JOHN WESLEY AND HIS VIEWS ON CERTAIN POINTS.
How easy it is for men to mix up their own fancies, or the vain conceits
of others, with divine truth,--or rather, how hard it is to _avoid_
doing so,--we may see by the case of John Wesley. Wesley was one of the
most devout, and conscientious, and, on the whole, one of the most
rational, Scriptural, practical and common-sense men the Christian
Church ever had. Compared with theologians generally, he was worthy of
the highest praise. He had the greatest reverence for the Scriptures. He
early in life declared it to be his determination to be _a man of one
Book_, and that one book the BIBLE; and he acted in accordance
with this determination to the best of his knowledge and ability. The
Bible was his sole authority. Its testimony decided all questions,
settled all controversies. Yet such was the influence of prevailing
custom in the theological world, operating on his mind unconsciously
from his earliest days, that he unintentionally acted inconsistently
with this good resolution in cases without number. Shakespeare makes one
of his characters say, "If to do, were as easy as to know what is
fittest to be done, beggars would ride on horses, and poor men's
cottages would be princes' palaces. I could more easily tell twenty men
what it was best to do, than be one of the twenty to carry out my own
instructions." And we need no better proof or illustration of the truth
of this wise saying, than the case of the good and great John Wesley.
We have seen what his resolution was. Look now at one or two of his
sermons. Take first the sermon on God's Approbation of His Works. In
that discourse, referring to the primeval earth, he speaks as follows:
"The _whole surface_ of it was beautiful in a high degree. The
_universal face_ was clothed with living green. And every part was
_fertile_ as well as beautiful. It was no where deformed by rough or
ragged rocks: it did not shock the view with horrid precipices, huge
chasms, or dreary caverns: with deep, impassable morasses, or deserts
of barren sands. We have not any authority to say, with some learned and
ingenious authors, that there were no _mountains_ on the original earth,
no unevennesses on its surface, yet it is highly probable that they rose
and fell, by almost insensible degrees.
"There were no agitations within the bowels of the globe: no violent
convulsions: no concussions of the earth: no earthquakes: but all was
unmoved as the pillars of heaven. There were then no such things as
eruptions of fire: there were no volcanoes, or burning mountains.
Neither Vesuvius, Etna, nor Hecla, if they had any being, then poured
out smoke and flame, but were covered with a verdant mantle, from the
top to the bottom.
"It is probable there was no external sea in the paradisiacal earth:
none, until the great deep burst the barriers which were originally
appointed for it; indeed there was not then that need of the ocean for
_navigation_ which there is now. For either every country produced
whatever was requisite either for the necessity or comfort of its
inhabitants; or man being then (as he will be again at the resurrection)
equal to the angels, was able to convey himself, at his pleasure, to any
given distance.
"There were no putrid lakes, no turbid or stagnating waters. The element
of _air_ was then always serene, and always friendly to man. It
contained no frightful meteors, no unwholesome vapors, no poisonous
exhalations. There were no tempests, but only cool and gentle breezes,
fanning both man and beast, and wafting the fragrant odors on their
silent wings.
"The sun, the fountain of _fire_, 'Of this great world both eye and
soul,' was situated at the most exact distance from the earth, so as to
yield a sufficient quantity of heat, (neither too little nor too much)
to _every part of it_. God had not yet 'Bid his angels turn askance this
oblique globe.' There was, therefore, then no country that groaned under
'The rage of Arctos, and eternal frost.' There was no violent winter, or
sultry summer; no extreme either of heat or cold. No soil was burned up
by the solar heat: none uninhabitable through the want of it.
"There were then no impetuous currents of air, no tempestuous winds, no
furious hail, no torrents of rain, no rolling thunders or forky
lightnings. _One perennial spring was perpetually smiling over the whole
surface of the earth._"
Speaking of vegetable productions, he says,
"There were no weeds, no plants that encumbered the ground. Much less
were there any _poisonous_ ones, tending to hurt any one creature."
