The Christian Professor
John Angell James, 1837
THE DANGERS OF SELF-DECEPTION
The professors of Christianity may be divided into three
classes—
1. the sincere,
2. the hypocritical,
3. the self-deceived.
Of the second class there are very few. I have rarely met
with them. It is not often that anyone attains to such a pitch of audacious
and disgusting wickedness, as to make, for some sinister purpose, a
profession, which, at the time, he knows to be false. But, while there are
few that are intentionally deceiving others, there are very many who are,
unconsciously, deceiving themselves! Alarming consideration! To be
self-deceived in a matter of such tremendous importance as the salvation of
the immortal soul! To suppose that we are justified before God—while we are
under the condemnation of his righteous wrath! To suppose that we are truly
regenerated—while we are still in an unconverted state! To suppose that we
are the children of God—while we are the children of the devil! To suppose
that we are traveling to heaven—while each day, as it passes, brings us
nearer to the bottomless pit! The very possibility of such a case should
rouse our lukewarm souls, excite all our fears, and put us upon the most
cautious and diligent examination.
PROFESSION IS NOT POSSESSION.
This common, hackneyed, yes true and impressive
sentiment, is thus put out by itself—boldly and prominently—that it may
attract the reader's attention, and come upon his heart and conscience with
all possible emphasis. A church member is not necessarily a real Christian;
and outward communion with the members, is no certain proof of vital union
with the Divine Head. It is to be feared that fatal mistakes are made by
many on this momentous subject.
Among those who pay little or no attention to true
religion, it is very commonly supposed, that dying is, somehow or other, to
fit them for heaven; that some mysterious change is to pass upon them at the
time of death, by which they shall be fitted for the kingdom of glory; as if
death were a converting ordinance, instead of a mere physical change; a
sacrament of grace, instead of a mere dissolution of our compound nature.
Others attach the same mistaken notion to the act of
uniting with a Christian church; making a profession of religion, and
receiving the Lord's Supper, is, in some way or other, to effect a change in
them, and, by a process of which they can form no definite idea, make them
true Christians.
But there are others, who, better taught, attach no such
incorrect opinions to church fellowship; who admit the necessity of faith
and regeneration, as prerequisites to communion—but who, after all, deceive
themselves in the supposition that they possess those qualifications!
1. I shall prove that such self-deception is not only
possible—but FREQUENT.
This is evident, from the many warnings against it
contained in the apostolic writings. "Be not deceived," is an
admonition thrice repeated by Paul, in his first epistle to the Corinthians.
Chapter 3:16; 6:9; 15:33. How impressive is his language to the Galatians,
"If any man thinks himself to be something, when he is nothing, he deceives
himself." Galatians, 6:3. The apostle James follows up the same subject. "Do
not err, my beloved brethren—Be doers of the word and not hearers only,
deceiving your own selves." James 1:16. What solemn admonitions are in other
places given on the work of self-scrutiny! "Examine yourselves, to see
whether you are in the faith. Test yourselves. Or do you not realize this
about yourselves, that Jesus Christ is in you?—unless indeed you fail to
meet the test!" 2. Cor. 13:5. "Let every man prove his own work.''—Gal. 6:4.
But what can equal the force and impressiveness of the apostle's language
and caution in reference to himself? "I keep under my body and bring it into
subjection, lest that, by any means, after I have preached to others, I
myself should be a cast-away." 1 Cor.9:27. If such a man, the greatest,
the holiest, the most distinguished member, minister, and apostle of the
Christian church, found it necessary to exercise such caution, what must be
the need of it on our part?
The danger of self-deception is also apparent from the
alarming declarations of Christ. In the parable of the sower, he divided the
hearers of the word into four classes, of which one only is composed of
sincere believers, although two at least out of the other three, are
represented as receiving the word, and professing it for a while. How solemn
and awakening are his words in the sermon upon the Mount. "Not everyone who
says unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he who
does the will of my Father, who is in heaven. Many will say unto me
in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in your name? and in your
name have cast out devils? and in your name have done many wonderful works?
