Christian Love,
or the Influence of Religion upon Temper
By John Angell James, 1828
THE JOY OF LOVE
"Love does not rejoice in iniquity—but rejoices in the
truth."
Keeping up the personification of love as presented by
the apostle, we may observe that it has its joys and its sorrows; and that
its smiles and its tears are the expressions of good will—the tokens of
benevolence.
We are first told in
what love does NOT take delight
in—"Love does not rejoice in INIQUITY."
Sin is, in itself, an evil of enormous magnitude. As
committed against a Being whom we are under infinite obligation to love, and
serve, and glorify, it must partake of infinite degrees of demerit. It is a
violation of that law, which as an emanation from the perfection of
God, is itself perfect, and well deserves the eulogy pronounced upon it by
the apostle, when he declares it to be "holy, and just, and good." As this
is the rule of government to the moral universe, and intended to preserve
its order, dependence, and harmony—sin, by opposing its authority, disturbs
this order, breaks this dependence, and seeks to introduce the reign of
confusion and misery.
None but the infinite mind of God is competent to
calculate the mischief which is likely to be produced by a single act of
sin—if left to itself without a remedy, or without a punishment. We have
only to see what sin has done, to judge of its most evil and hateful nature.
All the misery which either is or ever will be on earth, or in hell, is the
result of sin. It is the greatest evil—the only evil in the universe. It is
the opposite, and the enemy to God; the contrast of all that is pure and
glorious in his divine attributes and ineffably beautiful perfections; and
as such it is that which he cannot but hate with a perfect hatred. It is not
merely the opposite of his nature—but the opponent of his government—the
rebel principle that disputes with him for his seat of majesty and the
dominion of the universe, saying to him, "Thus far shall you go, and no
farther," seeking to cast him down from the throne which he has prepared in
the heavens, and to rise with impious usurpation into the holy place of the
high and lofty One. Sin would thus stop the fountain of life and
blessedness, by ending the reign of infinite beneficence; and is therefore
the enemy of everything that constitutes the felicity of the various orders
of rational existence. The happiness of angels and archangels, of cherubim
and seraphim, and of the spirits made perfect above, as well as of those who
are renewed by the grace of God on earth—arises from holiness—separate from
holiness, there can be no happiness for an intellectual being. Now sin is
the contrary of holiness, and thus the enemy of happiness. How, then, can
love delight in iniquity? If love wills the felicity of rational beings, it
must hate that which directly resists and extinguishes it.
And as love cannot delight in SIN in the abstract,
so neither can it take pleasure in committing it; for
whoever commits it, in so far approves of it—upholds its dominion—extends
its reign—diffuses its mischief, and does all he can to recommend it. If his
transgression be a common one, he gives the patronage of his example
to all of the same kind; and if it be a new one, he becomes an
inventor and propagator upon earth of a fresh curse and tormentor. That many
do delight in committing iniquity cannot be doubted; they follow it with
greediness, and drink it in as the thirsty ox drinks in water. The Scripture
speaks of the joys of fools, and of the pleasures of sin. Horrid as is the
association between sin and gratification, it certainly exists. Some men
have gone so far as to be self-murderers—but who ever took pleasure
in the act of destroying themselves? Who ever drank the poison as he would
wine, with a merry heart? Who ever dallied in sportive pleasure with the
pistol or the dagger, or wound the rope in jocularity round his throat,
before he strangled himself with it? Who ever went skipping with a light
elastic step to the edge of the precipice, or the brink of a river, from
which he was about to plunge into eternity? And yet sinners do all this in
reference to their souls. They commit self-murder, the murder of their
immortal spirits—to the song of the drunkard, the noise of music, the smile
of a harlot, and the laugh of a fool. They sin, and not only so—but
delight in iniquity. But "love does not rejoice in iniquity."
Nor can it delight in the sins of OTHERS. It
cannot do as fools do, "make a mock of sin." It is most horrid to find
pastime and sport in those acts of transgression by which men ruin their
souls. Some laugh at the reeling gait, and idiot looks, and maniac
gestures—of the drunkard, whom perhaps they have first led on to
intoxication, to afford them merriment. Or they are amused by the oaths of
the swearer, whose malice and revenge are at work to invent new forms of
profanity. Or they are made merry by the mischief with which the persecutors
of the righteous often oppose and interrupt the solemnity of worship. Or
they attack with raillery and scorn the tender consciences of the saints,
and loudly applaud the wit which aims its sharpened arrows against true
religion. But love weeps over sin, as that which brings the greatest
misery.
