To such a society and to such a state of mind, the Apostle Paul

preached in all its length, breadth, and fulness, the humbling

doctrines of the Cross of Christ. He taught that knowledge was one

thing--that charity was _another_ thing; that "knowledge puffeth up,

but charity buildeth up." He reminded them that love was the

perfection of knowledge. In other words, his teaching came to this:

there are two kinds of knowledge; the one the knowledge of the

intellect, the other the knowledge of the heart. Intellectually, God

never can be known. He must be known by Love--for, "if any man love

God, the same is known of Him." Here then, we have arrived in another

way, at precisely the same conclusion at which we arrived last Sunday.

Here are two kinds of knowledge, secular knowledge and Christian

knowledge; and Christian knowledge is this--to know by Love.

Let us now consider the remainder of the chapter, which treats of the

law of Christian conscience. You will observe that it divides itself

into two branches--the first containing an exposition of the law

itself, and the second the Christian applications which flow out of

this exposition.

I. The way in which the apostle expounds the law of Christian

conscience is this:--Guilt is contracted by the soul, in so far as it

sins against and transgresses the law of God by doing that which it

believes to be wrong: not so much what _is_ wrong as what _appears_ to

_it_ to be wrong. This is the doctrine distinctly laid down in the 7th

and 8th verses. The apostle tells the Corinthians--these strong-minded

Corinthians--that the superstitions of their weaker brethren were

unquestionably wrong. "Meat," he says, "commendeth us not to God; for

neither if we eat are we the better, neither if we eat not are we the

worse." He then tells them further, that "there is not in every man

that knowledge; for some with conscience of the idol, eat it as a

thing offered unto an idol." Here then, is an ignorant, mistaken,

ill-informed conscience; and yet he goes on to tell them that this

conscience, so ill-informed, yet binds the possessor of it: "and their

conscience being weak, is defiled." For example,--there could be no

harm in eating the flesh of an animal that had been offered to an idol

or false god; for a false god is nothing, and it is impossible for it

to have contracted positive defilement by being offered to that which

is a positive and absolute negation. And yet if any man thought it

wrong to eat such flesh, to him it _was_ wrong; for in that act there

would be a deliberate act of transgression--a deliberate preference of

that which was mere enjoyment, to that which was apparently, though it

may be only apparently, sanctioned by the law of God. And so it would

carry with it all the disobedience, all the guilt, and all the misery

which belongs to the doing of an act altogether wrong; or as St. Paul

expresses it, the conscience would become denied.

Here then, we arrive at the first distinction--the distinction between

absolute and relative right and wrong. Absolute right and absolute

wrong, like absolute truth, can each be but _one_ and unalterable in

the sight of God. The one absolute _right_--the charity of God and the

sacrifice of Christ--this, from eternity to eternity must be the sole

measure of eternal right. But human right or human wrong, that is the

merit or demerit, of any action done by any particular man, must be

measured, not by that absolute standard, but as a matter relative to

his particular circumstances, the state of the age in which he lives,

and his own knowledge of right and wrong. For we come into this world

with a moral sense; or to speak more Christianly, with a conscience.

And yet that will tell us but very little distinctly. It tells us

broadly that which is right and that which is wrong, so that every

child can understand this. That charity and self-denial are

right--this we see recognised in almost every nation. But the

boundaries of these two--when and how far self-denial is right--what

are the bounds of charity--this it is for different circumstances yet

to bring out and determine.

And so, it will be found that there is a different standard among

different nations and in different ages. That for example, which was

the standard among the Israelites in the earlier ages, and before

their settlement in Canaan, was very different from the higher and

truer standard of right and wrong recognised by the later prophets.

And the standard in the third and fourth centuries after Christ, was

truly and unquestionably an entirely different one from that

recognised in the nineteenth century among ourselves.

