02.02. THE NATURE OF EARNESTNESS
THE NATURE OF EARNESTNESS
Perhaps there is scarcely one single phrase more frequently employed, or better understood, in the sphere of human activity, than this, "Be in earnest." What distinctness of aim, what fixedness of purpose, what resoluteness of will, what diligence, patience, and perseverance in action, are implied or expressed in these three words. He who would stimulate exertion, quicken activity, and inspire hope; he who would breathe his own spirit into the soul of another, and excite there the enthusiasm which glows in his own bosom, says to his fellow, "Be in earnest!" and that short sentence, a scintillation flying off from a burning mind, has often in lighting upon another spirit, kindled the flames of enthusiasm in it also. And what else, or what less, does Jesus Christ say to every one whom he sends into the work of the Christian ministry than, "Be in earnest!"
There is something in the aspect and power of earnestness, whatever be its object, that is impressive and commanding. A man who has selected some one object of pursuit, and then yielded up himself to the desire of its attainment, with a devotion admitting of no reserve, a steadiness of aim allowing of no diversion, a diligence consenting neither to rest nor intermission; and who ever retains this purpose so far uppermost in his heart as to fill his conversation, and so entirely and constantly before his mind as to throw into its broad shadow every other subject of consideration; such an instance of decision, amounting to a ruling passion, gains a strange fascination over the feelings of others, and exerts over us, while witnessing it, an influence which we feel to be contagious. We involuntarily sympathize with a man who is thus carried away by his fervor; and if all his earnestness is for the promotion of our interests—its effect is irresistible. That man must be a stone, and destitute of the ordinary feelings of humanity, who can see another, interested, active, and zealous for his welfare, while he himself remains inert and indifferent. Even the apathetic and indolent have been kindled into ardor, and led to make efforts for themselves, by solicitude manifested by others for their welfare.
How strictly does this apply to the ministry of God’s word, which relates to the most momentous matters that can engage the attention of the human understanding. Sympathy is a law of our mental being which has never been sufficiently taken into account in estimating the influences which God employs for the salvation of men. There is a silent and almost unconscious process often going on in the minds of those who are listening to the sermons of a preacher really laboring for the conversion of souls. "Is he so earnest about my salvation—and shall I care nothing about the matter? Is my eternal happiness so much in his account—and shall it be nothing in mine? I can meet ’cold logic’ with counter arguments; or at any rate, I can raise up objections against evidence. I can smile at the ’artifices of rhetoric’, and be merely pleased with the displays of eloquence. I can sit unmoved under sermons which seem intended by the preacher to raise my estimate of himself—but I cannot withstand his earnestness about myself. The man is evidently intent upon saving my soul. I feel the grasp of his hand upon my arm, as if he would pluck me out of the fire. He has not only made me think, but he has made me feel. His earnestness has subdued me." But it will be necessary now to meet and answer the question,
I. In the first place then, earnestness implies, the selection of some ONE object of special pursuit, and a vivid perception of its value and importance. It is next to impossible for the mind to be intently employed, or the heart to be very deeply engaged, on a multiplicity of objects at once. We have not energy enough to be so divided and distributed. Our feelings to run with force must flow pretty much in one channel—our attention must be concentrated, our purpose settled, our energy exerted, upon one thing, or we can do nothing effectually. The earnest man is a man of one idea, and that one idea occupies, possesses, and fills his soul. To every other claimant upon his time, and interest, and labor, he says, "Stand aside! I am engaged, I cannot attend to you; something else is waiting for me." To that one thing he is committed.
There may be many subordinate matters among which he divides any surplus water, but the current flows through one channel, and turns one great wheel. This "one thing I do," is his plan and resolution. Many wonder at his choice, many condemn it—no matter, he understands it, approves it, and pursues it, notwithstanding the ignorance which cannot comprehend it, and the diversity of taste which cannot admire it. He is no double-minded man, unstable in all his ways, whose preference and purpose are shaken by every cross gale of opinion. It is nothing to him what others do, or what they say as to what he does—he must do that, whatever else he leaves undone. No one can be in earnest who has not thus made up his mind; and he who has, and is resolutely bent upon an object, keeps it constantly before his mind; his attention is so strongly and tenaciously fixed upon it, that even at the greatest distance, "like the Egyptian pyramids to travelers, it appears to him with a luminous distinctness, as if it were near, and beguiles the toilsome length of labor and enterprise by which he must reach it." It is so conspicuous before him that he does not deviate a step from the right direction, he ever hears a voice calling him onward, and every movement and every day brings him nearer to the end of his journey. Break in upon him at any moment, you know where you will find him, and how he will be employed. This is the first part of the description of an earnest minister—he too has selected his object, and made up his mind concerning it, and insulating it from all others, sets it clearly and distinctly before his mind. And what is it? What should it be? Not science, or literature, or philosophy. Not a life spent in the acquisition of knowledge, or the gratification of taste. Not the power of adding to the treasures of knowledge accumulated during past ages. Not gathering the elegancies which embellish civilized existence, and give amenity to social communion. The man who has entered the sacred office merely to luxuriate in the haunts of the muses, has mistaken his vocation to the pulpit, and is no less guilty (though somewhat less sordid), than he who says, "Put me into the priest’s office, that I may live a luxurious life." That a minister may to a certain extent indulge a literary or scientific taste, and that he may even make it subservient to a higher and more sacred object, is admitted. The pulpit has done, and is doing, much service in all the departments of learning and philosophy. It is in Christian countries that the valuable remains of Eastern, Greek, and Roman wisdom and eloquence have been preserved, studied, imitated, and sometimes even excelled. Christian nations have conducted philosophical inquiries with the best success, and improved them for the most useful and benevolent purposes.
