Who is among you that feareth the Lord, that obeyeth the voice of his
servant, that walketh in darkness, and hath no light? Let him trust
in the name of the Lord, and stay upon his God.
TO some persons it may seem strange advice to tell them, that in the hour
of darkness, doubt, and sorrow, they will find no comfort like that of
meditating on the Name of the Ever-blessed Trinity. Yet there is not a
prophet or psalmist of the Old Testament who does not speak of ‘The Name
of the Lord,’ as a kind of talisman against all the troubles which can
befall the spirit of man. And we, as Christians, know, or ought to know,
far more of God than did even prophets or psalmists. If they found
comfort in the name of God, we ought to find far more.
But some will say—Yes. Let us think of God, God’s mercies, God’s
dealings with his people; but why think especially of the Name of the
Ever-blessed Trinity?
For this simple reason. That it is by that Name of Father, Son, and Holy
Ghost, that God has revealed himself. That is the name by which he bids
us think of him; and we are more or less disregarding his commands when
we think of him by any other. That is the name which God has given
himself; and, therefore, it is morally certain that that is God’s right
name; that it expresses God’s very self, God’s very being, as he is.
Theology signifies, the knowledge of God as he is. And it is dying out
among us in these days. Much of what is called theology now is nothing
but experimental religion; which is most important and useful when it is
founded on the right knowledge of God: but which is not itself theology.
For theology begins with God: but experimental religion, right or wrong,
begins with a man’s own soul. Therefore it is that men are unaccustomed
to theology. They shrink from it as something very abstruse, only fit
for great scholars and divines, and almost given up now-a-days even by
them. They do not know that theology, the knowledge of God, is full of
practical every-day comfort, and guidance for their conduct and
character; yea, that it is—so says the Bible—everlasting life itself.
Therefore it is that some shrink from thinking of the Ever-blessed
Trinity, not from any evil intent, but because they are afraid of
thinking wrongly, and so consider it more safe not to think at all. They
have been puzzled, it may be, by arguments which they have heard, or
read, or which have risen up in their own minds, and which have made them
doubt about the Trinity: and they say—I will not torment my soul, and
perhaps endanger my soul, by doubts. I will take the doctrine of the
Trinity for granted, because I am bidden to do so: but I leave what it
means to be explained by wiser men. If I begin thinking about it I shall
only confuse myself. So it is better for me not to think at all.
And one cannot deny that they are right, as far as they go. If they
cannot think about the Trinity without thinking wrongly, it is better to
take on trust what they are told about it. But they lose much by so
doing. They lose the solid and real comfort which they may get by
thinking of the Name of God. And, I believe, they lose it unnecessarily.
I cannot see why they must think wrongly of the Trinity, if they think at
all. I cannot see why they need confuse themselves. The doctrine of the
Trinity is not really an unreasonable one. The doubts which come into
men’s minds concerning it do not seem to me sound and reasonable doubts.
For instance, some say—How can there be three persons in one God? It is
contrary to reason. One cannot be many. Three cannot be one. That is
unreasonable.
I think, that if you will use your reason for yourselves, you will see
that it is those words which are unreasonable, and not the doctrine of
the Trinity.
First. A thing need not be unreasonable—that is, contrary to
reason—because it is above and beyond reason—or, at least, beyond our
human reason, which at best (as St. Paul says) sees as in a glass darkly,
and only knows in part.
Consider how many things are beyond reason which are not contrary to it.
I say that all things which God has made are so: but, without going so
far, let us consider these simple examples.
Is it not beyond all reason that among animals, like should bring forth
like? Why does an eagle’s egg always produce an eagle, and a dove’s egg
a dove, and so forth? No man knows, no man can give any reason
whatsoever. If a dove’s egg produced an eagle, ignorant men would cry
out at the wonder, the miracle. Wise men know that the real wonder, the
real miracle is, that a dove’s egg always produces a dove, and not any
and every other bird.
Here is a common and notorious fact, entirely above our reason. There is
no cause to be given for it, save that God has ordained it so. But it is
not contrary to our reason. So far from it, we are certain that a dove
will produce a dove; and our reason has found out much of the laws of
kind; and found out that they are reasonable laws, regular, and to be
depended upon; so that we can, as all know, produce and keep up new
breeds whether of plants or of animals.
So that the law of kind, though it is beyond our reason, is not contrary
to our reason at all.
So much for things which have life. Take an equally notorious example
from things which have not life.
