“Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended: but this one thing
I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth
unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the
prize of the high calling of GOD in Christ JESUS.”
TO have apprehended; to have attained unto the perfection of the
knowledge of Christ; to have gone through the Christian’s appointed
course of discipline and duties; to have acquired the acceptable and
approved character; to have laid such a hold on salvation as could not be
shaken off—this even Paul did not claim to have done. Divinely
enlightened as he was, greatly zealous, blamelessly righteous, the chosen
vessel of the LORD, he could not be satisfied with the past, he could not
rest in the present, he could not calculate on the future. “If by any
means I might attain unto the resurrection of the dead”—be made one of
those who shall be raised in Christ to glory—“not as though I had already
attained, either were already perfect. . . . I count not myself to have
apprehended.”
Brethren, if Paul, with all his light, all his labours, all his holiness,
all his love, felt that heaven, was, after all, not his sure inheritance,
how can any among us count themselves to have secured it, to have become
perfect? And yet, not a few do! I am not alluding now to those who are
called Calvinists, to those who believe that salvation will infallibly be
conferred on a few, chosen without regard to their former, or care for
their after life; and that they who believe this doctrine are certainly
of the chosen few (every Calvinist, according to his own creed, is sure
of salvation)—to those who fancy that a peculiar flutter of strange
feelings in the breast which they felt at a certain moment of some day or
night, perhaps long past, was the impression of GOD’S seal upon them; a
seal which cannot be broken, which has marked them GOD’S for ever; and
that all they have to do in anticipation, in preparation for glory, is to
talk and think about man’s depravity, and GOD’S electing grace. No! I
am alluding to such as are most of you, brethren; who have probably never
concerned yourselves about supposed absolute decrees, and irresistible
grace, and final perseverance; who do not claim to be objects of any
signal conversion; who have felt, and feel no ecstacy and rapture which
betoken sure acceptance; and of you, I say, that many of you count
yourselves to have apprehended, to know as much, to have done as much, to
feel as much, to be as perfect, as you need, and to have a sure hope of
salvation. None of you have a definite theory of this kind; none of you,
if I took you apart and said, “Are you sure of heaven?” would dare to
answer, “yes,” or to feel that you might answer, “yes;” but many of you,
nevertheless, do persuade yourselves, that it is even so; many of you so
spend your lives as though you had already apprehended, as though there
were nothing which you had yet to attain.
Listen! You believe that there is another life after this. You believe
that it may be one of glory, or one of shame and destruction. You
believe that there are necessary qualifications for glory, without which
it will not be conferred. You hope and expect to partake of the glory.
You all know that the change from this life to the next may come at any
moment, to any one of you. Still, the greater part of you make no effort
to prepare farther for that change; but go on, day after day, year after
year, doing the same deeds, thinking the same thoughts, feeling the same
feelings, in the same way and measure as heretofore. Is it not so? And
if it is, do you not justify yourselves—do you not at least compose
yourselves in your present state—by asserting, or at any rate by not
actively denying, that you have attained as much faith, and holiness and
love, as you need to fit you for heaven. You have apprehended: at least
you think so. Otherwise, how could you be contented? Believing in your
heart of hearts that there is a heaven, how could you be satisfied if you
did not think you would go to it; if you conceived it possible that the
want of something which you have not yet, might shut you out from glory?
As I speak to you thus, you feel disposed to protest against my words.
You know you are not perfect. You frequently sigh over your lamentable
imperfections. You feel that it is only unspeakable mercy which can make
any allowance for you. You are not fit for heaven. You are not
satisfied with yourselves. You have not attained. You have much to do.
You intend to do much. Yes! this is your protest, and it is an honest
one; you mean it, you feel it. But, brethren, I am not talking of what
you mean and feel _now_; of the momentary stir of right feeling which
takes place occasionally, in church when the minister of Christ rouses
you; or at home or abroad, when GOD calls loudly to you by some unusual
act of Providence; or on a sick bed, when physicians speak doubtfully,
and friends wear ominously troubled looks; or at the grave-side, when one
of your own age and circumstances of life, and like constitution, is
being hidden out of sight. No! I am speaking of your usual feelings,
and your every-day life; and I say, on their clear testimony, that many
of you count yourselves to have apprehended.
