There is a common proverb, that "the
truth should not be always told." In other words, that it is not always a
good reason for speaking that we believe. Although apparently at first
sight a little paradoxical, this saying will be found like most other
proverbs, to embody the wisdom of very extensive experience.
There are some truths which concern
only a few individuals, and in which the rest of mankind have no interest
whatever. If there be nothing absolutely wrong, there is at least
something very trifling in publishing such matters. And you cannot,
perhaps, pitch upon a character more universally despised, than that of
the busy-body or the tell-tale. Yet each of these deservedly detested
characters, could, perhaps, allege in excuse for all his silly
conversation, that he spoke because he believed.
There are other truths
which, it would be not only idle and improper, but which it might be
cruel, or even criminal to promulgate. That man could have but little
tenderness or humanity in his disposition, who should assiduously relate
the disgraces, or the crimes of a departed parent, to the surviving
children; and we would not hesitate to pronounce it a breach of the second
great commandment of the law, to expose to public view the defects in the
private character of our neighbour. You are aware, indeed, that the latter
action not only is a palpable transgression of the law of God, but comes
under the cognizance even of human jurisprudence. Truth is a libel; and it
would be no excuse in a court of justice, for the defamer of his
neighbour’s good name to affirm, that he had published only what he had
good ground to believe.
You perceive then, that the
quality of the motive which Paul affirms to have actuated him in his
public speaking, and in his writings, must depend upon the character of
those truths, which he so assiduously proclaimed. If they were truths
which concerned only a few individuals, or which, if they had a reference
to all, were of comparatively insignificant importance, then it was folly
in Paul to labour so hard, and to suffer so much to proclaim them; and,
notwithstanding all the cogency of his reasoning, and the sublimity of his
eloquence, we should, in such a case, be tempted to concur in the opinion
of the eastern ruler, that after all he was but a learned madman.
If, again, the truths which
Paul preached tended only to harrow up the feelings of mankind, and to
destroy what might be but early prejudices, but yet prejudices with which
those whom they influenced had associated all that they held dear as
patriots, and all that they thought sacred in religion: if these truths
tended only to bring to light evils that had long been hidden, and which
had even by the common consent of mankind been carefully concealed: if,
finally, they tended only to demonstrate to mankind that their wisdom was
folly, and that their boasted virtue which they had hoped would open for
them the gates of heaven, not only was altogether unable to expiate their
crimes, but was itself too much tainted with impurity to find acceptance
before God: if this alone was the tendency of the truths which Paul
preached, it was more than folly—it was cruelty to proclaim them. Better
far for the world, they had never been promulgated.
But I need not tell you
that the doctrines which Paul preached were of a far different character.
It is true that they
directly tended to produce all the seeming evils I have been describing;
but God be thanked, this was not their only tendency. True, the feelings
of the decent and the virtuous among mankind would be harrowed up, when
they were classed with the vilest of their species, and told that they had
been wearing but the mask of virtue; that the hidden man of the heart was
utterly polluted; that God had concluded all under sin, and that
therefore, all are under condemnation. True, the prejudices of the Jews,
with all their associations of patriotism and sacredness, must have been
shocked at being told that the descendants of Abraham were no longer God’s
chosen nation, but that the Gentiles were become fellow-heirs with them of
the promises. True, the apostle’s preaching was, to the Jews, a
stumbling-block, and to the Greeks foolishness; but this was not all, or I
repeat it, the apostle was guilty of the greatest cruelty. But unto them
who believe, both Jews and Greeks, it was the power of God, and the wisdom
of God.
In order then to show that
the simple belief of the truths of the gospel is sufficient reason for
preaching them, and preaching them, too, with all the unwearied diligence
and fervent zeal which characterized the preaching of the apostle Paul;
and at the risk too, of all the losses and persecutions to which his
ministry subjected him, we shall attempt to show, —
I. The perfection and
excellency of the New Testament dispensation.
