Modern Skepticism: A Journey Through the Land of Doubt and Back Again Part 28

31. And I have, at times, strange feelings with regard to the infinite value of life and consciousness, and of my intellectual and moral powers. And I have pleasant and wonderful thoughts and feelings with regard to the lower animals, as the creatures of G.o.d, my Father; and as manifestations of His goodness, and wisdom, and power; and as sharers with me of an infinite Father's love. And I love them as I never loved them in my earlier days. I feel happier in their company. I listen with more pleasure to the songs of birds, and gaze with more delight on every living thing. The earth and its inhabitants are new to me. The plants and flowers are new. The universe is new. I am new to myself. All things are new. It seems, at times, as if the new, enlarged, and higher life of which I have become conscious through my strange experience, were worth the fearful price which I have paid for it.

32. But then again I think of the time I spent in sin and folly,--of the mischief I did in those dark days,--of the grief I caused to so many good and G.o.dly souls,--of the sorrows I entailed on those most dear to me, and of the terrible disadvantages under which I labor, and under which I must always labor, in consequence of my unaccountable errors, and I am confounded and dismayed. But then, on the other hand, I am reminded that I did not sin wilfully,--that I did not err purposely or wantonly,--that what I did amiss I did in ignorance,--that I verily believed myself in the way of duty when I went astray,--that I was influenced by a desire to know the truth,--that I believed myself, at the outset, bound as a Christian, and as a creature of G.o.d, to use my faculties to the utmost in searching the Scriptures, and exploring Nature, in pursuit of truth,--that when I advocated infidel views, I advocated them believing them to be true, and believing that truth must be most conducive to the virtue and happiness of mankind. True, appearances were against me; but I felt myself bound, even when an unbeliever, to "walk by faith,"--by faith in principles which I supposed myself to have found to be true. My life, even in my worst condition, was a life of self-sacrifice for what I regarded as eternal truth. When I gave up my belief in a Fatherly G.o.d, and my faith in a blessed immortality, I believed myself to be making a sacrifice at the shrine of truth. I thought I heard her voice from the infinite universe demanding the surrender, and conscience compelled me to comply with the demand. I felt the dreadful nature of the sacrifice, but what could I do?

I remember the words I uttered, and I remember the mingled emotions which filled and agitated my soul, on that occasion. I was distressed at the terrible necessity of giving up the cherished idols of my soul, yet I was filled for a moment with a strange delight at the thought that I was doing my duty in compliance with the stern demands of eternal law, and the dread realities of universal being. And I hoped against hope that the result would all be right.

I weep when I read the strange words which I uttered on that dark and terrible occasion. I said to myself, "The last remains of my religious faith are gone. The doctrines of a personal G.o.d, and of a future life, I am compelled to regard as the offspring, not of the understanding, but of the imagination and affections." It is no easy matter to wean one's-self from flattering and long cherished illusions. It is no easy matter to believe that doctrines which have been almost universally received, and which have been so long and so generally regarded as essential to the virtue and happiness of mankind--doctrines, too, which have mingled their mighty influences with so much of the beautiful and sublime in human history, and which still, to so many, form all the poetry and romance, almost all the interest and grandeur and blessedness of human life, have no foundation in truth. To persons who believe in a Fatherly G.o.d, and in human immortality, pure naturalism is terribly uninviting. It was always so to me. I well remember the mingled horror and pity with which, when a Christian, I regarded the man who had no personal G.o.d, and no hope of a future life. I remember too how I wrote or spoke of such. I mourned over them as the most hapless and miserable of all living beings. Yet I myself have come at length, by slow degrees, after a thousand struggles, and with infinite reluctance, to the dread conclusion, that a personal G.o.d and an immortal life are fictions of the human mind. Yet existence has not quite lost its charms, nor life its enjoyments. There is something infinitely grand, and unspeakably exciting and elevating in the consciousness of having made a sacrifice of the most popular and bewitching of all illusions, out of respect to truth. It was an enviable state of mind which prompted, the grand and thrilling exclamation, "Let justice be done, though the heavens should fall." And that state of mind is no less enviable which can sustain a man in the sacrifice of G.o.d and immortality at the shrine of truth. Such a sacrifice, accompanied, as it must be in the present state of society, with a thousand other sacrifices of reputation, friends.h.i.+ps, popular pleasures, and social favor, is an exercise of the highest virtue, a demonstration of the greatest magnanimity, and is accompanied or followed with an intensity of satisfaction which none but the martyr-spirit of truth can conceive. It is often said by Christians, that the reason why persons doubt the existence of G.o.d and a future life is, that they have good cause to dread them; or, as Grotius expresses it, that they live in such a way that it would be to their interest that there should be no G.o.d or future life. This was not the case with me. My unbelief came upon me while I was diligently striving in all things to do G.o.d's will. My virtue outlived my faith.

