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  WRITINGS OF NEWMAN HALL
  by Newman Hall
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A collection of theological writings, sermons, and essays by Newman Hall,
compiled for study and devotional reading.

  Chapters: 52

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS
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    1. 01.00. GETHSEMANE—Leaves of Healing from the Garden of Grief
    2. 01.01.     The Place Called Gethsemane
    3. 01.02.     Companions in Gethsemane
    4. 01.03.     The Chosen Few for the Darkest Shades
    5. 01.04.     The Agony in Gethsemane
    6. 01.05.     The Agony Arising from Human Sensitiveness
    7. 01.06.     The Agony Arising from Divine Purity and Love
    8. 01.07.     Christ's Gethsemane Appeal to the Father
    9. 01.08.     The Divine Fatherhood
   10. 01.09.     Importunity in Gethsemane
   11. 01.10.     Resignation in Gethsemane
   12. 01.11.     Slumber in Gethsemane
   13. 01.12.     Watch and Pray in Gethsemane
   14. 01.13.     The Strengthening Angel
   15. 01.14.     The Answer to the Prayer of Gethsemane
   16. 01.15.     Deliverance in Trial by Strength to do the Will of God
   17. 01.16.     The Traitor's Kiss
   18. 01.17.     The Father's Cup in Gethsemane Accepted
   19. 01.18.     Perfect Through Suffferring
   20. 01.19.     The Brotherhood of thhe Divine Sufferer
   21. 01.20.     The Brotherhood of the Sorrowful with Christ
   22. 01.21.     The Weeping One of Gethsemane to Weeping Womanhood
   23. 01.22.     The Petitioner of Gethsemane Our Helper in Prayer
   24. 01.23.     Peace by Prayer
   25. 01.24.     Believing Prayer Sure of Gracious Response
   26. 01.25.     The Mourner's Self-Exxamination
   27. 01.26.     Anxiety
   28. 01.27.     Job in the Garden of Grief
   29. 01.28.     David in the Garden of Grief
   30. 01.30.     With Christ All's Well
   31. 01.31.     Paul in the Garden of Grief
   32. 01.32.     Fatherly Chastening
   33. 01.33.     Fruits from the Garden of Affliction
   34. 01.34.     Afterwards
   35. 01.35.     Patient Waiting
   36. 01.36.     Comfort in the Will of God
   37. 01.37.     The Comfort of Praise
   38. 01.38.     The Sufferer Consoling the Sad
   39. 01.39.     Not Dead but Gone Home
   40. 01.40.     The Glorified Sufferer
   41. 02.00. Practical Meditations on the Lord's Prayer
   42. 02.000.     INTRODUCTION
   43. 02.01.     The INVOCATION—
   44. 02.02.     The First Petition—
   45. 02.03.     The Second Petition—
   46. 02.04.     The Third Petition--
   47. 02.05.     The Fourth petition--
   48. 02.06.     THE FIFTH PETITION--
   49. 02.07.     THE SIXTH PETITION--
   50. 02.08.     THE SEVENTH PETITION--
   51. 02.09.     THE DOXOLOGY
   52. S. The Voice of Jesus in the Storm

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  CHAPTER 1: 01.00. GETHSEMANE—LEAVES OF HEALING FROM THE GARDEN OF GRIEF
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GETHSEMANE—Leaves of Healing from the Garden of Grief by Newman Hall, 1891 This
Book is the fulfillment of a long-cherished purpose. It expresses the thoughts
and prayers of many years, and is published with devout desire to minister
consolation to some of the afflicted children of God.

CONTENTS 1. The Place Called Gethsemane 2. Companions in Gethsemane 3. The
Chosen Few for the Darkest Shades 4. The Agony in Gethsemane 5. The Agony
Arising from Human Sensitiveness 6. The Agony Arising from Divine Purity and
Love 7. Christ’s Gethsemane Appeal to the Father 8. The Divine Fatherhood—an
Argument both for Importunity and Resignation 9. Importunity in Gethsemane 10.
Resignation in Gethsemane 11. Slumber in Gethsemane 12. Watch and Pray in
Gethsemane 13. The Strengthening Angel 14. The Answer to the Prayer of
Gethsemane 15. Deliverance in Trial by Strength to do the Will of God 16. The
Traitor’s Kiss 17. The Father’s Cup in Gethsemane Accepted 18. Perfect through
Suffering 19. The Brotherhood of the Divine Sufferer 20. The Brotherhood of the
Sorrowful with Christ 21. The Weeping One of Gethsemane to Weeping Womanhood 22.
The Petitioner of Gethsemane Our Helper in Prayer 23. Peace by Prayer 24.
Believing Prayer Sure of Gracious Response 25. The Mourner’s Self-Examination

