The Christian Professor
John Angell James, 1837
THE DANGERS OF SELF-DECEPTION
The
professors of Christianity may be divided into three
classes—
1.
the sincere,
2.
the hypocritical,
3.
the self-deceived.
Of
the second class there are very few. I have rarely met
with them. It is not often that anyone attains to such a pitch of
audacious
and disgusting wickedness, as to make, for some sinister purpose, a
profession, which, at the time, he knows to be false. But, while
there are
few that are intentionally deceiving others, there are very many who
are,
unconsciously, deceiving themselves! Alarming consideration! To be
self-deceived in a matter of such tremendous importance as the
salvation of
the immortal soul! To suppose that we are justified before God—while
we are
under the condemnation of his righteous wrath! To suppose that we
are truly
regenerated—while we are still in an unconverted state! To suppose
that we
are the children of God—while we are the children of the devil! To
suppose
that we are traveling to heaven—while each day, as it passes, brings
us
nearer to the bottomless pit! The very possibility of such a case
should
rouse our lukewarm souls, excite all our fears, and put us upon the
most
cautious and diligent examination.
PROFESSION IS NOT POSSESSION.
This common, hackneyed, yes true and impressive
sentiment, is thus put out by itself—boldly and prominently—that it
may
attract the reader's attention, and come upon his heart and
conscience with
all possible emphasis. A church member is not necessarily a real
Christian;
and outward communion with the members, is no certain proof of vital
union
with the Divine Head. It is to be feared that fatal mistakes are
made by
many on this momentous subject.
Among those who pay little or no attention to
true
religion, it is very commonly supposed, that dying is, somehow or
other, to
fit them for heaven; that some mysterious change is to pass upon
them at the
time of death, by which they shall be fitted for the kingdom of
glory; as if
death were a converting ordinance, instead of a mere physical
change; a
sacrament of grace, instead of a mere dissolution of our compound
nature.
Others attach the same mistaken notion to the act
of
uniting with a Christian church; making a profession of religion,
and
receiving the Lord's Supper, is, in some way or other, to effect a
change in
them, and, by a process of which they can form no definite idea,
make them
true Christians.
But there are others, who, better taught, attach
no such
incorrect opinions to church fellowship; who admit the necessity of
faith
and regeneration, as prerequisites to communion—but who, after all,
deceive
themselves in the supposition that they possess those
qualifications!
1. I shall prove that such self-deception is
not only
possible—but FREQUENT.
This is evident, from the many warnings against
it
contained in the apostolic writings. "Be not deceived," is an
admonition thrice repeated by Paul, in his first epistle to the
Corinthians.
Chapter 3:16; 6:9; 15:33. How impressive is his language to the
Galatians,
"If any man thinks himself to be something, when he is nothing, he
deceives
himself." Galatians, 6:3. The apostle James follows up the same
subject. "Do
not err, my beloved brethren—Be doers of the word and not hearers
only,
deceiving your own selves." James 1:16. What solemn admonitions are
in other
places given on the work of self-scrutiny! "Examine yourselves, to
see
whether you are in the faith. Test yourselves. Or do you not realize
this
about yourselves, that Jesus Christ is in you?—unless indeed you
fail to
meet the test!" 2. Cor. 13:5. "Let every man prove his own
work.''—Gal. 6:4.
But what can equal the force and impressiveness of the apostle's
language
and caution in reference to himself? "I keep under my body and bring
it into
subjection, lest that, by any means, after I have preached to
others, I
myself should be a cast-away." 1 Cor.9:27. If such a man, the
greatest,
the holiest, the most distinguished member, minister, and apostle of
the
Christian church, found it necessary to exercise such caution, what
must be
the need of it on our part?
The danger of self-deception is also apparent
from the
alarming declarations of Christ. In the parable of the sower, he
divided the
hearers of the word into four classes, of which one only is composed
of
sincere believers, although two at least out of the other three, are
represented as receiving the word, and professing it for a while.
How solemn
and awakening are his words in the sermon upon the Mount. "Not
everyone who
says unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven;
but he who
does the will of my Father, who is in heaven. Many will say
unto me
in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in your name? and in
your
name have cast out devils? and in your name have done many wonderful
works?