"If these things are good and profitable unto society, a large portion of the honor of such usefulness belongs to men set for the defense of the gospel, desirous by sound reasoning to convince gainsayers, and conscious what weapons human literature furnishes for this holy war. And then in addition to all this, consider the effect of the pulpit upon what might be called the popular mind. To thousands who have comparatively little leisure or opportunity to form their taste, and cultivate their rational powers, by conversation with the wise and enlightened, or by reading their works, a school is thus open, established indeed for higher purposes, where men of sound understandings, though low in rank, may without expense, and almost without intending it, learn from example to distinguish or connect ideas, to infer one truth from another, to examine the force of an argument, and so to arrange and express their sentiments as deeply to impress themselves and others. As in a few years the child gradually acquires the faculty of speaking his mother-tongue with a considerable degree of ease and fluency, without any formal lessons, merely by hearing it spoken, so there is a natural logic and rhetoric which some acquire without designing it, who go to church for nobler ends, whereby they are enabled to detect the cunning craftiness which the enemies of godliness or of public tranquility, lie in wait to deceive. Indeed the culture of the talents and improvement of that respectable class of men who earn their bread by the sweat of their brow, generally rises or falls in proportion to the character and genius of their religious discourses." (John Erskine) This is as true as it is beautiful, and should remind all ministers of the gospel of the necessity and importance at all times, but especially in such times as these, of keeping in mind the collateral and secondary objects of pulpit instruction, and of preparing themselves for conducting it with power and efficiency. There is not a temporal interest of man as an individual, or a member of society, on which the sermons and general influence of the ministry may not be made to bear advantageously; but then it must never be forgotten that the things which have just been enumerated are at best only the incidental, secondary, and collateral benefits of the ministry of the word—they are among the many things that may be touched, but are not the one thing that must be grasped—they are little rills diverted from the main stream for the purposes of irrigation, but are not the river itself, bearing wealth and civilization to the nations between whom it rolls. Nor is it the great object of our ministry merely to preside with dignity over the solemnities of public worship; to content ourselves and please our people with preparing and delivering two well-studied discourses on the Sabbath; to keep all quiet and orderly in the church; to maintain a kind of religious respectability and intellectuality in the congregation. The end and aim of the ministry are to be gathered from the apostle’s solemn and comprehensive language, "they watch for your souls as those who must give account." There in that short, but sublime and dreadful sentence, the end of the pastoral office is set before us. The design of the pulpit is identical with that of the cross—and the preacher is to carry out the design of the Savior in coming to seek and to save that which was lost. Preaching and teaching are the very agency which Jesus Christ employs to save those souls for which he died upon Calvary. If souls are not saved, whatever other designs are accomplished, the great purpose of the ministry is defeated.
You are now prepared to understand what is the nature of real earnestness in a minister of Christ—a distinct, explicit, practical recognition of his duty to labor for the salvation of souls, as the purpose and goal of his office. Such a man has settled with himself that this is his vocation and business. He has looked at everything else which can be presented to his mind, has weighed the claims of all, and with intelligence and firmness has said, and is prepared to stand by his affirmation, "I watch for souls!" He thus understands his errand; he is under no mistake, no uncertainty, no confusion. He has entered into fellowship with God the Father in his eternal purpose of the salvation of the human race; with the Son in the end of his incarnation and death; and with the Holy Spirit in the intent of his coming down upon our desolate world. Of this salvation which is the object of his ministry, the prophets inquired; to accomplish it prophets preached, and angels ministered. And thus justified in his choice by the Triune God and the noblest of his creatures, he leaves far below him, in the aspirations and soarings of his ambition—the scholar, the philosopher, and the poet. He has taken up an object in reference to which, if he succeeds but in a single instance, he will have achieved a triumph which will endure infinite ages after the proudest monuments of human genius have perished in the conflagration of the world!
"The salvation of souls" as the great object of the pastoral office, is a generic phrase, including as its species, the awakening of the unconcerned; the guidance of the inquiring; the instruction of the uninformed; and the sanctification, comfort, and progress of those who through grace have believed—in short the whole work of grace in the soul. But the attention of the reader is directed to the first of these particulars as the most commanding object of pastoral solicitude, I mean the conversion of the unregenerate; and if without offending against the law of modesty I may refer to my own history, labors and success, I would observe, that I began my ministry, even as a student, with a strong desire after this object; and long before this, while yet a youth engaged in secular concerns, I had been deeply susceptible of the power of an awakening style of preaching, and had been wrought upon by the rousing sermons of Dr. Davies of New Jersey. (I wish these discourses were better known, and more imitated by our young ministers. They are admirable specimens of persuasive, hortatory, and impressive preaching, formed upon the model of Baxter. It is such preaching we need. In these striking discourses may be seen what I mean by earnest preaching. They are by no means scarce, and I would advise my younger brethren to buy and read them.) From that time to the present I have made the conversion of the impenitent the great end of my ministry, and I have had my reward. I have been sustained in this course by the remarks of Baxter, in his "Reformed Pastor," a long extract from which I must now be permitted to introduce.
"We must labor in a special manner for the conversion of the unconverted. The work of conversion is the great thing we must drive at; after this we must labor with all our might. Alas! the misery of the unconverted is so great, that it calls loudest to us for compassion. If a truly converted sinner does fall, it will be but into sin which will be pardoned, and he is not in that hazard of damnation by it as others are. Not but that God hates their sins as well as others, or that he will bring them to heaven, let them live ever so wickedly; but the spirit that is within them will not allow them to live wickedly, nor to sin as the ungodly do. But with the unconverted it is far otherwise. They ’are in the gall of bitterness, and in the bond of iniquity,’ and have yet no part nor fellowship in the pardon of their sins, or the hope of glory. We have therefore a work of greater necessity to do for them, even ’to open their eyes, and to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God; that they may receive forgiveness of sins, and an inheritance among those who are sanctified.’
