The Christian Life written by Thomas Arnold

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But for those,--who they are, again, we know not, nor how many; but
here, also, there will too surely be some,--for those who hear now, as
they have often heard before, words which, they scarcely heed, which,
have at times partially caught their attention, but have not produced in
them the slightest real effect, for them the words are coming to an end;
they will soon be released from the irksome bondage of hearing them; and
another opportunity of grace will have been offered to them in vain.
Tomorrow, and the day after, they will walk as they have walked before,
the wretched slaves of folly and passion; half despairing prayer may
be, "Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief;" but if any one is moved
by Christ's call, and feels within himself that he should like to follow
Christ, and to be with him always, let him cherish that work of the Holy
Spirit within him, which has given him if it be only so much of the will
to be saved. It is a spark which may be quenched in a moment; in itself
it can give no assurance; but if any one watches it carefully, and prays
that it may live and be kindled into a stronger spark, till at last it
break out into a flame, then for him it is full of assurance; God has
heard his prayer; and he has received the gift of the Holy Spirit, an
earnest of his eternal inheritance. Will he not then watch and pray the
more anxiously, lest the fruit which is now partly formed should never
ripen? Will he not see and feel that there is some reality in the things
of God, that strength, and peace, and victory, are not vainly promised?
Will he not hold fast the things which he has now not heard only, but
known, lest by any means he should let them slip? May God strengthen
such, whoever they may be, with all the might of his Spirit; and may he
be with them even to the end.

But for those,--who they are, again, we know not, nor how many; but
here, also, there will too surely be some,--for those who hear now, as
they have often heard before, words which they scarcely heed, which have
at times partially caught their attention, but have not produced in them
the slightest real effect, for them the words are coming to an end; they
will soon be released from the irksome bondage of hearing them; and
another opportunity of grace will have been offered to them in vain.
Tomorrow, and the day after, they will walk as they have walked before,
the wretched slaves of folly and passion; leaving undone all Christ's
work, and greedily doing his enemy's. Yet even these Christ yet spares,
he still calls them, he has died for them. Still the word must be spoken
to them, whether they will hear, or whether they will forbear. It may
be, that they will some day turn; and if not, Christ has perfected his
mercy towards them; and Christ's servants have delivered their own souls
in warning them. May there be but few of us on whom this horrible
portion will fall; yet, is it not an awful thing to think of, that it
will, in all human probability, fall on some? and that whoever hardens
his heart, and resists the word spoken to him this day, he is one who
has done as much as in him lies to make himself among that number.

LECTURE VI.

* * * * *

COLOSSIANS iii. 3.

_Ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God_.

When I have spoken, from time to time, of denying ourselves for the sake
of relieving others, although self-denial and charity are, in their full
growth, amongst the highest of Christian graces, yet I have felt much
hope that, up to a certain degree, in their lowest and elementary forms
at least, there might be many that would be disposed to practise them.
For these are virtues which do undoubtedly commend themselves to our
minds as things clearly good: so much so that I am inclined to think
that the much-disputed moral sense, the nature of which is said to be so
hard to ascertain, exists most clearly in the universal perception that
it is good to deny ourselves and to benefit others. I do not say merely
that there is a perception that it is good to deny ourselves in order to
benefit others; but that there is in self-denial, simply, something
which commands respect; an unconscious tribute, I suppose, to the truth,
that the self which, is thus denied is one which, if indulged, would
run to evil.

But a point of far greater difficulty, of absolutely the greatest
difficulty, is to impress upon our minds the excellence of
another quality, which is known by the name of spiritual or
heavenly-mindedness. In fact, this,--and this almost singly,--is the
transcendent part of Christianity; that part of it which is not
according to, but above, nature; which, conscience, I think, itself, in
the natural man, does not acknowledge. When Christianity speaks of
purity, of truth, of justice, of charity, of faith and love to God, it
speaks a language which, however belied by our practice, is at once
allowed by our consciences: the things so recommended are, beyond all
doubt, good and lovely. But when it says, in St. Paul's words, "Set your
affections on things above, not on things on the earth: for ye are dead,
and your life is hid with Christ in God," the language sounds so strange
that it is scarcely intelligible; and if we do get to understand it, yet
it seems to give a wrench, as it were, to our whole being, to command a
thing extravagant and impossible.

