Thomas Chalmers (1780-1847) was one of the most remarkable men of his time — a mathematician, evangelical theologian, economist, ecclesiastical, political, and social reformer all in one. His most famous sermon was published under the unlikely title “The Expulsive Power of a New Affection”. In it he expounded an insight of permanent importance for Christian living: you cannot destroy love for the world merely by showing its emptiness.

Even if we could do so, that would lead only to despair. The first world-centred love of our hearts can be expelled only by a new love and affection — for God and from God. The love of the world and the love of the Father cannot dwell together in the same heart. But the love of the world can be driven out only by the love of the Father. Hence Chalmers’ sermon title.

True Christian living, holy and right living, requires a new affection for the Father as its dynamic. Such new affection is part of what William Cowper called “the blessedness I knew when first I saw the Lord” — a love for the holy that seems to deal our carnal affections a deadly blow at the beginning of the Christian life.

Soon, however, we discover that for all that we have died to sin in Christ, sin has by no means died in us. Sometimes its continued influence surprises us, even appears to overwhelm us in one or other of its manifestations. We discover that our “new affections” for spiritual things must be renewed constantly throughout the whole of our pilgrimage. If we lose the first love we will find ourselves in serious spiritual peril.

Sometimes we make the mistake of substituting other things for it. Favorites here are activity and learning. We become active in the service of God ecclesiastically (we gain the positions once held by those we admired and we measure our spiritual growth in terms of position achieved); we become active evangelistically and in the process mea­sure spiritual strength in terms of increas­ing influence; or we become active socially, in moral and political campaign­ing, and measure growth in terms of involvement.

Alternatively, we recognise the intel­lectual fascination and challenge of the gospel and devote ourselves to understanding it, perhaps for its own sake, perhaps to commu­nicate it to others. We measure our spiritual vitality in terms of understanding, or in terms of the influence it gives us over others. But no posi­tion, influence, or evolvement can expel love for the world from our hearts.

Indeed, they may be expressions of that very love.

Others of us make the mistake of substituting the rules of piety for lov­ing affection for the Father: “Do not handle! Do not taste! Do not touch!” Such disciplines have an air of sanctity about them, but in fact they have no power to restrain the love of the world. The root of the matter is not on my table, or in my neighborhood, but in my heart. Worldliness has still not been expelled.

It is all too possible, in these different ways, to have the form of genuine godli­ness (how subtle our hearts are!) without its power. Love for the world will not have been expunged, but merely diverted. Only a new love is adequate to expel the old one. Only love for Christ, with all that it implies, can squeeze out the love of this world. Only those who long for Christ’s appearing will be delivered from Demas-­like desertion caused by being in love with this world.

How can we recover the new affection for Christ and his kingdom that so pow­erfully impacted our life-long worldliness, and in which we crucified the flesh with its lusts?

What was it that created that first love in any case? Do you remember? It was our discovery of Christ’s grace in the realisation of our own sin. We are not naturally capable of loving God for Himself, indeed we hate Him. But in discovering this about ourselves, and in learning of the Lord’s supernatural love for us, love for the Father was born.

Forgiven much, we loved much. We rejoiced in the hope of glory, in suf­fering, even in God Himself. This new affection seemed first to overtake our worldliness, then to master it. Spiritual realities —Christ, grace, Scripture, prayer, fellowship, service, living for the glory of God — filled our vision and seemed so large, so desirable that other things by comparison seemed to shrink in size and become bland to the taste.

The way in which we maintain “the expulsive power of a new affection” is the same as the way we first discovered it. Only when grace is still “amazing” to us does it retain its power in us. Only as we retain a sense of our own profound sinful­ness can we retain a sense of the gracious­ness of grace.

Many of us share Cowper’s sad ques­tions: “Where is the blessedness I knew when first I saw the Lord? Where is the soul-refreshing view of Jesus and his word?” Let us remember the height from which we have fallen, repent and return to those first works. It would be sad if the deepest analysis of our Christianity was that it lacked a sense of sin and of grace. That would suggest that we knew little of the expulsive power of a new affection. But there is no right living that lasts with­out it.