My dear Sir,—In answer to your question whether I will meet the Representative of Secularism in debate, I would say, that I had rather, for several reasons, spend what remains of my life and strength in peaceful labors as a preacher, a lecturer, and an author. I seem to have done enough in the way of public discussion. And I have not the amount of physical or nervous energy, or the strength of voice and lungs, which I once had. I am suffering, not only from the effects of age, but from a terrible shock received in a collision on the railway, causing serious paralysis of my right side, and greatly reducing the force and action of my heart and brain.
Then I am not the representative of the Church, or of any section of it. I can only stand forth as the advocate of my own views. Further; there are many questions connected with the Bible, which appear to me more fitted for quiet thought and friendly discussion among scholars and critics, than for debate in a popular audience. On many of those points Christian divines differ among themselves. They differ, for instance, to some extent, in their views of Bible inspiration and the sacred canon; they differ as to the worth of manuscripts, texts, and versions, the validity of various readings, the origin and significance of discrepancies in some of the historical and chronological portions of the Bible, &c., &c. On none of these points do I consider myself called upon to state or advocate any particular views.
There are however points of a broader and more important character, on which a public popular discussion might be proper and useful; such as the general drift and scope of the Bible, or its aim and tendency; the character and tendency of Christianity as presented in the life and teachings of its Author, and in the writings of the Apostles; the comparative merits of Christianity, and of Atheistic Secularism as set forth in the writings of Secularists.
I understand the leaders of the Secularists to teach, that Christianity is exceedingly mischievous in its tendency,—that it is adverse to civilization, and to the temporal interests of mankind generally,—that the Bible is the curse of Europe, &c. These are subjects on which a popular audience may be as well qualified to judge, as scholars and critics. And if you particularly desire it, I will authorize you to arrange for a discussion on them between me and such representative of Secularism as you may think fit. I should not however like the discussion to occupy more than three nights in any one week. And I should wish effectual precautions to be taken to secure a peaceful and orderly debate. It will be necessary also to have the subjects to be discussed plainly and definitely stated.
Yours, most respectfully,
Joseph Barker.
18. I may now add, that the evidences which had most to do in convincing me of the truth and divinity of Christianity, were the internal ones. I was influenced more by moral and spiritual, than by historical and critical considerations. I do not think lightly of Paley's works on the Evidences, or of Miall's Bases of Belief, or of Dr. Hopkins', or Dr. Channing's, or Dr. Priestley's Evidences of Christianity; but the Bible, and especially the story of Christ, was the principal instrument of my conversion. I believed first with my heart rather than my head. True, my head soon justified the belief of my heart: but my heart was first in the business. I believe in miracles; I think them of great importance. I believe especially in the miracles of Christ. But that which melted my heart; that which won my infinite admiration; that which filled me with unspeakable love and gratitude; that which made me a Christian and a Christian believer, was Christ himself. Even His miracles moved me more as expressions of His love, than as proofs of His power. The great thing that overpowered me was the infinite excellency of Christ, and the wonderful adaptation of Christianity to the spiritual and moral, the social and physical, wants of mankind, Christ Himself is His own best advocate. His life and character are His strongest claims on our love and loyalty. And His religion, like the sun, is its own best evidence of its divinity. The infinite worth of the sun—the astonishing and infinitely varied adaptation of his light and warmth to the wants of every living thing—his wonderful and beneficent effects on plants and trees, on animals and man, are the strongest proofs of His Divine original. And so with Christianity, the Sun of the moral and spiritual world. It proves its heavenly origin by its amazing adaptation to man's nature, and by its almighty tendency to promote his improvement and perfection; by the light, the life, the blessedness it gives; by the love it kindles; by the glorious transformations which it effects in depraved individuals and degenerate communities; by the peace, the hope, the joy it inspires; and by the courage and strength it imparts both in life and in death.
19. The form in which Christianity presented itself to me, and the way in which it operated on my soul, may be seen from the articles I wrote on "Christ and His teachings," about the time of my conversion. They refer to the doctrine of Christ with regard to a Fatherly God, and His loving care of His creatures. The first thing that struck me in this doctrine was its beauty and tenderness. It is just the kind of doctrine which the hearts of the best of men would wish to be true. It answers to the weaknesses and the wants of our nature; to the longings and aspirations of our souls. It is full of consolation. It makes the universe complete. It makes man's life worth living. It makes the greatness, the vastness, the infinitude of our intellectual and affectional nature a blessing. It gives peace—the peace that passes understanding. It gives joy,—the joy that is unspeakable and full of glory. It opens our lips in the sight of sorrow, and enables us to give the sufferer consolation. It gives the universe a head. It gives it unity. It gives to man a Ruler. It gives to law a commanding force. It gives to conscience a controlling power. It makes virtue duty, while it gives to it fresh grandeur and beauty. It exalts it in our eyes; and it endears it to our hearts. And it furnishes the all-perfect example. And it makes reasonable the inculcation of humility and charity, of forbearance and forgiveness. And it dignifies the work of beneficence. It makes us the allies and fellow-workers of the infinite. It makes us one with Him. In teaching the ignorant, in bringing back the erring, in strengthening the weak, in reforming the vicious, in cheering the sad, in blessing the world, we are working as children in fellowship with their infinite Father, and the pulses of our generous nature beat in harmony with the living, loving, all-pervading Spirit of the universe.
And while it brightens the present, it gilds the future. It makes a blessed immortality a natural certainty. If God our Father lives, then we His children shall live also. Death is abolished. Day dawns at last on the night of the grave. Earth is our birth-place and our nursery; death is the gate-way to infinity, and there is our glorious and eternal home. Our work for ever is the joyous work of doing good. Our future life is an eternal unfolding, and a delightful exercise, of our highest powers. The mysteries of universal nature open to our view, and in the confluence of the delights of knowledge and the transports of benevolence, our joy is full; our bliss complete.
This doctrine, in the form in which Jesus presents it, has hold of the hearts of nearly the whole population of Christendom. It has the strongest hold on the best. Even those who doubt it, doubt it with a sigh; and those who give it up, surrender it with regret. And as they make the sacrifice the earth grows dark. And life grows sad. And nature wears the air of desolation. The music of the woods becomes less sweet. The beauty of the flowers becomes less charming. There creeps a dreary silence over land and sea. Existence loses more than half its charms. The light of life burns dim. The past, the present, and the future all are cheerless. The world is one vast orphan-house. Mankind are fatherless. Our dearest ones are desolate. And language has no word to comfort them. The lover sighs. The husband and the father weeps. The bravest stand aghast. The charm of life, the unmixed bliss of being, is no more.