CHRISTIAN
HOPE
By John Angell James, 1859
SALVATION BY HOPE
I heard the sound of a vast crowd in heaven shouting,
"Hallelujah! Salvation is from our God!" Revelation 19:1
Salvation! What a word! And what a blessing! One
word—but containing millions of ideas. It is the whole Bible, condensed into
a single term. God's eternal councils; Christ's redeeming work; the Spirit's
sanctifying power; all the riches of divine grace, and all the blessings of
eternal glory, are in substance comprehended in those few syllables. That
one word is a boundless, fathomless ocean of blessedness—like the love that
originated the wondrous fruit of redeeming mercy, it passes knowledge. All
that preachers have said; all that authors have ever written; all that
Christians have ever felt, imagined, hoped for, in regard to salvation,
leave its full meaning yet to be explained. It can be comprehended only in
heaven! It can be developed only in eternity!
Salvation is in one sense a present blessing. We are
now regenerated, justified, sanctified. We are now the children of God, and
have "passed from death unto life." We who believe "have eternal life." The
first-fruits, the foretaste, the pledge—of eternal salvation, are already
granted to us! But the consummation, the full possession is to come! Hence
says the apostle, "For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is
no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has?" Romans 8:24. It is
obvious, that Paul here intended, that a full salvation cannot be
possessed in this present world—but must be hoped for in the next. It is
a future object, and must be waited for in holy desire and patient
expectation.
Yet, in this seems also included, by necessity, the other
idea, that hope keeps the believer steadfast in the pursuit of it, and
persevering in the means necessary to its future possession. So that we
are saved by hope. And indeed this is true, in even a still wider sense.
Hope has much to do from beginning to end—in obtaining our salvation. God's
redeeming love, purpose, and plan—have made our world the region of hope.
Earth is hope's territory, its only territory. Hope does not exist in
heaven—for there all is fruition and possession! There is no hope in
hell—for there all is despair!
But here every man by the work of Christ, is placed,
humanly speaking, in a salvable state. By his very birth he is introduced
into a world where he may hope for salvation through the atonement of
Christ. Mercy bids him welcome to earth, smiles upon his cradle, and to his
very childhood—holds out her hand to conduct him to salvation. Hence he is
to be reminded of this. Preachers are to tell him that he is within the
reach of mercy, and urge him to use the means of salvation. We are
commissioned to inform him that he is in a world between heaven and hell,
and that he may escape from the one, and obtain the other; so that even
before he has saving faith or true Christian hope, we may awaken in his soul
the desire and expectation of being saved. We are to tell him there is a
salvation provided for him. This is necessary before he can be induced to
take a step, or put forth an effort to possess himself of it. He must be
addressed as a lost sinner, yet not beyond the reach of mercy; as a being
going on to eternal existence beyond the grave—and who may be made a
partaker of immortal bliss.
It is this general desire and vague expectation, which
may be called a rational hope, or rather, the hope of a rational creature—as
distinguished from the enlightened hope of the believer—that must be excited
in the mind of man, and which can alone induce him to give earnest heed to
the salvation of his soul. This vague and general hope cannot save him—but
it may lead on to that which can. It has nothing holy in it—but it may end
in that which has. It is not the product of saving faith—but it puts its
possessor upon obtaining it.
If we can get men—even upon their natural and instinctive
regard for their own happiness—to hope for felicity beyond the grave, and
prompt them to seek after it, however ignorant they may be at the time of
the way of salvation—we have gained something. True, this is only an appeal
to their self-love—but to what other principle can we appeal in the first
instance? It seems to me the excellence of the gospel that it appeals first
of all to man's natural instincts—for he has no spiritual ones before
conversion. Is it not thus that God acts in all his invitations to
unconverted sinners, and in all his promises and threatenings?
Yes, in the second table of the law we are commanded to
love our neighbor as ourselves. This self-love cannot be wrong, for
surely our Lord could not intend to found a duty upon a sin. Self-love is
not to be confounded with selfishness. Selfishness means an exclusive
regard to our own happiness. Self-love means only a duly regulated one.
Selfishness is to be destroyed—self-love only to be directed and controlled.
