The christian life

Contents

PAGE

I. Living Without God 7

11. The Turning-point in the Christian Life . 23 in. Christ the Life of the Soul . . . .38

Chapter I. Living Without God

How can I live well ? and how can I die well ? are two of the most important inquiries we can make. I wish every one of my readers was really anxious to have them answered. I wish that every one now taking the Bible in hand felt a real earnest desire to know the way of life, and to walk in it.

Blessed Spirit of God, give us this anxiety. Awaken in us this longing. Give us now thirsting souls, which only Thy truth can satisfy. Bless the writer of this volume. Enable him to speak for Thee. And send none away from the perusal of this book empty and unfed.

" The Christian Life " is a subject of much importance; and I do trust that it may interest you and do you much good.

" The Christian Life " — this is my subject ;

and my first chapter will be on Living without God.

St. Paul speaks in his Epistle to the Ephesians of those who have not yet entered on the Christian Life, and have therefore 11 no hope, and are without God in the world."

Who are these ? There were many in his day, and there are many now, living just as he describes, without hope and without God.

The Gospel had only reached Ephesus about ten years before these words were written. Even these very Christians whom he addresses were, a short time before, in all the misery and darkness of heathenism. There was no one to show them the way of salvation. No one in that famous city knew that there was a Saviour, or could give any tidings of that other world to which they were all hastening. But now the light from above had shone upon them : the " Sun of Righteousness " had risen upon them with " healing in his wings."

That was the happiest day that ever dawned upon Ephesus, when Three Strangers made their appearance in its streets, proclaiming the glorious news of salvation.

These were Paul, and his two friends Aquila and Priscilla — Paul the Preacher, and Aquila and Priscilla his helpers.

The Apostle's preaching was greatly blest in that city, and numbers were gathered into the fold of Christ. This then was the little Christian Church, or company of Believers, to whom he afterwards wrote his^ epistle. In the chapter to which I have alluded he reminds them what their state had once been, and what grace had done for them. " At that time," he says, " ye were without Christ, being aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers from the covenants of promise, having no hope, and without God in the world."

Now, perhaps some will say, " Thank God, we were never in that state." The words may suit those blind Ephesians ; but we, at all events, were never in so godless and hopeless a condition as this.

But in point of fact we were in a worse condition. Yes, you and I were once even worse than they ever were. They were blind, it is true ; but we had eyes, and yet would not see. All was light around us; but was there not darkness, gross darkness, io THE CHRISTIAN LIFE.

within ? They were ignorant of the way of life ; we knew it, but did not walk in it. They had never heard of a Saviour : we were baptized in His name. We outwardly belonged to Him ; but our hearts were closed against Him.

Was not this the case with all of us once ? Is it not the case with many of us now ? And if the state of the ignorant heathen, and of the unbelieving Jew, is a sad one, oh, sadder still is the state of the heedless Christian — " having no hope, and without God in the world."

Let us take these two expressions separately ; for they are both full of meaning.

" Having no hope ? " How is it with the mere nominal Christian ? Has he any hope ?

Take the first man you meet, and ask him what his hope is. Perhaps he is one who entirely neglects God, a thoroughly irreligious man. But he does not acknowledge that he is altogether without hope. He will say, " I know I am not serving the Lord. My conscience often whispers to me that all is not right. But then I hope to be one day different. It must be indeed a long

LIVING WITHOUT GOD. n

lane that has no turning in it. Others have turned, and I hope I shall before I die." Yes, he has a hope. This is his hope — that he will one day come right.

The next person you come across is not a right down bad man ; but he is a little thoughtless — rather fond of the world. He will say, " I have wronged no man. I have defrauded no man. I am no one's enemy except perhaps my own. Surely God will not be so strict as He is represented to be. If I do not find mercy, there will be thousands in a worse condition than myself." This is his hope.

