03.02. Psalm 84:2
"My soul longeth, yea, even fainteth for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh crieth out for the living God." Here an important question presents itself — Is there any difference between the state of a believer who longs and thirsts for the courts of the Lord, and one who longs and thirsts for the Lord Himself? Most assuredly there is. Both states are good, and they may be very closely connected, but they are distinct; and both may have been the experience of the believer at different times. In the one case, blessing is desired; in the other, it is God Himself. Blessing would surely be the result in the latter case, even more abundantly than in the former; but it is not the object. If the quality of an action depends upon the motive, the difference is manifest. In the one state, self is thought of; in the other, God only. But if we compare the first two verses of this psalm with the first two of Psalms 63:1-11, we may see more clearly what the difference is.
Psalms 63:1-11, you will observe, opens differently to Psalms 84:1-12, and surely in a much higher strain. There, the desire of the soul is for God Himself. It says, with great fervour, "My God." It is fully conscious of its relationship with Him, and the blessings which flow therefrom. What state of soul can be more blessed than this? Only listen to its deep and ardent yet holy breathings, "O GOD, thou art my God; early will I seek thee: my soul thirsteth for thee . . . in a dry and thirsty land, where no water is; to see thy power and thy glory, so as I have seen thee in the sanctuary." Psalms 84:1-12 opens with, "How amiable are thy tabernacles, O Lord of hosts! My soul longeth, yea, even fainteth for the courts of the Lord: my heart and my flesh crieth out for the living God." Here, God is known and desired, but it is in His relationship with His people — as He reveals Himself in the assembly of His saints. There it is the direct, blessed outgoing of the whole heart to Himself, abstractly, though placed in the most unfavourable circumstances, even in the dry and thirsty land, where no; water is. Here it is more like the longings of a captive Israelite, who once enjoyed the privileges of tabernacle worship, but who is now deprived of those happy seasons. Nevertheless, he who thus longs after the courts of the Lord is no stranger either to them or to the Lord who is worshipped there. It was love to the Lord, no doubt, that led the disciples, on the mount of transfiguration, to propose to make three tabernacles. The desire was that He might remain with them in the tabernacle; so that, in some cases, the tabernacles may be valued for the sake of Him who dwells there. But though the living God must ever be the real object of all the desires of the renewed soul. the blessed truth, as to the privileges of God’s children, may not be fully known; and if so, the thoughts cannot rise to the proper centre.
How grateful to the heart of God must it be to see His child so longing after Himself, and so caring for His glory, as in Psalms 63:1-11; and that, too, when everything in the world is against it. But in such a case self is lost sight of, it is the divine life that breathes. What bloom — what fruit for the eye of God in this wilderness world! But this was always and perfectly so in Christ only. The world, and even Israel as God’s sanctuary, was to Him a dry and thirsty land, yet His first care ever was His Father’s glory. Blessed, perfect example for all the children of God! Let it be thine, I pray thee, O my soul. Let the subject command thy deepest meditation. It is worthy of thy most prayerful study and of thy closest imitation. This world never furnished for Him one drop of water to quench His thirst, or one green blade to refresh His eye; yet He complained not, but trusted in the Lord and waited for Him. All His fresh springs were on high. He drank at the fountain; yet, as man, He thirsted for God — the living God, as no one else ever did. He could say, in a sense peculiarly His own, "O GOD, thou art my God; early will I seek thee: my soul thirsteth for thee, my flesh longeth for thee in a dry and thirsty land, where no water is." But is not the Christian welcome now in those courts above, as was the once lowly Jesus Himself? Through the riches of God’s grace he is. And, oh, what grace this is! His title is thine — His privileges are thine — thou art ONE with Him as the exalted Man in heaven. Let thy thoughts then, and the deep breathings of thy heart rise to their proper object. Though feeling this world’s barrenness, murmur not, but send thy thoughts above and drink at the fountain there. Reckon that all thy fresh springs are in the living God — thy God and Father. Meditate on the countless blessings of accomplished redemption and of closest relationship. Know that thou art a child in the family of God — a member in the body of Christ as risen and glorified and