Sermon 13. Love of Religion, a New Nature
"If we be dead with Christ, we believe that we shall also
live with Him." Romans vi. 8.
{179} TO be dead with Christ, is to hate and turn from sin; and to live
with Him, is to have our hearts and minds turned towards God and
Heaven. To be dead to sin, is to feel a disgust at it. We know what is
meant by disgust. Take, for instance, the case of a sick man, when
food of a certain kind is presented to him,—and there is no doubt
what is meant by disgust. Consider how certain scents, which are too
sweet or too strong, or certain tastes, affect certain persons under
certain circumstances, or always,—and you will be at no loss to
determine what is meant by disgust at sin, or deadness to sin. On the
other hand, consider how pleasant a meal is to the hungry, or some
enlivening odour to the faint; how refreshing the air is to the
languid, or the brook to the weary and thirsty;—and you will
understand the sort of feeling which is implied in being alive with
Christ, alive to religion, alive to the thought of {180} heaven. Our animal
powers cannot exist in all atmospheres; certain airs are poisonous,
others life-giving. So is it with spirits and souls: an unrenewed
spirit could not live in heaven, he would die; an Angel could not live
in hell. The natural man cannot live in heavenly company, and the
angelic soul would pine and waste away in the company of sinners,
unless God's sacred presence were continued to it. To be dead to sin,
is to be so minded, that the atmosphere of sin (if I may so speak)
oppresses, distresses, and stifles us,—that it is painful and
unnatural to us to remain in it. To be alive with Christ, is to be so
minded, that the atmosphere of heaven refreshes, enlivens, stimulates,
invigorates us. To be alive, is not merely to bear the thought of
religion, to assent to the truth of religion, to wish to be religious;
but to be drawn towards it, to love it, to delight in it, to obey it.
Now I suppose most persons called Christians do not go farther than
this,—to wish to be religious, and to think it right to be
religious, and to feel a respect for religious men; they do not get so
far as to have any sort of love for religion.
So far, however, they do go; not, indeed, to do their duty and to
love it, but to have a sort of wish that they did. I suppose there are
few persons but, at the very least, now and then feel the wish to be
holy and religious. They bear witness to the excellence of virtuous
and holy living, they consent to all that their teachers tell them,
what they hear in church, and read in religious {181} books; but all this is
a very different thing from acting according to their knowledge. They
confess one thing, they do another.
Nay, they confess one thing while they do another. Even
sinners,—wilful, abandoned sinners,—if they would be honest enough
to speak as they really in their hearts feel, would own, while they
are indulging in the pleasures of sin, while they idle away the Lord's
Day, or while they keep bad company, or while they lie or cheat, or
while they drink to excess, or do any other bad thing,—they would
confess, I say, did they speak their minds, that it is a far happier
thing, even at present, to live in obedience to God, than in obedience
to Satan. Not that sin has not its pleasures, such as they are; I do
not mean, of course, to deny that,—I do not deny that Satan is able
to give us something in exchange for future and eternal happiness; I
do not say that irreligious men do not gain pleasures, which religious
men are obliged to lose. I know they do; if they did not, there would
be nothing to tempt and try us. But, after all, the pleasures which
the servants of Satan enjoy, though pleasant, are always attended with
pain too; with a bitterness, which, though it does not destroy the
pleasure, yet is by itself sufficient to make it far less pleasant,
even while it lasts, than such pleasures as are without such
bitterness, viz. the pleasures of religion. This, then, alas! is the
state of multitudes; not to be dead to sin and alive to God, but,
while they are alive {182} to sin and the world, to have just so much sense
of heaven, as not to be able to enjoy either.
I say, when any one, man or woman, young or old, is conscious that
he or she is going wrong, whether in greater matter or less, whether
in not coming to church when there is no good excuse, neglecting
private prayer, living carelessly, or indulging in known sin,—this
bad conscience is from time to time a torment to such persons. For a
little while, perhaps, they do not feel it, but then the pain comes on
again. It is a keen, harassing, disquieting, hateful pain, which
hinders sinners from being happy. They may have pleasures, but they
cannot be happy. They know that God is angry with them; and
they know that, at some time or other, He will visit, He will judge,
He will punish. They try to get this out of their minds, but the arrow
sticks fast there; it keeps its hold. They try to laugh it off, or to
be bold and daring, or to be angry and violent. They are loud or
unkind in their answers to those, who remind them of it either in set
words, or by their example. But it keeps its hold. And so it is, that
all men who are not very abandoned, bad men as well as good, wish that
they were holy as God is holy, pure as Christ was pure, even though
they do not try to be, or pray to God to make them, holy and pure; not
that they like religion, but that they know, they are convinced
in their reason, they feel sure, that religion alone is happiness.
{183}
Oh, what a dreadful state, to have our desires one way, and our
knowledge and conscience another; to have our life, our breath and
food, upon the earth, and our eyes upon Him who died once and now
liveth; to look upon Him who once was pierced, yet not to rise with
Him and live with Him; to feel that a holy life is our only happiness,
yet to have no heart to pursue it; to be certain that the wages of sin
is death, yet to practise sin; to confess that the Angels alone are
perfectly happy, for they do God's will perfectly, yet to prepare
ourselves for nothing else but the company of devils; to acknowledge
that Christ is our only hope, yet deliberately to let that hope go! O
miserable state! miserable they, if any there are who now hear me, who
are thus circumstanced!
