AN EXHORTATION TO CHRISTIAN PERFECTION.
By Law
We may judge of the measure and extent of Christian holiness, from the one instance of charity. This virtue is thus described, Charity seeketh not her own, beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Now this charity, though it be in perfection, is yet by the Apostle made so absolutely necessary to salvation, that a failure in it is not to be supplied by any other of the most shining virtues. Though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing. The Apostle expressly teaches us, that this perfection in charity is so necessary to salvation, that even martyrdom itself is not sufficient to atone for the want of it. Need we now any other argument to convince us, that to labor after our perfection, is only to labor after our salvation? For what is here said of charity, must in all reason be understood of every other virtue, it must be practiced in the same fullness and sincerity of heart as this charity. It may also justly be affirmed, that this charity is so holy a temper, and requires so many other virtues, as the foundation of it, that it can only be exercised by a heart that is far advanced in holiness, that is entirely devoted to God. Our whole nature must be changed, we must have put off the old man, we must be born again of God, we must have overcome the world, we must live by faith, be full of the Spirit of Christ, in order to exercise this charity. When therefore you would know, whether it be necessary to labor after Christian perfection, and live wholly unto God, read over St. Paul's description of charity. If you can think of any negligence of life, any defects of humility, any abatements of devotion, any fondness of the world, any desires of riches and greatness, that is consistent with the tempers there described, then you may be content with them; but if these tempers of an exalted charity cannot subsist, but in a soul that is devoted to God, and has renounced the world, that is humble and mortified, that is full of the Spirit of Christ and the cares of eternity; then you have a plain reason of the necessity of laboring after all the perfection that you are capable of; for the Apostle expressly saith, that without these tempers, the very tongues of angels are but as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. Do not therefore imagine, that it only belongs to people of a particular piety and turn of mind, to labor after their perfection, and that you may go to heaven with much less care; there is only one strait gate, and one narrow way that leadeth unto life, and there is no admission, but for those who strive to enter into it. If you are not striving, you neglect the express condition which our Lord requires, and it is flat nonsense to think that you strive, if you do not use all your strength. The Apostle represents a Christian's striving for eternal life in this manner. Know ye not that they which run in a race, run all, but one receiveth the prize? So run that ye may obtain. So that, according to the Apostle, he only is in the road to salvation, who is so contending for it, as he that is running in a race.82Farther; you can have no satisfaction that you are sincere in any other virtue, unless you are endeavoring to be perfect in all the instances of it. If you allow yourself in any defects of charity, you have no reason to think yourself sincere in any acts of charity. If you indulge yourself in any instances of pride, you render all your acts of humility justly suspected, because there can be no true reason for charity, but what is as good a reason for all instances of charity; nor any religious motive for humility, but what is as strong a motive for all degrees of humility. So that he who allows himself in any known defect of charity, humility, or any other virtue, cannot be supposed to practise any instances of that virtue upon true reasons of religion. For if it was a right fear of God, a true desire of being like Christ, a hearty love of my fellow-creatures, that made me give alms, the same dispositions would make me love and forgive all my enemies, and deny myself all kinds of revenge, and spite, and evil-speaking. So that if I allow myself in known instances of uncharitableness, I have as much reason to suppose myself void of true charity, as if I allowed myself in a refusal of such alms as I am able to give; because every instance of uncharitableness is the same sin against all the reasons of charity, as the allowed refusal of alms. For the refusal of alms is only a great sin, because it shows that we have not a right fear of God, that we have not a hearty desire of being like Christ, that we want a true love of our fellow-creature. Now, as every allowed instance of uncharitableness shows a want of all these tempers; so it shows, that every such instance is the same sin, and sets us as far from God, as the refusal of alms. To forbear from spite and evil-speaking, is a proper instance of Christian charity; but yet it is such a charity as will not profit those who are not charitable in alms, because by refusing alms, they sin against as many reasons of charity, as he that lives in spite and evil-speaking. And on the other hand, he that allows himself in spite and evil-speaking, sins against all the same reasons of charity, as he that lives in the refusal of alms. This is a doctrine that cannot be too much reflected upon by all those who would practise a piety that is pleasing to God. Too many Christians look at some instances of virtue which they practise, as a sufficient atonement for their known defects in some other parts of the same virtue: not considering that this is as absurd as to think to make some apparent acts of justice, compound for other allowed instances of fraud. A lady is perhaps satisfied with her humility, because she can look at some apparent instances of it; she