"Born of Methodist parents, and reared under Christian influences, and a Christian myself, and even a Christian minister for many years, I was brought slowly and reluctantly, in spite of a world of prejudices, and in spite of interests and a.s.sociations and tastes all but almighty in their influence, to the conclusion, that pure, unmixed Naturalism alone accorded with what was known of the present state and the past history of the universe. I say I was brought to these conclusions in spite of a world of opposing influences. While a Christian, all that the world could promise or bestow seemed to be within my reach. Friends, popularity, wealth, power, fame; and visions of infinite usefulness to others, and of unbounded happiness to myself in the future, were all promised me as the reward of continued devotion to the cause of G.o.d and Christianity. As the reward of heresy and unbelief, I had to encounter suspicion, desertion, hatred, reproach, persecution, want, grief of friends and kindred, anxious days and sleepless nights, and almost every extreme of mental anguish. Still, inquiry forced me into heresy further and further every year, and brought me at length to the extreme of doubt and unbelief."

It was, then, in no light mood that I gave up my faith in G.o.d, and Christ, and immortality. The change in my views was no headlong, hasty freak. It was the result of long and serious thought--of misguided, but honest, conscientious study. And hence I have sometimes thought, and am still inclined to think, that G.o.d had a hand in the matter--that He led me, or permitted me to wander, along that strange and sorrowful road, and to pa.s.s through those dreary and dolorous scenes, and drink so deeply of so dreadful a cup of sorrow, for some good end. "He maketh the wrath of man to praise Him," and perhaps he may turn our errors also to good account. I am not disposed to believe that my life has been a failure. It may, for anything I know, prove to have been a great success. "Men are educated largely by their mistakes," says one. It hardly seems likely that G.o.d would suffer a well-intentioned, though weak and erring child, to ruin either himself or others for ever. G.o.d is good, and the future will justify His ways, and all His saints shall praise Him.

My business meanwhile is, to do what I can to promote the interests of truth, and the welfare of mankind. I must, so far as possible, redeem lost time. I have a thousand causes for grat.i.tude, and none for complaint. I am very happy in general; as happy as I desire to be, and as happy, I expect, as it is good for me to be. I sometimes feel as if I were _too_ happy. And I certainly never ask G.o.d to make me _more_ happy. I ask Him to make me wiser, and better, and more useful, but not more happy. At times my cup of joy runs over. It is strange it should be so, yet so it is. But joy and sorrow are often found in company. Paul says of himself, "Sorrowful, yet always rejoicing." The author of _Ecce Deus_ says, "The good man's life is one unbroken repentance. Throughout his life he suffers on account of his sins. What, then of joy?" he asks: and he answers, "It is contemporaneous with sorrow. They are inseparable. The joy that is born of sorrow is the only joy that is enduring." It may seem strange, but it is true, the last year of my life has been the happiest I ever experienced.

CHAPTER XX.

A FEW OF THE LESSONS I HAVE LEARNED ON MY WAY THROUGH LIFE.

And now for a few of the lessons which I have learned on my way through life.

1. One, alas! is, that it is very difficult to bring young people to benefit by the experience of their elders. It would be a happy thing if we could put old men's heads on young men's shoulders; but no method of performing the operation has, as yet, been hit upon. It might answer as well, if old men could empty their heads into the heads of the young.

But this is a task almost as difficult as the former. The heads of the young are generally full of foolish thoughts, and vain conceits, and wild dreams of what they are to be, and do, and enjoy in the days to come, with large admixtures at times of more objectionable materials; so that there is no room for the counsels and admonitions of their elders.

Then there are some who do not _like_ to be counselled or admonished.

Having set their minds on the attainment of a certain object, they are unwilling to listen to any but such as commend their course, and encourage them with promises of success. There are others who think they have no need of counsel or admonition. Counsel and admonition are proper enough for some people, but they are not required in their case, they imagine. They do not exactly think themselves beings of a superior order, beyond the reach of ordinary dangers; but they _act_ as if they thought so. In words they would acknowledge themselves to be but men, liable to the common frailties of their race; but their conduct seems to say, "It is impossible _we_ should ever err or sin as some men do; we are better constructed, and are born to a happier lot." Their purpose is to do right, and it never enters their minds that they can ever do wrong. And if you tell them that they are in danger of becoming intemperate, or skeptical, or of falling into any great error or sin, they feel hurt, and say, "Do you suppose we are dogs that we should do such things?" Dogs or not, when the time of trial comes, they do them.

