Chapter 16
Conformed To The Image Of Christ
“For whom he did
foreknow, he also did predestinate to be conformed to the image of his Son, that
he might be the firstborn among many brethren.”
God’s ultimate purpose in our creation was that we
should finally be “conformed to the image of Christ.” Christ was to be the
firstborn among many brethren, and His brethren were to be like Him. All the
discipline and training of our lives is with this end in view; and God has
implanted in every human heart a longing, however unformed and unexpressed,
after the best and highest it knows.
Christ is the pattern of what each one of us is to be
when finished. We are “predestinated” to be conformed to His image, in order
that He might be the firstborn among many brethren. We are to be “partakers of
the divine nature” with Christ; we are to be filled with the spirit of Christ;
we are to share His resurrection life, and to walk as He walked. We are to be
one with Him, as He is one with the Father; and the glory God gave to Him, He is
to give to us. And when all this is brought to pass, then, and not until then,
will God’s purpose in our creation be fully accomplished, and we stand forth “in
his image and after his likeness.”
Our likeness to His image is an accomplished fact in the
mind of God, but we are, so to speak, in the manufactory as yet, and the great
master Workman is at work upon us. “It doth not yet appear what we shall be: but
we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him
as he is.”
And so it is written: “The first man Adam was made a
living soul; the last Adam was made a quickening spirit. Howbeit that was not
first which is spiritual, but that which is natural; and afterward that which is
spiritual. The first man is of the earth, earthy; the second man is the Lord
from heaven. As is the earthly, such are they also that are earthy; and as is
the heavenly, such are they also that are heavenly. And as we have borne the
image of the earthly, we shall also bear the image of the heavenly.”
It is deeply interesting to see that this process, which
was begun in Genesis, is declared to be completed in Revelation, where the “one
like unto the Son of man” gave to John this significant message to the
overcomers: “Him that overcometh will I make a pillar in the temple of my God;
and he shall go no more out: and I will write upon him the name of my God, and
the name of the city of my God which is new Jerusalem, which cometh down out of
heaven from my God: and I will write upon him my new name.” Since name
always means character in the Bible, this message can only mean that at last
God’s purpose is accomplished, and the spiritual evolution of man is
completed—he has been made, what God intended from the first, so truly into His
likeness and image, as to merit having written upon him the name of God!
Words fail before such a glorious destiny as this! But
our Lord foreshadows it in His wonderful prayer when He asks for His brethren
that “they all may be one; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they
also may be one in us: that the world may believe that thou hast sent me. And
the glory which thou gavest me I have given them: that they may be one even as
we are one. I in them, and thou in me, that they may be made perfect in one.”
Could oneness be closer or more complete?
Paul also foreshadows this glorious consummation when he
declares that if we suffer with Christ we shall also be glorified together with
Him, and when he asserts that the “sufferings of this present time are not
worthy to be compared with the glory that shall be revealed in us.” The whole
Creation waits for the revealing of this glory, for Paul goes on to say that the
“earnest expectation of the creature waiteth for the manifestation of the sons
of God.” And he adds finally: “And not only they, but ourselves also, which have
the first fruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves,
waiting for the adoption, to wit, the redemption of our body.”
In view of such a glorious destiny, at which I dare not
do more than hint, shall we not cheerfully welcome the processes, however
painful they may be, by which we are to reach it? And shall we not strive
eagerly and earnestly to be “laborers together with God” in helping to bring it
about? He is the great master Builder, but He wants our co-operation in building
up the fabric of our characters, and He exhorts us to take heed how we build. We
are all of us at every moment of our lives engaged in this building. Sometimes
we build with gold, and silver, and precious stones, and sometimes we build with
wood, and hay, and stubble. And we are solemnly warned that every man’s work is
to be made manifest, “for the day shall declare it, because it shall be revealed
by fire.” There is no escaping this. We cannot hope, when that day comes, to
conceal our wood, and hay, and stubble, however successfully we may have managed
to do so beforehand.