And then will I profess unto them, I never knew you—depart from me you who
work iniquity.'' Matt. 7:21-23. These people were not only professors—but of
high standing in the church; they were confident of their safety—yet they
were lost! and there were many of them!!
Dwell upon the FACTS recorded in the New Testament—Judas,
though he ended as a vicious hypocrite, began, in all probability, as a
self-deceived professor. One apostle out of twelve a false professor!
What multitudes at one time followed Christ, and in some way believed on
him, among whom were many of the rulers of the Jews; and yet so great was
the number which afterwards abandoned their profession, that our Lord put
this question to the twelve—"Will you, also, go away?'' implying,
that the rest had nearly all left him. Peter speaks of some "who, after they
had known the way of righteousness, had turned from the holy commandment
delivered unto them." 2 Peter 2:21—and John, in describing the case of some
in his time, says, "They went out from us—but they were not of us; for if
they had been of us, they would no doubt have continued with us." 1 John
2:19. Let anyone read attentively the addresses to the seven churches of
Asia Minor, contained in the second and third chapters of the Apocalypse,
and observe the description of those communities, given by one who could not
mistake; they seem to have contained, at least some of them, a great
proportion of merely nominal Christians. Yet these were churches under the
care of an apostle!
Does not our observation confirm the fact of the danger
of self-deception? To say nothing of open apostates who turn back to sin,
error, or the world, and who are cast out of the church—how many are there
that still remain, who, though their inconsistencies are not sufficiently
flagrant to make them the subjects of church discipline, too plainly
indicate by their total lack of all spirituality and earnestness of piety,
that they have nothing of Christianity but the name! It is no violation of
the law of charity to say, that people so worldly in their spirit, so
unsanctified in their temper, so little interested by the concerns of
Christ's kingdom, either in their own church or in the world at large, are
making but an empty and heartless profession.
However painful, then, the fact may be, it is a fact,
that the danger of self-deception is alarmingly great.
2. Let us now inquire into the CAUSES of this
self-delusion.
The first and chief is, mistaking the forms and restraint
of a religious education, or a little temporary excitement of the
feelings—for a real change of heart. Nothing short of this change is true
piety. As partakers of a fallen and corrupt nature, we must be renewed,
and not merely a little altered. "Except a man be born of water and of the
spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven." The mind may be
interested, the feelings may be moved, the conduct
improved—and yet the heart remain unchanged. As long as this is the case,
there is no abiding principle, no root of godliness in the soul. Everything
but the new nature will subside; all will fall off but the new nature.
It is to be expected that, under the exciting preaching
of the present day, many will be impressed, seem to be converted, and walk
well for a time, who are not truly born again. Their opinions are
scriptural, their conduct is correct, and they are admitted to the church
upon a profession of their faith—and there is no reason why they should not
be. After a while the novelty of religion ceases, their affections grow
cold, and although they do not, perhaps, become profligate, or leave the
church, they settle down into a mere formal attendance upon the means of
grace, and remain in this miserable state—until death sends them into the
eternal world!
The danger is increased by the present external peace
and unmolested liberty of the church. In the primitive days of
Christianity, and often since, the profession of religion was attended with
imminent peril of goods, liberty, or life. Persecuting laws were against
those who believed in Jesus, and confessed their faith. They had, indeed, to
take up their cross! and it was through much tribulation they entered the
kingdom of God. In such circumstances it might be imagined, no man would
profess himself a Christian, who was not really one. We can suppose that a
prison and a stake, would be a sufficient check, not only upon hypocrisy—but
upon mere nominal religion. But even this was not always
effectual—self-deception existed even then. How much more likely is it that
it should prevail now, when a profession of piety, so far from exposing us
to scorn, contempt, and suffering—is a means of procuring for us an increase
of esteem and affection? Evangelical religion and an avowal of it—have
become almost fashionable. There is now no fiery ordeal to pass through as a
test of our sincerity; no sifting process to separate the chaff from the
wheat; and, as a natural, though fatal consequence, many profess the gospel,
who are strangers to its power and efficacy.
