08.02. Volume 2
"Blessed are those whose strength is in You, who have set their hearts on pilgrimage. As they pass through the Valley of Baca, ("weeping") they make it a place of springs; the autumn rains also cover it with pools. They go from strength to strength, until each appears before God in Zion." Psalms 84:5-7
Every living soul that has been experimentally taught his lost condition—that has known something of a resting place in Christ—that has turned his back upon both the world and the professing church—and gone weeping Zionward, that he may . . .
live in Jesus
feel His power,
taste His love,
know His blood,
rejoice in His grace;
every such soul shall, like Israel of old, be borne safely through this waste howling wilderness—shall be carried through this valley of tears—and taken to enjoy eternal bliss and glory in the presence of Jesus—
"
Where in heaven or on earth can there be found such a lovely Object as the Son of God? If you have never seen any beauty in Jesus . . .
you have never seen Jesus,
He has never revealed Himself to you,
you never had a glimpse of His lovely face,
nor a sense of His presence,
nor a word from His lips,
nor a touch from His hand.
But if you have seen Him by the eye of faith—and He has revealed Himself to you even in a small measure—you have seen a beauty in Him beyond all other beauties, for it is . . .
a holy beauty,
a divine beauty,
the beauty of His heavenly grace,
the beauty of His uncreated and eternal glory.
How beautiful and glorious does He show Himself to be in His atoning blood and dying love. Even as sweating great drops of blood in Gethsemane’s gloomy garden, and as hanging in torture and agony upon Calvary’s cross—faith can see a beauty in the glorious Redeemer, even in the lowest depths of ignominy and shame!
"How is your Beloved better than others?" "My Beloved is dark and dazzling, better than ten thousand others!" Song of Solomon 5:9-10
"
Before the soul can know anything about salvation, it must learn deeply and experimentally the nature of sin—and of itself, as stained and polluted by sin.
The soul is proud—and needs to be humbled.
The soul is careless—and needs to be awakened.
The soul is alive—and needs to be killed.
The soul is full—and requires to be emptied.
The soul is whole—and needs to be wounded.
The soul is clothed—and requires to be stripped.
The soul is, by nature . . .
self-righteous,
self-seeking,
buried deep in worldliness and carnality,
utterly blind and ignorant,
filled with . . .
presumption,
arrogance,
conceit,
and enmity.
It hates all that is heavenly and spiritual.
Sin, in all its various forms, is its natural element.
To make man the direct opposite of what he originally is . . .
to make him love God—instead of hating Him;
to make him fear God—instead of mocking Him;
to make him obey God—instead of rebelling against Him;
to make him to tremble at His dreadful majesty—
instead of defiantly charging against Him;
to do this mighty work, and to effect this wonderful change—requires the implantation of a new nature by the immediate hand of God Himself!
"
We do not learn that we are sinners merely by reading it in the Bible. It must be wrought—I might say, burnt into us.
Nor will anyone sincerely and spiritually cry for mercy—until sin is spiritually felt and known . . .
in its misery,
in its dominion,
in its guilt,
in its entanglements,
in its wiles and allurements,
in its filth and pollution, and
in its condemnation.
Where the Holy Spirit works, He kindles . . .
sighs,
groans,
supplications,
wrestlings, and pleadings to know Christ, feel His love, taste the efficacy of His atoning blood, and embrace Him as all our salvation and all our desire.
And though there may, and doubtless will be, much barrenness, hardness, deadness, and apparent carelessness often felt—still
"To those who have been called, who are loved by God the Father and preserved in Jesus Christ." Jude 1:1
What a mercy it is for God’s people that before they have a ’vital union’ with Christ—before they are grafted into Him experimentally—they have an ’eternal, immanent union’ with Him before all worlds. It is by virtue of this eternal union that they come into the world . . .
at such a time,
at such a place,
from such parents,
under such circumstances,
as God has appointed.
It is by virtue of this eternal union that the circumstances of their lives are ordained. By virtue of this eternal union they are preserved in Christ before they are effectually called.
They cannot die until God has brought about a vital union with Christ!
Whatever sickness they may pass through—whatever injuries they may be exposed to—whatever perils assault them on sea or land—die they will not, die they cannot; until God’s purposes are executed in bringing them into a vital union with the Son of His love.
