"And the lord said unto the servant, Go out into the highways
and hedges, and compel them to come in, that my house may filled." Luke
xiv. 23.
THE Parable of the Great Supper, from which these words are taken, is
found also in St. Matthew's Gospel, with this especial addition, that of
the guests thus brought in by force, one was found not having on a wedding
garment, who in consequence was not simply dismissed as unworthy, but condemned
to punishment. "Friend, how camest thou in hither, not having a wedding
garment? and he was speechless. Then said the king to the servants, Bind
him hand and foot, and take him away, and cast him into outer darkness:
there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth; for many are called but few
are chosen." [Matt. xxii. 12-14.] "Friend, how camest thou in hither?"
You may suppose he might have answered, "I was forced in;" but our Saviour
says, "And he was speechless," and pronounces his everlasting punishment.
Surely, there is something very awful and startling in the doctrine thus
contained in the Parable. It would seem from thence that we are compelled
to accept of religious advantages, for the use of which we are answerable,
for the misuse of which we shall be condemned. We are compelled to become
Christians, yet this compulsion is not taken into account when the day
of reckoning comes. The same doctrine is implied in the parable of the
talents. The servant who hid his lord's talent, seems to have had some
such thoughts about fairness and justice, as the natural man so often indulges
in now,—some idea of being quits and even with him, if he left his gift
alone,—as if he could wash his hands (as it is said) of the whole business,
and venture neither the gain nor the loss; feeling that it was a delicate
matter that was put upon him, that there was great risk of failing, that
his lord was an austere kind of man, hard to please, having his own views
of right and duty, and unreasonable; and that, consequently, it was safest
to keep aloof, to have no cares on any score, and so escape the danger.
But here again this selfish reasoner is met by the same stern necessity,
so to call it. The law of his nature is urged upon him, by the Creator
of that law; a sort of uncontrollable destiny is represented as encompassing
him; the destiny of accountableness, the fate of being free, the unalienable
prerogative of choosing between life and death, the inevitable prospect
of heaven and hell. "Out of thine own mouth will I judge thee, thou wicked
servant." [Luke xix. 22.] — "Cast ye the unprofitable servant into outer
darkness." [Matt. xxv. 30.]
And so again of Judas our Lord says, "Woe unto that man by whom the
Son or man is betrayed. It had been good for that man if he had not been
born." Yet he was born, he was suffered to betray, and he was condemned.
The same is the doctrine of the Old Testament; as, for example, in the
memorable words in the prophet Ezekiel, in which Almighty God says to the
Israelites, "That which cometh into your mind shall not be at all, that
ye say, We will be as the heathen, as the families of the countries, to
serve wood and stone; As I live, saith the Lord God, surely with a mighty
hand, and with a stretched out arm, and with fury poured out, will I rule
over you … And I will cause you to pass under the rod, and I will bring
you into the bond of the covenant." [Ez. xx. 32-37.]
Now, before proceeding to observe upon this very solemn and certain
truth (certain if Scripture is true), I would entreat you to consider who
it is who has propounded it in the parable in question. It is our Lord
Christ. Here, as in other places, He has not left to His servants,—He has
taken upon Himself (what may be called) the responsibility, I might even
say the odium, of declaring startling doctrines. Consider then His words
and works, as displayed in the Gospels. Is He not the author of a religion
which we every day hear called, and most truly called, mild, beneficent,
charitable, and cheering? Is not His own character, as the common voice
of all men proclaims, most meek, gentle, considerate, and loving? Can any
one read the history of His life and death without being himself convinced
of the truth of this universal judgment? much more, can any one in any
degree enter into the depths of the gracious doctrine of the Atonement,
His expiation of sin on the Cross, without possessing a clear assurance
that there is nothing in the whole world that can be done for us which
He has not done and will not do? Yet He it is who leaves us under this
bond. By His sighs and tears then, by His toilsome wanderings, by His earnest
speeches, by His agony and death, by all He has done, all He has suffered,
He seems to entreat us to have confidence in Him; He condescends to entreat
us to take on trust the truth and the equity of His words, when He declares
that we are compelled to receive God's mercies, yet punished for the misuse
of them.
Now I shall enlarge somewhat upon the general state of the case, and
then show how Christians are especially interested in it.
