THE CHRISTIAN REMEMBRANCER

(Continued from last issue)

THIS is the highest prize of all earthly wisdom: and is not this perfectly fanciful, fleeting, trivial, and vain? In the grave all its thoughts perish, equally with the low notions and opinions of the ignorant and the foolish, the poor and the despised.

But there is a wisdom, which, unlike the other, deserves the name, and being no production of this corrupted earth, but coming from above, is pure and spiritual in its nature, and, in all its purposes and effects, true, real, lasting, and happy.

Its origin is in grace from him, who is the fountain of wisdom. And its first effect is in the renunciation and abasement of self, as that which is false and contrary. Thus the fear of the Lord is the beginning, or first-fruits which the soul can present, of wisdom; and thus a man must become a fool, that he may be wise. This wisdom sees the ignorance of all other pretended wisdom, detects its base and grovelling pursuits, and lifts up the soul, not to a temporary dying fame, which is often infamy with God, but to a solid and perpetual good. It discovers the deceivableness of unrighteousness in the heart and in the world, the poorness of every thing out of Christ, and the great value of Christ and of the soul above all other things. It doth not lift up a man in himself, as a great and glorious doctor for human admiration; but it makes him low in his own eyes, through a view of the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus his Lord; and it keeps him from aiming at vain glory, as being a kind of treason against God, and as an unjust attainment for himself, a poor, dependent, ignorant sinner. The Christian, made wise to salvation, dreads to be left to his own wisdom; because he knows that blindness is its other and its truer name.

Christ is made, of God, wisdom to the believer. He spake as never man spake; and none teacheth like him. He often gives a poor and ignorant countryman such instructions as render him abundantly more wise than the mere scholar by all the florid pomp of the schools. So ingrafted too are his instructions, that the art of man, and the sophistry of Satan, cannot baffle those who possess them. His knowledge is solid, and real, and enjoyable; such as the heart can feel, the soul live by, the spirit exult in, the whole man act upon, amidst a thousand trials in the world, and in the nearest prospect of death and eternity.

Possessing this wisdom, how serenely can the Christian look down upon the bustling cares and pursuits of men; upon their honors, their pleasures, their riches: even as a man of great natural wisdom would look down upon the follies and recreations of boys! Toys and games employ the attention of children, and engage their passions, though frivolous and fleeting: and are the solicitudes of men, and of old men too, less idle or extravagant, when they lay out all their time, and strength, and souls, for that which profiteth not even here, and which none pretend to be profitable in the day of wrath? What poor things are these of the world in the hours of sickness and pain? and how much poorer still in the hour of approaching death? Honors, titles, and estates, cannot remove a pang, nor give one drop of consolation; but, in many cases, afford a wish of dismal remorse to their owners, that they had never obtained them. There is, I fear, more than one Dives in eternity, who laments that he had not been a hundred times poorer and sorer than any Lazarus (with grace) was or could be in this world.

True wisdom proves its own worth by obtaining a proper and valuable end. On the other hand, that cannot be real, but delusive wisdom, which is always working and promising, and at last concludes in nothing, or nothing but ruin. But this is the most which is attained by the wisdom of this world, spiritually viewed: it gains air and dirt, a name and a perishing good (if a good) below; and then it ceases to act, leaving its poor possessor only misery and disappointment, except a fearful expectation of an unwished and unwelcome hereafter. Can the end of the merest idiot be more stupid and unwise?

Without a doubt, the affairs of this life must be carried on, and the Christian must more or less be engaged in them; but the wisdom of grace in his soul will teach him, that there are also other affairs to mind; affairs of infinitely more moment to him than all the world put together. If he should gain the utmost or the whole of this earth, and lose himself and the end of his being, where would be his profit and advantage? People who can speculate clearly and nicely for gains in common matters, would do well to carry their thoughts of profit and loss a little further towards the end of time, when all things are to be balanced and settled for ever.

