Now, of course, 'the truth'--truth with the definite article--is the sum
of the contents of the Revelation of God in Jesus Christ, His life, His
death, His Glory. For to Peter, as to us He should be, Jesus Christ was
Truth Incarnate. 'In Him were hid all the treasures of wisdom and
knowledge.' The first thought that is suggested to me from this
expression--obedience to the truth--is that the revelation of God in
Jesus Christ is, as its ultimate intention, meant to be obeyed. There
are plenty of truths which have no influence on life and conduct, for
which all is done that they can demand when they are accepted. But _the_
truth is no inert substance like the element which recent chemical
discoveries have found, which is named 'argon,' the do-nothing: _the_
truth is, as physiologists say, a ferment. It is intended to come into
life, and into character, and into the inmost spirit of a man, and grip
them, and mould them, and transform them, and animate them, and impel
them. The truth is to be 'obeyed.'
Now that altogether throws over two card-castles which imperfect
Christians are very apt to build. One which haunted the thoughts of an
earlier generation of Christians more than it does the present, is that
we have done all that 'the truth' asks of us when we have intellectually
endorsed it. And so you get churches which build their membership upon
acceptance of a creed and excommunicate heretics, whilst they keep
do-nothing and uncleansed Christians within their pale. But God does not
tell us anything that we may know. He tells us in order that, knowing,
we may be and do. And right actions, or rather a character which
produces such, is the last aim of all knowledge, and especially of all
moral and religious truth. So 'the truth' is not 'argon', it is a
ferment. And if men, steeped to the eyebrows in orthodoxy, think that
they have done enough when they have set their hands to a confession of
faith, and that they are Christians because they can say, 'all this I
steadfastly believe,' they need to remember that religious truth which
does not mould and transform character and conduct is a king dethroned;
and for dethroned kings there is a short step between the throne from
which they have descended and the scaffold on which they die.
But there is another--what I venture to call a card-castle, which more
of us build in these days of indifference as to creed--and that is that
a great many of us are too much disposed to believe that 'the truth as
it is in Jesus' has received from us all which it expects when we trust
to it for what we call our 'salvation,' meaning thereby forgiveness of
sins and immunity from punishment. These are elements of salvation
unquestionably, but they are only part of it. And the very truths on
which Christian people rest for this initial salvation, which is
forgiveness and acceptance, are meant to be the guides of our lives and
the patterns for our imitation. Why, in this very letter, in reference
to the very parts of Christ's work, on which faith is wont to rest for
salvation,--the death on the Cross to which we say that we trust, and
which we are so accustomed to exalt as a unique and inimitable work that
cannot be reproduced and needs no repetition, world without end--Peter
has no hesitation in saying that Christ was our 'Pattern,' and that,
even when He went to the Cross, He died 'leaving us an example that we
should follow in His steps.' So, brethren, the truth needs to be known
and believed: the truth needs not only to be believed but to be trusted
in; the truth needs not only to be believed and to be trusted in, but to
be obeyed.
Still further, another thought following upon and to some extent
modifying the preceding one, is suggested here, and that is that the
faith, which I have just been saying is sometimes mistakenly regarded as
being all that truth calls for from us, is itself obedience. As I have
said, the language in the original here implies that there was a given
definite moment in the past when these dispersed strangers obeyed, and,
by obeying the truth, purified their souls. What was that moment? Some
people would say the moment when the rite of baptism was administered. I
would say the moment when they bowed themselves in joyful acceptance of
the great Word and put out a firm hand of faith to grasp Jesus Christ.
That _is_ obedience. For, in the very act of thus trusting, there is
self-surrender, is there not? Does not a man depart from himself and bow
himself humbly before his Saviour when he puts his trust in Him? Is not
the very essence of obedience, not the mere external act, but the
melting of the will to flow in such directions as His master-impulse may
guide it? Thus, faith in its depth is obedience; and the moment when a
man believes, in the deepest sense of the word, that moment, in the
deepest realities of his spirit, he becomes obedient to the will and to
the love of his Saviour Lord, Who is the Truth as He is the Way and the
Life. We find, not only in this Epistle, but throughout the Epistles,
that the two words 'disobedience' and 'unbelief,' are used as
equivalents. We read, for instance, of those that 'stumble at the word,
being disobedient,' and the like. So, then, faith is obedience in its
depth, and, if our faith has any vitality in it, it carries in it the
essence of all submission.
But then, further, my text implies that the faith which is, in its
depth, obedience, in its practical issues will produce the practical
obedience which the text enjoins. It is no mere piece of theological
legerdemain which counts that faith is righteousness. But, just as all
sin comes from selfishness, so, and therefore, all righteousness will
flow from giving up self, from decentralising, as it were, our souls
from their old centre, self, and taking a new centre, God in Christ.
Thus the germ of all practical obedience lies in vital faith. It is, if
I might so say, the mother-tincture which, variously combined, coloured,
and perfumed, makes all the precious things, the virtues and graces of
humanity, which the believing soul pours out as a libation before its
God. It is the productive energy of all practical goodness. It is the
bottom heat in the greenhouse which makes all the plants grow and
flourish. Faith is obedience, and faith produces obedience. Does my
faith produce obedience? If it does not, it is not faith.
Then, with regard to this first part of my subject, comes the final
thought that practical obedience works inwards as well as outwards, and
purifies the soul which renders it. People generally turn that round the
other way, and, instead of saying that to do right helps to make a man
right within, they say 'make the tree good, and its fruit good'--first
the pure soul, and then the practical obedience. Both statements are
true. For every act that a man does reacts upon the doer, just as,
whether the shot hits the target or not, the gun kicks back on the
shoulder of the man that fired it. Conduct comes from character, but
conduct works back upon character, and character is largely the deposit
from the vanished seas of actions. So, then, whilst the deepest thought
is, be good and you will do good, it is not to be forgotten that the
other side is true--do good, and it will tend to make you good.
Obedience purifies the soul, while, on the other hand, a man that lives
ill comes to think as he lives, and to become tenfold more a child of
evil. 'The dyer's hand is subdued to what it works in.' 'Ye have
purified your souls,' ideally, in the act of faith, and continuously, in
the measure in which you practically obey the truth.