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Remarks on the internal evidence for the truth of revealed religion

Thomas Erskine · 1823 · Scanned text

71,319 words · about 5 h to read

Period artwork: Interior of the Bodleian Library, 1845
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About this book

Author
Thomas Erskine
Language
English
Published
1823
Length
71,319 words · about 5 h
Sections
11 reader sections
Text
Scanned text, read from page scans by OCR; may contain errors
Rights
Public domain

 

Contents (11)
  1. Front matter about 24 min
  2. Section I about 14 min
  3. Section II about 7 min
  4. Section III about 15 min
  5. Section IV about 1 h 55 min
  6. Section I about 39 min
  7. Section III about 20 min
  8. Section IV about 16 min
  9. Section V. The Design Of Faith about 14 min
  10. Section VI about 22 min
  11. Section VII about 13 min

Continue:

Front matter

REMARKS

INTERNAL EVIDENCE

FOR THE TRUTH OF

Section I

When it is said that happiness is necessarily and exckisively connected ^yith a resemblance to the Divine character, it is evident that the word " happiness" must be imderstood in a restricted sense. It cannot be denied, that many vicious men enjoy much gratification through life ; nor can it even be denied, that this gratification is derived in a great measm'e from their very vices. This fact is, no doubt, very perplexing, as every question must be which is connected with the origin of evil : But still, it is no more perplexing than the origin of evil, or than the hypothesis that our present life is a state of trial and discipline. Temptation to evil, evidently implies a sense of gratification proceeding from evil ; and evil could not have existed without this sense of gratification connected with it. So, also, this life could not be a state of trial and discipline in good, unless there were some inducement or temptation to evil, — that is, unless there were some sense of gratification attending evil. It probably does not lie within the compass of human faculties to give a completely satisfactory ansvv^er to these questions ; whilst yet it may be rationally maintained,^ that if there is a propriety in this life being a state of discipline, there must also be a propriety in sin being connected with a sense of gratification. But then, may not this vicious gratification be extended through eternity, as well as through a year or an hour ? I cannot see any direct impossibility in this supposition, on natural principles ; and yet I feel that the assertion of it sounds very much like the contradiction of an intuitive truth.

There is a gi-eat difference between the happiness enjoyed with the approbation of conscience, and that which is felt without it or against it. ^^^len the conscience is very sensitive, the gratification arising from vice cannot be very great : The natural process, therefore, by which such gratification is obtained or heightened, is by hiUing or deadening the conscience. This is accomplished by habitually turning the attention from the distinction of good and evil, and directing it to the cu'cmnstances which constitute vicious gi'atification.

The testimony of conscience is that verdict which every man returns for or against himself upon the question, whether his moral character has kept pace with his moral judgment ? This verdict will therefore be, in relation to absolute moral truth, correct or incorrect, in proportion to the degree of illumination possessed by the moral judgment ; and the feeling of remorse will be more or less painful, according to the inequality which subsists between the judgment and the character. Allien a man, therefore, by dint of perseverance, has brought his judgment down to the le^'el of his character, and has trained his reason to call evil good and good evil, he has gained a victory over conscience, and expelled remorse. If he could maintain this advau-^ C 2 tage through his whole existence, his conduct would admit of a most rational justification. But then, his peace is built solely on the darkness of his moral judgment ; and therefore, all that is necessary in order to make him miserable, and to stir up a civil w^ar within his breast, would be to throw such a strong and indubious light on the perfect character of goodness, as might extort from him an acknowledgment of its excellency, and force him to contrast with it his own past history and present condition. Whilst his mental eye is held in fascination by this glorious vision, he cannot but feel the anguish of remorse ; he cannot but feel that he is at fearful strife with some mighty and mysterious being, whose power has compelled even his o^vn heart to execute vengeance on him ; nor can he hide from himself the loathsomeness and pollution of that spiritual pestilence, which has poisoned every organ of his moral constitution. He can hope to escape from this wretchedness, only by withdrawing his gaze from the appalling brightness ; and, in this world, such an attempt can generally be made with success. But suppose him to be placed in such circumstances that there should be no retreat — no diversity of objects which might divert or divide his attention — and that, wherever he tm^ned, he was met and fairly confronted by this threatening Spirit of Goodness, — it is impossible that he could have any respite from misery, except in a respite from existence. If this should be the state of tilings in the next world, we may form some conception of the miion there between vice and misery.

