proceeding with the subject, I would ask whether the generality of
mankind go as far as this: it is plain that they do not. They do not
go so far as to realize to themselves that religious obedience involves
a thwarting of those wishes and inclinations which are natural to them.
They do not like to be convinced, much less will they act upon the
notion, that religion is difficult. You may hear men of the world say
plainly, and as if in the way of argument, "that God will not punish us
for indulging the passions with which we are born; that it is no praise
to be unnatural; and no crime to be a man." This, however, may seem an
extreme case; yet are there not a great many decent and respectable
men, as far as outward character goes, who at least fix their thoughts
on worldly comfort, as the greatest of goods, and who labour to place
themselves in easy circumstances, under the notion that, when they can
retire from the business of their temporal calling, then they may (in a
quiet, unexceptionable way of course) consult their own tastes and
likings, take their pleasure, and indulge themselves in self-importance
and self-satisfaction, in the enjoyment of wealth, power, distinction,
popularity, and credit? I am not at this moment asking whether such
indulgences are in themselves allowable or not, but whether the life
which centres in them does not imply the absence of any very deep views
of sanctification as a process, a change, a painful toil, of working
out our own salvation with fear and trembling, of preparing to meet our
God, and waiting for the judgment? You may go into mixed society; you
will hear men conversing on their friend's prospects, openings in
trade, or realized wealth, on his advantageous situation, the pleasant
connexions he has formed, the land he has purchased, the house he has
built; then they amuse themselves with conjecturing what this or that
man's property may be, where he lost, where he gained, his shrewdness,
or his rashness, or his good fortune in this or that speculation.
Observe, I do not say that such conversation is wrong, I do not say
that we must always have on our lips the very thoughts which are
deepest in our hearts, or that it is safe to judge of individuals by
such speeches; but when this sort of conversation is the customary
standard conversation of the world, and when a line of conduct
answering to it is the prevalent conduct of the world (and this is the
case), is it not a grave question for each of us, as living in the
world, to ask himself what abiding notion we have of the necessity of
self-denial, and how far we are clear of the danger of resembling that
evil generation which "ate and drank, which married wives, and were
given in marriage, which bought and sold, planted, and builded, till it
rained fire and brimstone from heaven, and destroyed them all[1]?"
It is strange, indeed, how far this same forgetfulness and
transgression of the duty of self-denial at present spreads. Take
another class of persons, very different from those just mentioned, men
who profess much love for religion--I mean such as maintain, that if a
man has faith he will have works without his trouble, so that he need
be at no pains about performing them. Such persons at best seem to
say, that religious obedience is to follow as a matter of course, an
easy work, or rather a necessary consequence, from having some strong
urgent motive, or from some bright vision of the Truth acting on the
mind; and thus they dismiss from their religion the notion of
self-denial, or the effort and warfare of faith against our corrupt
natural will, whether they actually own that they dismiss it or not. I
say that they do this at best, for it often happens, as I just now
intimated, that they actually avow their belief that faith is
all-sufficient, and do not let their minds dwell at all on the
necessity of works of righteousness. All this being considered, surely
I am not wrong in saying that the notion of self-denial as a distinct
religious duty, and, much more (as it may well be called), the essence
of religious obedience, is not admitted into the minds of the
generality of men.
But let it be observed, I have hitherto spoken of self-denial not as a
distinct duty actually commanded in Scripture, but merely as it is
involved in the very notion of sanctification, as necessarily attendant
on that change of nature which God the Holy Spirit vouchsafes to work
within us. But now let us consider it in the light of the Scripture
precepts concerning it, and we shall come to a still more serious view
of it, serious (I mean) to those who are living to the world; it is
this,--that it is our duty, not only to deny ourselves in what is
sinful, but even, in a certain measure, in lawful things, to keep a
restraint over ourselves even in innocent pleasures and enjoyments.
Now the first proof I shall give of this will at the same time explain
what I mean.
