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The Christian Life written by Thomas Arnold

T >> Thomas Arnold >> The Christian Life




Yet again, take the words "Kingdom of God" in their lowest sense, and
then it is woe to us all, if the expression in the text is all that can
be said of us; if, in this sense, we are only not far from the kingdom
of God. For take the kingdom of God as God's visible Church, and then,
if we are not Christians at all, but only not far from becoming so; if
we have not received Christ, but are not far from receiving him; this is
a state so imperfect, that he who is in it, has not yet reached to the
beginning of his Christian course; and we need not say how far he must
be from its end, if he have not yet come as far as its beginning.

Thus, in one sense, the words express something so high that nothing can
be higher; in another, something so low, that, to us, nothing can be
lower. We have yet to seek that sense, in which they may afford us a
useful criterion of our own several states, by appearing high, perhaps,
to some of us, and to others low.

The sense which we seek is given by our Lord, when he declares that the
kingdom of God is within us; or by St. Paul, when he tells us, that it
is righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost. And now it is no
more a thing which we cannot yet have reached, or, on the other hand,
which we all have reached: there is now a great difference in us, some
are far from it, some are near it, and some are in it; and thus it is,
that they who are near it, seem in it to those who are afar off, and
far from it to those who are in it.

Now, first, do they seem far from it? Then, indeed, ours is a happy
state, as many of us as can truly feel that they live so constantly in
holy and heavenly tempers, in such lively faith and love, so tasting all
the blessings of God's kingdom, its peace, and its hope, and its joy,
that they cannot bear to think of that time, when these blessings were
not enjoyed except in prospect; when they rather desired to have faith
and love, than could be said actually to have them; when their tempers
were not holy and heavenly, although they were fully alive to the
excellence of their being so, and had seen them already cleansed from
the opposites of such a state, from ill-nature, and passion, and pride.

If any such there be, in whom good resolutions have long since ripened
into good actions, and the continued good actions have now led to
confirmed good habits, how miserable will they think it to be only "not
far from the kingdom of God!" How ill could they bear to go over again
the struggle which used to accompany every action, when it was done in
defiance of habits of evil; or to be called back to that condition when
resolutions for good were formed over and over again, because they were
so often broken, but had as yet rarely led to any solid fruit! How
thankful will they be to have escaped from that season when they were
seeking, but had not yet found; when they were asking of God, but had
not yet received; when they were knocking, but the door had not yet been
opened! They were then, indeed, not far from the kingdom of God, but
they were still without its walls; they were still strangers, and not
citizens. It had held out to them a refuge, and they had fled to it as
suppliants to the sanctuary; but they had not yet had the word of peace
spoken, to bid them no more kneel without, as suppliants, but to enter
and go in and out freely; for that all things were theirs, because they
were Christ's.

I have dwelt purposely somewhat the longer upon this, because the more
that we can feel the truth of this picture, the more that we can put
ourselves into the position of those who are within the kingdom of God,
and who, living in the light of it, look back with pity upon those who
are only kneeling without its gates,--the more strongly we shall feel
what must be our condition, if those who are without its gates appear to
us to be objects of envy rather than pity, because they are so near to
that place from which we feel ourselves to be so distant. Or, to speak
without a figure, if we could but understand how persons advanced in
goodness would shrink from the thought of being now only resolving to be
good, then we shall perceive how very evil must be our condition, if
this very resolving to be good seems to us to be an advance so
desirable; if we are so far from being good actually, that the very
setting ourselves in earnest to seek for good strikes us as a point of
absolute proficiency in comparison of our present degradation.

