2 Cor. vii. 1.
Having therefore these promises (dearly beloved) let us cleanse ourselves from all filthiness of flesh and spirit, perfecting holiness in the fear of God.
Our discourses from this place turning very much, as they ought to do, on the great Christian doctrine of salvation, that is, of eternal life, considered as the gift of God to mortal and sinful man, through the redemption of his Son, and the sanctification of his holy Spirit, it would be a strange neglect in us, if we did not take care to remind our hearers of the effect which that doctrine ought to have upon them.
This duty I mean now to discharge towards you: and I cannot do it more properly than by enforcing that advice which St. Paul gave the Corinthians, as the result of a long and eloquent discourse to them on the same subject. Having THEREFORE (says he) these promises [i. e. the promise of eternal life, and of acceptance through Christ, so as to become the people of God, nay the sons of God, with other assurances of the like sort[58], interspersed in the two preceding chapters, Having these promises] let us cleanse ourselves from all filthiness of flesh and spirit, perfecting holiness in the fear of God.
The inference, you see, is direct to our purpose: and common ingenuity, if nothing else, might well engage us, in return for such great and precious promises, to draw the same conclusion for ourselves. But, when we further consider that these promises are conditional, and made only to those who obey the giver of them[59], interest, as well as gratitude, will oblige us to yield that obedience so expressly required of us.
This obedience is briefly summed up in the direction; to cleanse ourselves from all filthiness of flesh and spirit, that is, to take care, agreeably to the double obligation imposed upon us by the distinct parts of our constitution, that we consult the integrity both of our bodies and minds; and preserve them both from that defilement which each of them, according to its nature, is liable to contract in this state of moral probation.
I. With regard to the FLESH, the gross vices which defile that part of our frame, are so expressly condemned by the law of reason, as well as of the gospel, and are so repugnant to the inbred modesty of every man, especially, a such as have had their natural sense of decency quickened by a good education, that but to mention them in this place, I would hope, is quite sufficient. If I go farther, it shall only be to remind you of one thing, which I have explained at large on a former occasion[60], That Christianity hath added unspeakably to the worth and dignity of the human body, by considering it no longer as the store-house of impure lusts, but as the habitation, the temple of the living God, to whose sole use it is now dedicated[61].
The turpitude, the dishonour, the impiety of desecrating this sanctuary of the holy Spirit by sordid, carnal excesses, is then apparent to every Christian.
But the vices of the SPIRIT do not always strike the attention so forcibly; though they be as real as those of the body, and sometimes more fatal. The reason is, that the spiritual part of man does not lie so open to observation as the corporeal. The mind is not easily made an object to itself; and, when it is, we have a strange power of seeing it in a false light, and of overlooking its blemishes, or of even mistaking them for beauties. In short, the filthiness of the spirit may be long unobserved, and therefore uncleansed, if it be not pointed out to us by some friendly monitor, who is more practised in this mental inspection than ourselves, or has less interest, however, to conceal our depravity from us.
Permit me, then, to assume the charitable office of holding up to your view these spiritual vices; not all of every sort (for that would be endless) but the chief of those which tend more immediately to defeat the gracious promises made to us in the gospel.
II. I say nothing of that corruption which direct and positive infidelity strikes through the soul, whether it be the infidelity of Atheism, or what is called Deism; because, on men who espouse either of these systems, the promises of the gospel take no hold; and because it ought not, cannot be supposed, that men of no religion, or of no faith, appear in these Christian assemblies. You will think me better employed in pointing out such corruptions, as may not improbably adhere even to believers; though concealed from their own observation, it may be, or disguised, at least, to themselves, under various pretences.
1. The first of these that I shall mention is a sort of HALF-BELIEF, which floats in the mind, and, though it do not altogether renounce the hopes of the Gospel, is far from reposing a firm trust in them. Many professed believers have, I doubt, this infirmity, this taint of infidelity, still cleaving to them. They think Christianity an useful institution; nay, they think it not destitute of all divine authority. But then they reduce this authority to just nothing, by allowing themselves to put it as low as they can—by taking great liberties in explaining both its doctrines and precepts—by admitting such parts of this revelation, as they believe themselves able to make out to the satisfaction of their own minds, and by rejecting, at least by questioning in some sort, whatever they cannot perfectly understand—by treating some things as incredible, others, as impracticable; one part of their religion as too mysterious, and another as too severe. “They believe, they say, what they can: but, after all, there are many strange things in this religion; and the evidence for the truth of them is not so controuling, but that there is room for some degree of doubt and hesitation.”