26. Anxiety 27. Job in the Garden of Grief 28. David in the Garden of Grief 30.
With Christ All’s Well 31. Paul in the Garden of Grief 32. Fatherly Chastening
33. Fruits from the Garden of Affliction

34. Afterwards 35. Patient Waiting 36. Comfort in the Will of God 37. The
Comfort of Praise 38. The Sufferer Consoling the Sad 39. Not Dead but Gone Home
40. The Glorified Sufferer


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  CHAPTER 2: 01.01.     THE PLACE CALLED GETHSEMANE
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1. THE PLACE CALLED GETHSEMANE

Gethsemane! How sacred the memories this word recalls; how deep the emotions it
stirs; how tender the consolations it breathes; how human the sympathies it
reveals; how solemn the mysteries it suggests!

Gethsemane as a place is almost forgotten in Gethsemane as a revelation. It is
lost sight of in the event, it is eclipsed by the doctrine. In mere place there
can be no actual sanctity. Yet if there be one spot more than another which,
from its associations, may be regarded as holy ground, that spot, next to the
Calvary of Sacrifice and to the Olivet of Ascension, is the Gethsemane of Grief.

Many traditional sites are untrustworthy; but there can be no doubt that the
Kedron valley, near the road from Jerusalem to Bethany, was the scene of the
Savior’s agony and bloody sweat. Just beyond the water-course, at the foot of
Olivet, is a small plot of ground enclosed by a rough ancient wall, under the
care of the monks of a small adjoining convent. This spot, during many
centuries, has had undisputed possession of the name. Within it are some very
large olive trees, partly decayed from extreme age. Around it are similar trees
of gigantic growth and venerable antiquity. Though not themselves standing at
the time of our Lord, they may be the outgrowth of the very trees under which He
wept and prayed. The name indicates that olive trees abounded there, Gethsemane
meaning "Oil-press," and typically suggesting the pouring forth of the sacred
oil of faith and patience, under the pressure of grief. Among these hoary
eloquent witnesses of sacred history, the path still leads to Bethany. The
garden is within a few hundred paces of the city-gate. Emerging from the narrow
streets and closely-clustered dwellings, after a few minutes of rapid descent we
are in a wooded solitude, and in the silence of night feel as much withdrawn
from the world as if in a wilderness. The only sign of being near a city is the
wall of massive stones stretching far away southward on the crest of the rocky
ridge, until it ends in the sharp angle that marks the limit of the Temple area.
Opposite us is Olivet, rising not much higher than Mount Zion over against it.
The silent stars twinkle through the foliage, and the moon casts broad shadows
from the great trunks as in the olden time.

During nearly two millenniums devout pilgrims have visited the spot; and in many
cases, though with a great admixture of ignorant superstition, yet also with
true and loving reverence, mourning for the sins that made the Savior mourn, and
offering Him the tribute of penitential tears and grateful praise. At the
present day, from all parts of Christendom, disciples resort there to kneel
where Jesus knelt, to pray where Jesus prayed. Sometimes in the congenial
fellowship of "two or three" they have experienced that Real Presence which
their Lord promised to all who in any place "meet together in His name;" and as
each in turn may lead the devotion of the rest, the voice trembles and sentences
become broken syllables, until emotion chokes utterance; and when in subdued
tones they join in some familiar hymn, one voice fails and then another, until
the anthem is lost in sobs more expressive than song. Or it may be that, apart
from all companionship, the pilgrim finds some sequestered nook, where,
unobserved, he kneels where he thinks Jesus may have knelt, and as his tears
fall on or near the very ground moistened by the Savior’s agony, he adores the
love that did not refuse the cup that was so bitter, and offers for himself with
aided resignation the great Exemplar’s prayer—Father, may Your will be done. The
writer can never forget such visits; especially a recent one, in company with
"two or three" fellow-servants of the Master. It was near Easter-time. The moon
was shining brightly, as when Jesus went there on that eventful eve of the
Passover. Passing out of the Jaffa gate we walked around the northern wall,
close to the rocky mound now considered to be the very Calvary of the
crucifixion, with the old garden at its foot, in which is an ancient sepulcher
recently discovered. Then descending the ravine of the Kedron, in utter silence
and solitude we knelt and prayed beneath a huge olive-tree; and after meditating
there on the great Sacrifice, ascended the Mount of Triumph and Ascension,
where, beholding, bright in the moon’s reflected radiance, Jerusalem on the one
side and the Dead Sea on the other, the eye of faith was raised to the Eternal
Light, His more dazzling glory veiled as the Man of Sorrows, irradiating with
love His Church, the New Jerusalem, and making even the Sea of Death a pathway
of splendor. Not all may enjoy the privilege of visiting these scenes; but all
may experience everywhere, the spiritual presence of Jesus in their hearts. Yet
there may be spots specially endeared by such communion. Jesus loved Gethsemane.
John says of the garden, that "Jesus often resorted there with His disciples."
Luke says, that "He went as He was accustomed to the Mount of Olives." The road
went past the garden; and Luke records, that when Jesus arrived at a certain
spot He tarried with His disciples. It was not necessary to name what was so
familiar, the place of confidential communion and prayer—"When He had come to
the place."

