Present Day Religion

 I have chosen for this day’s meditations, a subject which affords but little scope for eloquence or fancy, but which allows me a very full opportunity of speaking simply and with searching closeness of your present religious state, and of pointing out to you what our text suggests as the remedy for the very worst state of spiritual malady under which an individual, or a church, can labour. It is for this end that I have chosen these words to discourse from, on the occasion of my coming amongst you, that I may, at the very commencement of my ministry, declare what appears to be one of the chief causes of our low and languid condition;—that I may show you how much, how very much depends upon the people of God,—upon their “prayer and fasting,”—in the way of securing the divine remedy. We have need, my brethren, to look well around us, and to consider the foundations upon which we are building for the life eternal. We have need to look within us, and consider well what sort of religion it really is which we profess; what sort of devotion it is with which we exercise our souls. For it is to be feared that much of what is called religion with us, is a mere outward name—a shadow, a spectre, with nothing of solidity or life. The kind of religion which men now prefer, is that which will not go very deep into their spiritual nature, nor search very narrowly the secret recesses of the heart. They love a religion somewhat softened in its aspect and outlines, whose doctrines may be well adorned and set forth in words of human eloquence, so as to gratify the ear and attract the fancy. They talk of prizing “the cross,” it may be,—but then it seems to them too rude and bare; they would have its nakedness covered over with something more of ornament. And thus adorned, it no doubt attracts the eye of many who deemed it foolishness before. But then it is the simple cross no more. The “enticing words of man’s wisdom” have made it of none effect. The faith of those who thus receive it, stands in the wisdom of men, and not in the power of God. It speaks no more of Jesus only, and His all-sufficiency. It attracts many to Him now, who are not drawn of the Father (John 6:44). These men, of whom we are speaking, have no objection to hear you discourse upon the doctrines of religion and mysteries of faith, provided you do this eloquently, so as to gratify their taste, and lead them smoothly along. But search their hearts; come close to their consciences; strike deep, strike home, and straightway they are offended. Speak to them of faith, and they will listen to you with attention, and perhaps commend your discourse; but tell them that faith is altogether a world-overcoming, self-renouncing principle that hangs upon God alone; tell them that if they have not cast off that world, renounced that self, and learned to hang entirely upon God, their religion is but a name, their faith a mockery, and they will turn away in weariness, if not in disgust. Speak to them of prayer,—its nature, its reasonableness, its duty,—and they will give all heed to your address; but call upon them solemnly to a life of prayer and heavenly fellowship,—tell them that prayer is the Christian’s vital breath, the Christian’s native air,—speak to them closely of the example of our Lord, who spent whole nights in prayer upon the solitary mountains, and they will smile at your enthusiasm, or be offended at your importunity.