The preacher of the gospel goes through the world as the herald of
salvation, proclaiming glad tidings to all men, with the view of awakening,
in the first instance, such a general and instinctive hope of salvation, as
shall put them upon the means of obtaining it, and lead them to Christ, as
its proper and only foundation. Thus the sinner is saved by hope—but only so
far as this incipient and vague expectation puts him upon seeking it in
earnest—and in God's way of bestowing it.
But neither conversion nor justification, when obtained,
is the whole of salvation, nor are both together. Faith brings the soul back
to the enjoyment of God's favor—but heaven, the final consummation of the
work of grace, is also to be obtained; this completion of our salvation is
yet to be reached. Hence the beautiful language of the apostle, when he
says, "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who,
according to his abundant mercy, has begotten us again unto a living hope,
by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance
incorruptible, undefiled, and that fades not away."—1 Peter 1:3. We have a
pilgrimage to pass through before we reach that city of habitation; a
wilderness to traverse, all kinds of privations to endure, difficulties to
encounter, dangers to escape, and enemies to vanquish, before we set foot on
the celestial Canaan. And how shall we reach that better, that heavenly
country? I answer, "We are saved by hope." True it is we walk by faith, and
are kept by the power of God through faith unto salvation—but then faith is
never complete without hope. Faith works by hope, as well as by love. And it
will now be my business to show, not only that perseverance to the end is
necessary—but how Christian hope enables us to attain it. Hope calls out
and sustains every grace and virtue, the exercise of which is necessary for
the continuance of our Christian course.
1. Fixed, determined RESOLUTION is essential to our
reaching the end of our faith—"the salvation of our souls."
The apostle dwells on this with great frequency and
fervor in 1 Cor. 15:58. The Christian's mind must be made up to this. His
thinking must be somewhat as the following—"My purpose is fixed, and nothing
on earth shall shake it, to reach heaven at last. My plan is laid, and
nothing shall alter it. I see that all the richest possessions on earth,
everything that can gratify taste, ambition, avarice, or appetite, is but
the small dust of the balance to me. I am for heaven. God helping me, no
sacrifice, no self-denial, no hardship, no suffering, shall hold me back. I
am resolutely surrendered, irrevocably committed, indissolubly bound to that
object. Ridicule shall not turn me aside; persecution shall not terrify me;
wealth shall not seduce me; pleasure shall not allure me. I am for heaven,
and none of these things attract or move me. I will forego everything, and
sacrifice everything that stands in the way of everlasting glory."
"No, dear friends, I am still not all I should be, but I
am focusing all my energies on this one thing: Forgetting the past and
looking forward to what lies ahead, I strain to reach the end of the race
and receive the prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us up
to heaven." Philip. 3:13-14
Ah! This is what is needed in the great bulk of Christian
professors—this absolute determination to reach heaven at last! But how few
of them have deliberately, determinedly brought their minds to this
intelligent, ever-operative purpose! How comparatively rare, is the sight of
a man, who seems to have heaven in his eye, his heart, his hope, as the
great object of desire, pursuit, and expectation.
Look at the conduct of professing Christians, and see how
different it is from this. They have resolutions--but these are of the
earth, earthly! They have their fixed purposes --but how far below the skies
do they reach! They have their plans--but they appertain to the present
world!
Let no man deceive himself here! None will reach
heaven--but as the result of fixed, deliberate, practical and persevering
determination. It is the view of heaven's glories, the expectation of
eternal life alone--which will lead to such a heroic resolution. It must,
indeed, be a mighty power and impulse, which will induce a man to surrender
his whole life, and all that it contains, for the possession of its object!
2. PATIENCE is another thing required for our
perseverance unto the end. Indeed the
meaning of the Greek word, rendered "patience," signifies "perseverance"—it
is such a fortitude in the endurance of suffering as leads to "continuance
in well doing." It has both a passive and an active meaning. Patience is the
suffering virtue—a desire, a purpose, and an ability to endure with
uncomplaining, unresisting meekness. This is a grace much more frequently
called for in some states of the church than in others. Times of
persecution, when the endurance of all kinds of painful inflictions is
demanded, and bonds, imprisonment and death are likely to wear out the
fortitude and steadfastness of the saints—then, in such circumstances as
these, what can sustain the soul but patience, and what can sustain patience
but hope? Only those who endure to the end, even amid such sufferings as
these, can be saved; and only those who are patient, can endure; and only
those who are hopeful, can be patient. The apostle states this very
appropriately, where he says, "Therefore we both labor and suffer reproach,
because we have hoped in the living God."—1 Tim. 4:10.
