10.10. Volume 10 cont'd
Entangled
"Come out from among them, and be separate, says the Lord, and touch not the unclean thing; and I will receive you." 2 Corinthians 6:17
If we are entangled in the love of the world—or fast bound and fettered with worldly anxieties—and the spirit of the world is rife in our bosom—all our profession will be vapid, if not worthless. We may use the language of prayer—but the heart is not in earnest. We may still manage to hold our head high in a profession of the truth—but its power and blessedness are neither known nor felt. To enjoy any measure of communion with the Lord—we must go forth from a world which is at enmity against Him. We must also go forth out of self—for to deny it, renounce it, and go forth out of it—lies at the very foundation of vital godliness.
Sweet spirituality of mind "For to be carnally minded is death; but to be spiritually minded is life and peace." Romans 8:6
Without this spirituality of mind, religion is but—a mere name—an empty mask—a delusion—a snare. Just in proportion as our heart and affections are engaged on heavenly objects—shall we feel a sweet savor of heaven resting upon our spirit. Preparedness for heaven much consists in that sweet spirituality of mind whereby heavenly things become our only happiness—and an inward delight is felt in them, that—enlarges the heart—ennobles the mind—softens the spirit—and lifts the whole soul, as it were, up into a holy atmosphere in which it bathes as its choice element! A secret yet sacred power
Wherever Jesus is graciously and experimentally manifested to the soul, and made known by any sweet revelation of His glorious Person, atoning blood, and finished work—a secret yet sacred power is put forth, whereby we are drawn unto Him—and every grace of the Spirit flows toward Him as towards its attractive center.
Friendly enemies Shall we quarrel with—these doubts and fears—these temptations and trials—these assaults from Satan—these workings-up of inward corruption—when they are, in God’s mercy and in God’s providence, such blessed helpers? If they drive us to a throne of grace—if by them we are brought out of lying refuges—if by them all false hopes are stripped off from us—if by them we are made honest and sincere before God—if by them we turn away from all human help, and come wholly and solely to the Lord—shall we quarrel with these things, which are, if I may use the expression—such friendly enemies—that are so changed from curses into blessings—that in God’s overruling providence are made so mysteriously to work for our good? Shall we not rather bless God—for every trial that brings us to His footstool—for every temptation that has stripped away creature righteousness—for every blow that has cut us off from the world—for every affliction that has embittered the things of time and sense—for everything, however painful to the flesh, which has brought us nearer to Himself—and made us feel more love towards Him, and more desire after Him? Surely, when we sum up God’s mercies, we must include in the number—things painful to the flesh—and which at one time we could only look upon as miseries. No, in summing up the rich total, we must catalogue in the list—every pang of guilt—every stroke of conviction—every agonizing doubt—every painful fear—every secret temptation—everything that has most disturbed us. And could we assign a more prominent place to one of God’s mercies—we would give the most distinguished place to the deepest trial. We would say, "Of all mercies, the greatest have been our troubles, trials, exercises, and temptations—for we now see that their blessed effect has been to cut us clean out of fleshly religion, and out of those delusions which, had we continued in them, would have been our destruction. These trials eventually brought us into more sweet and special communion with God Himself!" A fleshly religion "Who were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God." John 1:13 The flesh, however high it may rise, can never rise above itself. It begins in hypocrisy—it goes on in hypocrisy—and it never can end but in hypocrisy. Whatever various shapes it puts on—a fleshly religion never can rise above itself. There is—no brokenness of heart—no contrition of spirit—no godly sorrow—no genuine humility—no living faith—no spiritual hope—no heavenly love shed abroad in the heart by the Holy Spirit—in those that are "born after the will of the flesh." No abasing views of self—no tender feelings of reverence towards God—no filial fear of His great name—no melting of heart—no softening of spirit—no deadness to the world—no sweet communion with the Lord of life and glory—ever dwelt in their bosoms! The flesh, with all its workings, and all its subtle deceit and hypocrisy—never sank so low as self abhorrence and godly sorrow—and never mounted so high as into communion with God. The depth of the one is too deep—and the height of the other too high for any but those who are "born of God." This birth by "the will of the flesh," leaves a man just where it found him—dead in sin—destitute of the fear of God—and utterly ignorant of that divine teaching, which alone can save his soul from eternal wrath.