And then will I profess unto them, I never knew you—depart from me
you who
work iniquity.'' Matt. 7:21-23. These people were not only
professors—but of
high standing in the church; they were confident of their safety—yet
they
were lost! and there were many of them!!
Dwell upon the FACTS recorded in the New
Testament—Judas,
though he ended as a vicious hypocrite, began, in all probability,
as a
self-deceived professor. One apostle out of twelve a false
professor!
What multitudes at one time followed Christ, and in some way
believed on
him, among whom were many of the rulers of the Jews; and yet so
great was
the number which afterwards abandoned their profession, that our
Lord put
this question to the twelve—"Will you, also, go away?''
implying,
that the rest had nearly all left him. Peter speaks of some "who,
after they
had known the way of righteousness, had turned from the holy
commandment
delivered unto them." 2 Peter 2:21—and John, in describing the case
of some
in his time, says, "They went out from us—but they were not of us;
for if
they had been of us, they would no doubt have continued with us." 1
John
2:19. Let anyone read attentively the addresses to the seven
churches of
Asia Minor, contained in the second and third chapters of the
Apocalypse,
and observe the description of those communities, given by one who
could not
mistake; they seem to have contained, at least some of them, a great
proportion of merely nominal Christians. Yet these were churches
under the
care of an apostle!
Does not our observation confirm the fact of the
danger
of self-deception? To say nothing of open apostates who turn back to
sin,
error, or the world, and who are cast out of the church—how many are
there
that still remain, who, though their inconsistencies are not
sufficiently
flagrant to make them the subjects of church discipline, too plainly
indicate by their total lack of all spirituality and earnestness of
piety,
that they have nothing of Christianity but the name! It is no
violation of
the law of charity to say, that people so worldly in their spirit,
so
unsanctified in their temper, so little interested by the concerns
of
Christ's kingdom, either in their own church or in the world at
large, are
making but an empty and heartless profession.
However painful, then, the fact may be, it is a
fact,
that the danger of self-deception is alarmingly great.
2. Let us now inquire into the CAUSES of this
self-delusion.
The first and chief
is, mistaking the forms and restraint
of a religious education, or a little temporary excitement of the
feelings—for a real change of heart. Nothing short of this change is
true
piety. As partakers of a fallen and corrupt nature, we must be renewed,
and not merely a little altered. "Except a man be born of water and
of the
spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven." The mind may
be
interested, the feelings may be moved, the conduct
improved—and yet the heart remain unchanged. As long as this is the
case,
there is no abiding principle, no root of godliness in the soul.
Everything
but the new nature will subside; all will fall off but the new
nature.
It
is to be expected that, under the exciting preaching
of the present day, many will be impressed, seem to be converted,
and walk
well for a time, who are not truly born again. Their opinions are
scriptural, their conduct is correct, and they are admitted to the
church
upon a profession of their faith—and there is no reason why they
should not
be. After a while the novelty of religion ceases, their affections
grow
cold, and although they do not, perhaps, become profligate, or leave
the
church, they settle down into a mere formal attendance upon the
means of
grace, and remain in this miserable state—until death sends them
into the
eternal world!
The
danger is increased by the present external peace
and unmolested liberty of the church. In the primitive days of
Christianity, and often since, the profession of religion was
attended with
imminent peril of goods, liberty, or life. Persecuting laws were
against
those who believed in Jesus, and confessed their faith. They had,
indeed, to
take up their cross! and it was through much tribulation they
entered the
kingdom of God. In such circumstances it might be imagined, no man
would
profess himself a Christian, who was not really one. We can suppose
that a
prison and a stake, would be a sufficient check, not only upon
hypocrisy—but
upon mere nominal religion. But even this was not always
effectual—self-deception existed even then. How much more likely is
it that
it should prevail now, when a profession of piety, so far from
exposing us
to scorn, contempt, and suffering—is a means of procuring for us an
increase
of esteem and affection? Evangelical religion and an avowal of
it—have
become almost fashionable. There is now no fiery ordeal to pass
through as a
test of our sincerity; no sifting process to separate the chaff from
the
wheat; and, as a natural, though fatal consequence, many profess the
gospel,
who are strangers to its power and efficacy.
