Sermons on National Subjects

Do not believe those who say to you that you may keep dark thoughts, spite, suspicion, envy, cunning, covetousness in your hearts day after day, year after year, provided you do not openly act on them so as to do your neighbours any great and notorious injury.

Plenty of people will tell you so, and try to deceive you with vain words, and give you arguments, and texts of scripture perhaps, to prove that sin is not sin, and that the children of light may do the works of darkness.  But do not believe them, says St. Paul.  They are deceivers, and their words are vain.  These are the very things which bring down God’s wrath on His disobedient children.  These are the bad ways which make young people, when they are married, despise, and distrust, and quarrel with each other, and live miserable lives together, as children of wrath, peevish, and wrathful, and discontented with each other, because they feel that God is angry with them, just as Adam in the garden, when he felt that he had sinned, and that God was wroth with him, laid the blame on his wife, and accused her, whom he ought to have loved, and protected, and excused.

These are the bad ways which make people ashamed when they meet a good and a respectable person, make them afraid of being overheard, afraid of being found out, fond of haunting low and out-of-the-way places where they will not be seen; fond of prowling and lurching out at night after their own sinful pleasures, because the darkness hides them from their neighbours, and seems to hide them from themselves, though it cannot hide them from God.  These are the sins which make men silent, cunning, dark, sour, double-tongued, afraid to look anyone full in the face, unwilling to make friends, afraid of opening their minds to anyone, because they have something on their minds which they dare not tell their neighbours, which they dare not even tell themselves, but think about as little as they can help.  Do you not know what I mean?  Do you not often see it in others?  Have you never felt it in yourselves when you have done wrong, that dark feeling within which shows itself in dark looks?  You talk of a “dark-looking man,” or a “dark sort of person;” and you mean, do you not, a man whom you cannot make out, who does not wish you to make him out; who keeps his thoughts and his feelings to himself, and is never frank or free, except with bad companions, when the world cannot see him; who goes about hanging down his head, and looking out of the corners of his eyes, as if he were afraid of the very sunshine—afraid of the light.  We know that such a man has something dark on his mind.  We call him a “dark sort of man.”  And we are right.  We say of him what St. Paul says of him in this very epistle, when he says, that sin is darkness, and sinful works the deeds of darkness; and that goodness, and righteousness, and truth, are light, the very light of God and the Spirit of God.  Our reason, our common sense, which is given us by God’s Spirit, the Spirit of light, makes us use the right words, the same words as St. Paul does, and call sin darkness.

But rather reprove these dark works, says St. Paul; that is, look at them, and see that they are utterly worthless and damnable.  And how?  “All things that are reproved,” he says, “are made manifest by the light.  For whatsoever makes manifest is light.”  Whatsoever makes manifest, that is, makes plain and clear.  Whatsoever makes you see anything or person in heaven or earth as it really is; whatsoever makes you understand more about anything; whatsoever shows you more what you are, where you are, what you ought to do; whatsoever teaches you any single hint about your duty to God, or man, or the dumb beasts which you tend, or the soil which you till, or the business and line of life which you ought to follow; whatsoever shows you the right and the wrong in any matter, the truth and the falsehood in any matter, the prudent course and the imprudent course in any matter; in a word, whatsoever makes your mind more clear about any single thing in heaven or earth, is light.  For, mind, St. Paul does not say, whatsoever is light makes things plain; but whatsoever makes things plain is light.  That is saying a great deal more, thank God; for if he had said, whatsoever is light makes things clear, we should have been puzzled to know what was light; we should have been tempted to settle for ourselves what was light.  And, God knows, people in all ages, and people of all religions, Christians as well as heathens, have been tempted to say so, and to misread this text, till they said: “Whatsoever agrees with our doctrine is light, of course, but all other teaching is darkness, and comes from the devil;” and so they oftentimes blasphemed against God’s Holy Spirit by calling good actions bad ones, just because they were done by people who did not agree with them, and fell into the same sin as the Pharisees of old, who said that the Lord cast out devils by Beelzebub the prince of the devils.

But St. Paul says, whatsoever makes anything clearer to you, is light.  There is the gospel, and there is the good news of salvation again, coming out, as it does all through St. Paul’s epistles, at every turn, just where poor, sinful, dark man least expects it.  For, what does St. Paul say in the very next verse?  “Wherefore,” he says, “arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light.”  “Christ shall give thee light!”  Oh blessed news!  Christ gives us the light, and therefore we need not be afraid of it, but trust it, and welcome it.  And Christ gives us the light, therefore we have not to hunt and search after it; for He will give it us.  Let us think over these two matters, and see whether there is not a gospel and good news in them for all wretched, ignorant, sinful, dark souls, just as much as for those who are learned and wise, or bright and full of peace.

