This hints to us the answer to the question, Have we to do something

that salvation may become a known and felt reality? We have to do

something. We have _to do_, as we are told by Him who only can tell us

what it is we have to do: "Will to do the will," says the Christ, "and

ye shall know." And if we are really seeking a basis of assurance in

His saving power, we ought surely to take Him at His word, when He

tells us how to find it. It is not first through assured belief that

we become sure of Christ, it is by doing Christ's will that we become

sure of our belief. Have we to explain to a child the mechanism of its

limbs before it can attempt to walk? The impulse comes, and the child

walks, that is all. But the child has to walk to know that it can walk.

But what, you ask me, are we to say about sudden conversions, of which

we once heard so much, and which we are still taught to seek and

expect? What, I ask you, about those sudden flashes of insight which

at times seem to reveal in a moment a way out of difficulties which for

years we have sought in vain? A man told me lately about a period in

his life when through drink and betting he was reduced from a

prosperous man to a wreck in body and means. "I was down," he said,

"low as a human creature could get in this world." He was converted to

God, and from the very hour his change came, he declared that his

craving for drink, and mania for gambling, dropped out of his being, as

a piece of dead matter falls away from a living organism. And there

are such cases, thank God, but we must not make our teaching about them

misleading by making it despotic. As in the instances of sudden

insight, we do not because we dare not say they are general, deny that

they occur. The soul-development on its immortal side is, for the most

part, gradual and slow. The life-faculty is there, but it often means

hard work, patient waiting, and great faith, to realize its presence

and bring out its power.

[2] It has been said that modern psychology confirms scientifically

this method of seeking and finding the truth. It teaches that action

has often to precede thought and feeling. If this is the word of

psychology, it is really in accord with the method of Jesus.

Practically all His teaching is addressed, not so much to the intellect

or to the emotions, but to the will. He does not put doing and

believing in opposition; in actual life they are really

indistinguishable parts of a healthy spiritual growth. But our Lord

does put doing before knowing, as He puts religion before theology, and

life before the understanding of life. His unmistakable object is to

constrain men to take action, rather than to wait for emotion, or even

for intellectual confidence and conviction.

As a matter of experience, we find at every turn on the road of life we

have to do things we do not want to do, to secure the things we want to

have. Necessity does not humour us, and that is the reason the world

owes so much to necessity. We may be very "superior" about dogmatism

in theology, but well for us that dogmatism will have no such nonsense

in life. It is just doing the duty that tasks us most, whatever our

feeling about it, which makes the difference between the worthy and the

unworthy in character; between the numerals and the ciphers in the

human world. It is doing, not what we would, but as we ought which

changes reluctance into interest, and the sense of futility into the

joy of achievement. It is doing what we know to be true which

illumines its ever-lasting significance. "You could write stories

which people would read," said Lecky repeatedly to George Eliot. She

did not believe him, and, strange as it may seem, she had almost a

morbid shrinking from making the attempt. But she did make it, and we

know with what results. The attempt to write a story had not only to

precede the belief that she could write one, it had to reveal the gift.

And so Jesus, who came to manifest God, says to you and me: My brother,

My sister, there is that in you which, brought out and cultivated, can

achieve in you the highest order and quality of life in this world, and

fit you for whatever environment lies beyond. Believe me. Just take

me at my word when I say to you, will to do my will, and doing it you

shall come to love it--and that is to be saved; for it is to be at one

with the Father in me. Leave your past, however unworthy it may be.

What I have done and suffered for you has atoned for all. Do your

part, and you, too, shall testify: "I live, and yet not I, but Christ

that liveth in Me."

This, then, is my position; and whether or not it answer to fact and to

Scripture, I leave with your judgment. I ought to have accomplished

something if I have made myself understood. It probably overlooks much

that many of you hold to be integral to the nature and meaning of

salvation. I have only to repeat, that what has been advanced is a

setting of this great subject; and I venture to urge it upon your

consideration. It now remains for me to notice very briefly one or two

further questions as I draw to a close.

