II. SAMUEL, XXIV., 24.

“Neither will I offer . . . unto the LORD my GOD of that which doth

cost me nothing.”

IT was a thrice enforced precept of the law that none should appear

before GOD empty; that when men drew near to Him to celebrate His past

mercies and deliverances, to ask for blessings, to deprecate wrath, to

render thanks, to acknowledge dependence on His providence, they should

at the same time present unto Him some offering of their substance. And

this, be it observed, was not a mere temporary ordinance. It was not,

like the sacrifices of bulls and goats, a ceremonious shadowing forth and

pleading of the one sacrifice by which alone GOD could be approached and

propitiated. It was a free-will offering, an acknowledgment that all

things come of GOD, and that all things, though intrusted to them,

belonged still to GOD. It was a confession of His Lordship, an act of

homage, an exhibition of gratitude, a pledge of readiness to yield all

that He might require. As such, it was to be offered whenever man

perceived GOD to be operating upon, or for him, or whenever he would have

GOD to be thus operating; it was to be presented at prescribed places,

and under prescribed circumstances, which rendered pains and exertion

necessary in the offerer; and it was to be of a kind and in a measure

which should make it a real sacrifice—the giving up of something valuable

and valued. “Every man shall give as he is able,” says Moses. “I will

not offer unto the LORD my GOD,” exclaims David, “of that which doth cost

me nothing.”

Under the Gospel, this duty is not only continued, but, like all the

other moral sanctions of the law, enlarged and spiritualised. We

Christians are to present ourselves, our souls and bodies, continually,

as a reasonable sacrifice unto GOD. We are to give up our wills, our

powers, our affections, our time, our substance, our lives to Him. Our

prayer is to be instant; our praise continual; our sacrifice perpetual;

our offering all that we are and have. He who withholds anything from

GOD, gives Him nothing. He who does not deny himself, denies GOD; he who

loves any one or anything more than GOD, hates GOD; he who bestows more

thought and pains, and spends more of his substance on any other object

than on religion, takes no thought, bestows no pains, spends none of his

substance on GOD. Lip-service, stinted service, careless or partial

service is no service; easy religion, cheap religion, intermittent

religion is no religion. Religion, to be worthy of the name, must cost

something; yea, and much—much thought, much feeling, much affection, much

labour, much self-denial, much submission, much renunciation, much

cheerful sacrifice of self and substance. The only limit to our offering

is to be our capability; the only time when we may forbear to offer it,

is when GOD gives us no opportunity. Hence it was, that the young man

who would not sell all that he had, and give to the poor, and follow

Christ whithersoever He went, could not be His disciple. Hence it is,

that selfishness, and worldliness, and pride, and self-glorying, and

covetousness, are such grievous sins. Hence it is, that life must not be

counted dear, when to be faithful to religion would endanger it. Hence

it is, that not only _directly_ spiritual acts are to be frequent, and

spiritual offerings to be many and large, but that everything we have is

to be held for religion, and everything we do, to be done for religion;

our daily tasks, our rest and labour, our very eating and drinking.

Christ has purchased us entirely soul and body, talents and possessions,

to glorify Him by perpetually offering to Him the sacrifice of love; and

there is no love in that offering which is formal, indolent, unwilling,

self-saving; which is restrained from thought, and effort, and hazard,

and bountifulness, by the consideration, how much it will cost. “I will

not offer unto the LORD my GOD,” and the LORD my GOD will not accept “of

that which doth cost me nothing.’”

This is the principle and measure of Christian offering to GOD. Would we

offer affection? it must be all affection. “My Son, give me Thy heart.”

Submission? Deny Thyself in all things. Time? Let it be all

time—instant, continual, day and night. Substance? Be ready to part

with all that thou hast. Work? It must be all work; every labour, and

every occupation. Whatsoever thou doest, do all to the glory of GOD,

that GOD in all things may be glorified through JESUS CHRIST. We, and

all that we are and have, are claimed as whole sacrifices to GOD. The

duration of the offering is to be the length of our life. The altars

upon which we are to be offered, are all the places and all the

circumstances in which GOD puts us, or we put ourselves; and we are to be

continually laying ourselves upon these altars, without fear or grudging

of the cost, yea, rather with cheerful incurring of it.

