Chapter II — Sin (continued)
CHARGE OF SIN.
Section I. Sin, lack of consideration,
striving against the Spirit.
The charge of sin is brought so directly in the word of God against every human being, and is so fully sustained by observation and experience, that the general indifference of men under so weighty an accusation, is a fact which needs explanation. Indifference is no proof of innocence, any more than insensibility to pain is a proof of health. In ordinary cases indeed, a man cannot be ill without knowing it; but his sensations are a very unsafe criterion of the nature or danger of his disease. He may be most free from pain, when most in peril. In like manner, the indifference of men to their own sinfulness affords no presumption that their guilt is not great in the sight, of God. The absence of the immediate consciousness of guilt is no proof of innocence, unless attended by the joyful exercise of all right feelings. When accompanied by indifference to duty and the indulgence of sin, it is evidence of the depth of our depravity. All men assume this to be true in their judgments about those more wicked than themselves. To say about a man, he is a hardened wretch, is not the language of extenuation or apology. It is the language of aggravated condemnation. Those who feel this keenly with regard to others — that their indifference is an aggravation of guilt — strangely imagine in their own case, it is proof of comparative innocence.
This insensibility of men, therefore, to the moral turpitude of their character in the sight of God, so far from being an indication of goodness, is the result and evidence of the extent of their corruption.
In bodily disease, when the seat of life is attacked, the sensibilities are weakened. So it is in the disease of sin; insensibility is one of its symptoms, and it increases with the increase of the evil. Sin produces this effect both by blinding the mind and by hardening the heart. It obscures our apprehensions of the excellence of God and of his law, and it produces a callousness of feeling, so that what is seen is not regarded. Experience teaches us that a mere change in the state of the mind, produces an immediate and entire change in our apprehensions and feelings in reference to our own sins. The man who at one hour was indifferent, as the most careless of sinners, at the next is filled with astonishment and remorse. Others think his feelings are unreasonable and exaggerated; but he knows them to be rational and even inadequate. This is not the result of any hallucination or mistaken apprehensions of God or of his own character. It is the natural effect of an enlightened mind and of an awakened conscience. The ease and frequency with which the indifference of men to their guilt in the sight of God is destroyed, is itself a proof that their insensibility is not based on truth. It is the effect of a darkened understanding and a hardened heart. And though it may increase as sin gains the ascendency, it vanishes the moment the light and power of truth are let in upon the soul.
Besides this general cause of the indifference of men to the declarations of God regarding their sinfulness, there are others which ought to be specified. When the prophet contemplated the impenitent unconcern of the people, he exclaimed, Israel does not know, my people do not consider. And when God would rouse them to a sense of their guilt, he says, Now therefore, thus says the Lord of hosts, consider your ways. It is this lack of consideration, more than any difficulty in arriving at the truth, which sets men in such opposition to God in their judgments of themselves, and which hardens them in their indifference. This inconsideration is indeed but an effect of the more general cause already referred to; but in its turn it becomes a cause both of ignorance and unconcern. Men learn little upon any subject by intuition; and the knowledge of their own hearts is not to be obtained without painful self-examination. This self-knowledge is the subject to which men generally devote the least attention. They are engrossed by the cares or pleasures of the world.
They either float quietly down the stream of life, or are hurried along its troubled course with scarcely an hour given to serious reflection.
That under such circumstances men should be ignorant of themselves, and indifferent to their character in the sight of God, is not only natural but unavoidable. It is, however, a lamentable thing that they should make a judgment about themselves — formed without consideration — the ground of their conduct; and confide in it, in opposition to the judgment of God. If they would judge, let them at least consider. If they would act on their own conclusions respecting themselves, let them at least examine and decide deliberately, and not venture everything on a hasty, unconsidered estimate of their character which, it may be, could not stand a moment's inspection, even in their own judgment.
