The Exercise and Profit of Godliness

Next Part The Exercise and Profit of Godliness 2

"Exercise yourself unto godliness. For bodily exercise profits little—but godliness is profitable unto all things, having promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come." 1 Tim. 4:7, 8

Man has been called, and perhaps with some truth, a religious animal. Religion of some kind, at any rate, seems almost indispensable to his very existence; for from the most civilized nation to the most barbarous tribe upon the face of the earth, we find some form of religion practiced. Whether this be ingrained into the very constitution of man, or whether it be received by custom or tradition, I will not pretend to decide; but that some kind of religion is almost universally prevalent, is a fact that cannot be denied.

But is there not true religion as well as false religion? If the great bulk of mankind are wrapped up in a false religion, is there not a "remnant according to the election of grace," that possesses the true? Has that promise failed in its accomplishment, "A seed shall serve him?" (Psalm. 22:30.) Does not the Lord Jesus Christ still reign at God's right hand, full of gifts and grace? And has he not promised to be with his church and people even to the end of the world? Thus, though it is perfectly true that the great bulk of mankind follow after shadows, yet there are a few whose souls are really intent upon substance. If there are those who are given up to believe a lie, there are those that love the truth; and if there are those who worship they know not what, there is still "the true circumcision, who worship God in the spirit, rejoice in Christ Jesus, and have no confidence in the flesh."

I think that we find these two kinds of religion, false and true, earthly and heavenly, fleshly and spiritual, natural and supernatural, discriminated in the words before us. For it seems as though the Apostle calls false religion "bodily exercise," and tells Timothy that this bodily exercise "profits little;" and by way of contradistinction to this false religion, this bodily exercise that "profits little," he exhorts him to "exercise himself rather unto godliness," assuring him, that "godliness is profitable unto all things, having promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come."

Our text, then, divides itself into two branches.

I. "Bodily exercise," which "profits little." And,

II. "Godliness," which is "profitable unto all things, having promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come."

I. Bodily exercise, which profits little. But why should the Apostle affix the term "bodily exercise" to false religion? What is there in the expression that seems descriptive of its nature? Let us examine it, probe it to the bottom, and see whether it be not descriptive of a religion of which God is not the origin nor end.

By "bodily exercise," then, I understand the employment of our mere natural faculties in the service and worship of God. And if you look at false religion in its various shapes and shades, you will see how much there is in it of this mere "bodily exercise." Look, for instance, at Baal's priests, cutting themselves with lancets, crying from morning to evening, "O Baal, hear us!" and leaping upon the altar they had made. What was this but "bodily exercise?" Look at the Pharisees in the New Testament, praying at the corners of the streets, making broad their phylacteries, dropping with ostentation their gifts into the treasury, going up to the temple at certain hours, fasting on certain days, and scrupulously giving tithes of mint, anise, and cummin. What was that but "bodily exercise?" Look at all the forms and ceremonies of Popery—the bowings, adorations, genuflections, changes of apparel, fastings, and macerating of the body. What is it all but "bodily exercise?" Look at Puseyism, that twin sister of Popery. Certain days, hours, vestments, postures of the body, chantings and intonings, mutterings and mumblings—mere outward movements of bodily organs, and all deriving their supposed virtue from the consecrating touch, the "bodily exercise," of a bishop's hand.

Is not all this mere "bodily exercise?"—nothing in it being spiritual, heavenly, or divine? And not only these, but the great bulk of professors generally, who dissent from establishments, and follow a more scriptural worship, is not their religion often made up of "bodily exercise." They exercise their feet in walking to chapel; they exercise their voice in singing; they exercise their ears in hearing; they exercise their tongue in talking; they exercise their knees in kneeling; they exercise their eyes in reading the hymns, or their elbows in nudging the drowsy; they exercise their hands perhaps in giving—but, with all, it is only "bodily exercise." All this maybe done and is done by thousands, without one grain of the grace of God in their souls.

But "bodily exercise" may also be understood to comprise the exercise of mental faculties, as well as corporeal. Thus there is the exercise of the intellect in understanding the word of God; the exercise of the judgment upon the gifts or abilities of the preacher; the exercise of the memory in recollecting texts and sermons; the exercise of the affections in receiving the word with joy; the exercise of the conscience, as we read of those who were "convicted by their own conscience;" and of the heathen, "their conscience also bearing witness, and their thoughts the meanwhile accusing or else excusing one another." (Rom. 2:15.) And yet, all this mere mental, intellectual exercise. Men are not necessarily partakers of grace though they exercise their bodies in coming to a place of truth, or exercise their minds in listening to what is delivered from the pulpit.

