01.07. Conflicts

Conflicts

M____ knew that, in leaving the world, she was not at once passing into THE BEST. She had found rest in so far as the knowledge of God’s favour gives rest to the weary even here. She rested on the Restingplace. She had "peace with God." But still there was trouble. "Innumerable evils compassed her about," and she could say at times, "I am so troubled that I cannot speak." It was not the trouble arising from uncertainty as to the way she was pursuing, or as to the character of that Saviour on whose cross her eye was resting. But it was trouble arising from the "flesh," the "old nature" within, and from adversaries on every side. Thus, though there was peace with God, there was, in other respects, unceasing warfare. For the Church is not an army on parade, but on the battle-field. She knew this, and set her face to it. At times the battle was sore, seeming, not seldom, to go against her for a time, as if the enemy prevailed. Yet she did not yield, though she was ready to faint. She put on the whole armour of God, that she might war a good warfare. She faced each enemy as he came up, though with fear and; trembling. Whatever it might cost her, she would not retreat, nor throw away either sword or shield. There were fightings without, and fears within; but she kept the field, and ceased not till she overcame. Her conflicts with herself may be seen in such passages as these:—

"December 27, 1842…I always meet you at ten and five; but it is often a hard battle. Sometimes I do nothing but weep the whole time. How is it with you? Is Jesus still near, still precious? Ah! He is near, even when you don’t feel Him! I would give worlds to feel Him near. I pant for Him at all times. Does not your heart feel desolate when He hides His face?"

After this, she wrote thus to me:—"I have such conflict in prayer, that I often go with dread. Sometimes I do nothing but weep; and they are not sweet tears, such as it is sometimes a relief to shed; but they are bitter. I wonder what is the matter. I never in my life experienced so much agony as I have for the last week…My love is fallen very cold; but there is nothing that gives me any joy but Christ; and He will teach me to love. I would not go back: to the world and Satan again—no. Even suffering with God is more glorious than an eternity of the world’s joys. ’Whom have I in heaven but thee?’ Oh, is it not ecstasy to tell God that?—that you don’t want anything but Himself—that He is your portion?" To her friend she wrote:—"I have great conflicts in prayer just now. think Satan tempts me much. Every day he tempts me to think there is no God at all. But still, I am never so happy as at prayer. I feel so sorrowful,—such a void in my heart, that it is ecstasy to go and throw myself at the feet of Jesus and weep there. It is sweeter to weep at the feet of Jesus than to rejoice in all the pleasures of the world." And elsewhere to the same friend:—"I have not had a happy time except a short while on Tuesday, in the evening. I am sorely tempted by Satan in many ways, especially by infidel thoughts. I feel as if Jesus had left me, and Satan got entire hold of me. I cannot describe to you the painful longings I have at times to feel Jesus near me, and to know that He is love. I think I would be contented if I could get but one feeling that He is love, into my heart. It is great agony to feel as if He were frowning on me. I think it is a little hell within me. O to see Him face to face, and never more cause Him, by my sins, to hide His blessed countenance from me!" In a letter to myself she says:—"I cannot by any means get near God, and you know no one can live far from Jesus who has ever felt the blessedness of being near Him. I only know what it is to miss Him, not to feel Him near. I cannot realise His presence, and yet I do so long for it. When I am praying I feel as if I were repeating strange things; as if my own words seemed strange to me. I wonder if any one ever felt as I do, and what they did. Often, in speaking to people, I do not believe what I am saying. Is it not a wonder that God is not tired of me? In spite of all that Satan says, He must be a long-suffering God, for He still bears with me. Why cannot I believe that He is love, and lean on Him and be at rest? One reason I want to be at peace with God, and to be delivered from Satan’s delusions, is that I may feel for others, and be able to pray for them, and to speak to them, really believing that they are in danger. I cannot glorify God in this state, and what is the use of living if I do not live to Him?"

