Christian Love,
or the Influence of Religion upon Temper
By John Angell James, 1828
THE HUMILITY OF LOVE
"Love does not boast—it is not proud." 1 Cor. 13:4
The Apostle's meaning, in this part of his description,
evidently is, that love has not a high and overweening conceit of its own
possessions and acquirements, and does not ostentatiously boast of what it
is, has done, can do, or intends to do. Love is opposed to pride and vanity,
and is connected with true humility.
Pride signifies such an exalted idea of ourselves, as
leads to self-esteem, and to contempt of others. It is self-admiration—self-doating.
It differs from vanity thus—pride causes us to value ourselves;
vanity makes us anxious for applause. Pride renders a man odious; vanity
makes him ridiculous. Love is equally opposed to both.
Pride is the sin which laid the moral universe in ruins.
It was pride which impelled Satan and his confederates to a mad "defiance of
the Omnipotent to arms," for which they were driven from heaven, and taught
by their bitter experience, that "God resists the proud." Banished from the
world of celestials, pride alighted on our globe, in its way to hell, and
brought destruction in its train. Propagated from our common and fallen
parent with our race, pride is the original sin, the inherent corruption of
our nature. It spreads over humanity with the contagious violence—the
loathsome appearance of a moral leprosy, raging alike through the palace and
the cottage, and infecting equally the prince and the peasant.
The GROUNDS of pride are various —whatever
constitutes a distinction between man and man, is the occasion of this
hateful disposition. It is a vice that does not dwell exclusively in kings'
houses, wear only soft clothing, and feed every day upon titles, fame, or
affluence—it accommodates itself to our circumstances, and adapts itself to
our distinctions, of whatever kind they be. The usual grounds of pride are
the following—
WEALTH. Some value
themselves on account of their fortune, look down with contempt on those
below them—and exact fawning attentiveness towards themselves, and deference
for their opinions—according to the thousands of money, or of acres, which
they possess.
Others are proud of their
TALENTS,
either natural or acquired. The brilliancy of their genius, the extent of
their learning, the splendor of their imagination, the acuteness of their
understanding, their power to argue or speak publicly—form the object of
self-esteem, and the reasons of that disdain which they pour upon all who
are inferior to them in mental endowments. But these things are not so
common in the church of God as those which we shall now mention.
RELIGIOUS CONNECTIONS
form, in many cases, the occasion of pride. This was exemplified in the
Jews, who boasted that they were the children of Abraham, and worshiped in
the temple of the Lord. Their self-admiration, as the members of the only
true church, and as the covenant people of God, was insufferably disgusting.
In this feature of their character, they are too often imitated in modern
times. While some boast of belonging to the church as by law established,
and look with contempt on all who range themselves on the side of
dissent—too many of the latter throw back the scorn upon their opponents,
and pride themselves on the greater purity of their ecclesiastical order.
There is the pride both of the dominant party, and also that of the seceding
one—the pride of belonging to the church, which includes the court, the
senate, the universities—and that which is sometimes felt in opposing this
array of royalty, and learning, and law. There is the pride of thinking
with the king, and the nobles, and the judges, and the prelates—and also
that of thinking against them. Whatever leads us to think highly of
ourselves in matters of religion, and to despise others, whether it be the
distinctions of earthly greatness, the practice of religious duties, or the
independence of our mode of thinking—is opposed to the spirit of Christian
love.
Superior LIGHT on the subject of revealed truth
is no unusual occasion of pride. The Arminian pharisee dwells with fondness
on the goodness of his heart; the Antinomian, with equal haughtiness, values
himself on the clearness of his head; and the Socinian, as far from humility
as either of them, is inflated with a conceit of the strength of his reason,
and its elevation above vulgar prejudices—while not a few moderate
Calvinists regard with complacency their sagacity in discovering the
happy medium. As men are more proud of their understanding than of their
disposition, it is very probable that religious opinions are more frequently
the cause of conceit and self-importance, than anything else which could be
mentioned. "It is knowledge," says the apostle, "that puffs up." "We are the
men and wisdom will die with us"—is the temper of multitudes.
Religious GIFTEDNESS is
sometimes the ground of self-admiration. Fluency and fervor in public
prayer, ability to converse on doctrinal subjects, especially if accompanied
by a ready utterance in public, have all through the influence of Satan and
the depravity of our nature, led to the vile pride which we are now
condemning. None are in more danger of this than the ministers of
religion—it is the besetting sin of their office. There is no one gift
which offers so strong a temptation both to vanity and to pride—as that of
public speaking. If the orator really excels, and is successful, he is
the immediate spectator of his success, and has not even to wait until he
has finished his discourse; for although the decorum of public worship will
not allow of audible tokens of applause, it does of visible
ones—the look of interest, the tear of penitence or of sympathy, the smile
of joy, the deep impression on the mind, the death-like stillness, cannot be
concealed—all seem like a tribute of admiration to the presiding spirit of
the scene; and then the compliments which are conveyed to his ear, after all
the silent plaudits which have reached his eye—are equally calculated to
puff him up with pride. No men are more in danger of this sin than the
ministers of the Gospel; none should watch more sleeplessly against it.
