THE NATURE AND REMEDY OF
SINFUL SHAME.
Psalm119:6.—“Then
shall I not be ashamed, when I have respect unto all thy
commandments.”
To be able to look up to
God with humble confidence, and to obey his commands with freedom and
fidelity before the world, is, at once, the comfort and the glory of
a Christian. This, however, is an attainment not to be made without a
vigorous conflict—“For the flesh lusteth against the spirit and
the spirit against the flesh, and these are contrary the one to the
other; so that ye cannot do the things that ye would.” The
pleadings of corrupt nature, conspiring with the temptations of the
world, and the suggestions of the great enemy of souls, seduce the
Christian to the omission or violation of duty; and thus deprive him
of the light of the divine countenance, and of firmness and activity
in the divine life. The inspired Psalmist seems to have contemplated
this evil, and to have intended to prescribe its remedy, when he
exclaimed, in the words of the text—“Then shall I not be ashamed,
when I have respect unto all thy commandments.”—In discoursing on
the words, therefore, I will, in reliance on divine assistance,
endeavour
- To explain the nature and operations of the sinful shame which the inspired writer appears so desirous to avoid.
- Show how a regard to all God’s commandments will destroy the existence of such shame, or prevent its embarrassments.
After this, a few
practical reflections will conclude the address.
I. First, then, I am to
endeavour to explain the nature and operations of that shame, which
the sacred writer appears so desirous to avoid.
Shame has been
defined—“the passion which is felt when reputation is supposed to
be lost.” This is no doubt the popular import of the term; and yet
it is not, as we shall presently see, the only sense in which it is
used by the sacred writers. I would remark, however, that con
sidering it merely as a principle of the mind, which renders us
sensible to the ill opinion of our fellow men, it is no
inconsiderable guard on our virtue. It is, indeed, true, that this,
in common with every other useful principle of our nature, may, by
being turned into a wrong channel, produce injury instead of benefit.
It too often happens, in fact, that good men, from being unduly
influenced by a regard to the opinion of the worldly or profane, are
brought to be ashamed of their duty; and this is a part of the very
evil against which the text is directed. Still, however, it must be
admitted, that a sense of shame is, in itself, extremely useful, and
when suitably regulated and rightly directed, is a restraint against
vice and an incentive to virtue. A destitution of this principle is
ever considered as marking the extreme of human depravity—We
usually join together the epithets shameless and abandoned. The
extirpation or extinction of the sentiment of shame, therefore, is by
no means to be attempted. Our endeavours are only to be directed
against suffering it to be perverted, and against laying ourselves
open to those wounds which it may justly inflict. Now, with this
view, we are looking for the origin and source of these evils; and I
think we shall find them, by turning our attention from the creature
to the Creator—from man to God.
In the sacred writings,
the word we consider is frequently used to denote those painful
feelings of the mind, which are produced by a conviction of our
offences against the Majesty of Heaven; especially when those
offences partake peculiarly of the nature, or are seen re markably in
the light of baseness, unreasonableness, and ingratitude. Thus, when
the Jews, who had been mercifully restored from the Babylonish
captivity, violated the command of the Most High, by improper
connexions with the idolatrous nations, Ezra thus addresses
Jehovah—“Oh my God! I blush and am ashamed to lift up my face to
thee my God, for our iniquities are increased over our heads, and our
trespass is gone up unto the heavens”—Here shame is used to
denote little else than the operations of conscience; or the
oppression of soul which is produced by the sense of being guilty and
vile in the sight of a holy God: And you will carefully observe, that
the effect of this is, the destruction of all freedom and confidence
in addressing the Father of mercies, and almost of the hope of pardon
and acceptance with him. This, my brethren, is undoubtedly the origin
of the evil which the text contemplates. It takes its rise from this
point, and its baneful influence is extended through a long train of
unhappy consequences. We may trace them thus—
All practical religion
has its very foundation in a realizing belief of an all-seeing God,
who, while he is perfectly acquainted with all the secrets of the
soul, and with every action of life, is also of purer eyes than to
behold any iniquity, but with detestation and abhorrence. But the
mind, we say, in which this belief and apprehension exists, is
conscious of dealing treacherously with the Most High; conscious that
