Christian Love,
or the Influence of Religion upon Temper
By John Angell James, 1828
THE NATURE OF LOVE
In the discussion of every subject, it is of great
importance to ascertain, and to fix with precision, the meaning of the terms
by which it is expressed. More especially in those cases where, as in the
present instance, the principal word has acquired, by the changes of time
and the usages of society, more senses than one. In modern times the word
charity is often employed to signify almsgiving—a circumstance which has
thrown a partial obscurity over many passages of Scripture, and has led,
indeed, to the most gross perversion of Divine truth, and the circulation of
the most dangerous errors. We shall in this treatise substitute for
charity, the word LOVE, which is a correct translation of the original.
Of what kind of love does the apostle treat?
Not of love to God, as is evident from the whole chapter; for the properties
which are here enumerated have no direct reference to Jehovah, but relate in
every instance to man. It is a disposition, founded, no doubt, upon love to
God—but it is not the same.
Nor is it, as some have represented, the love of the
brethren. Without all question, we are under special obligations to love
those who are the children of God, and joint heirs with us in Christ. "This
is my commandment," says Christ, "that you love one another." "By this shall
all men know that you are my disciples—if you love one another." Our
brethren in Christ should be the first and dearest objects of our regard.
Love to them is the badge of discipleship—the proof, both to
ourselves and to the world, that we have passed from death unto life. And
although we are "to do good unto all men," yet we are especially to regard
"the household of faith." But still, the love of the brethren as such, is
not the disposition which is here enjoined—although it is included in it.
A far more comprehensive duty is laid down, which is LOVE
TO MANKIND IN GENERAL. (This benevolence does not stop at intelligent
beings, but goes forth with entire good-will to the animal creation—to all
beings which are capable of pleasure or pain. Surely in the love which is
the fulfilling of the law, must be comprehended that mercy which causes a
righteous man to regard the life and comfort of his animals, since this is a
part of moral goodness which God has seen fit to approve. But in this
chapter the apostle limits the objects of our benevolence to mankind.)
As a proof of this, I refer to the nature of its
exercises. Do they not as much respect the unconverted as the converted; the
unbeliever as the believer? Are we not as much bound to be meek and kind,
humble, forgiving, and patient toward all people—as we are towards our
brethren? Or, may we be envious, passionate, proud, and revengeful towards
unbelievers? We have only to consider the operations and effects of love as
here described, and to recollect that they are as much required in our
interaction with the world, as with the church, to perceive at once, that it
is love to all people—which is the subject of this chapter. Nor is
this the only place where 'universal philanthropy' is enjoined. The apostle
Peter, in his chain of graces, makes this the last link, and distinguishes
it from "brotherly kindness," to which, says he, add "love." The disposition
inculcated in this chapter, is that love which Peter commands us to add
to brotherly kindness; it is, in fact, the very state of mind which is
the compendium of the second table of the moral law, "You shall love your
neighbor as yourself."
The temper so beautifully set forth by Paul, is a most
lively, luminous, and eloquent exposition of this summary of duty to our
neighbor, which is given us by our Lord.
Strange, indeed, would it be, if Christianity, the most
perfect system of duty as well as of doctrine that God ever gave to the
world, should contain no injunction to cultivate a spirit of general love
and good-will. Strange, indeed, if that system which rises upon the earth
with the smiling aspect of universal benevolence, did not breathe its own
spirit into the hearts of its believers. Strange, indeed, if while God loved
the world, and Christ died for it—the world in no sense was to
be an object of a Christian's regard. Strange, indeed, if the energies, the
exercises, and propensities of true piety, were to be confined within the
narrow boundaries of the church, and to be allowed no excursions into the
widely extended regions that lie beyond, and to have no sympathies for the
countless millions by which these regions are peopled. It would have been
regarded as a blank in Christianity, as a deep, wide chasm, had philanthropy
gained no place, or but a small one, amid its duties. And such an omission
must ever have presented a lack of harmony between its doctrines and its
precepts; a point of dissimilarity between the perfection of the divine
character, and the required completeness of the human character.
Here, then, is the disposition inculcated—a spirit of
universal love—good-will to mankind—a delight in human happiness—a
carefulness to avoid whatever would lessen, and to do whatever would
increase, the amount of the felicity of mankind—a love that is limited to no
circle; which is restricted by no partialities, no friendships, no
relationships—around which neither prejudices nor personal aversions are
allowed to draw a boundary—which realizes as its proper objects, friends,
strangers, and enemies—which requires no qualifications of anyone, but that
he is a human being—and which searches for man wherever he is to be found.
