be lost to them after he had left them on earth; that every gift of G.o.d was his: that even that Spirit of G.o.d, in which is contained all the fulness of the G.o.dhead, is the Spirit of Christ also; that that mighty power which should work in them so abundantly, was of no other or lower origin than G.o.d himself; as entirely G.o.d, as the spirit of man is man. But can we therefore understand the Spirit of G.o.d, or conceive of him? How should we, when we cannot understand our own? This, and this only, we understand and believe, that without him our spirits cannot be quickened; that unless we pray daily for his aid, and listen to his calls within us, our spirit will never be created after his image, and we cannot enter into the kingdom of G.o.d.

It is thus, and thus only, that the revelations of G.o.d's word are beyond our understandings: that in them, beings and things are spoken of, which, taken generally, and in themselves, we should in vain endeavour to comprehend. But what G.o.d means us to know, or feel, or do, respecting them, that we can understand; and beyond this we have no concern. It is, in fact, a contradiction to speak of revealing what is unintelligible; for so far as it is a revealed truth it is intelligible; so far as it is unintelligible, it is not revealed. But though a thing revealed must be intelligible in itself, yet it by no means follows that we can understand _how_ it happens. When we are told that the dead shall rise again, we can understand quite well what is meant; that we beings who feel happiness and misery, shall feel them again, either the one or the other, after we seemingly have done with them for ever in the grave. But "How are the dead raised up, and with what body do they come?" are questions to which, whether asked scoffingly or sincerely, we can give no answers; here our understanding fails, and here the truth is not revealed to us.

How, then, has Christianity no mysteries? In one sense, blessed be G.o.d for it, it has many. Using mysteries in St. Paul's sense of great revelations of things which were and must be unknown to all, except G.o.d had revealed them: then, indeed, they are many; the pillar and ground of truth, great without controversy, and full of salvation. But take mysteries in our more common sense of the word,--as things which are revealed to none, and can be understood by none,--then it is true that Christianity leaves many such in existence; that many such she has done away; that none has she created. She leaves many mysteries with respect to G.o.d, and with respect to ourselves; G.o.d is still incomprehensible; life and death have many things in them beyond our questioning; we may still look around us, above us, and within us, and wonder, and be ignorant. But if she still leaves the veil drawn over much in heaven and in earth, yet from how much has she removed it! Life and death are still in many respects dark; but she has brought to light immortality. G.o.d is still in himself incomprehensible; but all his glory, and all his perfections, are revealed to us in his only-begotten Son Christ Jesus.

G.o.d's Spirit who can search out in his own proper essence? yet Christianity has taught us how we may have him to dwell with us for ever, and taste the fulness of his blessings. Yea, thanks be to G.o.d for the great Christian mystery which we this day celebrate; that he has revealed himself to us as our Saviour and our Comforter; that he has revealed to us his infinite love, in that he has given us his only-begotten Son to die for us, and his own Eternal Spirit to make our hearts his temple.

LECTURE XXVIII.

EXODUS iii. 6.

_And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look upon G.o.d_.

LUKE xxiii. 30.

_Then shall they begin to say to the mountains. Fall on us; and to the hills, Cover us_.

These two pa.s.sages occur, the one in the first lesson of this morning's service, the other in the second. One or other of them must have been, or must be, the case of you, of me, of every soul of man that lives or has lived since the world began. There must be a time in the existence of every human being when he will fear G.o.d. But the great, the infinite difference is, whether we fear him at the beginning of our relations to him, or at the end.

The fear of Moses was felt at the beginning of his knowledge of G.o.d.

When G.o.d revealed himself to him at the bush, it was, so far as we are told, the first time that Moses learnt to know him. The fear of those who say to the mountains, "Fall on us," is felt at the very end of their knowledge of G.o.d; for to those who are punished with everlasting destruction from the presence of the Lord, G.o.d is not. So that the two cases in the text are exact instances of the difference of which I spoke, in the most extreme degree. Moses, the greatest of the prophets, fears G.o.d at first; those who are cast into h.e.l.l, fear him at last.

The appearance of G.o.d, as described in this pa.s.sage of Scripture, is an image also of his dealings with us at the beginning of our course, when we fear him with a saving fear. "The bush burned with fire, but the bush was not consumed." G.o.d shows his terrors, but he does not, as yet, destroy with them. It is the very opposite to this at last, for then he is expressly said to be a consuming fire.

Moses turned aside to see this great sight, why the bush was not burnt.

That sight is the very same which the world has been offering for so many hundreds of years: G.o.d's terrors are around it, but, as yet, it is not consumed, because he wills that we should fear him before it is too late.