II. We shall also attempt
to show, that the belief of the gospel is not only a sufficient reason for
preaching it, but that it is the only right motive which can lead
an individual to the choice of the ministry as his occupation.
The perfection and
excellency of the New Testament dispensation may perhaps be most
strikingly illustrated by contrasting it with less perfect discoveries.
We remark, then, that the
doctrines of natural religion, (with a very few exceptions,) are so very
dark and confused, as scarcely to warrant, and by no means to encourage
its promulgation as a system, on the part of those who embrace it.
By the light of nature, it
is true, we can clearly perceive the existence and some of the attributes
of Deity. It is not to the doctrines of natural religion, taken
individually, but to natural theology itself as a system of religion, that
the foregoing remark is applicable. Had God never revealed himself to us
by his Spirit, or by his Son, still we might have known something of his
character from the works which he has made. And in contrasting the
declarations of God’s word with the language of his works, we conceive
that men of different parties have fallen into opposite extremes. The mere
philosopher would wish to convince us that nature speaks so audibly, and
so unequivocally of her Sovereign, as to render all supernatural
declarations of his will unnecessary; while, on the other hand, it must be
confessed, that the advocates of a written testimony from above have
sometimes, through a wish to magnify the importance of the communications
of God’s Spirit, depreciated that testimony which his works undoubtedly
bear to the character of their great Creator. It is our wish to steer
clear of these extremes; and, in attempting to do so, we cannot follow a
safer course than that which the written testimony itself points out.
"The heavens declare the
glory of God, and the firmament showeth forth his handy-work. Day unto day
uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth knowledge. There is no
speech nor language where their voice is not heard. Their line has gone
out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world." The
invisible things of our Creator, even his eternal power and Godhead, are
thus clearly seen from the creation of the world —" being understood by
the things that are made."
So far the voice of nature
utters a clear and decided declaration; and so far, those who have
listened to no higher testimony, are reprehensible if they speak not what
they believe, or what they would believe did they attend as they ought to
the evidence around them. But when we attempt from these few isolated,
though important truths, to form a system of religion — something that may
satisfy us as to the relation in which we stand to the powerful Being who
created the world, how very imperfect does all our knowledge appear— how
unsatisfactory all our conclusions—how dark and fearful our prospect of
futurity!
The ancient philosophers of
Greece and Rome could clearly perceive, that there was one great Author
and Governor of all things—a Being of inconceivable glory, and of infinite
power — and therefore a Being widely different from those contemptible
deities which the impure imagination of their poets had feigned, and which
the perverted judgment of a degraded populace had accepted as the objects
of their worship. They must thus have perceived that idolatry was not only
a folly but a crime, and, in so far, they were guilty for not promulgating
the truths they believed; and, in so far, they are liable to that fearful
curse which is denounced against those who "confine the truth by
unrighteousness."
But it may go far, perhaps,
to palliate, though it cannot atone for their crime, that, when they
attempted to carry out their own speculations, they were landed in most
unsatisfactory conclusions; and if they attempted to guess, when they
could no longer determine with certainty, their conjectures of futurity
must have been only those of terror and despair. Not only must they have
been convinced from the wondrous objects around them, of the power and
glory of God, but from the conscience within them that monitor which
whispers approbation to all that is good, and so loudly and bitterly
condemns what is evil; they must have been impressed with the belief, that
He, who gave them such a constitution, must himself be a lover of
righteousness, and a hater of iniquity. The voice of that monitor,
however, they must have been conscious they had often disobeyed; and the
thought cannot fail to have struck them, that in so doing, they had
offended Him who had placed that monitor within them. They must thus have
arrived at the conclusion, that they had forfeited the favour of him whom
his works declared so mighty and so glorious. If they risked the thought
of another state of being where they should be brought into the more
immediate presence of an offended God, how fearful must have been the
prospect! If God were just, they must abide his righteous indignation; and
if he were unjust, the prospect was not more pleasing. Here was a very
fearful dilemma, and yet this was the legitimate conclusion into which
their inquiries must have landed them. We do not say, that all, or any of
the ancient philosophers arrived at this conclusion; but if they did not,
it was because, dreading the result, they shrunk from the inquiry.