And then they discover, that men are not always so wise, so good, or so strong as they suppose themselves; that people may be the subjects of weaknesses of which they are utterly unconscious, till a.s.sailed by some unlooked for temptation; and they mourn at the last, and say, "How have we hated instruction, and despised the counsel of the Holy One." And now they see that the strongest need a stronger one than themselves to s.h.i.+eld them, and that the wisest need a wiser one than themselves to guide them, if they are to be kept from harm.

We have no disposition to be severe with such persons, for we belonged to the same unhappy cla.s.s ourselves. It never once entered our minds in our earlier days, that we could ever fall away from Christ. We saw that others were in danger, but we never supposed we were in danger ourselves. We preached from the text, "Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall," and we pressed the solemn warning on our hearers with the greatest earnestness; but we never applied it to ourselves. We supposed ourselves secure. And if any one had told us that we should one day cease to be a Christian, and above all, if any man had said that we should fall into unbelief, and be ranked with the opponents of Christianity, we should have thought him insolent or mad. Yet we know what followed. We cannot therefore deal harshly with our too self-confident brethren. But we must give them faithful warning. Be on your guard, my dear young friends. You are not so free from defects, nor so far from danger, as your conscious innocence, or the great deceiver, may insinuate. There may be tendencies to evil within you, and temptations in the mysterious world around you, of the character and force of which you have no conception. It was as great and good a man as you perhaps that said,

"Weaker than a bruised reed, Help I every moment need."

And he was wise that said,--

"Beware of Peter's words, Nor confidently say, 'I never _will_ deny thee, Lord;'

But, 'Grant I never may.'"

There are devices of the wicked one of which you are not yet aware; "depths of Satan" which you have not yet fathomed; and terrible possibilities of which, as yet, you have never dreamed. I say again, Be on your guard. "Be not high-minded, but fear." "Blessed is the man that feareth always." None are so weak as those who think themselves strong.

None are in such danger as those who think themselves secure.

Man, even at best, is not so great, so wise, so strong, as some are p.r.o.ne to suppose: and when, cut off from Christ and His people, from the Bible and prayer, he trusts in his own resources, he is poor, and weak, and frail in the extreme. There are no errors, no extravagances, no depths of degradation, into which the lawless self-reliant man may not fall. When I had lost my faith in Christ, and had freed myself from all restraints of Bible authority and Church discipline, I said to myself, "I will be a MAN; all that a man acting freely, giving his soul full scope, tends naturally to become; and I will be nothing else." I had come to the conclusion that man was naturally good--that, when freely and fully developed, apart from the authority of religion, churches and books, he would become the perfection of wisdom, and goodness, and happiness. I said to myself, "Christ was but a man; and the reason why He so much excelled all other men was, that He acted freely, without regard to the traditions of the elders, the law of Moses, or any authority but that of His own untrammelled mind. I will follow the same course. I will free myself from the prejudices of my education, from the influence of my surroundings, and from the authority of all existing laws and religions, and be my own sole ruler, my own sole counsellor, my own sole guide. I will act with regard to the religion of Christ, as Christ acted with regard to the religion of Moses; obey it, abolish it, or modify it, as its different parts may require. I will act with regard to the Church authorities of my time as Jesus acted with regard to the Scribes and Pharisees of His day; I will set them aside. I will be a man; a free, self-ruled, and self-developed man."

Alas, I little knew the terrible possibilities of the nature of man when left to itself. I had no conception of its infinite weakness with regard to what is good, or its fearful capabilities with regard to what is bad.

I had no idea of the infinite amount of evil that lay concealed in the human heart, ready, when unrepressed, to unfold itself, and take all horrible forms of vice and folly. I indulged myself in my mad experiments of unlimited freedom till appalled by the melancholy results. I did not become _all_ that unchecked license could make me; but I became so different a creature from what I had antic.i.p.ated, that I saw the madness of my resolution, and recoiled. I came to the verge of all evil. G.o.d had mercy on me and held me back in spite of my impiety, or I should have become a monster of iniquity. Man was not made for unlimited liberty. He was made for subjection to the Divine will, and for obedience to G.o.d's law. He was made for fellows.h.i.+p with the good among his fellow-men, and for submission to Christian discipline. He can become good and great and happy only by faith in G.o.d and Christ, by self-denial, by good society, by careful moral and religious culture, and by constant prayer and dependence on G.o.d. I now no longer say, "I will be a _man_;" but, "Let me be a Christian." I no longer say, "I will be all that my nature, working unchecked, will make me;" but, "Let me be all that Christ and Christianity can make me. Let me check all tempers at variance with the mind of Christ; and all tendencies at variance with His precepts. Let the mouth of that fearful abyss which lies deep down in my nature be closed, and let the infernal fires that smoulder there be utterly smothered; and let the love of G.o.d and the love of man reign in me, producing a life of Christ-like piety and beneficence. Let all I have and all I am be a sacrifice to G.o.d in Christ, and used in the cause of truth and righteousness for the welfare of mankind."

