LECTURE IX.
UNITY OF MORAL ACTION.
CAN OBEDIENCE TO MORAL LAW BE PARTIAL?
1. What constitutes obedience to moral law?
We have seen in former lectures, that disinterested benevolence is all
that the spirit of moral law requires; that is, that the love which it
requires to God and our neighbor is good-willing, willing the highest
good or well-being of God, and of being in general, as an end, or for
its own sake; that this willing is a consecration of all the powers, so
far as they are under the control of the will, to this end. Entire
consecration to this end must of course constitute obedience to the
moral law. The next question is: Can consecration to this end be real,
and yet partial in the sense of not being entire, for the time being?
This conducts us to the second proposition, namely,–
2. That obedience cannot be partial in the sense that the subject ever
does, or can, partly obey and partly disobey at the same time.
That is, consecration, to be real, must be, for the time being, entire
and universal. It will be seen that this discussion respects the
simplicity of moral action, that is whether the choices of the will
that have any degree of conformity to moral law, are always and
necessarily wholly conformed or wholly disconformed to it. There are
two distinct branches to this inquiry.
(1.) The one is, Can the will at the same time make opposite choices?
Can it choose the highest good of being as an ultimate end, and at the
same time choose any other ultimate end, or make any choices whatever
inconsistent with this ultimate choice?
(2.) The second branch of this inquiry respects the strength or
intensity of the choice. Suppose but one ultimate choice can exist at
the same time, may not that choice be less efficient and intense than
it ought to be? Let us take up these two inquiries in their order.
(1.) Can the will at the same time choose opposite and conflicting
ultimate ends? While one ultimate end is chosen, can the will choose
anything inconsistent with this end? In reply to the first branch of
this inquiry I observe,
(a) That the choice of an ultimate end is, and must be, the supreme
preference of the mind. Sin is the supreme preference of
self-gratification. Holiness is the supreme preference of the good of
being. Can then two supreme preferences co-exist in the same mind? It
is plainly impossible to make opposite choices at the same time, that
is, to choose opposite and conflicting ultimate ends.
(b) All intelligent choice, as has been formerly shown, must respect
ends or means. Choice is synonymous with intention. If there is a
choice or intention, of necessity something must be chosen or intended.
This something must he chosen for its own sake, or as an end, or for
the sake of something else to which it sustains the relation of a
means. To deny this were to deny that the choice is intelligent. But we
are speaking of no other than intelligent choice, or the choice of a
moral agent.
(c) This conducts us to the inevitable conclusion–that no choice
whatever can be made, inconsistent with the present choice of an
ultimate end. The mind cannot choose one ultimate end, and choose at
the same time another ultimate end. But if this cannot be, it is plain
that it cannot choose one ultimate end, and at the same time, while in
the exercise of that choice, choose the means to secure some other
ultimate end, which other end is not chosen. But if all choice must
necessarily respect ends or means, and if the mind can choose but one
ultimate end at a time, it follows that, while in the exercise of one
choice, or while in the choice of one ultimate end, the mind cannot
choose, for the time being, anything inconsistent with that choice. The
mind, in the choice of an ultimate end, is shut up to the necessity of
willing the means to accomplish that end; and before it can possibly
will means to secure any other ultimate end, it must change its choice
of an end. If, for example, the soul chooses the highest well-being of
God and the universe as an ultimate end, it cannot while it continues
to choose that end, use or choose the means to effect any other end. It
cannot, while this choice continues, choose self-gratification, or
anything else as an ultimate end, nor can it put forth any volition
whatever known to be inconsistent with this end. Nay, it can put forth
no intelligent volition whatever that is not designed to secure this
end. The only possible choice inconsistent with this end is the choice
of another ultimate end. When this is done, other means can be used or
chosen, and not before. This, then, is plain, to wit, that obedience to
moral law cannot be partial, in the sense either that the mind can
choose two opposite ultimate ends at the same time, or that it can
choose one ultimate end, and at the same time use or choose means to
secure any other ultimate end. It “cannot serve God and mammon.” It
cannot will the good of being as an ultimate end, and at the same time
will self-gratification as an ultimate end. In other words, it cannot
be selfish and benevolent at the same time. It cannot choose as an
ultimate end the highest good of being, and at the same time choose to
gratify self as an ultimate end. Until self-gratification is chosen as
an end, the mind cannot will the means of self gratification. This
disposes of the first branch of the inquiry.
(2.) The second branch of the inquiry respects the strength or
intensity of the choice. May not the choice of an end be real, and yet
have less than the required strength or intensity? The inquiry resolves
itself into this: Can the mind honestly intend or choose an ultimate
end, and yet not choose it with all the strength or intensity which is
required, or with which it ought to choose it? Now what degree of
strength is demanded? By what criterion is this question to be settled?
It cannot be that the degree of intensity required is equal to the real
value of the end chosen, for this is infinite. The value of the highest
well-being of God and the universe is infinite. But a finite being
cannot be under obligation to exert infinite strength. The law requires
him only to exert his own strength. But does he, or may he not, choose
the right end, but with less than all his strength? All his strength
lies in his will; the question, therefore, is, may he not will it
honestly, and yet at the same time withhold a part of the strength of
his will? No one can presume that the choice can be acceptable unless
it be honest. Can it be honest and yet less intense and energetic than
it ought to be?