Now, with such a revelation
as this, what encouragement was there to promulgate their opinions? They
could not come boldly forward with the great apostle of our faith, and
say, — "We speak because we believe." All with themselves was darkness and
doubt; or if their conjectures amounted to probability, it was a
probability of the most fearful kind; they felt that their opinions landed
themselves in no satisfactory conclusions; or if they did seem to point to
any one conclusion more decidedly, it was one of the most appalling
nature, — even that the whole world were exposed to the anger of a justly
offended God.
This view of natural
religion may serve to explain to us how the philosophers of ancient times
were so enlightened, while the multitude around them were sunk in the most
degraded ignorance. They did not think the truths they possessed worth
promulgating, far less worth suffering for. Socrates, that prince of
heathens, dashed the crown of martyrdom away from him, when it had been as
easy for him to have gained it as to have refused it, disclaimed the
honourable charge that was laid to him of despising the abominations with
which he was surrounded, and even by his latest breath giving the order
that the idolatry of his country should be sanctioned by his name.
They like very well to
start objections, or even to throw the most insolent aspersions on the
truths of Christianity; but when you ask them what they would substitute
in its place, they can give no satisfactory answer. They are, in the true
sense of the word, sceptics; they have no settled opinions. Infidels they
are, too, — they doubt,— they disbelieve.
You see, then, that with
such knowledge of God as his works can give, there is little encouragement
to promulgate that knowledge—to speak, because we believe. We might more
strikingly illustrate this, by contrasting the inactivity and easy
carelessness of mere worshippers of nature in spreading what they profess
to believe with the ardour and the self-denial of the apostles of our
faith. Where, among the great and the wise, who have made reason their
god, do we find an instance of suffering for conscience’ sake? Or, if a
very few such examples can be adduced, — where do we find a single
instance of martyrdom for the cause of truth? But I am almost forgetting
that this part of my discourse is only an illustration; and is merely
intended, by the darkness of its representation, to mark with a clearer
outline, and paint with stronger colouring, that glorious dispensation
under which we live.
But between the twilight
darkness of nature, and the full blaze of that light which shines forth in
revelation, there are many intermediate shades of brightness; and besides
that dispensation of mercy under which we live, there is many a supposable
way in which a perfect Being might have treated his rebellious dependants.
You will excuse me, if, in order to illustrate, still further, the
perfection and excellence of the Christian revelation, I dwell on some of
the supposable revelations which the Deity might have made to us.
I am aware, that, to some,
this may seem a very circuitous method of treating my subject, and I may
appear to be continually hovering round the point I would be at, without
ever actually reaching it. But it seems to me, that there are two methods
by which a clear conception of any object may be presented, either by
directly describing what it is, or by contrasting it with what it is not;
just as the painter may delineate any object, either by actually colouring
what he wishes to portray, or by encircling it with a ground of a colour
different from its own. Unquestionably, both in the case itself, and in
the illustration, the former method, in most cases, is decidedly
preferable; but it is as unquestionable, that there are few instances in
which the latter method is more advantageous. Such an instance, I
conceive, is afforded by the subject which I am now attempting to set
before you. You have all heard of the gospel again and again; and with its
peculiar doctrines, and the blessings which flow from them, you are
intimately acquainted. Since you know, then, what the gospel is, I have
hoped to throw some additional illustration around it, by contrasting it
with what it is not. We all know what a blessing health is, —but how much
more highly do we prize this blessing when just recovered from some
painful disease. To return, then, from this digression, I remark,
The revelation of God might
have been only a revelation of wrath.
