THE WITHERBLOG

Most professors are like lilies, fair in show—but foul in scent; or like pepper, hot in the mouth—but cold in the stomach. The finest lace may be upon the coarsest cloth. It is a great deceit to measure the reality of our religion—by the bulk of our profession—and to judge of the strength of our graces by the length of our duties.

The Scriptures speak of some who having “a form of godliness, yet deny the power thereof.” Deny the power; that is, they do not live in the practice of those graces to which they pretend to profess. He who pretends to godliness by a specious profession—and yet does not practice godliness by a holy life, “he has a form—but denies the power.” Grotius compares such to the ostrich, which has great wings—but yet does not fly. Many have the wings of a fair profession—but yet use them not to mount upward in spiritual affections—and a heavenly life.

But to clear the truth of this, that a man may make a high profession of religion—and yet be but almost a Christian, take a fourfold evidence.

1. If a man may profess religion—and yet never have his heart changed, nor his state bettered; then he may be a great professor—and yet be but almost a Christian. But a man may profess religion—and yet never have his heart changed, nor his state renewed. He may be a constant hearer of the word—and yet be an unconverted sinner still; he may come often to the Lord’s table—and yet go away as foul a sinner as he came! We must not think that duties can confer grace. Many a soul has been converted by Christ in an ordinance—but never was any soul converted by an ordinance without Christ. And does Christ convert all who sit under the ordinances? Surely not; for to some, “the Word is a savor of death unto death.” And if so, then it is plain, that a man may profess religion—and yet be but almost a Christian.

2. A man may profess religion—and live in a form of godliness in hypocrisy. “Listen to this, O house of Jacob, you who are called by the name of Israel and come from the line of Judah, you who take oaths in the name of the Lord and make mention of the God of Israel—but not in truth, nor in righteousness.” What do you think of these people? “They make mention of the name of the Lord,” there is their profession; “but not in truth; nor in righteousness,” there is their dissimulation. And indeed there could be no hypocrisy in a religious sense, were it not for a profession of religion; for he who is wicked and carnal, and vile inwardly, and appears to be so outwardly, he is no hypocrite—but is what he appears, and appears what he is. But he who is one thing really, and another thing seemingly—he who is carnal and unholy, and yet seems to be good and holy—he is a hypocrite.

Thus they define hypocrisy to be a counterfeiting of holiness; and this fits exactly with the Greek word, which is, to counterfeit. And to this purpose, the Hebrews have two words for hypocrites; one which signifies faces; and another which signifies counterfeits. So that he is a hypocrite who counterfeits piety, and wears the face of holiness—and yet is without the grace of holiness. He appears to be in semblance, what he is not in substance. He wears a form of godliness without, only as a cover of a profane heart within. He has a profession that he may not be thought wicked; but it is but a profession, and therefore he is wicked. He is the religious hypocrite; religious, because he pretends to it; and yet a hypocrite, because he does but pretend to it. He is like many men in a consumption, who have fresh looks—and yet rotten lungs; or like an apple that has a fair skin—but a rotten core. Many appear righteous, who are only righteous in appearance. And if so, then a man may profess religion—and yet be but almost a Christian.

3. Custom and fashion may make a man a professor. As you have many who wear this or that garb, not because it keeps them warmer, or has any excellency in it more than another—but merely for fashion. Many must have powdered hair, painted faces, feathers in their caps, etc. for no other end—but because they would be fools in fashion. So, many profess Christianity—not because the means of grace warm the heart, or who they see any excellencies in the ways of God above the world—but merely to follow the fashion! Because religion has been uppermost, therefore many have professed it. Religion in fashion makes many professors—but few proselytes; but when religion suffers, then its confessors are no more than its converts; for custom makes the former—but conscience the latter. He who is a professor of religion merely for custom sake, when it prospers, will never be a martyr for Christ’s sake, when religion suffers.

