The Bible has been compared to a river in which a child may wade, and an elephant swim; by which is meant that it is full of practical truth so plainly revealed that a little child may rejoice in it, while at the same time it is full of truth so deep that the loftiest intellect of man is very soon out of its depth in the study of it. Thus there are few things more beautifully simple than a living faith. It is the unquestioning trust of one who loves his God and Saviour; the calm repose of the dependent heart on One who has summed up His Gospel in the words “Come unto Me.” Thus there are thousands, and tens of thousands, of happy believers who have accepted the great salvation just as God has given it; and who, without perplexing their minds about matters which they cannot understand, most thankfully receive what God has revealed, and rejoice in it with their whole hearts as belonging to themselves and their children. As little children they receive and trust, the result of which is that they rest in their Saviour as a child rests in its mother’s arms. I believe there are those by whom such persons are despised, and by whom they are regarded as weak, foolish, and contemptible; but they have the joy of the Lord, and, instead of being despised, they may well be envied by those who, in the consciousness of superior intellect, consider themselves qualified to despise their folly.

But, while we rejoice in this simple and childlike Christian faith, it is vain to deny that in “the deep things of God” there are difficulties, and that there are other minds to whom these difficulties are a source of real and grave perplexity. I am not now speaking of those who delight in magnifying difficulties, and whose only object in reading their Bible is to find out something at which they may cavil; but I am speaking rather of thoughtful men who respect religion, and are not opposed to truth; who have never set their face against the Gospel; and to whom it would be a real cause of heartfelt thanksgiving if they were able to receive, in the simplicity of faith, the great salvation revealed to them in the Word of God. They have no wish to be unbelievers; their hearts are not set against the truth; and they believe enough to make them long to believe the whole. But there are some things that perplex them, and there are certain difficulties which they cannot quite get over.

Now, without the slightest hesitation or disguise, I fully and frankly admit that there are very serious difficulties in the revelation of God, and difficulties which I believe it is not in the power of the human intellect to solve. When, therefore, a person says that he cannot understand all that is revealed, I agree with him. If he add that on that account he cannot believe, I altogether dissent from his conclusion; but as to the existence of difficulties he is undoubtedly right. We, who believe, know perfectly well, and fully admit, that there are things in divine revelation which we are altogether unable either to explain or understand.

Think, for example, of the divinity of our blessed Lord and Saviour, and the perfect union of a divine and human nature in His one sacred person. I am not afraid to state plainly my firm conviction that no human intellect can explain it. If He were only an appearance of God Himself that would be intelligible; or if He were only man endued with very high qualifications, that again would be within our reach; but that He should be in His one person both perfect God and perfect man, or, in other words, both infinite and finite, that I believe to be far beyond the reach of human explanation.

It is the same with the doctrine of election, and its union with human responsibility. The two appear to be opposed to each other, but, notwithstanding that, they are both found in the Gospel. How can it be explained? How can it be? I cannot tell. Some people meet the difficulty by cutting out one side, and some by cutting out the other; but neither one process of excision nor the other can satisfy a really thinking mind. And the difficulty remains, for we find both sides in Scripture.

Who, again, can explain a resurrection? We see in spring that wonderful revival of life which is a type of it. But who can explain the thing itself? What physician, or what scientific philosopher, can explain how the dead shall be made alive? Whenever it is done it must be done by some power of which man knows nothing, so that the resurrection of the dead is something which, to the knowledge of man, appears impossible.

Then again, in conclusion, look around on all the sin and misery of the world. We know that it is explained in the Scriptural account of the fall, and that there is a remedy provided in Christ Jesus. But there is something inexpressibly appalling in the facts. Here is this beautiful world, that appears to have been created as a happy home for holy inhabitants, filled with sin, misery, ruin, pain, anguish, remorse, strife, sickness, and ultimately death. And when we think of the words, “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth,” and when we contrast the Creator with the present condition of creation, there is enough to fill the heart with amazement, and to make the thoughtful man exclaim, “How can these things be?”

Now with this full and frank acknowledgment of difficulty we are brought face to face with the question, What effect should these difficulties have on our faith? Should they shake it, or should they confirm it? Should they lead us to give up the Gospel, or should they establish our trust, and induce us to cleave to it more stedfastly than ever? Some people will say, “Give it up,” and will tell you, because there are difficulties to settle, to settle down in sceptical distrust! But surely they are not wise in giving such advice, nor in acting on such principles. They certainly do not act so in common life, and such conduct is not in harmony with the wisdom of the world.

Can you explain how a little thin vapour rising up from boiling water can force a long line of heavy-laden carriages through the country at the rate of fifty miles an hour? But you rely on the arrangements of those who can, and, trusting them, you do not refuse to take your seat in the train.

