Discipline and Other Sermons

God grant that that may never be said to any of us.  And yet it is impossible to deny—impossible to shut our eyes to the plain fact—that Englishmen now-a-days are more and more forgetting that there are any commandments of God whatsoever; any everlasting laws laid down by their Heavenly Father, which, if they break, will avenge themselves by our utter ruin.  We do not go after other gods, it is true, in the sense of worshipping idols.  But there is another god, which we go after more and more; and that is money; gain; our interest (as we call it):—not knowing that the only true interest of any man is to fear God and keep his commandments.  We hold more and more that a man can serve God and mammon; that a man must of course be religious, and belong to some special sect, or party, or denomination, and stand up for that fiercely enough: but we do not hold that there are commandments of God which say for ever to the sinner, ‘Do this and thou shalt live;’ ‘Do this or thou shalt die.’

We hold that because we are not under the law, but under grace, there is no condemnation for sin—at least for the special sort of sin which happens to be in fashion, which is now-a-days the sin of making money at all risks.  We hold that there is one law of morality for the kingdom of heaven, and another for the kingdom of mammon.  Therefore we hold, more and more, that when money is in question anything and everything is fair.  There are—we have reason to know it just now but too well—thousands who will sell their honour, their honesty, yea, their own souls, for a few paltry pounds, and think no shame.  And if any one says, with Jeremiah the prophet, ‘These are poor, they know not the way of the Lord, nor the judgment of their God.  I will get me to the great men, for they have known the way of the Lord, and the judgment of their God:’—then will he find, as Jeremiah did, that too many of these great and wealthy worshippers of mammon have utterly broken the yoke, and burst the bonds, of all moral law of right and wrong: heaping up vast fortunes amid the ruin of those who have trusted them, and the tears of the widow and the orphan, by means now glossed over by fine new words, but called in plain honest old English by a very ugly name.

How many there are in England now, my friends, who would laugh in their hearts at those worthy Rechabites, and hold them to be ignorant, old-fashioned, bigoted people, for keeping up their poor, simple, temperate life, wandering to and fro with their tents and cattle, instead of dwelling in great cities, and making money, and becoming what is now-a-days called civilized, in luxury and covetousness.  Surely according to the wisdom of this world, the Rechabites were foolish enough.  But it is the wisdom of this world itself—not simplicity and loyalty like theirs—which is foolishness with God.

My friends, let us all take warning, each man for himself.  When a nation corrupts itself—as we seem inclined to do now, by luxury and covetousness, selfishness and self-will, forgetting more and more loyalty and order, honesty and high principle—then some wholesome, but severe judgment of God, is sure to come upon that nation: a day in which all faces shall gather blackness: a day of gloominess and thick darkness, like the morning spread upon the mountains.

For the eternal laws of God’s providence are still at work, though we choose to forget them; and the Judge who administers them is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever, even Jesus Christ the Lord, the everlasting Rock, on which all morality and all society is founded.  Whosoever shall fall on that Rock in repentance and humility, confessing, bewailing, and forsaking his worldliness and sinfulness, he shall indeed be broken: but of him it is written, ‘The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.’  And he shall find that Rock, even Christ, a safe standing-ground amid the slippery mire of this world’s temptations, and the storms and floods of trouble which are coming—it may be in our children’s days—it may be in our own.

But he who hardens his heart: he who says proudly, ‘We are they that ought to speak; who is Lord over us?’—he who says carelessly, ‘Soul, take thine ease; thou hast much goods laid up for many years’—he who halts between two opinions, and believes to the last that he can serve both God and mammon—he, especially, who fancies that falsehood, injustice, covetousness, and neglect of his fellow-men, can properly be his interest, or help his interest in any wise—of all such it is written, ‘On whomsoever that Rock’—even the eternal laws of Christ the Judge—‘On whomsoever that Rock shall fall, it shall grind him to powder.’

SERMON VII

THE NAME OF GOD

Isaiah i. 10

Who is among you that feareth the Lord, that obeyeth the voice of his servant, that walketh in darkness, and hath no light?  Let him trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon his God.

To some persons it may seem strange advice to tell them, that in the hour of darkness, doubt, and sorrow, they will find no comfort like that of meditating on the Name of the Ever-blessed Trinity.  Yet there is not a prophet or psalmist of the Old Testament who does not speak of ‘The Name of the Lord,’ as a kind of talisman against all the troubles which can befall the spirit of man.  And we, as Christians, know, or ought to know, far more of God than did even prophets or psalmists.  If they found comfort in the name of God, we ought to find far more.

But some will say—Yes.  Let us think of God, God’s mercies, God’s dealings with his people; but why think especially of the Name of the Ever-blessed Trinity?