Is it not above and beyond all our reason—that the seemingly weakest
thing in the world, the most soft and yielding, the most frail and
vanishing, should be also one of the strongest things in the world? That
is so utterly above reason, that while I say it, it seems to some of you
to be contrary to reason, to be unreasonable and impossible. It is so
above reason, that till two hundred years ago, no one suspected that it
was true. And yet it is strictly true.
What is more soft and yielding, more frail and vanishing, than steam?
And what is stronger than steam? I know nothing. Steam it is which has
lifted up the mountains from the sea into the clouds. Steam it is which
tears to pieces the bowels of the earth with earthquakes and volcanoes,
shaking down cities, rasping the solid rocks into powder, and scattering
them far and wide in dust over the face of the land.
What gives to steam its enormous force is beyond our reason. We do not
know. But so far from being contrary to our reason, we have learnt that
the laws of steam are as reasonable as any other of God’s laws. We can
calculate its force, we can make it, use it, and turn its mighty powers,
by reason and science, into our most useful and obedient slave, till it
works ten thousand mills, and sends ten thousand ships across the sea.
Above reason, I say, but not contrary to reason, is the mighty power of
steam.
And God, who made all these wonders—and millions of wonders more—must he
not be more wonderful than them all? Must not his being and essence be
above our reason? But need they be, therefore, contrary to our reason?
Not so.
Nevertheless, some will say, How can one be many? How can one be three?
Why not? Two are one in you, and every man. Your body is you, and your
soul is you. They are two. But you know yourself that you are one
being; that the Athanasian Creed speaks, at least, reason when it says,
‘As the reasonable soul and the flesh are one man, so God and man is one
Christ.’
And three are one in every plant in the field. Root, bark, leaves, are
three. And yet—they are one tree; and if you take away any one of them,
the tree will die. So it is in all nature. But why do I talk of a tree,
or any other example? Wherever you look you find that one thing is many
things, and many things one. So far from that fact being contrary to our
reason, it is one which our reason (as soon as we think deeply about this
world) assures us is most common. Of every organized body it is strictly
true, that it is many things, bound together by a certain law, which
makes them one thing and no more. And, therefore, every organized body
is a mystery, and above reason: but its organization is none the less
true for that.
And there are philosophers who will tell you—and wisely and well—that
there must needs be some such mystery in God; that reason ought to teach
us—even if revelation had not—two things. First, that God must be one;
and next, that God must be many—that is, more than one.
Do I mean that our own reason would have found out for itself the mystery
of the ever-blessed Trinity? God forbid! Nothing less.
There surely is a difference between knowing that a thing must be, and
knowing that the thing is, and what it is like; and there surely is a
difference between knowing that there is a great mystery and wonder in
God, and knowing what that mystery is.
Man might have found out that God was one, and yet more than one; but
could he have found out what is the essence and character of God? Not
his own reason, but the Spirit of God it is which tells him that: tells
him that God is Three in One—that these three are persons—that these
persons are, a Father, a Son, and a Holy Spirit.
This is what God has himself condescended to tell us; and therefore this
is what he specially wishes us to believe and remember when we think of
him. This is God’s name for himself—Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Man
may give God what name he chooses. God’s own name, which he has given
himself, is likely surely to be the most correct: at least, it is the one
of which God means us to think; for it is the one into which he commanded
us to be baptized. Remember that, whenever you hear discourse concerning
God; and if any man, however learned, says that God is absolute,
answer—‘It may be so: but I was not baptized into the name of the
absolute.’ If he tell you, God is infinite, answer—‘It may be so: but I
was not baptized into the name of the infinite.’ If he tell you, God is
the first cause, answer—‘That I doubt not: but I was not baptized into
the name of the first cause. I was baptized into the name which God has
given himself—Father, Son, and Holy Ghost; and I will give him no other
name, and think of him by no other name, lest I be committing an act of
irreverence toward God, by presuming to call him one thing, when he has
bid me call him another. Absolute, infinite, first cause, and so forth,
are deep words: but they are words of man’s invention, and words too
which plain, hard-working, hard-sorrowing folks do not understand; even
if learned men do—which I doubt very much indeed: and therefore I do not
trust them, cannot find comfort for my soul in them. But Father, Son,
and Holy Spirit are words which plain, hard-working, hard-sorrowing men
can understand, and can trust, and can find comfort in them; for they are
God’s own words, and, like all God’s words, go straight home to the
hearts of men—straight home to the heart of every one who is a father or
mother—to the heart of every one who has a parent or a child—to the heart
of every one who has the Holy Spirit of God putting into his mind good
desires, and striving to make him bring them into good effect, and be,
what he knows he should be, a holy and good man.’