Here our Lord often retired from the crowds and controversies of the city. In
the loneliness and silence He was better able to confer with His chosen
disciples, to answer their inquiries, to calm their anxieties, to prepare them
for approaching trial, and especially to hold communion with His heavenly
Father. Here He often sought needful help for the bitter anguish He foresaw in
that very garden. The traitor was in no difficulty as to where the Victim might
be found. If no longer in the upper chamber or at Bethany, then assuredly in
Gethsemane. Judas had often been there with the rest, a witness to the piety,
wisdom, sympathy, and tenderness of Him he now was selling to His foes for
thirty pieces of silver! How terribly suggestive of privileges abused, of
wickedness intensified, the simple fact—"Judas knew the place!" In all ages, to
the hearts of many of His disciples, there have been places specially endeared
whence prayers more frequent and earnest than elsewhere have ascended, and tears
more copiously welling up from hidden depths have fallen—some place which has
witnessed spiritual struggles more severe—some Bethel where the stone of trial
has proved a pillow of comfort, and the dark night has revealed the heavenly
ladder with its ministering spirits—some Peniel where God has met His struggling
child—some Gethsemane where, with sweetest consolation, has been tasted the
bitterest cup, and where that cup has taught the most precious lessons of filial
submission; where angels have come to strengthen, and the fear of death has been
vanquished, and the once suffering but now exalted Savior has made us also "more
than conquerors," and imparted "the peace that passes all understanding."

It may be the accustomed place in the house of God, or the corner of the chamber
where prayer is accustomed to be made; it may be some sequestered grove in the
forest, or cleft in the mountain, or garden-nook; it may be "under the
fig-tree," like that of Nathanael, or in the shadow of some oak or maple tree,
ancient as those olive trees of Gethsemane—the special locality matters not; but
beautiful or famous as other spots may be, there is none so sacredly dear as the
place hallowed by frequent communion with heaven. No need to mark on the map
what is deeply engraved on the heart. No need of plan to guide the steps, no
need of any name; we "know the place." Though everywhere "He who is a Spirit"
will meet with all who seek Him "in spirit and in truth," yet if we feel
devotion increased by the sacred associations of some particular spot, we need
not fear to be reproved by Him who often resorted to Gethsemane to meditate and
pray.

PLACES OF PRAYER ABRAHAM—built an altar—Genesis 12:8. And he went to Bethel,
into the place of the altar, and there called on the Name of the Lord.—Genesis
13:4.

JACOB—This is none other but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.
And he called the name of that place Bethel.—Genesis 28:17.

DAVID—Lord, I have loved the habitation of Your house, and the place where Your
honor dwells.—Psalms 26:8.

DANIEL—His windows being open in his chamber towards Jerusalem, Daniel kneeled
upon his knees three times a day, and prayed, and gave thanks before his God, as
he did aforetime.—Daniel 6:10.

PAUL—We went out of the city by a river-side, where prayer was accustomed to be
made.—Acts 16:13.

Jesus—When Jesus was at the place named Gethsemane, He says to His disciples,
Sit here, while I shall pray yonder. . . . Jesus ofttimes resorted there with
His disciples. —Matthew 26:36; John 18:2.