It is a great and difficult service. The very best of our fallen race,

the Abrahams and the Pauls, who have most realised this service, and

loved it, and laid themselves out to render it, have yet fallen short,

very far short of the perfect offering. Many a time have they

reluctantly laid the costly sacrifice on the altar; many a time, alas!

have they substituted the lame, the halt, the lean, the blemished, for

the firstling of the flock; many a due sacred journey has not been

undertaken; many a holy service has been unperformed, or performed amiss;

many an altar has been bare, without an offering. Yes, the most godly,

the saints that excel, have fallen far short of GOD’S standard, and have

withheld or offered amiss what GOD required. But yet through infirmity,

not through wilfulness or selfishness, have they done it, and speedily

and deeply have they repented of it, and then have they straightway laid

upon the nearest altar the sacrifice of a broken and a contrite heart, in

whose fragrance the ill savour of the other has been lost, with whose

costliness GOD has been well pleased. Such a sacrifice He never

despises. Those who offer it shall be forgiven all that is past. They

shall be dealt with by the after, not the former life. But, my brethren,

if such as these fall short of GOD’S standard, what of us, who, alas! can

lay no claim to attempted perfection, or to grief and contrition for

shortcomings? What of our service of GOD? What do _we_ offer Him? What

does religion cost us?

It should cost us much thought—more thought than anything else. Does it?

Is it the most frequent and most encouraged employment of our minds to

meditate on GOD, our Creator and Preserver, our Redeemer, our Sanctifier,

our Lord and Judge, on heaven, on holiness, on trial and reward, duties

and hopes? We all of us have some favourite subject of thought and

meditation, something which we ponder chiefly, and lay most plans about,

and zealously occupy our mental faculties upon. Is it religion? Does

that cost us more thought than anything else? or does business or

pleasure, or politics or philosophy, or worldly prospects or cares? If

so—no matter how innocent the object, how laudable in some respects its

concern—in making it a chief consideration, we leave nought to offer GOD

but that which costs us nothing, and which is therefore nothing accounted

of, yea, rather is rejected by Him.

Again, religion should cost us much affection. Our affections should be

chiefly set on it, and only on other things when they can be lawfully

considered the adjuncts of religion. Is it so? Do we love GOD more than

anything else? Do we desire heaven’s treasures more than earth’s;

eternal glories more than temporal? Do we delight above all things in

spiritual pursuits? If any other person, any other thing presents itself

as a candidate for our best affections, is it rejected because the place

is already filled? Is it disliked, if opposed to religion? Is it but

moderately esteemed and distantly entertained, when though not opposed to

it, is not religion itself? If otherwise, then religion costs us not our

best affections, and so of our hearts we offer unto GOD of that which

doth cost us nothing.

Again, religion should cost us much labour, much self-denial, much zeal

and patience, more than anything else. Does it? Is there nothing for

which we toil more, and endure more, and encounter more; nothing which we

pursue more constantly and zealously? Do we take more pains to please

GOD than man? Do we make more strenuous endeavours to become good

Christians than to become apt scholars, profound philosophers, able and

respected politicians, successful tradesmen, accomplished members of

society? Would we, and do we rather rise early, and late take rest, go

without our usual meals, undertake fatiguing journeys, contend with

difficulties, suffer reproaches for religion than for anything else? Do

we bear the inconvenience of a warm church more cheerfully than that of a

close shop, a crowded hall of business or pleasure? Do we venture forth

on religious errands, in cold, and wet, and forbidding weather, more

readily than we do for anything else? In what do we wear out our

strength and energies, run our greatest risks, and consume our time? Is

it, directly or indirectly, in religion; or is it in business or in

pleasure? For what do we renounce all needless occupations, for what do

we get through as speedily as may be our necessary work? Is it to have

time and strength for religion, or for what? The answer, my brethren,

which your consciences honestly give to these questions, and many like

them that might be asked, will help to determine what religion costs you

in this respect, and whether or no, you offer unto GOD only of that which

doth cost you nothing.

