The Knowledge of Good and Evil 2
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II. "But the evil which I would not do—that I do." But there is another part to this picture. We may turn it, and look at the other side of the canvass. "The evil which I would not do, that I do." Can this be the experience of a Christian? Can this be a child of God? Can the Holy Spirit dwell in such a heart? Is this being conformed to Christ's image? Is this being a pilgrim traveling through the wilderness? Is this a sheep of Christ's flock? Is this a member of Christ's body? Is this the Spouse of the holy Lamb of God? Well may men say that the Apostle did not describe his own experience, if they felt nothing of the same kind in their own souls. If they never groaned, as Paul did, being burdened, I do not wonder that they say "this was his experience before he was converted." "Surely, such a description as this—'The good that I would do, I do not; but the evil which I would not do, that I do'—surely such words are not the words of a Christian, of an Apostle, of one who had been in the third heavens, who had known Jesus, and the power of his resurrection; surely, surely this must have been the bent of his mind before he was quickened by divine grace." So argues free-will and fleshly holiness in the heart of a pharisee. But what a mercy it is for you and I who know the plague of our heart, who sigh and groan daily being burdened by a body of sin and death, and at times feel ourselves to be the filthiest of the filthy, the vilest of the vile, and the guiltiest of the guilty—what a mercy it is for such poor defiled worms, such crawling reptiles, such self-condemned sinners, to find that the Apostle Paul had this conflict in his bosom, and was commissioned by the Father of lights to write it down, that you and I, and such as we, may suck at this breast of consolation by having it opened up in our soul's experience.
"The evil which I would not do, that I do." If you observe, the will is enlisted on the side of God; and this is the difference between one dead in sin, and one who has the life of God in his soul. "Your people shall be willing in the day of your power." A willing people! A will toward good, a will toward God, a will for things that God loves; and whatever may befall a child of God, however sin rages in him, this will remains unaltered. If he be drawn into sin, he is drawn against his will. If he do not what he desires to do, still his will is to do it; his will remains unaltered. He may fall into the deepest quagmire of sin; but still the will of his new nature is Godwards, though he may be overtaken and plunged into the slough.
Let us, then, as we have attempted to describe "the good that we would do, and do not," now reverse it, and look at the other side, "the evil which we would not do, that we do."
1. To be continually disbelieving and doubting the truth of God's word, and the work of grace upon the soul; to be full of infidelity and unbelief—is not this an evil? is not this with some an almost continual evil? Is not this felt as a leprosy, a plague-spot in the hearts of many of God's quickened family? Now we would not do this. Here is the difference between the believer and the unbeliever; the real infidel, and the child of God who carries infidelity in his bosom. The real unbeliever loves to disbelieve; he has no will to believe the truth. The infidel doubts, and loves to doubt; he never wants to know truth; he never wants to get rid of his blasphemies, but rather seeks things to confirm them; any argument, any book, any person that will strengthen his infidelity, and confirm his unbelief, he will heartily grasp at; but he has no desire for anything to overcome, destroy, and remove it, nor for anything that is ever an antagonist to it.
Now the child of God has a conflict from infidelity working in his mind. He feels unbelief and infidelity struggling in his heart; but does he seek for things to strengthen, or to overcome them? Does he seek for arguments to confirm his faith, or his suspicions and unbelief? This is the difference between a dead unbeliever and (shall I use the expression?) a living unbeliever. To have a principle in your flesh that cleaves to unbelief is an evil, and is felt to be an evil. The children of God do not glory in, and gloat over their corruptions; they do not nourish their unbelief, or dandle it as a babe in the arms of affection; they do not pride themselves upon it, and think the more unbelief they have the greater Christians they are. That is a libel charged upon them by their enemies. It is their grief, their sorrow, their distress; rid them of that, and you would confer upon them a blessing; take that away, and you would take away that which causes them so many groans, and so deeply exercises, tries, and plagues their souls.
2. To be carnally-minded, and unable to lift our affections heavenward; but, on the contrary, to go groveling here below, buried under a whole dung-heap of carnality and filth, is an "evil." The children of God know by painful experience that to be carnally-minded is death; that it brings darkness into their minds, barrenness into their souls, hardness into their conscience, grief into their hearts. But they are carnally-minded in spite of all their desires to be heavenly minded. They feel carnal-mindedness to be an evil they are daily and hourly plagued with. Compare the moments that we are spiritually-minded with the moments that we are carnally-minded; weigh them in an even balance; how many are the moments during the day that we are carnally-minded? How every tie of nature; how everything about us; every sight we see; every sound we hear; every object we touch; the whole world with which we are surrounded; how all feed our carnal minds! I cannot go into the street, without feeding my carnal mind; I can scarcely hear a sound, without feeding my carnal mind; I can scarcely open my eyes, without feeding my carnal mind; I cannot go into a shop, or take up a book, I cannot speak, or hear others speak, without more or less feeding my carnal mind. And yet I am continually plagued, grieved, and troubled by it. "The evil which would not do, that I do."