Can you explain all the deep currents of the ocean, or how it is that water became endowed with such properties as to bear up a great, heavy, iron ship? But you trust those who have constructed the vessel, and, without attempting to understand the construction, you do not hesitate to go to sea.

Can you explain the chemical properties of medicine, or how it is that it will act on your system and do you good? But you trust a physician, and you take it.

Can you explain how it is that the will, that secret, hidden, indescribable power within you, makes your hand move in obedience to your wish? But would you on that account think it wise never to move your limbs?

The fact is that in practical life we are surrounded in all directions with things which we cannot explain, and problems which we cannot solve. We cannot escape from such difficulties; they meet us at every turn. But in daily life we never think of them. Our practical conduct is not affected by them. We see what we have to do, and we do it. We take our place in the train, we go on board the ship, we send our telegram, we eat our food, and we move our limbs, without ever endeavouring to solve the mysteries which underlie all that we are doing. Now all I ask is that men should act on the same principle with reference to the Gospel. There are, as I have said, difficulties, and if you never act until they are solved, a weary time you will have to wait. But there is also a plain, simple, clear word of invitation; there is a great salvation prepared, presented, and proclaimed. There is a way of life so clearly taught that he may run that readeth it. So the wise course is to say, “Difficulty or no difficulty, I accept the invitation,” and to act practically just as you do with your food or your medicine. Your physician gives you medicine, and, though you cannot explain how it will act, you take it in trust. So your God gives you His salvation, and your part is to accept His gift, and leave it to Him to solve the deep mysteries of His hidden will.

But I cannot leave the subject there, for I am prepared to maintain that these difficulties should confirm the faith, and to claim them even as “witnesses to truth.”

1. They are witnesses to the truth of the Scriptures, for in them we are told that we are sure to meet with them.

While, as I have already said, the way of life is presented so clearly that he may run that readeth it, there is at the same time the perfectly clear statement that we must expect to find difficulties in the revelation of God. Only look at St. Peter’s description of St. Paul’s Epistles in 2 Peter iii. 16. In that passage he associates those Epistles with the other Scriptures, and plainly declares that they contain some things “hard to be understood.” Are we then to be surprised if, in reading them, we meet with things “hard to be understood,” or if we meet with men who venture to cavil at them, and so wrest them to their own destruction? I am prepared to maintain that if in St. Paul’s Epistles, and the other Scriptures, there had been nothing “hard to be understood,” then St. Peter himself would not have spoken truth. The difficulties in the writings of St. Paul are necessary to the complete truth of the Epistle of St. Peter.

So St. Paul himself plainly teaches us that our knowledge in this world is only partial. Only refer to his language in 1 Cor. xiii. 12. There are two facts there stated—first, that our vision is indistinct, and then that it is limited. It is indistinct, for we see through a glass darkly, or through a dull refractor; and it is limited, for we know only in part. “Now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.” Are we to be surprised then if we do not enjoy a full, clear, sun-light vision of the whole? And is not the indistinctness of our vision a proof of the truth of the Scriptures?

So we meet in the Scriptures with the full recognition of the selfsame difficulties that arise in modern times. These difficulties are no new discoveries of the sharpened intellect of the nineteenth century, but are as old as the Gospel itself.

Do you find a difficulty in explaining the perfect union of a perfect Godhead and a perfect manhood in the one person of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ? I acknowledge frankly, “So do I.” I am not afraid to acknowledge that I cannot explain it, and that I believe no one can. But my point is that the Scriptures have prepared us for it, and that it is the very difficulty which our Lord Himself presented to the Pharisees when He said, “If David then call him Lord, how is he his son?” (Matt xxii. 45.)

Do you find a difficulty in the doctrine of “election,” and are you unable to reconcile the gift of life to a chosen number with the perfect equity of the universal government of God? If so, remember that there is nothing new in such a difficulty. It is as old as the Gospel itself, and it is fully recognized in the Scriptures. Nothing can be more perfectly clear than the statement made respecting it in Romans ix. 1–13, or than the full recognition of the difficulty in verse 14—“What shall we say then? Is there unrighteousness with God? God forbid.”So, once more, with the resurrection. Does it appear impossible that the dead should rise again? Are you unable to conceive the possibility of a body, lost in the ocean, burnt in the flames, or corrupted in the grave, being restored to unity, life, and vigour? I grant you that it does seem impossible. I see the difficulty as much as any of you. But let no man suppose that this difficulty is new, or the discovery of it the result of his own independent intellect; for in the Scriptures of truth we are fully prepared for it. We are not taken by surprise, for we were warned of it 1800 years ago in our Bibles; for there we read, in verse 35 of the great resurrection chapter (1 Cor. xv.), “But some man will say, How are the dead raised up? and with what body do they come?” Possibly there may be, at this present time, some whom I am addressing, actually fulfilling that prophecy, and so living amongst us as unintentional “witnesses to its truth.”