The wide and easy access to communion which is afforded
by some churches increases the danger. It cannot be said of them, as it
is of the church mentioned in the word of God, that their gates shall be
opened continually, and shall not be shut day nor night—for they can
scarcely be said to have any gates at all; or if they have, there is no
porter at the gate, to ask the password of him who enters. True it is, the
entrance ought not to be made narrower than Christ has made it. No
unscriptural terms of communion should be imposed; no bars nor obstacles set
up to keep out those who have a right to enter in; no scaring usages adopted
to frighten away timid minds—but surely somebody, either pastor, or people,
or both together, should, with holy caution, Christian tenderness, and
experienced minds—examine those who wish to be admitted to fellowship. Not,
indeed, for the sake of indulging and showing inquisitorial authority—but
for guarding the young disciple against deception; and, also, if he be not
correct in his views either of the truth or of himself, for teaching him the
way of God more perfectly. If, therefore, nothing more be required, than for
a person to declare himself a Christian without any examination, how great
is the danger of his "thinking he is something while he is nothing."
The injudicious persuasions of ministers and friends,
have led many to make a profession of religion, before, in fact, they had
any real religion to profess. A too eager wish to have a large church, and
thus to magnify their pastoral importance, and to multiply the proofs of
their usefulness—a most censurable, because injurious kind of 'ministerial
vanity'—has made some far too hasty in introducing people to Christian
communion; others from feelings of false delicacy have, amidst many
suspicions of its sincerity encouraged a profession, rather than wound the
minds of the candidates, by suggesting a doubt of their real conversion to
God. While there are some, who, acting upon the supposition that religious
impressions are likely to ripen into conversion by the advantages of church
fellowship, encourage the subjects of them to come forward and publicly
profess their faith in Christ before they have any.
Nor is the conduct of some good people less injudicious
sometimes towards their relations. A husband feels a pang in his heart at
every sacramental season, at the wife of his bosom rising and retiring from
his side, when he is about to receive the eucharistic memorials. To a wife,
who to all her natural affection for her husband, adds a tender solicitude
for his eternal welfare, it is a great and painful deduction from her
spiritual enjoyment that she goes alone to the supper of the Lord. Parents
long to have their children with them in the fellowship of the church.
Hence, in all these cases, there is sometimes much persuasion used to induce
the unconverted relative to assume the name, and make the confession of a
Christian.
Now, where there is a firm hope, a hope founded on
convincing evidence, that the object of solicitude is truly regenerated, and
made a partaker of saving grace, this is very proper. But where this
evidence is lacking, where there is no good ground for believing that a
genuine spiritual change has taken place, it is a most misplaced and
mischievous concern to wish such people to enter into the church. It is
aiding their self-deception, and being accessory to a delusion, which places
them at the farthest bounds from salvation. They are much more likely to be
converted outside of the church—than in it. Many who have persuaded their
friends to make an untimely, because insincere profession, have lived to
repent of their mistaken concern, by seeing accumulating evidence that their
relative, though a church member, was certainly not a Christian.
The improper reliance that some professors have upon the
strict mode of examination adopted by most of our churches is another source
of delusion. They have been interrogated by the pastor, whose scrutiny
has been aided by some of the deacons or members; they have submitted,
either verbally or in writing, a statement of their opinions and feelings,
as well as a history of their alleged conversion to God, and on this ground
have been received and approved, as truly regenerated. "Can such judges,"
they ask themselves, "be mistaken? Such examiners, so competent, so
impartial, so particular—form a wrong conclusion? They think not!" Their
piety is thus authenticated, their profession attested, and their safety
undoubted. All is right, they assume. Such is their reasoning; and when in
after times a doubt is raised, raised perhaps on grounds which ought to be
conclusive, as to the fact of the falseness of their profession, they
silence the voice of conscience, by pleading against its testimony, their
admission to the church, after the most rigid examination. Hence, the
importance of the pastor's never giving, at the admission of a member, an
opinion that he is truly converted—but throwing the whole judgment of the
case upon the member's own conscience as in the sight of a heart-searching
God; and thus making him responsible for the consequences of any
wrong conclusion he may draw concerning his spiritual condition.
