spirit. At first sight it might be supposed that there must ever be a
vast distinction between the innocent and the penitent. It was so that
the elder son in the parable thought when he saw his brother restored
to his father's favour. He was surprised and hurt. He had served his
father these many years--his brother had wasted his substance in
riotous living. But in this passage God makes no distinction. He
places the humble consistent follower and the broken-hearted sinner on
a level. He dwells with both, with Him that is contrite, _and_ with
him that is humble. He sheds around them both the grandeur of His own
presence, and the annals of Church history are full of
exemplifications of this marvel of God's grace. By the transforming
grace of Christ men, who have done the very work of Satan, have become
as conspicuous in the service of heaven, as they were once conspicuous
in the career of guilt.
So indisputably has this been so, that men have drawn from such
instances the perverted conclusion, that if a man is ever to be a
great saint, he must first be a great sinner. God forbid brethren,
that we should ever make such an inference. But this we infer for our
own encouragement, that past sin does not necessarily preclude from
high attainments. We must "forget the things that are behind." We
must not mourn over past years of folly as if they made saintliness
impossible. Deep as we may have been once in earthliness, so deep we
may also be in penitence, and so high we may become in spirituality.
We have so many years the fewer to do our work in. Well brethren, let
us try to do it so much the faster. Christ can crowd the work of years
into hours. He did it with the dying thief. If the man who has set out
early may take his time, it certainly cannot be so with _us_ who have
lost our time. If we have lost God's bright and happy presence by our
wilfulness, what then? Unrelieved sadness? Nay, brethren, calmness,
purity, may have gone from our heart; but _all_ is not gone yet. Just
as sweetness comes from the bark of the cinnamon when it is bruised,
so can the spirit of the Cross of Christ bring beauty and holiness and
peace out of the bruised and broken heart. God dwells with the
contrite as much as with the humble.
And now brethren, to conclude, the first inference we collect from
this subject, is the danger of coming into collision with such a God
as our God. Day by day we commit sins of thought and word of which the
dull eye of man takes no cognisance. He whose name is Holy cannot pass
them by. We may elude the vigilance of a human enemy and place
ourselves beyond his reach. God fills all space--there is not a spot
in which His piercing eye is not on us, and His uplifted hand cannot
find us out. Man must strike soon if he would strike at all; for
opportunities pass away from him, and his victim may escape his
vengeance by death. There is no passing of opportunity with God, and
it is this which makes His long suffering a solemn thing. God can
wait, for He has a whole eternity before Him in which He may strike.
"All things are open, and naked to Him with whom we have to do."
In the next place we are taught the heavenly character of
condescension. It is not from the insignificance of man that God's
dwelling with him is so strange. It is as much the glory of God to
bend His attention on an atom as to uphold the universe. But the
marvel is that the habitation which He has chosen for Himself is an
impure one. And when He came down from His magnificence to make this
world His home, still the same character of condescension was shown
through all the life of Christ. Our God selected the society of the
outcasts of earth, those whom none else would speak to.
Brethren, if we would be Godlike, we must follow in the same steps.
Our temptation is to do exactly the reverse. We are for ever wishing
to obtain the friendship and the intimacy of those above us in the
world. To win over men of influence to truth--to associate with men of
talent and station, and title. This is the world-chase, and this,
brethren, is too much the religious man's chase. But if you look
simply to the question of resemblance to God, then the man who makes
it a habit to select that one in life to do good to, and that one in
a room to speak with, whom others pass by because there is nothing
either of intellect, or power, or name, to recommend him, but only
humbleness, _that_ man has stamped upon his heart more of heavenly
similitude by condescension, than the man who has made it his business
to win this world's great ones, even for the sake of truth.
