An Earnest Ministry—the
Need of the Times
John Angell James, 1847
EXAMPLES OF EARNESTNESS
The "power of example" is proverbial. We are constituted to be moved, as
well as directed, by 'example'. It teaches us how to act, and impels us to
action. Hence the excellence of Scripture; it is a book of models—as
well as of maxims. Towering above all the rest, standing out in bold
relief beyond all the others, is the character of
CHRIST.
He is an example of all excellence, and an example to all people. To the
ministers of the gospel, his beautiful and perfect embodiment of all that is
holy and lovely commends itself with peculiar energy. He was himself a
minister of the gospel, sent by the Father in the same manner as he has sent
others. He is the great model, the Divine archetype as a preacher and a
teacher, which they are to copy. He is to be imitated in the manner
as well as in the matter of his preaching; he is to be closely and
constantly followed in his liveliness, his tenderness, his fidelity, his
solemnity. We of all men are under the most solemn obligations to tread in
his steps and do as he did.
But I now select from all his qualities, his
earnestness. In this, as well as in everything else, he surpassingly
excelled all his most devoted servants. When he came into the world, he
said, "Lo, I come, in the volume of the book it is written of me, I delight
to do your will, O God." When he emerged from his obscurity at Nazareth, and
entered on his public ministry, he commenced a career of increasing and
untiring activity. His eye, his heart, his tongue, embraced one object, and
one only—the salvation of souls. We see him always in action, never in
repose. Follow him where we will, we find him always working, preaching,
praying, or weeping—but never loitering. He gathered up the very fragments
of his time, when waiting in the house of Martha for his food, and when
waiting at the well of Samaria while his disciples had gone into the city to
purchase provisions, and employed those brief intervals in doing good. He
was the compassionate Savior—and not the cold and heartless philosopher. His
preaching was the breathing of a soul replete with love—his common
conversation was the overflowing of mercy. He was not a mere
'personification of reason'—but an 'incarnation of love'; and sent forth not
the moon-beams of a cold and clear intellectualism—but the sun-rays of a
fervid and fructifying benevolence.
To save souls he scrupled not to go, where but for this
object we would have never seen him—to feasts and weddings, as well as
funerals. From the hour when he thus addressed his mother, "Know you not I
must be about my Father's business," his food and his drink were to do the
will of his Father. He denied himself all that was of an indulgent and
self-gratifying nature; his only relaxation was devotion, which, after
laboring all day in the city, he sought by prayer upon the mountains, and in
the midnight air.
As a scene of earnestness, never surpassed until he
ascended the hill of Calvary—behold him bathed in tears over the guilty
city, and choked in his utterance by the sobs with which the foresight of
the approaching destruction of Jerusalem convulsed his bosom! O, that was a
spectacle which was enough to draw into a sympathy of grief, the whole
universe! What a heart that must have been, which on such a spot, and at
such a time, could find relief for its intense emotions only in tears! Truly
has it been said, that melting scene is inferior in pathos, in tender and
solemn grandeur, only to Calvary itself. But this was only a prelude to what
followed. In prospect of the hour of the solemn and mysterious scenes of
Gethsemane and Golgotha, he exclaimed, "I have a baptism to be baptized
with, and how am I straitened until it is accomplished." His eagerness for
man's salvation was such that the guilty heart of the traitor was too slow
in its purpose for his love, and he quickened the movements of Judas by
those memorable words, "What you do, do quickly!" He made haste to the
cross. He was almost impatient for the hour of sacrifice. He could brook no
delay in love's redeeming work.
Here, ministers of the gospel, here is your pattern. This
earnestness is your model. You are to be something like this. The work of
Christ in saving souls is to be regarded in a double aspect by you, both as
the means of your personal salvation, and the example for your official
character. We have too much forgotten the latter. Even though as Christians
we may have looked on his conduct as our exemplar, we have too much
neglected to do so as ministers. As servants we have not kept our eyes fixed
as we ought to have done, upon our Great Master. Shame upon us, that we have
been so little careful to catch the fire of intense and ardent devotedness
from this glowing and Divine example.
