Thus Abraham is the prototype of all that is highest in the old Semitic religion-of all that was best fitted to serve as a foundation for a great moral and religious development. Abraham is in fact a representative of Semitism in two points especially: in his strong consciousness of God, and in the impulse which moved him to separate himself from an alien and more highly developed civilization. He is the pastoral chief whose life of wandering in the desert has imbued him with a sense of the irresistible power that lies behind the rugged and stern phenomena of nature amid which his lot is cast. In a spirit of awe, of receptivity, of submission to the leadings of his God, he passes from land to land, dwelling in tents, rearing his altar for sacrifice beneath the open sky, shunning the tumult of cities, and sojourning in the broad and silent spaces of the wilderness. This tendency to withdraw from the centres of civilization and to prefer a life of primitive simplicity is illustrated by the narrative of the “call of Abraham.” Such deliberate abandonment of the idolatrous and highly developed culture of Babylon is typical of the moral intensity of the pastoral Semites. It marked them out as the people of revelation. It separated them from the corruptions of polytheism. It was what the New Testament represents it to be-an act of faith in which was involved the possibility of a special and unique relationship to God. The name of Abraham thus stands for a symbol of the fact that in the soil of a purely natural religion the Divine Spirit was at work from the beginning, awakening a higher consciousness of God, and laying the foundation of a movement which was destined to find its climax in the perfect union of man with God in Jesus Christ.
All spiritual blessings have at once a marvellous increase of power over the soul, when we become distinctly conscious of them. God in His overflowing mercy gives Himself to many even when they do not know that He is moving their hearts. For we are plainly told that “He that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him,” and there is no word to limit this to those who are conscious of the source of their love. But how much fuller is his blessing, how much greater his strength, how much surer his confidence, who not only is upheld by God's almighty hand, but knows the hand which upholds him, and knows that it can never fail! Hence at all times do we need to be reminded to seek that union which alone is the permanent source of life. Granted that God gives it to us sometimes when we do not seek it; so indeed He gives many of His best blessings. Yet He reserves a special blessing for those who seek it. It is not enough to be conscientious. Let us press on to be religious: that is, to pray heartily for strength, to confess our sins to our heavenly Father, to make it the purpose of our lives to please Him, to recall to our memories the Cross which seems to set forth all love that ever was in one single act, and so at last to teach ourselves to be His children. If we can really learn that lesson, we have little else to learn.1 [Note: Archbishop Temple.]
The result of all religion is to bring us into union with God. We are made one with Him in understanding when, by renouncing our own wisdom, we seek continually and believingly for wisdom from on high; one in affection, when we desire and love what He desires and loves; one in will, when our purposes are as His are. There can be no true moral union between God and man until the human will is brought into harmony with the Divine. And this life of union, which is the highest and most glorious result of our being, is the gift of God. A fundamental condition of it is, that we shall resign ourselves to Him, that we may be His in all things, and that we may receive this and all other blessings at His hand. God alone can accomplish it. Still, the creature must consent to have it done. God loves His creatures; God is the source of light to them; God in Christ is the true Saviour. But man must, at least, recognize his alienation, and in becoming willing and desirous to be saved, must expand his soul to the Divine operation. The creature, therefore, must open the window; it is the least he can do; but it is the sun himself, the Eternal Sun, that must give the light.
Strive after union with God; but do not too readily or easily believe that you have attained to it. The traveller, after many fatigues and dangers, arrives at the top of a mountain. As he looks abroad from that high eminence, and in that clear atmosphere, he sees his native city: and it seems to him to be very near. Overjoyed at the sight, and perhaps deceived by his position, he proclaims himself as already at the end of his journey. But he soon finds that the distance was greater than he supposed. He is obliged to descend into valleys, and to climb over hills, and to surmount rugged rocks, and to wind his tired steps over many a mile of weary way, before he reaches that home and city, which he once thought so near.1 [Note: Madame Guyon, in Life by T. C. Upham, 243, 416.]
