"The flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the
flesh; and these are contrary the one to the other, so that ye cannot do
the things that ye would."
Gal. v. 17.
IT is not uncommonly said of the Church Catholic, and we may humbly and
thankfully receive it, that though there is error, variance, and sin in an
extreme degree in its separate members, yet what they do all in common, what
they do in combination, what they do gathered together in one, or what they
universally receive or allow, is divine and holy; that the sins of individuals
are overruled, and their wanderings guided and brought round, so that they end
in truth, in spite, or even in one sense, by means of error. Not as if error had
any power of arriving at truth, or were a necessary previous condition of it,
but that it pleases Almighty God to work out His great purposes in and through
human infirmity and sin. Thus Balaam had a word put in his mouth in the midst of
his enchantments, and Caiaphas prophesied in the act of persuading our Lord's
death.
What is true of the Church as a body, is true also of each member of it who
fulfils his calling: the continual results, as I may call them, of his faith,
are righteous and holy, but the process through which they are obtained is one
of imperfection; so that could we see his soul as Angels see it, he would, when
seen at a distance, appear youthful in countenance, and bright in apparel; but
approach him, and his face has lines of care upon it, and his dress is tattered.
His righteousness then seems, I do not mean superficial, this would be to give a
very wrong idea of it, but though reaching deep within him, yet not whole and
entire in the depth of it; but, as it were, wrought out of sin, the result of a
continual struggle,—not spontaneous nature, but habitual self-command.
True faith is not shown here below in peace, but rather in conflict; and it
is no proof that a man is not in a state of grace that he continually sins,
provided such sins do not remain on him as what I may call ultimate results, but
are ever passing on into something beyond and unlike themselves, into truth and
righteousness. As we gain happiness through suffering, so do we arrive at
holiness through infirmity, because man's very condition is a fallen one, and in
passing out of the country of sin, he necessarily passes through it. And hence
it is that holy men are kept from regarding themselves with satisfaction, or
resting in any thing short of our Lord's death, as their ground of confidence;
for, though that death has already in a measure wrought life in them, and
effected the purpose for which it took place, yet to themselves they seem but
sinners, their renewal being hidden from them by the circumstances
attending it. The utmost they can say of themselves is, that they are not in the
commission of any such sins as would plainly exclude them from grace; but how
little of firm hope can be placed on such negative evidence is plain from St.
Paul's own words on the subject, who, speaking of the censures passed upon him
by the Corinthians, says, "I know nothing by myself," that is, I am conscious of
nothing, "yet am I not hereby justified; but He that judgeth me is the Lord." As
men in a battle cannot see how it is going, so Christians have no certain signs
of God's presence in their hearts, and can but look up towards their Lord and
Saviour, and timidly hope. Hence they will readily adopt the well-known words,
not as expressing a matter of doctrine, but as their own experience about
themselves. "The little fruit which we have in holiness, it is, God knoweth,
corrupt and unsound; we put no confidence at all in it; ... our continual suit
to Him is, and must be, to bear with our infirmities and pardon our offences."
Let us then now enumerate some of the infirmities which I speak of;
infirmities which, while they certainly beset those who are outcasts from God's
grace, and that with grievous additions and fatal aggravations, yet are also
possible in a state of acceptance, and do not in themselves imply the absence of
true and lively faith. The review will serve to humble all of us, and perhaps
may encourage those who are depressed by a sense of their high calling, by
reminding them that they are not reprobate, though they be not all they should
be.