also a servant in His kingdom. Seek, oh seek, to walk worthy of such distinguished privileges. They are now real to faith and shall, ere long, be fully manifested in the glory. And, oh, blessed truth! these relations in grace can never be disturbed. God’s gifts and calling are without repentance. He never recalls His gifts, neither in time nor throughout eternity. Hast thou a gift? — wait upon it — cultivate it — be diligent in thy gift — it is thine for ever and to be used for ever for God’s glory, though now we know not in what way. But, meantime, let these things be thy whole study — the one great business of all thy earthly days. The knowledge of Christ is the most excellent of all knowledge; and the science of Christianity is the most excellent of all science. But we must take one other glance at Psalms 63:1-11 before leaving it. In place of the saint seeking his own blessing in the courts of the Lord, right as that may be, we find him longing to see the power and glory of God. "My soul thirsteth," he says, "to see thy power and thy glory, so as I have seen thee in the sanctuary." This is surely a blessed state of soul to be in, especially when in the sanctuary or seated at the Lord’s table. In place of thinking about good to ourselves, we should be thinking about glory to Him. Would to God that this were more usually the case with those whose privilege it is to remember and show forth His dying love!
How differently even Christians may be occupied, though seated around the same table and eating the same bread and drinking the same wine. We speak not now of timid, doubting souls, who go there fearing and trembling, lest they should eat and drink judgment to themselves; but those who have the full assurance of pardon and acceptance. Some may be occupied with the happy associations of the place — the presence of certain friends, rather than the presence of the Lord; or, it may be, with their own refreshment. They may have come weary and thirsty, but their thoughts and desires are not rising higher than their own blessing. Of course, they know it is the Lord’s table and that He is there; but such is their present state of soul, that they rise not to full occupation with Himself, or to the apprehension of His power and glory as displayed in the sanctuary. But when we have more thoroughly done with self, and are more fully occupied with Christ, it is different. He is then our all and in all — a perfect covering to the eyes — the complete filling up of the heart. We are sweetly conscious of our nearness to Him, and of our oneness with Him. We remember Him on the cross, we know Him on the throne. The effects of the cross and the effects of the glory are seen and felt. Love is lost in its object, and the disciple is lost in his Lord. He has not a breath but for His praise and not a word but for thanksgiving.
"Of the vast universe of bliss,
The Centre Thou, and Sun:
The eternal theme of praise is this,
To heaven’s beloved One.
Worthy, O Lamb of God, art Thou,
That every knee to Thee should bow."
This, O my soul, is worship — true, spiritual worship; and well becomes, on all occasions, the courts of the Lord — the holy of holies. Christ has His right place in the heart and in the assembly. The Holy Ghost is ungrieved — unquenched. Is this thine own experience, may I ask? Is it thy habit, or only known at intervals and far between? There is no good reason why it should not be the uniform experience of every Christian. The blood of the sacrifice has been sprinkled seven times on the mercy seat — sin has been blotted out — the Great High Priest is in the sanctuary above and the Holy Ghost is in the assembly on earth. God is fully satisfied in Christ; He has thought of everything for us — we can only worship and adore. "Wherefore, holy brethren, partakers of the heavenly calling, consider the Apostle and High Priest of our profession, Christ Jesus." (Hebrews 3:1)
We now turn for a little, in our meditations on the sanctuary, to a class of hearers who stand at an infinite distance from those on whom we have been meditating. No comparison can be drawn. Outwardly, all may seem to have the same object in view; but inwardly, and in God’s sight, it is far otherwise. There is reality in the one, but only formality in the other. Christians may be actuated by different motives, but all have eternal life, and, like water, this life naturally rises to its source — God in Christ. Hence the thirst for God — the living God. They cannot live in a land where no water is, they must draw from the resources of heaven to meet their need on earth. "Whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst, but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of springing up into everlasting life." (John 4:14) But where there is no divine life, there can be no divine motive, desire or object. The natural man rises no higher than himself: self, not God, is his centre, motive and end.
