Christian Love,
or the Influence of Religion upon Temper
By John Angell James, 1828
THE DECORUM OF LOVE
"Love does not behave itself unseemly."
"A station for every person, and every person in
his station—a time for everything, and everything in its time—a
manner for everything, and everything in its manner"—is a compendious
and admirable rule for human conduct; and seems to approach very nearly to
the property of love, which we are now to consider. There is some difficulty
in ascertaining the precise idea which the apostle intended by the original
term. Perhaps the most correct rendering is "indecorously" that is,
unsuitable, improper, inappropriate, unfitting, or unbecoming—to our sex,
rank, age, or circumstances. Love leads a man to know his place, and to keep
it; and prevents all those deviations which, by disarranging the order,
disturb the comfort of society.
This is so general and comprehensive a rule, that it
would admit of application to all the various distinctions which exist in
life. It is absolutely universal, and binds with equal force the monarch and
the peasant, and all the numerous intermediate ranks. It imposes a
consistency between a man's station and his conduct, viewed in the light of
Christianity. It says to every man, "Consider your circumstances, and
fulfill every just expectation to which they give rise." By the common
consent of mankind, there is a certain line of conduct which belongs to
every relation in life, and which cannot, perhaps, be better expressed, than
by the word "becomingness," and which may be called the symmetry of society.
We may select a few of the
more prominent distinctions of society, and see how love preserves them
without giving offense.
The relation of
monarch and subject
is one of the social ties; and in reference
to this, love would prevent the ruler from employing the kingly power
to crush the liberty, subvert the interests, or impoverish the resources of
his people—while it would equally prevent the subject from despising
the position, exposing the defects, evading the authority, disturbing the
peace, or embarrassing the reign of the monarch. Tyranny on the part of the
prince—and rebellion on the part of the subject, are equally unbecoming, and
both are hostile to that love which seeks the happiness of the whole.
The distinction of
male and female
is to be supported by all propriety of conduct. On the part of the man,
if he be single, all trifling with the affections, all brashness, all taking
advantage of the weakness of the other sex, is explicitly forbidden. If he
is married, all neglect, oppression, and unkindness towards his wife, is
explicitly forbidden. What a horrid inappropriateness is it on the part of a
husband to become either the slave or the tyrant of his
wife—either in pitiful weakness to abdicate the throne of domestic
government, or to make her a crouching vassal trembling in its shadow! And
how disgusting a spectacle is it to see a husband abandoning the society of
his wife for the company of other females, and flirting, though perhaps with
no criminal intention, with either single or married women.
On the other hand, how unseemly in unmarried
women, is a bold obtrusiveness of manner, an impudent forwardness of
address, a clamorous and monopolizing strain of conversation, an evident
attempt to attract the attention of the other sex. Modesty is the brightest
ornament of the female character—its very becomingness. And women, if
married, should be keepers at home, and not gossips abroad—should look
well to the ways of their household, and preside over its affairs in the
meekness of wisdom; for domestic indolence and neglect is in a wife
and a mother most improper! Nor is it less offensive to see the female head
of a family usurping the seat of government, and reducing her husband to the
rank of mere vassal to the 'queen'. Women never act more unsuitable than
when they become meddling busybodies—either in politics or church affairs.
Nothing can be more offensive than to see a female busybody running from
house to house to raise a party, and to influence an ecclesiastical
decision; forgetting that her place is home, and her duty to learn in
silence from her husband. Whatever admiration has been bestowed on the
heroic females of Sparta, who fought by the side of their husbands, no such
eulogy can be offered to ecclesiastical heroines, whose martial ardor leads
them into the arena of church contentions. Christian love would repress all
unfit, indecorous zeal.
