"Rejoice in the Lord alway, and again I say, Rejoice." Phil.
iv. 4.
IN other parts of scripture the prospect of Christ's coming is made
a reason for solemn fear and awe, and a call for watching and prayer, but
in the verses connected with the text a distinct view of the Christian
character is set before us, and distinct duties urged on us. "The Lord
is at hand," and what then?—why, if so, we must "rejoice in the Lord; "
we must be conspicuous for "moderation;" we must be "careful for nothing;"
we must seek from God's bounty, and not from man, whatever we need; we
must abound in "thanksgiving;" and we must cherish, or rather we must pray
for, and we shall receive from above, "the peace of God which passeth all
understanding," to "keep our hearts and minds through Christ Jesus."
Now this is a view of the Christian character definite and complete
enough to admit of commenting on,—and it may be useful to show that the
thought of Christ's coming not only leads to fear, but to a calm and cheerful
frame of mind.
Nothing perhaps is more remarkable than that an Apostle,—a man of toil
and blood, a man combating with powers unseen, and a spectacle for men
and Angels, and much more that St. Paul, a man whose natural temper was
so zealous, so severe, and so vehement,—I say, nothing is more striking
and significant than that St. Paul should have given us this view of what
a Christian should be. It would be nothing wonderful, it is nothing wonderful,
that writers in a day like this should speak of peace, quiet, sobriety,
and cheerfulness, as being the tone of mind that becomes a Christian; but
considering that St. Paul was by birth a Jew, and by education a Pharisee,
that he wrote at a time when, if at any time, Christians were in lively
and incessant agitation of mind; when persecution and rumours of persecution
abounded; when all things seemed in commotion around them; when there was
nothing fixed; when there were no churches to soothe them, no course of
worship to sober them, no homes to refresh them; and, again, considering
that the Gospel is full of high and noble, and what may be called even
romantic, principles and motives, and deep mysteries;—and, further, considering
the very topic which the Apostle combines with his admonitions is that
awful subject, the coming of Christ;—it is well worthy of notice, that,
in such a time, under such a covenant, and with such a prospect, he should
draw a picture of the Christian character as free from excitement and effort,
as full of repose, as still and as equable, as if the great Apostle wrote
in some monastery of the desert or some country parsonage. Here surely
is the finger of God; here is the evidence of supernatural influences,
making the mind of man independent of circumstances! This is the thought
that first suggests itself; and the second is this, how deep and refined
is the true Christian spirit!—how difficult to enter into how vast to embrace,
how impossible to exhaust! Who would expect such composure and equanimity
from the fervent Apostle of the Gentiles? We know St. Paul could do great
things; could suffer and achieve, could preach and confess, could be high
and could be low: but we might have thought that all this was the limit
and the perfection of the Christian temper, as he viewed it; and that no
room was left him for the feelings which the text and following verses
lead us to ascribe to him.
And yet he who "laboured more abundantly than all" his brethren, is
also a pattern of simplicity, meekness, cheerfulness, thankfulness, and
serenity of mind. These tempers were especially characteristic of St. Paul,
and are much insisted on in his Epistles. For instance.—"Mind not high
things, but condescend to men of low estate. Be not wise in your own conceits
... Provide things honest in the sight of all men. If it be possible, as
much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men." He enjoins, that "the
aged men be sober, grave, temperate, sound in faith, in charity, in patience."
"The aged women likewise ... not false accusers, not given to much wine,
teachers of good things, that they may teach the young women to be sober,
to love their husbands, to love their children, to be discreet, chaste,
keepers at home, good, obedient to their own husbands." And "young men"
to be "sober-minded." And it is remarkable that he ends this exhortation
with urging the same reason as is given in the verse after the text: "looking
for that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of our great God and
Saviour Jesus Christ." In like manner, he says, that Christ's ministers
must show "uncorruptness in doctrine, gravity, sincerity, sound speech
that cannot be condemned;" that they must be "blameless, not self-willed,
not soon angry ... lovers of good men, sober, just, holy, temperate." [Rom.
xii 16-18. Titus ii. 2-18; i. 7, 8.] All this is the description of what
seems almost an ordinary character; I mean, it is so staid, so quiet, so
unambitious, so homely. It displays so little of what is striking or extraordinary.
It is so negligent of this world, so unexcited, so singleminded.
It is observable, too, that it was foretold as the peculiarity of Gospel
times by the Prophet Isaiah: "The work of righteousness shall be peace;
and the effect of righteousness, quietness and assurance for ever. And
My people shall dwell in a peaceable habitation, and in sure dwellings,
and in quiet resting-places." [Isa. xxxii. 17, 18.]