For this simple reason.  That it is by that Name of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, that God has revealed himself.  That is the name by which he bids us think of him; and we are more or less disregarding his commands when we think of him by any other.  That is the name which God has given himself; and, therefore, it is morally certain that that is God’s right name; that it expresses God’s very self, God’s very being, as he is.

Theology signifies, the knowledge of God as he is.  And it is dying out among us in these days.  Much of what is called theology now is nothing but experimental religion; which is most important and useful when it is founded on the right knowledge of God: but which is not itself theology.  For theology begins with God: but experimental religion, right or wrong, begins with a man’s own soul.  Therefore it is that men are unaccustomed to theology.  They shrink from it as something very abstruse, only fit for great scholars and divines, and almost given up now-a-days even by them.  They do not know that theology, the knowledge of God, is full of practical every-day comfort, and guidance for their conduct and character; yea, that it is—so says the Bible—everlasting life itself.  Therefore it is that some shrink from thinking of the Ever-blessed Trinity, not from any evil intent, but because they are afraid of thinking wrongly, and so consider it more safe not to think at all.  They have been puzzled, it may be, by arguments which they have heard, or read, or which have risen up in their own minds, and which have made them doubt about the Trinity: and they say—I will not torment my soul, and perhaps endanger my soul, by doubts.  I will take the doctrine of the Trinity for granted, because I am bidden to do so: but I leave what it means to be explained by wiser men.  If I begin thinking about it I shall only confuse myself.  So it is better for me not to think at all.

And one cannot deny that they are right, as far as they go.  If they cannot think about the Trinity without thinking wrongly, it is better to take on trust what they are told about it.  But they lose much by so doing.  They lose the solid and real comfort which they may get by thinking of the Name of God.  And, I believe, they lose it unnecessarily.  I cannot see why they must think wrongly of the Trinity, if they think at all.  I cannot see why they need confuse themselves.  The doctrine of the Trinity is not really an unreasonable one.  The doubts which come into men’s minds concerning it do not seem to me sound and reasonable doubts.  For instance, some say—How can there be three persons in one God?  It is contrary to reason.  One cannot be many.  Three cannot be one.  That is unreasonable.

I think, that if you will use your reason for yourselves, you will see that it is those words which are unreasonable, and not the doctrine of the Trinity.

First.  A thing need not be unreasonable—that is, contrary to reason—because it is above and beyond reason—or, at least, beyond our human reason, which at best (as St. Paul says) sees as in a glass darkly, and only knows in part.

Consider how many things are beyond reason which are not contrary to it.  I say that all things which God has made are so: but, without going so far, let us consider these simple examples.

Is it not beyond all reason that among animals, like should bring forth like?  Why does an eagle’s egg always produce an eagle, and a dove’s egg a dove, and so forth?  No man knows, no man can give any reason whatsoever.  If a dove’s egg produced an eagle, ignorant men would cry out at the wonder, the miracle.  Wise men know that the real wonder, the real miracle is, that a dove’s egg always produces a dove, and not any and every other bird.

Here is a common and notorious fact, entirely above our reason.  There is no cause to be given for it, save that God has ordained it so.  But it is not contrary to our reason.  So far from it, we are certain that a dove will produce a dove; and our reason has found out much of the laws of kind; and found out that they are reasonable laws, regular, and to be depended upon; so that we can, as all know, produce and keep up new breeds whether of plants or of animals.

So that the law of kind, though it is beyond our reason, is not contrary to our reason at all.

So much for things which have life.  Take an equally notorious example from things which have not life.

Is it not above and beyond all our reason—that the seemingly weakest thing in the world, the most soft and yielding, the most frail and vanishing, should be also one of the strongest things in the world?  That is so utterly above reason, that while I say it, it seems to some of you to be contrary to reason, to be unreasonable and impossible.  It is so above reason, that till two hundred years ago, no one suspected that it was true.  And yet it is strictly true.

What is more soft and yielding, more frail and vanishing, than steam?  And what is stronger than steam?  I know nothing.  Steam it is which has lifted up the mountains from the sea into the clouds.  Steam it is which tears to pieces the bowels of the earth with earthquakes and volcanoes, shaking down cities, rasping the solid rocks into powder, and scattering them far and wide in dust over the face of the land.

What gives to steam its enormous force is beyond our reason.  We do not know.  But so far from being contrary to our reason, we have learnt that the laws of steam are as reasonable as any other of God’s laws.  We can calculate its force, we can make it, use it, and turn its mighty powers, by reason and science, into our most useful and obedient slave, till it works ten thousand mills, and sends ten thousand ships across the sea.

Above reason, I say, but not contrary to reason, is the mighty power of steam.

And God, who made all these wonders—and millions of wonders more—must he not be more wonderful than them all?  Must not his being and essence be above our reason?  But need they be, therefore, contrary to our reason?  Not so.