3. CONTINUED SANCTIFICATION is necessary to our entrance
into heaven. Neither justification, nor
regeneration, nor both together, without sanctification, will take us to
everlasting glory. It is true that the connection of this latter with the
two former is secured by God's sovereign purpose of mercy towards his
people; yet this renders it not at all the less necessary to deal with it as
a matter of exhortation. The Christian should therefore be reminded, that it
is only those who persevere to the end in a way of faith and holiness who
shall be saved. It is at the peril of his soul, carelessly and
presumptuously to exclaim, when in a state of declension or backsliding,
"Once in a state of grace, always in it." To abuse the doctrine of the
perseverance of the saints to the indulgence of a frame of mind incompatible
with the Christian profession, is a sure sign of an unconverted state. He
who can deliberately wander from the way of holy living, under the idea, and
with the expectation that he shall be brought back again in God's time, may
be very sure he never was in the way.
We have need to be continually exhorted, and need
constantly to attend to the exhortation, to "watch and pray, lest we enter
into temptation." The requirements of God's law are so large, the demands of
Christ upon his followers so extensive, their own profession is so
comprehensive and so strict, and the temptations of the world, the flesh and
the devil are so constant and so urgent in one way or other, or from one
quarter and another—that really it is a difficult matter to maintain that
"holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord." The Christian life,
which is a life of inward and outward holiness, is a continued conflict,
mortification, crucifixion. We are sternly called upon to pluck out a
right eye, or cut off a right hand, and maintain—even in the most tranquil
times, and without any self-invented, self-imposed penances—a rigorous habit
of self-denial. Many things which would gratify the flesh, the privation of
which not only deprives us of what others enjoy—but exposes us to wonder,
reproach, or ridicule—must be abstained from if we would be holy.
And how shall we be able to adhere, in such
circumstances, to the way of godliness? The fear of destruction may do
something towards this. Our Lord bids his disciples "fear him who can
destroy both body and soul in hell," and in many other places the appeal is
to our fear, in the way of warning. It is a perversion of the gospel system
of love and mercy—to say it excludes all fear. We know that the apostle has
said, "Perfect love casts out fear, for fear has torment." This latter
expression explains and limits the former, and indicates that the only fear
which love casts out, is that which has torment, and that even this is not
cast out but by perfect love. Still, I admit it is the hope of heaven, and
the love of God, which are chiefly dwelt upon in the Scriptures of the New
Testament, as the means and motives of sanctification. This will be
explained at large when we come to the chapter on hope as a purifier.
4. Akin to this, and necessary for it, is WATCHFULNESS.
If we would not be led into temptation, we must watch against it. There is
scarcely any duty more frequently or more urgently enjoined upon us than
this holy vigilance—and therefore none is more necessary! How impressively
did our Lord enjoin this upon his disciples in Matthew 24 through 26. As we
are ever surrounded by temptation, this follows, of course. What soldier who
is in an enemy's country, where every tree, every hedge, every wall may
conceal a foe—who is at that moment taking aim, and about to send the fatal
bullet to his heart—would not keep constant watch on every object? This is
precisely our situation and our duty. In one hour, and when not thinking of
danger, much less apprehending it to be near, we may be brought into a trial
of our faith and steadfastness which may seem to imperil our whole
salvation.
An unwatchful security may be our ruin. This was the
cause of all the scandals we read of in Scripture. Eve was unwatchful when
she listened to the tempter's wiles—and Adam was unwatchful when he
hearkened to the persuasions of his wife, and lost Paradise for themselves
and their posterity. Noah was unwatchful when he drank the fruit of the vine
and became intoxicated. Abraham was unwatchful when he lied to defend the
chastity of his wife. David was unwatchful when he was walking on the
housetop, saw Bathsheba, and fell into the crimes of adultery and murder.
