Selected from: Pathways of Many Pilgrims; or, Lights and Shadows in the Christian Life, 5th ed. (London: T. Nelson and Sons, Paternoster Row, 1860), 357–366.
A Persian Sufi once asked the missionary, Martyn,1Henry Martyn (1781–1812) was an Anglican priest and missionary to India and Persia. where he would find the doctrines of Christ, and the reply was profound, though simple, “You will find them all in Christ.” The devoted man meant to tell the inquirer that he might study a book, and yet come short of saving truth. He might learn a creed, and yet not be a Christian. He might adopt a system different from that which he held by descent from his fathers, and still be only changing one delusion for another. Martyn, therefore, adopted the course which precluded error, as far as man’s precaution could, though it must have appeared foolishness to the wisdom of the Sufi. Receive the Saviour of the lost, and in him, receive all truth; but truth, in regard to salvation, apart from him, is but an abstraction, a shadow, a theory, or a name.
Now, it is when man is taught to act in spirit on Martyn’s suggestion that he exhibits one of the highest manifestations of the Christian life. The simple reception of the Saviour—unwavering repose upon him—entire satisfaction with him, as the chief among ten thousand—forms one of the most attractive developments of the Christian life which we are permitted to witness upon earth. It is not the man who struggles, and who argues his way to the Saviour, by what is deemed an intellectual effort; nor the man who doubts, and inquires, and falters, and hesitates, as to whether the Saviour be a Saviour or not, who manifests most clearly the true greatness of the soul. It is he who takes the divine mind, and rests upon it, just as the Divinity gave it. It is he who, in simplicity, says, “Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth;” or it is he who confidingly prays, “Do as thou hast said,”—it is such a man that indicates the highest style of faith, and approximates the most closely to Him who always did what was well-pleasing to the Father. Music may partake of a highly composite character, or be simple, majestic, and sublime. Like some grand organ, it may awe, and almost appall, or like the eolian harp—natural and most soothing—it may calm and tranquillize the soul. The latter is the emblem of simple faith.
We should not fail to notice the errors which abound upon this subject, for they are instructive. Men hear so much regarding pardon that, by a strange fallacy, they are prone to conclude that they are pardoned. They hear so much of a Saviour that they hasten to the soothing conclusion that they are saved. It is as if a dying man were to conclude that he is not dying, merely because he hears of life, or a beggar that he is not starving, merely because he hears of bread. And so in regard to faith. Merely because they hear of it, many conclude that they have it; and thus the soul may perish under the power of self-deception. But even when men begin to be in earnest about faith, they are often more engrossed with the term than the thing. And what is faith? It can scarcely be described or defined by a reference to any single act of the mind, and the Scriptures describe it by a wide variety of terms. Coming unto Jesus is one of these. Looking unto Jesus is another. Apprehending, or laying hold of the Saviour is a third. Receiving Christ is a fourth. Fleeing for refuge is a fifth. Trusting in the Lord—leaning upon him—these, and countless other expressions, all combine to teach us what believing is. It is the act of the heart rather than of the understanding, and the whole soul is in it. The truth of God in the gospel, more specially in the promises, is its foundation or warrant. The mercy and the love of God constitute its encouragement. The Spirit of God is its author. The Son of God is its great object. Salvation is its end, and the glory of God in that salvation, the crown and consummation of the soul. It is in this way that man is justified. It is thus that peace is diffused through the soul, and thus that our covenant with death is annulled, through the heart’s cleaving to him who brought life and immortality to light in the gospel.