Lastly, we learn the guilt of two things of which this world is
full--vanity and pride. There is a distinction between these two. But
the distinction consists in this, that the vain man looks for the
admiration of others--the proud man requires nothing but his own. Now,
it is this distinction which makes vanity despicable to us all. We can
easily find out the vain man--we soon discover what it is he wants to
be observed, whether it be a gift of person, or a gift of mind, or a
gift of character. If he be vain of his person, his attitudes will
tell the tale. If he be vain of his judgment, or his memory, or his
honesty, he cannot help an unnecessary parade. The world finds him
out, and this is why vanity is ever looked on with contempt. So soon
as we let men see that we are suppliants for their admiration, we are
at their mercy. We have given them the privilege of feeling that they
are above us. We have invited them to spurn us. And therefore vanity
is but a thing for scorn. But it is very different with pride. No man
can look down on him that is proud, for he has asked no man for
anything. They are forced to feel respect for pride, because it is
thoroughly independent of them. It wraps itself up in the consequence
of its own excellences, and scorns to care whether others take note
of them or not.
It is just here that the danger lies. We have exalted a sin into a
virtue. No man will acknowledge that he is vain, but almost any man
will acknowledge that he is proud. But tried by the balance of the
sanctuary, there is little to choose between the two. If a man look
for greatness out of God, it matters little whether he seek it in his
own applause, or in the applause of others. The _proud_ Pharisee, who
trusted in himself that he was righteous, was condemned by Christ as
severely, and even more, than the _vain_ Jews who "could not believe
because they sought honour from one another, and not that honour which
cometh from God only." It may be a more dazzling, and a more splendid
sin to be proud. It is not less hateful in God's sight. Let us speak
God's word to our own unquiet, swelling, burning hearts. Pride may
disguise itself as it will in its own majesty, but in the presence of
the High and Lofty One, it is but littleness after all.
XIX.
_Preached June 27, 1852._
THE LAWFUL AND UNLAWFUL USE OF LAW.
(A FRAGMENT.)
"But we know that the law is good, if a man use it lawfully."--1
Tim. i. 8.
It is scarcely ever possible to understand a passage without some
acquaintance with the history of the circumstances under which it was
written.
At Ephesus, over which Timothy was bishop, people had been bewildered
by the teaching of converted Jews, who mixed the old leaven of Judaism
with the new spirituality of Christianity. They maintained the
perpetual obligation of the Jewish law.--v. 7. They desired to be
teachers of the law. They required strict performance of a number of
severe observances. They talked mysteriously of angels and powers
intermediate between God and the human soul.--v. 4. The result was an
interminable discussion at Ephesus. The Church was filled with
disputations and controversies.
Now there is something always refreshing to see the Apostle Paul
descending upon an arena of controversy, where minds have been
bewildered; and so much is to be said on both sides, that people are
uncertain which to take. You know at once that he will pour light upon
the question, and illuminate all the dark corners. You know that he
will not trim, and balance, and hang doubtful, or become a partisan;
but that he will seize some great principle which lies at the root of
the whole controversy, and make its true bearings clear at once.
This he always does, and this he does on the present occasion.--v. 5
and 6. He does not, like a vehement polemic, say Jewish ceremonies and
rules are all worthless, nor some ceremonies are worthless, and others
essential; but he says, the root of the whole matter is charity. If
you turn aside from this, all is lost; here at once the controversy
closes. So far as any rule fosters the spirit of love, that is, is
used lawfully, it is wise, and has a use. So far as it does not, it is
chaff. So far as it hinders it, it is poison.
Now observe how different this method is from that which is called the
sober, moderate way--the _via media_. Some would have said, the great
thing is to avoid extremes. If the question respects
fasting--fast--only in _moderation_. If the observance of the Sabbath
day, observe it on the Jewish principle, only _not so strictly_.
St. Paul, on the contrary, went down to the root; he said, the true
question is not whether the law is good or bad, but on what principle;
he said, you are both wrong--_you_, in saying that the observance of
the law is essential, for the end of it is charity, and if _that_ be
got what matter _how_--_you_, in saying rules may be dispensed with
entirely and always, "for we know that the law is good."