I am persuaded that this would be so, more or less, everywhere; but in
how extreme a degree must it hold good amongst us! Even in poverty, in
sickness, and old age, where this life would seem to be nothing but a
burden, and the command to "set the affections on things above" might
appear superfluous, still the known so prevails over the unknown, the
familiar over the incomprehensible, that hope and affection find
continually their objects in this world, there is still a clinging to
life, and an unwillingness to die. But in a state the very opposite to
this, in plenty, in health, in youth; with much of enjoyment actually in
our hands, and more in prospect; with just so much mystery over our
coming life as to keep alive interest, yet with enough known and
understood in its prospects to awaken sympathy; what deafest ear of the
deaf adder could ever be so closed against the voice of the charmer, as
our minds, so engrossed with the enjoyments and the hopes of earth, are
closed against the voice which speaks of the things of heaven?

Again, I have said, when speaking of other subjects, that I looked upon
the older persons among you as a sort of link between me and the
younger, who communicated, in some instances, by their language and
example, something of an impression of the meaning of Christian
teaching. But when we speak of a thing so high as spiritual-mindedness,
it seems as if none of us can be a link between Christ's words and our
brethren's minds: as if we all stand alike at an infinite distance from
the high and unapproachable truth. The mountain of God becomes veiled,
as it were, with the clouds which rested upon Sinai; we cannot approach
near it, but stand far off, for a moment, perhaps, in awe; but soon in
neglect and indifference.

Let any one capable of thinking, but in the full vigour of health of
body and mind, placed far above want, and with the prospect, according
to all probability, of many years of happy life before him, let such an
one go forth, at this season of the year above all, let him see the vast
preparation for life in all nature, amongst all living creatures, in
every tree, and in every plant of grass; let him feel the warmth of the
sun, becoming every day stronger and stronger; let him be possessed, in
every sense, with an impression of the vigour and beauty and glory
around him; and let him feel no less a vigour in himself, too, of body
and mind, and infinitely varied power of enjoyment in so many faculties
of repose and of energy,--and then let him calmly consider what St. Paul
could mean, when he says generally to Christians, "Set your affections
on things above, not on things on the earth; for ye are dead, and your
life is hid with Christ in God."

Let a person capable of thinking, and such as I have supposed in all
other respects, consider what St. Paul could mean by calling him "dead."
With an almost thrilling consciousness of life, with an almost bounding
sense of vigour in body and mind, he is told that he is "dead." And
stranger still, he is told so by one whose recorded life, and existing
writings declare that he too must have had in himself a consciousness of
life no less lively; that there was in him an activity and energy which
neither age nor sufferings could quell; that he wielded an influence
over the minds of thousands, such as kings or conquerors might envy. If
St. Paul could stand by our side, think we that he, any more than
ourselves, would be insensible to the power within him, and to the
beauty and the glory without? Yet his words are recorded; he bids us not
set our affections on things on the earth; he declares of himself, and
of us equally, if we are Christ's servants, that we are dead, and that
our life is hid with Christ in God.

I have put the difficulty in its strongest form, for it is one well
worth considering. What St. Paul here urges is indeed the highest
perfection of Christianity, and therefore of human nature; but it is not
an impossible perfection, and St. Paul's own life and character are our
warrant that it is nothing sickly, or foolish, or fanatical. But let us
first hear the whole of St. Paul's language: "If ye, then, be risen with
Christ, seek those things which are above, where Christ sitteth at the
right hand of God. Set your affections on things above, not on things on
the earth. For ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God.
When Christ, who is our life, shall appear, then shall we also appear
with him in glory. Mortify therefore your members which are upon the
earth; fornication, uncleanness, inordinate affection, evil
concupiscence, and covetousness, which is idolatry." "Mortify," I need
not say, is to make dead, to destroy. "Ye are dead;" therefore let your
members on earth be dead; "fornication, uncleanness, inordinate
affection," &c. As if he had said, By becoming Christians ye engaged to
be dead; and therefore see to it that ye are so. But what he requires us
to make dead or to destroy, are our evil affections and desires; it is
manifest, then, that it is to these that, by becoming Christians, we
engage to become dead.