1. Now of the sins which stain us, though without such a consent of the will
as to forfeit grace, I must mention first original sin. How it is that we are
born under a curse which we did not bring upon us, we do not know; it is a
mystery; but when we become Christians, that curse is removed. We are no longer
under God's wrath; our guilt is forgiven us, but still the infection of it
remains. I mean, we still have an evil principle within us, dishonouring our
best services. How far, by God's grace, we are able in time to chastise,
restrain, and destroy this infection, is another question; but still it is not
removed at once by Baptism, and if not, surely it is a most grievous humiliation
to those who are striving to "walk worthy of the Lord unto all pleasing." [Col.
i. 10.] It is involuntary, and therefore does not cast us out of grace; yet in
itself it is very miserable and very humbling: and every one will discover it in
himself, if he watches himself narrowly. I mean, what is called the old Adam,
pride, profaneness, deceit, unbelief, selfishness, greediness, the inheritance
of the Tree of the knowledge of good and evil; sins which the words of the
serpent sowed in the hearts of our first parents, which sprang up and bore
fruit, some thirty-fold, some sixty, some an hundred, and which have been by
carnal descent transmitted to us.
2. Another class of involuntary sins, which often are not such as to throw us
out of grace, any more than the infection of nature, but are still more humbling
and distressing, consists of those which arise from our former habits of sin,
though now long abandoned. We cannot rid ourselves of sin when we would;
though we repent, though God forgives us, yet it remains in its power over our
souls, in our habits, and in our memories. It has given a colour to our
thoughts, words, and works; and though, with many efforts, we would wash it out
from us, yet this is not possible except gradually. Men have been slothful, or
self-conceited, or self-willed, or impure, or worldly-minded in their youth, and
afterwards they turn to God, and would fain be other than they have been, but
their former self clings to them, as a poisoned garment, and eats into them.
They cannot do the things that they would, and from time to time they seem
almost reduced back again to that heathen state, which the Apostle describes,
when he cries out, "O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body
of this death?" [Rom. vii. 24.]
3. Another class of involuntary sins are such as arise from want of
self-command; that is, from the mind being possessed of more light than
strength, the conscience being informed, but the governing principle weak. The
soul of man is intended to be a well-ordered polity, in which there are many
powers and faculties, and each has its due place; and for these to exceed their
limits is sin; yet they cannot be kept within those limits except by being
governed, and we are unequal to this task of governing ourselves except after
long habit. While we are learning to govern ourselves, we are constantly exposed
to the risk, or rather to the occurrence, of numberless failures. We have
failures by the way, though we triumph in the end; and thus, as I just now
implied, the process of learning to obey God is, in one sense, a process of
sinning, from the nature of the case. We have much to be forgiven; nay, we have
the more to be forgiven the more we attempt. The higher our aims, the greater
our risks. They who venture much with their talents, gain much, and in the end
they hear the words, "Well done, good and faithful servant;" but they have so
many losses in trading by the way, that to themselves they seem to do nothing
but fail. They cannot believe that they are making any progress; and though they
do, yet surely they have much to be forgiven in all their services. They are
like David, men of blood; they fight the good fight of faith, but they are
polluted with the contest.
I am not speaking of cases of extraordinary devotion, but of what every one
must know in his own case, how difficult it is to command himself, and do that
he wishes to do;—how weak the governing principle of his mind is, and how poorly
and imperfectly he comes up to his own notions of right and truth; how difficult
it is to command his feelings, grief, anger, impatience, joy, fear; how
difficult to govern his tongue, to say just what he would; how difficult to
rouse himself to do what he would, at this time or that; how difficult to rise
in the morning; how difficult to go about his duties and not be idle; how
difficult to eat and drink just what he should, how difficult to fix his mind on
his prayers; how difficult to regulate his thoughts through the day; how
difficult to keep out of his mind what should be kept out of it.
We are feeble-minded, excitable, effeminate, wayward, irritable, changeable,
miserable. We have no lord over us, because we are but partially subject to the
dominion of the true King of Saints. Let us try to do right as much as we will,
let us pray as earnestly, yet we do not, in a time of trial, come up even to our
own notions of perfection, or rather we fall quite short of them, and do perhaps
just the reverse of what we had hoped to do. While there is no external
temptation present, our passions sleep, and we think all is well. Then we think,
and reflect, and resolve what we will do; and we anticipate no difficulty in
doing it. But when the temptation is come, where are we then? We are like Daniel
in the lions' den; and our passions are the lions; except that we have not
Daniel's grace to prevail with God for the shutting of the lions' mouths lest
they devour us. Then our reason is but like the miserable keeper of wild beasts,
who in ordinary seasons is equal to them, but not when they are excited. Alas!
