CAN I BE HOLY? by Editor

Publishing Committee · Battle Creek, Mich. · Oct 16, 1860

CAN I BE HOLY?

By Editor

"I would not if I could," says scoffing Indifference. "I could not if I would," replies downcast Despondency. They are both in the wrong; but our business is not now with the skeptic soul; it is only with our sincere but faint-hearted brother Despondency. He belongs to a large family. He is brother to Mistrust, and Littlefaith, and own cousin to a whole troop of Doubts, Fears, and Unbeliefs, besides being step-father to Lack-courage and Miss Much-afraid. Perhaps he or his may fall in with this paragraph, and we will have a friendly word with him and his velvet-footed friends.

1. What is it to be holy? Holiness is not monkish asceticism—nor is it Pharisaism—nor is it sour sanctimoniousness—nor is it the unattainable state of the glorified before the throne in heaven. It is simply the habit of being of one mind with God. It is the fixed permanent habit of the soul that hates what God hates, and loves whatsoever God loves, even though all this costs daily and hourly self-denial. It is the habit of living with the Bible as the rule of life, and Jesus Christ as the example. That this habit of heart and method of life are not unattainable, is clear from the fact that God commands us in his word "Be ye holy." Our heavenly Father never enjoins impossibilities upon his children. It is possible for you therefore, my friend, to be holy. The Bible speaks of scores of men as "holy."

"Well, but those were extraordinary men," says one, "who lived in extraordinary times. They possessed wonderful gifts." So they did. And so may you. Their God is your God. Their promises are your promises. Their heavenly Father never gave their souls a more glorious tonic than these words—my grace is sufficient for thee. Open your too much neglected Bible and you will find the identical words there, and placed there too for your special benefit and support. That single passage was quite enough for Paul and Peter and John. It was a rock under John Calvin's feet. It sufficed for the Wesleys. It cured Martin Luther. The giants Chalmers and Edwards had nothing more. You have all they required. God's grace is enough. Have you ever sought the possession of that, sincerely, prayerfully, and practically? I fear not. I fear you have never tried to be holy.

2. Another says, "I have no time to cultivate heart-holiness. My business swallows up my time." Then, sir, you have too much business. The more business you have, the more of holiness you need to conduct it aright, and to keep from being spiritually engulfed and ruined beneath it. If you have no time to study your heart and study your Bible and your Saviour's example, then take time. If in no other way it be possible, take it from your eating and sleeping hours. What is far better, take it in the midst of your business, and let God be in your thoughts when in the counting-room, or amid the buzzing wheels of your manufactory, or behind the plow upon the hillside. You cannot well be a busier man than Daniel was when the cares of mighty Babylon rested on him: yet he found time to kneel down thrice in each day before his God. He did not serve the king any less faithfully for serving his Maker all the more faithfully. You cannot have a more constant pressure upon you every moment than the indefatigable Wilberforce. Yet the man who never neglected a poor outcast or a slave, never neglected his own heart, or his closet. We know not what occupation you pursue, but remember that presently your whole business will be with God, and he it is who commands "Be ye holy."

3. "But," says a third, "I live in the midst of irreligious associations. Everything is against me." We pastors often hear this excuse from members of our flock. So far from being a valid excuse for neglecting holiness, it is an urgent reason for cultivating it. There is all the more need of your letting your own light shine, if the surrounding atmosphere is as dark as Egypt. Ahab's court was a most unfavorable place for the growth of godliness. Yet in that court was an Elijah who bowed not the knee to Baal. Nero's palace was a chilling spot for the tender plants of grace. Did they droop and die there? We find an answer in that buoyant heart-message of heroic Paul, "All the saints salute you, chiefly they that are of Cæsar's household."

This excuse brings up a kindred one. "I am driven about from pillar to post, and have no settled home. I am forever journeying, with no quiet home for meditation, and no sweet hallowed Penuels or Olivets of sacred life-long association." Neither had Paul. He was a bird of passage, with no abiding place for the sole of his foot. The roof under which he commonly tarried longest was the roof of a prison. John Wesley almost lived on the back of his pony. Whitefield was constantly in motion—the swift-footed courier of the cross. But they grew on the road. Like torches borne against the wind, they burned the brighter as they ran. And you, my itinerant brother, whether roaming the land or sea, whether in the rattling coach or steaming rail-car, whether the denizen of hotels or the lodger in the wayside inn, may realize an ever present Saviour who compasseth your path, and who can make your heart to burn within you as you walk with him in the way. Never can you travel beyond the reach of that divine injunction, Be ye holy.

4. "I am in trouble," says Mr. Despondency. "My mind is overborne by my griefs. I shall never be the man again that I was before I met with my losses." Neither was David the same man that he was before affliction came upon him. "It is good for me to be afflicted," was his testimony. Sorrow left him a better saint than it found him. No strains rise sweeter from a Christian's lips than his "songs in the night." Never do the stars of promise gleam so bright as when the sun of worldly prosperity has gone down. Many a man who forgot his God at the noonday has "sung praises at midnight," like Paul and Silas in Philippi's dungeon.

For it is not only by toil, but by trial, that Christ ennobles, purifies, and sanctifies his people. He sometimes takes their estates away and leaves them nothing, but an empty purse and—a full Bible. He sends a messenger of love into their households with a shroud. The cradle over which the mother hovers slowly turns into a coffin; the little treasure that nestled so warm in her loving bosom lies cold enough under the grassy turf. But out from this tempest of trial comes the triumphant child of God, wet with the baptism of suffering, yet radiant as "mercy" rising from the river of death to the pearly gates, and as she cometh up she exclaimeth, "O! my God, thou hast tried me, but when thou didst try me, thou didst make me come forth as gold."

The pressure of affliction affords no better excuse for the neglect of holiness than does the pressure of business or the adverse array of worldly associations. These are the very positions for the exercise of holiness. And with the command comes the promise of divine aid to obedience. Never, therefore, can you reach a point of prosperity so lofty, or a place in the vale of adversity so lowly; never can you be environed with an array of temptations so dense, or be screened by human authority so weighty, as to protect you from that solemn injunction of Almighty love, "Be ye holy in all manner of conversation."—Independent.