Now then let us consider more particularly what is this state of mind,
and what the grounds of it. These seem to be as follows:—The Lord is at
hand; this is not your rest; this is not your abiding-place. Act then as
persons who are in a dwelling not their own; who are not in their own home;
who have not their own goods and furniture about them; who, accordingly,
make shift and put up with anything that comes to hand, and do not make
a point of things being the best of their kind. "But this I say, brethren,
the time is short." What matters it what we eat, what we drink, how we
are clothed, where we lodge, what is thought of us, what becomes of us,
since we are not at home? It is felt every day, even as regards this world,
that when we leave home for a while we are unsettled. This, then, is the
kind of feeling which a belief in Christ's coming will create within us.
It is not worth while establishing ourselves here; it is not worth while
spending time and thought on such an object. We shall hardly have got settled
when we shall have to move.
This being apparently the general drift of the passage, let us next
enter into the particular portions of it.
1. "Be careful for nothing," he says, or, as St. Peter, "casting all
your care upon Him," or, as He Himself, "Take no thought" or care "for
the morrow, for the morrow will take thought for the things of itself."
[l Peter v. 7. Matt. vi. 34.] This of course is the state of mind which
is directly consequent on the belief, that "the Lord is at hand." Who would
care for any loss or gain today, if he knew for certain that Christ would
show Himself tomorrow? no one. Well, then, the true Christian feels as
he would feel, did he know for certain that Christ would be here tomorrow.
For he knows for certain, that at least Christ will come to him when he
dies; and faith anticipates his death, and makes it just as if that distant
day, if it be distant, were past and over. One time or another Christ will
come, for certain: and when He once has come, it matters not what length
of time there was before He came;—however long that period may be, it has
an end. Judgment is coming, whether it comes sooner or later, and the Christian
realizes that it is coming; that is, time does not enter into his calculation,
or interfere with his view of things. When men expect to carry out their
plans and projects, then they care for them; when they know these will
come to nought, they give them over, or become indifferent to them.
So, again, it is with all forebodings, anxieties, mortifications, griefs,
resentments of this world. "The time is short." It has sometimes been well
suggested, as a mode of calming the mind when set upon an object, or much
vexed or angered at some occurrence, what will you feel about all this
a year hence? It is very plain that matters which agitate us most extremely
now, will then interest us not at all; that objects about which we have
intense hope and fear now, will then be to us nothing more than things
which happen at the other end of the earth. So will it be with all human
hopes, fears, pleasures, pains, jealousies, disappointments, successes,
when the last day is come. They will have no life in them; they will be
as the faded flowers of a banquet, which do but mock us. Or when we lie
on the bed of death, what will it avail us to have been rich, or great,
or fortunate, or honoured, or influential? All things will then be vanity.
Well, what this world will be understood by all to be then, such is it
felt to be by the Christian now. He looks at things as he then will look
at them, with an uninterested and dispassionate eye, and is neither pained
much nor pleased much at the accidents of life, because they are accidents.
2. Another part of the character under review is, what our translation
calls moderation; "Let your moderation be known unto all men," or, as it
may be more exactly rendered, your consideration, fairness, or equitableness.
St. Paul makes it a part of a Christian character to have a reputation
for candour, dispassionateness, tenderness towards others. The truth is,
as soon and in proportion as a person believes that Christ is coming, and
recognises his own position as a stranger on earth, who has but hired a
lodging in it for a season, he will feel indifferent to the course of human
affairs. He will be able to look on, instead of taking a part in them.
They will be nothing to him. He will be able to criticise them, and pass
judgment on them, without partiality. This is what is meant by "our moderation"
being acknowledged by all men. Those who have strong interests one way
or the other, cannot be dispassionate observers and candid judges. They
are partisans; they defend one set of people, and attack another. They
are prejudiced against those who differ from them, or who thwart them.
They cannot make allowances, or show sympathy for them. But the Christian
has no keen expectations, no acute mortifications. He is fair, equitable,
considerate towards all men, because he has no temptation to be otherwise.
He has no violence, no animosity, no bigotry, no party feeling. He knows
that his Lord and Saviour must triumph; he knows that He will one day come
from heaven, no one can say how soon. Knowing then the end to which all
things tend, he cares less for the road which is to lead to it. When we
read a book of fiction, we are much excited with the course of the narrative,
till we know how things will turn out; but when we do, the interest ceases.
