Part 24

Finally, we may observe that Saul's conversion was unsought by himself. He set out on his way to Damascus full of hatred against Christ and His disciples. He had not a single desire to become His follower. In this also his conversion is singular. We are not to expect, as some seem to do, that we may carelessly continue in our worldly affairs, or in sinful pleasures, or in other opposition to God; and nevertheless some time Almighty Grace will strike us to the ground, and raise us up Christians. God may do that, but the general rule is that God does not do that. The general rule is that God is found by those who seek Him. The eunuch was reading the Scriptures when Philip preached Christ to him. Nathaniel was meditating and praying under the fig-tree when he was led to the Savior. Lydia was at the place of prayer when the Lord opened her heart, and she attended to the things spoken by Paul. The Samaritans were listening to Philip's preaching when they were brought to believe. All were using the means of grace, and were brought to a saving knowledge of the truth. So with us this day,--by the Word of God, in private reading, in public preaching He converts souls. In this particular conversion, Paul's case differs from others.--What, however, do we find in every case of true conversion, no matter how varied the circumstances are? Conversion is to turn from the love and practice of sin, and through faith in the Son of God to the love and practice of holiness. When a man has conviction of sin, believes in, and depends on, Jesus as His Savior, he is converted, and it matters not how, when, or where. Never could there be such a conviction, such a belief, such a striving, unless there has previously been a change, and that change we call conversion. Believe it that when a man can look up like the man Saul of Tarsus, and say, "Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?" he is a converted man.--

Viewed as a public event in its significance to the Christian Church, the conversion of Paul is one of the strongest external proofs furnished us in the Bible for the truth of the Christian religion. If it can be established that Saul became Paul, then the Gospel must be true, and all that it tells us of Jesus as our divine Lord and Redeemer must be true. And there has never yet been a man who has dared to deny the historical truth of this conversion, or to contradict that Saul _did_ become Paul.

At the beginning of the last century Sir Gilbert West and Lord Lyttleton, two great literary lights of England, determined on a masterstroke for the suppression of the Gospel. It seemed to them that the two greatest miracles of the Christian religion were Christ's resurrection and Saul's conversion. Gilbert West agreed to write a refutation of the resurrection of Christ, and Lord Lyttleton a refutation of the conversion of Saul. At the conclusion of their work they met by appointment. Lord Lyttleton asked, "What is the result of your work?" The answer was: "I have thoughtfully investigated the resurrection of Christ, and have come to the conclusion that He who is said to have come forth from the sepulcher of Joseph's garden was, as He claimed to be, the veritable Son of God." And Lord Lyttleton said: "I have fully investigated the narrative of the conversion of St. Paul, and am satisfied that this man, on his journey along the Damascus highway, really saw Jesus of Nazareth, and that this Jesus was the very Christ of God." No other conclusion can be reached as we enter upon the study of the character of the man, and the results that have come from that event.

To finish our meditation with a personal application: St. Paul, whose conversion we have considered, wrote much for the instruction of all after ages, but he never penned more memorable words than these, words which perhaps have been oftener quoted than any sentence of any writer that ever lived--may God enable you to take the words home to your heart--: "This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of which I am chief." Paul's conversion is a beacon-light to encourage us never to despair for the worst and most hopeless of sinners.

If Grace could take a blasphemer and persecutor like Saul, then there is hope for you and for me. May we realize it! Amen.

SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

Having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof.--_2 Tim. 3, 5._

Things are not always what they seem. There is much deception, sham, pretense in this world. And religion forms no exception; much that passes under that name is not such in reality. The text just quoted distinguishes between "the form of godliness" and "the power of godliness," thus intimating that there may be one without the other. All created things indeed have some form. We cannot think of anything without form. Every essence and substance manifests itself in some shape, through some medium, external substance; and so religion finds expression in outward forms, in prayer, in this institution called the Church, in that Book called the Bible, in the sacraments and other ordinances.

