We accept a man's words when we trust the man. Even if belief, or
faith, is represented in the New Testament, as it very rarely is, as
having for its object the words of revelation, behind that acceptance
of the words lies confidence in the person speaking. And the beginning
of all true Christian faith has in it, not merely the intellectual
acceptance of certain propositions as true, but a confidence in the
veracity of Him by whom they are made known to us—even Jesus Christ our
Lord.
I do not need to insist upon that at any length here—it would take me
away from my present purpose; but what I do wish to emphasise is, that
from the very starting-point, the smallest germ of the most rudimentary
and imperfect faith which knits a soul to Jesus Christ has Him for its
Object, and is thus distinguished from the mere acceptance of truths
which, on other grounds than the authority of the speaker, may
legitimately commend themselves to a man.
Then believe Him. Now, that breaks up into two thoughts, which are all
that I intend to deduce from it now, although many more might be
suggested. The one is this, that the least and the lowest that Jesus
Christ asks from us is the entire and unhesitating acceptance of His
utterances as final, conclusive, and absolutely true. Whatever more
Jesus Christ may be, He is, by His life and words, the Communicator of
divine and certain truth. He is a Teacher, though He is a great deal
more. And whatever more Christian faith may be—and it is a great deal
more—it requires, at least, the frank and full recognition of the
authority of every word that comes from His lips. A Christianity
without a creed is a dream. Bones without flesh are very dry, no doubt;
but what about flesh without bones? An inert, shapeless mass. You will
never have a vigorous and true Christian life if it is to be moulded
according to the fantastic dream of these latter days, which tells us
that we may take Jesus as the Guide of our conduct and need not mind
about what He says to us. 'Believe Me' is His requirement. The words of
His mouth, and the revelations which He has made in the sweetness of
His life, and in all the graciousness of His dealings, are the very
unveiling to man of absolute and final and certain truth.
But then, on the other hand, let us remember that, while all this is
most clear and distinct in the teaching of Scripture, it carries us but
a very short way. We find, in the instance from which we take our
starting-point in this sermon, the broad distinction drawn, and
practically illustrated in the conduct of the persons concerned,
between the simple acceptance of what Christ says, and a true faith
that clings to Him for evermore. And the same kind of disparagement of
the lower process of merely accepting His word is found more than once
in connection with the same phrases. We find, for instance, the two
which are connected in our texts used in a previous conversation
between our Lord and His antagonists. When He says to them, 'This is
the work of God, that ye believe on Him whom He hath sent,' they reply,
dragging down His claim to a lower level, 'What sign showest Thou, that
we may see, and believe Thee?' He demanded belief _on_ Himself; they
answer, 'We are ready to _believe you_, on condition that we see
something that may make the rendering of our belief a logical necessity
for us.'
Let us lay to heart the rudimentary and incomplete character of a faith
which simply accepts the teaching of Jesus Christ, and does no more.
The notion that orthodoxy is Christianity, that a man who does not
contradict the teaching of the New Testament is thereby a Christian, is
a very old and very perilous and very widespread one. There are many of
us who have no better claim to be called Christians than this, that we
never denied anything that Jesus Christ said, though we are not
sufficiently interested in it, I was going to say, even to deny it.
This rudimentary faith, which contents itself with the acceptance of
the truth revealed, hardens into mere formalism, or liquefies into mere
careless indifference as to the very truth that it professes to
believe. There is nothing more impotent than creeds which lie dormant
in our brains, and have no influence upon our lives. I wonder how many
readers of this sermon, who fancy themselves good Christians, do with
their creed as the Japanese used to do with their Emperor—keep him in a
palace behind bamboo screens, and never let him do anything, whilst all
the reality of power was possessed by another man, who did not profess
to be a king at all. Do you think you are Christians because you would
sign thirty-nine or three hundred and ninety articles of Christianity,
if they were offered to you, while there is not one of them that
influences either your thinking or your conduct? Do not let us have
these 'sluggish kings,' with a mayor of the place to do the real
government, but set on the throne of your hearts the principles of your
religion, and see to it that all your convictions be translated into
practice, and all your practice be informed by your convictions.
This belief in a set of dogmas, on the authority of Jesus Christ, about
which dogmas we do not care a rush, and which make no difference upon
our lives, is the faith about which James has so many hard things to
say; and he ventures upon a parallel that I should not like to venture
on unless I were made bold by his example: 'Thou believest, O vain man!
thou doest well: the devils also believe, and'—better than you, in that
their belief does something for them, they 'believe—and _tremble_!' But
what shall we say about a man who professes himself a disciple, and
neither trembles, nor thrills, nor hopes, nor dreads, nor desires, nor
does any single thing because of his creed? Believe Jesus, but do not
stop there.