TYhilst we stand at a distance from a fui'nace, the effect of the heat on our bodies gives us little uneasiness ; but as we approach it, the natural opposition manifests itself, and the pain is increased by every step that we advance. The complicated system of this world's business and events, forms, as it were, a veil before our eyes, and interposes a kind of moral distance between us and our God, through which the radiance of his character shines but indistinctly, so that we can withhold our attention from it if we will : The opposition which exists between his perfect holiness and our corrupt propensities, does not force itself upon us at every step : His views and purposes may run contrary to ours ; but as they do not often meet us iir the form of a direct and personal encounter, we contrive to wai'd off the conviction that we ai'e at hostility with the Lord of the Universe, and think that we may enjoy ourselves in the intervals of these muchdreaded visitations, without feeling the necessity of bringing om' habits into a perfect conformity with his. But when death removes this veil, by dissolving om' connexion with this world and its works, we may be brought into a closer and more percei3tible contact with Him who is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity. In that spiritual world, we may suppose, that each event, even the minutest part of the whole system of government, will bear such an unequivocal stamp of the Divine character, that an intelligent being, of opposite views and feelings, will at every moment feel itself galled and thwarted and born down by the direct and overwhelming encounter of this allpervading and almighty mind. And here it should be remembered, that the Divine go^^ernmeut does not, like human authority^ skim tlie surface, nor content itself with an imresisting exterior and professions of submission; but comes close to the thoughts, and carries its summons to the affections and ihe will, and i3enetrates to those recesses of the soul, where, whilst we are in this world, we often take a pride and a pleasm-e in fostering the unyielding sentiments of hatred and contempt, even tow^ards that superiority of force which has subdued and fettered and silenced us.

The man who believes in revelation, will^ of course, receive this view as the truth of God ; and even the unbeliever in revelation, if he admits the existence of an Almighty Being of a perfect moral character, and if he see no imlikelihood in the supposition that the mixtm^e of good and evil, and the process of moral discij)line connected with it, are to cease with this stage of our being, even he cannot but feel that there is a strong probability in favour of such an anticipation.

We see, then, how vicious men may be happy to a certain degree in this world, and yet be miserable in the next, ^vithout supposing any very great alteration in the general system of God's government, and without taking into account any thing like positive infliction as the cause of their misery. And it may be observed, that this view gives to vice a form and an extent and. a power very different from what is generally ascribed to it amongst men. We are here conversant chiefly about externals ; and therefore the name of vice is more commonly applied to external conduct than to internal character. But, in the world of spirits, it is not so. There^ a dissonance in principle and object from the Father of Spirits, constitutes vice, and is identified with unhappiness. So that a man who has here passed a useful and dignified life, upon principles different from those of the Divine character, must, when under the direct action of that character, feel a want of adjustment and an opposition which cannot but mar or exclude happiness. Thus, also, the effects of pride, of vanity, or of selfishness, when combined with prudence, may often be most beneficial in the world ; and yet, if these principles are in opposition to God's character, they must disqualify the minds in which they reign for participating in the joys of heaven. The joys of heaven are described in Scripture to consist in a resemblance to God, or in a cheerful and sympathising submission to his will ; and as man naturally follows the impulse of his own propensities, without reference to the will of God, it is evident that a radical change of principle is necessary, in order to capacitate him for that happiness.