Indeed, this is the find of
revelation, that, from any previous knowledge of the divine character, we
should have expected. I have already attempted to show, that, if natural
religion points to any conclusion this is that conclusion; that God is
just and holy, and that man by his sin has offended him. The word of God,
we should expect, would sanction the declarations of his works, and would
clearly reveal what they had but faintly indicated. And, accordingly, it
is so. Revelations of God’s word do not give the lie to the testimony of
his works. They speak one language, though the one utters its declarations
with a voice more audible and distinct. Instead of a reflection of God’s
character from his works, we have now a clear manifestation of that
character in his word; but it is the same character which both assign to
him; both declare him to be holy, just, and good.
Instead of the dictates of
conscience, we have now the precept, clear and express, written by God’s
own finger. And instead of the conclusion to which natural religion might
have led us, that, since God is just and holy, sin must be punished, we
have now the express declaration annexed to the law by Him who wrote it,
—"The soul that sinneth, it shall die."
Instead of the fearful
conjectures of natural religion, we have now a still more fearful
certainty, — that, since all men have manifestly sinned, all have to look
forward to eternal condemnation. It is true, some have objected, that, if
none can keep the law of God, it is surely inconsistent with his goodness
to have given so strict a law. We might answer such objections with the
apostle’s argument,—"Nay, but who art thou, O man," &c. But we need not
make such an appeal to God’s sovereignty. An imperfect law would have
argued a lawgiver imperfectly holy. So that either holiness and goodness
are incompatible with each other, or the strictness of the law of God is
consistent with his goodness.
If there was little
encouragement to promulgate the doctrines of natural religion, still less
would there be to promulgate the doctrines of a revelation so fearful as
this. In that case there is uncertainty, or at best, fearful conjecture;
but then it was but conjecture, and the powerful influence of hope bore
the minds even of those who half believed it, above its fears. But here
there is nothing on which hope can lay hold. Here is no conjecture; it is
certainty, and certainty the most overwhelming, even "a certain fearful
looking for of judgmerit, and fiery indignation."
Such is the revelation we
might have expected from Heaven; and had God thus dealt with us according
to our deserts, in all probability this world, as it now is, would never
have existed. The very first breach of God’s law must have immediately
incurred the full weight of the curse; for, it were absurd to talk of a
state of trial in regard to those whose certain destiny was everlasting
destruction. But supposing, for a moment, that the world did exist under
such a dispensation, as it exists now, and rebellious man were permitted
to live a few short years as the ungodly now do, in forgetfulness of God,
and careless security; the question presents itself, — Supposing this
fearful revelation of God’s wrath to be made known to some individuals,
would it be right to promulgate the dreadful truth, — to speak, because we
believed? We conceive not. That there would be no encouragement to do so
is abundantly manifest. For if it be no enviable duty to communicate to a
criminal the sentence that condemns him to the suffering of temporal
death, it were assuredly a fearful task to publish the death-warrant of a
world doomed to eternal perdition.
But, we conceive, were,
this revelation known to a few, it would be the greatest cruelty on their
part to publish it; it would be tormenting before the time. Could it
indeed be hoped, that by the revelation of God’s wrath against all
iniquity, men would be led to see the evil of sin, and would be kept from
sinking deeper in destruction; then it might be merciful to proclaim it,
inasmuch as we might thereby hope to alleviate the punishment which we
could not prevent. But who that knows the mind of fallen man, does not see
that quite the reverse of this would be the case? This announcement of the
Divine justice would call forth a fresh display of the corruption of his
rebellious subjects, who would thereby plunge still deeper into the abyss
of perdition. There are instances even now in the world, of some who have
despaired of mercy, and none do we find more hardened against their God,
or more proudly eminent in rebellion. They gather strength from despair,
and they dare the Almighty to his face. Their language is, "Evil, be thou
our good. Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die. — Let us enjoy while
we may, the pleasures of this life, and then sink into endless misery."
