10.03. Volume 3 cont'd
These sins differ also in strength in different individuals. Some seem not much tempted with the grosser passions of our fallen nature—others are naturally liberal and benevolent, and whatever other idol they may serve, they bend not their knee to the golden calf. But where lust may have no power, covetousness no dominion, and anger no sway—there, down, down in the inmost depths, heaving and boiling like the lava in the crater of a volcano, works that master sin—that sin of sins—pride!
Pride is the mother and mistress of all the sins—for where she does not conceive them in her ever-teeming womb, she instigates their movements, and compels them to pay tribute to her glory. The ’origin of evil’ is hidden from our eyes. Whence it sprang, and why God allowed it to arise in His fair creation, are mysteries which we cannot fathom. But thus much is revealed—that of this mighty fire which has filled hell with sulphurous flame, and will one day envelop earth and its inhabitants in the general conflagration, the first spark was pride!
Pride is therefore emphatically the devil’s own sin. We will not say his darling sin, for it is his torment, the serpent which is always biting him, the fire which is ever consuming him. But it is the sin which hurled him from heaven, and transformed him from a bright and holy seraph, into a foul and hideous demon! How subtle, then, and potent must that poison be, which could in a moment change an angel into a devil! How black in nature, how concentrated in virulence that venom—one drop of which could utterly deface the image of God in myriads of bright spirits before the throne, and degrade them into monsters of uncleanness and malignity!
I needed no monkish rules then A man may have a consistent profession of religion—have a sound, well ordered creed—be a member of a Christian church—attend to all ordinances and duties—seek to frame his life according to God’s word—have his family prayer, and private prayer—be a good husband, father, and friend—be liberal and kind to God’s cause and people—and yet with all this bear no fruit Godwards. What is all this but pitiful self-holiness?
Real gospel fruit is only produced by the word of God’s grace falling into the heart, watering and softening it. Without this there is not one gracious feeling, not one spiritual desire, not one tender thought, not one heavenly affection. We have tried, perhaps, to make ourselves holy. We have watched our eyes, our ears, our tongues—have read so many chapters every day out of God’s word—continued so long upon our knees—and so tried to work a kind of holiness into our own souls.
Many years ago, I used to try to pray for the better part of an hour—and I am ashamed to say, I have been glad to hear the clock strike. What was this but a monkish, self-imposed rule, to please God by the length of my prayers? But when the Lord was pleased to touch my conscience with His finger, He gave me a remarkable spirit of grace and supplication—I needed no monkish rules then.
"The Lord is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my rock, in whom I will take refuge." Psalms 18:2 As long as a man has any strength of his own, he will never have any strength in the Lord—for the strength of Jesus is made perfect in our weakness. Oh, what a painful lesson we have to learn to find all our strength is weakness. There was a time when we thought we had strength, and could—resist Satan—overcome the world—endure persecution—bear the reproach of man—mortify and keep down pride, and the evils of our heart. Have we found ourselves able to carry out our ’imagined strength’? What has been our experience in this matter? That we have discovered more and more our own weakness—that we cannot stand against one temptation—the least gust blows us down! Our besetting lusts, our vile passions, and the wicked desires of our hearts, so entice our eyes and thoughts—so entwine themselves around our affections—that we give out in a moment—unless God Himself holds us up! We cannot stand against sin—our heart is as weak as water. Thus we learn our weakness, by feeling ourselves to be the very weakest of the weak, and the very vilest of the vile. As the Lord leads a man deeper down into the knowledge of his corruptions, it makes him more and more out of conceit with his righteous, pious, holy self. The more the Lord leads a man into the knowledge of temptation, his besetting sin, the power of his corruptions, the workings of his vile nature—the more deeply and painfully he learns what a poor, helpless, weak, powerless wretch he is. As the Lord is pleased to unfold before his eyes the strength, power, and fullness lodged in Jesus Christ, He draws him—leads him—brings him—encourages him—and enables him to come to this fullness. And by the hand of faith he draws supplies out of that fullness. As the Lord enables the soul to look to Jesus, His blessed strength is communicated and breathed into his soul. Then the ’poor worm Jacob’ threshes the mountains, beats down the hills, and makes them fly before him as chaff. When the Lord strengthens him, he can stand against temptation—overcome sin—bear persecution—subdue the evils of his heart—and fight against the world, the flesh, and the devil. When the Lord leaves him, he is like Samson with his locks cut. He sinks into all evil, and feels the helplessness of his fallen nature. Let the Lord but remove His gracious presence, and the strong man sinks down into a babe! And he who in the strength of the Lord could thresh the mountains, falls down as weak and helpless as a little child. Thus the Lord painfully and solemnly teaches us, that being nothing in ourselves, and feeling our weakness, helplessness, and wretchedness—in Him alone we have strength.
