Proverbs 3:19

The Lord by wisdom hath founded the earth.

Earthly and heavenly wisdom

There is but one wisdom for God and man. Man’s true wisdom is a pattern of God’s wisdom. A man to prosper in the world must get the very same wisdom by which God made and rules the world. In the last hundred years science has improved in a most wonderful way, and is improving every day. This improvement has taken place simply by mankind understanding this text, and obeying it. For more than sixteen hundred years after our Lord’s time mankind seem to have become hardly any wiser about earthly things, nay, even to have gone back; but about two hundred and fifty years ago it pleased God to open the eyes of one of the wisest men who ever lived, Francis Bacon, Lord Verulam, and to show him the real and right way of learning by which men can fulfil God’s command to replenish the earth and subdue it. He taught that the only way for man to be wise was to get God’s wisdom, the wisdom with which He had founded the earth, and find out God’s laws by which He had made this world. “You can only subdue nature by obeying her.” You can only subdue a thing and make it useful to you by finding out the rules by which God made that thing, and by obeying them. If you want to rule, you must obey. If you want to rise to be a master, you must stoop to be a servant. If you want to be master of anything in earth or heaven, you must obey God’s will revealed in that thing; and the man who will go his own way, and follow his own fancy, will understand nothing, and master nothing, and get comfort out of nothing in earth or heaven. The same rule which holds good in this earthly world which we do see holds good in the heavenly world which we do not see. The same rules which hold good about men’s bodies hold good about their souls. The heavenly wisdom which begins in trusting in the Lord with all our hearts, the heavenly wisdom which is learnt by chastenings and afflictions, and teaches us that we are the sons of God, is the very same wisdom by which God founded the earth, and makes the clouds drop down dew. God’s wisdom is one--unchangeable, everlasting, and always like itself; and by the same wisdom by which He made our bodies has He made our souls; and therefore we can, and are bound to, glorify Him alike in our bodies and our spirits, for both are His. Illustrate: The only sure way of getting power over people is by making friends of them, making them love and trust us. The Lord Jesus ate and drank with publicans and sinners, who went out into the highways and hedges, to bring home into God’s kingdom poor wretches whom men despised and cast off. Christ also “pleased not Himself.” There was the perfect fulfilment of the great law--stoop to conquer. Christ stooped lower than any man, and therefore He rose again higher than all men. (Charles Kingsley.)

Divine purpose in nature and revelation

Faith in God and the obedience which arises from faith have at all times, and in almost all circumstances, been beset with difficulties. Counter influences to the work of the Holy Spirit of God have been supplied by the power of the world, the flesh, and the devil. But, in addition to this constant action in the same direction of the world, the flesh, and the devil, there are also agencies, which vary with time and place, and the nature of which it is very desirable that we should examine and recognise with reference to the time and place in which our own lot may happen to be cast. Mathematicians are familiar with formulae composed of terms, one of which shall be constant and the others circulating with the time. I would venture to compare the dangers of infidelity to such a mathematical formula. First you have your great constant term, the power of the world, the flesh, and the devil; strong in Eden as it is now, strong now as it was in Eden; but then you have a number of terms which increase and decrease in magnitude, depending on time and place and circumstances, some such as we can afford to neglect, some which we shall neglect at our peril. Some of the difficulties and trials of faith are not more dangerous than extinct volcanoes, like those of which we find the traces in these islands; some like Vesuvius have been mischievous in time not so long past, and may become mischievous again; others are in active operation and are dangerous now. What corresponds to the active volcano in our time?

I. Let me lead up to the answer to this question by first indicating some few active or conceivable dangers to faith which do not seem to me to be the special danger of our own time.

1. Suppose, for example, that in an unscientific age people have built up a cosmical system which makes the earth the centre of things, and arranges all else in accordance with this fundamental hypothesis--translating, in fact, into the form of a geocentric theory the mere rough, uncorrected impressions of the senses: and suppose that the theory so constructed comes to be regarded as a truth of Divine revelation, so that men see their theory reflected from the page of Holy Scripture, and not unnaturally consider the truth of one bound up with the truthfulness of the other. Then, it seems manifest, that the first discovery of the fact that the earth is not the centre of the universe, but only a tiny ball, the extinction of which would scarcely affect the solar system, and would be absolutely imperceptible as a loss to the sum of existing matter, would of necessity shake the minds of men who had been led to regard their theory of the heavens and the earth as a portion of revealed truth, and that some would probably fall from their faith. The Church has gone through such an experience as this. The volcano is extinct now.

