He could not have had a man’s heart in him indeed, if not only those
thoughts, but ten thousand more, sadder, and stranger, and more pitiful
than my weak brain can imagine, did not sweep like a storm through his
soul at that last and terrible temptation, but the Bible tells us nothing
of them: why should the Bible tell us anything of them? the Bible sets
forth Abraham as the faithful man, and therefore it simply tells us of
his faith, without telling us of his doubts and struggles before he
settled down into faith. It tells us, as it were, not how often the wind
shifted and twisted about during the tempest, but in what quarter the
wind settled when the tempest was over, and it began to blow steadily,
and fixedly, and gently, and all was bright, and mild, and still in
Abraham’s bosom again, just as a man’s mind will be bright, and gentle,
and calm, even at the moment he is going to certain death or fearful
misery, if he does but know that his suffering is his duty, and that his
trial is his heavenly Father’s will: and so all we read in the
Old-Testament account is simply, “And Abraham rose up early in the
morning, and saddled his ass, and took two of his young men with him, and
Isaac his son, and clave the wood for the burnt-offering, and rose up,
and went unto the place of which God had told him. Then on the third day
Abraham lifted up his eyes, and saw the place afar off. And Abraham said
unto his young men, Abide ye here with the ass; and I and the lad will go
yonder and worship, and come again to you. And Abraham took the wood of
the burnt-offering, and laid it upon Isaac his son: and he took the fire
in his hand, and a knife; and they went both of them together. And Isaac
spake unto Abraham his father, and said, My father, and he said, Here am
I, my son. And he said, Behold the fire and the wood, but where is the
lamb for a burnt-offering? and Abraham said, My son, God will provide
Himself a lamb for a burnt-offering. So they went both of them together.
And they came to the place which God had told him of; and Abraham built
an altar there, and laid the wood in order, and bound Isaac his son, and
laid him on the altar upon the wood. And Abraham stretched forth his
hand, and took the knife to slay his son.”
Really if one is to consider the whole circumstances of Abraham’s trials,
they seem to have been infinite, more than mortal man could bear; more
than he could have borne, no doubt, if the same God who tried had not
rewarded his strength of mind by strengthening him still more, and
rewarded his faith by increasing his faith; when we consider the struggle
he must have had to keep the dreadful secret from the young man’s mother,
the tremendous effort of controlling himself, the long and frightful
journey, the necessity, and yet the difficulty he seems to have felt of
keeping the truth from his son, and yet of telling him the truth, which
he did in those wonderful words, “God shall provide Himself a lamb for a
burnt-offering” (on which I shall have occasion to speak presently); and,
last and worst of all, the perfect obedience and submission of his son;
for Isaac was not a child then, he was a young man of nearly thirty years
of age; strong and able enough, no doubt, to have resisted his aged
father, if he had chosen. But the very excellence of Isaac seems to have
been, that he did not resist, that he shewed the same perfect trust and
obedience to Abraham that Abraham did towards God; for he was led “as a
lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he
opened not his mouth,” for we read, “Abraham bound Isaac his son and laid
him on the wood.” Surely that was the bitterest pang of all, to see the
excellence of his son shine forth just when it was too late for him to
enjoy him—to find out what a perfect child he had, in simple trust and
utter obedience, just at the very moment when he was going to lose him:
“And Abraham stretched forth his hand and took the knife to slay his
son.”
At that point Abraham’s trial finished. He had shewn the completeness of
his faith by the completeness of his works, that is, by the completeness
of his obedience. He had utterly given up all for God. He had submitted
his will completely to God’s will. He had said in heart, as our Blessed
Lord said, “Father, if it be possible, let this woe pass from me,
nevertheless, not as I will, but as Thou wilt;” and thus I say, he was
justified by his works, by his actions; that is, by this faithful action
he proved the faithfulness of his heart, as the Angel said to him, “Now I
know that thou fearest God, seeing thou hast not withheld thy son, thine
only son from me:” for as St. James says, “Was not Abraham our father
justified by works when he had offered Isaac his son upon the altar?
