Of course, the great cause of this condition is man's evil heart of
alienation, the spirit of slumber--but we may find proximate and
special causes.
There is the indifference springing from the absorbing interests of
the present. A man has only a certain quantity of interest to put
forth. If he expends it all on small things, he has none for great.
This overmastering, overshadowing present draws us all to itself,
and we have no power of attention or interest to spare for anything
else, or for reflection upon Christian truth in connection with our
own conduct.
Then there is the indifference caused by fear of what the results of
attention might be. It is sometimes broken in upon, and men are in
danger of having their eyes opened, then with an effort they fling
themselves into some distraction, and sleep again. As the text says,
'Their eyes have they closed; lest they should see with their eyes.'
Then there is the indifference fed by an indolent acquiescence in
the truth. That is a favourite way of breaking the force of all
unwelcome moral truth, and especially of the Gospel. A man says, 'Oh
yes, it is true,' and because it is, therefore he thinks he has done
enough when he has acknowledged it. Many do not seem to dream that
the Word has any personal application to them at all.
Then there is the indifference which comes from long familiarity
with the truth. It is this which haunts our congregations and makes
it so impossible to get at many who know all our message already.
You can tell them nothing they do not know. As with men who live by
a forge, the sound of the blow of the hammer only lulls them to
sleep. The Gospel is so familiar to them that there is no longer any
power about it. The vulgar emotion of wonder is not excited, and the
other of love and admiration has not taken its place.
Men who live in mountain scenery do not know its beauties, and as
with all other operations of the listless eye so with this, the old
is deemed to be uninteresting, and the common is the commonplace. As
even in the piece of earth that you have trodden on longest, you
would find marvels that you do not dream of if you would look, so
here. You have heard too much and reflected too little. Oh,
brethren, it oppresses a man who has to speak to you when he
reflects how often you have heard it all, how the flow of the river
only seems to have worn your souls smooth enough to let it glide
past without one stoppage.