by Edward Griffin -(1770 - 1837)
"And now, O Israel, what does the Lord your God ask of you but to fear the Lord your God, to walk in all his ways, to love him, to serve the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul." Deuteronomy 10:12
Complaints are often made against the ministers of Christ that their preaching is too rigorous and pungent. I sincerely wish that the world might once see what discourses the eternal God would himself deliver should he undertake to preach to men. What do I say? He has published a volume of discourses, and they have been more harshly treated than any of the sermons of his ministers. The words which I have read were taken from a sermon which God delivered in tones of solemn grandeur from Mount Sinai, or else through the medium of Moses. If it seems hard to you to be required "to fear the Lord your God, to walk in all his ways, to love him, to serve the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul," be it remembered that the source of this command is not ministers, but God himself. If any murmur at this, I have no controversy with them; I leave it to be settled between them and their Maker.
Having often preached with little effect myself, I would now retire and leave the God of Israel to preach to you. I would stand concealed in humble awe behind him, while he delivers his heavenly instructions to the people. Sermons are often heard as the words of men. It is difficult, to a distressing degree—to produce a realizing sense to our hearers—that the truths we preach proceeded from the lips of God. In the present case I hope this difficulty will not be felt. Had you stood at the foot of Sinai and heard the trumpet and the thunders, and heard the words of our text issuing from the thick darkness, you would not have doubted that they came from God. They were heard in substance by a million people, who trembled and fled as these sentiments were poured upon their ears from the burning mount. And now, after the lapse of more than three thousand years, it is still as true as ever—that they proceeded from the lips of God. Receive them therefore with as much veneration as though a throne were set in this house, and the God of glory was seated on it, and these words were sounded from his divine lips! "And now, O Israel, what does the Lord your God ask of you but to fear the Lord your God, to walk in all his ways, to love him, to serve the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul."
Who obeys this command? A part of my hearers obey it in some degree. They esteem God above every other object. They consider his glory as their highest interest, and communion with him as their supreme happiness. They would sooner forget father and mother—than forget him. It is their greatest grief that their treacherous hearts are so prone to wander from him. Their most fervent desires pant after him. And when in a favored hour, they find "him whom their soul loves," they hold him fast and will not let him go. I have no reproaches for these. It is our Master's will that we should speak kindly to them and encourage them in his name.
But are all such as these? Would to God that all were. But charity herself would blush, should we so far profane her sacred office as to lend her sanction to such an opinion. Charity herself must fear that in such a congregation as this, that there are many who have never yielded any service to God. Yet in most cases it is difficult to fix the charge where it ought to lie. So superficial are men's ideas of God's service, that they often think themselves his servants merely because they have been baptized, and attend public worship, and are charitable to the poor, and free from scandalous vices! But there is no service without love. 'Love is the fulfilling of the law.'
'Good,' you say, 'and I love the Lord. I should be very sorry not to love so bountiful and good a God.' Do you love him indeed? Do you indeed? Let us see. 'If any man loves the world—the love of the Father is not in him.' 'No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one and love the other, or else he will hold to the one and despise the other! You cannot serve God and mammon!' There is no love to God which is not habitually supreme. For though love enough to give a cup of cold water constitutes a disciple—none are disciples but those who love Christ supremely. 'If anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and his own life also—he cannot be my disciple.'
Supreme love to God will certainly produce self-denial for his sake. It will habitually avoid everything which he has forbidden; and will obey, not a part, but all his commands. He who offends 'in one point,' knowingly and habitually, 'is guilty of all.' Supreme love will seekcommunion with its object more than any worldly pleasure. It will pant after him and after greater conformity to him; it will seek his glory as the highest interest; it will consider him as the most desirable portion; it will delight in thinking of him more than in any worldly thoughts; it will delight in prayer; it will renounce the world and idols and cultivate a heavenly mind. Unless we have that which will produce all these effects, we have no supreme love to God; and if we have no supreme love, we have no love at all; and if we have no love, as there is no neutral state, we are his enemies. 'He who is not with me is against me, and he who does not gather with me scatters abroad.'
As humiliating as the thought is—we know that every person is God's enemy, until he is born again. "The carnal mind is enmity against God." Hence it is that so many people who attend public worship and lead regular lives, are unmindful of God from day to day, neglect prayer, put eternal things out of view, and lose themselves in the eager pursuit of the world. They must be conscious, if they will but reflect, that the world engages more of their care—than God or their souls—and is of course their supreme deity. They must be conscious that prayer is a burden—that pious fellowship is a burden—that the thoughts of God which sometimes intrude are unwelcome—that the Christian service is not agreeable to their taste—that they would rather be employed in sloth, or amusement, or business, or pleasure—than in piety; in reading an amusing story—than in searching the Scriptures.
Surely such people do not love God. Such minds could not be happy in heaven—if admitted to the place. They must undergo a radical change—or certainly they can find no happiness beyond the grave. Ah Lord God, how many of such are to be found among us—among the dearest friends of our hearts!
It is distressing to look through our congregations and see how people neglect God; how they live without him in the world—how they live as though there were no God. Is there no remedy for our lost brethren? Will nothing awaken them to their duty and danger? The necessity of making some attempt to rouse them is so pressing, that I trust Christians will excuse me if I turn my attention altogether to these. Let them stand by and assist me with their prayers, while I attempt to recall from death, this pitiable multitude.
Come, my unhappy friends, and let us reason together. Lend your whole attention while I make a humble attempt to reconcile you to your Maker. It is not an enemy you are listening to; I would never needlessly disturb your peace. God knows I wish you nothing but happiness, both in time and eternity; and if the present address might be the instrument of making you eternally blessed, I would account this the happiest day of my life. But in what language shall I address you? What new arguments shall I set before you?
The enemy of God in your breast, has resisted so many sermons, that those who love you are afraid that nothing will ever avail. O when shall it once be? Would God that this might be the sermon which pierces your heart. But so many better discourses have been lost upon you, that I tremble for the fate of this one. The longer you hear sermons without improvement, the longer you may. Every resisted sermonrenders future resistance more easy and certain. And this very address, unless it softens you—will harden you; unless it proves a 'savor of life'—it will become a 'savor of death!' Shall I stop or shall I proceed? —I must proceed; but first let me entreat you to lift one earnest prayer to God that he would carry the truth home to your hearts.
You may have sometimes complained that your fears, rather than your reason, were addressed. You shall have no cause for this complaint now. I mean to appeal to your understandings and to treat you like rational beings. For such indeed you are—rational beings, endowed with Godlike faculties, capable of enjoying and adorning the heavenly city; infinitely too precious to be lost and devoted to eternal destruction, blasphemy and pain!
The great reason of your insensibility is, that under the stupefying influence of unbelief, you have secretly doubted whether there is a God; or if there is, whether you have anything to do with him or he with you. The thought has lurked in your heart—that if there is a God, he is so far from you, and so unconnected with you, that you have nothing more to do with him than with an inhabitant of another planet. You have never conceived that you owed him your whole heart and life. But now for God's sake, pay careful attention.
