The Christian Professor
John Angell James, 1837
THE OBLIGATION & DESIGN OF THE CHRISTIAN PROFESSION
It is every man's duty to confess Christ. But there is a
previous duty to be performed, and that is to receive him. We should first
be a Christian, and then declare ourselves such; and anxious,
most anxious, yes tremblingly anxious should we be—not to advance to the
second position, until we have taken up the first. Everything is, or should
be subsequent to this. The business immediately to be done by any human
being, any fallen creature—is to believe the Gospel, and be at peace with
God. He should, without any delay, have the faith of God's elect—and as soon
as he has it, he must avow it. We must not, either through timidity, or from
any prudential considerations, wish to keep our religion a secret, or covet
to go by a secluded and unobserved path to heaven. It is not enough for us
to commend ourselves to God as sincere, but we must acknowledge our
faith "before men."
This is most clearly and most solemnly taught us by our
Lord; "Whoever shall confess me before men, him will I confess also before
my Father who is in heaven—but whoever shall deny me before men, him will I
also deny before my Father who is in heaven." Matt. 10:32, 33. "Whoever,
therefore, shall be ashamed of me, and of my words, in this adulterous and
sinful generation—of him also shall the Son of Man be ashamed when he comes
in the glory of his Father, with the holy angels." Mark 8:37. "Therefore
come out from among them, and be separate, says the Lord." 2 Cor. 6:17. "The
word is near you—in your mouth and in your heart, that is the word of faith
which we preach—that if you shall confess with your mouth the Lord Jesus,
and believe in your heart that God has raised him from the dead—you shall be
saved. For with the heart man believes unto righteousness, and with the
mouth confession is made unto salvation." Rom. 10:8-10.
I have already described what this confession
means, and shown that it is substantially the same as profession—and
it now only remains to bring forward these solemn passages in proof that it
is our duty to make it. The bare reading of them is enough to show that this
is binding upon our conscience, by all the weight of divine authority.
Christ forbids not only 'open enmity' towards himself—but 'secret love'.
Christ forbids not only towards himself—but concealed allegiance. He has
commanded a profession, and made it one of the laws of his kingdom,
under the peril of our being disowned by him—and he who refuses to comply
with this law seems to put his salvation in jeopardy.
THE DESIGN AND USES of this Christian profession
are manifest, and should be constantly kept in view. I need scarcely premise
that it is not to make us Christians, for it supposes that we are
Christians already. It is a fearful, though it is not an uncommon thing, for
people to substitute the profession for the possession, and to consider that
they become Christians, by saying publicly they are such.
The ends of a Christian profession are various, some of
them refer to CHRIST.
It is confessing Christ, and intended, as we have already shown, to honor
him by a public declaration—that we have believed his divine mission, as the
Son of God and Savior of the world; the Mediator between God and man; the
Prophet, Priest and King of his Church; that we worship him as our God, rely
upon him as our Savior, and serve him as our Master. This is, of course, to
glorify him; it is to fulfill the prediction, that to him every knee should
bow, and every tongue confess. Yes, every professor adds another voice to
swell the chorus of praise that is rising to the honor of Jesus; adds
another witness to the multitude that speak of him to the world, and roll
his name round the globe; adds another trophy to the spoils which are
accumulating in the Church to celebrate his victory over sin and Satan. It
is a sweet and cheering reflection to the professor, that his very
connection with the Church, if it is maintained with consistency, is to the
honor of Him who has bought him with his blood!
But there are designs relating to
OURSELVES.
It rescues us from the reproach and wipes off the stigma of our being
Christ's enemies, and puts upon us the honor of being accounted his friends.