The Apostle says of this "bodily exercise" (by which I understand the exercise of the body and mind together, as something distinct and apart from the grace of God in the soul) "it profits little;" or, as it is in the margin, "it profits for a little time." "It profits little;" it only profits while it lasts. It profits the body, but it does not profit the soul. It may profit the intellect, but it does not profit the heart. It profits for time, but not for eternity. It profits for momentary impressions, but not for everlasting salvation. It profits for an hour or a day; but it will not profit for the bed of death, at the bar of judgment, or in a never ending eternity. It may profit to stave back convictions, to harden the heart, to sear the conscience, to deaden the feelings, to wrap up the soul in a graceless profession. It may profit thus far (if the word "profit" may here be used consistently with the meaning of the term), but "profits little," and it profits for a little time, for the "end of these things is death."

Now, when you look at your religion, scrutinize it, analyze it, weigh it, and consider it—cannot you find much of this "bodily exercise" inherent in it, and combined with it? And here in fact lies one thing that often perplexes the mind and conscience of a real partaker of grace, that though he has vital godliness, he has so much of this "bodily exercise" with it. In fact, all religion which is not wrought in his soul from time to time, by the mighty power of God is but "bodily exercise." As then we have a great deal of religion which is not of God, and therefore nothing but "bodily exercise," (and the conscience of a child of God can only receive that religion which is wrought in his heart by a divine power) it comes to pass, that when we weigh our religion in the scales of the sanctuary, we are compelled to write "Tekel" perhaps upon nine-tenths of it.

Now this perplexes the judgment, exercises the mind, and tries the soul of many of God's people; for they, having light to see, life to feel, judgment to understand, affections to embrace, and a conscience to receive nothing but what is of God, their minds are perplexed by the strange intermixture of "bodily exercise" with vital, spiritual godliness. But there is this distinction between the child of God and the one wrapped up altogether in "bodily exercise," that a man who has nothing but "bodily exercise" is satisfied with it; he has no craving for anything better, heavenly or divine; whereas a child of God counts all his righteousness as filthy rags, tramples under foot all his false religion as well as his own doings, and is satisfied with nothing but what the hand of God lodges in his heart, and the mouth of God speaks to his soul.

II. Godliness, which is profitable unto all things. But we pass on to our second point, which is, to consider that "godliness" which is so eternally distinct from the "bodily exercise" which profits little; and of which the Apostle says, it is "profitable unto all things."

But what is "godliness?" We must distinguish between "godliness," and the "exercise" of godliness. The Apostle makes this distinction. He says to Timothy, "Exercise yourself unto godliness; for godliness is profitable unto all things." He therefore draws a distinction between "godliness" and an "exercise" unto godliness. We will first, then, see what "godliness" is, and then we shall be better able to see what "exercise" unto godliness is.

By "GODLINESS," then, we are to understand that which comes immediately from heaven; that of which God himself is the author; which "comes down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither the shadow of turning." (James 1:17.) The Lord Jesus is "the author," that is the beginner, as well as "the finisher of faith;" and "the good work" which God has promised to fulfill, is said also to be "begun" by him. Every grain therefore of true religion, every spark of vital godliness, comes directly and immediately from God.

But this "godliness" has branches, parts, graces, gifts, teachings, and operations connected with it. For godliness is a very wide subject; it embraces the whole work of grace from first to last, from the very first sigh of conviction to the last hallelujah of a departing saint. Godliness embraces the whole work of the Spirit; and that work being so comprehensive and diversified, it must needs be a very extensive subject. It comprises repentance, faith, hope, love, prayerfulness, humility, contrition, brokenness, patience; in a word, every act of the blessed Spirit upon the soul, and every fruit that springs out of those actings of the Holy Spirit upon the heart.

But the chief thing to which the Apostle directs his son Timothy, and to which I wish this morning to direct your minds, is the "EXERCISE" of godliness. Godliness at times seems to lie still in the heart. It is there, but without much apparent movement. The life of God never dies in the soul; but it has its ebbings and flowings, its throbbings, its heavings, its movements, its awakenings, its desires, its feelings, its actings, its goings out, its drawings in. This is the life of religion in the soul. In fact, we only know that we are partakers of godliness by feeling the exercise of it in the heart.

