The Almost Christian
THE ALMOST CHRISTIAN.
_ACTS 26:28._Almost you persuade me to be a Christian.
THESE words contain the ingenuous confession of King Agrippa, which having some reference to what went before, it may not be improper to relate to you the substance of the preceding verses, to which these words are so closely connected. The chapter, then, out of which the text is taken, contains an admirable account the great Saint Paul gave of his wonderful conversion from Judaism to Christianity, when he was called to make his defense before Festus and another Gentile governor. Our blessed Lord had long since foretold, that, when the SON OF MAN should be lifted up, his disciples should be brought before kings for his name's sake, for a testimony unto them; and very good was the design of Infinite Wisdom in thus ordaining it, for Christianity being, from the very beginning, a doctrine of the cross, the princes and rulers of the earth thought themselves too high to be instructed by such mean teachers, or too happy to be disturbed by such unwelcome truths, and, therefore, would have always continued strangers to Jesus Christ, and him crucified, had not the apostles, by being arraigned before them as criminals, gained opportunities of preaching to them Jesus and the resurrection. Saint Paul knew full well that this was the main reason why his blessed Master, at this time, permitted his enemies to arraign him at a public bar, and, therefore, in compliance with the divine will, thinks it not sufficient barely to make his defense, but endeavors, at the same time, to convert his judges. And this he did with such demonstration of the spirit, and of power, that Festus, unwilling to be convinced by the strongest evidence, cries out, with a loud voice—Much learning does make you mad—to which the brave apostle, like a true follower of the Holy Jesus, meekly replies—I am not mad, most noble Festus, but speak forth the words of truth and soberness. But, in all probability, seeing King Agrippa more affected with his discourse, and observing in him an inclination to know the truth, he applies himself more particular to him, the King, says he, knows of these things, before whom also I speak freely, for I am persuaded that none of these things are hidden from him; and then, that impossible he might complete his wished-for conversion, he, with an inimitable strain of oratory, addresses himself still more closely **King Agrippa, do you believe the prophets? I know that you believe them: At which the passions of the king began to work so strongly, that he was obliged, in open court, to own himself affected by the prisoner's preaching, and ingenuously to cry out, Paul, almost you persuade me to be a Christian;** which words taken with the context, afford us a lively representation of the different reception the doctrine of Christ's ministers, who come in the power and spirit of Saint Paul, meets with now a-days in the minds of men; for notwithstanding they, like this great apostle, speak forth the words of truth and soberness, and with such energy and power, that all their adversaries cannot justly gainsay or resist, yet too many, with the most noble Festus before-mentioned, being like him, either too proud to be taught, or too sensual, too careless, or too worldly-minded to live up to their doctrine, in order to excuse themselves, cry out, that much learning, much study, or what is more unaccountable, much piety has made them mad; and though, blessed be God, all do not thus disbelieve our report, yet amongst those many others, who gladly receive the word, and confess that we speak the words of truth and soberness, there are so few, who arrive at any higher degree of piety than that of Agrippa, or are any farther persuaded than to be almost Christians, that I cannot but think it highly necessary to warn my dear hearers of the danger of such a state; and therefore, from the words of the text, shall endeavor to consider these three things: 1. What is meant by an almost Christian. 2. What are the chief reasons why so many are no more than almost Christians. 3. I shall consider the ineffectualness, danger, absurdity, and uneasiness that attends those that are but almost Christians. 4. I shall conclude with a general exhortation, to set all upon striving not only to be almost, but altogether Christians.
1. And first I am to consider what is meant by an almost Christian.
An almost Christian, then, if we consider him in respect to his duty to God, is one that halts between two opinions, that wavers between Christ and the world, that would reconcile God and Mammon, that is, light and darkness, Christ and Belial. It is true, he has an inclination to religion, but then he is very cautious how he goes too far in it: His false heart is always crying out—Spare thyself, do thyself no harm. He prays, indeed, that God's will may be done on earth, as it is in heaven; but then, notwithstanding he is very partial in his obedience, and fondly hopes that God will not be extreme to mark every thing that he willfully does amiss, though an inspired apostle has told him, that he that offends in one point is guilty of all. Above all, he is one that depends much on outward ordinances, and upon that account looks upon himself as righteous, and despises others; though, at the same time, he may be as great a stranger to the divine life, as any other person whatsoever. In short, he is fond of the form, but never experiences the power of godliness in his heart: He goes on, year after year, feeding and attending on the means of grace; but then, like Pharaoh's lean cows, is never the better, but rather the worse for them.
If you consider him in respect to his neighbor, he is one that is strictly just to all; but then this does not proceed from any love to God, or regard to man, but only out of a principle of self love, because he knows dishonesty will spoil his reputation, and consequently hinder his thriving in the world.
He is one that depends much on being negatively good, and contents himself with the consciousness of having done no one any harm, though he reads in the gospel, that the unprofitable servant was cast into outer darkness, and the barren fig-tree cursed and dried up from the roots, not for bearing bad, but no fruit.