Parents and children
will be guarded by love, if they yield to its influence, from all unbecoming
conduct. Fathers will neither be tyrannical nor too indulgent; will
neither govern their children as slaves with a rod of iron, nor relaxing all
discipline, throw the reins into their children's hands. For how incongruous
is tyranny with a relation that implies the tenderest affection—and how
unseemly is a cessation of rule in one who is invested by heaven with a
sacred authority. Becomingness on the part of children requires the
most prompt and willing obedience, the most genuine and manifest affection,
the most respectful and humble demeanour towards parents, with the most
anxious and ingenuous endeavors to promote their parent's happiness.
Everything approaching to improper familiarity, much more to pertness, most
of all to unmanageability of manner, in a child towards a parent, is
unbecoming in the last degree. In those cases where the high moral and
intellectual qualities of parents are such as almost to command the exercise
of filial piety from children, there is no difficulty in rendering it. But
where these qualities are not possessed by the parents, there is greater
danger of young people forgetting what is due to the parental relation, and
acting very improperly towards those who, whatever may be their faults, are
still their parents. It is excessively unbecoming to hear children of any
age, however matured or advanced, exposing, perhaps ridiculing, their
parents' infirmities, treating their opinions with scorn, reproving or
upbraiding them to their face. Let all young people recollect that whatever
may be the character of a parent, "a mother is a mother still—the holiest
thing alive."
In the realm of employment—the distinctions of
superiors and inferiors—it
is very easy to see what kind of conduct is seemly, and what is unsuitable.
To the superior, becomingness will prohibit all improper
familiarity—for this generates contempt; and at the same time all pride and
arrogance, together with all insulting condescension. Inferiors are most
tenderly alive, most keenly susceptible of all real or supposed slights from
those above them and the feelings excited by such treatment are of the most
painful kind. Pride is the most cruel of the passions, being utterly
reckless of the wounds which it inflicts, the groans which it extorts, or
the tears which it causes to flow. Even in its mildest exercise, by a
look of scorn, by a word of insult, it often transfixes a barbed arrow in
the bosom of an inferior; while by its deliberate and persevering scheme of
mortification, it remorselessly crucifies the object of its contempt. O, how
unbecoming to employ superiority only as an eminence from whence, as with a
sort of vulture ferocity, we might pounce with greater force on a victim
below! Dignified affability is the becomingness of superiority, which while
it does not remove the line of distinction, does not render it painfully
visible. Love will make us cautious not to wound the feelings of others by
talking to them of our superiority, or by making them in any way feel it.
On the part of inferiors, it will prevent all
encroaching familiarity—all presuming upon manifested kindness—all attempt,
or even wish, to level the distinctions of society—all crude, uncourteous,
uncivil demeanor. Some people seem to act as if religion removed the
obligation to civility, declared war with courtesy, and involved a man in
hostility with whatever things are lovely. Incivility or rudeness manifested
by the poor to the rich, by servants to masters, or by the illiterate to the
well-informed—is unfriendly to the peace and good order of society, and
therefore contrary to Christian love.
Old age and youth are
also distinctions requiring a suitable or becoming line of conduct. Levity,
silliness, and folly, are among the qualities which would be indecorous in
the elder. While obtrusiveness, forwardness, excessive talkativeness,
and obstinacy, would be unseemly in the latter. Elders should treat youth
with kindness and forbearance; while youth should treat elders with
reverence, respect, and deference.
These distinctions, when carried into the church, where
they exist as well as in the world, should be maintained under the most
powerful influence of the holy disposition which we are now illustrating.
This will teach us with all toleration and impartiality to judge of our
station, and to adorn it with actions that are suitable to it. Anything
unbecoming is sure to give offense, and to produce discomfort. Whether our
rank be high or low—we cannot violate the rule which prescribes its duties,
without occasioning pain.
Men are united in society like the organs and limbs in
the human body; and no one, in either case, can be put out of its place
without producing uneasiness in the rest. The object of love is to keep all
in their proper places, and thus to promote the well-being of the whole.