Thus, this eternal union watched over every circumstance of their birth, watched over their childhood, watched over their manhood, watched over them until the appointed time and spot, when "the God of all grace," according to His eternal purpose, was pleased to quicken their souls, and thus bring about an experimental union with the Lord of life and glory.
"If the Son sets you
To be made
And there is a being made
some lust,
some passion,
some evil temper,
some wretched pride or other,
that wound its fetters very close round their heart.
And also there is a being made
proud self,
presumptuous self,
self-exalting self, flesh-pleasing self,
hypocritical self,
self in all its various shapes and turns,
self in all its crooked hypocrisy and windings.
"If the Son sets you
"The world and its desires pass away, but the man who does the will of God lives forever." 1 John 2:17
There is a reality in true religion, and indeed, rightly viewed, a reality in nothing else. For every other thing passes away like a dream of the night, and comes to an end like a tale that is told. Now you cannot say of a thing that passes away and comes to an end—that it is real. It may have the appearance of reality—when in fact it is but a shadow.
Money, jewels, pictures, books, furniture, securities, are transitory. Money may be spent, jewels be lost, books be burnt, furniture decay, pictures vanish by time and age, securities be stolen.
Nothing is real but that which has an abiding substance.
Health decays, strength diminishes, beauty flees the cheek, sight and hearing grow dim, the mind itself gets feeble, riches make to themselves wings and flee away, children die, friends depart, old age creeps on, and life itself comes to a close.
But real religion—and by this I understand the work of God upon the soul—abides in death and after death, goes with us through the dark valley, and lands us safe in a blessed eternity. It is, therefore, the only thing in this world of which we can say that it is real.
"The world and its desires pass away, but the man who does the will of God lives forever." 1 John 2:17 A sad motley mixture
(The following is an excerpt from Philpot’s letter to a church which desired him to come as their pastor)
"I am less than the least of all God’s people." Ephesians 3:8
"Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners; of whom I am the worst." 1 Timothy 1:15
Many are foolishly apt to think that a minister is more spiritual than anyone else. But I am daily more and more sensible of the desperate wickedness of my deceitful heart, and my miserable ruined state as a sinner by nature and by practice. I feel utterly unworthy of the name of a Christian, and to be ranked among the followers of the Lamb.
I have no desire to palm myself off on any church, as though I were anything. I am willing to take a low place.
The more you see of me, you will be sure to find out more of my infirmities, failings, waywardness, selfishness, obstinacy, and evil temper. I am carnal, very proud, very foolish in imagination, very slothful, very worldly, dark, stupid, blind, unbelieving and ignorant.
I cannot but confess that I am a strange compound—a sad motley mixture of all the most hateful and abominable vices that rise up within me, and face me at every turn.
"I will run the way of Your commandments,
The Word of God is full of precepts—but we are totally unable to perform them in our own strength. We cannot, without divine assistance, perform the precept . . .
with a single eye to the glory of God,
from heavenly motives, and
in a way acceptable to the Lord,
without special power from on high.
We need an extraordinary power to be put forth in our hearts—a special work of the Spirit upon the conscience, in order to spiritually fulfill in the slightest degree, the least of God’s commandments.
None but the Lord Himself can enlarge the heart of His people. None but the Lord can expand their hearts Godwards, and remove that narrowedness and contractedness in divine things—which is the plague and burden of a God-fearing soul.
When the Lord is absent, when He hides His lovely face, when He does not draw near to visit and bless, the heart contracts in its own narrow compass.
But when the Lord is pleased to favor the soul with His own gracious presence, and bring Himself near to the heart, His felt presence opens, enlarges, and expands the soul—so as to receive Him in all His love and grace.
"The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take
On every side are hosts of enemies ever invading our souls—trampling down every good thing in our hearts—accompanied by a flying troop of temptations, doubts, fears, guilt and bondage sweeping over our soul. And we, as regards our own strength, are helpless against them.
But there is a refuge set before us in the gospel of the grace of God. The Lord Jesus Christ, as King in Zion, is there held up before our eyes as . . .
the Rock of
our strong Tower,
our impregnable Fortress;
and we are encouraged by every precious promise and every gospel invitation when we are overrun and distressed by these wandering, ravaging, plundering tribes—to flee unto and find a safe refuge in Him.