"Save me, and I shall be saved!" Jeremiah 17:14 This implies salvation from the power of sin—the secret dominion sin possesses in the heart. O, what a tyrannical rule does sin sometimes exercise in our carnal minds! How soon are we entangled in flesh-pleasing snares! How easily brought under the secret dominion of some hidden corruption! And how we struggle in vain to deliver ourselves when we are caught in the snares of the devil, or are under the power of any one lust, besetment, or temptation! The Lord, and the Lord alone can save us from all these things. He saves from the power of sin by bringing a sense of His dying love into our hearts—delivering us from our idols—raising our affections to things above—breaking to pieces our snares—subduing our lusts—taming our corruptions—and mastering the inward evils of our dreadfully fallen nature.
Here is this sin! Lord, save me from it. Here is this snare! Lord, break it to pieces. Here is this temptation! Lord, deliver me out of it. Here is this lust! Lord, subdue it. Here is my proud heart! Lord, humble it. None but the Lord can do these things for us—nothing but the felt power of God, nothing but the putting forth of His mighty arm, nothing but the shedding abroad of His dying love, nothing but the operations of His grace upon our soul, can deliver us from the secret power of evil. Save me, and I shall be saved!
"Whoever wants to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me." Mark 8:34 To deny and renounce self lies at the very foundation of vital godliness. It is easy in some measure to leave the world—easy to leave the professing church—but to go forth out of self, there is the difficulty, for this "self" embraces such a variety of forms. What varied shapes and forms does this monster SELF assume! How hard to trace his windings! How difficult to track this wily foe to his hidden den—drag him out of the cave—and immolate him at the foot of the cross, as Samuel hewed down Agag in Gilgal.
Proud self—righteous self—covetous self—ambitious self—sensual self—deceitful self—religious self—flesh-pleasing self. How difficult to detect, unmask, strip out of its changeable suits of apparel, this ugly, misshaped creature, and then stamp upon it, as if we would crush its viper head with the heel of our boot! Who will do such violence to beloved self, when every nerve quivers and shrinks—and the coward heart cries to the uplifted foot, "Spare, spare!" But unless there is this self crucifixion, there is no walking hand in hand with Christ, no heavenly communion with Him—for there can no more be a partnership between Christ and self, than there can be a partnership between Christ and sin.
I have so much opposition within, so many temptations, lusts, and follies—so many snares and besetments—and a vile heart, dabbling in all carnality and filth. I am indeed exercised "by sin and grace." Sin or grace seems continually uppermost—striving and lusting against one another. What lustings, sorrowings—fallings, risings—defeats—and victories. What a battlefield is the heart—and there the fight is lost and won! When sin prevails, mourning over its wounds and slaughter. When grace and godly fear beat back temptation, a softening into gratitude.
If you are alive to what you are as a poor, fallen sinner—you will see yourself surrounded by enemies, temptations, sins, and snares. You will feel yourself utterly defenseless, as weak as water, without any strength to stand against them. You will see a mountain of difficulties before your eyes. If you know anything inwardly and experimentally of yourself—of the evils of your heart, the power of sin, the strength of temptation, the subtlety of your unwearied foe, and the daily conflict between nature and grace, the flesh and the Spirit, which are the peculiar marks of the true child of God—you will find and feel your need of salvation as a daily reality.
How shall you escape the snares and temptations spread in your path? How shall you get the better of all your enemies—external—internal—infernal—and reach heaven’s gates safe at last? There is present salvation, an inward, experimental, continual salvation communicated out of the fullness of Christ as a risen Mediator. Don’t you need to be daily and almost hourly saved? But from what? Why, from everything in you that fights against the will and word of God. Sin is not dead in you. If you have a saving interest in the precious blood of Christ—if your name is written in the Lamb’s book of life, and heaven is your eternal home—that does not deliver you from the indwelling of sin, nor from the power of sin—except as grace gives you present deliverance from it. Sin still works in your carnal mind, and will work in it until your dying hour! What then you need to be saved from is the guilt, filth, power, love and practice of that sin which ever dwells and ever works in you—and often brings your soul into hard and cruel bondage.