Christ gives us the light.  This agrees with what St. John says, that “He is the light who lights every man who comes into the world.”  And it agrees also with what St. James says: “Be not deceived, my beloved brethren.  Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from God, the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, nor shadow of turning.”  And it agrees also with what the prophet says, that it is the Spirit of God which gives man understanding.  And it agrees also with what the Lord Himself promised us when He was on earth, that He would send down on us the Spirit of God—the Spirit which proceeds alike from Him and from His Father, to guide us into all truth.  Ay, my friends, if we really believe this, what a solemn and important thing education would seem to us!  If we really believed that all light, all true understanding of any matter, came from the Lord Jesus Christ: and if we remember what the Lord Jesus’ character was; how He came to do good to all; to teach not merely the rich and powerful, but the poor, the ignorant, the outcast, the sinful: should we not say to ourselves, then: “If knowledge comes from Christ, who never kept anything to Himself, how dare we keep knowledge to ourselves?  If it comes from Him who gave Himself freely for all, surely He means that knowledge should be given freely to all.  If He and His Father, and our Father, will that all should come to the knowledge of the truth, how dare we keep the truth from anyone?”  So we should feel it the will of our heavenly Father, the solemn command of our blessed Saviour, that our children, and not only they, but every soul around us, young and old, should be educated in the best possible way, and in any way whatsoever, rather than in none at all.  The education of the poor would be, in our eyes, the most sacred duty.  A school would be, in our eyes, as necessary and almost as sacred a thing as a church.  And to neglect sending our children to school, or to leave our servants or work-people in ignorance, would seem to us an awful sin against the Father of lights; a rebellion against the Lord Jesus, who lights every man who comes into the world, and against our Father in heaven, who willeth not that one of these little ones should perish.

And this is made still more plain and certain by the next word in the text: “Christ shall give thee light:” not sell thee light, or allow thee to find light after great struggles, and weary years of study: but, give thee light.  Give it thee of His free grace and generosity.  We might have expected that, merely from remembering to whom the light belongs.  The mere fact that light belongs to the Lord Jesus Christ, who is the express likeness of His Father, might have made us sure that He would give His light freely to the unthankful and to the evil, just as His Father makes His sun to shine alike on the evil and on the good.  Therefore this text does not leave us to find out the good news for ourselves.  It declares to us plainly that He will give it us, as freely as He gives us all things richly to enjoy.

But, someone will say: You surely cannot mean that we shall have understanding without study?

You cannot mean that we are to become wise without careful thought, or that we are to understand books without learning to read?  Of course not, my friends.  The text does not say: “Christ will give thee eyes; Christ will give thee sense:” but, “Christ will give thee light.” . . .  Do you not see the difference?  Of what use would your eyes be without light?  And of what use would light be if your eyes were shut, and you asleep?  In darkness you cannot see.  Your eyes are there, as good as ever; the world is there, as fair as ever: but you cannot see it, because there is no light.  You can only feel it, by groping about with your hands, and laying hold of whatsoever happens to be nearest you.  And do you think that though your bodily eyes cannot see, unless God puts His light in the sky, to shine on everything, and show it you, yet your minds and souls can see without any light from God?  Not so, my friends.  What the sun is to this earth, that the Lord Jesus Christ, the Word of God, is to the spirit—that is, the reason and conscience—of every man who comes into the world.  Now, the good news of holy baptism is, that the light is here; that God’s Spirit is with us, to teach us the truth about everything, that we may see it in its true light, as it is, as God sees it; that the day-spring from on high has visited us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace; and that we are children of the light and of the day.  But what if those who sit in darkness like the darkness; and wilfully shut their eyes tight that they may not see the day-spring from on high, and the light which God has sent into the world?  Then the light will not profit them, but they will walk on still in darkness, not knowing whither they are going.

