Plain Sermons, Preached at Archbishop Tenison's Chapel, Regent Street

by James Galloway Cowan

“We know in part.” Now, one of the most important thoughts which this text suggests is, that we Christians all have to some extent the privilege of spiritual knowledge, and consequently, we all have resting upon us, the responsibility of maintaining and increasing knowledge. You all, brethren, know in part. I do not mean merely that you have the instinct and intelligence which certain sagacious animals of the lower creation have, nor yet that by natural conscience, the embers of the primeval spiritual fire, you are enabled dimly to discern between right and wrong, to perceive that there is a power above you, and an immortal future before you: I mean, that you all as Christians are partakers of a new gift of knowledge—that you have within you, as one of the ordinary graces of the Spirit of regeneration in Christ, that Spirit which was given to guide men unto all truth, to convince of sin, of righteousness, and of judgment; the faculty of knowing spiritual things—a faculty to be sustained in appointed ways, and to be exercised upon the revelations of knowledge contained in the Word of God.

I shall not stay to prove this; you know that since in Christ all is quickened, which died in Adam, knowledge must be revived. You know that the Spirit of Christ is frequently spoken of as the Imparter of light to all whom He visits; that the coming of Christ to men, externally even, as a teacher, took away all cloak and excuse for ignorance and sin; that to sin after receiving the Spirit, is to sin against the knowledge of the truth, knowledge attainable, if not attained; that under the Gospel dispensation, the servant who knows not his Master’s will, is nevertheless to be beaten if he transgresses it, because he might and should have known it; that to remain ignorant is to bring upon us judicial ignorance; that from him that hath not (that acts, i.e., as though he had not), from him shall be taken away even that he hath; that the light within us, if treated as darkness, will become the greatest and most terrible darkness. You know, too, that we are commanded to increase and improve this gift, to grow in knowledge, to walk in the light; and you know how to do it, by asking wisdom of God, by heeding what the Spirit says, and by searching the Scriptures, the source of spiritual knowledge. We all know—that is, we all have the power of knowing—we all are required to know, we shall all be judged as those who know, and we shall all be rewarded according to our use or abuse, our growth, or falling off in knowledge.

Now, is not this a solemn thought? Does not it exhibit to us a great responsibility? Does not it speak stern reproof to our frequent and willing ignorance? How little are many of us acquainted with God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. What little knowledge have we, and do we seek to have, of Providence, of grace, of moral discipline, of duty, of prospects, hopes and fears, of spiritual succour and spiritual assaults of time and eternity, of probation and judgment, of heaven and hell. Is there any other subject of which the vast majority of us are so ignorant, and so contentedly or carelessly ignorant, as of that which God has made so easy to learn, and has so imperatively required us to learn, the knowledge of Him, of ourselves, and of His dealings with us, revealed to us in the Bible, to be discerned by the Spirit within us?

Year after year passes away, and we realise no more, and feel no more what God is, what we are, what we have to do, and why, and what awaits us. Chapter after chapter of the Bible is read, or heard again and again, and what we did not understand at first, we still do not understand; what we did not feel at first, we still do not feel. Sermon after sermon is preached, and our stock of knowledge after all is just as much (is it always this?) as was forced upon us at school, or in preparation for confirmation and first communion. Restless and ever on the move in all other respects, we are content to stand still here; ay, and if the preacher strives to lead us on, by unfolding some great spiritual truth as far as he can, by exhibiting and explaining some difficult doctrine more fully than usual, too often we withhold the attention which we usually give him, and after he has done, not unfrequently condemn his pains, and exclaim against his learned and abstruse sermon.

Is not it so? Are not there many who cannot recollect a time when they had less spiritual perception than they have now, and who therefore are witnesses to themselves that they have not grown in knowledge? Are not there many who are less acquainted with the Bible than with any other book that has come into their hands? Are not there many who, while they may have familiarised themselves with the history, the geography, the anecdotes so to speak of Holy Scripture, and the fanciful, often daring, interpretations of unfulfilled prophecy, yet know comparatively nothing of what God is to them, what they are to God, what is required of them, and what is promised or threatened?