Seest thou,” says he, “how his faith wrought with his works;” how his
works were the tool or instrument which his faith used; and by his works
his faith was brought to perfection, as a tree is brought to perfection
when it bears fruit. “And so,” St. James continues, “the scripture was
fulfilled, which says, Abraham believed God, and it was imputed to him
for righteousness; and he was called the friend of God. Ye see then,” he
says, “how that by works a man is justified,” or shewn to be righteous
and faithful, “and not by faith only;” that is, not by the mere feeling
of faith, for, as he says, “as the body without the spirit is dead, so
faith without works is dead also.” For what is the sign of a being dead?
It is its not being able to do anything, not being able to work; because
there is no living and moving spirit in it. And what is the sign of a
man’s faith being dead? his faith not being able to _work_, because there
is no living spirit in it, but it is a mere dead, empty shell and form of
words,—a mere notion and thought about believing in a man’s head, but not
a living trust and loyalty to God in his heart. Therefore, says St.
James, “shew me thy faith without thy works,” if thou canst, “and I will
shew thee my faith by my works,” as Abraham did by offering up Isaac his
son.
Oh! my friends, when people are talking about faith and works, and trying
to reconcile St. Paul and St. James, as they call it, because St. Paul
says Abraham was justified by faith, and St. James says Abraham was
justified by works, if they would but pray for the simple, childlike
heart, and the head of common sense, and look at their own children, who,
every time they go on a message for them, settle, without knowing it,
this mighty difference of man’s making between faith and works. You tell
a little child daily to do many things the meaning and use of which it
cannot understand; and the child has faith in what you tell it; and,
therefore, it does what you tell it, and so it shews its faith in you by
obedience in working for you.
But to go on with the verses: “And the angel of the Lord called unto
Abraham out of heaven the second time, and said, By myself have I sworn,
saith the Lord, for because thou hast done this thing, and hast not
withheld thy son, thine only son: that in blessing I will bless thee, and
in multiplying I will multiply thy seed as the stars of the heaven, and
as the sand which is upon the sea-shore; and thy seed shall possess the
gate of his enemies; and in thy seed shall all the nations of the earth
be blessed; because thou hast obeyed my voice.”
Now, here remark two things; first, that it was Abraham’s obedience in
giving up all to God, which called forth from God this confirmation of
God’s promises to him; and next, that God here promised him nothing new;
God did not say to him, ‘Because thou hast obeyed me in this great
matter, I will give thee some great reward over and above what I promised
thee.’ No; God merely promises him over again, but more solemnly than
ever, what He had promised him many years before.
And so it will be with us, my friends, we must not expect to _buy_ God’s
favour by obeying Him,—we must not expect that the more we do for God,
the more God will be bound to do for us, as the Papists do. No; God has
done for us all that He will do. He has promised us all that He will
promise. He has provided us, as He provided Abraham, a lamb for the
burnt-offering, the Lamb without blemish and without spot, which taketh
away the sins of the world. We are His redeemed people—we _have_ a share
in His promises—He bids us believe _that_, and shew that we believe it by
living as redeemed men, not our own, but bought with a price, and created
anew in Christ Jesus to do good works; not that we may buy forgiveness by
them, but that we may shew by them that we believe that God _has_
forgiven us already, and that when we have done all that is commanded us,
we are still unprofitable servants; for though we should give up at God’s
bidding our children, our wives, and our own limbs and lives, and shew as
utter faith in God, and complete obedience to God, as Abraham did, we
should only have done just what it was already our duty to do.
SERMON XIV.
OUR FATHER IN HEAVEN.
1 JOHN, ii. 13.
“I write unto you, little children, because ye have known the
Father.”
I PREACHED some time ago a sermon on the whole of these most deep and
blessed verses of St. John.
