Knowledge Is Peace by Dr. Guthrie

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Sep 23, 1875

Knowledge Is Peace.

By Dr. Guthrie

THERE are two ways by which we may acquaint ourselves with God. The Lord is known by the judgments that he executes; so I remark:—

1. We are to acquaint ourselves with God through his works. Isaac meditated in the fields at eventide; no doubt retiring from the contemplation of the flowers beneath his feet and the stars above his head with a heart better attuned to the evening exercises of praise and prayer. The psalmist also adored God in his works; saying, “Come, let us worship and bow down, let us kneel before the Lord, our Maker”—not our Saviour only, but our Maker also. And he who brings a devout spirit to contemplate the green earth and glorious sky, the flowers that gem the one and the stars that gem the other, the land, and the sea that foams upon its shores, does not feed his soul with ashes. The Bible will not be less, but rather more, prized for our occasionally turning from it to open another and equally divine volume, to read some pages of the book of nature. Both are good books; and he only looks on this great world aright, who, valuing it for something more valuable than the gold men draw from its rocky bowels, the flocks it pastures, the rich freights borne on its waves, and the harvests that wave on its fields, beholds there, as in a glorious mirror, the wisdom and power of God—the goodness that shines in every sunbeam and falls in every shower.

In this aspect, our world is one vast, majestic temple, of which, with the earth for its floor and the lofty firmament for its dome, it may be said with more truth than of Solomon’s, “The glory of the Lord filleth all the house.” There, to a devout and intelligent eye, every object in nature seems a worshipper; to a devout ear praise sounds in every murmuring stream, the peal of thunder and the boom of the ocean; prayers ascend in the raven’s cry and the roar of young lions for food; thanksgivings are offered in the music with which bush and brake welcome the rising day; faith sings in every little bird that without money in bank or corn in barns pours forth its happy song; while the flowers seem ten thousand thousand golden and silver censers, from which nature offers the incense of praise to God.

Bits of glass sparkle when the sun shines on them; and let a devout mind be turned on the humblest of God’s works, and its feelings will find expression in words the greatest and wisest philosophers have been the readiest to employ.

“O Lord, how manifold are thy works! in wisdom hast thou made them all.”

“We miss a great deal, I am persuaded, by not seeing God in his works so much as we might and ought to do; and I feel certain that if, like the Old-Testament saints, we associated him more with these, the scenes that minister to our pleasure would prove important aids to our piety. Thus holidays spent in visiting scenes, simple or sublime, would contribute to our holiness, and the grandeur of nature would help the growth of grace. How sublime were the views these Old-Testament saints had of God, and how sublimely expressed! They saw him in every aspect of nature—whether it was by day or night; in the sunshine of summer and the snows of winter; in the volcano belching out streams of fire, and in the earth itself, reeling to and fro like a drunken man; and so, in language that glows alike with poetry and piety, they said, He covereth himself with light as with a garment; he looketh on the earth, and it trembleth; he toucheth the mountains, and they smoke; he scattereth the hoar frost like ashes; the clouds are his chariot; he rideth on the wings of the wind; the God of glory thundereth.

At the close of the sixth day, it is said, God saw everything that he had made; and, behold, it was very good; and the study of his works I can the more recommend that they supplied the sermon which was blessed to convict Job of ignorance; to humble his pride; to silence his murmurs; to restore him to patience, and reconcile the good man’s will to God. Drawn, not from God’s word, but his works, this is at least a part of it. Addressing Job, God says: Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? Who shut up the sea with doors? Out of whose womb came the ice; the hoary frost of heaven, who hath gendered it? Canst thou bind the sweet influences of Pleiades, or loose the bands of Orion? Hast thou given the horse his strength, hast thou clothed his neck with thunder? Doth the hawk fly by thy wisdom; doth the eagle mount up at thy command? Shall he that contendeth with the Almighty instruct him? He that reproveth God, let him answer it.

There is little gospel there, some may think; nor is it such a sermon as many would preach, or approve of were man the preacher. Yet, with nature for his text, that was God’s sermon; and accompanied by the Spirit—without which, whatever be their text or sermon, preachers beat the air, and though addressing eager crowds, are as the voice of one crying in the wilderness—what was the result? Let the result teach us to hold communion with God everywhere, through the medium of his works as well as of his word. “Then,” it is said, at the close of this sermon, “Job answered the Lord, and said, Behold, I am vile; what shall I answer thee?” “Hear, I beseech thee, and I will speak; . . . I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye seeth thee; wherefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes.”