Yet is not this the case with many of us? Do we not consider it a great
point gained, if we can be brought to think seriously, to pray in
earnest, to read the Bible, to begin to look to our own ways and lives?
We feel it for ourselves, and others also feel it for us: it is natural,
it is unavoidable, that we feel great joy, that we think a great deal is
done, if we see any of you, after leading a life of manifest
carelessness, and therefore of manifest sin, beginning to take more
pains with himself, and so becoming what is called somewhat more steady
and more serious. I know that the impression is apt to be too strong
upon us: we are but too apt to boast for him who putteth on his armour
as for him who putteth it off; because he who putteth on his armour at
least shows that he is preparing for the battle, which so many never do
at all. We observe some of these signs of seriousness: we see perhaps,
that a person begins to attend at the Communion; that he pays more
attention to his ordinary duties; that he becomes more regular. We see
this, and we are not only thankful for it,--this we ought to be,--but we
satisfy ourselves too readily that all is done: we reckon a person,
somewhat too hastily, to be already belonging to the kingdom of God,
because we have seen him turning towards it. Then, if he afterwards does
not appear to be entered into it; if we see that he is not what we
expected, that he is no longer serious, no longer attentive to his
common duties, we are overmuch disappointed; and, perhaps are tempted
too completely to despair for him. Is it not that we confounded together
the beginning and the end; the being good, and the trying to become so:
the resolution with the act; the act with the habit? Did we not forget
that he is not at once out of danger who begins to mend: that the first
softening of the dry burning skin, the first abating of the hard quick
pulse, is far removed from the coolness, and steadiness, and even vigour
of health restored, or never interrupted?

But what made us forget truths so obvious? What made us confound things
so different that the most ignorant ought to be able to distinguish
them? Cannot we tell why it is? Is it not because there are so many in
whom we cannot see even as good signs as these,--of whom we cannot but
feel that it would be a great advance for them, a matter of earnest
thankfulness, if we could only see that they were not far from the
kingdom of God,--nay, even that their steps were tending thither? Let us
look ever so earnestly, let us watch ever so carefully, let us hope
ever so charitably, we cannot see, we can scarcely fancy that we see,
even the desire to turn to God. We do not see gross wickedness; it is
well; we see much that is amiable; that is well also: but the desire to
turn to God, the tending of the steps towards the kingdom of
heaven,--that we cannot see. But this is a thing, it may be said, that
man cannot see: it may exist, although we cannot perceive it. Oh, that
it might and may be so! Yet, surely, as out of the abundance of the
heart the mouth speaketh, so a principle so mighty as the desire of
turning to God cannot leave itself without a witness: some symptoms must
be shown to those who are eagerly watching for them; some ground for
hope must be afforded where hope is so ready to kindle. If no sign of
life appears, can the life indeed be stirring? And if the life be not
stirring; if the disorder is going on in so many cases, raging, with no
symptom of abatement; is it not natural, that when we do see such
symptoms, we should rejoice even with over-measure, that we should
forget how much is yet to be done, when we see that something has
been done.

To such persons, it would be an enviable state, to be not far from the
kingdom of God. But what, then, must be their state actually? A hopeful
one, according to many standards of judgment; a state that promises
well, it may be, for a healthy and prosperous life, with many friends,
perhaps with much distinction. We know that all this prospect may be
blighted; still it exists at present;--the healthy constitution, the
easy fortune, the cheerful and good-humoured temper, the quickness and
power of understanding; all these, no doubt, are hopeful signs for a
period of forty, or fifty, or perhaps sixty years to come. But what is
to come then? what is the prospect for the next period, not of fifty, or
sixty, not of a hundred, not of a thousand, years; not of any number
that can be numbered, but of time everlasting? Is their actual state one
of hopeful promise for this period, for this life which no death shall
terminate? Nay, is it a state of any promise at all, of any chance at
all? Suppose, for a moment, one with a crippled body, full of the seeds
of hereditary disease, poor, friendless, irritable in temper, low in
understanding; suppose such an one just entering upon youth, and ask
yourselves, for what would you consent that his prospects should be
yours? What should you think would be your chance of happiness in life,
if you were beginning in such a condition? Yet, I tell you that poor,
diseased, irritable, friendless cripple has a far better prospect of
passing his fifty, or sixty, years, tolerably, than they who have not
begun to turn towards God have of a tolerable eternity. Much more
wretched is the promise of their life; much more justly should we be
tempted, concerning them, to breathe that fearful thought, that it were
good for them if they had never been born. And now if, as by miracle,
that cripple's limbs were to be at once made sound, if the seeds of
disease were to vanish, if some large fortune were left him, if his
temper sweetened, and his mind became vigorous, should not we be
excused, considering what he had been and what he now was, if we, for a
moment, forgot the uncertainty of the future; if we thought that a
promise so changed, was almost equivalent to performance? And may not
this same excuse be urged for some over-fondness of confidence for their
well-doing whom we see so near to the kingdom of God, when we consider
how utter is the misery, how hopeless the condition of those who do not
appear to have, as yet, stirred one single step towards it?