3. That we should seek the exaltation of SELF in its various shapes and forms is an evil, a bitter evil, known to be so to God's people. In our right minds we would trample SELF under foot; we would have Christ exalted in our own hearts; we would not do things in religion to please self; I as a preacher, to exalt self; you as a hearer, to gratify self. Above all, that a minister in those very things that are professedly for the glory of God, should do those very things for the glory of self; that this insatiable whirlpool should suck into itself everything good; that this whirlpool should swallow into its capacious maw everything gracious; that this vortex at the bottom of the heart should be drinking in self-exaltation, at the expense of everything he loves—makes use of a holy God, a holy Christ, a holy Bible—everything divine and sacred to feed cursed SELF—is not this an evil?
Sometimes when I have preached to a large congregation, as I often do in London, so far from being lifted up in my feelings by seeing so many people met together, I have had to bury my head in the pulpit cushion with shame and self-loathing, because hideous SELF would so intrude its cursed head that I could not be sincere and spiritually-minded, could not feel a desire after the glory of God—but filthy, defiled SELF would want to have its portion. This wretch must have his sop, and would often lay hold of the sacred truths of God that there might be a morsel to satisfy self, the devil, and pride. And when I have gone home after preaching, instead of being pleased with popularity, I have burst into a flood of tears because my heart was so vile, as to seek after its own cursed gratification at the expense of everything that my spiritual mind held sacred and dear. This self-exaltation and gratification in religion is an evil that we would not do; and yet it is one which daily intrudes itself. Cut it to pieces by a spiritual ministry, SELF will intrude its hateful head into the very sanctuary of God. There is no place, nor time, nor posture free from its intrusion. But it is a mercy to hate it, though we cannot keep it out.
4. The indulgence of sin in our carnal heart is an evil, a horrible evil—and yet who dare look God in the face, and say, it is an evil he never does? I am not alluding here to outward commission of evil. I am not speaking now of a man falling into drunkenness, adultery, or such sins as even eyes naturally enlightened see to be inconsistent with the will and word of God; but I speak of a man desiring and reveling in the inward imaginary sin. Who can say that he is pure here? who can say that he has cleansed his heart from these evils? It is an evil; we feel it to be an evil, to wallow in a wicked imagination, to feed upon the vilest garbage. But was there ever any sin that had not a counterpart in our carnal heart? We see the oak, the noble oak in the forest. Did not that oak come from an acorn? How many acorns of sin have we in our carnal heart, that would have become oaks, if permitted to come to maturity? The acorn is in the heart, and had it been permitted to grow, it would soon have sprung up, expanded its arms, and flourished aloft in all its gigantic forms.
5. Lack of love and affection to God's people, picking at their faults, seeing their imperfections and magnifying them, and not observing our own—forgetting the beam in our own eye, and looking at the mote in another's—is not this an evil? What contention and strife spring out of it? What confusion in the church of God? Every man seeing so clearly the motes in other men's eyes, but so imperfectly the beam in his own.
6. How hard it is at all times and in all places to speak the truth! How hard to represent a thing exactly as it is! How hard not to give a shade of coloring; not to heighten, nor diminish, nor to pare off a corner here, nor to put on a jutting prominence there! How hard it is to speak with that simplicity, honesty, uprightness, and tenderness of conscience that become a child of God; and how often we have to lament, that with all our desires to speak the truth in the love of it, "the evil which we would not do, that we do."
Now here is the difference between a living soul under divine teaching, and one altogether dead in sin—that the living soul knows what good is as revealed in the word of God; his understanding is enlightened to perceive it; his conscience is touched to feel it; his will is bent to pursue it; and his affections flow to it. This is the state and condition of a man under divine teaching—he would do it, but he cannot do it. There is an obstacle, there is a hindrance; there is that which crosses every endeavor, which foils every attempt, which spreads snares in the way, entangles his feet, and throws him down, however eagerly he is bent upon running with patience the race that is set before him. He would not be entangled in these snares for ten thousand worlds; he hates the evils of his heart, and mourns over the corruptions of his nature. They make the tear fall from his eye, and the sob to heave from his bosom; they make him a wretched man, and fill him day after day with sorrow, bitterness, and anguish; yet still he does, and can no more abstain from doing the evil that he would not do, than he can do the good that he would.
Now, mark it—I am not here speaking of a man living in sin; I am not speaking of a man falling into deep and open iniquity; such as brings disgrace upon the cause and grieves during his life-time his own soul; but I am speaking of the inward workings of inward evils. "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked." Now these things are hid from the eye of others, though they are taking place daily in the chambers of our own hearts. Men may look at us; and they may see, or they may not see, there is a conflict. They may see little in our life to find fault with; yet all the time the inward grief and sorrow of our soul shall be, the good it would do, it does not do; and the evil which it would not do, that it does.
Now, do you not find it so? Just look at these two points. Has your understanding been enlightened to see what good is, and do you believe that the will of God revealed in the word is the only rule of good? Have you seen a beauty and glory in that good? Have you seen that this good is the thing which every living soul desires to follow after, however cutting to the flesh, however contrary to self, however opposed to the natural bent of our mind? Does your will embrace it? Does your conscience fall beneath the power of it? Do your affections, at times, flow unto it, and settle upon it? If so, God has renewed you in the spirit of your mind.