"He who sees one man sick of a mortal disease and another only pained with the tooth-ache, will be moved more to compassionate the former than the latter, and will surely make more haste to help him, though he were a stranger, and the other a brother or a son. It is so sad a case to see men in a state of damnation, wherein, if they should die, they are lost forever, that methinks we should not be able to let them alone, either in public or private, whatever other work we have to do. I confess I am frequently forced to neglect that which should tend to the further increase of knowledge in the godly—because of the lamentable necessity of the unconverted! Who is able to talk of controversies, or of fine, unnecessary theological points, or even of truths of a lower degree of necessity, how excellent soever, while he sees a company of ignorant, carnal, miserable sinners before his eyes, who must be changed or damned? Methinks I even see them entering upon their final woe! Methinks I hear them crying out for help, for speediest help! Their misery speaks the louder, because they have not hearts to ask for help themselves!
Many a time have I known that I had some hearers of higher imaginations, that looked for novelties, and despise the ministry, if I did not tell them something more than ordinary; and yet I could not find in my heart to turn from the necessities of the impenitent for the humoring of them; nor even to leave off speaking to miserable sinners for their salvation, in order to speak so much as should otherwise be done to weak saints for their confirmation and increase in grace. Methinks as Paul’s ’spirit was stirred within him,’ when he saw ’the Athenians wholly given to idolatry,’ so it should cast us into one of his paroxysms to see so many men in the greatest danger of being everlastingly damned. Methinks if by faith we did indeed look upon them as within a step of hell, it would effectually untie our tongues! He who will let a sinner go down to hell for lack of speaking to him, does set less by souls than did the Redeemer of souls; and less by his neighbor than common charity will allow him to do by his greatest enemy. O therefore, brethren, whomsoever you neglect, neglect not the most miserable! Whatever you pass over, do not forget poor souls that are under the condemnation and curse of the law, and who may look every hour for the infernal execution—unless conversion does not prevent it. O call after the impenitent, and ply this great work of converting souls, whatever else you leave undone!" The editor of Baxter says—"These powerful and impressive observations we cannot too earnestly recommend to the attention of ministers. We have no hesitation in saying that the most of preachers whom we have known were essentially defective in the grand and primary object of the Christian ministry—laboring for the conversion of souls. From the general strain of some men’s preaching, one would almost be ready to conclude that there were no sinners in their congregations to be converted. In determining the proportion of attention which a minister should pay to particular classes of his congregation, the number of each class, and the necessities of their case, are unquestionably the principal considerations which should weigh with him. Now in all our congregations we have reason to fear the unconverted constitute by far the majority; their situation is peculiarly pitiable; their opportunities of salvation will soon be forever over; their danger is not only very great, but very imminent; they are not secure from everlasting misery, even for a single moment. Surely then the unconverted demand by far the largest share of the Christian minister’s attention; and yet from many ministers, they receive but a very small share of attention; their case, when noticed at all, is noticed only, as it were, accidentally. This, no doubt, is a principal cause that among us there are so few conversions by the preaching of the word, and especially in the congregations of particular ministers. We feel this subject to be of such transcendent importance that we trust we shall be excused for here introducing a quotation connected with it, from another work of our author—"It is not a general dull discourse, or critical observations upon Greek words, or the handling of some fine and curious theological questions, nor is it a neat and well-composed speech, about some other distant matters, that is like to acquaint a sinner with himself. How many sermons may we hear that are levelled at some mark or other which is very far from the hearers’ hearts, and therefore are never likely to convince them, or open and convert them! And if our congregations were in such a case as that they needed no closer quickening work, such preaching might be borne with and commended. But when so many usually sit before us that must shortly die, and yet are unprepared for death; and that are condemned by the law of God, and must be pardoned or finally condemned; that must be saved from their sins that they may be saved from everlasting misery; I think it is time for us to talk to them of such things as most concern them, and that in such a manner as may most effectually convince, awaken, and change them.
"A man that is ready to be drowned is not interested in a song or a dance. Nor should you think that suitable to such men’s case—that does not evidently tend to save them. But alas! how often have we heard such sermons as tend more to amusement than salvation, to fill their minds with other matters, and find them something else to think of, lest they should study themselves, and know their misery! A preacher that seems to speak religiously by a dry, sapless discourse, that is called a sermon, may more plausibly and easily ruin his hearers. And his conscience will more quietly allow him to be taken off the necessary care of his salvation, by something that is like it, and pretends to do the work as well, than by the grosser avocations or the scorn of fools. And he will be more tamely turned from godliness by something that is called religion, and which he hopes may serve the turn—than by open wickedness or ungodly defiance of God and reason.
"But how often do we hear sermons applauded, which force us in compassion to men’s souls to think, ’O what is all this to the opening of a sinner’s heart unto himself, and showing him his unregenerate state? What is this to the conviction of a self-deluding soul, that is passing into hell—with the confident expectations of heaven? What is this to show men their undone condition, and the absolute necessity of Christ, and of renewing grace? What is in this to lead men up from earth to heaven, and to acquaint them with the unseen world, and to help them to the life of faith and love, and to the mortifying and pardon of their sins?’
"How little skill have many miserable preachers in the searching of the heart, and helping men to know themselves, whether Christ be in them, or whether they be reprobates? And how little care and diligence is used by them to call men to the trial, and help them in the examining and judging of themselves—as if it were a work of no necessity? They have healed the hurt of the daughter of my people slightly, saying, Peace, peace, when there is no peace, says the Lord!"
Oh what preachers we would be, could we drink into the spirit of these powerful passages! May God impress them on our hearts, and lead us to mold our discourses after their fashion. We should, however, by no means be unmindful of the importance of building up the believer on his holy faith. Not only must the children of the redeemed family be born—but they must also be fed, watched, guided, and nourished up to manhood. The growth of the heirs of immortality in grace and knowledge must be an object of deep solicitude with the faithful pastor. His children in the faith are not glorified as soon as converted—but are carried through a probation, and often a long one, of conflict, trial, and temptation; and it is his business, by the instrumentality of the truth, deeply searched, carefully expounded, and appropriately applied, to conduct them through the perplexities and the dangers of the divine life.