What, I may be asked, are we expected, as young people, to understand

about the doctrines and dogmas of Christianity as necessary to an

intelligent religious faith? And what about feeling or emotion, which

is usually represented as a vital part of the driving power of

Christian life and conduct? Well, speaking for myself, I make no

pretension to the lofty disregard of doctrine which in so many quarters

seems to be regarded as the hall-mark of enlightened thinking. We do

well to beware of a so-called "breadth," which is but a pet euphemism

for thinness.

But after all, we can hold a thing for true, and yet find no

explanation of it which quite satisfies us. Theories about the heavens

have come and gone, but the stars remain. Christ was, before creeds

gathered about Him; and it is because He is, that men must formulate

doctrine to explain Him. I have long had the conviction that in

religion nothing really matters but the Spirit of Christ. This is not

to say that if we have, or claim to have, the Spirit of Christ, it

makes no difference whether we do, or do not, believe in the

"historical Christ." To my thinking such a position is nonsense. We

may as well talk about an effect without a cause. Spirit must needs

clothe itself with body. The "external may come in at different points

of the process, but the internal without the external cannot exist." I

am simply saying, that everything we need to know in a general sense

about Christian doctrine becomes intelligible and reasonable, not when

we approach Christ through our doubts and difficulties about doctrines,

but our doubts and difficulties through Christ. In Him is life, and

the life is the light of men. I care not for the moment what dogmas

about Christ you accept or reject; I ask you to think, and then say,

what heaven worth entering, of state or place, could close against us,

were we in the Spirit of Christ walking in the footsteps of Christ?

Then about feeling: Is there one of us who can say, that he, or she,

has never had the impulse that should lead to Christian decision? Long

as we make it possible for God to appeal to us, He will find His own

way. From Him is the impulse, whichever way it comes, but it is ours

to put it in practice. But just as we do not wait for feeling to take

us out to earn our bread, and keep a roof over our head, so it is a far

nobler thing to turn to God from a sense of duty, and conscience, and

spiritual need, than it is to depend upon feeling to make us do, what

not to do, with or without feeling, is our loss and our shame.

Do not wait for feeling. Begin your part in the work of your own

salvation. If feeling carry you into decision, and it sometimes does,

well and good. But for one case where feeling leads to decision there

are probably a score where feeling must be made by what follows

decision. Take care of doing, and feeling will take care of itself;

and as we rejoice in its inspiration, we shall realize that, perhaps

for the most part, it can come no other way. To have the joy of doing

good, we must do good. We cannot have the tonic and bracing sense of

vigour by saying we will climb the mountain. It is when we have scaled

its heights that we have the experience of a new physical creation.

Why wait, then, for what is waiting for us? The Divine Spirit is

universal and infinite. It is the mother-soul of the universe, with

eternal power and sweetness and beauty, and glory, shining down upon

all men, stimulating them to be nobler, to go up higher. And when we

accept the influence of the Holy Spirit seeking the divine in us, and

co-operate with it, we have found the answer to the question: What must

I do to be saved?

Does any one say, I ask again, that he has never had this impulse? As

truly can he say that he has never felt the sun. Let him take heed.

The sun sets, and it is night. There can be a night of the soul--the

darkest, blackest, most hopeless night of all.

"He that hath the Son hath life; and he that hath not the Son of God

hath not life." To be saved is to live; and only to the life above us

can the life within us respond. Out of Christ we do not live; we but

exist. And existence at its highest estate has no power inherent in it

to cast out the selfishness and death that build a hell's despair, in

what might be the kingdom of heaven in our human life and world. Do we

want to be saved? Do we desire life? Then pray, and begin at once to

do what our heart and conscience tell us the Christ would have us do.

Will to do the will, and doing it we shall enter, gradually at first,

and then with more royal progress and joy unspeakable, into the truth

of His word: "Because I live, ye shall live also."

[1] Rev. W. L. Walker.

