THE EXAMPLE OF THE INCARNATION
by
Benjamin B. Warfield
[A sermon preached in the chapel of Princeton Theological
Seminary on January 8, 1893 and published by Anson D.F. Randolph &
Co., 1893]
PHILIPPIANS ii. 5-8: Let this mind be in
you, which was also in Christ Jesus; who, being in the form of God,
thought it not robbery to be equal with God: but made himself of no
reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in
the likeness of men: and being found in fashion as a man, he humbled
himself and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross.
"CHRIST our Example" : after " Christ our Redeemer," no words can
more deeply stir the Christian heart than these. Every Christian
joyfully recognizes the example of Christ, as, in the admirable
words of a great Scotch commentator, a body "of living legislation,"
as "law, embodied and pictured in a perfect humanity." In Him, in a
word, we find the moral ideal historically realized, and we bow
before it as sublime and yearn after it with all the assembled
desires of our renewed souls.
How lovingly we follow in thought every footstep of the Son of
Man, on the rim of hills that shut in the emerald cup of Nazareth on
the blue marge of Gennesaret, over the mountains of Judea, and long
to walk in spirit by His side. He came to save every age, says
Irenaeus, and therefore He came as an infant, a child, a boy, a
youth, and a man. And there is no age that cannot find its example
in Him. We see Him, the properest child that ever was given to a
mother's arms, through all the years of childhood at Nazareth
"subjecting Himself to His parents." We see Him a youth, laboring
day by day contentedly at His father's bench, in this lower sphere,
too, with no other thought than to be "about His father's business."
We see Him in His holy manhood, going, "as His custom was," Sabbath
by Sabbath, to the synagogue, - God as He was, not too good to
worship with His weaker brethren. And then the horizon broadens. We
see Him at the banks of Jordan, because it became Him to fulfil
every righteousness, meekly receiving the baptism of repentance for
us. We see Him in the wilderness, calmly rejecting the subtlest
trials of the evil one: refusing to supply His needs by a misuse of
His divine power, repelling the confusion of tempting God with
trusting God, declining to seek His Father's ends by any other than
His Father's means. We see Him among the thousands of Galilee,
anointed of God with the Holy Ghost and power, going about doing
good: with no pride of birth, though He was a king; with no pride of
intellect, though omniscience dwelt within Him; with no pride of
power, though all power in Heaven and earth was in His hands; or of
station, though the fullness of the Godhead dwelt in Him bodily; or
of superior goodness or holiness: but in lowliness of mind esteeming
every one better than Himself, healing the sick, casting out devils,
feeding the hungry, and everywhere breaking to men the bread of
life. We see Him everywhere offering to men His life for the
salvation of their souls: and when, at last, the forces of evil
gathered thick around Him, walking, alike without display and
dismay, the path of suffering appointed for Him and giving His life
at Calvary that through His death the world might live.
"Which of you convinceth me of sin?" is too low a question. Who
can find in all His life a single lack, a single failure to set us a
perfect example? In what difficulty of life, in what trial, in what
danger or uncertainty, when we turn our eyes to Him, do we fail to
find just the example that we need? And if perchance we are, by the
grace of God, enabled to walk with Him but a step in the way, how
our hearts burn within us with longing to be always with Him, - to
be strengthened by the almighty power of God in the inner man, to
make every footprint which He has left in the world a stepping-stone
to climb upward over His divine path. Do we not rightly say that
next to our longing to be in Christ is our corresponding longing to
be like Christ; that only second in our hearts to His great act of
obedience unto death by which He became our Saviour, stands His holy
life in our world of sin, by which He becomes our example?
Of course our text is not singular in calling upon us to make
Christ our example. "Be ye imitators of me, even as I also am of
Christ Jesus," is rather the whole burden of the ethical side of
Paul's teaching. And in this, too, he was but the imitator of his
Lord, who pleads with us to "learn of Him because He is meek and
lowly in heart." The peculiarity of our present passage is that it
takes us back of Christ's earthly life and bids us imitate Him in
the great act of His incarnation itself. Not, of course, as if the
implication were that we were equal with Christ and needed to stoop
to such service as He performed. "Why art thou proud, O man?"
