27. The Evil of Divisions: They Hinder Much Good
Chapter Twenty-Seven The Evil of Divisions: They Hinder Much Good E usebius reports of Constantine that he was more troubled with the dissensions of the Church than with all the wars in his dominions. He took them so to heart that he could not sleep quietly because of them.
Although he had a spirit full of heroic valor, the dissensions of the Church were such evils to him that they caused him to cry and sob. Thus, he writes in an epistle to Alexander and Arius: "Let me enjoy the days in peace and the nights without molestation, that the pleasure which rises out of the pure light of concord and quiet life may henceforth be inviolably conserved; if it otherwise happens, it behooves us to sob and sigh, and to shed many a salt tear."
What heart that has any tenderness in it does not bleed at the sense of those sore and dreadful heart-divisions among us? The evil in them is beyond what tongue or pen can express. Consider it under these three heads:
1. The good they hinder.
2. The sin they cause.
3. The misery they bring.
First, the quiet, comfort, and sweetness of our spirits are hindered by divisions. They put the spirit out of tune. Men who previously had sweet spirits full of ingenuity have lost their sweetness since they have involved themselves in these divisions; their ingenuity is gone. When the bee stings, she leaves her sting behind her and never gathers honey again. Men, by stinging one another, do not lose their stings, but they lose their honey; they are never likely to have that sweetness in their hearts that they once had.
"Shall I lose my sweetness," says the fig tree, "and go to be promoted over the trees?" Why do you not reason thus with your spirit? "Shall I lose my sweetness in contending to get my will above others? God forbid."
There was a time when both myself and others found much sweetness in the temper of my spirit; there was nothing but peaceableness, quiet, calmness, and contentedness in it, and how comfortable was such a temper of spirit!
When my spirit was in that sweet frame, all things were sweet to me; but since I have been involved in quarrels and contentions, it has been far otherwise with me.
Proverbs 15:4 states that perverseness in the tongue causes a breach in the spirit. Contentions cause much perverseness in men's tongues, and this causes a breach in their spirits. Your contending costs you dearly: even if it were nothing else, the loss of this sweetness of spirit makes it very costly to you. All the wrong you would have endured if you had not contended would not have been as great an evil to you as this one thing is. There is nothing more contrary to ingenuity than quarrelsomeness.
It is reported of Melanchthon that when he was about to die, he had this speech, and Strigelius at his death had the same: "I desire to depart this life for two reasons: First, that I may enjoy the desired sight of the Son of God and the Church in heaven. Secondly, that I may be delivered from the fierce
and implacable hatred of divines." There was much disputing, contending, and quarreling in those times, which was so tedious to the spirits of these good men that it made them more willing to die so that they might be where their souls should be at rest.
That saint of God, old Mr. Dod, never loved to meddle with controversies; he gave this reason: he found his heart worse when he did. Men seldom come away from hot disputes or any other contentions without their spirits being altered for the worse. They find it so, and others find it in them. If a man has been abroad and met with company with whom he has been contending, his wife, children, and servants find that he does not come home with the same spirit that he went out with.
Secondly, they hinder the freedom of a man's spirit, which a wise man sets a high price upon; the strength of many men's spirits is spent in contentions; they have no command of them for anything else. When a man is once engaged in a contest, he knows not how to get off; contention is a great snare to a man. He wishes he had never meddled with it; he is weary of it but knows not how to come off fairly.
I have read of Francis the First, King of France, consulting with his captains on how to lead his army over the Alps into Italy—whether this way or that way—when Amarill his fool sprang out of a corner where he sat unseen and bade them rather take care which way they should bring their army out of Italy back again. It is easy for one to involve himself in quarrels, but the difficulty is to be disengaged from them when you are in.
Thirdly, they hinder the good of the body; many men contending with their brethren are so full of stomach that they have no appetite; they hinder their sleep. Men lie tossing up and down a great part of the night, sometimes whole nights, musing, plotting, and contriving how they may
make their party good or what advantages they may gain over those they contend with.