LECTURE XIV.

* * * * *

MATTHEW xxii. 14.

_For many are called, but few are chosen_.


The truth here expressed is one of the most solemn in the world, and
would be one of the most overwhelming to us, if habit had not, in a
manner, blunted our painful perception of it. There is contained in it
matter of thought more than we could exhaust, and deeper than we could
ever fathom. But on this I will not attempt to enter. I will rather take
that view of the text which concerns us here; I will see in how many
senses it is true, and with what feeling we should regard it.

"Many are called, but few are chosen." The direct application of this
was to the parable of those invited to the supper; in which it had been
related, how a great multitude had been invited, but how one among
them--and the application as well as the fact in human life, require
that this _one_ should be taken only as a specimen of a great
number--had been found unworthy to enjoy the feast prepared for them.
They had not on the wedding garment; they had not done their part to fit
themselves for the offered blessing: therefore they were called, but not
chosen. God had willed to do them good, but they would not; and
therefore, though he had called them at the beginning, he, in the end,
cast them out.

We have to do, then, not with an arbitrary call and an arbitrary choice,
as if God called many in mockery, meaning to choose out of them only a
few, and making his choice independently of any exertion of theirs. The
picture is very different; it is a gracious call to us all, to come and
receive the blessing; it is a reluctant casting out the greatest part of
us, because we would not try to render ourselves fit for it.

I said, that we would take the words of the text in reference to
ourselves, for here, too, it is true, that many are called, but few are
chosen. It is a large number of you, which I see before me; and if we
add to it all those who, within my memory, have sat in the same places
before you, we shall have a number very considerable indeed. All these
have been called; they have been sent here to enjoy the same advantages
with each other; and those advantages have been put within their reach.
They have entered into a great society which, on the one hand, might
raise them forward, or, on the other, depress them. There has been a
sufficient field for emulation: there have been examples and
instructions for good; there have been results of credit and of real
improvement made attainable to them, which might have lasted all their
lives long. To this, they have been all, in their turns, called; and out
of those so called, have all, or nearly all, been chosen? I am not
speaking of those, who, I trust, would be a very small number, to whom
the trial has failed utterly, who could look back on their stay here
with no feelings but those of shame. But would there not be a very large
number, to whom their stay here has been a loss, compared with what it
might have been; who have reaped but a very small part of those
advantages to which they had been at first called? Are there not too
many who must look back on a part, at least, of their time here as
wasted; on the seeds of bad habits sown, which, if conquered by
after-care, yet, for a long time, were injurious to them? Are there not
too many who carry away from here, instead of good notions, to be
ripened and improved, evil notions, to be weeded out and destroyed? Are
there not, in short, a great number who, after having had a great
advantage put within their reach, and purchased for them by their
friends, at a great expense, have made such insufficient use of their
opportunities, to say nothing stronger, as to make it a question
afterwards, whether it might not have been better for them had they
never come here at all?

