by Arthur W. Pink
by Arthur W. Pink
Philologos Religious Online Books
Philologos.org
by Arthur W. Pink
May, 1938
CONSCIENCE.
1. Its Nature and Origin.
There is in man, as man—as the creature of God—a “moral sense,” as it is called; a faculty of perception of moral quality in whatever comes into the field of view. This, of course, was his before the Fall; indeed, without it, a fall would not have been possible. He would have been a mere beast, for which it is impossible to be immoral, just because it is unmoral—with no capacity of moral perception or reflection at all. Such a being could not fall. “Man that is in honour, and understandeth not”—here spoken clearly, not of rational, but of moral discernment—“is like the beasts that perish” (Psa. 49:20). That is the character of the beast, then. Had man gained by the Fall a moral sense, it would have been really in the phrase of a modern infidel, a “fall upward”; it would have brought him into a higher condition than that in which he was created.
When God said of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, “Thou shalt not eat of it; for in the day that thou eatest thereof, thou shalt surely die,” this was surely not to be understood by Adam as a mere consequence which would follow a certain course, a mere appeal to self-love, and no more! Had it been so, and he had merely understood it as an alternative proposed to him, he might have chosen the alternative, however fatal, yet without sin. But in this case “thou shalt not” could not have been said: the prohibition would have sunk into mere advice. Sin could not then have been, nor fall possible. The innocence in which man stood—as made “upright” (Eccl. 7:29)—was not the immaturity of a babe which we call such. To confound the reality of innocence in upright Adam with the shadow of it only in the fallen creature would be to accuse the Creator and make the record of the Fall an unintelligible mystery.
What, then, does the knowledge of good and evil, as acquired in the Fall, imply? For it is of this that the very name of the prohibited tree speaks: it is this that the serpent proposed, “ye shall be as God, knowing good and evil”; and it is this that the Divine Word after the Fall assures us had resulted: “the man is become as one of Us, knowing good and evil.” What, then, is this knowledge? It is, as all the inspired Word is, put before us to understand, and it will be a gain to us to understand it.
When the prohibition was first given, it is plain it was in a scene where God had pronounced everything, without exception, which He had created, “very good.” Evil there was not anywhere then to be perceived. The faculty of perception did not, of course, create the object to be perceived. Evil there yet was none. I do not mean that angels had not fallen. The whole history assures one that they had. But that did not necessarily introduce it into the world. This was, with all in it, very good; and as such is committed into the hands of man its head. Upon his obedience the condition of all within this realm of his depended. Save through him, evil could not enter; for the presence of the Devil in the serpent was not an entrance in the sense in which I speak of it. Man himself alone could really bring it in.
It may be asked, however, Did not the prohibition itself suppose (and imply the knowledge of) evil as possible, at least? To us, alas! it does; and here, indeed, is the great difficulty for us: how can we put ourselves back into that lost estate of innocence, so as to form any right conception of it at all? Prohibition to us, alas! awakens at once the thought of possible disobedience, and in the fallen nature the lust of it. But Adam had no lust, and no conception as yet of possible disobedience. This need not imply any mental or moral feebleness, but as to the latter (taking all into account), the very opposite.
To know good and evil means simply to discern the difference between these two; but for this to be, the two must be together within the field of vision. It was just the perfection of Adam's world that in it there was none, and in himself none. He could abide in good, and enjoy it, without thought of its opposite; a state for us difficult of conception, no doubt, but not impossible to conceive. Gratitude he could have and feel, without thought of ingratitude; believe, praise, love and adore he could, without realizing even the possibility of the opposite of these, and with a moral nature which could yet recognize them immediately if they were presented.
The history of the Fall confirms this. The serpent's first approach is by a question, which under the form of a question of fact, suggests a moral one: “Yea (is it so) that God hath said, Ye shall not eat of every tree of the garden?” But to entertain a moral question as to God is fatal. Implicit confidence in God is gone, and evil is already there known in the soul of her who entertains the question. The woman's answer already shows the consequence of this: “Of the fruit of the trees of the garden we may eat; but of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the garden God hath said, Ye shall not eat of it, and ye shall not touch it, lest ye die”! Here, in her mind the prohibited tree had displaced the tree of life. The prohibition, increased to harshness in the manner of it, is weakened in the certainty of its attending penalty. God's love and truth are obscured in her doubting soul; and the Devil can say, “Surely ye shall not die; for God doth know that in the day ye eat of it your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as God, knowing good and evil.”
