Christian Progress

“If there be one word,” says a writer in one of the ablest of our evangelical periodicals, “which more than another now commands the ear of the public, that word is ’ progress.’ It has fallen like a spark among the inflammable mass of the working and thinking classes, This mighty watchword of the newest and most potential eras has run through the mighty chain of hearts and minds with electric intensity.” This is true of science, of literature, of arts, of commerce, of jurisprudence, and of politics. It would be strange if religion, considered as a practical system, could be justly exempted from this law of progress. “We are to expect no new revelations, and cannot look for any new doctrines to be brought out of the old ones. That these however have yet to develope themselves still more clearly; that new treasures are to be brought out of this inexhaustible mine, and a new power to be exerted by this mighty instrument for the world’s regeneration, who can doubt?

It is not, however, of the progress of theological science, as it is found in the systems of divines, and as it shall clear away the clouds and mists which hang over men’s minds, and hide the glory of the great luminary of the world, that I now write, but of the progress of truth in the individual mind and heart and character; of that blessed growth in spiritual life which is to be the supreme object of every one who has passed through a state of religious solicitude, and which carries forward the soul of “the anxious inquirer” to the condition of the established believer.

This work takes it for granted that the reader has decided, in his own opinion at any rate, in the great business of religion, to look for salvation by faith in Christ alone. I am supposing that he has been led to this by the blessing of Grod upon my former work, or upon some other means. It is not my design noio to urge him to surrender at the foot oi the cross to God. I consider this as done. He has also become the professor of the faith he has exercised. His difficulties have been removed, his mistakes rectified, and seeing his only way of salvation to be by trust in Christ, he is now to be led forward in the ways of the Lord.

It is the confession and lamentation of the horticulturist that many of the most promising and beautiful blossoms of his trees do not set in fruit; and that many which do, never ripen to maturity. Precisely similar cases occur to the spiritual husbandmen in the garden of the Lord. “Where is the faithful minister of Jesus Christ who has not often in sadness and disappointment, to adopt the language, and to sympathize in the feelings of surprise, grief, and disappointment of the apostle Paul, where he said, “I am afraid of you, lest I have bestowed upon you labor in vain. My little children, of whom I travail in birth again until Christ be formed in you, I desire to be present with you now, and to change my voice; for I stand in doubt of you. Ye did run well; who did hinder you, that ye should not obey the truth?” Gal. 4: 11, 19, 20; 5: 7. How often, when through God’s grace we fondly hoped we had led the penitent to the cross, directed the eye of faith to the Lamb of God, assisted him in the exercise of a “good hope,” and left him in possession of a quiet consciousness of the great change, have we seen him leave his “first love,” and instead of advancing into a fuller development of Christian character, relinquishing the solicitude he once possessed, and sinking into a state of lukewarm indifference.

Often do faithful ministers perceive that religious concern is awakened in the minds of some of their hearers. Conviction of sin by the law is produced, and the great question with its accompanying solicitude is awakened, “What shall I do to be saved?” The anxiou? inquirer is instructed in the way of salvation. He professes to understand and receive “the truth as it is in Jesus.” His solicitude subsides into peace. He becomes a professor of religion; is received into the fellowship of the church; and considers himself, and is considered by others, a Christian. It might be expected that he would now grow in grace; that he would be continually advancing in the divine life; that his attainments would be always increasing; that progression would be the law of his new existence. But is not the contrary to this the case with many of those who make a profession? Do they look like learners in the school of Christ who are making great proficiency in divine knowledge? On the contrary, does it not appear too evident that in many cases the young disciple, instead of remaining the anxious believer and progressive Christian, has subsided into the careless professor? As if his solicitude was to make a profession, not to maintain it; to be called a Christian, rather than be one; to enjoy church privileges, rather than to feel individual obligations.

It might seem strange that when a false profession is so awfully denounced, and the Lord’s table guarded as if by the flaming sword of a cherub in that woe pronounced by the apostle upon the unworthy receiver, any one should be so rash and reckless as to expose his soul to the perilous stroke of that fearful weapon. Yet many do, by partaking in an unmeet state of mind of the sacred supper.

It will perhaps be asked, Why do the ministers of religion permit it? “We reply, Can they search the heart? Can they discern between the sincere and the self-deceived communicant? Is not a credible profession a sufficient warrant to any minister to admit a person to the communion?

In an age like ours, when evangelical religion bears no stigma, and its professors are called to endure no persecution, it is natural to suppose that some, yea, many, will say, “Lord, Lord,” who do not the will of our Father in heaven. Many there are who feel the obligation to make a profession of religion, who have no just sense of what it includes and requires. The persuasion of friends and their own wish to be associated with them, may also lead to this; and thus the conscience is appeased, a sense of religious decorum indulged, and pious relatives pleased, while at the same time there is no adequate idea of the obligation which the assumption of the Christian name involves.

With many persons there seems to be a radical mistake as to the true nature of the Christian life It is regarded too much in the light of a mere profession, rather than a practice — a state, rather than a habit — a fixed point, rather than a continuous line — a resting place, rather than a field of labor — the goal, rather than the starting point. A profession has been looked forward to with anxiety, as a something which is to fix and determine the character — to give a religious status, to secure certain immunities. The mind in prospect is perhaps somewhat serious, agitated, and solicitous. The table of the Lord is approached, and perhaps with some solemnity and self-surrender. And it is now regarded as a thing done. The Christian character is formed. The mind is at ease. The inward consciousness is, “I am a professor” In too many cases, solicitude is from that hour at an end. Instead of a trembling anxiety to be all that they profess; to do all that is required of them; to develope all that is contained in the Christian character; to supply all the defects in knowledge, faith, and holiness, which might be supposed to exist in one so young in religion; to demonstrate to all around the reality, by the growth, of their piety; they settle down at ease np->n their profession, and in many cases are nevei more in earnest, and in not a few less so, than when they began to seek the Lord.

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