But some may say, wicked men are very wise; although they rebel against God’s Spirit, and do not even believe in God’s Spirit, but say that man’s mind can find out everything for itself, without God’s help, yet they are very wise.  Are they?  The Bible tells us again and again that the wisdom of such men is folly; that God takes such wise men in their own craftiness.  And the Bible speaks truth.  If there is one thing of which I am more certain than another, my friends, it is that, just in proportion as a man is bad, just in proportion as he does not believe in a good Spirit of God who wills to teach him, and gives him light, he is a fool.  If there is one thing more than another which such men’s books have taught me, it is that they are in darkness, when they fancy they are in the brightest light; that they make the greatest mistakes when they intend to say the cleverest things; and when they least fancy it, fall into nonsense and absurdities, not merely on matters of religion, but on points which they profess to have studied, and in cases where, by their own showing, they ought to have known better.  But our business is rather with ourselves.  Our business, in this time of Lent, is to see whether we have been shutting our eyes; whether we have been walking in darkness, while God’s light is all around us.  And how shall we know that?  Let St. John tell us: “He that saith he is in the light, and hateth his brother, is in darkness until now, and knoweth not whither he goeth, because darkness has blinded his eyes.”  Hating our brother.  Covetousness, which is indeed hating our brother, for it teaches us to prefer our good to our neighbour’s good, to fatten ourselves at our neighbour’s expense, to get his work, his custom, his money, away from him to ourselves; bigotry, which makes men hate and despise those who differ from them in religion; spite and malice against those who have injured us; suspicions and dark distrust of our neighbours, and of mankind in general; selfishness, which sets us always standing on our own rights, makes us always ready to take offence, always ready to think that people mean to insult us or injure us, and makes us moody, dark, peevish, always thinking about ourselves, and our plans, or our own pleasures, shut up as it were within ourselves—all these sins, in proportion as anyone gives way to them, darken the eyes of a man’s soul.  They really and actually make him more stupid, less able to understand his neighbours’ hearts and minds, less able to take a reasonable view of any matter or question whatsoever.  You may not believe me.  But so it is.  I know it by experience to be true.  I warn you that you will find it true one day; that all spite, passion, prejudice, suspicion, hard judgments, contempt, self-conceit, blind a man’s reason, and heart, and soul, and make him stumble and fall into mistakes, even in worldly matters, just as surely as shutting our eyes makes us stumble in broad daylight.  He who gives way to such passions is asleep, while he fancies himself broad awake.  His life is a dream; and like a dreamer, he sees nothing really, only appearances, fancies, pictures of things in his own selfish brain.  Therefore it is written: “Awake thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee life.”  You may say: Can I awaken myself?  Perhaps not, unless someone calls you.  And therefore Christ calls on you to awake.  He says by my mouth: Awake, thou sleeper, and I will give thee light; awake, thou dreamer, who fanciest that the sinful works of darkness can give thee any real profit, any real pleasure; awake, thou sleep-walker, who art going about the world in a dream, groping thy way on from day to day and year to year, only kept from fall and ruin by God’s guiding and preserving mercy.  Open thine eyes, and let in the great eternal loving light, wherein God beholds everything which He has made, and behold it is very good.  Open thine eyes, for it is day.  The light is here if thou wilt but use it.  “I will guide thee,” saith the Lord, “and inform thee with mine eye, and teach thee in the way wherein thou shalt go.”  Only believe in the light.  Believe that all knowledge comes from God.  Expect and trust that He will give thee knowledge.  Pray to Him boldly to give thee knowledge, because thou art sure that He wishes thee to have knowledge.  He wishes thee to know thy duty.  He wishes thee to see everything as He sees it.  “If any man lack wisdom, let him ask of God, who giveth to all liberally and upbraideth not, and he shall receive it.”  And when thou hast prayed for knowledge, expect it to come; as it is written: When thou prayest for anything, believe that thou wilt receive it, and thou wilt receive it.  If thou dost not believe that thou wilt have it, of course thou wilt not have it.  And why?  Because thou wilt pass by it without seeing it.  It will be there ready for thee in thy daily walks; Wisdom will cry to thee at the head of every street; God will not deny Himself or break His promise: but thou wilt go past the place where wisdom is, and miss the lessons which God is strewing in thy path, because thou art not looking for them.  Wisdom is here, my friends, and understanding is here, and the Spirit of God is here, if our eyes were but open to see them.  Oh my friends, of all the sins of which we have to repent in this time of Lent, none ought to give us more solemn and bitter thoughts of shame than the way in which we overlook the teaching of God’s Spirit, and shut our eyes to His light, times without number, every day of our lives.  My friends, if our hearts were what they ought to be, if we had humble, loving, trustful hearts, full of faith and hope in God’s promise to lead us into all truth, I believe that every joy and every sorrow which befell us, every book which we opened, every walk which we took upon the face of God’s earth, ay, every human face into which we looked, would teach us some lesson, whereby we should be wiser, better, more aware of where we are and what God requires of us as human beings, neighbours, citizens, subjects, members of His church.  All things would be clear to us; for we should see them in the light of God’s Spirit.  All things would look bright to us, for we should see them in the light of God’s love.  All things would work together for good to us, for we should understand each thing as it came before us, and know what it was, and what God meant it for, and how we were to use it.  And knowing and seeing what was right, we should see how beautiful it was, and love it, and take delight in doing it, and so we should walk in the light.  Dark thoughts would pass away from our minds, dark feelings from our hearts, dark looks from our faces.  We should look our neighbours cheerfully and boldly in the face; for our consciences would be clear of any ill-will or meanness toward them.  We should look cheerfully and boldly up to God our Father; for we should know that He was with us, guiding and teaching us, well-pleased with all our endeavours to see things as He sees them, and to live and work on earth after His image, and in His likeness.  We should look out cheerfully and boldly on the world around us, trying to get knowledge from everything we see, expecting the light, and welcoming it, and trusting it, because we know that it comes from Him who is true and cannot lie, Him who is love and cannot injure, Him who is righteous and cannot lead us into temptation: Jesus Christ, the Light who lighteth every man that cometh into the world.

XXXIX.

THE UNPARDONABLE SIN

Wherefore I say unto you: All manner of sin and blasphemy shall be forgiven unto men; but the blasphemy against the Holy Spirit shall not be forgiven unto men.  And whosoever speaketh a word against the Son of Man, it shall be forgiven him; but whosoever speaketh a word against the Holy Ghost, it shall not be forgiven him, either in this world, or in the world to come.—Matthew xii. 31, 32.