Contemplate for a little the character now sketched. The simple-minded believer deems the Word of God enough in every difficulty. Even though he should be walking in darkness, and seeing no light, he will trust in the name of the Lord. Of that Word, he can say, like Jeremiah, “Thy words were found, and I did eat them; and they were unto me the joy and rejoicing of my heart.” His mind is purified thereby. His heart is warmed. His sins are mortified. His faith becomes simpler, and therefore stronger, from day to day. The written Word guides him evermore to the incarnate Word, and there he finds the fulness of him who filleth all in all. Such a believer is gradually schooled out of all self-confidence. He is like the vine tree which cannot grow upright without a stay, but having one, it clambers and ascends till its rich and luxuriant produce is seen in abundant clusters pendent in the air. And the progress that is made is proportioned to the simplicity of the soul’s reliance upon truth. Its supreme desire is to be found “looking unto Jesus;” and in that attitude, it walks directly forward to be satisfied with the goodness of God’s house. Others may struggle; it submits. Others may challenge or debate; it acquiesces. Others may ask, “How can these things be?” The simple-minded believer only asks, “Hath the Lord spoken?” and replies, then he will perform. It is thus that the most perfect serenity is produced. “Return to thy rest, O my soul, for the Lord has dealt bountifully with thee!” is a description of the feelings which actuate the heart of such a believer. In brief, he is kept in perfect peace, according to the prophet’s words, because “he is stayed on God.” Jonathan Edwards, “the greatest of the sons of men,” is perhaps the most signal instance upon record of this lowly trust in combination with holy peace.
“Thy will be done on earth, as it is done in heaven,” is one of the deepest and most comprehensive portions of the Word of God. Little do men sometimes think how much is contained in that brief clause. The lips utter the prayer, but does the heart mean what the lips are asking? In heaven, the will of God is universal law. Not a thought jars with it, not a wish wanders from the will of the Supreme. Now, when we ask that that will may be done on earth, as completely and constantly as it is done in heaven, what may be implied in our petition? It may be Jehovah’s will to take away the delight of our eyes with a stroke. We ask him to do that, but do we really wish that he should do according to what we ask? It may be his will to leave us friendless in the world, for he may see that nothing else will bring us to the Friend of sinners. It may be his will to lay his hand upon us in woes and sorrows akin to those which befell the much-tried Job. Are we really minded that such things should befall, if they come within the range of Jehovah’s unchallengeable pleasure? Ah! too often, we fear, such thoughts are far from our mind. The words of submission are uttered, but the heart does not beat responsive. It is the service of the lip that we express. It is not with the soul that the Hearer of prayer is served.
And what is the result? He comes in holy sovereignty and takes away the delight of our eyes. He sends some heavy trial, and sorrow perhaps crowds upon sorrow, like wave upon wave in a troubled sea—all according to his will; and what are then the feelings of many a heart? Like Rachel, we weep, and refuse to be comforted; we are surprised, or perhaps crushed, and half heartbroken because Jehovah has done according to his will, in terms of our petition. We did not mean what we said. We uttered the words of submission, but did not cherish the feeling; and the result is that murmuring gives double poignancy to our sorrow, or fighting against God lacerates the wound which was sufficiently deep and sufficiently painful before.
But in the case of the simple-minded believer, this intensity of agony is prevented by a habitual submissiveness of soul. It is his prayer and endeavour to merge his will in God’s; and this, we repeat, appears among the highest attainments that man can make on earth. It is thus that the man of simple faith, though perhaps of unlettered mind, is enabled to exhibit a depth of intelligence in divine things—a firmness under trial, and a good hope when much that seems adverse or untoward occurs, which baffles the energy and confounds the wisdom of far more gifted men. The secret of the Lord is with him. The mysteries of the kingdom are made plain. He has food to eat which the world does not know—it is hidden manna, the very bread of life.
Happily for the church of Christ, and the glory of his Spirit, illustrations of this simple faith are not uncommon. It was the wise advice of a stripling in years, but a master and a sage in Israel—we mean the Rev. Andrew Gray of Glasgow—to those who were afflicted by spiritual difficulties, that they should “misken such doubts” as haunted them; they should refuse to recognize them, or proceed to act as if they did not exist; and many have had wisdom to act on the advice. Among the most signal instances that occur to us is the case of Dr. William Gordon of Hull. As a zealous philanthropist, and an accomplished physician, there was a period in his life when the one thing needful did not obtain the prominence which reason and religion, which time and eternity alike demand for it. But the set time to favour him arrived. By the grace of God, Dr. Gordon took up his position decidedly among those who are taught to take up their cross and follow Christ; and never was there a believer more simple minded than he. “I have read a great many sceptical books, ancient and modern,” he said, in sending a message to certain infidels. “It is all very fine, but very fallacious. They are very plausible, but can give no consolation in a dying hour. The New Testament is the book. We must fall back on that. We can only obtain peace by casting ourselves on Jesus, putting reasoning aside, and asking him to cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of his Holy Spirit.”2See The Christian Philosopher Triumphing over Death,” etc., by Newman Hall, BA. “All the consideration of my own mind,” he says again, “all the analysis I can make of it, proves the truth of Christianity. It so provides for all the wants of my soul! If I were to begin to reason, I would get into a maze; but I am told to come as a little child, and then I find perfect peace.” And yet again, he once exclaimed, “All human learning is of no avail. Reason must be put out of the question. I reasoned, and debated, and investigated, but I found no peace till I came to the gospel as a little child, till I received it as a babe. Then such a light was shed abroad in my heart, that I saw the whole scheme at once, and I found pleasure the most indescribable. I saw there was no good deed in myself. Though I had spent hours in examining my conduct, I found nothing I had done would give me real satisfaction. It was always mixed up with something selfish. But when I came to the gospel as a child, the Holy Spirit seemed to fill my heart. Then I saw my selfishness in all its vivid deformity, and I found there was no acceptance with God, and no happiness, except through the blessed Redeemer. I stripped off all my own deeds—threw them aside—went to him naked; he received me as he promised he would, and presented me to the Father; then I felt joy unspeakable, and all fear of death at once vanished.”