Madly enamored with his own righteousness
One reason why people don’t receive Christ is their self-righteousness. Until self-righteousness is in a measure broken down in a man’s heart, he never can see any beauty nor loveliness in a bleeding Jesus. Being madly enamored with his own righteousness, and not seeing it in the light of God’s countenance as "filthy rags," he has—no eyes to see—no ears to hear—no heart to receive that glorious robe of righteousness, which the Son of God wrought out, and which is imputed to all that believe on His name. This work of grace "And you has He quickened, who were dead in trespasses and sins." Ephesians 2:1
Until God by His Spirit quickens the soul into spiritual life, there must be a determined rejection of Christ. However a man may receive Him into his judgment, the inward bias of his heart and the secret speech of his soul is, "Not this Man, but Barabbas!" If, then, there are any who do believe in Him, receive Him, love Him, and have a blessed union with Him—it all springs from the quickening Spirit of God working with power in their souls. Wherever the quickening power of God’s Spirit has passed upon a man’s conscience, he is invariably brought to see and feel himself to be a sinner. This inward sight of self cuts him off, sooner or later, from—all self-righteousness—all false refuges—and all vain confidences with which he may seek to prop up his soul. The Lord will convince all His people of their lost state before Him—and cast them as ruined wretches into the dust—without hope, strength, wisdom, help, or righteousness—except that which is given to them, as a free gift, by sovereign grace. This work of grace in the conscience, pulling down all a man’s false refuges, stripping him of every lying hope, and thrusting him down into self-abasement and self-abhorrence—is indispensable to a true reception of Christ. Whatever a man may have learned in his head, or however far he may be informed in his judgment—he never will receive Christ spiritually into his heart and affections, until he has been broken down by the hand of God in his soul, to be a ruined wretch. When a man is effectually brought here, the Lord is pleased, for the most part, to open up to his astonished view, and to bring into his soul, some saving knowledge of the Lord of life and glory. He casts into the mind a light, and He brings into the heart a power, whereby the glorious Person of Christ, His atoning blood, dying love, finished work, and justifying righteousness—are looked upon by spiritual eyes—touched by spiritual hands—and received into a spiritual and believing heart. A secret, soft, gentle going forth of love & affection
There will be from time to time, in saved souls, a flowing forth of affection towards Jesus. From time to time He gives the soul a glimpse of His Person—He shows Himself, as the Scripture speaks, "through the lattice"—passing, perhaps, hastily by, but giving such a transient glimpse of the beauty of His Person, the excellency of His finished work, dying love, and atoning blood—as ravishes the heart, and secretly draws forth the affections of the soul—so that there is a following hard after Him, and a going out of the desires of the soul towards Him. Thus, sometimes the Lord is pleased secretly to work in the heart, and there is a melting down at the feet of Jesus—or a secret, soft, gentle going forth of love and affection towards Him, whereby the soul prefers Him before thousands of gold and silver—and desires nothing so much as the inward manifestations of His love, grace, and blood. And thus a soul receives Christ—not merely as driven by necessity—but also as drawn by affection. He does not receive Christ merely as a way of escape from the wrath to come—merely as something to save a soul from the unquenchable fire and never-dying worm—but mingled with necessity, sweetly and powerfully combined with it, and intimately and intricately working with it—there is the flowing forth of genuine affection and sincere love, that goes out to Him as the only object really worthy of—our heart’s affection—our spirit’s worship—and our soul’s desire. This is a very different thing from receiving Christ merely into our judgment, or into our understanding in a doctrinal manner. Saving faith is to receive Him in the depths of a broken heart—as the only Savior for our guilty soul—as our only hope for eternity—as the only Lord of our heart’s worship—and the only object of our pure affection—so that in secret, when no eye sees but the eye of God, and only the ear of Jehovah hears the pantings of our pleading heart—there is the breathing out of the spirit after the enjoyment of His love, grace, and blood.
What a pretty looking thing! The man in the fable found a dead viper—at least dead to all appearance through the cold. What a pretty looking thing! He puts it into his bosom and warms it—then it revives and bites him! So it is with a man who plays with his lusts—indulging them—his carnal heart goes out after them—until at last, like the torpid viper, it turns to a living adder and stings him! The spider & the fly
See the spider watching a fly. The poor little fly has just been caught in the edge of the web—the spider lies in its hole. As soon as he sees the web shake, down he runs, and draws the threads around his victim, kills him, sucks his carcass, and leaves it. Thus the devil may be compared to the spider working in his web—waiting, lurking, in reality to suck the very bones and blood of a child of God and cast him into hell—and so he would, were it not for preserving grace.
