Luke 22:36

BUY A SWORD

‘Be that hath no sword, let him sell his garment, and buy one.’

Luke 22:36

This is a remarkable text, but strangely overlooked. It must evidently be taken figuratively. The sword is only an emblem. It was meant to teach His disciples that after their Master left the world they must diligently use all reasonable means to promote and defend the cause of His Gospel; just as a soldier knows he would be useless if he went into battle without weapons, so ought the follower of Christ to know that he must be a fighting man, and leave nothing undone to secure success if he would war a good warfare. There are three growing evils around us which demand the watchful attention of Churchmen in this day, and about each of them I would persuade every Churchman to awake and buy a sword.

I. The times require us to contend earnestly for the inspiration, supremacy, and sufficiency of the whole Bible.

II. The times require us to contend earnestly for the great doctrinal principles of our Church.

III. The times require us to contend earnestly for the continued recognition of Christianity and of God by the Government of this country. In plain words, we must resist the growing disposition to disestablish the Church of England and put an end to the union of Church and State.

—Bishop J. C. Ryle.

Illustration

‘Many people do not realise what the practical result of Disestablishment would be. I ask them to remember that as soon as the Church is disestablished the rulers of this country will have nothing to do with religion, and would leave the supply of it to the principles of free trade and the action of the Voluntary system. In a word, the Government of England would allow all its subjects to serve God or Baal—to go to heaven or to another place—just as they please. The State would take no cognisance of spiritual matters, and would look on with Epicurean indifference and unconcern. The State would continue to care for the bodies of its subjects, but it would entirely ignore their souls. Gallio, who thought Christianity was a matter of “words and names,” and “cared for none of these things,” would become the model of an English statesman. The Sovereign of Great Britain might be a Papist, the Prime Minister a Mohammedan, the Lord Chancellor a Jew. Parliament would begin without prayer. Oaths would be dispensed with in Courts of Justice. The next King would be crowned without a religious service in Westminster Abbey. Prisons and workhouses, men-of-war and regiments, would all be left without chaplains, or left to the uncertain ministration of the Voluntary system. I loathe the idea of a great nation like England, so highly favoured and privileged, ceasing to recognise God. I had far rather see our next Sovereign crowned in Westminster Abbey by the President of the Wesleyan Conference, with an extempore prayer, and the Archbishop of Canterbury standing as a private individual in the crowd, than see our Government turning its back on Christianity altogether.’