Fasting is clearly a Christian duty, as our Saviour implies in His
Sermon on the Mount. Now what is fasting but a refraining from what is
lawful; not merely from what is sinful, but what is innocent?--from
that bread which we might lawfully take and eat with thanksgiving, but
which at certain times we do not take, in order to deny ourselves.
Such is Christian self-denial,--not merely a mortification of what is
sinful, but an abstinence even from God's blessings.
Again: consider the following declaration of our Saviour: He first
tells us, "Strait is the gate, and narrow is the way which leadeth unto
life, and few there be that find it." And again: "Strive to enter in,
for many, I say unto you, will seek (only seek) to enter in, and shall
not be able." Then He explains to us what this peculiar difficulty of
a Christian's life consists in: "If any man come to Me, and hate not
his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and
sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be My disciple[2]." Now
whatever is precisely meant by this (which I will not here stop to
inquire), so far is evident, that our Lord enjoins a certain
refraining, not merely from sin, but from innocent comforts and
enjoyments of this life, or a self-denial in things lawful.
Again, He says, "If any man will come after Me, let him deny himself,
and take up his cross daily, and follow Me[3]." Here He shows us from
His own example what Christian self-denial is. It is taking on us a
cross after His pattern, not a mere refraining from sin, for He had no
sin, but a giving up what we might lawfully use. This was the peculiar
character in which Christ came on earth. It was this spontaneous and
exuberant self-denial which brought Him down. He who was one with God,
took upon Him our nature, and suffered death--and why? to save us whom
He needed not save. Thus He denied Himself, and took up His cross.
This is the very aspect, in which God, as revealed in Scripture, is
distinguished from that exhibition of His glory, which nature gives us:
power, wisdom, love, mercy, long-suffering--these attributes, though
far more fully and clearly displayed in Scripture than in nature, still
are in their degree seen on the face of the visible creation; but
self-denial, if it may be said, this incomprehensible attribute of
Divine Providence, is disclosed to us only in Scripture. "God so loved
the world that He gave His Son[4]." Here is self-denial. And the Son
of God so loved us, that "though He was rich yet for our sakes He
became poor[5]." Here is our Saviour's self-denial. "He pleased not
Himself."
And what Christ did when He came on earth, that have all His saints
done both before and since His coming. Even the saints of the Old
Testament so conducted themselves, to whom a temporal promise was made,
and who, if any, might have surrendered themselves to the enjoyment of
it. They had a temporal promise, they had a present reward; yet, with
a noble faith, and a largeness of soul (how they put us to shame who
have so much higher privileges!) the Jewish believers grudged
themselves the milk and honey of Canaan, as seeking a better country,
that is a heavenly. Elijah, how unlike is he to one who had a temporal
promise! Or take again the instance of Daniel, which is still more
striking,--"They that wear soft clothing are in kings' houses." Daniel
was first in power in the palace of the greatest monarchs of his time.
Yet what do we read of him? First of his living upon pulse and water,
afterwards of his fasting in sackcloth and ashes, at another time of
his mourning three full weeks, eating no pleasant bread, neither flesh
nor wine coming in his mouth, nor anointing himself at all, till those
three weeks were fulfilled. Can any thing more clearly show the duty
of self-denial, even in lawful things, in the case of Christians, when
even God's servants, before Christ came and commanded it, in proportion
as they had evangelical gifts, observed it?
Or again, consider the words of the text spoken by David, who, if any,
had riches and power poured upon him by the hand of God. He says, he
has "behaved and quieted" himself lest he should be proud, and made
himself "as a weaned child." What an impressive word is "weaned!"
David had put away the unreserved love and the use of this world. We
naturally love the world, and innocently; it is before us, and meets
our eyes and hands first; its pleasures are dear to us, and many of
them not in themselves sinful, only in their excess, and some of them
not sinful at all;--those, for instance, which we derive from our home,
our friends, and our prospects, are the first and natural food of our
mind. But as children are weaned from their first nourishment, so must
our souls put away childish things, and be turned from the pleasures of
earth to those of heaven; we must learn to compose and quiet ourselves
as a weaned child, to put up with the loss of what is dear to us, nay,
voluntarily to give it up for Christ's sake.