He is no enemy to charitable contributions in public, if not too frequently recommended; but then he is unacquainted with the kind offices of visiting the sick and imprisoned, clothing the naked, and relieving the hungry in a private manner. He thinks that these things belong only to the clergy, though his own false heart tells him, that nothing but pride keeps him from exercising these acts of humility, and that Jesus Christ, in the 25th chapter of Saint Matthew, condemns persons to everlasting punishment, not for being fornicators, drunkards, or extortioners, but for neglecting these charitable offices. When the Son of Man, says our blessed Lord himself, shall come in his glory, he shall set the sheep on his right hand, and the goats on his left. And then shall he say to them on his left hand, Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the Devil and his angels: For I was hungry, and you gave me no meat; I was thirsty, and you gave me no drink; I was a stranger, and you took me not in; naked, and you clothed me not; sick and in prison, and you visited me not. Then shall they also say, Lord, when saw we thee hungry, or athirst, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison, and did not minister unto thee? Then shall be answer them, Verily, I say unto you, inasmuch as you have not done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, you did it not unto me: And these shall go away into everlasting punishment. I thought proper to give you this whole passage of scripture at large, because our Savior lays such a particular stress upon it; and yet, notwithstanding it is so little regarded, that were we to judge by the practice of Christians, one should be tempted to think there were no such verses in the Bible.
But to proceed in our character of an almost Christian. If we consider him in respect of himself; as before we said he was strictly honest to his neighbor, so he is likewise strictly sober in himself; but then both his honesty and sobriety proceed from the same principle of a false self love. It is true he runs not into the same excess of riot with other men, but then it is not out of obedience to the laws of God, but either because his constitution will not away with intemperance, or rather because he is cautious of forfeiting his reputation, or unfitting himself for temporal business. But though he is so prudent as to avoid intemperance and excess, for the reasons before-mentioned, yet he always goes to the extremity of what is lawful. It is true, he is no drunkard, but then he has no Christian self-denial. He cannot think our Savior to be so austere a master, as to deny us to indulge ourselves in some particulars; and so by this means he is kept out of a sense of true religion, as much as if he lived in debauchery, or any other crime whatever. As to settling his principles as well as practice, he is guided more by the world, than by the word of God. As for his part, he cannot think the way to heaven so narrow as some would make it; and, therefore, considers not so much what scripture requires, as what such and such a good man does, or what will best suit his own corrupt inclinations. Upon this account, he is not only very cautious himself, but likewise very careful of young converts, whose faces are set heavenward, and, therefore, is always acting the Devil's part, and bidding them spare themselves, though they are doing no more than what the scripture strictly requires them to do; the consequence of which is, that he suffers not himself to enter into the kingdom of God, and those that are entering in he hinders.
Thus lives the almost Christian; not that I can say I have fully described him to you, but, from these out-lines and sketches of his character, if your consciences have done their proper office, and made a particular application of what has been said to your own hearts, I cannot but fear that some of you may observe some features in his picture, odious as it is, resembling your own, and, therefore, cannot but hope, at the same time, that you join with the apostle in the words immediately following the text, and wish yourselves not only almost, but altogether Christians.
2. But I proceed to the second general thing proposed, namely, to consider the reasons why so many are no more than almost Christians.
1. And the first reason I shall mention is— because so many set out with false notions of religion, and though they live in a Christian country, yet know not what Christianity is. This, perhaps may be esteemed a hard saying, but experience sadly evinces the truth of it; for some place religion in being of this or that communion, more in morality, most in a round of duties, and a model of performances, and few, very few, acknowledge it to be what it really is, a thorough inward change of nature, a divine life, a vital participation of Jesus Christ, an union of the soul with God, which the apostle expresses by saying, He that is joined to the Lord is one spirit. Hence it happens that so many, even of the most knowing professors, when you come to converse with them concerning the essence, the life, the soul of religion, I mean our new birth in Jesus Christ, confess themselves quite ignorant of the matter, and cry out with Nicodemus, How can this thing be? And no wonder then, that so many are only almost Christians, when so many know not what Christianity is: No marvel so many take up with the form, when they are quite strangers to the power of godliness, or content themselves with the shadow, when they know so little about the substance of it. And this is one cause why so many are almost, why so few are altogether Christians.
2. A second reason that may be assigned why so many are no more than almost Christians, is a servile fear of man. Multitudes there are, and have been, who, though awakened to a sense of the divine life, and have tasted and felt the powers of the world to come, yet out of a base, sinful fear of being counted singular, or contemned of men, have suffered all those good impressions to wear off again. It is true, they have some esteem for Jesus Christ, but then, like Nicodemus, they would come to him only by night: They are willing to serve him, but then they would do it secretly, for fear of the Jews: They have a mind to see Jesus, but then they cannot come to him because of the press; for fear of being laughed at, and ridiculed by those with whom they used to sit at meat. But well did our Savior prophesy of such persons, How can ye love me which receive honor one of another? Alas! Have they never read, that the friendship of this world is enmity with God; and that our Lord himself has threatened, Whosoever shall be ashamed of me, or of my words, in this wicked and adulterous generation, of him shall the Son of Man be ashamed, when he cometh in the glory of his Father, and of his holy angels. But no wonder that so many are no more than almost Christians, since so many love the praise of men more than the honor which cometh of God.
