02 - The Rest for the People of God

A Heavenly Rest for the People of God "O, that I had wings like a dove! for then would I fly away, and be at rest." Psalms 55:6 "There remains, therefore, a rest for the people of God." Hebrews 4:9

We have, in these two passages, a wish and a promise. The wish indicative of man’s restlessness here — and the promise affording an assurance of his repose hereafter.

It is the lot of all mortals to be dissatisfied. Our desires and attainments do not correspond. The ambitious man, who has reached certain heights of power — eagerly strains his vision towards loftier positions. The covetous man uses his wealth as fuel to feed the flame of his avarice. The scholar is stimulated, not satisfied, with his acquirements. His desire to know increases with his knowledge. His discoveries he uses as torch-lights with which to explore yet darker and more obscure regions. The monarch upon the throne of Israel, with all his wisdom, the power of his armies, the splendors of his reign — was not at rest. A humble subject, passing by, to his daily labor, the walls of his palace, and gazing upon the costly architecture, would naturally envy the fortunate occupant. As he heard the music of his players, and the songs of his choirs, he would feel that here there was positive and satisfying enjoyment. And as, at night, in his cottage, he reads the soothing and beautiful verses of the Hebrew poet, and drinks in their inspiration, he exclaims, "Happy, thrice happy monarch!" But what does the royal Psalmist say himself? — "Fearfulness and trembling are come upon me, and horror has overwhelmed me. O, that I had wings like a dove! for then would I fly away, and be at rest. Lo, then would I wander far off, and remain in the wilderness. I would hasten my escape from the windy storm and tempest." As the timid dove, startled by the howling wind, hastens, before the dark cloud, to the wilderness for shelter — so would the envied monarch leave behind him honor, royalty and his kingdom, and fly to the desert to obtain rest. Had he been, however, permitted to retire from office and authority, and resume his early occupation as a shepherd — had he exchanged the splendors of royalty, for the simplicity of rural life; the responsibilities of a magnificent sovereignty, for the care of a flock — would he have found satisfying repose? Would no enemies have troubled him in the wilderness, no quarrels vexed him, no calamities befallen him? Would no midnight howl from wild beasts, eager for prey, have disturbed his slumbers? And, though secure from all outward misfortunes, would he have had nothing to fear from the reproaches of conscience, the solicitations of evil passions, or the restless desires of unsatisfied affections? The wings of a dove, that bore him to any spot on earth — would not carry him beyond the boundaries of trouble and anxiety! He might reach the wilderness — but he would not find rest. That is not the portion of man here. His circumstances, his nature, his character, forbid it. But "there remains a rest for the people of God." It is above, on heights that earthly storms never reach; near pure rivers, that never swell into destructive torrents; in green pastures, and amid bright flowers that never fade.

Let us contemplate some of the features of this heavenly rest.

1. It is rest for the powers and aspirations of the soul. It does not involve inactivity and cessation from all effort; for such a state would be far from desirable. It is a repose analogous to that which the earnest and diligent philosopher feels, when he has attained, in some satisfactory degree, the object of his researches; or that which the faithful Christian experiences, at the close of an eminently holy and useful life. The mind rests upon objects worthy of its powers, commensurate with its desires. It enjoys a mental tranquility never before experienced; for in this present world, there is an abiding consciousness of longings that can never be gratified. The intense thirst of the intellect for knowledge, for truth, for a clear insight into the mysteries of science and religion — cannot be satisfied. The mind is clogged by carnal, material objects. The perceptions are dimmed by the mists that are around us.

There is, too, the humiliating reflection that we are in a state of banishment from our Father’s house — that we are wanderers in a moral desert, and that the storms of sin have shattered our powers. Though the vital principle is not extinct — though there are occasional flashes of the fire of genius, that throw their luster over the intellectual firmament — yet man is in ruins. His spirit is the sport of a thousand conflicting emotions, baffled plans, and thwarted purposes. But in Heaven above, there is peace — "the peace of God that passes all understanding." The divine image is re-impressed upon the soul, and man is restored to his allegiance, his dignity, and his relationship to the Deity. He . . .
is received into the presence of the infinite Sovereign,
dwells amid his holy attributes,
experiences the intensity of his love,
and is clothed in the robes of royalty. His powers are now in harmonious and vigorous action, and the tide of knowledge flows in upon him, as a pure, sparkling, refreshing stream. He enjoys the repose of perfect satisfaction. A palace is his home. Angels are his companions and instructors. God is his portion. He feels, as he never felt before, the beauty and soothing influence of the words, "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside the still waters."