This is true; and it is most certain that Christ requires us to be dead
only to what is evil. But the essence of spiritual-mindedness consists
in this, that it is assumed that with earth, and all things earthly,
evil or imperfection are closely mixed; so that it is not possible to
set our affections keenly upon, or to abandon ourselves to the enjoyment
of, any earthly thing without the danger of those affections and that
enjoyment becoming evil. In other words, there is that in the state of
things within and around us, which, renders it needful to be ever
watchful; and watchfulness is inconsistent with an intensity of delight
and enjoyment.

For, consider the case which I was just supposing; that lively sense of
the beauty of all nature, that indescribable feeling of delight which
arises out of the consciousness of health, and strength and power.
Suppose that we abandon ourselves to such impressions without restraint,
and is it not manifest that they are the extreme of godless pride and
selfishness? For do we not know that in this world, and close to us
wherever we are, there is, along with all the beauty and enjoyment which
we witness, a large portion also of evil, and of suffering? And do we
not know that He who gave to the earth its richness, and who set the sun
to shine in the heavens, and who gave to us that wonderful frame of body
and mind, whose healthful workings are So delightful to us, that He gave
them that we might use both body and mind in His service; that the
soldier has something else to do than to gaze like a child on the
splendour of his uniform or the brightness of his sword; that those
faculties which we feel as it were burning within us, have their work
before them, a work far above their strength, though multiplied a
thousand fold; that the call to them to be busy is never silent; that
there is an infinite voice in the infinite sins and sufferings of
millions which proclaims that the contest is raging around us; that
every idle moment is treason; that now it is the time for unceasing
efforts; and that not till the victory is gained may Christ's soldiers
throw aside their arms, and resign themselves to enjoyment and to rest?

Then when we turn to the words, "our life is hid with Christ in God,"
the exceeding greatness of Christ's promises rises upon us in something
of the fulness of their reality. Some may know the story of that German
nobleman[12], whose life had been distinguished alike by genius and
worldly distinctions, and by Christian holiness; and who, in the last
morning of his life, when the dawn broke into his sick chamber, prayed
that he might be supported to the window, and might look once again upon
the rising sun. After looking steadily at it for some time, he cried
out, "Oh! if the appearance of this earthly and created thing is so
beautiful and so quickening, how much more shall I be enraptured at the
sight of the unspeakable glory of the Creator Himself!" That was the
feeling of a man whose sense of earthly beauty had all the keenness of a
poet's enthusiasm; but who, withal, had in his greatest health and
vigour preserved the consciousness that his life was hid with Christ in
God; that the things seen, how beautiful soever, were as nothing to the
things which are not seen. And so, if from the feeling of natural
enjoyment we turn, at once thankfully and earnestly, to remember God's
service, and to address ourselves to his work; and sadly remember, that,
although we can enjoy, yet that many are suffering; and that, whilst
they are so, enjoyment in us for more than a brief space of needful rest
cannot but be sin; then there must come upon us, most strongly, the
impression of that life where sin and suffering are not; where not God's
works only, but God Himself is visible; where the vigour and faculties
which we feel within us are not the passing strength of a decaying body,
nor the brief prime of a mind which in a few years must sink into
dotage; but the strength of a body incorruptible and eternal, the
ripeness of a spirit which shall go on growing in wisdom and love
for ever.

[Footnote 12: The Baron Von Canitz.]

Thus, then, if we consider again St. Paul's meaning, we shall find that,
high and pure as it is, it is nothing unreasonable or impossible; that
what he requires us to be dead to absolutely is that which is evil;
that, because of the mixture of evil with ourselves and all around us,
this life must not and cannot be a life of entire enjoyment without
becoming godless and selfish; that, therefore, our affections cannot be
set upon earthly things so as to enjoy them in and for themselves
entirely, without becoming inordinate, and therefore evil. He does
require us, old and young alike, to set our affection on things above:
to remember that with God, and with Him alone, can be our rest, and the
fulness of our joy; and amidst our pleasure in earthly things to retain
in our minds, first, a grateful sense of their Giver; secondly, a
remembrance of their passing nature; and thirdly, a consciousness of the
evil that is in the world, which makes it a sin to resign ourselves to
any enjoyment, except as a permitted refreshment to strengthen us for
duty to come. Above all, let one feeling be truly cherished, and it
will do more, perhaps, than any other to moderate our pleasure in
earthly things, and to render it safe, and wholesome, and Christianlike.
That feeling is the remembrance of our own faults. Let us bear these in
mind as God does; let us consider how displeasing they are in His sight;
how often they are repeated; how little they deserve the enjoyments
which are given us. If this does not change our selfish pleasure into a
zealous gratitude, then, indeed, sin must have a dominion over us; for
the natural effect would be, that our hearts should burn within us for
very shame, and should enkindle us to be thankful with all our strength
for blessings so undeserved; to show something of our love to God who
has so richly shown his love to us.