We have seen the sun, let us now turn to the stars—we
have beheld the Master, let us now contemplate the servants. Perhaps the
former is so high above you that you are discouraged by its loftiness and
perfection—well, look now at some nearer your own level. First of all,
observe the apostle PAUL;
and where shall we find anything so nearly approaching to the earnestness of
his Divine Lord, as the conduct of that wondrous man! From the moment of his
conversion on his way to Damascus, he had but one object in existence, and
that was the glory of God in the salvation of souls; and but one way of
seeking it, and that was the preaching of the cross. Wherever he went,
whatever he did, to whomsoever he addressed himself, he was ever watching
for souls. Whether reasoning with the Jews in their synagogues; or
discoursing with the philosophers on Mars' Hill; or preaching to the
voluptuous inhabitants of Corinth; or appealing to the Ephesian elders at
Miletus; or pleading in chains the cause of Christianity before the tribunal
of Festus, in the presence of Agrippa; or writing letters from prison to the
churches he had planted—we find him every where and always the earnest
minister of Jesus Christ.
There is one expression in his address to the Ephesian
elders which reveals in a short compass the whole spirit and marrow of his
preaching; "Remember that by the space of three years, I ceased not to warn
every one of you, night and day, with tears." The terrors of the Roman
government could not extract from his firmness a single groan—but the sight
of an immortal soul perishing in iniquity, and amid fatal delusions,
altogether unmanned him, and suffused his face with tears, which in other
cases would have been the sign of weakness. O those tears, those tears, how
they reprove us for our insensibility, and how they prove to us our
deficiencies!
Every view we can take of this illustrious servant of the
cross fills us with astonishment and admiration. His life and history seem
designed to teach us how much energy may be compressed into one human heart,
to be developed in one single life; what sufferings may be endured, what
power exerted, what results produced, by one man who is constrained by the
love of Christ, and filled with all the fullness of God; and what God can
accomplish in fulfilling the purposes of his wisdom and love, by the
instrumentality of an individual of our species. There is a short sentence
in his epistle to the Philippians, which in a few words sums up his whole
life and labors, "For me to live is Christ." What profundity of meaning,
what development of soul, what comprehension of purpose and plan, do those
few monosyllables convey! "Christ is my life—apart from him and his work I
have no separate existence. I have grown into that one object, and it
absorbs me."
This is earnestness—and what obligation to cultivate it
rested on Paul which does not rest on us? What was Christ to him, which he
ought not to be to us? Why should he thus labor for souls—and not we? Is
there a single reason which governed him, that ought not to constrain us?
Ministers of Christ, read this great man's life with a view to know what you
ought to be—and how you ought to live and labor. In
view of what this blessed apostle was, and how he labored—will you be
satisfied with cold intellectuality, flowery orations, subtle
philosophy—with thinking you have answered the end of your calling when you
have composed two sermons a week, and kept your people tolerably well
satisfied with your labors? Will you think it enough to be a good student
and reader—though all this while souls are not converted to God, nor the
cause of godliness advanced in the world?
Do you talk of your hard labor, severe trials,
scanty incomes, ungrateful congregations, and fickle friends? Listen to
Paul's tale, and be silent. "In labors more abundant, in stripes above
measure, in prisons more frequent, in deaths often. Five times I received
thirty-nine stripes from the Jews. Thrice was I beaten with rods, once was I
stoned, thrice I suffered shipwreck, a night and a day have I been in the
deep; in journeyings often, in perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in
perils by my own countrymen, in perils by the heathen, in perils in the
city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils in the sea, in perils among
false brethren; in weariness and painfulness, in watchings often, in hunger
and thirst, in fastings often, in cold and nakedness. Beside those things
that are without, that which comes upon me daily, the care of all the
churches. Who is weak, and I am not weak? who is offended, and I burn not?"