But, whilst we cannot have religion without form, there may be form without religion. Not every eye sees, though it was created for that purpose; not every ear, though it have the perfect form, hears. We discover eyes without seeing and ears without hearing, and in like manner we discover the form of godliness with none of its power. A man may appear very religious, and yet not be religious. The Bible and history both are full of such. Thus, St. Paul in his day came to the city of Athens and was constrained to confess: "I observe, O men of Athens, that ye are exceedingly devout." Judging by the form, he saw, in that representative city of heathenism, a great degree of religiousness and devotion; gods and goddesses, altars and temples, stood on the right hand and on the left, carved out in the most exquisite marble, with the most exquisite skill. Every public edifice was a sanctuary. The theaters were ascribed to the deities. As any scholar of ancient history knows, the streets and markets, the groves and public places were full and overflowing with the figures and statues of Jupiter and Diana, and every other god and goddess which their imagination had invented. Yes, the men of Athens were exceedingly religious, and, withal, they were notoriously ungodly, and Paul could not help expressing himself to that effect.

Again, take the religionists mentioned in to-day's Gospel--the scribes and the Pharisees. As to the form of religion, they were scrupulous to the last degree. On their phylacteries, and on the frontlet which they wore between their eyes, were passages of Scripture such as: "Hear, O Israel! The Lord, your God is one Lord." They fasted twice in the week, more than the law required. They paid tithes, not only of the common products of the field, but of their garden herbs, mint, anise, and cinnamon. They were extremely careful as to their cleansings. Thus the washing of hands in the six books of the Mishna, written by the Jewish rabbis, is prescribed: One and one-half eggshells full of water must be used; the hands must be lifted in a certain position when the water is poured upon them; then the right must rub the left and the left the right; then they must be held in a downward incline, palms upside down, so that the water may drop off. And the towel must be properly held. Thirty chapters alone in that Jewish book treat of the cleansing of cups and platters. And yet, in spite of all this scrupulosity and punctiliousness and ceremonialism, the Savior had occasion to declare in the opening words of to-day's Gospel-lesson: "Except your righteousness exceed the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, ye shall in no wise enter the kingdom of heaven." The form was there, the show of godliness, but something vitally essential was missing; our text calls it "the power."

Nor would we confine this formation of religion to ancient heathen or Judaism. An acquaintance of mine tells of a scene recently witnessed in the city of Mexico. A company of men were shuffling cards, and casting dice, and indulging in profane and unholy jests in a drinking-house, when suddenly the ringing of a bell was heard without. A procession of priests was passing through the streets bearing the consecrated water to the bedside of the dying. At the sound all in the iniquitous place fell upon their knees and muttered their prayers. The bell ceased, and they resumed their pleasure. What was this but the form of godliness without the power? Nor need we go to distant Mexico to find the same manifestation among the devotees of the same religion,--ceremonialism, grand and spectacular, the waking early at the break of day to perform one's worship, the lighting of candles and bending of knees before graven images, the ceaseless twisting of the rosary beads, and making of crucifixes and anointing with holy oil and water. What are these but the forms of godliness without the power thereof? Let us not be uncharitable, but the words of the Savior press themselves upon one's lips: Except your righteousness exceed that which so garbs itself, and puts in the place of Christ another's righteousness, which is the righteousness of such hollow ceremonies, pretensions, and good works, it shall not avail to enter into the kingdom of God.

And is Protestantism exempt? Are there no formalists among those who profess to be members of, and visit, our churches? Is there no outward ceremonial observance there, no form of godliness without the power thereof? As we pointed out, everything has a form, and that form needs attention. Injure the shell, and the kernel will be impaired. Refuse to give due respect to your body, and its immortal tenant, the soul, will leave it. And so in religion. The outward must be attended to. It will not do to say, I need not go to church, God is everywhere, I can worship Him just as well under the trees of the park, under the blue canopy of the great temple of Nature, as in the four walls of a building. The church is God's; it is there He has recorded His name, and promised to convey His grace and blessing as nowhere else. Godliness and churchliness are joined together, and it is not for any man to divorce them, to put them asunder.

