THE EXPECTATION OF FAITH 27 when it proved my expectation, it would also disprove it. My soul is not insensible to the joy or pain of the individ- ual, but, God be praised, it is not thus that the individual can prove or disprove the expectation of faith. God be praised! Nor can time prove or disprove it; for faith ex- pects an eternity. And today on the first day of the year, when the thought about the future thrusts itself upon me, I will not satiate my soul with various expectations, nor dissipate it in manifold ideas; I will rally it, and, sound and happy, if possible, go forth to meet the future. It brings what it will and must bring; many expectations disappointed, many fulfilled, so it will happen, as experi- ence has taught me; but there is an expectation which will not be disappointed; experience has not taught me this, nor has it authority to deny it; it is the expectation of faith, and this is victory."
There is a little word sufficiently familiar to the congregations even if not always heeded by them; little and insignificant it seems, and yet so rich in content; quiet and yet so moving, calm and yet so filled with longing. It is the word: at last; for many of the sacred collects which are read in our churches end in this way: "and at last be saved." The older man among us, who stands almost at the end, looks back in his thought over the way he has traveled; he remembers the course of events; the shadowy figures from the past again become living before him; he is overwhelmed by the varied con- tent of what he has lived to see; he is weary and he says: "and so at last be saved." The younger, who even now stands at the beginning of the way, looks ahead in thought over the long road. In thought he experiences what is to come: the painful bereavements, the quiet concerns, the 28 28 sad longings, the fearful anxieties; he is wearied at the thought and says: "and so at last be saved." It would indeed be a great gift if a man could rightly use this word; but no man learns this from another, but severally only from and through God. Therefore will we commit to Thee, Father in heaven, our heart and our thought, so that our soul may never be so ensnared by the joys of life or by its sorrows, that it forgets this liberating word; but so that it may not too often be impatience and inner dis- quiet which bring this word to our lips; so that when, like a faithful friend, it has accompanied us through all the many relations of life, has accommodated itself to us, yet without being false to itself, has been our consolation, our hope, our gladness, our cause of rejoicing; has sounded to us solemnly and inspiringly, softly and soothingly; has spoken to us warningly and admonishingly, cheerfully and invitingly; that then our soul in its last hour may be carried away from the world on this word, as it were, to that place where we shall understand its full significance. So we may understand that the same God who by His hand led us through the world, now withdraws it and opens His embrace to receive the longing soul. Amen.
II II EVERY GOOD AND EVERY PERFECT GIFT IS FROM ABOVE Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning. Of his own will begat he us with the word of truth, that we should be a kind of firstfruits of his creatures. Wherefore, my beloved brethren, let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath: for the wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God. Wherefore lay apart all filthiness and superfluity of naughtiness, and receive with meekness the engrafted word, which is able to save your souls. James 1:17-22 EVERY good and every perfect gift is from above and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turn- ing. These words are so beautiful, so eloquent, so mov- ing, that it was certainly not the fault of the words if they found no entrance to the listener's ear, no echo in his heart. They are by an apostle of the Lord, and inso- far as we ourselves have not felt their significance more deeply, we still dare have confidence that they are not loose and idle words, not a graceful expression for an airy thought, but that they are faithful and unfailing, tested and proved, as was the life of the apostle who wrote them. They are said not incidentally but with special em- phasis, not in passing but accompanied by an earnest admonition: Do not err, my beloved brethren. We dare then set our confidence in their having not only power to lift up the soul, but also strength to sustain it, these words which sustained an apostle through a stormy life. They are spoken in connection with other words; it is in order to warn against the fearful error of believing 3o that God would tempt a man, in order to warn against the foolishness of a heart that would tempt God, that the apostle says: Do not err, my beloved brethren. We dare then assure ourselves that the word is also mighty in explaining the folly, mighty in halting the erring thought. Every good and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning. These words are again and again repeated in the world, and yet many go on as if they had never heard them, and it would per- haps have affected them disturbingly if they had heard them. Carelessly they go on their way, a friendly fate makes everything so easy for them, every wish is fulfilled, all their undertakings are successful. Without knowing how it comes about, they are in the midst of the life movement, a link in the chain which connects a future with a past. Unconcerned about how it happened they are borne along on the wave of the present. Resting in the natural law that lets a human life develop in the world in the same way that it spreads a carpet of flowers over the earth, they live happy and satisfied amid the changes of life, wishing at no moment to extricate themselves from it, giving everyone his honest due: thanks- giving to the one to whom they ascribe the good gifts; help to the needy in the way they believe is useful to him. That there are good and perfect gifts they know well; they also know whence these come; for the earth gives its increase, and heaven sends the early and the late rain, and family and friends consider it best for them; and their plans, wise and intelligent, succeed as is natural since they are wise and intelligent. For them life holds no riddle, and yet their life is a riddle, a dream, and the apostle's earnest admonition: Do not err, does not make EVERY GOOD AND PERFECT GIFT 31 them pause; they have no time to pay attention to it nor to the words, anymore than the wave gives heed as to whence it comes or whither it goes. Or if some individuals among them, considering higher things, gave heed to the apostle's words, they would soon be through with them. They let their thought for a moment occupy itself with the words, and then they said: "Now we have understood them, bring us some new thoughts which we have not understood." Nor would they have been wrong; for the apostle's words are not difficult, and yet they proved there- by, in that after having understood them they wished to abandon them, that they had not understood them.