Peter was unwatchful when he denied his Master with oaths and curses. Yes,
and the failings of God's people in every age since are to be traced to the
same negligence. Satan knows when we are off our watchtower, or asleep upon
it, and takes instant advantage of our lack of vigilance. He never
slumbers—though we do.
And what is so likely to keep our eyes open, our
vigilance eager, as hope? This is the ever wakeful sentinel of the soul.
Hope, when vigorous and lively, is all eye, all ear, all hand, all foot. It
sees the least object, hears the least noise, feels the least touch,
snatches up its weapons and hastens to the point of danger or advantage. It
is ever waiting, ever-watchful, ever prepared for defense or assault. Intent
thus upon the glorious object of our Christian desire and expectation, we
shall walk circumspectly, looking all around to see if any foe be near.
5. Can any rational creature, who reads the Word of God,
expect to reach heaven without UNWEARIED DILIGENCE?
In how many pages of the New Testament is this enjoined upon us? One only
need here be cited—"And besides this, giving all diligence, add to
your faith virtue," etc. This is also repeated a few verses
after—"Therefore, my brothers, be all the more eager to make your calling
and election sure. For if you do these things, you will never fall." 2 Peter
1:5-10. Let the reader be attentive to the words of this exhortation. It not
only enjoins diligence—but all diligence; and for what a purpose! to
practice a whole chain of virtues, each one of which requires the strength
of Omnipotence to enable us to exercise it, and thus to make our calling and
election sure; sure to our entire conviction, so that we may walk onward in
our Christian career, with the blissful consciousness that we are elected
and called to salvation.
If diligence is necessary for anything, it is to
obtain salvation. If diligence can be justified in reference to
anything it is for salvation. If diligence is successful in anything,
it is in salvation. If diligence is rewarded in anything, it is in
salvation. The difficulties of the divine life are so great, so numerous,
and so constant, that of all the vain hopes of success in any undertaking,
the vainest is that indulged by the man who expects to get to heaven without
diligence. A tradesman who is surrounded with eager, skillful, industrious
competitors—but who lies in bed until midday, may much more rationally
expect to succeed than he who anticipates the possession of heaven without
constant, indomitable, and unwearied diligence.
Let any one consider what are the promises to be
believed, the duties to be performed, the sacrifices to be
made, the difficulties to be surmounted, the mortification to
be exercised, the enemies to be encountered, the battles to be
fought, the victories to be achieved—before salvation can be
obtained—and then say if all this can be done without diligence.
Everything incites to this. The conduct of God himself
sets the example. The Pagan philosophers used to argue that the world must
be eternal, or otherwise, they said, the Deity would have been idle. They
did not consider the incomprehensible delight, nor the infinite business of
rest—and rest of business—which he had in himself. Inactivity is not
incident to God; and if God be diligent, should not man? and if the chief
diligence of God be about man's salvation, how much more should man be about
it also? It has been quaintly said, by an old author, "that God built his
temple on a threshing floor, to teach men industry and diligence," alluding
to the ground on Mount Moriah, which David purchased of Araunah, for the
erection of an altar, after the pestilence was stayed.
We cannot obtain anything earthly that is good without
labor—and can we expect to gain heaven without it? Alas, alas, how are even
professors slackened in their pursuit of heavenly things by such as are
earthly. Oh, that we could see Christians working out their salvation with
the same diligence which they are working at their worldly calling. We are
told by the fable that when Jupiter had invited all living creatures to a
banquet, the tortoise came in at the end of the feast; and upon being
reproved for his dilatoriness, excused himself on the ground of the house
which he carried upon his back, whereupon Jove adjudged him forever to keep
in his shell. Let us take care that when God calls us to the celestial
banquet we do not allow a house, or some personal, domestic, earthly
concern—to hinder us lest all our happiness be confined to it. In the case
of the poor tortoise, his impediment was put upon him by nature; ours is
self-imposed.