Again, religion should cost much of our substance. In one sense, it

should cost us all our substance, _i.e._ we should never spend one mite

on a sinful or doubtful pleasure or business, or in contributing to an

unhallowed end. Much, indeed, we must lay out in the sustenance of our

natural life, in the prosecution of our worldly calling, in the support

and advancement of our families, in the maintenance of our social

position. Something, too, we are allowed to spend on our innocent

recreations and those of others. But that which is to cost us most, on

which we are to spend all that we can, and to yearn to be able to spend

more, is on GOD; directly, by spreading the knowledge of His name, by

promoting His service, by building fit temples for His worship, and

adorning them suitably to our devotion and His glory; indirectly, by

ministering to His representatives, the poor, and afflicted, and

helpless, and ignorant.

What, my brethren, let me ask in all plainness, for I speak for GOD, and

GOD’S representatives—the poor—what does religion cost you in this

respect? Are you sure that you have left no Lazaruses to perish of

hunger? no pining sick to die for want of the nutriment or attention

which you could have afforded? no children to grow up in ignorance and

blasphemy whom you could have maintained at school, and helped to make

enlightened, serious, holy men and women? Have you looked to these

things, yourselves? or have you ungrudgingly, liberally supported those

who do? Have you ascertained that the sick and visiting funds of your

parish are able to meet the many demands upon them? that there is no

difficulty in maintaining the necessary staff of the poor’s best

guardians, the clergy? that the alms-boxes will hold no more, or that

there is no demand on their contents? Have you done all this before you

have laden your tables with rich viands and costly wines, and bought

expensive toys and ornaments, and gone on unnecessary excursions, and

paid much for amusements? Or have you consulted self first, and fed, and

decked, and petted, and amused self, and then been ready (not, perhaps,

even then, _forward_, but waiting to be asked) to give up something of

what self could conveniently spare, for crying, grievous

necessities—sparing GOD your leavings, that which you did not want, or,

at least, could easily do without? Remember, brethren, I lay no charge

against any one of you. I only, in faithfulness, put to you plain

questions, which it is your duty to consider; and bid you speedily

discover, from their consideration, what your religion costs you;

whether, in your succour, temporal and spiritual, of those worse off than

yourselves, you deny and inconvenience yourselves, giving what you cannot

part with without feeling its loss and curtailing from other things on

account of it (as you all ought to do); or whether you offer unto GOD, in

this way, of that which doth cost you nothing.

Once more, religion should cost you much in the direct service of GOD; in

providing amply for His wide and becoming worship. I pass by now, as

duties which there are other opportunities of enforcing, the maintenance

of missions, at home and abroad; the building and endowing of schools and

churches, and many like things, that I may dwell for a few moments upon

the costliness of the materials of our churches, and their furniture,

and, let me add, their ornaments; for all which, if I understand the

Bible, we Christians are bound to provide. In the descriptions given us

in the Bible, of heaven and heavenly things, there is frequent mention

and great display, as it were, of gold, and precious stones, and musical

instruments, and beautiful robes, and the like. There are some who

understand these descriptions literally, and who suppose that, being

raised in material, though glorified bodies, the redeemed will inhabit a

material heaven—either this earth transformed, or some other planet—and

will be surrounded with glorious material objects, the most beautiful and

precious of nature’s productions, fashioned like to art’s best

accomplishments. If this is to be so, then it is urged, earth’s

tabernacles, as the type of heaven, should be as nearly assimilated to

heaven as possible; we should improve and furnish our plainer and barer

churches as much as we can; we should build our new churches in the best,

the handsomest style of art; and decorate and furnish them in the most

substantially costly manner.

