Sincerity

“Stand therefore, having your loins girt about with truth.” — Ephesians VI. 14.

In arming the Christian soldier Paul puts sincerity before everything. His first question is not, How much do you believe? but, How much do you believe it? He is less concerned with the article, than with the ardour, of my faith; he is content it should be half-formed, if it be whole-hearted. To be girt with truth is to be pervaded by sincerity. Sincerity is just whole-heartedness. It means, literally, without wax. You have seen figures put together with wax — artificially put together. At first sight they seem entire, uniform, all of a piece; you may look at them long without detecting the imposture. If you want to detect it at once, you must apply heat to them; the fire will try every man’s work, of what sort it is. Put heat to your wax figure, and it will go to pieces in a moment. The fire will not so much destroy it as destroy its deception; it will send it back to its original elements — ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The fire of God does not destroy; it restores things to their normal state. The wax figure is the real destroyer. It breaks the harmony of nature; it takes things out of their place; it joins together what God has put asunder. And the fire breaks the false union. It annuls the marriage between a saintly aspect and a selfish soul. It forbids the banns between rest and recklessness. It burns the gorgeous raiment of the despairing heart, and tells it that it is despairing. It withers the leaves of the figtree which deceive by false promise of maturity; it separates the beauty and the barrenness that have made their home together.

My soul, art thou sincere? I do not ask if thou art consistent. I have seen the sun upon the mountains while the valleys were still in shade; but I did not call the valleys insincere. I have heard music on the waters when the land was in silence; yet I did not, therefore, say that the land was untrue. I have seen the primrose lift its head when there was no flower to greet it; yet I did not on that account deem it a hypocrite. But is it a painted primrose, an artificial primrose? I can reverence any flower of the heart, however lowly. I can reverence the first bud of its spring, for it tells of the Christ that is to be. I can reverence the last rose of its summer, for it tells of the Christ that has been here, and, therefore, is not far away. But I cannot reverence the manufactured flower, the paper flower, the waxen flower. I cannot reverence the imitation of the structure when the spirit is not there. The time of figs may not be yet; and there is no blame. But do not paint the fruit before the time! Do not deceive the thirsty traveller by a dream! Do not pretend that thou hast to-day what waits till to-morrow! Do not seek to shine with more light than is in thee! Thy light may be only a dawn, but God’s dawn is better than man’s gilding; be true to thyself, O my soul!