(Read Gen. 22:1-121And it came to pass after these things, that God did tempt Abraham, and said unto him, Abraham: and he said, Behold, here I am. 2And he said, Take now thy son, thine only son Isaac, whom thou lovest, and get thee into the land of Moriah; and offer him there for a burnt offering upon one of the mountains which I will tell thee of. 3And Abraham rose up early in the morning, and saddled his ass, and took two of his young men with him, and Isaac his son, and clave the wood for the burnt offering, and rose up, and went unto the place of which God had told him. 4Then on the third day Abraham lifted up his eyes, and saw the place afar off. 5And Abraham said unto his young men, Abide ye here with the ass; and I and the lad will go yonder and worship, and come again to you. 6And Abraham took the wood of the burnt offering, and laid it upon Isaac his son; and he took the fire in his hand, and a knife; and they went both of them together. 7And Isaac spake unto Abraham his father, and said, My father: and he said, Here am I, my son. And he said, Behold the fire and the wood: but where is the lamb for a burnt offering? 8And Abraham said, My son, God will provide himself a lamb for a burnt offering: so they went both of them together. 9And they came to the place which God had told him of; and Abraham built an altar there, and laid the wood in order, and bound Isaac his son, and laid him on the altar upon the wood. 10And Abraham stretched forth his hand, and took the knife to slay his son. 11And the angel of the Lord called unto him out of heaven, and said, Abraham, Abraham: and he said, Here am I. 12And he said, Lay not thine hand upon the lad, neither do thou any thing unto him: for now I know that thou fearest God, seeing thou hast not withheld thy son, thine only son from me. (Genesis 22:1‑12).)
It has often been said, “There are two sides to every question.” This saying is true and very important. It demands special attention in approaching the subject which stands at the head of this paper. The history of the professing church affords many proofs of the fact that serious mischief has been done by devoted men who were not guided by sound principle. Indeed, it will ever be found that, in proportion to the ardor of the devotedness, will be the gravity of the mischief, where the judgment is not wisely directed. We must confess we long for more true devotedness in ourselves and others. It does seem to us the special want in this our day. There is abundance of profession, and that, too, of a very high character. Knowledge is greatly increased amongst us, and we are thankful for knowledge; but knowledge is not energy — profession is not devotedness. It is not that we desire to set the one against the other; we want to combine the two. “God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.”
Mark this lovely union — this exquisite entwining of a threefold cord — “Power, love, and a sound mind.” Were it “power” alone, it might lead one to carry himself with a high hand — to push aside or crush any who could not come up to one’s own mark — to cherish and manifest a spirit of haughty independence — to be intolerant of any contrariety of thought or feeling. On the other hand, were it a spirit of “love” only, it might induce an easy-going temper — a total indifference as to the claims of truth and holiness — a readiness to tolerate error for the sake of peace. But there is both love and power, the one to balance the other; and, moreover, there is the “sound mind” to adjust the two, and give to each its proper range and its just application. Such is the adjusting power of holy scripture for which we cannot be too thankful. We are so apt to be one-sided — to run into wild extremes — to run one principle to seed, while another, though equally important, is not even allowed to take root. One will be all for what he calls power; another, for what he calls love. Again, one will extol energy; another will only speak of the value of principle. We want both, and our God does most graciously supply both. A man who is all for principle may do nothing, through fear of doing wrong. A man who is all for power may do mischief through fear of doing nothing. But the man who is enabled, by grace, to combine the two, will do the right thing, at the right time, and in the right way. This is what we want, and to meet, in some feeble way, this want is one special object of the following paper, to which may God most graciously attach the seal of His blessing.
Now, in handling our theme, it may help us, in the way of clearness and precision, to consider, first, the ground; secondly, the spirit; and, thirdly, the object of true devotedness. What, then, is The Ground of True Devotedness?
