by Arthur W. Pink
by Arthur W. Pink
Philologos Religious Online Books
Philologos.org
by Arthur W. Pink
June, 1938
CONSCIENCE
2. Its Office and Character.
[Continued from May issue]
Of course the truth may be received merely intellectually, not believingly: and if trifled with, it is no wonder if it results in terrible hardening of the heart. The more orthodox Pharisees were worse persecutors of the Lord than the infidel Sadducees. And the Jews everywhere led the heathen in their early attacks on Christianity. But in these cases it was still rejected truth that stirred up their opposition. But the truth is really and decisively rejected where its claim over the heart and life is allowed in word, and in word only—he who to his father's claim of service said openly, “I will not,” yet afterward repented and went—while he who respectfully answered “I go, sir,” and never went.
And this is the character of truth, that it stirs up opposition. It speaks, prophet-like, for God, affirming His authority over the soul, and abasing the glory of man in His presence. Unbelief says, as Ahab of Micaiah, “I hate it, for it does not prophesy good of me, but evil.” And even in the believer, it runs counter to all that is not of faith within him; and alas! how much within us is not faith! Thus, among Christians themselves, the truth in any fullness causes many to stumble and at every fresh unfolding of it, some who had followed thus far are left behind: it is even well if they do not become active opponents of it. Thus He who in the angel's announcement brings “peace on earth,” brings in fact, nevertheless, because of man's condition, “not peace, but a sword.” The fellowship of saints is disturbed and broken up: the thousands drop to hundreds in the very presence of the enemy. Romanism boasts, with a certain reason, of her unity at least in outward organization; while Protestantism proclaims the sanctity of conscience, and divides into a hundred sects!
Yet if conscience be in any respect given up, all is. For its principle is obedience to God, and to God only; and this is a first necessity for a walk with God. Conscience is, above all things, therefore individual. It refuses to see with other eyes than its own; and refuses, too, subjection or guidance without seeing. It will easily incur in this way the reproach of obstinacy, contumacy, pride, self-will; while on the other hand there is constant danger of mistaking these for it. It is thus a thing which all ecclesiastical systems find it difficult to recognize or deal with, and which makes large demands for wisdom, patience, and forbearance with one another. “We see in part; we prophecy in part”: and what we see may seem in ill accord with what is really truth seen by others, just for want of knowledge of a larger truth embracing both. But even if we see not, and but think we see, conscience, because it touches our practical relationship with God, is a solemn thing to deal with: he who meddles with it interferes with God's rights over the soul, and usurps a vicegenercy which He commits to no one.
Yet the voice of God, let us carefully remember, conscience is not. It is an ear to hear it only: and which may be dull and deaf, and hear with little clearness after all. God's voice is that which utters itself by the Spirit through the Word. But this voice speaks to the individual, to him that has an ear to hear. None can, but at his peril, resign his responsibility in this to another; and none can, but at his peril, require this to be done. Yet, alas! how often, in various ways, consciously and unconsciously, is this required and yielded to!
3. Purged and Pure.
“To serve the living God,” the conscience must first of all be “purified from dead works” (Heb. 9:14). A soul alarmed on account of sin, is driven by conscience into an effort to escape from the wrath which it foresees as the necessity of Divine holiness. In an awakened condition, not so much conscience drives from God, as the heart, estranged, refuses One in whom it finds no pleasure. Its pleasure is in banishing Him, if possible, from the thought: aye, terrible as it is to realize, sin as sin, an offense to Him whom it counts an enemy, is a real pleasure. Many, it is true, are quite ignorant of this, and would resent the imputation of it; for the heart is deceitful above all things, as it is desperately wicked, and who can know it? But when we wake up to realize our condition, we shall assuredly begin to realize it to be so, and none who has been truly brought to God, but will own with the Apostle, the remarkable example of it, that “when we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of His Son.”
When awakened, the holiness of God is seen as necessary wrath against sin; and then effort begins to secure shelter from it. And naturally this takes the shape of an attempt to keep those commandments of God, hitherto despised and broken. Ignorant of how complete the ruin sin has caused—ignorant of the unbending requirements of God's holiness—ignorant of the grace which has provided complete atonement, the soul persists (often for how long!) in trying to bring to God some fruit that He can accept, and which will secure, or help to secure, the one who brings it. But this is only “dead works.” It is neither “work of faith” nor “labour of love.” It is self-justification, the fruit of fear and unbelief; hence truly called “dead works,” the mere outside of holiness at the best, with no life—no inward spirit in it to make it acceptable to the “living God.” It is rather itself an offense, and thus a necessary defilement of the soul.