Referring to the living creatures of the sea, he says,
"None of these then attempted to devour, or in any wise hurt one
another. All were peaceful and quiet, as were the watery fields wherein
they ranged at pleasure."
Referring to insects, he adds,
"The spider was then as harmless as the fly, and did not then lie in
wait for blood. The weakest of them crept securely over the earth, or
spread their gilded wings in the air, that wavered in the breeze and
glittered in the sun, without any to make them afraid. Meantime, the
reptiles of every kind were equally harmless, and more intelligent than
they."
Referring to birds and beasts, he says,
"Among all these there were no birds or beasts of prey: none that
destroyed or molested another."
All this may be very beautiful poetry, such as one might expect from the
"fine frenzy" of a loving, lawless genius, but it is not Scripture, nor
is it science or philosophy. We have not a doubt but that God made all
things _right_,--that all His works were very _good_; the Scriptures
tell us that very plainly: but they do _not_ tell us that the things
named by Wesley constituted their goodness. _He_ thinks that the earth
could not be good if it had on its surface rough or rugged rocks, horrid
precipices, huge chasms, or dreary caverns, with impassable morasses, or
deserts of barren sands. _We_ think _otherwise_. _We_ think the earth is
all the _better_, and even all the more _beautiful_ for rough and rugged
rocks, for horrid precipices, huge chasms, and dreary caverns. So far
from regarding the rough and rugged rocks as deformities, we look on
them as ornaments. So far from appearing to us as an evil, they appear a
good. Even the impassable morasses, and the deserts of barren sands may
have their use. If man had met with nothing in the state of the earth
that stood in the way of his will or pleasure; if he had met with
nothing in the shape of difficulty or inconvenience, it would have been
a terrible calamity. All man's powers are developed and perfected by
exertion; and without exertion,--without vigorous exertion--he would
not, as at present constituted, be capable of enjoying life. Man cannot
be happy without work. We therefore believe that it was wise and kind in
God, independent of Adam's sin, to make impassable morasses, and barren
deserts, &c., to exercise man's powers of mind and body in _draining_
the morasses, and _fertilizing_ the deserts. We believe that the earth
was very good; but we believe that the rough and rugged rocks, the
horrid precipices, huge chasms, dreary caverns, with the deep impassable
morasses, and the deserts of barren sands, were _parts_ of the earth's
goodness,--were manifestations both of the wisdom and goodness of God.
Wesley thinks there _were_ mountains on the earth before sin was
committed, but that their sides were not _abrupt_ or _difficult of
ascent_; that they rose and fell by almost _insensible degrees_. This
passage also goes on the false supposition, that whatever things would
be likely to render great exertion necessary on the part of man, would
be an evil; whereas such things are among man's greatest blessings.
Wesley farther tells us, that there were no agitations within the bowels
of the earth, no violent convulsions, no concussions of the earth, no
earthquakes, no eruptions of fire, no volcanoes, or burning mountains.
There is proof however, that there were _all_ these things, not only
_before sin was committed_, but _before man himself was created_.
Nor do we regard earthquakes and volcanoes as evils. They are calculated
even at the present to answer good ends. They tend to make men feel
their absolute dependence upon God, and thus lead them to obey His law.
They are sinking revelations of God's power, and perpetual lessons of
piety. And they have other uses.
He says, "If Vesuvius, Etna, or Hecla, existed before sin was committed,
they were covered with a verdant mantle from the top to the bottom." But
is a mountain either better or more beautiful for being covered with a
verdant mantle from the top to the bottom? Is it either better or more
beautiful for having no abrupt sides, difficult of ascent,--for rising
and falling by almost insensible degrees? We think the contrary. The
variety of scenery presented by mountains in their present state, is
most beautiful. The abruptness of the sides of mountains contributes
infinitely both to the beauty of the mountain, and to the beauty of the
earth in general; and the toil of climbing up the steep ascent of a
mountain is one of the blessings and pleasures of life. We should be
sorry if there were no hills so steep as to be difficult of ascent. We
should be sorry if the earth had no mountains with abrupt sides, and
black, and brown, and rugged faces. We should be very sorry if the face
of the earth were covered with one unvaried mantle of green. Green is
very pleasant, and it is well that the greater part of the earth is
covered with green; but variety also is pleasant; and green itself would
cease to be pleasant if there were nothing else but green.