More than once we are exhorted by the apostle not to be
slothful. Sloth is the opposite of diligence—an inactive, drowsy, slumbering
state of soul. Such a disposition is hateful in everything—but most hateful
and most surprising in regard to salvation. There is an animal in the
zoological world called the sloth, whose habits render him the
picture of all that is lazy, inert and torpid. He will occupy three days in
climbing a tree, and fall asleep in the act. He scarcely ever moves but when
compelled by hunger, and then rarely traverses more than fifty paces in a
day. He utters a piteous cry, as if movement were a distress; and is held in
such detestation that even beasts of prey retire from him in disgust. With
such an illustration of the nature of slothfulness, how forcibly comes to us
the warning of the apostle against it—"Be not slothful."
Instead of the sloth, as his emblem, the professing
Christian should select the eagle, which, with unblinking eye, and
unwearied wing, soars with rapid and upward flight towards the sun! Or
rather, should seek to resemble the angelic figures, concentrating in
himself, and exhibiting in his conduct, in reference to salvation—the
patient industry of the ox, the speed of the eagle, the courage of the lion,
and all this directed by the intelligence of the man.
And what can, or will, keep up such a diligent regard to
heavenly realities? There is but one thing that will do it, and that is
HOPE—and this will do it. The power of this to inflame the human mind will
be in exact proportion to the importance of its object, the probability of
obtaining it, and the intensity of desire to possess it. Apply this to
salvation, and you will then perceive its meaning, its truth, and its force,
as a motive power.
6. SPIRITUAL JOY has considerable power in maintaining
our perseverance in the pursuit of salvation.
"The joy of the Lord is his people's strength," to sustain them under, and
carry them through, the trials, difficulties and duties of the Christian
state. The more we have of joy and peace, the more we have of manly
strength, and robustness and vigor. Dejection, despondency and gloom
enfeeble the mind in ordinary matters, and so they do in sacred ones.
Distress paralyzes the arm of industry by eating out the power of the nerve
of action. Hence the prayer of the apostle for the Christian Romans—"The God
of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that you may abound in
hope, through the power of the Holy Spirit." It is of vast importance, not
only for the believer's comfort—but for his safety, that this should be his
case. He needs peace and joy, not only to make his duties delightful—but to
retain his hold on true religion altogether.
The faith, if it can be called by such a word, that
yields no comfort to the soul, will soon be cast away as a worthless thing.
A religion that does not bring bliss with it will soon be likely to be found
a hindrance to enjoyment. Professors neither feel nor exhibit the excellence
of true religion, if they do not "serve the Lord with gladness." We tell the
world, in sermons and books, that the springs of happiness lie in true
piety, and we should be careful to sustain the assertion by our appearance.
We are commanded to let our light shine before men. To do this we must let
our holiness be irradiated by the sunshine of joy. A Christian is never
giving to his religion its full credit, until he shows that it not only
makes him a holy man, or an useful man—but also a happy one. The
multitude all around him are saying, "Who will show us any good?" He should
be able to say "I will." "Lord, you have lifted upon me the light of your
countenance, and put gladness into my heart." Now it is hope that feeds joy.
Hence the apostle's language, "Rejoicing in hope." "We rejoice in hope of
the glory of God." The pleasures of hope have been, as we have already
observed, the theme of poetry and song. It is, and must be, a happy state of
mind. It is one of the passions which, in their very exercise, are bliss.
They not only bring it—but are it. A child desiring and expecting his toy,
is, in so far as that goes, happy; happier, of course, when joy is turned
into fruition—but pleased even with his hopes. If the salvation which is in
Christ Jesus does not give joy, nothing can; and he who talks of heaven
without "rejoicing in hope" of it, does but talk.
