"Let us go back and visit the brothers in all the towns where we preached
the word of the Lord and see how they are doing" (Acts 15:36).
The text which heads this page contains a proposal which the Apostle Paul
made to Barnabas after their first missionary journey. He proposed to
revisit the Churches they had founded, and to see how the were getting
along. Were their members continuing steadfast in the faith? Were they
growing in grace? Were they going forward, or standing still? Were they
prospering, or falling away? "Let us go back and visit the brothers in
all the towns where we preached the word of the Lord and see how they are
doing."
This was a wise and useful proposal. Let us lay it to heart, and apply
it to ourselves today. Let us search our ways, and find out how matters
stand between ourselves and God. Let us "see how we are doing?" I ask
every reader of this volume to begin its perusal by joining me in self-
examination. If ever self-examination about religion was needed, it is
needed today.
We live in an age of unusual spiritual privileges. Since the world began
there never was such an opportunity for a man's soul to be saved as there
is in England at this time. There never were so many signs of religion
in the land, so many sermons preached, so many services held in churches
and chapels, so many Bibles sold, so many religious books and tracts
printed, so many Societies for evangelizing mankind supported, so much
outward respect paid to Christianity. Things are done everywhere now-a-
days which a hundred years ago would have been thought impossible.
Pastors support the boldest and most aggressive efforts to reach the
unconverted. Clergy of the most formal and structured denominations
advocate special missions, and vie with the Evangelical brethren in
proclaiming that going to church on Sunday is not enough to take a man to
heaven.
In short, there is a stir about religion now-a-days to which there has
been nothing like since England was a nation, and which the cleverest
skeptics and agnostics cannot deny. If Romaine, and Venn, and Berridge,
and Rowlands, and Grimshaw, and Hervey, had been told that such things
would come to pass about a century after their deaths, they would have
been tempted to say, with the Samaritan nobleman, "Look, even if the LORD
should open the floodgates of the heavens, could this happen?" (2 Kings
7:19). But the Lord has opened the floodgates of heaven. There is more
taught now-a-days in England of the real Gospel, and of the way of
salvation by faith in Jesus Christ, in one week, than there was in a year
in Romaine's time. Surely I have a right to say that we live in an age
of spiritual privileges. But are we any better for it? In an age like
this it is well to ask, "How is it going with our souls?"
We live in an age of special spiritual danger. Never perhaps since the
world began was there such an immense amount of mere outward profession
of religion as there is in the present day. A painfully large proportion
of all the congregations in the land consists of unconverted people, who
know nothing of heart-religion, never come to the Lord's Table, and never
confess Christ in their daily lives. Myriads of those who are always
running after preachers, and crowding to hear special sermons, are
nothing better than empty tubs, and tinkling cymbals, without a bit of
real vital Christianity at home.
It is curious and instructive to observe how history repeats itself, and
how much sameness there is in the human heart in every age. Even in the
Early Church, many persons were found at church for the great Christian
ceremonies, and at the theaters, or even at the temples, for the heathen
spectacles. The ritual of the Church was viewed as a theatrical
spectacle. The sermons were listened to as the display of rhetoricians;
and eloquent preachers were cheered, with clapping of hands, stamping of
feet, waving of handkerchiefs, cries of "Orthodox," "Thirteenth Apostle,"
and such like demonstrations, which such teachers as Chrysostom and
Augustine tried to restrain, that they might persuade their flocks to a
more profitable manner of hearing. Some went to Church for the sermon
only, alleging that they could pray at home. And when the more
attractive parts of the service were over, the great mass of the people
departed without remaining for the Lord's Table.
The parable of the sower is continually receiving most vivid and painful
illustrations. The pathway hearers, the stony-ground hearers, the
thorny-ground hearers abound on every side.