Lord, above all wisdom of earth, and earthly gain, may I obtain that wisdom which leadeth to a happy immortality, and which shall abide with me beyond the bounds of time! I am a poor dying creature, going fast out of this world, and almost upon the very threshold of another. O help me to see then, what can truly profit, or what can really hinder me, that “the loins of my mind” may be girt up with the girdle of saving wisdom, and that I may always be so running as at length to obtain the crown! O preserve my heart from that unwise wisdom, which layeth up what must soon be lost, and squanders away what can never be regained! which thinketh much of airy trifles, and almost not at all, or not at all to purpose, of an unperishing good! of a good which thy spirit hath called “an inheritance incorruptible and undented; a crown of glory that fadeth not away; a building of God eternal in the heavens; a kingdom which cannot be shaken; a blessedness, which eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor entered into the heart of man; yea, rivers of joy and pleasure for evermore!”—Lord, if thou give but the wisdom to obtain these, I shall very soon cease to lament the want of all wisdom beside!

CHAPTER XII

On Independence

Men desire what is called independent fortunes, through their natural arrogance, and fond indulgence to their flesh. And because believers are flesh as well as spirit, therefore, in proportion as that flesh is spiritually uncircumcised and unsubdued, even do these require this meat of the world for their lust. It is very irksome to a believer’s carnal nature, that he lives in his spirit the life of faith; and it will be more and more irksome to nature, as this life grows in him and is proved by trials, which tend to deny or abridge his earthly desires. The flesh cannot delight in any thing that doth not gratify its senses; but the life of the spirit consists greatly in “crucifying the flesh, with its affections and lusts;” in trusting God, through a naked promise, for what is yet unseen; and in giving up will, hope, desire, and every thing within and without, to his disposal. This is all horrid and dismal, yea, death itself to the natural man. He hates, and abhors, and scoffs, and sets all his wits and passions at work to cry down a life so strange and peculiar, that he must even die to himself and all he loves, before he can live it. But whosoever will save this life of the carnal mind, shall lose it; and whosoever shall lose it, shall, by the mercy of God, find a better, even a life of confidence and communion with Christ Jesus.

This principle of independence, or aversion to live in simple trust upon God, is the secret cause why many professors “hasten to be rich, or will be rich in this world though by it they fall into a snare, and into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men in ruin and perdition.” If I can get such and such a fortune, I will do so and so, say they, and then serve God without distraction. But the flesh is not to be laid asleep by indulgence, nor the fire to be put out by heaping up fuel. Experience shows, that large possessions do much oftener damp any little life or zeal for God, than quicken the Christian’s hope and concern for a better world.

The spirit of faith teaches another lesson. It bids a man “commit all his way to the Lord,” and rather to fear than to court great riches, knowing what mischiefs and wretchedness they have brought upon many who once seemed to run well; and knowing also the natural desire of the carnal mind to covet these things merely for its own food and feasting.

The goodness of God, therefore, providentially keeps his children, for the most part, poor in this world, that they might live in the fuller trust and dependence upon himself. He that doth not expect much from this world, cannot be much disappointed by it. When a man hath little or nothing before him, he looks to the best help: so the poor Christian sees that God is his best help, and therefore lives humbly upon his bounty. In this way of continual trust and daily dependence, and not by fulness of bread, or independence, he is made “rich in faith” through additional experiences, and walks with more and more strength and sweetness of spirit as “an heir to the kingdom.”

On the other hand, how many rich professors are there who plead their very situations in life, as so many false reasons why they should be gay and splendid; why they should see all sorts of fine company, no matter of whom; why they should have pompous equipage and luxurious tables; and why, in short, they should have every thing in dress, manner, and custom, which the poor, vain, foolish, unmortified flesh can desire to have? They seem not to see, that all this they are living to themselves or to earth, and not to God or his glory among men. How it is that they support faith at any rate, with every indulgence and ease to the flesh, with full conformity to the world, and with an entire good opinion of the world, I know not; but this I know, that, if the true life be supported amidst so much contagion and disease, it is because “all things are possible with God,” though with men this, among others, is impossible. I speak not against rank and station, for these are providential appointments and necessary in themselves; but against the abuse of these to pride, sloth, vanity, and all the common evils and excesses of a polluted world. And I believe also, that I do not speak from envy or chagrin: for I really know not the man in this world, with whom I should wish, or dare to wish, an exchange of situation.