Augustine asks pointedly. "God for thee became low. Thou wouldst
perhaps be ashamed to imitate a lowly man ; then at least imitate
the lowly God. The Son of God came in the character of man and was
made low. . . . . He, since He was God, became man: do thou, O man,
recognize that thou art man. Thy entire humility is to know
thyself." The very force of the appeal lies, in a word, in the
infinite exaltation of Christ above us: and the mention of the
incarnation is the Apostle's reminder to us of the ineffable majesty
which was by nature His to whom he would raise our admiring eyes.
Paul pries at our hearts here with the great lever of the deity of
our exemplar. He calls upon us to do nothing less than to be
imitators of God. "What encouragement is greater than this?" cries
Chrysostom, with his instinctive perception of the motive-springs of
the human heart. "Nothing arouses a great soul to the performance of
good works, so much as learning that in this it is likened to God."
And here, too, Paul is but the follower of his Lord: "Be ye
merciful, as your Father which is in heaven is merciful," are words
which fell from His divine lips, altogether similar in their
implication to Paul's words in the text: "Let it be this mind that
is in you, which also was in Christ Jesus." It is the Spirit which
animated our Lord in the act of His incarnation which His apostle
would see us imitate. He would have us in all our acts to be like
Christ, as He showed Himself to be in the innermost core of His
being, when He became poor, He that was rich, that we by His poverty
might be made rich.
We perceive, then, that the exhortation of the Apostle gathers
force for itself from the deity of Christ, and from the nature of
the transaction by which He, being God, was brought into this sphere
of dependent, earthly life in which we live by nature. It is
altogether natural, then, that he sharpens his appeal by reminding
his readers somewhat fully who Christ was and what He did for our
salvation, in order that, having the facts more vividly before their
minds, they may more acutely feel the spirit by which He was
animated. Thus, in a perfectly natural way, Paul is led, not to
inform his readers but to remind them, in a few quick and lively
phrases which do not interrupt the main lines of discourse but
rather etch them in with a deeper color, of what we may call the
whole doctrine of the Person of Christ. With such a masterly hand,
or let us rather say with such an eager spirit and such a loving
clearness and firmness of touch, has he done this, that these few
purely incidental words constitute one of the most complete
statements of an essential doctrine to be found within the whole
compass of the Scriptures. Though compressed within the limits of
three short verses, it ranks in fullness of exposition with the
already marvelously concise outline of the same doctrine given in
the opening verses of the Gospel of John. Whenever the subtleties of
heresy confuse our minds as we face the problems which have been
raised about the Person of our Lord, it is preeminently to these
verses that we flee to have our apprehension purified, and our
thinking corrected. The sharp phrases cut their way through every
error: or, as we may better say, they are like a flight of swift
arrows, each winged to the joints of the harness.
The golden-mouthed preacher of the ancient church, impressed
with this fullness of teaching and inspired himself to one of his
loftiest flights by the verve of the Apostle's crisp language,
pictures the passage itself as an arena, and the Truth, as it runs
burning through the clauses, as the victorious chariot dashing
against and overthrowing its contestants one after the other, until
at last, amid the clamor of applause which rises from every side to
heaven, it springs alone towards the goal, with coursers winged with
joy sweeping like a single flash over the ground. One by one he
points out the heresies concerning the Person of Christ which had
sprung up in the ancient church, as clause by clause the text smites
and destroys them; and is not content until he shows how the knees
of all half-truths and whole falsehoods alike concerning this great
matter are made by these searching words to bow before our Saviour's
perfect deity, His complete humanity, and the unity of His person.
The magic of the passage has lost none of its virtue with the
millennium and a half which has fled by since John electrified
Constantinople with his golden words: this sword of the Spirit is as
keen to-day as it was then, and happy is the man who knows its
temper and has the arm to wield it. But we must not lose ourselves
in a purely theological interest with such a passage before us.