There is another sense which this expression will bear,
and that is, love does not
allow its possessor to act unworthy of his profession as a disciple of
Christ. Consistency is beauty, and the
lack of it, whatever excellences may exist, is deformity. The brightest
displays of moral worth in some things, if associated with obvious and great
improprieties in others—lose all their attraction and power to edify or
delight—and are the occasion of pain instead of pleasure to the spectator.
The rule which the apostle has laid down is particularly worthy of the
attention of us all—"Whatever things are lovely, whatever things are
of good report, if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise,
think of these things." It is not enough for us to acknowledge practically
the claims of truth, purity, and justice—but we must also meet and answer
every expectation which our profession and our principles have raised.
Whatever is generally esteemed to be lovely—whatever is usually spoken of as
excellent—whatever it be to which by general consent we attach the idea of
the attractive, and the honorable, and the praiseworthy—that must a follower
of Christ consider to be the matter of his duty.
There is nothing good in itself, or advantageous to
others—nothing that is calculated to edify by the power of example, or to
bless in the way of direct energy and influence—nothing that is calculated
to give pleasure or to remove distress—but what is implied in the very
nature of true piety. True religion is the likeness of God in the soul of
man—and a Christian is truly an imitator of God—hence he is called "to walk
worthy of God,"—to act as becomes one who professes to bear the divine
image. Let anyone contemplate the moral attributes of God—and think what
that man ought to be, who professes to give to the world, as a living
miniature representation of this infinitely glorious Being! On the
ground of consistency he should be blameless and harmless; a follower only
of that which is good; holy in all manner of conversation and godliness; a
beautiful specimen of whatever is noble, dignified, generous, and useful.
The world takes us at our word; they accept our
profession as the rule of their expectation; and although they often look
for too much, considering the present imperfect state of human nature, yet
to a certain extent their demands are authorized by our own declarations.
What in reason may not be looked for, from one who professes to have
received the temper of heaven, the impress of eternity, the nature of God?
Hence, the least 'deviations from rectitude' are apparent in those who
profess such things; the least 'specks of imperfection' are conspicuous on
so bright a ground; faults stand out in bold and obtrusive prominence, on
such a profession. Our profession invites the eye of scrutiny—we are not
allowed to pass the ordeal of public opinion without the most rigid
scrutiny; we are brought out from obscurity, and held up to be examined in
the light of the sun. Failings which would escape detection in others, are
quickly discerned and loudly proclaimed in us; and it is therefore of
immense consequence that we should take care what manner of people we are.
Without consistency, even our good, will be evil spoken of. The least
violation of this rule will attach suspicion to the most distinguished
virtues, and bring discredit on the best of our actions.
A lack of consistency, is a violation of the law of love
in various ways. By exciting a prejudice against true religion, it does
harm to the souls of men. It makes them satisfied with their state as
unconverted people, by leading them to consider all other professors of true
religion, as a hypocrite. It is very true that this is unfair; that it is
attending more to exceptions than the general rule; that it is giving
credence to little things, and allowing them to have an influence which is
denied to the greater and more prevailing parts of the character. But as
this is their way, it makes every departure from consistency on our part,
not only sinful—but injurious—not only guilty in the sight of God—but cruel
towards man.
The minor faults of Christians do more harm, in the
way of hardening the heart of sinners, than the greatest excesses of the
openly wicked; for this reason—that nothing else is expected from the
latter. Their conduct excites no surprise, and produces no disappointment.
We have not been sufficiently aware of this—we have confined our attention
too exclusively to the avoiding of open immorality—we have not directed our
solicitude enough to "the whatever things are lovely and of good report." To
the question, "What do you do, more than others?" we have thought it enough
to answer, "We are more pure, more true, more devotional, more zealous,"
without being careful to be more dignified, more honorable, more generous in
all things. Little things have been forgotten in the contemplation of great
ones; secret faults have been lost sight of in the abhorrence of
presumptuous sins.