Why, then, it may be asked, does the natural man care about going to any place of worship? Various reasons might be given; but in no case could it be said that to "draw near to God" is his object, His thought is rather to appease God by going, and to keep Him at a distance. We speak now of professors who know something of God and of their own unfitness for His presence, but who attend some place of divine worship — so called.
There is in every merely natural man a dread of God. Ever since the day that "Adam and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God amongst the trees of the garden," it has been so. And the truth which we have now stated then came out. "And he said, I heard thy voice in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked; and I hid myself." But just because man is afraid of God, he is willing to go through a certain amount of religious observances, with a view, as we have said, of appeasing or satisfying God, and thus, for the time, keeping Him at a distance. This may. not be said in so many words, or even owned, but the melancholy fact is everywhere apparent. Are not the usual carnal enjoyments of a Sunday afternoon more heartily entered into when the usual religious services have been attended to in the forenoon? And why is this? Because the neglect of religious duties would disturb the conscience and so mar the pleasure.
Miserable as this state of things may appear, it is but the necessary condition of souls not reconciled to God. Such must be the state of things between the soul and God, however fair the profession, until He is known in the Person and work of Jesus. These two words of awful depth, "without God," describe their sad condition. Nothing can be more awful. "Without God" as to every circumstance around, and "without God" as to every thought and feeling within. What a gloomy, lonely, empty scene it must be, notwithstanding the apparent gaiety and happiness of those who fill it! The immortal soul, with its noble capacities, is without its proper object. Still, while here, it is upheld by a false hope and the enemy is hindered from driving it to despair. Indeed, his object is rather to soothe and stimulate, than to awaken and alarm. The deadly sleep of sin suits his purpose better. But oh, what must the agony be when the eyes are opened in that place where no mercy can ever come — when the fearful and hopeless doom of the soul is fully realised!
Dear reader, if thou art still "without God" — a Christian only in name — oh! listen to a word of faithful warning, entreaty and encouragement. Why, oh why not give heed to these things now? Why not believe God’s word now? Why not flee from the wrath to come now? The full tide of God’s free grace is flowing through the land now. Whosoever will may drink of these living waters now. The door of mercy stands wide open now. The Saviour waits to welcome all who come now. None who come are cast out now. The very fountain of redeeming love is open to all now. It is free to all — it is free to thee: come — oh come — drink freely — drink abundantly — the spring can never dry up — the channel can never be choked — why not drink and live? Why content thyself with a mere empty form? Nothing short of reality will suit God. Refuse not these living waters now, lest the day come when worlds could not purchase one drop of cold water to cool thy burning tongue. Oh! what a day of grace this is, when access to the very fountain of God’s love is open to the chief of sinners — to the most hollow of professors. "I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely." (Revelation 21:9) Now, grace is supreme, it is characterised as a sovereign. "Grace reigns through righteousness, unto eternal life, by Jesus Christ our Lord." (Romans 5:21)
Oh sin not away, dear reader, this day of wondrous grace! Even now thou art an infinite loser, with all thy earthly pleasures, compared with one who can say, "O God, thou art my God." Who could describe the black desolation of a soul that is without God — without the Saviour — without the Comforter — and, consequently, without pardon — without peace — without salvation? The good things of this life may be possessed in abundance — the heart may be generous — the mind richly endowed — the associations to a wish and a capacity ample enough to enjoy them all. Still, he is "without God," and the whole system in which he moves, so far as his soul is concerned, is an utter desolation — a scene of dismal emptiness. Why, supposing he could lay his hand on all the treasures of earth and say, "these are mine," it would be but earth still, and earth only.