Is there to be found in human composition or history such a passage as this?
In reading it who can help asking, "after this, what have I done or
suffered for Christ, which can give me a title to be ranked as a minister of
Christ?"
But perhaps this also is too lofty an example to have
much weight with you; then take an instance next from the Nonconformist's
Memorial. It appears from the diary of that eminent servant of Christ,
Oliver Heywood,
that in one year, besides his stated work on the Lord's-day, he preached one
hundred and fifty times, kept fifty days of fasting and prayer, and nine of
thanksgiving, and traveled fourteen hundred miles on horseback, in the
service of Christ and immortal souls. And then think of
Baxter,
that wondrous man, who though hunted and imprisoned by the demon of
persecution, and tortured with severe bodily pain, was always preaching and
writing, until he had composed and published those hundred and twenty
volumes, the very writing of which, as to the mechanical labor alone, seemed
enough to occupy a whole life, and as to which the celebrated Dr. Barrow
said, that "his practical works were never mended, nor his controversial
ones ever confuted."
Now turn to those extraordinary men,
Wesley
and Whitfield;
and who can read the account of their amazing labors, and equally amazing
success; without something of a self-reproachful and desponding feeling, as
if we were living almost in vain? When we see them dividing their whole
lives between the pulpit, the closet, and the class room; sacrificing all
domestic enjoyment and personal ease; encountering savage mobs, and
addressing congregated thousands; traveling backward and forward the whole
length of the kingdom, and crossing the ocean many times; moving the
populations of cities, and filling nations with the fame and the fruit of
their evangelical labors; breathing little else than the atmosphere of
crowded chapels and preaching rooms, except when they lifted up their voice
under the canopy of heaven; regaling themselves, not with the dainties of
the table, nor the repose of the soft luxurious couch—but with the tears of
the penitent, and the songs of the rejoicing believer; making it their one
and only business to seek the salvation of souls, and their one and only
happiness to rejoice in the number of their conversions; indifferent alike
to the savage fury of their persecutors, and the fond flatteries of their
followers; sometimes rising from a bed of sickness to address the multitude
in circumstances which rendered it probable they would exchange the pulpit
for the tomb; to sum up all in one short sentence—wearing out life in labor
so great that it looked as if they were in haste to die! When we see this,
how can we endure to think of the way in which we are living, or how can we
imagine we are living at all? How can we read their lives, and not blush for
ourselves? How can we witness their earnestness, and not feel as if we knew
nothing of the passion for saving souls?
And what shall be said of
Brainerd,
the first missionary of Christ among the Indians of North America? See him
harassed by nervous and gloomy dejection, and wearing down by slow
consumption; yet for the love of souls dwelling amid savages, helping to
build his own comfortless and ill-furnished hut; living at times on parched
corn; when traveling and benighted in the woods, sleeping, if sleep he
could, wet and cold in a tree; throwing himself down on his return to his
own solitary dwelling on his hard bed, with none to comfort him; and amid
such privations, long tried and harassed by the lack of success in his
apostolical labors; and all this for the love of souls, and the glory of
Christ? Where, O where, even among modern missionaries, to say nothing of
ministers at home, do we find this rigorous self-denial, this
self-sacrificing disposition, this intense desire after the salvation of
souls?
I may profitably refer to one more instance of
devotedness, and that shall be of a pastor—Payson
of America, whose biography should be read by every Christian minister. Many
have read it, and I should hope with no small advantage. During his ministry
his solicitude for the salvation of souls was so earnest, that he impaired
his health by the frequency of his fastings and the importunity of his
prayers. His whole life was spent in one constant series of efforts to
produce revivals of godliness; and the anguish of his mind, when his labors
failed, was so acute as to bring on bodily disease. It was said of him by
his biographer, that his language, his conversation, and his whole
deportment were such as brought home and fastened to the minds of his
hearers the conviction, that he believed, and therefore spoke. So important
did he regard such a conviction in the attendants on his ministry, that he
made it the topic of one of his addresses to his clerical brethren, which he
entitled, "The importance of convincing our hearers that we believe what we
preach."