It was to produce this necessary and salutary change, that the gospel was sent from Heaven. It bears upon it the character of God. It is not, therefore, to be wondered at, that those whose principles are opposed to that character, should also be opposed to the gospel. Christianity thus anticipates the discoveries of death : It removes the veil which hides God from our sight ; it brings the system of the spiritual world to act upon our consciences ; it presents us with a specimen of God's higher and interior government ; it gives us a nearer view of his character in its true proportions, and thus marks out to us the points in which we differ from him ; it condemns with his authority; it smiles and invites with his uncompromising purity. The man who dislikes all this, will reject Christianity, and replace the veil, and endeavour to forget the awful secrets which it conceals ; and may perhaps be only at last roused from his delusion, by finding himself face to face before the God whose warnings he had neglected, and whose offers of friendship he had disregarded, — offers which, had they been accepted, would have brought his will into concord with that sovereign will v/hich rules the universe, and fitted him to take a joyful and sympathising interest in every part of the Divine administration.

Of the attractive and overcoming loveliness of the character of God, as revealed in his word, and of the invitations which he makes to sinners, I shall speak afterwards ; but in the mean time, I would draw the attention of the reader to the serious consideration of the fact, that a dissonance in principle from the Ruler of the Universe, cannot but be connected with some degree of unhappiness. Although I believe that few minds will feel much difficulty in acquiescing in some measure in the truth of this remark, and although there is no intricacy in the reasoning connected with it, yet as distinct conceptions on this subject are of prime importance in all views of religion, I shall illustrate it by an analogy drawn from the more palpable and better understood affairs of this material world, with which we are surrounded. We may find striking examples to this purpose in a period of English history, wdiich was distinguished above all others for the remarkable contrasts which it exhibited in public sentiment and principle amongst the different classes of the nation, and is therefore peculiarly fitted for elucidating the effects produced on happiness, by an opposition in principle between the ruling power and a part of its subjects.

It is easy to imagine the stern and composed satisfaction with wliich a thorough partisan of Cromwell would contemplate the rigid and formal solemnity which overspread the Government and the people of England dvu'ing the Protectorship. But whence did this satisfaction arise ? Certainly from that concord which subsisted between his own habits and those of the ruling power. His views and inclinations coiucided at all points Avitli those of the Government ; and therefore every measure of administration was a source of gratification to him, because it was in fact an expression of his own will. He was thus in a state of political happiness ; and had there been no higher government than the Commonwealth, through the universe or through eternity, he must have been perfectly and permanently happy. Now, let us carry forward this same individual to the days of Charles the Second, and place him in the near neighboui-hood of that gay and dissolute court. We can in this situation suppose him moving about with a double measm'e of gloom in his countenance, and with a heart imbittered by the general mirth, and iiTitated by the continual encounter of character and opinions and habits directly opposed to his own. He retires to a distance from the seat of Government, and endeavours to hide himself from these painful conflicts in the bosom of his family. There the arrangements are all conducted according to his own principles and his o^ti taste; and he enjoj^s a tolerable state of happiness, though liable to occasional interruptions from public news, from whispers that he is to be apprehended on suspicion of treason, from the intrusion of Government officers, and from a want of thorough spnpathy on political subjects even perhaps in the members of his own domestic circle.

All at once, his quiet is destroyed by an order fi'om coml to leave his seclusion, and reside in the metropolis, that he may be more immediately under the eye of Government. Here again he is brought face to face with all that he hates and despises. His aversion is increased by a sense of his inability to resist ; and he learns even to cherish the feeling and habit of misery as the only testimony that his soul is unsubdued. He is politically miserable. I have given this sketch as an illustration of those natiu^al laws vdiich make om' happiness dependent on our sjntnpathy with a power which overrules us ; and also as an example of the form and the precariousness of that process by which we can in some ckcumstances contract our horizon, as it were, and shut out from our view those things which give us pain, and withdi'aw ourselves from the encounter of those principles which are in opi30sition to our OAvn. In the field of this ^yo^ld, there are many divisions and subdi^ isions, sej)arated bystrong barriers from each other, and acknowledging different authorities, or the same authority perhaps in different degrees. There are so many shelters to which men may betake themselves, ^^ hen pm'sued by the justice or injustice of their fellow-creatures. But whilst we continue within the scope of one authority, although we may find a temporary asylmn against its emnity in a narrower circle or more private society, we are continually liable to be confronted by it, and di'agged from our hiding-j^lace ; and must therefore, from the natm^e of things, be in some measure dependent on it for oiu' happiness.