LECTURE VII.

* * * * *

CORINTHIANS iii. 21-23.

_All things are yours; whether Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas, 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_.

It is very possible, that all may not distinctly understand the force of
the several clauses of this passage, yet, all, I suppose, would derive a
general impression from it, that it spoke of the condition of Christians
in very exalted language, and made it to extend to things in this world,
as well as to things in the world to come. But can it be good for us to
dwell on our exaltation? And if we do, may we not dread lest such
language might be used towards us as that which St. Paul uses in the
very next chapter to the Corinthians, "Now ye are full, now ye are rich,
ye have reigned as kings without us; and I would to God ye did reign,
that we also might reign with you." It would seem, however, that it
would be good for us to dwell on the greatness of our condition and
privileges, because St. Paul, who thus upbraids the Corinthians with
their pride, had yet himself immediately before laid the picture of
their high privileges, in the words of the text, in full detail before
them, as if he wished them carefully to consider it. And so indeed it
is. It feeds pride to dwell upon our good qualities or advantages, as
individuals, or as a class in society, or as a nation, or as a sect or
party; but, to speak generally, our advantages and privileges, as
Christians, have not a tendency to excite pride; for some reasons in the
nature of the case; for this reason amongst ourselves particularly,
because the very essence of pride consists in contrast; we are proud
that we are, in some one or more points, superior to others who come
immediately under our observation. Now, we have so little to do with any
who are not Christians, that the contrast is in this case wanting; we
have none over whom to be proud; none whom we can glory in surpassing;
and, therefore, a consideration of our Christian advantages, in the
absence of that one element which might feed pride, is likely with us to
work in a better manner, and to lead rather to thankfulness and
increased exertion.

I say to increased exertion; for what would stop exertion is pride. It
is the turning back, and pausing to look with satisfaction on what is
below us, rather than the looking upward to the summit, and thinking how
much our actual elevation has brought us on the way towards it. And,
further, there is coupled with every consideration of Christian
privileges, the thought of what it must be to leave such privileges
unimproved. In this respect, how well does the language of the two
lessons from Deuteronomy suit the lesson from the Epistle to the
Corinthians. We heard the description of the beauty and richness of the
land which God gave to his people,--there were their advantages and
privileges,--we heard also, the declaration of their unworthiness, and
the solemn threatening of vengeance if, after having received good, they
did evil. And as the vengeance has fallen upon them to the utmost, so we
are taught expressly to apply their example to ourselves. "If God spared
not the natural branches," such was St. Paul's language to the church at
Rome, "take heed lest he also spare not thee."

Let us not fear, then, to consider more nearly the high privileges
which, as Christians, we enjoy: let us endeavour to understand, not
merely generally, but in detail, the exalted language of the text, where
it is said, that all things are ours; Paul, Apollos, and Cephas, the
world, and life, and death, the things of time, and the things of
eternity. These are ours because we are Christ's, and Christ is God's;
they are ours so long as we are Christ's, and so far as we are his
truly. They are not ours so far as we are not his: they are ours in no
degree whatever the moment that he shall declare that we are his
no longer.