There is, indeed, this great difference;--that the signs of G.o.d's presence do not now force themselves upon our eyes; so that we may, if we choose, walk on our own way, without turning aside to see and observe them. And thus we do not see G.o.d, and do not, therefore, hide our faces for fear of him, but go on, and feel no fear, till the time when we cannot help seeing him. And it may be, that this time will never come till our life, and with it our s.p.a.ce of trial, is gone for ever.

Here, then, is our state, that G.o.d will manifest himself no more to us in such a way as that we cannot help seeing him. The burning bush will be no more given us as a sign; Christ will no more manifest himself unto the world. And yet, unless we do see him, unless we learn to fear him while he is yet an unconsuming fire, unless we know that he is near, and that the place whereon we stand is holy ground, we shall most certainly see him when he will be a consuming fire, and when we shall join in crying to the mountains, to fall on us, and to the hills, to cover us.

Every person who thinks at all, must, I am sure, be satisfied, that our great want, the great need of our condition, is this one thing--to realize to ourselves the presence of G.o.d. It is a want not at all peculiar to the young. Thoughtfulness, in one sense, is indeed likely to come with advancing years: we are more apt to think at forty than at fifteen; but it by no means follows that we are more apt to think about G.o.d. In this matter we are nearly at a level at all times of our life: it is with all of us our one great want, to bring the idea of G.o.d, with a living and abiding power, home to our minds.

This is ill.u.s.trated by a wish ascribed to a great and good man--Johnson, and which has been noticed with a sneer by unbelievers, a wish that he might see a spirit from the other world, to testify to him of the truth of the resurrection. This has been sneered at, as if it were a confession of the unsatisfactory nature of the evidence which we actually possess: but, in truth, it is a confession only of the weakness which clings to us all, that things unseen, which our reason only a.s.sures us to be real, are continually overpowered by things affecting our senses; and, therefore, it was a natural wish that sight might, in a manner, come to the aid of reason; that the eye might see, and the ear might hear, a form and words which belonged to another world. And this wish might arise (I do not say wisely, or that his deliberate judgment would sanction it, but it might arise) in the breast of a good man, and one who would be willing to lay down his life in proof of his belief in Christ's promises. It might arise, not because he felt any doubt, when his mind turned calmly to the subject; not because he was hesitating what should be the main principle of his life; but because his experience had told him, that there are many times in the life of man when the mind does not fully exert itself; when habit and impressions rule us, in a manner, in its stead. And when so many of our impressions must be earthly, and as our impressions colour our habits, is it not natural (I do not say wise, but is it not natural) to desire some one forcible unearthly impression, which might, on the other side, colour our habits, and so influence us at those times when the mind, almost by the necessity of our condition, cannot directly interpose its own deliberate decision as our authority?

No doubt the wish to which I have been alluding is not one which our reason would sanction; but it expresses in a very lively and striking manner a want which is most true and real, although it proposes an impossible remedy. But the question cannot but occur to us, Can it be that our heavenly Father, who knows whereof we are made, should have intended us to live wholly by faith in this world? That is, Can it have been his will that all visible signs of himself should be withdrawn from us; and that we should be left only with the record and the evidence of his mighty works done in our behalf in past times; and with that other evidence of his wisdom and power which is afforded by the wonders of his creation?

We look into the Scriptures and we learn that such was not his will. We were to live by faith, indeed, with, respect to the unseen world, there the sign given was to be for ever only the sign of Christ's resurrection. But yet it was not designed that the evidence of Christ's having redeemed us should be sought for only in the records of the past; he purposed that there should be a living record, a record that might speak to our senses as well as to our reason; that should continually present us with impressions of the reality of Christ's salvation; and so might work upon the habits of our life, as insensibly as the air we breathe. This living witness, which should last till Christ came again, was to be no other than his own body instinct with his own Spirit--his people, the temple of the Holy Ghost, his holy universal Church.

If we consider for a moment, this would entirely meet the want of which I have been speaking. It is possible, certainly, to look upon the face of nature without being reminded of G.o.d; yet it is surely true, that in the outward creation, in the order of the seasons, the laws of the heavenly bodies, the wonderful wisdom and goodness displayed in the const.i.tution of every living thing in its order, there is a tendency at least to impress us with, the thought of G.o.d, if nothing else obstructed it. But there is a constant obstruction in the state of man. Looking at men, hearing them, considering them, it is not only possible not to be reminded of G.o.d; but their very tendency is to exclude him from our minds, because the moral workmans.h.i.+p which is so predominant in them has a.s.suredly not had G.o.d for its author. We all in our dealings with one another, lead each other away from G.o.d. We present to each other's view what seems to be a complete world of our own, in which G.o.d is not. We see a beginning, a middle, and an end; we see faculties for acquiring knowledge, and for receiving enjoyment; and earth furnishes knowledge to the one and enjoyment to the other. We see desires, and we see the objects to which they are limited; we see that death removes men from all these objects, and consistently with this, we observe, that death is generally regarded as the greatest of all evils. Man's witness, then, as far as it goes, is against the reality of G.o.d and of eternity. His life, his language, his desires, his understanding appear, when we look over the world, to refer to no being higher than himself, to no other state of things than that of which sight testifies.

