Watchman Of The South

TRANSIENT DEVOTIONS

Transient devotions are inconsistent with the general design of religion. This design is to reform man, to renew him, to transform him into the likeness of glorified saints, to render him like God. But how does a rapid torrent of devotion, attended with no moral rectitude, contribute to this end? If while I fast I eradicate the world from my heart if while I acknowledge the enormity of my past life I endeavor to reform it—if while I give mortal blows to the old man I form the new man in my heart, and if I thus build the edifice of grace where once the temple of depravity stood, then I direct a fast day toward the great end of religion. But what saith God of another kind of fasting? "Is it such a fast that I have chosen, that a man should afflict his soul for a day? Is it to bow down the head as a bulrush, and to spread sackcloth and ashes under him? Wilt thou call this a fast, and an acceptable day to the Lord?" Isaiah lviii. 5. And what saith God of exterior devotions in general? "To what purpose is the multitude of your sacrifices unto me? saith the Lord. I am full of burnt offerings and incense. Your new moons I cannot away with Who hath required this at your hand?" chap. i. 11. The answer seems ready. Didst not thou, Lord, establish this worship, order an elegant temple to be built, and command the Jews to go up to Jerusalem? Sabbaths, solemn assemblies, new moons, do they not owe their origin to thee? No; when they are destitute of love and obedience, I hate new moons and Sabbaths, and solemn assemblies I cannot away with. In like manner, of all devotions of every kind, when they are not attended with uniform moral obedience, we say, and in particular of the Lord's supper we say, I am weary of your preparations, I am full of momentary devotions, and your pretended holy resolutions I cannot away with. "O Ephraim, what shall I do unto thee? O Judah, what shall I do unto thee? for your goodness is as a morning cloud; and as the early dew it goeth away?"

Transient devotions must render promises of grace to you doubtful, even suppose you should ever, after a thousand revolutions of transient piety, be in possession of true and real religion. What think you of this question? A man who hath spent his life in sin is taken extremely ill. His illness, a review of his life, and a fear of death, rouse his conscience. He sends for a minister; he opens to him all his heart; he confesses his sins; he weeps; he groans; he protests ten thousand times that he hates his past life, and that he is determined to reform. He persuades himself and all about him, that he is really converted. The minister promises him peace, and displays before him all the comfortable declarations which it hath pleased God to bestow in the gospel. The sick man recovers his health, returns to the world, forgets all his designs of conversion and repentance, and pursues his former course of intrigue, and passion, and arrogance. He falls sick a second time, sends a second time for his minister, and again he opens his heart, accuses himself, sheds floods of tears, and once more vows amendment and conversion. The minister, on the same principle as before, encourages him to hope again. He recovers again, and perjures himself again, as he did the first time. A third time his illness returns, and he takes the same steps, and would embrace the same promises, if they could be addressed to him. Now we ask, how a minister ought to conduct himself to such a man? What think you of this question? You know our commission—it is to preach peace to such as return to God with sincerity and good faith. The marks of sincerity and good faith are good works, and where circumstances render good works impossible, protestations and promises are to be admitted as evidences of sincerity and good faith. These evidences have been deceitful in the man we speak of. His transition from promising to violating was as quick as that from violating to promising. Have we any right to suppose the penitent knows his heart better this third time than he did the first and the second? How should we be able to determine his state—how can we address to him any other than doubtful promises, since God, in some sort, adopts such sentiments in the text? O Ephraim, what shall I do unto thee? O Judah, what shall I do unto thee? for your goodness is a morning cloud that goeth away.

Consider finally the imprudence of a man who divides his life in this manner into periods of devotion and periods of sin. It seems at first to be the height of wisdom to find the unheard of art of uniting the reward of virtue with the pleasure of vice. On the one side, by devoting only a few moments to religion he spares himself the pains which they experience who make conscience of giving themselves entirely up to it; and by suspending only for a little while the exercise of his passions, he enjoys the pleasure of hoping fully to gratify them. On the other side, he quiets the storms of divine justice that threaten his rebellion, and thus obtains, by devotions of a moment, a protection which others devote a whole life to acquire. Let us undeceive ourselves. A heart divided in this manner cannot be happy. The chief cause of the difficulties we meet with in the way of salvation is owing to our partial walking, and to the fluctuation of the soul between religion and the world. The world combats religion—religion combats the world. The divided heart is the field of battle where this violent combat is fought. To desire to enjoy the pleasures of both virtue and sin, is to enjoy neither, and to partake of the inconveniences of both. To be at a point, to take a part, and to take the wise part, is the source of true peace and solid felicity.—Saurin.