Lord, let me have what is best for my true life and welfare, and that only. Make me contented in thy allotment. I have often been otherwise, and am still prone to desire unnecessary and dangerous things. O forgive me this error and blindness, and correct the madness of my proud and rebellious heart by the fervent faithful life of thy Holy Spirit. So shall I desire only what will please thee, and be content in my soul with what thou givest, or when thou deniest, however my flesh may strive to murmur and repine. O hear me; and let my whole trust, my God, be in thee!

CHAPTER XIII

On Worldly Grandeur

To a Christian, living and walking as becomes his heavenly calling, how poor and creeping, how idle and vain, how foolish and wretched, is the common eager pursuit after high distinctions in the world! They not only come up, and are cut down, like the grass, withering into dust and oblivion; but while they appear, they are empty and fleeting shadows, or (if it can be conceived) the very “shadows of a shade.” If viewed at a distance, they seem solid as a mountain; if embraced closely, they are found but a cloud. Their possessors are poor, because ever in want. One blast of honor will not serve him that wishes for two: nor a thousand him that can hope for more. The dominion of Europe would make a natural man pant for Asia; and he that cannot be satisfied without an additional province or river, would not be satisfied with this whole world if he had it, but (like Alexander) would grasp after and lament for another. Whatever a natural man hath, it is not matter: he never has enough; he always wants more. Consequently, he is poor; and he is wretched, because he perpetually feels himself poor. He hath both miseries from his poverty, and torments from his pride.

The real Christian is enabled to pity the anxious absurdity and vexatious vanity of those things which are the great jet and concern of the worldly great and worldly wise. He looketh indeed for a name, but it is for “an everlasting nam, which cannot be cut off.” He is not content to be happy only for a few days or years, but desires to be blessed and joyful for thousands and millions of ages to come. He longs for a crown, but it is for “a crown of glory that fadeth not away.” He pants for a kingdom, but it is for the kingdom of Christ and of God. He is really a person of boundless ambition; for nothing less will serve him than the infinite realms of everlasting glory. Riches are much upon his heart; but they are the durable, the unsearchable riches of Christ. He cannot be put off with the paltry cares and thorny honors of worldly greatness; but nobly pursues, and with certainty too, the very happiness and grandeur of God himself, even that very glory which Christ received from the Father, and which, as their head, he will share with his members.

Compared with this, all the pride and glory of man appear but as stubble or falsehood, the mere dream of a shadow, or nothing. And if human greatness can appear thus in the believer’s ideas now, what will it seem when the earth itself shall be dissolved, and the Babylon of sin upon it shall be thrown down into perpetual ruins?

Oh! what is earth, if heaven be mine?
Or what its dying toys?
I seek, I burn for wealth divine,
For God’s immortal joys!

CHAPTER XIV

On Worldly Company

“All things may be lawful, but all are not expedient.” It may be lawful for a Christian to be much among the men of this world, and, in some cases, it may be necessary, for the discharge of lawful callings; but it is not expedient, certainly, to be more among them than is thus strictly proper and necessary. Either the Christian must enter into their spirit, or they into his, before they can be agreeable companions. If he take up their spirit, surely it will soon be to his grief and his burden. And it is very unlikely that they should come into his; unless God might bless his faithful conversation to the good of their souls. But this is seldom the case in worldly company, and especially in the company of many worldly men together. The corruptions of one will bear up and harden the corruptions of another; and he that perhaps would not have jeered alone, will scoff by sympathy with a mocking crowd. It is best to speak of spiritual things with carnal men by themselves; when common decency may force them to give a patient hearing, even though grace may not crown the discourse with a blessing. A whole herd may only trample upon your jewels, and then turn again to rend you.