[2] Dr. Lyman Abbot.

DOES GOD HAVE FAIR-PLAY?

"Know therefore that the Lord thy God, he is God, the faithful

God."--Deut. vii. 9.

X

DOES GOD HAVE FAIR-PLAY?

A professor in one of our colleges, who is an acknowledged authority on

the prophets of the Old Testament, gave a course of lectures lately on

his own subject to a summer school of theology. His aim in one of

these prelections was to show how the prophet Jeremiah developed

himself by debate and discussion with God. At its close an elderly

clergyman, shaking the lecturer by the hand, said to him: "I was

delighted to hear what you said about Jeremiah. I myself have for

forty years preached the right and duty of men to stand up to their

Maker."

It was, to say the least, a crude way of expressing himself; but the

man had a meaning, and I think I know what it was. We may, to a large

extent, have grown out of the old Calvinistic representation of God;

but its reflex influence abides in a greater degree than we perhaps

realize. This representation puts its emphasis, not so much upon the

Fatherhood as upon the Sovereignty of God. It holds man responsible

for the moral quality of his actions to God; but all reference to man's

claims upon God are met with the stern question: "Shall the thing

formed say to Him that formed it, Why hast Thou made me thus?"

Whatever the Apostle may have meant, this question has been used to

support an intolerable position, and the clergyman spoke out his revolt

against it. His divinely implanted instinct of justice assured him

that a God, who is to command our intellectual confidence and

heart-trust, must, while exercising the prerogatives of a Sovereign,

accept the responsibilities of a Father. Family life would break all

to pieces if we as fathers did not carry our recognition of the claims

and rights of children past a severe, however just, parental authority

and control into the larger realm of wise liberty and undoubted

affection. And it is out of the best and highest we know of our

relations to one another, that we are to understand what we ought to be

to God, and what God has promised to be to us.

For God not only affirms His responsibility to us, He challenges us to

say, whether, having done our part, we have weighed His part in the

balance and found it wanting. It is the declaration of the Scriptures

from beginning to end, that the Lord our God is a faithful God.

Through the mouth of one of His prophets He confronts us with a

question which, were it not His own question, would hurt us as almost

profane: "What iniquity have your fathers found in me, that they have

gone far from me?"

We need not shrink, therefore, from talking reverently about the

responsibility of God, for He asks us to build our trust, not only in

His promises, but upon our experience of the faithfulness with which He

has kept His promises. What, then, is our testimony? Has God been

faithful to us; and if so, are we justified in assuming that the same

faithfulness is the experience of others?

"Know therefore that the Lord thy God, He is God, the faithful God."

Take this affirmation on its lowest grounds--as touching material

things. It is not said that man does not live by bread, when it is

said that he lives not by bread alone. We may insist upon it, that

material concerns are not worthy to be compared with the things of the

spirit; but this does not affect the truth, that while we are on this

planet we must have material things. Jesus has told us that, "Our

Heavenly Father knoweth what things we have need of before we ask Him."

It does not follow that the things we desire are the things we need.

Christ does not pledge the divine faithfulness to our desires; it is

pledged to our needs.

And how is it redeemed, even in the case of the latter? Think for a

moment of the poverty there is amid all our plenty. Think of the evils

and misery that are the consequence as well as the cause of poverty.

There are thousands of men, and women, and children dying every year in

India from want and sheer starvation. We are told that, in each case,

a penny a day would mean comparative plenty. They are God's creatures,

willing, and indeed eager, to work themselves to skin and bone for a

penny a day, and they cannot earn it. Think again of the untold human

beings nearer home, locked in a warfare from which there is no

discharge but death; the grim struggle for a bare existence, with its

chances at every turn of sickness, accident, no work, and then the

abyss. When we have reckoned off the probable proportion of those who

have done much to make the conditions in which they find themselves, we

have a large percentage of people who are no more responsible for the

poverty and suffering they have to endure than they are responsible for

the fact that they are in the world which uses them so harshly.