Whatever the affection of mind may be, how miserable it is! It may be a dull,
heavy sloth, or cowardice, which throws its huge limbs around us, binds us
close, oppresses our breath, and makes us despise ourselves, while we are
impotent to resist it; or it may be anger, or other baser passion, which, for
the moment, escapes from our control after its prey, to our horror and our
disgrace; but anyhow, what a miserable den of brute creatures does the soul then
become, and we at the moment (I say) literally unable to help it! I am not, of
course, speaking of deeds of evil, the fruits of wilfulness,—malice, or revenge,
or uncleanness, or intemperance, or violence, or robbery, or fraud;—alas!
the sinful heart often goes on to commit sins which hide from it at once the
light of God's countenance; but I am supposing what was Eve's case, when she
looked at the tree and saw that the fruit was good, but before she plucked it,
when lust had conceived and was bringing forth sin, but ere sin was finished and
had brought forth death. I am supposing that we do not exceed so far as to
estrange God from us, that He mercifully chains the lions at our cry, before
they do more than frighten us by their moanings or their roar,—before they fall
on us to destroy us: yet, at best, what misery, what pollution, what sacrilege,
what a chaos is there then in that consecrated spot, which is the temple of the
Holy Ghost! How is it that the lamp of God does not go out in it at once, when
the whole soul seems tending to hell, and hope is almost gone? Wonderful mercy
indeed it is, which bears so much! Incomprehensible patience in the Holy One, so
to dwell, in such a wilderness, with the wild beasts! Exceeding and divine
virtue in the grace given us, that it is not stifled! Yet such is the promise,
not to those who sin contentedly after they have received grace; there is no
hope while they so sin; but where sin is not part of a course, though it is
still sin, whether sin of our birth, or of habits formed long ago, or of want of
self-command which we are trying to gain, God mercifully allows and pardons it,
and "the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from" it all.
4. Further, I might dwell upon sins which we fall into from being taken
unawares,—when the temptation is sudden, as St. Peter, when he first
denied Christ; though whether it became of a different character, when he denied
twice and thrice, is a further question.
5. And again, those sins which rise from the devil's temptations, inflaming
the wounds and scars of past sins healed, or nearly so; exciting the memory, and
hurrying us away; and thus making use of our former selves against our present
selves contrary to our will.
6. And again, I might speak of those which rise from a deficiency of
practical experience, or from ignorance how to perform duties which we set
about. Men attempt to be munificent, and their acts are prodigal; they wish to
be firm and zealous, and their acts are cruel; they wish to be benevolent, and
they are indulgent and weak; they do harm when they mean to do good; they engage
in undertakings, or they promote designs, or they put forth opinions, or they
set a pattern, of which evil comes; they countenance evil; they mistake
falsehood for truth; they are zealous for false doctrines; they oppose the cause
of God. One can hardly say all this is without sin, and yet in them it may be
involuntary sin and pardonable on the prayer of faith.
7. Or I might speak of those unworthy motives, low views, mistakes in
principle, false maxims, which abound on all sides of us, and which we catch (as
it were) from each other;—that spirit of the world which we breathe, and which
defiles all we do, yet which can hardly be said to be a wilful pollution; but
rather it is such sin as is consistent with the presence of the grace of
God in us, which that grace will blot out and put away.
8. And, lastly, much might be said on the subject of what the Litany calls "negligences
and ignorances," on forgetfulnesses, heedlessnesses, want of seriousness,
frivolities, and a variety of weaknesses, which we may be conscious of in
ourselves, or see in others.