A lack of becomingness is a violation of the law of love
in another way—it excites a prejudice against our brethren, and
involves them in our failings. By inconsistent conduct, we bring suspicion
upon others, and thus subject them to much undeserved ridicule. The world
deals unfairly with us we admit, not only making us answerable for the
conduct of each other—but also in imputing only our 'failings' to all other
Christians; for however splendid and remarkable may be the Christian
excellences that any of our number possess, however brilliant the example of
a rare and eminent believer may be, they do not let his brightness fall upon
the rest. He is alone in his 'excellences'—but his 'sins' are generally
imputed to all Christians—and the shadow of one transgression is made to
stretch, perhaps, over a whole community. What an argument is this with us
all for consistency—for what cruelty is it to our brethren to involve
them in unmerited reproach—by our inconsistencies!
Besides, what a grief of mind is the unworthiness of
one member—to all who are associated with him in the fellowship of the
Gospel. When a member of a church has acted unbecomingly, and caused the
ways of godliness to be spoken badly of—what a wound has been inflicted on
the body! For if one member suffers in his reputation, all the rest must, so
far as their peace is concerned, suffer with him. This is one of the finest
displays of Christian sympathy—one of the purest exhibitions of love—of love
to God, to Christ, to man, to holiness. The misconduct of their erring
brother has occasioned no loss to them of worldly substance, or bodily ease,
or social comfort; but it has dishonored Christ, has injured, in public
estimation, the cause of true religion, and this has touched the tenderest
chord of the renewed heart.
What affliction has sometimes been circulated through a
whole church by the unbecoming behavior of a single member! The apostle has
given a very striking proof of this, in his representation of the feelings
of the Corinthian church, after they had taken a right view of the
delinquency of the incestuous person. "Just see what this godly sorrow
produced in you! Such earnestness, such concern to clear yourselves, such
indignation, such alarm, such zeal, and such a readiness to punish the
wrongdoer." This is only a counter-part of what often happens now, and shows
that everything unseemly is a most flagrant offense against the rule of
Christian love.
Unbecomingness may be considered also not only in a
general point of view—but as having reference to our conduct
towards our BRETHREN—and may mean anything unsuitable to, or out of
character with, our profession as church members. Improper treatment of the
pastor, is obviously a lack of the decorum of love. If his office be
disesteemed, and his scriptural authority resisted; if attempts be made to
lower him in the opinion of the church, and to deprive him of the rule with
which he is invested by the Lord Jesus Christ; if his opinion is treated
with disrespect, and his just influence over the feelings of his flock be
undermined; if he be rudely and impertinently addressed; if he be
unnecessarily opposed in his schemes for public or private usefulness; if
his sermons be despised or neglected, and his ecclesiastical administration
treated with suspicion or contempt; if his temporal support be scantily or
grudgingly afforded; if his comfort be not carefully consulted and
assiduously built up—there is a flagrant unbecomingness on the part of
church members, who are enjoined to "obey those who have the rule over
them," "to esteem them very highly in love for their work's sake," and "to
hold such in honor."
Lust for power, and an ambitious desire for dominating
influence, is manifestly unbecoming in one who acknowledges
himself the member of a society where all are equals, and all are the
servants of a Master who has thus addressed his disciples—"You know that in
this world kings are tyrants, and officials lord it over the people beneath
them. But among you it should be quite different. Whoever wants to be a
leader among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must
become your slave. For even I, the Son of Man, came here not to be served
but to serve others, and to give my life as a ransom for many." Matthew
20:25-28.
A love of power seems almost inherent in the human
bosom, and is an operation of that selfishness which enters so deeply into
the essence of original sin. Nothing can be more opposed to love than this.
Unbridled ambition, in its progress through its bustling and violent
career—is the most unsocial and uncharitable passion that can exist. The
furies are its allies, and it tramples down in its course all the charities
and courtesies of life. When this disposition has taken full possession of
the heart, there is no cruelty which it will hesitate to inflict, no
desolation of which it will scruple to be the cause. The lesser exhibitions
of this vice, and its more moderated energies, will still be attended with
some proofs of its unsocial nature. Let a man once desire to be preeminent
and predominant, as it respects influence or power, and he will not be very
regardless of the feelings of those whom he desires to subjugate.
