Know Thyself”- Glenn Conjurske
“Know Thyself”
by Glenn Conjurske
The above title is the advice of an ancient heathen philosopher. Some Christians have despised this, saying that this is only the counsel of the ungodly, while godly counsel would admonish us to know God. But this is shallow thinking. We need to know ourselves. To be sure, we may know God without knowing ourselves, as a baby knows its mother, but a deep understanding of the nature and the ways of God is another matter. We may know many men whom we do not understand at all. To know God thus is a great thing—-it is eternal life—-but those who know him thus cannot be content with this, but must understand him also, and perhaps nothing will contribute so much to this as the knowledge of ourselves.
The fact is, the knowledge of ourselves will open to us three vistas of understanding, containing much of the most important knowledge in existence. I will proceed to that in a moment, but first let me observe that I think self-knowledge is a very rare thing in the present hurried and extremely shallow age. The knowledge of self comes by means of experience, but people may have a great deal of experience, and yet know very little of themselves, for experience alone will never teach us anything. We gain the knowledge of self by thought, and reflection, and meditation. These things we attain in quiet and solitude. Those who watch television or listen to the radio may learn a great deal of the world, but they will never have much knowledge of themselves. To know ourselves we must meditate. We must dream our dreams, and fear our fears, and desire our desires, and inquire into all the intricate workings of our thoughts, emotions, and motives. We must determine which thoughts and feelings we can help, and which we cannot, and how to help those we can. No man can do this with a radio playing. Neither can he do much of it while he is running hither and thither in his automobile, nor while he is engaged in shallow talk, though he call it “Christian fellowship.” We want solitude and reflection.
The three vistas of understanding which will be opened to us by the knowledge of ourselves are these. First, to know ourselves is to know the whole human race. It is to know human nature as such. Second, to know our own nature will open to us an understanding of the nature of the opposite sex. Third, by knowing ourselves we learn to understand God. But all this will require proof and elucidation.
The Bible says, “As in water face answereth to face, so the heart of man to man.” (Prov. 27:19). Water has been the mirror of the human race since the creation of the world. The placid pool, without a ripple, reflects the human countenance to perfection. In the water we see our own exact image. Just so is the heart of man to man. He who knows his own heart knows the hearts of all men. The needs, the feelings, the reasoning processes, the workings of conscience, are just the same in all men. Now for the preacher of the gospel there is scarcely any knowledge so valuable as this. The evangelist is a physician, and to cure the disease he must understand it. He must understand all the workings of sin and of conscience. He must understand the workings of that rationalism by which sinners always justify their sinful course. He must understand man’s love of sin, and the enmity of the heart of man to God. He must understand all the workings of unbelief, and of faith. He must know all the needs and cravings of the human heart. He must know the workings of all the emotions of man, so as to be able to move and draw the heart, while he convicts the conscience, and convinces the mind.
Now the very best way to know all this is to know himself. I have read very widely in Christian biography, and have frequently seen cases in which an ungodly sinner went to hear a preacher preach, but the more he heard, the more angry he became, being convinced that someone had told the preacher all about him, and that every word was aimed directly at himself. As soon as the sermon was over, he would angrily inquire of the preacher who had told him about him. The preacher could only respond that no one had told him anything, and that he had no idea who the man was. The fact is, the preacher was not describing that particular sinner, but was describing himself. He knew himself, and therefore he knew the whole human race. There is perhaps no knowledge so profitable as this, to make us useful to the souls of men. This was the great power of many of the old Methodist preachers. They knew human nature, and much of this doubtless because they knew themselves.
All this, of course, must be applied with common sense. It has nothing to do with taste, which is entirely individual. Neither will it enable a man to explain feminine intuition. I was remarking the other day that feminine intuition seems to me to be so utterly beyond explanation that it appears to be really supernatural. A woman who was present remarked, “It’s supernatural to men, but natural to women.” Yet I suppose she spoke facetiously, for I doubt any woman understands feminine intuition any better than a man does. In the nature of the case it cannot be understood. If it could be explained, we would cease to call it intuition.
There are other differences also between masculine and feminine natures, but these little affect my thesis. Women, for example, are more likely to view things from the standpoint of emotion, while men view them from the standpoint of reason, but this is immaterial, for reason is not the exclusive possession of men, nor emotion of women, and both the reason and the emotion are just the same in both men and women.
But these things lead me naturally to my second point. In the second place, the knowledge of ourselves will give us, as perhaps nothing else can do, an understanding of the nature of the opposite sex. This may not be so important as the knowledge of God, or the knowledge of the human race as such, but neither is it unimportant. It may not be so important for eternity, but is of very great importance for time.