They say, that when a house is decaying or falling, all the rats and mice will forsake it. While the house is firm, and they may shelter in the roof, they will stay—but no longer; lest, in the decay, the fall should be upon them, and those who lived at top should die at bottom. My brethren, may I not say, we have many who are the vermin, the rats and mice of religion, who would live under the roof of it, while they might have shelter in it; but when it suffers, they forsake it, lest it should fall, and the fall should be upon them!

I am persuaded this is not the least reason why God has brought persecution; namely to rid it of the vermin. He shakes the foundations of the house, that these rats and mice may leave it—to rid them of it; as the farmer fans the wheat, that he may get rid of the chaff. The halcyon days of the gospel provoke hypocrisy—but the sufferings for religion prove sincerity. Now, then, if custom and fashion make many men professors, then a man may profess religion—and yet be but almost a Christian.

4. If many may perish under a profession of godliness, then a man may profess religion and yet be but almost a Christian. Now, the Scripture is clear, that a man may perish under the highest profession of religion. Christ cursed the fig-tree, which had leaves and no fruit. It is said, that “the children of the kingdom shall be cast out into outer darkness.” Who were these—but those who were then the only people of God by profession—and yet these were cast out.

In Matthew’s gospel, you read of some who came and made boast of their profession to Christ, hoping that might save them. “Lord,” say they, “have we not prophesied in your name, cast out devils in your name, done many wonderful works in your name?” Now what says our Lord Christ to this? “Then I will profess unto them, I never knew you; depart from me!” Mark, here are those who prophesy in his name—and yet perish in his wrath! In his name cast out devils—and then are cast out themselves! In his name do many wonderful works—and yet perish as workers of iniquity. The profession of religion will no more keep a man from perishing—than calling a ship the Safe-guard, or the Good-speed, will keep it from sinking. As many go to heaven with the fear of hell in their hearts—so many go to hell with the name of Christ in their mouths.

Now then, if many may perish under a profession of godliness, then may a man be a high professor of religion—and yet be but almost a Christian.

1. What am I? Am I a child of God or not? Am I sincere in religion, or am I only a hypocrite under a profession?

2. Where am I? Am I yet in a natural state, or a state of grace? Am I yet in the old root, in old Adam; or am I in the root Christ Jesus? Am I in the covenant of works, which ministers only wrath and death? or am I in the covenant of grace, which ministers life and peace?

Indeed, this is the first thing a man should look at. There must be a change of state, before there can be a change of heart. We must come under a change of covenant, before we can be under a change of condition; for the new heart and the new spirit is promised in the new covenant. There is nothing of that to be heard of in the old covenant: now a man must be under the new covenant, before he can receive the blessing promised in the new covenant; he must be in a new covenant state, before he can receive a new covenant heart. No mercy, no pardon, no change, no conversion, no grace—is dispensed out of covenant. Therefore this should be our great inquiry; for if we know not where we are, we cannot know what we are; and if we know not what we are, we cannot be what we should be; namely, altogether Christians.

Let me then, I beseech you, press this duty upon you who are professors. Try your own hearts; “examine yourselves whether you are in the faith; prove your own selves.” I urge this upon most cogent arguments.

By Matthew Mead, 1661

QUESTION I. How far may a man go in the way to heaven—and yet be but almost a Christian?

ANSWER. This I will show you in twenty several steps.

Section I. A man may have much KNOWLEDGE, much light; he may know much of God and his will, much of Christ and his ways—and yet be but almost a Christian. For though there can be no grace without knowledge—yet there may be much knowledge where there is no grace; illumination often goes before—when conversion never follows after. The subject of knowledge is the understanding; the subject of holiness is the will. Now a man may have his understanding enlightened—and yet his will not at all sanctified. He may have an understanding to know God—and yet lack a will to obey God. The apostle tells us of some, that, “when they knew God, they glorified him not as God.”

