10.09. Volume 9 cont'd
My soul is exceedingly sorrowful "My soul is exceedingly sorrowful, even to death." Mark 14:34
What heart can conceive, what tongue express what His holy soul endured when the Father laid upon Him the iniquities 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! The human nature in its weakness recoiled, as it were, from the cup of anguish put into His hand. His body could scarcely bear the load that pressed Him down. His soul, under the waves and billows of God’s wrath, sank in deep mire where there was no standing, and came into deep waters where the floods overflowed Him. And how could it be otherwise when His sacred humanity was—enduring all the wrath of God—suffering the very pangs of hell—and wading in all the depths of guilt and terror? When the blessed Lord was made a sin offering for us, He endured in His holy soul all the pangs of distress, horror, alarm, misery, and guilt that the elect would have felt in hell forever! And not only as any one of them would have felt—but as the collective whole would have experienced under the outpouring of the everlasting wrath of God—the anguish, the distress, the darkness, the condemnation, the shame, the guilt, the unutterable horror.
He as the eternal Son of God, had lain in His bosom before all worlds, had known all the blessedness and happiness of the love and favor of the Father, His own Father, shining upon Him; for He was as one brought up with Him, and was daily His delight, rejoicing always before Him. When, then, instead of love—He felt His displeasure; instead of the beams of His favor—He experienced the frowns and terrors of His wrath; instead of the light of His countenance—He tasted the gloom and darkness of desertion—what heart can conceive—what tongue express the bitter anguish which must have wrung the soul of our suffering Substitute under this agonizing experience?
Let us ever bear in mind that the sufferings of the holy soul of Jesus were as really felt as the sufferings of His sacred body—and a thousand times more intense and intolerable! Though beyond description painful and agonizing, yet the sufferings of the body were light indeed compared with the sufferings of the soul. Surely never was there such a pang since the foundations of the earth were laid, as that which rent and tore the soul of the Redeemer when the last drop of agony was poured into the already overflowing cup, and He cried out—"My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?"
I admire and love the grace of God
"Among whom we also once lived in the lust of our flesh, doing the desires of the flesh and of the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, even as the rest. For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God." Ephesians 2:3; Ephesians 2:8
View the jewels that grace has set in the Redeemer’s crown—made out of the most depraved and abject materials! Who, for instance, were those Ephesians to whom Paul wrote that wonderful epistle? The most foolish and besotted of idolaters—men debased with every lust—ripe and ready for every crime. How rich, how marvelous the grace that changed worshipers of Diana—into worshipers of Jehovah; magicians, full of sorcery and Satanic witchcraft—into saints of God! I admire and love the grace of God—and the longer I live, the more do I love and admire it. My sins—my corruptions—my infirmities—make me feel my deep and daily need of grace—and as its freeness, fullness, suitability and inexpressible blessedness are more and more opened up to my heart and conscience—so do I more and more cleave to and delight in it! In a lame state "The lame walk." Matthew 11:5 When the Spirit begins a work of grace upon the heart, God’s people are made sensible that they are in a lame state—that they are crippled, paralytic, bedridden—unable to lift up a leg or a finger. Man is dead in sin—his faculties are all crippled—he is utterly helpless in the things of God.
Born blind?
"The blind receive their sight." Matthew 11:5 In what state and condition are we by nature? Are we not—blind to our state as sinners before God? blind to the spirituality and condemning power of the law? blind to the majesty, greatness, holiness, and purity of God? blind to the beauty and preciousness of Immanuel? blind to the personality and operations of God the Spirit? And is not this blindness a feature that universally prevails? Are we not, in a spiritual sense, born blind? Do we not grow up in that blindness? And can any natural power remove it? Can any light in the judgment—can any doctrines received in the mind—can any profession of religion—can anything that nature has done or can do—remove that blindness? It cannot be removed by any power of man in himself.
It is the special work, the grand prerogative of the Son of God, to remove this blindness by communicating spiritual eyesight. And this is done in a moment. There was an instant, though we may not be enabled to recollect it, when divine light was brought into our dark minds—and the blind received sight. A child of God cannot understand how, or why it is—but he knows that he once was blind—but now he sees! There is in his soul an inward perception—and that this inward perception is attended with certain sensations—to which sensations he was a stranger in times past.
