William Wilberforce: Practical Christianity

William Wilberforce Practical Christianity

Having endeavored to establish the strictness, and to ascertain the essential character of true practical Christianity, let us investigate more in detail the practical system of the bulk of professed Christians among ourselves. *

It was formerly remarked, that the whole subject of religion was often viewed from such a distance as to be seen only in the gross. We now, it is to be feared, shall find too much cause for believing that those who approach nearer, and do discover in Christianity somewhat of a distinct form, yet come not close enough to discern her peculiar conformation.

A very erroneous notion prevails concerning the true nature of religion. Religion, agreeably to what has been already stated, may be considered as the implantation of a vigorous and active principle, it is seated in the heart, where its authority is recognized as supreme, whence by degrees it expels whatever is opposed to it, and where it gradually brings all the affections and desires under its complete control.

But though the heart be its special residence, every endeavor and pursuit must acknowledge its presence; and whatever does not, or will not, or cannot receive its sacred stamp, is to be condemned, and is to be at once abstained from or abandoned. It is like the principle of vitality, which communicates its influence to the smallest and remotest fibers of the frame. But the notion of religion entertained by many among us seems altogether different. They begin, indeed, in submission to her clear prohibitions, by fencing off from the field of human action a certain district, which, though it in many parts bear fruits on which they cast a longing eye, they cannot but confess to be forbidden ground. They next assign to religion a portion according to their circumstances and views, in which however she is to Dossess merely on qualified jurisdiction, and having so done, they conceive that without hinderance they have a right to range at will over the spacious remainder. Religion can claim only a stated proportion of their thoughts, and time, and fortune, and influence; the rest they think is now their own, to do what they will with; they have paid their tithes -- say rather, their composition; the demands of the Church are satisfied, and they may surely be permitted to enjoy what she has left without molestation or interference.

It is scarcely possible to state too strongly the mischief which results from this fundamental error. At the same time its consequences are so natural and obvious, that one would think it scarcely possible not to foresee that they must infallibly follow. The greatest part of human actions is considered as indifferent. If men are not chargeable with gross vices, and are decent in the discharge of their religious duties; if they do not stray into the forbidden ground, what more can be expected from them? Instead of keeping at a distance from all sin, in which alone consists our safety, they will be apt not to care how near they approach what they conceive to be the boundary line; if they have not actually passed it, there is no harm done, it is no trespass. Thus the free and active spirit of religion is checked. She must keep to her prescribed confines, and every attempt to extend them will be resisted.

This is not all. Since whatever can be gained from her allotment, or whatever can be taken in from the forbidden ground, will be so much of addition to that land where men may roam at large, free from restraint or molestation, they will of course be constantly pressing upon the limits of the religious allotment on the one hand, and on the other will be removing back a little farther and farther the fence which abridges them on the side of the forbidden ground. The space she occupies diminishes till it is scarcely discernible; whilst, her spirit extinguished and her force destroyed, she is little more than the nominal possessor even of the contracted limits to which she has been avowedly reduced.

This is but too faithful a representation of the general state of things among ourselves. The promotion of the glory of God, and the possession of his favor, are no longer recognized as the objects of our highest regard, and most strenuous endeavors; as furnishing to us a vigorous, habitual, and universal principle of action. We set up for ourselves: we are become our own masters. The sense of continual service is irksome and galling to us; and we rejoice in being emancipated from it. Thus the very tenure and condition by which life and all its possessions are held, undergo a total change. Whatever we have is regarded rather as a property than as a trust; or if there still exists the remembrance of some paramount claim, we are satisfied with an occasional acknowledgment, as of a nominal right.