Now Christ lives at the right hand of God for His dear people, that He may be ever saving them by His life. There He reigns and rules as their glorious covenant Head, ever watching over, feeling for, and sympathizing with them, and communicating supplies of grace for the deliverance and consolation for all His suffering saints spread over the face of the earth. The glorious Head is in heaven, but the suffering members upon earth—and as He lives on their behalf, He maintains by His Spirit and grace, His life in their soul.
Each Christian has to walk through a great and terrible wilderness, wherein are fiery serpents, and scorpions, and drought (Deuteronomy 8:15)—where he is surrounded with temptations and snares—his own evil heart being his worst foe! How can he travel through this waste-howling wilderness unless he has a Friend at the right hand of God to send him continual supplies of grace—who can hear his prayers, answer his petitions, listen to his sighs, and put his tears into his bottle—who can help him to see the snares, and give him grace to avoid them—who observes from his heavenly watch tower the rising of evil in his heart, and can put a timely and seasonable check upon it before it bursts into word or action? He needs an all-wise and ever-living Friend who can—save him from pride by giving him true humility—save him from hardness of heart by bestowing repentance—save him from carelessness by making his conscience tender—save him from all his fears by whispering into his soul, "Fear not, I have redeemed you." The Christian has to be continually looking to the Lord Jesus Christ—to revive his soul when drooping—to manifest His love to his heart when cold and unfeeling—to sprinkle his conscience with His blood when guilty and sinking—to lead him into truth—to keep him from error and evil—to preserve him through and amid every storm—to guide every step that he takes in his onward journey—and eventually bring him safe to heaven. We need continual supplies of His grace, mercy, and love received into our hearts, so as to save us from the love and spirit of the world—from error—from the power and strength of our own lusts—and the base inclinations of our fallen nature. These will often work at a fearful rate—but this will only make you feel more your need of the power and presence of the Lord Jesus to save you from them all.
You are a poor, defenseless sheep, surrounded by wolves, and, as such, need all the care and defense of the good Shepherd. You are a ship in a stormy sea, where winds and waves are all contrary, and therefore need an all wise and able pilot to take you safe into harbor. There is not a single thing on earth or in hell which can harm you—if you are only looking to the Lord Jesus Christ, and deriving supplies of grace and strength from Him.
How much is summed up in those three words! What would it be for God to leave us? What and where would we be—if God left us for a single hour? What would become of us? We would fall at once into the hands of sin, of Satan, and of the world. We would be abandoned to our own evil hearts—abandoned, utterly abandoned to the unbelief, the infidelity, to all the filth and sensuality of our wicked nature—to fill up the measure of our iniquities, until we sank under His wrath to rise no more!
"Son of man, these men have set up idols in their heart, and put the stumblingblock of iniquity before their face." Ezekiel 14:3 An idol is an idol, whether worshiped inwardly in heart—or adorned outwardly by the knee.
Enticing words of man’s wisdom
"And my speech and my preaching was not with enticing words of man’s wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power." 1 Corinthians 2:4 The word "enticing" is as we now say, "persuasive." It includes, therefore, every branch of skillful oratory, whether it be logical reasoning to convince our understanding—or appeals to our feelings to stir up our passions—or new and striking ideas to delight our intellect—or beautiful and eloquent language to please and captivate our imagination. All these "enticing words" of man’s wisdom—the very things which our popular preachers most speak and aim at—this great apostle renounced, discarded, and rejected! He might have used them all if he liked. He possessed an almost unequaled share of natural ability and great learning—a singularly keen, penetrating intellect—a wonderful command of the Greek language—a flow of ideas most varied, striking, and original—and powers of oratory and eloquence such as have been given to few. He might therefore have used enticing words of man’s wisdom, had he wished or thought it right to do so—but he would not. He saw what deceptiveness was in them, and at best they were mere arts of oratory. He saw that these enticing words—though they might touch the natural feelings, work upon the passions, captivate the imagination, convince the understanding, persuade the judgment, and to a certain extent force their way into men’s minds—yet when all was done that could thus be done, it was merely man’s wisdom which had done it.