But, whether there are or not, my point is that the difficulties themselves are “witnesses to the truth of the Word of God.” The Bible says, plainly and repeatedly, that there are things “hard to be understood,” and, therefore, if I were to meet with nothing of the kind, and if everything contained in St. Paul’s Epistles and the other Scriptures were perfectly plain, the only conclusion at which I could arrive would be that those Scriptures had not given a true description of the fact. Now, however, I find them in this most important matter perfectly true. The objection of the sceptic only leads me to trust my Bible. If there were no difficulties, then I should begin to be afraid that my Bible could not be from God. But now the infidel himself is one of the best “witnesses” that I can put into the witness-box, and the very argument which he brings against the possibility of the fulfilment of the promises of God is an evidence, as clear as the noonday sun, of the wisdom, the foreknowledge, and the perfect acquaintance with the human understanding, with which God inspired, 1800 years ago, (by His Holy Spirit) the Scriptures of truth. It reminds me of the words of the apostle—“Let God be true, but every man a liar.”

But this is not all; for not only are these difficulties exactly what are revealed in the Scriptures, but they are also exactly what, as thinking men, we ought to expect in a divine revelation.

Let us think what we mean by a divine revelation. We mean, the communication from an infinite God to fallen man, of His own plan for the salvation of the sinner. Now what would a reasonable person expect in such a communication? He would expect Him to inform us of all that concerned our own action, and to make plain to us the way of life in which it is His will that we should walk; but he would not expect Him to indulge our craving after full information respecting His own hidden being, or the mode and power by which He would carry out His promises. He would expect Him to make His promises plain, but he would not expect Him to explain to us His divine plan for their fulfilment; he would expect Him to do exactly what He has done in the case of the resurrection—promise it faithfully, and so lead us to trust Himself, without giving any explanation as to the mode or the instrumentality by which that promise should be fulfilled. And this is exactly the principle which He Himself has laid down in His own Word, as when He said (Deut. xxix., 29), “The secret things belong unto God,” i.e. they are hidden in the depths of His own infinite mind; “but those things which are revealed belong unto us, and to our children for ever, that we may do all the words of this law;” i.e. all that He has revealed we may freely make use of, and even our little children may learn in it the blessed secret of a Father’s love.

But does it not follow that the moment we attempt to reach into the secrets of God we are perfectly certain to meet with difficulty? We get out of depth directly, and are like people who cannot swim. For how can the human mind, for one moment, expect to solve the mysteries of the deep things of God? How can it aspire either to fathom its depths, or to scale its heights? Think for one moment what man is, a little creature on this little ball of earth, here for a few years, and then passing away for ever. And think what He is, “the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy,” the “everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.” And is it likely that man should be able to put as it were into the balances the deep mysteries of His eternal will? When Zophar thought of it he said (Job xi. 7, 8), “Canst thou by searching find out God? canst thou find out the Almighty unto perfection? It is as high as heaven; what canst thou do? deeper than hell; what canst thou know?” When David thought of the knowledge of God, he said (Psalm cxxxix. 6), “Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high, I cannot attain unto it.” When St. Paul was meeting the objection of those who cavilled at the righteousness of the government of God, he met them with the words (Rom. ix. 20), “Nay, but, O man, who art thou that repliest against God? Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, Why hast thou made me thus?” And when the Sadducees put a difficult puzzle on the subject of the resurrection, our Lord Himself silenced them with the words, “Ye do err, not knowing the Scriptures, nor the power of God.” (Matt. xxii 29.) And were they not all right? Shall the finite sit in judgment on the infinite? the created on the Creator? the man of to-day on the God of all eternity? And are we to doubt His revelation because we cannot fathom the depths of His wisdom nor the hidden mysteries of His being? Nay, rather, are not those very depths witnesses to the divinity of His revelation? If it were all so shallow that any young man could wade in it without wetting even his ancles, might we not then believe that it came from some shallow mind no deeper than his own? If it contained no mysteries, might we not begin to doubt whether it really came from a mysterious God? So these difficulties of which we hear so much in modern times, these difficulties on which so many of our young men are so perfectly ready to decide, and on account of which they are even tempted to cast aside the revelation of God—these very difficulties are to us who believe, divine “witnesses” to the divine authorship of the whole. Had the Book been a man’s book, drawn up by man to commend itself to the mind of man, it never would have had in it those high and holy mysteries by which we see the intellect of man altogether baffled. Man’s mind would have produced nothing which man’s mind could not comprehend.

We may rejoice, therefore, in “the breadth, and length, and depth, and height;” and, instead of being dismayed or disheartened because we cannot fathom the unfathomable depths of the unfathomable counsels of our God, we would rather say with St. Paul, “Who hath known the mind of the Lord? or who hath been His counsellor?” and cling, with more tenacity than ever, to this sacred and holy Book, thus shown by its very mystery to be superhuman and supernatural, nothing less than a revelation from God.