For my part I can offer no explanation of these things, that can give a

sensitive heart and an honest mind more than a very moderate degree of

satisfaction. There are communities, and even races of people, whose

existence in this world appears to have no immediate relation to their

own personal happiness and well-being. They come and pass away as

phases of what we must believe is an evolution towards higher things.

But this is the question: Have they who compose this lonely and sombre

procession no claims upon their Maker in the meanwhile?

I do not believe that one human soul will fail of absolute, abundant,

and rich compensation, in those eternal years that are at God's right

hand. I have a word to say about this later, but for the present I may

say that I answer many questions by my conviction that what we call

death does not end all. Columbus is reported to have said: "I must

have another continent to keep the earth's balance true." And I must

have the personal conscious future, which is to right the wrongs of the

ages, if I am to believe and preach the faithfulness of God. But we

must guard against an impatience which is our littleness. In the

immense times of the Almighty, every dark mystery of human being can

move away, and leave the "sky of Providence at last, arching over the

soul with not a cloud to dim its stars." For my present faith I hold

it true with one who trusts--

"That nothing walks with aimless feet,

That not one life shall be destroyed,

Or cast as rubbish to the void,

When God hath made the pile complete."

When any man confronts me with the inequalities of our human lot, with

the suffering many have to endure from causes they have not instituted,

and circumstances over which they have no control, I may be, and often

am, obliged to make him a present of much that he has to urge. But

there are two things to be said, on the other side, which I can only

briefly indicate, and ask you to work them out in your own mind.

I affirm as the first of the two, that the good in our life far

outweighs the evil. When all is said, happiness is the rule of our

normal experience, and not misery. We hear much, for example, about

the suffering which is part of the order of the animal creation; how a

stronger beast feeds upon a weaker, and is in turn the prey of another

stronger still. While again we are told that the joys of these myriads

of sentient creatures are immeasurably greater than their pains. They

have pleasure more than sufficient to justify their call into

existence, in spite of the drawbacks to their happiness incident to the

conditions of their existence.

I am satisfied that the latter representation is true of the animal

world, as I am convinced that it is true of the human. Let what may be

said to the contrary, life is a mighty boon. When men bring in a

verdict of unsound mind in a case of suicide, the instinct may have

more to do with it than the order of evidence on which the verdict is

based. We have to conclude that a man was insane before he could lay

violent hands on himself. Look back upon our life, we who have

travelled some distance into it, and let us say whether so far we do

not account it a blessing to have lived and to be living. We have had

our hard lines, and we have known the pleasant places; we have had our

sorrows, and we have had our joys; we have been under the clouds, and

we have lived in the sunshine. Nay, I dare go further and say, that

for a day we have had of the former, we have had a week of the latter.

It is a narrow and unworthy conception of happiness to invest all our

chances of it in the accident of circumstances. There is some force in

the saying, that heaven is here or nowhere. If we have any thought of

happiness worth turning into a fact, our life may be filled with it

though the hardest possible circumstances be surrounding us. Not where

we are, but what we are, makes our much or little whether of good or

ill. It is an ungrateful proceeding to go through life consuming as

much as possible of the fruits of a gracious present, and yet with only

plaints and complaints about the legislation which tempers the

blessings with the little severity needed to teach us what the

blessings are.

Some one has remarked that it is the whole tragedy, and ultimately the

whole power of the Christian religion, that it is attacked from every

side. It is accused of faults that are hopelessly inconsistent with

each other. One day it is charged with making man too responsible; the

next, with not making him responsible enough. The truth is, that we

need not try to make man too responsible in order to make him

responsible enough. It has often been pointed out, that the Christian

religion is by turns optimistic and pessimistic. St. Paul is pessimist

enough where he says: "For I know that in me--that is, in my

flesh--dwelleth no good thing." But who so optimistic as the same

Apostle when he declares: "I can do all things through Christ which

strengtheneth me."