I now wish to speak to those who are of age to be confirmed three
separate sermons on three separate parts of these verses. First to those
whom St. John calls little children; next, to those whom He calls grown
men. To the first I will speak to-day; to the latter, by God’s help,
next Sunday. And may the Blessed One bring home my weak words to all
your hearts!
Now for the meaning of “little children.” There are those who will tell
you that those words mean merely “weak believers,” “babes in grace,” and
so on. They mean that, no doubt; but they mean much more. They mean,
first of all, be sure, what they say. St. John would not have said
“little children,” if he had not meant little children. Surely God’s
apostle did not throw about his words at random, so as to leave them open
to mistakes, and want some one to step in and tell us that they do not
mean their plain, common-sense meaning, but something else. Holy
Scripture is too wisely written, and too awful a matter, to be trifled
with in that way, and cut and squared to suit our own fancies, and
explained away, till its blessed promises are made to mean anything or
nothing.
No! By little children, St. John means here children in age,—of course
_Christian_ children and young people, for he was writing only to
Christians. He speaks to those who have been christened, and brought up,
more or less, as christened children should be. But, no doubt, when he
says little children, he means also all Christian people, whether they be
young or old, whose souls are still young, and weak, and unlearned. All,
however old they may be, who have not been confirmed—I do not merely mean
confirmed by the bishop, but confirmed by God’s grace,—all those who have
not yet come to a full knowledge of their own sins,—all who have not yet
been converted, and turned to God with their whole hearts and wills, who
have not yet made their full choice between God and sin,—all who have not
yet fought for themselves the battle which no man or angel can fight for
them—I mean the battle between their selfishness and their duty—the
battle between their love of pleasure and their fear of sin—the battle,
in short, between the devil and his temptations to darkness and shame,
and God and His promises of light, and strength, and glory,—all who have
not been converted to God, to them St. John speaks as little
children—people who are not yet strong enough to stand alone, and do
their duty on God’s side against sin, the world, and the devil. And all
of you here who have not yet made up your minds, who have not yet been
confirmed in soul,—whether you were confirmed by the bishop or not,—to
you I speak this day.
Now, first of all, consider this,—that though St. John calls you “little
children,” because you are still weak, and your souls have not grown to
manhood, yet he does not speak to you as if you were heathens and knew
nothing about God; he says, “I have written unto you, little children,
because ye have known the Father.” Consider that; that was his reason
for all that he had written to them before; that they had known the
Father, the God who made heaven and earth—the Father of our Lord Jesus
Christ—the Father of little children—my Father and your Father, my
friends, little as we may behave like what we are, sons of the Almighty
God. That was St. John’s reason for speaking to little children, because
they had already known the Father. So he does not speak to them as if
they were heathens; and I dare not speak to you, young people, as if you
were heathens, however foolish and sinful some of you may be; I dare not
do it, whatever many preachers may do nowadays; not because I should be
unfair and hard upon you merely, but because I should lie, and deny the
great grace and mercy which God has shewn you, and count the blood of the
covenant, with which you were sprinkled at baptism, an unholy thing; and
do despite to the spirit of grace which has been struggling in your
hearts, trying to lead you out of sin into good, out of light into
darkness, ever since you were born. Therefore, as St. John said, I say,
I preach this day to you, young people, because you have known your
Father in heaven!
But some of you may say to me, ‘You put a great honour on us; but we do
not see that we have any right to it. You tell us that we have a very
noble and awful knowledge—that we know the Father. We are afraid that we
do not know Him; we do not even rightly understand of whom or what you
preach.’
