Having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof.--_2
Tim. 3, 5._
Things are not always what they seem. There is much deception,
sham, pretense in this world. And religion forms no exception; much
that passes under that name is not such in reality. The text just
quoted distinguishes between "the form of godliness" and "the power
of godliness," thus intimating that there may be one without the
other. All created things indeed have some form. We cannot think
of anything without form. Every essence and substance manifests
itself in some shape, through some medium, external substance; and
so religion finds expression in outward forms, in prayer, in this
institution called the Church, in that Book called the Bible, in the
sacraments and other ordinances.
But, whilst we cannot have religion without form, there may be form
without religion. Not every eye sees, though it was created for that
purpose; not every ear, though it have the perfect form, hears. We
discover eyes without seeing and ears without hearing, and in like
manner we discover the form of godliness with none of its power. A
man may appear very religious, and yet not be religious. The Bible
and history both are full of such. Thus, St. Paul in his day came
to the city of Athens and was constrained to confess: "I observe,
O men of Athens, that ye are exceedingly devout." Judging by the
form, he saw, in that representative city of heathenism, a great
degree of religiousness and devotion; gods and goddesses, altars and
temples, stood on the right hand and on the left, carved out in the
most exquisite marble, with the most exquisite skill. Every public
edifice was a sanctuary. The theaters were ascribed to the deities.
As any scholar of ancient history knows, the streets and markets,
the groves and public places were full and overflowing with the
figures and statues of Jupiter and Diana, and every other god and
goddess which their imagination had invented. Yes, the men of Athens
were exceedingly religious, and, withal, they were notoriously
ungodly, and Paul could not help expressing himself to that effect.
Again, take the religionists mentioned in to-day's Gospel--the
scribes and the Pharisees. As to the form of religion, they were
scrupulous to the last degree. On their phylacteries, and on the
frontlet which they wore between their eyes, were passages of
Scripture such as: "Hear, O Israel! The Lord, your God is one Lord."
They fasted twice in the week, more than the law required. They
paid tithes, not only of the common products of the field, but of
their garden herbs, mint, anise, and cinnamon. They were extremely
careful as to their cleansings. Thus the washing of hands in the six
books of the Mishna, written by the Jewish rabbis, is prescribed:
One and one-half eggshells full of water must be used; the hands
must be lifted in a certain position when the water is poured upon
them; then the right must rub the left and the left the right; then
they must be held in a downward incline, palms upside down, so
that the water may drop off. And the towel must be properly held.
Thirty chapters alone in that Jewish book treat of the cleansing
of cups and platters. And yet, in spite of all this scrupulosity
and punctiliousness and ceremonialism, the Savior had occasion to
declare in the opening words of to-day's Gospel-lesson: "Except your
righteousness exceed the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees,
ye shall in no wise enter the kingdom of heaven." The form was
there, the show of godliness, but something vitally essential was
missing; our text calls it "the power."
Nor would we confine this formation of religion to ancient heathen
or Judaism. An acquaintance of mine tells of a scene recently
witnessed in the city of Mexico. A company of men were shuffling
cards, and casting dice, and indulging in profane and unholy jests
in a drinking-house, when suddenly the ringing of a bell was heard
without. A procession of priests was passing through the streets
bearing the consecrated water to the bedside of the dying. At
the sound all in the iniquitous place fell upon their knees and
muttered their prayers. The bell ceased, and they resumed their
pleasure. What was this but the form of godliness without the power?
Nor need we go to distant Mexico to find the same manifestation
among the devotees of the same religion,--ceremonialism, grand and
spectacular, the waking early at the break of day to perform one's
worship, the lighting of candles and bending of knees before graven
images, the ceaseless twisting of the rosary beads, and making of
crucifixes and anointing with holy oil and water. What are these
but the forms of godliness without the power thereof? Let us not
be uncharitable, but the words of the Savior press themselves upon
one's lips: Except your righteousness exceed that which so garbs
itself, and puts in the place of Christ another's righteousness,
which is the righteousness of such hollow ceremonies, pretensions,
and good works, it shall not avail to enter into the kingdom of God.
And is Protestantism exempt? Are there no formalists among those
who profess to be members of, and visit, our churches? Is there no
outward ceremonial observance there, no form of godliness without
the power thereof? As we pointed out, everything has a form, and
that form needs attention. Injure the shell, and the kernel will be
impaired. Refuse to give due respect to your body, and its immortal
tenant, the soul, will leave it. And so in religion. The outward
must be attended to. It will not do to say, I need not go to church,
God is everywhere, I can worship Him just as well under the trees
of the park, under the blue canopy of the great temple of Nature,
as in the four walls of a building. The church is God's; it is
there He has recorded His name, and promised to convey His grace
and blessing as nowhere else. Godliness and churchliness are joined
together, and it is not for any man to divorce them, to put them
asunder.