In the course of this address he remarks, that a minister
who acted thus, "in delivering his message as an ambassador of Christ, would
show that he felt deeply penetrated with a conviction of its truth and
infinite importance. He would speak like one whose whole soul was filled
with his subject. He would speak of Christ and his salvation, as a grateful,
admiring people would speak of a great and generous deliverer, who had
devoted his life for the welfare of his country. He would speak of eternity,
as one whose eye had been wearied by attempting to penetrate its
unfathomable recesses, and describe its solemn realities, like a man who
stood on the verge of time, and had lifted the veil which conceals them from
the view of mortals. Thoughts that glow and words that burn would compose
his public addresses, and while a sense of the dignity of his official
character, and the infinite importance of his subject, would lead him to
speak as one having authority, with indescribable solemnity, weight, and
energy, a full recollection that he was by nature a child of wrath, and that
he was addressing fellow men and fellow sinners, mingled with compassion for
their wretched state, and ardent desire after their salvation, would spread
an air of tenderness over his discourses, and invest him with that
affectionate, melting, persuasive earnestness of manner, which is best
calculated to affect and penetrate the heart. To say all in one word, he
would speak like an ambassador of Him who spoke as never any man spoke, and
we would say—we speak of that which we know—and testify to that which we
have seen."
When disabled by increasing disease from preaching,
Payson carried with him into his sick chamber all his undiminished
earnestness for the salvation of souls. Having come from, on one occasion,
the administration of the Lord's Supper, he rose, and thus addressed his
flock—"Ever since I became a minister, it has been my earnest wish that I
might die from disease which would allow me to preach a farewell sermon to
my people; but as it is not probable I shall ever be able to do this, I will
attempt to say a few words now—it may be the last time I shall ever address
you. This is not merely a presentiment—it is an opinion founded on facts,
and maintained by physicians who know my case, that I shall never behold
another spring.
"And now, standing on the borders of the eternal world, I
look back upon my past ministry, and on the manner on which I have performed
its duties; and oh, my hearers, if you have not performed your duties better
than I have done, woe! woe! be to you, unless you have an Advocate and an
Intercessor in heaven. We have lived together twenty years, and have spent
more than a thousand Sabbaths together, and I have given you at least two
thousand warnings. I am now going to give an account how they were given;
and you, my hearers, will soon have to give an account how they were
received. One more warning I will give you. Once more your shepherd, who
will be yours no longer, entreats you to flee from the wrath to come. Oh,
let me have the happiness of seeing my dear people attend to their eternal
interests, that I may not have reason to say—I have labored in vain—I have
spent my strength for nothing!"
After this he entered his chapel but once more. Confined
now to his house and to his room, he still carried out his intense desires
to be useful in saving souls, by dictating letters and addresses to
individuals and bodies of men. People under anxious concern for their
salvation, young converts entering on the Christian life, ministers just
commencing the arduous duties of their office, and various bodies and
classes of individuals, were sent for to visit him in his sick chamber, and
receive his dying counsels and admonitions. What messages also went forth
from that scene of agony and of glory to ministers and friends! His "ruling
passion was strong in death." His love for preaching was as invincible as
that of the miser, who dies grasping his treasure. Payson directed a label
to be attached to his bosom when dead, with the words, "Remember the words
which I have spoken unto you, while I was yet present with you," that they
might be read by all who came to look at his corpse, and by them, he being
dead, yet spoke. The same words at the request of his people, were engraved
on the plate of his coffin, and read by thousands on the day of his
interment.