We have seen in a former lecture that the perception of an end is a
condition of moral obligation to choose that end. I now remark that, as
light in respect to the end is the condition of the obligation, so the
degree of obligation cannot exceed the degree of light. That is, the
mind must apprehend the valuable as a condition of the obligation to
will it. The degree of the obligation must be just equal to the mind’s
honest estimate of the value of the end. The degree of the obligation
must vary as the light varies. This is the doctrine of the Bible and of
reason. If this is so, it follows that the mind is honest when, and
only when, it devotes its strength to the end in view, with an
intensity just proportioned to its present light, or estimate of the
value of that end.
We have seen that the mind cannot will anything inconsistent with a
present ultimate choice. If, therefore, the end is not chosen with an
energy and intensity equal to the present light, it cannot be because a
part of the strength is employed in some other choice. If all the
strength is not given to this object, it must be because some part of
it is voluntarily withholden. That is, I choose the end, but not with
all my strength, or I choose the end, but choose not to choose it with
all my strength. Is this an honest choice, provided the end appears to
me to be worthy of all my strength? Certainly it is not honest.
But again: it is absurd to affirm that I choose an ultimate end, and
yet do not consecrate to it all my strength. The choice of any ultimate
end implies that that is the thing, and the only thing, for which we
live and act; that we aim at, and live for nothing else, for the time
being. Now what is intended by the assertion, that I may honestly
choose an ultimate end, and yet with less strength or intensity than I
ought? Is it intended that I can honestly choose an ultimate end, and
yet not at every moment keep my will upon the strain, and will at every
moment with the utmost possible intensity? If this be the meaning, I
grant that it may be so. But I at the same time contend, that the law
of God does not require that the will, or any other faculty, should be
at every moment upon the strain, and the whole strength exerted at
every moment. If it does, it is manifest that even Christ did not obey
it. I insist that the moral law requires nothing more than honesty of
intention, and assumes that honesty of intention will and must secure
just that degree of intensity which from time to time, the mind in its
best judgment sees to be demanded. The Bible everywhere assumes that
sincerity or honesty of intention is moral perfection; that it is
obedience to the law. The terms sincerity and perfection in scripture
language are synonymous. Uprightness, sincerity, holiness, honesty,
perfection, are words of the same meaning in Bible language.
Again, it seems to be intuitively certain that if the mind chooses its
ultimate end, it must in the very act of choice consecrate all its
time, and strength, and being, to that end; and at every moment, while
the choice remains, choose and act with an intensity in precise
conformity with its ability and the best light it has. The intensity of
the choice, and the strenuousness of its efforts to secure the end
chosen, must, if the intention be sincere, correspond with the view
which the soul has of the importance of the end chosen. It does not
seem possible that the choice or intention should be real and honest
unless this is so. To will at every moment with the utmost strength and
intensity, is not only impossible, but, were it possible to do so,
could not be in accordance with the soul’s convictions of duty. The
irresistible judgment of the mind is, that the intensity of its action
should not exceed the bound of endurance; that the energies of both
soul and body should be so husbanded, as to be able to accomplish the
most good upon the whole, and not in a given moment.
But to return to the question: does the law of God require simply
uprightness of intention? or does it require not only uprightness, but
also a certain degree of intensity in the intention? Is it satisfied
with simple sincerity or uprightness of intention, or does it require
that the highest possible intensity of choice shall exist at every
moment? When it requires that we should love God with all the heart,
with all the soul, with all the mind, and with all the strength, does
it mean that all our heart, soul, mind, and strength, shall be
consecrated to this end, and be used up, from moment to moment, and
from hour to hour, according to the best judgment which the mind can
form of the necessity and expediency of strenuousness of effort? or
does it mean that all the faculties of soul and body shall be at every
moment on the strain to the uttermost? Does it mean that the whole
being is to be consecrated to, and used up for God with the best
economy of which the soul is capable? or does it require that the whole
being be not only consecrated to God, but be used up without any regard
to economy, and without the soul’s exercising any judgment or
discretion in the case? In other words, is the law of God the law of
reason, or of folly? Is it intelligible and just in its demands? or is
it perfectly unintelligible and unjust? Is it a law suited to the
nature, relations, and circumstances, of moral agents? or has it no
regard to them? If it has no regard to either, is it, can it be, moral
law, and impose moral obligation? It seems to me that the law of God
requires that all our power, and strength, and being, be honestly and
continually consecrated to God, and held, not in a state of the utmost
tension, but that the strength shall be expended and employed in exact
accordance with the mind’s honest judgment of what is, at every moment,
the best economy for God. If this be not the meaning and the spirit of
the law, it cannot be law, for it could be neither intelligible nor
just. Nothing else can be a law of nature. What! does, or can the
command, “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God, with all thy heart, with
all thy soul, with all thy might, and with all thy strength,” require
that every particle of my strength, and every faculty of my being,
shall be in a state of the utmost possible tension? How long could my
strength hold out, or my being last, under such a pressure as this?
What reason, or justice, or utility, or equity, or wisdom, could there
be in such a commandment as this? Would this be suited to my nature and
relations? That the law does not require the constant and most intense
action of the will, I argue for the following reasons:–
1. No creature in heaven or earth could possibly know whether he ever
for a single moment obeyed it. How could he know that no more tension
could possibly be endured?
2. Such a requirement would be unreasonable, inasmuch as such a state
of mind would be unendurable.
3. Such a state of constant tension and strain of the faculties could
be of no possible use.
4. It would be uneconomical. More good could be effected by a
husbanding of the strength.
5. Christ certainly obeyed the moral law; and yet nothing is more
evident than that his faculties were not always on the strain.