Again, in her diary, she writes:—" Wednesday, 6th.—Have passed a very miserable day; I cannot get near Christ, and I cannot pray, and I cannot speak for Him, or realise spiritual things at all. Have been meeting my beloved friend at the throne of grace (five o’clock), and am greatly relieved in my soul. At first I was almost in despair; I could not pray; I could hardly even get the luxury of tears. I have wept so much lately, my tears seem dried up; but at last I was enabled to rest my weary soul on the faithful word of a faithful God; and I have found that a sure foundation. I have not found joy yet; but I have found peace, the peace that Jesus alone can give; His own peace; precious peace; sweet peace; it indeed ’passeth all understanding.’ Had much delight and some earnestness in pleading for my dear E., that Jesus would bless her, and make her a blessing where she now is."

" Thursday, October 19, 1843.—Had a painful season this morning; had a sight of my sinfulness and misery in going away from Christ, and longed to be received back again."

" Saturday, 2lst.—I felt this morning more than ever that religion must be all or nothing. I had a time of agony to-day. My corruptions seemed to rise up as if they would overwhelm me. I wrestled for an hour, with strong crying and tears ; but I could not find relief. I longed for a broken heart; but every moment it got harder and harder. I had such angry, hard thoughts of God, and I could not feel humbled. This passage melted me a little, ’Will He plead against me with His great power? no, but He would put strength in me.’ This promise was fulfilled to me; for though I could not say I have found Him whom my soul loveth, yet He gave me strength to continue to plead with Him. I found a sweet peace, a resting of this weary soul of mine upon Jesus, my God, in pleading for my beloved family, and in committing all our concerns to Him; and I feel peaceful and happy in the thought that He would direct everything for the good of our precious souls."

" Tuesday, November 5.—Let me record the loving-kindness of the Lord. I had a sore battle this morning with unbelief and Satan’s fiery darts; but Jesus at last appeared for my help, and my soul returned to its quiet rest. Blessed be His name for ever. I can say, I sought the Lord, and He heard me, and delivered me from all my fears."

" Friday, 22 d.—Had a sore time this morning, battling with sin. I cannot get rid of it, and I cannot see Jesus bearing it. I am dark and sorrowful. I am bowed down greatly. I go mourning all the day."

" Tuesday, December 26.—It is very strange,—for some time, since I have been trying to give myself up more unreservedly to God and to His service, I have been so unhappy! I feel as if Christ were angry with me, and I cannot get rid of this feeling. Perhaps it is the enemy making a more vigorous effort to keep me back from Christ, when he sees me trying more earnestly to be entirely His. My consolation is, ’Greater is He that is in you than he that is in the world.’"

"April 1, 1844.—Felt great desires for spiritual blessings, but very unbelieving. Lord, increase my faith! I have been in deep, deep waters for long now; I cannot tell what I feel. God knows it all, and He alone can help me. O that I could trust Him! I feel such a hard heart. It will not melt. Have been looking at Mr. M’Cheyne’s life. It seems very lovely. O to be like him!—no, rather, to be like Christ!"

" November 13.—Am not nearly so happy as I was, for I have not such a clear sight of the finished work of Christ as I had. But I humbly trust God is carrying on the work in my soul; and He has promised to carry it on to the end. O that that time were come! I am weary of this body of sin; but I thank my gracious God that I am fighting, and that I do not fight in my own strength. I think He is teaching me that when I am weak, then I am strong. Glory will make up for all we suffer here."
Her affection for relatives and friends was of the intensest kind. She might say:— "To be beloved is all I need, And whom I love, I love indeed." From this loving sensitiveness many of her conflicts arose. "I have often prayed to God that He would make me love you less," were her words to a dear friend in Christ. Coldness or neglect pained her sorely. To this she was much exposed, from her peculiar position among friends, and her steadfast consistency of character. They who had loved her, sometimes looked coldly on her, because of her faithfulness, her decision, and her preference of the closet’s solitude to all earthly companionships. She felt this most keenly, and was only comforted by remembering for whose sake it was that she was thus disesteemed. A conflict of this kind the following passage brings out:—"I sometimes think I am getting silly, when so many trifles give me pain ; but, oh! it is no trifle that has made me wretched all this day. I think there is a struggle going on in my heart betwixt Christ and ____. I cannot tell you the agony I have at times when I think she does not love me. Oh! what shall I do? Must we love Jesus better than our own? Of course we must.