Whenever the blind receive sight, they see the purity and spirituality of God’s character. Before the blind receive sight, they think that God is such a one as themselves. They have no idea of—no internal acquaintance with—the infinite purity, holiness, and spirituality of Jehovah. They therefore never bow down before Him—there is no trembling of heart at His great name—no bringing down of proud imaginations at His footstool—no inward shrinking into self before the loftiness of the Most High—no perception of His glory—no yielding up of the heart in subjection—no adoration nor admiration of His eternal Majesty! But wherever spiritual eyesight is given, and the purity and holiness of Jehovah are made known to the heart, there will be, as we find all through the Scripture—self-abasement. "I have heard of You by the hearing of the ear: but now my eye sees You. Wherefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes." "Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips: for my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts." The purity, holiness, and spirituality of God’s character, produced in the saints of old, this prostration of soul before Him. The Lord God Almighty reveals in the soul His purity, spirituality, and holiness—to bring guilt upon the soul—to drive it out of every lying refuge—and beat out of its grasp every hope, but that which He Himself implants. He beats us out of every false refuge—strips us of every natural hope—and removes every creature prop from under our souls. He displays His dreadful majesty—sets our secret sins before our eyes—and searches the very bottom of our hearts—to bring us near the Son of His love—to draw us to the bosom of the Lord of life and glory—and make Him dear and precious to our souls!
Such a sight "We see Jesus." Hebrews 2:9 Did your eyes ever see Jesus? I do not mean your natural, your bodily eyes—but the eye of faith, the eye of the soul. I will tell you what you have felt—if you ever saw Jesus. Your heart was softened and melted—your affections drawn heavenward—your soul penetrated with thankfulness and praise—your mind lifted up above all earthly things to dwell and center in the bosom of the blessed Immanuel. Do you think, then, you have seen Jesus by the eye of faith? Then you have seen—the perfection of beauty—the consummation of pure loveliness—the image of the invisible God—all the perfections and glorious character of the Godhead shining forth in Him who was nailed to Calvary’s tree! I am sure such a sight as that must melt the most obdurate heart—and draw tears from the most flinty eyes! Such a sight of the beauty and glory of the Son of God must kindle the warmest, holiest stream of tender affection. It might not have lasted long. These feelings are often very transitory. The world, sin, temptation, and unbelief soon work—infidelity soon assails all—the things of time and sense soon draw aside—but while it lasted, such, in a greater or less degree, were the sensations produced.
Genuine soul humility
We do not have any humility—except as the Lord is pleased to teach the soul to be humble. And how does He produce genuine soul humility? By showing us what we are—opening up the secrets of the heart—discovering the desperate wickedness of our fallen nature—and convincing us that sin is intermingled with every thought, word, look, and action! When the blessed Spirit takes us in hand "He will reprove the world of sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment." John 16:8
We may, by observing the workings of the natural mind, come to some conclusion that we and all men are naturally—very selfish—very proud—and very worldly. But this knowledge does not produce any sense of godly sorrow—or any self-loathing on account of indwelling sin. But when the blessed Spirit takes us in hand—strips away the veil of delusion from our hearts—and opening up the depths of our fallen nature, discovers the secret recesses where everything that is filthy and loathsome hides itself—then we begin to see and feel that we are sinners indeed—inwardly as well as outwardly—in thought and imagination—as well as by habit and practice. If any of us have ever learned to loathe ourselves before God—it is by having some special discovery of the purity and holiness of God—contrasted with our own vileness and filthiness!
Happy "Happy are you, O Israel." Deuteronomy 33:29
What are the sources of the Christian’s happiness? Are they such as the world accounts to be streams of perennial joy? No! The Lord for the most part dries up or embitters the streams of earthly happiness—that His people may not drink at them—and so forsake or neglect the fountain of living waters. The Lord, for His own gracious purposes, usually puts gall and wormwood into the streams of earthly happiness. So why are the people of God happy? Happy because God has chosen them unto salvation in the Person of His dear Son! Happy because He has loved them with an everlasting love—and sometimes enables them to love Him in return! Happy because He has called them by His grace, that He may one day crown them with everlasting glory! Happy because mansions of eternal bliss are reserved for them in the skies—far beyond all the storms and waves of this troublous world! Happy because the Lord is their everlasting portion! Happy because God is their Father and friend—Jesus their Redeemer, husband, and elder brother—and the Holy Spirit their Comforter, teacher, and sanctifier.
