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10-28-06
What must I do to be saved? And they
said, Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and you shall be saved, and
your house. Acts 16:30-31
THE faith of the child of God stands in the righteousness of the
God-man Mediator—"the righteousness which is of God by faith." This
faith has not been inappropriately termed the "poor man's grace." It
is so because it comes to Jesus empty-handed. It travels to Christ
in poverty and rags, in want and in woe. It is the grace of him who,
feeling the working of an inward plague, and repudiating all idea of
human merit, appears at the door of mercy, "poor in spirit," humbly
knocking, and earnestly suing, and freely receiving, as a pensioner,
the blessing of sovereign grace. Oh, how glorious to the eye of such
an one appears the righteousness of the Incarnate God! How precious
to his heart the atoning blood of Jesus! How suitable and attractive
to his view the foundation to which he is invited, and upon which,
with the confidence of faith, he is encouraged to build his assured
hope of future glory! Who would not desire, and who would not seek,
establishment in a faith like this? a faith that can read its pardon
in the blood—its justification in the righteousness—its
sanctification in the grace, and its security in the resurrection,
life, and intercession of the great High Priest enthroned in heaven.
Oh, let a man's faith cling to this, and he is a saved man! And to
be saved! Oh, how will eternity prolong the swelling chant!—"Saved,
for ever saved! A sinner the very chief—a saint the very least—a
child the most unworthy! yet here, through grace, I am saved,
forever saved!" Before the glory and importance of this salvation,
oh, how do fade and disappear the grandeur and the significance of
all other objects! "How shall we escape, if we neglect so great
salvation?" "This is the record, that God has given to us eternal
life, and this life is in His Son. He that has the Son has life, and
he that has not the Son has not life." But the faith of the true
believer is built upon Christ. It has Christ for its basis, Christ
for its object, Christ for its beginning and its end. It is built
upon the Godhead of His person, the obedience of His life, and the
vicariousness of His death. He who builds his faith short of Deity,
builds upon the treacherous sand which the first heaving billow
sweeps from beneath his feet. We want, in the great matter of our
salvation, Deity to become incarnate—Deity to obey—Deity to
atone—Deity to justify—Deity to uphold—Deity to comfort—and Deity to
bring us at last to the glorious abode of Deity, to dwell amid its
splendors forever.
Octavius Winslow
"These things have I written unto
you that believe on the name of the Son of God; that you may
know that you have eternal life, and that you may believe on the
name of the Son of God." 1 John 5:13
No imagination can fully depict, nor language adequately
describe, the importance of this life, the grandeur of its
nature and destiny, and the necessity of its progression and its
manifestations. Reader, the world without you teems with
sentient existence. All is life, activity, and progress. There
is vegetable life, and animal life, and rational life. To this
may be added a species of moral life maintained by many,
developed and embodied in religious forms, observances, and
sacrifices. But there is a life as infinitely superior to all
these, as the life of Him whose mind conceived the towering
pyramid is to that of the little insect that flutters its brief
hour in the sun-beam, and then vanishes forever. It is the life
of God in the soul of man. Deep planted in the center of his
spiritual nature, lodged within the hidden recesses of his
deathless mind, diffusing its mysterious but all-pervading and
renovating influence through the judgment, the will, the
affections, and linking his being with a future of glory, which
"eye has not seen, nor ear heard, neither has it entered into
the heart of man to conceive"—the world rushes on, and knows not
its existence, and sees not its glories, and heeds not its
joys—so deeply veiled from human eye, ay, and so far removed
from human power, is the spiritual life "hidden with Christ in
God." Reader, there is a religion towering as far above your
religion of merit, and of works, and of forms, as the heavens
are above the earth, even as the spiritual life of God is above
the sensual life of man. It is the religion of a renewed mind,
of a renovated heart, of a conquered will, of a soul, all whose
sanctified faculties are consecrated to the glory of God here,
and are destined to the enjoyment of God hereafter. Have you
thus "passed from death unto life"? Have the avenues of the
heart, closed and barred against the admission of Christ, been
thrown open? Has the fearful alienation, and the withering
curse, and the deep guilt, which portrays to you God as an
enemy, and which arms all the powers of your soul against Him as
His foe, been revealed, felt, and deplored? Has the captive
spirit been disenthralled, the prey taken from the mighty, the
power of the destroyer broken, and the soul awakened from its
deep slumber to listen to its Creator speaking in tones of
mercy, and in thoughts of love? Has light, emanating from the
abodes of glory—invisible to others—dawned upon the midnight of
your moral desolation? Has a voice speaking from the throne of
heaven—unheard by others—startled your spirit in its deep
trance, and dispelled its floating dreams? Has a hand, mighty
and unseen, riven the chain, thrown open the dungeon, and led
you forth to liberty and joy, to life and immortality? In a
word, has another and a diviner life, descending from God, and
begotten within you by the Spirit, and unfolding to your view a
heaven of brightness, full of purity, and fragrance, and song,
been communicated to your soul, thus creating you a new
creature, and constituting you an "heir of God, and a joint heir
with Christ Jesus"? If so, then you may adopt the language of
Paul, and exultingly exclaim, "I live, yet not I, but Christ
lives in me." Oh, deem not this a vain thing, for it is your
life.
Oh! what emptying, what humbling are necessary in order to make room for the lowly Lamb of God in the heart of a poor believing sinner! And for years after the first reception of Jesus, are this emptying and humbling needed. If it were not so, would our dear Lord discipline as He does? Would He cut off this and that dependence? would He take us off of creature trust, and that sometimes in the most painful way? Oh no! by these means He seeks to establish Himself in our affections—He would have our whole hearts. And when thus unhinged from earthly trust, when emptied of confidence in self, when deprived of earthly comforts—oh how unutterably precious does Jesus become! Then do we see Him to be just the Jesus we want, just the Savior that we need; we find in Him all that we ever found in the creature, and infinitely more—wisdom, strength tenderness, and sympathy, surpassing all that men or angels ever felt, or could possibly feel for us. Then it is His blood and righteousness are endeared; then we fly to His fullness of all grace; and then the tender, bleeding branch takes a firmer hold on its stem, and henceforth looks only to it for all its vigor, its nourishment, and its fruit. "As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine, no more can you, except you abide in me." Ah! beloved reader, if you are His child, He will cause you to know it, and will endear Himself to you as such. And this is seldom done, save in the way of severe discipline. Shrink not from it, then. All the good that the Lord ever takes from you, He returns ten thousand-fold more in giving Himself. If you can say, "the Lord is my portion," then what more do you, can you, want? And remember, too, the Lord will deprive you of nothing that was for your real good. He is the judge of what is best for you—not yourself. We are but imperfect judges of what tends best to our spiritual or temporal benefit. That which we may deem absolutely essential to both, the Lord in His wisdom and love may see proper to remove; and as frequently, that the removal of which we had often besought the Lord, He may see fit to retain. Thrice Paul prayed for the removal of his infirmity, and thrice the Lord denied his request: but the denial was accompanied by a promise, calculated to soothe into sweet acquiescence every feeling of the apostle—"My grace," said the Lord, "is sufficient for you." Let it ever be remembered by the tried believer, that supporting grace, in the season of trial, is a greater mercy than the removal of the trial itself. The Lord Jesus did seem to say to His servant, "I see not that it would be for your good to grant your prayer, but I will enable you to bear the infirmity without a murmur: I will so support you, so manifest my strength in your weakness, my all-sufficiency in your nothingness, that you shall not desire its removal." "Lord," he might have replied, "this is all that I desire. If You in Your wisdom and love do see fit still to afflict me, I am in Your hands to do with me as seems good in Your sight. The continuance of the trial will but prove the strength of Your grace, and the tenderness and sympathy of Your heart." After this, we hear no more of Paul's thorn in the flesh: the grace of the Lord, doubtless, proved all-sufficient for him.