"Keep me safe, O God, for in You I take
"O Lord my God, I take
"For God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, has shined in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ." 2 Corinthians 4:6
Until, then, this
say his prayers,
read his Bible, attend preaching,
observe ordinances,
bestow all his goods to feed the poor,
or give his body to be burned;
but he is as ignorant of God as the cattle that graze in the fields!
He may—call himself a Christian, and be thought such by others—talk much about Jesus Christ, hold a sound creed—maintain a consistent profession—pray at a prayer meeting with fluency and apparent feeling, stand up in a pulpit and contend earnestly for the doctrines of grace—excel hundreds of God’s children in zeal, knowledge and conversation.
And yet, if this ray of supernatural light has never shone into his soul—he is only twofold more the child of hell than those who make no profession!
(from Philpot’s biography, written by his son)
There was nothing my father mistrusted more than ’childhood piety.’ He insisted that children should never be taught or allowed to use the language of ’personal possession’ in reference to God. To sing, for instance, "Rock of Ages, cleft for ME" or, "MY Jesus".
Herein he was most logical. For by early influence and example you can train up a child to be . . .
a little patriot,
a little Catholic,
a little Calvinist, or
a little Bolshevist.
But no power on earth can make him a child of God.
He took great care that we, his children, attended the means of grace, and never missed chapel or family prayers. But he never expected us to be anything but
"Who were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man—but of God." John 1:13
to exalt the grace of God;
to proclaim salvation through Jesus Christ alone;
to declare the sinfulness, helplessness and
hopelessness of man in a state of nature;
to describe the living experience of the children of God in their . . .
trials,
temptations,
sorrows,
consolations
and blessings. And how is he lost?
"O visit me with Your salvation." Psalms 106:4
Salvation only suits the condemned—the lost. A man must be lost—utterly lost—before he can prize God’s salvation.
losing all his religion,
losing all his righteousness,
losing all his strength,
losing all his confidence,
losing all his hopes,
losing all that is of the flesh;
losing it by its being taken from him,
and stripped away by the hand of God.
The poor sheep has gone astray; and having once left the fold, it is pretty sure to have gotten into some strange place or other. It has fallen down a rock—or has rolled into a ditch—or is hidden beneath a bush—or has crept into a cave—or is lying in some deep, distant ravine, where none but an experienced eye and hand can find it out.
Just so with the Lord’s lost sheep. They get into strange places. They . . .
fall off rocks,
slip into holes,
hide among the bushes, and
sometimes creep off to die in caverns.
When the sheep has gone astray, the shepherd goes after it to find it. Here he sees a footprint; there a little lock of wool torn off by the thorns. Every nook he searches—into every corner he looks– until at last he finds the poor sheep
I am weak and ignorant, full of sin
"
What but sovereign grace—rich, free and super-abounding grace—has made the difference between you and the world who cannot receive Him?
But for His divine operations upon your soul, you would still be of the world, hardening your heart against everything good and godlike, walking on in the pride and ignorance of unbelief and self-righteousness, until you sank down into the chambers of death!
"The Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all." Isaiah 53:6
What heart can conceive, what tongue express what the holy soul of Christ endured when "the Lord laid on Him the iniquity of us all?"
In the garden of Gethsemane . . .
what a load of guilt,
what a weight of sin,
what an intolerable burden of the wrath of God,
did that sacred humanity endure, until the pressure of sorrow and woe forced the drops of blood to fall
as sweat from His brow!
When the blessed Lord was made sin (or a sin offering) for us, He endured in His holy soul all the pangs of . . .
distress,
horror,
alarm,
misery, and
guilt that all the elect would have felt in hell forever as they would have experienced under
the anguish,
the distress,
the darkness,
the condemnation,
the shame,
the guilt,
the unutterable horror.
What heart can conceive—what tongue express—the bitter anguish which must have wrung the soul of our suffering Substitute under this agonizing experience?
How many poor souls are
How many are daily led captive by . . .
the lusts of the flesh,
the love of the world,
and the pride of life,
and never get any victory over them!
How many fight and grapple with tears, vows, and strong resolutions against their besetting sins, who are still entangled and overcome by them again and again! Now, why is this?
Because they do not know the secret of spiritual strength against, and spiritual victory over them.
It is only by virtue of a living union with the Lord Jesus Christ—drinking into His sufferings and death—and receiving out of His fullness, that we can gain any victory over . . .
the world,
sin,
death,
or hell.
Sin is never really or effectually subdued in any other way.