All this, perhaps, they do not say to others; nay, not to themselves, except when they are pressed by some conclusion from scripture, which either their prejudices, or their passions, make them very unwilling to admit; and then they take leave to be as sceptical as the occasion requires.
But now from such a faith as this, no wholesome or permanent fruits can be expected. It has no root in them; and the promises, that should feed and nourish it, have but a faint and feeble effect; just enough, perhaps, to keep their hopes from dying outright, but much too little to push them into any vigorous efforts of obedience.
The way for such to cleanse themselves from this pollution of spirit (for to the several defects, the proper remedy in each case shall, as we go along, be subjoined) is, once for all, to examine the foundations of their religion; and, if they find them, on the whole, solid and satisfactory, to rely upon them thenceforth with a confidence entire and unshaken. They should reflect, that every revealed doctrine, of whatever sort, as standing on the same ground of infallible truth, is equally to be admitted. There is no compromising matters with their divine Master: they must either quit his service, or follow him without reserve. And this, upon the whole, they will find to be the manly and the reasonable part for them to take. To halt between two opinions so repugnant to each other, to embrace so interesting a thing as religion by halves, is neither for the credit of their courage, nor of their understanding.
Having then the promise of eternal life, let them reckon upon that promise, like men who know its value, and do not mistrust on what ground it stands. If they are Christians at all, they cannot justify it even to themselves not to be Christians in good earnest. And thus will they happily escape the disgrace of an irresolved and indolent faith; which involves them in much of the guilt, and in almost all the mischiefs, of infidelity. But,
2. There are those who have not a doubt about the truth of Christianity, and yet, through a certain LEVITY OF MIND, derive but little benefit from their conviction.
This spiritual vice is, perhaps, the commonest of all others; and, though it seems to have something prodigious in it, is easily accounted for from the intoxication of health, youth, and high spirits; from the restless pursuit of pleasure, which occupies one part of the world, and of business, which distracts another; from a too passionate love of society in many; from feverish habits of dissipation in more; and from a fatal impatience of solitude and recollection in almost all.
But, by whichsoever of these causes the vice of inconsideration, we have now before us, is produced and nourished, it is of the most malignant sort, and being ready to branch out into many others, should be resolutely checked and suppressed. Though there be nothing directly criminal in the pursuit which takes us from ourselves, it is always dangerous to lose sight of what we are, and whither we are going, and may be fatal. For, not to believe, and not to call to mind what we believe, is nearly the same thing. And when a temptation meets us thus unprepared, it wants no assistance from infidelity, but is secure of prevailing by its own strength, under cover of our inattention.
Such, I doubt not, is the sad experience of thousands, every day; while yet the misjudging world, that part of it, especially, whose interest it is to suppose that all men are equally destitute of religious principles, rashly conclude that there is no faith, where there is so much folly. “These hypocrites, say they, are convicted of the same unbelief, which they perpetually object to us:” Alas, no: they are convicted of inconsequence, only.
Not that this consideration excuses their guilt: it even aggravates and inflames it. For, when one thing, only, is needful, and they know it to be so, not to retain a practical, an habitual sense of it, but to suffer every trifle to mislead, every sudden gust of passion to drive them from the hope and end of their calling, argues an extreme depravity of mind, and deserves a harsher name than we commonly give to this conduct.
However, soften it to ourselves, as we will, under any fashionable denomination, the spirit must be cured of this vice, or the promises of the Gospel are lost upon us. And the proper remedy is but one. We must resolve, at all events, to acquire the contrary habit of consideration. We must meditate much and often on what we believe: we must force our minds to dwell upon it: we must converse more with ourselves, how bad company soever we take that to be, and less with the world, which so easily dissipates our thoughts, and oversets our best resolutions.
If we would but every day set apart a small portion of our time, were it but a few minutes, to supplicate the grace of God, and to say seriously to ourselves; I believe the promises, and I acknowledge the authority of the gospel; (and less than this, who can think excusable in any man, whatever his condition of life may be, that calls himself a Christian?) this short and easy discipline, regularly pursued, and, on no pretence whatever, intermitted, would presently effect the cure we so much want, and restore the sickly mind to its health and vigour.
3. Still, there may be a general belief in the promises of the Gospel, and a good degree of attention to them, and yet men may be but little impressed by what they thus believe and consider. This affection of the mind is sometimes experienced, but has hardly acquired a distinct name. Let us call it, if you please, a DEADNESS, or INSENSIBILITY OF HEART; which, so far as it proceeds from natural constitution, is a misfortune only; but, when cherished or even neglected by us, it becomes a fault.