"SIN is the greatest and highest infelicity of the
creature. Sin depraves the soul within itself, vitiates its powers, deforms
its beauties, extinguishes its light, corrupts its purity, darkens its
glory, disturbs its tranquility and peace, violates its harmonious joyful
state and order, and destroys its very life. Sin alienates the soul from
God, severs it from him, engages his justice, and influences his wrath
against it. What! to rejoice in sin, that despites the Creator, and has
wrought such tragedies in creation! Sin turned angels out of heaven, man out
of paradise! Sin has made the blessed God so much a stranger to our
world—broken off the communion in so great a part between heaven and
earth—obstructed the pleasant commerce which had otherwise probably been
between angels and men—so vilely debased the nature of man, and provoked the
displeasure of his Maker towards him! Sin once overwhelmed the world with a
deluge of water, and will again ruin it by a destructive fire! To rejoice in
so hateful a thing as sin, is to do that mad part, to cast about firebrands,
arrows, and death, and say, 'Am I not in sport?'—it is to be glad that such
a one is turning a man into a devil! a reasonable, immortal soul, capable of
heaven, into a fiend of hell!—to be glad that such a soul is tearing itself
off from God, is blasting its own eternal hopes, and destroying all its
possibilities of a future well-being. Blessed God! how opposite a thing is
this to love—the offspring of God! Love is the birth of heaven, as it is
here below, among mortals; the beauty and glory of it, as it is there above,
in its natural seat. Love is the eternal bond of living union among the
blessed spirits who inhabit there, and which would make our world, did it
universally obtain here, another heaven." (Howe "On Love in reference to
other Men's Sins.")
No! Sin is the sport of devils! It is not for men who
feel the influence of love, to delight in sin. We justly condemn the cruelty
of the Romans, in glutting their eyes with the scenes of the amphitheater,
where the gladiators were torn in pieces by the fangs of lions and tigers;
but theirs was innocent recreation compared with that of the perverted and
wicked mind, which can be gratified by seeing an immortal creature ruining
and damning his most precious soul! Go, laugh at the agonies of the wretched
man tortured upon the rack, and make merry with his distorted features, and
strange and hideous cries—go, laugh at the convulsive throes of the
epileptic—go to the field of battle, and mock the groans of the wounded and
dying—all this is more humane and merciful than delighting in sin! Could we
look down upon the burning lake, and see there how the miserable spectres
are tossed upon the billows of the burning deep, and hear their dreadful
exclamations, "Who can dwell with devouring fire? Who can dwell with
everlasting burnings?"—would we then amuse ourselves with sin? Love does
thus look upon their misery, so far as her imagination goes, and feels a
cold horror and a shivering dread. She mourns over sin wheresoever she sees
it, and weeps for those who never weep for themselves. This is her
declaration, as she looks around upon the sins of mankind—"Rivers of water
run down my eyes, because they keep not your law."
Love cannot delight in the misconduct of an enemy or a
rival. This perhaps is the precise meaning of the apostle, in the
expression we are now illustrating. Few of us are without some one or more
who are considered by us, or who consider themselves, in the character of an
opponent or a competitor; and in such cases there is great danger of our
being pleased with their moral failures. It is not often that any, except
those who are more than ordinarily depraved, will allow themselves to go so
far as to tempt an enemy to sin, in order to gain the advantage over
him. Yet there are some who will lay snares for his feet, and watch with
eager hope for his halting—and when unable to accomplish this by their own
personal exertions, will not scruple to engage accomplices in the work.
Weaker and junior agents, who probably may know nothing, or know but little
of the purpose for which they are employed, may be drawn by the 'master
spirit of mischief' into the confederacy, and be made the instrument of
tempting an immortal creature to sin against God, and ruin his own soul.
This is the climax of revenge, the highest pitch of wickedness, and the
greatest intensity of human malice. It is to extend the mischief of revenge
to another world; to call in the aid of devils and the quenchless fire to
supply the defects of our ability to inflict misery in proportion to our
wishes, and to perpetuate our ill will through eternity. To tempt men to sin
against God, with a view to serve ourselves by degrading them before the
world—unites much of the malevolence of a devil, with as much of his
ingenuity.
But if we cannot go to such a length as to tempt an
opponent or a rival to sin, yet if we feel a delight in seeing him fall
by other means; if we indulge a secret delight in beholding him
rendering himself vile, blasting his reputation, destroying his popularity,
and ruining his cause; if we inwardly exclaim, "Ah! so would I have it—now
it is all over with him—this is just what I wished and wanted"—then we
delight in iniquity. And, oh, how inexpressibly dreadful to be seen with a
smiling countenance—or a countenance which, if it relaxes not into a smile,
is sufficiently indicative of the joyful state of the heart, to run with
eagerness to proclaim the news of that act of another which endangers his
salvation—how contrary is all this to the love which delights in happiness!