You are at ease about heaven; you do not strive, you do not press forward
as though it were yet to gain; you do not imagine that any striving, any
pressing forward, is needed. What are the religious exercises of the
many? A few words of private prayer, morning and evening; an attendance
_once_ on the LORD’S day at church; and now and then, perhaps, a
participation of the holy communion. These are the chief, often the
only, efforts for grace to attain and apprehend. No perpetual upraising
of the soul in prayer; no delight in public worship; no frequent yearning
for the communication of Christ through His appointed ordinances; no
eager searching of His Word for light, and guidance, and comfort, and
encouragement! What, again, are the strivings of the many to attain a
heavenly character; to do the work which GOD has given them to do; to put
aside the old man, with his affections and lusts; to walk in holy
obedience? Alas! they are merely negative; forbearing to offend against
the letter of the great commandments. No literal idolatry, no profane
swearing, no Sabbath-breaking, no stealing, no deed of lust, no
deliberate slander. This is their righteousness; and if, besides, they
occasionally sigh, or utter a self-condemnation, on account of the
frequently reiterated, uncurbed outbreaks and indulgences of what they
call “infirmities,” they seem to themselves to have attained to exemplary
excellence. No matter that all their usual feelings are earth-born, and
earth-directed; that their affections are set on worldly things; that
they continue, year after year, every whit as spiritually indolent,
impatient, bad-tempered, sensual in thought, jealous, faithless,
unloving, unholy. They might, indeed, be better in these respects;
perhaps they ought to be; but it is not actually necessary. They have
already attained what is absolutely needed. If not quite perfect (no man
is) they are perfect enough; better than many others; as good as GOD will
require.
Oh, if men do not _think_ this, do they not _act_ it and testify it in
their lives? Does not their religion seem to be a mere occasional
pastime? something to be taken up only in the intervals of life’s earnest
work; a matter of no real moment; which does not demand more than
ceremonious observance, leaving the thoughts, the affections, the energy
free; offering nothing (worth the while) to be pursued with zeal, and
industry, and self-denial; to progress and grow perfect in; having no
claims upon us which are not sufficiently discharged in the way of mere
routine?
I should wrong many of you, dear brethren, if I meant this charge to be
universal. Of not a few of you, “we are persuaded better things, and
things that accompany salvation, though we thus speak.” But, in a
degree, even _you_ answer to this description, or part of it; coming
nearer, now and then, to contentment about your spiritual state than you
should; forbearing, frequently, to press forward enough for what is not
yet attained.
Well, then, we are all reproved by the apostle’s lowly estimation of his
own past and present: “I count not myself to have apprehended.” Let us
now seek to be instructed by his proposals for the future: “Forgetting
the things that are behind, I reach forth.” First, then, we are to
forget the things that are behind. In the figure which the apostle uses,
that of a runner in a race, to forget what is behind is, not to pride
ourselves upon, not to think of the progress we have already made.
Paradox though it seem, the Christian religion often bids us both
remember and forget the same thing; and it does so in this case. We are
to remember the success which has attended us hitherto in the attempt to
serve GOD, both to prompt our gratitude for the past, and to encourage us
to persevere, as having hope that we may prevail. We are to forget it,
so as not to presume on our goodness; not to rest satisfied with aught we
have done, or to count ourselves as having in any measure attained to
what GOD requires of us. There is much temptation to such
self-satisfaction, and there is much danger in it. Few, if any of us,
who have been earnestly endeavouring to work out our salvation, can fail
to observe that we have accomplished something. We have come to feel an
interest in spiritual things. Prayer, instead of being altogether a
wearisome task, or a mere matter of routine, has begun to be an enjoyable
exercise. The pursuit of godliness, instead of being altogether a hard
task, requiring us to forego all that is pleasant, to encounter much that
is trying, to do that for which we have no taste, has begun to bestow on
us its reward, in fulfilling its promise of making glad the life that now
is, in elevating us, though, perhaps, but little, towards the hope of the
life which is to come. We like now (that is, we dislike less) the
exercises of devotion. We more readily give up what once we clung to as
the chiefest good. We begin to realise, that there is something worth
striving for beyond; and we make efforts, though they may be feeble, to
reach it, and lay hold on it. But, perceiving this change, this
improvement in ourselves, we run the risk of coming to think, that we are
not like other men; that we have come out, and are separate; that we are
in the right way; that GOD approves us. And the natural effect of this
perception, or rather the effect which Satan causes it to produce, is
spiritual pride and spiritual indolence. “I love prayer, I cultivate
holiness: what lack I yet? I have attained; I have apprehended Christ;
knowing and loving Him, and laying fast hold on His salvation.”
Such a feeling once harboured in the breast, and thus interpreted, soon
begins to deaden our spiritual energies. We cease to be holy as soon as
we fancy ourselves holy. We relinquish effort as soon as we find that we
have been using it. In the remembrance of the past, in the spiritual
pride which it produces, we forget the future and unlearn humility.
Therefore we are to forget the past of progress.