Let me not be mistaken. I do not say that right and wrong are merely

conventional, or merely chronological or geographical, or that they

vary with latitude and longitude. I do not say that there ever was or

ever can be a nation so utterly blinded and perverted in its moral

sense as to acknowledge that which is wrong--seen and known to be

wrong--as right; or on the other hand, to profess that which is seen

and understood as right, to be wrong. But what I do say is this: that

the form and aspect in which different deeds appear, so vary, that

there will be for ever a change and alteration in men's opinions, and

that which is really most generous may seem most base, and that which

is really most base may appear most generous. So for example, as I

have already said, there are two things universally

recognised--recognised as right by every man whose conscience is not

absolutely perverted--charity and self-denial. The charity of God, the

sacrifice of Christ--these are the two grand, leading principles of

the Gospel; and in some form or other you will find these lying at the

roots of every profession and state of feeling in almost every age.

But the form in which these appear, will vary with all the gradations

which are to be found between the lowest savage state and the highest

and most enlightened Christianity.

For example, in ancient Israel the law of love was expounded

thus:--"Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy." Among

the American Indians and at the Cape, the only homage perchance given

to self-denial, was the strange admiration given to that prisoner of

war who bore with unflinching fortitude the torture of his country's

enemies. In ancient India the same principle was exhibited, but in a

more strange and perverted manner. The homage there given to

self-denial, self-sacrifice, was this--that the highest form of

religion was considered to be that exhibited by the devotee who sat in

a tree until the birds had built their nests in his hair--until his

nails, like those of the King of Babylon, had grown like birds'

talons--until they had grown into his hands--and he became absorbed

into the Divinity.

We will take another instance, and one better known. In ancient Sparta

it was the custom to teach children to steal. And here there would

seem to be a contradiction to our proposition--here it would seem as

if right and wrong were matters merely conventional; for surely

stealing can never be anything but wrong. But if we look deeper we

shall see that there is no contradiction here. It was not stealing

which was admired; the child was punished if the theft was discovered;

but it was the dexterity which was admired, and that because it was a

warlike virtue, necessary it may be to a people in continual rivalry

with their neighbours. It was not that honesty was despised and

dishonesty esteemed, but that honesty and dishonesty were made

subordinate to that which appeared to them of higher importance,

namely, the duty of concealment. And so we come back to the principle

which we laid down at first. In every age, among all nations, the same

broad principle remains; but the application of it varies. The

conscience may be ill-informed, and in this sense only are right and

wrong conventional--varying with latitude and longitude, depending

upon chronology and geography.

The principle laid down by the Apostle Paul is this:--A man will be

judged, not by the abstract law of God, not by the rule of absolute

right, but much rather by the relative law of conscience. This he

states most distinctly--looking at the question on both sides. That

which seems to a man to be right is, in a certain sense, right to him;

and that which seems to a man to be wrong, in a certain sense _is_

wrong to him. For example: he says in his Epistle to the Romans (v.

14.) that, "sin is not imputed when there is no law," in other words,

if a man does not really know a thing to be wrong there is a sense in

which, if not right to him, it ceases to be so wrong as it would

otherwise be. With respect to the other of these sides however, the

case is still more distinct and plain. Here, in the judgment which the

apostle delivers in the parallel chapter of the Epistle to the Romans

(the 14th), he says, "I know, and am persuaded of the Lord Jesus, that

there is nothing unclean of itself: but to him that esteemeth anything

to be unclean, to him it is unclean." In other words, whatever may be

the abstract merits of the question--however in God's jurisprudence

any particular act may stand--to you, thinking it to be wrong, it

manifestly _is_ wrong, and your conscience will gather round it a

stain of guilt if you do it.

In order to understand this more fully, let us take a few instances.