Now, Christ's Church, the living temple of the Holy Ghost, puts in the place of this natural and corrupt man, whose witness is against G.o.d, another sort of man, redeemed and regenerate, whose whole being breathes a perpetual witness of G.o.d. Consider, again, what we should see in such a Church. We should see a beginning, a middle, but the end is not yet visible; we should see, besides the faculties for knowledge and enjoyment which were receiving their gratification daily, other faculties of both kinds, whose gratification was as yet withheld; we should see desires not limited to any object now visible or attainable.

We should see death looked to as the gate by which these hitherto un.o.btained objects were to be sought for; and we should hear it spoken of, not as the greatest of evils, but as an event solemn, indeed, and painful to nature, but full of blessing and of happiness. We should see love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance; a const.i.tution of nature as manifestly proclaiming its author to be the G.o.d of all holiness and loving-kindness, as the wonderful structure of our eyes or hands declares them to be the work of the G.o.d of all wisdom and power. We should thus see in all our fellow-men, not only as much, but far more than in the const.i.tution of the lower animals, or of the plants, or of the heavenly bodies, a witness of G.o.d and of eternity. Their whole lives would be a witness; their whole conversation would be a witness; their outward and more peculiar acts of wors.h.i.+p would then bear their part in harmony with all the rest. Every day would the voices of the Church be heard in its services of prayer and thanksgiving; every day would its members renew their pledges of faithfulness to Christ, and to one another, upon partaking together the memorials of his sacrifice.

What could we desire more than such a living witness as this? What sign in the sky, what momentary appearance of a spirit from the unseen world, could so impress us with the reality of G.o.d, as this daily wors.h.i.+pping in his living temple; this daily sight, of more than the Shechinah of old, even of his most Holy Spirit, diffusing on every side light and blessing? And what is now become of this witness? can names, and forms, and ordinances, supply its place? can our unfrequent wors.h.i.+p, our most seldom communion, impress on us an image of men living altogether in the presence of G.o.d, and in communion with Christ? But before we dwell on this, we may, while considering the design of the true Church of Christ, well understand how such excellent things should be spoken of it, and how it should have been introduced into the Creed itself, following immediately after the mention of the Holy Ghost. That holy universal Church was to be the abiding witness of Christ's love and of Christ's promises; not in its outward forms only, for they by themselves are not a living witness; they cannot meet our want--to have G.o.d and heavenly things made real to us; but in its whole spirit, by which renewed man was to bear as visibly the image of G.o.d, as corrupted man had lost it.

This was the sure sign that Christ had appointed to abide until his coming again; this sign, as striking as the burning bush, would compel us to observe; would make us sure that the place whereon we stand is holy ground.

Then follows the question: With this sign lost in its most essential points, how can we supply its place? and how can we best avail ourselves of those parts of it which still remain? and how can we each endeavour to build up a partial and most imperfect imitation of it, which may yet, in some sort, serve to supply our great want, and remind us daily of G.o.d? This opens a wide field for thought, to those who are willing to follow it; but much of it belongs to other occasions rather than this: the practical part of it,--the means of most imperfectly supplying the want of G.o.d's own appointed sign, a true and living universal Church, shall be the subject of my next Lecture.

LECTURE XXIX.

PSALM cx.x.xvii. 4.

_How shall we sing the Lord's song in a strange land_?

This was said by the exiles of Jerusalem, when they were in the land of their captivity in Babylon. There is no reason to suppose that their condition was one of bondage, as it had been in Egypt: the nations removed by conquest, under the Persian kings, from their own country to another land, were no otherwise ill-treated; they had new homes given them in which they lived unmolested; only they were torn away from their own land, and were as sojourners in a land of strangers. But the peculiar evil of this state was, that they were torn away from the proper seat of their wors.h.i.+p. The Jew in Babylon might have his own home, and his own land to cultivate, as he had in Judaea; but nothing could replace to him the loss of the temple at Jerusalem: there alone could the morning and evening sacrifices be offered; there alone could the sin-offering for the people be duly made. Banished from the temple, therefore, he was deprived also of the most solemn part of his religion; he was, as it were, exiled from G.o.d; and the wors.h.i.+p of G.o.d, as it was now left to him,--that is, the offering up of prayers and praises,--was almost painful to him, as it reminded him so forcibly of his changed condition.