Men, however, are not merely inconsiderate, they often make direct efforts to suppress the rising conviction of guilt and danger. The testimony of God against them is so plain; the authority of his law is so obvious; their lack of conformity to it is so glaring, and the influences of the Spirit are so general and frequent, that the conviction of sin can hardly fail to obtrude itself even upon those who in general are the most unconcerned. It is, however, a painful conviction; and therefore, instead of being cherished, it is disregarded or suppressed. The mind refuses to dwell on the subject, or to examine the evidence of guilt; it either turns to other objects, or by some act of levity or transgression, grieves away the Spirit of God and hardens itself in unconcern. This is a frequently recurring experience in the history of most men. They have more anxious thoughts than they allow their most intimate friends to suspect; they often mask an aching heart with a smiling face. They have a quick foresight of what such feelings must lead to, if cherished. They see at once that they cannot cultivate such sentiments, and live as they have been accustomed. There are pleasures, and maybe sins, which must be abandoned. There are companions who must be avoided. There is the opposition of friends, the ridicule of associates, the loss of rank to be encountered. All the horrors of a religious life present themselves to the imagination, and frighten the half-awakened from considering their ways, which they know to be but the first step in what appears a long and painful journey. They therefore struggle against their convictions, and in general, they master them. This struggle is sometimes short; at other times, it is protracted and painful. Victory, however, comes at last, and the soul regains its usual unconcern.
Such persons little know what they are doing. They little suspect that they are struggling to elude the grasp of mercy; that they are striving against the Spirit of God, who would draw them from the paths of destruction, and guide them into the way of life.
Section II. Sophistical objections against the doctrine of the Bible.
Another cause of the indifference of men may be found in the objections which they urge against the truth. Such objections indeed are more frequently and effectually urged to perplex the advocates of religion, than to quiet the uneasiness of conscience. Still, men endeavor to impose upon themselves as well as to embarrass others.
And the objections referred to, doubtless are often obstacles in the way of the inquirer; or opiates to the consciences of those who desire to be deceived. It is objected that we are what God made us; that our character is determined either by our original constitution, or by the circumstances in which we are placed; and therefore we cannot be responsible for it; that inasmuch as neither our belief nor our affections are under the control of the will, we cannot be accountable for either; that it is useless to use means to escape the judgment of God, since what will be, will be; that we must wait till God sees fit to change our hearts, since this is declared in Scripture to be His work.
It will be observed that these and similar objections relate to the reconciliation of different truths, and not to their separate validity or evidence. The proposition that men are responsible for their moral character, taken by itself, is so capable of demonstration, that all men do in fact believe it. Every man feels it to be true with regard to himself, and he knows it to be true with regard to others. All selfcondemnation and self-approval rest on the consciousness of this truth. All our judgments regarding the moral conduct of others are founded on the same assumption. It is, therefore, one of those truths which is included in the universal consciousness of men, and in all ages and nations, it has been assumed as certain. Men cannot really doubt it, if they would. On the other hand, it is no less certain that our character depends in a measure upon circumstances beyond our control; upon our original constitution, upon education, upon prevalent habits and opinions, upon divine influence, etc. All this is proved by experience and observation. Here then are two facts resting on independent evidence, each certain and each by itself securing general assent. Yet we see men constantly disposed to bring up the one against the other. They argue against their responsibility, because they are dependent; or they argue against their dependence, because they are responsible.
In like manner, the proposition that man is a free agent commands immediate and universal assent, because it is an ultimate fact of consciousness. It can no more be doubted than we can doubt our own existence. However, side by side with this intimate persuasion of our moral liberty, lies the conviction (no less intimate) of our inability to change either our belief or our affections, by merely willing to do so, for which every man knows himself to be responsible, as stated before. Perhaps few men — perhaps no man — can see the harmony of these truths. And yet they are truths, and as such they are practically acknowledged by all men.
Again, all experience teaches us that we live in a world of means — that knowledge, religion, happiness, are all to be sought in a certain way — and that to neglect the means, is to lose the end. It is no less true, however, that there is no necessary or certain connection between the means and the end; that God holds the result in his own hands, and He decides the issues according to his sovereign pleasure.
In all the ordinary affairs of life, men submit to this arrangement and they don't hesitate to use means, though the end is uncertain and beyond their control. But in religion, they think this uncertainty about the result, is a sufficient excuse for neglect of the means.
