Progress in Piety

Publishing Committee · Battle Creek, Mich. · Oct 2, 1856

Progress in Piety.

Is it not the habit of most Christians, after the first fervors of conversion, to content themselves with a uniform practice of the regular duties of religion, maintaining a fixed temper of mind, and expecting no very appreciable advances in piety, except, it may be in seasons of extraordinary revivals? At least it is unquestionable that the proportion is very small in the general church, who, in the strong language of David, "pant" after the Lord.

The Christian course is represented as a "race." How would it suit for a racer to stop at frequent intervals in his progress, or to start with ardor, and then, folding his arms, deliberately walk to the goal, as if no prize challenged him and no spectators gazed at him? Do most Christians exemplify the strong language of St. Paul, "Seeing we are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin that doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us"? What a spectacle would the church exhibit, if each member maintained the progressive spirit of his religion! Of course the collective mass would be progressive; the term revival would become obsolete, for the perpetual spirit of the church would be lively and active. *

By what means can we make more progress in personal piety? Is not the first reason of our small progress, (first in the order of time as well as in influence,) the want of a definite aim towards it? Is it not to be feared that most Christians entertain but a feeble conviction of the duty of spiritual progress, of "going on," as St. Paul expresses it? We abandon ourselves to the control of casual circumstances; and are asleep or awake as the influences around us may be dull or quickening. Is not this almost universally the case? Now what would we think of an artisan who should enter his shop and thoughtlessly take up his tools and apply himself indiscriminately to work on whatever materials came first to hand, and pursue this course from day to day until his apartments should be filled with fragments of work, with nothing complete—no definite and final plan? What of an architect who should lay his foundations without reference to the proposed building, or a navigator who should spread his sails alike to all winds, favorable and adverse, contemplating his desired port on his map, but not on his compass?

In religion more than anything else, we want distinctness, directness. Single out then the particular grace in which you are the most deficient, and apply yourself unto it distinctly and daily, until you have attained it. You can pray for other blessings, and perform other duties; but let this one be foremost. Think about it, plan for it, bend everything towards it.

This advice is applicable not merely to individual graces, but to the great summary blessing of sanctification. Whether we attain it gradually or instantaneously, we must address ourselves to its pursuit directly and earnestly, or never attain it. It is not an accident that may or may not occur in our experience, but an object to be aimed at and labored for.

Again, we should make it a rule in our devotions, especially in prayer, never to fail to receive immediate and sensible communications from God. The excellent Mr. Benson maintained this resolution to the last; and those who have read his memoirs know the result. This is entirely a voluntary matter with ourselves. God is always willing to bless us. If we apply to him in faith nothing can interfere. The rule we now suggest would preserve the mind in a state suited for the ready exercise of faith. How remarkably remiss are we in our most solemn devotions. Would we approach mere human greatness with the same indifference as we do God? Could we converse with an earthly sovereign with the same heartlessness? Would a man beg for his life as we plead for our souls? Christian, rouse thyself! Endeavor to feel more fully the reality

of the divine presence, especially in the closet. Make it a purpose in secret prayer not to cease thine importunity till thou art blessed. The mere purpose will destroy most of those desultory thoughts which intrude into the sacred retirement, and render its devotions vague and ineffectual.

If Christ were visibly present at the hour of prayer, would we apply to him as we now do? Would not our every word be more direct, more confident? And is he less really present, though invisible? Can we not habituate ourselves to a vivid and immediate realization of his presence? Who will doubt it?

Another reason is our casual way of reading the scriptures. We frequently say, but how seldom do we feel, that the scriptures are the Word of God? What would be the moral effect of a daily interview with an angel? But what archangel could speak to us as God speaks? If the heavens should open above us only once in our lives, and we beheld the excellent glory and converse with God, would not the scene stamp our whole character? Would we be ordinary men afterwards? Would not its glory, as in the case of Moses on descending from the mount, continue to beam around our persons? But God does converse as infallibly with us in his word. Alas! we do not intently apprehend it. The scriptures no doubt have an immense influence, even on the collective mind of communities where they are read, but it is amazing that they do not imbue and dilate more fully individuals' minds. If the perusal of classic writings is so important for the formation of a vigorous and elegant intellect; if the study of the models of art is so effectual to the improvement of genius, what ought to be the effect of a daily converse with the conceptions of the Infinite Mind?

Now if the classic records or celebrated specimens of art were to be glanced at as slightly, though as habitually, as the scriptures, would they ever impress their excellencies on the susceptibilities of genius? They must be examined; a paragraph or a feature must be studied, thoroughly, laboriously. In like manner should the scriptures be studied. In studying the models of taste, not only must their import be comprehended by the student, but the spirit, the anima which actuates the writer or the artist must be caught. This is the highest attainment of genius. There is much reading but little studying of the Scriptures. Our Saviour in his command uses the strongest language: "Search the Scriptures."

The point of our remarks is simply that we should study the word of God daily with express reference to the improvement of our piety. Such a method universally used, would develop an efficacy in the truth which would surprise the world. It would not be merely like the efficacy of those occasional circumstances or impulses which we usually depend upon for spiritual improvement, nor merely like that of the hortative addresses of the pulpit. These are all enfeebled by human frailty. It would be potent and sublime from its association with immediate inspiration and with the purest and grandest truths, such as occupy angel minds. A Christian mind thoroughly conversant with the scriptures, and accustomed to drink from them as from a fountain of spiritual refreshment, may not manifest such a convulsive zeal and spasmodic action as one which depends on impulsive influences; but it will always be more profoundly vigorous, and serenely spiritual, like the deep and steady river, in contrast with its tributary stream that leaps and worries down the neighboring hillside. Search then the scriptures, with the prayer that God would sanctify you by his truth, "and remember that his" "word is truth."

Another reason of the small effect of our efforts to advance in religion frequently is the indulgence of some cherished sin. There is no state of mind which will allow of spiritual progress but that in which we are pressing forward. One sin, however apparently insignificant, may interfere with the most powerful influences, like as a small object near the eye, may exclude the light of the very sun. "If I regard iniquity in my heart," says the Psalmist, "the Lord will not hear me."

Do you complain, Christian reader, of the barrenness of your soul, of the feeble influence of the means of grace upon your heart? Pause a moment and inquire if there is not some neutralizing element, some favored, perhaps concealed, sin. Rest not till it is expelled. Remember the struggle is for your soul; that one sin may be your ruin; unless removed it will be a spring, the secret machinery of which extends under all your future destinies, and which, touched some time or other, may explode with universal wreck, your whole eternity. Lay aside therefore every weight, and the sin that doth so easily beset thee, and run with patience the race that is set before thee.—Guide to Christian Perfection.