V.

_A LESSON IN CHRISTIAN HELP._

"Wherefore lift up the hands which hang down, and the [en]feeble[d]

knees; and make straight [smooth] paths for [with] your feet, lest that

which is lame be turned out of the way; but let it rather be healed [or,

in order that that which is lame may not be caused to go astray, but may

rather be healed]."—HEB. xii. 12, 13.

Subjected to severe and harassing persecution on account of their

Christian faith, and plied by subtle arguments and doubts, which had all

the more seductive powers from the immunity from suffering which would

be gained by yielding to them, the members of the Church to whom this

letter was addressed had become discouraged, depressed, perplexed, and

some, staggered and tempted, were even in danger of renouncing their

allegiance to Jesus of Nazareth. After warning them of the doom and

misery of deserting the cross of Christ, inciting them to endurance by

the long and shining roll of patriarchs, prophets, martyrs, and by the

example of the dying Saviour, the Apostle explains to them how all this

trial and suffering is the chastening of Fatherly love, destined to

bring forth the peaceable fruit of righteousness, and finally exhorts

them to rise above their despondency and enfeeblement, to advance with

strong, unwavering faith in the right path, in order that thereby those

who were crippled by doubt or temptation might be saved from straying

quite away, helped over their difficulties, and in the end restored to

firm and abiding faith.

The command in the text assumes the existence of two classes in the

Church—those that need help, that must lean on others, and those who are

able and ought to give help and support. Just as in a flock of sheep, so

in the Church, there will be some strong, vigorous, active, and others

weak, feeble-kneed, lame. Let us recognise this fact honestly, and be

prepared to face it. Differences and degrees of faith, assurance,

consistency, there are and must be. When the Church of Christ is

oppressed by persecution, seduced by temptation, assailed by unbelief,

do not be amazed to find that some spirits will be crippled, drawn away

into wrong, just on the very point of being altogether perverted, and

remember that there ought to be others who, by their indomitable

perseverance, their immovable faith, the unbroken solidarity and

persistence of their march, shall support and carry forward in safety

those who, but for such environment and protection, if left to combat

solitary and unaided, had stumbled and fallen in the storm of

persecution and seduction, or been clean swept away by the waves of

doubt and unbelief.

There are ever these two classes among the followers of Jesus—the

strong, the brave, the helpful, the steadfast; the weak, the timorous,

the dependent, the wavering. Brother, to which of these do you belong?

Answer that question honestly, and then think what you should reply to

this other question: To which class ought you to belong?

I am confident if Christian men and women would but enrol themselves not

according to their meaner and unworthier inclinations, but in accordance

with the voice of duty and the promptings of all that is most noble and

generous in them, we should not have (as we do now) in the army of

Christ the vast majority ranking as incapable and non-efficient, while

only a small minority do the fighting and defending. Clearly my text

supposes that the mass will be strong and helpful, with only one or two

feeble, incompetent; just as in a flock of sheep the greater number are

healthy, whole, and able-bodied, while only a few are disabled and

lamed. It should be so in all our congregations. Perhaps in some the

ideal is fairly realised. But looking at the Church as a whole, do I

exaggerate in thinking that there are many, very many, who ought to be

able-bodied and aidful, but who regard themselves as exonerated from

active service, as incompetent to take part in any way in the warfare of

the Cross, as persons to be defended, not to help in the defence?

How is it with each of you? What is your habitual attitude when

goodness, truth, righteousness, Christ are assailed? In some social or

intellectual company where the followers of Christ are in the minority,

or it may be where you stand quite alone, you hear virtue or purity

sneered at, condemned; or justice and mercy ridiculed, discredited; or

the faith in things unseen rudely mocked and denied. Do you then always

bravely speak out for the glory and majesty of purity and goodness, for

the reality and grandeur of God and Christ? or do you yield to the

craven cowardice that lurks even in regenerate men, and, saying it is

for ministers, or apologists, or the strong and clever to defend Christ,

meanly hold your peace? So far from dreaming that you are bound to

defend the truth, you perhaps pity yourself for being subjected to such

trial, and admire your own fidelity, that can survive such assaults.