Every one knows that the intensity of the will’s action depends, and
must depend, upon the clearness with which the value of the object
chosen is perceived. It is perfectly absurd to suppose that the will
should, or possibly can, act at all times with the same degree of
intensity. As the mind’s apprehensions of truth vary, the intensity of
the will’s action must vary, or it does not act rationally, and
consequently not virtuously. The intensity of the actions of the will,
ought to vary as light varies, and if it does not, the mind is not
honest. If honest, it must vary as light and ability vary.
That an intention cannot be right and honest in kind and deficient in
the degree of intensity, I argue–
1. From the fact that it is absurd to talk of an intention right in
kind, while it is deficient in intensity. What does rightness in kind
mean? Does it mean simply that the intention terminates on the proper
object? But is this the right kind of intention, when only the proper
object is chosen, while there is a voluntary withholding of the
required energy of choice? Is this, can this be, an honest intention?
If so, what is meant by an honest intention? Is it honest, can it be
honest, voluntarily to withhold from God and the universe what we
perceive to be their due, and what we are conscious we might render? It
is a contradiction to call this honest. In what sense then may, or can,
an intention be acceptable in kind, while deficient in degree?
Certainly in no sense, unless known and voluntary dishonesty can be
acceptable. But again, let me ask, what is intended by an intention
being deficient in degree of intensity? If this deficiency be a sinful
deficiency, it must be a known deficiency. That is, the subject of it
must know at the time that his intention is in point of intensity less
than it ought to be, or that he wills with less energy than he ought;
or, in other words, that the energy of the choice does not equal, or is
not agreeable to, his own estimate of the value of the end chosen. But
this implies an absurdity. Suppose I choose an end, that is, I choose a
thing solely on account of its own intrinsic value. It is for its value
that I choose it. I choose it for its value, but not according to its
value. My perception of its value led me to choose it; and yet, while I
choose it for that reason, I voluntarily withhold that degree of
intensity which I know is demanded by my own estimate of the value of
the thing which I choose! This is a manifest absurdity and
contradiction. If I choose a thing for its value, this implies that I
choose it according to my estimate of its value. Happiness, for
example, is a good in itself. Now, suppose I will its existence
impartially, that is, solely on account of its intrinsic value; now,
does not this imply that every degree of happiness must be willed
according to its real or relative value? Can I will it impartially, for
its own sake, for and only for its intrinsic value, and yet not prefer
a greater to a less amount of happiness? This is impossible. Willing it
on account of its intrinsic value implies willing it according to my
estimate of its intrinsic value. So, it must be that an intention
cannot be sincere, honest, and acceptable in kind, while it is sinfully
deficient in degree.
As holiness consists in ultimate intention, so does sin. And as
holiness consists in choosing the highest well-being of God and the
good of the universe, for its own sake, or as the supreme ultimate end
of pursuit; so sin consists in willing, with a supreme choice or
intention, self-gratification and self-interest. Preferring a less to a
greater good, because it is our own, is selfishness. All selfishness
consists in a supreme ultimate intention. By an ultimate intention, as
I have said, is intended that which is chosen for its own sake as an
end, and not as a means to some other end. Whenever a moral being
prefers or chooses his own gratification, or his own interest, in
preference to a higher good, because it is his own, he chooses it as an
end, for its own sake, and as an ultimate end, not designing it as a
means of promoting any other and higher end, nor because it is a part
of universal good. Every sin, then, consists in an act of will. It
consists in preferring self-gratification, or self-interest, to the
authority of God, the glory of God, and the good of the universe. It
is, therefore, and must be, a supreme ultimate choice, or intention.
Sin and holiness, then, both consist in supreme, ultimate, and opposite
choices, or intentions, and cannot by any possibility, co-exist.
Five suppositions may be made, and so far as I can see, only five, in
respect to this subject.
1. It may be supposed, that selfishness and benevolence can co-exist in
the same mind.
2. It may be supposed, that the same act or choice may have a complex
character, on account of complexity in the motives which induce it.
3. It may be supposed, that an act or choice may be right, or holy in
kind, but deficient in intensity or degree. Or–
4. That the will, or heart, may be right, while the affections, or
emotions, are wrong. Or–
5. That there may be a ruling, latent, actually existing, holy
preference, or intention, co-existing with opposing volitions.
Now, unless one of these suppositions is true, it must follow that
moral character is either wholly right or wholly wrong, and never
partly right and partly wrong at the same time. And now to the
examination.
1. It may be supposed, that selfishness and benevolence can co-exist in
the same mind.
It has been shown that selfishness and benevolence are supreme,
ultimate, and opposite choices, or intentions. They cannot, therefore,
by any possibility, co-exist in the same mind.
2. The next supposition is, that the same act or choice may have a
complex character, on account of complexity in the motives. On this let
me say:–
(1.) Motives are objective or subjective. An objective motive is that
thing external to the mind that induces choice or intention. Subjective
motive is the intention itself.
(2.) Character, therefore, does not belong to the objective motive, or
to that thing which the mind chooses; but moral character is confined
to the subjective motive, which is synonymous with choice or intention.
Thus we say a man is to be judged by his motives, meaning that his
character is as his intention is. Multitudes of objective motives or
considerations, may have concurred, directly or indirectly, in their
influence to induce choice or intention; but the intention or
subjective motive is always necessarily simple and indivisible. In
other words, moral character consists in the choice of an ultimate end,
and this end is to be chosen for its own sake, else it is not an
ultimate end. If the end chosen be the highest well-being of God and
the good of the universe–if it be the willing or intending to promote
and treat every interest in the universe, according to its perceived
relative value, it is a right, a holy motive, or intention. If it be
anything else, it is sinful. Now, whatever complexity there may have
been in the considerations that led the way to this choice or
intention, it is self-evident that the intention must be one, simple,
and indivisible.