its affections are shamefully divided between him and inferior
objects; conscious of not seeking his favour in secret with that holy
earnestness which its value demands; conscious that its penitence for
sin is miserably imperfect; conscious that hidden lusts and
corruptions, not only rise and plead for indulgence, but actually
obtain it; conscious that certain duties have been most criminally
neglected and certain sins allowed; conscious of presumptuous sinning
against light and know ledge; conscious of repeated violations of the
most solemn resolutions and engagements; conscious, in a word, not
merely of remaining pollution, but of inexcusable neglect,
unfaithfulness and insincerity, in duty to God and devotion to his
service. How, I ask, can he whose mind informs him of all this, look
up, with any confidence, to that infinite Being who, he realizes, is
perfectly acquainted with all this baseness? He cannot do it:—shame
and confusion drive him away from the divine throne. He fears to draw
near to God; or if he at tempts it, the service is hasty and
superficial. The mind is afraid of its own reflections, and seeks
temporary and imperfect ease by overlooking or endeavouring to forget
its state. Still, a secret uneasiness continually preys upon it, nor
will ever cease to corrode it, while it remains thus unsettled and
divided.
Follow, now, this victim
of shame before God, into his intercourse among men. Suppose that he
has never openly professed a religious character. Then you see him
most piteously embarrassed, confounded and distressed. Wicked
companions solicit and endeavour to lead him into vice. His
conscience is too much awake to permit him to comply with pleasure,
and yet he is sensible of too much insincerity to allow him to refuse
with firmness. He half refuses and half complies; and thus becomes
the scorn of the licentious, without obtaining the countenance of the
pious. Those who are strictly religious regard his friendship as
uncertain; those who are openly profane consider his con duct as
dastardly; and thus the hesitating wretch is covered with shame
before the world, as well as before his Maker.
Or suppose—and, alas!
that it is not a mere supposition—that the unhappy state of mind we
have described, belongs to one who publicly professes to be a
follower of Christ. How painfully must he feel the inconsistency of
his profession, with the inward temper of his heart? How misgiving
and wavering must be his mind? How unfurnished is he, while destitute
of inward support, for all those conflicts with the world, and all
those reproaches from it, with which he will be sure to meet? With
what face can he reprove others, while secretly he condemns himself?
When called to speak for God, how will his mind misgive him, and his
face crimson with blushes, while his heart in forms him, that he is
espousing a cause in which his own sincerity is doubtful? How will it
often seal his lips in silence, when he ought to speak? When censured
and condemned by the profligate, how will he be wounded by the
recollection that the sentence is partly merited? When his good
works, themselves, are evil spoken of, how will he be dismayed by
seeing the just chastisement of heaven for the improper disposition
with which he performed them? When charged with the black crime of
hypocrisy, how will he be confounded to think that, in the sight of
God, the charge is bottomed on truth? When called to suffer for
conscience sake, or to hazard his life in the discharge of duty, how
will he be appalled and shrink back with fear, while conscience tells
him that he is a backslider from God, if not a settled enemy to him?
When only called to the open avowal of his Christian character, in
the solemn acts of religious worship, how will inward upbraidings
fill him with trembling and embarrassment, and mar the performance,
by a diffidence equally distressing and dishonourable?—Nay, will
not these causes drive him altogether from attempting many duties,
and go near to turn him wholly from his Christian course? Yes, my
brethren, these are the consequences of the shame of which I have
spoken, as they take place in the discharge of religious obligations
in the sight of men. The summary of its history, therefore, is—that
it originates in a sense of guilt, arising from the consciousness of
being unfaithful to God; which first destroys or prevents a filial
intercourse with him, and confidence of his favour; and then, as a
necessary consequence, abashes and confounds its subject, when in the
eye of the world, he assumes a character, or attempts a practice,
which is contrary to the feelings of his heart. This is the evil
contemplated in the text—an evil of unspeakable magnitude, in the
estimation of all who have not wholly lost their regard both to their
duty and their comfort, in the Christian life. Listen, then, to the
remedy prescribed—while I attempt to show -
II. How a regard to all
God’s commandments will destroy the existence, or prevent the
embarrassments, of this sinful shame.