Much more after Christ came does St. Paul give us this same lesson in
the ninth chapter of his first Epistle to the Corinthians: "Every one
that striveth for the mastery is temperate in all things," i. e. has
power over himself, and keeps himself in subjection, as he presently
says. Again, in the seventh chapter, "The time is short; it remaineth
that both they that have wives be as though they had none, and they
that weep as though they wept not, and they that rejoice as though they
rejoiced not, and they that buy as though they possessed not, and they
that use this world as not abusing it." Here the same doctrine of
moderation or temperance in lawful indulgences is strongly enforced; to
weep, to rejoice, to buy, to possess, to marry, to use this world, are
not unlawful, yet we must not use God's earthly gifts to the full, but
in all things we must be self-denying.
Such is Christian self-denial, and it is incumbent upon us for many
reasons. The Christian denies himself in things lawful because he is
aware of his own weakness and liability to sin; he dares not walk on
the edge of a precipice; instead of going to the extreme of what is
allowable, he keeps at a distance from evil, that he may be safe. He
abstains lest he should not be temperate; he fasts lest he should eat
and drink with the drunken. As is evident, many things are in
themselves right and unexceptionable which are inexpedient in the case
of a weak and sinful creature: his case is like that of a sick person;
many kinds of food, good for a man in health, are hurtful when he is
ill--wine is poison to a man in a fierce fever. And just so, many
acts, thoughts, and feelings, which would have been allowable in Adam
before his fall, are prejudicial or dangerous in man fallen. For
instance, anger is not sinful in itself. St. Paul implies this, when
he says, "Be ye angry and sin not[6]." And our Saviour on one occasion
is said to have been angry, and He was sinless. Almighty God, too, is
angry with the wicked. Anger, then, is not in itself a sinful feeling;
but in man, constituted as he is, it is so highly dangerous to indulge
it, that self-denial here is a duty from mere prudence. It is almost
impossible for a man to be angry only so far as he ought to be; he will
exceed the right limit, his anger will degenerate into pride,
sullenness, malice, cruelty, revenge, and hatred. It will inflame his
diseased soul, and poison it. Therefore, he must abstain from it, as
if it were _in itself_ a sin (though it is not), for it is practically
such to him.
Again, the love of praise is in itself an innocent passion, and might
be indulged, were the world's opinion right and our hearts sound; but,
as things are, human applause, if listened to, will soon make us forget
how weak and sinful we are; so we must deny ourselves, and accept the
praise even of good men, and those we love, cautiously and with reserve.
So, again, love of power is commonly attendant on a great mind; but he
is the greatest of a sinful race who refrains himself, and turns from
the temptation of it; for it is at once unbecoming and dangerous in a
son of Adam. "Whosoever will be great among you, let him be your
minister," says our Lord; "and whosoever will be chief among you, let
him be your servant[7]." His reward will be hereafter; to reign with
Christ, to sit down with Him on His throne, to judge angels,--yet
without pride.
Again, even in affection towards our relations and friends, we must be
watchful over ourselves, lest it seduce us from the path of duty. Many
a father, from a kind wish to provide well for his family, neglects his
own soul. Here, then, is a fault; not that we can love our relations
too well, but that that strong and most praiseworthy affection for them
may, accidentally, ensnare and corrupt our weak nature.
These considerations will show us the meaning of our Saviour's words
already cited, about the duty of hating our friends. To hate is to
feel that perfect distaste for an object, that you wish it put away and
got rid of; it is to turn away from it, and to blot out the thought of
it from your mind. Now this is just the feeling we must cherish
towards all earthly blessings, so far as Christ does not cast His light
upon them. He (blessed be His name) has sanctioned and enjoined love
and care for our relations and friends: Such love is a great duty; but
should at any time His guidance lead us by a strange way, and the light
of His providence pass on, and cast these objects of our earthly
affection into the shade, then they must be at once in the shade to
_us_,--they must, for the time, disappear from our hearts. "He that
loveth father or mother more than Me, is not worthy of Me." So He
says; and at such times, though still loving them, we shall seem to
hate them; for we shall put aside the thought of them, and act as if
they did not exist. And in this sense an ancient and harsh proverb is
true: we must always so love our friends as feeling that one day or
other we may perchance be called upon to hate them,--that is, forget
them in the pursuit of higher duties.