(3.) Whatever complexity there might have been in those considerations
that prepared the way to the settling down upon this intention, the
mind in a virtuous choice has, and can have, but one ultimate reason
for its choice, and that is the intrinsic value of the thing chosen.
The highest well-being of God, the good of the universe, and every good
according to its perceived relative value, must be chosen for one, and
only one reason, and that is the intrinsic value of the good which is
chosen for its own sake. If chosen for any other reason, the choice is
not virtuous. It is absurd to say, that a thing is good and valuable in
itself, but may be rightly chosen, not for that but for some other
reason–that God’s highest well-being and the happiness of the universe
are an infinite good in themselves, but are not to be chosen for that
reason, and on their own account, but for some other reason. Holiness,
then, must always consist in singleness of eye or intention. It must
consist in the supreme disinterested choice, willing, or intending the
good of God and of the universe, for its own sake. In this intention
there cannot be any complexity. If there were, it would not be holy,
but sinful. It is, therefore, sheer nonsense to say, that one and the
same choice may have a complex character, on account of complexity of
motive. For that motive in which moral character consists, is the
supreme ultimate intention, or choice. This choice, or intention, must
consist in the choice of a thing as an end, and for its own sake. The
supposition, then, that the same choice or intention may have a complex
character, on account of complexity in the motives, is wholly
inadmissible.
If it be still urged, that the intention or subjective motive may be
complex — that several things may be included in the intention, and be
aimed at by the mind — and that it may, therefore, be partly holy and
partly sinful — I reply:–
(4.) If by this it be meant that several things may be aimed at or
intended by the mind at the same time, I inquire what things?–It is
true, that the supreme, disinterested choice of the highest good of
being, may include the intention to use all the necessary means. It may
also include the intention to promote every interest in the universe,
according to its perceived relative value. These are all properly
included in one intention; but this implies no such complexity in the
subjective motive, as to include both sin and holiness.
(5.) If by complexity of intention is meant, that it may be partly
disinterestedly benevolent, and partly selfish, which it must be to be
partly holy and partly sinful, I reply, that this supposition is
absurd. It has been shown that selfishness and benevolence consist in
supreme, ultimate, and opposite choices or intentions. To suppose,
then, that an intention can be both holy and sinful, is to suppose that
it may include two supreme, opposite, and ultimate choices or
intentions, at the same time; in other words, that I may supremely and
disinterestedly intend to regard and promote every interest in the
universe, according to its perceived relative value, for its own sake;
and at the same time, may supremely regard my own self-interest and
self-gratification, and in some things supremely intend to promote my
selfish interests, in opposition to the interests of the universe and
the commands of God. But this is naturally impossible. An ultimate
intention, then, may be complex in the sense, that it may include the
design to promote every perceived interest, according to its relative
value; but it cannot, by any possibility, be complex in the sense that
it includes selfishness and benevolence, or holiness and sin.
3. The third supposition is, that holiness may be right, or pure in
kind, but deficient in degree. On this, I remark:–
(1.) We have seen that moral character consists in the ultimate
intention.
(2.) The supposition, therefore, must be, that the intention may be
right, or pure in kind, but deficient in the degree of its strength.
(3.) Our intention is to be tried by the law of God, both in respect to
its kind and degree.
(4.) The law of God requires us to will, or intend the promotion of
every interest in the universe, according to its perceived relative
value, for its own sake; in other words, that all our powers shall be
supremely and disinterestedly devoted to the glory of God, and the good
of the universe.
(5.) This cannot mean, that any faculty shall at every moment be kept
upon the strain, or in a state of utmost tension, for this would be
inconsistent with natural ability. It would be to require a natural
impossibility, and therefore be unjust.
(6.) It cannot mean that at all times, and on all subjects, the same
degree of exertion shall be made; for the best possible discharge of
duty does not always require the same degree or intensity of mental or
corporeal exertion.
(7.) The law cannot, justly or possibly, require more than that the
whole being shall be consecrated to God–that we shall fully and
honestly will or intend the promotion of every interest, according to
its perceived relative value, and according to the extent of our
ability.
(8.) Now the strength or intensity of the intention must, and ought, of
necessity, to depend upon the degree of our knowledge or light in
regard to any object of choice. If our obligation is not to be
graduated by the light we possess, then it would follow, that we may be
under obligation to exceed our natural ability, which cannot be.
(9.) The importance which we attach to objects of choice, and
consequently the degree of ardor or intenseness of the intention, must
depend upon the clearness or obscurity of our views, of the real or
relative value of the objects of choice.
(10.) Our obligation cannot be measured by the views which God has of
the importance of those objects of choice. It is a well-settled and
generally-admitted truth, that increased light increases
responsibility, or moral obligation. No creature is bound to will any
thing with the intenseness or degree of strength with which God wills
it, for the plain reason, that no creature sees its importance or real
value, as He does. If our obligation were to be graduated by God’s
knowledge of the real value of objects, we could never obey the moral
law, either in this world or the world to come, nor could any being but
God ever, by any possibility, meet its demands.
The fact is, that the obligation of every moral being must be graduated
by his knowledge. If, therefore, his intention be equal in its
intensity to his views or knowledge of the real or relative value of
different objects, it is right. It is up to the full measure of his
obligation; and if his own honest judgment is not to be made the
measure of his obligation, then his obligation can exceed what he is
able to know; which contradicts the true nature of moral law, and is,
therefore, false.