Hence, therefore, it is the duty of the minister, not to be always dwelling on first principles, and teaching the mere alphabet of Bible knowledge—but to lead his people "on to perfection," yet still he is never to forget that by far the greater number of those who are before him do not experimentally know these first principles, and have not learned even the ’alphabet of practical piety’. I once had a member of my church, who had been brought out of the literary world to a deep, experimental knowledge of divine truth. She was a woman of uncommonly fine and tasteful mind. After her conversion she dwelt for a season in London, and on her return from the metropolis, in giving an account of the various preachers she had heard, expressed her surprise and regret that their sermons, however excellent, seemed to be addressed almost exclusively to true believers, as if they took it for granted that their congregations were composed wholly of such, and contained none who were dead in trespasses and sins. And I know a devoted and consistent Christian, who, upon leaving a minister whom he had attended for several years, declared he had scarcely ever heard one thoroughly practical sermon from him during the whole time—there had been much doctrinal statement, much theological science, much religious comfort; but no vivid and pungent appeals either to saints or sinners! No wonder he knew of no conversions there—and yet this preacher is not an Antinomian.
II. Earnestness implies that the subject has not only been selected—but that it has taken full possession of the mind, and has kindled towards it an intense desire of the heart.
It is something more than a correct theory and logical deductions; more than mere exercise of the intellect, and the play of the imagination. Earnestness means that the understanding having selected and appreciated its object, has pressed all the faculties of both mind and body to join in the pursuit of it. It urges the soul onward in its career of action at such a speed that it is set on fire by the velocity of its own motion. The object of an earnest man is never for any long period of time absent from his thoughts. He meditates on it by day, and dreams of it by night—it meets him in his solitary walks as some bright vision which he loves to contemplate, and it comes over him in company with such power that he cannot avoid making it the topic of his conversation, until he appears in the eyes of those who have no sympathy with him, as an enthusiast.
Foster, in his "Essay on Decision of Character," has alluded to Howard as supplying a fine illustration of this mental quality. I furnish one extract bearing more directly than any other, on our present theme. It relates to the singular fact that this great philanthropist turned not a moment from his course, when traversing scenes most calculated to awaken curiosity, and to enkindle enthusiasm by the associations of ancient glory with which they are connected, even Rome itself–
"The importance of his object held his faculties in a state of excitement which was too rigid to be affected by lighter interests, and on which, therefore, the beauties of nature and art had no power—like the invisible spirits who fulfill their commission of philanthropy among mortals—and care not about pictures, statues, and sumptuous buildings. It implied an inconceivable severity of conviction that he had one thing to do; and that he who would do some great thing in this short life, must apply himself to the work with such a concentration of his forces, as, to idle spectators, who live only to amuse themselves, looks like insanity. It was thus he made the trial, so seldom made, what is the utmost effect which may be granted to the last possible effort of a human agent; and therefore what he did not accomplish, he might conclude to be placed beyond the sphere of mortal activity, and calmly leave to the disposal of Omnipotence."
There, again, is the representation of the really and intensely earnest minister of Jesus Christ, and of the manner in which he regards the object of his ministry, the salvation of immortal souls. He has drunk in the inspiration of those inexpressibly sublime and solemn words, so often already quoted, "They watch for your souls, as those who must give account, that they may do it with joy, and not with grief." This declaration has come over him like a spell, from the fascination of which he neither tries, nor wishes, to escape. Whether seated in his chair in his study, or carrying on the exercises of devotion in the closet, or preaching the gospel in the pulpit, or enjoying the pleasures of Christian friendship in the social circle, or recreating his energies amid the beauties of creation—the words of Solomon stand conspicuously before his mind’s eye, "He who wins souls is wise." While, ever and always, the thunder of Christ’s solemn inquiry comes pealing over his ear—"What shall it profit a man if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul; or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" To be useful in converting souls is his constant and practical aim—and his texts are chosen, his sermons are composed and delivered, and his language, figures, and illustrations are selected—with a view to this. That word, usefulness, has the same meaning in his ear, the same power over his soul, as the word "victory" has over the mind of the hero—and the preparation and delivery of the most eloquent sermons, with all the plaudits that follow them, will no more satisfy his ambition, than the skillful military splendor, and the martial music of a field day, however they may be admired by the multitudinous spectators, will content the desires of the patriot warrior who burns to defeat his country’s foe upon the field of battle, and to rescue the liberties of his enslaved nation from the grasp of its tyrant. By the earnest minister, the salvation of souls is sought with the obligation of a principle, and the ardor of a passion. It is impressed upon his whole character, and is inseparable from his conduct. It distinguishes him among, and from, many of his brethren. When congregations either at home or abroad go to hear him, they know what to expect, and consequently do not look for the flowers of rhetoric—but for the fruit of the tree of life; not for a dry crust of philosophy, or a petrifaction of criticism—but for the bread which comes down from heaven; not for a display of religious fireworks, splendid but useless—but for the holding up of the torch of eternal truth in all its brightness to guide wandering and benighted souls to the refuge of the lost.
He has by the usual style of his pulpit discourses established his character as a useful preacher, and those who go to hear him would as soon expect to hear from a physician whom they consulted when sick, a mere poetical effusion or classical dissertation, instead of directions for their health—as to hear such matters from this servant of Christ, instead of a sermon calculated and designed to do good to their souls. He could possibly be eloquent, profound, or learned; and when such qualities can aid him in securing his one great end, he does not scruple to use them. His aim is at the heart and conscience, and if anything poetic, literary, logical, or scientific, will at any time polish and plume his shafts, or sharpen the points of his arrows, he will not reject them—but will avail himself of their legitimate use, that he may the more certainly hit and pierce the mark. This is his motto, "If by any means I might save some."