He rests, too, in the bosom of his Savior; for he has accepted the invitation, "Come unto me, all you that labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest." He experiences the fulfillment of the promise, "My peace I give unto you; not as the world gives give I unto you." As this language was addressed by Christ to his disciples while he was upon the earth, we might inquire: What peace could come from a heart that was wounded for our transgressions, and bruised for our iniquities? What rest could he give, who himself was a "man of sorrows and acquainted with grief"? Must we not believe that, far below the troubles of Christ’s agitated spirit, there were deep waters whose placid surface was never ruffled — waters that constantly reflected the palaces and cities of the celestial world — a divine ocean of satisfaction and happiness, from which flowed pure and refreshing streams? Indeed, he declared, "Whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him, shall never thirst — but it shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life."

Even while his disciples were in the midst of severe trials and persecutions, he could yet impart to them a peace which the world could neither give nor take away. He could lift them far above their persecutors, into that serene atmosphere in which his own divine spirit floated — an atmosphere filled with the blessedness of Heaven.

Paul felt this satisfaction when he said, in writing to the Corinthians, "As sorrowing — yet always rejoicing; as poor — yet making many rich; as having nothing — and yet possessing all things." And if Christ could give to his disciples rest in the midst of their labors, and joy in the midst of their sorrows — how full will be the peace, how intense the pleasure, that he will impart when he receives them to his celestial kingdom! What a depth of meaning will be then contained in the words, "Not as the world gives, I give unto you." No transient good, no limited blessings, do I impart; but I give as a God — as a being who has infinite resources at his command, and who has the disposition as well as ability to bestow upon his friends the greatest blessings.

2. The heavenly rest promised involves a freedom from alldoubtsandanxietiesconcerning our religious state. There are favored seasons here, when the Christian can say, "I know that my Redeemer lives!" There are bright spots along the pathway of life, that seem to be illumined by some beam of light that has escaped from the celestial world.

But, at other times, harassing doubts overshadow the spirit. Faith is weakened. Confidence in God, in his promises, and even in the whole scheme of salvation, is shaken. The Bible seems full of dark mysteries and perplexing problems. Prayer is a burden, for the throne of grace appears to be afar off. Meditation only calls up images of coming evil. Not unfrequently a flood of unbelief will rush upon the mind, with such force as to threaten to sweep away every holy purpose and Christian hope.

Even the patriarchs and prophets, God’s messengers to mankind — men eminent for their spiritual attainments, the light of whose example relieved the intense darkness of the early ages — even they had their seasons of perplexity and gloom.

Elijah, after witnessing the most wonderful displays of divine favor, and triumphing over the prophets of Baal, falls into a state of despondency, and requests that he may die. David, who could at one time greatly rejoice in the Lord, at another time exclaims, "I am troubled; I am bowed down greatly; I go mourning all the day." The apostles of Christ, who enjoyed the personal instructions of their master — who were his intimate companions in his walks, labors and devotions; who witnessed his miracles, and shared largely in his affections — were unstable in their faith and hopes. It required the greatest care and effort, on the part of Christ, to keep them from relinquishing their prospects of heavenly felicity.

Even that apostle who was denominated, preeminently, the "rock of the church, against which the gates of Hell should not prevail," was found, during the trial of his Master, standing outside the court, despairing of the cause he had espoused, and uttering falsehood and blasphemy. The apostle Paul, who at one time was full of confidence and hope, with his spirit glowing with anticipations of future blessedness, at another exclaimed, "O, wretched man that I am! who can deliver me from the body of this death?" Could the history and condition of one human heart, reputed eminent for holiness, be accurately portrayed — how dark and melancholy would be the picture! What distrust of God; what false conceptions of his moral government; what inadequate views of the atonement, and of the agency of the Holy Spirit! And even in cases where there is an earnest struggling after the higher life, and clearer views of divine and heavenly things — how slowly does the mind rise to "a full assurance of hope"!