Instead of feeling yourself a coward, you rather regard yourself as a

martyr, a person much to be commiserated and admired, and wonder how the

Lord should so heartlessly expose your faith to such trials, while all

the time you are in reality a weak, ignoble recreant. But you may say,

"What! am I to speak when I know that I should only be ridiculed,

laughed at, beaten in argument, when I am certain my effort would be

defeated, rejected with ignominy?" But there is no necessity you should

argue; nay, if your arguments will be foolish or weak it is your duty to

keep them to yourself. But you are not bidden to argue, prove,

demonstrate anything; only you are to confess, to protest against evil,

and loyally side with the truth. And if you are not to do that except

when you know you will be applauded and triumphant, what of your

Master's conduct? He was laughed at, scorned, despised, rejected,

defeated, and He knew it all from the first. Brother, you are to "follow

Him" in all He did, and so you are to stand by the truth even when you

know it will only bring scorn, scoffs, defeat, failure on you.

Nevertheless be sure in such a defeat and failure only you shall suffer.

As in Christ's death, though He dies, the truth triumphs, and the crown

of thorns becomes a crown of glory.

This sin of selfish indolence, of weak-minded inaction, carries its own

penalty with it. Who of us has not learned the terrible retribution by

bitter experience? If you who ought to have been strong, who ought to

have defended your Lord, were guilty of timidly shirking your duty, of

feebly failing to declare your faith, then your faith will seem to you a

poor, weakly thing, and Christianity itself feeble and infirm. In these

days of outspoken unbelief, of staggering attack, and of widespread

defection, if you think only of yourself, feel no obligation of defence,

yield aggrievedly to terror and alarm, regarding yourself as wronged in

being exposed thus, and reproaching others who, you think, ought to have

been able to silence such foes and quite shelter you from seduction,

then your faith will be shaken, your hands hang down, and your knees

tremble. But if you felt yourself bound to be considerate of others, to

be one of the strong, not one of the feeble, to defend the infirm and

the timid, how different it would be with yourself! you would have

courage, faith, strength; in this fashion doing the will of God, you

would learn that the doctrine was of God.

In the case of Christianity men act as they would be ashamed to act in

other situations. You who are so given over to alarms, so hopeless of

the faith, suppose you were in a ship that has sprung a leak, how should

you act? Should we find you among the timid and the hysterical, who lose

head and heart, refuse to help at the pumps, fling themselves in despair

on the deck, and do their best to dishearten and impede the brave men

who, keeping their misgivings to themselves, toil on with bravery to try

and save the lives of all? There are some constituted with such

despondent, enfeebled nerves as to be excusable for such conduct, but in

the Christian Church there are many with no such justification, who

shake their heads gloomily, cry despairingly that the Church is in

danger, the faith abandoned, do their utmost to weaken and dispirit

their brethren, all the time never dreaming how weak and cowardly is

their conduct, or that they ought rather to be comforters, helpers,

defenders.

The cause of this ignoble conduct seems to me to consist in the fact

that many Christians have got to see only one side of Christianity, and

that the selfish or personal side. They have learned that by becoming

Christ's He undertakes to save them, but they have failed to apprehend

that, on the other hand, this relation involves that they are to serve

Him. Again, their notion of what is implied in entering the membership

of the Church is quite as one-sided. They consider that the purpose of

this tie is that you may be cared for, guarded, developed by the

Church—all which is true; but then they quite fail to see that also you

are bound to aid, defend, and protect the Church. How many Christians

are there who never dream of owing any duty to the Church, but consider

it to be simply constructed for the purpose of doing everything for them

needful for salvation. Within it they are to be surrounded by

sanctifying influences, fed by ordinances, guarded in its holy

atmosphere from the world's miasma; in a word, they are to be fostered,

preached to, prayed for, visited, tended, and all the time they have

nothing whatever to do for the Church. But while all this is done by the

Church, that is not the only nor the cardinal conception of either the

Church or its members. Brethren, the Church of Christ is a great army of

valiant and able-bodied soldiers, sent out to battle with evil, led on

by officers who ought indeed to encourage and care for the men, but

whose main duty, nevertheless, is to lead them to conflict and conquest.