It is obvious that this method of reasoning, or rather of cavilling,3 which consists in bringing up one well established truth against another, is unworthy of a rational being. We ought to (and practically, we must) receive every truth on its own evidence. If we cannot reconcile one fact with another, it is because of our ignorance; better instructed men or higher orders of beings may see their perfect harmony. Our lack of such knowledge does not in the least impair the force of the evidence on which they separately rest. In every department of knowledge, the number of irreconcilable truths depends on the progress of the student. Loose matter flies off of revolving bodies, yet everything adheres to the surface of the earth, notwithstanding its rapid revolution; these are irreconcilable facts to one man, though not to another. That two rays of light should produce darkness, or two sounds cause silence, are facts which many may be entirely unable to reconcile with other facts of which they are certain; while the philosopher sees not only their consistency, but that they are the necessary consequences of the same cause.
If the evidence of the constant revolution of the earth round its axis were presented to a man, it would certainly be unreasonable for him to deny the fact, merely because he could not reconcile it with the stability of everything on the earth's surface. Or if he saw two rays of light produce darkness, must he resist the evidence of his senses because he knows that two candles give more light than one? Men do not commonly act this irrationally in physical investigations. They let each fact stand on its own evidence. They strive to reconcile them, and are happy when they succeed. But they don't get rid of difficulties by denying facts.
If in the department of physical knowledge we are obliged to act on the principle of receiving every fact on its own evidence, even when we're unable to reconcile one with another, isn't it wonderful that this necessity should be imposed on us in those departments of knowledge which are less within the limits of our powers. It is certainly irrational for a man to reject all the evidence of the spirituality of the soul, because he cannot reconcile that doctrine with the fact that a disease of the body disorders the mind. Must I do violence to my nature in denying the proof of design afforded by the human body, because I cannot account for the occasional occurrence of deformities in its structure? Must I harden my heart against all the evidence of the benevolence of God, which streams upon me in a flood of light from all His works, because I may not know how to reconcile that benevolence with the existence of evil? Must I deny my free agency, the most intimate of all convictions, because I cannot see the consistency between the freeness of an act, and the certainty of its occurrence? Must I deny that I am a moral being, the very glory of my nature, because I cannot change my character at will?
It is impossible for any man to act, in any department of knowledge, upon the principle on which these cavilling objections to religion are founded. From youth to age, we are obliged to take each fact as it comes, on its own evidence, and reconcile it with other facts as best we may.
The unreasonableness of this method of arguing is further evident from the consideration that if it were universally adopted, it would render all progress in knowledge impossible. It would be tantamount to a resolution to know nothing until we know all things; for our knowledge at first is confined to isolated facts. To classify and harmonize these facts, is the slow work of the student's life. This is a most benevolent arrangement of providence. It at once stimulates the desire of knowledge, and imposes on us the constant exercise of faith. And it is by virtue of these two important principles of our nature, that all valuable knowledge is obtained. The desire of knowing not merely facts, but their relations and harmony, leads to the constant effort to increase the number of known truths, and to obtain an insight into their nature; and the necessity we are under of believing what we cannot understand, or cannot reconcile, cultivates the habit of faith — of faith in evidence, faith in the laws of our nature, and faith in God. It is thus that our heavenly Father leads us along the paths of knowledge; and the one who refuses to be thus led, must remain in ignorance. God deals with us as children; though as rational children. He does not require us to believe without evidence; but he does require us to believe what we cannot understand, and what we cannot reconcile with other parts of knowledge. This necessity of implicit faith is not confined to any one department of knowledge, but as already stated, it is constantly demanded with regard to all. The simplest objects in the physical world are surrounded with mysteries. A blade of grass has wonders about it which no philosopher can clear up; no man can tell what fixes the type of each species of plant or animal; by what process the materials of leaf and flower are selected and arranged; where the beautiful tints are borrowed from or how applied; what conducts the silent process of formation of the eye or hand. Everything we see is, even to the most enlightened, the index of something unknown and inscrutable.
If the visible and tangible forms of matter are replete with things past finding out, what may we expect when we turn our eyes on the world of Spirits? Even that little world in our own bosoms, which is pervaded by our own consciousness, the facts of which are most intimately known, is full of wonders — of phenomena we can neither comprehend nor reconcile. Who can understand the secret union of the soul and body, which establishes their reciprocal influence? Why should the emotion of shame suffuse the cheek, or that of fear send the blood to the heart? Why does the soul suffer if the body is injured? What conception can we form either of matter or mind which is consistent with their mutual influence and communion?