At first sight, it might seem impossible that any such persons
could be found in church. At first sight, one might be tempted to say,
"All who come to church, at least, are in earnest, and have given
up sin; they are imperfect indeed, as all Christians are at best, but
they do not fall into wilful sin." I should be very glad, my
Brethren, to believe this were the case, but I cannot indulge so
pleasant a hope. No; I think it quite certain that some persons at
least, I do not say how many, to whom I am speaking, have not made up
their minds fully to lead a religious life. They come to church
because they think it right, or from other cause. It is very right
that they should come; I am glad they do. {184} This is good, as far as it
goes; but it is not all. They are not so far advanced in the kingdom
of God, as to resist the devil, or to flee from him. They cannot
command themselves. They act rightly one day, and wrongly the next.
They are afraid of being laughed at. They are attracted by bad
company. They put off religion to a future day. They think a religious
life dull and unpleasant. Yet they have a certain sense of religion;
and they come to church in order to satisfy this sense. Now, I say it
is right to come to church; but, O that they could be persuaded of the
simple truth of St. Paul's words, "He is not a Jew which is one
outwardly; but he is a Jew which is one inwardly; and circumcision is
that of the heart in the spirit, and not in the letter, whose praise
is not of men, but of God;" [Rom. ii. 28, 29.] which may be taken
to mean:—He is not a Christian who is one outwardly, who merely
comes to church, and professes to desire to be saved by Christ. It is
very right that he should do so, but it is not enough. He is not a
Christian who merely has not cast off religion; but he is the true
Christian, who, while he is a Christian outwardly, is one inwardly
also; who lives to God; whose secret life is hid with Christ in God;
whose heart is religious; who not only knows and feels that a
religious life is true happiness, but loves religion, wishes, tries,
prays to be religious, begs God Almighty to give him the will and the
power to be religious; and, {185} as time goes on, grows more and more
religious, more fit for heaven.
We can do nothing right, unless God gives us the will and the
power; we cannot please Him without the aid of His Holy Spirit. If any
one does not deeply feel this as a first truth in religion, he is
preparing for himself a dreadful fall. He will attempt, and he will
fail signally, utterly. His own miserable experience will make him
sure of it, if he will not believe it, as Scripture declares it. But
it is not unlikely that some persons, perhaps some who now hear me,
may fall into an opposite mistake. They may attempt to excuse their
lukewarmness and sinfulness, on the plea that God does not inwardly
move them; and they may argue that those holy men whom they so much
admire, those saints who are to sit on Christ's right and left, are of
different nature from themselves, sanctified from their mother's womb,
visited, guarded, renewed, strengthened, enlightened in a peculiar
way, so as to make it no wonder that they are saints, and no fault
that they themselves are not. But this is not so; let us not thus
miserably deceive ourselves. St. Paul says expressly of himself and
the other Apostles, that they were "men of like passions"
with the poor ignorant heathen to whom they preached. And does not his
history show this? Do you not recollect what he was before his
conversion? Did he not rage like a beast of prey against the disciples
of Christ? and how was he converted? by the vision of {186} our Lord? Yes,
in one sense, but not by it alone; hear his own words,
"Whereupon, O King Agrippa, I was not disobedient unto the
heavenly vision." His obedience was necessary for his conversion;
he could not obey without grace; but he would have received grace in
vain, had he not obeyed. And, afterwards, was he at once perfect? No;
for he says expressly, "not as though I had already attained,
either were already perfect;" and elsewhere he tells us that he
had a "thorn in the flesh, the messenger of Satan to buffet him;" and he was obliged to "bruise his body and bring it into
subjection, lest, after he had preached to others, he should be
himself a castaway." St. Paul conquered, as any one of us must
conquer, by "striving," struggling, "to enter in at the
strait gate;" he "wrought out his salvation with fear and
trembling," as we must do.