Wesley adds, that there was probably no sea on the surface of the earth
in its paradisiacal state, none until the great deep burst the barriers
which were originally appointed for it; and he adds, that there was not
then that need of the ocean for navigation which there is now, as every
place yielded all that was necessary to man's welfare and pleasure. We
answer. The idea that the ocean was given to facilitate communication
between different nations, makes us smile. Suppose there had been no
ocean, should we have had a long way to go to get into the next country,
the country nearest to us? Just the contrary. If there had been no
ocean, there would have been land in its place, and we should neither
have had to cross water nor land to get to it. It would have come up
close to our own country. We have all the same travelling in order to
have communication with the inhabitants of other countries when we have
crossed the ocean, that we should have had, to obtain communication with
neighboring countries, if there had been no ocean at all. The ocean was
intended for _other_ purposes. The use of the ocean, one of its
_principal_ uses at least, is to temper the climates and seasons of the
earth. If the earth were one unbroken continent, the summers would be
intolerably hot, and the winters would be intolerably cold, and the
changes from winter to summer would be so violent, and work such fearful
havoc, as to render the earth uninhabitable. By means of the _ocean_,
those intolerable inconveniences are avoided. The sea, which is never
so cold in winter as the land, tempers the air as it blows over it, and
thus moderates the cold of the land. The sea also, which is never so
warm in summer as the land, tempers the air again, and breathes coolness
and freshness over the heated land. Neither heat nor cold affects the
sea so suddenly or so violently as it affects the land. A few days of
summer heat are sufficient to make the solid earth quite hot,--so hot,
in many cases, that you cannot bear your naked hand upon it long. Yet
this same amount of summer heat will make scarcely any perceptible
difference in the waters of the ocean. Then again, in winter, a few days
severe frost will make the solid earth, and especially the stones and
metals, so cold, that they would blister a delicate skin, if pressed
against them; while they make scarcely any perceptible difference upon
the waters of the ocean. The ocean sits on its low throne like the
monarch of this lower world, controlling the elements, tempering the
heat and the cold, and thus preserving the earth and its living
inhabitants from harm.
Wesley tells us farther, that before the sin of Adam, "The air was
always serene and always friendly to man." Now the air is still always
_friendly to man_. Even when it comes in the form of hurricanes and
tempests, it is so. It is doing work, even then, _good work_, which
gentle breezes are _unable_ to do. It is carrying away dangers which
gentler currents of air would not have the power to carry away. And even
when they cause destruction in their course, they are still performing
friendly offices to man. They are inspiring him with a livelier
consciousness of his absolute dependence upon God, and of the folly of
resisting His will. They are exercising his intellectual powers, by
leading him to devise means for his protection from their fury, and
obliging him also to exert his bodily powers in carrying out the devices
of his intellect. They are, in fact, contributing to make him a wiser, a
stronger, a better, a happier, and in all respects, a completer, and a
diviner being than he otherwise would be. We agree therefore with Wesley
that the air before Adam sinned was always _friendly to man_; but we do
not agree with him in his notions as to what _constituted_ its
friendliness; nor do we agree with him in the notion, that since the
sin of Adam the air has _ceased_ to be friendly, or even proved to be
_less_ friendly, to man. We believe that the air is as friendly to man
now as it ever was,--that it does him as little mischief, that it
contributes as much to his well-being and comfort, as it ever did.