You see a third, who is upright, honest, regular, and in every respect well conducted. Not a word was ever whispered against him. He is a kind person, a straightforward man of business, a good master, or a faithful servant. He is a church-goer too — punctual in his place in God's House. His knees are bent in prayer morning and evening. His Bible is read, if not every day, most days at least, when nothing interferes to prevent it. Has not this man a hope? Yes, certainly ; and what is it ? Why, he hopes that as a matter of course all must be right with him ; and that the gate of heaven will be opened to one so worthy.

Each one of these, you see, has a kind of hope. And yet what is it worth ? In point of fact it is worth nothing. It only deceives. It only gives a false peace. It acts as a soothing lotion to the conscience. It is like untempered mortar, which looks well enough when daubed upon the wall ; but when the storm comes the wall will fall to pieces. In each of these cases which I have mentioned the hope of the Bible is wanting. Neither of them has a really Christian hope.

Remember, there is such a thing as a false hope — a hope that will utterly fail us. We read in the Book of Job, that " the hypocrite's hope shall perish ;" his " trust shall be a spider's web." And suppose a man were to trust to a mere spider's web — suppose a drowning man were to cling to it — would he not be sure to perish ? Then, just as surely will those be lost who lean upon such broken reeds as I have described.

But, thank God, there is a hope, better, stronger, and more true than these — a hope which the Apostle speaks of as " sure and steadfast/' like the firmly grounded anchor to which the ship is moored, and then is able to defy the storm.

The Christian's hope is certain e Those are blessed words in our Burial Service — blessed words, when read over the grave of a true Believer, of one who has really died in the Lord — " We therefore commit his body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ."

Yes, the Christian's hope is certain ; for it rests, not on what he himself has done, or upon the promise of a fellow-worm, but upon what Christ has done for him, and on the unchangeable word and promise of his God.

You know, I dare say, that in the very centre of the city of London stands the great Cathedral of St. Paul's. The last time I passed by it, a few weeks ago, I saw numbers of people in the street with their eyes directed towards something high up on the steeple. I stopped, and looked also ; and there, far aloft, almost out of sight, could be seen a man working in a kind of cradle. It seemed as though he was in the utmost peril ; but in fact he was secure. It made one giddy to watch him ; but he was quite safe. There was a strong rope to which he was slung, which passed upwards, and entered through a trap-door above him ; and this rope was fastened to a stout beam within. The wind might whistle around him, but he had nothing to fear. He could look upon the dizzy crowd below, but he felt no alarm ; he was safe.

What a picture of the Christian ! In the hour of his greatest weakness, he looks up to heaven and feels that all is secure. There is his Father, seated on His eternal throne ! There is his Saviour — no longer a suffering, dying Saviour, but a living Saviour, an Almighty Saviour — who has paid the debt, and now rejoices to bless His saved ones. There is his anchor, firmly grounded. There is his hope, firmly fixed, as the Apostle says, " within the veil." And if he clings to this, nothing can ever harm him. Satan may tempt and harass him ; but none can pluck him out of his Father's hands. Trials may come; sickness may come; death may come : but " underneath are the everlasting arms," bearing him up. Who can move him from his strong, firm hold ? " Who shall lay anything to the charge of God's elect? It is God that justifieth. Who is he that condemneth ? It is Christ that died, yea rather, that is risen again, who is even at the right hand of God, who maketh intercession for us."

Ah, but there are thousands in Christian England — numbers whom you yourself know — of whom it may be said, They have no hope.

But now let us look at the other expression, " without God in the world." There are very many, who are living in God's world, but seem to forget that it is His world, and that He is the great Lord of it.

God is not in their thoughts, in their plans, in their homes, or in their hearts.

He is not in their Thoughts. They rise in the morning ; say a short prayer, it may be; and then set about the business of the day. They eat their food ; but forget the hand that feeds them. The very animals about them put them to shame; for " The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's crib ; but my people, says the Lord, do not consider." They receive mercies ; but they take them as a matter of course, never lifting up their hearts to Him who is the gracious Giver of them. They have continual wants; but they do not apply to Him who is ever ready to relieve them. Hour after hour passes, without one look, one cry, one desire being raised heavenward.