"To whom God would make known what is the riches of the glory of this mystery among the Gentiles; which is Christ in you, the hope of glory." Colossians 1:27
The believer in Jesus is a partaker of the Divine nature. He is "born of the Spirit;" Christ dwells in him by faith; and this constitutes his new and spiritual life. It is not so much that the believer lives, as that Christ lives in him. Thus the apostle expresses it: "I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ lives in me." Do we look at the history of Paul as illustrative of the doctrine? Behold the grand secret of his extraordinary life. He lived unreservedly for Christ; and the spring of it was, Christ lived spiritually in him. This it was that rendered him so profound in wisdom, rich in knowledge, bold in preaching, undaunted in zeal, unwearied in toil, patient in suffering, and successful in labor—Christ lived in him, and this forms the high and holy life of every child of God—"Christ who is our life." To Him, as the covenant head and mediator of His people, it was given to have life in Himself, that He might give eternal life to as many as the Father had given Him. Christ possesses this life, Christ communicates it, Christ sustains it, and Christ crowns it with eternal glory. A peculiar characteristic of the life of God in the soul is, that it is concealed. "Your life is hid with Christ in God." It is a hidden life. Its nature, its source, its actings, its supports, are veiled from the observation of men. "The world knows us not." It knew not Jesus when He dwelt in the flesh, else it would not have crucified the Lord of life and glory. Is it any wonder that it knows Him not, dwelling, still deeper veiled, in the hearts of His members? It crucified Christ in His own person, it has crucified Him in the people of His saints, and, if power were given, would so crucify Him yet again. And yet there is that in the divine life of the believer which awakens the wonderment of a Christ-rejecting world. That the believer should be unknown, and yet well known—should die, and yet live—should be chastened, and yet not killed—sorrowful, yet always rejoicing—poor, yet making many rich—having nothing, and yet possessing all things—is indeed an enigma, a paradox to a carnal mind; yes, there are moments when the believer is a mystery to himself. How the divine life in his soul is sustained in the midst of so much that enfeebles, kept alive surrounded by so much that deadens, the glimmering spark not extinguished, though obscured, amid the billows—to drop all figure—how his soul advances when most opposed, soars when most hardened, rejoices when most afflicted, and sings the sweetest and the loudest when the cross presses the heaviest, and the thorn pierces the deepest, may well cause him to exclaim, "I am a wonder to others, but a greater wonder to myself!" But, if the nature and the supports of the divine life in the soul are hid, not so are its effects, and these prove its existence and reality. There is that in the honest, upright walk of a child of God which arrests the attention and awakens the surprise of men, who, while they hate and despise, cannot but admire and marvel at it.
Yet another characteristic of the divine life in the soul is its security. "Your life is hid with Christ in God." There, nothing can touch it: no power can destroy it. It is "hid with Christ," the beloved Son of the Father, the delight, the glory, the richest and most precious treasure of Jehovah: still more—it is "hid with Christ in God"—in the hand, in the heart, in the all-sufficiency, yes, in the eternity of God. Oh the perfect security of the spiritual life of the believer! No power on earth or in hell can move it. It may be stormed by Satan, assaulted by corruption, scorned by men, and even, in the moment of unbelief and in the hour of deep trial, its existence doubted by the believer himself; yet there it is, deep lodged in the eternity of God, bound up in the heart and with the existence of JEHOVAH, and no foe can destroy it. "I give unto them eternal life, and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand." Let the sheep and the lambs of the "little flock" rejoice that the Shepherd lives, and that because He lives they shall live also.
Octavius Winslow
"Turn, O backsliding children,
says the Lord; for I am married unto you." Jeremiah 3:14
Let the Christian reader call to mind the period and the circumstances
of his first espousals to Jesus. If there ever was a blissful period of
your life—if a spot of verdure in the remembrance of the past, on which
the sunlight ever rests—was it not the time, and is it not the place
where your heart first expanded with the love of Jesus? You have, it may
be, trod many a thorny path since then; you have traveled many a weary
step of your pilgrimage—have buffeted many storms, have waded through
many deep afflictions, and fought many severe battles, but all have
well-near faded from your memory; but the hour and the events of your
"first love," these you never have forgotten, you never can forget. Oh
ever to be loved, ever to be remembered with deep songs of joy, with
adoring gratitude to free and sovereign grace, the period when the
chains of your bondage were broken—when your fettered soul broke from
its thraldom, and sprang into the liberty of the sons of God—when light
discovered your darkness, and that darkness rolled away before its
increasing luster—when the Spirit wounded you, then healed that wound
with the precious balm of Gilead—when He gave you sorrow, then soothed
that sorrow by a view of the crucified Lamb of God—when faith took hold
of Jesus, and brought the blessed assurance into the soul, "I am my
beloved's, and my beloved is mine;" and when Jesus whispered—oh, how
tender was His voice!—"Your sins, which were many, are all forgiven you;
go in peace." Blissful moment! Oh that the Lord should ever have reason
to prefer the charge, "you have left your first love."
It is an affecting and humbling truth that the grace of love in a child
of God may greatly and sadly decline. We speak, let it be remembered,
not of the destruction of the principle, but of the decline of its
power. This spiritual and influential truth cannot be too frequently nor
too strongly insisted upon—that though faith, and love, and hope, and
zeal, and their kindred graces may greatly decline in their vigor,
fervor, and real growth, yet that they may entirely fail even in their
greatest decay, or severest trial, the Word of God assures us can never
be. To believe the opposite of this is to deny their Divine origin,
their spiritual and immortal character, and to impeach the wisdom,
power, and faithfulness of God. Not a grain of the true wheat can ever
be lost in the sifting, not a particle of the pure gold in the refining.
Remember, that though your love has waxed cold, the love of your God and
Father towards you has undergone no diminution—not the shadow of a
change has it known. What an encouragement to return to Him again! Not
one moment has God turned His back upon you, though you have turned your
back upon Him times without number. His face has always been towards
you; and it would have shone upon you with all its melting power, but
for the clouds which your own waywardness and sinfulness have caused to
obscure and hide from you its blessed light. Retrace your steps and
return again to God. Though you have been a poor wanderer, and have left
your first love—though your affections have strayed from the Lord, and
your heart has gone after other lovers—still God is gracious and ready
to pardon; He will welcome you back again for the sake of Jesus, His
beloved Son, in whom He is well pleased; for this is His own blessed
declaration—"If his children forsake my law, and walk not in my
judgments; if they break my statutes, and keep not my commandments; then
will I visit their transgressions with a rod, and their iniquity with
stripes. Nevertheless my loving-kindness will I not utterly take from
him, nor suffer my faithfulness to fail."
Octavius Winslow
"Herein is my Father gloried,
that you bear much fruit; so shall you be my disciples." John 15:8
This "much fruit" is often found mostly in those with whom the Lord
mostly deals. He has created His people for His own glory, and this He
will secure to Himself in their abundant fruitfulness. This is why the
most illustrious saints have ever been the most deeply tried, severely
pruned: their great fruitfulness sprang from their great afflictions.
And yet, beloved, the Lord deals with His saints according to His holy
sovereignty; not by one line, or in one path, does He always conduct
them. Is God smiling upon you? does the summer sun shine? is your sea
smooth and flowing? does the "south wind" blow upon you? See, then, that
you walk humbly with God; "Do not be high-minded, but fear." If God in
His providence has elevated you a little in the world, you have need to
besiege His throne for great grace to keep your spirit low in the dust
before Him. Do your fellows admire your talents, extol your gifts,
applaud your works, and court your society? oh, how closely, and softly,
and humbly ought you now to walk with God! That breath of adulation that
lighted upon you will prove a blight upon your graces, if you go not
upon your knees before God; that flattering word which fell upon your
ear will prove as the fly in the apothecary's ointment to your soul, if
you get not closer down at the foot of the cross. Let every circumstance
and state take you there; whether the north wind or the south wind
blows, whether the dark cloud of adversity gathers over you, or the
sunshine of prosperity beams upon you—still let your posture ever be low
before the Savior's cross: nothing can harm you there. See that the
season of outward prosperity is the season of your soul's fruitfulness;
see that every mercy takes you to God; convert every new blessing into a
fresh motive for living, not unto yourself, but unto Him from whom the
blessing came.