Hard may be your lot here below, O suffering saints of the Most High, as regards external matters—painful may be the exercises which almost daily pass through the rebellion and desperate wickedness of your carnal mind—grievous temptations may be your continual portion—many a pricking thorn and sharp briar may lie in your path—and so rough and rugged may be the road, that at times you may feel yourself of all men to be the most miserable. And so indeed you would be—but for the grace of God in your heart now—and the glory prepared for you beyond the grave! Yet with it all, were your afflictions and sorrows a thousand times heavier, well may it be said of you, "Happy, thrice happy, are you, O Israel!" Whom upon earth would you envy—if you have the grace of God in your heart? With whom would you change places—if ever the love of God has visited your soul? Look around you—fix your eyes upon the man or woman who seems surrounded with the greatest amount of earthly happiness—and then ask your own conscience, "Would I change places with you—you butterfly of fashion? Or with you—you painted dragonfly, who merely lives your little day, sunning yourself for a few hours beneath the summer sun—and then sinking into the dark and dismal pool which awaits you at evening?"
Then with all your cares at home and abroad—with all your woes and trials—sunk under which you feel yourself at times one of the most miserable beings that can crawl along in this valley of tears—would you change places with anybody, however healthy, or rich, or favored with the largest amount of family prosperity—if at the same time destitute of the grace of God?
Happy are you, O Israel! And O, that we might be even now enabled to realize this blessing—instead of poring over our sins and sorrows, our temptations and trials! Which would you rather be?
"Who is like you, O people saved by the Lord!" Deuteronomy 33:29
Imagine yourself standing in the streets of Jerusalem, and looking into the banqueting hall of the rich man of whom the Lord speaks in the parable. Might you not say, "Who is like unto you, O man of wealth and substance? Who wears garments so deeply dyed in royal purple? Who is clothed in linen so white and so fine? Who has his table spread with such delicacies? Who has such rosy wine to flow in the cup in such abundance and of such flavor? Who is like unto you, O rich man, clothed in purple and fine linen, and dining sumptuously every day?" And then you might have turned and seen another sight—a beggar at his gate—and you might have said, "Who is like unto you, O Lazarus? You have not a friend to put a rag on your diseased back. You have not wife, child, or relative to bring plaster or poultice for your ulcerous sores—and have to thank the very dogs for licking the gory matter off your bleeding face. You have no one to feed you even with a piece of bread—and are glad to hold out your hand to catch the crumbs as they fall from the rich man’s table. Who is like unto you, rich man, in all your wealth and luxury? Who is like unto you, Lazarus, in all your poverty and sores?"
Let a few years pass—now look into the abyss beneath—what do you see there? The rich man in misery, crying in torment for a drop of water to cool his tongue! Who is like unto you, rich man, now, in the depths of hell—your tongue parched with flame and thirst, and an impassable gulf between you and Paradise? Turn away your eyes from this fearful sight—and look up into the courts of bliss. Who is like unto you now, poor beggar, whose sores the dogs once licked—who had not a friend on earth—and were thrust into your last resting place by the cold hand of grudging charity? You are in Paradise—enjoying the smiles of God—basking in the beams of the Sun of righteousness throughout an endless day! All this we see by the eye of faith. But how does the world look upon the rich man? It says, "O you great and noble rich man—who is like unto you? I kiss your feet! I admire your wealth and luxury! I worship your rank! I bow to your fashion! You are rich, respectable, noble! I cannot but envy you—for you have all my heart is longing after. But what are you doing here, you poor diseased beggar—a nuisance under the very nose of the honorable rich man? Take away your rags and your sores out of his noble sight! You spoil his appetite, and remind him of death and the grave!" Is not this the language of the world—still admiring those whom God abhors—and hating those whom God loves?