A woman, upon reading some of the character sketches which I have written, has expressed amazement that I understand feminine nature so well. But I can say honestly that though I have gained some of that understanding from observation and inquiry, a very large portion of it I have gained solely from the knowledge of myself. The author of the Song of Solomon was a man, but he portrays feminine nature as beautifully as he does masculine, and I dare say the book would say essentially the same things if it had been written by a woman. Solomon’s mouth is full of such expressions as “Thou art all fair”—-beautiful, that is—-and “O thou fairest among women,” precisely because it is the deepest desire of his heart to say such things to her. But what could she write other than he did if she had written the book?—-for it is the deepest desire of her heart to hear such things. Thus to know the peculiar traits of masculinity teaches us also the peculiar traits of femininity.
And all this stands upon the solid ground of Scripture. The Bible says, “And the LORD God said, It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him an help meet for him.” (Gen. 2:18). Shallow thinking has corrupted “an help meet” into “a helpmeet,” which means nothing, or “a helpmate,” which may mean something else. But “help” is the noun here, and “meet” is an adjective. “Meet” tells us what kind of help God made for Adam. He made a help meet for him, that is, suited to him.
In knowing what suits me, then, I know what a woman is. In knowing what I am, I learn what she is. This, of course, by a process just the reverse of the one mentioned under the first point. By knowing myself I know the whole human race, precisely because all men are alike. The workings of their hearts and minds and consciences are all the same, and this whether they are male or female. But in all that distinguishes male and female, it is just the reverse. If I know my own masculine nature, I thereby know feminine nature, precisely because I know that it is the opposite of my own. There are only two sexes, male and female, and whichever one you may belong to, the other is rightly called “the opposite sex.” We have a generation today which seems to be neither masculine nor feminine, but this is the result of a pernicious conditioning of their minds, through the public schools, the radio, the television, and the literature of the world. But whatever the ways of this generation may be, as the result of systematic indoctrination, they yet remain masculine or feminine by nature, and if they would but spend a little time in solitude and reflection, to dig through the trash of their education, and learn to know themselves, they would find that they are masculine or feminine still, in spite of all the efforts of the world and the devil to obliterate the distinction. Meanwhile, it is certain that they do not know themselves, and therefore cannot know the opposite sex. This renders them incapable of the happiness and fulfillment which God designed in creating male and female.
But to return. In knowing my own nature I know also the nature of the opposite sex, and this precisely because I know it to be opposite to and meet for my own. To be specific, I know by my own experience that when a man is in love with a woman, the deepest need of his heart is to express that love to her, to lavish it out upon her. This is masculine nature, and knowing this, I know instinctively that the greatest need of a woman’s heart is to receive that love. If this were not so, she would hardly be meet for a man. If a man who loves a woman has a deep and compelling need to tell her of her beauty and her charms, then he knows instinctively that she has an equally compelling need to hear of her beauty and charms. No otherwise than this could she be meet for a man. I know that a man has a deep need to be trusted by the woman he loves, and thereby I know that the woman’s need is to trust a man—-and of course to have a man whom she can trust. If I know that a man who loves a woman has a deep need to give her security, then by that knowledge I know also that the woman’s need is to receive that security from him.
The same process, of course, works in the other direction also, and a woman may know the nature of a man by knowing herself. But women seem much slower to believe here than men do, and I believe there is good reason for this. A woman, by knowing her own nature, may project in her mind her ideal of a man, but she can find no such man in the world—-no man whose nature is to love and to give, no man worthy of her implicit confidence. She knows well enough what her feminine needs are, but she finds no man to meet them. This is a real difficulty, but I believe there is a satisfactory explanation for it. Man is fallen, and so of course, is woman. But I dare to affirm that masculine nature has been much more deeply marred by the fall than feminine nature has, and this for a very obvious reason.
To begin with, let it be understood that there is always a selfish element in love, even in the love of God. “Unconditional love” is a figment of bad theology, and while hyperspirituality may define love as “seeking another’s good without motives of personal gain,” common sense, common experience, and holy Scripture conspire together to teach us that there is always something of a selfish nature in love—-certainly so in the love between the sexes. This much being granted, let it be further understood that the woman’s place in love is more selfish than the man’s. He is the giver, she the receiver. His delight is to speak of her beauty and charms, hers to hear of them. His place is to give love, hers to receive it. His place is to give security, hers to receive it. His place is to love, hers to trust. He loves her first, because of what she is. She loves in return, because he first loved her. In all this they are a most fit emblem of Christ and the church, and this by the evident design and creation of God.
I affirm, therefore—-though in so doing I must risk the contempt of preachers and psychologists, and perhaps the wrath of women also—-that the woman’s natural and God-ordained place in love is more selfish than the man’s. But the fall has made us all selfish, and it has therefore more deeply marred the man’s nature than it has the woman’s. Not that it has marred the man’s nature more deeply in general. I refer only to those elements of nature which are peculiar to masculinity or femininity. It is a much easier thing today to find true femininity than it is to find true masculinity. Indeed, the former seems common, the latter rare. ‘Tis easy enough to find a woman who craves to receive, not so easy to find a man who craves to give. Masculinity as God created it is hardly to be found except in a man of the highest character. Yet it may be found there, and a woman may know what it is by knowing herself. And such knowledge, I should think, must be of the utmost value to a woman, for nothing but this will enable her to find the sort of man which her nature requires.