Rather let us keep our eyes, for this hour, on Paul's main purpose,
and seek to feel the force of the example of Christ as he here
advances it, for the government of our lives. But to do this, as he
points it with so full a reference to the Person of Christ,
following him we must begin by striving to realize who and what our
Lord was, who set us this example.
I. Let us observe, then, first, that the actor to whose example
Paul would direct our eyes, is declared by him to have been no other
than God Himself. "Who was before in the form of God," are his words
: and they are words than which no others could be chosen which
would more explicitly or with more directness assert the deity of
the person who is here designated by the name of Christ Jesus. After
the wear and tear of two thousand years on the phrases, it would not
be surprising if we should fail to feel this as strongly as we
ought. Let us remember that the phraseology which Paul here employs
was the popular usage of his day, though first given general vogue
by the Aristotelian philosophy and that it was accordingly the most
natural language for strongly asserting the deity of Christ which
could suggest itself to him. As you know, this mode of speech
resolved everything into its matter and its form, - into the bare
material out of which it is made, and that body of characterizing
qualities which constitute it what it is. "Form," in a word, is
equivalent to our phrase, "specific character." If we may illustrate
great things by small, we may say, in this manner of speech, that
the "matter" of a sword, for instance, is steel, while its "form" is
that whole body of characterizing qualities which distinguish a
sword from all other pieces of steel, and which, therefore, make
this particular piece of steel distinctively a sword. In this case,
these are, of course, largely matters of shape and contour. But now
the steel itself, which constitutes the matter of the sword, has
also its "matter" and its "form": its "matter" being metal, and its
"form" being the whole body of qualities that distinguish steel from
other metals, and make this metal steel. Going back still a step,
metal itself has its "matter'' and "form''; its ''matter" being
material substance and its "form" that body of qualities which
distinguish metallic from other kinds of substance. And last of all,
matter itself has its "matter," namely, substance, and its "form,"
namely, the qualities which distinguish material from spiritual
substance, and make this substance what we call matter. The same
mode of speech is, of course, equally applicable to the spiritual
sphere. The "matter" of the human spirit is bare spiritual
substance, while its "form" is that body of qualities which
constitute this spirit a human spirit, and in the absence of which,
or by the change of which, this spirit would cease to be human and
become some other kind of spirit. The "matter" of an angel, again,
is bare spiritual substance, while the "form" is the body of
qualities which make this spirit specifically an angel. So, too,
with God: the "matter" of God is bare spiritual substance, and the
"form" is that body of qualities which distinguish Him from all
other spiritual beings, which constitute Him God, and without which
He would not be God. What Paul asserts then, when he says that
Christ Jesus existed in the "form of God," is that He had all those
characterizing qualities which make God God, the presence of which
constitutes God, and in the absence of which God does not exist. He
who is "in the form of God," is God.
Nor is it without significance that, out of the possible modes
of expression open to him, Paul was led to choose just this mode of
asserting the deity of our Lord. His mind in this passage was not on
the bare divine essence; it was upon the divine qualities and
prerogatives of Christ. It is not the abstract conception that
Christ is God that moves us to our deepest admiration for His
sublime act of self-sacrifice: but rather our concrete realization
that He was all that God is, and had all that God has, - that God's
omnipotence was His, His infinite exaltation, His unapproachable
blessedness. Therefore Paul is instinctively led to choose an
expression which tells us not the bare fact that Christ was God, but
that He was "in the form of God," - that He had in full possession
all those characterizing qualities which, taken together, make God
that all-holy, perfect, all-blessed being which we call God. Thus
the Apostle prepares his readers for the great example by quickening
their apprehension not only of who, but of what Christ was.