Thus far I have been speaking of what are called the advantages of this
place in our common language. That argument, which Butler has so nobly
handled, in one of the greatest works in our language, the resemblance,
namely, between the course of things earthly and that of things
spiritual, is one which we should never fail to notice. We can discern
the type, as it were, of the highest truth of our Lord's sayings in the
experience of our common life in worldly things. When he tells us,
speaking of things spiritual, that "many are called, but few are
chosen;" that "whoso hath, to him shall be given; but from him that hath
not shall be taken away even that which he hath,"--although the highest
truth contained in these words be yet, in part, matter of faith, for we
have not yet seen the end of God's dealings with us: yet what we do see,
the evident truth of the words, that is, in respect to God's dealings
with us in the course of his earthly providence, may reasonably assure
us of their truth no less in respect to those dealings of God which as
yet are future. I began, therefore, with reminding you of the truth of
the words of the text with regard to worldly advantages; that even here,
on this small scale, the general law holds good; that more things are
provided for us than we will consent to use; that, in short, "many are
called, but few are chosen."

But it were ill done to limit our view to this: we are called to much
more than worldly advantages; and what if here, too, we add one more
example to confirm our Lord's words, that "many are called, but few
chosen?" Now here, as I said, it is very true that God's choice is as
yet not a matter of sight or of certainty to us; we cannot yet say of
ourselves, or of any other set of living men, that "few are chosen." But
though the full truth is not yet revealed, still, as there is a type of
it in our worldly experience, so there is also a higher type, an
earnest, of it in our spiritual experience: there is a sense, and that a
very true and a very important one, in which we can say already, say
now, actually, in the life that now is; say, even in the early stage of
it, that some are, and some are not, "chosen."

We have all been called, in a Christian sense, inasmuch as we have been
all introduced into Christ's church by Baptism; and a very large
proportion of us have been called again, many of us not very long since,
at our Confirmation. We have been thus called to enter into Christ's
kingdom: we have been called to lead a life of holiness and happiness
from this time forth even for ever. Nothing can be stronger than the
language in which the Scripture speaks of the nature of our high
calling: "All things," says St. Paul to the Corinthians, "all things are
yours; whether Paul, or Apollos, or Peter, or the world, or life, or
death, or things present, or things to come, all are yours; and ye are
Christ's, and Christ is God's." Now, if this be the prize to which we
are called, who are they who are also chosen to it? In the first and
most complete sense, no doubt, those who have entered into their rest;
who are in no more danger, however slight; with whom the struggle is
altogether past, and the victory securely won. These are entered within
the veil, whither we can as yet penetrate only in hope. But hope, in
its highest degree, differs little from assurance; and even, as we
descend lower and lower, still, where hope is clearly predominant, there
is, if not assurance, yet a great encouragement; and the Scripture,
which delights to carry encouragement to the highest pitch to those who
are following God, allows of our saying of even these that they are
God's chosen. It gives them, as it were, the title beforehand, to make
them feel how doubly miserable it must be not only not to obtain it, but
to forfeit it after it had been already ours. So then, there are senses
in which we may say that some are chosen now; although, strictly
speaking, the term can by us be applied, in its full sense, to those
only who are passed beyond the reach of evil.

Those, then, we may call chosen, who, having heard their call, have
turned to obey it, and have gone on following it. Those we may call
chosen,--I do not say chosen irrevocably, but chosen now; chosen so that
we may be very thankful to God on their behalf, and they thankful for
themselves,--who, since their Confirmation, or since a period more
remote, have kept God before their face, and tried to do His will. Those
are, in the same way, chosen, who having found in themselves the sin
which did most easily beset them, have struggled with it, and wholly, or
in a great measure, have overcome it. Thus, they are chosen, who, having
lived either in the frequent practice of selfish, extravagance, or of
falsehood, or of idleness, or of excess in eating and drinking, have
turned away from these things, and, for Christ's sake, have renounced
them. They are chosen, I think, in yet a higher sense, who, having found
their besetting sin to be, not so much any one particular fault, as a
general ungodly carelessness, a lightness which for ever hindered them
from serving God, have struggled with this most fatal enemy; and, even
in youth, and health, and happiness, have learnt what it is to be
sober-minded, what it is to think. Now, such as these have, in a manner,
entered into their inheritance; they are not merely called, but chosen.
God and spiritual things are not mere names to them, they are a reality.
Such persons have tasted of the promises; they have known the
pleasure--and what pleasure is comparable to it?--of feeling the bonds
of evil passion or evil habit unwound from about their spirit; they have
learnt what is that glorious liberty of being able to abstain from the
things which we condemn, to do the things which we approve. They have
felt true sense of power succeed to that of weakness. It is a delightful
thing, after a long illness, after long helplessness, when our legs have
been unable to support our weight, when our arms could lift nothing, our
hands grasp nothing, when it was an effort to raise our head from the
pillow, and it tired us even to speak in a whisper,--it is a delightful
thing to feel every member restored to its proper strength; to find that
exercise of limb, of voice, of body, which had been so long a pain,
become now a source of perpetual pleasure. This is delightful; it pays
for many an hour of previous weakness. But it is infinitely more
delightful to feel the change from weakness to strength in our souls; to
feel the languor of selfishness changed for the vigour of benevolence;
to feel thought, hope, faith, love, which before were lying, as it were,
in helplessness, now bounding in vigorous activity; to find the soul,
which had been so long stretched as upon the sick bed of this earth, now
able to stand upright, and looking and moving steadily towards heaven.