There is a difference between _truth_ and _veracity_. Veracity--mere

veracity--is a small, poor thing. Truth is something greater and

higher. Veracity is merely the correspondence between some particular

statement and facts--truth is the correspondence between a man's whole

soul and reality. It is possible for a man to say that which, unknown

to him is false; and yet he may be true: because if deprived of truth

he is deprived of it unwillingly. It is possible, on the other hand,

for a man to utter veracities, and yet at the very time that he is

uttering those veracities to be false to himself, to his brother, and

to his God. One of the most signal instances of this is to be seen in

the Book of Job. Most of what Job's friends said to him were veracious

statements. Much of what Job said for himself was unveracious and

mistaken. And yet those veracities of theirs were so torn from all

connection with fact and truth, that they became falsehoods; and they

were, as has been said, nothing more than "orthodox liars" in the

sight of God. On the other hand, Job, blundering perpetually, and

falling into false doctrine, was yet a true man--searching for and

striving after the truth; and if deprived of it for a time, deprived

of it with all his heart and soul unwillingly. And therefore it was

that at last the Lord appeared out of the whirlwind, to confound the

men of mere veracity, and to stand by and support the honour of the

heartily true.

Let us apply the principle further. It is a matter of less importance

that a man should state true views, than that he should state views

truly. We will put this in its strongest form. Unitarianism is

false--Trinitarianism is true. But yet in the sight of God, and with

respect to a man's eternal destinies hereafter, it would surely be

better for him earnestly, honestly, truly, to hold the doctrines of

Unitarianism, than in a cowardly or indifferent spirit, or influenced

by authority, or from considerations of interest, or for the sake of

lucre, to hold the doctrines of Trinitarianism.

For instance:--Not many years ago the Church of Scotland was severed

into two great divisions, and gave to this age a marvellous proof that

there is still amongst us the power of living faith--when five hundred

ministers gave up all that earth holds dear--position in the church

they had loved; friendships and affections formed, and consecrated by

long fellowship, in its communion; and almost their hopes of gaining a

livelihood--rather than assert a principle which seemed to them to be

a false one. Now my brethren, surely the question in such a case for

us to consider is not this, merely--whether of the two sections held

the abstract _right_--held the principle in its integrity--but surely

far rather, this: who on either side was true to the light within,

true to God, true to the truth as God had revealed it to his soul.

Now it is precisely upon this principle that we are enabled to indulge

a Christian hope that many of those who in ancient times were

persecutors, for example, may yet be justified at the bar of Christ.

Nothing can make persecution right--it is wrong, essentially,

eternally wrong in the sight of God. And yet, if a man sincerely and

assuredly thinks that Christ has laid upon him a command to persecute

with fire and sword, it is surely better that he should, in spite of

all feelings of tenderness and compassion, cast aside the dearest

affections at the command of his Redeemer, than that he should, in

mere laxity and tenderness, turn aside from what seemed to him to be

his duty. At least, this appears to be the opinion of the Apostle

Paul. He tells us that he was "a blasphemer and a persecutor and

injurious," that "he did many things contrary to the name of Jesus of

Nazareth," that "being exceedingly mad against the disciples, he

persecuted them even unto strange cities." But he tells us further

that, "for this cause he obtained mercy, because he did it ignorantly

in unbelief."

Now take a case precisely opposite. In ancient times the Jews did that

by which it appeared to them that they would contract defilement and

guilt--they spared the lives of the enemies which they had taken in

battle. Brethren the eternal law is, that charity is right: and that

law is eternally right which says, "Thou shalt love thine enemy." And

had the Jews acted upon this principle they would have done well to

spare their enemies: but they did it thinking it to be wrong,

transgressing that law which commanded them to slay their idolatrous

enemies--not from generosity, but in cupidity--not from charity, but

from lax zeal. And so doing, the act was altogether wrong.

II. Such is the apostle's exposition of the law of Christian

conscience. Let us now, in the second place, consider the applications

both of a personal and of a public nature, which arise out of it.

1. The first application is a personal one. It is this:--Do what

_seems_ to _you_ to be right: it is only so that you will at last

learn by the grace of God to see clearly what _is_ right. A man thinks

within himself that it is God's law and God's will that he should act

thus and thus. There is nothing possible for us to say--there is no

advice for us to give, but this--"You _must_ so act." He is

responsible for the opinions he holds, and still more for the way in

which he arrived at them--whether in a slothful and selfish, or in an

honest and truth-seeking manner; but being now his soul's convictions,

you can give no other law than this--"You must obey your conscience."