Look beyond the ways and thoughts of men to the ways and thoughts of the Lord. Let a few years pass—now view the scene with a spiritual eye. Where are all the butterflies gone? They are all passed away—for the world passes away and the lusts thereof—darkness has covered them all—and down they have sunk into the chambers of death. But where now are the lepers and beggars—the martyrs, the sufferers, the mourners in Zion—the poor afflicted ones who loved Jesus—and whom Jesus loved? In the bosom of their God! Then may we not say of, and to every believer in Jesus, however poor or despised, "Who is like unto you?" Which would you rather be? A poor, despised, persecuted, afflicted child of God—or one that enjoys all the pleasures and honors that the world could pour into his bosom? The grand delusion of our day The grand delusion of our day—is that some from ignorance, some from self-righteousness, some from hypocrisy, and some from presumption—claim the promises of Scripture as their own—without any internal mark of His grace being in their hearts. May the Lord keep us from walking on such perilous ground and treading such dangerous paths!
Pluck out the peacock feathers "There are many plans in a man’s heart; but the Lord’s counsel will prevail." Proverbs 19:21
"The counsel of the Lord" is that Christ should be all in all—that He should stand exalted upon the wreck and ruin of the creature. "The counsel of the Lord," then must stand, whatever be the devices in man’s heart. And this counsel is to bring the creature low, that He may exalt Jesus high—to strip the creature of all its attainments—to pluck out the peacock feathers—that it may be poor and needy and naked and empty and bare. "The counsel of the Lord" is that the creature should learn its weakness—that ’creature helplessness’ should not be a mere doctrine received into the judgment—but that it should be a solemn truth which is experienced in a man’s soul. This weakness a man can only learn by being placed in that position, where, when he would make use of his strength, he finds it is all gone, and has become total weakness. "The counsel of the Lord," is this—to exalt Christ upon the abasement of the creature—to make the strength of Christ perfect in our weakness—and the wisdom of Christ perfect in our folly—and to establish Christ’s righteousness upon the ruin of the creature’s righteousness. The God of all grace "The God of all grace." 1 Peter 5:10 As the Lord leads His people into a knowledge of themselves—as He removes the veil of deceit from their heart—as He discovers to them more plainly the deep corruption that lurks and works in their bosom—He shows them more and more not only their need of grace—but opens up more and more to them what grace is. When the Lord first begins His work on the conscience, and brings us to know a measure of the truth—we are but learners in the school of grace. It is only after we have traveled some years in the way, and have had repeated discoveries of our baseness, and of God’s superabounding mercy—that we begin to enter a little into what grace really is. We learn the words first—and the meaning of them afterwards. We usually receive the doctrine of grace as it stands in the letter of truth first—and then, as the Lord leads us, we get into the experience of grace in the power of it. Thus we gradually learn what grace is by feeling its complete suitability to our pressing needs.
When, for instance, we feel what numerous and aggravated sins we are daily and hourly committing—we need grace—and not merely grace, but "all grace," to pardon and blot them out. When we painfully feel how we daily backslide from God—and are perpetually roving after idols—how our hearts get entangled in the world—and how little our affections are fixed on Jesus—we need "all grace" to heal these backslidings, and to bring the soul into the enjoyment of the mercy and love of God. And when we see what base returns we make to the Lord for all His kindness towards us—when our rebelliousness, fretfulness, impatience, and ingratitude are charged home upon the conscience, and we feel what wretches we are—how we have requited the Lord for all His goodness towards us—we experience our need of "all grace" to forgive such base ingratitude. When we can scarcely bear ourselves—as if none were so vile—none so filthy—none so black as we—we are brought to see and feel it must be "all grace" that can bear with us! So that we see the sweetness and suitability of grace. Nothing, then, less than the God of all grace, could suit such vile wretches as we feel ourselves to be! None but the God of all grace could bear with us! None but He whose grace can never be exhausted—whose patience can never be worn out—whose lovingkindness can never be provoked beyond endurance—but who pardons all—loves through all, and is determined, in spite of all, to bring the objects of His love to the eternal enjoyment of Himself—none but the God of all grace could ever save such guilty and filthy wretches, as some of us see and feel ourselves to be! The fruits of suffering As the fruits and consequences of suffering, the believer 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!