Every good and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning. These words are so soothing, so comforting, and yet how many were there who really understood how to suck the rich nourish- ment from them, how to appropriate them! Those con- cerned, those whom life did not permit to grow up and who died as babes, those whom it did not suckle on the milk of prosperity, but who were early weaned from it; the sorrowing, whose thought attempted to penetrate through the changing to the permanent— those were con- scious of the apostle's words and gave attention to them. The more completely they could sink their souls in them, could forget everything in them, the more they felt them- selves strengthened and made confident. Still it soon ap- peared that this strength was a delusion; no matter how much confidence they gained, they still did not gain the strength to comprehend life; sometimes the troubled mind and the bewildered thought resorted again to that rich consolation, sometimes they felt again the contra- diction. At last perhaps it seemed to them that these 32 32 words were almost dangerous to their peace of mind. They awakened a confidence in them which was constantly being disappointed. They gave them wings which could indeed lift them up to God, but which could not help them in their walk through life. They did not deny the inexhaustible comfort of the words, but they almost feared this comfort even when they praised it. If a man owned a magnificent jewel, a jewel which he never denied was mag- nificent, he might take it out from time to time, and re- joice over it; but soon he would say: I cannot adorn myself with this for daily use, and the festal occasions on which it would really be appropriate, I wait for in vain. So then he would put the jewel away, and would sadly consider the fact that he owned such a jewel, but that life gave him no opportunity to find happiness in displaying it.
So they sat in their quiet sorrow; they did not harden themselves against the consolation of the word; they were humble enough to acknowledge that life is a dark saying, and as in their thought they were swift to listen to see if there might be an explanatory word, so were they also slow to speak and slow to wrath. They did not presume to give up the word; they longed only for the opportune hour to come. If that came, then they would be saved. Such was their belief. And it might happen, yoi| said, my hearer. Or is there only a spirit who bears witness in heaven, but no spirit who bears witness on earth! Heaven only knows, and the spirit which flees from earth, that God is good; the earthly life knows nothing about it! Is there then no mutual harmony between what happens in heaven and what happens on the earth! Is there joy in heaven, only sorrow on earth, or is it only said that there is joy in heaven! Does God in heaven take the good gifts and hide them for us in heaven so that we may some time EVERY GOOD AND PERFECT GIFT 33 receive them in the next world! Perhaps you spoke in this way in your heart's bewilderment. You did not demand that for your sake there should be given signs and won- derful manifestations, you did not childishly demand that every one of your wishes should be fulfilled; only you begged for a testimony early and late; for your troubled soul treasured a wish. If this were fulfilled, then every- thing would be well; then would your thanks and your praise be unceasing, then would the festal occasion come, then would you with all your heart bear testimony to the word, that every good and every perfect gift comes from above. But lo, that was denied you; and your soul became restive, tossed about by the passionate wish. It became defiant and angry. You did not impatiently cast off the leading-strings of humility, you had not forgotten that you are on earth and God in heaven. With humble prayers and burning desires you sought, as it were, to tempt God: This wish is so important to me; my joy, my peace, my future, all depend on this; for me it is so very important, for God it is so easy; for He is all-powerful. But the wish was not fulfilled. Vainly you sought rest; you left nothing untried in your unfruitful restlessness; you ascended the dizzy heights of anticipation to see if a possibility might not appear. If you believed that you saw such a possibility, then you were immediately ready with prayers, that by the help of these you might create the actual from the apparent. Still it was an illusion. You descended again, and gave yourself up to the stupefying exhaustion of sorrow, while time went on as it always does. And the morning came, and the evening, but the day you desired did not dawn. And still you made every effort, you prayed early and late, more and more fervently, more and more temptingly. Alas, it still did 34 not come to pass! And you gave up, you would dispose your soul to patience, you would wait in quiet longing, if only your soul might be assured that eternity would bring you your wish, bring you that which was the delight of your eyes and your heart's desire. Alas, this certainty too was denied you. But when the busy thoughts had worked themselves weary, when the fruitless wishes had exhausted your soul, then perhaps your being became more quiet, then perhaps your heart, secretly and un- noticed, had developed in itself the meekness which re- ceived the word which was implanted in you, and which was able to save your soul, that every good and perfect gift cometh from above.