To my mind there is no more solemn passage in the whole
Bible than the one in Galations which says: “Be not deceived: God is not mocked:
for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. For he that soweth to the
flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth to the Spirit,
shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting.” It is the awful inevitableness of
this that is so awe-inspiring. It is far worse than any arbitrary punishment;
for punishment can sometimes be averted, but there is no possibility of altering
the working of a natural law such as this.
In a Catechism I saw were the following questions and
answers:
Q. What is the reward for generosity?
A. More generosity.
Q. What is the punishment for meanness?
A. More meanness.
No Catechism ever spoke more truly. We all of us know
it for ourselves. In the parable of the talents our Lord illustrates this
inevitable law. The condemnation on the unfaithful servant may have sometimes
seemed to us unfair, but it was only the reaping of what that servant had sowed.
“Take therefore the talent from him and give it unto him which hath ten talents.
For unto every one that hath shall be given, and he shall have abundance: but
from him that hath not, shall be taken away even that which he hath.” This is no
arbitrary pronouncement, but is simply a revelation of the inherent nature of
things from which none of us can escape.
But in order to be laborers together with God, we must
not only build with His materials but also by His processes, and of these we are
often very ignorant. Our idea of building is of hard laborious work done in the
sweat of our brow; but God’s idea is far different. Paul tells us what it is.
“We all,” he says, “with open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the
Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit
of the Lord.” Our work is to “behold,” and as we behold the Lord effects the
marvelous transformation, and we are “changed into the same image by the Spirit
of the Lord.” This means, of course, to behold not in our earthly sense of
merely looking at a thing, but in the divine sense of really seeing the thing.
We are to behold with our spiritual eyes the glory of the Lord, and are to
continue beholding it. The glory of the Lord does not mean, however, a great
shine or halo. The real glory of the Lord is the glory of what He is and of what
He does—the glory of character. And it is this we are to behold.
Let me give an illustration. Someone offends me, and I
am tempted to get angry and retaliate. But I look at Christ and think of what He
would have done, and dwell upon the thought of His gentleness and meekness and
His love for the offending one; and, as I look, I begin to want to be like Him,
and I ask in faith that I may be made a “partaker of his nature,” and anger and
revenge die out of my heart, and I love my enemy and long to serve him.
It is by this sort of beholding Christ that we are to
be changed into His image; and the nearer we keep to Him the more rapid the
change will be.
I have heard of a wonderful mirror known to science,
which is called the parabolic mirror. It is a hollow cone lined with a mirror
all over its inside surface. It possesses the power of focusing rays of light in
different degrees of intensity in proportion to the increasing nearness to its
meeting point at the top end of the cone, the power being more and more intense
as the terminal point is approached. It has been discovered by science that at a
certain stage in this advance toward the interior point where all the sides of
the mirror meet in absolute oneness, the power of the focus concentrates all the
light-giving properties of the sun’s rays into such an intense brilliancy, as to
make visible things never before discerned by the human eye, rendering even
flesh transparent, and enabling us to see through the outer covering of our
bodies to the inner operations beneath.
Advancing a little farther into the interior of our
mirror, the heat properties of the sun’s rays are so concentrated as to generate
a heat sufficient to melt iron in sixteen seconds, and to dissipate in fourteen
seconds the alloy of gold, leaving only the solid globule of the pure metal.
Advancing farther still, the photographing properties
of the sunlight are so concentrated as to impress an ineffaceable image of the
mirror upon anything that is passed for only one second through the focus.
Advancing still farther, nearly to the point of
oneness, the magnetizing powers of light are so concentrated that anything
exposed to it for a single instant becomes a powerful magnet, drawing afterward
all things to itself.
Whether all this is scientifically correct or not, I am
not enough of a scientist to know, but at least it will serve as an allegory to
show the progress of the soul as it is changed from glory to glory in its
evolution “into his image.”
First, as we behold as in a mirror the glory of the
Lord, we come to the light focus, which reveals our sinfulness and our need.
“Then spake Jesus again unto them, saying, I am the light of the world; he that
followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.”