It is not by legalistic strivings and earnest resolutions, vows, and tears—the vain struggle of ’religious flesh’ to subdue ’sinful flesh’—that can overcome sin.
But it is by a believing acquaintance with, and a spiritual entrance into the sufferings and sorrows of the Son of God—having a living faith in Him, and receiving out of His fullness supplies of grace and strength.
"But
All the powers of earth and hell are combined against this holy anointing, with which the children of God are so highly favored. But if God has locked up in the bosom of a saint one drop of this divine unction, that one drop is armor against . . .
all the assaults of sin,
all the attacks of Satan,
all the enmity of self, and
all the charms, pleasures, and amusements of the world.
Waves and billows of affliction may roll over the soul—but they cannot wash away this holy drop of anointing oil.
Satan may shoot a thousand fiery darts to inflame all the combustible material of our carnal mind—but all his fiery darts cannot burn up that one drop of oil which God has laid up in the depths of a broken spirit.
The world, with all its charms and pleasures, and its deadly opposition to the truth of God, may stir up waves of ungodliness against this holy anointing—but all the powers of earth combined can never extinguish that one drop which God has Himself lodged in the depths of a believer’s heart.
And so it has been with all the dear saints of God. Not all their . . .
sorrows,
backslidings,
slips,
falls,
miseries, and
wretchedness, have ever—all combined, drunk up the anointing that God has bestowed upon them. If sin could have done it—we would have sinned ourselves into hell long ago; and if the world or Satan could have destroyed it or us—they would long ago have destroyed both. If our carnal mind could have done it—it would have swept us away into floods of destruction.
But the anointing abides sure, and cannot be destroyed; and where once lodged in the soul, it is secure against all the assaults of earth, sin, and hell.
"But
Perhaps you are a poor, tempted creature—and your daily sorrow, your continual trouble is that
you are so soon overcome—that . . .
your temper,
your lusts,
your pride,
your worldliness, and
your carnal, corrupt heart are perpetually getting the mastery.
And from this you sometimes draw bitter conclusions. You say, in the depth of your heart, "
But the Spirit reveals Christ—taking of the things of Christ, and showing them unto us—applying the word with power to our hearts, and bringing the sweetness, reality, and blessedness of divine things into our soul. It is only in this way that He overcomes all unbelief and infidelity, doubt and fear, and sweetly assures us that all is well between God and the soul.
Faith keeps eyeing the atonement—faith looks not so much to sin, as to salvation from sin—at the way
whereby sin is pardoned, overcome, and subdued.
"You shall know the truth, and
To a spiritual mind, sweet and self-rewarding is the task, if task it can be called, of searching the Word as for hidden treasure. No sweeter, no better employment can engage heart and hands than, in the spirit of prayer and meditation, of separation from the world, of holy fear, of a desire to know the will of God and do it, of humility, simplicity, and godly sincerity—to seek to enter into those heavenly mysteries which are stored up in the Scriptures—and this, not to furnish the head with notions, but to feed the soul with the bread of life.
Truth, received in the love and power of it . . .
informs and establishes the judgment,
softens and melts the heart,
warms and draws upward the affections,
makes and keeps the conscience alive and tender;
is the food of faith,
is the strength of hope,
is the main-spring of love.
To know the truth is to be made blessedly free . . .
free from error;
free from the vile heresies which everywhere abound;
free from presumption;
free from self-righteousness;
free from the curse and bondage of the law;
free from the condemnation of a guilty conscience;
free from a slavish fear of the opinion of men;
free from the contempt of the world;
free from the scorn of worldly professors;
free from following a multitude to do evil;
free from companionship with those who have a name to live, but are dead.
"You shall know the truth, and
"The life which I now live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God." Galatians 2:20
There is no way except by being spiritually immersed into Christ’s death and life—that we can ever get a victory over our besetting sins. If, on the one hand, we have a view of a suffering Christ, and thus become immersed into His sufferings and death—the feeling, while it lasts, will subdue the power of sin.
Or, on the other hand, if we get a believing view of a risen Christ, and receive supplies of grace out of His fullness—that will lift us above sin’s dominion.
If sin is powerfully working in us, we need one of these two things to subdue it.
When there is a view of the sufferings and sorrows, agonies and death of the Son of God—power comes down to the soul in its struggles against sin—and gives it a measure of holy resistance and subduing strength against it.