Perhaps we only go so far as to be pleased that the
object of our dislike has been himself injured in a way similar to that in
which he has injured us. Although we may not allow ourselves to inflict
any direct injury in the way of revenge, nor engage others to do it for
us—yet if we see him ill treated by another person, and rejoice; if we
exclaim, "I do not pity him, he has deserved it all for his behavior to me;
I am glad he has received what he has deserved; "this is contrary to the law
of love—it is a delight in sin.
Nor is the case altered, if our joy be professedly felt
on account of the consequences which the sin has brought upon him. We
may sometimes attempt to deceive ourselves by the supposition that we do not
rejoice in the iniquity that is committed—but only because it has been
succeeded by those bitter fruits which the misconduct has merited. We
interpret it into a proof that God has taken up the cause of injured
innocence, and avenged us of our adversary.
There are many circumstances and situations which more
particularly expose us to the violation of this law of love. In the case of
two different denominations in religion, or two congregations of the same
party in a town, between whom a misunderstanding and schism have been
permitted to grow up and to operate, there is imminent danger of this
unchristian spirit. Alas! alas! that the bosom of men should be liable to
such sentiments! Oh! shame, deep and lasting shame, upon some professing
Christians, that such unhallowed emotions should ever be excited in their
bosoms! "Tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the streets of Askelon, lest
the daughters of the Philistines rejoice; lest the daughters of the
uncircumcised triumph." Let it not be known that the bad passions of the
human heart build their nests, like obscene birds, around the altar of the
Lord; or, like poisonous weeds, entwine their baneful tendrils around the
pillars of his house.
We do not mean to say that any good man can
rejoice in the open immorality and vice of an opponent; but are there not
many, in all large communities, who, though of Israel in one sense, belong
not to it in reality? And where the failure does not proceed to the length
of a more awful delinquency—but consists merely of some minor breaches of
the law of propriety, are not even the best of men sometimes exposed to the
temptation of rejoicing over them, if their cause is promoted by them? The
weaker party, especially if they have been ill-used, treated with pride and
scorn, oppression and cruelty, are very apt to take delight in those
instances of misconduct by which their opponents have brought upon
themselves, the prejudices of the public.
Rival candidates for fame, or power, or
influence—whether in ecclesiastical or secular affairs—are liable to the sin
of rejoicing in iniquity. Hard, indeed, is it for such hearts as ours to
repress all feelings of secret delight in those acts of a competitor by
which he sinks—and we are raised in public esteem. That man gives himself
credit for more virtue than he really possesses—who finds it easy to rejoice
over the follies and miscarriages of the rival who contends with him—or the
sins of an enemy who has deeply injured him. Job mentions it as a convincing
proof of his integrity, and a striking display of good conduct—that he did
not rejoice at his enemy's misfortune, or gloat over the trouble which came
to him. (Job 31:29). And it was a fine manifestation of the generosity of
David, that instead of rejoicing over those sins which brought on the
catastrophe of Saul—which elevated him to the throne of Israel—he
bewailed them with as sincere and pungent grief as he could have done had
Saul been the kindest of fathers. That we are in danger of the sin we are
now considering, is also evident from the exhortation of Solomon—"Rejoice
not when your enemy falls, and let not your heart be glad when he stumbles."
Love, if it had full possession of our hearts, and entire
sway, would not only repress all outward exhibitions of this delight—but all
inward emotions; would make us dread lest an opponent should fall into sin;
would not allow us to see him go unwarned to transgression—but compel us to
admonish him of his danger; and would make us cheerfully forego the greatest
advantage to our cause or reputation, which we might gain by his misconduct.
This is the holiness of love, and the proof of a general hatred for sin; for
if we mourn only for our own sins, or the sins of our friends, or of our
party—there may be something selfish in our grief after all. But to mourn
over iniquity, when though it does harm to another, it may, in some sense,
promote our cause—is indeed to hate sin for its own sake, and for the sake
of Him by whom it is condemned.
We go on now to show,
what love DOES rejoice in—"Love
rejoices in the TRUTH."
By the truth we are not to understand veracity as
opposed to falsehood. The apostle is not speaking of this subject. The truth
means the doctrine of the Word of God. This is a very common way of
describing the revealed will of God in the Scriptures. "Sanctify them by
your truth," said our Lord—"your word is truth." The truth itself
is the object of delight to love. Truth is the most glorious thing in
the universe, next to God and holiness. It has been the great object of
mental pursuits since the creation of the world; millions of minds have
traveled in quest of it; philosophers profess to be so enamored even with
the very term, that they have worshiped it as a mere abstraction, which,
after all, they could not understand. What contentions has it originated—to
what systems has it given rise—what dogmatism has it been the occasion of!