By nature, we cannot see what good is, we cannot feel what good is, we cannot choose what good is, we cannot love what good is. We may have a good of our own—we may have some standard of our own—our own morality—our own virtue, or our own religion. But that which is heavenly, spiritual, holy, and godlike—such as the renewed understanding sees, the renewed will embraces, the renewed conscience approves, the renewed affections embrace—none but living souls can ever see, feel, and delight in that.
On the other hand, none but a quickened soul, under divine teaching, can see what is evil, and mourn and sigh under the depravity, the corruption, the unbelief, the carnality, the wickedness, and the deceitfulness of their evil heart laid bare. Unregenerate men may see the principle of evil working in the hearts of others. Men like Lord Chesterfield, and others who have studied mankind, can see the workings of selfishness and other evils in the heart, and yet never grieve, groan, and cry under them. Men of keen observation may see what is natural good, and what is natural evil; and may confess in the distance, what a good man this is, and what a bad man that—how honorable and upright that man is, and how very wicked and depraved this. But as to any intimate and inward conviction, feeling, and sensation of sin, any mourning over and groaning under it, any sense of an internal conflict and heavy burden, so as to bring him to say in the depth of his soul, "O wretched man that I am!"—to cry out thus in the bitterness of a wounded heart, can only be produced by divine teaching. A man may soar to the highest pinnacle of religious profession, and yet never know anything of the evil of his own heart. A man may revel in the vilest sins, and yet know nothing of the inward corruption of human nature.
But in the child of God, there are these principles—light to see, and life to feel the good and evil, a will to choose the good and reject the evil, and affections that flow unto and embrace that which God loves and commands. Therefore, this inward conflict, this sore grief, this internal burden, that all the family of God are afflicted with, is a mark and evidence that the life and grace of God are in their bosoms. This will end well. The afflicted, exercised, distressed, burdened, self-condemned child of God will come off more than conqueror, for strength is made perfect in his weakness. He is looking to the Lord of life and glory. He knows himself to be a ruined sinner. He therefore looks to and leans upon the Lord Jesus Christ.
But a dead professor overlooks the warnings of a guilty conscience, the movements of an evil heart, the workings of inward depravity, and all the mystery of internal iniquity. But one day it will be brought out, to his confusion. He is something like a person who sweeps away all the dirt of the room into the corner, where it lies hidden and covered up; but by-and-bye, it will be dragged out of its hole to his shame. As long as the hypocrite can keep the outside clean, he is like the filthy slut, who sweeps all the dirt and rubbish of the room into a closet, instead of sweeping it into the street, and so keeping the house tidy.
But the Lord will come and search Jerusalem with candles, and discover the pride, and hypocrisy, and depravity that is hidden in the corners of the heart. He who has never seen and known this inward depravity—never grieved, groaned, mourned, and cried under this body of sin and death—who has neglected, slighted, and overlooked all this—who has never felt the necessity of an application of atoning blood—never felt the necessity of the inward teaching and witness of the Holy Spirit—never felt the reality of the inward presence of God, coming down into this den, and cleansing it out—but has washed merely the cup and platter by outside profession—is he not a mere whitewashed sepulcher, which within is full of dead men's bones and uncleanness?
But a living soul, who knows what a wretch, what a monster of depravity he is, how full of everything that God hates, who desires not to indulge in hypocrisy, to have no whitewashed profession, no varnishing of duplicity, but to be honest and sincere, comes before a heart-searching God, and tells him what he is, and says, "Lord, I am vile—I put my mouth in the dust—I am a sinner—cleanse me, and uphold me, and make me what you will." None but a child of God can use sincerely such language as this; for none but he can feel the leprosy of sin, and the workings of iniquity in his very vitals, and yet experience the counter workings of the Spirit of God.
Thus, while the one lives and dies a varnished hypocrite, with nothing but an outside profession, the other a poor desponding wretch, perhaps the greater part of his days, doubting, fearing, distressed, and exercised, but groaning, sighing, looking up to, pleading and wrestling with the Lord from the very depth of his heart, will be taken, like Lazarus, into the bosom of Jesus while he who was clothed in purple and fine linen, and fared sumptuously every day, despising the poor leprous beggar at his gate, will be driven ultimately into a deserved and never-ending perdition.
With these words I desire to leave you. I am rarely led to commence with introductory, and as rarely to end with farewell sermons. Therefore, as I began without introduction, so I leave without a farewell. But I know this, that the words I have spoken from this evening will be borne out pretty well every day that we live. We shall have, more or less, of this inward conflict as long as we are in the flesh. It will be our experience, more or less, day by day. And the more we are acquainted with our own depravity and corruption the more we shall desire in simplicity and godly sincerity, to know the Lord of life and glory. And thus, we shall go softly all the days of our life, in the bitterness of our soul; though we shall still be enabled to rejoice at times in the Lord Jesus Christ, as "of God made unto us wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption."
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