I. The unlawful use, and
II. The lawful use of law.
I. The unlawful use.
Define law.--By law, Paul almost always means not the Mosaic law, but
law in its essence and principle, that is, constraint. This chiefly in
two forms expresses itself--1st, a custom; 2nd, a maxim. As examples
of custom, we might give Circumcision, or the Sabbath, or Sacrifice,
or Fasting.
Law said, thou shalt _do_ these things; and law, as mere law,
constrained them. Or again, law may express itself in maxims and
rules.
In rules, as when law said, "Thou shalt not steal"--not saying a word
about secret dishonesty of heart, but simply taking cognizance of
_acts_.
In maxims, as when it admonished that man ought to give a tenth to
God, leaving the principle of the matter untouched. Principle is one
thing, and maxim is another. A principle requires liberality, a maxim
says one-tenth. A principle says, "A merciful man is merciful to his
beast," leaves mercy to the heart, and does not define how; a maxim
says, thou shalt not muzzle the ox that treadeth out thy corn. A
principle says, Forgive; a maxim defines "seven times;" and thus the
whole law falls into two divisions.
The ceremonial law, which constrains life by customs.
The moral law, which guides life by rules and maxims.
Now it is an illegitimate use of law. First. To expect by obedience to
it to make out a title to salvation.
By the deeds of the law, shall no man living be justified. Salvation
is by faith: a state of heart right with God; faith is the spring of
holiness--a well of life. Salvation is not the having committed a
certain number of good acts. Destruction is not the having committed a
certain number of crimes. Salvation is God's Spirit in us, leading to
good. Destruction is the selfish spirit in us, leading to wrong.
For a plain reason then, obedience to law cannot save, because it is
merely the performance of a certain number of acts which may be done
by habit, from fear, from compulsion. Obedience remains still
imperfect. A man may have obeyed the rule, and kept the maxim, and yet
not be perfect. "All these commandments have I kept from my youth up."
"Yet lackest thou one thing." The law he had kept. The spirit of
obedience in its high form of sacrifice he had not.
Secondly. To use it superstitiously.
It is plain that this was the use made of it by the Ephesian
teachers.--v. 4. It seemed to them that _law_ was pleasing to God as
restraint. Then unnatural restraints came to be imposed--on the
appetites, fasting; on the affections, celibacy. This is what Paul
condemns.--ch. iv., v. 8. "Bodily exercise profiteth little."
And again, this superstition showed itself in a false
reverence--wondrous stories respecting angels--respecting the eternal
genealogy of Christ--awful thoughts about spirits. The Apostle calls
all these, very unceremoniously, "endless genealogies," v. 4, and "old
wives' fables."--ch. iv., v. 7.
The question at issue is, wherein true reverence consists: according
to them, in the multiplicity of the objects of reverence; according to
St. Paul, in the character of the object revered ... God and Right the
true object.
But you are not a whit the better for solemn and reverential feelings
about a mysterious, invisible world. To tremble before a consecrated
wafer is spurious reverence. To bend before the Majesty of Right is
Christian reverence.
Thirdly. To use it as if the letter of it were sacred. The law
commanded none to eat the shewbread except the priests. David ate it
in hunger. If Abimelech had scrupled to give it, he would have used
the law unlawfully.
The law commanded no manner of work. The apostles in hunger rubbed the
ears of corn. The Pharisees used the law unlawfully, in forbidding
that.
II. The lawful use of law.
1. As a restraint to keep outward evil in check ... "The law was made
for sinners and profane." ... Illustrate this by reference to capital
punishment. No sane man believes that punishment by death will make a
nation's heart right, or that the sight of an execution can soften or
ameliorate. Punishment does not work in that way. It is not meant for
that purpose. It is meant to guard society.
The law commanding a blasphemer to be stoned, could not teach one
Israelite love to God, but it could save the streets of Israel from
scandalous ribaldry.
And therefore clearly understand, law is a mere check to bad men: it
does not improve them; it often makes them worse; it cannot sanctify
them. God never intended that it should. It saves society from the
open transgression; it does not contemplate the amelioration of the
offender.