These are the fruits of suffering. They are not to be learned by reading them in the Word of God—or by hearing ministers preach about them. Nor are they to be obtained from books, or from any source, but the teaching of the Spirit of God in the soul. Where God then teaches, He "teaches to profit"—He writes His truth with the point of a diamond on the heart—and engraves them as with an iron pen into the rock forever.
Nothing but this can really break the sinner’s heart To view mercy in its real character—we must go to Calvary. We must go by faith, under the secret teachings and leadings of the Holy Spirit, to see Immanuel, God with us—groveling in Gethsemane’s garden. We must view Him naked upon the cross, groaning, bleeding, agonizing, dying! We must view that wondrous spectacle of love and suffering—and feel our eyes flowing down in streams of sorrow, humility, and contrition at the sight—in order to enter a little into the depths of the tender mercy of God. Nothing but this can really break the sinner’s heart. Law terrors, death and judgment, infinite purity, and eternal vengeance will not soften or break a sinner’s heart. But if he is led to view a suffering Immanuel—and a sweet testimony is raised up in his conscience that those sufferings were for him—this, and this alone will break his heart all to pieces! That is idolatry, damnable idolatry!
How can I be saved? By making myself religious, becoming holy, subduing my lusts in my own strength? This sets me farther from God than I was before. This makes me a god to myself! If I am saved—by my own holiness—by my own strength—by my own righteousness—I worship myself. And in worshiping myself, I become my own god. That is idolatry, damnable idolatry! So that he who lives and dies in the worship of self—will live and die under the wrath of God as an idolater.
You cannot carry your own burdens "Cast your burden on the Lord, and He will sustain you." Psalms 55:22
You cannot carry your own burdens without their breaking your back. But when you can cast your burden on the Lord, then you will surely find sweet relief!
He will subdue our iniquities "He will subdue our iniquities." Micah 7:19
Sin subdued is the next greatest blessing to sin pardoned—and wherever God pardons sin, He subdues sin. For the same grace which saves sanctifies—the same grace which casts sin behind God’s back, puts its foot upon the corruptions of the believer, and prevents iniquity from having dominion over him. "Sin shall not have dominion over you." Why? "Because you are not under the law," which gives sin its strength and power, "but under grace," which is able to subdue its dominion. A child of God can never rest satisfied except by the subduing of his sins, as well as the pardoning of them. To have his unbelief, infidelity, worldly-mindedness, pride, and covetousness subdued by the grace of God—its power taken out of it—its dominion dethroned—its authority destroyed—and its strength weakened and diminished, that he may not be under the dominion of any lust, or carried away by the strength of any secret or open sin—but may walk before God in the light of His countenance, as desirous to know His will and do it—this is the desire and breathing of everyone that knows sin in its guilt, filth, and power. How gracious, then, is the promise—how sweet the favor—that the Lord has promised to subdue our iniquities by the same grace as that whereby He pardons them. So that we receive the grace of Christ to sanctify and renew the soul—and the strength of Christ to overcome all our inward and outward foes.
Why is flesh so weak?
"The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak." Matthew 26:41
Why is flesh so weak? Because it is fallen—because it is sinful—because it has an alliance with the temptation which is presented to it. If we had—no inward lusting after evil—no pride—no rebelliousness—no fallen nature—no carnal mind—no vile affections—nothing in us earthly, sensual, or devilish—would we fear temptation? No! for then we would be armored against it—it would be like dipping a match in water. Here our weakness lies. If we could always resist—we would conquer. But we cannot resist—except by the special power of God. This is a lesson we all need to learn. The weakness of the flesh manifests itself continually in compliance, in non-resistance, in giving way, in yielding, often almost without a struggle, no, sometimes in acting a worse and more wicked part still.
Thus we learn the weakness of the flesh—weak to believe—weak to hope—weak to love—weak to fight—weak to resist—weak to overcome—weak to watch—weak to pray—weak to stand—weak to everything good—strong to everything evil. The flesh indeed is weak. What are all resolutions, all promises, all desires, all endeavors, all strugglings, all strivings—except the soul is held up by the mighty power of God? The free grace of God!