Here it may be proper for us to look out of our own profession, and ask if the earnest tradesman, soldier, lawyer, philosopher, and mechanic, are satisfied to go on as they have done, though with ever so little success? Do we not see in all other departments of human action, where the mind is really intent on some great object, and where success has not been obtained in proportion to the labor bestowed, a dissatisfaction with past modes of action, and a determination to try new ones? And should we who watch for souls, and labor for immortality, be indifferent to success, and to the plans by which it might be secured? In calling for new methods, I want no new doctrines; no new principles; no startling eccentricities; no wild irregularities; no vagaries of enthusiasm, no frenzies of the passions; no, nothing but what the most sober judgment and the soundest reason would approve; but I do want a more inventive zeal, as well as a more fervid zeal, in seeking the great end of our ministry. "Respectable but dull uniformity", and not enthusiasm, is the side on which our danger lies. I know very well the contortions of an epileptic zeal are to be avoided—but so also is the numbness of a paralytic lethargy; and after all, the former is less dangerous to life, and is more easily and frequently cured, than the latter.
We may, as regards our PREACHING for instance, examine whether we have not dwelt too little on the alarming themes—or on the attractive themes of revelation; whether we have not clothed our discourses too much with the terrors of the Lord—and if so, we may wisely determine to try the more winning forms of love and mercy; or whether we have not rendered the gospel powerless by a perpetual repetition of it in common-place phraseology; whether we have not been too argumentative—and resolve to be more imaginative, practical, and hortatory; whether we have not addressed ourselves too exclusively to believers—and determine to commence a style of more frequent and pungent address to the unconverted; whether we have not been too vague and general in our descriptions of sin—and become more specific and discriminating; whether we have not been too neglectful of the young—and begin a regular course of sermons to them; whether we have not had too much sameness of topic—and adopt courses of sermons on given subjects; whether we have not been too elaborate and abstract in the composition of our discourses—and come down to greater simplicity; whether we have not been too careless—and bestow more pains; whether we have not been too doctrinal—and in future make all truth bear, as it was intended to do, upon the heart, conscience, and life. Nor must the enquiry stop here. There ought to be the same process of rigid scrutiny instituted as to the LABORS of the pastorate. We must review the proceedings of this momentous department, for here also is most ample scope for invention as to new plans of action. Perhaps upon inquiry we shall find out that we have neglected various channels through which our influence might have been brought to bear upon the flock committed to our care, and shall discover many ways in which we can improve upon our former plans, in the way of meeting inquirers after salvation, giving our aid to Sunday schools, setting up Bible classes, or visiting the flock. What is needed is an anxious wish to be lacking in nothing that can conduce to our usefulness—a diligent endeavor to make up every deficiency—and a mind ever inquisitive after new means and methods of doing good. Did we but adopt the plan of setting apart a day at the close of every year for solemn examination into our pastoral and pastoral doings, with the view of ascertaining our defects and neglects, to see in what way we could improve, to humble ourselves before God for the past, and to lay down new rules for the future, we would all be more abundantly useful than we are. And does not earnestness require all this? Can we pretend to be in earnest if we neglect these things? The idea of a minister’s going on from year to year with either little success, or none at all, and yet never pausing to inquire how this comes to pass, or what can be done to increase his efficiency, is so utterly repugnant to all proper notions of devotedness, that we are obliged to conclude, the views such a man entertains of the design and end of his office are radically and essentially defective.
IV. Earnestness implies a purpose and power of subordinating everything it meets with, selects, or engages in—to the accomplishment of its one great object. An earnest man has much sagacity in discerning even at a distance, the objects which are favorable to his purpose; much power in seizing them as they approach; and much tact in pressing them into his service, and making them subserve his schemes. He avoids at the same time the folly of letting go his main object in pursuit of inferior ones—and of converting what ought to be only means into ends. The operations of his mind resemble those of a vast machine, in which the ruling power subjects to itself the thousand little wheels and spindles that are set in motion, and makes them all accomplish the purpose for which the engine has been set up. Or the current of his thought and feeling may be compared to the majestic flow of some noble river, which receives into its stream, numerous rivulets by which its waters are swollen, and its power increased. So acts the earnest minister. There are various matters which he may attend to, and ought not to neglect, which may with great propriety be considered as means—but which cannot be viewed as the end of his high and holy calling. The first of these means which I mention is learning, and indeed general knowledge of all kinds. Literature, science, and philosophy, however excellent in themselves, and however subservient they may be rendered as means to accomplish the great ends of the pastoral office, must never be exalted into the place of those ends themselves. Viewed as subordinate and subsidiary, they cannot be too highly valued, or too diligently sought. There is not any kind or degree of knowledge which may not be made tributary to the ends of gospel ministrations. All other things being equal, he is likely to be the most useful preacher, who is the most learned one. There is nothing, there can be nothing, in literature and science, which of itself can be injurious to a minister of Christ. The pride and vanity which produce such a result are but the weeds which flourish in a shallow and sandy soil—but wither and die in a rich deep loam. The man who decries learning as in itself mischievous to the ministry, is fit only to act the part of an incendiary to all the libraries of the world. A minister may have too little piety, too little solicitude for the salvation of souls, too little devotedness, too little care to render his acquisitions subservient to the ends of his vocation—but he can never have too much knowledge.