So, when there is a coming in of the grace and love of Christ—it lifts up the soul from the love and power of sin into a purer and holier atmosphere.
You may strive, vow, and repent—and what does it all amount to? You sink deeper and deeper into sin than before. Pride, lust, and covetousness come in like a flood—and you are swamped and carried away almost before you are aware!
But if you get a view of a suffering Christ, or of a risen Christ—if you get a taste of His dying love—a drop of His atoning blood—or any manifestation of His beauty and blessedness—there comes from this spiritual immersion into His death or His life a subduing power—and this gives a victory over temptation and sin which nothing else can or will give.
Yet I believe we are often many years learning this divine secret—striving to repent and reform, and cannot; until at last by divine teaching we come to learn a little of what the Apostle meant when he said, "The life I now live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God." And when we can get into this life of faith—this hidden life, then our affections are set on things above.
There is no use setting to work by ’legal strivings’—they only plunge you deeper in the ditch. You must get Christ into your soul by the power of God—and then He will subdue—by His smiles, blood, love, and presence—every internal foe.
"Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret—but worldly sorrow brings death." 2 Corinthians 7:10
There are
Cain, Esau, Saul, Ahab, Judas, all repented—but their repentance was the remorse of natural conscience—not the godly sorrow of a broken heart and a contrite spirit. They trembled before God as an angry judge—but were not melted into contrition before Him as a forgiving Father. They neither hated their sins nor forsook them—they neither loved holiness nor sought it.
Cain went out from the presence of the Lord; Esau plotted Jacob’s death; Saul consulted the witch of Endor; Ahab put honest Micaiah into prison; and Judas hanged himself.
How different from this forced and false repentance of a reprobate, is the repentance of a child of God—that true repentance for sin, that godly sorrow, that holy mourning which flows from the Spirit’s gracious operations.
This repentance does not spring from a sense of the wrath of God in a broken law—but from His mercy in a blessed gospel—from a view by faith of the sufferings of Christ in the garden and on the cross—from a manifestation of pardoning love; and is always attended with self-loathing and self-abhorrence, with deep and unreserved confession of sin and forsaking it, with most hearty, sincere, and earnest petitions to be kept from all evil, and a holy longing to live to the praise and glory of God. Have we nothing to give to Christ?
Yes! Our sins, our sorrows, our burdens, our trials, and above all, the salvation and sanctification of our souls.
And what has He to give us? What? Why . . .
everything worth having, everything worth a moment’s anxious thought, everything for time and eternity!
"But the God of all grace, who has called us unto His eternal glory by Christ Jesus,
There is no divine establishment, no spiritual strength, no solid settlement—except by suffering. But after the soul has suffered, after it has felt God’s chastising hand, the effect is . . .
to perfect,
to establish,
to strengthen,
and to settle it. By suffering, a man becomes settled into a solemn conviction of the character of Jehovah as revealed in the Scripture, and in a measure made experimentally manifest in his conscience. He is settled in the persuasion that "all things work together for good to those who love God, and are the called according to His purpose"—in the firm conviction that everything comes to pass according to God’s eternal purpose—and are all tending to the good of the Church, and to God’s eternal glory.
His soul, too, is settled down into a deep persuasion of the misery, wretchedness, and emptiness of the creature; into the conviction that the world is but a shadow—and that the things of time and sense are but bubbles that burst the moment they are grasped—that of all things sin is most to be dreaded—and the favor of God above all things most to be coveted—that nothing is really worth knowing except Jesus Christ and Him crucified—that all things are passing away—and that he himself is rapidly hurrying down the stream of life, and into the boundless ocean of eternity.
Thus he becomes settled in a knowledge of the truth, and his soul remains at anchor, looking to the Lord to preserve him here, and bring him in peace and safety to his eternal home.
"In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for—but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express." Romans 8:26
"We do not know what we ought to pray for." How often do we find and feel this to be our case . . .
darkness covers our mind;
ignorance pervades our soul;
unbelief vexes our spirit;
guilt troubles our conscience;
a crowd of evil imaginations, or foolish or worse than foolish wanderings distract our thoughts;
Satan hurls in thick and fast his fiery darts;
a dense cloud is spread over the mercy-seat;
infidelity whispers its vile suggestions, until, amid all this rabble throng, such confusion and bondage prevail that words seem idle breath, and prayer to the God of heaven but empty mockery.
