Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit · Sermon No. 2313
“Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep ourselves unspotted from the world.” James 1:27.
THERE is a great deal said, a great deal written, a great deal of zeal on the one side and of anger on the other, expended upon the externals of religion. Some think that they should be very fine, not to say gaudy, very impressive, not to say imposing. They like what they call, “bright” services, though we might call them by another name. But the great question with many people is, “What are to be the externals of religion?” What dress is religion to wear? Shall it be robed in the plainness of Quakerdom, or shall it be adorned with all the brilliance of Romanism? Which shall it be?
Well, dear Friends, after all, we may spend much time over that question and find no satisfactory answer to it. But the Biblical Ritualism, the pure external worship, the true embodiment of the inward principles of religion is to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction and to keep ourselves unspotted from the world. Charity and purity are the two great garments of Christianity. Charity was once cried up by the Romanists to an extreme point—almsgiving seeming to be, to many—the beginning and the end of piety. It was an almsgiving which had a great deal that was excellent about it and which I cannot regard, as some do, altogether with abhorrence—an almsgiving which covered this land with houses of entertainment for the poor, so that they journeyed from one halting-place to another—and were freely lodged and housed. And we had, at least, no poor law, or workhouse, with all (I was about to say) the horrors which accompany the present system.
But, unfortunately, charity was thought to be everything, and purity was too much neglected, so that even those houses which were originally built to be the abode of those who should help the poor and needy, and instruct the ignorant, became, to a sad degree, the haunts of luxury and vice! The monastery, which should have been a place of pure and undefiled religion before God and the Father, as it entertained the fatherless and the widows, was not famed for being unspotted by the world’s sins, but, on the contrary, it was famous or infamous for its foulness! I have no doubt that this was a great deal exaggerated, but, at any rate, the accusation did seem to lie, to a very sad extent, against it, that those who were supposed to be dedicated to God were not such consecrated men as they professed to be. Purity went down and charity went up.
Well, in these days, I sometimes fear lest we should by no means insist too much on purity, but should certainly insist too little upon charity! The visitation of the fatherless and widows in their affliction is not left optional. It is not to be the privilege of a few worldly men who give all their substance to orphanages. Every Christian is bound to wear his part of the external dress of religion, that is, charity! This charity is to be manifested especially to those who need it most, whose need cannot be a matter of imposture, but must be real. These are the fatherless and widows during the time of their destitution and affliction—when the orphans are not able to earn the bread that perishes—and the mother has her children weeping around her and pining in poverty. Not only may this charity be shown, but it must be manifested if we would have pure and undefiled religion before God and the Father. The increase of charity, of careful and discreet consideration for the poor and needy, would bring a great blessing with it, and is what is greatly needed, even in these times, when, perhaps, we fancy that we are doing almost enough in this direction, although we certainly are not.
Yet charity without purity will be of no use. In vain should we give all our substance to the poor and give our bodies to be burned if we do not walk in the way of holiness, “without which no man shall see the Lord.” If we do not come out
from the world and keep ourselves from its polluting influence, we have not yet learned what pure and undefiled religion really is! We may be very orthodox in creed, or we may be very far advanced in our knowledge of religious matters. We may think ourselves to be Hebrews of the Hebrews, Pharisees of the Pharisees, and as touching the righteousness which is of the Law, blameless. But we are, in the sight of God, only as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal, unless, by Divine Grace, we have learned to keep ourselves unspotted from the world!
Without forgetting what I have said to you about charity, we will examine those words in our text which especially speak of purity and, in doing so, I notice, first, that they indicate separation. Look below their surface and they certainly indicate that. Secondly, they impress upon us spotlessness—“to keep ourselves unspotted from the world.” And, thirdly, they insist upon careful self-watching.