It is an affection which binds its possessor to all of his race, and makes
him a good citizen of the universe.
We must possess domestic affections, to render us
good members of a family; we must have the more extended principles of
patriotism, to render us good members of the state—and for the same
reason, we must possess universal benevolence, to render us good
members of a system which comprises the whole human race. This is the
universal virtue—the one simple principle, out of which so many and such
beautiful ramifications of holy benevolence evolve! All the actings of love,
so finely described by the apostle, may be traced up to this delight in
happiness—they all consist in doing that which will promote the comfort of
others, or in not doing that which will hinder their peace—whether they
consist in passive or in active properties, they have a direct bearing on
general well-being of society.
But although we represent this love as consisting in a
principle of universal benevolence, we would remark, that instead of
satisfying itself with 'mere speculations on the desirableness of the
well-being of the whole', or with mere good wishes for the happiness of
mankind in general—instead of that indolent sentimentalism, which would
convert its inability to benefit the great body into an excuse for doing
good to none of its members. True Christian love will put forth its
energies, and engage its activities for those which are within its reach. It
would, if it could, touch the extreme parts; but as this cannot be done, it
will exert a beneficial influence on those which are near; its very distance
from the circumference will be felt as a motive to greater zeal in promoting
the comfort of all that may be adjoining, and it will consider that the best
and only way of reaching the last, is by an impulse given to what is
adjoining.
True Christian love will view every individual it has to
do with, as a representative of his species, and consider him as offering
strong claims, both on his own account, and on account of his race. Towards
all, it will retain a feeling of good-will, a preparedness for
benevolent activity; and towards those who come within the sphere of its
influence, it will go forth in the actings of kindness.
Like the pupil of an eye, true Christian love can dilate
to see, though but dimly, the whole prospect; or it can constrict its view,
and concentrate its attention upon each individual object that comes under
its inspection. The people with whom we daily converse and act, are those on
whom our benevolence is first and most constantly to express itself, because
these are the parts of the whole, which give us the opportunity of calling
into exercise our universal philanthropy. But to them it is not to be
confined, either in feeling or action; for as we have opportunity, we are
to do good to all men, and to send abroad our beneficent regards to the
great family of mankind.
Nor are we to confound this virtue with a 'mere natural
amiableness of disposition'. It is often our lot to witness a species of
kindness, which, like the painting or the statue, is a very near resemblance
of the original; but which still is only a picture or a statue, and lacks
the mysterious principle of life. From that mere good-will to man which even
unconverted people may possess—the love described by the apostle differs in
the following particulars—
1. Christian love is one of the FRUITS OF REGENERATION.
"The fruit of the Spirit is love." Unless a man is born of the Spirit—he can
do nothing that is spiritually good. We are by nature corrupt and
unholy—destitute of all love to God—and until renewed by the Holy Spirit in
the spirit of our mind, we can do nothing well-pleasing to God. "If any man
is in Christ, he is a new creature," and this love of our race is a part of
the new creation. It is in the strictest sense of the term, a holy virtue,
and one great branch of holiness itself; for what is holiness, but love to
God, and love to man? And without that previous change which is denominated
being "born again," we can no more love man as we ought to do, than we can
love God. Divine grace is as essentially necessary for the production and
exercise of Christian philanthropy, as it is for piety; and the former is no
less a part of true religion than the latter. Love is the Divine nature, the
image of God—which is communicated to the soul of man by the renewing
influence of the Holy Spirit.
2. Christian love is the EFFECT OF FAITH.
Hence it is said by the apostle, "In Christ Jesus
neither circumcision avails anything, nor uncircumcision, but faith which
works by love." And by another inspired writer it is represented as a
part of the superstructure which is raised on the basis of faith, "Add to
your faith—love." It is certain that there can be no proper regard to man,
which does not result from faith in Christ. It is the belief of the truth
which makes love to be felt as a duty, and which brings before the mind the
great examples, the powerful motives, furnished by the Scriptures to promote
its exercise. Nothing spiritually excellent can be performed without faith.
It is by faith alone, that anything we do is truly and properly pious.