According to this modern notion, that Church members are to do nothing

but be cared for and protected, the Church is made to be more a sort of

great nursery or convalescent hospital, provided with a staff of

doctors, nurses, and visitors, and the Church members are not soldiers,

but rather a sect of weaklings, invalids, and infirm, who are just kept

in life by ceaseless care and nursing.

From this mistaken and perverted notion of what it means to belong to

Jesus Christ, from the miserable failure to recognise the public and

primary obligations resting on all the Lord's followers, from forgetting

that the kingdom of God is founded not merely to foster and ripen those

in it for heaven, but that they may extend its conquering boundaries

over all the world; from these unhappy errors spring the impotency, the

half-heartedness, the dispirited timidity of so large a part of the

Church in the present day. This is the origin of that general sort of

notion as if we should be thankful if Christians just survived; as if it

were natural and changeless that the Church should be despised and

scorned; as if against unbelief Christianity should not venture to raise

her voice very assuredly, but stand on the defensive, and be thankful if

she can just hold her own; as if it were natural and normal that

Christians should find their faith hard pressed, hardly able to stand

its ground, and they themselves feel weak, timid, alarmed, and helpless.

But perchance you may be inclined to defend this state of mind and this

selfish notion of Christianity; nay, you may think that you have

Scripture on your side. In opposition to the assertion that in place of

being merely cared for, you are to fight, and in place of being timid,

you are to be brave, you may recall the fact that Christ compares His

people to sheep whom He shelters safely and tends in a snug fold, free

from struggle and terror; and urge that sheep are not suggestive of

combativeness, and that it is natural for them to tremble when a lion

roars outside, and to count on the shepherd driving the evil beast away,

while nobody expects them to face the ravager. But do you not see that

our Lord meant that comparison to illustrate only His relationship to

them and His treatment of them? while if you are to infer from it also

that He meant them, in their attitude to the world and unbelief, to be

timid and helpless as sheep, then how do you explain that elsewhere they

are compared to soldiers, commanded to be valiant, fearless, daring? If

they are to do no fighting, then why are they told to put on the whole

armour of God, to be faithful unto death, to endure hardness as good

soldiers of Jesus Christ? Ah, we are very fond of these pleasant,

comfortable comparisons, and are constantly perverting them by

misapplying them to positions they have nothing to do with. But you may

reply, "Did not our Lord say Himself, to His disciples, that He sent

them out as sheep among wolves?" Yes, indeed, but only to inform them of

what treatment they might expect from the world, not surely with the

intention of indicating that they were to meet the world's hostility as

a sheep meets a wolf's, cowering, trembling, fleeing. If He meant that

they were to be timid, helpless, sheeplike, why did He say also, "I give

you power to tread on serpents and scorpions and over all the power of

the enemy"? why did He send them out to conquer the world? How was it

that the disciples so thoroughly misunderstood the command? When Peter,

facing the hostile judges, avowed that he would obey God, and not them,

that was not timid, that was not sheeplike. When Paul fought with wild

beasts at Ephesus, that, too, was not at all in the manner of a sheep

among its foes. When the Apostle, in the same Epistle, bids the readers

resist unto blood, when you remember how so many of our Lord's followers

have indeed sealed their witness with their lives, surely it is plain

that we have forgotten one side of our Christian duty. We ought to be

"wise as serpents" in dealing with the foe, "harmless as doves" to our

brethren and friends; but that is very much inverted now, and the chief

characteristic of many a soldier of the Cross is just his perfect

harmlessness in the combat. Brethren, you look for the crown of

righteousness that sparkled before Paul's closing eyes, bright amid the

gathering shades of his martyr death. But that crown was not gained

without hazard, not won by slothful ease, but earned on many a bloody,

painful field, while he "fought the good fight." Believe me, there shall

be no crown for you unless, like Paul, you too have fought that fight,

and kept that faith, for which he bravely lived and bravely died.