Earthly wisdom cannot communicate heavenly faith. Paul would not therefore use enticing words of man’s wisdom, whether it were force of logical argument, or appeal to natural passions, or the charms of vivid eloquence, or the beauty of poetical composition, or the subtle nicety of well arranged sentences. He would not use any of these enticing words of man’s wisdom to draw people into a profession of religion—when their heart was not really touched by God’s grace, or their consciences wrought upon by a divine power. He came to win souls for Jesus Christ, not converts to his own powers of oratorical persuasion—to turn men from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God—not to charm their ears by poetry and eloquence—but to bring them out of the vilest of sins that they might be washed, sanctified, and justified by the Spirit of God—and not entertain or amuse their minds while sin and Satan still maintained dominion in their hearts!
All the labor spent in bringing together a church and congregation of professing people by the power of logical argument and appeals to their natural consciences would be utterly lost, as regards fruit for eternity—for a profession so induced by him and so made by them would leave them just as they were—in all the depths of unregeneracy, with their sins unpardoned, their persons unjustified, and their souls unsanctified. He therefore discarded all these ways of winning over converts, as deceitful to the souls of men, and as dishonoring to God. It required much grace to do this—to throw aside what he might have used, and renounce what most men, as gifted as he, would have gladly used.
What a lesson is here for ministers! How anxious are some men to shine as great preachers! How they covet and often aim at some grand display of what they call eloquence to charm their hearers—and win praise and honor to self! How others try to argue men into religion, or by appealing to their natural feelings, sometimes to frighten them with pictures of hell, and sometimes to allure them by descriptions of heaven. But all such arts, for they are no better, must be discarded by a true servant of God. Only the Spirit can reveal 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. "And my speech and my preaching was not with enticing words of man’s wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power." Unless we have a measure of the same demonstration of the Spirit, all that is said by us in the pulpit drops to the ground—it has no real effect—there is no true or abiding fruit—no fruit unto eternal life. If there be in it some enticing words of man’s wisdom, it may please the mind of those who are gratified by such arts—it may stimulate and occupy the attention for the time—but there it ceases, and all that has been heard fades away like a dream of the night.
"Our gospel came to you not in word only, but also in power, and in the Holy Spirit, and with much assurance." 1 Thessalonians 1:5 The gospel comes to some in word only. They hear the word of the gospel, the sound of truth—but it reaches the outward ear only—or if it touches the inward feelings, it is merely as the word of men. But where the Holy Spirit begins and carries on His divine and saving work, He attends the word with a peculiar, an indescribable, and yet an invincible power. It falls as from God upon the heart. He is heard to speak in it—and in it His glorious Majesty appears to open the eyes, unstop the ears, and convey a message from His own mouth to the soul.
Some hear the gospel as the mere word of men, perhaps for years before God speaks in it with a divine power to their conscience. They thought they understood the gospel—they thought they felt it—they thought they loved it. But all this time they did not see any vital distinction between receiving it as the mere word of men, and as the word of God. The levity, the superficiality, the emptiness stamped upon all who merely receive the gospel as the word of men—is sufficient evidence that it never sank deep into the heart, and never took any powerful grasp upon their soul. It therefore never brought with it any real separation from the world—never gave strength to mortify the least sin—never communicated power to escape the least snare of Satan—was never attended with a spirit of grace and prayer—never brought honesty, sincerity, and uprightness into the heart before God—never bestowed any spirituality of mind, or any loving affection toward the Lord of life and glory. It was merely the reception of truth in the same way as we receive scientific principles, or learn a language, a business, or a trade. It was all—shallow, superficial, deceptive, hypocritical. But in some unexpected moment, when little looking for it, the word of God was brought into their conscience with a power never experienced before. A light shone in and through it which they never saw before—a majesty, a glory, an authority, an evidence accompanied it which they never knew before. And under this light, life, and power they fell down, with the word of God sent home to their heart. When then Christ speaks the gospel to the heart—when He reveals Himself to the soul—when His word, dropping as the rain and distilling as the dew, is received in faith and love—He is embraced as the chief among ten thousand and the altogether lovely One—He takes His seat upon the affections and becomes enthroned in the heart as its Lord and God. Is there life in your bosom? Has God’s power attended the work? Is the grace of God really in your heart? Has God spoken to your soul? Have you heard His voice, felt its power, and fallen under its influence? "For this cause we also thank we God without ceasing, that, when you received from us the word of the message of God, you accepted it not as the word of men, but, as it is in truth, the word of God, which also works in you who believe." 1 Thessalonians 2:13 The deep things of God
"But to us, God revealed them through the Spirit. For the Spirit searches all things, yes, the deep things of God." 1 Corinthians 2:10 The Spirit of God in a man’s bosom searches the deep things of God, so as to lead him into a spiritual and experimental knowledge of them. What depths do we sometimes see in a single text of Scripture as opened to the understanding, or applied to the heart? What a depth in the blood of Christ—how it cleanses from all sin—even millions of millions of the foulest sins of the foulest sinners! What a depth in His bleeding, dying love, that could stoop so low to lift us so high! What a depth in His pity and compassion to extend itself to such guilty, vile transgressors as we are! What depth in His rich, free, and sovereign grace, that it should superabound over all our aggravated iniquities, enormities, and vile abominations! What depth in His sufferings—that He should have voluntarily put Himself under such a load of guilt, such outbreakings of the wrath of God—as He felt in His holy soul when He stood in our place to redeem poor sinners from the bottomless pit—that those who deserved hell, should be lifted up into the enjoyment of heaven!