But, besides this, we are to forget what is behind of failure and trial,
and former superiority. There is nothing so apt to beget despondency, to
discourage further effort, as the review of unsuccess: “I have tried this
before, and failed; it is of no use to try it again. Destiny, or innate
corruption seems to thwart me and bind me down; it is vain to contend
against it.” Thus it is that men persuade themselves to yield
unresistingly to evil. When bidden to forsake it, when desiring to
forsake it, instead of making the effort as though it were a first one,
the beginning of a right course, in which, if they persevere, they may
hope by GOD’S grace to do well, they recall to memory how they have
failed before, and persuade themselves, from their remembrance, that in
like manner they should surely fail again: and so they refuse to try.
And so, too, the remembrance of former superiority discourages. “How
pure, how temperate, how steady, how comparatively good was I once.
Alas! that cannot be again. I cannot undo what I have done. I cannot
recover what is lost. The past can never be the present.” No, it
cannot, brethren, and therefore forget it. Do not seek to undo, to
recover. Since that cannot be, aim at something else; and, that you may
aim the more steadily, do not let your eye wander elsewhere. If you have
left your father’s house, and wasted your substance in riotous living, it
is too late to prevent you from being a prodigal; but it is not too late
to become a returning prodigal. Forget your former independence; forget
the going away into the far country. Remember, that your Father still
lives; that He is a merciful, a pardoning Father; that His arms are
spread out to enfold you; that there is still room, and welcome room, for
you in His house. Forget what you have abandoned, and seek what you may
yet have: not former innocence, not the inheritance of uninterrupted
dutifulness, but reformed life, and fresh favour, a new place as a new
character.
Once more, forget the things that are behind, as you start, as you run
along the course from the world to heaven. Do not delay in considering
what you have to give up; do not grudge the effort; do not turn aside
your eyes to behold what you are leaving behind, what you are passing by
the way. Temporal things, though so infinitely inferior to eternal, are
near and palpable; while the spiritual are distant and indistinctly seen.
If you ponder and weigh, if you count over too frequently the cost, your
own carnal judgment, and Satan’s blinding influence, will check you at
starting, or lure you aside. To look back, to gaze about you, to stand
still for a moment, is perhaps to lose the race. “See,” says Satan,
“what you are leaving, what you are passing. Here are riches, honour,
friends, pleasure, ease.” You look, and the look leads you back, or
makes you stumble, perhaps fall. “Onward, onward!” be this your cry;
this your aim. Stay not in all the plain; look not behind you; look on;
behold the goal; remember the prize. Think not of the past; regard not
the present; aim at the future. Forgetting the things that are behind,
reach forth unto those that are before.
I have anticipated the other lesson of wisdom; that of reaching forth; of
concentrating all your thoughts, and all your energies, on what is held
out to you by GOD in Christ. You are not to measure the distance you
have come; you are not to brood over stumblings, and falls, and past
slowness; you are not to recall the things that you have left, nor to
look at those you are passing. You are to run on, as if the race were
all before you; as if the course were an untrodden one; as if there were
good hope of reaching the goal. And you are to look steadfastly at the
goal, and run eagerly towards it. This is your position; this your
course; these your hopes.
Gird up your loins then, lay aside every weight, the weight of worldly
temptation, the weight of experienced failure, the weight of difficulties
and troubles. Assured that the race may be run, assay to run it.
Knowing that the prize is still proffered, attempt to gain it. Gather
experience from the past, what to do, what to avoid. Redouble your
efforts, quicken your pace, because the time is short, and much of it has
been trifled away. Take hope from the future, because the lists are
still open, because you are accepted candidates for the prize, because
the king waits to crown you.
What does all this mean in plain language? Sinners! repent, cry for
mercy, pray for grace, aim at godliness. Lovers of the world! unloose
your affections from what is worthless and perishable; fix them upon what
is above value and everlasting; let go what you have, cast it behind you,
and seek what you have not. Loiterers! move on. Crawlers! rise upon
your feet and run. There is no time for delay, for tardy pace. The LORD
waits to crown you, but He will not wait long. Racers! race on, faster,
more intent. Let your desires outstrip your feet. Quicken your feet, to
come up to your desires. But a little, and the trial of your speed will
be over, and the conquerors will be crowned, and all others be rejected.
Brethren, one and all, consider the prize of your high calling of GOD in
Christ JESUS. Enlist heartily in its pursuit; shake off everything that
hinders; shut your eyes against all that allures; seek guidance,
strength, and perseverance, in prayer, study of GOD’S Word, and other
holy ordinances. Use those graces in daily instant increasing efforts;
animate yourselves more and more by anticipations of what is held out, by
nearer and more constant beholding of it. Stay not, and pause not till
the arms of acceptance enfold you, the Voice of approval greets you,
“Well done,” and grateful, realised joy enables you to exclaim, “I have
fought the good fight, I have finished my course, henceforth there is
laid up for me the crown of righteousness.”
SERMON X.
SPIRITUAL THINGS NOT REVEALED TO THE NATURAL MAN.