These awful words were the Lord’s answer to the Pharisees, when they said of Him: “He casts out devils by Beelzebub, the prince of the devils.”

What was it now which made this speech of the Pharisees so terrible a sin, past all forgiveness?

Of course we all feel that they were very sinful; we shrink with horror from their words as we read them.  But why ought they to have done the same?  We know, thank God, who Jesus Christ was.  But they did not; at that time, when He was first beginning to preach, they hardly could have known.  And mind, we must not say: “They ought to have known that He was the Son of God by His having the power of casting out devils;” for the Lord Himself says that the sons of these Pharisees used to cast them out also, or that the Pharisees believed that they did; and only asks them: “Why do you say of my casting out devils, what you will not say of your sons’ casting them out?”  Pray bear this in mind; for if you do not—if you keep in your mind the vulgar and unscriptural notion that the Pharisees’ sin was not being convinced by the great power of Christ’s miracles, you will never understand this story, and you will be very likely to get rid of it altogether as speaking of a sin which does not concern you, and a sin which you cannot commit.  Now, if the Pharisees did not know that Jesus was the Son of God, the Maker and King of the world, as we do, why were they so awfully wicked in saying that He cast out devils by the prince of the devils?  Was it anything more than a mistake of theirs?  Was it as wicked as crucifying the Lord?  Could it be a worse sin to make that one mistake, than to murder the Lord Himself?  And yet it must have been a worse sin.  For the Lord prayed for his murderers: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”  And these Pharisees, they knew not what they did: and yet the Lord, far from praying for them, told them that even He did not see how such serpents, such a generation of vipers, could escape the damnation of hell.

It is worth our while to think over this question, and try and find out what made the Pharisees’ sin so great.  And to do that, it will be wiser for us, first, to find out what the Pharisees’ sin was; lest we should sit here this morning, and think them the most wicked wretches who ever trod the earth; and then go away, and before a week is over, commit ourselves the very same sin, or one so fearfully like it, that if other people can see a difference between them, I confess I cannot.  And to commit such a sin, my good friends, is a far easier thing to do than some people fancy, especially here in England now.

Now, the worst part of the Pharisees’ sin was not, as we are too apt to fancy, their insulting the Lord: but their insulting the Holy Spirit.  For what does the Lord Himself say?  That all manner of blasphemy as well as sin should be forgiven; that whosever spoke a word against Him, the Son of Man, should be forgiven: but that the unpardonable part of their offence was, that they had blasphemed the Holy Spirit.

And who is the Holy Spirit?  The Spirit of holiness.  And what is holiness?  What are the fruits of holiness?  For, as the Lord told the Pharisees on this very occasion, the tree is known by its fruit.  What says St. Paul?  The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, meekness, temperance.  Those who do not show these fruits have not God’s Spirit in them.  Those who are hard, unloving, proud, quarrelsome, peevish, suspicious, ready to impute bad motives to their neighbours, have not God’s Spirit in them.  Those who do show these fruits; who are gentle, forgiving, kind-hearted, ready to do good to others, and believe good of others, have God’s Spirit in them.  For these are good fruits, which, as our Lord tells us, can only spring from a good root.  Those who have the fruit must have the root, let their doctrines be what they may.  Those who have not the fruit cannot have the root, let their doctrines be what they may.

That is the plain truth; and it is high time for preachers to proclaim it boldly, and take the consequences from the Scribes and Pharisees of this generation.  That is the plain truth.  Let doctrines be what they will, the tree is known by its fruit.  The man who does wrong things is bad, and the man who does right things is good.  It is a simple thing to have to say, but very few believe it in these days.  Most fancy that the men who can talk most neatly and correctly about certain religious doctrines are good, and that those who cannot are bad.  That is no new notion.  Some people thought so in St. John’s time; and what did he say of them?  “Little children, let no man deceive you; it is he that doeth righteousness who is righteous, even as God is righteous.”  And again: “He who says, I know God, and keeps not His commandments, is a liar, and the truth is not in him.”  St. John was the apostle of love.  He was always preaching the love of God to men, and entreating men to love one another.  His own heart was overflowing with love.  Yet when it came to such a question as that; when it came to people’s pretending to be religious and orthodox, and yet neither obeying God nor loving their neighbours, he could speak sternly and plainly enough.  He does not say: “My dear friends, I am sorry to have to differ from you, but I am afraid you are mistaken;” he says: “You are liars, and there is no truth in you.”