The enemy of man has many devices. In my case, as in the case of so many others, he transformed himself into "an angel of light." He did not say, "Give up your work: forsake Christ; desert His Church; indulge your appet.i.tes; give yourself to selfish, sensual pleasure; free yourself from religious restraint, from moral control, from scruples of conscience, and live for gain, or fame, or power." On the contrary; his counsel was, "Perfect your creed; perfect your knowledge; reform the Church; expose its corruptions; reform the ministry; expose its errors; go back to the simplicity of Christ; return to the order of the ancient Church; pay no regard to prevailing sentiments, or to established customs; begin anew. Resolve on perfection; it is attainable; be content with nothing less. a.s.sert your rights. Be true. Prove all things; hold fast to what is good, but cast away whatever you find to be evil. Call no one master but Christ; and what Christ requires, ask no one but yourself. Be true to your own conscience. G.o.d has called you to restore the Church to its purity, to its simplicity, to its ancient power. Be faithful, and fear no opposition. Free inquiry must lead to truth, and truth is infinitely desirable. a.s.sail error; a.s.sail men's inventions; spare nothing but what is of G.o.d. It is G.o.d's own work you are doing; it is the world's salvation for which you are laboring; and G.o.d's own Spirit will guide you, and His power will keep you from harm." All this was true; but it was truth without the needful accompaniment of pious caution. It was true, but it was truth without the needful amount of humility, of meekness, of gentleness, and of self-distrust. It was truth, but it was truth put in such a form as to do the work of falsehood. It was an appeal to pride, to self-conceit, to self-sufficiency. It was truth presented in such a shape, as to abate the sense of my dependence on G.o.d; as to make me forgetful of my own imperfections; as to exclude from my mind all thoughts of danger, and so prepare me for mistakes, mishaps, and ultimately ruin. It is not enough to aim at good objects: we must be humble; we must be sensible that our sufficiency is of G.o.d; we must be conscious of our own weakness, of our own imperfections, and of our own danger, and move with care, and watchfulness, and prayer. We must not please ourselves with thoughts of the wonders we will achieve, of the services we will render to the world, and of the honor we shall gain; but cherish the feeling that G.o.d is all, and be content that He alone shall be glorified. We are but earthen vessels; the excellency of the power is of G.o.d.

O my poor soul, how do I grieve when I think of thy early dreams, and of thy sad awakening. Like Adam, I lived in a Paradise of bliss, suspecting no evil, and dreading no change. I had been trained to piety from my earliest years. The Bible was my delight. Christ and Christianity were my glory and joy. The Church was my home. To preach the Gospel, to defend G.o.d's cause, and to labor for the salvation of the world, were the delight of my life. I was successful. I was popular. I had many friends, and was pa.s.sionately beloved. Wherever I went, men hailed me as their spiritual father. The chapels in which I preached were crowded to their utmost capacity, and men regarded me as the champion of Christianity. They applauded my labors in its behalf, and testified their esteem and admiration by unmistakable signs. At one time I might have applied to myself the words of Job, "When the ear heard me, then it blessed me; and when the eye saw me, it gave witness to me. The young men saw me, and gave me reverence; and the aged arose and stood up. Unto me men gave ear, and waited; and kept silence at my counsel. They waited for my words as for the showers; and opened their mouths as for the latter rain. I chose out their way, and sat chief, and dwelt as a king in the army, as one that comforteth the mourners." And everything seemed to foretell a continuance of my happy lot. My prejudices and my convictions, my tastes and my affections, my habits and my inclinations, my interests and my family, all joined to bind me to the cause of Christ by the strongest bonds. And I seemed as secure to others as to myself.

