Section 7.
SECTION 7.
The operative belief of a the two roots that produce all our good and all our bad actions. An appeal to reason and matter of fact. No plant can grow without its root, and no moral action can spring into existence without its principle. When we do not dissemble, our principle of action is our prevalent persuasion, our predominant belief; a cordial, practical belief of the truth and rejection of a lie being always the principle of a good action; and a cordial, practical belief of a lie and rejection of the truth being always the principle of a bad action.
That good works can have no origin but the belief of the truth will appear indubitable, if we trace them back to their sources. To fear, love, and obey God are undoubtedly good works; but can I do them without believing the truth, that is, without believing that God is, that he is to be feared, loved, and obeyed, and that it is my duty or privilege so to do? Again: that bad works can have no other origin but the belief of a lie will also appear evident if we follow them to their spring. To neglect and disobey God are certainly bad works; but can we do them without “believing a lie?” without being more or less persuaded that although it may not be our duty, yet, upon the whole, in our present circumstances, it will be for our advantage or credit to neglect God and to swim with the stream?
May not the preceding argument concerning the importance of faith be confirmed by appeals to reason, experience, and matter of fact? Did not Eve stand in paradise so long as she forbore eating of the forbidden fruit? Did she not forbear eating so long as she believed the truth, that is, so long as she believed she should die if she ate of that fruit? Would she have sinned if she had not first believed a lie, yea, swallowed down a cluster of lies? “That she should not die; the fruit was as good as it was fair; it was to be desired to make one wise; she should be as God,” &c; were not these untruths, freely entertained in her heart, the causes of her committing the direful deed?
Why did Judas once forsake all to follow the indigent Jesus? Was it not because he believed it his real advantage so to do? And did he not so far believe the truth and show his faith by corresponding works? By and by the spirit of error suggested that he should be a loser by following and a gainer by betraying his Master. Was not this an infamous lie? When he had believed it, did not his heart become a nest for the old serpent, a throne for the father of lies? And did not our Lord speak the words of soberness and truth when he said to his disciples, “One of you hath a devil?” Why did Peter deny his dear Lord? Undoubtedly because in that fatal hour he believed that the Jews were more able and ready to fall upon and destroy him than Christ was to save and defend him. And was not this believing an untruth? When he had completed his crime, why did he go out to weep, and not to hang himself, like Judas? Was it not because he admitted the truth again; believing that where sin had abounded grace might yet superabound; and that great as his crimes were, God’s mercy and Christ’s love were yet greater? Saving truths these which Judas could no longer believe, having “done [final] despite to the Spirit of truth, [who] leads, [not drags,] into the truth.”
Why did David attack Goliah with undaunted courage? Was it not because he heartily believed that the Lord would not be insulted by that blaspheming monster, and would stand by any one that attacked him in the name of the God of Israel? A great truth this, through which he waxed valiant in fight, killed his gigantic adversary, and turned to flight the armies of the aliens. Why did he afterward stain his righteous soul with atrocious crimes? Was it not because he practically, and therefore most cordially, believed a horrid untruth; namely, that the company of his neighbour’s ewe lamb was preferable to the delights afforded by the Lamb of God? Why did he afterward repent? Was it not because he received the truth again; heartily believing that he had committed dreadful sins, and that he must repent or perish?
Again: why are men “lovers of the world more than lovers of God?” Is it not because they really believe that the world can make them happier than God? If I say, “I believe that God is preferable to the world,” and do not seek my chief happiness in him, do not I deceive myself and tell a gross untruth? And while St. James charges me to show my faith by my works, does not St. John show himself a rational divine when he protests that “the truth is not in me?” Once more: why did Saul of Tarsus “breathe threatenings and slaughter” against Christ’s members? Was it not because he believed the grand lie of his day, that is, that Christ was an impostor? And why did he afterward breathe nothing but fervent love to Christians and unextinguishable zeal for Christ’s glory? Was it not because his inmost soul was penetrated with the force of this almighty truth, “Christ is the true Messiah; he loved me and gave himself for me?”
From these and a thousand such observations upon the conversion of sinners and the perversion of saints, I draw the following consequences, which, I trust, will recommend themselves to the reason of every calm inquirer after truth.
1. To convert or pervert a man, you need only change his principle of action, his predominant practical belief of a damnable lie or of a saving truth. For if the spring be new, so undoubtedly will be the streams. If you have a new tree, you will infallibly have new fruit. If the rudder be truly turned, the ship will certainly take a new course.
2. Truth is the heavenly seed that produces living faith; and living faith is the heavenly root that produces good works. Truth and faith, therefore, are at the bottom of every good work. To suppose them absent from a good work is to suppose that a good work can be void of sincerity and truth, and of course void of goodness. And is not this supposing a glaring absurdity? On the other hand, a lie is the hellish seed that produces unbelief: and unbelief is the hellish root that produces bad works. A lie and unbelief are then at the bottom of every bad work. To suppose them absent from a bad work, is to suppose that a bad work can be wrought in faith and in truth, which is as impossible as to do a good work in malice and wickedness. As the rise and fall of a good weather glass infallibly show the real, though as yet invisible alterations of the atmosphere; so our rising from sin and our falling into sin surely evidence the secret, and perhaps unnoticed changes that happen in our faith, for the better or for the worse. For the whole of our words and actions, taken into connection with our views and tempers, are the certain result of our present faith or unbelief, and consequently the best marks that we please or displease God, according to the last and capital proposition of the Minutes.