Nevertheless there will always be among Christ's disciples those that

are weak-handed, feeble-kneed, and lame; some permanently and

constitutionally affected with feebleness and infirmity; and now and

again a strong one maimed, injured by extreme and undue exposure, or

crippled by some untoward accident. It was so among these Hebrew

Christians. Intimidated by persecution, disheartened by the spoiling of

their goods, shaken by the arguments of unbelief, several grew less

steadfast in their confession of Christ, others were perplexed and

confused, and some were just on the verge of deserting and abandoning

the faith. Among us there is no more imprisoning, goods spoiling and

persecution to stagger our faith in Christ, but there are instead a

whole world of seductions, of discouragements, of mockeries, and of

unbelieving sneers. Still, too, there are with us the weak, the maimed,

the misled; many who never have attained to much spirituality or

consistency; others who for a time went well, but became entangled in

the mazes of the world's sinful attractions, or were overtaken by sudden

temptation, enfeebled by persistent opposition and ridicule, paralysed

by difficulties, disappointments, doubts, or unbelief.

I wish we did more fully realise and constantly remember that there are

to be among Christ's own ones really such as these, weaklings, cripples,

tempted, fallen; brethren overtaken by snares, seductions, unbelief,

whom we ought to pity, whom we ought to help. Only it is needful to bear

in mind that we are not to conclude that every one who gives himself out

as such is really a wounded brother, to be sympathised with and aided.

For there are many who only imagine themselves distressed, who give

themselves out as greatly tried and buffeted, more from a kind of mental

hypochondriasis or foolish fondness for being talked of and fussed over.

This is especially so in the matter of doubt and religious difficulty.

For just as it happens that in the fashionable world it is sometimes

proper to have a lisp or limp, in imitation of some dignitary, so,

unfortunately, at the present day it has become fashionable to go halt

of one foot in faith; and there are persons, thoroughly excellent and

orthodox in reality, who are impelled to let all their acquaintances

know what dark struggles of soul they pass through, and of how much it

costs them to face the unbelieving spectres of their minds. Brethren,

when a man has a real skeleton in his closet he does not go round the

circle of his friends, flaunting that unpleasant fact in their faces.

When a man tells you, with a smile of complacent superiority on his

face, of his conflicts with doubt, you need not expend much sympathy or

anxiety on him; like all other affectations, this one may be left to die

a natural death. No, the man to whom doubt is a real spectre, a

veritable agony, does not blazon his pain abroad; like Jacob's wrestle

with his dread midnight foe, the real soul-struggles are fought out in

darkness and alone. It is these who are truly stricken, wounded,

well-nigh carried away—these, and these alone, whom you are asked to

pity and to help.