Here, again, then, is an instance of self-denial in lawful things; and
if a person says it is painful thus to feel, and that it checks the
spontaneous and continual flow of love towards our friends to have this
memento sounding in our ears, we must boldly acknowledge that it is
painful. It is a sad thought, not that we can ever be called upon
actually to put away the love of them, but to have to act as if we did
not love them,--as Abraham when called on to slay his son. And this
thought of the uncertainty of the future, doubtless, does tinge all our
brightest affections (as far as this world is concerned) with a grave
and melancholy hue. We need not shrink from this confession,
remembering that this life is not our rest or happiness;--"_that_
remaineth" to come. This sober chastised feeling is the very temper of
David, when he speaks of having composed and quieted his soul, and
weaned it from the babe's nourishment which this world supplies.
I hope I have made it clear, by these instances, what is meant by
Christian self-denial. If we have good health, and are in easy
circumstances, let us beware of high-mindedness, self-sufficiency,
self-conceit, arrogance; of delicacy of living, indulgences, luxuries,
comforts. Nothing is so likely to corrupt our hearts, and to seduce us
from God, as to surround ourselves with comforts,--to have things our
own way,--to be the centre of a sort of world, whether of things
animate or inanimate, which minister to us. For then, in turn, we
shall depend on them; they will become necessary to us; their very
service and adulation will lead us to trust ourselves to them, and to
idolize them. What examples are there in Scripture of soft luxurious
men! Was it Abraham before the Law, who wandered through his days,
without a home? or Moses, who gave the Law, and died in the wilderness?
or David under the Law, who "had no proud looks," and was "as a weaned
child?" or the Prophets, in the latter days of the Law, who wandered in
sheep-skins and goat-skins? or the Baptist, when the Gospel was
superseding it, who was clad in raiment of camel's hair, and ate the
food of the wilderness? or the Apostles, who were "the offscouring of
all things"? or our blessed Saviour, who "had not a place to lay His
head"? Who are the soft luxurious men in Scripture? There was the
rich man, who "fared sumptuously every day," and then "lifted up his
eyes in hell, being in torments." There was that other, whose "ground
brought forth plentifully," and who said, "Soul, thou hast much goods
laid up for many years;" and his soul was required of him that night.
There was Demas, who forsook St. Paul, "having loved this present
world." And, alas! there was that highly-favoured, that
divinely-inspired king, rich and wise Solomon, whom it availed nothing
to have measured the earth, and numbered its inhabitants, when in his
old age he "loved many strange women," and worshipped their gods.
Far be it from us, soldiers of Christ, thus to perplex ourselves with
this world, who are making our way towards the world to come. "No man
that warreth, entangleth himself with the affairs of this life, that he
may please Him who hath chosen him to be a soldier. If a man also
strive for masteries, yet is he not crowned, except he strive
lawfully." This is St. Paul's rule, as has already been referred to:
accordingly, in another place, he bears witness of himself that he
"died daily." Day by day he got more and more dead to this world; he
had fewer ties to earth, a larger treasure in heaven. Nor let us think
that it is over-difficult to imitate him, though we be not Apostles,
nor are called to any extraordinary work, nor are enriched with any
miraculous gifts: he would have all men like himself, and all may be
like him, according to their place and measure of grace. If we would
be followers of the great Apostle, first let us with him fix our eyes
upon Christ our Saviour; consider the splendour and glory of His
holiness, and try to love it. Let us strive and pray that the love of
holiness may be created within our hearts; and then acts will follow,
such as befit us and our circumstances, in due time, without our
distressing ourselves to find what they should be. You need not
attempt to draw any precise line between what is sinful and what is
only allowable: look up to Christ, and deny yourselves every thing,
whatever its character, which you think He would have you relinquish.