Second, as we draw closer, we reach the heat focus,
where all our dross and reprobate silver is burned up. For He is like a
refiner’s fire, and like fuller’s soap: and “he shall sit as a refiner and
purifier of silver; and he shall purify the sons of Levi, and purge them as gold
and silver, that they may offer unto the Lord an offering in righteousness.”
Third, as we draw closer still, we come to the
photographing focus, where the image of Christ is indelibly impressed upon our
souls, and we are made like Him because we see Him as He is. “We know that when
he shall appear, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.”
Fourth and finally, as we come to the point of oneness,
we reach the magnetic focus, where our character is so conformed to Christ, that
men seeing it will be irresistibly drawn to glorify our Father which is in
Heaven.
If we would be conformed to the image of Christ, then
we must live closer and ever closer to Him. We must become better and better
acquainted with His character and His ways; we must look at things through His
eyes, and judge all things by His standards.
It is not by effort or by wrestling that this
conformity is to be accomplished; it is by assimilation. According to a natural
law, we grow like those with whom we associate, and the stronger character
always exercises the controlling influence. And, as divine law is all one with
natural law, only working in a higher sphere and with more unhindered power, it
need not seem mysterious to us that we should become like Christ by a spiritual
union with Him.
But again I must repeat that this union with Christ
cannot come by our own efforts, no matter how strenuous they may be. Christ is
to “dwell in our hearts by faith,” and He can dwell there in no other way. Paul,
when he tells us that he was crucified with Christ, says: “Nevertheless I live:
yet not I but Christ liveth in me: and the life that I now live, I live by the
faith of the Son of God who loved me, and gave himself for me.”
“Christ liveth in me,” this is the transforming secret.
If Christ liveth in me, His life must, in the very nature of things, be
manifested in my mortal flesh, and I cannot fail to be changed from glory to
glory into His image.
Our Lord’s teaching about this is very emphatic. “Abide
in me,” He says, “and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself except
it abide in the vine; no more can ye, except ye abide in me. I am the vine, ye
are the branches. He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth
much fruit; for without me ye can do nothing.”
This is literally true. If we abide in Him, and He in
us, we can no more help bring forth fruit than can the branches of a flourishing
vine. In the very nature of things the fruit must come.
But we cannot take the “old man” into Christ. We must
put off the old man with his deeds before we can “put on the Lord Jesus Christ.”
And the apostle, in writing to the Colossians, bases his exhortations to
holiness of life on the fact that they had done this. “Lie not one to another,”
he says, “seeing that ye have put off the old man with his deeds, and have put
on the new man, which is renewed in knowledge after the image of him that
created him.”
Sin must disappear at the incoming of Christ; and no
soul that is not prepared to surrender all that is contrary to His will can hope
to welcome Him. The “old man” must be put off if the new man is to reign. But
both the putting off and the putting on must be done by faith. There is no other
way. As I have tried to explain elsewhere, we must move our personality, our
ego, our will out of self and into Christ. We must reckon ourselves to be dead
to self, and alive only to God. “Reckon ye also yourselves to be dead indeed
unto sin, but alive unto God through Jesus Christ our Lord.” “Neither yield ye
your members as instruments of unrighteousness unto sin; but yield yourselves
unto God as those that are alive from the dead, and your members as instruments
of righteousness unto God.”
The same kind of reckoning of faith, which brings the
forgiveness of sins within our grasp, brings also this union with Christ. To
those who do not understand the law of faith, this will no doubt be as great a
mystery as the secrets of gravitation were before the law of gravitation was
discovered; but, to those who understand it, the law of faith works as
unerringly and as definitely as the law of gravitation, and produces its results
as certainly. No one can read the seventh chapter of Hebrews and fail to see
that faith is an all-conquering force. I believe myself it is the creative force
of the universe. It is the higher law that controls all the lower laws beneath
it; and what looks like a miracle is simply the working of this higher
controlling law.
Faith is, as I say, the law of Creation. “Through faith
we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God, so that things
which are seen were not made of things which are seen were not made of things
which do appear.” We are told that “God spake and it was done, he commanded and
it stood fast.” And our Lord tells us that if we have faith we can do the same.