Have thoughts about the breach sin has made between God and your soul broken your sleep as much as thoughts about breaches between you and your neighbors and brethren? We read of Moses in Deuteronomy 34:7 that he was 120 years old when he died; his eye was not dim nor his natural force abated. Some give this as one reason for such wonderful preservation of his health and strength: the meekness of his spirit. God witnesses of him in Numbers 12:3 that he was the meekest man upon the face of the earth.
That good old man Mr. Dod came very near to Moses in one respect and in another.
Fourthly, they hinder men's judgments: if the water is muddy, we cannot see what lies at the bottom. These dissensions disturb the medium of our sight: you cannot weigh gold amidst blustering winds; you cannot consider and give a judgment upon truth unless the heart is calm.
Gregory Nazianzen has this similitude: "As the earth," says he, "is fixed to men whose brains and eyes are sound, but to those who have vertigo in their heads it seems to turn round: so we are deceived in our apprehensions of things; we do not have the same judgment of things when we love and when we do not love."
Fifthly, they hinder the sweetness of Christian fellowship and communion. You know your communion with the Saints used to be far more sweet than it is now. You used to have your hearts leap at the sight of one another. Seneca says, "The very sight of a good man delights," and the sight of a godly person used to delight us more than it does now. You look at each other sourly, with frowning faces, and withdraw from one another.
Your comforts used to be double, triple, sevenfold, a hundredfold,
according to the society of Saints you engaged with. One godly person considered it the joy of his heart that he had something to share with another godly person, and the other had similar joy in sharing with him.
Thus, comforts were multiplied, but now your comforts are singular.
Oh, the sweetness and suitability there used to be in the spirits of Christians! Shall I say suitability? It was a blessed oneness of heart. They exchanged souls with one another every day; their souls clasped and cleaved to each other. Oh, how they loved to open their hearts to one another! What delight was there in pouring forth their spirits into one another! What cheerfulness was there in their meetings! They ate their bread together with singleness of heart and joy, praising the Lord. There were no merrier meetings in the world than those of the Saints. They parted from one another with their souls bound up in each other; their hearts warmed, enlarged, resolved, and strengthened in God's ways.
But now they cannot meet without falling into discord, contending with one another, and parting with spirits estranged, soured, and embittered against each other; their hearts weakened and more unsettled in the things of God than before. Previously, when they were absent from one another, the memory of each other was joyful; but these days seem to be gone.
Where is the opening of secrets to one another as before? Everyone is afraid of another. What sweet visits there used to be! What bearing of one another's burdens! What heart-encouraging letters! It was with the Saints as in Tertullian's time; Christians called each other brethren and were ready to die for one another. But now they are burdens to each other's spirits, bringing evils upon one another. Those who were once forward Professors, whose society was only among the Saints, now find comfort among those
who are carnal; they close with them, their interactions are mostly among them.
Oh Lord, what fire is kindled among us! The nature of fire is to gather things of a like nature together and separate things of a different nature: but our fire does quite the contrary; it separates things that are homogeneous and joins things heterogeneous. Surely this is no other than the fire of hell.
Sixthly, they hinder our time. An abundance of time is spent on our divisions, which we cannot account for before God. When men are engaged in contentions, they will pursue them night and day; whatever business is neglected, this must not be. Even the best of our time that was once spent in meditation, reading, and prayer is now spent in contending and arguing.
Those quiet times we used to converse with God are now spent in thoughts about our divisions; and when we go out, much of our time is taken up going from one group to another to help forward and foment division. Of all the time in a person's life, the time spent in legal disputes and quarrels is the worst, and it would be fortunate for many if it were not counted among the days, weeks, or months of their lives.