The wide and
easy access to communion which is afforded
by some churches increases the danger. It cannot be said of
them, as it
is of the church mentioned in the word of God, that their gates
shall be
opened continually, and shall not be shut day nor night—for they can
scarcely be said to have any gates at all; or if they have, there is
no
porter at the gate, to ask the password of him who enters. True it
is, the
entrance ought not to be made narrower than Christ has made it. No
unscriptural terms of communion should be imposed; no bars nor
obstacles set
up to keep out those who have a right to enter in; no scaring usages
adopted
to frighten away timid minds—but surely somebody, either pastor, or
people,
or both together, should, with holy caution, Christian tenderness,
and
experienced minds—examine those who wish to be admitted to
fellowship. Not,
indeed, for the sake of indulging and showing inquisitorial
authority—but
for guarding the young disciple against deception; and, also, if he
be not
correct in his views either of the truth or of himself, for teaching
him the
way of God more perfectly. If, therefore, nothing more be required,
than for
a person to declare himself a Christian without any examination, how
great
is the danger of his "thinking he is something while he is nothing."
The
injudicious persuasions of ministers and friends,
have led many to make a profession of religion, before, in fact,
they had
any real religion to profess. A too eager wish to have a large
church, and
thus to magnify their pastoral importance, and to multiply the
proofs of
their usefulness—a most censurable, because injurious kind of
'ministerial
vanity'—has made some far too hasty in introducing people to
Christian
communion; others from feelings of false delicacy have, amidst many
suspicions of its sincerity encouraged a profession, rather than
wound the
minds of the candidates, by suggesting a doubt of their real
conversion to
God. While there are some, who, acting upon the supposition that
religious
impressions are likely to ripen into conversion by the advantages of
church
fellowship, encourage the subjects of them to come forward and
publicly
profess their faith in Christ before they have any.
Nor
is the conduct of some good people less injudicious
sometimes towards their relations. A husband feels a pang in his
heart at
every sacramental season, at the wife of his bosom rising and
retiring from
his side, when he is about to receive the eucharistic memorials. To a
wife,
who to all her natural affection for her husband, adds a tender
solicitude
for his eternal welfare, it is a great and painful deduction from
her
spiritual enjoyment that she goes alone to the supper of the Lord.
Parents
long to have their children with them in the fellowship of the
church.
Hence, in all these cases, there is sometimes much persuasion used
to induce
the unconverted relative to assume the name, and make the confession
of a
Christian.
Now,
where there is a firm hope, a hope founded on
convincing evidence, that the object of solicitude is truly
regenerated, and
made a partaker of saving grace, this is very proper. But where this
evidence is lacking, where there is no good ground for believing
that a
genuine spiritual change has taken place, it is a most misplaced and
mischievous concern to wish such people to enter into the church. It
is
aiding their self-deception, and being accessory to a delusion,
which places
them at the farthest bounds from salvation. They are much more
likely to be
converted outside of the church—than in it. Many who have persuaded
their
friends to make an untimely, because insincere profession, have
lived to
repent of their mistaken concern, by seeing accumulating evidence
that their
relative, though a church member, was certainly not a Christian.
The improper
reliance that some professors have upon the
strict mode of examination adopted by most of our churches is
another source
of delusion. They have been interrogated by the pastor, whose
scrutiny
has been aided by some of the deacons or members; they have
submitted,
either verbally or in writing, a statement of their opinions and
feelings,
as well as a history of their alleged conversion to God, and on this
ground
have been received and approved, as truly regenerated. "Can such
judges,"
they ask themselves, "be mistaken? Such examiners, so competent, so
impartial, so particular—form a wrong conclusion? They think not!"
Their
piety is thus authenticated, their profession attested, and their
safety
undoubted. All is right, they assume. Such is their reasoning; and
when in
after times a doubt is raised, raised perhaps on grounds which ought
to be
conclusive, as to the fact of the falseness of their profession,
they
silence the voice of conscience, by pleading against its testimony,
their
admission to the church, after the most rigid examination. Hence,
the
importance of the pastor's never giving, at the admission of a
member, an
opinion that he is truly converted—but throwing the whole judgment
of the
case upon the member's own conscience as in the sight of a
heart-searching
God; and thus making him responsible for the consequences of
any
wrong conclusion he may draw concerning his spiritual condition.
