A
Baptist Page Article
THE CHURCH AS
SHE SHOULD BE
by Charles Spurgeon
NO.
984
AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.
“thou art beautiful, O my love as Tirzah, comely as Jerusalem, terrible
as an army with banners.” — Song of Solomon 6:4.
THERE
are various estimates of the Christian church. Some think everything
of her; some think nothing of her; and probably neither opinion is worth
the breath which utters it. Neither Ritualists, who idolise their church,
nor sceptics, who vilify all churches, have any such knowledge of the
true spiritual church of Jesus Christ as to be entitled to give an opinion.
The king’s daughter is all glorious within, with a beauty which they
are quite unable to appreciate. What is usually the most correct character
which is obtainable of a woman? Shall we be guided by the praises of those
neighbors who are on good terms with her, or by the scandal of those who
make her the subject of ill-natured gossip? No; the most accurate judgment
we are likely to get is that of her husband. Solomon saith in the Proverbs
concerning the virtuous woman, “Her husband also riseth up, and he
praiseth her.” Of that fairest among women, the church of Christ,
the same observation may be made. It is to her of small consequence to
be judged of man’s judgment, but it is her honor and joy to stand
well in the love and esteem of her royal spouse, the Prince Emmanuel.
Though the words before us are allegorical, and the whole song is crowded
with metaphor and parable, yet the teaching is plain enough in this instance;
it is evident that the Divine Bridegroom gives his bride a high place
in his heart, and to him, whatever she may be to others, she is fair,
lovely, comely, beautiful, and in the eyes of his love without a spot.
Moreover, even to him there is not only a beauty of a soft and gentle
kind in her, but a majesty, a dignity in her holiness, in her earnestness,
in her consecration, which makes even him say of her that she is “terrible
as an army with banners,” “awful as a bannered army.” She
is every inch a queen: her aspect in the sight of her beloved is majestic.
Take, then, the words of our text as an encomium upon Christ’s church,
pronounced by him who knows her best, and is best able to judge concerning
her, and you learn that to his discerning eye she is
not weak, dishonorable, and despicable, but bears herself as one of highest
rank, consciously, joyously strong in her Lord’s strength.
On this
occasion let us note, first of all, WHY IT IS THAT THE CHURCH OF GOD IS
SAID TO BE AN ARMY WITH BANNERS. That she is an army is true enough,
for the church is one, but many; and consists of men who march in order
under a common leader, with one design in view and that design a
conflict and a victory. She is the church militant here below, and both
in suffering and in service she is made to prove that she is in an enemy’s
country. She is contending for the truth against error, for the light
against darkness: till the day break and the shadows flee away, she must
maintain her sentinels and kindle her watch fires; for all around her
there is cause to guard against the enemy, and to descend the royal treasure
of gospel truth against its deadly foes. But why an army with banners?
Is not this, first of
all, for distinction? How shall we know to which king an army belongs
unless we can see the royal standard? In times of war the nationality
of troops is often declared by their distinguishing regimentals. The grey
coats of the Russians were well known in the Crimea; the white livery
of the Austrians was a constant eyesore in bygone days to the natives
of Lombardy. No one mistook the Black Brunswickers for French Guards,
or our own Hussars for Garibaldians. Quite as effectively armies have
been distinguished by the banners which they carried. As the old knights
of old were recognised by their plume and helmet, and escutcheon, so an
army is known by its standard and the national colors. The tricolor of
the French
readily marked their troops as they fled before the terrible black and
white of the German army. The church of Christ displays its banners for
distinction’s sake. It desires not to be associated with other armies,
or to be mistaken for them, for it is not of this world, and its weapons
and its warfare are far other than those of the nations. God forbid that
followers of Jesus should be mistaken for political partisans or ambitious
adventurers. The church unfurls her ensign to the breeze that all may
know whose she is
and whom she serves. This is of the utmost importance at this present,
when crafty men are endeavoring to palm off their inventions. Every Christian
church should know what it believes, and publicly avow what it
maintains. It is our duty to make a clear and distinct declaration of
our principles, that our members may know to what intent they have come
together, and that the world also may know what we mean. Far be it from
us to join with the Broad Church cry, and furl the banners upon which
our distinctive colors are displaced. We hear on all sides great outcries
against creeds. Are these clamours justifiable? It seems to me that when
properly analysed most of the protests are not against creeds, but against
truth, for every man who believes anything must have a creed, whether
he write it down and print it or no; or if there be a man who believes
nothing, or anything, or everything by turns, he is not a fit man to be
set up as a model.