And if you are constrained to take your worst frames to Christ, your
sins as they rise, your weakness as you are conscious of it, your
corruptions as they discover themselves, even so shall you be a fruitful
branch of the true Vine. In the very act of going, just as he is, to
Christ, the believer brings forth fruit. For what marks the frame of the
soul thus traveling up to the cross, but self-distrust, self-abasement,
deep conceptions of its own nothingness, high views of Christ's
sufficiency? And is not this precious and costly fruit? I know of none
more so.
And let the fruitful believer anticipate the approaching period of his
translation to a more genial and healthy soil. In heaven, the home of
the saints, there will be nothing to blight the flower of grace; no
frosts of winter, no burning heat of summer, no crushing storms, no
sweeping tempests; the former things will all have passed away, and a
new heaven and a new earth, in which dwells righteousness, shall have
succeeded them. Happy hour of his release! Here he is a "lily among
thorns;" there he will be a tree of righteousness, on which the storm
will never rise, on which the sun will never set.
Octavius Winslow
Thus does Paul triumphantly establish the perfect freeness and unconditional character of a sinner's acceptance with God. By "the deeds of the law," he has reference to those many and fruitless efforts to obey the law which men in a state of nature are found so zealously to aim at. Are you striving, dear reader, to conform to the requirement of this holy, this inflexible law of God? Let me assure you, that all these strivings, all these works, all this toiling, is worse than worthless in God's holy sight; they are sinful—they proceed from an unregenerate nature, from an unrenewed, unsanctified heart—they flow not from faith and love; and therefore, the heart being thus a fountain of corruption, every stream that branches from it must partake of the foulness of the source from where it flows. Let the failure of the past suffice to teach you that this holy law you can never keep. Let your formal prayers, your lifeless religion, your vows forsworn, your resolutions broken, all confirm the solemn declaration of the apostle: "by the deeds of the law there shall no flesh be justified in His sight." Again: "For by the law is the knowledge of sin." Accompanied by the Spirit of God, it discloses to the soul the sinfulness of the heart and life, and brings it in guilty and self-condemned before God. Now, how is it possible that the law can ever be an instrument of life and an instrument of death to a sinner? It is utterly impossible that it can be. It never yet gave spiritual life to the soul—it never yet emancipated the soul from its thraldom—it never yet conducted it to Jesus—it never yet whispered liberty and peace. It can and does condemn—it can and does curse—and this is the utmost extent of its prerogative. Oh, then, resign all the hope you fondly cherish of life, peace, and acceptance by "the deeds of the law," and betake yourself to Him who has, by His most precious blood, "redeemed us from the curse of the law, being made a curse for us."
Having established the incapacity of the law to justify the sinner, the apostle then proceeds to unfold the glory, fitness, and freeness of that righteousness which can and does justify the soul before God. He takes up and argues two important points—the nature of the righteousness, and the instrument by which it is received. With regard to the first, he declares it to be "the righteousness of God"—and nothing but "the righteousness of God" can justify a soul in the sight of God. It must not be the righteousness of angels, nor the righteousness of Adam, nor the righteousness of Moses—it must be the righteousness of God in our nature. Away with every other refuge—away with every other covering; and let not the reader dream of entering with acceptance into the presence of a holy and heart-searching God, clad in any other righteousness than that which the adorable Immanuel wrought out. In this righteousness the believing sinner is safe, and safe forever; take him for a moment out of this righteousness, and he is lost, and lost for ever!
The instrument by which this divine righteousness is received is the second point established by the apostle. He clearly proves it to be by faith. Thus: "Even the righteousness of God, which is by faith of Jesus Christ unto all and upon all those who believe." How perfectly does this statement of the instrument or medium by which the blessings of pardon and justification are received into the soul harmonize with every other portion of God's word! Thus, for instance—"By Him all that believe are justified from all things." "Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and you shall be saved." "God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life." Oh see, disconsolate soul, the freeness of the gift! "To him that believes"—not to him that works, not to him that deserves, not to the worthy, but "to him that believes." "Where is boasting, then? It is excluded. By what law? Of works? No, but by the law of faith. Therefore we conclude that a man is justified by faith (in Christ) without the deeds of the law."
In this striking and beautiful passage, Jesus is declared to be before all created things; could this be true, if He Himself were a created being? Christ is either created, or He is uncreated. He is a creature, or the Creator. If a mere creature, then it were absurdity to suppose Him creating all things; for He must have been created before He could create: then He could not have been before all created things. If, too, He were a mere creature, how could He uphold all things? for He would need an upholding power for Himself. No mere creature ever has, or ever can, sustain itself. The angels could not, for they fell. Adam could not, for he fell. And Christ could not have sustained Himself in the solemn hour of atonement, when standing beneath the mighty load of His people's sins, had He not been more than creature—the uncreated Jehovah. His humanity did indeed tremble, and shudder, and shrink back; but, upborne by His Godhead, secretly, invisibly, yet effectually sustained by His Deity, He achieved a complete triumph, made an end of sin, and brought in a new and everlasting righteousness. If, too, He were a creature only, how could He give spiritual life to the dead, and how could He sustain that life when given? All spiritual life is from Christ, and all spiritual life is sustained by Christ—"Christ who is our life"—the life of the soul, the life of pardon, the life of justification; the life of sanctification, the life of all the Christian graces—the life of all that now is, and the life of all that is to come. Glorious truth this, to the saint of God!
Turn to our blessed Lord's conference with the Jews, in which He asserts His eternal existence: "Jesus said unto them, Verily, verily, I say unto you, Before Abraham was, I am." What a consoling view do we derive of Christ, from this revealed attribute of His nature! Is He eternal ?—then His love to His people is eternal; His love to them being coeval with His very being. It is not the love of yesterday or of to-day—it is the love of eternity: its spring-head is His own eternal existence. Is He eternal?—then must He be unchangeable too: His precious love, set upon them from all eternity, can never be removed: having given them Himself, Himself He will never take away. Blessed thought! He may blight earthly hopes, He may break up earthly cisterns, He may wither earthly gourds; He may send billow upon billow, breach upon breach, but never, never will He take Himself from the people of His love. Dear reader, you may be conscious of many and great departures; this single view of your Father's unchangeableness may recall to your recollection backslidings many and aggravated; forgetfulness, ingratitude, unkindnesses without number; murmurings, rebellion, and unbelief. Still does God, your God, say to you, "Though you have dealt so with me, though you have forgotten me, though your name is rebellious, yet do I love you still. Return unto me, and I will return unto you." What a soul-humbling, heart-melting thought is this! Does your Father love your sins? No! Does He look complacently on your wanderings? No! He hates your sins, and He will follow your wanderings with His chastising rod; but He loves your person, beholding you in the Beloved, fully and freely accepted in the glorious righteousness of Jesus, who is the same "yesterday, today, and forever." If this truth, dear reader, be broken up to your soul by the blessed and eternal Spirit, the effect will be most holy and abasing. The legitimate tendency of all spiritual truth is sanctifying. Hence our blessed Lord prayed that the truth might be the medium through which His people should be sanctified. "Sanctify them through your truth." And hence the apostle reasons, "Christ also loved the church, and gave Himself for it. That He might sanctify and cleanse it with the washing of water, by the word." That God's truth has been and is abused by wicked and ungodly men, is no argument against the truth. They abuse it to their own condemnation; they turn it from its right and legitimate use to their own loss. Still the truth stands firm in its peerless dignity and holy tendency, and when unfolded to the understanding, and laid upon the heart by the Holy Spirit, Christ's prayer is answered in the progressive sanctification of the soul.
