ANOTHER CAUSE OF UNBELIEF--BAD FEELING. THE AUTHOR'S CASE.
There are several other causes of doubt and unbelief which we might
name, if we had time; but we have not. There is one however which we
must notice, because it had considerable influence in our own case; we
refer to the bad feeling which sometimes takes possession of the minds
of Christians towards each other, or of the minds of ministers towards
their brother ministers.
You are aware, perhaps, that if you scratch the skin, and introduce a
little diseased animal matter to the blood, it will gradually spread
itself through the system, and in time poison the whole body. And if you
do not know this, you know, that if you take a little leaven, and place
it in a mass of meal, and leave it there to work unchecked, it will in
time leaven the whole lump. And as it is with things natural, so it is
with things spiritual. If you allow a little leaven of bad feeling to
get into your minds towards your fellow Christians or your brother
ministers, and permit it to remain there, it will in time infect your
whole soul, impair the action of all its faculties, and after alienating
you from individuals, separate you first from the Church, and then from
Christ and Christianity.
There is a passage in the Bible which says that judges are not to take
gifts; and the reason assigned is, not that if a judge accepts a present
he will, with his eyes open, wilfully condemn the innocent or acquit the
guilty; but that "a gift _blindeth the eyes_," even "of the wise," so
that he is no longer able to see clearly which is the guilty and which
the guiltless party. And there is another passage in the Bible which
says that "oppression driveth a wise man mad." The feeling a man has
that he has been wickedly, cruelly treated, excites his mind so
painfully and violently, that it is impossible for him to think well of
the character or views of his oppressor, or of any party, institution,
or system with which he may be connected.
As some friends of mine were canvassing for votes one day, previous to
an election, they came upon a man who could not, for a time, say for
which candidate he would vote. At length a thought struck him, and he
said, "Who is John Myers going to vote for?" "Oh," said my friends,
"he's going to vote for _our_ man." "Then I'll vote for the other man,"
said he, "for I'm sure Myers will vote wrong." Myers had swindled him in
a business transaction; and his feelings towards him were so strong, and
of so unpleasant a kind, that he could not think anything right that
Myers did, nor could he think anything wrong that he himself did, so
long as he took care to go contrary to Myers.
It is very natural to smile at such weakness when we see it in others,
and yet exhibit unconsciously the same weakness ourselves under another
form. There are some Christians who, when their minister pleases them
well, are quite delighted with his discourses. They are "marrow and
fatness" to their souls. And every sermon he preaches seems better than
the one that went before; and they feel as if they could sit under that
dear good man for ever. But a change comes over their feelings with
regard to him. While going his round of pastoral visits some day, he
passes their door, but calls at the house of a richer neighbor a little
lower down: or on visiting the Sunday-school, he pats someone's little
boy on the head, and speaks to him kind and pleasant words, while he
passes their little son unnoticed. He has no improper design in what he
does; but it happens so; that is all. The idea of partiality never
enters his mind. But they fancy he has got something wrong in his mind
towards them; and it is certain now that they have got something wrong
in their minds towards him. And now his sermons are quite changed. The
"marrow and fatness" are all gone, and there is nothing left but "the
husks which the swine should eat." And every sermon he preaches seems
worse than the one which went before, until at length they get quite
weary, and their only comfort is, if they be Methodists, that Conference
will come some day, and they will have a change. And all this time the
preacher is just the same good man he ever was, and his sermons are the
same; only _they_ are changed. They have misjudged him, and become the
subjects of unhappy feeling, and are no longer capable of doing either
him or his sermons justice.
And the longer the unhappy feeling is allowed to remain in their minds,
the stronger it will become, and the more mischievous will it prove.
After disabling or perverting their judgments with regard to their
pastor, it will be in danger of separating them from the Church; and
when once they get out of the Church into the outside world, no wonder
if they make shipwreck both of faith, and of a good conscience.
And so it is continually. Our views of men's characters, talents,
sentiments, are always more or less influenced by our feelings and
affections. If we like a man very much, we look on his views in the most
favorable light, and are glad to see anything like a reason for adopting
them ourselves. We give his words and deeds the most favorable
interpretation, and we rate his gifts and graces above their real value.
On the other hand, if we dislike a man,--if we are led to regard him as
an enemy, and to harbor feelings of resentment towards him, we look on
what he says and does with distrust; we suspect his motives; we
under-rate his talents, and are pleased to have an excuse for differing
from him in opinion.
We see proofs of this power of feeling and affection over the judgment
on every hand. The mother of that ordinary-looking and troublesome child
thinks it the most beautiful and engaging little creature under heaven;
while she wonders how people can have patience with her neighbor's
child, which, in truth, is quite a cherub or an angel compared with
her's. You know how it is with natural light. You sit inside an ancient
cathedral, and the light from the bright shining sun streams in through
the painted windows. Outside the cathedral the light is all pure white;
but inside, as it falls upon the pulpit, the pillars, the pews and the
people, it is purple, orange, violet, blue, red, or green, according to
the color of the glass through which it passes. It is the same with
moral or spiritual light; it takes the tint or hue of the painted
windows of our passions and prejudices, our likes and dislikes, through
which it enters our minds. The light that finds its way into men's
minds, says Bacon, is never pure, white light; but light colored by the
medium through which it passes. Look where we will, whether into books
or into the living world, we see differences of opinion on men and
things that can be accounted for on no other principle than that the
judgments of people are influenced by their passions and feelings, their
prejudices and interests. The Royalists looked on Cromwell through
spectacles of hate and vengeance, and saw a monster of hypocrisy and
blood. The Puritans looked at him through spectacles of revolutionary
fanaticism, and saw a glorious saint and hero. The clergy looked on
Nonconformists through conservative glasses, and saw a rabble of
fanatics and rebels. The Nonconformists looked on the clergy through
revolutionary glasses, and saw a host of superstitious formalists, and
blind, persecuting Pharisees. The man who looks through the unstained
glasses of impartiality, sees much that is good, and something that is
not good, in all.
Who, that knows much of human nature, expects Catholics to judge
righteously of Protestants, or Protestants to judge righteously of
Catholics? Who, that knows anything of the world, expects revolutionary
Radicals to do justice to the characters and motives of Conservatives,
or ejected Irishmen to see anything in Englishmen but robbers and
tyrants? I know that all this is great weakness, but where is the man
that is not weak? The man who thinks himself free from this weakness,
has probably a double share of it. The man who is really strong is some
one who is keenly sensible of his weakness, and who feels that his
sufficiency is of God. Weakness and humanity are one.
I dwell the longer on this point because, as I have already intimated, a
right understanding of it will go far towards explaining the disastrous
change which took place in my own mind with regard to Christianity. One
great cause of my separation from the Church, and then of my
estrangement from Christ, was the influence of bad feeling which took
possession of my mind towards a number of my brother ministers.