Jesus calls a slanderous spirit a beam, compared with which any other mistake is a little thin splinter. Here is a man that condemns every poor creature that is overtaken in a fault.
He has no sympathy with such. The man took a glass of whisky too much, lost his equilibrium, was seen in a reeling state—that circumstance is reported to the man who only indulges in slanderous criticism, and the man immediately calls for the excommunication of the erring brother from the church, not knowing that he himself is drunk, but not with wine, drunk with a hostile spirit, drunk with uncharitableness.
If I had been guilty of this ineffable meanness, I would preach to myself as loudly and keenly as to any other man,—if I had been guilty of speaking an unkind word about any human creature, or suspecting the honesty of any man.
If ever I had said about a brother minister, “He is a fine man in many respects, a noble creature, kind, chivalrous, grand of soul, but—,” if ever I have said that but, God will punish me for it.
We do not lay hold of this great truth sufficiently. We think that a little slander is of no consequence.
To be called up before the church and condemned for slander! Condemn the drunkard, turn out the man who by infinite pressure has committed some sin—turn him out—certainly, and never go after him, and never care what becomes of him, let a wolf gnaw him—only get rid of him:—if we go home and speak unkindly of man, woman, or child, who is the great sinner; the drunkard we have just expelled, or the closely-shaven, highly-polished Christian who does nothing but filch his neighbor’s good name?—PARKER.