If we answer this question from the ample materials furnished by the history of Abraham, we must, without any hesitation, say, it is, simple faith in the living God. This is, this must be the solid ground of true, earnest, steady devotedness. If there be not the link of personal faith in God, we shall be driven hither and thither by every breath of human opinion, and tossed about by every ripple of the tide of circumstances. If we are not conscious of this living link between our souls and God, we shall never be able to stand at all, much less to make any headway in the path of real devotedness. “Without faith it is impossible to please God: for he that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him.” Heb. 11:66But without faith it is impossible to please him: for he that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him. (Hebrews 11:6).
Here lies the secret. We must believe that He is, and what He is. We must have to do with God, in the secret of our own souls, apart from, and independent of all beside. Our individual connection with God must be a grand reality, a living fact, a real and unmistakable experience, lying at the very root of our existence, and forming the stay and prop of our souls, at all times, and under all circumstances. Mere opinions will not do; dogmas and creeds will not avail. It will not suffice to say with the lips, “I believe in God, the Father Almighty.” Neither this nor any other form of mere words will do. It must be a heart question — a matter between the soul and God Himself. Nothing short of this can sustain the soul, at any time, but more particularly in a day like the present, in the which we find ourselves surrounded by so much that is hollow and superficial. Few things perhaps tend more to sap the foundations of the soul’s confidence than a large amount of unreal profession. One may gather this, in some measure, from the fact that the finger of the infidel is continually pointed at the gross inconsistencies, exhibited in the lives of the teachers and professors of religion. And although it be true, that such inconsistencies, even were they multiplied ten thousand fold, will never shelter the infidel from the just consequences of his unbelief, inasmuch as each one must give account of himself, and for himself, before the judgment seat of Christ; yet it is a fact that unreal profession tends to shake confidence, and hence the urgent need of simple, earnest, personal faith in God — of unquestioning childlike confidence in His word — of constant artless dependence upon His wisdom, goodness, power, and faithfulness.
This is the anchor of the soul without which it will be impossible to ride securely in the midst of Christendom’s troubled waters. If we are, in any way, propped up by our fellow, if we are leaning upon an arm of flesh, if we are deriving support from the countenance of a mortal, if our faith stands in the wisdom of man, or the best of men, if our fear toward God is taught by the precept of men, we may rest assured that all this will be tested and fully manifested. Nothing will stand but that faith that endures as seeing Him who is invisible — that looks not at the things that are seen and temporal, but at the things that are unseen and eternal.
How vividly all this was illustrated in the life of the father of the faithful, we may easily learn from the marvelous history of his life given by the pen of inspiration. “Abraham believed God.” Observe: it was not something about God that he believed — some doctrine or opinion respecting God, received by tradition from man. No; this would never have availed for Abraham. It was with God Himself he had to do, in the profoundest depths of his own individual being. “The God of glory appeared unto our father Abraham when he was in Mesopotamia, before he dwelt in Charran, and said unto him, Get thee out of thy country, and from thy kindred, and come into the land which I shall show thee.” Acts 7:2, 32And he said, Men, brethren, and fathers, hearken; The God of glory appeared unto our father Abraham, when he was in Mesopotamia, before he dwelt in Charran, 3And said unto him, Get thee out of thy country, and from thy kindred, and come into the land which I shall show thee. (Acts 7:2‑3).