The life of many religious persons, I fear, in this age, is nothing
better than a "continual course of spiritual tasting." They are always
morbidly craving fresh excitement; and they seem to care little what it
is if they only get it. All preaching seems to be the same to them; and
they appear unable to "see differences" so long as they hear what is
clever, have their ears tickled, and sit in a crowd. Worst of all, there
are hundreds of young believers who are so infected with the same love of
excitement, that they actually think it a duty to be always seeking it.
Insensible almost to themselves, they take up a kind of hysterical,
sensational, sentimental Christianity, until they are never content with
the "old paths" and, like the Athenians, are always running after
something new.
To see a calm-minded young believer, who is not stuck up, self confident,
self-conceited, and more ready to teach than learn, but content with a
daily steady effort to grow up into Christ's likeness, and to do Christ's
work quietly and inconspicuously, at home, is really becoming almost a
rarity! They show how little deep root they have, and how little
knowledge of their hearts, by noise, forwardness, readiness to contradict
and set down old Christians, and over-weaning trust in their own fancied
soundness and wisdom! Well will it be for many young professors of this
age if they do not end, after being tossed about for a while, and
"carried to and fro by every wind of doctrine," by joining some petty,
narrow-minded, censorious sect, or embracing some senseless, unreasoning
heresy. Surely, in times like these there is great need for self-
examination. When we look around us, we may well ask, "How is it with
our souls?"
In handling this question, I think the shortest plan will be to suggest a
list of subjects for self-examination, and to get them in order. By so
doing I shall hope to meet the case of every one into whose hands this
volume may fall. I invite every reader of this paper to join me in calm,
searching self-examination, for a few short minutes. I desire to speak
to myself as well as to you. I approach you not as an enemy, but as a
friend. "My heart's desire and prayer to God is that you may be saved"
(Romans 10:1). Bear with me if I say things which at first sight look
harsh and severe. Believe me, he is your best friend who tells you the
most truth.
(1) Let me ask, in the first place, "Do we ever think about our souls at
all?"
Thousands of people, I fear, cannot answer that question satisfactorily.
They never give the subject of religion any place in their thoughts.
From the beginning of the year to the end they are absorbed in the
pursuit of business, pleasure, politics, money, or self-indulgence of
some kind or another. Death, and judgment, and eternity, and heaven, and
hell, and a world to come, are never calmly looked at and considered.
They live on as if they were never going to die, or rise again, or stand
at the bar of God, or receive an eternal sentence! They do not openly
oppose Christianity, for they do not have sufficient reflection about it
to do so; but they eat and drink, and sleep, and get money, and spend
money, as if Christianity was a mere fiction and not a reality.
They are neither Roman Catholics, nor Socinians, nor infidels, nor High
Church, nor Low Church, nor Broad Church. They are just nothing at all,
and do not take the trouble to have opinions. A more senseless and
unreasonable way of living cannot be conceived; but they do not pretend
to reason it out. They simply never think about God, unless frightened
for few minutes by sickness, death in their families, or an accident.
Barring such interruptions, they appear to ignore Christianity
altogether, and hold on to their way cool and undisturbed, as if there
were nothing worth thinking of except this world.
It is hard to imagine a life more unworthy of an immortal creature than
such a life as I have just described, for it reduces a man to the level
of a beast. But it is literally and truly the life of multitudes and as
they pass away their place is taken by multitudes like them. The
picture, no doubt, is horrible, distressing, and revolting but,
unhappily, it is only too true. In every large town, in every market, on
every stock-exchange, in every club, you may see specimens of this class
by the scores--men who think of everything under the sun except the one
thing needful--the salvation of their souls.
Like the Jews of old they do not "consider their ways," they do not
"consider their latter end;" they do not "consider that they do evil"
(Isaiah 1:3; Haggai 1:7; Deuteronomy 32:29; Ecclesiastes 5:1). Like
Gallio they "care for none of these things:" they are not in their way.
