PRACTICAL PIETY by Hannah More, 1811
Chapter 15
CHRISTIAN WATCHFULNESS
Of all the motives to vigilance and self discipline which Christianity
presents, there is not one more powerful than the danger of a slackening in
zeal and declining devotion. Would that we could affirm that coldness in
religion is confined to the irreligious! If it is melancholy to observe an
absence of Christianity where no great profession of it was ever made, it is
far more grievous to mark its decline where it once appeared not only to
exist but to flourish. We feel the same distinct sort of compassion with
which we view the financial distresses of those who have been always
indigent, and of those who have fallen into poverty from a state of
opulence. Our concern differs not only in degree but in kind.
These changes are a call to awaken watchfulness, humility and
self-inspection in those who think that they stand but need to be vigilant
lest they fall. There is not any one circumstance which ought more to alarm
and quicken the Christian than that of finding oneself growing languid and
indifferent after having made a profession and found progress in the
Christian walk. Such indifference gives the irreligious person reason to
suspect that either there never was any truth in the profession of the
person in question, or that there is no truth in religion itself. Critics
will be persuaded that religion is weak and soon exhausted, and that a
Christian's faith is by no means sufficiently powerful to carry him on his
course. Religion's detractor is assured that piety is only an outer garment,
put on for show or convenience, and that when it ceases to be needed for
either, it is laid aside. The evil spreads beyond the one indifferent
believer, implying that all religious people are equally unsound or equally
deluded, although some may be more prudent, or more fortunate or greater
hypocrites than others. After one promising believer falls away, the old
suspicion recurs and is confirmed, and the defection of others is thought to
be inevitable.
The probability is that the one who fell away never was a sound and genuine
Christian. His religion was perhaps entered into accidentally, built on some
false ground, produced by some ephemeral cause. Although it cannot be fairly
judged that he intended by his profession and prominent zeal to deceive
others, it is probable that he himself was deceived. Perhaps he was too sure
of himself; his early profession was probably rather bold and ostentatious.
He may have imprudently fixed his stand on ground so high that it would not
be easily tenable, and from which a descent would be all too observable.
Although at first he thought he never could be too sure of his own strength,
he allowed himself to criticize the infirmities of others, especially those
whom he had apparently outstripped. Though they had started together, he had
left them behind in the race.
Might it not be a safer course at the outset of the Christian life if a
modest and self-distrusting humility were to impose a temporary restraint on
the bravado of outward profession. A little knowledge of the human heart, a
little suspicion of its deceitfulness, would not only moderate the
intemperance of an ill-understood zeal, but would save the credit of the
Christian faith, which receives a fresh wound from every desertion from her
standard.
Some of the most distinguished Christians in this country began their
religious career with this graceful humility. They would not allow their
change of character and their adoption of new principles and a new course,
to be blazoned abroad until the principles they had adopted were established
and worked into their character. Their progress proved to be such as might
have been inferred from the modesty of their beginnings. They have gone on
with a perseverance which difficulties have only strengthened and experience
confirmed, and will through divine aid doubtless go on, shining more and
more unto the perfect day.
Now let us return to the less-steady convert. Perhaps religion was only, as
we have hinted elsewhere, one pursuit among many which he had taken up when
other pursuits had failed, and which he now lays down because his faith, not
being rooted and grounded, fails also. It is also possible that the
temptations coming from the outside might coincide with the inner failure.
If vanity is his infirmity, he will recoil from the pointed disapproval of
his superiors. If the love of novelty is his besetting weakness, the very
uniqueness and strictness of religion, which first was attractive, now is
repulsive. The flattering attention which he received, when his life was so
different from the manners of the world, now disgusts him. The very
opposition which once animated, now cools him. He is discouraged by the
reality of the required Christian self-denial, which in anticipation had
appeared so delightful. Perhaps his fancy had been fired by some acts of
Christian heroism, which he felt an ambition to imitate. The truth is,
religion had only taken hold of his imagination, his heart had been left out
of the question.
Perhaps religion was originally seen as something only to be believed, but
now he finds that it must be lived. Above all the one falling away did not
take into consideration the CONSISTENCY which the Christian life demands.
Whereas warm affections rendered the practice of some right actions easy at
the beginning; not included in the reckoning were the self-denial, the
perseverance, and the renouncing of one's own will to which everyone pledges
himself who is enlisted under the banner of Christ. The cross which it was
easy to venerate, is found hard to bear.
On the other hand, a faltering Christian might have adopted religion when he
was in affliction, and he is now happy. It may have been when he was in bad
circumstances, and he is now grown affluent. Or it may have been taken on as
something he needed to add to his recommendation to some party or project
with which he wanted to associate. It may have been something that would
enable him to accomplish certain goals he had in view; or something that,
with the new acquaintance he wished to cultivate, might obliterate certain
blemishes from his former conduct, and whitewash a somewhat sullied
reputation.