sometimes visits hospitals and alms-houses, and is very familiar and condescending to the poor. Now these are very good things; but then it may be, that these very things are looked upon as sufficient proofs of humility; she patches and paints, and delights in all the show and ornaments of personal pride, and is very easy with herself because she visits the hospitals. Now she should consider that she places her humility in that which is but a part, and also the smallest and most deceitful part of it. For the hardest, the greatest, the most essential part of humility, is to have low opinions of ourselves, to love our own meanness, and to renounce all such things as gratify the pride and vanity of our nature. Humility also is much better discovered by our behaviour towards our equals and superiors, than towards those who are so much below us. It does no hurt to a proud heart, to stoop to some low offices to the meanest people. Nay, there is something in it that may gratify pride; for perhaps our own greatness is never seen to more advantage than when we stoop to those who are so far below us. The lower the people are to whom we stoop, the better they show the height of our own state. So that there is nothing difficult in these condescensions, they are no contradictions to pride. The truest trial of humility, is our behaviour towards our equals, and those who are our superiors or inferiors but in a small degree. It is no sign of humility, for a private gentleman to pay a profound reverence, and show great submission to a king; nor is it any sign of humility, for the same person to condescend to great familiarity with a poor almsman. For he may act upon the same principle in both cases. It does not hurt him to show great submission to a king, because he has no thoughts of being equal to a king; and for the same reason it does not hurt him to condescend to poor people, because he never imagines that they will think themselves equal to him. So that it is the great inequality of condition that makes it as easy for people to condescend to those who are a great way below them, as to be submissive and yielding to those who are vastly above them. From this it appears, that our most splendid acts of virtue, which we think to be sufficient to atone for our other known defects, may themselves be so vain and defective, as to have no worth in them. This also shows us the absolute necessity of laboring after all instances of perfection in every virtue, because if we pick and choose what parts of any virtue we will perform, we sin against all the same reasons, as if we neglected all parts of it. If we choose to give instead of forgiving, we choose something else instead of charity. Thirdly, another motive to induce you to aspire after Christian perfection, may be taken from the double advantage of it, in this life, and that which is to come. The Apostle thus exhorts the Corinthians, Wherefore my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord; forasmuch as ye know that our labor will not be in vain in the Lord. 1 Cor. xv. This is an exhortation founded upon solid reason; for what can be so wise and reasonable, as to be always abounding in that work which will never be in vain? Whilst we are pleased with ourselves, or pleased with the world, we are pleased with vanity, and our most prosperous labors of this kind are, as the Preacher saith, but vanity of vanities, all is vanity. But whilst we are laboring after Christian perfection, we are laboring for eternity, and building in ourselves higher stations in the joys of heaven. As one star differeth from another star in glory, so also is the resurrection of the dead; we shall surely rise to different degrees of glory, of joy and happiness in God, according to our different advancements in purity, holiness, and good works. No degrees of mortification and self-denial, no private prayers, no secret mournings, no instances of charity, no labor of love will ever be forgotten, but all treasured up to our everlasting comfort and refreshment. For though the rewards of the other life are free gifts of God; yet since he has assured us, that every man will be rewarded according to his works, it is certain, that our rewards will be as different as our works have been. Now stand still here awhile, and ask yourself, whether you really believe this to be true, that the more perfect we make ourselves here, the more happy we shall be hereafter. If you do not believe this to be strictly true, you are but children in the knowledge of God and of religion. And if you do believe it to be true, is it possible to be awake, and not aspiring after Christian perfection? What can you think of, what can the world show you, that can make you any amends for the loss of any degree of virtue? Can any way of life make it reasonable for you, to die less perfect than you might have done? If you would now devote yourself to perfection, perhaps you must part with some friends, you must displease some relations, you must lay aside some designs, you must refrain from some pleasures, you must alter your life; nay, perhaps you must do more than this, you must expose yourself to the hatred of your friends, to the jest and ridicule of wits, and to the scorn and derision of worldly men. But had you not better do and suffer all this, than to die less perfect, less prepared for mansions of eternal glory? But indeed, the suffering all this, is suffering nothing. For why should it signify any thing to you, what fools and madmen think of you? And surely it can be no wrong or rash judgment to think those both fools and mad, who condemn what God approves, and like that which God condemns. But if you think this too much to be done, to obtain eternal glory, think on the other hand, what can be gained instead of it. Fancy yourself living in all the ease and pleasure that the world can give