The great multitude of mankind lie under the disgrace of being the foes of
Jesus; and this in appearance is the case with all who have not separated
themselves from the world by a profession. There may be real Christians
among them, who in other parts of their conduct are sufficiently
distinguished from them—but they are like Peter in the hall of the High
Priest, among the foes of Christ. They are in the enemy's camp—though they
do not wear his color and costume. When we join the Church, we say publicly,
"Account me no longer an enemy of Christ. I believe in him, adore him, love
him, and serve him." Who would not be eager to say this? Who would have a
shadow of a shade attaching to them of being his enemy? Who does not glory
in the thought of saying to those who despise and reject him, "I am not one
of you. I cannot treat the Savior as you do."
Christian profession gives us a right and title to all
the privileges and comforts of communion with his church. It is our
saying to his disciples, "I come into the house in the Master's name, and
take a seat at his table invited and accepted by him. He has given me a
share in all the benefits of his family." It is therefore our act of
association with his people, our title of admission to the fellowship of the
faithful. Until we profess, they have no warrant to receive us; and when we
do, they have no right to reject us. We have then a claim upon their
confidence, their sympathy, their affection and their prayers; and they upon
ours. How cheering the idea, that we have thus acquired an interest in the
hearts of the brethren, the communion of the church, and the supplications
of those who have power with God to prevail. The solemn festivities of the
sacramental table, the consultations and decisions of the church meetings,
the maintenance of the lovely order of Christ's house, all belong to us then
by grant and covenant.
Nor is comfort the only benefit that results to us
by profession—but holiness, help, safety. Trees grow best in
plantations and gardens; so do Christians in church fellowship. Christ has
gathered his people into churches, that they may enjoy the benefits of
reciprocal watchfulness, care, help, and love. Christians do, or should,
rally round one another, to warn those who are unruly, to comfort the
feeble-minded, to support the weak. They are commanded to exhort one another
daily, lest any be hardened through the deceitfulness of sin. Profession
draws many friendly eyes upon us, and many affectionate arms around and
underneath us.
It is a bond upon our constancy. Publicity
has a tendency to make us watchful and cautious. We have taken up a
profession of Christ; we have placed ourselves on high; we have invited
notice before many spectators.
It might perhaps be thought that if a consciousness that
the eye of God is upon us, be not enough to preserve us—the additional
recollection that we are under the surveillance of our fellow-creatures will
not increase our vigilance and circumspection. But this is contrary to fact.
In certain states of mind we are wrought upon more by what we see, than by
what we believe—the eye of faith may be sometimes too dim to see Him who is
invisible, and then it is well that the eye of sense can see those who are
visible.
Pastoral oversight is another benefit which
profession brings to us, and is designed to bring. Is it no
privilege, or even a small one—to have the wise counsels, the affectionate
reproofs, the wakeful care, the tender sympathy, the fervent prayers of a
minister of God?
Profession has a purpose that relates to
THE CHURCH.
It gives visibility to this holy community. The Church is God's witness in
the world, and everyone who joins it strengthens the testimony. It speaks by
its embodied piety, and by its united voice—for Christ. Everyone who enters
its communion adds something to its strength and its stability. But for
profession, it would cease to appear as a Church. Nor does each professor
only add to the number and do something for the permanence of the Church—but
also for its utility. The church is God's instrument for illumination, and
converting the world. The church is the golden candlestick containing the
lamp of truth. The church is the storehouse of ways and means for
evangelizing the nations of the earth; and everyone who becomes a member
carries an addition of zeal and piety to render it more and more efficient.
Profession is for
THE WORLD.
This we have already shown in what we have just considered—but it might be
more extensively dwelt upon. "You are the salt of the earth—you are the
light of the world," said Christ to his disciples. The Church is the pillar
and ground of truth, intended to hold up, to send out, to hand down—the
truth; to show what truth is, what faith is, what holiness
is; to exhibit the truths of Scripture, and be a living commentary upon
it—to send out life-giving voices attended by life-giving actions—to speak
for God to, and act for God upon, the dark and inert mass
around. The true Church of Christ is evidently designed not only to receive
the truth by faith for its own sake—but to reflect it, by profession, for
the world's sake. It seems to bear much the same relation to the word of
God, as the moon does the sun; and to perform somewhat the same function to
the spiritual economy as the satellite does in the planetary system. The
Church is not the original source of light, for that is the Bible; but it is
the recipient and depository of this light, which it receives for its own
benefit, and reflects for the benefit of a benighted world.
