Chapter 17

Chapter 17 Social and business engagements sometimes obstructions to a Christian’s joy. The Christian professor has an important practical point to settle, namely, how much communion with the world is safe and allowable; and what proportion of his time should be employed daily in communion with God.

Such are the varying circumstances and temperaments of individuals, that one standard, it must be evident, will not apply in all cases. But by a conscientious and quick-sighted Christian, the following rule, or rather criterion, may be safely consulted. If he finds his interest in the exercises of private devotion on the wane, and his interest in worldly business or social pleasure gradually deepening, he should suspect that too small a proportion of time is given to devotion. In this case, he is evidently too much in the world. His happiness as a Christian is thereby endangered; and he is called upon at once to retrieve lost ground. His confession and his prayer must be, "Lord, I have gone astray like a lost sheep; seek your servant; for I do not forget your commandments," Psalms 119:176. The great sources of temptation, in our day, are social and business engagements. These are entered into, sometimes, without due reflection on their tendency to weaken the divine life of piety in the soul. Some Christian people seem to think, or rather seem to act, as if they thought, they can take "coals of fire into the bosom, and their clothes not be burned." The pleasures of social life are tendered to the Christian, on the ground that they are innocent, and therefore allowable; and, without much discrimination as to the forms they assume, or the deleterious ingredients accompanying them, he is persuaded to indulge himself in them, even at the expense of his pious joys. The world knows well how to graduate these social entertainments, so as not to alarm the weak conscience, nor at the outset to betray its designs. But step by step is the unwary soul led on, until it can relish, and even desire, a scale of pleasurable excitement, which once would have startled its fears, and driven it back to its peaceful and soul-satisfying retirement. An invitation comes to ’Theodosia’, written in the usual complimentary strain, in which it is affirmed, that nothing more than a social few are to pass an evening in a very quiet way. The plan is well adjusted, and the timid Christian is induced to acquiesce. But, from this moment, there is an unaccountable perturbation in her mind. She has been so long accustomed to the calm pleasures of home, and especially to the pure delights of communion with God, that the bare anticipation of so different a scene seems to have entirely unsettled her peace. It is like the sudden inundation of a river, which, a few hours before, flowed with clear and gentle stream; but is now rushing on with an impetuous and turbid flood. The busy notes of preparation are now heard; and the mind, torn from its accustomed topics, is forced to think of frivolities. How hard it is now to read, with fixed attention, a chapter in the Bible! How difficult to send the "thoughts that breathe" to the mercy-seat above! Who can doubt that a violent shock is felt through the soul! Away flies this dove from the peaceful ark, to disport its wing over the agitated scene which is prepared for it. The scene is brilliant beyond anticipation, captivating to the senses, and impressive to the youthful imagination. The quiet social company is wonderfully transmuted into the gay and almost uproarious assembly; forced smiles and flattering compliments have usurped the place of profitable conversation; and everything in the company and in the arrangements, seems adapted to banish serious thought from the mind. Is Theodosia happy in this gay circle? There is, in her countenance, something that seems to say, "I am trying to be happy." It will be well for her, if this trial is unsuccessful. It will be to her praise, and for her peace, if the next similar temptation is resisted. The danger is, that she may acquire a fondness for that which, at first, was rather tolerated, than desired. To be out of society, it will be suggested, is not her duty; as if society were found only where the crowded contact of frivolous minds exists. Yes, the danger is, that she may be induced to repeat the experiment, and, by being often in such circumstances, gradually exchange her former joys, for those which are altogether empty and unsatisfying. On the altar of mere social pleasure, she may be tempted to sacrifice sweet peace of conscience. Her Bible, her closet, her walks of usefulness, may be neglected, to attend to the calls of time’s most cruel murderers. We again ask, can she be happy? The true and proper test of these social influences, is to be found in their effect on the devotional habits. If they break up the duties of the closet—indispose the mind for meditation—and make the Bible a dull book—we have reason to suspect they are indulged to an unlawful extent. There is then something in them positively injurious to piety of heart, and we must at once restrict ourselves to more moderate, and less exciting pleasures, which will leave us, at least, as favorably disposed for Christian duty as it found us.

Let us not be understood, by these remarks, as condemning all social entertainments; nor, as arguing against a free interchange of thought and feeling not strictly pious; nor as wishing to convert every circle of friendship into a prayer-meeting; but simply as putting the Christian on his guard against the exciting and deleterious influence of those scenes, in which the direct object evidently is to elicit the sensual, and to crush the spiritual feelings of man. Young Christians should be cautioned against committing themselves in social engagements, which may embarrass their consciences, weaken their moral strength, and extinguish their pious joys. Having embraced the cross, and professed that their superior attachments are found in true piety, they must be careful to impress the world with the fact, that, having tasted of purer pleasures, they have no backward longings after those which they have abandoned. If they are easily drawn off to indulge in mere earthly excitement, it will be inferred, that they are disappointed in the power of piety to make them happy; and thus will their conduct confirm the pleasurist in his fatal choice. Piety will make them happy, if they do not introduce a rival to her influence; but how can any man expect that piety will continue to smile upon him, if he takes to his bosom her deadliest enemy—the world!

How can the youthful professor, ’Theodosia’ just alluded to, expect that piety will follow her to scenes where its name is never mentioned; or, if mentioned, is too often alluded to only by way of ridicule! How can she expect that piety will fill her soul with its heavenly joys, when that soul is already preoccupied with groveling pleasures! Let her take her stand against the world’s allurements, and find in God, and in his service—her supreme delight; and then will piety pour upon her its celestial smile; and then, like the dove with tired wing, will she find a hand stretched forth from the ark to draw her in, and give her a resting-place, that loses none of its charms from its contrast with earth’s tumultuous and sternly scenes.