Saving faith is the identifying Christian principle, separate and apart from
which, whatever excellence men may exhibit, is but mere morality. By faith
we submit to the authority of God's law; by faith we are united to Christ,
and "receive from his fullness, and grace for grace." By faith we
contemplate the love of God in Christ—by faith our conduct becomes
acceptable to God through Christ.
3. Christian love is exercised in obedience to the
authority of God's word. Christian love is a
principle—not merely a feeling. Christian love is cultivated and exercised
as a duty—not yielded to merely as a generous instinct. Christian love is a
submission to God's command—not merely an indulgence of our own
propensities. Christian love is the constraint of conscience—not merely the
impulse of constitutional tenderness. Christian love may be, and often is
found, where there is no natural softness, or amiableness of temper. Where
natural softness and amiableness already exist, Christian love will grow
with greater rapidity, and expand to greater magnitude, and flourish in
greater beauty. But Christian love may still be planted in a less congenial
situation, and thrive, in obedience to the law of its nature—amid barrenness
and rocks.
Multitudes, who have nothing of sentimentalism in their
nature, have love to man. They rarely can melt into tears, or kindle into
rapture—but they can be all energy and activity for the relief of misery,
and for the promotion of human happiness—their temperament of mind partakes
more of the frigid than of the torrid, and their summer seasons of the soul
are short and cold. But still, amid their mild, and even lovely winter,
love, like the rose, blooms in fragrance and in beauty. This is their
rule—"God has commanded me to love my neighbor as myself; and in obedience
to him, I restrain my natural sinful tendencies—and forgive the injuries,
and relieve the miseries, and build up the comfort, and hide the faults of
all around me."
4. Christian love is founded upon, and grows out of, love
to God. We are to love God for his own sake,
and men for God's sake. Our Lord has laid down this as the order and rule of
our affections. We must first love God with all our heart, and soul, and
mind—and then our neighbors as ourselves. Now, there can be no proper
religious affection for our neighbor, which does not spring out of supreme
regard for Jehovah; since our love to our neighbor must respect him as the
offspring and workmanship of God—"Everyone who believes that Jesus is the
Christ is a child of God. And everyone who loves the Father loves his
children, too." Besides, as we are to exercise this disposition in obedience
to the authority of God, and as no obedience to his authority can be
valuable in itself, or acceptable to him, which is not an operation of
love—no kindness to our neighbor can come up to the nature of the duty here
enjoined, which does not arise out of a proper state of heart towards God.
apart from God; whereupon the things men love are their
idols,
Let us, then, remember that the beautiful superstructure
of philanthropy which the apostle has raised in this chapter, has for its
foundation a supreme regard for the great and blessed God. The utmost
kindness and sympathy—the most tender compassion, united with the most
munificent liberality—if it does not rest on the love of God—is not the
temper here set forth—is not the grace which has the principle of
immortality in its nature, and which will live and flourish in eternity,
when faith and hope shall cease.
'Human excellence', however noble, whatever good it may
diffuse upon others, or whatever glory it may draw around itself—if it is
not sanctified and supported by this holy principle, is corruptible and
mortal, and cannot dwell in the presence of God, nor exist amid the glories
of eternity; but it is only the flower of the grass which shall wither away
in the rebuke of the Almighty. For lack of this vital and essential
principle of all true religion—how much of amiable compassion, and of tender
attention to the woes of humanity—how much of kindly feeling and active
benevolence, is daily expended—which, while it yields its amiable though
unbelieving author much honor and delight—has not the weight of a feather in
the scales of his eternal destiny!
5. This disposition of Christian love is nourished in our
hearts by a sense of God's love in Christ Jesus to us.
There is this peculiarity in the morality of the New
Testament—it is enforced by the consideration of Divine goodness to
ourselves. Not that any motive is absolutely necessary to make a command
binding upon our conscience, beyond God's right to issue it; the obligation
to duty is complete, in the absence of every other consideration than the
rightful authority of the command. But as man is a creature capable of being
moved by appeals to his gratitude, as well as by motives addressed to his
fears, it is both wise and condescending on the part of Jehovah thus to deal
with him, and to "make him willing in the day of his power." He thus
not only drives us by the force of his terrors—but draws us by the cords of
his love!