If conscious honesty of intention, both as it respects the kind and
degree of intention, according to the degree of light possessed, be not
entire obedience to moral law, then there is no being in heaven or
earth, who can know himself to be entirely obedient; for all that any
being can possibly know upon this subject, is that he honestly wills or
intends, in accordance with the dictates of his reason, or the judgment
which he has of the real or relative value of the object chosen. No
moral being can possibly blame or charge himself with any default, when
he is conscious of honestly intending, willing, or choosing, and
acting, according to the best light he has; for in this case he obeys
the law, as he understands it, and, of course, cannot conceive himself
to be condemned by the law.
Good-willing, or intending is, in respect to God, to be at all times
supreme; and in respect to other beings, it is to be in proportion to
the relative value of their happiness, as perceived by the mind. This
is always to be the intention. The volitions, or efforts of the will to
promote these objects, may vary, and ought to vary indefinitely in
their intensity, in proportion to the particular duty to which, for the
time being, we are called.
But further, we have seen that virtue consists in willing every good
according to its perceived relative value, and that nothing short of
this is virtue. But this is perfect virtue for the time being. In other
words, virtue and moral perfection, in respect to a given act, or state
of the will, are synonymous terms. Virtue is holiness. Holiness is
uprightness. Uprightness is that which is just what, under the
circumstances, it should be; and nothing else is virtue, holiness, or
uprightness. Virtue, holiness, uprightness, moral perfection–when we
apply these terms to any given state of the will–are synonymous. To
talk, therefore, of a virtue, holiness, uprightness, justice, right in
kind, but deficient in degree, is to talk sheer nonsense. It is the
same absurdity as to talk of sinful holiness, an unjust justice, a
wrong rightness, an impure purity, an imperfect perfection, a
disobedient obedience.
Virtue, holiness, uprightness, etc., signify a definite thing, and
never anything else than conformity to the law of God. That which is
not entirely conformed to the law of God is not holiness. This must be
true in philosophy, and the Bible affirms the same thing. “Whosoever
shall keep the whole law, and yet offend in one point, he is guilty of
all.” The spirit of this text as clearly and as fully assumes and
affirms the doctrine under consideration, as if it had been uttered
with that design alone.
4. The next supposition is, that the will, or heart, may be right,
while the affections or emotions are wrong. Upon this I remark:
(1.) That this supposition overlooks the very thing in which moral
character consists. It has been shown that moral character consists in
the supreme ultimate intention of the mind, and that this supreme,
disinterested benevolence, good-willing or intention, is the whole of
virtue. Now this intention originates volitions. It directs the
attention of the mind, and therefore, produces thoughts, emotions, or
affections. It also, through volition, produces bodily action. But
moral character does not lie in outward actions, the movements of the
arm, nor in the volition that moves the muscles; for that volition
terminates upon the action itself. I will to move my arm, and my arm
must move by a law of necessity. Moral character belongs solely to the
intention that produced the volition that moved the muscles to the
performance of the outward act. So intention produces the volition that
directs the attention of the mind to a given object. Attention, by a
natural necessity, produces thought, affection, or emotion. Now
thought, affection, or emotion, are all connected with volition, by a
natural necessity; that is, if the attention is directed to an object,
corresponding thoughts and emotions must exist, as a matter of course.
Moral character no more lies in emotion, than in outward action. It
does not lie in thought, or attention. It does not lie in the specific
volition that directed the attention; but in that intention, or design
of the mind, that produced the volition, which directed the attention,
which, again, produced the thought, which, again, produced the emotion.
Now the supposition, that the intention may be right, while the
emotions or feelings of the mind may be wrong, is the same as to say,
that outward action may be wrong, while the intention is right. The
fact is, that moral character is, and must be, as the intention is. If
any feeling or outward action is inconsistent with the existing
ultimate intention, it must be so in spite of the agent. But if any
outward action or state of feeling exists, in opposition to the
intention or choice of the mind, it cannot, by any possibility, have
moral character. Whatever is beyond the control of a moral agent, he
cannot be responsible for. Whatever he cannot control by intention, he
cannot control at all. Everything for which he can possibly be
responsible, resolves itself into his intention. His whole character,
therefore, is, and must be, as his intention is. If, therefore,
temptations, from whatever quarter they may come, produce emotions
within him inconsistent with his intention, and which he cannot
control, he cannot be responsible for them.
(2.) As a matter of fact, although emotions, contrary to his
intentions, may, by circumstances beyond his control, be brought to
exist in his mind; yet, by willing to divert the attention of the mind
from the objects that produce them, they can ordinarily be banished
from the mind. If this is done as soon as in the nature of the case it
can be, there is no sin. If it is not done as soon as in the nature of
the case it can be, then it is absolutely certain that the intention is
not what it ought to be. The intention is to devote the whole being to
the service of God and the good of the universe, and of course to avoid
every thought, affection, and emotion, inconsistent with this. While
this intention exists, it is certain that if any object be thrust upon
the attention which excites thoughts and emotions inconsistent with our
supreme ultimate intention, the attention of the mind will be instantly
diverted from those objects, and the hated emotion hushed, if this is
possible. For, while the intention exists, corresponding volitions must
exist. There cannot, therefore, be a right state of heart or intention,
while the emotions, or affections, of the mind are sinful. For emotions
are in themselves in no case sinful, and when they exist against the
will, through the force of temptation, the soul is not responsible for
their existence. And, as I said, the supposition overlooks that in
which moral character consists, and makes it to consist in that over
which the law does not properly legislate; for love, or benevolence, is
the fulfilling of the law.