Such also, in some respects, was to be the state of the Christian Church after our Lord's ascension. The only acceptable sacrifice was now that of their great High Priest interceding for them in the presence of the Father: heaven was their temple, and they were far removed from it upon earth: they, too, like the Jews in Babylon, were a little society by themselves living in the midst of strangers. "Our citizens.h.i.+p," says St. Paul to the Philippians, "is in heaven:" here they were not citizens, but sojourners. Why, then, should not the early Christians have joined altogether in the feeling of the Jews at Babylon? why should not they, too, have felt and said, "How can we sing the Lord's song in a strange land?"

The answer is contained in what I said last Sunday; because Christ had not left them comfortless or forsaken, but was come again to them by his Holy Spirit; because G.o.d was dwelling in the midst of them; because they were not exiles from the temple of G.o.d, but were themselves become G.o.d's temple; because through the virtue of the one offering for sin once made, but for ever presented before G.o.d by their High Priest in heaven, they, in G.o.d's temple on earth, were presenting also their daily and acceptable sacrifice, the sacrifice of themselves; because also, though as yet they were a small society in a land of strangers, yet the stone formed without hands was to become a mighty mountain, and cover the whole earth: what was now the land of strangers was to become theirs; the whole earth should be full of the knowledge of the Lord; the kingdoms of the world were to become his kingdom; and thus earth, redeemed from the curse of sin, was again to be so blessed that G.o.d's servants living upon it should find it no place of exile.

But if this, in its reality, does not now exist; if, although G.o.d's temple be on earth, the appointed sacrifice in it is not offered, the living sacrifice of ourselves; if the society has, by spreading, become weak, and the kingdoms of the earth are Christ's kingdoms in name alone; are we, then, come back once more to the condition of the Jews in Babylon? are we exiles from G.o.d, living amongst strangers? and must we, too, say, with the prophet, "How can we sing the Lord's song in a strange land?"

This was the question which I proposed to answer: What can we do to make our condition unlike that of exiles from G.o.d: to restore that true sign of his presence amongst us, the living fire of his Holy Spirit pervading every part of his temple? I mean, what can we do as individuals? for the question in any other sense is not to be asked or answered here. But we, each of us, must have felt, at some time or other, our distance from G.o.d. Put the idea in what form or what words we will, we must--every one of us who has ever thought seriously at all--we must regret that there is not a stronger and more abiding influence over us, to keep us from evil, and to turn us to good.

Now, the vestiges of Christ's church left among us are chiefly these: our prayers together, whether in our families or in this place; our reading of the Scriptures together; our communion, rare as it is, in the memorials of the body and blood of Christ our Saviour. These are the vestiges of that which was designed to be with us always, and in every part of our lives, the holy temple of G.o.d, his living church; but which now presents itself to us only at particular times, and places, and actions; in our wors.h.i.+p and in our joint reading of the Scriptures, and in our communion.

It will be understood at once why I have not spoken here of prayer and reading the Scriptures by ourselves alone. Most necessary as these are to us, yet they do not belong to the helps ministered to us by the church; they belong to us each as individuals, and in these respects we must be in the same state everywhere: these were enjoyed by the Jews even in their exile in Babylon. But the church acts upon us through one another, and therefore the vestiges of the church can only be sought for in what we do, not alone, but together. I, therefore, noticed only that prayer, and that reading of the Scriptures, in which many of us took part in common.

Such common prayer takes place amongst us every morning and evening, as well as on Sundays within these walls. Whenever we meet on those occasions, we meet as Christ's church. Now, conceive how the effect of such meeting depends on the conduct of each of us. It is not necessary to notice behaviour openly profane and disorderly: this does not occur amongst us. We see, however, that if it did occur in any meeting for the purposes of religious wors.h.i.+p, such a meeting would do us harm rather than good: its witness to us would not be in favour of G.o.d, but against him. But take another case: when we are a.s.sembled for prayers, suppose our behaviour, without being disorderly, was yet so manifestly indifferent as to be really indecent; that is, suppose every countenance showed such manifest signs of weariness, and impatience, and want of interest in what was going forward, that it was evident there was no general sympathy with any feeling of devotion. Would not the effect here also be injurious? would not such a meeting also shock and check our approaches towards G.o.d? would it not rather convince us that G.o.d was really far distant from us, instead of showing that he was in the midst of us?