Well, my young friends, these are very awful words of St. John; such
blessed and wonderful words, that if we did not find them in the Bible,
it would be madness and insolence to God of us to say such a thing, not
merely of little children, but even of the greatest, and wisest, and
holiest man who ever lived; but there they are in the Bible—the blessed
Lord Himself has told us all, “When ye pray, say, Our Father in
heaven;”—and I dare not keep them back because they sound strange. They
may _sound_ strange, but they _are not_ strange. Any one who has ever
watched a young child’s heart, and seen how naturally and at once the
little innocent takes in the thought of his Father which is in heaven,
knows that it is not a strange thought—that it comes to a little child
almost by instinct—that his Father in heaven seems often to be just the
thought which fills his heart most completely, has most power over
him,—the thought which has been lying ready in his heart all the time,
only waiting for some one to awaken it, and put it into words for him;
that he will do right when you put him in mind of his Father above the
skies sooner than he will for a hundred punishments. For truly says the
poet,—
“Heaven lies about us in our infancy,
Not in complete forgetfulness,
Nor yet in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come,
From God who is our home!”
And yet more truly said the Blessed One Himself, “That children’s angels
always behold the face of our Father which is in heaven;” and that “of
such is the kingdom of heaven.” Yet you say, some of you, perhaps,
‘Whatever knowledge of our Father in heaven we had, or ought to have had,
when we were young, we have lost it now. We have forgotten what we
learnt at school. We have been what you would call sinful; at all
events, we have been thinking all our time about a great many things
beside religion, and they have quite put out of our head the thought that
God is our Father. So how have we known our Father in heaven?’
Well, then, to answer that,—consider the case of your earthly fathers,
the men who begot you and brought you up. Now there might be one of you
who had never seen his father since he was born, but all he knows of him
is, that his name is so and so, and that he is such and such a sort of
man, as the case might be; and that he lives in such and such a place,
far away, and that now and then he hears talk of his father, or receives
letters or presents from him. Suppose I asked that young man, Do you
know your father? would he not answer—would he not have a right to
answer, ‘Yes, I know him. I never saw him, or was acquainted with him,
but I know him well enough; I know who he is, and where to find him, and
what sort of a man he is.’ That young man might not know his father’s
face, or love him, or care for him at all. He might have been
disobedient to his father; he might have forgotten for years that he had
a father at all, and might have lived on his own way, just as if he had
no father. But when he was put in mind of it all, would he not say at
once, ‘Yes, I know my father well enough; his name is so and so, and he
lives at such and such a place. I know my father.’
Well, my young friends, and if this would be true of your fathers on
earth, it is just as true of your Father in heaven. You have never seen
Him—you may have forgotten Him—you may have disobeyed Him—you may have
lived on your own way, as if you had no Father in heaven; still you know
that you have a Father in heaven. You pray, surely, sometimes. What do
you say? “Our Father which art in heaven.” So you have a Father in
heaven, else what right have you to use those words,—what right have you
to say to God, “Our Father in heaven,” if you believe that you have no
Father there? That would be only blasphemy and mockery. I can well
understand that you have often said those words without thinking of
them—without thinking what a blessed, glorious, soul-saving meaning there
was in them; but I will not believe that you never once in your whole
lives said, “Our Father which art in heaven,” without believing them to
be true words. What I want is, for you _always_ to believe them to be
true. Oh young men and young women, boys and girls—believe those words,
believe that when you say, “Our Father which art in heaven,” you speak
God’s truth about yourselves; that the evil devil rages when he hears you
speak those words, because they are the words which prove that you do not
belong to him and to hell, but to God and the kingdom of heaven. Oh,
believe those words—behave as if you believed those words, and you shall
see what will come of them, through all eternity for ever.