(Acts 18:17). If they prosper in the world, and get rich, and succeed in
their line of life, they are praised, and admired by their
contemporaries. Nothing succeeds today like success! But for all this
they cannot live forever. They will have to die and appear before the
bar of God, and be judged; and then what will the end be? When a large
class of this kind exists in our country, no reader need wonder that I
ask whether he belongs to it. If you do, you ought to have a mark set on
your door, as there used to be a mark on a plague-stricken house two
centuries ago, with the words, "Lord have mercy on us," written on it.
Look at the class I have been describing, and then look at your own soul.
(2) Let me ask, in the second place, whether we ever do anything about
our souls?
There are multitudes who think occasionally about Christianity, but
unhappily never get beyond thinking. After a stirring sermon, or after a
funeral, or under the pressure of illness, or on Sunday evening, or when
things go bad in their families, or when they meet some bright example of
a Christian, or when they fall in with some striking, religious book or
tract, they will at the time think a good deal, and even talk a little
about religion in a vague way. But they stop short, as if thinking and
talking were enough to save them. They are always meaning, and
intending, and purposing, and resolving, and wishing, and telling us that
they "know" what is right, and "hope" to be found right in the end, but
they never attain to any action.
There is no actual separation from the world and sin, no real taking up
the cross and following Christ, no positive "doings" in their
Christianity. Their life is spent in playing the part of the son in our
Lord's parable, to whom the father said, "'Go and work today in the
vineyard:' and he answered, 'I will, sir,' but he did not go" (Matthew
21:30).
They are like those whom Ezekiel describes, who liked his preaching, but
never practiced what he preached: "My people come to you, as they usually
do, and sit before you to listen to your words, but they do not put them
into practice. . . .Indeed, to them you are nothing more than one who
sings love songs with a beautiful voice and plays an instrument well, for
they hear your words but do not put them into practice" (Ezekiel 33:31-
32).
In a day like this, when hearing and thinking without doing, is so
common, no one can rightly wonder that I press upon men the absolute need
of self-examination. Once more, then, I ask my readers to consider the
question of my text, "How is it with our souls?"
(3) Let me ask, in the third place, whether we are trying to satisfy our
consciences with a mere formal religion?
There are myriads at this moment who are making shipwreck on this rock.
Like the Pharisees of old, they make much ado about the outward part of
Christianity, while the inward and spiritual part is totally neglected.
They are careful to attend all the services of their place of worship,
and are regular at all the church functions. They are never absent from
Communion when the Lord's Supper is administered. Sometimes they are
most strict in observing Lent, and attach great importance to Saints'
days. They are often keen partisans of their own Church, or sect, or
congregation, and ready to contend with any one who does not agree with
them. Yet all this time there is no heart in their religion.
Anyone who knows them intimately can see with half an eye that their
affections are set on things below, and not on things above; and that
they are trying to make up for the want of inward Christianity by an
excessive quantity of outward form. And this formal religion does them
no real good. They are not satisfied. Beginning at the wrong end, by
making the outward things first, they know nothing of inward joy and
peace, and pass their days in a constant struggle, secretly conscious
that there is something wrong, and yet not knowing why. It would be
well, after all, if they do not go on from one stage of formality to
another, until in despair they take a fatal plunge, and fall into Roman
Catholicism! When professing Christians of this kind are so painfully
numerous, no one need wonder if I press upon him the paramount importance
of close self-examination. If you love life, do not be content with the
husk, and shell, and scaffolding of religion. Remember our Savior's
words about the Jewish formalists of His day: "These people honor me with
their lips, but their hearts are far from me. They worship me in vain;
their teachings are but rules taught by men" (Matthew 15:8-9).
It needs something more than going diligently to church, and receiving
the Lord's Supper, to take our souls to heaven. These things are useful
in their way, and God seldom does anything for His church without them.
But let us beware of making shipwreck on the very lighthouse which helps
to show the channel into the harbor. Once more I ask, "How is it with
our souls?"
(4) Let me ask, in the fourth place, whether we have received the
forgiveness of our sins?
Few reasonable persons would think of denying that they are sinners.
Many perhaps would say that they are not as bad as others, and that they
have not been really wicked, and so forth. But few, I repeat, would