Now this was just what the Pharisees had forgotten.  They had got to think, as too many have nowadays, that the sign of a man’s having God’s Spirit in him, was his agreeing with them in doctrine.  But if he did not agree with them; if he would not say the words which they said, and did not belong to their party, and side with them in despising every one who differed from them, it was no matter to them, as they proved by their opinion of Jesus Himself, how good he might be, or how much good he might do; how loving, gentle, patient, benevolent, helping, and caring for poor people; in short, how like God he was; all that went for nothing if he was not of their party.  For they had forgotten what God was like.  They forgot that God was love and mercy itself, and that all love and mercy must come from God; and, that, therefore, no one, let his creed or his doctrine be what it might, could possibly do a loving or merciful thing, but by the grace and inspiration of God, the Father of mercies.  And yet their own prophets of the Old Testament had told them so, when they ascribed the good deeds of heathens to the inspiration of God, just as much as the good deeds of Jews, and agreed, as they do in many a text, with what St. James, himself a Jew, said afterwards: “Be not deceived; every good gift, and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights.”  But the Pharisees, like too many nowadays, did not think so.  They thought that good and perfect gifts might some of them very well come from below, from the father of darkness and cruelty.  They saw the Lord Jesus Christ doing good things; driving out evil, and delivering men from the power of it; healing the sick, cleansing the leper, curing the mad, preaching the gospel to the poor: and yet they saw in that no proof that God’s Spirit was working in Him.  Of course, if He had been one of their own party, and had held the same doctrines as they held, they would have praised Him loudly enough, and held Him up as a great saint of their school, and boasted of all His good deeds as proofs of how good their party was, and how its doctrines came from God.  But as long as He was not one of them, His good works went for nothing.  They could not see God’s likeness in that loving and merciful character.  All His charity and benevolence made them only hate Him the more, because it made them the more afraid that He would draw the people away from them.  “And of course,” they said to themselves, “whosoever draws people away from us, must be on the devil’s side.  We know all God’s law and will.  No one on earth has anything to teach us.  And therefore, as for any one who differs from us, if he cast out devils, it must be because the devil is helping him, for his own purposes, to do it.”

In one word, then, the sin of these Pharisees, the unpardonable sin, which ruins all who give themselves up to it, was bigotry; calling right wrong, because it did not suit their party prejudices to call it right.  They were fancying themselves very religious and pious, and all the while they did not know right when they saw it; and when the Lord came doing right, they called it wrong, because He did not agree with their doctrines.  They fancied they were the only people on earth who knew how to worship God perfectly; and yet while they pretended to worship Him, they did not know what He was like.  The Lord Jesus came down, the perfect likeness of God’s glory, and the express pattern of His character, helping, and healing, and delivering the souls and bodies of all poor wretches whom He met; and these Pharisees could not see God’s Spirit in that; and because it was certainly not their own spirit, called it the spirit of a devil, and blasphemed against the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of Right and Love.

This was bigotry, the flower and crown of all sins into which man can fall; the worst of all sins, because a man may keep from every other sin with all his might and main, as the Pharisees did, and yet be led by bigotry into almost every one of them without knowing it; into harsh and uncharitable judgment; into anger, clamour, and railing; into misrepresentation and slander; and fancying that the God of truth needs the help of their lying; perhaps, as has often happened, alas! already, into devilish cruelty to the souls and bodies of men.  The worst of all sins; because a man who has given up his heart to bigotry can have no forgiveness.  He cannot; for how can a man be forgiven unless he repent? and how can a bigot repent? how can he confess himself in the wrong, while he fancies himself infallibly in the right?  As the Lord said to these very Pharisees: “If ye had been blind, ye had had no sin: but now ye say We see; therefore your sin remaineth.”

How can the bigot repent? for repenting is turning to God; and how can a man turn to God who does not know where to look for God, who does not know who God is, who mistakes the devil for God, and fancies the all-loving Father to be a taskmaster, and a tyrant, and an accuser, and a respecter of persons, without mercy or care for ninety-nine hundredths of the souls which He has made?  How can he find God?  He does not know whom to look for.

How can the bigot repent? for to repent means to turn from wrong to right; and he has lost the very notion of right and wrong, in the midst of all his religion and his fine doctrines.  He fancies that right does not mean love, mercy, goodness, patience, but notions like his own; and that wrong does not mean hatred, and evil-speaking, and suspicion, and uncharitableness, and slander, and lying, but notions unlike his own.  What he agrees with he thinks is heavenly, and what he disagrees with is of hell.  He has made his own god for himself out of himself.  His own prejudices are his god, and he worships them right worthily; and if the Lord were to come down on earth again, and would not say the words which he is accustomed to say, it would go hard but he would crucify the Lord again, as the Pharisees did of old.

My friends, there is too much of this bigotry, this blasphemy against God’s Spirit, abroad in England now.  May God keep us all from it!  Pray to Him night and day, to give you His Spirit, that you may not only be loving, charitable, full of good works yourselves, but may be ready to praise and enjoy a good, and loving, and merciful action, whosoever does it, whether he be of your religion or not; for nothing good is done by any living man without the grace of Christ, and the inspiration of the Spirit of God, the Father of lights, from whom comes down every good and perfect gift.  And whosoever tries to escape from that great truth, when he sees a man whose doctrines are wrong doing a right act, by imputing bad motives to him, or saying: “His actions must be evil, however good they may look, because his doctrines are wrong,”—that man is running the risk of committing the very same sin as the Pharisees, and blaspheming against the Holy Spirit, by calling good evil.  And be sure, my friends, that whosoever indulges, even in little matters, in hard judgments, and suspicions, and hasty sneers, and loud railing, against men who differ from him in religion, or politics, or in anything else, is deadening his own sense of right and wrong, and sowing the seeds of that same state of mind, which, as the Lord told the Pharisees, is utterly the worst into which any human being can fall.

