Job, Chap. xlii. Ver. 5, 6.
"I have heard of thee by the Hearing of the Ear; but now hath mine Eye seen thee: therefore I abhor myself, and repent in Dust and Ashes."
We can scarcely open any part of the Scriptures, but we meet with the following great and leading truths of Religion: viz. that the Love of God is universal; that his "Grace, which bringeth Salvation, hath appeared unto all men;" that he hath given a "manifestation of his Spirit to every man, to profit withal;" that "GOD so loved the world, that he hath given his Only-Begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting Life:" that he is "the True Light, that lighteth every man that cometh into the world;" that God "wills not the death of a sinner, but rather that he would be converted and live;" that his call has been, and now is to "every man," every where, "to repent;" and that every man may partake of this Universal Love, may be saved by this "Grace which hath appeared," may profit by the manifestation which God hath given him.
To these great and leading truths we are continually called and exhorted to attend; and that there is a possibility of attending and yielding to them, is implied in the very nature and spirit of the declarations themselves. For, certainly, all is in vain—the call to all in vain, the appearance of Grace to all in vain, the gift and manifestation of the Spirit to every one in vain, and the shining of the Light in vain, if fallen man is not put into a capacity of obeying it, and walking therein.
"Man's destruction is of himself"—If his distempered nature is not healed, if his soul continues unredeemed, it is not because there is no "Balm in Gilead;" it is not because "the arm of the Lord is shortened, that it cannot save," or the fountain of Love so exhausted, that its streams have ceased to flow—but because men will not avail themselves of the healing Balm; because they refuse to be gathered by that compassionate Arm, that is continually stretched forth to save; because they will not open their souls to receive the Waters of Life. Their eyes are so blinded by the false glare of earthly beauty, that they cannot see the surpassing excellency of the Divine Glory—their ears are so deaf, that they have no delight in hearing or obeying the Divine Voice—they are content to walk on in the broad way, and suffer the enemy of their souls to take them captive at his pleasure. Thus entered sin at the beginning—thus it continueth, increaseth, and prevaileth.
No man, in his present deplorable state, can open that eye which was blinded by sin; nor unstop that ear which was sealed by his apostasy from his Maker; nor save or deliver himself from the bondage of corruption. Herein, therefore, is the Universal Love of God made manifest, that "he hath laid help upon one that is Mighty, who is able to save to the uttermost those that come to him;" that he hath appointed and prepared a "Seed that can bruise the serpent's head;" that he hath caused his Light to shine in the Hearts of all men; and hath called all men every where to repent—Now if man still continues to shut his eyes, and harden his heart, and refuse to be reconciled, "his destruction is of himself, and God will be just when he judgeth."
But here the grand question may be asked—How doth God manifest himself to his creatures? There is no Revelation in these days—no spiritual visions now.—no such Sight of God, as Abraham, Moses, the Prophets, and the Primitive Christians were favoured with—God forbid!—for surely where there is no vision, no sight or sense of heavenly things, there is the Lost State indeed!—where there is no Revelation, there can be no True Knowledge of God-for what saith the Scripture—"None knoweth the Father but the Son, and he to whom the Son will reveal him?"
Ever since the vail was spread over the human heart, there never was any other way in any age, nor can there be in this age, of coming to the true Knowledge of God, but by Revelation; that is, by taking off the vail, and removing the covering that hides the Face of God from man.—Men "have sought out many inventions," and devised many ways and means of coming to the knowledge of the Deity; moral and even mathematical demonstrations of his existence, have been attempted; but all in vain. As such inventions and devices have increased, sorrow and perplexity have increased also: and even if they have succeeded so far, as to satisfy the natural understanding, what is it, at best, but a kind of historical knowledge, a strong conceit or imagination of something concerning God, without any thing like a sensibility of his Presence, or an intuitive self-evident conviction of his nature and attributes?—Far different this from the knowledge which Job experienced, and which every real Christian may express in his language: "I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear; but now hath mine eye seen thee: therefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes."