2. Again, suppose that an artificial theological system has arisen, and that ingenious men, puzzled by the mysteries of Christian faith, have devoted their energies to attempts to explain them; or, if not to explain them, at all events to formulate them, and to make it possible to express in precise language that which probably language is incapable of expressing. Suppose, for example, that you have a subtle distinction between substance and accidents, and that you apply this distinction to define by language the nature of the presence of Christ in the holy Sacrament: you build up, in fact, the dogma of transubstantiation; and devout worshippers accept the dogma, and to question its truth is considered equivalent to denying the faith itself. What is to happen when the progress of human thought, or the discernment of some God-given teacher, blows the subtle figment of substance and accidents to the winds, and leads men to deny that the presence of Christ can be expressed by any such formula as that which transubstantiation professes to be? Is it not probable that the explosion of a dogma so closely bound up in general opinion with Christian orthodoxy will shake many minds?

3. But there is another danger, not connected with intellectual subtleties, of which the transition from Mediaeval to Reformation times affords an example, and of which, unfortunately, there have been examples since. The thing which brought on the Reformation more than anything else was the unholy lives of men--pope, priest, and people. And the want of holiness on the part of those who should be patterns to the flock has ever been, and ever will be, when it is conspicuous, one of the principal stumbling-blocks that can be placed in the way of those who would follow Christ. This volcano is not extinct. I fear it never will be.

4. Once more, it is not so long ago since we were told, on high authority, that the peculiar danger to the faith belonging to our own days was that which arose from the destructive results of modern criticism. But God was with His servants in the burning fiery furnace; and I think I am only saying that which expresses the conclusions of some of our soundest scholars, when I assert that the Gospels have come out of the furnace unhurt, and that the smell of fire has not passed upon them.