Nevertheless, some will say, How can one be many?  How can one be three?  Why not?  Two are one in you, and every man.  Your body is you, and your soul is you.  They are two.  But you know yourself that you are one being; that the Athanasian Creed speaks, at least, reason when it says, ‘As the reasonable soul and the flesh are one man, so God and man is one Christ.’

And three are one in every plant in the field.  Root, bark, leaves, are three.  And yet—they are one tree; and if you take away any one of them, the tree will die.  So it is in all nature.  But why do I talk of a tree, or any other example?  Wherever you look you find that one thing is many things, and many things one.  So far from that fact being contrary to our reason, it is one which our reason (as soon as we think deeply about this world) assures us is most common.  Of every organized body it is strictly true, that it is many things, bound together by a certain law, which makes them one thing and no more.  And, therefore, every organized body is a mystery, and above reason: but its organization is none the less true for that.

And there are philosophers who will tell you—and wisely and well—that there must needs be some such mystery in God; that reason ought to teach us—even if revelation had not—two things.  First, that God must be one; and next, that God must be many—that is, more than one.

Do I mean that our own reason would have found out for itself the mystery of the ever-blessed Trinity?  God forbid!  Nothing less.

There surely is a difference between knowing that a thing must be, and knowing that the thing is, and what it is like; and there surely is a difference between knowing that there is a great mystery and wonder in God, and knowing what that mystery is.

Man might have found out that God was one, and yet more than one; but could he have found out what is the essence and character of God?  Not his own reason, but the Spirit of God it is which tells him that: tells him that God is Three in One—that these three are persons—that these persons are, a Father, a Son, and a Holy Spirit.

This is what God has himself condescended to tell us; and therefore this is what he specially wishes us to believe and remember when we think of him.  This is God’s name for himself—Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.  Man may give God what name he chooses.  God’s own name, which he has given himself, is likely surely to be the most correct: at least, it is the one of which God means us to think; for it is the one into which he commanded us to be baptized.  Remember that, whenever you hear discourse concerning God; and if any man, however learned, says that God is absolute, answer—‘It may be so: but I was not baptized into the name of the absolute.’  If he tell you, God is infinite, answer—‘It may be so: but I was not baptized into the name of the infinite.’  If he tell you, God is the first cause, answer—‘That I doubt not: but I was not baptized into the name of the first cause.  I was baptized into the name which God has given himself—Father, Son, and Holy Ghost; and I will give him no other name, and think of him by no other name, lest I be committing an act of irreverence toward God, by presuming to call him one thing, when he has bid me call him another.  Absolute, infinite, first cause, and so forth, are deep words: but they are words of man’s invention, and words too which plain, hard-working, hard-sorrowing folks do not understand; even if learned men do—which I doubt very much indeed: and therefore I do not trust them, cannot find comfort for my soul in them.  But Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are words which plain, hard-working, hard-sorrowing men can understand, and can trust, and can find comfort in them; for they are God’s own words, and, like all God’s words, go straight home to the hearts of men—straight home to the heart of every one who is a father or mother—to the heart of every one who has a parent or a child—to the heart of every one who has the Holy Spirit of God putting into his mind good desires, and striving to make him bring them into good effect, and be, what he knows he should be, a holy and good man.’

Answer thus, my friends.  And think thus of the mystery of the Ever-blessed Trinity.  For this is a thoroughly reasonable plan of thought: and more—in thinking thus you will find comfort, guidance, clearness of head, and clearness of conscience also.  Only remember what you are to think of.  You are not to think merely of the mystery of the question, and to puzzle yourselves with arguments as to how the Three Persons are one; for that is not to think of the Ever-blessed Trinity, but only to think about it.  Still less are you to think of the Ever-blessed Trinity under names of philosophy which God has not given to himself; for that is not to think of the Ever-blessed Trinity at all.  You must think of the Ever-blessed Trinity as he is,—of a Father, a Son, and a Holy Spirit; and to think of him the more earnestly, the more you are sad at heart.  It may be that God has sent that sadness to make you think of him.  It may be that God has cut the very ground from under your feet that you may rest on him, the true and only ground of all created things; as it is written: ‘Who is he among you who walketh in darkness and hath no light?  Let him trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon his God.’

Some will tell you, that if you are sorrowful it is a time for self-examination, and for thinking of your own soul.  I answer—In good time, but not yet.  Think first of God; for how can you ever know anything rightly about your own soul unless you first know rightly concerning God, in whom your soul lives, and moves, and has its being?