Without subscribing to this view (though there is really much to be said

for it), I would humbly suggest that, since GOD, when He designed an

earthly tabernacle, prescribed that it, and all in it, should be costly

and ornamental; and that when He speaks of heaven He does so under the

image of all that is accounted splendid and costly on earth, He either

must have meant to require that we should erect and adorn our churches

after this description, or He must have taken for granted that we should

best understand spiritual beauties and excellencies by their comparison

with what we account earthly beauties and excellencies, and that we

should naturally honour and worship Him with the best of these within our

reach. It seems, then, to be our duty, nay, to be natural to us, if we

are in earnest, whichever view we take, to make our churches and their

contents beauteous and costly, either as images of the future church in

heaven, or as the nearest representations to it which we can furnish, and

the best copies of GOD’S own pattern.

To this it has been objected, firstly, that the primitive Christians

afford us no such example; and, secondly, that it seems unfitting,

trifling, unseemly, to decorate the spiritual palace as we would an

earthly mansion. The first objection falls to the ground, when we

remember, that the early Christians were very poor, and, moreover, were

obliged to hide themselves, and, therefore, to refrain from all that

would attract attention; and that, as soon as they had the means and

liberty, they made their churches very splendid, and furnished them very

gorgeously. And the second objection is as soon disposed of. What is

unfitting, trifling, unseemly, for the Master, is surely as much, and

more so, for the disciple. If GOD is to dwell in tents, we ought not to

dwell in ceiled houses; if gold, and precious stones, and beautiful arts

are unfit for Him, then they are pre-eminently unfit for us. If we may

not furnish His house with rich furniture, and put into it, for instance,

the best musical instrument, we must not do so in our own houses. It is

enough for us, that we should be as our LORD. We must not be above Him,

or different from Him. We must not glory in what is unfit for Him. Be

then our own abodes rude; let everything in them be homely, unadorned,

inferior; banish from them all traces of the artist’s skill; or give all,

and use all, more exceedingly upon and in the house of GOD.

One more argument for adorning and furnishing to the utmost, the house of

GOD:—We must not offer unto GOD of that which doth cost us nothing of our

substance. Now, all that we offer indirectly, no matter how much, how

frequently, may yet cost us nothing—that is, it may be only the laying

out of that for which we get an immediate equivalent. When you relieve

the sick, rescue the tempted, raise the fallen, by the contribution of

your substance, if you have not the reward of their gratitude, there is

at least the felt human satisfaction of the act; and that would and has

remunerated many an infidel. The sacrifice, therefore, in this case,

ceases to be a sacrifice; it is a laying out for those who pay you again.

But when you expend your substance largely on the direct service of GOD,

hoping for nothing again, perhaps getting nothing, then you offer of that

which costs you something; something for which you do not expect an

equivalent. The exercise is a good one, and the duty is imperative. If

you got your money’s worth, and your human satisfaction, for its outlay,

then you would be offering to GOD of that which doth cost you nothing.

Let this consideration urge you, then, first, indeed to provide what is

_necessary_ for the service of GOD by yourselves; afterwards, what may

help others in like manner to serve Him; and then, not by mulcting them,

but by denying yourselves, to give some true gift, some free-will

offering, which is costly in itself, and promises no present equivalent.

Thus shall you overcome selfish and mere human feelings, and render

dutiful, and grateful, and costly sacrifice unto the LORD your GOD.

My brethren, depart not with the notion that you have heard nothing of

Christ this morning. It is a deep-rooted error that, under the law men

were commanded to do, but under the Gospel they are forbidden; that

_then_ salvation was a work, but _now_ it is only a contemplation. The

contrary is the truth. Men might contemplate and wait idly and dreamily

before their Redeemer came; they must be up and doing now that He has

laid His hand upon them, and given them a lifelong, arduous,

self-sacrificing work to do.

It is because Christ has purchased you wholly, body, and soul, and

spirit, thoughts, words, and deeds, talents and substance, to be an

entire and constant sacrifice unto Him; it is because He is watching over

you, and working for and in you, to make you that sacrifice; it is

because presently He will judge and deal with you, according as you have

been, or have not been what He required, that I have enforced on you the

pre-eminently Christian lesson of taking solemn, anxious heed, that you

offer not unto the LORD your GOD of that which doth cost you nothing.

SERMON IX.

SPIRITUAL PROGRESS.

Plain Sermons, Preached at Archbishop Tenison's Chapel, Regent Street · 第 18 / 23 题