Look
at these things, and learn whence the danger comes,
and how imminent the danger is of self-delusion as to our state
before God,
and our safety for eternity. It is not saying too much to affirm,
that
multitudes are thus deluded. The dark memorial of the Laodicean
church
is a fearful proof that whole communities of professing Christians
may be in
this appalling condition. It is one of the cunning artifices, the
deep
devices, the artful machinations of Satan—to lead men into
self-deception,
when he can no longer hold them in careless indifference; to ruin
their
souls in the church, when he cannot effect it in the world; to lull
them
asleep by the privileges of church fellowship, when he cannot
continue their
slumber amidst the pleasures of sin. O how many is he leading
captive this
way? How many is he conducting to perdition, whom he has first
blindfolded
with the bandage of a false profession? How many are there in all
our
churches, who are in this dreadful state!
3. We now contemplate the CONSEQUENCES of this
self-deception.
Self-deception
corrupts the purity of the church. Members
in this state, are the wood, hay, and stubble, in the walls of the
spiritual
temple, which disfigure its beauty and impair its strength. They are
Achans
who trouble the camp of Israel, and bring down the displeasure of
the Lord
upon them. They are the disease of the spiritual body which swell
its
numbers—but destroy its health. Do they by their prayers bring down
the
blessing of God upon the pastor or the members? Alas! they don't
even pray
for themselves! Do they by their piety diffuse vitality and energy
through
the community? No! They are cold, lifeless, dead. Do they by their
consistency attract others to the church? On the contrary, they
disgust and
repel others! Instead of aiding the force of that concentrated
light, by
which the church shines upon the dark world around, they envelop it
with
smoke. Instead of acting as the salt of the earth, they bring
corruption
into the kingdom of Christ. They are not only negatively an
injury—but
positively—they do harm at all times—but especially on occasion of
strife,
they are the fuel that feed the flames of discord.
As
it respects religion they disparage and injure it, not
so much by raising against it the cry of hypocrisy because of
immorality—as
by lowering its standard, depreciating its value, diminishing its
power,
carnalizing and secularizing it, and reducing it to a greater
conformity to
the spirit of the world—so that many people seeing no difference
between
such professors and themselves, except the mere circumstance of
profession,
think such a religion not worth their notice.
But
as to the nominal professor HIMSELF, how truly
dreadful is the consequence of his delusion. He is perhaps the most
hopeless
character on earth. Before he assumed the name of a Christian, there
was
hope of him that he would be impressed, convinced, and converted, by
some of
those discriminating discourses which point out the difference
between a
regenerated and an unregenerated man; those pungent appeals to the
conscience which are so often blessed in awakening those who are
outside the
church—but now he is armored against all these. He is a professor, a
church
member; and with this as his shield he wards off every arrow of
conviction
from his heart. These things he says are for the unprofessing, not
for him.
Quietly his conscience sleeps amidst all the thunders that roll from
the
pulpit, while the lightnings carried off by the shield of his
profession,
touch not his false hopes, and leave him completely secure.
He
puts away from himself all the threatenings of the
word—though they are pointed at him; and takes to himself all the
privileges
and consolations of the righteous—though he enjoys none of them. If
at any
time the power of the deception begins to be shaken by the efforts
of a
half-awakened conscience, and there rises up a suspicion, that he is
not a
truly pious man—Satan aids him to regain his delusive quietude by
the usual
suggestion, that he is a professor, a church member, and that though
he is
not perfect, he is not farther from it than many others—he only
partakes of
the general delusion of the times, and if he is wrong, who is right?
Besides, what is he to do? He is a church member, and would he begin
again?
Would he repent, believe, and be converted now? Such logic is
generally
successful, and the poor creature lies down again to sleep on the
sleep of
death. Notwithstanding the great number of professing Christians
which
exist, and the great numbers of unconverted ones too, how rarely do
we meet
with any who were converted after they became professors? How seldom
do any
such come to their pastor, and express a fear, and follow it up,
that they
have never been truly changed.
