I need not remind you how God's method of restoration is always to
restore with a difference and a progress. The ruined Temple on Zion was
not to be followed by another house of stone and lime, but by 'a
spiritual house,' builded together for 'a habitation of God in the
Spirit.' The Christian Church takes the place of that material
sanctuary, and is the dwelling-place of God.
That being so, let us take the lesson that that house, too, may be
desecrated. There may be, as there were in the original Temple, the
externals of worship, and yet, eating out the reality of these, there
may be an inward mercenary spirit.
Note how insensibly such corruption creeps in to a community. You
cannot embody an idea in a form or in an external association without
immediately dragging it down, and running the risk of degradation. It
is just like a drop of quicksilver which you cannot expose to the air
but instantaneously its brightness is dimmed by the scum that forms on
its surface. A church as an outward institution is exposed to all the
dangers to which other institutions are exposed. And these creep on
insensibly, as this abuse had crept on. So it is not enough that we
should be at ease in our consciences in regard to our practices as
Christian communities. We become familiar with any abuse, and as we
become familiar we lose the power of rightly judging of it. Therefore
conscience needs to be guided and enlightened quite as much as to be
obeyed.
How long has it taken the Christian Church to learn the wickedness of
slavery? Has the Christian Church yet learned the unchristianity of
War? Are there no abuses amongst us, which subsequent generations will
see to be so glaring that they will talk about us as we talk about our
ancestors, and wonder whether we were Christians at all when we could
tolerate such things? They creep on gradually, and they need continual
watchfulness if they are not to assume the mastery.
The special type of corruption which we find in this incident is one
that besets the Church always. Of course, if I were preaching to
ministers, I should have a great deal to say about that. For men that
are necessarily paid for preaching have a sore temptation to preach for
pay. But it is not only we professionals who have need to lay to heart
this incident. It is all Christian communities, established and
non-established churches, Roman Catholic and Protestant. The same
danger besets them all. There must be money to work the outward
business of the house of God. But what about people that 'run' churches
as they run mills? What about people whose test of the prosperity of a
Christian community is its balance-sheet? What about the people that
hang on to religious communities and services for the sake of what they
can make out of them? We have heard a great deal lately about what
would happen 'if Christ came to Chicago.' If Christ came to any
community of professing Christians in this land, do you not think He
would need to have the scourge in His hand, and to say 'Make not My
Father's house a house of merchandise'? He will come; He does come; He
is always coming if we would listen to Him. And at long intervals He
comes in some tremendous and manifest fashion, and overthrows the
money-changers' tables.
Ah, brethren! if Jesus Christ had not thus come, over and over again,
to His Church, Christian men would have killed Christianity long ago.
Did you ever think that Christianity is the only religion that has
shown recuperative power and that has been able to fling off its
peccant humours? They used to say—I do not know whether it is true or
not—that Thames water was good to put on board ship because of its
property of corrupting and then clearing itself, and becoming fit to
drink. We and our brethren, all through the ages, have been corrupting
the Water of Life. And how does it come to be sweet and powerful still?
This tree has substance in it when it casts its leaves. That unique
characteristic of Christianity, its power of reformation, is not
self-reformation, but it is a coming of the Lord to His temple to
'purify the sons of Levi, that their offering may be pleasant as in
days of yore.'
So one looks upon the spectacle of churches labouring under all manner
of corruptions; and one need not lose heart. The shortest day is the
day before the year turns; and when the need is sorest the help is
nearest. And so I, for my part, believe that very much of the
organisations of all existing churches will have to be swept away. But
I believe too, with all my heart—and I hope that you do—that, though
the precious wheat is riddled in the sieve, and the chaff falls to the
ground, not one grain will go through the meshes. Whatever becomes of
churches, the Church of Christ shall never have its strength so sapped
by abuses that it must perish, or its lustre so dimmed that the Lord of
the Temple must depart from His sanctuary.
III. Lastly, note what Christ will do for each of us if we will let
Him.
It is not a community only which is the temple of God. For the Apostles
in many places suggest, and in some distinctly say, 'ye are the
temples' individually, as well as the Temple collectively, of the Most
High. And so every Christian soul—by virtue of that which is the
deepest truth of Christianity, the indwelling of Christ in men's hearts
by faith—is a temple of God; and every human soul is meant to be and
may become such. That temple can be profaned. There are many ways in
which professing Christians make it a house of merchandise. There are
forms of religion which are little better than chaffering with God, to
give Him so much service if He will repay us with so much Heaven. There
are too many temptations, to which we yield, to bring secular thoughts
into our holiest things. Some of us, by reason not of wishing wealth
but of dreading penury, find it hard to shut worldly cares out of our
hearts. We all need to be on our guard lest the atmosphere in which we
live in this great city shall penetrate even into our moments of
devotion, and the noise of the market within earshot of the Holy of
Holies shall disturb the chant of the worshippers. It is Manchester's
temptation, and it is one that most of us need to be guarded against.
So engrossed, and, as we should say, necessarily engrossed—or, at all
events, legitimately engrossed—are we in the pursuits of our daily
commerce, that we have scarcely time enough or leisure of heart and
mind enough to come into 'the secret place of the Most High.' The
worshippers stop outside trading for beasts and doves, and they have no
time to go into the Temple and present their offerings.
It is our besetting danger. Forewarned is forearmed, to some extent.
Would that we could all hear, as we go about our ordinary avocations,
that solemn voice, 'Make not My Father's house a house of merchandise,'
and could keep the inner sanctuary still from the noises, and remote
from the pollutions, of the market hard by!
We cannot cast out these or any other desecrating thoughts and desires
by ourselves, except to a very small degree. And if we do, then there
happens what our Lord warned us against in profound words. The house
may be emptied of the evil tenant in some measure by our own resolution
and self-reformation. But if it is not occupied by Him, it remains
'empty,' though it is 'swept and garnished.' Nature abhors a vacuum,
and into the empty house there come the old tenant and seven brethren
blacker than himself. The only way to keep the world out of my heart is
to have Christ filling it. If we will ask Him He will come to us. And
if He has the scourge in His hand, let Him be none the less welcome a
guest for that. He will come, and when He enters, it will be like the
rising of the sun, when all the beasts of the forest slink away and lay
them down in their dens. It will be like the carrying of the Ark of the
Covenant of the Lord of the whole earth into the temple of Dagon, when
the fish-like image fell prone and mutilated on the threshold. If we
say to Him, 'Arise, O Lord, into Thy rest, Thou and the Ark of Thy
strength,' He will enter in, and by His entrance will 'make the place
of His feet glorious' and pure.