The godly man, it will ever be found, is the best churchman. It will not do to say: I can be just as good a Christian and stay away from the sacrament of the Lord's Table,--it is only a form. Granting it is, it is a form which God has commanded by and through which He communicates life and salvation to men's souls. You do not despise to drink the water of the Mississippi River because it flows through pipes and comes out at the faucet. And so you ought not reject life, grace, and salvation promised by God, because He has laid it down for you in the partaking of bread and wine in His sacrament, which is the channel by and through which He conveys it to your soul. The same may be said of all the ordinances of religion,--prayer, the reading of the Bible, the saying of prayers. These things must be attended to. They are the forms in which it expresses itself--takes shape. And yet, we must beware of mistaking the shape for the substance, the shell for the kernel, the body for the soul. Going to church as a mere form saves no one; neither does going to the Sacrament. To read the Bible, for instance, merely to find out what a fine literary product it is, has no religious value; and to mumble one's prayers in a thoughtless and spiritless way, our Lord tells us, is worthless, yes, it may be an abomination to Him. What good does food do you if you do not digest it, take the strength out of it, the necessary qualities? Equally so with the spiritual food. Religion as a form, a mere external life, a show, avails nothing; rather, it is a snare of delusion by which men may deceive themselves and others.

When, then,--that is the question to which our text leads up,--when have we the form of godliness together with the power thereof? In order to have true religion, two things are necessary, the new birth and the new life. First, the new birth. "Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." Religion, first of all, above all, aims at and affects the heart. It is this which is primarily concerned. "This people," the Lord complains, "draweth nigh unto me with their mouth, and honoreth me with their lips, but their heart is far from me." "Give me, my son," my daughter, "thy _heart_," is the request of the merciful Lord.

Whoever has sat under the pulpit of God, listening to His instructions and exhortations, or scanning the pages of His Holy Word, that has not had his feelings stirred and his soul warmed after the manner of those two disciples on their way to Emmaus, to whom the risen Lord opened the Scripture, whereupon they confessed, "Did not our heart burn within us?" Whose bosom has failed to beat higher with noble resolution and holy endeavor when kneeling before his God in prayer or at the sacred Communion? In a word, whose inner life has not been touched by the Spirit of God, and who has not undergone a change of mind which brings him to see things by faith in Christ, in a new light? The promise is: "With the heart man believeth unto righteousness." "If thou shalt believe in thine heart, thou shalt be saved." The heart belongs to true religion, and true religion belongs into the heart. This is the first requisite and essence of godliness--a new heart.

The other requisite is the new life. It is the natural and the necessary outflow of the new birth. When the heart has been changed by the Spirit of God, the new life will show itself. The Lord once remarked, "By their fruits ye shall know them." You cannot be a bad citizen, an undutiful parent, a spiteful husband, a fretful, quarrelsome wife, an unscrupulous business man, and, at the same time, a good Christian. It does not exhibit the power of godliness to listen devoutly to a sermon on righteousness, and temperance, and purity, and straightway imbibe freely from the intoxicating cup, speak words of profanity, and do things that are tainted. If you would discover if the works of a clock are right, we look at the hands; so by our hands and deeds we may test whether our hearts are right. You cannot be in possession of an evil tongue, of a lustful eye, of a covetous, selfish, miserly hand, and, at the same time, of a pious and devout mind.

If our text teaches anything, it teaches that godliness is a "power," an energy which renews and sanctifies men. But when there is power, it exerts and manifests itself. Then there must be, in order to have true religion, a regenerated heart and a corresponding life. How, then, to make a few direct words of application, is it with you, my dear hearer? One of the chief sources of offense, they tell us, is that those who profess godliness are so woefully short of it. "They are everlastingly running to church, praying, and hymn singing, but they live and act like heathen." Not infrequently that charge comes from an ugly and malicious, fault-finding spirit. Let us see to it that it is only that, a mean, unfair charge, that, as far as we are concerned, it be not true. Let us in the light of our text see to it that we have not only the form of godliness, but the power thereof, that our heart is right with God, and endeavor earnestly and conscientiously to make our head and tongues and hands right. God strengthen us in this resolution!

