
Walking in the Spirit
Part 2
Easter 5 6 May
2007
Last week we talked about the 7-fold gift of the Spirit,
which is the complex of inner spiritual dispositions planted in the soul by the
Holy Spirit when we are baptized. These inner dispositions are part of that
inward change wrought in us when we become children of God and are made to share
in Christ’s own sonship with the Father. Last week we noted that these
dispositions were part of the empowerment of the Messiah for the divine work of
salvation and a gift the Messiah shares with his own people to fit them for
carrying on his work—to restore the world to unity with God through the Cross.
Another way of saying the same thing—but getting at another quality of our
relationship with God—is to say that this gift of the Holy Spirit elevates us
from being merely the creatures of God to being his children. Through the
indwelling Spirit, the Father adopts us as his own sons and daughters in his one
and only Son. This is not merely a legal fiction by which we are considered to
be God’s children, even though we are not. It is an actual sharing in the
divine nature and we are given the qualities of that divine nature which fit us
to be God’s own children. These gifts enable us to live a changed life in this
world.
When we are baptized we enter into the possession of these
gifts and of our new status. Christ comes to us, we come to him, the Spirit
dwells in us. This is called a state of grace. Grace, this sharing in the
divine life, becomes the environment in which we live—the sphere of unity with
God and each other in Christ. If we respond to our new environment, then all
the supernatural elements of our new life are activated. If we don’t respond,
we can ruin this environment by a kind of spiritual pollution—that is,
inattention and sin. A polluted environment cannot produce growth or health.
But if we adapt ourselves to this gracious environment, then the Spirit will
progressively take control of our lives and we will grow and flourish in grace.
But here we run into a puzzle. By all our observations, it
seems that there are many different levels at which the will can respond to God,
many grades of self-surrender, and the process itself never seems completed in
this life. Why doesn’t God simply make us holy all at once when the Spirit is
given to us in baptism? It would all be so much simpler. For some reason God
has not chosen to operate this way. It is the difference between the miraculous
and the supernatural. Grace is supernatural. That is, in baptism we are really
given a divine infusion of power. If we persevere in cooperating with this
grace it will gradually supernaturalize the whole of our lives. The miraculous
is also a manifestation of divine power. But it operates independently of cause
and effect and breaks into the normal and natural to accomplish the divine
purposes. Miracles are completely under the control of God, whereas cooperation
with grace is partly under our control. It seems that ordinarily God does not
wish to break into our lives by means of the miraculous. He wishes us to learn
to cooperate with his grace and to choose his ways for ourselves and to learn to
live as his children in our own way and at our own speed. In short, he respects
our freedom. If we want to be holy, then we will have to choose to be holy,
every step of the way. We have available to us more resources than we will ever
use—God Himself, the indwelling Spirit, Jesus our Saviour. But we have to learn
to discover, utilize, attain, acquire, strive, surrender, and sacrifice—such is
the way we humans are made and apparently only so can we come at last to our
perfection and happiness. Occasionally God does supply a miracle, for his own
reasons and in his own ways, but not ordinarily. All of this seems like the
long way around, but that is how reality is shaped. If we want the quick fix,
the big miracle, the magic bullet—then we want something other than what God
wants to give us.
Last week we talked about part of our spiritual equipment
for living into the spiritual life—the 7-fold gift of the Spirit. These are
spiritual dispositions which come into play as we give ourselves to the work of
the Spiritual Life. They don’t appear unless we are at work in the business of
living for God. Then we begin to see that the disposition to do God’s will has
already been given to us, as an interior faculty rendering us responsive to
grace. Today we begin to look at the work of the Spiritual Life itself and we
start with the three great virtues—faith, hope, and charity. Virtues are
qualities of character that appear in a life that has been exercising them. We
all have muscles, for example, but we are not all strong. Strength comes as we
exercise muscles we possess in ways that develop their potential. Virtues are
capacities or abilities which emerge in those who exercise them. In order to be
virtuous two things are needed: capacity and work. Unless you have the capacity
to play the piano, you can work at it forever and never play well. But you can
be filled with musical ability and never play because you are too lazy or
indifferent to develop your ability. The three great virtues—faith, hope, and
charity—are not natural abilities. They are given to us in our baptism. The
ability to believe, to hope, and to love, are planted in us by the Spirit. But
we will never be faithful, hopeful, and loving unless we work at it, unless we
develop the virtues for which the Holy Spirit has given us the capacity. These
three virtues are at the heart of the spiritual life. They are the chief ways
in which the character of God’s own sons and daughters is recognized. There are
a lot of other virtues, and we will be talking about many of them, but these
three are fundamental—all the others come from them.