These opening sentences of Stephen’s powerful address to the Council, set forth the true secret of Abraham’s entire career, from Ur of the Chaldees to Mount Moriah. It is not our purpose, here, to dwell upon the solemn and instructive interval at Charran; our desire is rather to set before the reader, as plainly and pointedly as we can, the unspeakable value, yea, the absolute necessity of faith in God, not only for life and salvation, but for anything like true devotedness of heart to Christ and His cause. True, that honored servant of God tarried at Charran, traveled down into Egypt, turned to Hagar, trembled at Gerar and denied his wife. All this appears upon the surface of his history, for he was but a man — even a man of like passions with ourselves. But “He believed God.” Yes, from first to last, this remarkable man exercised, in the main, an unshaken confidence in the living God. He believed in that great truth that lies at the bottom of all truth, namely, that God is; and he believed also that God is a rewarder of all them that diligently seek Him. It was this that drew Abraham forth from Ur of the Chaldees — from the midst of all those ties and associations in the which he had lived and moved, and had his being. It was this that sustained him through all the vicissitudes of his pilgrim-course; and, finally, it was this that enabled him to stand on Mount Moriah, and there show himself ready to lay upon the altar that one who was not only the son of his bosom, but also the channel through which all the families of the earth were yet to be blessed. Nothing but faith could have enabled Abraham to turn his back upon the land of his birth, to go forth not knowing whither he went. To the men of his day he must have seemed to be a fool or a madman. But oh! he knew whom he believed. Here lay the source of his strength. He was not following cunningly devised fables. He, most assuredly, was not propped up by the circumstances or the influences which surrounded him. He was not supported by the countenance of man. Flesh and blood afforded him no aid in his wonderful career. God was his shield, his portion, and his reward, and in leaning on Him, he found the true secret of all his victory over the world, and of that calm and holy elevation which characterized him from first to last.
Reader, have you faith in God? Do you know Him? Is there a link between your soul and Him? Can you trust Him for everything? Are you, at this moment, consciously leaning upon Him — upon His word — upon His arm? Remember, if there is any darkness or hesitation as to this, devotedness is, and must be, out of the question. All steady devotedness rests upon the solid ground of personal faith in the living God. We cannot too strongly insist upon this, in a day of profession as wide-spread as it is shallow. It will not do to “say” we believe. There is far too much of this far too much head knowledge and lip profession— far too much of mere surface work. It is easy to say we believe; but as James puts it, “What doth it profit though a man say he have faith?” Faith is a divine reality, and not a mere human effort. It is based upon divine revelation and not upon the working of human reason. It connects the soul with God, with a living, mighty link, which nothing can ever snap. It bears the soul above and carries it on in triumph,, come what may. There may be failure and confusion, error and evil, coldness and deadness, strife and division, breaking down and turning aside, stumblings and inconsistencies — all manner of things to shake the confidence and stagger the soul; but faith holds on its peaceful, steady way, undaunted and undismayed; it leans on God alone and finds all its springs in Him. Nothing can touch the faithfulness of God, and nothing can shake the confidence of the heart that simply takes God at His word.
And, be it remembered, that faith is, in reality, taking God at His word. It is believing what God says, because—He says it. It is taking God’s thoughts in place of our own. “He that believeth hath set to his seal that God is true.” How simple! God has revealed Himself, faith walks in the light of that revelation. God has spoken; faith believes the word. But, if it be asked, “How has God revealed Himself? and where is His voice to be heard?” He has revealed Himself in the face of Jesus Christ; and His voice may be heard in His word. He has not, blessed be His name, left us in the darkness of night, nor even in the dimness of twilight; He has poured upon us the full flood-tide of His own eternal truth, in order that we may possess all the certainty, all the clearness,, all the authority, which a divine revelation can give.
Is it inquired, “How can we know that God has spoken?” We reply, “How can we know the sun is shining?” Surely by the genial influence of his beams. How can we know that the dew has fallen? Surely by its refreshing influence upon the earth, if not by the luster of its pearly drops. So of the precious word of God. It speaks for itself. Do I want a philosopher to tell me the sun is shining, or the dewdrops falling? Assuredly not. I feel their influence. I own their power. No doubt a philosopher might explain to me the properties of light, and a chemist might instruct me as to the component parts of the dew. They might do all this for me, even though I had been born and reared in a coal-mine, and had never seen either the one or the other. But they could not make me feel their influence. So it is, in a divine way, as to the word of God. It makes itself felt — felt in the heart, felt in the conscience, felt in the deep chambers of the soul. True, it is by the power of the Holy Ghost; but, all the while, there is power in the word.