4. When there is “truth in the inward parts,” there is faith also, it being as impossible to admit religious truths any other way but by faith, as it is to partake of the light any other way but by sight. Truth and faith tincture with goodness the most extraordinary actions. Thus Samuel cuts Agag in pieces before the Lord; St. Paul strikes Elymas with blindness; St. Peter strikes Ananias with sudden death; Phinehas runs Zimri and Cosbi through the body; Abraham offers Isaac in truth and faith; and “God counts these actions to them for righteousness to all generations for evermore.” On the other hand, the actions that do not spring from truth and faith, be they ever so good in the eyes of men, are an abomination in the sight of God, who requires “truth in the inward parts.” Thus King Saul offers a sacrifice; Judas pleads for the poor; the Pharisees make long prayers; Pilate washes his hands from the blood of Christ; and God reckons these works to them for sin to all generations for evermore.
5. Some actions, such as the commission of adultery and of murder, can never be tinctured by truth and faith, because they have for their principle triumphant impurity, gross injustice, and flagrant unbelief; and whenever such sins prevail in the soul, the contrary virtues, holiness, truth, and faith are gone; just as when racking pains and a putrid fever prevail in the body, ease and health are there no more. To suppose, therefore, that living faith lurked in David’s heart during his grievous apostasy, is as absurd as to suppose that health lurks in a body infected by the plague, and life in a corpse. “Ay, but David’s faith, like that of Peter, was raised up again.” True: and so was the body of Lazarus, that of our Lord, and that of the ruler’s daughter: but is this a proof that Lazarus, Christ, and the damsel, did not undergo a real death? A concession, however, I cheerfully make to my objector; wishing that it may be a mean of reconciling him as much to the faith of St. James, as I am reconciled to that of St. Paul. If he grant me that Peter’s and David’s faith went out as really as a candle which is put under an extinguisher; I will grant him, that through the long suffering of God, who never seals the absolute reprobation of sinners so long as their day of visitation lasts, the extinct faith of those fallen saints was as an extinguished light, that continues to smoke, and can the sooner be lighted again. Their falls, great as they were, did not amount to complete obduracy and the sin against the Holy Ghost. — “He will not quench the smoking flax,” was a promise in which they were still interested with all those who have not yet done final “despite to the Spirit of grace.” Free grace, therefore, visited them again; and when she put her candle to their hearts, they again knew their day; they welcomed the light; the smoking flax once more caught the pure flame of truth; and living faith, with her luminous train, was rekindled in their breasts. Thus, by improving what remained of the accepted time, they escaped the fate of Judas, who so hardened himself, that his candle was put out in final darkness; they avoided the doom of the foolish virgins, who so procrastinated repentance, that their extinguished lamps were never lighted again. To return: —
6. As our pulses all over the body exactly answer to the beating of our heart; so our inward works, that is, our thoughts, desires, schemes, and tempers exactly answer to our faith or principle of action. I say “our inward works,” because hypocrites can mimic all external works. How improperly then is St. Paul quoted against the works of faith! Does he not assure us himself that saving “faith worketh by love?” And is it not as absurd to oppose the works of faith to faith, as to oppose the pulses to the beating of the heart; no two things in the world being more strongly connected? However, as the heart always beats before the arteries, and as a cannon is always fired before the explosion can be heard, the ball felt, or the flame perceived; so faith always moves before it can set fear, hope, desire, or love in motion. And if godly fear, hope, desire, and love, which are our internal good works, always spring from faith; our external good works, such as publicly worshipping God, doing good to our neighbour, &c, from a right principle and in a right manner, always flow from faith also. For our external works are nothing but the effects of the works which we have already wrought in our hearts; just as the rapid motion of a ball OUT of the cannon is nothing but the effect of the motion that was communicated to it, while it was yet IN the cannon.
7. If every internal good work (suppose a sincere operative desire to love my enemy for God’s sake) necessarily springs from a good principle, that is, from true faith; it follows, that, so long as I consistently continue in the same disposition, my principle of action is good, and I am (so far) a good man, according to the standard of one or another of the Gospel dispensations. On the other hand, if any one inward bad work (suppose a malicious desire to hurt my neighbour) springs from a bad principle, it follows also that, so long as I continue in that bad disposition, whatever degree of sanctity I may pretend to, my principle of action is bad, I am a wicked man of the Pharisaic or of the Antinomian order. To conclude: —
8. As by suppressing the beating of the heart you may stop all the pulses; so by suppressing the act of faith you may put a stop to all good works. On the other hand, as by cutting the main arteries you may put an end to the motion of the heart; so by suppressing the good motions caused by faith you may put an end to the life of faith, and destroy the new creature in Christ Jesus.