Now we have all heard of faith before, and I probably will
not say much that you do not already know. But how often do we consider it a
virtue? If it is a virtue, then we are largely responsible for the quality of
our faith. It is a character trait which we can develop by exercise. And that
means it is mostly a matter of our will. Of course, it is also a gift of God or
we could never arrive at faith in the first place. How do we define it? To
believe is to do two things. First, it is to be able to know and accept
something as true. Second, it is to be able to trust. By faith we understand
that Jesus is the Son of God and our Saviour and we accept him as such. By
faith we entrust our lives to him in this world and in the next. There is a
supernatural work of grace involved in this. Unless God gives us this faith,
none of us could ever come to believe. The life of grace begins from God’s side
and we are free to cooperate with Him and allow Him to bestow upon us the faith
to accept Jesus as our Saviour. This is called conversion and it normally
precedes our baptism. In baptism we are further filled with faith when the
Spirit comes to dwell in us.
But faith does not come to us full blown. At the beginning
of our spiritual lives we see and know very little. We do not trust God very
deeply. So we enter upon a process of learning to trust God so that we may more
clearly know him. The more we trust, the more we perceive; the more we know God
the more profound is our trust in him.
One great obstacle to faith, of course, is doubt. You
might think that doubting is related to thinking, since we have all heard that
the more you are educated the more difficult it is to believe. But that is not
really true. We are mostly tempted to doubt, not because we get some powerful
new information which brings into question our fundamental Christian beliefs,
but because we experience difficulties in holding to God’s will and are tempted
to take back our trust. It is true that our faith can be built on shallow
thinking and then better information can shake it. Then we must think harder
and, of course, many don’t want to do that. But it is more likely that doubts
arise this way: we are battered with suffering or problems or difficulties we
have not experienced before, and all of a sudden we doubt that God is with us.
Has suffering brought us some new information we did not have before? No, we
already knew about it. But we did not experience it. In the midst of our
suffering, we have the opportunity of trusting God and continuing to live for
him. If we do, our faith is strengthened; if we fail, it is weakened.
Faith will become a habit, a virtuous habit, if we
constantly choose to be faithful and trusting. We have to set ourselves against
a popular strain in modern culture which thinks it is a virtue to be skeptical
about everything. Skepticism in the service of truth can be helpful; but there
is a skepticism which is merely at the service of self-interest—doubtful about
everything that demands a personal effort. That is deadly to faith—a
manifestation of sloth. On the other hand, if we develop the habit of faith, we
can become a people who cleave to God through thick and thin—we can be
faithful. As in all the virtues, there are certain kinds of exercises we can do
to develop faith. The two chief are study and prayer. As we study we learn to
appreciate the content of the faith, the truth that we know. As we pray
regularly we learn to know the God in whom we believe. Then when the occasions
in our lives come in which our faith is challenged, we will meet them with our
believing already exercised and strong. No spiritual life is possible without
faith; it is at the heart of our relationship with God. We only know God by
faith in this age; he has promised us something far better in the age to come.
Hope is the second of the theological virtues and a vague
thing it is in the minds of many people. It is often regarded as a kind of
wishful thinking, as in: I hope it won’t rain tomorrow; or, we must always hope
for the best (even though we know it is not likely to happen). Yet, we all know
that where there is no hope, there is despair. And where there is despair,
there is often the cessation of life itself. Without some kind of hope at the
natural level of our existence, we have no reason to go on with life. Hope,
then, is a desire for something that you think is achievable, something that
justifies your efforts and work, and will give meaning to what you do, even if
it is not certain that you can attain it. Without hope, there is no sustained
effort towards a goal. Now I think it is true that you have to be able to
visualize something in order to hope for it. That is, you have to have an
imagination. What you cannot imagine you cannot hope for and you will cease to
work for. The supernatural virtue of hope is the ability to desire as possible
what God has promised—that is, that we can somehow achieve the age to come, come
to stand in the presence of God Himself, reach our final happiness, and personal
fulfillment in the Kingdom of God. Hope conceives our true end by a kind of
spiritual imagination and inspires the will to set its course towards God.