"Nevertheless
I have somewhat against you,
because you have left your first love." Revelation 2:4
Should the humiliating truth force itself upon you, my dear reader—"I am
not as I once was; my soul has lost ground—my spirituality of mind has
decayed—I have lost the fervor of my first love—I have slackened in the
heavenly race—Jesus is not as He once was, the joy of my day, the song
of my night—and my walk with God is no longer so tender, loving, and
filial, as it was,"—then honestly and humbly confess it before God. To
be humbled as we should be, we must know ourselves; there must be no
disguising of our true condition from ourselves, nor from God; there
must be no framing of excuses for our declensions: the wound must be
probed, the disease must be known, and its most aggravating symptoms
brought to view. Ascertain, then, the true state of your affection
towards God; bring your love to Him to the touchstone of truth; see how
far it has declined, and thus you will be prepared to trace out and to
crucify the cause of your declension in love. Where love declines, there
must be a cause; and, when ascertained, it must be immediately removed.
Love to God is a tender flower; it is a sensitive plant, soon and easily
crushed; perpetual vigilance is needed to preserve it in a healthy,
growing state. The world's heat will wither it, the coldness of formal
profession will often nip it: a thousand influences, all foreign to its
nature and hostile to its growth, are leagued against it; the soil in
which it is placed is not genial to it. "In the flesh there dwells no
good thing;" whatever of holiness is in the believer, whatever breathing
after Divine conformity, whatever soaring of the affections towards God,
is from God himself, and is there as the result of sovereign grace.
"That which is born of the flesh is flesh; and that which is born of the
Spirit is spirit." What sleepless vigilance, then, and what perpetual
culture are needed, to preserve the bloom and the fragrance, and to
nourish the growth, of this celestial plant. Search out and remove the
cause of the decay of this precious grace of the Spirit; rest not until
it is discovered and brought to light: should it prove to be the world,
come out from it, and be you separate, and touch not the unclean thing;
or the power of indwelling sin, seek its immediate crucifixion by the
cross of Jesus. Does the creature steal your heart from Christ, and
deaden your love to God?—resign it at God's bidding; He asks the
surrender of your heart, and has promised to be better to you than all
creature love. All the tenderness, the deep affection, the acute
sympathy, the true fidelity, that you ever did find or enjoy in the
creature, dwells in God, your covenant God and Father, in an infinite
degree. He makes the creature all it is to you. Possessing God in
Christ, you can desire no more—you can have no more. If He asks the
surrender of the creature, cheerfully resign it; and let God be all in
all to you.
Octavius Winslow
"And not only
so, but we glory in tribulations
also: knowing that tribulation works patience." Romans 5:3
By a patient endurance of suffering for His sake, the Redeemer is
greatly glorified in His saints. The apostle—and few drank of the bitter
cup more deeply than he—presents suffering for Christ in the soothing
light of a Christian privilege. "Unto you it is given in the behalf of
Christ, not only to believe on Him, but also to suffer for His sake."
"But if you be reproached for the name of Christ, happy are you;" for
thereby Christ is glorified in you. Believer, suffering for Christ,
rejoice, yes, rejoice that you are counted worthy to suffer shame for
His sake. What distinction is awarded you! What honor is put upon you!
What a favored opportunity have you now of bringing glory to His name;
for illustrating His sustaining grace, and upholding strength, and
Almighty power, and infinite wisdom, and comforting love! By the firm
yet mild maintenance of your principles, by the dignified yet gentle
spirit of forbearance, by the uncompromising yet kind resistance to
allurement, let the Redeemer be glorified in you! In all that you suffer
for righteousness' sake, let your eye be immovably fixed on Jesus. In
Him you have a bright example. "Consider Him that endured such
contradiction of sinners against Himself, lest you be wearied and faint
in your mind." Remember how, for your redemption, He "endured the cross,
despising the shame," and, for your continual support, "is set down at
the right hand of the throne of God."
Remember, too, that it is one peculiar exercise and precious privilege
of faith, to "wait patiently for the Lord." The divine exhortation is,
"Commit your way unto the Lord; trust also in Him; and He shall bring it
to pass." "Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for Him." This patience
of the soul is the rest of faith on a faithful God; it is a standing
still to see His salvation. And the divine encouragement is, that in
this posture will be found the secret of your real power. "In quietness
and in confidence shall be your strength." Be watchful against
everything that would mar the simplicity of your faith, and so dim the
glory of Jesus; especially guard against the adoption of unlawful or
doubtful measures, with a view to disentanglement from present
difficulties. Endure the pressure, submit to the wrong, bear the
suffering, rather than sin against God, by seeking to forestall His
mind, or to antedate His purpose, or by transferring your interests from
His hands to your own.
Oh, the glory that is brought to Jesus by a life of faith! Who can fully
estimate it? Taking to Him the corruption, as it is discovered—the
guilt, as it rises, the grief, as it is felt—the cross, as it is
experienced—the wound, as it is received; yes, simply following the
example of John's disciples, who, when their master was slain, took up
his headless body, and buried it, and then went and poured their
mournful intelligence in Jesus' ear, and laid their deep sorrow on His
heart; this is to glorify Christ! Truly is this "precious faith," and
truly is the "trial of our faith precious," for it renders more precious
to the heart "His precious blood," who, in His person, is unutterably
"precious to those who believe."
Octavius Winslow
The divine life in the soul of man is indestructible—it cannot perish; the seed that grace has implanted in the heart is incorruptible—it cannot be corrupted. So far from trials, and conflicts, and storms, and tempests impairing the principle of holiness in the soul, they do but deepen and strengthen it, and tend greatly to its growth. We look at Job; who of mere man was ever more keenly tried?—and yet, so far from destroying or even weakening the divine life within him, the severe discipline of the covenant, through which he passed, did but deepen and expand the root, bringing forth in richer clusters the blessed fruits of holiness. Do you think, dear reader, the divine life in his soul had undergone any change for the worse, when, as the result of God's covenant dealings with him, he exclaimed—"I have heard of You by the hearing of the ear, but now mine eye sees You: why I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes?" No, the pruning of the fruitful branch impairs not, but rather strengthens and renders more fruitful the principle of holiness in the soul.
It is the will of God that His people should be a fruitful people. "This is the will of God, even your sanctification,"—the sanctification of a believer including all fruitfulness. He will bring out His own work in the heart of His child; and never does He take His child in hand with a view of dealing with him according to the tenor of the covenant of grace, but that dealing results in a greater degree of spiritual fruitfulness. Now, when the Lord afflicts, and the Holy Spirit sanctifies the affliction of the believer, is not this again among the costly fruit of that discipline, that self has become more hateful? This God declared should be the result of His dealings with His, ancient people Israel, for their idolatry—"They shall loathe themselves for the evils which they have committed in all their abominations." And again—"Then shall you remember your ways, and all your doings wherein you have been defiled; and you shall loathe yourselves in your own sight, for all your evils that you have committed." To loathe self on account of its sinfulness, to mortify it in all its forms, and to bring it entirely into subjection to the spirit of holiness, is, indeed, no small triumph of Divine grace in the soul, and no mean effect of the sanctified use of the Lord's dispensations. That must ever be considered a costly mean that accomplished this blessed end. Beloved reader, is your covenant God and Father dealing with you now? Pray that this may be one blessed result, the abasement of self within you, the discovering of it to you in all its deformity, and its entire subjection to the cross of Jesus.