Attacks are often made against creeds because they are a short, handy
form by which the Christian mind gives expression to its belief, and those
who hate creeds do so because they find them to be weapons as inconvenient,
as bayonets in the hands of British soldiers have been to our enemies.
They are weapons so destructive to theology that it protests against them.
For this reason let us be slow to part with them. Let us day hold of God’s
truth with iron grip, and never let it go. After all, there is a Protestantism
still
worth contending for; there is a Calvinism still worth proclaiming, and
a gospel worth dying for. There is a Christianity distinctive and distinguished
from Ritualism, Rationalism, and Legalism, and let us make it known that
we believe in it. Up with your banners, soldiers of the cross! This is
not the time to be frightened by the cries against conscientious convictions,
which are nowadays nicknamed sectarianism and bigotry. Believe in your
hearts what you profess to believe; proclaim openly and zealously what
you know to be the truth. Be not ashamed to say such-and-such things are
true, and let men draw the inference that the opposite is false. Whatever
the doctrines of the gospel may be to the rest of mankind, let them be
your glory and boast. Display your banners, and let those banners be such
as the church of old carried. Unfurl the old primitive standard, the all-victorious
standard of the cross of Christ. In very deed and truth — in hoc
signo vinces — the atonement is the conquering truth. Let others
believe as they
may, or deny as they will, for you the truth as it is in Jesus is the
one thing that has won your heart and made you a soldier of the cross.
Banners
were carried, not merely for distinctiveness, but also to serve the purposes
of discipline. Hence an army with banners had one banner as a central
standard, and then each regiment or battalion displayed its own particular
flag. The hosts of God, which so gloriously marched through the
wilderness, had their central standard. I suppose it was the very pole
upon which Moses lifted up the brazen serpent (at any rate, our brazen
serpent is the central ensign of the church); and then, besides that,
each tribe of the twelve had its own particular banners, and with these
uplifted in the front, the tribes marched in order, so that there was
no confusion on the march, and in time of battle there was no difficulty
in marshalling the armed men. It was believed by the later Jews that “the
standard of the camp of Judah represented a lion; that of Reuben, a man;
that of Joseph, an ox; and that of Dan, an eagle. The Targumists, however,
believe that the banners were distinguished by their colors, the color
for each tribe being analogous to that of the precious stone for that
tribe, in the breastplate of the high priest; and that the great standard
of each of the four camps combined the three colors of the tribes which
composed it.” So, brethren, in the church of God there must be discipline
— the discipline not only of admission and of
dismission in receiving the converts and rejecting the hypocrites, but
the discipline of marshalling the troops to the service of Christ in the
holy war in which we are engaged. Every soldier should have his orders,
every officer his troop, every troop its fixed place in the army, and
the whole army a regularity such as is prescribed in the rule, “Let
all things be done decently and in order.” As in the ranks each man
has his place, and each rank has its particular phase in the battalion,
so in every rightly constituted church each may, each woman, will have,
for himself or herself, his or her own particular form of service, and
each form of service will link in with every other, and the whole combined
will constitute a force which cannot be broken. A church is not a load
of bricks, remember: it is a house builded together. A church is not a
bundle of cuttings in the gardener’s hand: it is a vine, of which
we are the branches. The true church is an organised whole; and life,
true spiritual life, wherever it is paramount in the church, without rules
and rubrics, is quite sure to create order and arrangement. Order without
life reminds us of the rows of graves in a cemetery, all numbered and
entered in the register: order with life reminds us of the long lines
of fruit trees in Italy, festooned with fruitful vines. Sunday-school
teachers, bear ye the banner of the folded lamb; sick visitors, follow
the ensign of the open hand; preachers, rally to the token of the uplifted
brazen serpent; and all of you, according to your sacred calling, gather
to the name of Jesus, armed for the war.
An army
with banners may be also taken to represent activity. When an army holds
up its colors the fight is over. Little is being done in military, circles
when the banners are put away; the troops are on furlough, or are resting
in barracks. An army with banners is exercising, or marching, or fighting;
probably it is in the middle of a campaign, it is marshalled for offense
and defense, and there will be rough work before long. It is to be feared
that some churches have hung up their flags to rot in state, or have encased
them in dull propriety. They do not fool; to do great things, or to see
great things. They do not expect many conversions; if many did happen,
they would be alarmed and suspicious. They do not expect their
pastor’s ministry to be with power; and if it were attended with
manifest effect they would be greatly disturbed, and perhaps would complain
that he created too much excitement. The worst of it is, that do-nothing
churches are usually very jealous lest any should encroach on their domain.