I ask, Is it not so with some who read this book ? Have there not been many days of our lives, when we have lived as if there was no God above us, and no Saviour near us ? Yes, and even the more serious of us, how often do we forget God ! How very few are those moments during the day, when He is foremost and uppermost in our thoughts !

Then, too, God is not in our Plans. We are always scheming for our happiness ; some in one way, and some in another. The merchant embarks in a speculation. He lays out his money in the hope of getting a good return for it. The farmer parcels out his land to the best advantage. He sows his fields, and expects to fill his barns. The servant leaves a situation in the hope of bettering herself. We determine to do this or that to-morrow. We lay our plans for weeks and months to come.

But has God nothing to do with all these arrangements ? No, perhaps nothing in our view of the matter. We have never consulted Him. We have acted altogether without Him. And yet we cannot move a single step — we cannot succeed in a single instance — without His interference.

It is true, we do succeed oftentimes apparently without His help. He gives us success without our seeking it. But what is that success worth ? It is an awful thing to see a godless man prospering — to see him grow richer and richer — to see his flocks and herds increasing — and yet no blessing with it. Better is it to have all our plans fail — better to have our schemes fall to the ground — than to prosper, but " without God."

Think of this, my friend. Begin life anew. Rearrange your plans. " Commit thy way unto the Lord : trust also in Him, and He shall bring it to pass." It is right, quite right, to provide for the future. It is right to be " active in business." But we must also be " fervent in spirit, serving the Lord." Happy the man who takes God into partnership with him ; and who desires that every work may be " begun, continued, and ended in Him."

Again, there are some of us who must own that God is not in our Houses. Friends are welcome. Visitors are admitted. But He, the truest Friend, the best Visitor, is shut out. And yet where God is, there is peace — peace in that home, in that family, in those hearts.

It is very painful to go into a house, and feel that there are comforts there : there is everything there that marks care, and attention, and regularity. Perhaps the master and mistress are kind, and civil, and pleasant in their manner. But there is a deficiency in that house. One thing is wanting, and that the chiefest of all. God is not there. Many things are thought of, and many things done; but the "one thing needful " is neglected. Alas ! is not this the case with some houses and cottages where we often enter ?

Hear what the Lord Himself says, " I will be the God of all the families of Israel, and they shall be my people." " The curse of the Lord is in the house of the wicked ; but He blesseth the habitation of the just/'

Now, whether you are rich or poor, see that God is with you, dwelling with you, taking up His abode in the midst of you. And there is one thing that I would earnestly press upon you, and that without delay — if you have not established Family Prayer in your household, do so immediately, from this very day. A blessing will come with it. I know it will. For God has declared, " Them that honor me I will honor."

But there is another place from which God is often, very often, shut out — from our hearts.

There it is that He loves to dwell. " Thus saith the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy, I dwell in the high and holy place, with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit."

The treasure of the Miser is in his heart. His money may be placed in the bank. It may be hoarded up there, or else put out to interest. But its hateful savor — the taste of it — the miserable love of it — is within him : his heart is full of it. And so, if our treasure is in heaven, if God is our God, and Christ our Friend, then surely we shall feel His presence in our hearts, comforting us, warming us, filling us with joy and peace and gladness.

Ah, if you are one in whose heart God has no place, you are not happy. I know you cannot be. You may have friends and children to cheer you. You may have bread enough and to spare. The world may smile upon you. But you cannot say, " I am happy." You cannot lift up your heart and say, " Thank God, there is peace, blessed peace, in my soul."

And now a word or two more before the chapter closes.

Ask yourself, Does St. Paul's language describe me ? Is it possible that / can have been living hitherto " without God," and that if I die it will be " without hope ? "

Think what it is to live without God — to feel that He is at a distance from you — that He is your God, and yet you have nothing to do with Him. Oh tremble to live another hour, another moment, without Him. Do not dare to begin another day without asking Him to be with you, to guide, and direct, and keep, and bless you. Do not dare to lay your head upon your pillow another night, without asking Him who is the Keeper of Israel to be your Keeper. Say to yourself, " From this day I will begin a new life. God shall be my God. I will yield myself up to Him."