you, esteemed by your friends, undisturbed by your enemies, and gratifying all your natural tempers. If you could stand still in such a state, you might say that you had got something; but alas! every day that is added to such a life, is the same thing as a day taken from it, and shows you that so much happiness is gone from you; for be as happy as you will, you must see it all sinking away from you; you must feel yourself decline; you must see that your time shortens apace; you must hear of sudden deaths; you must fear sickness; you must both dread and desire old age; you must fall into the hands of death; you must either die in the painful, bitter sorrows of a deep repentance, or in a sad, gloomy despair, wishing for mountains to fall upon you, and seas to cover you. And is this a happiness to be chosen? Is this all that you can gain by neglecting God, by following your own desire, and not laboring after Christian perfection? Is it worth your while to separate yourself from God, to lose your share in the realms of light, to be thus happy, or I may better say, to be thus miserable, even in this life? You may be so blind and foolish, as not to think of these things; but it is impossible to think of them without laboring after Christian perfection. It may be you are too young, too happy, or too busy to be affected with these reflections; but let me tell you, that all will be over before you are aware; your day will be spent, and leave you to such a night as that which surprised the foolish virgins. And at midnight there was a great cry made, Behold the bridegroom cometh, go ye out to meet him. Matt. xxv, 6. The last hour will soon be with you, when you will have nothing to look for, but your reward in another life; when you will stand with nothing but eternity before you, and must begin to be something that will be your state forever. I can no more reach heaven with my hands, than I can describe the sentiments that you will then have; you will then feel motions of heart that you never felt before; all your thoughts and reflections will pierce your soul, in a manner that you never before experienced. You will then know what it is to die; you will then know, that you never knew it before, that you never thought worthily of it; but that dying thoughts are as new and amazing, as that state which follows them. Let me therefore exhort you to come prepared to this time of trial; to look out for comfort, whilst the day is before you: to treasure up such a fund of good and pious works, as may make you able to bear that state, which cannot be borne without them. Could I any way make you apprehend, how dying men feel the want of a pious life; how they lament time lost, health and strength squandered away in folly; how they look at eternity, and what they think of the rewards of another life, you would soon find yourself one of those who desire to live in the highest state of piety and perfection, that by this means you may grow old in peace, and die in full hopes of eternal glory. Consider again, that besides the rewards of the other life, the laboring after Christian perfection, or devoting yourself wholly to God, has a great reward even in this life, as it makes religion doubly pleasant to you. Whilst you are divided betwixt God and the world, you have neither the pleasures of religion, nor the pleasures of the world; but are always in the uneasiness of a divided state of heart. You have only so much religion as serves to disquiet you; to check your enjoyments; to show you a hand-writing upon the wall; to interrupt your pleasures; to reproach you with your follies; and to appear as a death's-head at all your feasts; but not religion enough to give you a taste and feeling of its proper pleasures and satisfactions. You dare not wholly neglect religion; but then you take no more of it, than is just sufficient to keep you from being a terror to yourself; and you are as loth to be very good, as you are fearful to be very bad. So that you are just as happy as the slave, that dares not run away from his master, and yet always serves him against his will. So that instead of having a religion that is your comfort in all troubles, your religion is itself a trouble, under which you want to be comforted; and those days and times hang heaviest upon your hands, which leave you only to the offices and duties of religion. Sunday would be very dull and tiresome but that it is but one day in seven, and is made a day of dressing and visiting, as83well as of divine service: you do not care to keep away from the public worship, but are always glad when it is over. This is the state of a half-piety; thus they live who add religion to a worldly life; all their religion is mere yoke and burden, and is only made tolerable by having but little of their time. Urbanus goes to church, but he hardly knows whether he goes out of a sense of duty, or to meet his friends. He wonders at those people who are profane, and what pleasure they can find in irreligion; but then he is in as great a wonder at those who would make every day a day of divine worship; he feels no more of the pleasures of piety, than of the pleasures of profaneness. As religion has everything from him but his heart, so he has everything from religion but its comforts. Urbanus likes religion, because it seems an easy way of pleasing God; a decent thing, that takes up but little of our time, and is a proper mixture in life. But if he was reduced to take comfort in it, he would be as much at a loss as those who have lived without God in the world. When Urbanus thinks of joy, and pleasure, and happiness, he does not think at all of religion. He has gone through a hundred misfortunes, fallen into variety of hardships; but never thought of making religion his comfort in any of them; he makes himself quiet and happy in another manner. He is content with