by Bishop J. C. Ryle, D.D.
“He marvelled because of their unbelief.” — Mark vi. 6.
The text which heads this page is a very remarkable one. Of all the expressions in the four Gospels which show that the Lord Jesus Christ was very Man, none perhaps is more startling than this. That He who was born of the Virgin Mary, and had a body like our own, should hunger and thirst, and weep and rejoice, and be weary and suffer pain, — all this we can, in some degree, understand. But that He who was very God as well as very Man, He “in whom dwelt all the fulness of the Godhead bodily,” He in whom were “hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge,” He who “knew what was in man,” — that He should “marvel” at anything here below, may well fill us with astonishment. But what saith the Scripture? There it is written in plain words, which no critical ingenuity can explain away, — “He marvelled because of their unbelief.”
In handling this subject, I do not propose for a moment to discuss those deep and mysterious articles of the faith which lie at the foundation of Christianity, I mean the doctrine of the Trinity in Unity, and the union of the Divine and human natures in the Person of Christ. If I attempted this, I could add nothing to what masters of theology have already said, and should probably leave the subject where I found it, if I did not “darken counsel by words without knowledge.”
What I wish to do is to say something practical about the general subject of unbelief. It must be a wonderful thing if even our Lord Jesus Christ marvelled at it. It must be an important thing, when we hear and read so much about it in the present day. And I shall try to make a few plain remarks upon it.
I. Let us consider the nature of unbelief. “What is it?”
II. Let us inquire why unbelief is so wonderful. “Why did the Lord Jesus marvel at it?”
I. What then is unbelief?
The word so translated will be found twelve times in the New Testament, and always, so far as I can see, in one signification. In its fullest sense, of course, it only exists in lands where men enjoy the light of revelation. In heathen lands, where there is little known there can be comparatively little unbelief. It consists in not believing something or other that God has said, — some warning that He gave, — some promise that He held out, — some advice that He offers, — some judgment that He threatens, — some message that He sends. In short, to refuse to admit the truth of God’s revealed Word, and to live as if we did not think that Word was to be depended on, is the essence of unbelief.
Unbelief is the oldest of the many spiritual diseases by which fallen human nature is afflicted. It began in the day when Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit, and brought sin into the world. They did not believe what God had told them would be the consequence of disobedience, and they did believe the Tempter, saying, “Ye shall not surely die.” — It ruined millions in the day of Noah’s flood: they would not listen to the great “preacher of righteousness,” when he warned them for a hundred and twenty years to flee from the wrath to come. — It slew myriads in the day when Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed by fire from heaven. When “just Lot” called on his sons-in-law to escape for their lives, he “seemed as one that mocked.” (Gen. xix. 14). It kept Israel wandering forty years in the wilderness, till a whole generation was dead. We are expressly told, “They could not enter in because of unbelief.” (Heb. iii. 19). It brought, finally, destruction on the Church and State of the Jews some fifty years after Christ left the world. They would not believe nor receive Him as the Messiah, but crucified and killed Him. The primary cause why Jerusalem was destroyed, the temple burned, and God’s ancient people cast off and scattered over the face of the world, was unbelief.
Unbelief, we are taught everywhere in the New Testament, is the grand reason why multitudes of professing Christian men and women in every age are not saved, and die unprepared to meet God. It bars the way to heaven, and makes God’s glorious promises of mercy useless and unavailing. “He that believeth not is condemned already.” “He that believeth not shall be damned.” “He that believeth not the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God abideth on him.” “If ye believe not that I am He, ye shall die in your sins.” (John iii. 18, 36; Mark xvi. 16; John viii. 24). Remember, every one into whose hands this paper may fall, — remember and never forget it, — it is not so much sin as unbelief that ruins souls. — “All manner of sins shall be forgiven to the sons of men.” — “The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin.” “Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be made white as snow.” (Matt. xii. 31; 1 John i. 7; Isa. i. 18). But if a man will not put faith in Christ, he places himself out of the reach of mercy. I am bold to say that even Judas Iscariot might have found absolution, if, after his denial, he had repented and believed. The true cause of eternal ruin is contained in those solemn words which our Master spoke before the Jewish “Sanhedrim,” “Ye will not come unto Me that ye might have life.” (John v. 40).