3. A third reason why so many are no more than almost Christians, is a reigning love of money. This was the pitiable case of that forward young man in the gospel, who came running to our blessed Lord, and kneeling before him, inquired what he must do to inherit eternal life; to which our blessed Master replied, Thou knowest the commandments, do not kill, do not commit adultery, do not steal; to which the young man replied, All these have I kept from my youth. But when our Lord proceeded to tell him, Yet lackest thou one thing, go sell all that thou hast and give to the poor; he was grieved at that saying, and went away sorrowful, for he had great possessions! Poor youth! He had a good mind to be a Christian, and to inherit eternal life, but thought it too dear, if it could be purchased at no less an expense than of his whole estate! And thus many, both young and old, now-a-days, come running to worship our blessed Lord in public, and kneel before him in private, and inquire at his gospel, what must they do to inherit eternal life; but when they find they must renounce the self-enjoyment of riches, and forsake all in affection to follow him, they cry—The Lord pardon us in this thing!—We pray thee have us excused.
But is heaven so small a trifle in such men's esteem, as not to be worth a little gilded earth? Is eternal life so mean a purchase, as not to deserve the temporary renunciation of a few transitory riches? Surely it is. But however inconsistent such a behavior may be, this inordinate love of money is too evidently the common and fatal cause, why so many are no more than almost Christians.
4. Nor is the reigning love of pleasure a less uncommon, or a less fatal cause, why so many are no more than almost Christians. Thousands and ten thousands there are, who despise riches, and would willingly be true disciples of Jesus Christ, would parting with their money make them so; but when they are told, that our blessed Lord has said, that whosoever will come after him must deny himself. Like the pitiable young man, before-mentioned, they go away sorrowful; for they have too great a love for sensual pleasures. They will, like Herod, perhaps send for the ministers of Christ, as he did for John, and hear them gladly; but touch them in their Herodias, tell them they must part with such or such a darling pleasure, and with wicked Ahab they cry out—Hast thou found us, O our enemy? Tell them of the necessity of mortification, fasting, and self-denial, and it is as difficult to them to hear, as if you were to bid them cut off a right hand or pluck out a right eye: They cannot think our blessed Lord requires so much at their hands, though an inspired apostle has commanded us to mortify our members which are upon earth; and he himself, even after he had converted millions, and was very near arrived to the end of his race, yet professed that it was his daily practice to keep under his body, and bring it into subjection, lest after he had preached to others, he himself should be a castaway!
But some men would be wiser than this great apostle, and chalk out to us what they falsely imagine an easier way to happiness. They would flatter us we may go to heaven without offering violence to our sensual appetites, and enter into the strait gate without striving against our carnal inclinations. And this is another reason why so many are only almost, and not altogether Christians.
5. The fifth and last reason I shall assign why so many are only almost Christians, is a fickleness and instability of temper.
It has been, no doubt, the misfortune that many a minister and sincere Christian has met with, to weep and wail over numbers of promising converts, who seemingly began in the spirit, but after a while have fallen away, and basely ended in the flesh, and this not for want of right notions in religion, nor out of a servile fear of man, nor out of love of money or sensual pleasure, but out of an instability and fickleness of temper. They looked upon religion merely for novelty, as something which pleased them for a while, but after their curiosity was satisfied, they have laid it aside again. Like the young man that came to see Jesus, with a linen cloth about his naked body, they have followed him for a season, but when temptations have come to take hold on them, for want of a little more resolution, they have been stripped of all their good intentions, and fled away naked. They at first, like a tree planted by the water-side, grew up and flourished for a while, but having no root in themselves, no inward principle of holiness and piety, like Jonah's gourd, were soon dried up, cut down, and withered. Their good intentions are but too like the violent motions of the animal spirits of a body newly beheaded, which, though impetuous, are not lasting. In short, they set out well in their journey to heaven, but finding the way either narrower or longer than they expected, through an unsteadiness of temper, they have made an eternal halt, and so returned like the dog to his vomit, or like the sow that was washed, to her wallowing in the mire!
But I tremble to pronounce the fate of such unstable professors, who, having put their hands to the plow, for want of a little more resolution, shamefully look back. How shall I repeat to them that dreadful threatening, If any man draw back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him: And again, It is impossible, that is, exceedingly difficult at least, for those that have been once enlightened, and have tasted the good gift of God's holy spirit, and the powers of the world to come, if they should fall away, to be renewed again unto repentance. But notwithstanding the gospel is so severe against apostates, yet many that began well, through a fickleness of temper, (Oh that none of us here present may ever be such!) have been, by this means, of the number of those that turn back unto perdition. And this is the fifth and last reason I shall give, why so many are only almost, and not altogether Christians.
3. Proceed now to the third general thing proposed, namely, to consider the folly of being no more than an almost Christian.