For no man's conscience gets so seared by doing what is wrong

unknowingly, as by doing that which appears to be wrong to his

conscience. The Jews' consciences did not get seared by their slaying

the Canaanites, but they did become seared by their failing to do what

appeared to them to be right. Therefore, woe to you if you do what

others think right, instead of obeying the dictates of your own

conscience; woe to you if you allow authority, or prescription, or

fashion, or influence, or any other human thing, to interfere with

that awful and sacred thing--responsibility. "Every man," said the

apostle, "must give an account of himself to God."

2. The second application of this principle has reference to others.

No doubt to the large, free, enlightened mind of the Apostle Paul, all

these scruples and superstitions must have seemed mean, trivial, and

small indeed. It was a matter to him of far less importance that truth

should be _established_ than that it should be arrived at truly--a

matter of far less importance even, that right should be done, than

that right should be done rightly. Conscience was far more sacred to

him than even liberty--it was to him a prerogative far more precious

to assert the rights of Christian conscience, than to magnify the

privileges of Christian liberty. The scruple may be small and foolish,

but it may be impossible to uproot the scruple without tearing up the

feeling of the sanctity of conscience, and of reverence to the law of

God, associated with this scruple. And therefore the Apostle Paul

counsels these men to abridge their Christian liberty, and not to eat

of those things which had been sacrificed to idols, but to have

compassion upon the scruples of their weaker brethren.

And this, for two reasons. The first of these is a mere reason of

Christian feeling. It might cause exquisite pain to sensitive minds to

see those things which appeared to them to be wrong, done by Christian

brethren. Now you may take a parallel case. It may be, if you will,

mere superstition to bow at the name of Jesus. It may be, and no doubt

is, founded upon a mistaken interpretation of that passage in the

Epistle to the Philippians (ii. 10), which says that "at the name of

Jesus every knee shall bow." But there are many congregations in which

this has been the long-established rule, and there are many Christians

who would feel pained to see such a practice discontinued--as if it

implied a declension from the reverence due to "that name which is

above every name." Now what in this case is the Christian duty? Is it

this--to stand upon our Christian liberty? Or is it not rather

this--to comply with a prejudice which is manifestly a harmless one,

rather than give pain to a Christian brother?

Take another case. It may be a mistaken scruple; but there is no doubt

that it causes much pain to many Christians to see a carriage used on

the Lord's day. But you, with higher views of the spirit of

Christianity, who know that "the Sabbath was made for man, and not man

for the Sabbath"--who can enter more deeply into the truth taught by

our blessed Lord, that every day is to be dedicated to Him and

consecrated to His service--upon the high principle of Christian

liberty you can use your carriage--you can exercise your liberty. But

if there are Christian brethren to whom this would give pain--then I

humbly ask you, but most earnestly--What is the duty here? Is it not

this--to abridge your Christian liberty--and to go through rain, and

mud, and snow, rather than give pain to one Christian conscience?

To give one more instance. The words, and garb, and customs of that

sect of Christians called Quakers may be formal enough; founded, no

doubt, as in the former case, upon a mistaken interpretation of a

passage in the Bible. But they are at least harmless; and have long

been associated with the simplicity, and benevolence, and Christian

humbleness of this body of Christians--the followers of one who, three

hundred years ago, set out upon the glorious enterprise of making all

men friends. Now would it be Christian, or would it not rather be

something more than unchristian--would it not be gross rudeness and

coarse unfeelingness to treat such words, and habits, and customs,

with anything but respect and reverence?

Further: the apostle enjoined this duty upon the Corinthian converts,

of abridging their Christian liberty, not merely because it might give

pain to indulge it, but also because it might even lead their brethren

into sin. For, if any man should eat of the flesh offered to an idol,

feeling himself justified by his conscience, it were well: but if any

man, overborne by authority or interest, were to do this, not

according to conscience, but against it, there would be a distinct and

direct act of disobedience--a conflict between his sense of right and

the gratification of his appetites, or the power of influence; and

then his compliance would as much damage his conscience and moral

sense as if the act had been wrong in itself.