Professors of religion have always been the deadliest enemies of the children of God. Who were so opposed to the blessed Lord as the Scribes and Pharisees? It was the religious teachers and leaders who crucified the Lord of glory! And so in every age the religionists of the day have been the hottest and bitterest persecutors of the Church of Christ! Nor is the case altered now. The more the children of God are firm in the truth, the more they enjoy its power, the more they live under its influence, and the more tenderly and conscientiously they walk in godly fear, the more will the professing generation of the day hate them with a deadly hatred. Let us not think that we can disarm it by a godly life—for the more that we walk in the sweet enjoyment of heavenly truth and let our light shine before men as having been with Jesus, the more will this draw down their hatred and contempt. So don’t be surprised, dear brothers and sisters, if the world hates you.
"My leanness, my leanness! Woe is me!" Isaiah 24:16
There is no more continual source of lamentation and mourning to a child of God than a sense of his own barrenness. He would be fruitful in every good word and work. But when he contrasts his own miserable unprofitableness—his coldness and deadness—his proneness to evil—his backwardness to good—his daily wanderings and departings from God—his depraved affections—his stupid frames—his sensual desires—his carnal projects—and his earthy grovelings—with what he sees and knows should be the fruit that should grow upon a fruitful branch in the only true Vine, he sinks down under a sense of his own wretched barrenness and unfruitfulness. Yet what was the effect produced by all this upon his own soul? To wean him from the creature—to divert him from looking to any for help or hope, but the Lord Himself. It is in this painful way that the Lord often, if not usually, cuts us off from all human props, even the nearest and dearest, that we may lean wholly and solely on Himself.
Those poor stupid people!
"The world doesn’t know us." 1 John 3:1
Both the openly profane world, and the professing world, are grossly ignorant of the children of God. Their real character and condition—state and standing—joys and sorrows—mercies and miseries—trials and deliverances—hopes and fears—afflictions and consolations—are entirely hidden from their eyes. The world knows nothing of the motives and feelings which guide and actuate the children of God. It views them as a set of gloomy, morose, melancholy beings, whose tempers are soured by false and exaggerated views of religion—who have pored over the thoughts of hell and heaven until some have frightened themselves into despair, and others have puffed up their vain minds with an imaginary conceit of their being especial favorites of the Almighty. "They are really," it says, "no better than other folks, if not worse. But they have such contracted minds—are so obstinate and bigoted with their poor, narrow, prejudiced views—that wherever they come they bring disturbance and confusion." But why this harsh judgment? Because the world knows nothing of the spiritual feelings which actuate the child of grace, making him act so differently from the world which thus condemns him. It cannot understand our sight and sense of the exceeding sinfulness of sin—and that is the reason why we will not run riot with them in the same course of ungodliness. It does not know with what a solemn weight eternal things rest upon our minds—and that that is the cause why we cannot join with them in pursuing so eagerly the things of the world, and living for time as they do—instead of living for eternity. Being unable to enter into the spiritual motives and gracious feelings which actuate a living soul, and the movements of divine life continually stirring in a Christian bosom, they naturally judge us from their own point of view, and condemn what they cannot understand.