Hence we see for what reason the apostle insisted on the use of the
law for Christians. Law never can be abrogated. Strict rules are
needed exactly in proportion as we want the power or the will to rule
ourselves. It is not because the Gospel has come that we are free from
the law, but because, and only so far, as we are in a Gospel state.
"It is for a righteous man" that the law is not made, and thus we see
the true nature of Christian liberty. The liberty to which we are
called in Christ, is not the liberty of devils, the liberty of doing
what we will, but the blessed liberty of being on the side of the law,
and therefore unrestrained by it in doing right.
Illustrate from laws of coining, housebreaking, &c. We are not under
them.--Because we may break them as we like? Nay--the moment we
desire, the law is alive again to us.
2. As a primer is used by a child to acquire by degrees, principles
and a spirit.
This is the use attributed to it in verse 5. "The end of the
commandment is charity."
Compare with this, two other passages--"Christ is the end of the law
for righteousness," and "love is the fulfilling of the law." "Perfect
love casteth out fear."
In every law there is a spirit; in every maxim a principle; and the
law and the maxim are laid down for the sake of conserving the spirit
and the principle which they enshrine.
St. Paul compares God's dealing with man to a wise parent's
instruction of his child.--See the Epistle to the Galatians. Boyhood
is under law; you appeal not to the boy's reason, but his will, by
rewards and punishments: Do this, and I will reward you; do it not,
and you will be punished. So long as a man is under law, this is
salutary and necessary, but only while under law. He is free when he
discerns principles, and at the same time has got, by habit, the will
to obey. So that rules have done for him a double work, taught him the
principle and facilitated obedience to it.
Distinguish however.--In point of time, law is first--in point of
importance, the Spirit.
In point of _time_, Charity is the "end" of the commandment--in point
of _importance_, first and foremost.
The first thing a boy has to do, is to learn implicit obedience to
rules. The first thing in importance for a man to learn is, to sever
himself from maxims, rules, laws. Why? That he may become an
Antinomian, or a Latitudinarian? No. He is severed from submission to
the _maxim_ because he has got allegiance to the _principle_. He is
free from the rule and the law because he has got the Spirit written
in his heart.
This is the Gospel. A man is redeemed by Christ so far as he is not
under the law; he is free from the law so far as he is free from the
evil which the law restrains; he progresses so far as there is no evil
in him which it is an effort to keep down; and perfect salvation and
liberty are--when we,--who though having the first fruits of the
Spirit, yet groan within ourselves, waiting for the adoption, "to wit,
the redemption of our body"--shall have been freed in body, soul, and
spirit, from the last traces of the evil which can only be kept down
by force. In other words, so far as Christ's statement is true of
_us_, "The Prince of this world cometh, and hath nothing in me."
XX.
_Preached February 21, 1853._
THE PRODIGAL AND HIS BROTHER.
"And he said unto him, Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I
have is thine. It was meet that we should make merry, and be glad:
for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; was lost, and
is found."--Luke xv. 31, 32.
There are two classes of sins. There are some sins by which man
crushes, wounds, malevolently injures his brother man: those sins
which speak of a bad, tyrannical, and selfish heart. Christ met those
with denunciation. There are other sins by which a man injures
himself. There is a life of reckless indulgence; there is a career of
yielding to ungovernable propensities, which most surely conducts to
wretchedness and ruin, but makes a man an object of compassion rather
than of condemnation.