These are chosen; and they to whom this description does in no degree
apply, they are not chosen. They are not chosen in any sense, they are
called only. And, now, what is the proportion between the one and the
other; are there as many chosen as there have been many called? Or do
Christ's words apply in our case no less than in others; that though
they who are called are many, yet they who are chosen are few?

This I dare not answer; there is a good as well as an evil which is
unseen to the world at large, unseen even by all but those who watch us
most nearly and most narrowly. All we can say is, that there are too
many, who we must fear are not chosen; there are too few, of whom we can
feel sure that they are. Yet hope is a wiser feeling than its opposite;
it were as wrong as it would be miserable to abandon it. How gladly
would we hope the best things of all those whom we saw this morning at
Christ's holy table! How gladly would we believe of all such, that they
were more than called merely; that they had listened to the call: that
they had obeyed it; that they had already gained some Christian
victories; that they were, in some sense, not called only, but chosen.
But this we may say; that hope which we so long to entertain, that hope
too happy to be at once indulged in, you may authorize us to feel it;
you may convert it into confidence. Do you ask how? By going on steadily
in good, by advancing from good to better, by not letting impressions
fade with time. Now, with many of you, your confirmation is little more
than three months distant; when we next meet at Christ's table, it will
have passed by nearly half-a-year. It may be, that, in that added
interval, it will have lost much of its force; that, from various
causes, evil may have abounded in you more than good; that then shame,
or a willing surrender of yourselves to carelessness, will keep away
from Christ's Communion, many who have this day joined in it. But, if
this were not to be so; if those, whom we have seen with joy this day
communicating with us in the pledges of Christian fellowship, should
continue to do so steadily; if, in the meantime, traits shall appear in
you in other things that our hope was well founded; if the hatred of
evil and the love of good were to be clearly manifest in you; if by
signs not to be mistaken by those who watch earnestly for them, we might
be assured that your part was taken, that you were striving with us in
that service of our common Master, in which we would fain live and die;
if evil was clearly lessened among us--not laughed at, but discouraged
and put down; if instead of those turning away, who have now been with
us at Christ's table, others, who have now turned away, should then be
added to the number; then we should say, not doubtingly, that you were
chosen: that you had tasted of the good things of Christ; that the good
work of God was clearly begun in you. We might not, indeed, be without
care, either for you or for ourselves: God forbid, that, in that sense,
any of us should deem that we were chosen, until the grave has put us
beyond temptation. But how happy were it to think of you as Christ's
chosen, in that sense which should be a constant encouragement to us
all: to think of you as going on towards God; to think of you as living
to him daily; to think of you as on his side against all his enemies; to
think of you as led by his Spirit, as living members of his holy and
glorious Church,--militant now, in heaven triumphant!




LECTURE XV.

* * * * *

LUKE xi. 25.

_When he cometh, he findeth it swept and garnished_.


JOHN v. 42.

_I know you, that ye have not the love of God in you_.