Here was a beautiful instance of pastoral earnestness;
and if I have dwelt longer on this than on some of the still more
illustrious ones which have preceded it, the reason may be found in the
fact, that it is the example of a minister of our own times, and placed in
nearly the same circumstances as ourselves; and also in the wish that many
who have not read that most instructive piece of pastoral biography, may be
induced by these extracts to peruse the volume. That man's heart must be in
a bad state indeed, both as a Christian and a minister, who is not made the
holier and more earnest by contemplating that bright and lovely example.
Leaving the ministry, and turning towards the laity, for
some rare examples of unquenchable earnestness, I find two deserving above
most of honorable mention, and assiduous imitation,
Lady Huntingdon,
and the late Thomas Wilson of Highbury. In the former we see a peeress,
related of course to many noble families, to whom the honors of the court
and the elegancies of fashion were accessible, relinquishing from the hour
of her conversion to God, all those pomps and gaieties of the world—and
consecrating her rank, her influence, and her wealth, to His glory and the
salvation of souls; leaving the festivities of the gay—for the conventicles
of the godly; and the society of nobles, statesmen, orators and academics—to
hold converse with itinerant preachers; selling her jewels to enable her to
purchase chapels; opening her drawing room for religious worship; and
undiverted and unmoved by the amazement, reproach, and sneers of a proud and
scoffing aristocracy—pursuing with an intensity which they could comprehend
as little as they could the objects to which it was directed, the spread of
evangelical truth, and the salvation of immortal souls, both among the rich
and the poor. In this one object her whole life was bound up, apart from it
she had neither occupation nor enjoyment.
Pretty much the same in substance may be said of
Thomas Wilson—the
late Treasurer of Highbury College. We needed not the very valuable and
interesting memoir of this inestimable man, with which his son has favored
the world, to convince us of this; much as the conviction is deepened, and
the impression perpetuated, by the complete view of his life and character
there presented to our view—those who knew Mr. Wilson, (and who of every
party in the religious world did not know him?) always considered him as a
person of extraordinary zeal and great benevolence, and a most useful
specimen of an earnest man. This character will be assigned to him even by
those who differed from him in some views of the object on which he lavished
the energies of his active mind, and the resources of his ample fortune. But
now that the whole outward career of this indefatigable man is laid before
us, and the mechanism of his heart, as the spring of his energy, is
disclosed to us in this seasonable and instructive biography, we learn the
important lesson, how much one man, whose heart is given to the work, may
accomplish in the way of evangelizing our dark and wretched world.
Perhaps modern times have produced and presented few more
striking instances of that quality of character which it is the design of
this volume to illustrate and to enforce. He selected his one object of
life, and that was the support and spread of evangelical religion by
building chapels, and educating and supporting ministers, in connection with
the denomination to which he belonged. For this he retired from business,
and consecrated to it his time, his fortune, his influence, and his piety.
His journeys from home, and his occupation at home, were in a great measure
devoted to this. He had his office, his clerk, his house of business, his
correspondence, all in reference to this, just as the merchant has for his
commercial affairs. To this were directed his conversation in company, and
his musing and letters when alone. The consummation of one scheme of
usefulness in his line of effort was but the commencement of another. While
others talked, he worked. We knew where to find him, and how he was
employed. If a voice from heaven had commanded him to build chapels and
educate ministers, he could not have pursued that object with more fixedness
of aim, unity of action, and steadiness of perseverance, than he manifested.
He knew his object, and therefore needed no counsel; he loved it, and
allowed nothing to divert his mind from it—he saw its practicability and
hearkened to no objections. If others would act with him, well; if not, he
would go alone. It was not brilliant talents, nor a princely fortune, nor a
commanding eloquence; though he had good abilities, a handsome income, and
an easy utterance; but it was earnestness that made him what he was, and
enabled him to do what he did. Yes, Thomas Wilson was an earnest man—and
would to God that all whom he helped to introduce into the ministry,
partook, in the still more sacred duties of their calling, of his intensity
of action!