So is it with the Christian. He knows Christ's battle will last till the
end; that Christ's cause will triumph in the end; that His Church will
last till He comes. He knows what is truth and what is error, where is
safety and where is danger; and all this clear knowledge enables him to
make concessions, to own difficulties, to do justice to the erring, to
acknowledge their good points, to be content with such countenance, greater
or less, as he himself receives from others. He does not fear; fear it
is that makes men bigots, tyrants, and zealots; but for the Christian,
it is his privilege, as he is beyond hopes and fears, suspense and jealousy,
so also to be patient, cool, discriminating, and impartial;—so much so,
that this very fairness marks his character in the eyes of the world, is
"known unto all men."
3. Joy and gladness are also characteristics of him, according to the
exhortation in the text, "Rejoice in the Lord alway," and this in spite
of the fear and awe which the thought of the Last Day ought to produce
in him. It is by means of these strong contrasts that Scripture brings
out to us what is the real meaning of its separate portions. If we had
been told merely to fear, we should have mistaken a slavish dread, or the
gloom of despair, for godly fear; and if we had been told merely to rejoice,
we should perhaps have mistaken a rude freedom and familiarity for joy;
but when we are told both to fear and to rejoice, we gain thus much at
first sight, that our joy is not to be irreverent, nor our fear to be desponding;
that though both feelings are to remain, neither is to be what it would
be by itself. This is what we gain at once by such contrasts. I do not
say that this makes it at all easier to combine the separate duties to
which they relate; that is a further and higher work; but thus much we
gain at once, a better knowledge of those separate duties themselves. And
now I am speaking about the duty of rejoicing, and I say, that whatever
be the duty of fearing greatly and trembling greatly at the thought of
the Day of Judgment, and of course it is a great duty, yet the command
so to do cannot reverse the command to rejoice; it can only so far interfere
with it as to explain what is meant by rejoicing. It is as clear a duty
to rejoice in the prospect of Christ's coming, as if we were not told to
fear it. The duty of fearing does but perfect our joy; that joy alone is
true Christian joy, which is informed and quickened by fear, and made thereby
sober and reverent.
How joy and fear can be reconciled, words cannot show. Act and deed
alone can show how. Let a man try both to fear and to rejoice, as Christ
and His Apostles tell him, and in time he will learn how; but when he has
learned, he will be as little able to explain how it is he does both, as
he was before. He will seem inconsistent, and may easily be proved to be
so, to the satisfaction of irreligious men, as Scripture is called inconsistent.
He becomes the paradox which Scripture enjoins. This is variously fulfilled
in the case of men of advanced holiness. They are accused of the most opposite
faults; of being proud, and of being mean; of being over-simple, and being
crafty; of having too strict, and, at the same time, too lax a conscience;
of being unsocial, and yet being worldly; of being too literal in explaining
Scripture, and yet of adding to Scripture, and superseding Scripture. Men
of the world or men of inferior religiousness, cannot understand them,
and are fond of criticising those who, in seeming to be inconsistent, are
but like Scripture teaching.
But to return to the case of joy and fear. It may be objected, that
at least those who fall into sin, or who have in times past sinned grievously,
cannot have this pleasant and cheerful temper which St. Paul enjoins. I
grant it. But what is this but saying that St. Paul enjoins us not to fall
into sin? When St. Paul warns us against sadness and heaviness, of course
he warns us against those things which make men sad and heavy; and therefore
especially against sin, which is an especial enemy of joyfulness. It is
not that sorrowing for sin is wrong when we have sinned, but the sinning
is wrong which causes the sorrowing. When a person has sinned, he cannot
do anything better than sorrow. He ought to sorrow; and so far as he does
sorrow, he is certainly not in the perfect Christian state; but it is his
sin that has forfeited it. And yet even here sorrow is not inconsistent
with rejoicing. For there are few men, who are really in earnest in their
sorrow, but after a time may be conscious that they are so; and, when man
knows himself to be in earnest, he knows that God looks mercifully upon
him; and this gives him sufficient reason for rejoicing, even though fear
remains. St. Peter could appeal to Christ, "Lord, Thou knowest all things;
Thou knowest that I love Thee." We of course cannot appeal so unreservedly—still
we can timidly appeal—we can say that we humbly trust that, whatever be
the measure of our past sins, and whatever of our present self-denial,
yet at bottom we do wish and strive to give up the world and to follow
Christ; and in proportion as this sense of sincerity is strong upon our
minds, in the same degree shall we rejoice in the Lord, even while we fear.
