Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Submission Does piety make her disciples only contented? Is this the extent of her triumphs? Does she not make them submissive and resigned under the deepest afflictions of life? Her power to counteract the evils of this fallen state, appears most conspicuous amid the darkest scenes which Providence gathers around her path. Then does she come to illustrate that promise, which, in view of every possible gradation of mortal suffering, declares, "As your days, so shall your strength be," Deuteronomy 33:25.

There are but few Christians who live, for any length of time, without some trials; so few, indeed, as only to form rare exceptions to that general inheritance of tribulation which our Lord decreed should be the portion of his followers: "In the world you shall have tribulation," John 16:33. These afflictions are various in kind and in degree. In particular cases, they are wholly of a spiritual kind, and have reference to the inward conflicts of the soul. Sometimes this species of suffering is the most intense and insupportable which can be conceived. But more generally they have reference to the peculiar outward state, temporal or social, in which God places his children, with a view to the cultivation of the passive virtues, such as gentleness, patience, and submission. Poverty and persecution, disappointed earthly expectations, alienated friendship, sickness and bereavement, are among the principal burdens which are laid upon the soul and body, to serve as the occasion of eliciting the lovely grace of submission. The Christian’s perfection, that is, the completeness of his character, cannot be attained without this suffering in some form; nor without its effect in the development of patience and submission. Where else, or under what other circumstances, could he know the "fellowship of Christ’s sufferings?" Nature, we know, shrinks from the ordeal. The fiery furnace is intimidating, and we dread to enter it, even though we have the assurance, that we shall come forth unharmed—yes, even like gold purified and brightened by the process. But an invisible hand will arrange all these circumstances of trial, and introduce us to them in such a way, as to give them their happiest effect upon the soul. God will adjust the burden to the back, and give the staff of his promise, and enable us to hold on our way, even over a dark and rugged path.

Let us contemplate the sufferer. There is a man, who has labored hard and long to acquire the means of temporal support; but one adverse blast after another has swept away his property, until he begins to look around on his loved ones with great concern. Another glance at life’s moving panorama, shows us the lonely widow with her orphans at her knee, looking up into her anxious and sorrow-shrouded face to ask why that tear is there! Here is one confined to a sick-bed, and week after week inquiring for some slight indication of a favorable change the physician’s eye speaks no encouragement. Another is bending over the shallow-breathing child, and kissing its burning brow. It is her earthly all. A husband stands petrified over the cold remains of her whom he loved in youth. O death, you have dipped your arrows in the deadliest venom! Yonder sits one leaning mournfully forward, and brooding over violated vows. Alas, credulous heart! those vows were but the impulse of passion, whose flame was kindled at no pure altar. The domestic circle—that promised paradise—is not always the heaven that was anticipated. The friends who, in sunshine, wore such peaceful smiles, can pass by with averted eye, now that life wears a dreary aspect. How diversified and deep are the afflictions which meet us in our passage through this valley of tears! But there is one thing, and one only, which can make the soul the better for them. It is true piety; and, where this is in exercise, they become the secret agents, under God, of fitting the sufferer for the skies. When the soul submits to the dispensation with true Christian resignation, it can be even "joyful in tribulation." By this we mean, that the consolations may so preponderate, as to give a decided superiority to the peaceful and happy feelings, over that anguish which nature must ever feel, when the stream of her earthly pleasures is interrupted. Hence we often find the godly man calm amid circumstances calculated to raise a tempest in the bosom. He has his eye, not simply on the affliction, but on the hand that has caused it; and he experiences, along with the wound, the healing balm which faith applies to it.

See, then, the advantage which piety gives in a world like ours, where almost every path we tread leads to some disappointment or deep affliction. When the shaft strikes the man of the world, what has he with which to heal the rankling wound? While exempt from personal suffering, and while his sources of happiness are left open to him, he can wear as cheerful a countenance as the Christian; but invade the paradise of his joys, cut down his loved ones, and let the elements consume his earthly substance; bid messenger after messenger, as in the case of Job, fly to inform him of successive disasters; and at length touch his own body, and "make its beauty to consume away like a moth;"—where is his joy now, or what staff has he now to lean upon? No mingling resignation is there to calm his troubled bosom, and no heart-felt submission to the Divine will, in view of God’s righteous dealings. The mind must pore upon the dark picture, unrelieved by even a ray from the opening heavens.

Now, the Christian is authorized, and even commanded, to "rejoice in the Lord always;" to "rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us." Romans 5:3-5. On what a slender foundation rests the worldling’s joy! It is like the plant which springs from the stony ground. It seems, for a season, to shoot forth with luxuriance; but it has no depth of soil. Its roots are insufficient to support it. While all is calm, it may cast forth its shoots, and even put on some appearances of beauty; but when the storm rises, and mingling elements are invading it, how does it fare then? "I have seen a wicked and ruthless man flourishing like a green tree in its native soil, but he soon passed away and was no more; though I looked for him, he could not be found." Psalms 37:35-36

How permanent is a Christian’s joy! Its roots are strongly imbedded like the cedar of Lebanon. No wind that blows can hurl it down. The very tempest which beats upon it only adds to its stability, and rivets it more firmly to its foundation. This joy grows not on earth, nor depends for its stability on anything which earth can bestow. It is planted in heaven, and is watered by that stream which makes glad the city of God. How then can it wither? Why need the Christian despond, even when all else is gone, if this is left? Why may he not smile amid the wreck of his earthly hopes, if he can look up, and claim God as his portion, and heaven as his eternal home!