And think also what it is to die without hope. In that lonely, solitary hour, when heart and flesh fail — when the world is melting away from under us — when friends cannot help us, and thousands of gold and silver, if we had them, could give us no consolation — when life is ebbing fast, and death draws nearer, and eternity lies outspread before us — then to have no hope, no Father's arm to support us, no Saviour to cling to as our refuge — who can tell the misery of this ? Oh that it may not be so with you ! Oh that you may " turn to the stronghold," as a " prisoner of hope ! " Oh that you may flee to Christ to-day, before the night comes, when He will be shut out from us for ever !

May the Lord Himself speak to some heart which He has never reached before ! May He send His grace into that heart! May He disturb you, if you are asleep ! May He prick your conscience, if it is dull ! May He never leave you till you have heartily entered upon that new and Christia?i Life, of which I shall speak to you in the next chapter.

Chapter II. The Turning-point In The Christian Life

Let me begin by saying a word or two about the subject which has already been brought before you in the last chapter — Living without hope, and without God in the world. A fearful subject ! ,And if it has left any impression of your heart, I am very thankful for it. If I spoke strongly it was because I felt strongly. And if I seemed to deal harshly with you, it was because I wish faithfully to tell you the truth ; and because, much as I desire your favor, I desire far more to win your soul.

Thank God, there is a Turning-point in the career of many of us. Thank God, there is a time with many of us, when we turn out of the broad path of the world, and heartily endeavor to walk in the narrow way of God. Though we never see the tawny Ethiopian change his skin, or the mottled leopard his spots, blessed be God, we do sometimes see a change wrought in men's hearts — a thorough, real, vital change.

This is spoken of in Scripture under different names. It is called a Quickening : God is said to quicken, or give new life to our souls. It is called also a Xciv birth: the sinner becomes so entirely altered, that he is as one born again. Sometimes too it is called Conversion: this describes the turning of the whole man to God — the vielding up the sinful, wayward, worldly heart to His service.

This is the tiling which I am now croincr to speak about, and which I have called "The Turning-point in the Christian Life." God give His blessing while we dwell upon it !

Now, it may be asked, Were we not all brought into Christ's service by Baptism ? Were we not then introduced into God's family ? Did we not then make our entrance into the Christian Life?

Baptism is the door into Christ's kingdom on earth. It is the blessed ordinance, by which His little ones are stamped and marked as the sheep of His fold. They are brought into covenant with Him. They are solemnly placed under the shelter of His care. They are no longer like neglected shrubs in the desert, but are planted in the garden of the Lord. They now become " members of Christ, children of God, and heirs of heaven."

But what has been the history of most of us since our Baptism ? How few of us, like St. John, have been " filled with the Holy Ghost, even from our mother's womb ! " How few of us, like him, have led an almost unbroken life of holiness ! Have we not, like silly sheep, wandered and strayed from the fold ? And although, through God's infinite mercy, He still regards us as His children, yet, if we had our deserts, we should long ago have been disinherited and cut off for ever.

Here then we see the need of conversion — that blessed Turning-point when a man begins to act for Christ, and to live for Christ, in the world. Baptism is the Door of Admission into the Christian Life ; but our hearts need to be converted before we can be said fairly to live this new life. By Baptism we are set, as it were, in the path ; but at our conversion we actually begin to walk in it with our faces Zion-wards.

Believe me, we all need this — every one of us. And does not our Lord Himself say to us, " Except ye be converted, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven ? "

The Reckless, Ungodly Sinner needs it. He must leave the sin in which he is wallowing, and " cleanse himself from all filthiness of flesh and spirit."

The Worldly Man needs it. The love of the world must die in him, and a better love, even the love of God, must spring up within him. He must declare plainly that he seeks a better country.

The mere Nominal Christian needs it : for it is one thing to have " a name that he liveth," and quite another to give his life, his heart, his whole self, to God's service.

Yes, we all need it ; for until our hearts are changed, we cannot love God. The Christian path will be all uphill to us. We can neither enjoy God's service here, nor be fitted for the happiness of heaven.

