John uses a rare word in my text when he says 'fear hath torment.'
'Torment' does not convey the whole idea of the word. It means
suffering, but suffering for a purpose; suffering which is correction;
suffering which is disciplinary; suffering which is intended to lead to
something beyond itself. Fear, the apprehension of personal evil, has
the same function in the moral world as pain has in the physical. It is
a symptom of disease, and is intended to bid us look for the remedy and
the Physician. What is an alarm bell for but to rouse the sleepers, and
to hurry them to the refuge? And so this wholesome, manly dread of the
certain issue of discord with God is meant to do for us what the angels
did for Lot--to lay a mercifully violent hand on the shoulder of the
sleeper, and shake him into aroused wakefulness, and hasten him out of
Sodom, before the fire bursts through the ground, and is met by the fire
from above. The intention of fear is to lead to that which shall
annihilate it by taking away its cause.
There is nothing more ridiculous, nothing more likely to destroy a man,
than the indulgence in an idle fear which does nothing to prevent its
own fulfilment. Horses in a burning stable are so paralysed by dread
that they cannot stir, and get burnt to death. And for a man to be
afraid--as every one ought to be who is conscious of unforgiven sin--for
a man to be afraid and there an end, is absolute insanity. I fear; then
what do I do? Nothing. That is true about hosts of us.
What ought I to do? Let the dread direct me to its source, my own
sinfulness. Let the discovery of my own sinfulness direct me to its
remedy, the righteousness and the Cross of Jesus Christ. He, and He
alone, can deal with the disturbing element in my relation to God. He
can 'deliver me from my enemies, for they are too strong for me.' It is
Christ and His work, Christ and His sacrifice, Christ and His indwelling
Spirit that will grapple with and overcome sin and all its consequences,
in any man and in every man; taking away its penalty, lightening the
heart of the burden of its guilt, delivering from its love and
dominion--all three of which things are the barbs of the arrows with
which fear riddles heart and conscience. So my fear should proclaim to
me the merciful 'Name that is above every name,' and drive me as well as
draw me to Christ, the Conqueror of sin, and the Antagonist of all
dread.
Brethren, I said I was not preaching the religion of Fear. But I think
we shall scarcely understand the religion of Love unless we recognise
that dread is a legitimate part of an unforgiven man's attitude towards
God. My fear should be to me like the misshapen guide that may lead me
to the fortress where I shall be safe. Oh, do not tamper with the
wholesome sense of dread! Do not let it lie, generally sleeping, and now
and then waking in your hearts, and bringing about nothing. Sailors that
crash on with all sails set--stunsails and all--whilst the barometer is
rapidly falling, and boding clouds are on the horizon, and the line of
the approaching gale is ruffling the sea yonder, have themselves to
blame if they founder. Look to the falling barometer, and make ready for
the coming storm, and remember that the mission of fear is to lead you
to the Christ who will take it away.