“And Jesus answering saith unto them, Have faith in God. For verily I say unto
you, That whosoever shall say unto this mountain, Be thou removed, and be thou
cast into the sea, and shall not doubt in his heart, but shall believe that
those things which he saith shall come to pass, he shall have whatsoever he
saith. Therefore I say unto you, What things soever ye desire when ye pray,
believe that ye receive them, and ye shall have them.”
Faith, we are told, calls those things which be not as
though they were; and, in so calling them, brings them into being. Therefore,
although we cannot see any tangible sign of change when by faith we put off the
old man, which is corrupt according to the deceitful lusts, and by faith put on
the new man which after God is created in righteousness and true holiness, yet
nevertheless, it has really been done, and faith has accomplished it. I cannot
explain this theologically, but I can fearlessly assert that it is a tremendous
practical reality; and that those souls who abandon the self-life, and give
themselves up the Lord to be fully possessed by Him, do find that He takes
possession of the inner springs of their being, and works there to will and to
do of His good pleasure.
Paul prayed for the Ephesians that “Christ might dwell
in their hearts by faith,” and this is the whole secret of being conformed to
His image. If Christ is dwelling in my heart I must necessarily be Christlike. I
cannot be unkind, or irritable, or self-seeking, or dishonest; but His
gentleness, and sweetness, and tender compassion, and loving submission to the
will of His Father must be manifested in my daily walk and conversation.
We shall not be fully changed into the image of Christ
until He shall appear, and we shall “see him as he is.” But meanwhile, according
to our measure, the life of Jesus is to be made “manifest in our mortal flesh.”
Is it made manifest in ours? Are we so “conformed to the image” of Christ that
men in seeing us see a glimpse of Him also?
A Methodist minister’s wife told me that at one time,
when they had moved to a new place, her little boy came in after the first
afternoon of play, and exclaimed joyfully, “Oh, Mother, I have found such a
lovely, good little girl to play with, that I never want to go away again.”
“I am very glad, darling,” said the loving mother,
happy over her child’s happiness. “What is the little girl’s name?”
“Oh,” replied the child, with a sudden solemnity, “I
think her name is Jesus.”
“Why, Frank!” exclaimed the horrified mother, “what do
you mean?”
“Well, Mother,” he said deprecatingly, “she was so
lovely that I did not know what she could be called but Jesus.”
Are our lives so Christlike that anyone could have such
a thought of us? Is it patent to all around us that we have been with Jesus? Is
it not, alas, often just the contrary? Are not some of us so cross and
uncomfortable in our living that exactly the opposite thing would have to be
said about us?
Paul says we are to be “epistles of Christ,” known and
read of all men, “written, not with ink, but with the Spirit of the living God,
not in tables of stone, but in fleshy tables of the heart.” I firmly believe
that if every child of God, all the world over, would begin from this day onward
to be an “epistle of Christ,” living a truly Christlike life at home and abroad,
it would not be a month before the churches would all be crowded with inquirers,
coming in to see what was the religion that could so transform human nature into
something divine.
The world is full of unbelievers in the reality of the
Christian religion, and nothing will convince them but facts which they cannot
disprove. We must meet them with transformed lives. If they see that whereas
once we were cross, now we are sweet; once we were proud, now we are humble;
once we were fretful, now we are patient and calm; and if we are able to testify
that it is the religion of Christ that has wrought this change, they cannot help
but be impressed.
A Christian man who, on account of his earnest work,
had gained a great reputation for piety, had unfortunately gained an equally
great reputation for a bad temper and a sharp tongue. But at last, for some
reason which no one could understand, a change seemed to come over him, and his
temper and his tongue became as sweet and as gentle as they had before been
violent and sharp. His friends watched and wondered, and at last one of them
approached him on the subject, and asked him if he had changed his religion.
“No,” replied the man, “I have not changed my religion, but I have at last let
my religion change me.”
How much has our religion changed us?