1. In the first place, consider what first of all presents itself to
our thoughts, our birth into the world. Allow that this is a world of enjoyment,
yet unquestionably it is a world of care and pain also. Most men will judge
that the pain on the whole exceeds the enjoyment on the whole. But, whether
this be so or not with most men, even if there be one man in the whole
world who thinks so, that is enough for my purpose. It is enough for my
purpose, if only there be one person to be found, who thinks sickness,
disappointment, anxiety, affliction, suffering, fear, to be such grievous
ills, that he had rather not have been born. If this be the sentiment only
of one man, that one man, it is plain, is, as regards his very existence,
what the Christian is relatively to his new birth, an unwilling recipient
of a gift. We are not asked, whether we will choose this world, before
we are born into it. We are brought under the yoke of it, whether we will
or no; since we plainly cannot choose or not choose before the power of
choice is bestowed on us, this gift of a mortal nature.
This is one of the thoughts which to the pride of reflecting but irreligious
minds is sometimes a stumbling block. Arrogant, impatient, rebellious hearts,
finding themselves possessed of this gift of life and reason, fight against
what they cannot undo—they turn it against itself, and argue against it
by means of it. They beat and break themselves fruitlessly against the
destiny to which they are chained; and since they cannot annul their creation,
they think to revenge themselves by blasphemously rising against their
Creator. "Why am I made? why cannot I annihilate myself? why must I suffer?"
Such as these are the questions with which they fatigue themselves; sometimes
even rushing out of life by self-inflicted violence, from the frantic hope
that perchance they have power over their own being. And when they have
committed that fatal deed, and find themselves, as assuredly they do, still
sentient, conscious, independent beings, with their own thoughts and wills
and tastes and judgments, who can imagine the horror that possesses them
in that their new state of existence? the horror of finding themselves
without bodies, without any thing to touch, any thing to turn upon, and
wreak their fury upon, with nothing but themselves,—without bodies, yet
living, living without aught of power over the principle of their life,
which rests upon the will of Him alone, who called them into being, and
whom they have blasphemed!
Or sometimes this want of resignation takes another turn. Many there
are who, without thus rising against the will of God, yet will not admit
that it is their duty to serve Him under that dispensation, whatever it
is, to which He has chosen to subject them, that they are accountable for
what they do, and must bring forth from within, by the power of their will,
what may duly respond to the circumstances in which they stand. Accordingly,
they deliberately and on principle suffer themselves to be borne down the
stream of life passively, by whatever happens to them. Does temptation
come to them? they yield to it; does danger? they are cowards; inducements
to virtue? they are virtuous; is religion in fashion? they take up a profession;
in no case entering into the simple and momentous truth, that the circumstances
which come upon them, are matters external both to their own choice and
their responsibility,—are but conditions appointed by Almighty God, under
which they find themselves placed (why, it boots not to inquire), and which
it is their wisdom to take as such, to take, use, and improve.
I have noticed these instances of want of resignation, not for their
own sake, but in order to illustrate, by the contrast, that law of our
birth, of which I am speaking, viz., that we are brought, without our consent
being asked, into a certain state of things, into a life of suffering,
and of moral discipline; and are imperatively required to obey God under
it, as if we had brought ourselves into it, on the pain of fearful consequences,
if we do not.
2. Such is our condition as men; it is the same as Christians. For instance,
we are not allowed to grow up before choosing our religion. We as little
choose our religion as we choose to be born. It is done for us without
our having part in it. We are baptized in infancy. Our sponsors promise
for us. Now considering how great on the one hand the privileges of Baptism
are, and on the other how great the risk of resisting and abusing them,
this is a very serious thought. St. Paul's words about the danger of quenching
the gift of grace are decisive—"It is impossible (he says) for those who
were once enlightened, and have tasted of the heavenly gift, and were partakers
of the Holy Ghost, and have tasted the good word of God, and the powers
of the world to come, if they shall fall away, to renew them again unto
repentance." [Heb. vi. 4-6.]
Now I can fancy a person saying, who had fallen into sin, "O that I
had never been baptized! O that I did not incur this great risk! O that
the one Baptism once applied for the remission of sins were yet to come!
O that I had not already had that cleansing once for all, and were quit
of the necessity of striving continually to keep myself in the state into
which I have been brought!" But this cannot be; we are Christians from
our earliest years, we can decline neither the great privilege nor the
responsibility of it; and, instead of shrinking from the responsibility,
rather we must comfort ourselves with the privilege, with the contemplation
of the fulness of the aid given us to help us in all our trials; and, thus
encouraged, we must go on to cooperate with God manfully.