Rather than rouse such a spirit as this, would it not be better to let men
slumber on in ignorance of their fate, till destruction itself awoke them
from their slumbers?
Under such a dispensation,
it is very obvious, an office, analogous to the ministry, could never have
existed. If these fearful truths were known to a single individual of our
species, he must thereby be rendered perfectly wretched, even in this
life, and would be led from the depravity of his nature, to curse the
justice of Jehovah, and to sin with a high hand against his God. It is,
therefore, altogether impossible to conceive that such an individual
should publish these appalling truths from a sense of duty, or a
conviction that it was right, whatever might be the consequences, to
publish the will of God; and we can see no other motive that could lead
him to divulge the awful secret, but one of the most devilish
malignity,—even a wish to steal from his fellows their envied ignorance,
and make them as wretched as himself. Such cruelty were it, to break the
slumbers of a malefactor, who, on the night before his execution, should
dream of pardon, and think himself restored to his family and his friends,
to tell him that his fancied happiness was all delusion, and to recall his
thoughts to the fearful realities before him.
There is an anecdote of an
Indian Brahmin, which may throw some light upon this subject, and with
which some of you may be acquainted. You are aware that the priests of
India think it the greatest crime to destroy animal life, and accordingly
live entirely on herbs. It is said that one of our countrymen, in arguing
with one of these Brahmins, in order to convince him of the falsity of the
doctrines he held, in regard to this matter, showed him by a microscope
that the stems and leaves of the herbs on which he lived, were covered
with hundreds of minute, yet living sentient creatures. This was ocular
demonstration, and it could not be resisted. The priest had placed his
hopes of happiness on his fancied innocence, and now that the enormity of
his crimes was laid before him, his peace of mind was destroyed, and all
his hopes of enjoyment were blasted. It is said, that after continuing
thoughtful for a considerable time, he earnestly inquired of the other on
what terms he would part with this wonderful instrument; and having at
last with considerable difficulty, obtained possession of it, he dashed it
into a thousand pieces. It had broken his peace of mind, he said, but
never should it destroy the peace of another.
This anecdote is generally
adduced as affording an instance of bigoted attachment to former opinions,
even when convinced of their falseness. But we view it in a very different
light; we think that the action displays a dignified benevolence. Had new
hopes of happiness, founded on more rational principles, been substituted
in the room of those which he now perceived to be so groundless, then it
would have been cruelty to have allowed his countrymen to dream of
happiness that could never be realized; but the alternative was not
between delusive hopes and rational expectations of enjoyment, but between
a dream of happiness and the certainty of woe.
And just so, had the gospel
never reached our earth, but only a revelation of God’s perfect holiness
and justice, it had been better far that men should be permitted, while
here, to dream on of a heaven they were never to enter, than to tell them
beforehand of the punishment it was impossible to escape, and thus to add
to the sufferings that soon were to burst upon them the dire forebodings
of misery, in some cases more dreadful even than the misery itself.
But let us turn from these
terrific suppositions to the glorious reality. It is not a message of
condemnation which we are commissioned to bear to our fellow-men. The
tidings that have reached us from on high are "glad tidings of great joy."
That fearful revelation, indeed, which we have just been considering, is
still true, and has been revealed to us from heaven, but, God be thanked,
it came not alone; and the dread nature of that condemnation which it
reveals, serves but to cast a brighter lustre around the offers of that
mercy which promises a free pardon to all who will but accept of it. In
all the revelations God has made to us, mercy is the prominent feature.
Mercy even anticipates justice, and it is a striking fact that man was
never let into the fearful condition into which his sin had brought him,
till deliverance was promised. There was no room left for the workings of
despair; for the curse was not pronounced upon the rebellious
representatives of our race till God had pledged his word that the seed of
the woman should bruise the head of the adversary who had seduced her.