Wesley further says, the sun was situated at the most exact distance
from the earth, so as to yield a sufficient quantity of heat, neither
too little nor too much, to every part of it. Ho further intimates that
there was at first no inclination of the earth's axis, and that the
seasons and the degree of heat and cold were, in consequence, the same
all the world over, and all the year round. All these statements seem
erroneous in the extreme. The supply of heat to the different parts of
the earth does not depend altogether on the distance of the sun from the
earth, as Wesley intimates, but on the motions of the earth around the
sun and upon its own axis. Wesley seems to imagine that if the axis of
the earth were not inclined, or elevated at one end, the earth would
receive from the sun the same quantity of heat through every part;
whereas nothing could be farther from the truth. If, as Wesley expresses
it, "This oblique globe had not been turned askance," some parts of the
earth would have received from the sun scarcely any heat at all; they
would have received neither light nor heat, except in such slight
measures as to be altogether useless. The arctic regions and the
antarctic regions must have been alike uninhabitable. That turning of
the oblique globe askance, which Wesley represents as the cause of
extreme heat and cold, was the very thing to _prevent_ those extremes,
or to reduce them to the lowest possible point, and to secure to every
part of the globe, as _far as possible_, an _equal_ amount of light and
warmth. I say _as far as possible_; for to secure to every part of the
earth exactly the same amount of light and heat from one sun, is
impossible. Place a little globe in what position you will with respect
to a neighboring candle, and fix the axis of that globe as you please,
and move that globe; give the globe a motion upon its own axis, and
another motion round the light near which it is placed, and you will
find it impossible to secure to every part of that globe exactly the
same amount of light and heat. By inclining the axis of the globe, or as
Wesley expresses it, turning it askance, as the axis of the earth is
inclined or turned askance, you may secure the _greatest possible
equality_ of light and heat to every part; but still that greatest
possible equality will be a considerable _inequality_. So far,
therefore, from the polar regions being made colder or darker by the
globe being turned askance, they are indebted to that very obliqueness
of the earth's axis, and that apparent irregularity of its motions, for
the chief portion of that light and heat which they receive. How Wesley
came to speak so erroneously on this subject, I am at a loss to know, as
he must, one would think, have understood the first elements of
geography and astronomy. Yet his words are at variance with the first
elements of those popular sciences.
But it would take up too much room to notice all the unauthorized
statements of Mr. Wesley on this subject. We have said enough to show
how the most conscientious and best-intentioned man may err on
theological subjects, and what need young Christians have to be somewhat
critical and careful in adopting and testing their religious opinions.
There are other sermons of Wesley which are as much at variance with
Scripture as the one we have had under notice. I have not his sermons at
hand just now, but if I remember right, his remarks on the righteousness
of the Scribes and Pharisees, in his sermon on that subject, are quite
at variance with the statements of Christ.
And Wesley was one of the best, one of the most honest and
conscientious, one of the most single-minded men on the face of the
earth. No man, I imagine, was ever more anxious to be right,--no one was
ever more desirous to know and teach God's truth in all its purity, and
in everything to do God's will and bless mankind. And he knew and chose
the right standard of truth and goodness, and honestly endeavored to
conform to it both in thought and deed and word. Yet he could err in
this strange and wholesale way. What then may we expect from other
theological writers? Many of the theologians whose writings influence
the Church were _not_ very good men; they were selfish, ambitious, proud
and worldly. Some were idle, dreamy, careless, godless. And others, who
were piously disposed, never deliberately adopted the Bible as their
rule of faith and practice. They never set themselves to conform to it,
as the standard of truth and goodness. They adopted or inherited the
faiths or traditions of their predecessors, never suspecting them of
error, and never inquiring whether they were true or not. The idea of
testing or correcting either their way of thinking or their way of
talking on religious subjects, by the teachings of Christ, never entered
their minds. They lived at ease, dreaming rather than thinking, and
talking in their sleep, and filling great folios with their idle
utterances. What kind of thoughts, and what kind of words were we likely
to find in the writings of men like these? Robert Hall is reported to
have described the works of the celebrated John Owen as "A CONTINENT OF
MUD." There are others whose writings might be justly described as
volumes of smoke. Mere wind they are not, but foul, black, blinding
smoke. And writings of this description are published or republished in
great quantities to the present day. And people read them, and fill
themselves with wind and filthy fumes, and wrap themselves in smoky,
pitchy clouds, and go through the world in a spiritual darkness thick
enough to be felt.