^ATienever the material M^orld and its concerns are made use of to illustrate the concerns of the mind and of the invisible world, it is of great importance to preserve in lively recollection the essential difference which separates the two subjects. The one embraces outward actions exclusively ; whilst the prominent featm-e in the other is the principle from v» hich the actions spring.

Thus, in the example which has just be^ii given, we can easily sup23ose that Crom- ^vell's followers were actuated by a great variety of moti^'es, and that the solemnity of the Commonwealth might captivate different mhids on very different principles. Some pious people might have liked it, from having associated it in their minds ^vith true reliaion : some from the fanatical idea, that this outward form woidd atone for more secret sins ; some, from its mixtm^e with repubhcan stiu'diness ; and some, fi'om a hatred of Popery or of the Stuart family. Xo^v, these j^rinciples are all very different in their natm^e, although their external results might in some particidai's resemble each other ; and therefore the happiness of the citizens did not proceed from an actual sympatlty of principle with the Government, but j^w/^ a coincidence in the effects of their principles : And if the Government had had cognizance and control of the mind as well as the body, then those alone could have been happy, or coidd have l^een considered as good citizens, who liked that solemn system of things precisely on the same principles with the Go^'ernment ;

and the collision of opposite principle would in tliis case have been as violent as the collision of external conduct actually was. In morals, an action does not mean an effect simply, but a principle carried into exercise ; and therefore, in a government of minds, any effect produced by pride, for instance, however beneficial to the public, woidd get the name of a proud action, and ^^'ould be condemned by a judge vrho disapproved of pride. Man cannot see into the heart ; and therefore he is obliged to conjectm-e or guess at principles by then- effects ; but yet his judgment is always determined by the natm-e of the i3rinciple to which he ascribes the effects. Supposing, then, that we were under such a supernatui'ally gifted government, and that this government was so strong that the idea of resisting or escaping it involved an absm'dity, — it would evidently become a matter of the very highest importance, to make oiu^selves accm-ately acquainted with its principles, and to accommodate om' own to them ; because, till this were accomplished, we could ne^'er enjoy tranquillity, but must continually suffer the uneasiness of beins; reluctantlv borne down by the current of a will more powerful than oiir own. This object, however, would be attended by considerable difficulty. In the first place, it could not be very easy to discover the precise principles of the administration : Almost any single act might proceed from a great variety of principles ; and it would therefore require a long observation and induction of facts, in order to arrive at a satisfactory conclusion, And, in the second place, after we had discovered those principles, we might chance to find that they were in direct opposition to our

In these circumstances, it would be most desirable that the Government should, for the information of the people, embody in one interesting train of action the whole of the principles of its Administration ; so that an imequivocal and distinct idea of these i)rinciples might be conveyed, by the naiTative, to any one who would carefully consider its pm^port. After Government had done this, it would evidently be the interest and the duty of all the subjects to dwell much upon the history thus communicated to them, in order that they might in this way familiarize their minds to the principles developed in it, and teach their own thoughts to run in the same channel, and interest their affections and feelings in it as much as possible. The people would engage in this with greater or less earnestness, according to the strength or weakness of the conviction which each one had as to the reality of the connexion which subsisted between happiness and the accomplishment of this object, and also in proportion to their persuasion that this history was a ti-ue representation of the character of the Government. Approbation and affection could alone constitute the necessary adjustment: Fear might urge to the prosecution of the object, but the complete harmony of the will is the result of a more generous principle. If we suppose, farther, that this complete harmony of sentiment is one of the great objects of Government, then a coincidence on the part of the subjects, unless connected with a distinct intention to coincide, could not contain in itself the elements of a complete harmony, because it did not embrace this great object of the Government.