This mercy has been
obtained for us in a way that natural religion could never have
anticipated. There could be no hope that any being, however powerful,
could stay the arm of offended omnipotence; neither could there be any
rational expectation, although such an expectation some have chosen to
indulge, that, by a sort of amiable weakness, which creatures sometimes
indulge, a shrinking from infliction of punishment which justice demands,
the Deity should screen us from the misery we have entailed upon
ourselves, even though his justice and his holiness should suffer by his
compassion. "God is not a man, that he should lie, nor the Son of man that
he should repent." He had declared that death was the inevitable
consequence of transgression; and his mercy, far from giving the lie to
his justice, confirms the sentence of the law: for in the dispensation of
the new covenant, that truth has its most striking illustration; that,
without a due satisfaction to injured justice there can be no remission of
sin. It is the Lawgiver, the Judge himself, that has offered us
forgiveness. And his character, as our Saviour, is in perfect consistency
with his character, as our righteous Judge.
"The Lord saw that there
was no man, and he wondered that there was no intercessor, therefore his
own arm brought salvation unto him, and his righteousness it sustained
him." God sent his Son into the world, but it was not, as well might have
been expected, to condemn the world, but that the world through him might
be saved. Thus a free offer of pardon is made to the whole of a condemned
world; and had the simple truth of redemption through the sacrifice of
Christ to every one that believeth, been all that had been revealed, this
of itself would seem enough to answer all the circumstances of our lost
condition. Could any one be acquainted with such a truth, and not speak
what he believed? Is not the simple belief of such a doctrine enough to
account for all the trials and privations that have been undergone by the
evangelists of our faith, in order to promulgate the knowledge of this
treaty of reconciliation between a rebellious world and its offended
Sovereign?
But though this free offer
of mercy seems at first sight to be suited to all the circumstances of
fallen man, we shall find, on further inquiry, that were this single
doctrine to constitute the whole of the dispensation of mercy, the plan
would be incomplete, and the Son of God might have come into our world,
and died for our sins, and yet have suffered and died in vain.
Man, by his fall, became a
sinful being, and as such, he has a dislike to every holy principle. We
have already remarked, that a revelation of God’s wrath against sin would
tend only to harden him in his depravity, but it is a still more striking
proof of the depth of human depravity, that even the offers of mercy are
contemptuously refused. Instead of the tone of indignation in which God
might have addressed us, he has chosen to speak in accents of mercy,
saying, "Look unto me, and be ye saved, all ye ends of the earth." He
condescends even to reason with, to warn us of our danger, and to entreat
us with more than a father’s tenderness. "Turn ye, turn ye, why will ye
die!"
But the terrors of God’s
law, and the gracious invitations of his mercy, and the earnestness of his
warnings, and the tenderness of his expostulations, fall equally powerless
on the ear of infatuated man. He will not be saved.
You see, then, the
necessity of the doctrine of divine influence, to render the gospel
dispensation altogether complete, and suited to all the peculiarities of
our lost estate. Without this influence, not a single individual would
accept the proffered mercy of heaven.
But supposing a single
individual, or a few individuals, did accept the testimony, you can see
that there would be no encouragement to proclaim it to others. At first,
indeed, if the message were truly believed, there would be an ardent wish
to communicate to others the inestimable blessing, and the confident
expectation that all would cling to the terms of mercy as soon as they
were offered. But how soon would the zeal of the supposed evangelist be
damped, to find that the offers of forgiveness were turned from with
loathing, and treated with contempt. How soon would he abate his ardour,
and exclaim, as he sat down in despair of benefitting his fellow-men, "I
have laboured in vain; I have spent my strength for nought and in vain!"