It must be admitted that the believer requires constant exhortation to the sweet and precious privilege of communion with his heavenly Father—that he needs to be urged by the strongest arguments and the most persuasive motives to avail himself of the most costly and glorious privilege this side of glory. Does it not seem like pleading with a man to live?—reminding him that he must breath, if he would maintain life? Without the exercise of prayer, we tell a child of God, he cannot live; that this is the drawing in of the Divine life, and the breathing of it forth again; that the spiritual nature requires constant supplies of spiritual nourishment; and that the only evidence of its healthy existence is its constant rising towards God. We tell him, Cease to pray, and your grace withers, your vigor decays, and your comfort dies.
Observe how prayer, as a duty, is enjoined in God's word—"Call upon me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you shall glorify me." As though the Lord had said, "Call upon me when all is dark, when all is against you. I speak not now of the day of prosperity, of the sunny hour, when your soul prospers, when all things go smooth with you, and the sky above you is cloudless, and the sea beneath you is unruffled; but call upon me in the day of trouble, the day of want, the day of adversity, the day of disappointment and of rebuke, the day when friends forsake, and the world frowns upon you, the day of broken cisterns and withered gourds—call upon me in the day of trouble, and I will deliver you." Observe, too, how our dear Lord enjoined this precious duty upon His disciples—"You, when you pray, enter into your closet, and, when you have shut your door, pray to your Father which is in secret." And observe how He also encouraged it—"Verily, verily, I say unto you, whatever you shall ask the Father in my name, He will give it you." In harmony with this, is the sweet exhortation of the apostle—"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God." And what a striking unfolding of the true nature of prayer does the same writer give us in another passage—"Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, and watching thereunto with all perseverance and supplication for all saints." The apostle James bears the same testimony—"If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that gives to all men liberally, and upbraids not, and it shall be given him."
But we take higher ground than this; we urge the exercise of prayer, not merely as a solemn duty to be observed, but also as a precious privilege to be enjoyed. Happy is that believer, when duties come to be viewed as privileges. What! is it no privilege to have a door of access ever open to God? is it no privilege when the burden crushes to cast it upon One who has promised to sustain? When the corruptions of an unsanctified nature are strong, and temptations thicken, is prayer no privilege then? And when perplexed to know the path of duty, and longing to walk complete in all the will of God, and, as a child, fearing to offend a loving Father, is it then no privilege to have a throne of grace, an open door of hope? When the world is slowly stealing upon the heart, or when that heart is wounded through the unkindness of friends, or is bleeding under severe bereavement, is it then no privilege to go and tell Jesus? Say, you poor, you needy, you tried, you tempted souls! say, if prayer is not the most precious and costly privilege this side heaven.
Is Jesus alive? then the saints of God are a risen people. What a glorious character is theirs! Mystically they are risen with Christ from the tomb, and spiritually they are risen from the grave of death and sin to newness of life. One of the most fruitful causes of a feeble Christianity is the low estimate the believer forms of his spiritual character. Were this higher, were it more proportioned to our real standing, our responsibility would appear in a more solemn light, our sense of obligation would be deeper, and practical holiness of a high order would be our more constant aim. Ours is a glorious and exalted life. Our standing is higher, infinitely higher, than the highest angel; our glory infinitely greater than the most glorious seraph. "Christ is our life." "We are risen with Christ." By this we are declared to be a chosen, an adopted, a pardoned, a justified, and a quickened people. This is our present state; this is our present character. We bear about with us the life of God in our souls. As Jesus did bear about in His lowly, suffering, tempted, and tried humanity the hidden essential life; so we, in these frail, sinful, bruised, dying bodies, enshrine the life derived from a risen Head—the hidden life concealed with Christ in God. What an exalted character, what a holy one, then, is a believer in Jesus! Herein lie his true dignity and his real wealth—it is, that he is a partaker of the Divine nature, that he is one with the risen Lord. All other distinctions, in comparison, vanish into insignificance, and all other glory fades and melts away. Poor he may be in this world, yet is he rich in faith, and an heir of the kingdom; for he has Christ. Rich he may be in this world, titled and exalted, yet, if Christ is in his heart, that heart is deeply sensible of its native poverty—is lowly, child-like, Christ-like.
If this is our exalted character, then how great our responsibilities, and how solemn our obligations! The life we now live in the flesh is to be an elevated, a risen, a heavenly life. "If you be risen with Christ, seek those things which are above, where Christ sits on the right hand of God. Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth. For you are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God." What is the holy state here enjoined?—heavenly-mindedness. On what ground is it enforced?—our resurrection with Christ. As a risen people, how heavenly-minded, then, ought we to be! How incompatible and incongruous do groveling pursuits, and carnal joys, and earthly ambitions appear, with a life professedly one and risen with the incarnate God! But even here much heavenly wisdom is needed to guide in the narrow and difficult way. To go out of the world—to become as a detached cipher of the human family—to assume the character, even in approximation, of the religious recluse—the gospel nowhere enjoins. To relinquish our secular calling, unless summoned by God to a higher and more spiritual service in the church—to relax our diligence in our lawful business—to be indifferent to our personal interests and responsibilities—to neglect our temporal concerns, and to be regardless of the relative claims which are binding upon us, are sacrifices which a loyal attachment to our heavenly King does not necessarily demand; and, if assumed, are self-inflicted; and, if made, must prove injurious to ourselves and displeasing to God.
But to be heavenly-minded, in the true and Scripture sense, is to carry our holy Christianity into every department of life, and with it to elevate and hallow every relation and engagement. There is no position in which the providence of God places His saints, for which the grace of Jesus is not all-sufficient, if sincerely and earnestly sought. Nor is there any sphere or calling, to which the life of Jesus in the soul may not impart dignity, luster, and sacredness. Christianity, through all grades, and classes, and occupations, is capable of diffusing a divine, hallowing, ennobling influence, transforming and sanctifying all that it touches. Blessed and holy are they who know it from personal and heartfelt experience!
We can with difficulty realize, as the eye traces this evangelical declaration, that we are reading the prophecy, and not its fulfillment; the shadowy writings of the Old, and not the noontide revelation of the New Testament; so luminous with the gospel, so fragrant with the name, so replete with the work of JESUS is it. Oh, what tidings of joy and gladness are here to the heart-broken, burdened captive! Could announcements be more suited to his case, more appropriate to his circumstances, more soothing to his heart? Here, from the very heart of the Bible, Jesus Himself speaks. And never, in the days of His flesh, when preaching from the mountain or in the synagogue, were sweeter sounds uttered from His lips than these. This was the work that was before Him—to seek and to save lost sinners, to save them as sinners, to rend asunder their chains, to deliver them from their captivity, and to introduce them into the glorious liberty of the sons of God.
The quiet, lowly, unostentatious character of Jesus, blending with the most exquisite tenderness of heart, the pen of the evangelical prophet with equal vividness and beauty portrays—"He shall not cry, nor lift up, nor cause His voice to be heard in the street. A bruised reed shall He not break, and the smoking flax shall He not quench." Was not the entire life of our Lord in exact harmony with this prophetical portrait? Did not the glory of His lowly life, which Isaiah saw with a prophet's far-reaching eye, illumine, as with a living light, every step and every act of His history? Verily it did! Truly might He say, "Learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart." The most sublime miracles, the most stupendous exertions of power, and the most brilliant displays of philanthropy, on which a self-aggrandizing man would have established successfully his claims to profound and universal homage, He only referred to as sustaining the glory of His Father in His Divine mission; while all earthly honor and temporal power that might have accrued separately to Himself, He utterly rejected, veiling His own person in the deep folds of that humility which clothed Him as a garment. Shrinking from the intense gaze of a delighted multitude, and from the murmuring breath of popular applause, He would vanish as in a moment from the scene of His benevolence, either to lavish His boundless compassion on other and more wretched objects of suffering and woe, or to hide Himself amid the gloom and solitude of the desert. Never was humility like Your, you meek and lowly Lamb of God! Subdue this hated self in us—lay low this pride—suppress these inward risings, and draw, in fairer and deeper lines, Your own image on our souls!