But the saddest fact remains behind. Unbelief is one of the commonest spiritual diseases in these latter days. It meets us at every turn, and in every company. Like the Egyptian plague of frogs, it makes its way into every family and home, and there seems no keeping it out. Among high and low, and rich and poor, in town and in country, in Universities and manufacturing towns, in castles and in cottages, you will continually find some form of unbelief. It is no longer a pestilence that walketh in darkness, but a destruction that wasteth at noon-day. It is even thought clever and intellectual, and a mark of a thoughtful mind. Society seems leavened with it. He that avows his belief of everything contained in the Bible must make up his mind in many companies to be smiled at contemptuously, and thought an ignorant and weak man.
With some the seat of unbelief appears to be the head.
They refuse to accept anything which they cannot understand. Inspiration, Miracles, the Trinity, the Incarnation, the Atonement, the Holy Spirit, the Resurrection, the Future State, all these mighty verities are viewed with cold indifference as disputable points, if not absolutely rejected. “Can we entirely explain them? Can we satisfy their reasoning faculties about them?” If not, they must be excused if they stand in doubt. What they cannot fully understand, they tell us they cannot fully believe.
With some the seat of unbelief is the heart.
They love the sins and habits of life which the Bible condemns, and are determined not to give them up. They take refuge from an uneasy conscience by trying to persuade themselves that the old Book is not true. The measure of their creed is their affection. Whatever condemns their natural inclinations they refuse to believe. The famous Lord Rochester, once a profligate and an infidel, but at last a true penitent, is recorded to have said to Bishop Burnet, as he drew near his end, “It is not reason, but a bad life which is the great argument against the Bible.” A true and weighty saying! Many, I am persuaded, profess that they do not believe, because they know, if they did believe, they must give up their favourite sins.
With far the greater number of people the seat of unbelief is a lazy, indolent will.
They dislike all kind of trouble. Why should they deny themselves and take pains about Bible-reading and praying, and Sabbath observance, and diligent watchfulness over thought and word and deed, when after all it is not quite certain that the Bible is true? This, I have little doubt, is the form of unbelief which prevails most frequently among young people. They are not agitated by intellectual difficulties. They are often not the slaves of any special lusts or passions, and live tolerably decent lives. But deep down in their hearts there is a disinclination to make up their minds, and to be decided about anything in religion. And so they drift down the stream of life like dead fish, and float helplessly on, and are tossed to and fro, hardly knowing what they believe. And while they would shrink from telling you they are not Christians, they are without any backbone in their Christianity.
In days like these we must count it no strange thing if we meet with a vast amount of unbelief in the world. Rather let us make up our minds to expect it, and to see it under the most specious and plausible aspects. To be forewarned is to be forearmed. No doubt it is startling, when a young man leaves some quiet, secluded country home, and launches on the waves of this troublesome world in some busy town, to hear doctrines and principles denied, or sneered at, which he never dreamed of any one questioning when he lived at home. But surely this is no more than his old Bible might have taught him to expect. Is it not written there, “There shall come in the last days scoffers”? “When the Son of man cometh, shall He find faith on the earth?” (2 Peter iii. 3; Luke xviii. 8). Such a young man should say to himself calmly and quietly, “This unbelief is precisely what my father’s Bible told me to expect. If I met with no unbelief, the old Book would not be true.”
After all, it is some comfort to remember that there is probably less of real, downright, reasoning unbelief than it appears to be. Thousands, we may be sure, do not in their heart of hearts, believe all that they say with their lips. Many a sceptical saying is nothing more than a borrowed article, picked up and retailed by him who says it, because it sounds clever, while in reality it is not the language of his inner man. Sorrow, and sickness, and affliction, often bring out the strange fact that so-called sceptics are no sceptics at all, and that many talk scepticism merely from a desire to seem clever, and to win the temporary applause of clever men. That there is an immense amount of unbelief in the present day I make no question; but that much of it is mere show and pretence is to my mind as clear as noonday. No man, I think, can do pastoral work, and come to close quarters with souls, visit the sick, and attend the dying, without coming to that conclusion.