That man’s religion is much to be doubted of, who frequents the society of men of this world for satisfaction and pleasure. “How can two,” even two only, “walk together, unless they be agreed?” “If ye were of the world, the world, would love its own; but because ye are not of the world, but I have chosen you,” saith Christ, “out of the world, therefore the world hateth you.”

Can a man touch filth and not be defiled; or fire and not be hurt? How much less then can a man conform to the spirit of this world, without pollution to his soul, or without feeling the loss of that peace, if he ever had it, which the world can neither give nor take away? It is no wonder that men complain of spiritual falls and desertions, when they stand upon “slippery place,” and leave the presence of God for the presence of mammon. How can a heart, reeking from the hot dunghill of this filthy world, be offered as a sweet-smelling savor to God, or hope to be accepted with returns of his heavenly fire?

CHAPTER XV

The Manners Of The World Are Hurtful And Hindering To Believers

The Apostle declared it, as his privilege, that “the world was crucified to him, and he to the world.” Another Apostle says, that “whosoever will be a friend of the world, is the enemy of God.” And Christ assures us, that “we cannot serve God and mammon;” insomuch, that if we would approve ourselves to be his disciples, “we must take up our cross daily, and follow him.”

This is very evident; they who are the most given to the modes of this world, and mix most with its customs and pursuits, are the least alive to God, and the least lively in the things of God. Gaiety and foppery of dress, mimicry or worldly pride and parade, the hollow language of fashionable companies and friendships, do ill become a Christian, and never promote his true welfare. It is not indeed the custom at this day to say such things to professors; but they are not, however, the less true, or the less needful.

Poor and wretched are all these fooleries, when weighed in the balance of the sanctuary, and especially when they thrust out the enjoyment of things divine. To have gay bodily apparel with cold and naked souls; to possess fulness of bread with emptiness of grace; to enjoy much worldly company and lose the society of God and his saints; to be esteemed polite and genteel in manners with men, and to be awkward and dumb in addresses to God, is all such a complication of folly, meanness, misery, and sin, as a Christian, in his right mind, should be amazed at and abhor.

Are we loved by the world? It is for this reason the world will love its own. But how then are we “chosen out of the world!” How then can we belong to Christ, whom the world hateth? This trimming between God and the world is neither for the comfort of our souls, nor for the credit of our profession.

De we fear to be censured for singularity and precision? A Christian must be singular; for he is one of those who are “not to be numbered with the nations,” a stranger, and a pilgrim, or passenger here; and he must be precise, neither loving the world, nor living for the world, for otherwise “the love of the Father is not in him.”

On the other hand, an open and generous civility, a gentle and benevolent deportment, bespeaking sincerity of heart and holiness of life, are truly ornamental to the Christian. In avoiding the ape, a believer needs not stumble upon the bear; nor, in shunning grimace and affectation, to plunge into sourness and brutality. If meekness, patience, gentleness, good-will, and good works, will please all men, it is his duty, by these means, to study to please them. But if they expect his conformity to the world for their pleasure, and are disgusted at the transformation and renewal of his mind, as it is more than probable they will be; it is then his honor and his privilege not in this way to please them, if he would approve himself to be the servant of Christ.

Though the Christian, in one sense, must be in the world, and put his best hand to his business and affairs, according to his lot from God’s providence, yet, in another sense, he must come out from the world and be separate, lest his soul be hindered and defiled. He cannot enter into the spirit of the world without injury and loss; and it is the spirit, not the lawful business of the world, which contains all the evil. In his calling and concerns, a believer is to glorify God: and he is enabled to do this, first, by the prayer of faith over them, and then by the life of faith in them. That business, and those intentions, which will not admit of these, are to be avoided as the very plague.

Lord, how poor and vile are all the gay modes of this world, compared with the simplicity and enjoyment of thy truth! How beggarly and unsatisfying are its vanities, how low and crawling its ambition, how foolish and cheating its hopes, how vain and unprofitable its cares, how various and continual its troubles, how wretched and horrible its end! O give me thy wisdom and love, thy grace and thy truth; for this is that better part which shall never be taken from me!