Seventhly, they hinder our prayers. If two or three agree together about anything they ask, it shall be done for them by my Father, says Christ
(Matthew 18:18). In 1 Timothy 2:8, "I will that men pray, lifting up their hands without wrath." When Daniel was in distress, he went to his companions and asked them to lift up prayers to God for him (Daniel 2:17).
There was a sweet agreement between them. Hence their stock and trade in prayer went in common, but divisions greatly hinder prayer either with one another or for one another. In 1 Peter 3:7, the Apostle gives rules for a peaceable loving life between husband and wife; the woman must be meek,
and the man must live with his wife as a man of knowledge; they must walk together as heirs of life. Why so? That your prayers may not be hindered.
Private contentions in families are great hindrances to family prayers: so our public divisions and contentions are great hindrances to the prayers of Christians in a more public way. How did they use to pour forth their hearts in prayer together? Then their hearts closed, but now it is otherwise. Men do not walk together as heirs of life now; therefore their prayers are hindered. God does not accept our gift if we offer it when our hearts are distant from our brethren. When breaches continue and we are not reconciled, you know Christ requires us to leave our gift at the altar until reconciliation is made. It is the Spirit of God in the Saints that is the spirit of prayer: now God's Spirit is a dove-like, meek, quiet, and peaceable spirit.
Eighthly, they hinder the use of our gifts: when vessels are soured with vinegar, they spoil any liquid poured into them; they make it good for nothing. Many people have excellent gifts, but they are in such sour vinegar spirits that they are of little or no use in Church and Commonwealth.
1. In these times of division, many people exercise their gifts and talents in little else but matters of division; do you think that God has given you such talents for no other purpose than this?
2. They have no heart to share their gifts with their brethren in counseling, admonishing, strengthening, or comforting: no, their hearts are estranged from them; they do not care to have anything to do with them. But do you think you are so much your own person that you may keep or employ your talents as you please? Are you not stewards of Christ? Are they not given to you for the edification of your brethren as well as for your own good? Can this satisfy your conscience? Such a person differs from you; he has angered you; therefore, even though you have an opportunity to be useful to
him, you refuse it as if it were at your liberty to use your abilities for good or not. Certainly, this is not according to the mind of Christ (1 Corinthians
12:7). The manifestation of the Spirit is given to every person for profit.
3. If you do make use of your gifts for the good of others, yet dissensions between you will hinder their benefit. You are not likely to do any good by them unless they are carried on by the oil of love; they will not soak into men's hearts. When did you ever know a wrangling, contentious minister
(though his gifts were excellent) do good among his people? And what comfort can a man have in his life if he is laid aside by God as a useless man?
4. These divisions cause men to make the gifts of others useless to themselves. God puts opportunities into men's hands to gain much good from the excellent gifts their brethren have. Yet, if there is any difference between them, either they will not acknowledge the gifts of God in others, or they have no desire to receive the good they might have because their hearts are not with them.
Ninthly, they hinder our graces. How little of God and Christ, how little spirituality appears in professors of religion since these divisions have been among us, compared to what appeared in former times. As the members of the body (says Augustine) are not quickened unless they are joined, so even the members of Christ do not receive the quickening virtue of Christ unless they are joined. Here is the reason for the deadness, coldness, emptiness, barrenness, and vanity of your spirits: you are not joined.
O where are the heavenly Christians that used to be, those humble, holy, gracious souls who lived by faith, who were able to deny themselves? Their whole lives were nothing but a continual exercise of self-denial. They were not only patient but joyful under afflictions. Where are those watchful
Christians who walked closely with God, who enjoyed such spiritual communion with Him that their faces shone in their holy heavenly conversations? Where are those tender, broken-hearted Christians who lived upon the Word, to whom the Word was sweeter than honey and the honeycomb?
Now there is another kind of face among professors of religion, as if there were godliness in these days not of the same kind as before. If our forefathers, who were most holy and gracious, should rise again, they would not recognize those who now make a great noise and stir about religion as if they had risen higher than their forefathers had. Yet they are loose, vain, frothy, and false in their ways. Certainly, those holy, gracious saints whom these new professors slight would abominate them if they were alive, as a great disgrace and dishonor to Jesus Christ and His saints.