II. Well, then, what is our special difficulty or danger just now? It seems to me that it may be described by such a phrase as this: the denial of the being of God on the ground of supposed scientific conclusions. “The fool,” says the psalmist twice over, “hath said in his heart, There is no God”; and, if it were only the fool who said so, he might very well be left alone in his folly. No, we must accept the fact that a certain number of persons of high scientific position tell us that a careful examination of nature leads to the conclusion that it exhibits no purpose, and that it is all evolved out of primeval matter without any creative power such as that which believers in God are wont to assume. Fix your mind upon this one point. I am going to put out of the question the beneficence of the Creator, and the moral order of the universe, because I wish to concentrate attention upon the one consideration of purpose or design; if there be no design, there cannot well be beneficence or morality, and if there be design, beneficence and morality will (so to speak) take care of themselves. Moreover, design is that which is much more closely connected with physical studies than beneficence and morality. Give me design in the visible region of nature, and I shall have no fear as to the possibility of detecting the manifestation of purpose and will in the region of morals and of grace. But take design out of nature, tell me that the heavens and the earth are spontaneously evolved out of matter (whatever that may mean), that the men, and beasts, and creeping things are one, that the life of man has come from nothing, is nothing, and tends to nothing--and then I confess that all the glory of the universe, all the brightness of existence, all that makes life worth living, seems to me to be gone, and that there is nothing hopeful or joyous left. When I am told by a man of scientific eminence that it is only superficial observers who attribute purpose to nature, and that if I examine sufficiently I shall find that all things come of themselves, it seems to me that this is very much like telling me that ignorant folks may imagine that there is some purpose in locomotive engines, but that if any one will visit Crewe, and see them made, he will put aside all notion of purpose as unworthy of an educated mind. The ordinary observer who sees a train pass at full speed may have an ignorant feeling of wonder at the machine which moves it, while the careful observer in the factory will see that, after all, a locomotive engine is a comparatively simple affair, and easily made when you know how to do it; but there need be, and there ought to be, no difference of opinion as to the wisdom by which the locomotive was made and the understanding by which it was established. And so life is as completely a mystery, and as truly Divine, whether you read in Genesis that God spake the word and living things were made, or whether you read in modern books of the evolution of protoplasm. I take my stand upon design as upon a foundation stone; if any one denies it, I can go no further; to attempt to do so would be like discussing optics with a person who did not believe in sunshine, or geometry with a man who denied Euclid’s axioms. Granting, however, the existence of design within the small region of our own experience, we feel a logical and imperative necessity of postulating design beyond that region. This necessity extends, I think, to the whole material universe. I, who can examine my own frame and the mechanism of the world, and the countless arrangements by which the order of things is maintained, feel myself compelled to conclude that the same principle extends to those parts of the universe which I cannot so directly or so completely examine. I know that gravitation and light extend over space immeasurable, I can have no doubt as to the principle of design extending quite as far; in fact, I feel it to be an inevitable, if not an absolutely logical, conclusion, that the whole material universe is the outcome of one mind, and is governed by that same mind. But this is not the whole of the argument, or even the most important part of it. The transition from design in the material world to purpose in the moral world seems inevitable. Great intellects amongst ourselves do not employ themselves in merely making ingenious toys; the steam-engine would never have been constructed if the comfort of man and the needs of commerce had not demanded it. And this world deprived of its moral aspects, what would it be but a gigantic toy? Is it conceivable that there should be design in every sinew, and nerve, and limb of which man’s body is composed, and no purpose in those thoughts, and affections, and feelings, and aspirations, and hopes, which are as truly a part of himself as his heart or his lungs? Let it be granted that purpose in nature is a delusion, and that evolution will explain everything, and then, no doubt, this argument all vanishes; if there be no purpose in nature, then it is impossible to argue that there is any purpose extending beyond nature; but let it be once admitted that the hand and brain of man are full of purpose, and then I think it is difficult not to extend the admission from the wonderful region in which man’s hand and brain are occupied to a more wonderful region still, which transcends nature altogether. In other words, it is difficult to believe that God, having manifested a great purpose in the formation of man, has not a still greater purpose concerning him and his destiny. The step from nature to revelation, though in one sense a long one, in another sense seems to be no step at all; the purpose of which I have, as I believe, a clear proof in natural science, indicates a deeper and better, though more mysterious purpose still. Man’s endowments are too great for the mere prince or primus of the animal world; his spiritual nature is “cabin’d, cribb’d, confin’d” in a mere mortal tenement of flesh and blood; and, therefore, when I read of God speaking to man, making His will known, giving him commands which it is life to obey and death to resist, condescending to receive from man worship and love, I seem to find in all this the proper corollary to all that nature teaches me concerning design in the construction of man; it makes man, of course, a more mysterious being than he would otherwise have seemed to be; but, on the other hand, it makes the history of man--taken as a whole--more simple and more intelligible, because it supplies an adequate solution of the questions, What is man? and Why was man created? And thus we seem to pass by a safe and sure path from the simplest indication of design in nature to the highest doctrine of Divine revelation. Oh, what has happened in these latter years of the world’s history to snatch from us the blessed inheritance of faith in God, which has come down to us from the days of our fathers? “I believe in God the Father almighty, maker of heaven and earth”--is there anything in science to deprive us of this great truth? Does not science emphasise the word “Maker,” and at least nod assent when the human heart adds the word “Father”? And though science may have got to the end of its teaching in this article of the creed, is there not something in the conception of a God and Father, which leads up to the belief in a revelation made to His children through “Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord”? And certainly if Jesus Christ be accepted in the fulness of His manifested being, there can be little difficulty in accepting as the crown of Divine Revelation the blessed truth of the being of “the Holy Ghost, the Lord and giver of life.” If I am told that scientific discovery is depriving me of all that I most value, if men who pretend to guide me declare that the faith of Christendom is folly, and desire again to raise altars to “The Unknown God,” if I am told that there is no purpose in nature and that therefore I myself am purposeless and meaningless, a mere bubble upon the infinite stream of time, am I not justified in contending with all my might against such a pitiless system, and in claiming God as my Father, and the knowledge of Him as my most precious possession? (Bp. Harvey Goodwin.)