It is much to be deplored that the Christian church
should ever be the field where rival candidates for power struggle for
superiority! Yet how often has this been seen to be the case, not merely in
the Catholic conclave, where aspiring cardinals have put in motion all their
artifice, and finesse, and duplicity, to gain the tiara; not merely among
mitred prelates for a higher seat on the episcopal bench—no; but also among
the lay-brethren of an independent church. How anxious and restless have
they sometimes appeared—to be leading men, influential members, the most
admired minister, and the ruling elders of the church. They must not
only be consulted in everything—but consulted first. Every plan must
emanate from them, or else be approved by them before it is submitted to the
rest. The apostle has drawn their picture to the life, where he says—"I
wrote to the church, but Diotrephes, who loves to be first, will have
nothing to do with us. So if I come, I will call attention to what he is
doing, gossiping maliciously about us. Not satisfied with that, he refuses
to welcome the brothers. He also stops those who want to do so and puts them
out of the church." 3 John 1:9-10
Such an individual must be a source of discomfort to his
brethren in communion. There may be no competitor with him for the scepter
who regards him with envy—but the whole community are grieved and offended
with his unlovely and encroaching disposition. It is pretty evident to me
that Diotrephes was a minister; but the features of this picture apply with
equal force to an ambitious and aspiring layman, whose lust of power is
still more censurable, as it has not even the basis of office to rest upon.
There are cases, it is admitted, in which experience,
wisdom, benevolence, and activity, are so beautifully combined in an
individual—as to place him, more by general consent than by his own
efforts—above all his brethren in influence. When he opens his mouth in
wisdom, all are silent—and the pastor hearkens with the rest in respectful
deference to his opinion. No one would think of proposing any scheme until
he had been consulted, and his disapproval mildly expressed would be thought
a sufficient reason for laying it aside. He has power—but it has come to him
without his seeking it, and it is employed, not to exalt himself—but to
benefit the church. His sway is the influence of love—and all that influence
is employed by him, not to raise himself into a rival with his pastor for
the upper seat in the church—but to support the authority and dignity of the
pastoral office. Such men we have sometimes seen in our communities, and
they have been a blessing to the people and a comfort to the minister. If
any individuals could have been found in the circle where they moved, so
flippant and so forward as to treat them with the least degree of
disrespect, everyone would have been loud in the expression of their
disapprobation of such an act of censurable indecorum.
Unseemliness in the conduct of a church member towards
his brethren, applies to all that is rude, unmannerly, or uncivil.
"No ill-bred man," says Adam Clarke, in his comments on this word, "or what
is commonly termed rude or unmannerly, is a consistent Christian. I never
wish to meet with those who affect to be called 'blunt, honest
men'—who feel themselves above all the forms of civility and respect—and
care not how many they put to pain—how many they displease."
There is much good sense in these remarks, that deserves
the attention of all professing Christians who have the credit of true
religion, and the comfort of their brethren at heart. It is inconceivable
what a great degree of unnecessary distress is occasioned by a disregard of
this rule, and how many hearts are continually bleeding from the wounds
inflicted by incivility and rudeness! We should be careful to avoid this;
for true piety gives no man a release from the courtesies of life! In
our private communion with our brethren, we should be anxious to give
no offense. If we feel it our duty at any time, as we sometimes may and
ought, to expostulate with a brother on the impropriety of his conduct, we
should be most studiously cautious to abstain from all appearance of what is
impertinently meddlesome, or offensively blunt. Reproof, or even admonition,
is rarely palatable—even when administered with the honied sweetness of
Christian kindness. But it is wormwood and gall when mingled up with
uncourteousness, and will generally be rejected with disdain and disgust. We
must never think of acting the part of a reprover, until we have put on
humility as a garment, and taken up the law of kindness in our lips.