Deep religious EXPERIENCE
has often been followed by the same effect, in those cases where it has
been remarkably enjoyed. The methods of divine grace, though marked by a
uniformity sufficient to preserve that likeness of character which is
essential to the unity of the spirit and the sympathies of the church, are
still distinguished by a vast variety of minor peculiarities. The
convictions of sin in some minds are deeper—the apprehensions of divine
wrath are more appalling—the transition from the poignant compunction of
repentance, bordering on despair, to joy and peace in believing, more slow
and more awful—the subsequent repose more settled—and the joy more unmingled
with the gloom of distressing fears, than is experienced by the generality
of their brethren. Such people are looked up to as professors of true
religion, whose religious history has been remarkable, as vessels of mercy
on which the hand of the Lord has bestowed peculiar pains, and which are
eminently fitted for the master's use. They are regarded as having a
peculiar sanctity about them, and hence they are in danger of falling under
the temptation to which they are exposed, and of being proud of their
experience. They look down from what they suppose to be their lofty
elevation, if not with disdain, yet with suspicion, or with pity—upon those
whose way has not been in their track. Their seasons of elevated communion
with God, of holy enlargement of soul, are sometimes followed with this
tendency. Paul was never more in danger of losing his humility, than when he
was just returned from gazing upon the celestial throne.
ZEAL , whether it be felt
in the cause of humanity or of piety has frequently produced pride. This was
strikingly illustrated in the case of the Pharisee—"God, I thank you," said
the inflated devotee, "that I am not as other men are, extortioners, unjust,
adulterers, or even as this tax-collector—I fast twice in the week—I give
tithes of all that I possess!" Where a natural liberality of mind, or
religious principle—has led men to lavish their property, or their
affluence, or their time—upon benevolent institutions, they have too often
returned from the scene of public activity, to indulge in private and
personal admiration. They have read with peculiar delight the reports in
which their munificence is recorded—and have assigned to themselves a high
place in the roll of public benefactors.
On all these grounds does pride exalt itself—but love is
no less opposed to VANITY
than it is to pride—Love does not boast of, or ostentatiously display,
its possessions, abilities, or good deeds. A disposition to boast, and to
attract attention--is a common foible. We see this among the people of the
world, in reference to their property, their learning, their good deeds,
their influence. They are afraid the public should under-rate them, or pay a
poor compliment to their importance—they thus think it necessary to proclaim
it themselves, in order to make it known. If, indeed, they are what they
wish to make us believe they are, the fact would be obvious, without this
method of publishing it in every company. Boasting is always suspicious, or
superfluous; for real greatness no more needs a publisher, than the sun!
But it is more particularly in reference to religious
matters that this observation of the apostle applies. We should not
appear eager to display our gifts—nor should we vaunt of our
religious experience. The manner in which some good but weak people
talk of their pious conflicts, is indeed intolerably offensive. No matter
who is present, pious or profane, scorner or believer—they parade all their
seasons of despondency or of rapture; they tell you how they struggled with
the great enemy of souls, and overcame him; how they wrestled with God, and
had power to prevail—and that you may have as exalted an opinion of their
humility, as of their enjoyment, they tell you, in the utter violation of
all propriety, and almost of decency, what temptations they have
encountered—what hairbreadth escapes they have had from the commission of
sin. Their motive is obvious—all this vaunting is to impress you with the
idea, that they are exemplary Christians. Who can wonder that all religious
conversation should have been branded with the epithets of 'whining cant'
and 'disgusting hypocrisy'—when the injudicious and nauseating effusions of
such talkers are regarded as a fair sample of it?
Too common is it to make
the externals of religion
the subject of vain-glorious boasting. How long can you be in the company of
some Christians without hearing of their splendid place of worship, and its
vast superiority over all the rest of the town. They establish the most
insulting and degrading comparisons between their minister and his
brethren in the neighborhood—none are so eloquent, none are so able, none
are so successful—as their minister! Notwithstanding your attachment to the
pastor under whose ministry you sit with pleasure and profit—to boast about
him is dishonoring and degrading vanity!
And what a propensity is there in the present age, to
display, and parade, and boasting—in reference to
religious zeal!