This smoke, this blackness and darkness, I could not endure. I was
anxious beyond measure to free myself from its bewildering and blinding
power, and to get into the clear fresh air, and the bright and cheerful
light, of simple Christian truth. And hence the freedom and eagerness of
my investigations, and the liberty I took in modifying my belief.
It may be said that many of the doctrines which I have set down as
unscriptural, are of little importance; and that is really the case. We
ought, therefore, to be the more ready to give them up. Why contend for
doctrines of no moment? But some of them _are_ important. They are
revolting and mischievous errors, and when they are regarded as parts of
Christianity, they tend to make men infidels. And in many cases they
stagger the faith, and lessen the comfort, and injure the souls of
Christians. And even the less important ones do harm when taken to be
parts of the religion of Christ. You cannot make thoughtful,
sharp-visioned men believe that Jesus came into the world, and lived and
died to propagate trifles. Trifles therefore are no longer trifles when
set forth as Christian doctrines. And we have enough to believe and
think about without occupying our minds with childish fancies. And we
have things enough of high importance to preach and write about, without
spending our time and strength on idle dreams.
And the apparently harmless fictions prop up the hurtful ones. And they
lessen the influence of great truths. And they make religion appear
suspicious or contemptible to men of sense. They disgust some. They give
occasion to the adversaries to speak reproachfully.
And if you tolerate fictions at all in Christianity, where will you
stop? And if you do not stop somewhere, Christianity will disappear, and
a mass of worthless and disgusting follies will take its place. The new
creation will vanish, and chaos come again.
And again. A large proportion of the controversies of the Church are
about men's inventions. Christ's own doctrines do not so often provoke
opposition as the traditions of the elders; nor do they, when assailed,
require so much defending. They defend themselves. "The devil's way of
undoing," says Baxter, "is by overdoing. To bring religious zeal into
disrepute, he makes some zealous to madness, to persecution, to blood.
To discredit freedom he urges its advocates into lawlessness. To
discredit Christian morality, he induces some to carry it to the extreme
of asceticism. To discredit needful authority, he makes rulers of the
State into despots, and persuades the rulers of the Church to claim
infallibility. To discredit Christianity, he adds to it human
inventions." Wesley has a similar sentiment. "If you place Christian
perfection too high, you drive it out of the world." And it is certain,
that an infinite amount of hostility to Christianity is owing to the
folly of divines in supplementing its simple and practical doctrines, by
speculative and unintelligible theories. "The one great evidence of the
divinity of Christianity," says one, "the master-evidence, the evidence
with which all other evidences will stand or fall, is Christ Himself
speaking by His own word." But if you add to His words foolish fancies,
or revolting absurdities, or immoral speculations of your own, you
destroy that evidence. You make men infidels.
There are multitudes at the present day to whom you must present
religion in an intelligible and rational, and in a grave and commanding
light, if you would induce them to give it their serious attention. You
can no more interest them in mysteries and nonsense, in speculative and
unpractical fictions, than you can change the course of nature. The time
for theological trifling is gone by. The time has gone by for any form
of religion to make its way which does not consist in solid goodness, or
which teaches doctrines, or uses forms, that do not tend to promote
solid goodness. If religion is to secure the attention of the world,--if
it is to command their respect, their reverence and their love,--if it
is to conquer their hearts, and govern their lives, and satisfy their
souls,--if it is to become the great absorbing subject of man's thought,
and the governing power of our race, it must be so presented, as to
prove itself in harmony with all that is highest and best in man's
nature, with all that is most beautiful and useful in life, and with all
that is beneficent and glorious in the universe.
In a word, old dreamy theologies with their barbarous dialects and silly
notions, must be dropped and left to die, and the Church and the
ministry must live, and act, and talk as men who are dealing with the
grandest and most interesting and important realities.