I know it; but still it is hard to bear."

Again she writes:—"My beloved ____, I have been much harassed of late. We have suffered a small martyrdom, I think. You who have such precious privileges, and so many to join with you, cannot conceive the inexpressible delight I feel at the idea of being free to read, pray, speak, and think about Jesus. And to hear Him preached, to speak for hours with you, my beloved one, oh! it is too much happiness! And then to pray with you for others!" Another sore conflict which she had to endure was respecting a peculiar kind of preaching, which had greatly perplexed and darkened her. She thus wrote to me, in January 1842:—"I have been wishing to write to you for some time, but was prevented by your saying in your last letter that I should go more to God with my difficulties. I must, however, write to you, for, even if you don’t answer me, it is a great relief to write, as I am in very great distress. I shall tell you the reason. I had a conversation with Mr. ____. I forget what he said at that time, but tonight I went to a meeting of his, where he spoke a great deal of people getting a false, delusive peace…What alarmed me most of all, was his saying that a man that does not see himself to be deserving of hell, has no right to think himself saved. He repeated that three or four times, insisting upon it. Now I felt that if that is the case, then I am lost, for I cannot see that. I know it, for God says it ; but I cannot feel it, I cannot see it. Have I, then, no right to think myself saved?...I have been, and still am, in great distress. My mind is in a complete chaos. I try to tell all my difficulties to God, but I get no comfort; for I am frightened now, that I am not humbled enough; for Mr. ____ seems to think it pride to say you have peace, without being completely humbled. He has driven me from my compassionate, blessed Saviour. Last night I was in such agony at the thought that I had not come to Christ! I long to go to Him. My whole heart burns for Him. What shall I do? Oh! what shall I do? Will you write to me, and tell me, not how I am to believe, but what I am to believe? The Bible says, ’Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.’ Now, what is believing on Jesus Christ? Oh! tell me, tell me! put me out of this misery, for I can hardly bear it. What can Mr ____ — mean when he says it is not enough to believe that Christ died for our sins? He appears to be deeply humbled on account of sin himself; but is it not the sight that he has had of Jesus that has humbled him? Must we be thus humbled before coming to Christ? I should be inclined to come to Jesus and tell Him that I am not humble at all, but that I bring my heart to Him that He may humble it; and casting myself thus upon His mercy, am I not saved?[20] Mr. ____ says the way of salvation is this;—to go to God, feeling that you are a lost sinner, and pleading His promise in Isaiah 43:25-26; and that God will justify you. Now, if I do not feel that I am lost, and that I deserve hell, what am I to do? Wait till I do? I think that would be making a Saviour of our humility. He seems to be afraid that people don’t feel sin enough, and that they are not humble enough. But I think he might leave that more to God. It is seeing that we have nothing to do but to accept salvation, that really humbles. I liked the other way of preaching the truth much better, because it always drove me from myself to Christ. I could then cling to the cross. Everything in me drove me to Christ. But now I am afraid. When he spoke of that man not having saving faith unless he saw himself deserving of hell, I was afraid to cling to the cross, for, oh! I have a proud heart!…Surely that preaching must be bad which drives from the Saviour. My whole heart melts when I think of Him; and, oh! am I not His?"

Shortly after, she thus wrote to me:—"I was very glad to get your last, for I greatly needed it. I wish I could tell you that I have again found peace; but I think it has been too severely shaken to be easily restored. Yet at times I am happy; but it is only for a moment. There is such a weight of sadness on me that I cannot shake off. I am trying to be patient, but, oh! I fear much more will be needed before I learn submission. Mr. ____ has done me one good thing at least; he has made me search my heart; and oh, the sin, the fearful sin that is there! I never saw myself so sinful, so utterly without any good thing, as I do now. Did you ever feel what it was to be sick at the sight of yourself? No. You are not like me. We are all sinners, I know; but there never was one like me. Oh, is it not blessed, most blessed, that God not only gives us forgiveness, but makes us holy? That is my longing desire—to be holy ; but I fear it shews much unbelief to be weighed down by a sense of sin, because we know that Christ’s blood cleanses from allsin. Should not our sins make us cleave the closer to the cross, where they are all washed away?"