Love is that grace of the Spirit that brings faith into active exercise; and faith, thus brought into exercise, brings every spiritual blessing into the soul. A believer stands by faith; he walks by faith; he overcomes by faith; he lives by faith. Love is therefore a laboring grace—"God is not unrighteous to forget your work and labor of love, which you have showed towards His name." There is nothing indolent in the nature of true love; it is not an inert, sluggish principle: where it dwells in the heart in a healthy and vigorous state, it constrains the believer to live not to himself, but unto Him who loved and gave Himself for him; it awakes the soul to watchfulness, sets it upon the work of frequent self-examination, influences it to prayer, daily walking in the precepts, acts of kindness, benevolence, and charity, all springing from love to God, and flowing in a channel of love to man.
The Holy Spirit distinguishes love as a part of the Christian armor—"Let us, who are of the day, be sober, putting on the breastplate of faith and love." Without ardent and increasing love to God, the believer is but poorly armed against his numerous spiritual and ever aggressive foes; but what a breastplate and helmet is this in the day of battle! Who can overcome a child of God, whose heart is overflowing with Divine love? What enemy can prevail against him thus armed? He may be, and he is, in himself, nothing but weakness; his foes many and mighty; hemmed in on every side by his spiritual Philistines; and yet, his heart soaring to God in love, longing for His presence, panting for His precepts, desiring, above and beyond all other blessings, Divine conformity! Oh, with what a panoply is he clothed! No weapon formed against him shall prosper; every "fiery dart of the adversary" shall be quenched, and he shall "come off more than a conqueror, through Him who has loved him."
In a word, love is immortal; it is that grace of the Spirit that will never die. This is not so with all the kindred graces: the period will come when they will no more be needed. The day is not far distant, when faith will be turned into sight, and hope will be lost in full fruition; but love will never die; it will live on, and expand the heart, and tune the lip, and inspire the song, through the unceasing ages of eternity. "Whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away;" but love never fails; it is an eternal spring, welled in the bosom of Deity: heaven will be its dwelling-place, God its source, the glorified spirit its subject, and eternity its duration.
The Spirit of God undertakes the achievement of a stupendous work. He enters the soul, and proposes to restore the empire of grace, the reign of holiness, and the throne of God. He engages to form all things anew; to create a revolution in favor of Christ and of heaven. He undertakes to change the heart, turning its enmity into love; to collect all the elements of darkness and confusion, educing from them perfect light and perfect order; to subdue the will, bringing it into harmony with God's will; to explore all the recesses of sin, turning its very impurity into holiness; in a word, to regenerate the soul, restoring the Divine image, and fitting it for the full and eternal enjoyment of God in glory. Now, in accomplishing this great work, what instrumentality does He employ? Passing by all human philosophy, and pouring contempt upon the profoundest wisdom and the mightiest power of man, He employs, in the production of a work in comparison with which the rise and the fall of empires were as infants' play, simply and alone, the "truth as it is in Jesus." With this instrument He enters the soul—the seat of the greatest revolution that ever transpired. He moves over the dark chaos, without form and void, and in a moment a world of immortal beauty bursts into view. He overshadows the soul, and a vital principle is imparted, whose stream of existence, once commenced, flows on with the eternity of God Himself. How divine, yet how natural, too, the process! In the lapses of human thought, in the overtasked powers of the human intellect, how often is the mind impaired and shattered by the severe process through which it passes! But here is a revolution which touches every faculty of the soul, which changes all the powers of the mind; and yet, so gentle, so persuasive, and so mild, is the Spirit's operation, that, so far from deranging the power or disturbing the balance of the intellect, it develops resources, awakens energies, and inspires strength, of which until now it knew not its possession. "The entrance of Your word gives light; it gives understanding unto the simple."
And to what shall we turn for the secret of this? To the gospel, so replete with the glory of Jesus—that gospel, the substance of which is the incarnate God; the theme of which is Christ crucified—that gospel which testifies of His Godhead, which declares His manhood, which unfolds the union of both in the person of a glorious Redeemer; and which holds Him up to view, mighty, and willing to save to the uttermost. Oh, how sanctifying and comforting is the truth which testifies of Jesus! It has but to point to Him, and, clothed with the energy of the Spirit, the strongest corruption is subdued, the deepest grief is soothed. Of what value or efficacy is all our knowledge of the truth, if it lead us not to Jesus; if it expand not our views of His glory; if it conform not our minds to His image; if it increase not our love to His person, and if it quicken not our obedience to His commands, and our zeal for His cause; and mature us not, by a progressive holiness, for the enjoyment of His beatific presence?
What is the life of faith which the believer lives, but a manifestation of the life of the Lord Jesus? The highest, the holiest, the happiest life lived below, is the life of faith. But nature contributes nothing to this life. It comes from a higher source. It is supernatural—it is opposed to nature. It springs from the life "hid with Christ in God." "I am crucified with Christ, nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of God." Here is a glorious manifestation of the life of Jesus. If we desire any evidence that Jesus is risen, that He is alive again, and that He is the life of the soul, here it is! See the faith of a child of God sifted as wheat, yet not one grain falling to the ground—tried as gold, yet not one particle lost—though in the flame, yet never consumed. And why? Because Christ lives in the soul. Dear believer! your faith may be sharply tempted—severely tried—but never, never shall it quite fail; for Jesus lives in you, and lives in you forever. Oh blessed trial of faith, that manifests in, and endears to, you the life of Jesus! It is the precious trial of "precious faith,"—a faith which the more deeply it is tried, the more deeply it manifests the risen life of its Divine "Author and Finisher."
And what, too, are all the supports of the believer in seasons of trial, suffering, and bereavement, but so many manifestations of the life of the Lord Jesus? What is our path to glory, but the path of tribulation, of suffering, and of death? Our Lord and Master, in the expression of His wisdom and love, forewarns us of this—"In the world you shall have tribulation." And His apostles but echo the same sentiment, when they affirm that it is "through much tribulation we must enter the kingdom." But the life of our risen Lord is daily manifested in us. This it is that keeps the soul buoyant amid the billows, strong in faith, joyful in hope, soaring in love. Thus is Jesus the life of every grace, the life of every promise, the life of every ordinance, the life of every blessing; yes, of all that is really costly and precious to a child of God, Jesus is the substance, the glory, the sweetness, the fragrance, yes, the very life itself. Oh! dark and lonely, desolate and painful indeed were our present pilgrimage, but for Jesus. If in the world we have tribulation, in whom have we peace?—in Jesus! If in the creature we meet with fickleness and change, in whom find we the "Friend that loves at all times"?—in Jesus! When adversity comes as a wintry blast, and lays low our comforts, when the cloud is upon our tabernacle, when health, and wealth, and influence, and friends are gone—in whom do we find the covert from the wind, the faithful, tender "Brother born for adversity?"—in Jesus! When temptation assails, when care darkens, when trial oppresses, when bereavement wounds, when heart and flesh are failing, who throws around us the protecting shield, who applies the precious promise, who speaks the soothing word, who sustains the sinking spirit, who heals the sorrow, and dries the tear?—Jesus! Where sin struggles in the heart, and guilt burdens the conscience, and unbelief beclouds the mind, whose grace subdues our iniquities, whose blood gives us peace, and whose light dispels our darkness?—Jesus! And when the spark of life wanes, and the eye grows dim, and the mind wanders, and the soul, severing its last fetter, mounts and soars away, who, in that awful moment, draws near in form unseen, and whispers in words unheard by all but the departing one, now in close communion with the solemn realities of the invisible world—"Fear not; I am the resurrection and the life: he that believes in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and whoever lives and believes in me shall never die"?—still, it is Jesus! "
Behold this wisdom, as it shines in the recovery of lost and ruined man by Christ. Here is a manifestation infinitely transcending in greatness and glory the first creation of man in holiness. In the first creation, God had nothing to undo; no dilapidated temple to take down, no occupant to dispossess, no ruin to repair, no rubbish to remove, no enemy to oppose. But in the re-creation of man, how vastly different! The beautiful temple is a ruin—dilapidated and fallen. God is ejected; another and an antagonist occupant dwells in it, and enmity to its Creator is written in letters of darkness upon every part and over every inlet. In rebuilding this structure, all things were to be created anew. "Behold," says God, "I create a new thing in the earth." It was a new and profounder thought of infinite wisdom, unheard, unseen before. Fallen man was to be raised—lost man was to be recovered—sin was to be pardoned—the sinner saved, and God eternally glorified. Now were the treasures of wisdom, which for ages had been hid in Christ, brought forth. Infinite wisdom had never developed such vast wealth, had never appeared clothed in such glory, had never shone forth so majestic, so peerless, and Divine. Oh, how must angels and archangels have wondered, admired, and loved, as this brighter discovery of God burst in glory upon their astonished vision—as this new temple of man rose in loveliness before their view!