The godly man, it will ever be found, is the best churchman. It will
not do to say: I can be just as good a Christian and stay away from
the sacrament of the Lord's Table,--it is only a form. Granting it
is, it is a form which God has commanded by and through which He
communicates life and salvation to men's souls. You do not despise
to drink the water of the Mississippi River because it flows through
pipes and comes out at the faucet. And so you ought not reject life,
grace, and salvation promised by God, because He has laid it down
for you in the partaking of bread and wine in His sacrament, which
is the channel by and through which He conveys it to your soul. The
same may be said of all the ordinances of religion,--prayer, the
reading of the Bible, the saying of prayers. These things must be
attended to. They are the forms in which it expresses itself--takes
shape. And yet, we must beware of mistaking the shape for the
substance, the shell for the kernel, the body for the soul. Going
to church as a mere form saves no one; neither does going to the
Sacrament. To read the Bible, for instance, merely to find out
what a fine literary product it is, has no religious value; and to
mumble one's prayers in a thoughtless and spiritless way, our Lord
tells us, is worthless, yes, it may be an abomination to Him. What
good does food do you if you do not digest it, take the strength
out of it, the necessary qualities? Equally so with the spiritual
food. Religion as a form, a mere external life, a show, avails
nothing; rather, it is a snare of delusion by which men may deceive
themselves and others.
When, then,--that is the question to which our text leads up,--when
have we the form of godliness together with the power thereof? In
order to have true religion, two things are necessary, the new birth
and the new life. First, the new birth. "Except a man be born again,
he cannot see the kingdom of God." Religion, first of all, above
all, aims at and affects the heart. It is this which is primarily
concerned. "This people," the Lord complains, "draweth nigh unto me
with their mouth, and honoreth me with their lips, but their heart
is far from me." "Give me, my son," my daughter, "thy _heart_," is
the request of the merciful Lord.
Whoever has sat under the pulpit of God, listening to His
instructions and exhortations, or scanning the pages of His Holy
Word, that has not had his feelings stirred and his soul warmed
after the manner of those two disciples on their way to Emmaus, to
whom the risen Lord opened the Scripture, whereupon they confessed,
"Did not our heart burn within us?" Whose bosom has failed to beat
higher with noble resolution and holy endeavor when kneeling before
his God in prayer or at the sacred Communion? In a word, whose
inner life has not been touched by the Spirit of God, and who has
not undergone a change of mind which brings him to see things by
faith in Christ, in a new light? The promise is: "With the heart
man believeth unto righteousness." "If thou shalt believe in thine
heart, thou shalt be saved." The heart belongs to true religion, and
true religion belongs into the heart. This is the first requisite
and essence of godliness--a new heart.
The other requisite is the new life. It is the natural and the
necessary outflow of the new birth. When the heart has been changed
by the Spirit of God, the new life will show itself. The Lord once
remarked, "By their fruits ye shall know them." You cannot be a
bad citizen, an undutiful parent, a spiteful husband, a fretful,
quarrelsome wife, an unscrupulous business man, and, at the same
time, a good Christian. It does not exhibit the power of godliness
to listen devoutly to a sermon on righteousness, and temperance, and
purity, and straightway imbibe freely from the intoxicating cup,
speak words of profanity, and do things that are tainted. If you
would discover if the works of a clock are right, we look at the
hands; so by our hands and deeds we may test whether our hearts are
right. You cannot be in possession of an evil tongue, of a lustful
eye, of a covetous, selfish, miserly hand, and, at the same time, of
a pious and devout mind.
If our text teaches anything, it teaches that godliness is a
"power," an energy which renews and sanctifies men. But when there
is power, it exerts and manifests itself. Then there must be, in
order to have true religion, a regenerated heart and a corresponding
life. How, then, to make a few direct words of application, is it
with you, my dear hearer? One of the chief sources of offense, they
tell us, is that those who profess godliness are so woefully short
of it. "They are everlastingly running to church, praying, and hymn
singing, but they live and act like heathen." Not infrequently that
charge comes from an ugly and malicious, fault-finding spirit. Let
us see to it that it is only that, a mean, unfair charge, that, as
far as we are concerned, it be not true. Let us in the light of our
text see to it that we have not only the form of godliness, but
the power thereof, that our heart is right with God, and endeavor
earnestly and conscientiously to make our head and tongues and hands
right. God strengthen us in this resolution!
Lord Jesus, it is Thy religion we profess. Keep us by Thy Holy
Spirit to be true disciples of it, to our soul's welfare, our
fellow-man's uplift, and Thy glory. Amen.