II. Let us note, then, secondly, that the Apostle outlines for
us very fully the action which this divine being performed. "He took
the form of a servant by coming into the likeness of men; and being
found in fashion as a man, He humbled Himself by becoming subject
even unto death, and that the death of the cross." There is no
metamorphosis of substance asserted here: the "form of God" is not
said to have been transmuted into the "form of a servant"; but He
who was "in the form of God" is declared to have taken also to
Himself "the form of a servant." Nor is there, on the other hand,
any deceptive show of an unreal humiliation brought before us here:
He took, not the appearance, mere state and circumstances, or mere
work and performance, but veritably "the form of a servant," - all
those essential qualities and attributes which belong to, and
constitute a being "a servant" The assumption involved the taking of
an actually servile nature, as well as of a subordinate station and
a servant's work. And therefore it is at once further explained in
both its mode and its effects. He took the form of a servant "by
coming into the likeness of men": He did not become merely a man,
but by taking the form of a servant He came into a state in which He
appeared as man. His humanity was real and complete: but it was not
all, - He remained God in assuming humanity, and therefore only
appeared as man, not became only man. And by taking the form of a
servant and thus being found in fashion as a man, He became subject
to obedience, - an obedience pressed so far in its humiliation that
it extended even unto death, and that the shameful death of the
cross. Words cannot adequately paint the depth of this humiliation.
But this it was, the taking of the form of a servant with its
resultant necessity of obedience to such a bitter end, - this it was
that He who was by nature in the form of God, - in the full
possession and use of all the Divine attributes and qualities,
powers, and prerogatives, - was willing to do for us.
III. Let us observe, then, thirdly, that the Apostle clearly
announces to us the spirit in which our Lord performed this great
act. "Although He was in the form of God, He yet did not consider
His being on an equality with God a precious prize to be eagerly
retained, but made no account of Himself, taking the form of a
servant." It was then in a spirit of pure unselfishness and
self-sacrifice, that looked not on its own things but on the things
of others, that under the force of love esteemed others more than
Himself, - it was in this mind: or, in the Apostle's own words, it
was as not considering His essential equality with God as a precious
possession, but making no account of Himself, - it was in this mind,
that Christ Jesus who was before in the form of God took the form of
a servant. This was the state of mind that led Him to so marvelous
an act, - no compulsion from His Father, no desires for Himself, no
hope of gain or fear of loss, but simple, unselfish,
self-sacrificing love.
Now it is not to be overlooked that some of the clauses the
meaning of which we have sought to fathom, are differently explained
among expositors. Nevertheless, although I have sought to adduce
them so as to bring out the Apostle's exact meaning, and although I
believe that his appeal acquires an additional point and a stronger
leverage when they are thus understood, it remains true that the
main drift of the passage is unaffected by any of the special
interpretations which reasonable expositors have put upon the
several clauses. These divergent expositions do seriously affect our
doctrine of the Person of Christ. In particular, all the forms of
the popular modern doctrine of Kenosis or Exinanition,
which teaches that the divine Logos in becoming man "emptied
Himself," and thus, that the very God in a more or less literal
sense contracted Himself to the limits of humanity, find their
chief, almost their sole Biblical basis in what appears to me a
gratuitously erroneous interpretation of one of these clauses, -
that one which the Authorized Version renders, "He made Himself of
no reputation," and which I have ventured to render, "He made no
account of Himself," that is, in comparison with the needs of
others; but which the theologians in question followed,
unfortunately as I think, by the Revised Version, render with an
excessive literality, "He emptied himself," thereby resurrecting the
literal physical sense of the word in an unnatural context. We have
many reasons to give why this is an illegitimate rendering; chief
among which are, that the word is commonly employed in its
figurative sense and that the intrusion of the literal sense here is
forbidden by the context. But it is unnecessary to pause to argue
the point. Whatever the conclusion might be, the main drift of the
passage remains the same. No interpretation of this phrase can
destroy the outstanding fact that the passage at large places before
our wondering eyes the two termini of "the form of God" and
"the form of a servant," involving obedience even unto a shameful
death; and "measures the extent of our Lord's self-denying grace by
the distance between equality with God and a public execution on a
gibbet."1 In any case the emphasis of
the passage is thrown upon the spirit of self-sacrificing
unselfishness as the impelling cause of Christ's humiliation, which
the Apostle adduces here in order that the sight of it may impel us
also to take no account of ourselves, but to estimate lightly all
that we are or have in comparison with the claims of others on our
love and devotion. The one subject of the whole passage is Christ's
marvelous self-sacrifice. Its one exhortation is, "Let it be this
mind that is also in you." As we read through the passage we may, by
contact with the full mind and heart of the Apostle, learn much more
than this. But let us not fail to grasp this, his chief message to
us here, - that Christ Jesus, though He was God, yet cared less for
His equality with God, cared less for Himself and His own things,
than He did for us, and therefore gave Himself for us.