Nothing short of being brought to God in all the blessedness of Christ can meet the soul’s need. "Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God. . . . Marvel not that I said unto thee, Ye must be born again." God only can fill up the dreary void of an unsaved soul. There is no life but in His favour — no rest but in His love, and no joy but in His presence. "In thy presence is fulness of joy; at thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore." Wert thou a master in Israel, and a stranger to the new birth, it would avail thee nothing. There is no heavier doom in scripture than that which is denounced against "sinners in Zion;" and no judgment so given in detail as that against Babylon. "The sinners in Zion are afraid; fearfulness hath surprised the hypocrites. Who among us shall dwell with the devouring fire? who among us shall dwell with everlasting burnings?" (Isaiah 33:14) This must be the fearful end, and the awful eternity of those who are not "the children of God, by faith in Christ Jesus." Outside of His presence they must be for ever. And, in saying this, we have said what is the summing up of all misery. To be outside the presence of God, is to be in the forsaken place. A thousand figures may be used to describe its desolation, but one stroke of the divine pen sums it all up in that word "forsaken." What heart would not sink there? We learn something of its terribleness from Him who was there in love for us.
It is bad enough to be "without God in this world," but what must it be in the next? Now the sinner thinks the evil day far off, hope bears him up, and he makes merry with his friends and seems quite happy. But the day will come when he must leave them all, and then, alas, the awful reality will be known. The eternity which he refused to prepare for and the wrath which he refused to flee from, are come. Behind the stroke of death which has removed him from this world, is the judgment of God against sin; and now that judgment must take its course. There is no Saviour — no intercessor at the judgment-seat. The awful sentence, "Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire," is heard. He had often listened to the invitation, "Come unto me," but heeded it not. But now, no beseeching, bitter cry can alter the sentence — he knows it. Beseeching, weeping, struggling, are in vain. He must go to his place. But alas! alas! it is the forsaken place — forsaken of God, forsaken of man: as, godless, Christless, homeless, friendless, he is cast into outer darkness. His eternal state is sealed. The gates of hell can never be opened and the chain that binds him call never be broken. Weep, weep, O my soul! lament with a sore lamentation — the fearful end of sinners in Zion" — of lifeless professors! Oh that the gospel trumpet may give a long, a loud and a certain sound everywhere — that many may be awakened ere it be too late! Should these lines ever meet the eye of one whose conscience honestly says, "I am the man" — pause, I pray thee, and listen to a last appeal. That fearful place, shouldst thou be taken away in thy sins, must be thine for ever. Yes, painful as it is to write it — that sentence — that prison-house — that chain — that fire, must, ere long, be thine, unless there be a thorough change of mind — a genuine repentance — and a true faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. But why not be decided at once, and give thy heart to Jesus? Is it fair, I ask, to offer to Him the cold formalities of a lifeless faith, and to give thy whole heart to the world? He only, deserves the heart, and He only can lawfully demand it. But well I know thou wilt never give thy heart to Him, until thou believest that He has given His heart for thee. But when this great truth is seen, no power on earth or in hell could keep thy heart from Him. Then thy cry would be, "Oh, if I had a hundred hearts, He should have them all!"
"Take Thou our hearts, and let them be
For ever closed to all but Thee;
Thy willing servants, let us wear
The seal of love for ever there."
Let thine eye then, dear reader, be fixed on the loving Saviour, and keep it fixed there, until thy heart goes freely out to Him. It can only be drawn by what thou seest in Him. Think not of thine own heart, or of the act of surrendering it. Let Him draw it to Himself, blessed Lord! He only is worthy of it, and He only can fill it. Dwell on the love of His heart — think of the love that willingly went to the forsaken place for thee, a sinner; and if the gates of thy heart open not to the loving, long-suffering, gracious Saviour, who still knocks and still patiently waits there, all the tongues and pens in the world must prove ineffectual. The Lord grant that thy heart may be made captive by His victorious love!
"Drawn by such cords we’ll onward move,
Till round the throne we meet,
And, captives in the chains of love,
Embrace our Saviour’s feet."