The great evangelical inducement to mutual affection
between man and man—is God's love in Christ Jesus to us. God has commended
and manifested his love to us in a manner that will fill immensity and
eternity with astonishment—He has "so loved the world, as to
give his only begotten Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish,
but have everlasting life!" This stupendous exhibition of Divine mercy is
presented by the sacred writers, not only as a source of strong consolation,
but also as a powerful motive to action. We are not only to contemplate it
for the purpose of joy, but also of imitation. Mark the beautiful reasoning
of the apostle John—"Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he
loved us, and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins.
Beloved, if God so loved us—we ought also to love one another." Similar to
this is also the inference of Paul—"Be kind to each other, tenderhearted,
forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you. Follow
God's example in everything you do, because you are his dear children. Live
a life filled with love for others, following the example of Christ, who
loved you and gave himself as a sacrifice to take away your sins. And God
was pleased, because that sacrifice was like sweet perfume to him." Ephes.
4:32-5:2. How forcible, yet how tender is such language! There is a charm in
such a motive which no terms can describe.
The love of God, then—in its existence and contrivance
from eternity—in its manifestation in time, by the cross of our Lord Jesus
Christ—in its topless height, its fathomless depth, its measureless length
and breadth—is the grand inducement to universal affection! Is not God's
love for us, enough to soften a heart of stone—to melt a heart of ice? The
love spoken of in the chapter under consideration, is that same impulse
towards our fellow-men which is given us by the cross of Christ. It is not
mere natural kindness—but it is love for Christ's sake. It is not the mere
operations of a generous temper—but it is the feeling which moved in the
apostle's bosom, when he exclaimed, "The love of Christ constrains us!" It
is not natural sentimentality and amiability—but Christian love.
True Christian love is, so to speak, a plant which grows
on Calvary, and entwines itself for support around the cross. It is a
disposition which argues in this way—Has God indeed thus loved me, so as to
give his Son for my salvation? And is he kind to me daily for the sake of
Christ? Has he forgiven all my numberless and aggravated transgressions?
Does he still, with infinite patience, bear with all my frailties and
provocations? Then what is there, in the way of most generous affection, I
ought not to be willing to do, or to bear, or to sacrifice, for others? Do
they offend me? Let me bear with them, and forgive them; for how has
God borne with me, and blotted out my sins! Are they destitute? Let me be
first to supply their necessities—for how greatly has God supplied mine!
Here then is love—that deep sense of God's love to us, which shows us the
necessity, the reasonableness, the duty of being kind to others—the feeling
of a heart, which, laboring under the weight of its obligations to God, and
finding itself too poor to extend its goodness to him, looks round, and
gives utterance to its exuberant gratitude in acts of kindness to mankind.
6. Christian love is that good-will to men which, while
its proximate object is the welfare of our fellow-creatures—is ultimately
directed to the glory of God.
It is the sublime characteristic of every truly Christian
virtue—that whatever inferior ends it may seek, and through whatever
intervening medium it may pass—it is directed ultimately to the praise of
Jehovah! It may put forth its excellencies before the admiring eyes of
mortals, and exert its energies for their happiness; but neither to attract
their applause, nor to build up their esteem—must be its highest aim. The
rule of our conduct, as to its chief end, is thus explicitly and
comprehensively laid down—"Whether therefore you eat or drink, or whatever
you do—do all to the glory of God!" This is not mere advice, but a
command—and it is a command extending to all our conduct. To glorify God is
to act so that his authority shall be recognized and upheld by us in the
world; it is to be seen submitting to his will, and behaving so as that his
word and ways shall be better thought of by mankind. Our actions must appear
to have a reference to God; and without this, they cannot partake of the
character of true religion, however excellent and beneficial they may seem
in themselves.
But, perhaps, this disposition of mind will be best
illustrated by exhibiting an example of it; and where shall we find one
suited to our purpose? Every mind will, perhaps, immediately revert to HIM
who was love incarnate; and we might indeed point to every action of his
benevolent career, as a display of the purest philanthropy. But, as his
example will hereafter be considered, we shall now select one from men of
like passions with ourselves; but we must go for it to "the chamber where
the pious man meets his fate," rather than to the resorts of the healthy and
the active; for it seems as if the brightest beauties of this love were
reserved, like those of the setting sun, for the eve of its departure to
another hemisphere.