Now in his more independent situation, it may be that he is surrounded by
temptations, softened by blandishments, allured by pleasures which he never
expected would arise to weaken his resolutions. These new enchantments make
it not so easy to be pious as when he had little to lose and everything to
desire, as when the world wore a frowning, and religion an inviting aspect.
Or he is perhaps, by the "changes and chances" of life, transferred from a
sober and humble society, where to be religious was honorable, to a more
fashionable set of associates, where, as the disclosure of his piety would
add nothing to his credit, he began to take pains to conceal it until it has
fallen into that gradual oblivion which is the natural consequence of its
being kept out of sight.
But we proceed to a far more interesting and important character. While the
one whom we have been slightly sketching may by his inconstancy do much
harm, this person might by his consistency and perseverance achieve
indispensable good. Even the sincere and established Christian needs to keep
a vigilant eye upon his own heart, especially if his situation in life be
easy, and his course smooth and prosperous. If we do not keep our ground, we
do not advance in it. Indeed, it will be a sure proof that we have gone
back, if we have not advanced.
In a world so beset with snares even sound Christians may experience a slow
but certain decline in devotion, a decline scarcely perceptible at first,
but more visible in its subsequent stages. Therefore, when we suspect our
hearts of any departure from faithfulness, we should compare ourselves with
what we were at the supposed height of our devotion, and not to any other
time. The gradual progress of decline is observable only when these two
remote states are brought into contrast.
Among other causes of our loss of interest in Christ is the indiscreet
forming of some worldly connection, especially that of marriage. In this
union the irreligious more frequently draw away the religious to their side,
rather than the contrary which is easily understood by those who are at all
acquainted with the human heart.
It is also possible for a sincere but incautious Christian to be led by a
strong affection to make some little sacrifices of principle for the
advancement of a loved one or for the pursual of a cherished cause. It may
be observed in passing that those with the most tender hearts are the most
susceptible to these disconcerting affections.
We must also take precautions against letting the wealth or position of
another believer influence our intent to be honest with them. We become
easily deceived because the film over our spiritual eyes grows gradually
thicker, and the change is imperceptible to us. So we rationalize our
diminished opposition to the faults of a friendly benefactor. We make
slight, temporary concessions, tempering measures which we view now as
perhaps too severe, when in fact all we have in mind is how that person or
cause will benefit us. At the same time we grow cold in the pursuit of the
rest of our duties. We begin to lament that in our present situation we can
see only small effects of our labors, not perceiving that God may have
withdrawn his blessing.
Many Christian parents may be similarly shortsighted with their children. In
our plans for their lives we should neither entertain ambitious views, nor
consider methods inconsistent with the strictness of our Christian faith. We
must "seek first the Kingdom of God and his righteousness," avoiding the
over-anxious attitude of many who do not profess our faith. We can
cheerfully confide in that gracious and cheering promise, that God who is
"both their sun and shield, who will give grace and glory, no good thing
will He withhold from those who walk uprightly."
It is one of the trials of faith appended to the sacred office that its
ministers, like Father Abraham are liable to go out "not knowing where they
go," and this not only at their first entrance into their profession but
throughout life, an inconvenience to which no other profession is
necessarily liable, a trial which is not perhaps fairly estimated.
This remark will naturally raise a laugh among those who at once hold the
ministry in contempt, deride its ministers, and think their well-earned pay
lavishly and even unnecessarily bestowed. They will probably exclaim in a
sarcastic manner, "It is surely a great cause of commiseration to be
transferred from a starving assistantship to a position of financial
security, or from the lower class of a country parish to the high society of
an affluent church."
While there is the positive aspect of the change from a state of uncertainty
to a state of independence, from a life of poverty to comfort, or from a
marginal to an affluent provision, we cannot discount the feelings and
affections of the heart. While money may be that chief good of which ancient
philosophy says so much, there are feelings which a man of acute sensibility
values more intimately than silver or gold.
Is it absolutely nothing to resign his local comforts, to break up his local
attachments, to have new connections to form, and that frequently at an
advanced period of life? Connections perhaps less valuable than those he is
leaving? Is it nothing for a faithful Minister to be separated from an
affectionate people, a people not only whose friendship but whose progress
has constituted his happiness here, as it will make his joy and crown of
rejoicing hereafter?
Men of delicate minds estimate things by their affections as well as by
their circumstances; to a man of a certain cast of character, a change
however advantageous may be rather an exile than a promotion. While he
gratefully accepts the good, he receives it with an edifying acknowledgment
of the imperfection of the best human things. These considerations we
confess add the additional feelings of kindness to their persons and of
sympathy with their vicissitudes, to our respect and veneration for their
holy office.
To themselves, however, the precarious tenure of their situation presents an
instructive emblem of the uncertain condition of human life, of the
transitory nature of the world itself. Their liableness to a sudden removal
gives them the advantage of being more especially reminded of the necessity
and duty of keeping in a continual posture of preparation, having "their
loins girded, their shoes on their feet, and their staff in their hand."