Ascend one step higher. Our behaviour is neither disorderly, nor manifestly indifferent: it is decent, serious, respectful. What is the effect in this case? Not absolutely unfavourable certainly; but yet far from being much help towards good. We bear our witness that we are engaged in a matter that should be treated with reverence: this is very right; but do we more than this? Do we show that we are engaged in a matter that commands our interest also, as well as our respect? If not, our witness is not the witness of Christ's church: it does not go to declare that G.o.d is in us of a truth.

Let us go on one step more. We meet together to pray: we are orderly, we are quiet, we are serious; but the countenance shows that we are something more than these. There is on it the expression, never to be mistaken, of real interest. Remember I am speaking of meetings for prayer, where the words are perfectly familiar to us, and where the interest therefore cannot be the mere interest of novelty. Say, then, that our countenances express interest: I do not mean strong and excited feeling; but interest, which may be very real yet very quiet also. We look as if we thought of what we were engaged in, of what we are ourselves, and of what G.o.d is to us. We are joined in one common feeling of thankfulness to him for mercies past, of wis.h.i.+ng for his help and love for the time to come. Now, think what would be the effect of such a meeting. Would it not be, clearly, positively good! Would not every individual's earnestness be confirmed by the manifest earnestness of others? Would not his own sense of G.o.d's reality be rendered stronger, by seeing that others felt it just as he did? Then, here would be the church of G.o.d rendering her appointed witness: she would be giving her sure sign that G.o.d is not far from any one of us.

Now, then, observe what we may lose or gain by our different behaviour, whenever we meet together in prayer; what we lose, nay, what positive mischief we do, by any visible impatience or indifference; what we should gain by really joining in our hearts in the meaning of what was uttered. It is a solemn thing for the consciences of us all; but surely it must be true, that, whenever we are careless or indifferent in our public prayers, we are actually injuring our neighbours, and are, so far as in us lies, destroying the witness which the church of Christ should render to the truth of G.o.d her Saviour.

I do not know that there is anything more impressive than the sight of a congregation evidently in earnest in the service in which they are engaged. We then feel how different is our own lonely prayer from the united voice of many hearts; each cheering, strengthening, enkindling the other. We then consider one another to provoke unto love and good works. How different are the feelings with which we regard a number of persons met for any common purpose, and the same persons engaged together in serious prayer or praise! Then Christ seems to appear to us in each of them; we are all one in him. How little do all earthly unkindnesses, dislikes, prejudices, become in our eyes, when the real bond of our common faith is discerned clearly! There is indeed neither Greek nor Jew, circ.u.mcision nor uncirc.u.mcision, Barbarian, Scythian, bond nor free, but Christ is all, and in all. And to look at our brethren, once or twice in every day, with these Christian eyes, would it not also, by degrees, impress us at other times, and begin to form something of our habitual temper and regard towards them?

Thus much of our meetings for prayer. One word only on those in which we meet to read the Scriptures. Here I know, that difference of age, and our peculiar relations to each other, make us very apt to lose the religious character of our readings of the Scriptures, and to regard them merely as lessons. No doubt, the object here is instruction; it is not so much in itself a religious exercise, as a means to enable you to perform religious exercises with understanding and sincerity. Still there is a peculiar character attached even to lessons, when they are taken out of the Scriptures: and the duty of attention and interest in the work becomes even stronger than under other circ.u.mstances. But with those of a more advanced age, I think there is more than this; I think it must be our own fault, if, whilst engaged together in reading the Scriptures, which we only read because we are Christians, we do not feel that there also we are employed on a duty belonging to the Church of Christ.

Lastly, there is our joint communion in the bread, and in the cup, of the Lord's Supper. Here there is seriousness; here there is always, I trust and believe, something of real interest; and, therefore, we never, I think, meet together at the Lord's table, without feeling a true effect of Christ's gifts to and in his Church; we are strengthened and brought nearer to one another, and to him. But this most precious pledge of Christ's Church we too often forfeit for ourselves. That we have lost so much of the help which the Church was designed to give, is not our fault individually; but it is our fault that we neglect this means of strength, so great in bearing witness to Christ, and in kindling love towards one another. What can be said of us, if, with so many helps lost, we throw away that which still remains? if, of the great treasure which the Church yet keeps, we are wilfully ignorant? How much good might we do, both to ourselves and to each other, by joining in that communion! How surely should we be strengthened in all that is good, and have a help from each other, through his Spirit working in us all, to struggle against our evil!