"Where sin abounded, grace did abound much more exceedingly." Romans 5:20
What a balm—what a cordial—what a sweet reviving draught is the free grace of God! It is so pure, so free, and so superabounding over all the aboundings of sin, guilt, filth, and folly. If anything can—lift up a drooping sinner—restore a backslider—break a hard heart—soften a stony heart—draw forth songs of praise, and tears of contrition—produce repentance and godly sorrow for sin, and a humble mind and a tender conscience—it is a sweet experience of the superabounding grace of God. Can we then exalt it too much? No! Can we prize it too highly? No! Can we cleave to it too closely? No! In proportion as we feel our ruin and misery, we shall cleave to it with every desire of our soul—for it is all our salvation, as it is all our desire. The black cloud of our vileness
We cannot do anything of a spiritual nature to bring ourselves near to God. Let all the shame and guilt be ours—all the grace and glory are God’s. Every drop of felt mercy—every ray of gracious hope—every sweet application of truth to the heart—every sense of saving interest—every sweet indulgence—every heavenly smile—every tender desire—and every spiritual feeling—all, all are of God! If ever my heart is softened—if my spirit blessed—if my soul watered—if Christ is ever felt to be precious—it is all of His grace. It is all given freely, sovereignly—without money and without price. But can it be denied that by our carnality, inconsistency, worldly-mindedness, negligence, ingratitude, and forsaking and forgetting the God of our mercies—we are continually bringing leanness and barrenness—deadness and darkness into our own souls? Thus we are forced to plead "Guilty, guilty!"—to put our mouth in the dust, to acknowledge ourselves to be vile. Yet thus does God, in His mysterious dealings, open up a way for His sovereign grace and mercy to visit the soul. The more we feel ourselves condemned, cut off, gashed, and wounded by a sense of sin and folly, backslidings and wanderings from God—the lower we shall lie—the more we shall put our mouth in the dust—the more freely we shall confess our baseness before Him. And if the Lord should be pleased, in these solemn moments—to open our poor blind eyes to see something of the precious blood of the Lamb—to apply some sweet promise to the soul—or to bring to the heart a sense of His goodness and mercy—how sweet and suitable is that grace, as coming over all the mountains and hills of our sin and shame! Thus is the goodness of God, as it were, reflected on and by our baseness and vileness, as we see the sun sometimes shining on and reflected by a black cloud. The black cloud of our vileness but serves to heighten the glory of the rays of free grace, and the bright beams of the Sun of righteousness!
How does the Lord humble?
"The lofty looks of man will be brought low, the haughtiness of men will be bowed down, and the Lord alone will be exalted in that day." Isaiah 2:11
How does the Lord humble? By discovering to man what he is—by opening up the depth of his fall—by making him feel what a vile and guilty wretch he is before the footstool of mercy—by breaking him to pieces—by slaughtering and laying him low—by making him abhor himself in dust and ashes. There are many who cannot bear to hear the malady touched upon. They cannot bear to hear the corruptions of the heart even hinted at. But what real humility can a man have—except through a knowledge of himself? How can I be humbled except I feel that in myself which covers me with shame and confusion of face, and makes me loathe and abhor myself before the eyes of a heart-searching God? Therefore the more the glorious majesty of heaven is pleased to unfold itself in all its divine purity in my conscience—and the deeper discovery I have of what I am as a fallen wretch, a guilty sinner—the more will my heart be humbled—the more shall I be lowly and abased—the more shall I loathe myself in dust and ashes! The steep hill "No good thing will He withhold from those who walk uprightly." Psalms 84:11 But what is it to walk uprightly? Oh! here is the grand difficulty in religion. We may talk—we may preach—we may hear—we may seem to believe—but it is when we come to act, to walk, and carry out into daily and hourly practice what we profess—that the main difficulty is felt and found. "The soul of religion," says Bunyan, "is the practical part"—and it is when we come to this "practical part" that the daily, hourly cross commences. The walk, the conversation, the daily, hourly conduct is, after all, the main difficulty, as it is the all-important fruit of a Christian profession. To walk day after day, under all circumstances, and amid all the varied temptations that beset us, uprightly, tenderly, and sincerely in the fear of God—to feel continually that heart, lip, and life are all open before His all-penetrating eye—to do the things which He approves, and to flee from the things which He abhors—oh! this is the steep hill which it is such a struggle to climb! We can talk fast enough—but oh! to walk in the straight and narrow path—to be a Christian outwardly as well as inwardly, before God and man, before the Church and the world—and in all points to speak and act with undeviating consistency with our profession—this is what nature never has done, and what nature never can do. In thus acting, as much as in believing, do we need God’s power and grace to work in, and be made manifest in us. A more blessed appetite "Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds out of the mouth of God." Matthew 4:4 This is the grand lesson which we have to learn in our wilderness journey—that man does not live by bread alone—that is, by those providential supplies which relieve our natural necessities. God has determined that His people shall not live by bread alone. They shall be separated from the mass of men who live in this carnal way only—who have no care beyond earthly possessions—and the sum of whose thoughts and desires is—what they shall eat, and what they shall drink, and with what they shall be clothed—who never look beyond the purse, the business, the daily occupation, the safe return, the profitable investment—and how to provide for themselves and their families.
