Godly fear is an essential part of the christian character. It is sometimes called filial fear. Paul had it, when he said "lest by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway." 1 Cor. ix, 27; also Heb. iv, 1. Let us, therefore, fear, lest a promise being left us, &c. All the holy men of old had this fear. It is founded in love; it is continued and perfected in love; it has no torment in it, no discouragement, no spasmodic tortures of body, or mind; but it is calm, collected, composed. It exists in humble, broken, contrite hearts. It exists and grows strong in companionship with peace, love and joy. It fears to offend God because God is just and good and holy, and from respect and veneration to him and his character. It approaches God with careful solicitude, lest his pure eye should behold some hidden sin, while it at the same time stimulates the action of faith as it soars upward to heaven.
Slavish fear is entirely different from, and opposed to Godly fear, although it is often mistaken for it. It is the legitimate offspring of sin and guilt. Nevertheless Satan often scares the good man with groundless alarms. See Job vii, 14. This slavish fear is one of Satan's most potent weapons, with which he assaults the poor saint, in his lonely hours. It has been in all ages a snare into which the good have fallen, all the while supposing it to be a Godly fear; which mistake has rivetted the fetters, forged by the archenemy, in his gloomy darkness.
The pagan and papal systems, have reaped a large harvest by means of this slavish fear. It has multiplied victims to Juggernaut and penance; Pilgrims to Mecca and to Rome; and it has whitened many a rood of earth's surface with unburied, uncoffined bones.
The papal system, especially, has profited by this mistake, calling this slavish fear a godly one. It has nourished it by regularly constituted fasts and acts of penance, and thus has deceived its victims, and cheated them out of heaven.
Luther, the great reformer, had nearly fallen a victim to this fear. He was born in 1483, a time of thick moral darkness. Never was the Roman Catholic Church more corrupt, yet the good had not yet broken from its impious and senseless rites.
He had been favored with the best education Europe could afford; but all religious teaching, at that time, was so mixed with superstition, that Luther was under its influence, although he sought for the truth as it is in the word of God, yet he knew not how to obtain it. Of his own accord he entered a monastery at the age of twenty-one, the most fitting place, as he supposed to become holy; and here he industriously and sincerely, but vainly, practiced all the rites and severe mortifications of an austere monk; and all the while his fears and convictions deepened, and diffused themselves in his heart, until his life was in danger. None of his fellow monks could fathom his case, or give advice which should assuage his grief, or heal his wounds. Sin, sin, was his bitter foe, and all the rites of the cloister could not suffice to draw the venom from the sting of this deadly enemy.
Very happily for Luther, and happily for the good, Providence had previously prepared a fit person to give to the distressed Luther, such advice as was calculated to set him free. I. Staupitz, Vicar General of the Augustine monks, had passed through such religious experiences, as fitted him to administer to Luther appropriate instructions and consolations; and he profited by the mild precepts of his friend, who taught him to look to God as to a kind father, not as to an inexorable avenger, but with faith in Christ, not in self-mortifications and severe penance.
About the time Luther left the privacy of a monk's cell, for the pulpit (Luther's disenfranchisement from Romanism was gradual), the following incident took place, which I copy from D'Aubigne's Hist. of the Ref., page 183, vol. 1.
"The festival of Corpus Christi was to be celebrated with great pomp at Eisleben. The Vicar General would be present, and Luther repaired there also. He had still need of Staupitz, and sought every opportunity of meeting this enlightened guide, who directed his soul into the path of life. The procession was numerous and brilliant. Staupitz himself bore the consecrated host, Luther following in his sacerdotal robes. The thought that it was Jesus Christ himself whom the Vicar General carried, the idea that the Saviour was there in person before him, suddenly struck Luther's imagination, and filled him with such terror that he could scarcely proceed. The perspiration fell drop by drop from his face; he staggered, and thought he should die of anguish and affright. At length the procession was over; the host, that had awakened all the fears of the monk, was solemnly deposited in the sanctuary; and Luther, finding himself alone with Staupitz, fell into his arms and confessed his dread. Then the good Vicar General, who had long known that gentle Saviour, who does not break the bruised reed, said to him mildly: 'It was not Jesus Christ, my brother, he does not alarm, he gives consolation only.'"
If ever there was a time in which it was important to understand this device of Satan, it was in the reformation; and it is evident from Luther's course, that thenceforth slavish fear had no terrors for him, at least none are apparent. He learned by sad experience, that Satan could counterfeit the fear of God, and thus terrify the mind otherwise unmoved.
This too is a time of reformation from papal errors. Satan is making a mighty but silent struggle. Many an honest heart is scared with dreams, and terrified in various ways; but the obedient godly person may well claim the promise, and cast itself calmly upon its loving, gentle Saviour.
Jos. CLARKE.