XL.

THE SPIRIT OF BONDAGE

For ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry Abba, Father.—Romans viii. 15.

Some of you here may not understand this text at all.  Some of you, perhaps, may misunderstand it; for it is not an easy one.  Let us, then, begin, by finding out the meaning of each word in it; and, let us first see what is the meaning of the spirit of bondage unto fear.  Bondage means slavery; and the spirit of bondage means the spirit which makes men look up to God as slaves do to their taskmaster.  Now, a slave obeys his master from fear only; not from love or gratitude.  He knows that his master is stronger than he is, and he dreads being beaten and punished by him; and therefore, he obeys him only by compulsion, not of his own good will.  This is the spirit of bondage; the slavish, superstitious spirit in religion, into which all men fall, in proportion as they are mean, and sinful, and carnal, fond of indulging themselves, and bearing no love to God or right things.  They know that God is stronger than they; they are afraid that God will take away comforts from them if they offend Him; they have been taught that He will cast them into endless torment if they offend Him; and, therefore, they are afraid to do wrong.  They love what is wrong, and would like to do it; but they dare not, for fear of God’s punishment.  They do not really fear God; they only fear punishment, misfortune, death, and hell.  That is better, perhaps, than no religion at all.  But it is not the faith which we ought to have.

In this way the old heathens lived: loving sin and not holiness, and yet continually tormented with the fear of being punished for the very sins which they loved; looking up to God as a stern taskmaster; fancying Him as proud, and selfish, and revengeful as themselves; trying one day to quiet that wrath of His which they knew they deserved, by all sorts of flatteries and sacrifices to Him; and the next day trying to fancy that He was as sinful as themselves, and was well-pleased to see them sinful too.  And yet they could not keep that lie in their hearts; God’s light, which lights every man who comes into the world, was too bright for them, and shone into their consciences, and showed them that the wages of sin was death.  The law of God, St. Paul tells us, was written in their hearts; and how much soever, poor creatures, they might try to blot it out and forget it, yet it would rise up in judgment against them, day by day, night by night, convincing them of sin.  So they in their terror sold themselves to false priests, who pretended to know of plans for helping them to escape from this angry God, and gave themselves up to superstitions, till they even sacrificed their sons and their daughters to devils, in some sort of confused hope of buying themselves off from misery and ruin.

And in the same way the Jews lived, for the most part, before the Lord Jesus came in the flesh of man.  Not so viciously and wickedly, of course, because the law of Moses was holy, and just, and good; the law which the Lord Himself had given them, because it was the best for them then; because they were too sinful, and slavish, and stupid, for anything better.  But, as St. Paul says, Moses’s law could not give them life, any more than any other law can.  That is, it could not make them righteous and good; it could not change their hearts and lives; it could only keep them from outward wrong-doing by threats and promises, saying: “Thou shalt not.”  It could, at best, only show them how sinful their own hearts were; how little they loved what God commanded; how little they desired what He promised; and so it made them feel more and more that they were guilty, unworthy to look up to a holy God, deserving His anger and punishment, worthy to die for their sins; and thus by the law came the knowledge of sin, a deeper feeling of guilt, and shame, and slavish dread of God, as St. Paul sets forth, with wonderful wisdom, in the seventh chapter of Romans.

Now, let us consider the latter half of the text.  “But ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry Abba, Father.”

What is this adoption?  St. Paul tells us in the beginning of the fourth chapter of his epistle to the Galatians.  He says: As long as a man’s heir is a child, and under age, there is no difference in law between him and a slave.  He is his father’s property.  He must obey his father, whether he chooses or not; and he is under tutors and governors, until the time appointed by his father; that is, until he comes of age, as we call it.  Then he becomes his own master.  He can inherit and possess property of his own after that.  And from that time forth the law does not bind him to obey his father; if he obeys him it is of his own free will, because he loves, and trusts, and reverences his father.

Now, St. Paul says, this is the case with us.  When we were infants, we were in bondage under the elements of the world; kept straight, as children are, by rules which they cannot understand, by the fear of punishment which they cannot escape, with no more power to resist their father than slaves have to resist their master.  But when the fulness of time was come, God sent forth His Son, born of a woman, born under a law, that He might redeem those who were under a law, that we might receive the adoption of sons.

