The Wicket Gate
“Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole of man.” — ECCLES. xii. 13.
GOD is Almighty. Some beings concentrate in themselves a large amount of power. Some of our fellow-mortals have possessed so much vital energy, — minds so inventive and vigorous, as to leave their impress on a realm or on a continent; and when you ask, Who engineered this road? who devised this law? who erected this monument? you are amazed to find everywhere the trace of one imperial intellect. But ascend into Heaven or plunge into Hades, — take the wings of the morning and visit the farthest isles of Immensity, and there is one Presence wrhich will still invest you, and one great footstep which still you must fail to measure. Who made this worm which grovels in the clay? who made yon seraph who hovers round the Light of lights? Who lit the glow-worm’s taper? who filled with bright millenniums the sphery lamp of yonder sun? Who gives this dancing atom its afternoon of life? who is it that has kindled immortality in the soul of man? Who is it that fills that hive with industry, that home with peaceful joy, that heaven with adoring ecstasy? The Alpha and Omega, the first and the last, who is, and was, and is to come, the Almighty.
God is all-wise. When as yet nothing existed except the great I AM, to his infinite understanding all combinations of existence were present. They stood forth so many beautiful and Divine ideas, and from this panopticon of all the possible his holy wisdom chose the best, and willed that universe which is. And now that alongside of all the past his boundless comprehension includes the farthest future, each evolving incident owes its being to that Providence which is particular because it is universal; and nothing comes into existence which is a surprise to Omniscience, or which does not instantly find its place prepared in the glorious whole: so that from the falling sparrow to the dying martyr, and from the fortunes of some poor human family to the events of an Incarnation, all history is an anthem ascribing “to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, THE ONLY WISE GOD,” “honour and glory for ever and ever.”
God is all-holy. He is the infinite Excellence. That river of pleasures which makes glad the celestial city, is just so much of his goodness as God is pleased to reveal; but the full fountain remains in Jehovah himself, — an ocean which Gabriel’s line cannot fathom, and athwart which the archangel’s wing cannot traverse, — an abyss of brightness of which immensity alone is the margin, and of which each holy intelligence is but a sparkling drop. Yet, little as our searching can mid out God, we know that his name is just the highest name for goodness and blessedness. “We know that his is the mind to which evil is the supreme impossibility. We know that He is the God of truth, and without iniquity: just and right is He. Amidst the multitude of promises which his munificence has prompted hiintomake, we know that not one good word hath failed, but every Yea has found its Amen. Amidst the multitude of creatures over which his sovereignty extends, we know that there exists no instance of unkindness, or neglect, or oppression. And amidst the multitude of thoughts and emotions which make up the joys of Deity, we know that there is not one malevolent afiectiou; but all is condescension to his creatures, care for their well-being, and delectation in their joy.
But if God be the only good and the all-inclusive joy, a creature’s blessedness must consist in a right relation and a right emotion towards Him. To be separated from the supreme felicity, must itself be misery; and to entertain unkind or hostile feelings towards infinite excellence, must itself be the deepest depravity.
“What then is a right relation to God? It is that coincidence with his good pleasure, and that compliance with his revealed will which Solomon calls “keeping his commandments.” He is our Creator, and whether we will or will not, we must be his creatures. But He is also the King of the universe, and we ought to be his loyal subjects. And in Christ Jesus He is prepared to become our Father, and we should reciprocate the matchless condescension, and with wonder and astonishment exclaiming, “Our Father which art in heaven,” we should become the sons and daughters of the Lord God Almighty.
And what is the right feeling towards God? Almighty and all-wise, we should devoutly adore Him. Our righteous Ruler, we should with cheerful submission acquiesce in his disposal, and with strenuous activity should fulfil his commands. Our kind and merciful Father, we should give Him unhesitating love and confidence without reserve. And altogether, did we realize his perfections and our own position, it would become our “chief end to glorify God and to enjoy Him for ever.”
Many, however, will feel that the great difficulty lies in getting into this right relation. Allowing it to be the creature’s highest end to glorify and enjoy the Creator, how shall a sinful creature begin to taste this blessedness? How shall I assure myself that the Most High is no longer offended with me? And how shall I bring myself to that state in which my Creator shall be able to regard me with habitual complacency? Is the process veiy arduous and very long? Must I relinquish my present calling, and give myself wholly to the business of working
LECTURE XX.
out my peace with God? Had I not better retire into a desert or a hermitage? And how long will the ordeal last? In how many months or years may I begin to hope that God is propitious, and that heaven will be mine?