The reception which sinners of this class met from Christ was marked
by strange and pitying mercy. There was no maudlin sentiment on his
lips. He called sin sin, and guilt guilt. But yet there were sins
which His lips scourged, and others over which, containing in
themselves their own scourge, His heart bled. That which was
melancholy, and marred, and miserable in this world, was more
congenial to the heart of Christ than that which was proudly happy. It
was in the midst of a triumph, and all the pride of a procession, that
He paused to weep over ruined Jerusalem. And if we ask the reason why
the character of Christ was marked by this melancholy condescension it
is that he was in the midst of a world of ruins, and there was nothing
there to gladden, but very much to touch with grief. He was here to
restore that which was broken down and crumbling into decay. An
enthusiastic antiquarian, standing amidst the fragments of an ancient
temple surrounded by dust and moss, broken pillar, and defaced
architrave, with magnificent projects in his mind of restoring all
this to _former_ majesty, to draw out to light from mere rubbish the
ruined glories, and therefore stooping down amongst the dank ivy and
the rank nettles; such was Christ amidst the wreck of human nature. He
was striving to lift it out of its degradation. He was searching out
in revolting places that which had fallen down, that He might build it
up again in fair proportions a holy temple to the Lord.
Therefore He laboured among the guilty; therefore He was the companion
of outcasts; therefore He spoke tenderly and lovingly to those whom
society counted undone; therefore He loved to bind up the bruised and
the broken-hearted; therefore His breath fanned the spark which seemed
dying out in the wick of the expiring taper, when men thought that it
was too late, and that the hour of _hopeless_ profligacy was come. It
was that feature in His character, that tender, hoping, encouraging
spirit of His which the prophet Isaiah fixed upon as characteristic.
"A bruised reed will He not break."
It was an illustration of this spirit which He gave in the parable
which forms the subject of our consideration to-day. We find the
occasion which drew it from Him in the commencement of this chapter,
"Then drew near unto Him all the publicans and sinners for to hear
Him. And the Pharisees and Scribes murmured, saying, This man
receiveth sinners, and eateth with them." It was then that Christ
condescended to offer an excuse or an explanation of His conduct. And
His excuse was this: It is natural, humanly natural, to rejoice more
over that which has been recovered than over that which has been never
lost. He proved that by three illustrations taken from human life. The
first illustration intended to show the feelings of Christ in winning
back a sinner, was the joy which the shepherd feels in the recovery of
a sheep from the mountain wilderness. The second was the satisfaction
which a person feels for a recovered coin. The last was the gladness
which attends the restoration of an erring son.
Now the three parables are alike in this, that they all describe more
or less vividly the feelings of the Redeemer on the recovery of the
lost. But the third parable differs from the other two in this, that
besides the feelings of the Saviour, it gives us a multitude of
particulars respecting the feelings, the steps, and the motives of the
penitent who is reclaimed back to goodness. In the two first the thing
lost is a coin or a sheep. It would not be possible to find any
picture of remorse or gladness there. But in the third parable the
thing lost is not a lifeless thing, nor a mute thing, but a being, the
workings of whose human heart are all described. So that the subject
opened out to us is a more extensive one--not merely the feelings of
the finder, God in Christ, but besides that, the sensations of the
wanderer himself.
In dealing with this parable, this is the line which we shall adopt.
We shall look at the picture which it draws of--1. God's treatment of
the penitent. 2. God's expostulation with the saint. God's treatment
of the penitent divides itself in this parable into three distinct
epochs. The period of alienation, the period of repentance, and the
circumstances of a penitent reception. We shall consider all these in
turn.
The first truth exhibited in this parable is the alienation of man's
heart from God. Homelessness, distance from our Father--that is man's
state by nature in this world. The youngest son gathered all together
and took his journey into a _far_ country. Brethren, this is the
history of worldliness. It is a state far from God; in other words, it
is a state of homelessness. And now let us ask what that means. To
English hearts it is not necessary to expound elaborately the infinite
meanings which cluster round that blessed expression "home." Home is
the one place in all this world where hearts are sure of each other.
It is the place of confidence. It is the place where we tear off that
mask of guarded and suspicious coldness which the world forces us to
wear in self-defence, and where we pour out the unreserved
communications of full and confiding hearts. It is the spot where
expressions of tenderness gush out without any sensation of
awkwardness and without any dread of ridicule. Let a man travel where
he will, home is the place to which "his heart untravelled fondly
turns." He is to double all pleasure there. He is there to divide all
pain. A _happy home_ is the single spot of rest which a man has upon
this earth for the cultivation of his noblest sensibilities.