Look at these things, and learn whence the danger comes,
and how imminent the danger is of self-delusion as to our state before God,
and our safety for eternity. It is not saying too much to affirm, that
multitudes are thus deluded. The dark memorial of the Laodicean church
is a fearful proof that whole communities of professing Christians may be in
this appalling condition. It is one of the cunning artifices, the deep
devices, the artful machinations of Satan—to lead men into self-deception,
when he can no longer hold them in careless indifference; to ruin their
souls in the church, when he cannot effect it in the world; to lull them
asleep by the privileges of church fellowship, when he cannot continue their
slumber amidst the pleasures of sin. O how many is he leading captive this
way? How many is he conducting to perdition, whom he has first blindfolded
with the bandage of a false profession? How many are there in all our
churches, who are in this dreadful state!
3. We now contemplate the CONSEQUENCES of this
self-deception.
Self-deception corrupts the purity of the church. Members
in this state, are the wood, hay, and stubble, in the walls of the spiritual
temple, which disfigure its beauty and impair its strength. They are Achans
who trouble the camp of Israel, and bring down the displeasure of the Lord
upon them. They are the disease of the spiritual body which swell its
numbers—but destroy its health. Do they by their prayers bring down the
blessing of God upon the pastor or the members? Alas! they don't even pray
for themselves! Do they by their piety diffuse vitality and energy through
the community? No! They are cold, lifeless, dead. Do they by their
consistency attract others to the church? On the contrary, they disgust and
repel others! Instead of aiding the force of that concentrated light, by
which the church shines upon the dark world around, they envelop it with
smoke. Instead of acting as the salt of the earth, they bring corruption
into the kingdom of Christ. They are not only negatively an injury—but
positively—they do harm at all times—but especially on occasion of strife,
they are the fuel that feed the flames of discord.
As it respects religion they disparage and injure it, not
so much by raising against it the cry of hypocrisy because of immorality—as
by lowering its standard, depreciating its value, diminishing its power,
carnalizing and secularizing it, and reducing it to a greater conformity to
the spirit of the world—so that many people seeing no difference between
such professors and themselves, except the mere circumstance of profession,
think such a religion not worth their notice.
But as to the nominal professor HIMSELF, how truly
dreadful is the consequence of his delusion. He is perhaps the most hopeless
character on earth. Before he assumed the name of a Christian, there was
hope of him that he would be impressed, convinced, and converted, by some of
those discriminating discourses which point out the difference between a
regenerated and an unregenerated man; those pungent appeals to the
conscience which are so often blessed in awakening those who are outside the
church—but now he is armored against all these. He is a professor, a church
member; and with this as his shield he wards off every arrow of conviction
from his heart. These things he says are for the unprofessing, not for him.
Quietly his conscience sleeps amidst all the thunders that roll from the
pulpit, while the lightnings carried off by the shield of his profession,
touch not his false hopes, and leave him completely secure.
He puts away from himself all the threatenings of the
word—though they are pointed at him; and takes to himself all the privileges
and consolations of the righteous—though he enjoys none of them. If at any
time the power of the deception begins to be shaken by the efforts of a
half-awakened conscience, and there rises up a suspicion, that he is not a
truly pious man—Satan aids him to regain his delusive quietude by the usual
suggestion, that he is a professor, a church member, and that though he is
not perfect, he is not farther from it than many others—he only partakes of
the general delusion of the times, and if he is wrong, who is right?
Besides, what is he to do? He is a church member, and would he begin again?
Would he repent, believe, and be converted now? Such logic is generally
successful, and the poor creature lies down again to sleep on the sleep of
death. Notwithstanding the great number of professing Christians which
exist, and the great numbers of unconverted ones too, how rarely do we meet
with any who were converted after they became professors? How seldom do any
such come to their pastor, and express a fear, and follow it up, that they
have never been truly changed.