This is one of the temptations of the day in which we live; and a
compliance with the temptation, one of its vices. We have at length arrived
at an era of the Christian church, when all the denominations into which it
is divided, and all the congregations into which it is subdivided, have
their public religious institutions for the diffusion of divine truth. These
institutions cannot be supported without contributions—and these
contributions must be matter of general notoriety. Like the tributary
streams flowing into a great river, or like great rivers flowing into the
sea, the contributions of associated congregations or communities, make up
the general fund; but unlike the tributary streams which flow silently to
form the mighty mass of waters, without requiring the ocean to publish to
the universe the amount of each separate quota—the offerings of the
different religious bodies must be announced to the uttermost farthing
before the world. This perhaps is necessary, that the contributors may know
that their bounty has not been stopped and swallowed up in its course. But
has reached its destined receptacle—and such is the weakness of our
principles, and the strength of our imperfections, that this publicity, to a
certain extent, seems necessary to stimulate our languid zeal. But it has
given opportunity, and that opportunity has been eagerly embraced, to
establish a system of unhallowed vanity between the different denominations
and the various congregations into which the Christian church is divided.
Who can have heard the speeches, read the reports, and
witnessed the proceedings of many of our public meetings, convened for the
support of missionary societies, without being grieved at the 'strange fire'
and 'diseased offerings' which have been brought to the altar of the Lord?
The object of the meeting was good, for it was the destruction of an
idolatry as insulting to Jehovah, as that which Jehu destroyed—but like the
king of Israel, hundreds of voices exclaimed in concert, "Come, see our zeal
for the Lord!" 'The image of jealousy' was lifted up in the temple of
Jehovah—adulatory speakers chanted its praises in compliments upon the
liberality of the worshipers—the multitude responded in shouts of applause
to the tribute paid to their zeal—the praise of God was drowned amid the
praise of men—and the crowd dispersed, in love with the cause, it is
true—but more for their own sakes, than for the sake of God or of the
heathen world!
Difficult indeed it is, with such hearts as ours, to do
anything entirely pure from all admixture of a sinful nature. But when we
take pains to make our zeal known—when we employ effort to draw public
attention upon us—when we wish and design to make ourselves talked of, as a
most extraordinary, liberal, and active people—when we listen for praises,
and are disappointed if they do not come in the measure we expected, and
feast upon them if they are presented—when we look with envy on those who
have outstripped us, and we find no pleasure in any future efforts, because
we cannot be first—when we look with jealousy on those who are
approaching our level, and feel a new stimulus, not from a fresh perception
of the excellence of the object—but from a fear that we shall be eclipsed in
public estimation—when we talk of our fellow-workers, or to them, with
disdain of their efforts, and with arrogant ostentation of our own—then
indeed have we employed 'the cause' only as a pedestal on which to exalt
ourselves! In pulling down one kind of idolatry, we have set up another, and
rendered our contributions nothing better than a costly sacrifice to our own
vanity! All this is a lack of that Christian love which does not boast—and
is not proud.
True zeal is modest and retiring—it is not like the
scentless sunflower, which spreads its gaudy petals to the light of heaven,
and turns its face to the orb of day through his course, as if determined to
be seen. But like the modest violet, it hides itself in the bank, and sends
forth its fragrance from its deep retirement. True zeal employs no
trumpeter, it unfurls no banner, as the hypocrite does; but while conferring
the most substantial benefits, it would, if it were possible, be like the
angels, who while ministering to the heirs of salvation, are unseen and
unknown by the objects of their benevolent attention!
Observe the manner in which love operates to the
destruction of pride and vanity. Love, as we have already had frequent
occasion to remark, is a desire to promote the happiness of those around us;
but proud and vain people tend materially to impair this happiness. They
generally excite disgust, frequently offer insult, and sometimes inflict
pain. Their object is to impress you with a sense of their superiority—and
thus wound and mortify your feelings. Caring little for your peace, they
pursue a career of ridicule and scorn for others. They are dreaded by the
weak, and despised by the wise. It is impossible to be happy in their
society; for if you oppose them, you are insulted—if you submit to them, you
are depreciated and degraded.
Love is essentially and unalterably attended with
humility. Humility is the garment with which love is clothed—its
inseparable and invariable costume. By humility, we do not intend the
servility which crouches, or the lowliness that creeps, or the flattery
which fawns—but a disposition to think lowly of our attainments, a tendency
to dwell upon our defects rather than our excellences, an apprehension of
our inferiority compared with those around us—with what we ought to be—and
what we might be. It is always attended with that modest deportment, which
neither boasts of itself, nor seeks to depreciate anyone. Humility is the
inward feeling of meekness. Modesty is the outward expression of humility.
Humility leads a man to feel that he deserves little—modesty leads him to
demand little.