You may place a horse and a man upon the same breathtaking hill—while the man would be looking at the woods and fields and streams, the horse would be feeding upon the grass at his feet. The horse, if it could reason, would say—"What a fool my master is! How he is staring and gaping about! Why does he not sit down and open his basket of provisions, and feed as I do? I know he has it with him, for I carried it." So the worldling says—"Those poor stupid people, how they are spending their time in going to chapel, and reading the Bible in their gloomy, melancholy way. Religion is all very well—and we ought all to be religious before we die—but they make so much of it. Why don’t they enjoy more of life? Why don’t they amuse themselves more with its innocent, harmless pleasures—be more gay, cheerful, and sociable, and take more interest in those things which so interest us?" The reason why the world thus wonders at us is because it knows us not, and therefore cannot understand that we have sublimer feelings—nobler pleasures—and more substantial delights—than ever entered the soul of a worldling!
Christian! the more you are conformed to the image of Christ—the more separated you are from the world, the less will it understand you. If we kept closer to the Lord and walked more in holy obedience to the precepts of the gospel, we would be more misunderstood than even we now are! It is our worldly conformity that makes the world understand many of our movements and actions so well. But if our movements were more according to the mind of Christ—if we walked more as the Lord walked when here below—we would leave the world in greater ignorance of us than we leave it now—for the hidden springs of our life would be more out of its sight, our testimony against it more decided, and our separation from it more complete.
"If then you were raised together with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated on the right hand of God. Set your mind on things above, not on things that are on the earth. For you died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God." Colossians 3:1-3
Men’s pursuits and pleasures differ as widely as their station or disposition—but a life of selfish gratification reigns and rules in all. Now it is by this death that we die unto the things of time and sense—to all that charms the natural mind of man—to the pleasures and pursuits of life—to that busy, restless world which once held us so fast and firm in its embrace—and whirled us round and round within its giddy dance.
Let us look back. We were not always a set of poor mopes—as the world calls us. We were once as merry and as gay as the merriest and gayest of them. But what were we really and truly, with all our mirth? Dead to God—alive to sin. Dead to everything holy and divine—alive to everything vain and foolish, light and trifling, carnal and sensual—if not exactly vile and abominable. Our natural life was with all of us a life of gratifying our senses—with some of us, perhaps, chiefly of pleasure and worldly happiness—with others a life of covetousness, or ambition, or self-righteousness. Sin once put forth its intense power and allured us—and we followed like the fool to the stocks. Sin charmed—and we listened to its seductive wiles. Sin held out its bait—and we too greedily, too heedlessly swallowed the hook. "But far be it from me to boast, except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world." Galatians 6:14 You were secretly lifted up with pride "Count it all joy, my brothers, when you fall into various temptations." James 1:2
You might have walked for some time in the ways of the Lord without any deep experience of the infidelity, blasphemy, rebelliousness, enmity, and horrid wickedness of your fallen nature. This being the case, you were secretly lifted up with pride and self-righteousness. You had not yet had that deep discovery of yourself which was needful to humble you in the dust. You did, it is true, look in some measure to the Lord Jesus Christ, for salvation—but not knowing your utter ruin and the desperate wickedness of your heart, you looked with but half a glance—though you took hold of Him, it was but with one hand—and though you walked with Him, it was but with a limping foot. The reason was that temptation had not yet—shorn your locks—bound you with fetters of brass—and put you to grind in the prison-house. But you suddenly fell into one of these "various temptations." The poisoned arrow is rankling in the heart. There are temptations so thoroughly adapted to our fallen nature—snares so suited to our lusts—and Satan has such a way of seducing his victim little by little into the trap until it falls down upon him—that none can escape but by the power of God. None can deliver the soul from these snares of the fowler—except that mighty hand which brings up out of the horrible pit and out of the miry clay! To walk after the flesh
"There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus, who don’t walk after the flesh, but according to the Spirit." Romans 8:1 To walk after the flesh carries with it the idea of the flesh going before us—as our leader, guide, and example—and our following close in its footsteps, so that wherever it drags or draws we move after it, as the needle after the magnet. To walk after the flesh, then, is to move step by step in implicit obedience to the commands of the flesh—the lusts of the flesh—the inclinations of the flesh—and the desires of the flesh—whatever shape they assume, whatever garb they wear, whatever name they may bear. To walk after the flesh is to be ever pursuing, desiring, and doing the things that please the flesh—whatever aspect that flesh may wear or whatever dress it may assume—whether molded and fashioned after the grosser and more flagrant ways of the profane world—or the more refined and deceptive religion of the professing church. But are the grosser and more manifest sinners the only people who may be said to walk after the flesh? Does not all human religion, in all its varied forms and shapes, come under the sweep of this all-devouring sword? Yes! Everyone who is entangled in and led by a fleshly religion, walks as much after the flesh as those who are abandoned to its grosser indulgences. Sad it is, yet not more sad than true, that false religion has slain its thousands, if open sin has slain its ten thousands. To walk after the flesh—whether it be in the grosser or more refined sense of the term—is the same in the sight of God. The very thought is appalling!