Hence it is, that some ministers feel it to be the
greatest perplexity of all their pastoral avocations, to give answers to
people, who come to advise with them on the subject of making a profession.
If from suspicion that their hearts are not yet right with God they dissuade
them, they may be discouraging those whom they ought to receive and
encourage—sending away a babe that ought to be laid in the bosom of the
church—breaking the bruised reed and quenching the smoking flax. While on
the other hand, if they encourage the inquirer to come forward, they may be
strengthening the delusion of a self-deceived soul, and become accessory to
the ruin of an immortal spirit. Some conscientious men have found and felt
this to be the very burden of their lives, and from which there is no way of
gaining relief or ease—but by laying down the marks of true conversion,
begging the questioner to bring forward his heart to this test, stating what
is implied in a Christian profession, and making him, as has been already
said, responsible for the judgment of his own case, and all its consequences
too.
But extend your views to another world, and anticipate,
if you can, the consequences of self-deception as they exist and are
perpetuated through Christianity. Bunyan, in his matchless allegory, the
"Pilgrim's Progress," after representing the rejection of a false professor,
called Ignorance, who had knocked at the portals of heaven, and asked
admission, concludes his book with these solemnly impressive words, "Then
I saw that there was a way to hell, even from the gates of heaven—as well as
from the city of destruction!"
A professor in hell!! Frightening idea! Horrifying
thought! After spending his time on earth in the fellowship of saints, to
spend his eternity in the actual society of devils in hell! After belonging
to the society of God's people; joining in all their services and their
privileges; transacting with them the business of his kingdom; uniting with
them in the expulsion as well as the reception of members—then to be sent
away into the prison of lost souls! O how dreadful would it be to be
separated from the church of God now, to pass under the sentence of
excommunication, to be excised as a corrupt member of the body, and given
over to Satan! But what is this to the sentence of excommunication from the
church triumphant, pronounced by Jesus Christ himself at the last day? O to
hear HIM say, depart! Who does not feel the force of those impressive
verses—
O lovely chief of all my joys,
O sovereign of my heart,
How could I bear to hear your voice,
Pronounce the sound, depart?
The thunder of that dismal word
Would so torment my ear,
Would tear my soul asunder, Lord,
With most tormenting fears.
O wretched state of deep despair,
To see my God remove,
And fix my doleful station where
I could not taste his love.
4. Let us now consider what MEANS are necessary and
proper for you to adopt to avoid deception.
Dwell upon the subject. Ponder it deeply. Let it
take hold upon your mind, and your mind take hold upon it. Let it not be
dismissed from you with the same ease as you send into oblivion many other
subjects of a religious nature. It is unusually momentous, and has an
solemness about it far beyond the usual topics of reflection. The very idea
is dreadful—a self-deceived professor; a professor going to
perdition! The frequency of it makes it still more alarming. If it were only
a bare possibility, an occurrence that might exist, yet that rarely did
exist—it would still demand our serious attention—but when it is so common,
that it is to be feared there is scarcely any church in which there are not
some in this situation, and no large church in which there are not many—how
serious, how alarming a matter does it become!
You should bring the matter home to yourselves,
and admit not only the possibility of the danger in the abstract, or in
reference to others—but in reference to you. Your profession does not
necessarily imply the actual possession of religion. You must not receive it
as evidence that you are Christians. In those moments, and such it is
presumed you spend, when with more than usual concern, you ask the question,
"Am I really a child of God?" it is not enough to reply, "I am a professor,"
for this in any state of the church, and especially the present one, is not
a proof, scarcely a presumption, that you are born again of the Spirit. It
is possible then, that you may be deceived, and you should not
imagine that there is anything in your circumstances to render the idea
inapplicable to you.
You should dread the thought of being deluded. Its
fearful consequences should be solemnly meditated upon, seriously and
piously revolved. It should be often said with holy trembling, "Oh, if I
should be at last deceived!"