The greatest display of infinite wisdom was in the construction of the model upon which the new temple, regenerated man, was to be formed. This model was nothing less than the mysteriously constituted person of the Son of God. In this, its highest sense, is "Christ the wisdom of God." Here it shone forth in full-orbed majesty. Gaze upon the living picture! Look at Immanuel, God with us—God in our nature—God in our accursed nature—God in our tried nature—God in our sorrowful nature—God in our suffering nature—God in our tempted nature—yet untouched, untainted by sin. Is not this a fathomless depth of Divine wisdom? To have transcended it, would seem to have transcended Deity itself.
The next step in the unfolding of this Divine wisdom is the spiritual restoration of man to a state corresponding in its moral lineaments to this Divine and perfect model. This is accomplished solely by "Christ crucified, the wisdom of God." And here, again, does the glory of God's wisdom shine in the person and work of Jesus. Every step in the development of this grand expedient establishes His character as the "only wise God," whose "understanding is infinite;" while it augments our knowledge, and exalts our views of the Lord Jesus, as making known the Father. Here was a way of salvation for perishing sinners, harmonizing with every perfection of Jehovah, sustaining the highest honor of His government; bringing to Him the richest glory, and securing to its subjects, as the rich bequest of grace, happiness eternal, and inconceivably great. Oh, how truly did God here "work all things after the counsel of His own will"! How has He "abounded towards us in all wisdom and prudence"! In Jesus' sacrificial obedience and death we see sin fully punished, and the sinner fully saved—we see the law perfectly honored, and the transgressor completely justified—we see justice entirely satisfied, and mercy glorified to its highest extent—we see death inflicted according to the extreme tenor of the curse, and so vindicating to the utmost the truth and holiness of God; and yet life, present and eternal life, given to all whom it is the purpose and grace of the Father to save. Tell us, is not Jesus the great glory of the Divine wisdom?
The union of the believer with Jesus, and the consequent fruitfulness, is a glorious truth: the Holy Spirit, in His word, has laid great stress upon it. It is spoken of as a being in Christ—"Every branch in me." "If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature." "So we, being many, are one body in Christ." "Those who are fallen asleep in Christ." But in what sense are we to understand this being "in Christ"? To be in Christ truly, spiritually, vitally, is to be in that eternal covenant of grace made with Christ, as the Surety and Mediator of His people; one of the number spoken of as the Lord's "peculiar treasure;"—"For the Lord has chosen Jacob unto himself, and Israel for His peculiar treasure;" and concerning whom the Holy Spirit declares that they are elected in Christ—"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us with all spiritual blessings in heavenly things in Christ: according as He has chosen us in Him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and without blame before Him in love." To be in Christ truly, is to stand accepted in His righteousness, to be justified by Him freely from all things; it is to be brought to the knowledge of our own vileness, insufficiency, and guilt; to be made to cast aside all self-dependence, that is, all works of human merit, and to come as the thief on the cross came, without any allowed confidence in anything of self, but as a poor, helpless, ruined, condemned sinner, all whose hope of pardon and acceptance is through the free mercy of God in Christ Jesus. To be in Christ is to be the subject of a living, holy, influential principle of faith; it is to be brought into the blessed state thus described by the apostle as his own—"I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave Himself for me." To be in Christ is to be one with Him; it is to be a member of His mystical body, of which He is the spiritual Head: and the Head and members are one. It is to have Christ dwelling in the heart—"Christ in you the hope of glory." Yes, it is to dwell in the heart of Christ; it is to rest there in the very pavilion of His love, to abide there every moment, to be sheltered there from all evil, and to be soothed there under all sorrow. Oh blessed state of being in Christ! Who would not experience it? Who would not enjoy it? "There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit."
These are the living branches, united to the true vine, which bear fruit. From their union to the living vine their fruit comes—"From me is your fruit found." "As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine, no more can you, except you abide in me." And oh, what precious fruit does such a living branch bear! The broken heart—the contrite spirit—the mourning over sin—the low, abasing, humbling views of self—the venturing by faith on a full, mighty, willing Savior—the going out of self, and resting in His all-atoning work and all-satisfying righteousness. This is followed by a progressive advance in all holiness and godliness, the fruits of faith which are by Jesus Christ abounding in the life, and proving the reality of the wondrous change—the close walk with God—the submission of the will in all things to His—the conformity of the life to the example of Jesus—the "power of His resurrection" felt—the "fellowship of His sufferings," known—and "conformity to His death," marking the entire man.
These are some of the fruits of a truly regenerate soul. The Holy Spirit testifies, that the "fruit of the Spirit is in all goodness, and righteousness, and truth;" and still more minutely, as consisting of "love, joy, peace, patience, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance."
WHERE was David now? "In the wilderness of Ziph, in a wood." With not a follower or companion, this favorite of the nation was a homeless wanderer, hunted like a partridge upon the mountain by the bloodthirsty king. But oh, the deep teaching of which he would now be the subject! The nothingness of earthly glory—the emptiness of human applause—the poverty of the creature—the treachery of his own heart—in a word, the vapid nature and utter insufficiency of all earthly good, would be among the many holy and costly lessons he would now learn. Nor this alone. Driven from man, he would now be more exclusively and entirely shut in with God. In his happy experience, that wilderness would be as a peopled world, and that wood as a blooming paradise. From the profound depths of its solitude and stillness, there would ascend the voice of prayer and the melody of praise. The wilderness of Ziph would be another Patmos, all radiant with the glorious and precious presence of Him, who laid his right hand upon the exiled Evangelist, and said, "Fear not, I am He that lives."
See we no fore-shadowing of Jesus here? Oh yes; much, we think. Nor is this strange, since David was preeminently a personal type of Christ. There were periods in our Lord's brief and humiliating history on earth, when, indeed, He seemed for awhile to ride upon the topmost wave of popular favor. After some stupendous prodigy of His power, or some splendid outgushing of His benevolence, sending its electric thrill through the gazing and admiring populace, He would often become the envy and the dread of the Jewish Sanhedrin. Jealous of His widening fame and growing power, they would seek to tarnish the one by detraction, and to arrest the other by His death. Escaping from their fury, He would betake Himself to the fastnesses of the rock, and to the solitude of the desert—but, alas! with no human sympathy to strengthen His hands in God. Oh, how strangely has Jesus trodden the path, along which He is leading His saints to glory!
Is there nothing analogous to this in the experience of the faithful? Who can witness for the Lord Jesus—conceive some new idea of doing good—occupy some prominent post of responsibility and power—or prove successful in some enterprise of Christian benevolence—and while thus winning the admiration and applause of the many, not find himself an object of the unholy envy and vituperation of a few? "Woe unto you when all men shall speak well of you!" Thus may an active, zealous, successful Christian be crucified between human idolatry on the one hand, and creature jealousy on the other. Well, be it so, if self be slain, and God is glorified. The great secret, however, to learn here is, entire deadness to both. Going forward in the work of the Lord, as judgment dictates, as conscience approves, and as Providence guides—dead to human applause, and indifferent to human censure; ever taking the low place, aiming at the Lord's glory, and seeking the honor that comes from God only—this is happiness. Oh, to live and labor, to give and to suffer, in the meek simplicity of Christ, and with eternity full in view! The Lord grant us grace so to live, and so to die!