Here it should be plain that faith in God, receiving all at His hand, prohibition and all, as good alike, would have foiled the Enemy, and remained master of the field. By faith, from the first, and of necessity, man stood. All dispensations are, in this, alike. The evil that gained entrance into the world began as unbelief in the woman's soul, and this having speedily ripened into the positive transgression, conscience awoke—the inward eyes were opened: they knew evil in contrast with good—knew it in themselves, and their actions show plainly that they did so: “they knew that they were naked, and they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves aprons.”
The evil that had come in was in themselves alone, for of moral evil alone is capable. And thus the moral perception in man is become a judgment of good and evil in himself, and of himself in view of it: and this is conscience. There is always in it a reference to one's self. It is always, as it were, testifying to our nakedness. It is the inheritance of fallen Adam's children, to whom innocence is no longer possible: a watch set upon us by God as under His just suspicion. It is the knowledge of good and evil as found in one who has obtained it by disobedience.
Yet how the grace of God to man shines out already here! “The man is become as one of Us, to know good and evil.” How significant in its connection with that eternal purpose which was even then, when these words were spoken, beginning to be declared! A return to innocence was indeed impossible, but, holiness might yet be, if Divine love so willed. And thus out of the ruin of the first, a new creation yet more glorious was indeed to spring.
2. Its Office and Character.
It is evident, and easy to see, that conscience reveals nothing. It simply declares the character of whatever is presented, and that according to the light it has. As the eye is the light, only as it is the inlet of light, to the body, so the conscience is simply the inlet of whatever light morally there may be for the spirit. And just as disease may, to any extent, affect the bodily eye, so may it affect also the spiritual. Alas! the solemn consideration is that sin has thus affected, to a greater or lesser degree, the consciences of all men. Yet in none, perhaps, is it altogether darkened, and its power will manifest itself often in the most unexpected and striking way in those who, notwithstanding, resist to the last its convictions.
The scribes and Pharisees, plotting to entrap the Lord by the case of the adulteress condemned by Moses' law, are thus driven out of His presence by the simple yet penetrating words, “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her” (John 8:7). Conscience in Herod sees in Christ the murdered Baptist risen from the dead (Mark 6:16). Stephen's adversaries, on the other hand, rush into murder, cut to the heart by the conviction that they have resisted the Holy Spirit (Acts 7:54). Thus, in the midst of the most frantic opposition to the Truth, nay, by this, the power of the Truth over the conscience is clearly shown.
Scripture declares it in doctrine as well as example—“This is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. For everyone that doeth evil hateth the light, neither cometh to the light, lest his deeds should be reproved. But he that doeth truth cometh to the light, that his deeds may be made manifest that they are wrought in God” (John 3:19-21). Here is the principle of which the example last given is the illustration. The evil-doer is aware of the light when he shuns it; would quench it, if possible, because he is aware of it. In it he is not, because he flees, not welcomes it; yet in fleeing, carries the unmistakable witness of it in his heart.
Again, in the parable of the sower the Lord declares the same thing in another form. Of the seed sown by the wayside He says, “When anyone heareth the word of the kingdom, and understandeth it not, then cometh the wicked one, and catcheth away that which was sown in his heart” (Matt. 13:19). Now this is one apparently quite unconvinced; he does not understand the seed lies merely upon the surface of the ground, inviting the fowls of the air to catch it away. The heart of this man, hard as the roadside with the traffic of other things, if you could say of any that it was untouched by the Word, you could say it here; yet the Lord expressly says, “taketh away that which was sown in his heart.” Even here the Word has not only touched, but penetrated. The heart, unchanged by it, has rejected it: true, but it has had to reject it. Satan is allowed to remove the Word, and it is taken away: but its rejected witness will come up in terrible memory at another day.
And this exactly agrees with the words of the Apostle: “But if our Gospel be hid, it is hid to them that are perishing: in whom the god of this world hath blinded the minds of them which believe not, lest the light of the Gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God, should shine unto them” (2 Cor. 4:3, 4). Here again the unbelief which refuses the Gospel shuts the unbeliever up into the enemy's hand. The blinding of the mind by the god this world, like the removal of the seed by the fowls of the air, is the direct result of this first rejection of unwelcome testimony.
How immensely important, then, to the soul, is the treatment it accords to whatever it has to own as truth. As little or as much as it may seem to be! God is the God of Truth; and, where souls are themselves true, the possession of any portion of it is the possession of a clue-line which leads surely into His presence; the giving it up is the deliberate choice of darkness as one's portion. And this applies in measure to everyone, sinner and saint alike, and to every truth of revelation. Every truth really bowed to in the soul leads on to more; every error received requires, to be consistent with it, the reception of more. It is darkness; and darkness is a kingdom, as the light is—part of an organized revolt against God. As the truth leads to and keeps us in His presence, so error is, in its essence, departure from Him.
[To be continued in June issue.]
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