There is such a thing as "making sad the hearts of those whom God has not made sad;" and such seems to have been the case, so touchingly narrated in the above letter. God overruled it for blessing, but that did not make the evil the less, nor alter the responsibility of those who were the instruments. To preach the law, man’s pollution, the heart’s deceitfulness, the difficulty of being Christians, and the liability to selfdeceit,—is this all that is meant by searching and faithful preaching? Alas! and is the cross of Christ not the grand touchstone for deceived souls? Law will not do, terror will not do, man’s tests will not do. It is the uplifted cross that sifts, and tests, and undeceives. It is the preaching of Christ that shews men whether they have received Christ. Man’s wisdom suggests the experiment of hiding the cross and exhibiting only the law, in order to arouse and alarm; but the result, in such a case, is only to harden and anneal ; or if any conscience be disquieted, it is not that of the sinner or the slumberer, but only of the sensitive and tenderspirited believer. Those who try to humble their hearers by some legal method of their own, are fostering the very sleep and selfdeception which they mourn over, and furnishing food for that self-righteousness which nothing can extirpate but the cross.[21] M____ on one occasion thus described the difference between the two kinds of preaching:—"When I hear ____, I am ashamed to believe; when I hear ____, I am ashamed not to believe." Again: "When I hear ____, I am afraid to come to Christ; when I hear ____, I am afraid to stay away from Him." And again: "____ makes me ashamed of my faith; ____ makes me ashamed of my unbelief." Again: "I think that every one who really believes, finds it difficult enough without his making it more so." And again: "Mr. ____ hardly preaches about Christ’s love at all; and I am sure that nothing else ever will draw a sinner; does he not say, I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men unto me?" Once more: "Mr. ____ spoke of Christ being so precious when we were humbled for sin; but I could not help feeling Him precious, though I am not half humbled enough."

She was also a good deal troubled in spirit by the doctrinal controversies as to the atonement and election, and the Spirit’s work. "I am troubled about doctrinal points," she writes, "I am so afraid of getting into error." Into error she was never allowed to be led one hair’s breadth. She held fast the Father’s electing love, the Son’s redeeming work for the Church, and the Spirit’s work in all its fulness. God, not man, had taught her these; and in her own experience she found how true they were! God kept her in all her perplexities on the right hand and on the left; and in her we see the exemplification of a statement which old Fraser of Brea makes in reference to the errors of his day, and those by whom they were adopted:—"I never," says he, "knew any extraordinary tender walker (with God) that stumbled into these."[22]

Throughout all her letters, the intimations of conflict may be traced— conflict alike with error and with sin. For she saw in both of these her enemies—enemies of kindred character; and both she dreaded, the former no less than the latter. The spirit of the age makes light of error, as if it were not sin. Even some who call themselves Christians, have lost their dread of error, and hurry on from opinion to opinion, exulting in their freedom from old fetters and trammels, reckoning themselves peculiarly honest and unprejudiced. Alas for truth in such a case! How can it be reached? Alas for the love of truth! How can it exist where there is no fear of error? The love of opinion grows rank, but the love of truth has fallen into the sere and yellow leaf. The love of opinion is but selfwill, pride, and lawlessness; its fruit mustbe error, for "with the lowly is wisdom." The love of truth is the offspring of a will co-ordinate with the will of God. The former knows nothing of the inward conflict; the latter knows it too well. To side with God for righteousness and for truth, necessarily, in such a world as this, involves warfare. Nor is it the warfare of a day, but of a lifetime. He who has found it otherwise, and has had no occasion for "the whole armour of God," would do well to conclude that Satan still counts him as one of his own.