Firmly grasping this, then, as the essential content and special
message of the passage, there are some inferences that flow from it
which we cannot afford not to remind ourselves of.
1. And first of these is a very great and marvelous one, - that
we have a God who is capable of self-sacrifice for us. It was
although He was in the form of God, that Christ Jesus did not
consider His being on an equality with God so precious a possession
that He could not lay it aside, but rather made no account of
Himself. It was our God who so loved us that He gave Himself for us.
Now, herein is a wonderful thing. Men tell us that God is, by the
very necessity of His nature, incapable of passion, incapable of
being moved by inducements from without; that He dwells in holy calm
and unchangeable blessedness, untouched by human sufferings or human
sorrows forever, - haunting
"The lucid interspace of world and world,
Where never creeps a cloud, nor moves a wind,
Nor ever falls the least white star of snow,
Nor ever lowest roll of thunder moans,
Nor sound of human sorrow mounts to mar
His sacred, everlasting calm."
Let us bless our God that it is not true. God can feel; God does
love. We have Scriptural warrant for believing, as it has been well
phrased, that moral heroism has a place within the sphere of the
Divine nature: we have Scriptural warrant for believing that, like
the old hero of Zurich, God has reached out loving arms and gathered
into His own bosom that forest of darts which otherwise had pierced
ours.
But is not this gross anthropomorphism? We are careless of
names: it is the truth of God. And we decline to yield up the God of
the Bible and the God of our hearts to any philosophical
abstraction. We have and we must have an ethical God; a God whom we
can love, and in whom we can trust. We may feel awe in the presence
of the Absolute, as we feel awe in the presence of the storm or of
the earthquake: we may feel our dependence in its presence, as we
feel our helplessness before the tornado or the flood. But we cannot
love it; we cannot trust it; and our hearts, which are just as
trustworthy a guide as our dialectics, cry out for a God whom we may
love and trust. We decline once for all to subject our whole
conception of God to the category of the Absolute, which, as has
been truly said, "like Pharaoh's lean kine, devours all other
attributes."2 Neither is this an
unphilosophical procedure. As has recently been set forth renewedly
by Andrew Seth,3 "we should be
unfaithful to the fundamental principle of the theory of knowledge"
"if we did not interpret by means of the highest category within our
reach." "We should be false to ourselves, if we denied in God what
we recognize as the source of dignity and worth in ourselves." In
order to escape an anthropomorphic God, we must not throw ourselves
at the feet of a zoomorphic or an amorphic one.
Nevertheless, let us rejoice that our God has not left us by
searching to find Him out. Let us rejoice that He has plainly
revealed Himself to us in His Word as a God who loves us, and who,
because He loves us, has sacrificed Himself for us. Let us remember
that the fundamental conception in the Christian idea of God is that
God is love; and the fundamental dogma of the Christian religion is
that God so loved us that He gave Himself for us. Accordingly, the
primary presupposition of our present passage is that our God was
capable of, and did actually perform, this amazing act of unselfish
self-sacrifice for the good of man.
2. The second inference that we should draw from our passage
consists simply in following the Apostle in his application of this
divine example to our human life: a life of self-sacrificing
unselfishness is the most divinely beautiful life that man can lead.
He whom as our Master we have engaged to obey, whom as our Example
we are pledged to imitate, is presented to us here as the great
model of self-sacrificing unselfishness. Let this mind be in you,
which was also in Christ Jesus," is the Apostle's pleading. We need
to note carefully, however, that it is not self-depreciation, but
self-abnegation, that is thus commended to us. If we would follow
Christ, we must, every one of us, not in pride but in humility, yet
not in lowness but in lowliness, not degrade ourselves but forget
ourselves, and seek every man not his own things but those of
others.