And the first proof I shall give of the folly of such a proceeding is—that it is ineffectual to salvation. It is true, such men are almost good, but almost to hit the mark, is really to miss it. God requires us to love him with all our hearts, with all our souls, and with all our strength: He loves us too well to admit any rival, because so far as our hearts are empty of God, so far must they be unhappy. The Devil, indeed, like the false mother that came before Solomon, would have our hearts divided, as she would have had the child, but God, like the true mother, will have all or none. My son, give me thy heart, thy whole heart, is the general call to all; and if this be not done, we never can expect the divine mercy.
Persons may play the hypocrite, but God, at the great day, will strike them dead, (as he did Ananias and Sapphira by the mouth of his servant Peter) for pretending to offer him all their hearts, when they keep back from him the greatest part. They may, perhaps, impose upon their fellow-creatures for a while, but he that enabled Elijah to cry out, Come in thou wife of Jeroboam, when she came disguised to inquire about her sick son, will also discover them through their most artful dissimulations, and if their hearts are not whole with him, appoint them their portion with hypocrites and unbelievers.
But, secondly, what renders a half-way piety more inexcusable is, that it is not only insufficient to our own salvation, but also most prejudicial to that of others.
An almost Christian is one of the most hurtful creatures in the world; he is a wolf in sheep's clothing—he is one of those false prophets our blessed Lord bids us beware of in his sermon on the mount, who would persuade men, that the way to heaven is broader than it really is; and thereby, as it was observed before, enter not into the kingdom of God themselves, and those that are entering in they hinder. These, these are the men that turn the world into a lukewarm Laodicean spirit—that hang out false lights, and so shipwreck unthinking benighted souls in their voyage to the haven of eternity. These are they that are greater enemies to the cross of Christ, than infidels themselves; for of an unbeliever every one will be aware, but an almost Christian, through his subtle hypocrisy, draws away many after him, and therefore must expect to receive the greater damnation.
But, thirdly, as it is most prejudicial to ourselves, and hurtful to others, so it is the greatest piece of ingratitude we can express towards our Lord and Master Jesus Christ. For did he come down from heaven, and shed his precious blood, to purchase these hearts of ours, and shall we only give him half of them? Oh how can we say we love him, when our hearts are not wholly with him? How can we call him our Savior, when we will not endeavor sincerely to approve ourselves to him, and so let him see the travail of his soul, and be satisfied!
Had any of us purchased a slave at a most expensive rate, that was before involved in the utmost miseries and torments, and so must have continued for ever, had we shut up our bowels of compassion from him; and was this slave afterwards to grow rebellious, or deny giving us but half his service—how, how should we exclaim against his base ingratitude? And yet this base ungrateful slave you are, O man, who acknowledge yourself to be redeemed from infinite unavoidable misery and punishment by the death of Jesus Christ, and yet will not give yourself wholly to him. But shall we deal with God, our Maker, in a manner we would not be dealt with by a man, like ourselves? God forbid!— No.
That I may come to the last thing proposed, namely, to add a word or two of exhortation to be not only almost, but altogether Christians, let us scorn all such base and treacherous treatment of our King and Saviour—nay, our God. Let us not take some pains all our lives to go to heaven, and yet plunge ourselves into hell at last. Let us give God our whole hearts, and no longer halt between two opinions: If the world is God, let us serve that—If pleasure is a God, let us serve that; but if the Lord, He is God, let us—Oh let us serve Him alone! Alas! Why, why should we stand out any longer? Why should we be so in love with slavery, as not wholly to renounce the world, the flesh, and the Devil, which, like so many spiritual chains, bind down our souls, and hinder them from flying up to God? Alas! What are we afraid of? Is God not able to reward our entire obedience? If He is, as the almost Christian's lame way of serving Him seems to grant—Why, then, will we not serve Him entirely? For the same reason we do so much, why do we not do more? Or do you think that being only half religious will make you happy, but that going further will render you miserable and uneasy? Alas! This, my brethren, is delusion all over; for what is it but this half piety—this wavering between God and the world, that makes so many that are seemingly well disposed, such utter strangers to the comforts of religion? They choose just so much of religion as will disturb them in their lusts, and follow their lusts so far as to deprive themselves of the comforts of religion: Whereas, on the contrary, would they sincerely leave all in affection, and give their hearts wholly to God, they would then (and they cannot till then) experience the unspeakable pleasure of having a mind at unity with itself, and enjoy such a peace of God, which, even in this life, passes all understanding, and which they were entire strangers to before. It is true, if we will devote ourselves entirely to God, we must meet with contempt, but then it is because contempt is necessary to heal our pride. We must renounce some ... pleasure, but then it is because those unfit us for spiritual ones, which are infinitely better. We must renounce the love of the world, but then it is that we may be filled with the love of God: And when that has once enlarged our hearts, we shall, like Jacob, when he served for his beloved Rachel, think nothing too difficult to undergo, no hardships too tedious to endure, because of the love we shall then have for our dear Redeemer. Thus easy, thus delightful will be the ways of God even in this life; but when once we throw off these bodies, and our souls are filled with all the fullness of God, Oh! What heart can conceive, what tongue can express, with what unspeakable joy and consolation we shall then look back on our past sincere and hearty services. Do you think then, my dear hearers, we shall repent we had done too much; or rather do you not think we shall be ashamed that we did no more, and blush we were so reluctant to give up all to God, when He intended hereafter to give us Himself?