"The ancient sages, amid all their eulogies upon virtue,
and enquiries into the elements of moral excellence, not only valued
humility at an exceedingly low estimate—but reckoned it a quality so
contemptible as to neutralize the other properties which went, in their
estimation, to the composition of a truly noble and exalted character. These
sentiments have been adopted in modern times. By the touchstone which
Christianity applies to the human character, it is found that pride and
independence, which the world falsely dignifies with the epithet honorable,
are really base alloy; and that of every character, formed upon proper
principles, and possessed of genuine worth—humility is at once a
distinguishing feature, and the richest ornament. And on this subject, as on
every other, Christianity accords with the sentiments of right reason—that
it is unquestionably the duty of every intelligent creature, especially
every imperfect creature to be humble; for they have nothing which they have
not received, and are indebted, in every movement they make, to an agency
infinitely superior to their own."
Now, as divine revelation is the only system which either
in ancient or in modern times assigns to humility the rank of a virtue, or
makes provision for its cultivation, this in an eminent degree does both. It
assigns to it the highest place, and a sort of pre-eminence among the graces
of piety—bestows upon it the greatest commendations—enforces it by the most
powerful motives—encourages it by the richest promises—draws it into
exercise by the most splendid examples, and represents it as the brightest
jewel in the Christian's crown.
Everything in the word of God is calculated to humble
us—the description which it contains of the divine character, combining an
infinitude of greatness, goodness, and glory, compared with which the
loftiest being is an insignificant atom, and the purest heart as depravity
itself; the view it gives us of innumerable orders of created
intelligences—all above man in the date of their existence, the capacity of
their minds, and the elevation of their virtue; the account it preserves of
the intellectual and moral perfection of man in his pristine innocence, and
the discovery which it thus furnishes of the height from which he has
fallen, and the contrast it thus draws between his present and his former
nature; the declaration it makes of the purity of the eternal law, and the
immeasurable depth at which we are thus seen to lie beneath our obligations;
the history it exhibits of the circumstances of man's fall, of the progress
of his sin, and of the numberless and awful deviations of his corruptions;
the characteristics it affixes to his situation as a sinner, a rebel, an
enemy of God, a child of wrath, an heir of perdition; the method it
presents, by which he is redeemed from sin and hell—a scheme which he
neither invented, nor thought of, nor aided—but which is a plan of grace,
from first to last, even the grace of God, manifested in and through the
atoning sacrifice of Christ—a plan which, in all its parts, and in all its
bearings, seems expressly devised to exclude boasting; the means by which it
asserts that the renovation and sanctification of the human heart are
carried on, and its security to eternal life established even by the
effectual operation of a divine agency; the sovereignty which it proclaims,
as regulating the dispensations of celestial mercy; the examples which it
holds forth of the astonishing self-abasement of others, so far superior to
man in their mental and moral natures, such as the profound abasement of the
angelic race—but especially the unparalleled humiliation of Him, who, though
he was in the form of God, was found in the form of a servant.
These considerations, which are all drawn from the
Scriptures, supply incentives to humility, which demonstrate upon Christian
principles, that pride is the most unreasonable, as well as the most
unrighteous thing in the universe. Pride is opposed, and humility is
supported, by every possible view that we can take of divine revelation. An
acquaintance with these great principles of inspired truth, at least an
experimental knowledge of them, will bring down the loftiest of men's looks,
and silence the tongue of arrogant boasting. Surely, surely, he who is
conversant with these things will see little cause for self-exaltation and
pride; or for that self-publication, which is the essence of vanity.
While every true-hearted Christian is thankful that the
Son of God stooped so low for his salvation, he will rejoice that his state
of humiliation is past. "If you love me, you would rejoice, because I said,
I go unto the Father." The eclipse is over, the sun has resumed his original
brightness, and the heavenly world is illuminated with his rays. That man in
whom was no form nor loveliness for which he should be desired, sits upon
the throne of the universe, wearing a crown of immortal glory, and is adored
by angels and by men. His humility has conducted to honor; his sorrow has
terminated in unspeakable joy. "Through the victories you gave, his glory is
great; you have bestowed on him splendor and majesty. Surely you have
granted him eternal blessings and made him glad with the joy of your
presence." Psalm 21:5-6. Similar shall be the result in the case of those
who follow his steps, and tread the lowly path in which he has commanded
them to walk.
The crown of glory is reserved for the humble—but shame
shall be the reward of the proud. "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for
theirs is the kingdom of heaven." There is no operation of Christian love
more beautiful, none more scarce, than humility. Let professing Christians
set themselves to work on their own proud hearts, and their own boasting
tongues, remembering that they who sink the lowest in humility in this
world—shall assuredly rise to the highest honor in the world to come!
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