How beautiful is the following language of Dr. Wiseman, and how correct the sentiment which it clothes and adorns. "Perhaps the best answer that can be given to those inconsiderate Christians who say that godliness needs not such foreign and meretricious aids as human learning, is that of South, ’If God has no need of our learning, he can have still less of your ignorance.’ In the spiritual temple, as well as in the ark of the covenant, there is room not only for those humbler gifts, the skins and hair cloth—but also for the gold and silver of human learning—and even the sciences themselves, daughters as they are of the uncreated wisdom, may receive consecration from seraphic piety, and be made priestesses of the Most High, by the very service in which we employ them." This splendid passage expresses what I would urgently enforce, that literature and science may be subservient—but must be only subservient, to the ends of the pastoral office. The amiable and godly Doddridge, in his incomparable sermon on "The Evil and Danger of Neglecting Souls," says, "Oh my brethren, let us consider how fast we are posting through this dying life, which God has assigned to us, in which we are to manage concerns of infinite moment—how fast we are passing on to the immediate presence of our Lord, to give up our account to him. You must judge for yourselves—but permit me to say for my own part, I would not for ten thousand worlds be that man, who when God shall ask him at last how he has employed most of his time, while he continued a minister of his church and had the care of souls, shall be obliged to reply, ’Lord, I have restored many corrupted passages in the classics, and illustrated many which were before obscure; I have cleared up many intricacies in chronology or geography; I have solved many perplexed cases in algebra; I have refined on astronomical calculations, and left behind me many sheets on these curious and difficult subjects; and these are the employments in which my life has been worn out, while preparations for the pulpit, and ministrations in it, did not demand my more immediate attendance.’ Oh Sirs, as for the waters that are drawn from these springs, how sweetly soever they may taste to a curious mind that thirsts after them, or to an ambitious mind that thirsts for the applause they sometimes procure, I fear there is too often reason to pour them out before the Lord, with rivers of penitential tears, as the blood of souls which have been forgotten, while these trifles have been remembered and pursued." This is the language of a scholar, a critic, and a man of varied knowledge, whose piety as a Christian, and whose devotedness as a minister, were equal to his other attainments. In a very elaborate and able critique on Hagenbach’s "History of Doctrines," I find the following just and admirable remarks. "We trust that among the rising ministry no one will allow himself to be tempted to the task for the mere reputation of learning. The real value of learning, in the estimate of a faithful servant of Christ, lies solely in the use that can be made of it. He who employs time and toil in rendering himself a learned man, which employed otherwise, would more effectually render him a useful man, is unfaithful to his Master. There are few things more important than the right appreciation of learning. There are some who spend their whole lives in acquiring it, in amassing hoard upon hoard; as if it were the object of life to see how much knowledge may be gotten in a given time; not how much good may be done with it, or to what uses it may be turned as it is acquired. It is ’get, get, get!’ All getting and no giving. This is of a piece with the mania by which some are possessed in the mercantile world, the mania of money-making—with whom life’s problem is, how they may die rich, how much they can be worth in the world, before the moment comes when they must leave it. There is one material difference between the two cases; and, strange to say it is in favor of the rich rather than of the learned man. The rich man leaves his amassed treasures behind him; so that, although to himself they have been of little use while he lived, and now are of none, they are not lost; others may use them, and use them well. But he who has been acquiring learning all his days without expending it in its appropriate uses, leaves nothing behind him. He carries all with him. There is no bank for deposits of learning, as there is for lodging silver and gold. So far as his fellow-men are concerned, therefore, the money-hoarding miser does most good. And should it be thought an advantage on the side of the miser in learning, that he carries his mental stores away with him, as being treasures that belong to the immortal mind, there are two serious deductions to be made from this advantage—the first that the large proportion of what he had acquired, is of a nature to be of little use to him, in all likelihood, in the world to which he is going; and the second, that in common with the man of wealth, he carries with him to that world, the guilt, (unthought of by him here, it may be—but noted in his account with his Divine Master,) of not having laid out his acquisitions for the good he might have accomplished by them, where and when alone they could be available. Let it not be forgotten that mere learning is not wisdom; that wisdom is learning or knowledge in union with the disposition and ability to make a right use of it.
"Neither let it be forgotten that there is an opposite extreme to that which has just been described. If there are some who are ever getting and never giving, there are some too who would gladly be ever giving while they are never getting. They are fond of preaching—but not of reading and study. Such young ministers may be well-meaning; but they are under the influence of a miserable mistake. Itinerants they may be, and useful ones—but efficient pastors they can never be. They may preach the simple elements of the gospel, from place to place; but for the constant regular instruction of the same flock they are utterly unfit. He must be an extraordinary man who has resources in himself for such a work, that render him independent of reading and study. Barrenness, tameness, sameness, triteness, irksome and unprofitable repetition, must be the almost invariable result of such presumption. There are some too, who, by way of honoring the Bible, make it their rule to study nothing else, not even such human helps as may fit them for understanding and illustrating its contents. This also, though a better extreme than his, who neglecting the Bible itself, studies only human opinions about it, yet is still an extreme, and an extreme which, while it professes to put honor upon the Bible, indicates no small measure of self-sufficiency. We put most honor upon the Bible, when we manifest our impression of the value of a full and clear comprehension of its contents, in the diligent application of all accessible means for the attainment of it."
It may be conceded, that we live in an age when to carry out the main purpose of the Christian ministry, and to render it efficient for the salvation of souls, higher pastoral qualifications, and larger acquirements of general knowledge are required, than at any former period.
It will be clearly seen from all this, that I am not decrying education, or learning, or the greatest diligence in ministers for the acquisition of knowledge. Quite the contrary—but I am enforcing, with all the earnestness I can command, the indispensable necessity of rendering all acquirements subordinate to the great work of saving souls. Learning as an ultimate object and for its own sake, is infinitely below the ambition of a holy and devoted servant of Christ; but learning employed to invigorate the intellect, to enrich the imagination, to cultivate the taste, to give power to thought, and variety to illustration; to add to the skill and energy with which we wield the weapons of our warfare, is in some cases indispensable, and in all invaluable. Unhappily it is not uncommon for those who have made acquisitions in varied learning, or acquired a scientific, philosophic, or literary taste—to yield to the seductions of these pursuits, and to allow themselves to be led astray from the simplicity that is in Christ Jesus. Their eye is not single, and their whole body is not full of light.