Only once more, as death drew near, Dr. Gordon remarked, when the state of his health was made a topic, “O, speak to me about Christ; I want to hear of him. No other subject interests me so much.” And when he was asked how he felt compared with a week before, he replied, “Oh, I have so little interest in my physical condition, that I do not remember…When once we feel the love of Christ, it gives new views of everything.” It was thus that a man of sanguine spirit and many accomplishments was taught to behave himself like a weaned child; and because he did so, he enjoyed what he called, “a peace unbroken and indescribable.” It is not the struggle, and the effort, and the fixed purpose on man’s part. It is not argument, it is not eloquence, it is not gifts and power—though all these may be consecrated to the glory of God, and have often been so. It is simple coming, simple looking, simple resting upon Christ that ministers grace and strength to man; and when that is our character, the beauties of holiness appear in the life, the result of the Spirit’s graces comingled, as light is the result of the primary colours blended into one. There is great depth of meaning in the words of Symeon3Symeon the New Theologian (949–1022) a Byzantine Christian monk and poet, was persecuted for holding the view that one must have actual experience of the Holy Spirit in order to speak about God, which led to his exile. on his deathbed: “I do not think now. I am enjoying.” He was receiving all from his God; and we need not wonder to hear him say, “I lie here waiting for the issue without a fear, without a doubt, and without a wish.” It was simple faith honouring God, and therefore honoured by him.
The missionary, John Macdonald, was another servant of God in whom the beautifying results of a simple faith were conspicuously displayed. Though possessed of more than ordinary mental ability, and though he had cultivated his powers to an extent which might have given him no mean place among influential minds, he felt it to be at once his duty and his rejoicing to yield himself up in holy subjection and simplicity to the control of the truth. Like most thinkers, Macdonald had an arduous struggle to maintain with his own heart and nature, ere he could comprehend the simple gospel of the grace of God, or consent to let God in Christ be all. He tried to come as a believer to Christ, and then his believing would have been the price of his redemption; it would no longer have been a gift upon God’s part, but a purchase on the creature’s; or he would have come with his repentance, and his tears, and his struggles, and with these he would have made sure of the Holy One’s regards. At last, however, the scales fell from his eyes, and then it was seen that all he had to do, all he could do, was to come as a sinner, and be made a believer. When that simple perception dawned upon his mind, that is, when he understood the gospel, he resigned himself with the gentleness of sleeping infancy, to that power which comes from heaven to guide men to it. None ever more simple in their trust, none more implicit in reliance, and none more serenely happy than the missionary, Macdonald. “How glorious and all-sufficient a Saviour is Christ!” was his exclamation. “This is a reflection which I trust I have been enabled in some measure to realise. Everything I can desire is in him: atonement, to remove my fearful guilt; righteousness, to entitle me to eternal life, with all its unspeakable benefits here and hereafter; a constant representative before my holy and gracious God. My affliction is but the smiting of his merciful hand, and therefore it is an ointment savouring of heaven. Death he has passed through, and in it he stands ready to receive me. My present cares I can cast on him, even to the smallest lawful matter; and everything that is wise, right, and good, he will do for me. I have his own word for all these things. What a Lord and Saviour for a poor, sinful, afflicted creature! How blessed to trust in him—to see him by faith, with ‘grace on his lips,’ and ‘the government on his shoulders’!”
