When people are very ill, and we are watching for them to die, there are certain symptoms of approaching death which we note with painful thoughtfulness; such as an attack of hiccoughing, or fumbling with the bed clothing, or a ravenous hunger, or the drooping in the corners of the mouth, or great coldness in the extremities, or a deep purple settling in the finger nails.

In like manner, when the spiritual life begins to decline, and the pulse of holy love beats fickle and slow, when Christ-like zeal is cooling at the heart, there are certain symptoms of the approach of lukewarmness and spiritual death corresponding with the purple finger nails, the sad harbingers of decay. Let us look carefully at the ten finger-nails on the hands of our Christian life, and see if they have a good healthy flesh tint, or if they indicate any approaching death.

First. One of the purple nails of the waning of holy love is a disposition to greatly incline to easy things and to shrink from mortification and hardship. There is a positive leaning toward things that are well cushioned, and amiable, and soothing. And though when trials and severe crosses have to be met, there may be no outspoken rebellion, there is a slight whimper in the soul, a childish whine in the spirit, a conscious shrinking from heroic endurance. The soul wants to be patient without having anything to suffer, it wants to be gentle without being snubbed and contradicted it wants to be lowly without having its beautiful honor and integrity called in question, it wants all the virtues without any homely self-abasement, it wants to be a real saint without taking the trouble to be one. It is delicately alive to guarding itself, it inclines to self-preservation, it serves God cautiously for fear of compromising itself on some lines, it leans to the advice of friends who are not red hot with religion, it thinks there is no necessity of being over righteous, and so tries to solve the problem of how to live a sanctified life with as much ease as possible. This purple nail indicates that spiritual decay has struck the center of the soul.

Second. There is a discounting of the real power of the Holy Spirit in the demonstrations which belong to the living gospel. In every Christian generation the outpouring of the Holy Ghost has been accompanied with signs and demonstrations of God’s power, such as loud weeping and strong crying, or bodily shakings, or falling in trances, or visions and revelations of things in heaven and hell, or physical prostrations, or raptures and shoutings of joy. These things were common in the days of the apostles, and with the saints in the middle ages, and in the days of Fox and Wesley, and in many places where the modern revival of holiness is of a stalwart type. But when spiritual decline sets in, there is great shyness about these demonstrations, they are discouraged, or criticized, and alluded to depreciatingly, and there is particular emphasis given to things “being done decently and in order,” by which is meant the decency and order of the man-side more than of the God-side.

How sad to think that there are millions in the visible church who have never seen one clear demonstration of the power of the Holy Spirit in all their lives. If we are afraid of the demonstrations of God’s power on any line he may choose to send it, it is a purple finger-nail, and a symptom of spiritual heart disease.

Third. Another purple nail is growing fondness for looking at spiritual truth in a philosophical, theoretical, and argumentative light. When the Holy Ghost floods a person, truth comes like lightning bolts, in short, epigrammatic, positive assertions, with square edges, and sharp points, without any studied effort to interweave it with the philosophies and the theologies of men. But when spiritual fervor begins to cool, the lightning tames down to a tallow candle, the truth is rounded on the edges, and decorated with flowers. And then you will hear such persons descanting on the “philosophy of holiness,” trying to reconcile revelation with the whimsical and ignoramus systems of depraved men. There is a tendency to argue more than to pray.

If you find your mind searching the Bible to support a creed more than to get nourishment for your own spirit, it is a proof of the loss of a divine appetite. A good way to test our spiritual life is to hold the Bible midway between our hearts and our heads, and if we find that the word of God gravitates more towards our heads than our hearts, it is an ill omen for our souls. If we are hot with divine love the Bible will gravitate to our hearts, that is, it will be devoured for spiritual nourishment far more than for mere doctrine or debate. It is often the case that the more we grow in orthodoxy the colder we are in grace. Beware of the purple nail of a philosophical religion.

Fourth. Another symptom is waiting for extra prompting in the doing of good. This is the quintessence of spiritual idleness. Nothing creeps on the soul with such a soft, cat’s paw stealth as religious laziness. Everybody in the world gravitates to idleness, and this is more true of the spiritual life than of the temporal. The Holy Ghost bids us to be diligent “in season and out of season,” rain or shine, hot or cold, whether circumstances are propitious or forbidding, and not to wait for special impulses, or a gush of feeling to prompt us to the doing of good. But when holy love weakens, it watches for favorable circumstances, it is afraid to precipitate religion upon people, it waits for some angel to trouble the waters, it does not step boldly by pure faith, but languidly looks for encouraging indications. It leans on second causes, and not directly on the Holy Spirit. It watches for the river Jordan to subside before boldly stepping in. If you are lazily watching for times and seasons, you have lost the life-spring of active godliness. Holy love not only seizes opportunities for doing good, but makes them as well.