It is very easy to have a church religion, or a prayer
meeting religion, or a Christian-work religion; but it is altogether a different
thing to have an everyday religion. To “show piety at home” is one of the most
vital parts of Christianity, but it is also one far too rare; and it is not at
all an uncommon thing to find Christians who “do their righteousness” before
outsiders “to be seen of men,” but who fail lamentably in showing their piety at
home. I knew a father of a family who was so powerful in prayer at the weekly
prayer meeting, and so impressive in exhortation that the whole church was much
edified by his piety; but who, when he went home after the meetings, was so
cross and ugly that his wife and family were afraid to say a word in his
presence.
“And when thou prayest, thou shalt not be as the
hypocrites are; for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and in the
corners of the streets, that they may be seen of men. Verily I say unto you,
They have their reward.” These words, “They have their reward,” seem to me among
the most solemn in the Bible. What we do to be seen of men is seen of men, and
that is all there is to it. There is no conformity to the image of Christ in
this sort of righteousness that bears everyday trials cheerfully, and is patient
under home provacations; that returns good for evil, and meets all the homely
friction of daily life with sweetness and gentleness; that suffereth long and is
kind; that envieth not; that flaunteth not itself; that is not puffed up; that
seeketh not its own; is not easily provoked; and thinketh no evil; that beareth
all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. This
is what it means to be conformed to the image of Christ! Do we know anything of
such righteousness as this?
We sometimes talk about performing what we call our
“religious duties,” meaning by this expression our church services, or our
stated seasons of devotion, or our Christian work of one sort or another; and we
never dream that it is far more our “religious duty” to be Christlike in our
daily walk and conversation than to be faithful even in these other things,
desirable as they may be in themselves.
The righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees was a
righteousness of words and phrases and of ceremonial observances, and this is
often very impressive to outsiders. But, because it was nothing more, our Lord
condemns it in unmeasured terms: “Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees,
hypocrites! For ye pay tithe of mint and anise, and cummin, and have omitted the
weightier matters of the law, judgment, mercy, and faith: these ought ye to have
done, and not to leave the other undone. Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees,
hypocrites! For ye are like unto whited sepulchers, which indeed appear
beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men’s bones, and of all
uncleanness.” And He adds: “Even so ye also outwardly appear righteous unto men,
but within ye are full of hypocrisy and iniquity.”
It is very easy to say beautiful things about the
religious life, but to be what we say is an altogether different matter.
I know a Sunday school teacher who had been teaching her scholars a great deal
about casting all your cares on the Lord, and trusting Him in times of trial;
and they had been very much impressed. But at last a trouble came into the life
of this teacher, and some of her scholars saw her in her own home while it
lasted. To their amazement and distress they saw her fretting, and chafing, and
worrying, and complaining, acting, in short, just as if there was no God to
trust, or as if His ways were not ways of love and goodness. It was all “object
lesson” to those children that undid all the good which that teacher’s previous
teaching had seemed likely to accomplish; and one of them, who was very
observant, said to me triumphantly, “I thought it could not be true while Miss
_____ was telling us about how we might trust the Lord for everything; and now I
see it was only goody talk, for she doesn’t do it herself.”
A cross Christian, or an anxious one, a discouraged
gloomy Christian, a doubting Christian, a complaining Christian, an exacting
Christian, a selfish, cruel, hardhearted Christian, a self-indulgent Christian,
a Christian with a sharp tongue or a bitter spirit; a Christian, in short, who
is not Christlike may preach to the winds with as much hope of success, as to
preach to his own family or friends, who see him as he is. There is no escape
from this inevitable law of things, and we may as well recognize it at once. If
we want our loved ones to trust the Lord, volumes of talk about it will not be
one-thousandth part as convincing to them as the sight of a little real trust on
our own part in the time of need. The longest prayer and the loudest preaching
are of no avail in any family circle, however they may do in the pulpit, unless
there is on the part of the preacher a living out of the things preached.
Some Christians seem to think that the fruits which the
Bible calls for are some form of outward religious work, such as holding
meetings, visiting the poor, conduction charitable institutions, and so forth.