Hence it is that so little sense of responsibility eems attached to the possession of high rank, or splendid abilities, or affluent fortunes, or other means or instruments of usefulness. The instructive admonitions, "Give an account of thy stewardship" -"Occupy till I come," are forgotten. Or if it be acknowledged by some men of larger views than ordinary, that reference is to be had to some principle superior to that of our own gratification, it is, at best, to the good ofsociety, or to the welfare of our families: and even then the obligations resulting from these relations are seldom enforced on us by any higher sanctions than those of family comfort, and of worldly interest or estimation. Beside, what multitudes of persons are there, people without families, in private stations, or of a retired turn, to whom they are scarcely held to apply! and what multitudes of cases to which it would be thought unnecessary scrupulosity to extend them! Accordingly we find, in fact, that the generality of mankind among the higher order, in the formation of their schemes, in the selection of their studies, in the choice of their place of residence, in the employment and distribution of their time, in their thoughts, conversation and amusements, are considered as being at liberty, if there be no actual vice, to consult their own gratification.

Thus the generous and wakeful spirit of Christian benevolence, seeking and finding every where occasions for its exercise, is exploded, and a system of de cent selfishness is avowedly established in its stead; a systern scarcely more to be abjured for its impiety, than to be abhorred for its cold insensibility to the opportunities of diffusing happiness. "Have we no families, or are they provided for? Are we wealthy, and bred to no profession? Are we young and lively, and in the gayety and vigor of youth? Surely we may be allowed to take our pleasure. We neglect no duty, we live in no vice, we do nobody any harm, and have a right to amuse ourselves. We have nothing better to do; we wish we had; our time hangs heavy on our hands for want of it."

But no man has a right to be idle. Not to speak of that great work which we all have to accomplish, and surely the whole attention of a short and precarious life is not more than an eternal interest may well require; where is it that, in such a world as this, health, and leisure, and affluence may not find some ignorance to instruct, some wrong to redress, some want to supply, some misery to alleviate? Shall ambition and avarice never sleep? Shall they never want objects on which to fasten? Shall they be so observant to discover, so acute to discern, so eager, so patient to pursue, and shall the benevolence of Christians want employment? Yet thus life rolls away with too many of us, in a course of "shapeless idleness." Its recreations constitute its chief businsss. Watering-places, the sports of the field, cards! never-failing cards! the assem bly, the theatre, all contribute their aid; amusements are multiplied, and combined, and varied, "to fill up the void of a listless and languid life;" and by the regulated use of these different resources, there is often a kind of sober settled plan of domestic dissipation, in which, with all imaginable decency, year after year wears away in unprofitable vacancy. Even old age often finds us pacing in the same round of amusements which our early youth had tracked out. Meanwhile, being conscious that we are not giving in to any flagrant vice, and it may be, that we are not neglecting the offices of religion, we persuade ourselves that we need not be uneasy. In the main, we do not fall below the general standard of morals of the class and station to which we belong; we may therefore allow ourselves to glide down the stream without apprehension of the consequences.

Some, of a character often hardly to be distinguished from the class we have been just describing, take up with sensual pleasures. The chief happiness of their lives consists in one species or another of animal gratification; and these persons perhaps will be found to compose a large proportion. It belongs not to our purpose to speak of the grossly and scandalously profligate, who renounce all pretensions to the name of Christians; but of those who, maintaining a certain decency of character, and perhaps being tolerably observant of the forms of religion, may yet be not improperly termed sober sensualists. These, though less impetuous and more measured, are not less stanch and steady than the professed votaries of licentious pleasure, in the pursuit of their favorite objects. "Mortify the flesh, with its affections and lusts," is the Christian precept; but a soft luxurious course of habitual indulgence is the practice of the bulk of modern Christians: and that constant moderation, that wholesome discipline of restraint and self-denial, which are requisite to prevent the unperceived encroachments of the inferior appetites, seem altogether as disused as the exploded austerities of monkish superstition.

Christianity calls her professors to a state of diligent watchfulness and active services. But the persons of whom we are now speaking, forgetting alike the duties they owe to themselves and to their fellow creatures, often act as though their condition were meant to be a state of uniform indulgence, and vacant, unprofitable sloth. To multiply the comforts of affluence, to provide for the gratification of appetite, to be luxurious without diseases, and indolent without lassitude, seems the chief study of their lives. Nor can they be clearly exempted from this class, who, by a common error, substituting the means for the end, make the preservation of health and spirits, not as instruments of usefulness, but as sources of pleasure, their great business and continual care.