Answer thus, my friends. And think thus of the mystery of the
Ever-blessed Trinity. For this is a thoroughly reasonable plan of
thought: and more—in thinking thus you will find comfort, guidance,
clearness of head, and clearness of conscience also. Only remember what
you are to think of. You are not to think merely of the mystery of the
question, and to puzzle yourselves with arguments as to how the Three
Persons are one; for that is not to think of the Ever-blessed Trinity,
but only to think about it. Still less are you to think of the
Ever-blessed Trinity under names of philosophy which God has not given to
himself; for that is not to think of the Ever-blessed Trinity at all.
You must think of the Ever-blessed Trinity as he is,—of a Father, a Son,
and a Holy Spirit; and to think of him the more earnestly, the more you
are sad at heart. It may be that God has sent that sadness to make you
think of him. It may be that God has cut the very ground from under your
feet that you may rest on him, the true and only ground of all created
things; as it is written: ‘Who is he among you who walketh in darkness
and hath no light? Let him trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon
his God.’
Some will tell you, that if you are sorrowful it is a time for
self-examination, and for thinking of your own soul. I answer—In good
time, but not yet. Think first of God; for how can you ever know
anything rightly about your own soul unless you first know rightly
concerning God, in whom your soul lives, and moves, and has its being?
Others may tell you to think of God’s dealings with his people. I
answer—In good time, but not yet; think first of God. For how can you
rightly understand God’s dealings, unless you first rightly understand
who God is, and what his character is? Right notions concerning your own
soul, right notions concerning God’s dealings, can only come from right
notions concerning God himself. He is before all things. Think of him
before all things. He is the first, and he is the last. Think of him
first in this life, and so you will think of him last, and for ever in
the life to come. Think of the Father, that he is a Father indeed, in
spirit and in truth. Think of the Son, that he is a Son indeed, in
spirit and in truth. Think of the Holy Spirit, that he is a Holy Spirit
indeed, in spirit and in truth. So you will be thinking indeed of the
Ever-blessed Trinity; and will worship God, not with your lips or your
thoughts merely, but in spirit and in truth. Think of the Father, that
he is the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, and that the perfect Son must
be forever perfectly like the perfect Father. For then you will believe
that God the Father looks on you, and feels for you, exactly as does
Jesus Christ your Lord; then you will feel that he is a Father indeed;
and will enter more and more into the unspeakable comfort of that word of
all words, ‘Our Father who art in heaven.’
Think of the Lord Jesus Christ as the perfect Son, who, though he is
co-equal and co-eternal with his Father, yet came not to do his own will,
but his Father’s; who instead of struggling, instead of helping himself,
cried in his agony: ‘Not my will, but thine be done;’ and conquered by
resignation. So you will enter into the unspeakable comfort of
conquering by resignation, as you see that your resignation is to be like
the resignation of Christ; not that of trembling fear like a condemned
criminal before a judge; not that of sullen necessity, like a slave
before his master: but that of the only-begotten Son of God; the
resignation of a child to the will of a father whom he can utterly trust,
because that father’s name is love.
Think of the Holy Spirit as a person; having a will of his own; who
breatheth whither he listeth, and cannot be confined to any feelings or
rules of yours, or of any man’s; but may meet you in the Sacraments, or
out of the Sacraments, even as he will; and has methods of comforting and
educating you, of which you will never dream; one whose will is the same
as the will of the Father and of the Son, even a good will; just as his
character is the same as the character of the Father and of the Son: even
love which works by holiness; love which you can trust utterly, for
yourself and for all whom you love.
Think, I say, of God himself as he is; think of his name, by which he has
revealed himself, and thus you will—But who am I, to pretend to tell you
what you will learn by thinking rightly of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost?
How can I dare to say how much you will or will not learn? How can I put
bounds to God’s teaching? to the workings of him who has said, ‘If a man
love me, he will keep my words, and my Father will love him; and we will
come unto him, and make our abode with him’? How can I tell you in a few
words of one sermon all that that means? How can I, or any man, know all
that that means? Who is one man, or all men, to exhaust the riches of
the glory of God, or the blessings which may come from thinking of God’s
glory? Let it be enough for us to be sure that truly to know God is
everlasting life; and that the more we think of God by his own revealed
name of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, the more we shall enter, now and
hereafter, into eternal life, and into the peace which comes by the true
knowledge of him in whom we live, and move, and have our being.
SERMON VIII.
THE END OF RELIGION.