But here it may be said, that the law not only requires benevolence, or
good-willing, but requires a certain kind of emotions, just as it
requires the performance of certain outward actions, and that therefore
there may be a right intention where there is a deficiency, either in
kind or degree of right emotion. To this I answer:–
Outward actions are required of men, only because they are connected
with intention, by a natural necessity. And no outward action is ever
required of us, unless it can be produced by intending and aiming to do
it. If the effect does not follow our honest endeavors, because of any
antagonistic influence, opposed to our exertions, which we cannot
overcome, we have, by our intentions, complied with the spirit of the
law, and are not to blame that the outward effect does not take place.
Just so with emotions. All we have power to do, is, to direct the
attention of the mind to those objects calculated to secure a given
state of emotion. If, from any exhaustion of the sensibility, or from
any other cause beyond our control, the emotions do not arise which the
consideration of that subject is calculated to produce, we are no more
responsible for the absence or weakness of the emotion than we should
be for the want of power or weakness of motion in our muscles, when we
willed to move them, provided that weakness was involuntary and beyond
our control. The fact is, we cannot be blameworthy for not feeling or
doing that which we cannot do or feel by intending it. If the intention
then is what it ought to be for the time being, nothing can be morally
wrong.
5. The last supposition is, that a latent preference, or right
intention, may co-exist with opposing or sinful volitions. I formerly
supposed that this could be true, but am now convinced that it cannot
be true, for the following reasons:
(1.) Observe, the supposition is, that the intention or ruling
preference may be right–may really exist as an active and virtuous
state of mind, while, at the same time, volition may exist inconsistent
with it.
(2.) Now what is a right intention? I answer: Nothing short of this —
willing, choosing, or intending the highest good of God and of the
universe, and to promote this at every moment, to the extent of our
ability. In other words — right intention is supreme, disinterested
benevolence. Now what are the elements which enter into this right
intention?
(a.) The choice or willing of every interest according to its perceived
intrinsic value.
(b.) To devote our entire being, now and forever, to this end. This is
right intention. Now the question is, can this intention co-exist with
a volition inconsistent with it? Volition implies the choice of
something, for some reason. If it be the choice of whatever can promote
this supremely benevolent end, and for that reason, the volition is
consistent with the intention; but if it be the choice of something
perceived to be inconsistent with this end, and for a selfish reason,
then the volition is inconsistent with the supposed intention. But the
question is, do the volition and intention co-exist? According to the
supposition, the will chooses, or wills, something for a selfish
reason, or something perceived to be inconsistent with supreme,
disinterested benevolence. Now it is plainly impossible, that this
choice can take place while the opposite intention exists. For this
selfish volition is, according to the supposition, sinful or selfish;
that is, something is chosen for its own sake, which is inconsistent
with disinterested benevolence. But here the intention is ultimate. It
terminates upon the object chosen for its own sake. To suppose, then,
that benevolence still remains in exercise, and that a volition
co-exists with it that is sinful, involves the absurdity of supposing,
that selfishness and benevolence can co-exist in the same mind, or that
the will can choose, or will, with a supreme preference or choice, two
opposites at the same time. This is plainly impossible. Suppose I
intend to go to the city of New York as soon as I possibly can. Now,
if, on my way, I will to loiter needlessly a moment, I necessarily
relinquish one indispensable element of my intention. In willing to
loiter, or turn aside to some other object for a day, or an hour, I
must of necessity, relinquish the intention of going as soon as I
possibly can. I may not design finally to relinquish my journey, but I
must of necessity relinquish the intention of going as soon as I can.
Now, virtue consists in intending to do all the good I possibly can, or
in willing the glory of God and the good of the universe, and intending
to promote them to the extent of my ability. Nothing short of this is
virtue. If at any time, I will something perceived to be inconsistent
with this intention, I must, for the time being, relinquish the
intention, as it must indispensably exist in my mind, in order to be
virtue. I may not come to the resolution, that I will never serve God
any more; but I must of necessity relinquish, for the time being, the
intention of doing my utmost to glorify God, if at any time I put forth
a selfish volition. For a selfish volition implies a selfish intention.
I cannot put forth a volition intended to secure an end until I have
chosen the end. Therefore a holy intention cannot co-exist with a
selfish volition. It must be, therefore, that in every sinful choice,
the will of a holy being must necessarily drop the exercise of supreme,
benevolent intention, and pass into an opposite state of choice; that
is, the agent must cease, for the time being, to exercise benevolence,
and make a selfish choice. For, be it understood, that volition is the
choice of a means to an end; and of course a selfish volition implies a
selfish choice of an end.
Having briefly examined the several suppositions that can be made in
regard to the mixed character of actions, I will now answer a few
objections; after which, I will bring this philosophy, as briefly as
possible, into the light of the Bible.
Objection. Does a Christian cease to be a Christian, whenever he
commits a sin.? I answer:
1. Whenever he sins, he must, for the time being, cease to be holy.
This is self-evident. Whenever he sins, he must be condemned; he must
incur the penalty of the law of God. If he does not, it must be because
the law of God is abrogated. But if the law of God be abrogated, he has
no rule of duty; consequently, he can neither be holy nor sinful. If it
be said that the precept is still binding upon him, but that, with
respect to the Christian, the penalty is forever set aside, or
abrogated, I reply, that to abrogate the penalty is to repeal the
precept; for a precept without penalty is no law. It is only counsel or
advice. The Christian, therefore, is justified no longer than he obeys,
and must be condemned when he disobeys; or Antinomianism is true. Until
he repents he cannot be forgiven. In these respects, then, the sinning
Christian and the unconverted sinner are upon precisely the same
ground.