Oh! brethren, how and why is this? How is it that the Object of supreme love and fear is to us but a shadowy and unintelligible name? How is it that we have no perception of the ever-present, ever-speaking, ever-acting, all-important Spirit? How is it that we have no intelligent or inquiring thought of the heaven which we are bidden to seek, and of the hell which we have to avoid; of the Master we are bound to serve; of the business to which life is an apprenticeship; of the race in which we are runners; of the warfare which we are enlisted to wage; the weapons to be used; the mode of fighting; the field of battle; the foes we are opposed to; the punishment of desertion: the reward of constancy; the prospects of victory; the perils of defeat? Is not it that we are not impressed with the responsibility of having this gift of knowledge? with the peril of folding up in a napkin a precious talent given us to use and improve? Is not it that we do not think seriously of the existence of God, of the possession of His Spirit, of the reality of heaven and hell, of the obligations of Christian service, of spiritual helps, and difficulties, and perils? Is not it that we have not (which means that we do not seek) that faith which is the substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen, enabling us to realise and grasp, as though it were a substance, that which is as yet but future; and to behold plainly, with the eye of faith, that which to natural sense is not perceptible?

Have but this faith, and you will soon add to it knowledge. Concern yourselves about God only as much as you would about the man with whom you have most to do in life, and from whom you have most to expect or fear; treat religion as you would the business by which you are to sustain natural life, and to make or mar your temporal fortune; and then interest and desire (as much and more than duty) will impel you to use every effort to acquaint yourselves thoroughly with God; to understand the working and unravel the mysteries of religion; to ascertain all particulars about what you have to hope for or fear—heaven and hell—angels and demons—the Holy Ghost—and the spirit of evil. Deeper and deeper will you drink of the well of knowledge; and each deep and frequent draught will but quicken your thirst and impel you to drink again.

But take care not to err in the other extreme: we know in part, and are always to know in part only. Our knowledge of allowed and enjoined things, though ever increasing, shall never be perfect on this side of the grave. We are to augment it as much as we can, but we must stand really face to face with Christ, before we see Him as He is. Our grossness must be refined, our souls and minds wholly transformed, and our bodies glorified, before we can fully perceive and appreciate the Holy Spirit. We must be in heaven to know thoroughly what heaven is. We must have Christ for our audible teacher, and angels for our prompting fellow scholars, and the eternal records for our books, and all time spread out before us as a map, before we can learn perfectly, what we are to spend this life and exercise the Spirit of knowledge in acquiring in part. And even then, as I said before, there are things which we shall not be able to grasp, or fathom, or perceive thoroughly. We shall never see God the Father visibly; we shall never comprehend altogether a Being without beginning or end; we shall never be omniscient or omnipresent. God will treat us as trusty and privileged friends, and reveal to us much that is not revealed here, and give us new powers of understanding it. But He will not open to us all the workings of the Divine mind. He will not transform us into gods, nor even into angels. We shall still be finite human beings, of limited understanding and limited knowledge. The things which concern us we shall know fully; the things which concern us not, we shall not know; just as the angels desired once to look into, but were not able, the mysteries (which did not concern them) of our redemption.

Well, then, if there is to be holy ground in heaven, which we must not tread on with the shoes of idle curiosity; if there is to be there a bush behind which we must not look; if even then there shall be secret things which belong only to God, and which we must not pry into; how much more so here and now! How necessary to remember that we are to know only in part; that we are not to seek to be wise above what is written; that, respecting mysteries which concern not us, it is distinctly charged: “Draw not nigh hither”!

When God puts forth and reveals His arm, He proves to us, indeed, that there is more of Him that is not revealed; but it is profane to demand that it should be revealed. When He tells us, that the world was created so many thousand years ago, He proves that it was not before then; but He does not permit us to inquire, what was then? When He tells us, that He made all good, and that the devil introduced evil, He does it not that we should inquire subtilly into the origin of evil. We are to study what is revealed, and not what is hidden. Where did God exist before the worlds were made? What is existence without beginning? How was matter produced out of nothing—evil out of good? How is it possible for God to have His will, and man his? Why did not God prevent evil? Why does He now tolerate it? Why were fallen angels not redeemed? Why is man not perfected without trial? How can finite beings be infinitely rewarded or punished? These, and the thousand other curious questions, which perverse man is ever asking, are inquiries which He forbids and baffles—which we may be sure provoke His displeasure.