Section II

I HAVE made these remarks for the purpose of illustrating the object of the Christian revelation, and of explaining the necessity of believing its announcement, in order to the full accomplishment of that object in each individual case. The object of Christianity is to bring the character of man into harmony with that of God. To this end, it is evidently necessary that a just idea of the Divine character should be formed. The works of creation, the arrangements of providence, and the testimony of conscience, are, if thoroughly weighed, sufficient to give this idea : But men are in general so much occupied by the works, that they forget their great Author ; and their characters are so opposed CO his, that they turn away their eyes from the contemplation of that purity which condemns them. And even in the most favourable cases, the moral efficiency of the

D idea presented by these natural lights, is much hindered and weakened by the abstractness and vagueness of its form.

WTien we look into creation or providence, for the indications of God's character, we are struck with the mixture of appearances which present themselves. We see on one side, life, health, happiness ; and on the other, death, disease, pain, misery. The first class furnishes us with argimients for the goodness of God ; but what are we to make of the opposite facts ? The theory on this subject which is attended with fewest difficulties, is founded on two suppositions, — first. That moral good is necessary to permanent happiness ; and second, That misery is the result of moral evil, and was appointed by the Author of Natm-e as its check and punishment. This theory throws some light on the character both of God and of man. It represents God not merely as generally solicitous for the happiness of men, but as solicitous to lead them to happiness through the medium of a certain moral character, which is the object of his exclusive approbation ; and it represents man as very sinful, by holding forth the mass of natural evil in the world as a sort of measure of his moral deficiency; and suggests that the disease must be indeed virulent, when so strong a medicine is necessary. The fact, however, that the greatest natural evil does not always fall w^here moral evil is most conspicuous, whilst it gives rise to the idea of a future state, does nevertheless obscure, in some degree, our ideas of the Divine character. Our notion of the goodness of God, according to natural religion, does not then arise so much from the knowledge of any one distinct unequivocal manifestation of that qu.ality, as from a general comparison of many facts, which, when combined, lead to this conclusion.

This remark applies also to our notion of the Divine holiness, or God's exclusive approbation of one particular character ; though not to the same extent, — because conscience comes much more directly to the point here than reason does in the other case. The excitements and motives arising out of such a comparison as has been described, cannot be nearly so vivid or influential as those which spring from the belief of a simple and unequivocal fact which recurs to us without effort, and unfolds its instruction without obscurity, and which holds out to us an unvarying standard, by which we may at all times judge of the thoughts and intentions of God in his dealings with men. Natm-al theology, therefore, becomes almost necessarily rather a subject of metaphysical speculation than a system of practical principles. It marks the distinctions of right and wrong ; but it does not efficiently attach our love to what is right, nor our abhorrence to what is wrong. We may frequently observe real serious devotedness, even amongst the professors of the most absurd superstitions ; but it would be difficult to find a devoted natural religionist. The reason is, that these superstitions, though they have no relation to the true character of God, have yet some applicability to the natural constitution of man. Natural religion possesses the former qualification in much greater perfection than the latter. Under an impression of guilt, a man who has no other religious knowledge than that which unassisted reason affords, must feel much perplexity and embarrassment. He believes that God is gracious ; but the wounds which he feels in his own conscience, and the misery which he sees around him, demonstrate also that God is of a most uncompromising purity. He knows not what to think ; and he is tempted either to despair, or to turn his thoughts away entirely from so alarming a subject. All these conditions of mind — despair, thoughtlessness, and perplexity — are equally adverse to the moral health of the soul, and are equally opposed to that zealous and cheerful obedience which springs from gratitude for mercy, and esteem for holy and generous worth. In such circumstances, the mind would naturally, in self-defence, contrive to lower its standard of moral duty down to the level of its own performances ; or would settle into a gloomy hostility to a lawgiver who requires more from it than it is disposed to render. It is in this form of weakness and perversion that we generally see natural religion ; and we need not wonder at this melancholy phenomenon, when we consider that its principles consist in abstract conclusions of the intellect, which make no powerful appeal to the heart.