In entering on this part
of the subject, it may be of some importance to endeavour to obtain
clear and distinct ideas of what was in tended to be conveyed by the
expression—“having a respect unto all God’s commandments.”
Does it intend a perfect obedience to all the divine laws, or a
sinless observance of them? Certainly not—For the inspired penman
evidently fixed his views on an attainment, which he not only
proposed to labour after, but which he actually hoped to make, in the
present life;—and we have the unequivocal testimony of revelation
“that there is not a just man on earth, who doth good and sinneth
not,” and that “if we say we have no sin we deceive ourselves and
the truth is not in us.” Neither can it be intended, that any man
will ever yield such an obedience to the divine requisitions as
shall, of itself, be the just ground of his confidence before God; or
so place him on the , footing of merit, as that he may claim the
approbation and favour of heaven, as a matter of right. The
impossibility of this is, indeed, implied in the last remark; for
nothing less than an unsinning respect to the commands of God,
through the whole of our existence, could entitle us to this claim.
The finished work of the Redeemer,—his atoning sacrifice, his
complete and perfect righteousness, and his prevalent intercession,
constitute the only meritorious cause of par don and acceptance with
God, for any of the apostate race of Adam —It is only in Christ
Jesus that God is “reconciling the world unto himself, not imputing
their trespasses unto them;” because “he hath made him to be sin
for us who knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of
God in him.” The first freedom, which any soul that has been
suitably convinced of sin obtains, to look up to a holy God with a
measure of filial confidence, is wholly derived from seeing the ample
provision which is made in the plan of salvation, for extending
pardon and eternal life to the sinner, in consistency with the divine
honour; and from a disposition to embrace this plan with
thankfulness, and to trust it in faith. It is, therefore, so far from
being true that the expression warrants any reliance on our own
merits, that it necessarily implies the opposite doctrine: “As it
is written, behold I lay in Zion a stumbling stone and rock of
offence, and whosoever believeth on him shall not be ashamed”—Not
to be ashamed, is here predicated, and it is certainly true, only of
those who believe in Christ. It is, moreover, written, “This is his
commandment, that we should believe on the name of his Son Jesus
Christ,” and therefore we cannot have respect unto all the
commandments of God, while a compliance with this is wanting.
I detain you with this
statement, my brethren, because it is to be regarded, not merely in
the light of a negative, or as intended to guard against a
misapprehension" of the truth, but because it contains the
essence of the truth itself. It is an undoubted fact, as I am sure
every exercised Christian will testify, that when he has wandered
from God, and is sunk down into despondence under a sense of his
backsliding and unworthiness, the first and only relief that he
obtains is, from a heart melting, and a heart attracting view of the
infinite fulness of his Redeemer, and the freeness of the riches of
his grace. It is this view that encourages him to return; it is this
that brings him back with true brokenness of heart; it is this that
enables him to cherish hope though most undeserving; and it is this
that sweetly constrains him to devote himself more unreservedly to
God than ever he had done before, from a strong sense of gratitude
and obligation. In having such respect, therefore, unto all God’s
commandments as will deliver us from the influence of shame, a lively
exercise of faith in Christ, lies at the bottom of all. It is also
the constraining influence of the love of Christ, which is the source
of that new obedience, which reaches the extent of the requisition—It
produces what has sometimes been called a gracious sincerity, in the
heart of the believer. It awakens in him a strong desire to be
delivered from the dominion of all sin; so that he will not knowingly
and allowedly indulge in any transgression; he will desire that every
lust and corruption may be mortified, and subdued; and will pant
after greater conformity to God. He will be so far from desiring to
rest short of any thing which Christ requires of his people, that he
will press forward, and ardently long after the highest attainment,
and lament that higher attainments are not made. He will, in short,
seek his supreme happiness in communion with God, in the diligent use
of all the appropriate means of holy intercourse with him. Thus the
author of the text, in the 8th verse of the psalm where it is found,
says—“Let my heart be sound in thy statutes, that I be not
ashamed.” It is this soundness of heart—this gracious sincerity
in the sight of God—this impartial regard or respect to every
command of the Most High, without taking one and leaving another—this
careful employment of all the means and methods of avoiding
transgression that answers completely the condition of the assertion
on which I dis course. And let us now see how strictly the assertion
will be verified, in those who comply with the condition.
I remark then, in the
first place, that a compliance with this condition removes, naturally
and radically, the cause of all the guilty shame, and embarrassment
of which I have spoken, by producing a consistent character. Shame is
the natural consequence and proper punishment of guilt. The only
methods of getting rid of the pain which it occasions are, to
extinguish the principle, or to avoid the causes of its excitement.
The former of these methods is actually and frequently pursued by the
abandoned. By plunging into the excesses of vice, and familiarizing
themselves with all its pollutions, they extinguish shame and
conscience together—On the middle character, contemplated in the
former part of this discourse, that character in which there is still
a sensibility to the demands of duty, and where, notwithstanding,
those demands are disregarded or left unsatisfied, it is here that
the principle of shame inflicts, as we have seen, all its
chastisements. But where the demands of duty are satisfied, there the
cause of shame itself is taken away; and though the utmost
sensibility be retained, it creates no uneasiness, because it meets
with no violation. This is the case of those who have that respect
unto all God’s commandments, which we have just considered. Through
the peace speaking blood of Jesus, they have received the full
remission of all their sins. By maintaining a close and humble walk
with God, they preserve an habitual persuasion of this comfortable
truth; or rather they experience a daily and habitual renewal of its
effects. In the exercise of the spirit of adoption, they draw near
with a holy confidence, and cry “Abba, Father”— They have a
blessed assurance, that God will realize to them all the benefits of
the covenant of grace; and esteeming “his favour as life, and his
loving kindness as better than life,” they rejoice in him “with a
joy which is exceeding great and full of glory.” In one word, they
verify in their own experience the declaration of the Apostle, where
he says—“Beloved, if our heart condemn us not, then have we
confidence toward God: and whatsoever we ask we receive of him,
because we keep his commandments, and do those things that are
pleasing in his sight”—And thus when that which we have seen to
be the very fountain of shame, namely, a want of confidence in God,
is dried up in the heart of a Christian, it can send forth none of
its bitter streams to poison his pleasure, or to wither his strength,
in the public discharge of his duty. “His heart is fixed, trusting
in God.” His heart is in all that he says, and in all that he does;
and therefore he becomes—as we are told the righteous shall
become—“bold as a lion.” Is it incumbent on him to reprove the
vicious and profane? he can do it without embarrassment, for he only
speaks against that which his soul abhors. Is an occasion offered to
speak for God? his mouth speaketh from the abundance of his heart,
and therefore he speaks freely, pertinently, and composedly; and he
is ever ready to speak, when a fit opportunity occurs. Is he branded
as a hypocrite? he is sensible that his all-seeing Judge knows the
charge to be groundless, and therefore it disturbs him not he pities
and forgives his accuser. Is he called to avow his Christian
character? he does it freely and cheerfully, for it is the character
in which he most of all glories. Is he subjected to reproach for the
cause of Christ? he even glories that “he is counted worthy to
suffer shame for his name,” remembering that “if any man suffer
as a Christian, he is not to be ashamed, but to glorify God in this
behalf.” Or if he is called to give up life itself, in an adherence
to his duty, he can do it cheer fully, even though it were amidst the
scoffs of a deriding world; for he knows that the honour which cometh
from God, and of which he is sure, is infinitely greater than that
which cometh from man only.
Brethren, the history of
the church is a continual confirmation of these truths. Supported by
the principles I have explained, three unprotected young men could
face an assembled nation, could face a burning fiery furnace, could
face the mightiest monarch on earth, and say—“Be it known unto
thee, O king! that we will not serve thy gods, nor worship the golden
image which thou hast set up.” Supported by these principles, two
ignorant and unlearned fishermen, dragged from prison, and from
chains before the Jewish Sanhedrin, could say—“Be it known unto
you all, and to all the people of Israel, that by the name of Jesus
Christ of Nazareth, whom ye crucified, whom God raised from the dead,
doth this man stand here before you whole.” Supported by these
principles, a host of martyrs, in later ages, have courted a
scaffold, or been consumed at the stake. And, without recurring to
such striking instances, it is the support of these principles which
enables every Christian, who leads a life of real nearness to God, to
adorn the doctrine of his Saviour in all things—The blessed
assurance which he habitually maintains that his God is his friend,
makes him fearless of the world—It raises him far above its
influence, and puts, without his seeking it, a dignity into his
conduct and his very presence, which nothing else can confer.
2. By having respect to
all God’s commandments, we acquire the advantage which arises from
a decided character, and are thus delivered from many temptations to
those sinful compliances which are the cause of shame. The person who
cherishes the inward sentiments, and maintains the outward deportment
which has been explained, will unavoidably assume, in the eye of the
world, an appearance and character which will distinguish him as one
who is not governed by its maxims, and who does not follow its
fashions. It will no longer be doubtful to whom he belongs—Those
who are conformed to this world, will see and feel that he is guided
by other principles than those which influence them, and pursues a
totally different system of living and of happiness, from that which
they have adopted. Hence they will not so licit an intimacy with him;
for intimacies exist only between parties of a similar taste. When
thrown together by the calls of business, or in the intercourse of
life, (for this character by no means requires austerity or
abstractedness,) it will not be expected that the decided friend of
piety will relish or take part in questionable liberties. His
presence will even prove a restraint on others; or to say the least,
his character will be a protection to himself, from solicitations to
unlawful practices. That character will also be both a guard on
himself against doing or saying any thing that might wound his
conscience, and will afford him an advantage in speaking or acting
against every thing improper. The desire of appearing consistent,
will be a natural call on him to defend what he professes to esteem,
and the expectation that he will act this part, will enable him to do
it with freedom and with advantage. And thus will temptations to
those sinful compliances which are the cause of shame, be greatly
diminished, and the principles of religion be guarded, even by the
care of reputation.
This decided character
for piety, will moreover, render its possessor extremely dear to all
who are Christians indeed; and from this cause he will gain an
immense advantage. The influence of social inter course, on all our
opinions and practice, is ever great; and it is not less in regard to
religion, than in reference to any other subject. Christians inform
each other by their conversation, encourage and animate each other by
their exhortations, assist each other by a comparison of their
exercises, embolden each other by a recital of their hopes, and help
and strengthen each other by their prayers. He who is joined to this
happy society, is continually imbibing more of the spirit which
distinguishes and animates it, and is therefore less in danger of
acting unworthily of his Christian character, and of wounding his own
peace.
3. A respect unto all
God’s commandments, will deliver us from the influence of sinful
shame, inasmuch as it will exceedingly lower the world, and every
created object, in our estimation and regard. This idea has been a
little anticipated, but it is of so much importance, that it deserves
to be brought distinctly into view. When men are conscious of guilt,
it has been admitted that they ought to blush and be con founded—But
whence proceeds that fear of man which bringeth a snare? why are men
timid and abashed in the discharge of duty? in doing that which their
consciences dictate and approve? In some individuals, this, no doubt,
must be in part resolved into constitutional make, or natural
infirmity. But after every just allowance, much will still remain to
be attributed to the high estimation in which we hold the opinions of
our fellow men, even when they come in competition with duty and
conscience. If it were with us, as it was with the apostle, “a
small thing to be judged of man’s judgment,” we should be wholly
delivered from this inconvenience, as far as it arises from
principle; and should go far to get the victory over it, even as a
natural infirmity. Now, a life of nearness to God, will assuredly
give us this estimation of all human opinions, so far as they
militate with our Christian obligations. The fear of man whose breath
is in his nostrils, will be absorbed in the fear of him “who is
able to destroy both body and soul in hell.” The mind which takes
clear and frequent views of an infinite God, and a boundless
eternity; which places them often be fore it, brings them into ideal
presence, and dwells as it were sur rounded by them; such a mind will
look down on the world with a holy indifference. Its censure or its
applause, its smiles or its frowns, will be regarded as matters of
small estimation:
“His hand the good man
fastens on the skies,
Then bids earth turn, nor
feels the idle whirl.”
He feels that his heart
and his treasure are in heaven; his thoughts, his hopes, his desires,
are principally there. Not setting a high estimation on earthly
possessions or human applause, he is not much agitated with anxiety
when he contemplates them, nor when they are denied him. This appears
to have been eminently the temper of the Psalmist, when he said—“Whom
have I in heaven but thee, and there is none on earth that I desire
beside thee.” This was the temper of the great apostle of the
Gentiles, when he said—“I am crucified to the world and the world
to me—Yea doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the
excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have
suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung that I
may win Christ.” This, in fine, is the temper which every one will,
in a good degree, possess, whose conversation is in heaven; and
possessing this, he will, as a natural consequence, rise above a
sinful and ensnaring fear of man, and be able, with comfort and
composure, to support and adorn his Christian profession.
Thus, it appears that a
respect to all God’s commandments, by giving us a consistent
character-producing confidence in God; by rendering that character
decided, in the view of the world; and by lessening our estimation
for the things of time and the opinions of men; will deliver us from
shame and embarrassment in the discharge of every duty.
In how strong a light, my
brethren, does this subject place the folly of those, who are
balancing in their minds between the demands of religion and the
allurements of the world; and endeavouring to reconcile a regard to
both? We see that, in fact, they obtain satisfaction from
neither—they are the most unhappy persons upon earth. If I speak to
any of this description; to any who are doubting and hesitating about
coming forward to an open avowal of a Christian character; to any who
are half inclined to this, but are held back by a fear of the world;
I would entreat them to lay aside their hostility to their own
happiness, by a resolute discharge of duty. Believe it, your efforts
to reconcile the service of God and the friendship of the world, will
be forever vain, and you will be forever tormented while you attempt
it. If you will be for God, you must be for him wholly and
unreservedly; without seeking to accommodate his service to the
opinions and feelings of unsanctified men. Your interest, no less
than your duty, en joins this—“Wherefore come out from among
them, and be ye separate saith the Lord, and touch not the unclean
thing, and I will receive you, and will be a father unto you, and ye
shall be my sons and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty.”
In a still stronger light
does this subject place both the folly and impiety of professing
Christians, who are stealing away to the forbidden pleasures of sin;
as if religion were not able to afford them happiness. Be it known
that the very reason why it does not afford you happiness, if I speak
to such, is because you are not devoted to it; because you mingle it
so much with the world, that you debase its nature; because you only
retain enough of it to wound your consciences, and to cover you with
shame and confusion, but have not enough to enable you to take hold
of its divine supports, and to taste its heavenly consolations. Cease
then to pierce yourselves through with many sorrows—Return unto the
Lord, and cleave unto him with all your heart, and with all your
soul, and you shall find that it is not a vain thing to serve him.
On the whole, let us all
be exhorted to endeavour to walk more with God—We cannot wander
from his presence, without unspeakable in jury to ourselves. In his
presence only is the light of life—While we remain here, we bring
down a portion of heaven to earth. Let us, therefore, set it as our
mark to obey all God’s commandments, without choice or exception.
Let us pray unceasingly for the aids of his Holy Spirit, that we may
be enabled to do so; and let us guard against every thing that might
have a tendency to interrupt our intercourse with our Father in
heaven. Amen.
From: Practical Sermons,
Extracted From “The Christian Advocate”