While we are in the body, and immersed in the cares of life, we cannot, indeed, expect to obtain perfect spiritual repose. In spite of all our watchfulness and efforts, the flesh will war against the spirit. The atheism of the world will assail our faith. Material objects will hide from our view celestial and divine things. It is difficult to walk by faith, amid objects of sight; difficult to feel the presence of an invisible Being, who, though unseen by us, knows every thought and emotion of the heart; difficult to believe that a God of infinite purity can receive into his holy courts beings so defiled with sin — that the Infinite Jehovah can condescend to companionship with worms of the dust!

But, from all doubt and anxiety, "there remains a rest for the people of God." The hour is at hand — it is very near — when every cloud shall vanish from their spiritual horizon; when they shall recline in sweet security amid the bowers of a celestial paradise, with the river of life flowing at their feet, whose soft murmurings, falling as music upon their hearts, will express their inward serenity.

There, too, will be rest and happiness, for every variety of taste and age, among the redeemed. The bright visions of the young, who are early impressed with the fading nature of all earthly objects, the fond dreams of the meditative spirit, and the longings of the afflicted for consolation and rest — will there be fully realized.

3. This heavenly rest will include a freedom from all temptation and sin. Herein will be its chief excellence; for the great calamity that overtops all others, that throws into the shade all others, is moral evil. Physical pain, earthquakes, storms, disease — these are but the types and shadows of evil, in the comparison. Sin strikes inwardly. It assails the most noble part of man’s nature; and makes havoc with godlike faculties and powers. Disease prostrates the body — but sin blasts the soul. War wastes empires — but sin wastes a spiritual empire of more value than the material universe — an empire of thoughts, desires, and hopes. Sin batters down walls that are designed for the protection of immortal interests. It breaks in the gates, and allows hosts of enemies to rush in and take possession. Sin demolishes every altar consecrated to Heaven, every temple devoted to worship. It obliterates all that is lovely and beautiful. And where sin is, there can be no peace. "The wicked are like the troubled sea, which cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt." Where there is the least remains of sin in the heart, there is a disturbance produced, just as the slightest mote in the eye occasions an irritation until it is removed. The Christian feels it in his seasons of religious meditations, in his hours of worship and prayer. He feels it especially when he is making efforts to advance in the divine life. He finds that every inch of ground is disputed by an antagonistic force, and that he must gird himself for the conflict. He discovers that he is called to "wrestle not against flesh and blood — but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places." The power and number of the foes arrayed against him, require him to put forth his whole strength. If he would make progress in spirituality, he is convinced that he must have his "loins girt about with truth, and have on the breastplate of righteousness," that he must "take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit."

He is also deeply affected by the developments and effects of sin around him . . .
the awful apostasy of mankind,
the idolatry and debasement of millions of the human family,
the vices that reign in civilized communities,
the practical atheism of multitudes,
the systems of oppression that embody the worse forms of avarice and injustice,
the wrongs inflicted upon the innocent and unprotected

— these and other forms of sin distress him. Every blasphemous oath he hears, wounds him. Every instance of successful villainy causes him pain. He feels as did the Psalmist when he exclaimed, "Rivers of waters run down my eyes, because they keep not your law!"

When, too, the evil passions of men reach such an intensity as to become organized, and are directed against the Christian in the form of persecution — then he feels the severity of the battle here, and looks upward, with longing eyes, for rest.

Besides the ordinary evil influences against which he has to contend, he is now under a pressure that seriously tries his faith, and puts to the test his fortitude, and the strength of his devotion to Christianity. He is threatened with the loss of property, friends, and even life itself. He is exposed to the crudest insults, held up to the public scorn, made the victim of popular fury, driven from city to city, imprisoned, tortured, and perhaps put to death.

Yet what multitudes, during the severe persecutions through which the church has, at different periods, passed, have been sustained by the assurance that "there remains a rest for the people of God!" how many who compose the noble army of martyrs were enabled, by the energy of their faith and the intensity of their love for Christ, to press through all opposition! Neither flatteries nor threats, neither bribes nor tortures, could move them. They had counted "all things loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus." They had caught glimpses of the bright regions above, and they kept their eyes steadily fixed upon their heavenly hope. And, although clouds would sometimes intervene, and the heavens gather blackness, and the thunder roar, and the lightning flash — yet they were confident that the storm would break away — that the clouds would open, and they would again see, in the far distance, the peaceful mansions which were prepared for them!