To make a man altogether a Christian, there must be light in the head—and heat in the heart; knowledge in the understanding—and zeal in the affections. Some have zeal and no knowledge; that is, blind devotion. Some have knowledge and no zeal; that is, fruitless speculation. But where knowledge is joined with zeal, that makes a true Christian.

Objection. But is it not said, “This is eternal life–to know you, the only true God—and Jesus Christ whom you have sent?”

Answer. It is not every knowledge of God and Christ, which interests the soul in eternal life. For why then do the devils perish; they have more knowledge of God than all the men in the world; for though, by their fall, they lost their holiness, yet they lost not their knowledge. They are called daimones, from their knowledge—and yet they are diaboli, from their malice, devils still. Knowledge may fill the head—but it will never better the heart, if there is not somewhat else. The Pharisees had much knowledge, “Behold, you are called a Jew—and rest in the law—and make your boast of God—and know his will,” etc.—and yet they were a generation of hypocrites! Alas! how many have gone loaded with knowledge to hell! Though it is true, that it is eternal life to know God and Jesus Christ; yet it is as true, that many do know God and Jesus Christ, who shall never see eternal life.

There is, you must know, a twofold knowledge; the one is common—but not saving; the other is not common—but saving. Common knowledge is that which floats in the head—but does not influence the heart. This knowledge, reprobates may have.

Naturalists say, that there is a pearl in the toad’s head—and yet her belly is full of poison. The French have a berry which they call the grape of a thorn. The common knowledge of Christ is the pearl in the toad’s head—the grape which grows upon thorns; it may be found in unsanctified men. And then there is a saving knowledge of God and Christ, which includes the assent of the mind—and the consent of the will; this is a knowledge which implies faith; “By his knowledge shall my righteous servant justify many.” And this is that knowledge which leads to life eternal. Now whatever that measure of knowledge is, which a man may have of God—and of Jesus Christ, yet if it is not this saving knowledge–knowledge joined with affection and application—he is but almost a Christian.

He only knows God aright, who knows how to obey him—and obeys according to his knowledge of him. “A good understanding have all those who do his commandments.” All knowledge without this, makes a man but like Nebuchadnezzar’s image, with “a head of gold—and feet of clay.” Some know—but only to know. Some know—but only to be known. Some know—to practice what they know. Now, to know—but to know—that is merely curiosity. To know, to be known—that is merely vain-glory. But to know, to practice what we know—that is gospel duty. This makes a man a complete Christian; the other, without this, makes a man almost—and yet but almost a Christian.

1. Gifts are from a common work of the Spirit. Now a man may partake of all the common gifts of the Spirit—and yet be a reprobate. They are called common, because they are indifferently dispensed by the Spirit to those who are believers—and to those who are not. Those who have grace have gifts; and those who have no grace, may have the same gifts; for the Spirit works in both. Nay, in this sense he who has no grace, may be under a greater work of the Spirit as to gifts, than he who has most grace. A graceless professor may have greater gifts than the most holy believer! He may out-pray, and out-preach, and out-do them! But true believers, in sincerity an integrity, out-go the mere professor.

2. Gifts are for the use and good of others, they are given for the profiting and edifying of others. So says the apostle, “A spiritual gift is given to each of us as a means of helping the entire church.” Now a man may edify another by his gifts—and yet be unedified himself; he may be profitable to another—and yet unprofitable to himself.

The raven was an unclean bird: God makes use of her to feed Elijah; though she was not good meat, yet it was good meat she brought. A lame man may with his crutch point to the right way—and yet not be able to walk in it himself. A deformed tailor may make a suit to fit a straight body, though it does not fit him who made it, because of his deformity. The church (Christ’s garden enclosed) may be watered through a wooden gutter; the sun may give light through a dusky window; and the field may be well sowed with a dirty hand.