Such are some of the classes of sins which may be found, if it so happen,
where the will is right, and faith lively; and which in such cases are not
inconsistent with the state of grace, or may be called infirmities. Of course it
must be ever recollected, that infirmities are not always to be regarded as
infirmities; they attach also to those who live in the commission of wilful
sins, and who have no warrant whatever for considering themselves in a saving
state. Men do not cease to be under the influence of original sin, or sins of
past years, they do not gain self-command, or unlearn negligences and ignorances,
by adding to these offences others of a more grievous character. Those who are
out of grace, have infirmities and much more. And there will always be a
tendency in such persons to explain away their wilful sins into infirmities.
This is ever to be borne in mind. I am not attempting to draw the line between
infirmities and transgressions; I only say, that to whomsoever besides such
infirmities do attach, they may happen to attach to those who are free from
transgressions, and who need not despond, or be miserable on account of failings
which in them are not destructive of faith or incompatible with grace. Who these
are He only knows for certain, who "tries the reins and the heart," who
"knoweth the mind of the Spirit," and "discerns between the righteous and the
wicked." He is able, amid the maze of contending motives and principles within
us, to trace out the perfect work of righteousness steadily going on there, and
the rudiments of a new world rising from out the chaos. He can discriminate
between what is habitual and what is accidental; what is on the growth and what
is in decay; what is a result and what is indeterminate; what is of us and what
is in us. He estimates the difference between a will that is honestly devoted to
Him, and one that is insincere. And where there is a willing mind, He accepts it
"according to that a man hath, and not according to that he hath not." In those
whose wills are holy, He is present for sanctification and acceptance; and, like
the sun's beams in some cave of the earth, His grace sheds light on every side,
and consumes all mists and vapours as they rise.
We indeed have not knowledge such as His; were we ever so high in God's
favour, a certainty of our justification would not belong to us. Yet, even to
know only thus much, that infirmities are no necessary mark of reprobation, that
God's elect have infirmities, and that our own sins may possibly be no more than
infirmities, this surely, by itself, is a consolation. And to reflect that at
least God continues us visibly in His Church; that He does not withdraw from us
the ordinances of grace; that He gives us means of instruction, patterns
of holiness, religious guidance, good books; that He allows us to frequent His
house, and to present ourselves before Him in prayer and Holy Communion; that He
gives us opportunities of private prayer; that He has given us a care for our
souls; an anxiety to secure our salvation; a desire to be more strict and
conscientious, more simple in faith, more full of love than we are; all this
will tend to soothe and encourage us, when the sense of our infirmities makes us
afraid. And if further, God seems to be making us His instruments for any
purpose of His, for teaching, warning, guiding, or comforting others, resisting
error, spreading the knowledge of the truth, or edifying His Church, this too
will create in us the belief, not that God is certainly pleased with us, for
knowledge of mysteries may be separated from love, but that He has not utterly
forsaken us in spite of our sins, that He still remembers us, and knows us by
name, and desires our salvation. And further, if, for all our infirmities, we
can point to some occasions on which we have sacrificed anything for God's
service, or to any habit of sin or evil tendency of nature which we have more or
less overcome, or to any habitual self-denial which we practise, or to any work
which we have accomplished to God's honour and glory; this perchance may fill us
with the humble hope that God is working in us, and therefore is at peace with
us. And, lastly, if we have, through God's mercy, an inward sense of our own
sincerity and integrity, if we feel that we can appeal to God with St. Peter,
that we love Him only, and desire to please Him in all things,—in
proportion as we feel this, or at such times as we feel it, we have an assurance
shed abroad on our hearts, that we are at present in His favour, and are in
training for the inheritance of His eternal kingdom.
Copyright © 2000 by Bob Elder. All rights reserved.
Used with permission. See the Newman website:
http://www.newmanreader.org/index.html