Hence I looked forward to a life of ever-increasing usefulness, reflecting credit on my family and friends, and conferring blessings on mankind at large. I revelled in hopes of a reformed Church, and a regenerated world; and, pa.s.sing the bounds of time, my spirit exulted in the prospect of a glorious immortality. Yet "when I looked for good then evil came; and when I waited for light there came darkness." I fell away. My happy thoughts, my joyous hopes, my delightful prospects, all vanished. I underwent a most melancholy transformation. The eyes that gazed on me with affectionate rapture, now stared at me with affright and terror; and brave, stout men wept over me like children. The light of my life was extinguished. My dwelling was in darkness. "I was a brother to dragons, and a companion to owls." And there was nothing before me but the dreary prospect of a return to nothingness. And can you, my young friends, dream of safety with facts like these in view?

Again, I say, be on your guard. An easy, dreamy self-security is the extreme of madness. Our only safety is in watchfulness and prayer. Our only sufficiency is of G.o.d.

"O, never suffer me to sleep Secure within the reach of h.e.l.l; But still my watchful spirit keep In lowly awe and loving zeal: And bless me with a G.o.dly fear, And plant that guardian angel here."

2. The second lesson I would name is this: It is dangerous to allow bad feeling to get into your hearts towards your Christian friends, or your brother ministers. It is especially dangerous to allow it to remain there. It works like the infection of the plague. Try therefore to keep your minds in a calm and comfortable state towards all with whom you have to do. Guard against rash judgments and groundless suspicions; or you may take offence when no offence is meant. But even when people do you harm on purpose, it is best to be forbearing. We never know the force of temptation under which men act; or the misconceptions under which they labor. We may ourselves have caused their misdoings by some unconscious error of our own. It is well to suspect ourselves sometimes of unknown faults, and to go on the supposition that what appears unkindness in others towards us, may be the result of some unguarded word or inconsiderate action on our part towards them. 2. Keep your hearts as full as possible of Christian love. The more abundant your love, the less will be your liability either to give or take offence. 3.

And do not overrate the importance of men's misconduct towards you. We are not so much in the power of others as we are p.r.o.ne to imagine. The world is governed by G.o.d, and no one can hurt us against His will. Do that which is right, and you and your interests are secure. So take things comfortably. And try to overcome evil with good. And if you find the task a hard one, seek help from G.o.d.

3. Another lesson which I have learned on my way through life is, that it is dangerous to indulge a spirit of controversy. There may be occasions when controversy is a duty; but it is best, as a rule, just to state what you believe to be the truth, and leave it to work its way in silence. If people oppose it, misrepresent it, or ridicule it, then state it again at the proper time, with becoming meekness and gentleness, and then commit it to the care of its great Patron. It is difficult to run into controversy without falling into sin. Men need to be very wise and good to be able to go through a controversy honorably and usefully; and by the time they are qualified for the dangerous work, they prefer more peaceful employment. Controversy always tends to produce excess of warmth, and warmth of a dangerous kind. It often degenerates into a quarrel, and ends in shame. Men go from principles to personalities; and instead of seeking each other's instruction, try only to humble and mortify each other. They begin perhaps with a love of truth, but they end with a struggle for victory. They try to deal fairly at the outset, but become unscrupulous at last, and say or do anything that seems likely to hara.s.s or injure their opponents. The beginning of strife is like the letting out of water from a reservoir; there is first a drop, then a trickle, then a headlong rus.h.i.+ng torrent, bearing down all before it, and sweeping away men and their works to destruction. It is best, therefore, to take the advice of the proverb, and "leave off contention before it be meddled with."

4. Another lesson that I have learnt on my way through life is, that ministers should deal very tenderly with their younger brethren. They should teach them, so far as they are able, and check them when they see them doing anything really wrong; but they should never interfere needlessly with their spiritual freedom. Young men of mind and conscience _will_ think. They will test their creeds by the Sacred Oracles, and endeavor to bring them into harmony with the teachings of Christ and His Apostles. And it is right they should. It is their duty, as they have opportunity, to "prove all things." And few young men, of any considerable powers, can compare the creeds which they receive in their childhood with the teachings of Sacred Scripture, without coming to the conclusion, that on some points they are erroneous, and on others defective; that on some subjects they contain too much, and on others too little. And good young men will naturally feel disposed to lay aside what they regard as erroneous, and to accept what presents itself to their minds as true. In some cases they will make mistakes. The only men that never think wrong, are those who never think at all. There never was a child born into the world that learned to walk without stumbling occasionally, and at times even falling outright. And there never was a spiritual child that learned to travel in the paths of religious investigation, without falling at times into error. But what is to be done on such occasions? What does the mother do when her baby falls?