The church revolves in the attraction of this moral orb,
and exhibits to those who would not otherwise receive them, its glorious
beams. Hence, by the Lord's Supper, which is strictly and exclusively an
ecclesiastical ordinance, the church is said to "show forth" the
death of Christ till his second coming. The word signifies to "publish
openly and effectually," "to declare in a joyful and emphatic manner." To
whom is this declaration to be made? Not to the church, for they are to make
it, Not to the angels or spirits made perfect, for they do not need it; but
to the careless, impenitent, and unbelieving world. The death of Christ, as
a sacrifice for sin, is the great truth of Christianity; it is not so much a
doctrine of scripture, as the scripture itself; it is in fact, the new
covenant—and the church, gathered around the sacramental table, and
jointly partaking of the elements of bread and wine, in believing
remembrance of the atoning death of the Lord Jesus, is, in that act, as well
as by its well known publicly declared sentiments, a witness for Christ—and
a preacher of him to the world. He is thus evidently set forth crucified for
sinners, who are thereby invited to behold him as the Lamb of God, who takes
away the sins of the world. Every time the church is gathered together, the
"Bride," the Lamb's wife, lifts up her entreating voice on behalf of her
divine Lord, and says to those who are despising and rejecting him, "Come to
Christ for salvation!" Every professor, therefore, who joins himself to the
church, both by his declaration of faith and his approaches to the table of
the Lord, sends forth the invitation to unbelievers, "Come to Jesus, and be
saved." (Does not this expression of the apostle's plainly prove that the
Lord's Supper ought to be observed publicly before the whole congregation?
How else can we by that act "show forth" the death of Christ?)
The visible Church, i.e. the collective body of
professors is, I repeat, the golden candlestick placed in a dark world—to
hold forth in their profession the light of truth, of holiness, of love, and
consequently of happiness. This light, it is true, shines forth as we have
said from the word—but the great multitude will not come within the range of
its rays; and it is therefore designed by a merciful God intent upon their
salvation, that it shall be reflected upon them in a manner which they
cannot avoid, in the conduct of those who profess to have received it.
Hence, believers in that one solemn scene, where they are brought together
around the visible symbols of their redemption and their union—are said to
show forth the Lord's death—until he comes. Every consistent professor is a
light shining in a dark place, shining not for himself but for others;
shining to guide men to Christ, to his church, and to his heaven—a friendly
lamp in the world's dark course, to assist them in finding their way to
everlasting life.
Can anything be mentioned more solemnly admonitory as to
the duties of professors or their responsibility? How clearly should the
light of truth shine forth in an enlarged, correct, and scriptural
acquaintance with the doctrines of grace. How clearly should the light of
holiness shine forth in all holy living and godliness! How clearly
should the light of love shine forth in brotherly kindness and
charity! And how clearly should the light of happiness shine forth in
the peace that passes understanding, and the joy unspeakable and full of
glory! O, let it not be forgotten that a profession is designed to be a
light for the world; and then again it may be asked, "What kind of men ought
we to be?"
Have we considered these matters deliberately and with an
intelligent mind? Have we asked ourselves the solemn question, "For what
purpose have I come out of the world into the church, and have I answered,
and am I answering that purpose? Am I a living martyr and faithful witness
for Christ?—making him known and causing him to be loved? Am I a pointer to
the cross, a road sign to heaven? Do I bear the image of Christ, and show
the world for what purpose he came into the world, and died upon Calvary? Am
I a useful addition to the church, increasing not only its bulk—but its
strength, its beauty, and its health?—giving it visibility, not only as an
ecclesiastical corporation of nominal Christians—but as the receptacle of
heavenly communications, the vestibule of the celestial temple, yes, the
tabernacle of God with man, and having the glory of Jehovah? Have I added
anything to its spiritual excellence, and its moral power? Or have I been a
mere appendage, a lifeless adjunct, a useless addition, and more of an
encumbrance than a help to its utility?