The efficacy of the Word does not depend upon the authority of him who speaks it—but upon the authority of God who blesses it. So that another may be converted by my preaching—and yet I may be cast away notwithstanding. Balaam makes a clear and rare prophecy of Christ—and yet he has no benefit by Christ, “There shall come a star out of Jacob—and a scepter shall rise out of Israel.” But yet Balaam shall have no benefit by it, “I shall see him—but not now; I shall behold him—but not near.” God may use a man’s gifts to bring another to Christ, when he himself, whose gifts God uses, may be a stranger unto Christ.

One man may confirm another in the faith—and yet himself may be a stranger to the faith. Pendleton strengthens and confirms Sanders, in Queen Mary’s days, to stand in the truth he had preached—and to seal it with his blood—and yet afterwards plays the apostate himself. Johannes Speiserus, a famous preacher of Augsburg in Germany, in the year 1523, preached the gospel so powerfully that many common harlots were converted—and became godly Christians; and yet himself afterwards turned papist and came to a miserable end. Thus the candle may burn bright to light others in their work—and yet afterwards go out in a stink.

3. It is beyond the power of the greatest gifts to change the heart. A man may preach like an apostle, pray like an angel—and yet may have the heart of a devil! It is grace alone which can change the heart; the greatest gifts cannot change it—but the least grace can; gifts may make a man a scholar—but grace makes a man a believer. Now if gifts cannot change the heart, then a man may have the greatest gifts—and yet be but almost a Christian.

4. Many have gone to hell, laden with gifts. No doubt Judas had great gifts, for he was a preacher of the gospel; and our Lord Jesus Christ would not set him to work—and not fit him for the work; yet “Judas is gone to his own place!”

The Scribes and Pharisees were men of great gifts—and yet, “where is the wise? where is the scribe?” “The preaching of the cross is to those who perish foolishness.” Those who perish, who are they? Who! the wise and the learned, both among Jews and Greeks; these are called “those who perish.” A great bishop said, when he saw a poor shepherd weeping over his sin, “The poor illiterate world attain to heaven, while we with all our learning fall into hell.”

There are three things which must be done for us, if ever we would avoid eternally perishing.

We must be thoroughly convinced of sin.

We must be really united to Christ.

We must be instated in the covenant of grace.

Now, the greatest gifts cannot stead us in any of these. They cannot work thorough convictions. They cannot effect our union. They cannot bring us into covenant-relation. And consequently, they cannot preserve us from eternally perishing; and if so, then a man may have the greatest gifts—and yet be but almost a Christian.

5. Gifts may decay and perish. They do not lie beyond the reach of corruption; indeed grace shall never perish—but gifts will. Grace is incorruptible, though gifts are not. Grace is “a spring, whose waters fail not,” but the streams of gifts may be dried up. If grace be corruptible in its own nature, as being but a creature, yet it is incorruptible in regard of its preserver, as being the new creature; he who did create it in us—will preserve it in us; he who did begin it—will also finish it. Gifts have their root in nature—but grace has its roots in Christ; and therefore though gifts may die and wither, yet grace shall abide forever.

Now if gifts are perishing, then, though he who has the least grace is a Christian, he who has the greatest gifts may be but almost a Christian.

Objection. But does not the apostle bid us “covet earnestly the best gifts?” Why must we covet them—and covet them earnestly, if they avail not to salvation?

Answer. Gifts are good—though they are not the best good; they are excellent—but there is something more excellent, so it follows in the same verse, “Yet I show unto you a more excellent way,” and that is the way of grace. One grain of grace—is more worth than a ton of gifts! Gifts may make us rich towards men—but it is grace which makes us “rich towards God.” Our gifts profit others—but grace profits ourselves. That whereby I profit another is good—but that by which I am profited myself is better. Now because gifts are good, therefore we ought to covet them; but because they are not the best good, therefore we ought not to rest in them. We must covet gifts for the good of others, that they may be edified; and we must covet grace for the good of our own souls, that they may be saved. No matter how many are bettered by our gifts—yet we shall miscarry without grace.