But observe, the process which I have thus described could hardly exist at all apart from faith in the wisdom and goodness of God, and of course faith in his existence as our Creator. I know feminine nature by knowing my own masculine nature only because I believe that God has made the woman meet for the man. The evolutionist and the infidel may know their own masculine nature to perfection, and this will give them no clue whatever as to the nature of a woman. Unless they are stone blind, they will certainly discover some of the exquisite ways in which masculine and feminine natures so perfectly correspond to each other, but they must regard all this as nothing more than a happy coincidence. But so happy, so many, and so pervasive are these coincidences, that we think it one of the great mysteries of the universe that any man who has ever loved a woman could remain either an infidel or an evolutionist. We can find only one method by which to explain such an anomaly, and that is that these men do not think at all. He who but knows his own anatomy must shortly be forced to acknowledge, “Surely I am fearfully and wonderfully made,” but he who knows anything of the relationship between the sexes, and of their most perfect correspondence to each other (whether physically or emotionally), must be lost in wonder at the wisdom and goodness of God, and exclaim, “Surely we are fearfully and wonderfully made.”
But to proceed. In the third place, the knowledge of ourselves will open to us the knowledge of God. Our nature is a reflection of the nature of God. “So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them.” (Genesis 1:27). We all, male and female, are created in the image of God. But if man is made in the image of God, then God exists in the image of man. If you have a photograph of your mother, you say of that picture, “This is my mother,” for it is an exact image of her. But a man who knows only the picture, and has never met the person, will know her as soon as he sees her, for as the picture is the exact image of her, so she is the exact image of the picture. The matter necessarily works both ways. If man is the image of God, he may know the nature of God by knowing his own.
I am of course quite well aware that man is fallen and sinful, but this does not alter the fact that he is created in the image of God. James tells us, “Therewith bless we God, even the Father; and therewith curse we men, which are made after the similitude of God.” (James 3:9). The image of God was marred in the fall of man, but it was not obliterated. We can learn nothing of God by the workings of sin in us, but sin aside, in all the workings of our souls and spirits we see the image of God. In all the workings of our emotions and our reason, we see the image of God.
I regard this as a point of very great importance, and a matter which will keep us from several grave errors concerning God. In what is perhaps most important, though most elementary, the God in whom we find our own image is approachable and knowable. The “Supreme Being” of liberalism, or the “First Cause” of Deism, has nothing in him to draw our hearts. We may know and understand a God who thinks and feels as we do. And the Bible is full of hints in this direction. “Like as a father pitieth his children, so the LORD pitieth them that fear him.” (Psalm 103:13). God is a father, and in that capacity he is just as we are. So is he also in all that concerns his personhood.
And it is not liberals and Deists alone who fail to perceive this. Most atrocious things have been imputed to God by solid Evangelicals, for failure to find any human emotions in him. Jonathan Edwards’ famous sermon on “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God” is a good example of this. God is all will, all “mere sovereign pleasure,” as cold as arbitrary, and bereft of all those tender emotions which belong to his human offspring. To speak plainly, Edwards represents God as inhuman—-so cold and heartless as to be rather an object of our abhorrence than of our affection—-to be feared, to be sure, but hardly to be loved. Such theology, by a needless and ill-advised endeavor to exalt God above man, in reality debases him below man. I know of no better antidote to such heartless theology than to know ourselves, and by faith to perceive that in so doing we know the image of God. And I know of no better answer to Edwards’ representation of God than to say that if God is such, man is certainly not made in his image.
We know well enough, both by revelation and experience, that we are corrupt and sinful, but this affects nothing of the matter which we have in hand. It is precisely in view of the innate evil of man that Christ establishes the image of God in him. “If ye,” he says, “being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?” (Matt. 7:11). God, he affirms, will be better than we are, for he is good, while we are evil, but there is no difference between God and man in the essence of the matter. God is better than we in degree, but the same in kind. A human father, though evil, knows how to give good gifts to his children. He is possessed of all those exalted emotions and purposes which will move him to do so, in spite of all the innate evil of his nature. The image of God in him yet remains, both strong and true, and therefore by viewing the nature of himself, he learns the nature of his God. We speak, of course, only in general, for God possesses all his attributes in perfection, while we possess them only weakened and marred.
And here appears the great value of knowing ourselves truly and deeply. If we cannot distinguish between nature and sin, the knowledge of ourselves will be of no manner of use to understand God. We must know ourselves so far as to understand what belongs to our nature as God created it—-what belongs, that is, to the image of God—-and what belongs to the corrupting influences of sin. This will require common sense, and spiritual sense too, and as intimate a knowledge of the word of God as we have of our own hearts, but such knowledge is within the reach of all of us.
We need only say in conclusion that “Know thyself” is pre-eminently sound advice. The knowledge of self is a well of wisdom. But the well is deep, and not to be fathomed easily. And the well is practically sealed to those who will not draw from it in quiet and solitude and reflection.
Glenn Conjurske