Much of the secret of it, under God, is in a cultivated and consecrated

will. Every matter, says Epictetus, has two handles, and you can

choose which handle you will take. Every man has in him some promise

of the gradual supremacy of character over the accidents, happenings,

forces and factors of circumstances. These may be his tests; they need

not be his fate. "The real vital division of the religious part of our

Protestant communities," says Wendell Holmes, "is into Christian

optimists and Christian pessimists." I would rank myself among the

former and say again, that the good in the conditions of our life far

outweighs the ill. And while maintaining this position, I would also,

as the second of the two things to be urged, have us face the question,

Who is responsible for the ill there is?

George Meredith, in a reference to this subject, declares that no man

can _think_, and not think hopefully. Whether or not this be true in

the case of every man who thinks, this can be said--it ought to be

true. Instead of multiplying words to no profit over the old question,

Why all this misery and suffering? let us think for a moment in another

direction, and we shall perchance be encouraged to think hopefully.

It has been said that human wisdom has arrived at no juster and higher

view of the present state, than that it is intended to call forth power

by obstruction; the power of a life that is perfect and entire, by the

responsibility of choice between the things that make or mar it. If

God can rank in us nothing higher than character, and if character on

the man side can be achieved only out of right choice translated in its

kindred action--then it must follow that the power to choose the right

is the power to choose the wrong. Which means in the fewest words,

that sin, and all the ills and suffering that proceed out of its

selfishness, are the issue of this possibility of fatal choosing. If

it be asked: "Why the possibility at all?" I answer that without it men

would cease to be men and become something else; and what that

something else would be need not enter into our speculation. It is

because we can do wrong that we can do right; and if we think about

this, may we not think hopefully?

It is the fashion in our day to write and talk as though heredity, and

the effects of the accumulation of heredity, were somehow sinister

enough to drape the heavens in black, and silence all the songs of the

angels. This law, we are told, can have no moral interpretation

consistent with freedom and responsibility. The more than tendency of

much that is being written and said is to depress the mind with a sense

of the relentless force of general laws and influences, and to diminish

in the individual the conviction of his power to contend against them.

I would avoid dogmatism about this matter and simply say that this

seems plain to me: for one drawback we meet along the pathway of

inheritances, we have a very legion of resource and help through the

gains of time, and of the race. The penalties we have to pay for

transgression against law are not a just indictment of the law, they

are the penalty of its transgression; a by-product, which is always a

decaying product as the character of the race heightens.

The purpose of God in us is character, and once we have it, established

in divine grace and ensphered in the human will of a sufficient number

of us, we shall soon make our new and better world. Without this

character we may hope for nothing, with it we need despair of nothing.

Granted then for a moment that we had but a little more of this

God-fibre running through our individual and our collective life, such

an experience as physical want would become but a memory of a hideous

past. This good old mother-earth can yield us, not only enough to go

round, but enough to go round in generous abundance. Why is it that a

few have so much more than they can use, and so many have less than

they need? Do we think that God wills it? Can we conceive of it as

having any part in the economy of the Kingdom which Jesus came to

establish on the earth? It is not God, but our selfishness that wills

it; a selfishness that has its length of days and its malign power in

the widespread folly and culpable ignorance that play into its hands.

Think again for a moment about the effects on society as a whole of the

intemperate use of strong drink. They are incarnated in horrors, look

where we will. The injuries which simply swarm out of our licensed

temptations to drunkenness are not exceptional and irregular; they are,

as one of the most eminent of our publicists has said, "uniform as the

movements of the planets, and as deadly as the sirocco of the desert or

the malaria of the marshes." There is not a profession round which

drink has not thrown the spell of its sorcery; scarcely a household

that has not been despoiled by its leprous pollution. And who is

responsible for it? Does any one doubt that if the Christian Churches

looked at this accursed traffic through the eyes of God, and attacked

it with faith in His omnipotence, that we could not break its back

within the next ten years?

Men in the Making · 第 8 / 9 段