Sermons: Selected from the Papers of the Late Rev. Clement Bailhache. Clement Bailhache
says to these same Philippians, “Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling.” The reconciliation of these two truths into one theory may be difficult, but in practice it is easy enough. We recognise them both when we ask for faith. For to ask is to recognise our need of that for which we ask; it is also to recognise the fact that we do not possess it of ourselves; and it is also to seek and to act. Ask, then, for faith, and God will say: “Wilt thou be made whole?” Will you—not as a vague desire, but as the most earnest determination of your heart and will? Ask for faith; God will grant it. Ask largely; you cannot ask too much. And even if you sigh over the weakness of desire, press the old and never-failing prayer: “Lord, I believe; help Thou my unbelief.”
Faith saves, and grace saves. This is scarcely a contradiction in terms, and certainly it is no contradiction in principle. Faith is the instrument; grace is the primary and efficacious power. Faith is the channel; grace is the stream. Faith touches the hem of the Saviour’s garment; grace is the virtue that passes forth from Him in response to the touch. Christ reaches down from heaven; faith reaches up from earth; each hand grasps the other—the one in weakness, the other in power—and salvation is in the grasp. Take—oh, take that pierced hand! Amen.
II.
PROPITIATION.
“He is the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only, but also for the sins of the whole world.”—1 John ii. 2.
It is easier to attack than to defend. An objection may be stated in a single sentence which shall require many pages for an adequate reply. Those who reject Christianity generally adopt this method, but I know not why they should be allowed to monopolise it. Why should not believers, instead of simply proving that there is a God, and that the Bible is His Word, insist upon positive proof from their opponents that there is no God, and that the Bible is nothing more than a human book? Why should we not impose upon them the more difficult task of defending their position, by attacking it with all earnestness at every point? For Christian defence, we have need to be both really and consciously very strong in the truth. On the other hand, to be an unbeliever, a man can do without either knowledge or goodness. He has only to ply you with his eternal “Why?” Why, because the universe exists, must it have ever been created? Why may it not have always existed? Why are we bound to accept the teaching of the Bible? Why was it necessary that Christ should suffer to expiate our sins? Why did Christ come so late in the history of the world? Why are there no miracles now? Why? Why? Why?—
As Christians, however, we take the position open to us, whether of attack or defence. We do so because the salvation of our adversaries is dear to us, and because we are so sure that the course they adopt injures, not ourselves, but them. We bring to them a priceless treasure—salvation through, and from, the crucified Christ. If they hinder us, the loss is theirs.
On the present occasion we deal with one of the questions often propounded: “Why was it necessary that Christ should die for our sins, in order that we may be saved?” or, “How can the sufferings of the innocent atone for the sins of the guilty?”
To make our answer more clear, we begin by saying: “We do not know.” Why should we insist—why should any one insist—upon understanding the “why” of this arrangement? Why should not every one be content to know the fact? If the reason of the fact were obvious, we should, of course, gladly accept it; but if it be hidden from us, whilst the fact itself is disclosed, why should we complain? We cannot fully understand the Divine purposes. We can only guess. Even angels study, and wonder, and adore, but do not fully know. Let it be observed that the real question here is not exactly as unbelievers put it. Thus: I do not know how the rays of the sun enlighten my eyes, nor how my enlightened eyes transmit ideas to my mind. Does it follow that the sun does not enlighten, or that my mind does not receive impressions through what I see? The imperative question is, not, “How is the thing done?” but, “Is it done?”—not as to the reason of the fact, but the reality of it. So in the matter before us. It is surely enough for us to show that redemption through the sacrifice of Christ, like the sun, comes from God, and that it gives light, life, and fruit. This being done, nothing more can be reasonably asked.
To know whether this doctrine of redemption is God’s truth, it is sufficient to know whether the Bible is God’s Word. And here we ask, What will you do with ancient prophecies and their fulfilment?—with confirmations of Bible history which are continually accumulating?—with the conspicuous excellence of the moral teaching and influence which the Bible supplies?—with the sublimity of Christ’s character?—with the miracles He wrought?—with the marvellous effects of Christianity upon the world, notwithstanding the strongest inducements, in human prejudice, to its rejection? Settle such questions as these according to the admitted laws of evidence, and then there will be no reason to contend as to the “why” and the “how” of redemption.
Such, however, is not the method which the unbeliever pursues. He turns away from the Record as a source of instruction. It is hard to convince a man who begins by closing his ears with his own pride. To whatever study a man addresses himself, he will never advance in it in spite of himself. His progress will be proportioned, among other things, to the amount of honest effort he makes to learn. That is, he must feel the fact and the disadvantage of his own ignorance. Who could study mathematics by beginning at the outset to dispute its axioms? Just so with Christian truth. Put aside prejudice and pride. Do not take it for granted that you have light enough in your mind, at starting, to pronounce upon the truth or the falsity, the reasonableness or the unreasonableness, of the doctrine of salvation through the cross of Christ. Listen attentively. Look for more light, and receive it when it comes. We do not say: “Believe before you have read;” but we do say: “Don’t contradict before you have read.”
I have already said that we are not obliged to explain the philosophy of the redemption which is taught in the Scriptures. Let me now say that that redemption is itself the best solution of the great difficulty which is felt by the believer and the unbeliever alike. It is this: Conscience tells us that God is just; the heart tells us that He is good;—how then can a God whose justice and goodness are equal, i.e., both of them infinite, escape from the position in which sinners have placed Him? I put the difficulty in this bold form in order that it may be the more distinctly apprehended. We have sinned, and a just God must punish. We sigh after happiness, and a good God—a God who is infinitely kind—may be expected to bestow happiness upon us. But how can God deal with us in both these ways at one and the same time?
We know instinctively, of course, that there is no real dilemma to God Himself; but those who reject the atonement of Christ are bound to deal with what presents itself as an inevitable dilemma to them.
The unbeliever says: “God is too good to punish.” What then becomes of His justice, since conscience testifies that we are sinners, that sin deserves punishment, that vice and virtue are not one, that God cannot deal in the same way with both without encouraging the vice which needs to be suppressed, and discouraging the virtue which needs to be upheld? Take away the fear of punishment under the pretext that God is good, and you deprive conscience of its meaning and its power.
Shall it be said, then, that God will punish every transgressor? Have the numberless generations which have been upon the earth gone to an inevitable doom? This conclusion is as hard to admit as the other. The instincts of the heart are against it.
No; men do not accept either conclusion to the exclusion of the other. They say God will adopt a mean between His justice and His mercy so as to bring them into harmony. But how? Here is the crucial difficulty. Is it to be solved by the principle of mutual concession?
Let me remind you, again, that the difficulty is not created by God, but by man. In Him, justice and mercy are really one: it is only to us that they are seen to be two; and it is our sin which disturbs and confuses our conception of their union with each other. He might indeed annihilate us, and so leave us no opportunity to complain.