I suppose the real meaning of this doctrine is that Presbyterians are
just as sure of going to heaven as all other folks are of going to
hell. The real idea being, that it all depends upon the will of God,
and not upon the character of the person to be damned or saved; that
God has the weakness to send Presbyterians to Paradise, and the justice
to doom the rest of mankind to eternal fire.
It is admitted that no unconverted brain can see the least of sense in
this doctrine; that it is abhorrent to all who have not been the
recipients of a "new heart;" that only the perfectly good can justify
the perfectly infamous.
It is contended that the saints do not persevere of their own free
will--that they are entitled to no credit for persevering; but that God
forces them to persevere; while on the other hand, every crime is
committed in accordance with the secret will of God, who does all
things for His own glory. Compared with this doctrine, there is no
other idea, that has ever been believed by man, that can properly be
called absurd.
As to the doctrine of the perseverance of the saints, I wish with all
my heart that it may prove to be a fact, I really hope that every
saint, no matter how badly he may break on the first quarter, nor how
many shoes he may cast at the half-mile pole, will foot it bravely down
the long home-stretch, and win eternal heaven by at least a neck.
Twelfth. With having spoken and written somewhat lightly of the idea
of converting the heathen with doctrinal sermons.
Of all the failures of which we have any history or knowledge the
missionary effort is the most conspicuous. The whole question has been
decided here, in our own country, and conclusively settled. We have
nearly exterminated the Indians; but we have converted none. From the
days of John Eliot to the execution of the last Modoc, not one Indian
has been the subject of irresistible grace or particular redemption.
The few red men who roam the Western wilderness have no thought or care
concerning the five points of Calvin. They are utterly oblivious to
the great and vital truths contained in the Thirty-nine articles, the
Saybrook platform, and the resolutions of the Evangelical Alliance. No
Indian has ever scalped another on account of his religious belief.
This of itself shows conclusively that the missionaries have had no
effect.
Why should we convert the heathen of China and kill our own? Why
should we send missionaries across the seas, and soldiers over the
plains? Why should we send bibles to the East and muskets to the West?
If it is impossible to convert Indians who have no religion of their
own; no prejudice for or against the "eternal procession of the Holy
Ghost," how can we expect to convert a heathen who has a religion; who
has plenty of gods and bibles and prophets and Christs, and who has a
religious literature far grander than our own? Can we hope, with the
story of Daniel in the lion's den, to rival the stupendous miracles of
India? Is there anything in our bible as lofty and loving as the
prayer of the Buddhist? Compare your "Confession of Faith" with the
following:
"Never will I seek nor receive private individual salvation--never
enter into final peace alone; but forever and everywhere will I live
and strive for the universal redemption of every creature throughout
all worlds. Until all are delivered, never will I leave the world of
sin, sorrow and struggle, but will remain where I am."
Think of sending an average Presbyterian to convert a man who daily
offers this tender, this infinitely generous and incomparable prayer!
Think of reading the 109th Psalm to a heathen who has a bible of his
own, in which is found this passage: "Blessed is that man, and beloved
of all the gods, who is afraid of no man, and of whom no man is afraid!"
Why should you read even the new testament to a Hindoo, when his own
Chrishna has said: "If a man strike thee, and in striking drop his
staff, pick it up and hand it to him again?" Why send a Presbyterian
to a Sufi, who says: "Better one moment of silent contemplation and
inward love, than seventy thousand years of outward worship?"
"Whosoever would carelessly tread one worm that crawls on earth, that
heartless one is darkly alienate from God; but he that, living,
embraceth all things in his love, to live with him God bursts all
bounds above, below."
Why should we endeavor to thrust our cruel and heartless theology upon
one who prays this prayer: "O God, show pity toward the wicked; for on
the good thou hast already bestowed thy mercy by having created them
virtuous?"
Compare this prayer with the curses and cruelties of the old
testament--with the infamies commanded and approved by the being whom
the are taught to worship as a God, and with the following tender
product of Presbyterianism: "It may seem absurd to human wisdom that
God should harden, blind, and deliver up some men to a reprobate sense;
that He should first deliver them over to evil, and then condemn them
for that evil; but the believing spiritual man sees no absurdity in all
this, knowing that God would never be a whit less good, even though He
should destroy all men."
Of all the religions that have been produced by the egotism, the
malice, the ignorance and ambition of man, Presbyterianism is the most
hideous.
But what shall I say more? for the time would fail me to tell of
Sabellianism, of a "Model trinity" and the "eternal procession of the
Holy Ghost."
Upon these charges a minister is to be tried, here in Chicago; in this
city of pluck and progress--this marvel of energy, and this miracle of
nerve. The cry of "heresy" here, sounds like a wail from the Dark
Ages--a shriek from the Inquisition, or a groan from the grave of
Calvin.
Another effort is being made to enslave a man. It is claimed that
every member of the church has solemnly agreed never to outgrow the
creed; that he has pledged himself to remain an intellectual dwarf.
Upon this condition the church agrees to save his soul, and he hands
over his brains to bind the bargain. Should a fact be found
inconsistent with the creed, he binds himself to deny the fact and
curse the finder. With scraps of dogmas and crumbs of doctrine, he
agrees that his soul shall be satisfied forever. What an intellectual
feast the confession of faith must be! It reminds one of the dinner
described by Sidney Smith, where everything was cold except the water,
and everything sour except the vinegar.