Then you acknowledged in all humility that God had certainly not deceived you, since He accepted your earthly wishes and foolish desires, exchanged them for you, and gave you instead heavenly consolation and holy thoughts; that He did not treat you unfairly when He denied you your wish, but for compensation created this faith in your heart; when instead of the wish, which even if it could do everything, was at most able to give you the whole world; He gave you a faith through which you gained God and overcame the whole world. Then you recog- nized with humble gladness that God was still the al- mighty Creator of heaven and earth, who had not only created the world out of nothing, but had done the even more miraculous— out of your impatient and unstable heart He had created the incorruptible essence of a quiet spirit. Then ashamed you confessed that it was good, so very good for you, that God had not permitted Himself to be tempted; then you understood the apostle's admo- nition, and its relation to the error that wishes to tempt God. Then you perceived how foolish your conduct had EVERY GOOD AND PERFECT GIFT 35 been. You wished that God's ideas about what was profit- able to you might be your ideas, but you also wished that He might be the almighty Creator of heaven and earth, so that He might rightly fulfill your wish. And yet if He were to share your ideas, then must He cease to be the almighty Father. You would in your childish impatience, as it were, corrupt God's eternal Being, and you were blind enough to delude yourself, as if it helped you if God in heaven did not know better what was profitable to you than you yourself; as if you would not sometime discover with terror that you had wished what no man would be able to bear if it came to pass. For let us for a moment speak foolishly and with human wisdom. If there was a man in whom you rightly had confidence, because you believed he wished for your welfare; but you had one conception about what would be advantageous to you, he another— is it not true, you would then seek to persuade him, you would perhaps beg and adjure him, to fulfill your wish; but if he continued to deny you, you would cease to beg him, you would say: If now I influ- enced him by my prayers to do what he does not regard as right, then it would be even more terrible that I had been weak enough to make him equally weak, since then I should have lost him and my confidence in him, even if, in a moment of intoxication, I had called his weakness affection.
Or perhaps this was not the case with you; you were perhaps too old to cherish childish conceptions about God, too mature to think humanly about Him; you would perhaps influence Him by your defiance. That life was a dark saying you readily confessed, but you were not, in accordance with the apostle's warning, swift to hear whether there might be an explanatory word; you 36 were, contrary to his admonition, swift to wrath. If life is a dark saying, then let it be so, you would not concern yourself about the explanation— and your heart was hardened. Your appearance was perhaps calm, perhaps friendly, your speech even benevolent, but in your heart, in the secret workshop of your thoughts, you said— no, you did not say it, but you heard a voice which said: God does tempt a man. And the coldness of despair chilled your spirit, and its death brooded over your heart. If sometimes life again stirred within you, then there raged wild voices, voices which did not belong to you, but which still sounded from within you. For why was your complaint so violent, why was your shriek so penetrating, why were even your prayers so challenging? Or was it not because you believed that your sufferings were so great, your sorrows so crushing, and because of this your complaint so just, your voice so mighty, that it must resound through heaven, and call God forth from His hidden depths, where, as it seemed to you, He sat calm and indifferent, paying no attention to the world and its fate? But heaven is closed to such presumptuous speech, and it is written that God is tempted of no man. Impotent was your speech, impotent as your thought, as your arm was impotent; and heaven did not hear your prayer. But, then, when you humbled yourself under God's powerful hand and, crushed in spirit, groaned: "My God, my God, great is my sin, greater than can be forgiven," then heaven again opened, then did God, as a prophet writes, look down upon you from the window of heaven and say: Yet a little while; yet a little while, and I will renew the forms of earth— and lo, your form was renewed, and God's merciful grace had produced in your barren heart the meekness which receives the word.
EVERY GOOD AND PERFECT GIFT 37 Then you humbly acknowledged before God that God tempts no man, but that everyone is tempted when he is seduced and drawn away by his own desires, just as you were tempted by proud and arrogant and defiant thoughts. Then you were terrified at your error in think- ing that the idea that God tempts a man could make life explicable; for then life would become to you a dark saying, as you listened to this explanation, which, as you must confess, simply made everything inexplicable. Then you acknowledged, humbled and ashamed, that it was well that God did not allow Himself to be tempted, that He was the almighty God, able to crush every presumptuous thought; well that you, in your despair, should not have found an explanation of life's dark saying which any man would be able to insist upon.