Fifth. Another purple nail is undervaluing the gifts, graces, and labors of others in God’s kingdom, who may not belong to our little set. This is one of the most delicate touchstones of deep piety to be found anywhere. Go into any religious company on earth, among ministers or laymen, and listen to their words; in a few moments you will likely hear expressions that indicate marked depreciation of either the piety or the fruitfulness of other people. There is no more universal weakness of believers on earth than this one. Those Christian workers who do not belong to our sect, who do not teach exactly as we do, whom God has called to emphasize certain truths which either our blindness or cowardice prevent us from emphasizing, who do not pronounce our shibboleth, yet if they are casting out devils and doing God’s work, do we find our hearts praising God on their behalf, do we fully appreciate their gifts and labors, do we grieve over our own defects and lack of fruit far more than we are inclined to dis-esteem others? On the other hand, do we speak slightingly of others in God’s vineyard, do we in the least speak reproachfully of them, even in our private thoughts do we minify them or their labors? If so, we ought to run at once for our Divine Physician, for it is evident that we need his heavenly medicine. Every depreciating thought that we have of others is a secret magnifying of ourselves. Exactly as we undervalue others, in that proportion we exalt self.

Sixth. Another symptom is the glorifying of sectarianism. This can be done in a thousand subtle ways, of which persons are utterly unconscious. It is very painful to a true lover of Jesus, to constantly hear, and see in print, the word “church” put where the word Christ ought to be. The very air rings with such expressions as “Being true to your church,” “A lover of your church,” “Being the servant of the church,” “Commissioned by the church,” “Raising money for the church.” “Being loyal to your church.” In all such instances, if the word “Christ” were put where the word “church” is, it would be Scriptural, but otherwise it is a species of idolatry, for each man means by the word church his own sectarian body.

When persons who have been baptized with the Holy Spirit begin to wane in their inner life it is often manifested by this purple finger-nail of growing very churchly, they feel a special mission to take care of the church, that is to jealously defend the wonderful dignity of some sectarian body. In the same proportion that we get churchly we lose our zeal for the thorough holiness of the individual members of the church.

Seventh. The policy spirit is so ubiquitous and refined, and can assume such multiplied forms, it is hard to define or describe it, but it is a sure sign of approaching death. The policy spirit lacks independence, boldness, individual obedience to God, cloudless conviction of God’s will, firmness of decision, and a readiness to do God’s will and let God take care of results. The policy spirit walks in a mist, it is not sure of what is real duty, it has to consult a great many others, and is very shy about consulting the most spiritual, it leans to the conservative side on every question, it frankly admits that Christ would do a certain thing, but says, “We are not living in Christ’s day and circumstances are different,” it thinks it safest to go with majorities, it looks at how certain things would appear, and not at the eternal truth involved, it is easily scared, if it does right it half-way apologizes for it; it acts in a mean, unbrotherly way and then says, “I hated to act that way, but had to do so for the sake of appearances, or to stand in with other people, or to protect myself from misinterpretation.” Is anything on earth more mean, or sneaking, or contemptible to the Holy Ghost than this policy spirit in professing Christians, and especially in professors of holiness? It is a purple sign of a dying spirituality.

Eighth. Another purple nail is a lack of perseverance. We quit too soon in our devotions or labors, or enterprises for good. Our faith is brittle, and snaps under a continual strain. We close the meeting just before something would have been accomplished. We stop the prayer just a little short of prevailing with God. We allow bad weather, great opposition, lack of sympathizers, the absence of outward signs of success, to dispirit us, and grow peevish with God for not smiling more largely upon our labors. These are all symptoms of leaning on the creature, instead of drawing our inspiration directly from the sweet, eternal fountains of the Holy Spirit. And when we lean on creatures, our inner life wanes.

Ninth. Another purple nail is to look with criticism and unbrotherly suspicion upon experiences in advance of our own. It is the almost infinite self-conceit of human nature to make self the criterion of experience, and that what we don’t know is not worth knowing, and that any degree of piety or a divine manifestation which we have not had is readily stamped as wild fire and extravagance.

A soul in its first love, or a believer fresh from the bath of purification, or a sanctified soul under the blaze of some new and large discloser of God is remarkably free from casting reflection on deeper experiences. They are in a condition then to believe great things of God; but when they begin to cool down they make their experiences the standard, and so brand unfavorably anything that does not tally with what they have passed through. This is a bad symptom of religious life. The true attitude of deep piety is to encourage the greatest fulfillment of God’s promises, and if we do not habitually do this there is something wrong at” the core of our life.

Tenth. A secret reserve with God. Unconfessed and perhaps unrecognized, yet a deep, subtle holding back from duty, or service, or love, a growing conservatism toward God. There is a secret fear that God may ask too much of us, that he wants us to give too much money, or put ourselves to too much trouble to help his saints, or that he will put too heavy burdens on us, or that he will not love us as much as he does somebody else, or that he may want us to serve Him with too much exactness in little things. There is a lack of utter abandonment to the Holy Spirit, a want of sweet, joyous, overflowing enthusiasm in his service. Hence we see how cautiously people pray in public or preach God’s truth, or testify to his grace. All these things show the soul life is contracting, and resemble the pinching of the features which often precedes death. Can we find one atom of reservation in the life and death of Jesus for us? Was not every act a boundless abandonment of himself for our welfare, and is it less than a positive meanness in our nature to have any reserves in serving such a Savior? We need to examine ourselves, to see if our spiritual fingernails are turning blue.