Hence
it is, that some ministers feel it to be the
greatest perplexity of all their pastoral avocations, to give
answers to
people, who come to advise with them on the subject of making a
profession.
If from suspicion that their hearts are not yet right with God they
dissuade
them, they may be discouraging those whom they ought to receive and
encourage—sending away a babe that ought to be laid in the bosom of
the
church—breaking the bruised reed and quenching the smoking flax.
While on
the other hand, if they encourage the inquirer to come forward, they
may be
strengthening the delusion of a self-deceived soul, and become
accessory to
the ruin of an immortal spirit. Some conscientious men have found
and felt
this to be the very burden of their lives, and from which there is
no way of
gaining relief or ease—but by laying down the marks of true
conversion,
begging the questioner to bring forward his heart to this test,
stating what
is implied in a Christian profession, and making him, as has been
already
said, responsible for the judgment of his own case, and all its
consequences
too.
But
extend your views to another world, and anticipate,
if you can, the consequences of self-deception as they exist and are
perpetuated through Christianity. Bunyan, in his matchless allegory,
the
"Pilgrim's Progress," after representing the rejection of a false
professor,
called Ignorance, who had knocked at the portals of heaven, and
asked
admission, concludes his book with these solemnly impressive words, "Then
I saw that there was a way to hell, even from the gates of heaven—as
well as
from the city of destruction!"
A
professor in hell!! Frightening idea! Horrifying
thought! After spending his time on earth in the fellowship of
saints, to
spend his eternity in the actual society of devils in hell! After
belonging
to the society of God's people; joining in all their services and
their
privileges; transacting with them the business of his kingdom;
uniting with
them in the expulsion as well as the reception of members—then to be
sent
away into the prison of lost souls! O how dreadful would it be to be
separated from the church of God now, to pass under the sentence of
excommunication, to be excised as a corrupt member of the body, and
given
over to Satan! But what is this to the sentence of excommunication
from the
church triumphant, pronounced by Jesus Christ himself at the last
day? O to
hear HIM say, depart! Who does not feel the force of those
impressive
verses—
O
lovely chief of all my joys,
O sovereign of my heart,
How could I bear to hear your voice,
Pronounce the sound, depart?
The
thunder of that dismal word
Would so torment my ear,
Would tear my soul asunder, Lord,
With most tormenting fears.
O
wretched state of deep despair,
To see my God remove,
And fix my doleful station where
I could not taste his love.
4.
Let us now consider what MEANS are necessary and
proper for you to adopt to avoid deception.
Dwell upon the subject. Ponder it deeply.
Let it
take hold upon your mind, and your mind take hold upon it. Let it
not be
dismissed from you with the same ease as you send into oblivion many
other
subjects of a religious nature. It is unusually momentous, and has
an
solemness about it far beyond the usual topics of reflection. The
very idea
is dreadful—a self-deceived professor; a professor going to
perdition! The frequency of it makes it still more alarming. If it
were only
a bare possibility, an occurrence that might exist, yet that rarely
did
exist—it would still demand our serious attention—but when it is so
common,
that it is to be feared there is scarcely any church in which there
are not
some in this situation, and no large church in which there are not
many—how
serious, how alarming a matter does it become!
You
should bring the matter home to yourselves,
and admit not only the possibility of the danger in the abstract, or
in
reference to others—but in reference to you. Your profession
does not
necessarily imply the actual possession of religion. You must not
receive it
as evidence that you are Christians. In those moments, and
such it is
presumed you spend, when with more than usual concern, you ask the
question,
"Am I really a child of God?" it is not enough to reply, "I am a
professor,"
for this in any state of the church, and especially the present one,
is not
a proof, scarcely a presumption, that you are born again of the
Spirit. It
is possible then, that you may be deceived, and you should
not
imagine that there is anything in your circumstances to render the
idea
inapplicable to you.
You
should dread the thought of being deluded. Its
fearful consequences should be solemnly meditated upon, seriously
and
piously revolved. It should be often said with holy trembling, "Oh,
if I
should be at last deceived!"
