It may be argued that if atheists and agnostics when they set themselves
to express the good will that is in them, do shape out God, that
if their conception of right living falls in so completely with the
conception of God’s service as to be broadly identical, then indeed God,
like the ether of scientific speculation, is no more than a theory, no
more than an imaginative externalisation of man’s inherent good will.
Why trouble about God then? Is not the declaration of a good disposition
a sufficient evidence of salvation? What is the difference between such
benevolent unbelievers as Professor Metchnikoff or Mr. McCabe and those
who have found God?
The difference is this, that the benevolent atheist stands alone upon
his own good will, without a reference, without a standard, trusting
to his own impulse to goodness, relying upon his own moral strength. A
certain immodesty, a certain self-righteousness, hangs like a precipice
above him; incalculable temptations open like gulfs beneath his feet. He
has not really given himself or got away from himself. He has no one to
whom he can give himself. He is still a masterless man. His exaltation
is self-centred, is priggishness, his fall is unrestrained by any
exterior obligation. His devotion is only the good will in himself, a
disposition; it is a mood that may change. At any moment it may change.
He may have pledged himself to his own pride and honour, but who will
hold him to his bargain? He has no source of strength beyond his own
amiable sentiments, his conscience speaks with an unsupported voice, and
no one watches while he sleeps. He cannot pray; he can but ejaculate. He
has no real and living link with other men of good will.
And those whose acquiescence in the idea of God is merely intellectual
are in no better case than those who deny God altogether. They may have
all the forms of truth and not divinity. The religion of the atheist
with a God-shaped blank at its heart and the persuasion of the
unconverted theologian, are both like lamps unlit. The lit lamp has no
difference in form from the lamp unlit. But the lit lamp is alive and
the lamp unlit is asleep or dead.
The difference between the unconverted and the unbeliever and the
servant of the true God is this; it is that the latter has experienced
a complete turning away from self. This only difference is all the
difference in the world. It is the realisation that this goodness that
I thought was within me and of myself and upon which I rather prided
myself, is without me and above myself, and infinitely greater and
stronger than I. It is the immortal and I am mortal. It is invincible
and steadfast in its purpose, and I am weak and insecure. It is no
longer that I, out of my inherent and remarkable goodness, out of
the excellence of my quality and the benevolence of my heart, give a
considerable amount of time and attention to the happiness and welfare
of others--because I choose to do so. On the contrary I have come under
a divine imperative, I am obeying an irresistible call, I am a humble
and willing servant of the righteousness of God. That altruism which
Professor Metchnikoff and Mr. McCabe would have us regard as the goal
and refuge of a broad and free intelligence, is really the first simple
commandment in the religious life.