"You, being in past times alienated and enemies in your mind in your evil works." Colossians 1:21
All man’s sins, comparatively speaking, are but ’motes in the sunbeam’ compared with this giant sin of enmity against God. A man may be given up to fleshly indulgences—he may sin against his fellow creature—may rob, plunder, oppress, even kill his fellow man. But viewed in a spiritual light, what are they compared with the dreadful, the damnable sin of enmity against the great and glorious Majesty of heaven? This is a sin that lives beyond the grave! Many sins, though not their consequences, die with man’s body, because they are bodily sins. But this is a sin that goes into eternity with him, and flares up like a mighty volcano from the very depths of the bottomless pit! Yes, it is the very sin of devils, which therefore binds guilty man down with them in the same eternal chains, and consigns him to the same place of torment! O the unutterable enmity of the heart against the living God! The very thought is appalling! How utterly ruined, then, how wholly lost must that man’s state and case be, who lives and dies as he comes into the world—unchanged, unrenewed, unregenerated!
I will not dwell longer upon this gloomy subject, on this sad exhibition of human wickedness and misery, though it is needful we should know it for ourselves, that we should have a taste of this bitter cup in our own most painful experience, that we may know the sweetness of the cup of salvation when presented to our lips by free and sovereign grace. Nothing but the mighty power of God Himself can ever turn this enemy into a friend! "You, being in past times alienated and enemies in your mind in your evil works, yet now He has reconciled in the body of His flesh through death, to present you holy and without blemish and blameless before Him."
O Self! Self!
Oh, to be kept from myself—my vile, proud, lustful, hypocritical, worldly, covetous, presumptuous, obscene self. O Self! Self! Your desperate wickedness, your depravity, your love of sin, your abominable pollutions, your monstrous heart-wickedness, your wretched deadness, hardness, blindness, and indifference. You are a treacherous villain, and, I fear, always will be such!
Unquenched and unquenchable!
"Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it." Song of Solomon 8:7 The bride uses a figure which shall express the insuperable strength of divine love against all opposition—and she therefore compares it to a fire which burns and burns unquenched and unquenchable, whatever be the amount of water poured upon it. Thus the figure expresses the flame of holy love which burned in the heart of the Redeemer as unquenchable by any opposition made to it.
How soon is earthly love cooled by opposition! A little ingratitude, a few hard speeches, cold words or even cold looks, seem often almost sufficient to quench love that once shone warm and bright. And how often, too, even without these cold waters thrown upon it, does it appear as if ready to die out by itself. But the love of Christ was unquenchable by all those waters. Not all the ingratitude, unbelief, or coldness of His people could quench His eternal love to them! He knew what the Church was in herself, and ever would be—how cold and wandering her affections—how roving her desires—how backsliding her heart! But all these waters could not extinguish His love! It still burnt as a holy flame in His bosom, unquenched, unquenchable! "Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it." Song of Solomon 8:7
"That no advantage may be gained over us by Satan; for we are not ignorant of his schemes." 2 Corinthians 2:11
Satan well knows both how to allure and how to attack—for he can crawl like a serpent, and he can roar like a lion! He has snares whereby he entangles, and fiery darts whereby he impales. Most men are easily led captive by him at his will, ensnared without the least difficulty in the traps that he lays for their feet—for they are as ready to be caught as he is to catch them! Why would Satan need to roar against them as a lion, if he can wind himself around them and bite them as a serpent?