Faith, of course, believes in this true end, but it is hope that motivates the
will to aspire towards it.
And here is where we can see both how hope is a virtue and
why it is so weak these days. It is a virtue because it is a capacity that can
be exercised and developed by practice. By prayer and effort, we can grow in
hope, our whole being can be suffused in this desire for the Kingdom that will
motivate all our actions towards that end. It is also obvious why hope is often
underdeveloped. It has to do with our imaginations and the simple truth is that
our imaginations are too full of too many things for us to desire much the
things of God. We are bombarded from morning to night with messages that fill
our imaginations with myriad conceptions of the good life, but none of which
pertain to our ultimate goodness. Our imaginations are sick, a sickness
characterized by Tony Campolo as “affluenza,” a compulsive seeking for worldly
goods and comforts and a successful life-style. Our imaginations are so filled
with images of the things we don’t have but want, of things to do we haven’t
done, of deals to make we haven’t made, that the vision of the Kingdom of God is
obscured.
The only way to strengthen hope, to develop it, is through
thinking and meditation. We have to let our imaginations be soaked in the very
things our faith tells us are true, so that our desires can be awoken for them.
We need to see through the false promises which the desire for transitory things
holds out to us. Where hope is strong it is a veritable anchor of the soul,
that which holds us steady in all the confusion around us and when the troubles
and difficult times come. Where hope is strong one does not give up, either on
God or on oneself because faith knows as true and hope desires as a real
possibility the triumph of the promises of God. Remember that lovely collect
from Lent: “Grant your people grace to love what you command and desire what you
promise, that among the swift and varied changes of the world our hearts may
surely there be fixed where true joys are to be found.”
The last of the theological virtues is charity or love. It
is hard to know what word to use since all the words for love have been abused
and confused. My favourite is the Latin translation of the Greek, agape,
caritas, from which comes the Spanish, caridad. But that is a little clunky to
use—and even the word charity carries some negative connotations. Love is the
pinnacle of the virtuous life; all the other virtues flow from it. It is the
fulfillment of the whole of the law of God. It is related to the natural
capacity to love that is ours because we are human, but the theological virtue
is more than this. That is why it is desirable to have a separate word for it.
We are called as the sons and daughters of God in order to love God with all our
hearts and our neighbors as ourselves. The virtue of charity is the inner
capacity to do this. To love God with all the heart is not to describe an
emotion, it is to describe a way of life, a life centered around, and devoted
to, the will of God, to God Himself. Charity is the virtuous ability we have to
live for God in this way and to actively care for the good of our neighbor in
the same way that we care for our own good. Of course, as we learn to channel
the whole of our life’s energy toward the service of God and learn to care for
our neighbor’s good as we care for our own, our emotions will be brought into
the picture. If we begin to have a real emotional love for the things of God,
well and good. It is better to be kindly affectioned towards our neighbor than
not. It is easier to be loving if we feel loving. But the virtue is the doing,
not necessarily the feeling. Which is why love is an action word, not a feeling
word. It is nice to hear you say you love God, but I would rather know if you
live for him and care about the person next to you. Christian loving is a
capacity, not an emotion, and depends on the will, not our sentiments. It is an
out-going of ourselves towards God and our neighbor, and so is akin to
sacrifice. Such sacrificial loving must be practised in order to be developed.
And we practise it as we act in loving ways towards those around us and order
our lives according to the will of God—which is mostly the same thing: we prove
that we love God by loving our neighbor—who, as we remember from the parable of
the Good Samaritan, turns out to be anyone we run across who needs our help.
Before we can do a lot of loving, we will probably have to do a lot of
praying—which means that all Christian action begins in prayer.
And so there remain these three: faith, hope, and love.
The greatest of these is love, but love will never be attained unless faith is
strong and hope keeps desire alive. We not only need to have faith in the
revelation of the love of God in Christ, but to have the hope that we can become
loving people and so find the fulfillment of all our desires in becoming God’s
loving children in the Kingdom of His Son.
Let us pray. Almighty God, who sent your Holy Spirit to be
the life and light of your Church; open our hearts to the riches of your grace,
that we may bring forth the fruit of the Spirit in love and joy and peace;
through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.