Does she run and kick the poor little creature, and say, "You naughty, dirty tike, if ever you try to walk again, I will throw you into the gutter?" On the contrary, she runs and catches up the dear little thing; and if it has hurt itself, she kisses the place to make it well, and says, "Try again, my darling; try again." And it _does_ try again: and in course of time it learns to walk as steadily as its mother; and when she begins to stagger under the infirmities of age, it takes her hand, and steadies her goings.

And so it should be in spiritual matters. When a good young man falls into error, we should treat him with the tenderness and affection of a mother. "We were gentle among you," says Paul to the Thessalonians, "even as a nurse cherisheth her children." And this is the example that we should follow towards our younger brethren. Whether we would keep them from erring, or bring them back when they go astray, we should treat them tenderly.... We should try to win their love and confidence.

Men can often be led, when they cannot be driven. There are numbers who, if you attempt to drive them, will run the contrary way; who, if you treat them with respect, and show them that you love them, will follow you where-ever you may go.

But you must give them time. They cannot always come right all at once.

When a fisherman angles for large fish, he provides himself with a flexible, elastic rod, and a good long length of line; and when he has hooked his prey, he gives it the line without stint, and allows it to dart to and fro, and plunge and flounder at pleasure, till it has tired itself well, and then he brings it to the bank with ease. If he were to attempt to drag the fish to the sh.o.r.e at once, by main force, it would snap his rod, or break his line, and get away into the deep; and he would lose both his fish and his tackle. And so it is in the world of mind. When we have to do with vigorous and active-minded young men, we must allow their intellects a little play. We must wait till they begin to feel their weakness. We must place a little confidence in them, and give them a chance both of finding out their deficiencies, and of developing their strength.

It would not be amiss if elder preachers could go on the supposition that they are not quite perfect or infallible themselves,--that it is possible that their brethren may discover some truth in Scripture, that has not yet found its way into their creed; or detect some error in their creed, that has lurked there unsuspected for ages. And they ought to be willing to learn, as well as disposed to teach.

But in any case, if our studious young brethren miss their way sometimes, we must be kind and gentle towards them, and in our endeavors to save them, must proceed with care. Deal harshly with them, and you drive them into heresy or unbelief. Deal gently and lovingly with them, and you bring them back to the truth. How often the disciples of Jesus erred with regard to the nature of His kingdom, and the means by which it was to be established. Yet how patiently He bore with them. And in this, as in other things, He has left us an example that we should tread in His steps. The sun keeps the planets within their spheres, and even brings back the comets from their far-off wanderings, by the gentle power of attraction. And the Sun of Righteousness keeps His spiritual planets in their orbits, and brings from the blackness of darkness the stars that wander, by the same sweet power. And the secondary lights of the world must keep their satellites in their orbits, and bring back to their spheres the stars that fall or lose their way, by kindred influences. The mightiest and divinest power in the universe is LOVE.

5. And now comes a lesson to the young thinkers. Suppose your elder brethren should treat you unkindly; suppose they should discourage your search after truth, and require you to conform your creed to their own ideas, and your way of speaking to their own old style of expression; suppose that they should look with suspicion on your endeavors to come nearer to the truth, and, whenever you give utterance to a thought or an expression at variance with their own, should denounce you as heretics, and threaten you with excommunication, what should you do?

We answer, go quietly on in the fear of the Lord. Make no complaint, but prepare yourselves for expulsion. When expelled, go quietly to some Church that can tolerate your freedom, and work there in peace as the servants of G.o.d. Cherish no resentment. Commit your cause to G.o.d, and, laboring to do His will, leave Him to choose your lot.

Even the trials that come from the ignorance or wickedness of men, are of G.o.d's appointment. We are taught that it was by G.o.d's ordination that Judas betrayed Christ; that G.o.d employed the wickedness of the traitor for the accomplishment of His great designs. David said, referring to s.h.i.+mei, "Let him curse, for G.o.d hath commanded him." G.o.d employed the wickedness of s.h.i.+mei, to try and punish David. Wesley has embodied the sentiment in one of his hymns, as follows:

"Lord, I adore Thy gracious will; Through every instrument of ill My Father's goodness see: Accept the complicated wrong Of s.h.i.+mei's hand, and s.h.i.+mei's tongue, As kind rebukes from Thee."

Joseph said, G.o.d had sent him down to Egypt to save many souls alive.

His wicked brethren were only the instruments of his banishment. _They_ meant it for _evil_, _G.o.d_ turned it to _good_. And so in your case: G.o.d may be using the ignorance or the wickedness of your persecutors to separate you from a body for which you are not fitted, and to place you in one where you will be more useful and more happy. When we do right, G.o.d will make the errors, and even the sins of our enemies, work for our good.