CHAPTER XVI

On Conversation Among Professors

There are many professors of religion, who are always craving for company. They think, that to be alone is to be dull, and that, without conversing with creatures, they must be silent and stupid, whimsical or melancholy. Such persons are to be pitied, who have not learned the divine secret of talking with God in private by fervent faith and prayer, who know not how to listen to the still small voice of the Spirit in his holy word, who cannot find an endless delight in discovering and tasting the sweets of redemption, and who loathe to commune with their own hearts, in their closet or their chamber, and be still.

When such persons get into company, and especially into a great company, they soon discover how unfit, as Christian professors, they are to be in it. The discourse, if of God and his truths, will be light and unsavory, without union or solid experience; or if their converse turn, as it generally will, upon men and earthly things, it will only differ from the language and spirit of this world, by being spoken by persons who wish to be thought of as living for another.

It is a melancholy truth, that the levity, dissipation, envy, calumny, and detraction, too often found among companies and parties professedly religious, as well as among the people of the world, make retirement very necessary to the Christian, who would walk much with God, and far more cheerful than the generality of talkative professors can conceive it to be. But the soul which is led to the true enjoyment of divine communion, finds it a relief, rather than a burden, to “cease from man.”

The Christian should not, if possible, get into company, but either to impart some spiritual good, or to receive it. If he hath grace and talents for the former, he will, before discourse, secretly look up to God for aid and blessing, and afterwards will desire rather to be humbled for what he could not say, or for the manner of saying it, than to be pleased on his own account, for anything he did say, or for the satisfaction afforded to others. If, on the other hand, he hath received edification from godly conversation, he will then pray that it may abide with him, that the sweet savour may not be lost, that it may be carried into lively act and experience, and that, like good seed upon good ground, it may increase with the increase of God, and bring forth fruit abundantly to perfection.

All this implies, that large and mingled assemblies must be more noisy than profitable. There hath been of this at all times very sufficient evidence. Great entertainments, and many persons called together to enjoy them, may serve to keep out the calm serenity and sweet possession of divine reflections, but, perhaps, too rarely promote them. In many words there will probably be errors and folly: nor do numbers in a company always multiply wisdom. The flesh may be gratified and feasted, while the spirit may be starved, and wearied, and dry, and at last be sent empty away. It must be grievous to a real Christian, thus to come out of company a worse or less happy man for entering it.

It is the way of God to “feed his people with the rod” (of his gracious and selecting power,) even “his flock, his heritage, which dwell solitarily in the wood, in the midst of Carmel,” (the field of the world.) And they do feed (like Abraham and the patriarchs, who were strangers and pilgrims upon earth,) “in Bashan and Gilead,” (the lands appointed for them,) “as in the days of old: Micah 7:14. They were ever “a people dwelling alone,” (in abstraction from the spirit of this world,) “and not reckoned among the nations.” Numb. 23:9.

If I have thee, O my God, I have plentitude of society, though (like the blessed John at Patmos) no creature should be nigh, or though I should be an outcast from all the world. Thou canst talk with me by thy works, by thy providences, and chiefly by thy Spirit and word. O what delight have I felt in the testimonies of thy faithfulness and truth, of thy mercy and grace, of thy presence and love, of thy glory and power! Surely, surely, when I have enjoyed these in their genuine sweetness, retired from every eye but thine, it hath seemed hard to go forth again into the world, or even into the converse of those whom thy own providence and grace have endeared to me. And if this be so divinely delightful, ir mortal body and a miserable world, O what shall my felicity be, when I become a pure exalted spirit, with vivid ecstatic life, in the calm and unspotted regions of glory! When I think of these unutterable mercies, how can I but long and pant, how can I but hunger and thirst for God, the living God, my own God, and my own for ever!

