14 Modern Habits of Prayer
Chapter 14 DRAW NIGH TO GOD, AND HE WILL DRAW NIGH TO YOU.
God only knows what are the prevailing habits of Christians of our own day, respecting the duties of the closet. On no subject is it more necessary to speak with reserve, if we would speak justly, of the experience of others. Each man knows his own, and for the most part, only his own. That is not likely to be a truthful or a candid severity, which would bring sweeping accusations against the fidelity of God’s people in their intercourse with Him. We should believe no such charges. They are sometimes made in a spirit which invites one to say to the censorious brother: “Take heed to thyself; Satan hath desired to have thee.”
It cannot reasonably be doubted, that multitudes of Christ’s followers are struggling daily to get nearer to God. Perhaps, of all the recent treasures of hymnology, no other lines have thrilled so many Christian hearts, or called forth so deep a throb of sympathy as the following, from one of our living poets, viz.:
’Nearer, my God, to Thee, -
Nearer to Thee;
Ev’n though it be a cross That raiseth me, Still, all my song shall be, Nearer, my God, to Thee, - Nearer to Thee! ’
None are more sensible of their failures in prayer, than those Christians to whom these words have become a song of the heart, more precious than rubies. Yet such Christians are more successful than they seem to themselves.
It cannot be proved that the Modern Church - taking into account its numbers. the variety of rank, of nation, of temperament, and of opinion which it embraces, the breadth of its Christian character, and the energy of its benevolent activities - is inferior, in respect of the spirit of prayer, in its most scriptural and healthy forms, to the Church of any other, even of apostolic times. It is often affirmed, to the discredit of the modern developments of piety; but, I repeat, it cannot be proved, nor, in view of the aggressive revival of religion which seems to be sweeping over Protestant Christendom, is it probably true. It is not the law of Divine Influence, to bestow such measure of power, when and where the spirit of prayer is dying out. The law of procedure, in reference to such grand strides of progress, is rather: ’ For all this, will I be inquired of by the house of Israel.’ The language of fidelity, then, should not be mistaken for the language of suspicion and of croaking.
Yet, this doubtless is true, of the tendencies of our modern Christian life - that they embody certain centrifugal forces, as related to a life of solitude and stillness. Modern piety goes outward, in duties and activities, extrinsic to a secret life with God. It does this by an inborn instinct, which perhaps was never more vigorous in its operation than now. This is no evil. It is a growth, rather, upon the usage of other ages. It is an advance, certainly, upon the piety of the cloister and the cowl. It is a progress of religious life, too, beyond that of the early denominational contentions of Protestantism. Those contentions may have been a necessary preliminary to it, but it is an advance upon the spirit and the aims of them. It is a salutary growth.
But, like every large, rapid growth, it involves a peril peculiar to itself - a peril which we cannot avoid, but which, by wise forethought, we may encounter with safe courage. That very obvious peril is, that the vitality of holiness may be exhausted by inward decay, through the want of an increase of its devotional spirit, proportioned to the expansion of its active forces. Individual experience may become shallow, for the want of meditative habits, and much communion with God. Should this be the catastrophe of the tendencies working in modern Christian life, centuries of conflict and corruption must follow, by a law fixed like gravitation. Our religious organizations must begin soon to settle, like a building whose frame is eaten through and through with the ’ dry-rot.’ Activity can never sustain itself. Withdraw the vital force which animates and propels it, and it falls like a dead arm. We cannot, then, too keenly feel, each one for himself, that a still and secret life with God must energize all holy duty, as vigor in every fibre of the body must come from the strong, calm, faithful beat of the heart. To one who is conscious of defect in his own piety, respecting the friendship of the soul with God, there will be great aptness and beauty in the appeal of a foreign preacher: Why fleest thou from solitude? Why dost thou shun the lonely hour? Why passeth thy life away, like the feast of the drunkard? Why is it, that to many of you there cometh not, through the whole course of the week, a single hour for self-meditation? You go through life like dreaming men. Ever among mankind, and never with yourselves. Ye have torn down the cloister, but why have you not erected it within your own hearts? Lo, my brother, if thou wouldst seek out the still hour, only a single one every day, and if thou wouldst meditate on the love which called thee into being, which hath over-shadowed thee all the days of thy life with blessing, or else by mournful experiences hath admonished and corrected thee; this would be to draw near to thy God. Thus wouldst thou take Him by the hand. But whenever, in ceaseless dissipation of heart, thou goest astray, the sea of the Divine blessing shall surround thee on all sides, and yet thy soul shall be athirst. Wilt thou draw near to God? Then seek the still hour.’