Our churches sometime ago appeared to imagine that a whole district of
this teeming city belonged to them to cultivate or neglect, as their monopolising
decree might be. If anybody attempted to raise a new interest, or even
to build a preaching station, within half a mile of them, they resented
it as a most pernicious poachings upon their manor. They did nothing themselves,
and were very much afraid lest anybody should supplant them. Like the
lawyers of old, who took away the key of knowledge, they entered not in
themselves, and them that were entering in they hindered. That day, it
is to be hoped, has gone once for all; yet too much of the old spirit
lingers in certain quarters. It is high time that each church should feel
that if it does not work, the sole reason for its existence is gone. The
reason for a church being a church dies its mutual edification and in
the conversion of sinners; and if these two ends are not really answered
by a church, it is a mere name, a hindrance, an evil, a nuisance; like
the salt which has lost its savor, it is neither fit for the land nor
yet for the dunghill. May we all in our church fellowship be active in
the energy of the Spirit of God. May none of us be dead members of the
living body, mere impediments to the royal host, baggage to be dragged
rather than warriors pushing on the war. May we, every one of us, be soldiers
filled with vigor to the fullness of our manhood, by the eternal power
of the Holy Spirit; and may we be resolved that any portion of the church
which does not uplift its banner of service shall not long number us among
its adherents. Be it ours to determine that whether others will or will
not serve God and extend the kingdom of his dear Son, we will, in his
name and strength, contend even to the death. Unsheath our swords, ye
soldiers of the cross; arise from your slumbers, ye careless ones, gird
on your swords and prepare for the war. The Lord has redeemed you by his
blood, not that you might sleep, but that you might fight for the glory
of his name.Does not the description, “an army with banners,”
imply a degree of confidence? It is not an army retiring from the foe,
and willing enough to hide its colors to complete its escape. An army
that is afraid to venture out into the open, keeps its banners out of
the gleam of the sun. Banners uplifted are the sign of a fearlessness
which rather courts than declines the conflict. Ho! warriors of the cross,
unfurl the gospel’s ancient standard to the breeze; we will teach
the foeman what strength there is in hands and
hearts that rally to the Christ of God. Up with the standard, ye brave
men at arms; let all eyes see it; and it the foemen glare like lions on
it, we “will call upon the Lion of the tribe of Judah to lead the
van, and we will follow with his word like a two-edged sword in our hands:
—
“Stand
up! stand up for Jesus!
Ye soldiers of the cross!
Lift high hits royal banner;
It must not suffer loss:
From victory unto victory
His army shall he lead
Till every foe is vanquished
And Christ is Lord indeed.”
We cannot
place too much reliance in the gospel; our weakness is that we are so
diffident and so apt to look somewhere else for strength. We do not believe
in the gospel as to its power over the sons of men as we should believe
in it. Too often we preach it with a coward’s voice. Have I not heard
sermons commencing with abject apologies for the preacher’s daring
to open his mouth; apologies for his youth, for his assertions, for his
venturing to intrude upon men’s consciences, and I know not what
else? Can God own ambassadors of this cowardly cringing breed, who mistake
fear of men for humility! Will our Captain honor such carpet-knights,
who apologise for bearing arms? I have heard that of old the ambassadors
of
Holland, and some other states, when introduced to his celestial majesty,
the brother of the son and cousin of the moon, the Emperor of China, were
expected to come crawling on their hands and knees up to the throne; but
when our ambassadors went to that flowery land, they declined to pay such
humiliating homage to his impertinent majesty, and informed him that they
would stand upright in his presence, as free men should do, or else they
would decline all dealings with him, and in all probability his majesty
would hear from a cannon’s mouth far less gentle notes than he would
care for. Even thus, though we may well humble ourselves as men, yet as
ambassadors of God we cannot crouch to the sons of men, to ask them what
message would suite them best. It must not, shall not, be that we shall
smoothe our tongues and tone our doctrines to the taste of the age. The
gospel that we preach, although the worldly wise man despises it, in God’s
gospel for all that. “Ah,” says he, “there is nothing in
it: science has overthrown it.” “And,” says another, “this
gospel is but so much platitude; we have heard it over and over again.”
Ah, sir, and though it be platitude to you, and you decree it to be contemptible,
you shall hear it or nothing else from us; “for it is the power of
God, and the wisdom of God.” In its simplicity lies its majesty and
its power. “We are not ashamed of the gospel of Christ. “God
forbid that we should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.”
We will proclaim it again with confidence; We will bring forth once more
the selfsame truth as of old; and as the barley loaf smote the tent of
Midian, so that it lay along, so shall the gospel overturn its adversaries.