As regards myself what benefit have I derived from
my profession? I have obtained a public right to church privileges. I have
taken my seat at the table of the Lord, and appropriated to myself my share
of the blessings of fellowship and the prayers of the brethren. What am I
the holier and happier for these things? Have I grown in grace, and found
the communion of saints to aid me in a preparation for the fellowship of the
blessed in heaven? Have I found that my profession has indeed proved a bond
upon my constancy, and made me watchful, circumspect, and cautious? Has my
profession separated me from the world, and kept me separate in
association, spirit, and conduct? I have had the watchful eye of my pastor
upon me, and have received his admonitions publicly and privately—and am I
the better for this, and a comfort to his heart?
As respects the world, what good has it derived
from me? Has the end of my profession been accomplished in reference to the
unconverted part of mankind? What have they seen in me calculated to subdue
their prejudices against true religion, and to conciliate their affection to
it? Have I shown them the light of truth, the beauty of holiness, and the
power of love? Like a lesser magnet touched by the mighty magnet of Mount
Calvary, have I drawn men to Christ? Are there any who in looking to me,
will say—there is the instrument of my conversion?"
Such interrogatories as these ought to be pressed home by
every professor on his conscience at seasons; and such should frequently
occur—of solemn examination into the state of the soul.
It may be, that some will read these pages who have not
yet publicly professed faith in Christ, although they have reason to hope
that they possess it. But why not profess it? Have you considered our Lord's
demand, Mark 8:37—or the apostle's declaration, Rom. 10:8? Sit down and
study those passages—ponder them well—apply them to your own case—and will
you any longer believe secretly, when required to profess publicly? "I am
startled," you say, "at the vast comprehension of a profession." True, it is
vast—but it is demanded of you—yes, both the possession and profession. "I
am afraid I shall disgrace my profession if I make it, as many have already
done." True, they have—millions of souls have been led on to perdition by
the misconduct of nominal Christians—and you ought to tremble at the idea of
adding to the number—but God's grace is sufficient for you. The way of duty
is the way of safety, and none are so likely to be kept from failing as they
who enter on their course with a holy fear of falling. Besides, are
you not dishonoring God by making no profession, and are thus guilty
of the inconsistency of actually doing wrong—lest you should do it? "But I
can go to heaven without making a profession." How do you know that? Perhaps
not. It may be necessary for you, although some others may have
reached the heavenly shore without it. It is not for us to say of any
obvious duty, "I call go to heaven without it." Not that I mean to insinuate
justification is by works; or, that absolute perfection is essential to
salvation—but what I mean is this; God requires obedience in all
cases of known duty, and where we make exceptions, he may be so displeased
as to give us up to ourselves, and leave us to turn back again to the world.
"But if I make a profession I shall displease my
friends."
"If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross
and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever
loses his life for my sake and the gospel's will save it. For what does it
profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his life? For what can a
man give in return for his life? For whoever is ashamed of me and of my
words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of him will the Son of Man
also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy
angels." Mark. 8:34-38. This is unbending, solemn language. What is the
favor or displeasure of friends to this? Is there anything in the fear or
frown of any mortal under heaven—that should deter us from our duty in the
view of such a peril as this?
"But my parents or my husband do not make a profession,
nor are they fit for it, and they would not like me to join the church
without them, and I would scarcely like it myself." If they will not go to
heaven, should that allow you to reject any of the means that help you
thither? If they will not honor Christ, should that hinder you from doing
it? Will you disobey the Savior out of compliment to any earthly friend
whatever? It is your duty, your solemn duty, and is it better to please men
or God? Perhaps your decision in this matter may be blessed to them. If not,
you are to do what is right without considering consequences.
Abandon excuses and objections then, and confess with the
mouth, even as God has given you grace to believe with the heart.
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