Nothing is more likely to lead to incivility, than
repeated and vexatious interruptions when engaged in some
interesting or important business, or when required to comply with
unreasonable requests. I have known cases in which, when application has
been made for what the applicant thought to be a very reasonable matter, his
request has been treated with such scorn, and denied with such abruptness
and coarseness of manner, as to send him home with an arrow in his heart;
when a few moments spent in explanation, or a denial given in kind and
respectful language, would have completely satisfied him.
It is admitted that it is somewhat trying, and it is a
trial of very common occurrence in the present day, to be called from
important occupations to listen to tales of woe, to read the statement of
need, or to answer the enquiries of ignorance; but still we must not be,
ought not to be, crude. Sudden interruptions are apt to throw a man off his
guard—he has scarcely time to call into exercise his principles, before his
passions are up and busy. It is said of Mr. Romaine, that he was one day
called upon by a poor woman in distress of soul, for the purpose of gaining
instruction and consolation. The good man was busy in his study; and on
being informed that a poor woman wanted to converse with him below,
exclaimed with great incivility of manner, "Tell her I cannot attend to
her!" The humble applicant, who was within hearing distance, said, "Ah, Sir!
your Master would not have treated thus a burdened penitent who came to him
for mercy." "No, no!" replied the good man, softened by an appeal which his
heart could not resist, "he would not—come in, come in!"
Too, too often has the same petulant indecorum been
manifested by others, without being accompanied by the same reparation—they
have pierced the heart, and left the wound to fester—the petitioners have
carried away from their door their misery not only unrelieved—but greatly
aggravated. But there is a peculiar sensitiveness on the subject of monetary
contributions in some people—to ask for them is an offense, which they pay
back in insult. They are the Nabals of the church—if, indeed, the church
could have a Nabal. What can be more unseemly than words which would
disgrace a man—dropping from the lips of a professing Christian!
Unbecoming rudeness should be most sedulously avoided, in
our public communion with the church, and in our social circles, when
meeting as brethren. Everything of flat contradiction, of unwarrantable
suspicion concerning the truth of a statement; all seeming contempt for the
opinions of others; all attempts to interrupt or bear down by clamor and
vehemence, those with whom we may be engaged in discussion, should be very
anxiously abstained from. It is truly painful to observe, what an utter
disregard for the feelings of their brethren is often manifested by some
ardent sticklers for their own opinions and plans. But is not courteousness
a Christian grace? Did not the apostle say, 'Be courteous'? Why should that
which is considered by the world, as a rich decoration of character, as
softening and embellishing the communion of society, and as so important and
necessary as to be placed under the guardianship of what is called the law
of honor—why should courteousness ever be considered as of little importance
in the business of true religion, and the fellowship of the faithful? If
rudeness be considered as a blemish upon talents, rank, and fame—must it not
be viewed also as a blot and deformity upon piety? Most certainly it is
regarded as such those whose concern to do whatever would give pleasure, and
to avoid whatever would occasion distress.
We see in this subject the wonderful excellence of
Christianity as a code of morals, a rule of conduct, and a body of
principles. For in addition to specific laws, intended to operate in the
production of certain virtues and the prevention of certain vices—it has
general and comprehensive precepts, capable of universal application—of so
plain a nature as to be understood by the dullest intellect—and possessing
at the same time a kind of beauty which gives them an interest in every
heart. So that if in the specialities of Christian morals, properly so
called, any case should be overlooked, or any situation should not be
reached—any distinction between virtue and vice should be so minute as to be
imperceptible—any delicacy of character so refined as not to be taken into
the account—here is something to supply the defect, and render the law of
God perfect for converting the soul. Love does nor act unbecomingly!
And who is so ignorant, if he would but consult his conscience, as not to
know what would be thought by others unbecoming in himself?
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