The broken pitcher, and the flaming torches, and the old war cry, “The
sword of the Lord, and of Gideon” shall yet fill the foeman with
dismay. Let us but be bold for Jesus, and we shall see what his arm can
do. The gospel is the voice of the eternal God, and has in it the same
power as that which brought the world out of nothing, and which shall
raise the dead from their graves at the coming of the Son of Man. The
gospel, the word of God, can no more return to him void than can the snow
go back to heaven, or the rain-drops climb again the path by which they
descended from the clouds. Have faith in God’s word, faith in the
presence of the Holy Ghost, faith in the reigning Savior, faith in the
fulfillment of the everlasting purposes, and you will be full of confidence,
and like an army with banners.
Once more,
an army with banners may signify the constancy and perseverance in holding
the truth. We see before us not an army that has lost its banners, that
has suffered its colors to be rent away from it, but an army which bears
aloft its ancient standard and swears by it still. Let us be very earnest
to maintain the faith once delivered to the saints. Let us not give up
this doctrine or that, at the dictates of policy or fashion; but whatsoever
Jesus saith unto us, let us receive it as the word of life. Great injury
may be done to a church ere it knows it, if it shall tolerate error here
and there; for false doctrine, like the little leaven, soon leavens the
whole lump. If the church be taught of the Spirit to know the voice of
the Good
Shepherd, a stranger it will not follow; for it knows not the voice of
strangers. This is part of the education which Christ gives to his people:“All
thy people shall be taught of the Lord.” They shall know the truth,
and
the truth shall make them free. May we, as a church, hold fast the things
which we have learned and have been taught of God; and may we be preserved
from the philosophies and refinings of these last days. If we give up
the things which are verily believed among us we shall lose our pourer,
and the enemy alone will be pleased; but if we maintain them, the maintenance
of the old faith, by the Spirit of God, shall make us strong in the Lord
and in the power of his might. Wrap the colors round you, ye standard
bearers, in the day of danger, and die sooner than give them up. Life
is little compared with God’s lovingkindness, and that is the sure
heritage of the brave defender of the faith. Thus resolute for truth,
the church becomes an army with banners.
II.
Secondly, the church is said to be TERRIBLE. To whom is she terrible?
She should be amiable, and she is. May God grant that our church may never
be terrible to young converts by moroseness and uncharitableness. Whenever
I hear of candidates being alarmed at coming before our elders, or seeing
the pastor, or making confession of faith before the church, I wish I
could say to them: “Dismiss your fears, beloved ones; we shall be
glad to see you, and you will find your intercourse with us a pleasure
rather
than a trial.” So far from wishing to repel you, if you really do
love the Savior, we shall be glad enough to welcome you. If we cannot
see in you the evidence of a great change, we shall kindly point out to
you our fears, and shall be thrice happy to point you to the Savior; but
be sure of this, if you have really believed in Jesus, you shall not find
the church terrible to you. Harsh judgments are contrary to the spirit
of Christ and the nature of the gospel; where they are the rule, the church
is despicable rather than terrible. Bigotry and uncharitableness are indications
of weakness, not of strength.
To what
and to whom is the church terrible? I answer, first, in a certain sense
she is terrible to all ungodly men. A true church in her holiness and
testimony is very terrible to sinners. The ungodly care not a rush about
a mock church, nor about sham Christians; but a really earnest Christian
makes the ungodly abashed. We have known some who could not use the foul
language which they were accustomed to when they were in the presence
of godly men and women, though these persons had no authority or position
or rank. Even in the most ribald company, when a Christian of known consistency
of character has wisely spoken the word of reproof, a solemn abashment
comes over the majority of those present; their consciences have
borne witness against them, and they have felt how awful goodness is.
Not that we are ever to try and impress others with any dread of us; such
an attempt would be ridiculed, and end in deserved failure; but the influence
which we would describe flows naturally out of a godly light. Majesty
of character never lies in affectation of demeanor, but in solidity of
virtue. If there be real goodness in us — if we really, fervently,
zealously love the right, and hate the evil — the outflow of our
life almost without a
word will judge the ungodly — and condemn them in their heart of
hearts. Holy living is the weightiest condemnation of sin. We have heard
of an ungodly son who could not bear to dive in the house where his departed
father had in his lifetime so devoutly prayed; every room, and every piece
of furniture reproved him for forsaking his father’s God. We have
read of others who were wont to dread the sight of certain godly men whose
holy lives held them more in check than the laws of the land. The bad
part of this is that the terror of the ungodly suggests to them an unhallowed
retort upon their reprovers, and becomes the root out of which springs
persecution. Those whom the ungodly fear because they condemn them by
their character, they try to put out of the world if they can, or to bespatter
them with slander if they cannot smite them with the hand of cruelty.