The operations of our rational and moral faculties are not less beyond our comprehension. We know certain facts, but cannot understand the reason of them, or their consistency. We know that certain feelings follow certain perceptions; the feeling of confidence follows the perception of truth; the feeling of pleasure follows the perception of beauty; the feeling of approval follows the perception of what is morally right. Why these feelings should thus rise, no one can tell. Such are the laws of our being; laws which we did not originate and which we cannot control. That is, we cannot prevent the feeling of confidence or faith attending the perception of truth; nor that of pleasure in the perception of beauty, nor that of approval in the perception of moral rectitude. Yet the consciousness of selfagency mingles with all these operations. We are free in being subject to the laws of our own nature.
The necessity under which we form such judgments or exercise such feelings, produces no sense of bondage. In these involuntary or necessary judgments or feelings, however, our moral character is largely concerned. If two men see an act of cruelty, and the one smiles at it, and the other is indignant, no sophistry can prevent our condemning the former and approving the latter. The feeling excited by the act arises in each spontaneously and by an inward necessity which neither, at the moment, can control. The knowledge of this fact doesn't interfere with our judgment in the case. And that judgment is not merely that the feeling which produced the smile is an indication of a state of mind, or of previous conduct worthy of disapproval, but that the feeling itself was wrong. Moreover, the feeling of disapproval which thus arises spontaneously in our bosoms at this delight in suffering, is itself a moral feeling. We should condemn ourselves if this disapproval did not arise, and approve ourselves if it did. There are therefore, in our own breasts, enigmas which we cannot solve, depths which we cannot fathom. Must we then, in order to be rational, deny these facts? Must we maintain that our nature is an illusion and our constitution a falsehood? Shall we, on the one hand, deny that we are subject to the laws of our being, or on the other, that the acts which result from those laws are not our own, do not express our character, nor involve responsibility? This happily cannot be done, for faith in our own consciousness is one of the laws of our nature from which we can never effectually emancipate ourselves.
If then there are in our own nature so many things which we cannot comprehend, how can we expect to understand God, to know the reasons and relations of his acts, or to be able to reconcile in all cases his works with his attributes? To do this would require a more thorough knowledge of God than we have of ourselves. It would require a comprehension of his purposes and of the mode in which he accomplishes them. It would require, in short, a knowledge which no creature can possess.
For what man knows the things of a man, save the spirit of man that is in him? Even so, the things of God no man knows, but the Spirit of God. 1Cor 2.11 We then, who are the least and lowest of God's rational creatures, may well expect to be required to live by faith; to receive as true, on His authority, much that we cannot understand and cannot reconcile. However, it is not blind belief which is required of us. We are not required to believe anything without adequate evidence; but on the other hand we are not allowed to reject anything simply because we cannot understand it. We must not reject the existence of God, because we cannot comprehend self-existence; we must not deny his eternity, because we cannot conceive of duration without succession; nor his omnipresence, because we cannot see how a being can be equally and entirely in all places at the same time; nor omniscience, because we cannot see how free acts can be foreknown.
In like manner, we are not required to believe in God's goodness without abundant evidence of his benevolence; but we are required to believe it, whether we can reconcile it with the existence of evil or not. We are not required to believe in the providence of God without evidence, but our being unable to reconcile his government with our liberty, is no rational ground of unbelief. The same remark might be made with regard to the apostasy of our race and the corruption of our nature; our inability and obligation to obedience; the necessity of divine influence and the use of means. We are required to believe nothing on these or any other subjects, without adequate proof; but we are not allowed to make our ignorance of the relations of these truths, an excuse for either unbelief or disobedience. God gives the glow-worm light enough to see its own path, though not enough to dispel the darkness of the night. Thus too, He shows us where to put our foot down in each successive step towards heaven, though he may not enable us to comprehend the Almighty unto perfection.
It may be said that we haven't answered even one of all the objections to which reference has so often been made. We have done far better than answer them, if we have made the reader feel the necessity of a humble, trustful spirit towards God. This is the appropriate state of mind for every learner, whether in the school of nature or of Christ. It is that state which the feebleness of our powers and the difficulty of the things to be learned, render not only reasonable but indispensable.
