Proxy in Religion by Rev. F. Mason North

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Jan 14, 1886

Proxy in Religion.

By Rev. F. Mason North

THE art of getting our duties done by others has come into high favor in recent years. It is practiced with the most ingenious skill everywhere. A man may, from his well-cushioned pew as a center, by the magic touch of a few coins upon the passing contribution-box, reach the whole circuit of his obligations to God's work, and go home to his dinner, his newspaper, and his nap with complacency and a quiet conscience. A mother can get her children off to Sunday-school, and then rest from all further responsibility for their religious instruction. A Sunday-school teacher may make the connection between the mysterious mechanism of the International system and her class on Sunday, and, after turning the crank for the requisite time, content herself that the system has discharged her entire obligation for her. The woman of benevolence—fully posted by the Charities Bureau of Information, with a bundle of soup tickets and the certificates of the "Clear-ing-house for Consolidated Charities" in her hand—can, while entertaining her friends in her drawing-room, "dispose of" every "case" which appeals to her bounty. The devout churchman, who finds his son or his neighbor in spiritual darkness, feels the agreeable meritoriousness of having done his whole duty when he has advised the inquirer for salvation to "consult the minister."

The fact is, we are in an epoch of marvelous inventiveness. The new cotton-picking machine, which, with two men and a mule, can do the work of forty men, is an agricultural instance of what is now going on in the sphere of philanthropy and practical Christianity. Mules and machines have largely taken the place of men; or, to save the statement from unpleasant allusions to a useful though often misunderstood friend of humanity, ecclesiastical contrivances are being widely substituted for the power of the individual. It is not alone in politics that the man is hidden by the machine.

Christians have acquired the habit—and that quite naturally—of "pointing with pride" to the wonderful development of the church. Even her enemies bear witness to her greatness by the ingenuity and force with which they seek to depreciate her. The opportunities and resources of the church have increased incalculably, and her appliances have multiplied a thousand-fold; but in the very midst of this chorus of self-gratulation the question meets us: Is there an increase of force proportional to the increase of facilities? Is there a possibility that the mechanism of Christianity may retard or destroy its power?

It is clearly not enough to prove by figures, either of arithmetic, or of speech, or of geometry—for the demonstration by diagram is now very popular—that there is numerical growth, and that wealth and social influence are increased. Imperial Rome after a time lost force by gaining territory. With a limited water-supply, the more ditches for irrigation a farmer digs, the poorer crops he will gather. Admit the increase in the church; does it mean more territory and more ditches, or more power? Peter Bayne somewhere says, "Some men are ever ready to ride upon the car of civilization while others push." There is an increase in the church. Is it of those who ride or those who push? Is the increment one of weight or of power?

It should certainly be clear to us that the multiplication of facilities—in things religious or things secular—is the multiplication of hindrances, unless there is also a relative gain in the operating force. A scythe is better than a mowing machine to the man who has no horses. With a compound lever a mechanic should be able to lift more than with a simple one; otherwise the very complications of the former prevent the results possible with the latter. Now the gospel's center of force, as far as human instrumentalities are concerned, is the individual soul. It is not learning, not the printing press, not the pulpit, not the church, but the man. The true light is kindled in, and radiates from, personal character. The world sees the way to God by the light of flaming hearts. To shade the light by any medium, however artistically wrought, is to diminish the power of the gospel. Neither social power, nor intellectual power, nor what is called the power of truth, must be substituted for the power of the soul.

Now, in the growth of Christianity, has this power of the individual increased? Are there to-day relatively more or fewer souls who, imbued with holy zeal and flashing forth the divine light, are bringing direct influence to bear upon other souls? Here, for example, is a church of six hundred members. Eloquence is in the pulpit, art in the windows, at the organ, and in the choir stalls; wealth and propriety are in the pews; and the number of souls saved annually can be counted upon the fingers of the hands—perhaps on those of one hand. Of these hundreds, what proportion do their religious work themselves, and what proportion do theirs by proxy? How many of these voices are ever heard in prayer or testimony? How many are watching and praying for unsaved souls, and how many are valiantly serving the Lord by substitute? Unquestionably it must be admitted that the direct personal influence and work of individual Christians are the least used forces that the church has to-day.

Nor is it difficult to perceive how the proxy plan diminishes spiritual power in the individual, and so in the church. For, first, much of the initial force is lost in the necessary friction of so complicated a system as that of Christian work in this age. Heat is indeed developed; but it is the heat of wear, not of power. In many a church more treasures of strength and wisdom are exhausted in supplying oil to protect the bearings than are available for the direct purposes for which the whole machine is contrived.

Secondly, any man—and here we must remember that "whether one member suffer, all the members suffer with it"—any man who avoids religious duty and personal contact with the unsaved suffers inevitable loss; the loss of sensibility, then of sympathy, and hence of motive power. Ceasing to work for others, he ceases to care for them, and dwarfs his power to the stunted possibilities of the collection plate, and the worse than fruitless formality of heartless prayer.

And, thirdly, power is gone when the sense of responsibility is gone. There is something horrible in the complacency with which the majority of Christians watch their unsaved fellow-voyagers sink beneath the waves. Multitudes, clearly, are ignorant that in the gospel economy, the conversion of a soul carries with it a commission to work. Responsibility should rest upon the individual; he escapes it, and leaves it upon the church.

The perfection of organization is not that which relieves from personal responsibility, but that which widens the application of personal power. And we may well suspect the genuineness of that growth which enlarges the organization and diminishes the consciousness. It is very probably the growth of disease. If, then, there be a real menace in this tendency to bury the power of the individual beneath the complications of an over-organized system, is there any way of averting such a calamity? There is space for only one or two general suggestions.

And first, let religious teachers and leaders aim directly at the development of spiritual force in the person, rather than at the elaboration of mechanism in the church. Christ's is still the true method. He gave the world not, primarily, an organization, but a group of converted men. Secondly, demand from converted men the active labor of converted men. Every man who reads his pardon at the foot of the cross should there also read his commission. To him to whom the Master says, "Go, work!" the church has no right to say, "Come, pay for your pew, and be idle." Thirdly, let every organization of Christians be founded, not upon the hospital idea, the lecture-bureau idea, the social-club idea, but upon the army idea. Camp followers and sutlers are of little use in battle.