He is therefore said "to help our weaknesses," for these evils of which we have been speaking are not willful, deliberate sins, but wretched infirmities of the flesh. He helps, then, our infirmities—by subduing the power and prevalence of unbelief—by commanding in the mind a solemn calm—by rebuking and chasing away Satan and his fiery darts—by awing the soul with a reverential sense of the power and presence of God—by presenting Jesus before our eyes as the Mediator at the right hand of the Father—by raising up and drawing forth faith upon His Person and work, blood and righteousness—and, above all, by Himself interceding for us and in us "with groans that words cannot express."
"When a prayer or plea is made by any of Your people Israel—each one aware of
The man for whom Solomon prays is he who knows and feels, painfully feels, his "own sore" and his "own afflictions"—whose heart is indeed a grief to him—whose sins do indeed trouble him.
How painful this sore often is! How it runs night and day! How full of ulcerous matter! How it shrinks from the probe!
Most of the Lord’s family have a "sore"—each some tender spot—something perhaps known
to himself and to God alone—the cause of his greatest grief. It may be . . .
some secret slip he has made,
some sin he has committed,
some word he has spoken, or
some evil thing he has done.
He has been entangled, and entrapped, and cast down—and this is his grief and his sore which he feels—and that at times deeply before God.
For such Solomon prays, "then hear from heaven, Your dwelling place. Forgive, and deal with each man according to all he does, since You know his heart, for You alone know the hearts of men." Yes—God alone knows the heart—He knows it completely—and sees to its very bottom.
The Lord has appointed the path of sorrow for the redeemed to walk in. Why? One purpose is to wean them from the world—another purpose is to show them the weakness of the creature—a third purpose is to make them feel the liberty and vitality of genuine godliness made manifest in their soul’s experience.
We may talk of the things of God, but they are at a distance—there are . . .
no solemn feelings,
no melting sensations,
no real brokenness,
no genuine contrition,
no weeping at the divine feet,
no embracing of Christ in the arms of affection.
What can bring a man here? A few dry notions floating to and fro in his brain? That will never bring the life and power of vital godliness into a man’s heart. It must be by being ’experimentally acquainted with trouble’. When he is led into the path of tribulation, he then begins to long after, and, in God’s own time and way, he begins to drink into, the sweetness of vital godliness, made manifest in his heart by the power of God.
When affliction brings a man down, it empties him of all his high thoughts, and lays him low in his own eyes.
"Blessed are the poor in spirit." Matthew 5:5
To be poor in spirit, then, is to have this wretched emptiness of spirit, this nakedness and destitution of soul before God.
He who has never thus known what it is to groan before the Lord with breakings forth of heart as a needy, naked wretch—he that has never felt his miserable destitution and emptiness before the eyes of a heart-searching God—has not yet experienced what it is to be spiritually poor.
"I will satisfy her poor with bread." Psalms 132:15
What a sweetness there is in the word "satisfy!"
The world cannot satisfy the child of God. Have we not tried, some of us perhaps for many years, to get some satisfaction from it?
But can wife or husband satisfy us? Can children or relatives satisfy us? Can all the world calls good or great satisfy us? Can the pleasures of sin satisfy us?
Is there not in all an aching void? Do we not reap dissatisfaction and disappointment from everything that is of the creature, and of the flesh? Do we not find that there is little else but sorrow to be reaped from everything in this world? There is little else to be gathered from the world but . . .
disappointment,
dissatisfaction,
"vanity and vexation of spirit."
The poor soul looks round upon the world and the creature—upon all the occupations, amusements and relations of life—and finds all one melancholy harvest—so that all it reaps is sorrow, perplexity, and dissatisfaction.
Now when a man is brought here—to desire satisfaction, something to make him happy, something to fill up the aching void, something to bind up broken bones, bleeding wounds, and leprous sores—and after he has looked at everything—at doctrines, opinions, notions, speculations, forms, rites and ceremonies in religion—at the world with all its charms—and at self with all its varied workings, and found nothing but bitterness of spirit, vexation and trouble in them all, and thus sinks down a miserable wretch—why, then when the Lord opens up to him something of the bread of life, he finds a satisfaction in that which he never could gain from any other quarter.