To make a new application
of an illustration sufficiently trite: Were a building in flames, and had
you succeeded in making an easy communication between the ground, and some
part of the tenement where the noise of voices indicated that there were
human beings within; you would naturally suppose that your benevolence had
effected its purpose. You would never dream that the inmates would need to
be persuaded to escape for their life. But did you, in the prosecution of
your benevolent purpose, actually ascend to that part of the building
whence the voices issued, there is nothing absurd in the supposition, that
you might find the inmates to be a company of bacchanalians, who, in the
phrenzy of intoxication, were alike ignorant of their danger, and
regardless of your entreaties. It is possible, that all your warnings
might be answered by the infatuated laugh of intemperate mirth, or even by
the insolent attack of some furious debauchee, and thus might you find
that all your efforts were vain; and even after having made all the
preparations for their deliverance that seemed necessary, you might find
yourself compelled to abandon them to their fate. And so it is with the
men of this world, in regard to the everlasting destruction that is
hanging over them. They, too, are "drunken, though it be not with wine;
and they stagger, though it be not with strong drink." "The spirit of a
deep sleep has been poured out upon them, and their eyes have been
closed."
You perceive, then, that
without the pouring out of the Spirit of God, in order to turn the hearts
of our apostate race, all the apparatus of a Saviour’s incarnation, and
sufferings, and death, might have been spent upon our world in vain. But,
God be thanked, the system of mercy is complete in all its parts, and
suited in every respect to the circumstances of our case. The promise of
the Spirit has been given, and in every individual who is turned from
darkness to light, we have a standing proof that the promise is fulfilled.
Such is the system of
truth, which, as Christians, we profess to believe. If we do not belie our
profession, we believe that every individual of the millions that inhabit
our globe, or that have dwelt upon its surface ever since the beginning,
has transgressed the law of Jehovah. We believe that by the most
stupendous sacrifice, even the humiliation and death of one of the Persons
of the Godhead, the punishment that is due to our deeds has been averted,
and unlimited pardon procured for the whole human race. We believe,
however, that in order to profit by this general deed of amnesty, which
the Sovereign of heaven and earth has issued, there must be a distinct
reception of the terms of forgiveness on the part of an individual
criminal; and, coupled with this belief, we are aware of the fact, that,
though it is now eighteen hundred years since an express Messenger from
heaven published this treaty of reconciliation in our world, comparatively
few have welcomed the gracious message, and at this moment three-fourths
of the population of our globe are in utter ignorance that such a message
has ever come.
Do we believe these things,
my brethren, and shall we not speak what we believe? Is there not a duty
entailed upon every Christian, as far as it is in his power, by the belief
of these great truths, to publish these to his fellow-men? And is there
not a woe pronounced against every believer, if, in as far as he has
opportunity, he preach not the gospel? It is not necessary to the
preaching of the gospel that we pass through a preparatory course of
science and literature, or that we be commissioned to do so by our
fellow-men. Nor is it necessary to the preaching of the gospel, that we
ascend a pulpit, or be surrounded with any of the apparatus of ordinary
parsonship. It is not necessary that our address be made to a public
assembly at all. Nor is it even necessary, ere we open our mouth to our
fellowmen, that we work up a laboured systematic discourse. These things
may accompany the preaching of the gospel, but they are by no means its
necessary accompaniments, and it is hard to say whether this lavish
profusion of human preparation, and worldly pomp, has not in many
instances robbed of their native dignity and impressiveness, those sublime
but simple truths which manifestly appear — "when unadorned, adorned the
most." The preaching of the gospel, as imperative upon every Christian,
needs not the aid of deep meditation, or of human scholarship. It consists
in the simple communication to others of the simplest truths. We may
preach to the little family circle as we sit in the house, or even to the
solitary companion as we walk by the way. The simple belief of the gospel
is all that is necessary to give us a title, and even to lay us under an
obligation, to preach it in the sense which I have explained. David
believed, and therefore he spoke! Paul believed, and therefore he spoke!
and every Christian, having the same spirit of faith which dwelt in the
Psalmist and the Apostle, should be able to adopt their language, and say,
I also believe, and therefore speak. And if, my brethren, the same spirit
of faith is working in us, it has not been the choice of our profession
that has laid us under an obligation to preach the gospel; but the
previously felt obligation that has led us to make choice of our
profession.