6. Another lesson which I have thoroughly learnt is, that though men may become unbelievers through other causes than vice, they cannot continue unbelievers without spiritual and moral loss. The inevitable tendency of infidelity is to debase men's souls. And here I speak not on the testimony of others merely, but from extensive observation and personal experience. I have known numbers whom infidelity has degraded, but none whom it has elevated. We do not say that every change in a Christian's belief is demoralizing. Disbelief in error, resulting from increase of knowledge, may improve his character; but the loss of faith in Christ, and G.o.d, and immortality, can never do otherwise than strengthen a man's tendencies to vice, and weaken his inclinations towards virtue. When infidels say that their unbelief has made them more virtuous, they attach different ideas to the word virtuous from those which Christians attach to it. They call evil good, and good evil. The secularists call fornication and adultery virtue. But this is fraud. That infidelity is unfavorable to what men generally call virtue, and friendly to what men generally call vice, infidels themselves know. Their pa.s.sions and prejudices may make them doubt the bad influence of their unbelief for a time, but not long. I myself questioned the downward tendency of infidelity in my own case for a time, but facts proved too strong for me in the end. My friends could see a deterioration both in my temper and conduct. And there was a falling off in my zeal and labors for the good of mankind from the first. There was a falling off even in my talents.

There was a greater tendency to self-indulgence. It was owing to the still lingering influence of my early faith, and of my early Christian tastes and habits, that I was no worse. The virtue which I retained I owed to the religion on which I had unhappily turned my back. When unbelievers are moral, they are so, not in consequence, but in spite of their unbelief. When Christian believers are bad, they are so, not in consequence, but in spite of their religion. Infidelity tends to destroy conscience. It annihilates the great motives to virtue. It strengthens the selfish and weakens the benevolent affections and tendencies of our nature, and smoothes the road to utter depravity. The farther men wander from Christ, and the longer they remain away, the nearer they approach to utter degeneracy.

It seldom happens that men who have lived long under the influence of Christianity, become grossly immoral as soon as they lose their faith: but they decline in virtue from the first, and utter depravation comes in time. I have seen a tree growing prostrate on the ground, when many of its roots had been torn up from the soil; but it grew very poorly; and the growth it made was owing to the hold which the remainder of its roots still had on the soil. The branch that is cut off from the tree may retain a portion of its sap, and show some signs of languis.h.i.+ng life for weeks; but it dies at length. And so with the branches cut off from the spiritual vine; they gradually wither and decay. The iron taken white hot from the furnace, does not get cool at once; but it gradually comes down to the temperature of the atmosphere with which it is surrounded. The prodigal did not get through his share of his father's property in a day, but he found himself peris.h.i.+ng of hunger at length. A man does not die the moment he ceases to eat, but he _will_ die if he _persists_ in his abstinence. A man may live in an unhealthy district, and breathe unwholesome air for some time, without apparent injury; but disease will show itself in the end. It is not uncharitableness that makes us speak thus, but charity itself. It is desirable, that both believers and unbelievers should know the truth on this important subject. Infidelity is the enemy of all virtue, and consequently of all happiness; and it is necessary that this should be generally and thoroughly known, and that the old-fas.h.i.+oned prejudice against it should be allowed to keep its ground, and remain as strong as ever. And Christians must show their charity towards unbelievers, not by abating men's horror of infidelity, but by endeavoring to deliver them from its deadly power.

7. And here comes another lesson. Do not suppose that unbelievers are irreclaimable. There is always good ground to hope for the conversion of those unbelievers who retain a respect for virtue, if they are properly treated; and even those who are sunk in vice should not be abandoned in despair. Several of those who have returned to Christ during the last ten years, were men who had gone far in various forms of wickedness. And many of those converts from infidelity of whom we read in old religious books, were persons of immoral character. And though habits of vice are not easily broken off, yet the miseries they entail on men may rouse them to more vigorous efforts for their deliverance. And it sometimes happens that those who are poor in promise, are rich in performance. You remember the Saviour's parable of the two sons. The Father said to the first, "Son, go work to-day in my vineyard." And he answered and said, "I will not," but afterwards he repented and went. And the father said to the second, "Go." And he answered and said, "I go, Sir," and went not. And this, said Christ, is what takes place between Me and mankind.