Let me, therefore, to conclude, exhort you, my brethren, to have always the unspeakable happiness of enjoying God set before you: And think as well, that every degree of holiness you neglect—every instance of piety you pass by, is a jewel taken out of your crown, a degree of blessedness lost in the vision of God. Oh! Do but always think and act thus, and you will no longer be laboring to compound matters between God and the world, but, on the contrary, be daily endeavoring to give yourselves more and more unto Him; you will be always watching, always praying, always aspiring after further degrees of purity and love, and so consequently always preparing yourselves for a fuller sight and enjoyment of that God, in whose presence there is fullness of joy, and at whose right hand there are pleasures for evermore. Amen! Amen!
The Almost Christian.
Acts 26:28. Almost you persuade me to be a Christian.
These words contain the candid confession of King Agrippa. Because they connect closely to what came before, it will be helpful to briefly review the preceding verses. The chapter containing our text gives a remarkable account of the great apostle Paul describing his conversion from Judaism to Christianity, while making his defense before Festus and another Gentile governor. Our Lord had long before foretold that when the Son of Man was lifted up, His disciples would be brought before kings for His name's sake, as a testimony to them. This was a wise design, because Christianity was from the start a doctrine of the cross, and the rulers of the earth considered themselves too exalted to be taught by such humble messengers, or too comfortable to be disturbed by unwelcome truths. They would have remained strangers to Jesus Christ and Him crucified, had not the apostles — by being brought before them as criminals — gained the opportunity to preach the resurrection to them. Paul understood clearly that this was the main reason his Master permitted his enemies to arraign him at a public trial. In compliance with God's will, he did not limit himself to a simple defense, but used the occasion to try to convert his judges. He did this with such power and clarity that Festus, unwilling to be convinced by the strongest evidence, cried out loudly: 'Much learning does make you mad.' The bold apostle, like a true follower of the holy Jesus, replied calmly: 'I am not mad, most noble Festus, but speak forth the words of truth and soberness.' Seeing that King Agrippa was more moved by his words, and sensing in him a genuine desire to know the truth, Paul directed his appeal more specifically to him: 'The king knows of these things, before whom also I speak freely, for I am persuaded that none of these things are hidden from him.' Then, hoping to complete the king's conversion, Paul addressed him even more directly: 'King Agrippa, do you believe the prophets? I know that you believe them.' At this, the king's emotions rose so strongly that he was compelled, right there in open court, to acknowledge that the prisoner's preaching had affected him, and he openly cried out: 'Paul, almost you persuade me to be a Christian.' These words, taken in context, give us a vivid picture of how the message of Christ is received in every age. Even today, ministers who preach with the power and spirit of Paul speak words of truth and soberness that their opponents cannot honestly deny or resist. Yet too many, like noble Festus, are either too proud to be taught or too attached to sensual pleasures, carelessness, or worldly ambitions to live by what they hear. To excuse themselves, they cry out that too much learning, too much study, or — stranger still — too much piety has made the preacher mad. Not everyone rejects the message — many gladly receive the word and acknowledge it as truth. But among those who do accept it, so few rise above the level of Agrippa, or go further than being almost Christians, that I feel compelled to warn my hearers of the danger of remaining in such a state. From the words of the text, I will therefore address three things: 1. What it means to be an almost Christian. 2. What are the chief reasons why so many are no more than almost Christians. 3. I will consider the ineffectiveness, danger, absurdity, and unease that come with being only an almost Christian. 4. I will close with a general call for all to strive not only to be almost, but altogether Christians.
First, what does it mean to be an almost Christian?
An almost Christian, considered in his duty to God, is someone who wavers between two opinions — torn between Christ and the world, trying to serve both God and wealth, and to reconcile light with darkness, Christ with Belial. He has some interest in religion, but he is very careful not to go too far in it. His deceptive heart is always whispering: spare yourself, do yourself no harm. He prays that God's will may be done on earth as it is in heaven, but his obedience is selective. He fondly hopes that God will overlook the things he willfully does wrong, even though an inspired apostle has told him that whoever offends in one point is guilty of all. Above all, he relies heavily on outward religious observances, and on that basis considers himself righteous while looking down on others — even though he may be just as much a stranger to genuine spiritual life as anyone else. In short, he is fond of the form of religion but never experiences its power in his heart. Year after year he attends and participates in the means of grace, but like Pharaoh's lean cows, he is never the better for it — and is often worse.
Considered in his dealings with his neighbor, the almost Christian is strictly honest with everyone — but this honesty does not come from love for God or genuine care for others. It comes only from self-interest: he knows that dishonesty would damage his reputation and hurt his prospects in the world.
He is someone who relies heavily on being negatively good — content with the knowledge that he has not harmed anyone. Yet he reads in the Gospel that the unprofitable servant was cast into outer darkness, and the barren fig tree was cursed and withered not for bearing bad fruit, but for bearing no fruit at all.