Let us remember this. Let no one imagine that God cannot speak to the heart, or that the heart cannot understand what He says, and feel the power of His word. Cannot a father speak to his child, and cannot the child understand his father? Yes, verily; and our heavenly Father can speak to us — to our very hearts, and we can hear His voice, and know His mind, and lean upon His eternal word. And this is faith — simple, living, saving faith. Such a definition of faith might not satisfy a profound theologian; but that makes no difference. The heart does not need learned theological definitions. It wants God, and it has Him in His word. God has spoken. He has revealed Himself. He has come forth from the thick darkness, chased away the shades of twilight, and shone upon us in the face of Jesus Christ, and on the eternal page of holy scripture.
Reader, hast thou found Him? Dost thou really know Him by the revelation which He has given, and by the word which He has spoken? Is His word a reality to thee? Is it thy stay and support? Is it the real ground on which thou art resting for time and eternity? Do, we beseech thee, make sure work of it, at this moment. See to it. that thou hast a lively faith in God, and such a sense of the value, the importance, and the authority of His word, as that thou wouldest rather part with all beside than surrender it. It is, unquestionably, the only ground of devotedness. It is utterly impossible that a heart distracted and tossed about with unbelieving reasonings, can ever be truly devoted to Christ or His service. “He that cometh to God, must believe that he is.” How simple! How plain! How could Abraham have left his country — how could he have run the race — how could he have given up everything and come forth as a stranger and a pilgrim, not having so much ground as to set his foot upon — how could he have stood upon Mount Moriah and stretched forth his hand for the knife to slay his son? How could he have done all or any of these things, if he had not had simple faith in the one living and true God? Impossible.
And so, in thy case, beloved reader, unless thou canst trust God — unless thou art sustained by the real power of naked faith in the word of the living God, thou wilt never be able to get on — nay, thou hast no life in thee. Truly we may say, “No faith no life.” There may be high profession — there may be the semblance of devotedness; but if there be not a lively faith, there can be no spiritual life; and, if there be no life, there cannot be any true devotedness. “The just shall live by faith.” They not only get life by faith, but live, day by day, and hour by hour, by faith. It is the spring of life and power to the soul, all the journey through. It connects the soul with God, and, by so doing, imparts steadiness, consistency, energy, and holy decision to the servant of Christ. If there be not the constant exercise of faith in God, there will be fluctuation and uncertainty. Work will be taken up, by fits and starts, instead of being the necessary result of calm abiding in Christ, by faith. There will be an occasional rush at some line of service which is merely taken up, for the time, and then coldly abandoned. The course, instead of being a steady, upward and onward one, will be zigzag and most unsatisfactory. At times, there will be a feverish excitement, and then again, deadness and indifference.
All this is the very reverse of true devotedness. It does serious damage to the cause of Christ. Better far never to start on the course at all, than, having started, to turn aside and give it up. “No man having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.” True devotedness is based upon a prefound and earnest faith in God. It has its root deep down in the heart. It is not fitful or whimsical, but calm, consistent, decided, and steadily progressive. It may, at times, perhaps, when tried by the rule of a romantic and visionary enthusiasm, seem slow-paced; but, if it is slow, it is only because it will be sure; and the end will prove the difference between the energy of nature, and the actings of faith.
May God, by His Spirit, lead all His people into a truer and deeper sense of what devotedness really is. There is an energy abroad. The minds of men are active. Principles as well as passions are in action. Contending elements are at work underneath the surface of human life. Society is becoming, more and more, an unsettled thing. Men seem to be on the look out, as we say, for something. There is evidently a crisis at hand. Men are taking sides. The stage is being cleared for some grand act of the drama. What is needed, in view of all this? Unquestionably, a calm, deep, earnest faith in the word of God. This, we feel persuaded, is the only thing to keep the heart steady, come what may. Nothing will keep the soul in peace — nothing can give fixedness to the course — nothing can maintain us in the path of devotedness but the realization of that living link between the soul and God Himself, which, as being divine and eternal, must, of necessity, outlive all that is merely human and temporal.
(To be continued, if the Lord Will)