7. Hope gives a foretaste of heaven; and therefore we are
saved by it. Salvation, as we have already
shown, is a present blessing—"we are saved," and not merely "shall be." What
was said to Zaccheus may be said to every repenting and believing sinner,
"This day has salvation come to your house." He who is not saved now will
not be hereafter. We know very well that salvation begun on earth will be
completed in heaven. But heaven itself does begin on earth—
The men of grace have found
Glory begun below;
Celestial fruits on earthly ground,
From faith and hope may grow—
And do grow. Grace is glory in the bud—glory is grace in
full bloom. Grace is glory militant—glory is grace triumphant. What other
honors and felicities heaven will contain, than those we read of in the
Bible as now promised to the Christian, we cannot even conjecture—but there
are none, can be none greater in kind than those we now possess, either of a
relative or a personal nature. We can rise no higher in relationship, than
to be a child of God—no higher in moral state, than to be like God—no higher
in principles of action, than to love God and our neighbor—and no higher in
happiness, than to enjoy God. Now all these we have on earth. True, we have
them here only in such small proportions, in such glimpses, in such sips,
and amid so many interruptions—that we can form but a very inadequate idea
from them of the heavenly glory. But they are the pledge of our redemption.
And we might have a much richer pledge than we have. Others have had it.
What a foretaste must John Howe have had when one night
he was in such a holy ecstasy in the view of heaven, that he said to his
wife, "Though I love you as much as it is fit for one creature to love
another, yet, if it were put to my choice, whether to die this moment or
live this night, and by living this night I could secure to myself the
continuance of this life for seven years longer, I should choose to die this
moment." What a foretaste of heaven must Halyburton have enjoyed, when he
had such a view and sense of the excellent glory, that he entreated God to
cover that glory with his hand, lest it should overcome his power of
endurance. What a prelude of the celestial banquet must Payson have had,
when he wrote the following letter—
Dear Sister,
"Were I to adopt the figurative language of Bunyan I might date this letter
from the land of Beulah, of which I have been for some weeks a happy
inhabitant. The celestial city is full in my view. Its glories beam upon me,
its breezes fan me, its odors are wafted to me, its sounds strike upon my
ears, and its spirit is breathed into my heart. Nothing separates me from it
but the river of death, which now appears but as an insignificant rill, that
may be crossed at a single step, whenever God shall give permission. The Sun
of Righteousness has been gradually drawing nearer and nearer, appearing
larger and brighter as he approached; and now he fills the whole hemisphere,
pouring forth a flood of glory, in which I seem to float like an insect in
the beams of the sun, exulting, yet almost trembling, while I gaze on this
excessive brightness, and wondering, with unutterable wonder, why God should
deign thus to shine upon a sinful worm. A single heart and a single tongue
seem altogether inadequate to my desires—I need a whole heart for every
separate emotion, and a whole tongue to express that emotion.
"But why do I speak thus of myself and my feelings; why
not speak only of our God and Redeemer? It is because I know not what to
say. When I would speak of them my words are all swallowed up. I can only
tell you what effects their presence produces, and even of these I can tell
you but very little. O, my sister, my sister! could you but know what awaits
the Christian; could you know only so much as I know, you could not refrain
from rejoicing, and even leaping for joy. Labors, trials, troubles, would be
nothing—you would rejoice in afflictions, and glory in tribulations; and,
like Paul and Silas, sing God's praises in the darkest night, and in the
deepest dungeon. You have known a little of my trials and conflicts, and
know that they have been neither few nor small; and I hope this glorious
termination of them will serve to strengthen your faith, and elevate your
hope.
"And now, my dear, dear sister, farewell. Hold on your
Christian course—but a few days longer, and you will meet in heaven,
Your happy and affectionate brother,
Edward Payson."
In these instances we see how much of heaven has been
enjoyed on earth by some of God's saints. And do not the biographies of
others teach us the same fact? Yes, have there not been seasons, alas too
few and too short, when we ourselves have known something of all this? When
we too, have had such joy and peace in believing; such an impression of
God's presence; such a sense of his love; such ardent affection for the
Savior, and such communion with him; such a holy serenity of mind; such an
elevation above the world—as to lead us to say, "Now I know something about
heaven; what it is, and what it must be, when this frame of mind and heart
is carried on to absolute perfection."
It is hope that produces this. This passion, when
intensely engaged, seems to give a present existence to its object, which
stands before the mind with almost the vividness of reality. Hope, in its
highest exercises, is a kind of fruition. How important then is its
exercise. How desirable to send it across the Jordan, like the spies into
the promised land, to fetch the grapes of Eshcol, and thus to be encouraged
to go on and take full possession of the heavenly country.
|