You should examine your state, frequently,
deliberately, solemnly, and impartially. Time should be set apart,
occasionally, for the special purpose of prayer and self-scrutiny. You
should have times and opportunities of more than usual length and
earnestness for self-examination, when you should look again, and with more
intenseness, upon your evidences of personal religion. When your former and
your present state, your supposed conversion, your conduct, and the state of
your affections, shall all come under review—when with a wish not to be
deceived, you shall ask yourselves for the reasons of the hope that is in
you. It is too important a matter to be taken for granted! The
consequences of deception are too dreadful and remediless to be carelessly
risked!
Nor is it enough to trust to your own examination. Aware
of the deceitfulness of the human heart, and our proneness through self-love
to think more highly of ourselves than we ought to think, and at the same
time recollecting how much interest we have in believing we are right,
you should beseech God to make known to you your real condition. You
should carry to him the prayer of David, "Search me, O God, and know my
heart; try me, and know my thoughts; and see if there be any wicked way in
me, and lead me in the way everlasting." Psalm 139:23, 24. You should deal
honestly with God, and tell him that you wish to know your state, and that
you deprecate as the heaviest judgment that could befall you—being deceived.
If you have reason, upon examination, to think you have
taken up a false opinion of your case, do not blind yourselves to your
condition; do not conclude against evidence, that you are safe; do not
attempt to silence the voice of conscience or corrupt its testimony—this is
worse than useless, it is most alarmingly dangerous, and is the last stage
of the delusion. Instead of this, begin afresh. What is to hinder
you? If you are not converted—you may yet be converted. Let not the idea of
a false profession throw you into despondency. God is as willing to forgive
the sin of a false profession, just as the sin of no profession. The blood
of Jesus Christ can cleanse you from this sin. Now repent, now
believe, now hope, now love. God waits to be gracious even yet. It is not
too late to be renewed yet. The door of mercy is not closed yet. Sincerity
of profession is not beyond your reach yet. Begin to be in earnest.
Determine to trifle no longer. Set apart time for private prayer, reading
the scriptures, and holy meditation. Be diligent in attendance upon the
public means of grace. Make a fresh and entire surrender of yourself to God.
But especially look by faith to Jesus Christ, for the pardon of your past
insincerity, lukewarmness, and worldliness. Be humble, very humble in your
own eyes, and before God; but still do not despair. Exercise dependence upon
the Spirit of all grace, confide in his power, and rely upon his mercy. Be
thankful that since you were in error, you have discovered it, and have not
been permitted to go on in darkness until you had stumbled over the
precipice into the yawning pit of destruction below!
If, upon examination, you have good reason to think all
is right, rejoice in Christ Jesus. Let the peace of God which passes all
understanding, rule in your hearts, to which you are called—and be thankful.
"Comfort! comfort my people, says your God, speak you comfortably to
Jerusalem.'' This discourse is intended not to disturb the peace of God's
people—but to destroy the false confidence of his disguised foes.
There are two classes of professors to whom the alarming
appeals of it do not apply; the first, are those eminent Christians who have
the fullest assurance of hope, and whose assurance is sustained by the joy
of faith, the obedience of love, and the patience and purity of hope—whose
religion is so vigorous and influential as to be self-evident to themselves
and others. They have scarcely need to ask the question, "Am I a child of
God?" for the proofs of it are ever within them. Blessed state! happy
Christians! and all are invited to become such.
But there is another class who are not likely to be
deceived; those who are truly, and sometimes sorrowfully, concerned about
the matter; who are often trying themselves by the Word of God; who know, if
they know anything, they would not be deluded for ten thousand worlds; who,
notwithstanding their many imperfections, their painful consciousness of
defects, still know they do love the Lord Jesus Christ, though with too
lukewarm an affection; who, notwithstanding all their doubts and fears, are
conscious of a real and sometimes an intense longing after holiness. Be
comforted, you timid followers of the Lamb—self-deceivers are rarely afraid
that this is their state and character. Dismiss your fears and go on your
way rejoicing.
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