The danger of it lies here, lest by seeing with indifference the most important objects of our hopes and fears, we come by degrees to neglect or overlook them; to question, perhaps, the reality of them; or, to lose, however, the benefit which even a calm view of these objects, when frequently set before the mind, must needs convey to us.
The rule in this case plainly is, To prescribe to ourselves such a regimen as is proper to correct this spiritual lethargy: that is, to stimulate the sluggish mind by the most poignant reflexions; to bring the objects of our faith as near and close to us as we can; to paint them in the liveliest colours of the imagination, which, when touched itself, easily sets fire to the affections; and, above all, to keep our eye intently and steadily upon them.
We may see the utility of this regimen, in a case which is familiar to every body.
When we look forward to the end of life, it appears at a vast distance. The many, or the few years, that lie before us, take up a great deal of room in the mind, and present the idea of a long, and almost interminable duration. Hence the fatal security in which we most of us live, as conceiving that, when so much time is on our hands, we need not be sollicitous to make the most of it.
But that all this is a mere delusion, we may see by looking back on the time that is already elapsed. We have lived in this world, twenty, forty, it may be, many more years: yet, in reflecting on this space, we find it just nothing: the several parts of it run together in the mind, and the first moment of our existence seems almost to touch upon the present. Now, by anticipating this experience, and applying it to the remaining period of our lives, we may satisfy ourselves, that the years to come will pass away as rapidly, and, when gone, will appear as inconsiderable as the past; and the effect of this anticipation must be, to convince us, that no part of this brief term is to be trifled with, or unimproved.
Then, again, we have the power of imaging to ourselves, in a very lively manner, the circumstances in which death surprises very many thoughtless persons every day; and what we should feel in their situation.
Lay then these two things together; make the shortness of life, and the terrors of an unprepared death, the frequent object of your meditation; and see if the most callous mind will not presently be much affected by them.
4. The fourth and last vice of the spirit, which I have time to mention to you, is rather, perhaps, to be accounted a complication of vices. But what I mean is that unhappy turn of mind which prompts many persons to elude the effects of faith, reflexion, and even a lively sense, in matters of religion, by certain tricks of SOPHISTRY, which they practise on themselves. They believe, and they would gladly obtain, the promises of the gospel, but repentance, they suppose, will supply the place of uniform obedience: they will repent, but not yet; there is time enough, and fitter for that purpose, when passion cools, and the heat of life is over: or, they fancy to themselves an inexhaustible fund of goodness in their religion; the terms of it may not be rigidly insisted upon; the promises may not be so conditional as they seem to be; and the threats, without doubt, will not be punctually executed. At the worst, there is no need to despair of mercy, considering the frailty of man, and the infinite merits of the Redeemer.
Such reasonings as these argue a depraved mind, and tend, further, to deprave it. But your good sense prevents me in the confutation of them. I would only observe, that this vice is, as I said, a complicated one: for, together with the unfairness and disingenuity (which belongs to all sophistry, as such) we have here united (what is too common in religious sophistry) a great deal of unwarrantable presumption.
The remedy in the case is, To cultivate in ourselves a modest and ingenuous love of truth; an awful reverence of the revealed word, and that simplicity of heart which excludes all artifice and refinement.
From these so pernicious vices of the spirit, then, that is, from a fluctuating faith, an inconsiderate levity, an inapprehensive deadness of heart, and a perverse sophistical abuse of the understanding, let us emancipate ourselves by a firm, attentive, vigorous, and ingenuous dependance on the promises of the gospel; from these defilements, I say, in particular (having shaken off the other more sordid corruptions of the flesh and spirit) let us anxiously cleanse our minds, with the view of perfecting holiness, as the text admonishes, IN THE FEAR OF GOD.
This last clause is by no means an insignificant one; as ye will see by recollecting, that the true temper of a Christian is, hope mixed with fear; hope, to animate his courage, and fear, to quicken his attention. For, unless this principle of fear, not a servile, but filial fear, inform the soul and invigorate its functions, we shall be far from PERFECTING HOLINESS; we shall at best exhibit in our lives but some broken, detached, incoherent parcels of it. A steady, uniform piety, such as begets that hope, which maketh not ashamed[62], is only kept up by a constant watchfulness and circumspection; which our probationary state plainly demands, and which nothing but the fear of God effectually secures.