2. In two important respects the sinning Christian differs widely from
the unconverted sinner:
(1.) In his relations to God. A Christian is a child of God. A sinning
Christian is a disobedient child of God. An unconverted sinner is a
child of the devil. A Christian sustains a covenant relation to God;
such a covenant relation as to secure to him that discipline which
tends to reclaim and bring him back, if he wanders away from God. “If
his children forsake my law, and walk not in my judgments; if they
break my statutes and keep not my commandments; then will I visit their
transgression with the rod, and their iniquity with stripes.
Nevertheless my loving-kindness will I not utterly take from him, nor
suffer my faithfulness to fail. My covenant will I not break, nor alter
the thing that is gone out of my lips.” Ps. lxxxix. 30-34.
(2.) The sinning Christian differs from the unconverted man, in the
state of his sensibility. In whatever way it takes place, every
Christian knows that the state of his sensibility in respect to the
things of God, has undergone a great change. Now it is true, that moral
character does not lie in the sensibility, nor in the will’s obeying
the sensibility. Nevertheless our consciousness teaches us, that our
feelings have great power in promoting wrong choice on the one hand,
and in removing obstacles to right choice on the other. In every
Christian’s mind there is, therefore, a foundation laid for appeals to
the sensibilities of the soul, that gives truth a decided advantage
over the will. And multitudes of things in the experience of every
Christian, give truth a more decided advantage over his will, through
the intelligence, than is the case with unconverted sinners.
Obj. Can a man be born again, and then be unborn? I answer:
If there were anything impossible in this, then perseverance would be
no virtue. None will maintain, that there is anything naturally
impossible in this, except it be those who hold to physical
regeneration. If regeneration consist in a change in the ruling
preference of the mind, or in the ultimate intention, as we shall see
it does, it is plain, that an individual can be born again, and
afterwards cease to be virtuous. That a Christian is able to
apostatize, is evident, from the many warnings addressed to Christians
in the Bible. A Christian may certainly fall into sin and unbelief, and
afterwards be renewed, both to repentance and faith.
Obj. Can there be no such thing as weak faith, weak love, and weak
repentance? I answer:
If you mean comparatively weak, I say, yes. But if you mean weak, in
such a sense as to be sinful, I say, no. Faith, repentance, love, and
every Christian grace, properly so called, do and must consist in acts
of will, and resolve themselves into some modification of supreme,
disinterested benevolence.
I shall, in a future lecture, have occasion to show the philosophical
nature of faith. Let it suffice here to say, that faith necessarily
depends upon the clearness or obscurity of the intellectual
apprehension of truth. Faith, to be real or virtuous, must embrace
whatever of truth is apprehended by the intelligence for the time
being. Various causes may operate to divert the intelligence from the
objects of faith, or to cause the mind to perceive but few of them, and
those in comparative obscurity. Faith may be weak, and will certainly
and necessarily be weak in such cases, in proportion to the obscurity
of the views. And yet, if the will or heart confides so far as it
apprehends the truth, which it must do to be virtuous at all, faith
cannot be weak in such a sense as to be sinful; for if a man confides
so far as he apprehends or perceives the truth, so far as faith is
concerned he is doing his whole duty.
Again, faith may be weak in the sense, that it often intermits and
gives place to unbelief. Faith is confidence, and unbelief is the
withholding of confidence. It is the rejection of truth perceived.
Faith is the reception of truth perceived. Faith and unbelief, then,
are opposite states of choice, and can by no possibility co-exist.
Faith may be weak also in respect to its objects. The disciples of our
Lord Jesus Christ knew so little of him, were so filled with ignorance
and the prejudices of education, as to have very weak faith in respect
to the Messiahship, power, and divinity of their blaster. He speaks of
them as having but little confidence, and yet it does not appear that
they did not implicitly trust him, so far as they understood him. And
although, through ignorance, their faith was weak, yet there is no
evidence, that when they had any faith at all they did not confide in
whatever of truth they apprehended.
But did not the disciples pray, “Increase our faith?” I answer:
Yes. And by this they must have intended to pray for instruction; for
what else could they mean? Unless a man means this, when he prays for
faith, he does not know what he prays for. Christ produces faith by
enlightening the mind. When we pray for faith we pray for light. And
faith, to be real faith at all, must be equal to the light we have. If
apprehended truth be not implicitly received and confided in, there is
no faith, but unbelief. If it be, faith is what it ought to be, wholly
unmixed with sin.
But did not one say to our Lord, “Lord, I believe, help thou my
unbelief;” thus implying, that he was in the exercise both of faith and
unbelief at the same time? I answer yes, but–
1. This was not inspiration.
2. It is not certain that he had any faith at all.
3. If he had, and prayed understandingly, he meant nothing more than to
ask for an increase of faith, or for such a degree of light as to
remove his doubts in respect to the divine power of Christ.
Again, it is objected that this philosophy contradicts Christian
experience. To this I reply,
That it is absurd to appeal from reason and the Bible to empirical
consciousness which must be the appeal in this case. Reason and the
Bible plainly attest the truth of the theory here advocated. What
experience is then to be appealed to, to set their testimony aside?
Why, Christian experience, it is replied. But what is Christian
experience? How shall we learn what it is? Why surely by appealing to
reason and the Bible. But these declare that if a man offend in one
point, he does and must, for the time being, violate the spirit of the
whole law. Nothing is or can be more express than is the testimony of
both reason and revelation upon this subject. Here, then, we have the
unequivocal decision of the only court of competent jurisdiction in the
case; and shall we befool ourselves by appealing from this tribunal to
the court of empirical consciousness? Of what does that take
cognizance? Why, of what actually passes in the mind; that is, of its
mental states. These we are conscious of as facts. But we call these
states Christian experience. How do we ascertain that they are in
accordance with the law and gospel of God? Why only by an appeal to
reason and the Bible. Here, then, we are driven back to the court from
which we had before appealed, whose judgment is always the same.