"Paul, and Apollos, and Peter, are ours." This, perhaps, is the
expression which we should understand least distinctly of any. It is an
expression, however, of deep importance, though perhaps less so here
than in congregations of a different sort. I need not, therefore, dwell
on it long now. But the Corinthians, as many Christians have done since,
were apt to think more of their being Christians of a certain sort, than
of being Christians simply: some said, "We have Paul's view of
Christianity, the true and sound view of it, free from superstition:"
others said, "But we have Peter's view of Christianity, one of Christ's
own apostles, who were with him on earth; ours is the true and earliest
view of it, free from all innovations:" and others, again, said, "Nay,
but we have been taught by Apollos, an eloquent man, and mighty in the
Scriptures; one who best understands how to unite the law and the
gospel; one who has given us the full perfection of Christianity." No
doubt there were some differences of views even between Paul, and Peter,
and Apollos; for while, on the one hand, they were all enlightened by
the Spirit of God, yet, on the other hand, they retained still their
human differences of character and disposition, which must on several
occasions have been manifest. But St. Paul does not tell us what these
were, nor how far they extended, nor to what degree they had been
exaggerated by those who heard them. He does not insist upon the truth
of his own view, nor wish the Corinthians to lay aside their divisions,
after the manner so zealously enforced by some persons now, namely, that
those who said they were of Peter, or of Apollos, should confess that
they had been in error, and declare themselves to be now only of Paul.
Such a condemnation of schism he would have held to be in itself in the
highest degree schismatical. But St. Paul was earnest, that schism
should be ended after another way than this, by all parties remembering,
that whatever became of the truth or falsehood of their own particular
views of Christianity, yet, that Christianity according to any of their
views was the one great thing which was their glory and their salvation.
"Paul, and Apollos, and Peter, are all yours: but you are Christ's." You
should not glory in men; that you belong to a purer church than other
Christians; but that you belong to the church of Christ; that church,
which, in its most pure particular branches, has never been free from
some mixture of human infirmity and error; nor yet, in its worst
branches, has ever lost altogether the seal of Christ's Spirit, nor
ceased to believe in Christ crucified.

But the next words are of more particular concern to us here. "The
world, and life, and death, and things present, and things to come, are
all ours." They are all ours, so far as we are Christ's. The world is
ours; its manifold riches and delights, its various wisdom, all are
ours. They are ours, not as a thing stolen, and which will be taken from
us with a heavy over-payment of penalty, because we stole it when it did
not belong to us; but they are ours by God's free gift, to minister to
our comfort, and to our good. And this is the great difference; the good
things of this world are stolen by many; but they belong, by God's gift,
to those only who are Christ's: and there is the sure sign, generally,
to be seen of their being stolen,--an unwillingness that He to whom of
right they belong should see them. What a man steals, he enjoys, as it
were, in fear: if the owner of it finds him with it, then all his
enjoyment is gone; he wishes that he had never touched it; it is no
source of pleasure to him, but merely one of terror. And so it is often
with our stolen pleasures,--stolen, I mean, not in respect of man, but
of God,--stolen, because we do not feel them to be God's gift, nor
receive them, as from him, with thankfulness. They may be very lawful
pleasures, so far as other men are concerned; pleasures bought, it may
be, with our own money, or given to us by our own friends, and enjoyed
without any injury to any one. They may be the very simplest enjoyments
of life, our health, the fresh air, our common food, our common
amusements, our common society; things most permitted to us all, as far
as man is concerned, but yet things which are constantly stolen by us,
because we take them without God's leave, and enjoy them not as his
gifts. They are all his, and he gives them freely to his children. If we
are his children, he gives them to us; and delights in our enjoyment of
them, as any human father loves to see the pleasure of his children in
those things which it is good for them to enjoy. But then, is any child
afraid of his father so seeing him? or is the thought of his father any
interruption to his enjoyment? If it would be, we should be sure that
there was something wrong; that the enjoyment, either in itself, or with
respect to the particular case of that child, was a stolen one. And even
as simple is the state of our dread of God, of our wish to keep his
name and his thought away from us. It is the sure sign that our
pleasures are stolen, either as being wrong in themselves, or much
oftener, because we have taken them without being fit for them, have
snatched them for ourselves, instead of receiving them at the hands of
God. Two of us may be daily doing the very same thing in most
respects,--enjoying actually the very same pleasures, whether of body or
of mind; the same exercises, the same studies, the same indulgences, the
same society,--and yet these very same things may belong rightfully to
the one, and be stolen by the other. To the one they may come with a
double blessing, as the assurance of God's greater love hereafter: to
the other, they are but an addition to that sad account, when all good
things enjoyed here, having been not our own rightly, but stolen, shall
be paid for in over measure, by evil things to be suffered hereafter.

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