his Christianity, not because he is pious, but because he is not profane. He continues in the same course of religion, not because of any real good he ever found in it, but because it does him no hurt. To such poor purposes as these do numbers of people profess Christianity. Let me, therefore, exhort you to a solid piety, to devote yourself wholly unto God, that entering deep into religion you may enter deep into its comforts, that serving God with all your heart, you may have the peace and pleasure of a heart that is at unity with itself. When your conscience once bears you witness, that you are steadfast, immovable, and always abounding in the work of the Lord, you will find that your reward is already begun, and that you could not be less devout, less holy, less charitable, or less humble, without lessening the most substantial pleasure that ever you felt in your life. So that to be content with any lower attainments in piety, is to rob ourselves of a present happiness, which nothing else can give us. You would, perhaps, devote yourself to perfection, but for this or that little difficulty that lies in your way; you are not in so convenient a state for the full practice of piety as you could wish. But consider that this is nonsense, because perfection consists in conquering difficulties. You could not be perfect, as the present state of trial requires, had you not those difficulties and inconveniences to struggle with. These things therefore, which you would have removed, are laid in your way, that you may make them so many steps to perfection and glory. As you could not exercise your charity, unless you met with objects, so neither could you show that you had overcome the world, unless you had many worldly engagements to overcome. If all your friends and acquaintances were devout, humble, heavenly-minded, and wholly intent upon the one end of life, it would be less perfection in you to be like them. But if you are humble amongst those that delight in pride; heavenly-minded amongst the worldly; sober amongst the intemperate; devout amongst the irreligious; and laboring after perfection amongst those that despise and ridicule your labors; then you are truly devoted unto God. Consider therefore that you can have no difficulty but such as the world lays in your way, and that perfection is never to be had, but by parting with the world. It consists in nothing else. To stay therefore to be perfect, till it suits with your condition in the world, is like staying to be charitable till there were no objects of charity. It is as if a man should intend to be courageous some time or other, when there is nothing left to try his courage. Again; you perhaps turn your eyes upon the world; you see all orders of people full of other cares and pleasures; you see the generality of clergy and laity, learned and unlearned, your friends and acquaintances, mostly living according to the spirit that reigneth in the world; you are, perhaps, content with such a piety, as you think contents great scholars and famous men; and, it may be, you cannot think that God will reject such numbers of Christians. Now all this is amusing yourself with nothing; it is only losing yourself in vain imaginations: it is making that a rule which is no rule, and cheating yourself into a false satisfaction. As you are not censoriously to damn other people; so neither are you to think your own salvation secure because you are like the generality of the world. The foolish virgins that had provided no oil for their lamps, and so were shut out of the marriage-feast, were only thus far foolish, that they trusted to the assistance of those that were wise. But you are more foolish than they; for you trust to be saved by the folly of others; you imagine yourself safe in the negligence, vanity and irregularity of the world. You take confidence in the broad way, because it is broad; you are content with yourself, because you seem to be along with the many, though God himself has told you, that narrow is the way that leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it. Lastly, one word more and I have done: think with yourself what a happiness it is that you have it in your power to secure a share in the glories of heaven, and make yourself one of those blessed beings that are to live with God forever. Reflect upon the glories of bright angels, that shine about the throne of heaven; think upon that fullness of joy, which is the state of Christ at the right hand of God; and remember, that it is this same state of glory and joy that lies open for you. You are less, it may be, in worldly distinctions than many others, but as to your relation to God, you have no superior upon earth. Let your condition be what it will, let your life be ever so mean, you may make the end of it the beginning of eternal glory. Be often, therefore, in these reflections, that they may fill you with a wise ambition of all that glory, which God in Christ hath called you to. For it is impossible to understand and feel anything of this, without feeling your heart affected with strong desires after it. The hopes and expectations of so much greatness and glory must needs awake you into earnest desires and longings after it. There are many things in human life which it would be in vain for you to aspire after; but the happiness of the next, which is the sum of all happiness, is secure and safe to you against all accidents. Here no chances or misfortunes can prevent your success; neither the treachery of friends, nor the malice of enemies, can disappoint you! it is only your own false heart that can rob you of this happiness. Be but your own true friend, and then you have nothing to fear from your enemies. Do but you sincerely labor in the Lord, and then neither delight nor depth, neither life nor death, neither men nor devils, can make your labor in vain.—Law.