This is a point which must be insisted on for the encouragement of
the fearful, the confutation of the hypocritical, and the abasement of
the holy. In this world, even the best of men, though they are dead to
sin, and have put sin to death, yet have that dead and corrupt thing
within them, though they live to God; they have still an enemy of God
remaining in their hearts, though they keep it in subjection. This,
indeed, is what all men now have in common, a root of evil in them, a
principle of sin, or what may become such;—what they differ in is
this, not that one man has it, another not; but that one lives in and
to it, another not; {187} one subdues it, another not. A holy man is by
nature subject to sin equally with others; but he is holy because he
subdues, tramples on, chains up, imprisons, puts out of the way this
law of sin, and is ruled by religious and spiritual motives. Of Christ
alone can it be said that He "did no sin, neither was guile found
in His mouth." The prince of this world came and found nothing in
Him. He had no root of sin in His heart; He was not born in Adam's
sin. Far different are we. He was thus pure, because He was the Son of
God, and born of a Virgin. But we are conceived in sin and shapen in
iniquity. And since that which is born of the flesh, is flesh, we are
sinful and corrupt because we are sinfully begotten of sinners. Even
those then who in the end turn out to be saints and attain to life
eternal, yet are not born saints, but have with God's regenerating and
renewing grace to make themselves saints. It is nothing but the Cross
of Christ, without us and within us, which changes any one of us from
being (as I may say) a devil, into an Angel. We are all by birth
children of wrath. We are at best like good olive trees, which have
become good by being grafted on a good tree. By nature we are like
wild trees, bearing sour and bitter fruit, and so we should remain,
were we not grafted upon Christ, the good olive tree, made members of
Christ, the righteous and holy and well-beloved Son of God. Hence it
is that there is such a change in a saint of God from what he was at
{188} the first. Consider what a different man St. Paul was after his
conversion and before,—raging, as I just now said, like some wild
beast, with persecuting fury against the Church, before Christ
appeared to him, and meekly suffering persecution and glorying in it
afterwards. Think of St. Peter denying Christ before the resurrection,
and confessing, suffering, and dying for Him afterwards. And so now
many an aged saint, who has good hope of heaven, may recollect things
of himself when young, which fill him with dismay. I do not speak as
if God's saints led vicious and immoral lives when young; but I mean
that their lower and evil nature was not subdued, and perhaps from
time to time broke out and betrayed them into deeds and words so very
different from what is seen in them at present, that did their friends
know of them what they themselves know, they would not think them the
same persons, and would be quite overpowered with astonishment. We
never can guess what a man is by nature, by seeing what
self-discipline has made him. Yet if we do become thereby changed and
prepared for heaven, it is no praise or merit to us. It is God's doing—glory
be to Him, who has wrought so wonderfully with us! Yet in this life,
even to the end, there will be enough evil in us to humble us; even to
the end, the holiest men have remains and stains of sin which they
would fain get rid of, if they could, and which keep this life from
being to them, for all God's grace, a heaven upon earth. No, {189} the
Christian life is but a shadow of heaven. Its festal and holy days are
but shadows of eternity. But hereafter it will be otherwise. In
heaven, sin will be utterly destroyed in every elect soul. We shall
have no earthly wishes, no tendencies to disobedience or irreligion,
no love of the world or the flesh, to draw us off from supreme
devotion to God. We shall have our Saviour's holiness fulfilled in us,
and be able to love God without drawback or infirmity.
That indeed will be a full reward of all our longings here, to
praise and serve God eternally with a single and perfect heart in the
midst of His Temple. What a time will that be, when all will be
perfected in us which at present is but feebly begun! Then we shall
see how the Angels worship God. We shall see the calmness, the
intenseness, the purity, of their worship. We shall see that awful
sight, the Throne of God, and the Seraphim before and around it,
crying, "Holy!" We attempt now to imitate in church what
there is performed, as in the beginning, and ever shall be. In the Te
Deum, day by day we say, "Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God of Sabaoth."
In the Creed, we recount God's mercies to us sinners. And we say and
sing Psalms and Hymns, to come as near heaven as we can. May these
attempts of ours be blest by Almighty God, to prepare us for Him! may
they be, not dead forms, but living services, living with life from
God the Holy Ghost, in those who are dead to sin and who live with
{190} Christ! I dare say some of you have heard persons, who dissent from
the Church, say (at any rate, they do say), that our Prayers and
Services, and Holy days, are only forms, dead forms, which can do us
no good. Yes, they are dead forms to those who are dead, but they are
living forms to those who are living. If you come here in a dead way,
not in faith, not coming for a blessing, without your hearts being in
the service, you will get no benefit from it. But if you come in a
living way, in faith, and hope, and reverence, and with holy expectant
hearts, then all that takes place will be a living service and full of
heaven.
Make use, then, of this Holy Easter Season, which lasts forty to
fifty days, to become more like Him who died for you, and who now
liveth for evermore. He promises us, "Because I live, ye shall
live also." He, by dying on the Cross, opened the Kingdom of
Heaven to all believers. He first died, and then He opened heaven. We,
therefore, first commemorate His death, and then, for some weeks in
succession, we commemorate and show forth the joys of heaven. They who
do not rejoice in the weeks after Easter, would not rejoice in heaven
itself. These weeks are a sort of beginning of heaven. Pray God to
enable you to rejoice; to enable you to keep the Feast duly. Pray God
to make you better Christians. This world is a dream,—you will get
no good from it. Perhaps you find this difficult to believe; but be
sure so it is. Depend upon it, at the {191} last, you will confess it. Young
people expect good from the world, and people of middle age devote
themselves to it, and even old people do not like to give it up. But
the world is your enemy, and the flesh is your enemy. Come to God, and
beg of Him grace to devote yourselves to Him. Beg of Him the will to
follow Him; beg of Him the power to obey Him. O how comfortable,
pleasant, sweet, soothing, and satisfying is it to lead a holy life,—the
life of Angels! It is difficult at first; but with God's grace, all
things are possible. O how pleasant to have done with sin! how good
and joyful to flee temptation and to resist evil! how meet, and
worthy, and fitting, and right, to die unto sin, and to live unto
righteousness!
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