A single definite and intelligible action gives a vividness and power to the idea of that moral character which it exhibits, beyond what could be conveyed by a multitude of abstract descriptions. Thus the abstract ideas of patriotism and integrity make but an uninteresting appearance, when contrasted with the high spectacle of heroic worth which was exhibited in the conduct of Regulus, when, in the senate of his country^ he raised his solitary voice against those humbling propositions of Carthage, which, if acquiesced in, would have restored him to liberty, and which, for that single reason, had almost gained an acquiescence ; and then, imsubdued alike bv the frantic entreaties of his family, the weeping solicitations of the admiring citizens, and the appalling terrors of his tlireatened fate, he returned to Africa, rather than violate his duty to Rome and the sacredness of truth. In the same way, the abstract views of the Divine character, drawn from the observation of nature, are in general rather visions of the intellect than efficient moral principles in the heart and conduct ; and however true they may be, are uninteresting and unexciting, when compared with the vivid exhibition of them in a history of definite and inteUigible action.

To assist our w^eakness, therefore, and to accommodate his instructions to the principles of om- nature, God has been pleased to present to us a most interesting series of actions, in which his moral character, as far as we are concerned, is fully and perspicuously embodied. In this narration, the most condescending and affecting and entreating kindness, is so wonderfully combined with the most spotless holiness, and the natm^al appeals which emanate from every part of it, to oui' esteem, our gratitude, our shame, and our interest, are so urgent and constraining, that he who carries about with him the conviction of the truth and reality of this history, possesses in it a principle of mighty efficiency, which must subdue and harmonize his mind to the will of that Great Being whose character is there depicted.

The delineation of the character of an overruling authority, v/hatever that character may be, makes a strong appeal to the subjects, on the score of their interest : It calls iiix)n them, as they value their happiness, to bring their own views into conformity with it. The appeal becomes more forcible and effectual, if the character which they are thus called on to contemplate be such a one as would naturally excite esteem and affection in an uninterested observer. But the weight of the appeal is infinitely increased, when this powerful and amiable Being is represented to them in the attitude of a benefactor, exerting this power and putting forth this character on their own peculiar behalf.

It is thus that the character of God is represented in the ^ew Testament ; and it is on these grounds that we are called on to love, to obey, and to imitate him. If God's character be in fact such as is there described, then those who reject the history in which this character is developed, shut themselves out from the opportunity of familiarizing their minds to the Divine government, and of bringing their affections and their views to harmonize with it.

There is a divine beauty and wisdom in the form in which God has chosen to communicate the knowledge of his character.

which, when duly considered, can scarcely fail of exciting gratitude and admiration. The object of the gospel is to bring man into hai'mony with God ; the subject of its operations, therefore, is the human heart in all its various conditions. It addi'esses the learned and the unlearned, the savage and the civilized, the decent and the profligate ; and to all it speaks precisely the same language. 'V\Tiat then is this universal language ? It cannot be the language of metaphysical discussion, or what is called abstract moral reasoning ; for this could be intelligible to few, and it could influence the characters of fewer. The principles which it addresses ought evidently to be such as are in a great measure independent of the extremes of cultivation and barbarism ; and, in point of fact, they are so. They are indeed the very principles which Mr. Hiune designates to be, " a species of natural instincts, which no reasoning or process of the thought or imderstanding is able either to produce or to prevent." (Inquiry into Hmnan Understanding, sect. v. part 1.) Its argument consists in a relation of facts : If these are really believed, the

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