Whereas the fact is that the Bible scarcely mentions these at all as fruits of
the Spirit, but declares that the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace,
long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance. A Christlike
character must necessarily be the fruit of Christ’s indwelling. Other things
will no doubt be the outcome of this character; but first and foremost comes the
character, or all the rest is but a hollow sham. A late writer has said: “A man
can never be more than his character makes him. A man can never do more nor
better than deliver or embody that which his character. Nothing valuable can
come out of a man that is not first in the man. Character must stand behind and
back up everything—the sermon, the poem, the picture, the book. None of them is
worth a straw without it.”
In order to become conformed to the image of Christ, we
must of necessity be made “partakers of the divine nature.” And, where this is
the case, that divine nature must necessarily manifest itself. Our tastes, our
wishes, our purposes will become like Christ’s tastes, and wishes, and purposes;
we shall change eyes with Him, and see things as He sees them. This is
inevitable; for where the divine nature is, its fruits cannot fail to be
manifest; and, where they are not manifest, we are forced to conclude that that
individual, no matter how loud his professions, has not yet been made a partaker
of the divine nature.
I can hear someone asking, But do you really mean to
say that, in order to be made partakers of the divine nature, we must cease from
our own efforts entirely, and must simply by faith put on Christ, and must let
Him live in us and work in us to will and to do of His good pleasure? And do you
believe He will then actually do it?
To this I answer most emphatically, Yes, I mean just
that. I mean that if we abandon ourselves entirely to Him, He comes to abide in
us, and is Himself our life. We must commit our whole lives to Him, our
thoughts, our words, our daily walk, our downsittings, our uprisings. By faith
we must abandon ourselves, and, as it were, move over into Christ, and abide in
Him. By faith we must put off the old man, and by faith we must put on the new
man. By faith we must reckon ourselves dead unto sin, and alive unto God; as
truly dead as alive. By faith we must realize that our daily life is Christ
living in us; and, ceasing from our own works, we must suffer Him to work in us
to will and to do of His good pleasure. It is no longer truth about Him that
must fill our hearts, but it is Himself—the living, loving, glorious Christ—who
will, if we let Him, in very deed make us His dwelling place, and who will reign
and rule within us, and “subdue all things unto himself.” “Therefore if any man
be in Christ, he is a new creature; old things are passed away; behold, all
things are become new.”
It was no mere figure of speech when our Lord in that
wonderful Sermon on the Mount said to His disciples: “Be ye therefore perfect
even as your Father in heaven is perfect.” He meant, of course, according to our
measure, but He meant that reality of being conformed to His image to which we
have been predestined. And in the Epistle to the Hebrews we are shown how it is
to be brought about. “Now the God of peace, that brought again from the dead our
Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep, through the blood of the
everlasting covenant, make you perfect in every good work to do his will;
working in you that which is well pleasing in His sight, through Jesus Christ:
to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen.”
It is to be by His working in us, and not by our
working in ourselves, that this purpose of God in our creation is to be
accomplished; and if it should look as regards some of us that we are too far
removed from any conformity to the image of Christ for such a transformation
ever to be wrought, we must remember that our Maker is not finished making us
yet. The day will come, if we do not hinder, when the work begun in Genesis
shall be finished in Revelation, and the whole Creation, as well as ourselves,
shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of
the children of God.
“For we know that the whole creation groaneth and
travaileth in pain together until now. And not only they, but ourselves also,
which have the first fruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within
ourselves, waiting for the adoption, to wit the redemption of our body.”
‘Tis, shall Thy will be done for me? or mine,
And I be made a thing, not after Thine;
My own, and full of paltriest pretense?
Shall I be born of God, or of mere man?
Be made like Christ, or on some other plan?
What though Thy work in me transcends my sense,
Too fine, too high for me to understand.
I trust entirely. Oh, Lord, with Thy labor grand!
I have not knowledge, wisdom, insight, thought,
Nor understanding fit to justify
Thee in Thy work, O Perfect. Thou hast brought
Me up to this, and lo! what thou hast wrought
I cannot call it good. But I can cry
“O enemy, the Maker hath not done;
One day thou shalt behold, and from the sight wilt
run.”