The martyrdom of saints is the result of the darkness hating the light,
because the light makes manifest its evil deeds. There will be always
in proportion to the real holiness, earnestness, and Christ likeness of
a church something terrible in it to the perverse generation in which
it is placed; it will dread it as it does the all-revealing day of judgment.
So is there
something terrible in a living church to all errorists. Just now two armies
have encamped against the host of God, opposed to each other, but confederates
against the church of God. Ritualism, with its superstition, its priestcraft,
its sacramental efficacy, its hatred of the doctrines of grace; and on
the other side Rationalism, with its sneering unbelief and absurd speculations.
These, like Herod and Pilate, agree in nothing but in opposition to Christ;
they have one common dread, although they may not
confess it. They do not dread those platform speeches in which they are
so furiously denounced at public meetings, nor those philosophical discussions
in which they are overthrown by argument; but they hate, but they fear,
and therefore abuse and pretend to despise, the prayerful, zealous, plain
simple preaching of the truth as it is in Jesus. This is a weapon against
which they cannot stand — the weapon of the odd gospel. In the days
of Luther it did marvels; it wrought wonders in the days of Whitfield
and Wesley: it has often restored the ark of the Lord to our land, and
it will again. It has lost none of its ancient power, and therefore is
it the terror of the adversaries of Christ.
“Thine
aspect’s awful majesty
Doth strike thy foes with fear;
As armies do when banners fly,
And martial flags appear.
How does thine armor, glitt’ring bright,
Their frighted spirits quell!
The weapons of thy warlike might
Defy the gates of hell.”
Even to
Satan himself the church of God is terrible. He might, he thinks, deal
with individuals, but when these individuals strengthen each other by
mutual converse and prayer, when they are bound to each other in holy
love, and make a temple in which Christ dwells, then is Satan hard put
to it. O brethren and sisters, it is not every church that is terrible
thus, tent it is a church of God in which there is the life of God, and
the love of God; a church in which there is the uplifted banner, the banner
of the cross, high-held
amid those various banners of truthful doctrine and spiritual grace, of
which I have just now spoken.
III.
We will take a third point; and that is, WHY IS THE CHURCH OF CHRIST TERRIBLE
AS AN ARMY WITH BANNERS? Why is it terrible because of its banners?
The whole passage seems to say that the church is terrible as an army,
but that to the fullest degree she owes her terribleness to her banners.
“Terrible as an army with banners.” I believe the great banner
of the Christian church to be the uplifted Savior. “I, if I be lifted
up from the earth, will draw all men unto me.” Around him then we
gather. “Unto him shall the gathering of the people be.” As
the brazen serpent in the midst of the camp in the wilderness, so is the
Savior lifted high, our banner. The atoning, sacrifice of Christ is the
great central standard of all really regenerate men, and this is the main
source of dismay to Israel’s foes.
But we
shall take the thoughts in order. The church herself is terrible, and
then terrible because of her banners. Brethren, the army itself is terrible.
Why? First, because it consists of elect people. Remember how Haman’s
wife enquired concerning Mordecai whether he belonged to the seed of the
Jews; for if he did, then she foretold that her husband’s scheme
would prove a failure. “If Mordecai be of the Seed of the Jews, before
whom thouhast begun to fall, thou shalt not prevail against him, but shalt
surely fall before him.” Now, the church of God as made up of men
and women is nothing more than any other organisation. Look at its exterior,
and you see in it few persons of great education and a great many of no
education; here and there a wealthy and powerful person, but hundreds
who are poor and despised. It does not possess in itself, naturally, the
elements of strength, according to ordinary reckoning. Indeed, its own
confession is that in itself it is perfect weakness, a flock of sheep
among wolves; but here lies its strength, that each of the true members
of the church are of the seed royal; they are God’s chosen ones,
the seed of the woman ordained of old to break the head of Satan and all
his serpent seed. They are the weakness of God, but they are stronger
than men; he has determined with the things that are not to bring to nought
the things that are. As the Canaanites feared the chosen race of Israel
because the rumor of them had gone forth among the people, and the terror
of Jehovah was upon them; so is it with the hosts of evil. They have dreamed
their dreams, as the Midianite did, and valiant men like Gideon can hear
them telling it; the barley cake shall fall upon the royal tent of Gideon
and smite it till it lies along; the sword of the Lord, and of Gideon,
shall rout the foe. The elect shall overcome through the blood of the
Lamb, and none shall say them nay. Ye are a royal priesthood, a peculiar
people, a chosen generation; and in you the living God will gloriously
declare his sovereign grace.
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