Lord Jesus, it is Thy religion we profess. Keep us by Thy Holy Spirit to be true disciples of it, to our soul's welfare, our fellow-man's uplift, and Thy glory. Amen.

SEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before God?--_Luke 12, 6._

Our Lord always spoke in the plainest possible terms. Whenever a vital truth was to be stated, an important doctrine to be set forth, He did it in language so clear that no one could misunderstand. The statement of our text this morning shares that quality. "Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before God?" The little creature mentioned is one of the most insignificant that could be thought of; the Lord selected it just for the sake of that utter insignificance to bring out a significant and all-inspiring truth. That truth is this: that God is in relation with everything that exists; that He superintends all; that there is nothing so minute as to be overlooked or forgotten. We call this the doctrine of God's providence, and a most prominent teaching of God's Word it is, as also one of the most cheering and practical.

Prompted by the Gospel-lesson of to-day, which shows us our blessed Lord as providing miraculously for the four thousand with seven loaves and a few small fishes, let us _I. seek to establish the doctrine of God's providence_; _II. show its application and effect upon us and our lives_.

"I believe that God has made me and all creatures, that He has given me my body and soul, eyes, ears, and all my members, my reason and all my senses, and still preserves them," thus we confess in the explanation of the First Article of our Creed, and what our Catechism thus confesses, the sacred Scriptures with especial clearness teach. God did not only, as some are willing to admit, create the universe, but He also now governs it personally and completely. It is the theory of our modern evolutionists and materialists that God has left the world to govern and develop itself, that, having placed it under certain natural laws, it must take care of itself, wholly independent of God's interference. As Melanchthon once characterized their position: "They think of God as a shipbuilder, who, when he has completed his vessel, launches it and then leaves it, or like a clock which you wind up, and then let run off." A different impression is that received from God's Holy Book. That assures us that, so far from turning over His government to unalterable laws, so far from retiring from His works to dwell apart in His own unapproachable Godhead in some distant sphere, unconcerned and uncaring for such a world and such creatures as we, there is nothing done, nor said, nor thought, nor felt by man but He knows it and notes it, and orders His dealings with reference to it. His providence includes every event,--the rise and fall of nations and states, the experiences and vicissitudes of the Church, the occurrences of the history of each family, the unnumbered instances which make up the life of each individual, no matter what their character. His supreme hand is in and over them all. Those words which we so commonly use in daily speech--chance, accident, strictly and consistently regarded, are untruthful, for there is no such thing as chance, an accident; nothing happens but it has been determined in His wisdom, and is sent, directed, or permitted according to His will. Chance or accident rule in nothing--God's providence in all. What more satisfactory assurance would we desire for that than what is told us in the text? It was a customary thing to see sold in the market-place of Jerusalem, as an article of merchandise, the little creatures here mentioned. The price was a minimum, five sparrows for two farthings, equal at the most, to two cents of our money. Our Lord, in referring to it, calls attention to the little regard taken by men of this poor little bird, and brings out in vivid and grand contrast the regard taken of it by God. "And not one of them is forgotten before God."

Elsewhere, in one of the Psalms, God says: "I know all the fowls upon the mountains, and the wild beasts of the field are in my sight." We watch in their season of immigration the flight of birds, when in long flocks they cross the sky, passing from the North to the South, or back again. To think that each in those countless tribes is known, as if by name, to its Creator, not one confounded with the other in the view of God! We observe the tiny sparrow as it skips from ground to housetop, busily gathering its food, or the frail materials wherewith to construct its nest below our house roof; how little we reflect that every one of them is numbered in that sight which nothing can escape, and that in the ephemeral history of the poor little bird, of which the great God and Savior deigns to speak, not one item is forgotten, each is seen and known and retained in a faithful memory; "not forgotten," implying a knowledge that lasts, a consideration though the thing known may no longer exist. This, then, is the way we are taught to think about our God. All things that transpire, all that has been and shall be--all are embraced within the circle of God's unforgetting, all-remembering knowledge, vision, providence. That is the Christian doctrine as taught by our Lord in such plain illustrations as this, and as preached by His apostles on the pages of the Old and New Testament throughout.