Upon this principle of forsaking sin, and turning our will to Goodness, are founded all those Gospel precepts, which speak of "crucifying the flesh with its affections and lusts, destroying the old man, dying to sin, suffering with Christ, cutting off a right hand, plucking out a right eye, passing through much tribulation;" all which plainly shews, that True Religion is a perpetual sacrifice; and that this sacrifice cannot be "offered to the Lord our God, of that which doth cost us nothing;" that the price will be far more, than "fifty shekels of silver," the purchase of Araunah's threshing-floor and implements; yea, that it will be no less than the "whole body of sin," which we carry about us, with all its affections and lusts; which we must, with meekness and humility, surrender to our Blessed Redeemer, to be burnt up and consumed upon the fire of his altar.
Having thus endeavoured to establish this fundamental principle, that "true religion is a costly and a perpetual sacrifice;" let us now, to prevent any dangerous deception, turn our eyes to those false appearances of it, which we frequently meet with in the world, which are very easily assumed, and which cost nothing.
The man of moral honesty first steps forth, and puts in his claim to the character of religious. He looks upon any Revelation from Heaven to be quite unnecessary; and, with all the forwardness and presumption of his own blind reason, pronounces those books, which Christians believe to be of Divine Authority, to be idle and chimerical. His religion, he will tell you, is, "to do as he would be done by." Poor man! it were well, if he even practised this golden rule; it might lead him to something further: for, by endeavouring to fulfil this, he might be brought to a view and feeling of his own natural inability; of the evil tempers and passions of his soul, which, in innumerable instances, hurry him on to do to others, what he would, by no means, have them to do to him. His religion, therefore, is properly visionary. Every thing to him is just and right, that comes within those bounds of honesty, which have been fixed by the laws of the land. A right life is not, with him, a right principle in the heart; but only a set of outward actions, that in the eyes of the world give him the character of an honest man.
The religion of such a person "costs him nothing." He has nothing to sacrifice, but much to gain by the practice of it; at least, much of worldly happiness; for he can have no idea of any other. Being wholly destitute of all sensibility with respect to the evil of his fallen life, he is not in the least desirous of purchasing a better, at the price it will cost. Before he can form any conception of the necessity of religion, as a real inward change and renewal of heart, he must first be made sensible of his present error and misery: "for they that are whole need not a physician, but they that are sick."
Next comes the nominal Christian, who hath been baptized, and professes to believe the great truths of the Gospel, and joins with some publick assembly of Christians in outward worship. Surely his claim to the religious character, hath a better foundation than the preceding one: he purchases it at an higher price; it costs him more to support it. He neglects no outward duty, either moral or instituted; you never miss him at church, or at the sacrament: he hath been strictly educated from his infancy; he is sober, virtuous, kind, and charitable. In a word, he appears to be, what it were to be wished every man in the world really was. Thus far he is undoubtedly right: a strict observance of all the outward duties of religion, a minute attention to things in themselves indifferent, and a prudent abstaining from every appearance of evil, are doubtless incumbent, even upon those who have made the greatest progress in the Divine Life.
Let us, however, remember, that this outward strictness will avail little, without a conformity of our inward man to the temper and disposition of Christ; without being "born again," and commencing a new life, even a life of Heaven upon earth. The nominal Christian is a stranger to this blessed process. Talk to him of the necessity of regeneration, of doing all that he does from a principle of Divine Love, and with a view to God's glory, and not to any self-satisfaction, and he will not understand you. His round of duties seems to be the God whom he worships; at least, he makes them the opus operatum. He is never tormented with spiritual doubts and temptations; he knows nothing of the severe conflicts which real Christians sustain, and the dreadful pangs they must suffer, before their purification is accomplished; before they can "bow their heads," with the great Captain of their Salvation, and say with him, "It is finished." He is willing to go to Heaven by an easier and less thorny path, and to purchase glory at a cheaper rate.
The last I shall mention, but the most specious appearances of religion, are those which are exhibited by the pharisaical professors of Christianity. And here I would willingly throw a veil over those follies and extravagancies, to which false enthusiasm frequently gives the name of spiritual exercises and experiences. But my duty calls upon me to put you on your guard against these delusive appearances; as I cannot but think, that spiritual pride, or an over-weening conceit and forward exhibition of our own fancied spiritual attainments, is the most fatal rock, upon which the Christian can make "shipwreck of his faith."
In an age, wherein every appearance of religion ought to be encouraged and promoted, it is melancholy to think, that we should be under a necessity of speaking even against some appearances. But that you may form a right notion of what I mean by a pharisaical profession of religion, I will endeavour to draw the character of a modern Pharisee.
In the first place, he is one, who talks much in a religious strain, but takes care to make himself the chief subject of conversation. His own illuminations and experiences, his conviction and conversion, with all the particular circumstances attending them, he never fails to communicate, without distinction, to all those who will give him an hearing; and to communicate in such a manner, as to let them know, that he considers his own experiences as the infallible standard by which he measures the experiences of others.
In the next place, you will generally find him insisting upon points of controversy, rather than those of practice; urging your assent to such and such articles of his faith, calling upon you to apply for instruction to some favourite Rabbi of his own sect, or some favourite system which himself has adopted, instead of sending you immediately to him, who is the Fountain of all Wisdom, and "who giveth it liberally" to those that ask it of him.