Such was the simple faith of that servant of God—a model of strength evolved from weakness, of hope superseding emotions akin to despair, and perfect peace supplanting the restlessness, the struggles, and the tears which accompany or flow from the sinner’s attempt, however disguised, to work out a righteousness for himself.
But one of the sublimest exhibitions of this simple trust in God that has ever been put on record is found in the life of the Rev. Thomas Scott. “Think,” he says, “of dear Lady ——; her eldest son executed as a murderer, a hardened wretch till the last hour; the only hope this, that in his rage in casting himself off, the rope broke, and he lived till another was fetched, perhaps ten minutes,4At the earnest request of the criminal, the providential respite was extended to an hour. and it seemed during that space softened, and earnestly cried for mercy; yet I never heard from her lips one murmuring word.” She was silent, for the Lord did it; she was still, and knew that he was God; and thus, though the heart might by nature be breaking, that simple-minded believer, so stricken and so tried, was made strong in the Lord, and the power of his might. It is the bruised reed not broken, and the smoking flax not quenched. It is the Lord redeeming his promise: “When thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burnt; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.” The shadow of the cross is the favourite retreat of such a soul; and one hour there, where the sad and the joyful, the humbled and the exalted, the self-condemned and the pardoned, are so beautifully blended—enables the simple-minded believer to understand why we should count it all joy when we fall into divers trials.
Is it asked, Why is such honour put upon simple faith? For many reasons. It lays man in the dust, and exalts Jehovah to the throne. It involves a condemnation of man’s guilt and folly in departing from his God at first, when he preferred a lie to the word of the only living and true God. As man fell through unbelief, it is righteous and just and good that he should rise, if he ever rise at all, by the grace which stands most opposed to that. For that and for other reasons, simple faith is largely honoured; while the man of simple faith is often serenely happy, or perfectly blest.
But most of all, this simple faith is honoured, and the simple-minded believer stands high among the people of God, because he in whom all the fulness of the Godhead dwells is appropriated, rested on, and rejoiced in by such a soul. Its language is not merely, “Give me pardon for Christ’s sake; give me holiness; give me heaven for him.” It rather seeks the Saviour himself, and in him, heaven and every blessing. It rejoices, no doubt, in the covenant, but it is as that covenant is all fulfilled in our covenant Head. It rejoices in a pardon, but it is sought in Christ, who is exalted a prince and a Saviour to grant it. It rejoices in the promise of the Spirit, but it is because that promise is verified in him in whom all the promises are yea and amen. That is the secret of the honour which is put upon simple faith. To it, Christ is all; and when that is the case, what but blessedness can be the lot of him who can look on the brightness of the Father’s glory; who is engrafted into Him who is full of grace and truth, and out of whose fulness we may all receive! Reposing upon that Rock, the soul is safe from every surge. When tempted to pry, it exclaims, with a modern philosopher, “On such subjects I have no confidence in reason. I trust only in faith; and, as far as we ought to inquire, we have no other guide but revelation.”5John Davy, The Collected Works of Sir Humphry Davy, Vol IX (London: Smith, Elder, and Company) 381. When tempted to doubt, it asks, “Has the Lord spoken, and will he not perform?” When buffeted and tried, it lays the hand upon the mouth, exclaiming, “Why should a living man complain?” The Word—the pure and simple Word of God—is its resting place, and there it is strong in the Lord and the power of his might.
Footnotes
- 1Henry Martyn (1781–1812) was an Anglican priest and missionary to India and Persia. ↩︎
- 2See The Christian Philosopher Triumphing over Death,” etc., by Newman Hall, BA. ↩︎
- 3Symeon the New Theologian (949–1022) a Byzantine Christian monk and poet, was persecuted for holding the view that one must have actual experience of the Holy Spirit in order to speak about God, which led to his exile. ↩︎
- 4At the earnest request of the criminal, the providential respite was extended to an hour. ↩︎
- 5John Davy, The Collected Works of Sir Humphry Davy, Vol IX (London: Smith, Elder, and Company) 381. ↩︎