Some people once lived in a Happy Isle, but for their misdeeds they had been banished. Their place of exile was a cheerless coast; but it lay within distant sight of their former home. Soon after their expulsion a message had come from their injured Sovereign, offering to all who pleased an amnesty. Few minded it. They had grown sour and sullen, and they tried to persuade themselves that the earthholes in which they burrowed were more comfortable than the mansions of his land, and that the mallows among their bushes were more nutritious than all the fruits of his gardens. One man, however, was of a different mind. He was a musing, thoughtful person. Often might you have seen him pacing the beach when the rays of evening shone on the Happy Isle, and whilst the sea-bird wailed over his head and the wrack crackled under his feet, from his own dreary prison he wistfully eyed the forests on its coast, and the mountains of purple streaked with silver which sate enthroned in its interior; and as he fancied that he could sometimes hear faint murmurs of its joy, he wished that he was there. One morning when he awoke it struck him that the opposite shore was unusually nigh, and so low was the tide that he fancied he might easily ford it, or swim across. And so he hastened forth. First over the dry shingle, then over the sad and solid sand from which, with scarce a ripple, the sea had smoothly folded down, he hurried on till he reached the damper strand, where streams of laggard water still were trickling, and then he was astonished at his own delusion; for it was still a mighty gulf, and even whilst he gazed the tide was rising. But another time he tried another plan. To the right of his dwelling the line of coast stretched away in a succession of cliffs and headlands, till the view was bounded by a lofty promontory which seemed to touch the farther side. To this promontory he resolved to take a pilgrimage in the hope that it would transport him to the long-sought realm. The road was often a steep clamber, and for many an hour the headland seemed only to flee away. But after surmounting many a slope and swell, at last he reached it. With eager steps he ran along the ridge, half-hoping that it was the isthmus which would bear him to the blessed Isle. Ah, no! He has reached its extremest verge, and here is that inexorable ocean still weltering at its base. Baffled in this last hope, and faint with his ineffectual toil, he flung himself on the stones and wept. But, by and by, he noticed off the shore a little boat with whose appearance he was quite familiar. It used to ride at anchor opposite his own abode, and had done so for ever so long; but, like his neighbours, he had got so used to it that it never drew his notice. Now, however, seeing it there, he looked at it, and as he looked it neared him. It came close up to the rocks where he was seated. It was a beautiful boat with snowy sail and golden prow, and a red cross was its waving pennon. There was one on board, and only one. His raiment was white and glistening, and his features betokened whence he came. “Son of man,” he said, “why weepest thou?” “Because I cannot reach the blessed Isle.” “Canst thou trust thyself with me?” the stranger asked. The poor wayfarer looked at the little skiff leaping lightly on the waves, and he wondered, till he looked again at the pilot’s kind and assuring countenance, and then he said, “I can.” And no sooner had he stepped on board than, swift as a sunbeam, it bore him to the land of light; and, with many a welcome from the Pilot’s friends, he found himself among its happy citizens, clothed in their bright raiment, and free to all their privileges, as now a subject of their King.
The happy isle is peace with God, — that position which man occupied whilst innocent. The dreary land is that state of alienation and misery into which fallen man is banished. The little skiff denotes the only means by which the sinner may pass from nature’s alienation over into the peace of God. It is a means not of the sinner’s devising, but of God’s providing. It is the ATONEMENT, and He who so kindly invites sinners to avail themselves of it is the Lord Jesus Himself.
I may suppose the case of a hearer who longs for acceptance with God. At present you feel like an exile looking to a distant Eden with a gulf between.