How often have we beheld the dying Christian, who
during long and mortal sickness has exhibited, as he stood on the verge of
heaven, something of the spirit of a glorified immortal! The natural
infirmities of temper which attended him through life, and which sometimes
dimmed the luster of his piety, disturbed his own peace, and lessened the
pleasure of his friends—had all departed, or had sunk into the shade of
those holy graces which then stood out in bold and commanding relief upon
his soul. The beams of heaven now falling upon his spirit were reflected,
not only in the faith, that is the confidence of things not seen—not
only in the hope which enters within the veil—but in the love
which is the greatest in the trinity of Christian virtues.
How meek in heart did he seem—how entirely clothed with
humility! Instead of being puffed up with anything of his own, or uttering a
single boastful expression, it was like a wound in his heart to hear anyone
remind him either of his good deeds or dispositions. And he appeared in his
own eyes less than ever, while like his emblem, the setting sun, he expanded
every moment into greater magnitude, in the view of every spectator. Instead
of envying the possessions or the excellencies of other men, it pleasant to
his departing spirit that others were thus ennobled. How kind is he to his
friends! And as for enemies, he had none—all animosity had died in his
heart. He forgave all that was manifestly evil, and kindly interpreted all
that was only equivocally so. Nothing lived in his recollection, as to the
conduct of others—but their acts of kindness. When news reached his ear of
the misconduct of those who had been his adversaries, he grieved in
spirit—even as he rejoiced when told of his enemies coming back to public
esteem by deeds of excellence. His very opinions seemed under the influence
of his love; and, as he wished well, he believed well, or hoped well—of many
of whom he had formerly thought evil. His meekness and patience were
touching, his kindness indescribable—the trouble he gave, and the favors he
received, drew tears from his own eyes—and were acknowledged in expressions
that drew tears from all around. There was an ineffable tenderness in his
looks, and his words were the very accents of kindness. He was a pattern of
all the passive virtues; and having thus thrown off much that was of the
earth, earthly, and put on love as a garment, and dressed himself for
heaven, in his sick room, he departed to be with Christ, and to be forever
perfect in love.
There was a man in whom this was realized, and some
extracts from his invaluable memoir will prove it; I mean Mr. Scott,
the author of the Commentary.
"His mind," says his biographer, "dwelt much upon love.
He seemed full of tenderness and affection to all around him. 'One
evidence,' he said, 'I have of meekness for heaven—I feel much love to all
mankind, to every man upon earth—to those who have most opposed and
slandered me.' To his servant he said, 'I thank you for all your kindness to
me. If at any time I have been hasty and short with you, forgive me—and lay
the blame upon me, not upon true religion.'
"In such a state of extreme suffering, His tender
affection for us all was astonishing, and cut us to the heart. He begged his
assistant to forgive him, if he had been occasionally rough and sharp. 'I
meant it for your good; but, like everything of mine, it was mixed with sin;
impute it not, however, to my religion, but to my lack of true religion.' He
was so gentle and loving—it was so delightful to attend upon him—that his
servants, finding themselves in danger of contention which should wait upon
him, agreed to take it by turns, that each might have her due share of the
pleasure and benefit; and yet he was continually begging our forgiveness for
his lack of patience and thankfulness. His kindness and affection to all who
approached him were carried to the greatest height, and showed themselves in
a singularly minute attention to all their individual feelings, and whatever
might be for their comfort, to a degree that was quite affecting—especially
when he was suffering so much himself often in mind as well as body.
"There was an astonishing absence of selfish
feelings—even in his worst hours, he thought of the health of us all;
observed if we sat up long, and insisted on our retiring; and was much
afraid of paining or hurting us in any way. Someone said something on the
permanency of his Commentary—'Ah!' he cried, 'you know not what a proud
heart I have, and how you help the Devil.' He also said, 'To those who have
greatly slandered me—I cannot feel any resentment. I can only love and pity
them, and pray for their salvation. I never did feel any resentment towards
them. I regret that I did not more ardently long and pray for their
salvation.'"
Can we conceive of a more beautiful exemplification of
the virtue I am describing? And this is the temper we ought all to seek.
This is love, blended with all our living habits, diffused through all our
conduct, forming our character, breathing in our desires, speaking in our
words, beaming in our eyes—in short, a living part of our living selves. And
this, be it remembered, is true religion—practical religion. "If I
have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all
knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains--but
have not love, I am nothing!" 1 Corinthians 13:2.
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