Every good and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning. These words are so comprehensible, so simple, and yet how many were there who rightly understood them, rightly understood that they were a badge of honor, more glorious than all the treasures of the earth, but that they were also small change, useful in the daily relationships of life.
"Every good and every perfect gift is from God." The apostle uses two expressions. "Every good gift," he says, and indicates thereby the inmost nature of the gift, that it is a sound and blessed fruit which hides no unsound and injurious decay within itself. "Every perfect gift," says the apostle, and indicates thereby the closer relation in which the good gift, through God's assistance, stands to the particular man who accepts it, so that what is good in itself does not become a detriment and a loss to him.
38 These two expressions are analogous to two others. "The gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights." "It is from above," says the apostle, and in this way he directs the believer's thought up toward heaven where everything good has its home, the blessing that satisfies the mouth, and the one which satisfies the heart; up to heaven from which the good spirits issue forth for the deliverance of men; up to heaven from which the good intentions return as heavenly gifts. "From the Father of lights," says the apostle, and means thereby that God with His eternal clarity penetrates everything, so that He understands the thoughts of men from afar, and knows clearly all their ways; that His eternal love hastens for- ward and prepares everything, and thus makes the "good gift" into a "perfect gift." For God in heaven is not like a man who, if he had a good gift to give, still gave it in darkness and in uncertainty, glad indeed because it was a good gift and he a glad giver, but also sorrowful because he did not know whether it actually became a good gift for the other or not. "Every good and perfect gift," says the apostle; "every," what does this mean? Does the apostle mean by this that the firmament of heaven is a great store-room, and that all the things which heaven contains are good gifts? Does he mean that God brings things out from this rich store, and sends them, according to time and opportunity now and then, sometimes to one, sometimes to another, to the one many, to another fewer, to a particular individual nothing at all, but that what He sends is good and perfect? Let us notice the words which follow: "with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning." If the apostle had wished to express this, then in place of this word he would have added: from the God of love, the God of mercy and consolation, EVERY GOOD AND PERFECT GIFT 39 the Giver of good gifts, or however else he would have expressed it, better and more emphatically than we are able to do; he would next have admonished the believers to thanksgiving according to time and opportunity, in proportion to the good gifts bestowed upon them. He did not do this. He did warn against the error of thinking that God would tempt a man, the error of believing that God would allow Himself to be tempted. That which he emphasizes is that God is constant, that He remains the same while everything else changes; that which he admonishes us to do is to love God, so that our being may come into likeness with His own, in order that we may win God in constancy, and save our souls in patience. He says nothing in this word about the quality of the particu- lar gifts, but he speaks about God's eternal relation to the believer. When gladness explains life, and everything is delightful and clear, then he warns against this explana- tion, and admonishes us to refer it to the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, nor shadow of turning. When sorrow casts its shadow over our lives, when de- spondency veils our sight, when the clouds of anxiety take God away from before our eyes, then sounds the apostolic warning, that with God there is no shadow of turning. That which the apostle warns against is the disturbing of God's blessed Being through the unrest of temptation, as if His heart had either become cold or weak. That which he emphasizes is that as God's all-powerful hand made everything good, so He, the Father of lights, still constant, makes everything good in every moment, every- thing into a good and perfect gift for everyone who has the heart to humble himself, heart enough to be con- fident.
Still doubt is cunning and wily, by no means vocifer- 4o ous and defiant, as it is sometimes claimed to be; it is unobtrusive and crafty, not impudent and arrogant, and the more unassuming it is, the more dangerous it is. It does not deny that those words are beautiful, nor that they are comforting. If it did this, then would the heart rebel against it; it merely says that the words are difficult, almost mysterious. It wishes to help the troubled mind to understand the apostolic saying, that every good and every perfect gift is from God. "What does this mean? What else than that everything which comes from God is a good and a perfect gift, and that everything which is a good and perfect gift is from God." This explanation is so simple and so natural, and yet doubt has cunningly hidden itself within it. It continues therefore: "Conse- quently, for a man in his lifetime to be able to find peace in these words, he must either be able to determine what it is which comes from God, or what may rightly and in truth be called a good and perfect gift. But how is this possible? Is then every human life a continuous chain of miracles? Or is it possible for a man's understanding to make its way through the interminable ranks of derived causes and effects, to penetrate all the intervening events, and thus find God? Is it possible for a man's understand- ing to determine with certainty what constitutes for him a good and perfect gift? Is it not stranded again and again on this? How often has mankind, how often has every individual man, learned by painful experience that to wish to venture on what had been denied to man is a folly that will not go unpunished?" Thus doubt was ready with an explanation of the meaning of the words, and also ready with words. It had changed the apostolic exhortation into mere words that passed from mouth to mouth, without sense or meaning. It was modest enough