If there is one man to be admired, envied, and imitated above all others, it is he who has baptized all his classic and scientific acquirements at the font of Christianity, has presented them at the foot of the cross, and has used them only as the instruments and materials of that divine art by which he is enabled to give a richer coloring, stronger light, and greater power to those facts and scenes, of which the cross is the center and the symbol. To hear such a man chastening and guiding—but not checking or freezing, the gushing utterances of a full heart, by the standard of genuine eloquence; and warming and sanctifying the finest rhetoric by the glow of a soul on fire with love to God and souls; to see the genius of Tully or Demosthenes, imbuing itself with the spirit of Paul, Peter, or John, and under the constraining love of Christ, employing all its resources of diction, dialectics, and metaphor, to persuade men to be reconciled to God—teaches the earnestness which the pulpit deserves and demands. Such a minister is a polished shaft in Jehovah’s quiver, and to such a preacher we can almost fancy that not only men but angels must listen with delight. Such preachers we have had, and by the divine blessing may have again only let us use the means, and look to have our tongues touched with the live coal from the divine altar.
There is much truth in the following remarks of Vaughan. "The effect of learning and elegant scholarship, in the modern pulpit, has commonly been to render men incapable of producing impression of this nature in any degree. In the case of such preachers, neither the diction they use, nor the mold into which they cast their expressions and sentences, nor the comparisons they introduce, nor anything belonging to their rhetoric—has been an object of study with a view to its fitness to secure attention, and to move the thoughts and passions of such assemblies as are generally convened by the preacher, assemblies made up from the working classes of society. The great object of this class of preachers has been to speak learnedly, or to speak elegantly. It is grievous to witness the mischiefs which have resulted from this conventionalism in pulpit taste. If our pulpit lessons must be veiled in the language of a particular kind of scholarship, then the people generally, who have not been initiated into that scholarship, will fail to perceive our meaning, and will begin as the consequence, to look about for some better employment than listening to the utterance of our unknown tongue."
I go on now to mention another qualification for the sacred office, which the earnest minister will anxiously cultivate with a view to the great object of his life and labors—and to this I advance with a praying mind, an anxious heart and a trembling hand, ardently desirous to set it forth in such manner as shall secure for it the attention which its importance demands—I mean personal godliness. We are weak in the pulpit, because we are weak in the closet. An earnest man will not only train his mind to understand his object, and draw around him the resources requisite for its accomplishment—but will discipline his heart—for there, within, is the spring of energy, the seat of impulse, and the source of power. There the life that quickens must reside, and thence it must be felt to emanate. If the heart beats feebly, the whole circulation must be sluggish, and the frame inert. So it is with us ministers—our own personal godliness is the mainspring of all our power in the pulpit. We are feeble as preachers, because we are feeble as Christians. Whatever other deficiencies we have, the chief of them all lies in our hearts. The apostle said, "We believe and therefore speak." We not only speak what we believe—but as we believe—if our faith be weak, so will be our utterance. In another place the same inspired writer said, "Knowing the terrors of the Lord; we persuade men." It was as standing amid the solemnities of the last judgment, that apostles besought men to be reconciled to God. The flame of zeal which in their ministrations rose to such a height and intensity as to subject them to the charge of insanity, is thus accounted for, "The love of Christ constrains us." We have too much forgotten that the fount of eloquence is in the heart; and that it is feeling which gives to words and thoughts their power. An unrenewed man, or one of lukewarm piety, may preach elaborate sermons upon orthodox doctrines—but what are they for power and efficiency when compared with even the inferior compositions of the preacher who feels as well as glories in the cross—but as the powerless gleams of the aurora borealis to the warm and vivifying rays of the sun? The Christian minister sustains a double relation, and has a double duty to perform; he is a preacher to the world, and a pastor to the church; and it is impossible he can fulfill, or be in earnest to fulfill, the obligations he is under to either, without a large measure of personal godliness. As regards the church which is committed to his care, and of which he is made by the Holy Spirit the spiritual overseer, he has to increase not their knowledge only—but also their holiness, love, and spirituality; to aid them in performing all the branches of duty, and in cultivating all the graces of sanctification. And what is the present spiritual condition of the great bulk of the professors of religion? Amid much that is cheering, there is on the other hand much that is discouraging and distressing to the godly observer. We behold a strange combination of zeal and worldly-mindedness; great activity for the extension of religion in the earth, united with lamentable indifference to the state of godliness in a man’s own soul; apparent vigor in the extremities, with a growing torpor at the heart. Multitudes are substituting zeal—for piety; liberality—for self-mortification; and a merely social religion—for a personal godliness. No careful reader of the New Testament, and careful observer of the present state of the church, can fail to be convinced, one should think, that what is now lacking is a higher tone of spirituality. The Christian profession is sinking in respect of personal piety; the line of separation between the church and the world becomes less and less perceptible—and this is taking place, because of the lack of personal godliness. The character of genuine Christianity, as expounded from pulpits, and delineated in books—has too rarely a counterpart in the lives and spirit of its professors.
How is this to be remedied, and by what means is the spirit of piety to be revived? May we not ask a previous question, How did the spirit of slumber come over the church? Was it not from the pulpit? And if a revival is to take place in the former, must it not begin in the latter? Are the ministers of the present day possessed of that earnest piety which is likely to originate and sustain an earnest style of preaching, and to revive the lukewarmness of their flocks? I do not mean for a moment to insinuate that the ministers of the present day among the Dissenters, or Methodists, or the Evangelical clergy of the Church of England, are characterized by immorality, or even by a lack of substantial holiness; or that they would suffer, as regards their piety, in comparison with those of some other periods in the history of their denominations. But what I am compelled to believe, and what I now express is, that our deficiencies are great, when we are compared not only with what ministers have ever been required to be—but especially with what we are required to be by the circumstances of the times in which we live.