He does not object to charitable giving in public, provided it is not asked too often. But he has no acquaintance with the personal acts of visiting the sick and imprisoned, clothing the naked, and privately feeding the hungry. He assumes these duties belong only to the clergy, though his own conscience tells him that nothing but pride keeps him from practicing such humble acts of love. And Jesus Christ Himself, in the twenty-fifth chapter of Matthew, condemns people to everlasting punishment not for fornication, drunkenness, or extortion, but for neglecting these very acts of charity. 'When the Son of Man shall come in His glory, He shall set the sheep on His right hand, and the goats on His left.' 'And then He shall say to those on His left hand: Depart from Me, you cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the Devil and his angels. For I was hungry, and you gave Me no food; I was thirsty, and you gave Me no drink; I was a stranger, and you did not take Me in; naked, and you did not clothe Me; sick and in prison, and you did not visit Me.' 'Then they also shall say: Lord, when did we see You hungry, or thirsty, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison, and did not help You?' 'Then He shall answer them: Truly I say to you, inasmuch as you did not do it to one of the least of these My brothers, you did not do it to Me. And these shall go away into everlasting punishment.' I have quoted this whole passage in full because our Savior places such particular weight on it. And yet it is so little regarded that, judging by the practice of many Christians, one might be tempted to think these verses did not exist in the Bible.
But let us continue our description of the almost Christian. Considered in relation to himself: just as he is strictly honest with his neighbor, he is also strictly sober in his own conduct — but both his honesty and sobriety spring from the same false self-interest. It is true that he does not plunge into the same excesses as others, but this is not out of obedience to God. It is because his constitution cannot handle excess, or more likely because he fears damaging his reputation or impairing his ability to conduct his affairs. Though he is careful enough to avoid intemperance for these reasons, he always pushes right up to the edge of what is permissible. He is not a drunkard, but he has no real Christian self-denial. He cannot believe that our Savior is strict enough a master to forbid every indulgence, and by reasoning this way he remains as cut off from genuine religion as if he lived in open debauchery. When it comes to forming his principles as well as his conduct, he takes his cues from the world rather than from God's Word. He cannot accept that the way to heaven is as narrow as some claim, so he measures himself not by what Scripture requires, but by what some respected person does, or by whatever best suits his own desires. Because of this, he is not only cautious himself but also quick to interfere with young believers whose hearts are set toward heaven. He constantly plays the Devil's role, urging them to spare themselves — even when they are doing nothing more than what Scripture plainly requires. The result is that he neither enters the kingdom of God himself, nor allows those who are trying to enter to do so.
That is how the almost Christian lives. I cannot claim to have described him fully, but from these broad strokes of his character, if your conscience has done its proper work and made a personal application of what has been said, I fear that some of you may recognize features of his portrait — ugly as it is — that resemble your own. And I sincerely hope that, seeing this, you join with the apostle in the words that immediately follow our text, and wish yourselves to be not only almost, but altogether Christians.
Second, I move on to consider why so many are no more than almost Christians.
The first reason I will mention is this: so many people start out with a false understanding of religion that, though they live in a Christian country, they do not actually know what Christianity is. This may seem like a hard thing to say, but experience sadly confirms it. Some place religion in belonging to a particular denomination, others in moral living, and most in a set routine of religious duties and performances. Very few — very few indeed — recognize it for what it truly is: a thorough inward transformation of the heart, a divine life, a real participation in Jesus Christ, a union of the soul with God, which the apostle describes by saying, 'He that is joined to the Lord is one spirit.' This is why so many even of the most knowledgeable church members, when you begin to discuss the essence, the life, the soul of religion — that is, our new birth in Jesus Christ — admit they know nothing about it and cry out with Nicodemus: 'How can this thing be?' No wonder so many are only almost Christians, when so many do not know what Christianity is. No wonder so many settle for the outward form, when they are complete strangers to the power of godliness, and content themselves with the shadow when they know so little of the substance. This is one reason why so many are almost, and so few are altogether, Christians.
A second reason why so many are no more than almost Christians is a servile fear of other people. There are many who, though they have been stirred to a sense of the spiritual life and have tasted and felt the powers of the world to come, have allowed all those good impressions to fade away because of a base, sinful fear of being thought strange or being looked down on. They have some regard for Jesus Christ, but like Nicodemus, they would come to Him only by night. They are willing to serve Him, but they would do it secretly, for fear of the Jews. They have a desire to see Jesus, but they cannot press through the crowd — for fear of being mocked and ridiculed by those they used to dine with. Our Savior spoke prophetically about such people: 'How can you love Me, who receive honor from one another?' Have they never read that the friendship of this world is enmity with God? And that our Lord Himself has warned: 'Whoever shall be ashamed of Me, or of My words, in this wicked and adulterous generation, of him shall the Son of Man be ashamed, when He comes in the glory of His Father, and of His holy angels.' No wonder so many are no more than almost Christians, when so many love the praise of men more than the honor that comes from God.