In the Parable of the Prodigal Son a most touching picture is drawn — a fulllength portrait of thousands now on earth, and of tens of thousands now in glory. If I wanted to show a sinner his complete wretchedness and misery, I should use that parable. If I wanted to touch his hard heart, and bring him on his knees before God, I should use that parable. If I wanted to show him that he has still a Father in heaven, and that that Father loves him with a tenderness which only a father can feel, I should use that parable. Again, if I wanted to prove to him that, bad as he is, and far as he has wandered, there is a return, a way back — that pardon is not beyond his reach — - that the gate of mercy is open even for him — I should read to him those simple words of Jesus. And truly from no other lips did sounds of mercy like those ever come. " Never man spake like this Man." Never did such loving, gracious, winning words drop from any mouth, as the words of that parable, which the youngest child may understand, and from which the aged penitent may take comfort.

But I am not going to dwell now on the parable ; but merely on that one point in it, where it is said that the son, who had left his father's house, just as we have left ours — had sought happiness afar from him, as we have done, and found it not — at length " came to himself;" reflected on his misery; remembered that the very servants in his once happy home were highly favored, compared with himself in his present degraded state ; and at once resolved to go and cast himself at his father's feet. This was his condition, and these words beautifully describe it, " He came to himself." The expression is familiar to us all.

When, for instance, any one has been sleeping, and you suddenly rouse him, he starts up, stares about him for a moment or two, and then you say, He is come to himself.

When a person has been long ill, and his illness takes a favorable turn, and he begins to recover, you say of him that he is himself again.

When a fellow-creature loses his reason — when his mind fails, and the foolishness of a little child comes over him — when such an one is mercifully restored, we speak of that man as once more coming to himself.

And what can better describe that moment — that happy moment — that eventful moment in our history — (and oh, that there may be just such a moment in your history !) when the soul which has been long asleep awakes, when the soul which has been long diseased rises up and recovers itself, when the soul which has been given up to madness feels that folly must have an end ? What, I say, can better describe this state, this Turning-point, than those few simple words, " He came to himself? "

Now, if you and I have come to ourselves, how has it been effected ? Or, if we are ever to come to ourselves, how will it be effected ?

The heart cannot change itself, any more than the dry barren soil can, if let alone, become fertile ; or the wild crab-apple of its own accord bear delicious fruit.

Neither can man change the heart of his fellow-man. God may use men as His instruments, but they are only instruments in His hands. An able preacher may arrest attention. He may draw tears from eyes that never wept before. He may send his hearers away thoughtful. But conversion is beyond his power. St. Paul never of himself converted a single soul. St. Peter was not the renewer of one heart on the day of Pentecost.

No, the power is God's. The work is His. " Of His own will begat He us with the word of truth." "As many as received Him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God, which were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God!'

You come to church. Some word strikes you. You feel as you never before felt. You go away to live a new life.

Or you are seized with a fit of illness. You are laid aside in your sick room. And in the stillness of that silent chamber thoughts of the past and the future come over you. You feel that you have not lived to Christ ; and you feel unfit, most unfit, to die. From that hour you become an altered person.

Or a good book falls in your way. You take it up carelessly. But that book perhaps has an arrow in it which pierces your very soul.

Or you receive a visit from a pious friend. You asked him to your house, because you thought his company would give you pleasure. But there is One who sent him to you for a far different purpose ; namely, to lead you by his words and his example into the blessed path of peace.

By one or other of these means you have become religious. Still, it was neither the Sermon, nor the Illness, nor the Book, nor the Friend, that wrought the wondrous change. There was a Mighty One at work. It was " the Lord's doing, and it is marvellous in our eyes."

I have said that this change is absolutely necessary, and that it is the work of God Himself. Bear these two points in mind, and reflect upon them, for they are most important.

But there are three other points connected with this subject, which, though not so important, are still deeply interesting.

One is, Whether , the change we have been speaking of is sudden, or gradual. Some will not believe in sudden conversions, and others again take little note of any that are not sudden. Let us look into the Bible, and then judge for ourselves.