Who does not see that in this organism which we call human
society, such a mode of life is the condition of all real help and
health? There is, no doubt, another ideal of life far more grateful
to our fallen human nature, an ideal based on arrogance, assumption,
self-assertion, working through strife, and issuing in conquest, -
conquest of a place for ourselves, a position, the admiration of
man, power over men. We see its working on every side of us: in the
competition of business life, - in the struggle for wealth on the
one side, forcing a struggle for bare bread on the other; in social
life, - in the fierce battle of men and women for leading parts in
the farce of social display; even in the church itself, and among
the churches, where, too, unhappily, arrogant pretension and
unchristian self-assertion do not fail to find their temporal
reward. But it is clear that this is not Christ's ideal, nor is it
to this that He has set us His perfect example. "He made no account
of Himself": though He was in the form of God, He yet looked not
upon His equality with God as a possession to be prized when He
could by forgetting self rescue those whom He was not ashamed, amid
all His glory, to call His brethren.
Are there any whom you and I are ashamed to call our brethren? O
that the divine ideal of life as service could take possession of
our souls! O that we could remember at all times and in all
relations that the Son of Man came into the world to minister, and
by His ministry has glorified all ministering for ever. O that we
could once for all grasp the meaning of the great fact that
self-forgetfulness and self-sacrifice express the divine ideals of
life.
3. And thus we are led to a third inference, which comes to us
from the text: that it is difficult to set a limit to the
self-sacrifice which the example of Christ calls upon us to be ready
to undergo for the good of our brethren. It is comparatively easy to
recognize that the ideal of the Christian life is self-sacrificing
unselfishness, and to allow that it is required of those who seek to
enter into it, to subordinate self and to seek first the kingdom of
God. But is it so easy to acknowledge, even to ourselves, that this
is to be read not generally merely but in detail, and is to be
applied not only to some eminent saints but to all who would be
Christ's servants? - that it is required of us, and that what is
required of us is not some self-denial but all self-sacrifice? Yet
is it not to this that the example of Christ would lead us? - not,
of course, to self-degradation, not to self-effacement exactly, but
to complete self-abnegation, entire and ungrudging self-sacrifice?
Is it to be unto death itself? Christ died. Are we to endure wrongs?
What wrongs did He not meekly bear? Are we to surrender our clear
and recognized rights? Did Christ stand upon His unquestioned right
of retaining His equality with God? Are we to endure unnatural
evils, permit ourselves to be driven into inappropriate situations,
unresistingly sustain injurious and unjust imputations and attacks?
What more unnatural than that the God of the universe should become
a servant in the world, ministering not to His Father only, but also
to His creatures, - our Lord and Master washing our very feet? What
more abhorrent than that God should die? There is no length to which
Christ's self-sacrifice did not lead Him. These words are dull and
inexpressive; we cannot enter into thoughts so high. He who was in
the form of God took such thought for us, that He made no account of
Himself. Into the immeasurable calm of the divine blessedness He
permitted this thought to enter, "I will die for men!" And so mighty
was His love, so colossal the divine purpose to save, that He
thought nothing of His divine majesty, nothing of His unsullied
blessedness, nothing of His equality with God, but, absorbed in us,
- our needs, our misery, our helplessness - He made no account of
Himself. If this is to be our example, what limit can we set to our
self-sacrifice? Let us remember that we are no longer our own but
Christ's, bought with the price of His precious blood, and are
henceforth to live, not for ourselves but for Him, - for Him in His
creatures, serving Him in serving them. Let all thought of our
dignity, our possessions, our rights, perish out of sight, when
Christ's service calls to us. Let the mind be in us that was also in
Him, when He took no account of Himself, but, God as He was, took
the form of a servant and humbled Himself, - He who was Lord, - to
lowly obedience even unto death, and that the death of the cross. In
such a mind as this, where is the end of unselfishness?
