Chapter Two: The Goal

I rejoice to believe that there are many who, like myself, are dissatisfied with their present attainments, and who would fain realize their own ideals of mature and lofty Christian character. It speaks well for our ministers and church officials that they have excited a desire so deep-seated and widespread to become and to accomplish all that the Great Teacher and Helper has made possible.

From the general title which I have given to these chapters, it will be seen that the object contemplated is Perfection. And while we can but feel that this goal is far distant, that the journey to it is long and difficult — aye, and hazardous, too — still we may find comfort and encouragement in the other terms of our title—Going on. We are not expected to be perfect in the beginning of our Christian career, nor yet in the second, nor the third, nor perhaps in any subsequent stage of it; it will suffice if we are moving forward, always in that direction—going on to, that is, towards perfection. And I must think that our heavenly Father bestows special honor upon us in calling and inciting us to aim at this, and to strive and labor for it, with good hope of ultimate success. It shows that he has made us capable of becoming very great and noble, of reaching even the highest glory, and of living with all lofty intelligences, and with himself in friendship and fellowship forever. But “he knoweth our frame; he remembereth that we are dust”; and I am persuaded that he requires of us only the earnest and patient effort, without expecting anything beyond our ability. Many of my readers may be capable of being and doing very much more than I, and yet I feel sure that he will be satisfied with me if I do my little best. They may seem to be, and really may be, much nearer the goal than I; and yet if I keep faithfully plodding on, with sure and well directed steps, though slow, I shall as certainly gain the prize as those who appear to be outstripping me in the race.

The term perfection, it should be remarked, when predicated of human beings, is used in a relative sense. We cannot in this world be developed into complete likeness; and even when we get to Heaven, and enter consciously into fellowship with the great company of the “spirits of just men made perfect,” we shall all be different—no two of us, I presume, will be alike—and yet we shall all be perfect. Moses and Elijah, on the mount of transfiguration, were readily distinguished from each other; but both “appeared in glory.” Indeed, I am glad to think that Heaven is not peopled by person all of whom have been cast in the same mould, even though it be a perfect mould. The apostle’s aim was to “present every man perfect in Christ Jesus”—every man, with all his individuality, and even it may be his idiosyncrasies, but still every man perfect.

This consideration, if duly weighed, should yield abundant encouragement. We look around upon holy men and women in our acquaintance, who have developed elements of character that we greatly admire, and which, alas! seem beyond our attainment, and we feel like saying: “If that is necessary to perfection, we shall never reach it, and may as well give over.” But has it occurred to us that what was necessary to their perfection may not be necessary to ours? We have, perhaps, only two talents, and they had five to start with. It was meet that with more they should do more than we. God has not made many Florence Nightingales or Frances Willard’s, but he has put myriads of blessed women into the sweet homes of this earth, every one of whom can be as perfect in her sphere as these her more distinguished sisters, and every one of whom may be greeted at last with as cordial a “Well done, good and faithful servant.” We all start out in this life different; and very soon this difference is magnified. In temper, in taste, in capacity, in opportunity, we are individualized. In many respects—nay, in most respects—we are necessarily alone in this vast universe. Even those most intimately associated have their reserves, their sacred arena, their uncommunicated selfhood. And now the object which the heavenly Father sets before us is for every man to make the best of his individual self. We cannot be Pauls or Johns. No human being could now be a Luther, or an Alexander Campbell. A reduplication of these characters is not needed by the world or the Church. What is wanted, and this is possible, is for every man, whatever his sphere in life, whatever his gifts or graces, whatever his peculiarities in disposition or circumstance, to make the best of himself that he can. In doing this, he wil not be like anybody else—his character will not be an imitation nor a sham, but an honest development of all the good that God put into him; and so he will come forth at last, and live to all eternity in his own grand and distinctive individuality — a perfect man in Christ Jesus.

This fact that God has made no two of us alike, and that, consequently, our proper development cannot result in sameness, is important in its bearings upon Christian freedom. The failure to consider this has often led even good men into very serious mistakes. Their own religious clothes, if I may so say, fit them so nicely and well, and they feel so easy and comfortable in them, they conclude that they have found exactly the right pattern for all clothes. And not only so, but they are also quite sure that if this is the right pattern, any variation from it is wrong; and so they insist upon arraying the tall and the short, the fat and the lean, the bit and the little, in garments of precisely the same cut! To the extent of their success in this well-meant but foolish design, the result is grotesque and ludicrous. Men and women appear in habiliments which are fearfully and wonderfully made—habiliments which, in nearly all cases, are too tight or too loose, too long or too short, which sit awry and hang badly; and however excellent the material, they are positively ugly, simply because they do not fit the person upon whom they are imposed, and who are forced to wear them.

It is needless to say that, of course, there is one great model of moral character to which every one must seek to conform his life. If we have habits, tastes, inclinations, tendencies which are contrary to the perfect standard of right, we may not plead the existence of these things as an excuse for their indulgence. They simply show that we have gone astray—that we are out of the right road; and every step which we may take in this direction is a step away from perfection, rather than towards it. We may as well set down as an indubitable fact that we shall never reach our true goal without the most sedulous care and the most diligent watchfulness. There is much within us that calls for correction — strong passions which must be bridled and subdued; unlawful desires which plead powerfully for indulgence; habits of heedlessness, of hastiness of speech, of impatience, and of uncharitable judgments. And then there is that large catalogue of Christian virtues and graces which are to be nourished and brought to maturity. But the what and the how as to many of these things will be considered more in extenso as we proceed. My special purpose at present is to encourage all who earnestly desire to perfect themselves in grace and goodness, by the assurance that their object is attainable, not in the sense of absolute, but in that of relative perfection. I feel sure that every one who deliberately and steadily sets his head and heart to it, and who is wiling to use the means and to make the sacrifices demanded by such an object, can attain to a full, well develop, well rounded, and thoroughly established Christian character, which I suppose is what is meant by the phrase, “The stature of a perfect man in Christ Jesus.” Though he may never in this world, owing to the weakness and frailty of his earthly nature, and to the unfriendliness of his environment, reach the goal of absolute sinlessness, he can feel and realize that in his heart, he is really devoted to all that is true and beautiful and good, while Hebrews 10 loathes and hates every mean and evil way. Such a man may fill a very humble sphere in this life; he may be ignorant of the world’s knowledge, and pass his days in poverty and obscurity; but if he has attained to a truly rounded character, if his affections are centered in Christ, and his whole life completely circled about him, his perfection is equal to that of the greatest and noblest and best. A small circle is as perfect as a large one.