Obj. But it is said, this theory seems to be true in philosophy, that
is, the intelligence seems to affirm it, but it is not true in fact.
Answer. If the intelligence affirms it, it must be true, or reason
deceives us. But if the reason deceives in this, it may also in other
things. If it fails us here, it fails us on the most important of all
questions. If reason gives false testimony, we can never know truth
from error upon any moral subject. We certainly can never know what
religion is or is not, if the testimony of reason can be set aside. If
the reason cannot be safely appealed to, how are we to know what the
Bible means? for it is the faculty by which we get at the truth of the
oracles of God.
These are the principal objections to the philosophical view I have
taken of the simplicity of moral action, that occur to my mind. I will
now briefly advert to the consistency of this philosophy with the
scriptures.
1. The Bible every where seems to assume the simplicity of moral
action. Christ expressly informed his disciples, that they could not
serve God and mammon. Now by this he did not mean, that a man could not
serve God at one time and mammon at another; but that he could not
serve both at the same time. The philosophy that makes it possible for
persons to be partly holy and partly sinful at the same time, does make
it possible to serve God and mammon at the same time, and thus flatly
contradicts the assertion of our Saviour.
2. James has expressly settled this philosophy, by saying, that
“Whosoever shall keep the whole law, and yet offend in one point, he is
guilty of all.” Here he must mean to assert, that one sin involves a
breach of the whole spirit of the law, and is, therefore, inconsistent
with any degree of holiness existing with it. Also, “Doth a fountain
send forth at the same place sweet water and bitter? Can the fig-tree,
my brethren, bear olive-berries? either a vine, figs? So can no
fountain both yield salt-water and fresh,” James iii. 11, 12. In this
passage he clearly affirms the simplicity of moral action; for by the
“the same place” he evidently means, the same time, and what he says is
equivalent to saying, that a man cannot be holy and sinful at the same
time.
3. Christ has expressly taught, that nothing is regeneration, or
virtue, but entire obedience, or the renunciation of all selfishness.
“Except a man forsake all that he hath, he cannot be my disciple.”
4. The manner in which the precepts and threatenings of the Bible are
usually given, shows that nothing is regarded as obedience, or virtue,
but doing exactly that which God commands.
I might go to great lengths in the examination of scripture testimony,
but it cannot be necessary, or in these lectures expedient. I must
close this lecture with a few inferences and remarks.
1. It has been supposed by some, that the simplicity of moral action
has been resorted to as a theory, by the advocates of entire
sanctification in this life, as the only consistent method of carrying
out their principle. To this I reply:–
(1.) That this theory is held in common, both by those who hold and
those who deny the doctrine of entire sanctification in this life.
(2.) The truth of the doctrine of entire sanctification does not depend
at all upon this philosophical theory for its support; but may be
established by Bible testimony, whatever the philosophy of holiness may
be.
2. Growth in grace consists in two things:–
(1.) In the stability or permanency of holy, ultimate intention.
(2.) In intensity or strength. As knowledge increases, Christians will
naturally grow in grace, in both these respects.
3. The theory of the mixed character of moral actions, is an eminently
dangerous theory, as it leads its advocates to suppose, that in their
acts of rebellion there is something holy, or, more strictly, there is
some holiness in them, while they are in the known commission of sin.
It is dangerous, because it leads its advocates to place the standard
of conversion, or regeneration, exceedingly low–to make regeneration,
repentance, true love to God, faith, etc., consistent with the known or
conscious commission of present sin. This must be a highly dangerous
philosophy. The fact is, regeneration, or holiness, under any form, is
quite another thing than it is supposed to be, by those who maintain
the philosophy of the mixed character of moral action. There can
scarcely be a more dangerous error than to say, that while we are
conscious of present sin, we are or can be in a state of acceptance
with God.
4. The false philosophy of many leads them to adopt a phraseology
inconsistent with truth; and to speak as if they were guilty of present
sin, when in fact they are not, but are in a state of acceptance with
God.
5. It is erroneous to say that Christians sin in their most holy
exercises, and it is as injurious and dangerous as it is false. The
fact is, holiness is holiness, and it is really nonsense to speak of a
holiness that consists with sin.
6. The tendency of this philosophy is to quiet in their delusions those
whose consciences accuse them of present sin, as if this could be true,
and they, notwithstanding, in a state of acceptance with God.
7. The only sense in which obedience to moral law can be partial is,
that obedience may be intermittent. That is, the subject may sometimes
obey, and at other times disobey. He may at one time be selfish, or
will his own gratification, because it is his own, and without regard
to the well-being of God and his neighbor, and at another time will the
highest well-being of God and the universe, as an end, and his own good
in proportion to its relative value. These are opposite choices, or
ultimate intentions. The one is holy; the other is sinful. One is
obedience, entire obedience, to the law of God; the other is
disobedience, entire disobedience, to that law. These, for aught we can
see, may succeed each other an indefinite number of times, but co-exist
they plainly cannot.
On this day…
- Revelation 20 – 2025
- Revelation 19 – 2025
- 1 Samuel 6 – 2024
- Genesis 13 – 2024
- Haggai 1:12-15 – 2011
- Haggai 1:3-6 – 2011
- 1 Kings 18:36-37 – 2011
- 1 Kings 18:28-29 – 2011
- Psalm 86:10-13 – 2011
- Romans 15:30-32 – 2011
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