They have also the same promises which supported the Israelites in the
desert. The same assurance which cheered Abraham may still cheer the true
servants of God under all difficulties. "Fear not—I am your shield and your
exceeding great reward."
But there are perils on the right hand and on the left. It is not among the
least that though a pious Clergyman may at first have tasted with trembling
caution of the delicious cup of applause, he may gradually grow, as thirst
is increased by indulgence, to drink too deeply of the enchanted chalice.
The dangers arising from anything that is good are formidable, because
unsuspected. And such are the perils of popularity that we will venture to
say that the victorious general who had conquered a kingdom, or the
sagacious statesman who had preserved it, is almost in less danger of being
spoilt by acclamation than the popular preacher; because, although their
danger is likely to happen but once, his is perpetual. Theirs is only on a
day of triumph, his day of triumph occurs every week; we mean the admiration
he excites. Every fresh success ought to be a fresh motive to humiliation;
he who feels this danger will vigilantly guard against swallowing too
greedily the indiscriminate and often undistinguishing plaudits which either
his doctrines or his manner, his talents or his voice may procure for him.
If he is not prudent as well as pious, he may be brought to humour his
audience, and his audience to flatter him with a dangerous emulation, until
they will scarcely endure truth itself from any other lips. No, he may
imperceptibly be led not to be always satisfied with the attention and
improvement of his hearers, unless the attention be sweetened by flattery
and the improvement followed by exclusive attachment. The spirit of
exclusive fondness generates a spirit of controversy. Some of the followers
will rather improve in faulty reasoning to support their views. They will be
more busied in opposing Paul to Apollos than looking unto "Jesus, the author
and finisher of our faith." Religious gossip may substitute for religion
itself. A party spirit is thus generated, and Christianity may begin to be
considered as a thing to be discussed and disputed, to be heard and talked
about, rather than as the productive motivation for virtuous conduct.
We owe, indeed, lively gratitude and affectionate attachment to the Minister
who has faithfully labored for our edification; but the author has sometimes
noticed a manner adopted by some injudicious adherents, especially of her
own sex, which seems rather to erect their favorite into the head of a sect,
than to reverence him as the pastor of a flock. This mode of evincing an
attachment, amiable in itself, is doubtless as distressing to the delicacy
of the Minister as it is unfavorable to religion, to which it is apt to give
an air of partisanship.
May we be allowed to remark on the cause of declension in piety in some
ministers who formerly exhibited evident marks of that seriousness in their
lives which they continue to urge from the pulpit. May it not be partly due
to an unhappy notion that the same exactness in his private devotion, the
same watchfulness in his daily conduct, is not equally necessary in the
advanced progress as in the first stages of a religious course? He does not
desist from warning his hearers of the continual necessity of these things,
but is he not in some danger of not applying the necessity to himself? May
he not begin to rest satisfied with the preaching without the practice? It
is not probable indeed that he goes so far as to establish himself as an
exempt case, that he slides from indolence into the exemption, as if its
avoidance were not so necessary for him as for others.
Even the very sacredness of his profession is not without a snare. He may
repeat the holy offices so often that he may be in danger on the one hand of
sinking into the notion that it is a mere profession, or on the other, of so
resting in it as to make it supersede the necessity of that strict personal
religion with which he set out. He may at least be satisfied with the
occasional, without the consistent practice. There is a danger—we advert
only to its possibility—that his very exactness in the public exercise of
his function may lead him to little justifications of his laxity in secret
duties. His zealous exposition of the Scriptures to others may satisfy him,
though it does not always lead to a practical application of them to
himself.
But God, by requiring exemplary diligence in the devotion of his appointed
servants, would heap up in their minds a daily sense of their dependence on
him. If he does not continually teach by His Spirit those who teach others,
they have little reason to expect success, and that Spirit will not be given
where it is not sought; or, which is an awful consideration, may be
withdrawn where it had been given and not improved as it might.
Should this unhappily ever be the case, it would almost reduce the minister
of Christ to a mere engine, a vehicle through which knowledge was barely to
pass, like the ancient oracles who had nothing to do with the information
but to convey it. Perhaps the public success of the best men had been, under
God, principally owing to this; that their faithful ministration in the
Temple has been uniformly preceded and followed by petitions in the closet;
that the truths implanted in the one have chiefly flourished from having
been watered by the tears and nourished by the prayers of the other.
We will hazard but one more observation on this dangerous and delicate
subject. If the indefatigable laborer in his great Master's vineyard, has,
as must be the case, produced the desired effect, where his warmest hopes
had been excited—if he feels that he has not benefited others as he had
earnestly desired, this is precisely the moment to benefit himself, and is
perhaps permitted for that very end. Where his usefulness has been obviously
great, the true Christian will be humbled by the recollection that he is
only an instrument. Where it has been less, the defeat of his hopes offers
the best occasion, which he will not fail to use, for improving his
humility. Thus he may always be assured that good has been done somewhere,
so that in any case his labor will not have been in vain in the Lord.