Others may tell you to think of God’s dealings with his people.  I answer—In good time, but not yet; think first of God.  For how can you rightly understand God’s dealings, unless you first rightly understand who God is, and what his character is?  Right notions concerning your own soul, right notions concerning God’s dealings, can only come from right notions concerning God himself.  He is before all things.  Think of him before all things.  He is the first, and he is the last.  Think of him first in this life, and so you will think of him last, and for ever in the life to come.  Think of the Father, that he is a Father indeed, in spirit and in truth.  Think of the Son, that he is a Son indeed, in spirit and in truth.  Think of the Holy Spirit, that he is a Holy Spirit indeed, in spirit and in truth.  So you will be thinking indeed of the Ever-blessed Trinity; and will worship God, not with your lips or your thoughts merely, but in spirit and in truth.  Think of the Father, that he is the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, and that the perfect Son must be forever perfectly like the perfect Father.  For then you will believe that God the Father looks on you, and feels for you, exactly as does Jesus Christ your Lord; then you will feel that he is a Father indeed; and will enter more and more into the unspeakable comfort of that word of all words, ‘Our Father who art in heaven.’

Think of the Lord Jesus Christ as the perfect Son, who, though he is co-equal and co-eternal with his Father, yet came not to do his own will, but his Father’s; who instead of struggling, instead of helping himself, cried in his agony: ‘Not my will, but thine be done;’ and conquered by resignation.  So you will enter into the unspeakable comfort of conquering by resignation, as you see that your resignation is to be like the resignation of Christ; not that of trembling fear like a condemned criminal before a judge; not that of sullen necessity, like a slave before his master: but that of the only-begotten Son of God; the resignation of a child to the will of a father whom he can utterly trust, because that father’s name is love.

Think of the Holy Spirit as a person; having a will of his own; who breatheth whither he listeth, and cannot be confined to any feelings or rules of yours, or of any man’s; but may meet you in the Sacraments, or out of the Sacraments, even as he will; and has methods of comforting and educating you, of which you will never dream; one whose will is the same as the will of the Father and of the Son, even a good will; just as his character is the same as the character of the Father and of the Son: even love which works by holiness; love which you can trust utterly, for yourself and for all whom you love.

Think, I say, of God himself as he is; think of his name, by which he has revealed himself, and thus you will—But who am I, to pretend to tell you what you will learn by thinking rightly of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost?  How can I dare to say how much you will or will not learn?  How can I put bounds to God’s teaching? to the workings of him who has said, ‘If a man love me, he will keep my words, and my Father will love him; and we will come unto him, and make our abode with him’?  How can I tell you in a few words of one sermon all that that means?  How can I, or any man, know all that that means?  Who is one man, or all men, to exhaust the riches of the glory of God, or the blessings which may come from thinking of God’s glory?  Let it be enough for us to be sure that truly to know God is everlasting life; and that the more we think of God by his own revealed name of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, the more we shall enter, now and hereafter, into eternal life, and into the peace which comes by the true knowledge of him in whom we live, and move, and have our being.

SERMON VIII

THE END OF RELIGION

Ephesians iv. 23, 24

Be renewed in the spirit of your mind; and put ye on the new man, which after God is created in righteousness and true holiness.

This text is exceedingly valuable to us for it tells us the end and aim of all religion.  It tells us why we are to pray, whether at home or in church; why we are to read our Bibles and good books; why we are to be what is commonly called religious.

It tells us, I say, the end and aim of all religion; namely, that we may put on ‘the new man, which after God’—according to the likeness of God—‘is created in righteousness and true holiness.’  So says St. Paul in another place: ‘Be ye therefore followers’—literally, copiers, imitators—‘of God, as dear children.’

Now this is not what you will be told from too many pulpits, and in too many books, now-a-days, is the end of religion.  You will be told that the end of religion is to save your soul, and go to heaven.

But experience shows, my friends, in all religions and in all ages, that those who make it their first object in life to save their souls, are but too likely to lose them; as our Lord says, He that saveth his soul, or life—for the words are the same in Scripture—shall lose it.

And experience shows that in all religions, and in all ages, those who make it their first object in life to get to heaven, are but too likely never to get there: because in their haste, they forget what heaven is, and what is the only way of arriving at it.

Good works, as they call the likeness of God and the Divine life, are in too many persons’ eyes only fruits of faith, or proofs of faith, and not the very end of faith, and of religion—ay, of their very existence here on earth; and therefore they naturally begin to ask,—How few good works will be enough to prove their faith?  And when a man has once set that question before himself, he is sure to find a comfortable answer, and to discover that very few good works indeed,—a very little sanctification (as it is called), a very little righteousness, and a very little holiness,—will be enough to save his soul, as far at least as he wishes his soul to be saved.  My friends, all this springs from that selfish view of religion which is gaining power among us more and more.  Christ came to deliver us from our selfishness; from being slaves to our selfish prudence and selfish interest.  But we make religion a question of profit and loss, as we make everything else.  We ask—What shall I get by being good?  What shall I get by worshipping God?  Is it not prudent, and self-interested, and business-like to give up a little pleasure on earth, in the hope of getting a great deal in heaven?  Is not religion a good investment?  Is it not, considering how short and uncertain life is, the best of all life-insurances?