But as a matter of fact, how do we Christian men and women who have not

fallen treat such weaker brethren, I mean persons who have really been

crippled, really erred? The text very plainly implies that we are not to

cast them off, but to compassionate them and seek to recover them. Nay,

mere human kindness would require the same. As soldiers seek to rescue,

not to slay, a comrade well-nigh carried off by the foe, so surely we

Christians should not attack, but strive to regain a brother captured in

the meshes of temptation or unbelief. And no doubt to a very large

extent true Christians do act so, though I fear not with that unvarying

pitifulness that ought to extend the same charity to all. Do we not make

unrighteous differences, leaving room for restoration to some of the

erring, and closing heart and door against others? Partly from

thoughtlessness, partly from prejudice, partly from contempt of what is

weakness or cowardice, there are some falling, straying souls whom we

treat too much like those evil animals that whenever one of the herd is

wounded or crippled fall upon the victim and tear him in pieces. When we

hear of a brother falling, doubting, denying, have we not all sometimes

felt only anger, reprobation—nay, uttered sharp, cruel, merciless words

of final condemnation and irretrievable doom? Do we not often treat

erring ones so? It is very natural, for these feeble-handed, weak-kneed,

crippled ones are an eye-sore, unpleasant to have to do with, a

discredit to the Church and the most convenient plan is to cast them

off. Nevertheless, it is most inhuman, most unchristian, and can only

spring from one of two errors. Either you do not have that fraternal

love for all your brethren in Christ which you ought to have. When your

brother after the flesh, or your son, catches a deadly complaint (it may

be through his own recklessness and disobedience), or is wounded by some

hostile assault, you do not in anger cast him out to die, for you love

him. Would God we had more love among Christians! Or it may be the

reason of your harsh treatment is that you mistake your straying,

doubting brother for an enemy, and fail to see that he is a victim. Of

course there is a great distinction between one of Christ's little ones

swept into doubt, and a hostile, malignant unbeliever, seeking to harm

the flock. This last you must indeed oppose, and seek to drive out of

the fold, though even then you will feel for him as our Lord did when He

wept over Jerusalem, and on the cross prayed, "Father, forgive them."

But it is not of such we speak now, only of those who are themselves not

wolves, but wounded, wandered sheep. Remember, therefore, that they are

your brethren, and pity and help them.

Perhaps you say, "What! can it be right to feel pity, kindness,

compassion, love for men who have gone astray from Christ, rebelled

against the Master, forsaken and denied the Saviour?" Remember how Jesus

treated the eleven, who deserted Him, Peter, who denied Him, Thomas, who

would not believe. Nay, more, can you for one moment doubt the

rightfulness of feeling so to sinning brethren, be they as bad as they

may, and of treating them so, you who do believe that from all eternity

God set His love, compassion, saving purpose on sinners—rebellious,

hateful sinners—without one spark of merit or goodness in them to

deserve it? Brethren, it is not wrong, it is not weak, it is noble,

Christlike, Godlike to pity, to love, to tenderly seek and save the

lost, the sinning, the erring, the fallen.

* * * * *

Finally, remark how the text suggests that you are to render them

assistance and support. Suppose it is a brother becoming involved in

worldly or dangerous entanglements, lapsing into doubtful courses, or

yielding to the freezing influence of ungodly or sceptical companions.