And yet, after all, apart from Scriptural revelation, what is it but a mere
name! This gives it reality and form—this tells us where it is, what it is,
and how it is to be obtained. Here we learn that the glorious Gospel of the
blessed God, and all the doctrines it includes or implies, IS THE TRUTH. The
question is answered, proposed by Pilate to the illustrious prisoner at his
bar, and the oracle of heaven has declared that the Scriptures are the
truth. And the truth is the object of delight to love; the bright star,
yes, the full-orbed sun, that enlightens love's eye, and points out the
resting place of its heart. And it can rejoice in nothing else. Falsehood,
and error, and the devices of the human mind, are the objects of its disgust
and abhorrence.
It is evident, then, as we have already shown, that love
differs essentially from that vague kind of sentimentalism which is so much
cried up at present, both without and within the pale of the church; which
scorns to proceed upon the Scripture ground of the truth and its genuine
influence; reviling, as narrow-mindedness, and an uncharitable intolerant
spirit, all regard to particular doctrines—but which extends its
indiscriminate embrace, and pays its idle and unmeaning compliments to all
people, of whatever religious persuasion, presuming that they are all
serious and mean well, however much they differ from each other,
or from the Scripture, in sentiment or in practice. One of the maxims of
this spurious toleration, as we have already considered, is, that there is
no moral turpitude in mental error; and that everything is non-essential
which does not relate to the interests of morality. How widely this
'counterfeit liberality' differs from the apostolic love, is evident from
the fact which we are now considering, and by which we are told that love
delights in the truth. For the truth, love will be zealous, as for an
object dearer than life itself. For the truth, love will be ready to
set the seal of blood, and not resign or betray it through fear of the gloom
of the captive's dungeon, or dread of the martyr's stake. Truth is its joy
in love's life—its support in death. Truth is the dear companion of love's
pilgrimage on earth, and its eternal associate in the felicities of heaven.
But as the truth is here opposed to iniquity—the apostle
especially intended to state that HOLINESS is the object of delight to
love. Holiness is the natural and appropriate effect of the truth
believed. No man can receive the truth—in the love of it—without bringing
forth the fruits of righteousness, which are by Jesus Christ unto the glory
of God. It is the delight of this pure and heavenly grace of love, to
contemplate holiness wherever it is to be found. Ascending to the celestial
world, it joins the choirs of the cherubim, to look upon the spotless One,
and with them to give utterance to its ecstasies, in the short but sublime
anthem, "Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty!" Undismayed by the roar
of thunder, and the sound of the trumpet, and the voice of words; by the
thick darkness, and the vivid lightnings, and the agitation of the quaking
earth—love ventures near the base of Sinai, and, for the delight that it has
in holiness, rejoices in the LAW which is the rule of righteousness. The
ANGELS are pleasant to behold, because they are clad in garments of
unsullied purity.
The crown of glory which Adam wore before his fall was
his innocence; and the deep degradation into which he fell by his apostasy,
was loss of holiness, in which consisted the image of God. The ceremonial
LAW has an excellence in the eye of love, because it teaches the value of
holiness in the view of God, and the necessity of it for man. The PROPHETIC
VISIONS are all delighted in, because they are distinguished by the beauties
of holiness; and the whole GOSPEL of Jesus is dear to the heart of love,
because it is intended to purify unto Christ a church—which he will present
to the Father, without spot, wrinkle, or blemish. MEN are esteemed and loved
on earth, as they have this moral excellence of holiness, enstamped upon
their souls; and in looking for a HEAVEN which shall satisfy all its
desires, it can think of nothing higher and better, than a state of sinless
purity!
So ardent and so uniform is love's regard to holiness,
that it rejoices in it when it is found—even in an enemy or a rival. Yes; if
we are under the influence of this divine virtue of love—as we ought to be,
we shall desire, and desire very fervently too, that those who have
displeased or injured us—may be better than they are. We shall wish to see
every 'speck of imperfection' gone from their conduct, and their whole
character standing out to the admiration of the world, and receiving the
approbation of those by whom they are now condemned. We shall be willing to
do anything by which they may conciliate to themselves the favor of the
alienated multitude; and also raise themselves to the vantage ground on
which their misconduct has placed us above them. This is love—to
rejoice in those moral excellences, and gaze upon them with gratitude and
delight, which invest the character of one that opposes us with loveliness
and beauty—and by which his cause is promoted, in some degree to the
detriment of ours.
Men of little virtue may sometimes join from social
policy—in those commendations of another's goodness, the justice of which
they cannot dispute, and the harmony of which they cannot disturb. But it is
only the Christian, who is far advanced in the practice of all that is
difficult in religion—who can secretly rejoice, without envy or jealousy, in
those very virtues which draw away the public attention from himself—and
cause him to pass into eclipse and to sink into shadow.
"O LOVE! this is your work, and this your
glory—a work too rarely performed—a glory too rarely seen—in this region of
selfishness, in this world of imperfection; where, of the multitudes who
profess to submit to your sway—there are still so few who are really
governed by your laws, and inspired by your influence!"
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