So again with respect to our education. We are brought up as Christians.
We may not, we cannot stand aloof, and say we will keep our judgment unbiassed,
and decide for ourselves. We find ourselves Christians; and our duty is,
not to consider what we should do if we were not Christians,—not to go
about disputing, sifting the evidence for Christianity, weighing this side
or that,—but to act upon the rules given us, till we have reason to think
them wrong, and to bring home to ourselves the truth of them, as we go
on, by acting upon them,—by their fruits on ourselves. Heathens indeed
may be bound to go into the question of evidences, but our duty is to use
the talents of which we find ourselves possessed, and to essay their genuineness
by deeds, not by arguments.
These are instances (such as I proposed to give) of our being forced
into the possession of certain advantages or disadvantages, and being obliged
to act up to this our state, to cooperate with it, according to the inward
power given us, instead of drawing back from it. You see how parallel the
Christian method is to that of nature. God appoints us by nature to be
the sons of sinful Adam, responsible beings, with never-dying souls,—by
force, as it were; and by means of the Church, in like manner, He gives
us the Sacrament of the new birth, and educates us in right principles,
whether we will or no.
3. But this compulsion on the part of the Church is still more urgent
and extensive than I have yet mentioned, and it may be right therefore
to give a few additional instances of it, in order to impress upon your
minds the principle on which it is founded.
First, then, I will instance the remarkable fact, that (as it appears)
whole households were baptized by the Apostles, which must include slaves
as well as children. It would seem that grown persons, if dependent on
the master of the house, were, on his conversion, made partakers of his
privileges and his duties. This was so ordered in the Old Testament, in
the case of Abraham, whose circumcision was followed, by divine command,
by the circumcision of his servants with him; "all the men of his house,
born in the house, and bought with money of the stranger." [Gen. xvii.
27.] In like manner we read in the Acts, that when Lydia was converted,
not only she herself was baptized, but, almost as a matter of course (for
such is the impression conveyed by the sacred narrative); "her household"
[Acts xvi. 15, 33.] was baptized also. Again, when the jailor at Philippi
is baptized, it is not only he, but "he and all his straightway." Again,
in the first Epistle to the Corinthians, St. Paul speaks of having baptized
"the household of Stephanas." [1 Cor. i. 16.] The circumstances and conditions
requisite for this procedure, and the limitations by which it was guarded,
need not here be considered; I wish merely to point out the principle involved
in the procedure itself.
Another remarkable instance of the force which was put upon men by the
early Church, will be found in the then existing usage of bringing such
as had the necessary gifts to ordination, without asking their consent.
The primitive Christians looked upon Ordination very differently (alas
for ourselves!) very differently from this age. Now the ministerial office
is often regarded as a profession of this world,—a provision, a livelihood;
it is associated in men's minds with a comparatively easy, or at least
not a troubled life,—with respectability and comfort, a competency, a position
in society. Alas for us! we feel none of those terrors about it, which
made the early Christians flee from it! But in their eyes (putting aside
the risk of undertaking it in times of persecution) it was so solemn a
function, that the holier a man was, the less inclined he felt to undertake
it. They felt that it was in some sort to incur the responsibility of other
men, and to be put in trust with their salvation; they felt it was scarcely
possible to engage in it, without the risk of being besprinkled with the
blood of ruined souls. They understood somewhat of St. Paul's language
when he said that necessity was laid upon him, and woe to him unless he
preached the Gospel. In consequence they shrank from the work, as though
(to use a weak similitude) they had been bid dive down for pearls at the
bottom of the sea, or scale some precipitous and dizzy cliff. True, they
knew that abundance of heavenly aid would be given them, according to their
need; but they knew also, that even if any part of the work was to be their
own, though they were only called on to cooperate with God, that was in
such a case fearful undertaking enough. So they literally fled away in
many instances, when they were called to the sacred office; and the Church
as literally took them by force, and (after the precedent of St. Paul's
own conversion) laid necessity upon them.