Take away their disputes, and otherwise, how empty and dry are they? If they ever had any grace, it is buried under a lot of rubbish; we cannot see it.
Can these men be anything but an empty vine when their hearts are so divided? The graces they seemed to have had are quite blasted; if there were any in truth, they are exceedingly weakened. Vinegar will dissolve pearls.
Pliny tells of Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt, that in her wanton bravado at a supper she made for Marcus Antonius, she dissolved a pearl in vinegar and drank it off, preparing another, both valued at nearly five thousand pounds.
Oh, the many precious pearls worth thousands in gold and silver that are dissolved by the vinegar sourness of men's spirits in these sharp dissensions among us!
Our divisions hinder the breaking forth of the luster and shine of religion in its beauty and glory. The fire of our contentions raises such smoke that it smothers us; it takes away our comeliness and makes us look black. No
amiability appears in the ways of religion to convince men of their excellence. Scratched faces and torn garments we consider a shame; distracted, divided spirits rending and tearing one another render us uncomely and bring shame to the profession of religion we take upon ourselves.
The Turks used to wonder much at our Englishmen for cutting their clothes, counting them little better than madmen for making holes in whole cloth that time itself would tear too soon. The cuts and slashes in our spirits from our divisions today are much more uncomely and may justly render us foolish and mad in the eyes of all who behold us.
Our divisions hinder our strength. If you untwist a cable, how weak it becomes in its separate parts! A threefold cord is not easily broken, but a single one is. Divide a strong current into several rivulets, and how shallow and weak will the course of the water be? Plutarch's report of King
Scythia's act toward his sons has been famous for illustrating how divisions weaken wherever they occur. He says he had eighty sons, and when near death, he caused a bundle of arrows to be brought and given to them one by one, bidding each to break it; they all answered it was impossible for any man to do it. Then he had the arrows taken out one by one and bade one son break them; this any could easily do. Upon this, he spoke to his sons: If you agree together, you shall remain strong and unconquerable; but if you divide yourselves, contending with one another, you will be weak and easily overcome.
They hinder our doing good in public; what concerns many must be done by many. But how can two, much less many, walk together if they are not agreed? What one does, another seeks to undo. Although God can turn whatever is contrary to His work to its furtherance, man cannot do so.
When God would hinder the work of building Babel, He confounded their tongues so they could not join together in it. Thus when the Devil would hinder the work of Jerusalem, he knows no way more likely than by dividing the hearts of those employed if he can possibly bring confusion.
They hinder our own ends; none are more crossed in their ends and designs than contentious people. We no longer have the mutual benefit of one another's estates or houses or the many ways of accommodation and help from one another as we used to have; now every man shifts for himself. Scarcely anyone who knew what heartfelt friendship meant enjoys those outward accommodations as he used to.
They hinder the blessing of God. Psalm 133 commends the love of brethren: "There the Lord commanded the blessing, even life forevermore."
There! That is where the love of brethren is; there is a blessing commanded by God. It comes with power—no less than life—and this life forevermore.
God dwells in Salem (says Luther), not in Babylon; where there is peace, not where there is confusion.
Lastly, indeed, they hinder all good. They are like the Torrid Zone; nothing can prosper under it. When the Dog-star rises, no plants thrive as at other times. When a fire is kindled in a town, the bells ring backward.
When fires of contentions are kindled in places, all things go awry. There is little joy in anything.
Thus you see how great the evil is in our divisions concerning what good we lose by them. Now then, consider whether it is possible that any gain we can get by them can recompense this loss; can anything gained by them justify the cost? But even if it could be supposed that our loss may be recompensed, yet I am sure nothing can counterbalance the evil there is in them, in respect of their sinfulness. That is the next point.