God has planted in the bosom of His people a higher life—a nobler principle—a more blessed appetite than to live upon bread alone. We bless Him for His providence—but we love Him for His grace. We thank Him for daily food and clothing—but these mercies are but for time, perishing in their very use—and He has provided us with that which is for eternity.
What then does God mean the soul to live upon? Upon every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord. But where do we find these words which proceed out of the mouth of God? In the Scriptures, which is the food of the Church—and especially in Scripture as applied to the heart, in the words that God is pleased to drop into the soul by a divine power—which we receive from His gracious mouth, and lay hold of with a believing hand. That is the food and nutriment of our soul—the truth of God applied to our heart and made life and spirit to our souls by His own teaching. How this should both stimulate and encourage us—to search the Scriptures as for hidden treasure—to read them constantly—to meditate upon them—to seek to enter into the mind of God as revealed in them—and thus to find them to be the food of our soul. If we were fully persuaded that every word of the Scripture came out of God’s mouth, and was meant to feed our soul—how much more we would prize it, read, and study it!
More and more dependent on Him When enabled, by the blessed Spirit’s operations, to receive Jesus into our heart by faith—we are then taught to feel our need of continual supplies of grace and strength out of His fullness. For we have to learn something—of the depths of the fall—of the evils of our heart—of the temptations of Satan—of the strength of sin—of our own weakness and worthlessness. And as every fresh discovery of our helplessness and wretchedness makes a way for looking to and hanging upon Him—we become more and more dependent on Him as our wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption! The first spot The first spot to which the Holy Spirit takes the poor sinner, is the cross of Jesus! That is the first real saving view we get of the Lord of life and glory—the Holy Spirit taking the poor guilty sinner, laden with the weight of a thousand sins, to the foot of the cross—and opening his eyes to see the Son of God bleeding there as an atoning sacrifice for sin. To be brought there by the power of the Holy Spirit, and receive that blessed mystery of the bleeding, suffering, and agonizing Son of God into our hearts and consciences—is the first blessed discovery that God the Spirit favors us with. The regenerating operations of the Holy Spirit From the very nature of the fall, it is impossible for a dead soul to believe in God, know God, or love God. It must be quickened into spiritual life before it can savingly know the only true God. And thus there lies at the very threshold, in the very heart and core of the case—the absolute necessity of the regenerating operations of the Holy Spirit upon the soul. The very completeness and depth of the fall render the regenerating work of the Holy Spirit as necessary—and as indispensable—as the redeeming work of the Son of God. A transforming effect A view of Christ’s glory, and a foretaste of the bliss and blessedness it communicates, has a transforming effect upon the soul. We are naturally proud, covetous, worldly—grievously entangled in various lusts and passions—prone to evil—averse to good—easily elated by prosperity—soon dejected by adversity—peevish under trials—rebellious under heavy strokes—unthankful for daily mercies of food and clothing—and in other ways ever manifesting our vile nature. To be brought from under the power of these abounding evils, and be made fit for heaven, we need to be transformed by the renewing of our mind, and conformed to the image of Christ.