CHAPTER XVII

On The Changes Of Time

How do the things of this world pass away! One generation followeth another, and another that, and so on from age to age, filling up the long rolls of time in melancholy array. They appear long to me, because my rule of comparison is taken from the shortness of human life: but to eternity, to the everlasting existence and infinitude of my God, these ages are almost a nothing. Into this eternity all that can be called time is continually passing, as into a gulph which hath neither bottom nor bound. Thus time is full of changes and vicissitudes, while eternity is not only a perpetual now, but also a perpetual same.

When I look into the histories of ancient days, and review the confusions and violences that have passed, (for the history of the world is little more than a record of its sins;) I ask my heart, to what purpose have all these things been, and where is now the profit to those evil men who promoted them? Their works are in the dust, or, at best, upon paper; so that, excepting perhaps for punishment, they have neither remained here, nor followed their authors. All their hopes, and cares, and commotions; their own restlessness, and their inquietudes to others, are buried all in everlasting gloom. The pleasant remembrance of their gayest hours is either extinguished, or swallowed up in sorrow for their sin: and the prospect before them,—O what can this be, but a complication of all that is dreadful, unavoidable, and eternal!

This cool and serious review of worldly things and affairs passes so often upon my heart, and seems so necessary in reminding me how much I am but a stranger and sojourner here, that, if I have dwelt a little the more upon the vain wickedness of earth, and time, the reader will know the reason in me, if he feels no occasion to apply it to himself.

One cannot take up an annual calendar of names, published only twenty or thirty years ago, without almost considering one’s-self among the tombs. The gay courtier and the plotting statesman, who once figured away within the senate or about the throne, now lie in undistinguishable ruin with the beggar and the clown; not less vile than these, and perhaps not less regarded or forgotten than the lowest of the low.

And what shall preserve, from the like disaster, all the present system of cares and pleasures ? If, indeed, that can be called a system, which begins in evil, is carried on with disorder, and ends in folly or nothing.

O! but, says one, “I have much goods laid up for many years; and I will say to my soul, Soul, take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry.” One of this sort, not worthy to be named, is put down in God’s record for an everlasting fool. In the same night his soul was required of him, and had something else to think of than to attend the absurd business which only the body could do, of eating, drinking, and being merry in the abuse of temporal good.

In the midst of all this perishing and disordered state, there is one rich blessing which never can fail. The mercy of Jehovah in Christ Jesus endureth, yea, endureth for ever. This is often repeated by the Lord himself, that it might be constantly and cheerfully believed.

O my soul! thy time faileth, thy body is decaying, the world is daily changing and nothing about thee continueth in one stay. Blessed be God, to thee likewise a change shall soon come, and come for the better in the midst of it all! Whatever alterations appear, thou hast an unalterable God, and an unperishing home before thee. If the earth fall into destruction, as soon it will, thy estate cannot be lost; for thou art only a pilgrim and traveller here, and thy inheritance is above, out of the reach of ruin. Thy interest being safe in Christ, all is safe that is worth saving, with respect to thee. Thou canst only pass from death into life, from sin to holiness, from pain to peace, from earth to heaven, from mortals to God.

O how then should I rejoice in thee, my Saviour, and my Lord! In thee, who makest all things mine; all, either as good, or to lead me to good. I adore thee, that thou thus disposest the world, life, death, things present, or things to come, in my behalf, calling them mine, making them really mine, because they contribute to my welfare. Above all, I bless thee for the end. I am lost in love and admiration, when thou tellest me that I am thine, O my Redeemer, even as thou art God’s!

What manner of love is this, that I, a mutable worm, should become an immutable spirit; that I, who live in a tottering house of clay, amidst a people o funclean lips, should be raised to a mansion of glory among the unnumerable company of saints and angels; that I, a dull inhabitant of a miserable world, ruined and ravaged by sin and time, should be translated to a joyful rest, unchanging as eternity; that I, who was once a slave to Satan, and deserve only to live with him, should be made and kept a child of God, yea, an heir of God, and a joint-heir with Christ Jesus, of a kingdom which cannot be shaken! O what manner of love is this indeed!

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