You need not calculate and measure, if you love much: you need not
perplex yourselves with points of curiosity, if you have a heart to
venture after Him. True, difficulties will sometimes arise, but they
will be seldom. He bids you take up your cross; therefore accept the
daily opportunities which occur of yielding to others, when you need
not yield, and of doing unpleasant services, which you might avoid. He
bids those who would be highest, live as the lowest: therefore, turn
from ambitious thoughts, and (as far as you religiously may) make
resolves against taking on you authority and rule. He bids you sell
and give alms; therefore, hate to spend money on yourself. Shut your
ears to praise, when it grows loud: set your face like a flint, when
the world ridicules, and smile at its threats. Learn to master your
heart, when it would burst forth into vehemence, or prolong a barren
sorrow, or dissolve into unseasonable tenderness. Curb your tongue,
and turn away your eye, lest you fall into temptation. Avoid the
dangerous air which relaxes you, and brace yourself upon the heights.
Be up at prayer "a great while before day," and seek the true, your
only Bridegroom, "by night on your bed." So shall self-denial become
natural to you, and a change come over you, gently and imperceptibly;
and, like Jacob, you will lie down in the waste, and will soon see
Angels, and a way opened for you into heaven.
[1] Luke xvii. 27-29.
[2] Matt. vii. 14. Luke xiii. 24; xiv. 26.
[3] Luke ix. 23.
[4] John iii. 16.
[5] 2 Cor. viii. 9.
[6] Eph. iv. 26.
[7] Matt. xx. 26, 27.
SERMON VIII.
The Yoke of Christ.
"_Take My yoke upon you, and learn of Me, for I am meek and lowly in
heart, and ye shall find rest unto your souls; for My yoke is easy, and
My burden is light._"--Matt. xi. 29, 30.
These words, which are brought before us in the Gospel of to-day's
festival[1], are also found in the address made to us upon Ash
Wednesday, in which we are told that if we "return unto Him who is the
merciful Receiver of all true penitent sinners, if we will take His
easy yoke and light burden upon us, to follow Him in lowliness,
patience, and charity; this, if we do, Christ will deliver us from the
curse of the law, and from the extreme malediction which shall light
upon them that shall be set on the left hand." A few days since we
were upon a Fast-day called to take on us Christ's yoke, and now on a
Festival of an Apostle the call is repeated.
And with a particular fitness it occurs, now as often, that we
celebrate the feast of St. Matthias, during Lent; for if there be an
Apostle who above the rest may be taken to remind us of the duty of
mortification, it is he. Our Lord, when asked why His disciples did
not fast, said, they could not fast while He was with them, but that
the time would come, when the Bridegroom should be taken away from
them, and then should they fast in those days. That time was now come,
when St. Matthias was chosen to be an Apostle. Christ _had_ gone away.
Peace and joy the Apostles had abundantly, more so than when He was
with them; but for that very reason, it was not such a joy "as the
world giveth." It was His own joy which arose out of pain and
chastisement. This was the joy which St. Matthias received when he was
made an Apostle. He never had been an Apostle under age. He had
indeed been with our Lord, but not as an Apostle. The rest had been
chosen (as it were) as children; they had been heirs of the kingdom,
while under tutors and governors, and, though Apostles, had not
understood their calling, had had ambitious thoughts or desires after
riches, and were indulged for a while, ere new made, with the old wine,
lest the bottles should burst. But St. Matthias came into his
inheritance at once. He took upon him at once, upon his election, the
power and the penalty of the Apostolate. No dreams of earthly
prosperity could flit around that throne, which was reared over the
grave of one who had been tried and had fallen, and under the immediate
shadow of the cross of Him whom he had betrayed.
Well, then, does St. Matthias repeat to us on this day our Lord's
words, "Take My yoke upon you, and learn of Me," for he had taken it on
him from the first. His Pastoral Staff had ever been a crosier. He
had had no youth. He had borne the yoke in his youth. He entered at
once upon his long Lent, and he rejoiced in it.