2. We are to acquaint ourselves with God as revealed to us in his word; in the face of his Son, our Saviour, Jesus Christ.

He has a temple in nature, but with all its glory and magnificence that temple has no mercy-seat; no laver for foul hands to wash in; no altar where the blood of the innocent flows for the crimes of the guilty. There, from the shrines of science and philosophy, a trembling, alarmed sinner, I get no answer to my question, What shall I do to be saved? nor Job any solution of his difficulty. Oh! for a daysman—in other words, a mediator—betwixt us to lay his hand upon us both! Lying under condemnation, undone through sin, unable either to justify or to save ourselves, hanging helplessly by life’s brittle thread over an awful gulf, no knowledge of God as he appears in the works of nature can bring us peace. What we need is a gracious as well as a glorious God; not so much goodness as mercy; love, fatherly, divine love, not to obedient but to disobedient children; the love of the Highland mother who never shut her door by night for long years in hope that a daughter who had gone astray would come back, and, coming back, might find it open; the love of him who recognized the prodigal afar off, and forgiving and forgetting all, kind, fond father, fell on his neck and folded him to his happy bosom.

It is only such a knowledge of God that can bring peace to sinners; and we have it in Jesus Christ, the gift of divine love to the chief of sinners. Having taken our sins upon himself, and died, the just for the unjust, that we might be saved, Jesus is our peace. Out of him there is no peace—none to the impenitent and unbelieving, none to such as repel his Spirit and despise his mercy; nothing to them but a fearful looking for of judgment and fiery indignation. On the other hand, let their sins be more in multitude than the hairs of their head, than the stars of heaven, the drops of ocean, or the dust of earth, there is no condemnation to them who believe in Jesus Christ, and walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.

That blessed saying of our Lord: “He that hath seen me, hath seen the Father,” what peace does it speak to the troubled conscience! What a flag of invitation it waves to every sinner to lay down his arms, and, casting away the weapons of his rebellion, to cast himself on the mercy of God! In Jesus Christ, in that God-man, so full of tenderness, so gentle, kind, loving and long-suffering; here not spurning away but encouraging a weeping Magdalene; here shedding tears for the city that was about to shed his blood; here forgetting his own sorrows in pity for a mother’s, putting forth his dying strength to save a thief, and spending life’s latest breath in prayer for bloody murderers; in him who hastened on wings of love to pluck this world from ruin—who never wished ill to any, but good to all—who returned blessing for cursing, prayers for persecution, kisses for blows, imploring even his bitterest enemies to look on him and live, to believe and be saved; and who this day from his throne in Heaven bends looks of pity on the guiltiest of mankind—in him God unveils himself to us. Here a sight is revealed on which angels gaze in wonder, and which might speak peace to every troubled conscience, and breed hope in the very bosom of despair.

3. The time for acquainting ourselves with God is this, and not another, time. Acquaint now thyself with God, and be at peace.

Now, for this most plain and pressing reason that it is in this life only we can do so, and that the opportunities life offers are fast passing away. “Our fathers, where are they? The prophets, do they live forever?” And a few more years—in respect to some, not years, but hours, or days, or weeks at most—and where will my readers be? Mingled with the clouds of the valley; gone for weal or woe. Tell me not that you intend soon, fully intend, to turn over, as they say, a new leaf, and, accepting the Saviour, make your peace with God. If that is your intention, there is no time like the present. Talk not of old age and death-beds! This is a refuge of lies. I am weary of remonstrating, pleading against delays, where delay is in the highest degree dangerous; being the more convinced, the more death-beds I witness, that if you wish to lose your soul, there is no surer way of doing it. How often have I wished, when one on the brink of the grave has cried, “Pray, oh! pray, such is my agony that I cannot pray;” and when I have seen the sun of another set amid lurid clouds, or the raving tempests of delirium; and when I have seen one on the verge of another world oppressed with a stupor no danger nor the voice of affection can arouse—how have I wished men were there to see that a death-bed is a place to enjoy salvation, but not one to seek it!

In such cases, it is well with those who are safe in Jesus, who have their life “hid with Christ in God;” but for a godless, graceless sinner so to die, though pronouncing no judgment on him—leaving that to the Judge of the quick and dead—this I will say, I would not run his risk, nor have my soul bound up in the same bundle with his—no, not for ten thousand worlds. Let every one of my readers be persuaded to acquaint himself with God now, and be at peace. Happy are those who have already done so; who know in whom they have believed; who have made their calling and election sure.—Dr. Guthrie.