As much as to say: You were God’s children all along: but now you are more; you are God’s sons.  You have arrived at man’s estate; you are men in body and in mind; you are to be men in spirit, men in life.  You are to look up to the great God who made heaven and earth, and know, glorious thought! that He is as truly your Father as the men whose earthly sons you call yourselves.  And if you do this, He will give you the Spirit of adoption, and you shall be able to call Him Father with your hearts, as well as with your lips; you shall know and feel that He is your Father; that He has been loving, watching, educating, leading you home to Him all the while that you were wandering in ignorance of Him, in childish self-will, and greediness after pleasure and amusement.  He will give you His Spirit to make you behave like His sons, to obey Him of your own free will, from love, and gratitude, and honour, and filial reverence.  He will make you love what He loves, and hate what He hates.  He will give you clear consciences and free hearts, to fear nothing on earth or in heaven, but the shame and ingratitude of disobeying your Father.

The Spirit of adoption, by which you look up to God as your Father, is your right.  He has given it to you, and nothing but your own want of faith, and wilful turning back to cowardly superstition, and to the wilful sins which go before superstition, and come after it, can take it from you.  So said St. Paul to the Romans and the Galatians, and so I have a right, ay, and a bounden duty, to say to every man and woman in this church this day.

For, my dear friends, if you ask me, what has this to do with us?  Has it not everything to do with us?  Whether we are leading good lives, or middling lives, or utterly bad worthless lives, has it not everything to do with us?  Who is there here who has not at times said to himself: “God so holy, and pure, and glorious; while I am so unjust, and unclean, and mean!  And God so great and powerful; while I am so small and weak!  What shall I do?  Does not God hate and despise me?  Will He not take from me all which I love best?  Will He not hurl me into endless torment when I die?  How can I escape from Him?  Wretched man that I am, I cannot escape from Him!  How, then, can I turn away His hate?  How can I make Him change His mind?  How can I soothe Him and appease Him?  What shall I do to escape hell-fire?”

Did you ever have such thoughts?  But, did you find those thoughts, that slavish terror of God’s wrath, that dread of hell, made you any better men?  I never did.  I never saw them make any human being better.  Unless you go beyond them—as far beyond them as heaven is beyond hell, as far above them as a free son is above a miserable crouching slave, they will do you more harm than good.  For this is all that I have seen come of them: That all this spirit of bondage, this slavish terror, instead of bringing a man nearer to God, only drove him further from God.  It did not make him hate what was wrong; it only made him dread the punishment of it.  And then, when the first burst of fear cooled down, he began to say to himself: “I can never atone for my sins.  I can never win back God to love me.  What is done, is done.  If I cannot escape punishment, let me be at least as happy as I can while it lasts.  If it does not come to-day, it will come to-morrow.  Let me alone, thou tormenting conscience.  Let me eat and drink, for to-morrow I die!”  And so back rushed the poor creature into all his wrong-doing again, and fell most probably deeper than ever into the mire, because a certain feeling of desperation and defiance rose up in him, till he began to fancy that his terror was all a dream—a foolish accidental rising up of old superstitious words which he learnt from his mother or his nurse; and he tried to forget it all, and did forget it—God help him!—and his latter end was worse than his first.

How then shall a man escape shame and misery, and an evil conscience, and rise out of these sins of his?  For do it he must.  The wages of sin is death—death to body and soul; and from sin he must escape.

There is but one way, my friends.  There never was but one way.  Believe the text, and therefore believe the warrant of your Baptism.  Believe the message of your Confirmation.

Your baptism says to you, God does not hate you, be you the greatest sinner on earth.  He does not hate you.  He loves you; for you are His child.  He hateth nothing that He hath made.  He willeth not the death of a sinner, but that all should come to be saved.  And your baptism is the sign of that to you.  But God hates everything that He has not made; for everything which He has not made is bad; and He has made all things but sin; and therefore He hates sin, and, loving you, wishes to raise you out of sin; and baptism is the sign of that also.  Man was made originally in the image and likeness of God, and of Jesus Christ, the Son of Man, the express image of God the Father; and therefore everything which is sinful is unmanly, and everything which is truly manful, and worthy of a man, is like Jesus Christ; and God’s will is, that you should rise out of all these unmanly sins, to a truly manful life—a life like the life of Jesus Christ, the Son of Man.  And baptism is God’s sign of this also.  That is the meaning of the words in the Baptism Service which tell you that you were baptised into Jesus Christ, that you might put off the old man—the sinful, slavish, selfish, unmanly pattern of life, which we all lead by nature; and put on the new man—the holy and noble, righteous and loving pattern of life, which is the likeness of the Lord Jesus.  That is the message of your baptism to you; that you are God’s children, and that God’s will and wish is that you should grow up to become His sons, to serve Him lovingly, trustingly, manfully; and that He can and will give you power to do so—ay, that He has given you that power already, if you will but claim it and use it.  But you must claim it and use it, because you are meant not merely to be God’s wilful, ignorant, selfish children, obeying Him from mere fear of the rod; but to be His willing, loving, loyal sons.  And that is the message which Confirmation brings you.  Baptism says: You are God’s child, whether you know it or not.  Confirmation says: Yes; but now you are to know it, and to claim your rights as His sons, of full age, reasonable and self-governing.