It is almost as if God said, "If you want to see what sin really is, you cannot see it in the depths of hell. I will show you sin in blacker colors still—you shall see it in the sufferings of My dear Son—in His agonies of body and soul—and in what He as a holy, innocent Lamb endured under My wrath, when He consented to take the sinner’s place." What wondrous wisdom—what depths of love—what treasures of mercy—what heights of grace—were thus revealed and brought to light in God’s unsparing condemnation of sin, and yet in His full and free pardon of the sinner!
If you have ever had a view by faith of the suffering Son of God in the garden and upon the cross—if you have ever seen the wrath of God due to you, falling upon the head of the God-Man—and viewed a bleeding, agonizing Immanuel—then you have seen and felt in the depths of your conscience what a dreadful thing sin is. Then the broken-hearted child of God looks unto Him whom he has pierced, and mourns and grieves bitterly for Him, as for a firstborn son who has died. Under this sight he feels what a dreadful thing sin is. "Oh," he says, "did God afflict His dear Son? Did Jesus, the darling of God, endure all these sufferings and sorrows to save my soul from the bottomless pit? O, can I ever hate sin enough? Can I ever grieve and mourn over it enough? Can my stony heart ever be dissolved into contrition enough, when by faith I see the agonies, and hear the groans of the suffering, bleeding Lamb of God?"
Christians hate their sins. They hate that sinful, that dreadfully sinful flesh of theirs which has so often, which has so continually, betrayed them into sin. And thus they join with God in passing condemnation upon the whole of their flesh—upon all its actings and workings—upon all its thoughts and words and deeds—and hate it as the prolific parent of that sin which crucified Christ, and torments and plagues them.
Hard-hearted, cold-blooded, wise-headed
We are surrounded with snares. Temptations lie spread every moment in our path. These snares and these temptations are so suitable to the lusts of our flesh, that we would certainly fall into them, and be overcome by them, but for the restraining providence or the preserving grace of God. The Christian sees this—the Christian feels this. The hard-hearted, cold-blooded, wise-headed professor sees no snares. He is entangled in them, he falls by them, and not repenting of his sins or forsaking them, he makes utter shipwreck concerning the faith. The child of God sees the snare—feels the temptation—knows the evil of his heart—and is conscious that if God does not hold him up, he shall stumble and fall. As then a burnt child dreads the fire, so he dreads the consequence of being left for a moment to himself—and the more is he afraid that he shall fall. If his eyes are more widely opened to see the purity of God—the blessedness of Christ—the efficacy of atoning blood—and the beauties of holiness—the more also does he see the evil of sin, the dreadful consequences of being entangled therein. And not only so, but his own helplessness and weakness and inability to stand against temptation in his own strength. And all these feelings combine to raise up a more earnest cry—Hold me up, and I shall be safe! Our sanctuary
"Although I have cast them far off among the heathen, and although I have scattered them among the countries, yet will I be to them as a little sanctuary in the countries where they shall come." Ezekiel 11:16
Every place in which the Lord manifests Himself, is a sanctuary to a child of God. Jesus is now our sanctuary, for He is the true place of worship that was built by the Lord and not by human hands. We see the power and glory of God, in the face of Jesus Christ.
Every place is a sanctuary, where God manifests Himself in power and glory to the soul. Moses, doubtless, had often passed by the bush which grew in Horeb—it was but a common thorn bush, in no way distinguished from the other bushes of the thicket. But on one solemn occasion it was all in a flame of fire, for the angel of the Lord appeared unto him in a flame of fire out of the midst—and though it burned with fire, it was not consumed. God being in the bush, the ground round about was holy, and Moses was bidden to take off his shoes from his feet. Was not this a sanctuary to Moses? It was—for a holy God was there!
Thus wherever God manifests Himself, that becomes a sanctuary to a believing soul. We don’t need places made holy by the ceremonies of man—but places made holy by the presence of God! Then a stable, a hovel, a hedge, any unadorned corner may be, and is a sanctuary, when God fills your heart with His sacred presence, and causes every holy feeling and gracious affection to spring up in your soul.
Poor, miserable, paltry works of a polluted worm!
"We are all as an unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags; and we all fade as a leaf; and our iniquities, like the wind, have taken us away." Isaiah 64:6
We once thought that we could gain heaven by our own righteousness. We strictly attended to our religious duties, and sought by these and various other means to recommend ourselves to the favor of God, and induce Him to reward us with heaven for our sincere attempts to obey His commandments. A