If we can conscientiously
give it as the reason for our proclaiming the truths of Christianity, that
we speak because we believe, our conduct will be necessarily modified by
the motives that actuate us; and our preaching shall be of a very
different kind from that of the mere mercenaries of the church, or even
from that of those who make their regular Sabbath-day exhibitions merely
from a sense of professional duty.
In the first place, I
remark, that our motive will regulate the time of our preaching.
If it be merely the wish to
perform decently the duties of a minister, which is our ruling motive,
then we shall, in all probability, be content with working up during the
week, as much matter as will enable us to make on the Sabbath, two or
three speeches, of the ordinary length, according as the custom of our
predecessors, or the taste of our congregation may demand. If a parish be
entrusted to our care, we may in all probability add to this the yearly or
half-yearly visitation of a few of our parishioners; and if we be set over
a dissenting congregation, we may, perhaps, contrive, without much risk
(if our discourses happen to please the taste of our hearers,) of being
thought inattentive to duty, to neglect the duty of visitation altogether.
But if we speak because we
believe, — if it be a decided conviction of the truth and importance of
the doctrines of the gospel, and an experimental proof of their soothing
and sanctifying influence on our own mind, which inspires us from a
principle of gratitude to our God, and compassion for our fellow-men, with
the desire to devote ourselves to the service of God in the ministry of
his Son; then our preaching will not be a thing of set times, or formal
exhibitions. We shall not, indeed, despise the established order of
Christian worship; the principle that actuates us will lead us to become
"all things to all men, if by any means we may save some." We shall thus
be glad to seize those opportunities when the commandment of God, and the
laws and customs of our country have assembled many together for the
purposes of religion; but our preaching will not be confined to the public
exercises of the Sabbath, but according to the very solemn charge of the
apostle, we shall be instant in preaching the word, in season and out of
season, and in imitation of his example we shall not only speak as we have
opportunity in the public places consecrated to devotion, but also from
house to house. And even the ordinary intercourse that we carry on with
our fellow-men, our correspondence with friends at a distance, and our
conversations with companions who are near, will alike be consecrated to
those grand objects to which our own selves are devoted.
But our motive will not
only regulate the times of our preaching, it will also determine the
mode of our preaching.
If we believe that the
great object for which the gospel was sent into our world was to effect
the pardon and moral renovation of man; and if we believe what the
Scriptures assure us, that this is chiefly to be effected by faith in a
few simple elementary doctrines, we shall dwell much upon these doctrines,
and ever make them the theme of our discourse.
If we are assured that he
who believes in Jesus Christ shall be saved, we shall determine, like the
early promulgators of the faith, to know nothing among men, but Jesus
Christ, and him crucified: we shall not preach ourselves, but Christ Jesus
the Lord, and ourselves the servants of all, for Jesus’ sake.
If, again, we believe that
the same Spirit which breathed life into the dry bones of the prophet’s
vision, must still exert his vivifying energy, ere a single sinner can be
raised from a death in trespasses and sins, to newness of life; and if we
further believe that the Spirit is the gift of prayer, we shall be ardent
in our supplication at the throne of grace, for the out-pouring of that
mysterious influence, which, though itself unseen, is so visible in its
effect, and without which the most splendid eloquence, and the most cogent
reasoning can absolutely effect nothing.
Finally, our motive will
also, to a certain extent, determine the sphere of our labours.
If we believe that there is
one broad line which separates men into two distinct classes,--those who
believe, and those who do not; those consequently who have obtained
pardon, and those who are still under condemnation—we shall esteem it a
matter of infinitely greater importance to lead an individual across that
boundary, than to lead an individual who has already past it a few steps
further on in his progress. The building up of believers, is, no doubt, a
most important work; but still we cannot help thinking, that it must yield
in importance to the work of conversion.