And that is the reason why the Lord so afflicts his people; why some carry about with them such weak, suffering bodies; why some have so many family troubles; why others are so deeply steeped in poverty; why others have such rebellious children; and why others are so exercised with spiritual sorrows that they scarcely know what will be the end.
It is all for one purpose—to make them miserable out of Christ—dissatisfied except with gospel food—to render them so wretched and uncomfortable that God alone can make them happy, and alone can speak consolation to their troubled minds.
How different the religion of a child of God is, from the religion of a dead professor!
begins in self, and ends in self;
begins in his own wisdom, and ends in his own folly;
begins in his own strength, and ends in his own weakness;
begins in his own righteousness, and ends in his own damnation!
There is in him never any going out of soul after God, no secret dealings with the Lord.
But the child of God, though he is often faint, weary, and exhausted with many difficulties, burdens and sorrows—yet he never can be satisfied except in living union and communion with the Lord of life and glory.
Everything short of that leaves him empty.
All the things of time and sense leave a child of God unsatisfied. Nothing but vital union and communion with the Lord of life, to . . .
feel His presence,
taste His love,
enjoy His favor,
see His glory;
nothing but this will ever satisfy the desires of ransomed and regenerated souls. This the Lord indulges His people with.
"If you lean on Egypt, you will find it to be a stick that breaks beneath your weight and pierces your hand." Isaiah 36:6
our own strength and resolutions,
the world and the church,
sinners and saints,
friends and enemies, have they not all proved, more or less, broken reeds? The more we have leaned upon them, like a man leaning upon a sword, the more have they pierced our souls.
The Lord Himself has to wean us . . .
from the world,
from friends,
from enemies,
from self,
in order to bring us to lean upon Himself; and every prop He will remove, sooner or later, that we may lean wholly and solely upon His Person, love, blood, and righteousness.
We are, most of us, so fettered down by . . .
the chains of time and sense,
the cares of life and daily business,
the weakness of our earthly frame,
the distracting claims of a family, and
the miserable carnality and sensuality of our fallen nature, that we live at best a poor, dragging, dying life.
Many of us are
We have . . .
a variety of trials and afflictions,
a daily cross and the continual plague of an evil heart.
We know enough of ourselves to know that in SELF there is neither help nor hope, and never expect a smoother path, a better, wiser, holier heart. As then . . .
the weary man seeks rest,
the hungry man seeks food,
the thirsty man seeks drink,
and the sick man seeks health,
so do we stretch forth our hearts and arms that we may embrace the Lord Jesus Christ, and sensibly realize union and communion with Him. He discovers the evil and misery of sin that we may seek pardon in His bleeding wounds and pierced side.
He makes known to us our nakedness and shame, and, as such, our exposure to God’s wrath, that we
may hide ourselves under His justifying robe.
He puts gall and wormwood into the world’s choicest draughts, that we may have no sweetness but in and from Him. No sight, short of this
"He Himself bore our sins in His body on the tree." 1 Peter 2:24
We beg of the Lord, sometimes, to give us . . .
a broken heart,
a contrite spirit,
a tender conscience,
and a humble mind.
But it is only a view by faith of what the gracious Redeemer endured upon the cross, when He bore our sins in his own body with all their weight and pressure, and with all the anger of God due to them, that can really melt a hard, and break a stony heart.
Oh, what hope is there for our guilty souls; what refuge from the wrath of God so justly our due;
what shelter from the curse of a fiery law, except it be in the cross of Jesus?
O for a view of Him revealed to the eyes of our enlightened understanding, as bearing our sins in His own body on the tree!
"For God . . . made His light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ." 2 Corinthians 4:6
"But you have an anointing from the Holy One, and all of you know the truth." 1 John 2:20
The only saving light is the light of God shining into the soul—giving us to see and know "the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom He has sent."
A man may have the clearest light in his judgment, and yet never have
If we do not have this
be entangled in some error,
plunge into some heresy,
imbibe some doctrine of devils,
drink into some dreadful delusion,
or fall into some dreadful sin, and
have our faith shipwrecked forever.
A false light can but wreck us on the rocks of presumption or despair. But the light of divine life in the soul is accompanied with all the graces of the Spirit. It is . . .
the light of the glory of God,
the light of Jesus’ countenance,
and the light of the Spirit’s teaching,
and therefore an infallible guide and guard.
And this infallible pilot will guide the soul to whom it is given safe into the harbor of endless rest and peace.