Baptism says: You are regenerated and born from above, by water and the Holy Spirit.  Confirmation answers: True, most true; but there is no use in a child’s being born, if it never comes to man’s estate, but remains a stunted idiot.

Baptism says: You may and ought to become more or less such a man as the Lord Jesus was.  Confirmation says: You can become such; for you are no longer children; you are grown to man’s estate in body, you can grow to man’s estate in soul if you will.  God’s Spirit is with you, to show you all things in their true light; to teach you to value them or despise them as you ought; to teach you to love what He loves, and hate what He hates.  God wishes you no longer to be merely His children, obeying Him you know not why; still less His slaves, obeying Him from mere brute coward fear, and then breaking loose the moment that you forget Him, and fancy that His eye is not on you: but He wishes you to be His sons; to claim the right and the power which He has given you to trample your sins under foot; to rise up by the strength which God your Father will surely give to those who ask Him; and so to be new men, free men, true men, who do look boldly up to God, knowing that, however wicked they may have been, and however weak they are still, God’s love belongs to them, God’s help belongs to them, and that those who trust in Him shall never be confounded, but shall go on from strength to strength to the measure of the stature of a perfect man, to the noble likeness of the Lord Jesus Christ Himself.

For this is the message of the blessed sacrament of the body and blood of Christ, to which you have been all called this day.  That sacrament tells you that in spite of all your daily sins and failings, you can still look up to God as your Father; to the Lord Jesus Christ as your life; to the Holy Spirit as your guide and your inspirer; that though you be prodigal sons, your Father’s house is still open to you, your Father’s eternal love ready to meet you afar off, the moment that you cry from your heart: “Father, I have sinned;” and that you must be converted and turn back to God your Father, not merely once for all at Confirmation, or at any other time, but weekly, daily, hourly, as often as you forget and disobey Him; and that he will receive you.  This is the message of the blessed sacrament, that though you cannot come there trusting in your own righteousness, you can come trusting in His manifold and great mercies; that though you are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under His table, yet He is the same Lord whose property is ever to have mercy; that He will, as surely as He has appointed that sign of the bread and wine, grant you so to eat and drink that spiritual flesh and blood of the Lord Jesus Christ, which is the life of the world, that your sinful bodies may be made clean by His body, and your souls washed in His most precious blood, and that you may dwell in Him, and He in you, for ever.

XLI.

THE FALL

As by one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin; and so death passed on all men, for that all have sinned.—Romans v. 12.

We have been reading the history of Adam’s fall.  With that fall we have all to do; for we all feel the fruits of it in the sinful corruptions which we bring into the world with us.  And more, every fall which we have is like Adam’s fall: every time we fall into wilful sin, we do what Adam did, and act over again, each of us many times in our lives, that which he first acted in the garden of Paradise.  At least, all mankind suffer for something.  Look at the sickness, death, bloodshed, oppression, spite, and cruelty, with which the world is so full now, of which it has been full, as we know but too well from history, ever since Adam’s time.  The world is full of misery, there is no denying that.  How did that come?  It must have come somehow.  There must be some reason for all this sorrow.  The Bible tells us a reason for it.  If anyone does not like the Bible reason, he is bound to find a better reason.  But what if the Bible reason, the story of Adam’s fall, be the only rational and sensible explanation which ever has been, or ever will be given, of the way in which death and misery came among men?

Some people will say: What puzzle is there in it?  All animals die, why should not man?  All animals fight and devour each other, why should not man do so too?  But why need we suppose that man is fallen?  Why should he not have been meant by nature to be just what he is?  Some scholars who fancy themselves wise, and think that they know better than the Bible, will say that now, and pride themselves on having said a very fine thing; ignorant men, too, often are led into the same mistake, and are willing enough to say: “What if we are brutish, and savage, and ignorant, and spiteful, indulging ourselves, hating and quarrelling with each other?  God made us what we are, and we cannot help it.”  But there is a voice in the heart of every man, and just in proportion as a man is a man, and not a beast and a savage, that voice cries in his heart more loudly: No; God did not make you what you are.  You are not meant to be what you are, but something better.  You are not meant to fight and devour each other as the animals do; for you are meant to be better than they.  You are not meant to die as the animals do; for you feel something in you which cannot die, which hates death.  You may try to be a mere savage and a beast, but you cannot be content to be so.  And yet you feel ready to fall lower, and get more and more brutish.  What can be the reason?  There must be something wrong about men, something diseased and corrupt in them, or they would not have this continual discontent with themselves for being no better than they are; this continual hankering and longing after some happiness, some knowledge, some good and noble state which they do not see round them, and never have felt in themselves.  Man must have fallen, fallen from some good and right state into which he was put at first, and for which he is hankering and craving now.  There must be an original sin in him; that is, a sin belonging to his origin, his race, his breed, as we say, which has been handed down from father to son; an original sin as the church calls it.  And I believe firmly that the heart of man, even among savages, bears witness to the truth of that doctrine, and confesses that we are fallen beings, let false philosophers try as they will to persuade us that we are not.