Every member of a church promises to remain orthodox, that is to
say--stationary. Growth is heresy. Orthodox ideas are the feathers
that have been molted by the eagle of progress. They are the dead
leaves under the majestic palm; while heresy is the bud and blossom at
the top.
Imagine a vine that grows at one end and decays at the other. The end
that grows is heresy; the end that rots is orthodox. The dead are
orthodox, and your cemetery is the most perfect type of a well
regulated church. No thought, no progress, no heresy there. Slowly
and silently, side by side, the satisfied members peacefully decay.
There is only this difference--the dead do not persecute.
And what does a trial for heresy mean? It means that the church says
to a heretic, "Believe as I do, or I will withdraw my support; I will
not employ you; I will pursue you until your garments are rags; until
your children cry for bread; until your cheeks are furrowed with tears.
I will hunt you to the very portals of the tomb, and then my God will
do the rest. I will not imprison you. I will not burn you. The law
prevents my doing that. I helped make the law, not, however, to
protect you, nor deprive me of the right to exterminate you, but in
order to keep other churches from exterminating me."
A trial for heresy means that the spirit of persecution still lingers
in the church; that it still denies the right of private judgment; that
it still thinks more of creed than truth; that it is still determined
to prevent the intellectual growth of man. It means that churches are
shambles in which are bought and sold the souls of men. It means that
the church is still guilty of the barbarity of opposing thought with
force. It means that if it had the power, the mental horizon would be
bounded by a creed, that it would bring again the whips, and chains,
and dungeon keys, the rack and fagot of the past.
But let me tell the church it lacks the power. There has been, and
still are, too many men who own themselves--too much thought, too much
knowledge for the church to grasp again the sword of power. The church
must abdicate. For the Eglon of superstition, science has a message
from truth.
The heretics have not thought and suffered and died in vain. Every
heretic has been, and is, a ray of light. Not in vain did Voltaire,
that great man, point from the foot of the Alps, the finger of scorn at
every hypocrite in Europe. Not in vain were the splendid utterances of
the infidels, while beyond all price are the discoveries of science.
The church has impeded, but it has not and it cannot stop the onward
march of the human race. Heresy can not be burned, nor imprisoned, nor
starved. It laughs at presbyteries and synods, at Ecumenical councils
and the impotent thunders of Sinai. Heresy is the eternal dawn, the
morning star, the glittering herald of the day. Heresy is the last and
best thought. It is the perpetual new world; the unknown sea, toward
which the brave all sail. It is the eternal horizon of progress.
Heresy extends the hospitalities of the brain to new thoughts. Heresy
is a cradle; orthodoxy a coffin.
Why should a man be afraid to think, and why should he fear to express
his thoughts?
Is it possible that an infinite Deity is unwilling that man should
investigate the phenomena by which he is surrounded?
Is it possible that a God delights in threatening and terrifying men?
What glory, what honor and renown a God must win in such a field! The
ocean raving at a drop; a star envious of a candle; the sun jealous of
a firefly!
Go on, presbyteries and synods, go on! Thrust the heretics out of the
church. That is to say, throw away your brains--put out your eyes.
The Infidels will thank you. They are willing to adopt your exiles.
Every deserter from your camp is a recruit for the army of progress.
Cling to the ignorant dogmas of the past; read the 109th Psalm; gloat
over the slaughter of mothers and babes; thank God for total depravity;
shower your honors upon hypocrites, and silence every minister who is
touched with that heresy called genius.
Be true to your history. Turn out the astronomers, the geologists, the
naturalists, the chemists, and all the honest scientists. With a whip
of scorpions, drive them all out. We want them all. Keep the
ignorant, the superstitious, the bigoted, and the writers of charges
and specifications. Keep them, and keep them all. Repeat your pious
platitudes in the drowsy ears of the faithful, and read your bible to
heretics, as kings read some forgotten riot-act to stop and stay the
waves of revolution. You are too weak to excite anger. We forgive
your efforts as the sun forgives a cloud--as the air forgives the
breath you waste.
How long, O how long will man listen to the threats of God, and shut
his ears to the splendid promises of Nature? How long, O how long will
man remain the cringing slave of a false and cruel creed.
By this time the whole world should know that the real bible has not
yet been written; but is being written, and that it will never be
finished until the race begins its downward march or ceases to exist.
The real bible is not the work of inspired men, nor prophets, nor
apostles, nor evangelists, nor of Christ. Every man who finds a fact,
adds, as it were, a word to this great book. It is not attested by
prophecy, by miracles or by signs. It makes no appeal to faith, to
ignorance, to credulity of fear. It has no punishment for unbelief,
and no reward for hypocrisy. It appears to men in the name of
demonstration. It has nothing to conceal. It has no fear of being
read, of being investigated and understood. It does not pretend to be
holy or sacred; it simply claims to be true. It challenges the
scrutiny of all, and implores every reader to verify every line for
himself. It is incapable of being blasphemed. This book appeals to
all the surroundings of man. Each thing that exists testifies of its
perfection. The earth with its heart of fire and crowns of snow; with
its forests and plains, its rocks and seas; with its every wave and
cloud; with its every leaf, and bud, and flower, confirms its every
word, and the solemn stars, shining in the infinite abysses, are the
eternal witnesses of its truth.