Once more, consider the conduct of the Church from the very first time
any civil countenance was extended towards it, and you will have a fresh
instance of this constraining principle of which I speak. What are national
conversions, such as took place in the middle ages, when kings submitted
to the Gospel and their people followed, but going out into the highways
and hedges, and compelling men to come in? And though we can conceive cases
in which this urgency was unwisely, overstrongly, unseasonably, or too
extensively applied, yet the principle of it is no other than that of the
Baptism of households mentioned in the Acts. Again, what was it but this
religious and charitable force (so to call it) which once guarded the true
doctrine with state penalties, and made a man think twice and thrice before
he rashly uttered any light words, or promulgated any heterodox tenet?
a public duty, which is now altogether neglected, from the abuse of it
in certain times and places, and the proneness of men on a reaction to
run from one extreme into another.
4. And now let me notice, in conclusion, the light which the law of
Providence I have been explaining casts upon the circumstances and mode
in which one other ordinance of the Church is administered,—I mean Confirmation.
Though in some respects individual Christians are always under the constraining
power of the Church, yet as life goes on, they are more and more withdrawn
from it; and, compared with what they were in childhood, they may at a
certain time be called free men. They enjoy no longer, at least in the
same sense as before, the privilege and mercy of being dependent. Confirmation
is the last act on the part of the Church before she parts with them. She
blesses them, and sends them out from the home of their youth to seek their
fortunes in the world. She ends her constraint of them by a blessing; she
blesses them by force and lets them go. They are sent to receive it by
their friends; they submit, and are then set free. O my brethren, both
young and old, this is an awful thought,—a most affecting thought, indeed,
to those who witness a Confirmation, but a most awful thought to those
who take part in it. You who have the care of young people, see to it that
you bring them to be confirmed; let not the time slip by; let them not
get too old. Why? because then you cannot bring them; the time of constraint
is passed; they are their own masters. But you will say that you may perhaps
still have influence with your children and dependents, and can get them
to come, though they be past age. O but what if we be not willing to receive
them? So perchance it may be. I mean, that when a man or woman is grown,
much more is required of them than before, and they less likely to be able
to answer it. When persons are young, before their minds are formed, ere
they have sullied their baptismal robe, and contracted bad habits, this
is the time for Confirmation, which conveys to them grace whereby they
may perform that "good work" which Baptism has begun in them. But when
they have gone into the world,—whatever their age be, for it varies in
different persons,—when they have begun the war with world, flesh, and
devil, when their minds are now grown into some determinate shape, and
much more when they have wilfully sinned in any gross way, are they likely
to be fitly prepared for Confirmation, even if they are persuaded to offer
themselves? When a grown person comes coldly, and indifferently, and merely
because his friends send him to us, can we, ministers of Christ, receive
him? Can we receive, as if being in a mere negative state, one who, as
being of mature years, ought to be mature in his religious principles also?
Beware, then, all who have the care of the young, lest you let slip the
time of bringing them for God's grace, when you can bring them, for it
will not return. Bring them while their hearts are tender: they may escape
from you, and you may not be able to reclaim them.
On the other hand, the same considerations come home with greater force
to the young themselves: it is their own concern. They who are of an age
to be confirmed should come to be confirmed at once, lest they get too
old to be confirmed,—I mean lest they be first confirmed in another way,
a way which will keep them from this holy confirmation, lest they receive
that miserable confirmation, which those have who rush into sin,—the touch
of this infectious world, and the imposition of the devil's hand upon them.
You do not know yourselves, my brethren; you cannot answer for yourselves;
you cannot trust your own promises about yourselves; you do not know what
will become of you, unless you receive the gifts of grace when they are
offered. They are, as it were, forced upon you now. If you put them from
you, doubtless you can in this case overcome that force, you can be stronger
than God's mercy. You may put off this holy ordinance, because you do not
at present like a strict religious life,—because you take no interest in
your eternal prospects. Alas! for what you know, you will be taking a step
never to be retrieved. This blessed means of grace, perchance would change
your heart and will, and make you love God's service. But the season once
lost will never return. Year after year may pass, and you will be further
and further from God. Perhaps you will rush into open and wilful sin: perhaps
not; but still without loving God at all the more. Your heart may be upon
the world; you may pass through life in a cold, unbelieving, narrow spirit,
with no high aims, no love of things invisible, no love of Christ your
Saviour. This will be the end of your refusing the loving compulsion of
Almighty God:—slavery to this world, and to the god of this world. God
save us all, young and old, from this, through Jesus Christ.
Copyright © 2000 by Bob Elder. All rights reserved.
Used with permission from the
Newman
website.