A third reason why so many are no more than almost Christians is a controlling love of money. This was the sad condition of the eager young man in the Gospel, who came running to our Lord and knelt before Him, asking what he must do to inherit eternal life. Our Lord replied: 'You know the commandments — do not kill, do not commit adultery, do not steal.' The young man answered: 'All these I have kept from my youth.' But when our Lord continued: 'Yet you lack one thing — go, sell all that you have, and give to the poor,' the young man was grieved by this and went away sorrowful, for he had great possessions. Poor young man! He had a real desire to be a Christian and to inherit eternal life, but he thought the price too high if it required giving up his entire estate. And in just the same way, many today — young and old alike — come running to worship our Lord in public and kneel before Him in private, asking what they must do to inherit eternal life. But when they discover they must give up their attachment to wealth and follow Him wholeheartedly, they cry: 'The Lord pardon us in this thing — we pray, have us excused.'
But is heaven so trivial in their estimation as to be worth less than a little earthly gold? Is eternal life so cheap a prize as not to deserve the temporary surrender of a few passing riches? Surely not. Yet however inconsistent such behavior is, this excessive love of money is clearly the common and deadly reason why so many are no more than almost Christians.
Nor is a controlling love of pleasure any less common, or any less deadly, a reason why so many are no more than almost Christians. There are thousands upon thousands who have no great attachment to money and would gladly be true disciples of Jesus Christ if simply parting with their wealth could make them so. But when they are told that our Lord has said that whoever will come after Him must deny himself, they go away sorrowful — like the pitiful young man mentioned before — because they love sensual pleasures too much. They may, like Herod, send for Christ's ministers and hear them gladly. But touch them in their Herodias — tell them they must part with some particular cherished pleasure — and like wicked Ahab they cry out: 'Have you found us, O our enemy?' Speak to them of the necessity of self-discipline, fasting, and self-denial, and they find it as hard to hear as if you were telling them to cut off a right hand or pluck out a right eye. They cannot believe our Lord requires so much of them — even though an inspired apostle commanded us to mortify our members which are upon earth, and even Paul himself, after converting millions and nearing the end of his race, still declared it was his daily practice to keep under his body and bring it into subjection, lest after preaching to others, he himself should be a castaway.
But some men would presume to be wiser than this great apostle, and map out for us what they falsely imagine to be an easier road to happiness. They flatter us with the idea that we can reach heaven without doing violence to our sensual desires, and enter the narrow gate without striving against our fleshly inclinations. And this is another reason why so many are only almost, and not altogether, Christians.
The fifth and last reason I will give for why so many are only almost Christians is an unstable and fickle character.
Many a minister and sincere Christian has wept over promising converts who seemed to begin well in the Spirit, only to fall away and end shamefully in the flesh. And this was not due to wrong beliefs, nor to a fear of what others think, nor to love of money or pleasure — but simply to an unstable and fickle character. Such people treated religion as a novelty — something that pleased them for a time, but once their curiosity was satisfied, they set it aside. Like the young man who came to see Jesus wrapped only in a linen cloth, they followed Him for a season, but when temptation came and seized hold of them, they lacked the resolve to stand firm and fled away with nothing. At first, like a tree planted by a stream, they grew and flourished for a time — but having no root in themselves, no inward principle of holiness and devotion, they withered like Jonah's gourd: dried up, cut down, and gone. Their good intentions were like the violent but brief movements of a body just beheaded — forceful at first, but not lasting. In short, they set out well on their journey to heaven, but finding the road either narrower or longer than they expected, they gave up through sheer unsteadiness of character, and so returned, like a dog to its vomit, or like a washed sow to her wallowing in the mud.
I tremble to pronounce the fate of such unstable professors — those who, having put their hands to the plow, shamefully look back for lack of a little more resolve. How can I repeat to them that dreadful warning: 'If any man draw back, My soul shall have no pleasure in him.' And again: 'It is impossible' — or at the very least exceedingly difficult — 'for those who have been once enlightened, and have tasted the good gift of God's Holy Spirit, and the powers of the world to come, if they fall away, to be renewed again unto repentance.' Yet despite the Gospel's severity toward those who fall away, many who began well have, through fickleness of character — God grant that none of us here may ever be such — joined the number of those who turn back unto destruction. And this is the fifth and last reason I will give for why so many are only almost, and not altogether, Christians.
Third, I now move to consider the folly of being no more than an almost Christian.
The first proof of the folly of such a course is this: it is not enough for salvation. Such people are almost good — but being almost on target is really to miss it entirely. God requires us to love Him with all our hearts, with all our souls, and with all our strength. He loves us too deeply to permit any rival, because to whatever extent our hearts are empty of God, to that same extent they must be unhappy. The Devil, like the false mother who came before Solomon, would have our hearts divided — as she would have had the child split in two. But God, like the true mother, will have all or nothing. 'My son, give Me your heart' — your whole heart — is God's universal call to all, and if this is not done, we can never expect divine mercy.