A second impression which we have labored to produce, is that it is one of our primary duties to submit to the truth, to form the purpose and to cherish the habit of yielding the mind to evidence. Faith without evidence is irrational; but unbelief despite the evidence, is not less so. There is a great difference in the temper of different men in relation to this subject. Some resist the truth as long as they can; they cavil at it and oppose it. Others are candid and docile; they are willing to admit the force of proof as far as they perceive it. This is the only way in which true knowledge can be obtained. It is thus that the philosopher is accustomed to act. He carefully interrogates nature for facts; these facts are received; they are classified and harmonized as far as the investigator is able thus to reconcile them.
But he rejects none because he cannot make it fit into a system. He waits for further light. It is thus that we are bound to act. We too are called upon to receive every truth upon its own evidence; to harmonize our knowledge where we can, but to reject nothing simply because of our ignorance of its consistency with other truths.
A third lesson which it is very important for us to learn is, what is adequate evidence of truth, and when we are bound to rest satisfied.
This may be a question which it is difficult to decide; but as far as religion is concerned, the case is sufficiently plain. By the laws of our being, we are imperatively required to confide in the well-ascertained testimony of our senses; to rely upon the veracity of our own consciousness; to receive the unimpeachable testimony of our fellow men; and to abide by those truths which are either matters of intuitive perception, or the necessary conclusions of reason. These are laws of belief impressed upon our constitution by our Creator; and they are therefore the authoritative expressions of His will. To refuse obedience to these laws, then, is not only unreasonable, it is rebellion against God. They are the adamantine bars by which he has closed up the way to universal skepticism; and those who break through them, prematurely enter upon the outer darkness. So then: we are obliged as rational beings, to receive every truth which rests upon the testimony of our senses, upon the authority of consciousness, the unimpeachable testimony of witnesses, or the intuitive perceptions or necessary deductions of reason. Whether we can systematize and reconcile all the truths thus arrived at, is a very different question. Our obligation to receive them does not rest upon this power, but upon the evidence afforded for each separate truth.
Our consciousness tells us that we are sinners; it also informs us of our helplessness. We may fight against one or the other of these truths, like the ocean chafes against the rocks; they cannot be moved.
When the mind has been drugged with false philosophy, it may disbelieve for a time. But the infidelity lasts no longer than the intoxication. As soon as the man is sober, the truth re-appears in greater clearness and authority than ever. Therefore, nothing can be eventually gained by resistance to the truth; and it is the part of wisdom to submit at once to the laws of belief which God has impressed upon our nature.
Besides this rule of faith (if it may be called that) which God has given us in the constitution of our nature, we have his word and his providence, authenticated by all kinds of adequate testimony. There can be no higher ground of faith than the authority of God. Even confidence in the testimony of our senses or the dictates of consciousness, resolves itself into confidence in the veracity of God by whom the laws of nature have been established. Any truth, therefore, which is sustained by a well-authenticated revelation of God, or upon the actual dispensations of his providence, must be considered as fully established; and every objection which can be shown to militate against either, must be considered as fully answered. It was thus that the sacred writers answered objections. It was enough for them that God asserted any truth, or actually exercised any prerogative. Any further vindication, they deemed unnecessary. We should act on the same principle and quietly submit to all that God says and to all that he does. Some men complainingly ask, Why were we born? Surely it is enough that they are born. The fact cannot be denied, whether they can see the wisdom and design of their creation or not. Or they ask, Why were we born in a state of sin, or in a world in which sin is universal and inevitable? To human reason, this may be a question that is impossible to answer. But as the fact stares us in face, is there any use in denying it? It is further asked, If we are born in such a state that, either from our nature or circumstances, sin is inevitable and universal, then how can we be responsible? Whatever difficulty there may be in showing how we are responsible, there is no doubt as to the fact of it. We feel ourselves to be responsible, and can no more free ourselves of the conviction than we can get rid of the consciousness of existence.
Where then is the wisdom of quarrelling with facts? Why should we spend our lives like a wild beast in a cage, forever chafing against the bars of its prison, which nevertheless remain! Let us learn to submit to what we see to be true; let us remember that our knowledge does not embrace all truth; that things may be perfectly consistent with each other and with the attributes of God, though we may not see how. Our knowledge will continually increase; and those facts which give us the most difficulty will be found to be so analogous to others, the justice of which we are able to recognize, that if we never come to see all things in their harmony, we shall at least see that they must be consistent, being parts of that system which is everywhere luminous with the manifestations of the wisdom and love of God. Let us remember that we are children, the children of God, that He gives us abundant evidence of everything which he requires us to believe, though he renders it necessary for us to exercise confidence in him, to feel assured that what he says is true, and that what He does is right; that though clouds and darkness may be round about Him, justice and judgment are the habitation of his throne.