The blood of Christ therefore it is that purifies the conscience from dead works. Justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Brought to God, and to God known in Him, there is “no more conscience of sins” in the rejoicing worshipper. Free from the load of guilt, he is able to welcome the light fully and without reserve—yea, with eager desire. The yoke of Christ is rest and freedom. Thus the apprehension of grace delivers from a morbid self-occupation to enable one for real holiness. The conscience is purified so as faithfully to receive, without partiality or distortion, the communications of the Father's will. “The fruit of the light is in all goodness and righteousness and truth” (Eph. 5:9).
And if that were all, how blessed—how wholly blessed would be this condition! “Light is good” indeed, “and a pleasant thing it is to behold the sun.” If in this all nature rejoices, how the new nature in that which is the “light of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ”! Thus the fruit of the light is found in this eternal day and summer of the soul.
From the side of God there is no more need of change or variation. His grace is perfect; His gifts and calling are without repentance. Here, in the enjoyment of its own things, the soul is called to abide; here all its own interests summon it to abide. What might be expected then but continual growth in grace and the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ? Alas! that this rightful expectation should be so little fulfilled: but in whom is it perfectly fulfilled? in how many do we see almost the opposite of it, retrogression instead of progress?! And how many are there who remain apparently almost stationary, although in reality of course with loss of zeal and fervour, year after year?! What is the cause of all this, which we find acknowledged in apostolic times as in the present? For the Galatians were no solitary exception of those who “did run well,” being hindered from steadfast obedience to the truth. At Rome, those whose faith had once been “spoken of throughout the whole world” we find testified of by the same witness as all seeking their own, and not the things of Jesus Christ (Rom. 1:8; Phil. 2:21). And later he says of them, “at my first answer no man stood with me, but all forsook me” (2 Tim. 4:16). Corinth went into worldliness and immorality. Ephesus left its first love. Of some of these it may be pleaded that it is assemblies that are spoken of, not individuals, but the two ordinarily go together, and the magnitude of the departure shows that the plea can hardly avail. The general fact is as plain as it is intensely solemn.
But the decay of the fruits of faith means the decay of faith itself. And this decay of faith, whence does it proceed but from failure to maintain the purity of conscience? In the case of some, (who had, no doubt, got far away) the Apostle argues thus: “Holding faith and a good conscience, which (i.e., the latter), some having put away, concerning faith have made shipwreck” (1 Tim. 1:19). It is easy to show how heresies and false doctrines, and the reception of these by others, spring from a conscience defiled; but this is not now my point. For simplicity of faith itself, a good conscience must be maintained. As another Apostle says, “If our heart condemn us, God is greater than our heart, and knoweth all things; beloved, if our heart condemn us not, then have we confidence toward God” (1 John 3:20, 21). And so the Lord, in view of Peter's grievous fall, and the natural result of it, assures him, “I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not” (Luke 22:32). How vital, then, to the whole spiritual condition is the maintenance of a pure conscience!
But again, this pure conscience can only be maintained by exercise. “Herein do I exercise myself, to have always a conscience void of offense toward God and toward men” (Acts 24:16). And how many mistake—how easy, therefore, is it to mistake—a conscience dulled by neglect, for one that is really “good”! How many persuade themselves all is well with them, while they are simply not near enough to God to detect the evil! “As ye have received Christ Jesus the Lord,” we are admonished, “walk ye in Him” (Col. 2:6). This alone is the Christian “rule” (Gal. 6:16), and that is alone a good conscience which keeps to the measure of this. Yet how easy to have the theory, nay, in some respects, the faith of where we are, without this becoming the real measure for conscience of practical walk!
In the sanctuary, with God alone, we find the light in which things take their true shape and character. In Israel's sanctuary of old, the light of common day was jealously excluded. The light of the golden candlestick guided the priests alone in their daily sacrifice. For us, the light of the holiest is that of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. And in this, things look very differently, indeed, from the mere common light in which the natural conscience views them. Yet many Christians are able to be at peace with themselves merely because they are judging themselves by a standard little beyond the common use. They even ignorantly bring in the grace of God to quiet the stirring of self- accusation, which they suppose is legality, and go on in a careless dream, as far as possible removed from the peace of communion—“peace of Christ.” But the Apostle was not legal when he said, “Wherefore labour, that whether present or absent, we may be acceptable to Him” (2 Cor. 5:9, Greek), nor in his exercise to have always a conscience void of offense toward God and toward men.—F.W. Grant.
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