People may play the hypocrite, but at the great day of judgment God will strike them down — as He did Ananias and Sapphira through the mouth of His servant Peter — for pretending to offer Him all their hearts while keeping back the greater part. They may fool their fellow human beings for a time, but He who enabled Elijah to cry out, 'Come in, wife of Jeroboam,' when she came in disguise to inquire about her sick son, will also see through every disguise and artful pretense. And if their hearts are not wholly with Him, He will assign them their portion with hypocrites and unbelievers.
What makes a halfway devotion even less excusable is that it is not only insufficient for our own salvation, but deeply harmful to that of others.
An almost Christian is one of the most dangerous creatures in the world. He is a wolf in sheep's clothing — one of those false prophets our Lord warns us against in the Sermon on the Mount, who try to convince people that the road to heaven is broader than it really is. As noted before, such people neither enter the kingdom of God themselves, nor allow those who are trying to enter to do so. These are the people who spread a lukewarm, halfhearted spirit throughout the world — who hang out false lights and thereby shipwreck unsuspecting souls on their voyage toward eternity. These are greater enemies to the cross of Christ than unbelievers themselves, for everyone is on guard against an open unbeliever, but an almost Christian, through his subtle hypocrisy, draws many away after him and must therefore expect to receive the greater condemnation.
Furthermore, as it is deeply harmful to ourselves and to others, this halfway commitment is also the greatest expression of ingratitude toward our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Did He come down from heaven and shed His precious blood to purchase our hearts, only to receive half of them? How can we say we love Him when our hearts are not wholly His? How can we call Him our Savior when we will not sincerely seek to please Him, and so let Him see the fruit of His suffering and be satisfied?
Imagine that one of us had purchased a slave at great expense — someone who had been trapped in the most terrible misery and torment, and would have remained there forever if we had not shown compassion. And suppose that slave later became rebellious and refused to give us even half his service — how loudly we would condemn such base ingratitude! Yet this is precisely how you behave, O man, when you acknowledge that you have been redeemed from infinite and unavoidable misery and punishment by the death of Jesus Christ — and yet refuse to give yourself wholly to Him. Are we really going to treat God, our Maker, in a way we would never tolerate being treated by a fellow human being? God forbid. No.
Now I come to my final point: a word of exhortation urging you to be not only almost, but altogether Christians. Let us despise such base and treacherous treatment of our King and Savior — indeed, our God. Let us not spend our whole lives taking some steps toward heaven, only to plunge ourselves into hell at last. Let us give God our whole hearts and stop wavering between two opinions. If the world is god, then serve it. If pleasure is god, then serve it. But if the Lord — He is God — then let us, oh let us, serve Him alone! Why should we hold out any longer? Why should we be so in love with slavery as to refuse to renounce the world, the flesh, and the Devil — the spiritual chains that bind our souls down and keep them from rising to God? What are we afraid of? Is God not able to reward our complete obedience? If He is — as the almost Christian's halfhearted service seems to grant — then why will we not serve Him fully? For whatever reason we do this much, why not do more? Or do you think that being only half religious will make you happy, while going further will make you miserable? This, my brothers and sisters, is pure delusion — for what is it but this halfway devotion, this wavering between God and the world, that makes so many seemingly well-meaning people complete strangers to the comforts of religion? They take just enough religion to trouble their conscience about their sins, and pursue their sins just enough to deprive themselves of religion's comforts. But if they would sincerely leave everything behind in their hearts and give themselves wholly to God, they would then — and only then — experience the indescribable pleasure of a mind at peace with itself. They would enjoy that peace of God which, even in this life, surpasses all understanding — a peace they had never known before. It is true that if we devote ourselves entirely to God, we will face contempt — but that is because contempt is what we need to heal our pride. We must give up some pleasures — but only because those pleasures make us unfit for spiritual ones, which are infinitely better. We must give up love of the world — but only so that we may be filled with the love of God. And when that love has once enlarged our hearts, we will, like Jacob serving for his beloved Rachel, think nothing too hard to endure, no hardship too great to bear, because of the love we will then have for our dear Redeemer. So easy, so delightful are the ways of God even in this life. But when we finally lay aside these bodies and our souls are filled with all the fullness of God — what heart can imagine, what tongue can express, with what unspeakable joy and satisfaction we will then look back on our sincere and wholehearted service. Do you think, my dear hearers, that we will regret having done too much — or rather, do you not think we will be ashamed that we did so little, and blush that we were so reluctant to give everything to God, when He intended one day to give us Himself?
Let me close, then, by urging you, my brothers and sisters, always to keep before you the immeasurable happiness of knowing and enjoying God. And consider this: every degree of holiness you neglect, every act of devotion you pass by, is a jewel taken from your crown — a degree of blessedness lost in the vision of God. If you will only always think and act this way, you will no longer spend your energy trying to bargain between God and the world. Instead, you will be daily striving to give yourselves more and more to Him — always watchful, always praying, always reaching for greater purity and love. In this way you will be constantly preparing yourself for a fuller sight and enjoyment of that God, in whose presence there is fullness of joy, and at whose right hand there are pleasures forevermore. Amen! Amen!