You
should examine your state, frequently,
deliberately, solemnly, and impartially. Time should be set apart,
occasionally, for the special purpose of prayer and self-scrutiny.
You
should have times and opportunities of more than usual length and
earnestness for self-examination, when you should look again, and
with more
intenseness, upon your evidences of personal religion. When your
former and
your present state, your supposed conversion, your conduct, and the
state of
your affections, shall all come under review—when with a wish not to
be
deceived, you shall ask yourselves for the reasons of the hope that
is in
you. It is too important a matter to be taken for granted! The
consequences of deception are too dreadful and remediless to be
carelessly
risked!
Nor is it enough to
trust to your own examination. Aware
of the deceitfulness of the human heart, and our proneness through
self-love
to think more highly of ourselves than we ought to think, and at the
same
time recollecting how much interest we have in believing we are
right,
you should beseech God to make known to you your real condition.
You
should carry to him the prayer of David, "Search me, O God, and know
my
heart; try me, and know my thoughts; and see if there be any wicked
way in
me, and lead me in the way everlasting." Psalm 139:23, 24. You
should deal
honestly with God, and tell him that you wish to know your state,
and that
you deprecate as the heaviest judgment that could befall you—being
deceived.
If
you have reason, upon examination, to think you have
taken up a false opinion of your case, do not blind yourselves to
your
condition; do not conclude against evidence, that you are safe; do
not
attempt to silence the voice of conscience or corrupt its
testimony—this is
worse than useless, it is most alarmingly dangerous, and is the last
stage
of the delusion. Instead of this, begin afresh. What is to
hinder
you? If you are not converted—you may yet be converted. Let not the
idea of
a false profession throw you into despondency. God is as willing to
forgive
the sin of a false profession, just as the sin of no profession. The
blood
of Jesus Christ can cleanse you from this sin. Now repent,
now
believe, now hope, now love. God waits to be gracious even yet. It
is not
too late to be renewed yet. The door of mercy is not closed yet.
Sincerity
of profession is not beyond your reach yet. Begin to be in earnest.
Determine to trifle no longer. Set apart time for private prayer,
reading
the scriptures, and holy meditation. Be diligent in attendance upon
the
public means of grace. Make a fresh and entire surrender of yourself
to God.
But especially look by faith to Jesus Christ, for the pardon of your
past
insincerity, lukewarmness, and worldliness. Be humble, very humble
in your
own eyes, and before God; but still do not despair. Exercise
dependence upon
the Spirit of all grace, confide in his power, and rely upon his
mercy. Be
thankful that since you were in error, you have discovered it, and
have not
been permitted to go on in darkness until you had stumbled over the
precipice into the yawning pit of destruction below!
If,
upon examination, you have good reason to think all
is right, rejoice in Christ Jesus. Let the peace of God which passes
all
understanding, rule in your hearts, to which you are called—and be
thankful.
"Comfort! comfort my people, says your God, speak you comfortably to
Jerusalem.'' This discourse is intended not to disturb the peace of
God's
people—but to destroy the false confidence of his disguised foes.
There
are two classes of professors to whom the alarming
appeals of it do not apply; the first, are those eminent Christians
who have
the fullest assurance of hope, and whose assurance is sustained by
the joy
of faith, the obedience of love, and the patience and purity of
hope—whose
religion is so vigorous and influential as to be self-evident to
themselves
and others. They have scarcely need to ask the question, "Am I a
child of
God?" for the proofs of it are ever within them. Blessed state!
happy
Christians! and all are invited to become such.
But
there is another class who are not likely to be
deceived; those who are truly, and sometimes sorrowfully, concerned
about
the matter; who are often trying themselves by the Word of God; who
know, if
they know anything, they would not be deluded for ten thousand
worlds; who,
notwithstanding their many imperfections, their painful
consciousness of
defects, still know they do love the Lord Jesus Christ, though with
too
lukewarm an affection; who, notwithstanding all their doubts and
fears, are
conscious of a real and sometimes an intense longing after holiness.
Be
comforted, you timid followers of the Lamb—self-deceivers are rarely
afraid
that this is their state and character. Dismiss your fears and go on
your
way rejoicing.