Amid the eager pursuit of commerce, the elegance and soft indulgence of an age of growing refinement, the high cultivation of intellect, and the contests of politics—the church needs a strong and high barrier to keep out the encroachment of tides so adverse to its prosperity, and to keep in and to raise higher its spiritual life. And where shall it find this, if not in the pulpit? It is not to be expected in the nature of things, that the church will in spirituality ever be superior to the ministry; or will ever consider itself without excuse for its inferiority. It will not tread a path which its spiritual guides are slow to pursue; and will deem it an affectation of sanctity and presumptuous ambition to attempt to advance beyond them. How else than by admitting a deficiency of our piety can we account for the fact of a diminished efficiency in our ministry?
I cannot resist the temptation of giving here a long extract from a beautiful tract entitled "A Revived Ministry our only Hope for a Revived Church," a tract so eminently excellent, and so adapted to promote the end of the godly and accomplished writer, that the fact of such a heart-searching, soul-reviving production having as yet reached only a second edition, is a proof that we have little wish to be raised to higher attainments in piety.
"And for such a revived ministry there would be the most hopeful preparation of mind. The object to be aimed at would be distinctly conceived; it would be loved and cherished as the noblest to which a redeemed being can consecrate himself; and there would be a readiness to yield everything to the urgency and grandeur of its claims, together with a simplicity and sincerity of intention, which would mightily aid the judgment in seeing its best way to the best methods of achieving it. In such circumstances, all the distracting influences arising from indistinct views, a divided heart, and infirmity of purpose, would be withdrawn, and leave the minister of Christ free to take a decided and energetic course. The subjection of the church and the world to the dominion of the truth, in a pure heart and holy life, would be ever present to his mind as the sole and sublime end of his ministry. And drawing after it the full tide of his sympathies, and permitting no diversion of his strength to any inferior object, it would command all his powers, and dispossess him of every wish but that of living and dying for it. And that moment would be the dawn of an era of prosperity.
"Everything which he did would be enlivened by the presence of a warmer and holier zeal; but it would be the public administration of divine truth, in the ordinance of preaching, in which the stronger and healthier pulsations of spiritual life would be most signally displayed, and from which the largest results might be expected. In this he would be prepared for acting a new part. Himself saved, and eminently sanctified, as well as possessed of the whole treasury of sacred knowledge in the inspired volume, he would be well versed in the respective truths best calculated for awakening the unconverted, and promoting the highest sanctification of the church, and administer them with improved wisdom and force. The wretchedness of the soul as guilty, depraved, and hastening to the judgment seat; the blessedness of arresting it in its downward course, and of exalting it once more to the glory of the Divine image and favor; the ample means provided for all this in the mediation of Christ; the experience of the efficacy in himself, and the conviction of their undiminished power to do as much for others; the rapid flight of time, and the possibility of all the mercy overshadowing that hour being trifled with and lost forever—these sentiments thrill his soul with mingled commiseration, hope, and fear—and urge him to improve to the utmost the fleeting opportunity of snatching sinners from perdition, and adding to the brightness of the Redeemer’s crown.
"How well chosen is his theme, no matter of curious speculation—but some one or more of the solemn verities which concern the faith and obedience of every hearer, and bring life or death, as accepted or rejected! Away with those artificial rules which some have prescribed, as if to prepare a sermon were something like composing an epic! He has a truth to enforce, a moral effect to produce, and the sense of its unutterable importance brings to bear upon it all the resources of a judicious, intelligent, and impassioned mind. Bent on winning souls to God, or quickening them to higher obedience, this one desire possesses and inflames him, and gives a unity and completeness to his subject, a force and compactness of argument, a felicity of speech and manner, an ardor and impressiveness of appeal, which the art of the rhetorician could never have supplied. He feels moreover, that his strength is in God, and that the pleadings of human wisdom and pity never availed apart from a higher inspiration.
"Would there not be more than hope from a ministry like this? In itself so convincing and persuasive, rendered still more so by the practical exhibition of all the faith, uprightness, benevolence, and spirituality which it inculcates, looking to God, and owning its weakness without his blessing, it would have all the characteristics from which the susceptibilities of the human mind, and the solemn promises of the Almighty, authorize the expectation of enlarged success. When was such a ministry known to be long in contact with the minds of men, without producing the happiest effects? ’The word of the Lord would have free course and be glorified,’ converts press into the church, and the church be raised to a higher level of godliness.
"And the minister thus revived would have unusual power in individual communion with the members of his flock. Living only for their advancement in faith and holiness, the warmth and tenderness of his concern for it would make him prompt to seize every opportunity of promoting it, and give an appropriateness and weight to his sayings, which a colder and less earnest piety would never have dictated. While the objects of his solicitude, feeling the point and force of his words, and impressed with his singleness of purpose, and still more with that uniform display of the Christian virtues, which was the best attestation of his deep sincerity, would find themselves drawn along by a combination of influences so pure and commanding, that they must tread in the steps of his piety, and bend to his hallowed purpose of extending the limits of the church, and giving it a holier aspect.
"Every faithful minister can look back upon seasons when under the kindlings of a warmer love and zeal, and a more affecting sense of eternal things, he was animated to increased exertion; and he has found that not only did his preaching fix the attention and touch the souls of his hearers more than at other times—but that, when he went among them in private, the elevation of his spirit, the seriousness of his converse, and the solemnity and unction pervading his petitions, produced an evident impression, and that he left them with improved feelings and resolves. All emotion is contagious, and easily propagates itself to other bosoms; but, besides this, the wakefulness of his zeal, and his steadiness of purpose, made him eager to extract the highest amount of good from every opportunity, stimulated ingenuity, and gave an aptness and charm to all that he said, which fell with happy effect on the understanding and the heart. And had the ardor and determination of those seasons been permanent, the equable and healthy excitement of every day’s labor, instead of soon relapsing into the feebler sensibility of other times, his ministry would doubtless have told a different history, and be far more richly laden with precious fruit."