4. Let us not, however, do the Apostle the injustice of fancying
that this is a morbid life to which he summons us. The
self-sacrifice to which he exhorts us, unlimited as it is, going all
lengths and starting back blanched at nothing, is nevertheless not
an unnatural life. After all, it issues not in the destruction of
self, but only in the destruction of selfishness; it leads us not to
a Buddha-like unselfing, but to a Christ-like self-development. It
would not make us into
"deedless dreamers lazying out a life
Of self-suppression, not of selfless love"
but would light the flames of a love within us by which we would
literally "ache for souls." The example of Christ and the
exhortation of Paul found themselves upon a sense of the unspeakable
value of souls. Our Lord took no account of Himself, only because
the value of the souls of men pressed upon His heart. And following
Him, we are not to consider our own things, but those of others,
just because everything earthly that concerns us is as nothing
compared with their eternal welfare.
Our self-abnegation is thus not for our own sake, but for the
sake of others. And thus it is not to mere self-denial that Christ
calls us, but specifically to self-sacrifice: not to unselfing
ourselves, but to unselfishing ourselves. Self-denial for its own
sake is in its very nature ascetic, monkish. It concentrates our
whole attention on self - self-knowledge, self-control - and can,
therefore, eventuate in nothing other than the very apotheosis of
selfishness. At best it succeeds only in subjecting the outer self
to the inner self, or the lower self to the higher self; and only
the more surely falls into the slough of self-seeking, that it
partially conceals the selfishness of its goal by refining its ideal
of self and excluding its grosser and more outward elements.
Self-denial, then, drives to the cloister; narrows and contracts the
soul ; murders within us all innocent desires, dries up all the
springs of sympathy, and nurses and coddles our self-importance
until we grow so great in our own esteem as to be careless of the
trials and sufferings, the joys and aspirations, the strivings and
failures and successes of our fellow-men. Self-denial, thus
understood, will make us cold, hard, unsympathetic, - proud,
arrogant, self-esteeming, - fanatical, overbearing, cruel. It may
make monks and Stoics, - it cannot make Christians.
It is not to this that Christ's example calls us. He did not
cultivate self, even His divine self: He took no account of self. He
was not led by His divine impulse out of the world, driven back into
the recesses of His own soul to brood morbidly over His own needs,
until to gain His own seemed worth all sacrifice to Him. He was led
by His love for others into the world, to forget Himself in the
needs of others, to sacrifice self once for all upon the altar of
sympathy. Self-sacrifice brought Christ into the world. And
self-sacrifice will lead us, His followers, not away from but into
the midst of men. Wherever men suffer, there will we be to comfort.
Wherever men strive, there we will be to help. Wherever men fail,
there will we be to uplift. Wherever men succeed, there will we be
to rejoice. Self-sacrifice means not indifference to our times and
our fellows: it means absorption in them. It means forgetfulness of
self in others. It means entering into every man's hopes and fears,
longings and despairs: it means manysidedness of spirit, multiform
activity, multiplicity of sympathies. It means richness of
development. It means not that we should live one life, but a
thousand lives, - binding ourselves to a thousand souls by the
filaments of so loving a sympathy that their lives become ours. It
means that all the experiences of men shall smite our souls and
shall beat and batter these stubborn hearts of ours into fitness for
their heavenly home. It is, after all, then, the path to the highest
possible development, by which alone we can be made truly men.
Not that we shall undertake it with this end in view. This were
to dry up its springs at their source. We cannot be self-consciously
self-forgetful, selfishly unselfish. Only, when we humbly walk this
path, seeking truly in it not our own things but those of others, we
shall find the promise true, that he who loses his life shall find
it. Only, when, like Christ, and in loving obedience to His call and
example, we take no account of ourselves, but freely give ourselves
to others, we shall find, each in his measure, the saying true of
himself also: "Wherefore also God hath highly exalted him." The path
of self-sacrifice is the path to glory.
1 The phraseology here is borrowed from Eadie's Com.
in loc.
2 By Prof. A. B. Bruce, in his Humiliation of Christ.
3 Hegelianism and Personality, p.222.
|