The last general remark to be made in reference to these objections, is that they are almost always dishonestly urged; that is, they are urged with an inward conviction of their fallacy. As in many cases we know things to be true which we cannot prove, so we often know objections are fallacious which we cannot answer. If a man denies his own existence, or the distinction between right and wrong, it is in vain to argue with him. There can be nothing plainer than the truth denied; and therefore, there can be no means of proving it. So also, if to escape the charge of guilt, he denies his responsibility, he denies a fact of consciousness, which cannot possibly be made plainer. Or if he pleads his inability as an excuse for not repenting and obeying
God, he presents a plea which he knows has no validity; he knows that however real this inability may be, it is of such a nature as to afford no excuse for his continuing in sin, because the conviction of its reality co-exists in his own consciousness, with a sense of guilt. It is a plea, therefore, that does not avail at the bar of his own conscience, and he knows that it will not avail at the bar of God. In like manner, when men object to the strictness of the divine law, they do so with the inward persuasion of the righteousness of that law. Its requirements commend themselves to their conscience. They know that as God is infinitely wise and good, it is right that we should regard Him with supreme affection, and implicitly submit to all his directions.
All such cavilling objections, men know to be false. God has not left himself without a witness. His voice has an authority which we cannot resist. When he tells us we are sinners, we know it to be true.
When he tells us that we are worthy of death, we know it to be a righteous judgment. When he tells us that we have no strength to save ourselves and that our salvation depends upon his will, we know it to be even so. Whenever he reveals himself, our mouths are shut — not merely from fear, but from an intimate persuasion of the justice of all his ways. It is then both foolish and wicked to urge objections against the truth, which we ourselves know to be futile, whether this is done with a view to perplex our fellow men, or in a vain endeavor to silence the accusations of conscience and the word of God.
Such is the power of truth that neither the natural insensibility of the heart, nor the lack of consideration, nor the direct efforts which men make to suppress serious thoughts, nor the whole array of sophistical objections, can avail to counteract the secret conviction in the breast of the impenitent, that they are on the road to eternal death. This conviction is often very weak. When men are engrossed in the concerns of this world, it is overlooked. Still, it is there; and time and again it wakes up to trouble them. The suggestion that God is merciful, and perhaps will not be strict to mark iniquity, will not quiet this uneasy apprehension. This suggestion, therefore, avails but little. It is counteracted by the sense of ill-desert, by the irrepressible conviction that those who commit sin are worthy of death — by the plain declarations of Scripture, and by the evidence which even providence affords that God is righteous. The vague apprehension of coming wrath, therefore, in despite of all their efforts, still haunts the path of the impenitent. It chills their joys and gathers strength whenever the world seems to be receding from their grasp.
Most men are driven to enter the plea of guilty before the bar of conscience, and content themselves with praying for a delay of judgment. They are forced to admit that they are not fit to die in their present state; that they are bound to comply with the requirement of the gospel — but they plead for time. Go your way for now; when I have a more convenient season, I will call for you. Conscience is more easily deluded by this plea, which seems to admit its demands, than by any other. It is therefore the most dangerous snare for souls.
Men do not reflect on the wickedness of pleading with God for liberty to continue a little longer in sin; to be allowed to break His commandments, to disregard his mercies, to slight his love, and to injure the cause of truth and righteousness. They don't think of the indignation with which they would reject such a plea from an ungrateful and disobedient son or servant. Nor do they remember that every such act of procrastination is a great aggravation of their guilt, as it supposes a consciousness of the evil of their present course, and a recognition of the righteousness of all the demands of God. Nor do they consider that the difficulties which beset the path of their return to God, are all increased by delay. If the work of repentance is irksome today, it will be more irksome tomorrow. If the heart is now hard, it will become yet harder by neglect. If the power of sin is now too strong for us to resist, it will become still stronger by indulgence. If the motives to repentance now fail to secure obedience, they will act with constantly increasing disadvantage hereafter. If God is justly displeased now, he will be more and more displeased by continued disobedience. Every day's procrastination therefore increases, at a fearful rate, the probability of our final perdition.