In the personal application of these remarks, there are three things

which we have to say. The first is this:--Distinguish I pray you,

between this tenderness for a brother's conscience and mere

time-serving. This same apostle whom we here see so gracefully giving

way upon the ground of expediency when Christian principles were left

entire, was the same who stood firm and strong as a rock when any

thing was demanded which trenched upon Christian principle. When some

required as a matter of necessity for salvation, that these converts

should be circumcised, the apostle says--"To whom we gave place by

subjection, no, not for an hour!" It was not indifference--it was not

cowardice--it was not the mere love of peace, purchased by the

sacrifice of principle, that prompted this counsel--but it was

Christian love--that delicate and Christian love which dreads to

tamper with the sanctities of a brother's conscience.

2. The second thing we have to say is this--that this abridgement of

their liberty is a duty more especially incumbent upon all who are

possessed of influence. There are some men, happily for themselves we

may say, who are so insignificant that they can take their course

quietly in the valleys of life, and who can exercise the fullest

Christian liberty without giving pain to others. But it is the price

which all who are possessed of influence must pay--that their acts

must be measured, not in themselves, but according to their influence

on others. So, my Christian brethren, to bring this matter home to

every-day experience and common life, if the landlord uses his

authority and influence to induce his tenant to vote against his

conscience, it may be he has secured one voice to the principle which

is right, or at all events, to that which seemed to him to be right:

but he has gained that single voice at the sacrifice and expense of a

brother's soul. Or again--if for the sake of ensuring personal

politeness and attention, the rich man puts a gratuity into the hand

of a servant of some company which has forbidden him to receive it, he

gains the attention, he ensures the politeness, but he gains it at the

sacrifice and expense of a man and a Christian brother.

3. The last remark which we have to make is this:--How possible it is

to mix together the vigour of a masculine and manly intellect with the

tenderness and charity which is taught by the gospel of Christ! No man

ever breathed so freely when on earth the air and atmosphere of heaven

as the Apostle Paul--no man ever soared so high above all prejudices,

narrowness, littlenesses, scruples, as he: and yet no man ever bound

himself as Paul bound himself to the ignorance, the scruples, the

prejudices of his brethren. So that what in other cases was infirmity,

imbecility, and superstition, gathered round it in his case the pure

high spirit of Christian charity and Christian delicacy.

And now, out of the writings, and sayings, and deeds of those who

loudly proclaim "the rights of man" and the "rights of liberty," match

us if you can with one sentence so sublime, so noble, one that will so

stand at the bar of God hereafter, as this single, glorious sentence

of his, in which he asserts the rights of Christian conscience above

the claims of Christian liberty--"Wherefore if meat make my brother to

offend, I will eat no flesh while the world standeth, lest I make my

brother to offend."

XVII.

_Preached May 16, 1852._

VICTORY OVER DEATH.

"The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law.

But thanks be to God which giveth us the victory through our Lord

Jesus Christ."--1 Cor. xv. 56, 57.

On Sunday last I endeavoured to bring before you the subject of that

which Scripture calls the glorious liberty of the Sons of God. The two

points on which we were trying to get clear notions were these: what

is meant by being under the law, and what is meant by being free from

the law? When the Bible says that a man led by the Spirit is not under

the law, it does not mean that he is free because he may sin without

being punished for it, but it means that he is free because being

taught by God's Spirit to love what His law commands he is no longer

conscious of acting from restraint. The law does not drive him,

because the Spirit leads him.

There is a state brethren, when we recognize God, but do not love God

in Christ. It is that state when we admire what is excellent, but are

not able to perform it. It is a state when the love of good comes to

nothing, dying away in a mere desire. That is the state of nature,

when we are under the law, and not converted to the love of Christ.

And then there is another state, when God writes His law upon our

hearts by love instead of fear. The one state is this, "I cannot do

the things that I would"--the other state is this, "I will walk at

liberty; for I seek Thy commandments."

Sermons Preached at Brighton Third Series · 第 14 / 21 段