Growth in grace No one who reads the Word of God with an enlightened eye can deny that there is contained in it such a doctrine as growth in grace. The very idea indeed of ’life’ implies advance, growth, progress, increase. Lambs grow up into sheep—vine buds into vine branches—sons into fathers. Their grand distinguishing mark of living things, is that they grow. And, therefore, absence of growth implies absence of life. Hypocrites, indeed, may grow in hypocrisy—Pharisees may grow in self-righteousness—Arminians may grow in fleshly performances—dead Calvinists may grow in head knowledge—proud professors may grow in presumption—self deceivers may grow in delusion—and the untried may grow in vain confidence. But the dead never grow in the divine life, for "the root of the matter" is not in them. A damnable thing
Sin is a damnable thing—and every one of God’s people is made, has been made, or will be made, to feel it so. And the more that they see of sin, know of sin, feel of sin—the more damnable will sin appear in their eyes—and with greater weight and power will its dreadful guilt and filth lie upon their conscience. Now there are but few, comparatively speaking, who have any clear sight or any deep feeling of what sin really is—and the reason, for the most part, is because they have such a slight, shallow, superficial knowledge of who and what God is. But let them once see the purity of God by the eye of faith—let them once have a manifestation of His justice and holiness, majesty and greatness to their soul—and let them have a corresponding sight and sense of the deep and desperate state in which they are as fallen children of a fallen parent—then will they no longer have slight, superficial feelings of the nature and evil of sin—but will so see and feel its hideous and damnable character as to make them cry out with Isaiah in the temple, "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." Isaiah 6:5
O what work does sin then make in the conscience, when it is opened up by the Spirit of God! Whatever superficial or shallow views we may have had of sin before, it is only as its desperate and malignant character is opened up by the Holy Spirit, that it is really seen, felt, grieved under, and mourned over as indeed a most dreadful and fearful reality. It is this sword of the Spirit which cuts and wounds—it is this entrance of life and light that gashes the conscience—it is this divine work which lacerates the heart and inflicts those deep wounds, which nothing but the "balm in Gilead" can heal. But the voice soon comes
There are many times when it seems as if this present world could satisfy us—when we build up our earthly paradises, and seek as it were ease and rest here below. But the voice soon comes, "Arise, and depart; for this is not your rest: because it is polluted." Micah 2:10 Keep me from evil
"And Jabez called on the God of Israel, saying, Oh that. . . .You would keep me from evil, that it may not grieve me! And God granted him that which he requested." 1 Chronicles 4:10
Jabez was a poor burdened sinner who could not keep himself. If he could keep himself, this petition would be an idle mockery. He need not to have fallen outwardly to teach him this. There are inward falls—slips of the tongue—glances of the eye—filthy desires—roving imaginations—covetous projects—proud desires—idolatrous lustings—secret backslidings into carnality and worldliness. A blessing indeed "And Jabez called on the God of Israel, saying, Oh that You would bless me indeed." 1 Chronicles 4:10 To be—weaned from idols—delivered from broken cisterns—separated in spirit and affection from the world—and have our heart fixed on things above—is a blessing indeed. To feel an appetite after God’s Word—to receive the truth in the love of it—to have sweet and holy communion with Jehovah—and to live under the solemn anointings of the blessed Spirit—is a blessing indeed. That such a wretch and filthy monster of iniquity should have a smile from the great and holy Jehovah, seems a blessing too great—but would be a blessing indeed!
What makes them cry?
"Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble, and He delivered them out of their distresses." Psalms 107:6 Not before, not after, but in it. When they were in the midst of it—when trouble was wrapped round their head, as the weeds were wrapped round the head of Jonah—when they were surrounded by it, and could see no way out of it—when, like a person in a mist, they saw no way of escape before or behind—when nothing but a dark cloud of trouble surrounded their souls, and they did not know that ever that cloud would be dispersed—then it was that they cried. But what makes them cry? It is this solemn feeling in their hearts—that they have no other refuge but God. The Lord brings all His people here—to have no other refuge but Himself. Friends, counselors, acquaintances—these may sympathize, but they cannot afford relief. There is—no refuge—nor shelter—nor harbor—nor home into which they can fly—except the Lord. Thus troubles bring us to deal with God in a personal manner. They chase away that half-hearted religion of which we have so much—and they drive out that ’notional experience’ and ’dry profession’ that we are so often satisfied with. They chase them away as a strong north wind chases away the mists—and they bring a man to this solemn spot—that he must have communications from God to support him under, and bring him out of his trouble.
If a man is not brought to this point by his troubles—they have done him no good. They have been like the clouds that have passed over the desert, and transmitted to it neither fertility nor fruitfulness—they have been like the rain that drops upon the pavement, and is evaporated by the sun, producing neither fruit nor flower. But the troubles that God sends into the hearts of His people are like the rain that falls upon the fertile soil—causing them to bring forth fruit, and every grace of the Spirit to deepen and fructify in their soul. The believer’s path The believer’s path is indeed a mysterious one—full of harmonious contradictions and heavenly paradoxes. He is never easy when at ease—nor without a burden when he has none. He is never satisfied without doing something—and yet is never satisfied with anything that he does. He is never so strong as when he sits still—never so fruitful as when he does nothing—and never so active as when he makes the least haste. He wins—pardon through guilt—hope through despair—deliverance through temptation—comfort through affliction—and a robe of righteousness through filthy rags. Though a worm and no man—he overcomes Omnipotence itself through violence. And though less than vanity and nothing—he takes heaven itself by force. Thus amid the strange contradictions which meet in a believing heart, he is—never so prayerful as when he says nothing—never so wise as when he is the greatest fool—never so much alone as when most in company—and never so much under the power of an inward religion as when most separated from an outward one. The burden may still remain "Cast your burden upon the Lord, and He will sustain you." Psalms 55:22 The burden may still remain—but strength is given to bear it. The trials may not be lessened—but power to endure them is increased. The evils of the heart are not removed—but grace is communicated to subdue them. "My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness."