And that swear by the Lord, and that swear by Malcham
The demonstrativeness of true religion
In this text it is a sort of mixed religion that the Lord declares He will not tolerate.
Impress t he necessity of decision in religion. What is the lowest amount of faith in Jesus Christ which will avail to save a man’s soul?
1. What definition the Scripture gives us of true Christianity. Mark the distinction between coming to Christ and following Christ. Coming to Christ costs a man nothing; but following Christ and remaining with Christ involve the taking up the cross and the exercise of stern self-denial. True Christianity demands an entire surrender of the heart to God, a thorough abandonment of wilful sin, an unceasing vigilance against the wiles of the devil.
2. If a man has cordially embraced, with a living faith, the truth as it is in Jesus, will he--can he--be undemonstrative? By demonstrativeness is not meant talkativeness, nor can it be explained by formalism. When forms are allowed to usurp the place of the heart, they demonstrate too much. Nor is it being charitable, or regularly attending worship. By demonstrativeness is meant a quiet earnestness, which will show itself as much by what it does not as by what it does. A man cannot, in a proper sense, be undemonstrative if he has embraced, with a living faith, the “truth as it is in Jesus.”
3. To what is the undemonstrativeness of the mere professor of religion traceable? Is it not that he makes God the offering of half his heart, while he gives the other half to the world?
4. Are we to call the undemonstrative true Christians, and the demonstrative advanced Christians? Let God answer. See the text. He who readeth the heart will not be mocked and trifled with. God will cut off the undecided. In the last great assize those who in their lives have halted between two opinions shall find no mercy. (W. I. Chapman, M. A.)
Double-hearted people
A little while ago I was with some friends, going through Her Majesty’s State apartments in Windsor Castle. At the end of the great banquet-hall we were shown, in a gallery above our heads, a fine organ. Now this organ, I found, was just like one of the double-hearted people; for the old man who was taking us round explained carefully that it performed double duty, having two finger-boards. At the sides from which we saw it it was played on the occasion of a royal banquet, to the delight and pleasure of those who feasted below. But on the side which we could not see it had another finger-board, and performed a wholly different service, for it was in the royal chapel, and pealed forth strains of sacred music to help the worship of those who gathered there. Well, I despised that organ for its double-dealing, though, of course, you know the organ could not help itself. It was only what it had been made, but it seemed to me like “a double-minded man, unstable in all his ways.” God keep us from having two finger-beards. Do you understand what I mean. Do you see that we, who are blood-bought and made nigh to God, have the blessed privilege of being brought as worshippers into the holiest? That there we may be as beautiful instruments, in full tune for the Master’s hand, that, when He strikes the chords, there may rise rich swelling notes of worship and praise to His ear and heart. Having, then, a finger-board in the holiest, in the place of worship, let us be very jealous that there be none to which the revellers of this world can have access, that no note of sympathy may be ever struck from our hearts by the world, that has rejected Christ, the David whom we own as Lord. (A. J. Gordon, D. D.)
There ought to be continuity in our religious life
There should be continuity in our religious life. Some people are pious by fits and starts. They are with God in the sanctuary, but not in the shop; they drink the cup of the Lord on Sunday, and the cup of the devil on Monday. At the mouths of certain large rivers are formed what geologists call lagoons. A lagoon is a small lake separated from the sea by a bar of sand, and is filled with fresh and salt water by turns. Often a lagoon communicates exclusively with the river for months, and during this period its water is fresh. Then a breach is made in the bar of sand and there is an eruption of salt water, which for a season holds undisputed sway. In these lagoons we may find an illustration of not a few people connected with all our churches. For a time they are seemingly in communication with God and spiritual things, and these are the forces that shape and mould and colour their life. But suddenly that communication seems to break off, to be interrupted; the world rushes in through some breach of their own making, and for a season, at least, the things that are seen and temporal gain complete mastery over them. The change in their life and conduct is no less marked than the change in the waters of the lagoon. This type of Christian, this religious Reuben, will never attain to spiritual strength and ripeness, the stature of the perfect man Christ Jesus. The true follower of the Son of Man finds his illustration not in the lagoon, but in the glory of the Shechinah which shone continuously and with unabated splendour in the temple. (W. B. Sproule.)