The exercise, too, of godliness is known by the opposition it meets with. Every grace of the soul is from time to time drawn forth into exercise; but it is drawn forth usually by the opposition made to it, by the difficulties it has to surmount, by the enemies it has to encounter, by the conflicts it has to pass through. And as the body is only kept healthy by exercise; as a man may lie in bed until he dies in bed; may bind up his arm, like an Indian Fakir, until he cannot put it down again; or tie up his leg until it withers in the socket; so religion must be continually exercised in order that the soul may be alive and healthy unto God. All the fruits and graces of the Spirit are, so to speak, stagnant in the soul, except so far as they are brought into living, individual, and active exercise.

A. Let us look a little more closely at these various graces, and see how they are brought into exercise.

1. There is the grace of repentance, sorrow for sin, holy mourning over the iniquities of our heart, lip, and life. But is not this holy sorrow, this contrition, this repentance, this mourning over sin—is not this grace of the Spirit often stagnant, as it were, and asleep in the soul? It has then to be drawn forth; to be exercised. And it is from time to time drawn forth into exercise as God is pleased to lay upon our consciences the filth and guilt, the weight and burden of sin; to set before our eyes the Lord Jesus Christ in his sufferings upon Calvary's tree; or to melt and soften our heart with some gentle touches of the Spirit; and thus cause us to feel that repentance which is not to be repented of. Here is the exercise of repentance.

2. So with faith. You may possess faith; and doubtless there are those here who do possess it. But is not this precious grace and gift of faith often, so to speak, in your souls so dormant, that you cannot awaken it? so stagnant, that you cannot move it? But the Lord is pleased from time to time, by laying eternal things with weight and power upon the conscience, by applying some truth to the heart, by visiting the soul with his Spirit and grace, by setting Jesus before the eyes, by drawing up our desires unto himself—the Lord is pleased, in some way like this, to call forth into exercise that dormant principle of faith, which before seemed well-near buried and hidden in the breast. It is drawn forth into exercise; it looks unto, believes in, and hangs upon the Lord Jesus Christ. It receives out of his fullness; it comes to him poor, needy, naked, faint, helpless, and receives strength to believe in his name—to look unto him—and to cast itself wholly upon him.

Look at Jonah in the whale's belly, when he cries as it were out of the very belly of hell—how we find faith under the exercises of his soul; "Yet will I look again," he says, "toward your holy temple!" Look at Hezekiah upon his bed of sickness, and, to his feelings, on the bed of death—how he turned to the wall, and cried, "O Lord, I am oppressed; undertake for me!" Look at David through all his various troubles, trials, afflictions, and persecutions—how his eyes and heart were continually looking up in faith unto the Lord, and resting wholly and solely upon him! And, in fact, God puts his people from time to time in such situations and trying circumstances, that they have no one else to look unto. They have no other help, shelter, or refuge; but out of sheer necessity are obliged to cast their souls on him who is able to save. And in this we often find the exercise of faith.

3. So with the exercise of hope. How the poor child of God sinks at times into such trouble and despondency as scarcely to have a grain of hope left! When Satan tempts, and guilt presses upon his conscience, how his soul is cast down within him! And when God hides his face, and he feels no help nor strength remaining in himself, how his heart is cast down into despondency, and almost despair! But how, too, in these seasons is his hope revived! How the Lord can and does apply a suitable promise to his desponding heart! How he can bring to his recollection what he has done for him in times of old; the hills Mizar on which he has stood; the Ebenezers which he has been enabled to raise! How the Lord, laying his arm secretly underneath his soul, can whisper a hope in his breast that makes not ashamed, and give him an anchor sure and steadfast within the veil.

4. Then, as to love—how cold, how dead, how unfeeling, how lifeless is the soul at times toward God and godliness, as though there had never been a spark of spiritual affection either to God or his people! But how the Lord can at times melt the soul into affection and love, and make Jesus truly and really dear, near, and precious! How dependent we are thus upon the Lord himself, not only for the communications of godliness, but also for the exercise of godliness! And how he himself must needs exercise his own graces in the soul!

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