It is not improbable, but Job might have amused himself, like some of our modern philosophizing Christians, with fine-spun theories and speculations upon the nature and attributes of the Divinity; and whilst the tide of temporal prosperity continued to flow in upon him, whilst "he washed his steps in butter, and the rock poured out for him rivers of oil," whilst his health continued unimpaired, and his domestic bliss uninterrupted, such empty researches might have been sufficient to entertain his imagination; and such an outward knowledge of the Most High, might satisfy a soul, that was yet insensible of any spiritual or temporal wants or distresses. But let the hand of God fall heavy upon him; let his body be visited with pain and sickness, and his soul wounded with grief and disappointment; let him be stripped of all his worldly affluence, and deprived of all his domestic comforts; and he will soon find, that the wants of nature, when deeply felt, are not to be supplied by reasoning and speculation; that an outward hearsay knowledge of God is of no avail; that it cannot administer the least relief either to the body or the mind; that it cannot sooth or mitigate one bodily pain, or send one ray of light into the dark and comfortless regions of the soul.
Go to the chambers of sickness, visit the melancholy retreats of indigence and woe! produce there your strong reasonings—strive, with learned labour, to open and convince the understandings of your suffering brethren—enumerate to them all the outward evidences, that you can collect, of the great truths of religion—give them proof upon proof, demonstration upon demonstration—talk to them of the Nature and Attributes of God, and the immortality of their souls—tell them what the Son of God hath done and suffered for sinners; what are the means of reconciliation, and what the sure grounds of an happy death—give them all that they can receive "by the hearing of the ear"—and what have you done, and what have they gained?—Why you have done just as much as an unskilful physician would do, who entertained his patient with a learned dissertation upon the virtues and excellencies of a certain medicine, which he had somewhere read or heard of, as admirably adapted to the disorder, but which he had never seen with his eyes, and of the nature of which he knew nothing by his own experience. Thus it is with this outward knowledge of God: the poor soul is left to feed upon words or ideas, and to seek comfort, in vain, in empty speculations.
Fruitless, indeed, are such attempts as these! Till the soul is shaken to her very center, till the stone is removed from the door of the sepulchre, that God who "makes darkness his secret place," can never be seen. The eye must be turned inwardly, to view what is passing in the inmost soul, to discover what its wants and necessities are, as well as what will supply them, and yield it peace, and yield it happiness, from an inexhaustible source. It must feel its own darkness, before it can seek to have it enlightened—The same Light that breaks in upon it like the dawn of day, gives it the first sensibility of distress, as well as the first sensibility of consolation "now hath mine eye seen thee, therefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes"—I now feel the misery of nature without God—I feel nothing but darkness, and want, and hunger, and thirst! But in this darkness, under this want, in this hunger and thirst, the soul must wait, without reasoning, without repining, in stillness, in silence, till the invisible God shines into the darkness, and till the darkness comprehends and eagerly imbibes the Light, and he, in whom is no darkness at all, manifesteth his Presence by a self-evident sensibility.
Thus it is, that man, by virtue of the Redeeming Power of the Second Adam, implanted in his heart as a spark of Heavenly flame, hidden under the flesh and blood of fallen nature, is revived, quickened, and enlightened. The Heavenly Birth soon perceives and owns its parent—the outward knowledge gives way to the inward manifestation—and God, and Heaven, and Goodness, and Grace, are seen and known, and felt by their own incontestible workings in the human Heart. Hence, the fruits of the Spirit, the fruits of Heaven, begin to bud and blossom: "love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness," are felt and practised; and the soul lives and breathes in the Heavenly world, even whilst she inherits this frail tenement of clay.
And now, my brethren, is not such a Knowledge of God worth possessing? A Knowledge, that unites you to him; makes you One Heart and Spirit with him; gives the highest relish to all the joys, and the firmest support under all the evils of life; which will stand by you, when every outward comfort fails, when relations, friends, wealth, power, and all that earth is able to supply, can no longer yield you the least support or satisfaction.
Some of the great obstacles and impediments to the attainment of this Knowledge, I shall enumerate in my next discourse.