Well, but you will ask, What has all this to do with confirmation? It
has all to do with confirmation. Because you are God’s children, and
know that you are God’s children, you are to go and confirm before the
bishop your right to be called God’s children. You are to go and claim
your share in God’s kingdom. If you were heir to an estate, you would go
and claim your estate from those who held it. You are heirs to an
estate—you are heirs to the kingdom of heaven; go to confirmation, and
claim that kingdom, say, ‘I am a citizen of God’s kingdom. Before the
bishop and the congregation, here I proclaim the honour which God has put
upon me.’ If you have a father, you will surely not be ashamed to own
him! How much more when the Almighty God of heaven is your Father! You
will not be ashamed to own Him? Then go to confirmation; for by doing so
you own God for your Father. If you have an earthly father, you will not
be ashamed to say, ‘I know I ought to honour him and obey him;’ how much
more when your father is the Almighty God of heaven, who sent His own Son
into the world to die for you, who is daily heaping you with blessings
body and soul! You will not be ashamed to confess that you ought to
honour and obey Him? Then go to confirmation, and say, ‘I here take upon
myself the vow and promise made for me at my baptism. I am God’s child,
and therefore I will honour, love, and obey Him. It is my duty; and it
shall be my delight henceforward to work for God, to do all the good I
can to my life’s end, because my Father in heaven loves the good, and has
commanded me, poor, weak countryman though I be, to work for Him in
well-doing.’ So I say, If God is your Father, go and own Him at
confirmation. If God is your Father, go and promise to love and obey Him
at confirmation; and see if He does not, like a strong and loving Father
as He is, confirm you in return,—see if He does not give you strength of
heart, and peace of mind, and clear, quiet, pure thoughts, such as a man
or woman ought to have who considers that the great God, who made the sky
and stars above their heads, is their Father. But, perhaps, there are
some of you, young people, who do not wish to be confirmed. And why?
Now, look honestly into your own hearts and see the reason. Is it not,
after all, because you don’t like the _trouble_? Because you are afraid
that being confirmed will force you to think seriously and be religious;
and you had rather not take all that trouble yet? Is it not because you
do not like to look your ownselves in the face, and see how foolishly you
have been living, and how many bad habits you will have to give up, and
what a thorough conversion and change you must make, if you are to be
confirmed in earnest? Is not this why you do not wish to be confirmed?
And what does that all come to? That though you know you are God’s
children, you do not like to tell people publicly that you are God’s
children, lest they should expect you to behave like God’s children—that
is it. Now, young men and young women, think seriously once for all—if
you have any common _sense_—I do not say grace, left in you—think! Are
you not playing a fearful game? You would not dare to deny your fathers
on earth—to refuse to obey them, because you know well enough that they
would punish you—that if you were too old for punishment, your
neighbours, at least, would despise you for mean, ungrateful, and
rebellious children! But because you cannot _see_ God your Father,
because you have not some sign or wonder hanging in the sky to frighten
you into good behaviour, therefore you are not afraid to turn your backs
on him. My friends, it is ill mocking the living God. Mark my words!
If a man will not turn He will whet His sword, and make us feel it. You
who can be confirmed, and know in your hearts that you ought to be
confirmed, and ought to be _really_ converted and confirmed in soul, and
make no mockery of it,—mark my words! If you will not be converted and
confirmed of your own good will, God, if He has any love left for you,
will convert and confirm you against your will. He will let you go your
own ways till you find out your own folly. He will bring you low with
affliction perhaps, with sickness, with ill-luck, with shame. Some way
or other, He will chastise you, again and again, till you are forced to
come back to Him, and take His service on you. If He loves you, He will
drive you home to your Father’s house. You may laugh at my words now,
see if you laugh at them when your hairs are grey. Oh, young people, if
you wish in after-life to save yourselves shame and sorrow, and perhaps,
in the world to come eternal death, come to confirmation, acknowledge God
for your Father, promise to come and serve Him faithfully, make those
blessed words of the Lord’s Prayer, “Our Father in heaven,” your glory
and your honour, your guide and guard through life, your title-deeds to
heaven. You who know that the Great God is your Father, will you be
ashamed to own yourselves His sons?
SERMON XV.
THE TRANSFIGURATION.
MARK, ix. 2.
“Jesus taketh Peter, and James, and John, and leadeth them up into a
high mountain apart, and was transfigured before them.”