You feel that between you and God’s favour there rolls a tide of trespasses and sins which all your efforts cannot get over. Sometimes, like the poor outcast on that bright morning, you have flattered yourself that the separating interval had narrowed, and if all went favourably you did not despair of finding yourself ere long in the climes of ascertained salvation. But even then, like a broad and powerful tide, the current of worldliness set in again, and the interval betwixt God and your own soul again grew vast as ever; or, the dark stream of guilt began once more to roar and deepen. Therefore, ceasing to hope that your souPs salvation would come about spontaneously, you set to work on purpose to achieve it. Like one who would bridge across the mighty channel; or rather, like one who sets out on pilgrimage to yon inviting promontory, — you go about to establish a righteousness of your own. You resolve to read so many chapters and to pray so many times a-day. You determine that you will henceforth never more be angry, nor deceitful, nor neglectful of your trust. You try to think holy thoughts and make your own mind spiritual. And in this way you hope to go on by degrees till you are really good, — so good that you may be at last forgiven. But how far must the traveller march around the coast of Europe before he arrives in Britain? And how many things must the sinner do in a state of nature before he finds himself in a state of grace? They that are in the flesh cannot please God, and instead of being good in order to be forgiven, you had need to be forgiven as the first movement towards becoming good. The separating gulf is too deep for the tallest specimen of human virtue to ford, and too wide for the sincerest repentance or the most faultless morality to bridge over; and were you confronting the realities of the case you would find that Christless painstaking is only a pilgrimage along a sea-girt promontory. Peace with God is not a boon which it requires good deeds to purchase or prayers to ensure; but peace with God is a gift from God, already come from heaven and awaiting your acceptance. And, just as the vexed wanderer lifted up his eyes, and in the boat, with its benignant pilot, recognised the little skiff which had so long hovered unheeded near his own abode; so, were the Spirit of God to make you earnest now, — were He convincing you of sin or of the futility of your own exertions, you would see your salvation in some thrice-told tale, — some text with which you have been familiar long ago. “Eternal life is the gift of God.” “God hath given to us eternal life, and this life is in his Son.” “To as many as received Him Jesus gave power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name.” “The Son of man must be lifted up, that whosoever believeth in Him may not perish, but have eternal life.”” Look unto me and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth.” Like some dim object anchored near your dwelling, texts like these are associated with your earliest memory. These texts are gospels. Any one of them is such “a faithful saying,” that fully realized and implicitly credited it would cany your soul to heaven. Any one of them is an ark of salvation, with none less than the Friend of sinners in it; and you have only to be persuaded of its good will and its trustworthiness, so as to transfer your immortal interests to the Saviour’s keeping, and you will soon discover that TRUST IN CHRIST is PEACE WITH GOD.
A justifying righteousness is not a privilege which you buy, but a present which you receive. It is not a result which you accomplish, nor a reward which you earn, but it is a gratuity which you accept. It is the “gift of righteousness,” — a gift promiscuous to sinners of our race, — a gift as wide as the human “whosoever;” a gift outstanding which was within the reach of your earliest intelligence had you been so disposed, and which is not yet withdrawn, — a gift which it needs neither prayer to bring nearer, nor a price before or after to make surer, but which it only needs your open hand, your open heart to make your personal possession; — not a bargain, but a boon; not an achievement, but an acquiescence; the gift of righteousness; — the righteousness of God which seeks, — not that we deserve it, but that we “submit” to it. Being justified freely by his grace through the redemption that is in Christ, God’s righteousness is declared through the remission of sins that are past. And being justified by faith we have peace with God, through our Lord
Jesus Christ. Thanks be to God for his unspeakable gift!
Thus is it that the right relation between God and the sinner is established; a relation which borrows all its security and blessedness from the sinner’s substitute, God’s own Son. Our redemption is in Christ, and it is in the Beloved that we are accepted. Our safety is all in the Saviour whom we trust. He is our peace. Immanuel is the door. It is by Him that we enter into the fold and become the sheep of his Father.
And when once the right relation is brought about, the right affection must follow. It could not come before. It did not come whilst the portion of goods held out, and amidst his riotous living the prodigal was jeering at the decorum and dulness of his Father’s house. And it did not come when the penniless outcast was envying the swine, and yet was too proud to go home. And it did not come when crushed and crest-fallen the runaway bent his steps towards the forsaken threshold, and all his thought was how to propitiate an angry father, and how, if he could only get a hearing, he might get leave to labour for his food, and so, from an out-door menial, gradually work his way back to the hearth and the family board. But when, instead of an angry and upbraiding stranger, he found a yearning parent; and, instead of the menial’s garb, saw him self invested in the honoured guest’s best robe; and instead of the meanest hireling’s place, was installed at a sumptuous festival: when he saw those eyes suffused with all the love of delighted fatherhood, and still felt on his neck where that father’s tears had fallen, — then it came — the filial affection came; the long-dormant instinct of sonship revived, and the love of a fervent gratitude mingled, — so that in all the Holy Land the fullest heart that night was the restored and forgiven prodigal.
And even so, that filial emotion which here and throughout the Old Testament is often called “fear;” that blended emotion of reverence, trust, and affection, can only arise where the spirit of sonship reciprocates God’s revealed aspect of compassionate and forthgoing fatherliness. It matters little whether we call the affection fear, or, with the first and great commandment, call it love. In that fear which realizes God’s fatherliness, there cannot be terror; and in the love which recollects that its Father is GOD there cannot be petulant boldness.
Fear God, therefore, for this is the great duty of man. To love Him with all the heart and soul and strength and mind, is the first and great commandment; and till once Jehovah is supreme, an orderly and respectable life is only rebellion without violence, and even benevolence without godliness is only a beautiful impiety.
April 13, 1851.