THE believer should never fail to remember that the present is, by the appointment of God, the afflicted state to him. It is God's ordained, revealed will, that His covenant children here should be in an afflicted condition. When called by grace, they should never take into their account any other state. They become the disciples of the religion of the cross—they become the followers of a crucified Lord—they put on a yoke, and assume a burden: they must, then, expect the cross inward and the cross outward. To escape it is impossible. To pass to glory without it, is to go by another way than God's ordering, and in the end to fail of arriving there. The gate is strait, and the way is narrow, which leads unto life; and a man must become nothing, if he would enter and be saved. He must deny himself—he must become a fool that he may be wise—he must receive the sentence of death in himself, that he should not trust in himself. The wise man must cease to glory in his wisdom, the mighty man must cease to glory in his might, the rich man must cease to glory in his riches, and their only ground of glory in themselves must be their insufficiency, infirmity, poverty, and weakness; and their only ground of glory out of themselves must be, that "God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life."
The believer in Jesus, then, must not forget that if the path he treads is rough and thorny, if the sky is wintry, if the storm is severe, and the cross He bears is heavy, that yet this is the road to heaven. He is but in the wilderness, why should He expect more than belongs to the wilderness state? He is on a journey, why should he look for more than a traveler's fare? He is far from home, why should He murmur and repine that he has not all the rest, the comfort, and the luxuries of his Father's house? If your covenant God and Father has allotted to you poverty, be satisfied that it should be your state, yes, rejoice in it. If bitter adversity, if deep affliction, if the daily and the heavy cross, be your portion, yet, breathe not one murmur, but rather rejoice that you are led into the path that Jesus Himself walked in, to "go forth by the footsteps of the flock," and that you are counted worthy thus to be one in circumstance with Christ and his people.
PERHAPS to some whose tearful eye may glance on these pages, the most touching and endearing chapter in our Lord's life of varied and affecting incident is that which portrays Him in Bethany's house of mourning, and bending over the grave of Lazarus—thus illustrating His peculiar sympathy with the bereaved. It would seem as if Jesus loved to visit the haunts of human woe. "Lord, if You had been here, my brother had not died," were words bursting from the lips of the two bereaved sisters, which seemed to chide the delay of an interposition, which might have averted their sad calamity. And why that delay? Would it not seem as if one reason was, that the cup of woe was not yet brimmed, and thus the time for the richest display of His human sympathy and Divine power had not yet come? But when death had invaded that happy circle, had cast its shadow over the sunny home, and the sorrow of bereavement was now bursting each heart—lo! Jesus appears, gently lifts the latch, and enters. And who has passed within that dark abode of grief? The Creator of all worlds, the Lord of angels and of men, robed in a real, a suffering, and a sympathizing humanity, to mingle with the daughters of sorrow.
Returning from the house of mourning, we follow Him to the grave. Groaning in spirit, He asks, "Where have you laid him?" And then it is written—and oh, never were words more full of meaning—"Jesus wept!" The incarnate God in tears! Oh marvelous sympathy! such as earth never before saw, and such as heaven in astonishment looked down to see. But why did Jesus weep? Was such an expression of sensibility in keeping with the occasion? Was He not about to recall His friend to life again? And did He not know, that before the sun had declined an hour, He should have robbed death of his victim, and the grave of its prey, restoring gladness to those bereaved sisters, and the sunshine of joy to that desolate home? Most assuredly. And yet "Jesus wept!" Oh, it was sympathy! Those tears were the outgushing of a sensibility He could not repress, nor wished to conceal. Moved by His own loss, He was yet more deeply moved with the loss of Martha and Mary. He stood at that grave, as though He were the chief mourner, upon whom the brunt of the calamity had fallen; and there were no tears flowing at that moment like His. He wept, because He was human—He wept, because He was bereaved—He wept, because others wept. It was a sympathetic emotion, that now agitated to its center his whole soul. Behold Him who makes His people's sorrows all His own!
Bereaved one! that speaking, weeping Brother was born for your adversity! Though now in glory, where no tears are shed, He still sympathizes with the sorrows of the bereaved on earth—yes, sympathizes with yours. Into all the circumstances of your present calamity—the irreparable loss it has entailed, the deep void it has created, the profound grief it has awakened, the painful changes it involves, the sable gloom with which, to your bedimmed eye, it enshrouds all the future of life—He fully enters. And though, when the storm-cloud of Divine vengeance was darkling above His head, Gethsemane and Calvary full in view, not a nerve quivered, nor a tear fell—yet, lo! He comes and weeps with you, and breathes the soothing balmy influence, of a human sympathy over the scene and the sadness of your sorrow. Christian mourner! the weeping One of Bethany is near you! Christ is with you, Christ is in your sorrow.
BEHOLD the character of those with whom God is pleased. They are a spiritual people, and God, who is a Spirit, must love and delight in that which harmonizes with His own nature. Faith may be feeble, grace may be limited, and knowledge may be defective; yet, if there be just that strength of faith that travels to, and leans upon, the sacrifice of Jesus, and just that measure of love that constrains to a sincere, though imperfect, obedience, with just that extent of knowledge that discerns Christ to be the Savior of a poor lost sinner, then, there is one who is pleasing to God.
They are also an accepted people, and therefore their people are pleasing to Him. The delight of the Father in the person of His Son reveals to us the great secret of His marvelous delight in us. "This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased." Blessed truth to those who see enough defilement and imperfection in their best doings, to cover them with eternal confusion and shame!—who, after the most spiritual performances, are constrained to repair in penitence and confession to Him, who bears the iniquity of His people's holy things. Sweet truth to fall back upon in all the failures and flaws we are perpetually discerning in our works, in our motives, and our ends—blots not appearing upon the surface, but visible to the microscopic eye of faith, which sees material for self-condemnation, where others, in their fond and blind affection, approve and applaud. If God, my Father, is well pleased in His Son, then is it a truth, strictly inferential, that He is well pleased in me whom He beholds in His Son. But not their people only, their offerings also are equally pleasing to God. "I will accept you" (the person first), "with your sweet savor" (the offering next). Their preceptive walk likewise pleases Him. Is the obedience of the child, springing from love, a pleasing and acceptable offering to a parent's heart? Ah! how imperfectly are we aware of the beauty and fragrance there are to God in a single act of filial, holy obedience, the fruit and offering of a divine and deathless affection!
How great and exalted the heavenly calling of the Christian! Aim to walk worthy of it. Debase it not by allying it with a carnal mind. Impair not your spiritual life by enchaining it to spiritual death. Let the friendships which you cultivate, and the relationships of life which you form, be heavenly in their nature, and eternal in their duration. Seek to please God in all things. Rest not where you are, even though you may have attained beyond your fellows. Let your standard of heavenly-mindedness do not be that of the saints, but of Christ. Study not a copy, but the original. High aims will secure high attainments. He is the most heavenly, and the happiest, who the most closely resembles his Divine Master.
Be much in your closet. There is no progress in spiritual-mindedness apart from much prayer: prayer is its aliment, and its element. But leave not your religion there; let it accompany you into the world. While careful not to carry your business into your religion—thus secularizing and degrading it—be careful to carry your religion into your business—high integrity, holy principle, godly fear—thus imparting an elevation and its concerns. Be the man of God wherever you are. Let these solemn words be held in vivid remembrance—"I have created you for my glory. I have formed you for my praise. You are my witnesses, says the Lord."