We might cite noble instances of faith and fortitude, in the midst of the hazards and tortures of severe persecution — men who, while longing for rest, were yet willing to suffer all things for Christ’s sake; who, while panting for Heaven, were yet submissive under the shocks of the world’s wickedness and treachery. And these heroes, though they appeared calm to the spectators around them — yet were often the subjects of inward struggles and conflicts, of which the outward were but the types and shadows. The dying exclamation of Paul, "I have fought a good fight!" is full of intense meaning. It was no mere shadow of a warfare in which he was engaged. It was no holiday amusement that absorbed his energies, and taxed his strength. It was a conflict that required him to have on the whole armor of God — the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation, the sword of the Spirit. He passed through an ordeal of fire and blood, that would have destroyed ordinary minds. He endured afflictions as a good soldier of the cross.

He adds, "I have finished my course." This was an intense relief. The apostle felt somewhat as his illustrious Master did when he exclaimed "It is finished!" for, with him, his trials and dangers were all finished. The work of life was done. His mission on earth was accomplished.

"I have kept the faith." This expression, too, is full of meaning; for that faith had been often in peril. The apostle was at times anxious lest he should lose it — lest his Christianity might suffer shipwreck in the storms through which he was called to pass. But now he can exclaim, "Blessed be God, I have kept the faith, and the faith has kept me — has kept my soul from being taken in the snares of the adversary; has kept my hopes from perishing; has kept me in favor with God and all holy beings! And now I go to my rest — go to enjoy the peace of God which passes all understanding."

And, at this hour, the apostles, prophets, martyrs, and hosts of the redeemed, are enjoying spiritual rest. Upon the banks of the Jordan, or under the shadows of the temples in the holy city, they can recline, and recount to each other the dangers through which they have passed, and rejoice together in the possession of everlasting rest!

4. The heavenly rest carries with it the idea oftriumph. It is not only a peaceful and happy rest — but it is a triumphant and glorious rest. The redeemed rest, as conquerors, upon the fame of their exploits, upon the trophies of their victories. They have been faithful unto death, and have received immortal crowns. They have overcome the world, and, as a reward, are seated upon Christ’s throne! "To him who overcomes, I will give the right to sit with Me on My throne!" Revelation 3:21. They are made pillars in the temple of God, and shall never leave. They have become kings and priests unto God!

"I beheld," says John, "and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and in front of the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands!" Revelation 7:9 The devout Payson, on his dying bed, feeling the glow of this triumph, exclaimed, "The battle’s fought! the battle’s fought! and the victory is won! I am going to bathe in an ocean of purity, and benevolence, and happiness, to all eternity!" At another time, he said, "The celestial city is fully in view. Its glories beam upon me, its breezes fan me, its fragrances are wafted to me, its music strikes upon my ear, and its spirit breathes into my heart. Nothing separates me from it but the river of death, which now appears as a narrow rill, which may be crossed at a single step, whenever God shall give permission. The Sun of Righteousness has been gradually drawing nearer and nearer, appearing larger and larger as he approached; and now he fills the whole hemisphere, pouring forth a flood of glory, in which I seem to float, like an insect in the beams of the sun; exulting — yet almost trembling, while I gaze on this excessive brightness, and wondering, with unutterable wonder, why God should deign thus to shine upon a sinful worm!" The pious Holland, while listening, in his dying hours, to the reading of the Scriptures, and giving his meditations upon each passage, suddenly exclaimed to his friend, "O, stay your reading! What brightness is this I see? Have you lighted up any candles?" They replied, "No, it is the sunshine;" for it was about five o’clock, on a beautiful summer’s evening. "Sunshine!" said he. "Nay, it is my Savior’s shine. Now, farewell world! Welcome, Heaven! The day-star from on high has visited me. O, speak it when I am gone, and preach it at my funeral — God deals familiarly with man! I feel his mercy; I see his majesty; whether in the body or out of the body, I cannot tell — God knows — but I see things that are unutterable!" Thus, full of rapture, he passed away to the spirit world, the sweet tones of his voice growing fainter and fainter, until they were merged in the melody of Heaven!