I say to the fair-seeming people, "Give yourselves to G.o.d;" and they answer, "We will, Lord," but still live on in selfishness and sin. I say to abandoned profligates, "Give yourselves to G.o.d;" and they answer, "We will not;" but on thinking the matter over, they repent and live to G.o.d. Harlots and publicans enter the kingdom of G.o.d, while scribes and pharisees remain without. The oyster, if you look at its outward covering, is a "hard case;" yet within, it is soft and tender in the extreme. The ugliest caterpillar is but an undeveloped b.u.t.terfly, and in time, if placed under favorable influences, may leave its crawling, and mount aloft on wings of gold and silver. And it often happens that the worst children make the best men. The fiercest persecutor of the early Church became the chief of the Apostles. He was honest when dragging the saints to prison; and all that was wanted to make him a preacher of the faith which he labored so madly to destroy, was LIGHT.

And so it is still. Some of the most unhappy and unpromising of men and women may require but a gentle word, a glimmer of light, or a manifestation of your kind concern for their welfare, to win their hearts to G.o.d. It does not appear that any of the early Christians supposed that there was anything good in the heart of Saul the persecutor, and nothing is said of any attempt on their part to convince him of his error. And many, even when they heard he was converted, could not believe the story. And even Ananias, when told by G.o.d Himself that the converted persecutor was praying, could not get over his fears and suspicions all at once. When G.o.d said, "Go, and help the poor man,"

Ananias answered, "Lord, I have heard by many of this man, how much evil he hath done to Thy saints at Jerusalem." But the Lord said unto him, "Go thy way, haste to his help, for he is a chosen vessel unto Me, to bear My name before the Gentiles, and to kings, and to the children of Israel." At last Ananias went his way, and visited the praying penitent.

But even after this, when Paul had been preaching for some time with great success, and had made the greatest sacrifices, and braved even death itself, in the cause of Christ, there were numbers who doubted his sincerity. "When he went to Jerusalem, and attempted to join himself to the disciples, they were all afraid of him, and did not believe that he _was_ a disciple." Barnabas however, good man, took him by the hand, and succeeded at length in obtaining for him, to some extent, the advantages of Church fellows.h.i.+p.

Here then we have a couple of lessons; the first is, to seek the conversion of unbelievers; the second is, to guard against an excess of skepticism in ourselves with regard to the sincerity of those who appear to be converted. It would be well in forming our judgments of persons professing religion, to follow the rule laid down by Christ, "By their fruits ye shall know them. A good tree cannot bring forth bad fruit, nor a bad tree good fruit." If men live soberly, righteously, and G.o.dly--if they make great sacrifices, and incur reproach and persecution for Christ, and labor zealously in His cause, it is no great stretch of charity to go on the supposition, that their profession of faith in G.o.d and Christ is sincere.

8. But suppose the churches should treat a convert from infidelity as the church at Jerusalem treated Paul, what should he do? We would say, Take all quietly, and go zealously on with your work. You are the servant of G.o.d, and not of man; and you must not desert your Master, because a number of His servants err in their judgment of you, or show, in their conduct towards you, a lack of charity. Serve your Redeemer all the more faithfully. This was the course which Paul took. He "increased the more in strength;" and he abounded the more in labors. It would be a poor excuse for the neglect of your duty to G.o.d and Christ, to yourselves and your fellow creatures, to say, "The churches did not treat us as kindly as they ought; they doubted our sincerity." Such conduct would not only be exceedingly wicked, but extremely foolish. It would be the surest way to confirm the doubts of the churches, and make them feel, that in treating you coldly, they had acted wisely. The surest way to gain the confidence of the Church, is not to care too much about it. If you show that you are satisfied with the favor of G.o.d, and with your own sweet consciousness of the happy change you have experienced, everything else will come in its season. Goodness will draw after it the reputation of goodness. The shadow will follow the substance. And whether it does or not, your duty is to be resigned and cheerful. A man that has really been converted from infidelity to Christianity, will be so happy, and will feel so thankful for the blessed change, if he appreciates it as he ought, that he will hardly care whether he has the favor and confidence of his brethren or not.

There is no intimation that the returned Prodigal looked black at his father, and threatened to go back again into the far country, because his elder brother refused to join in his welcome home. The probability is, that he felt so ashamed of his sin and folly, so overpowered with the tenderness of his father, and so happy to find himself at home again, that he never inquired whether other people were satisfied or not. The father noticed the unhappiness of his elder son, and sought to soothe and comfort him; but the younger son was occupied with other thoughts; and having suffered long the grievous pangs of hunger, he would, for a time at least, be busy at the table, speculating in raptures, it may be, on the difference between the flesh of "the fatted calf," and "the husks that the swine did eat."