Now, direct interference, immediate intervention, is not always

possible, is often difficult, sometimes impossible. Besides, often the

mischief is already done ere you perceive it. Or again, it is

intellectual difficulty or doubt that you have to deal with. To meet the

objections, to remove the doubts, would be well, but perchance you are

not skilled, competent to do that; or it may be they are such as cannot

be removed. Here, again, direct remedies may be impracticable. Are you,

then, powerless, helpless to aid? Far from it. A method better than all

immediate and special action lies open for you, for all Christian men

and women. "Make straight, smooth paths with your feet." It may be you

cannot personally do anything to support the maimed or arrest the

erring, but you can nevertheless render most important service. As a

flock of sheep, by all moving on regularly in one united mass, with

their feet smooth down the roughnesses and entanglements of the way,

breaking down the entrapping brambles, clearing away the furze and

tripping briers, leaving behind them a plain and open track, trodden

down and freed of obstructions, stones, and stumbling-blocks, so that

the weak and crippled are not turned aside or overthrown; so if the

strong and whole body of Christian men and women will but move

steadfastly on amid the mazes of temptation and over the

stumbling-stones of evil, the feeble, tempted, erring will be helped

forward, and, borne along in the united, combined advance, will not fall

behind or be baffled, overthrown, or led astray by difficulties and

impediments. Yes, infinitely more powerful than any isolated rebuke, or

warning, or intervention, is the force of united Christian example and

protecting aid, to keep in the right path the halt, the maimed, the

blind. What the tempted, the world-seduced, the doubting, the

unbelieving need is not rebukes, cautions, exhortations, refutations of

objections, but it is to be drawn out of the cold, freezing world of

evil and doubt into the warm, living, breathing atmosphere of loving,

real Christian fellowship; to be surrounded by the resistless

progression in rectitude, in faith and love, of Christlike, God-fearing

souls. With blows of reprimand and logical argument you may pound and

break the ice of sin and unbelief, but though broken, it remains cold,

winter ice, freezing still. Bring it into the summer radiance, the

golden sunshine of warm Christian life; then it will be melted away, and

the hard heart grow soft and tender in the breath of the all-quickening

Spirit.

Brethren, it is for this that the Master has gathered us into families

and homes, friendly circles and fellowships, congregations and churches.

It is because some of His own will be very weak, timid, facile to fall,

lukewarm, tempted, erring, doubting. Have you settled it with yourself,

strong, high-principled, undoubting Christian, that the Church is not a

club of stainless, perfect souls, but that there are to be in it such

foolish, feeble, ignoble ones, real doubters, backsliders, wanderers,

and that yet they are your brethren, little ones of the common Lord? And

it is just for their sake, that they may be saved, that He has caused us

to be knit together into one flock, that they may be kept from falling,

restored when they err, strengthened, cheered, loved, and helped. Ah, we

know not for the most part how much there is of strength and comfort for

us in this! For all of us there is, for even the very strong, they that

have comforted most, sometimes will be very weak themselves, and long

for sympathy and support. Once even the blessed Master Himself in

broken-hearted agony besought that help, and prayed His followers,

"Tarry ye here, and watch with Me." My brother, if you can remember a

time when you were enabled to endure, to conquer, because Christian

friends stood around you and watched with you, then be pitiful to your

tempted brother now. It may be that his limping, stumbling gait is very

unpleasant to you, and you do not care to be known as of his company;

his halt, ungainly walk does not look well beside your high, triumphal

march. Perchance in heaven there is more good pleasure over his paltry

pace than over your proud progress. Ah, friends, we see too little now

to judge, who know not one another's hurts and trials! We who have the

sunshine on our path, and bounding vigour in our tread, forget, I fear,

how to many struggling souls the path is very flinty, rough, and hard,

swept by wild storms of passion and rushing floods of fierce temptation;

while the thick darkness and awful solitude, haunted by mocking spectres

of death-like doubts and fears, wrap them round with a chill, paralysing

shroud of despair. You who have never been so tempted, give God thanks

and be humble, very humble, and lowly, and merciful. Have infinite

forbearance and compassion. Remember that one harsh word, one hopeless

look from you may numb a last feeble grasp on goodness, and sink a

brother despairing in the black abyss; while a kindly look, a helping

hand, a loving, free, generous pardon and word of hope from you may be

to him the voice of eternal forgiveness in heaven, and power of

restoration even now.

Brethren, when, against some brother who has fallen, sinned or gone

astray, quick anger flames in your heart, and to your lips sharp,

cutting words of reprobation leap, let this word of Christ ring in your

ears: "Whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in Me,

it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and

that he were drowned in the depth of the sea." And as that word of

dreadful condemnation awes each lurid spark of hasty anger from your

soul, let these words of endless peace, and joy, and mercy steal in, and

soften all your spirit into gentlest pity, tenderness, and love:

"Brethren, if any of you do err from the truth, and one convert him; let

him know, that he which converteth the sinner from the error of his way

shall save a soul from death, and shall hide a multitude of sins."

"Wherefore let us lift up the hands which hang down, and the feeble

knees; and let us make straight paths with our feet, lest that which is

lame be turned out of the way; but let it rather be healed."