4. Once more, peace is part of this same temper also. "The peace of
God," says the Apostle, "which passeth all understanding, shall keep your
hearts and minds through Christ Jesus." There are many things in the Gospel
to alarm us, many to agitate us, many to transport us, but the end and
issue of all these is peace. "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth
peace." It may be asked indeed whether warfare, perplexity, and uncertainty
be not the condition of the Christian here below; whether St. Paul himself
does not say that he has "the care," or the anxiety, "of all the Churches,"
and whether he does not plainly evince and avow in his Epistles to the
Galatians and Corinthians much distress of mind? "Without were fightings,
within fears." [2 Cor. vii. 5.] I grant it; he certainly shows at times
much agitation of mind; but consider this. Did you ever look at an expanse
of water, and observe the ripples on the surface? Do you think that disturbance
penetrates below it? Nay; you have seen or heard of fearful tempests on
the sea; scenes of horror and distress, which are in no respect a fit type
of an Apostle's tears or sighings about his flock. Yet even these violent
commotions do not reach into the depths. The foundations of the ocean,
the vast realms of water which girdle the earth, are as tranquil and as
silent in the storm as in a calm. So is it with the souls of holy men.
They have a well of peace springing up within them unfathomable; and though
the accidents of the hour may make them seem agitated, yet in their hearts
they are not so. Even Angels joy over sinners repentant, and, as we may
therefore suppose, grieve over sinners impenitent,—yet who shall say that
they have not perfect peace? Even Almighty God Himself deigns to speak
of His being grieved, and angry, and rejoicing,—yet is He not the unchangeable?
And in like manner, to compare human things with divine, St. Paul had perfect
peace, as being stayed in soul on God, though the trials of life might
vex him.
For, as I have said, the Christian has a deep, silent, hidden peace,
which the world sees not,—like some well in a retired and shady place,
difficult of access. He is the greater part of his time by himself, and
when he is in solitude, that is his real state. What he is when left to
himself and to his God, that is his true life. He can bear himself; he
can (as it were) joy in himself for it is the grace of God within him,
it is the presence of the Eternal Comforter, in which he joys. He can bear,
he finds it pleasant, to be with himself at all times,—"never less alone
than when alone." He can lay his head on his pillow at night, and own in
God's sight, with overflowing heart, that he wants nothing,—that he "is
full and abounds,"—that God has been all things to him, and that nothing
is not his which God could give him. More thankfulness, more holiness,
more of heaven he needs indeed, but the thought that he can have more is
not a thought of trouble, but of joy. It does not interfere with his peace
to know that he may grow nearer God. Such is the Christian's peace, when,
with a single heart and the Cross in his eye, he addresses and commends
himself to Him with whom the night is as clear as the day. St. Paul says
that "the peace of God shall keep our hearts and minds." By "keep" is meant
"guard," or "garrison," our hearts; so as to keep out enemies. And he says,
our "hearts and minds" in contrast to what the world sees of us. Many hard
things may be said of the Christian, and done against him, but he has a
secret preservative or charm, and minds them not.
These are some few suggestions on that character of mind which becomes
the followers of Him who was once "born of a pure Virgin," and who bids
them as "newborn babes desire the sincere milk of the Word, that they may
grow thereby." The Christian is cheerful, easy, kind, gentle, courteous,
candid, unassuming; has no pretence, no affectation, no ambition, no singularity;
because he has neither hope nor fear about this world. He is serious, sober,
discreet, grave, moderate, mild, with so little that is unusual or striking
in his bearing, that he may easily be taken at first sight for an ordinary
man. There are persons who think religion consists in ecstasies, or in
set speeches;—he is not of those. And it must be confessed, on the other
hand, that there is a common-place state of mind which does show itself
calm, composed, and candid, yet is very far from the true Christian temper.
In this day especially it is very easy for men to be benevolent, liberal,
and dispassionate. It costs nothing to be dispassionate when you feel nothing,
to be cheerful when you have nothing to fear, to be generous or liberal
when what you give is not your own, and to be benevolent and considerate
when you have no principles and no opinions. Men nowadays are moderate
and equitable, not because the Lord is at hand, but because they do not
feel that He is coming. Quietness is a grace, not in itself, only when
it is grafted on the stem of faith, zeal, self-abasement, and diligence.
May it be our blessedness, as years go on, to add one grace to another,
and advance upward, step by step, neither neglecting the lower after attaining
the higher, nor aiming at the higher before attaining the lower. The first
grace is faith, the last is love; first comes zeal, afterwards comes loving-kindness;
first comes humiliation, then comes peace; first comes diligence, then
comes resignation. May we learn to mature all graces in us;—fearing and
trembling, watching and repenting, because Christ is coming; joyful, thankful,
and careless or the future, because He is come.
Copyright © 2000 by Bob Elder. All rights reserved.
Used with permission. See the Newman website:
http://www.newmanreader.org/index.html