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  CHAPTER 3: 01.02.     COMPANIONS IN GETHSEMANE
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2. COMPANIONS IN GETHSEMANE Our Lord, having loved His own, "loved them unto the
end." It was a love to last until He died, after death, when He ascended, and
forever. He cleaved to them with human affection as well as divine. He wished to
be loved by them, to be held in affectionate remembrance. For this He instituted
the Holy Supper. The valedictory discourse was uttered to console and instruct
His chosen friends. He said little of His own approaching sorrows in His desire
to soothe theirs. Then, as the High Priest of His Church, He offered to His
Father the Intercessory Prayer, which the disciple, specially loving and
beloved, stored up for us in his divinely-aided memory. Then they sang a hymn
together, most probably chanting the Psalms of the Passover Service, containing
predictions of His own Paschal Sacrifice. Then, all things being accomplished
for the welfare of His disciples—calmly, deliberately, well knowing what awaited
Him there—He led the way to Gethsemane.

We are reminded of another traveler along that road—His type and human ancestor.
The same nation revolted against both their kings; one was betrayed by his son,
the other by His disciple. With a few chosen followers both went forth from the
same city. With feet bared and head covered in token of grief David crossed the
Kedron, passed Gethsemane, and ascended Olivet, "weeping as he went." And now
the Son of David, the victim of a more monstrous conspiracy—leaving the city,
which, after witnessing His works of healing and listening to His words of love,
was about to clamor for His blood—went forth with tears, prepared to agonize and
die for its salvation.

David’s chosen body-guard were faithful in his extremity. "As the Lord lives,
surely in what place my Lord the king shall be, whether in death or life, even
there also will your servant be." Ittai kept his word. But the chosen captains
and friends of Jesus were about to forsake Him. His foreknowledge of this was
one element in His sorrow. Jesus said to them as slowly they descended towards
the Garden—"All you will be fall away because of me this night; for it is
written, I will smite the Shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered." His human
heart craved human sympathy; but He was to be "wounded in the house of His
friends." Not only would Judas betray Him, but "His own familiar friends in whom
He trusted," would forsake Him when He most needed them. Peter protested that
even though all the others failed he would follow Jesus to prison and to death.
The sorrow of the Savior’s heart was expressed in the reply—"Even in this night
you will deny me thrice. This very night, in which at the Supper we solemnly
pledged our mutual love, in which you listened to my counsel and consolation,
and avowed unchanging fidelity—this very night when I shall lean on you for the
special help which you alone can render by human sympathy with human
sorrow—Verily I say unto you, that even in this night you all will forsake Me."

How true to human nature is such grief! Great woe does not blunt the feelings to
minor sorrows. Our Lord’s chief burden was unspeakably greater than the
temporary failure of His friends. The world’s sin lay on Him, and the world’s
redemption was before Him. Yet He felt keenly this additional pain. Great sorrow
makes us specially sensitive, enlarging the capacity and stimulating the faculty
of suffering. Stripped and bare we feel keenly what we, if thickly clothed with
comfort, would not have noticed. The open wound smarts with each breath of cold.
When property, health, reputation, life are threatened, we can least endure a
slight from those we love. When foes are most cruel we need friends to be most
kind. When the world frowns, we most need the home to smile. Even under the
burden of guilt and fear the cup is not so full but that an unkind look will add
gall and render it more difficult to drink. If, then, we should ever have cause
to say, "Reproach has broken my heart; I am full of heaviness; I looked for some
to take pity, but there was none, and for comforters, but I found none," let us
remember that He of whom this was predicted was "in all points tried like as we
are."

Thus answering, Jesus sadly forewarning, the disciples vainly protesting, they
reached "the place." Then He kindly counseled them once more. "Pray that you
enter not into temptation." They were sincere in their expression of resolve,
but ignorant of their own weakness and the force of their great enemy. Jesus
knew their danger, foresaw their fall, and directed them to their only Refuge.
Times of sorrow may be as perilous as times of gladness. If the mountain top has
its precipices, the low valley has its bogs and pitfalls. Jesus warned His
disciples because He loved them. He was willing to drink His own cup of sorrow,
but He was not willing that they should fail in sharing it and so sharing the
resulting joy. Jesus warned them also for His own sake. He felt He would need
them very near in His conflicts. Even they could be a solace and a strength,
although, compared with Himself, infinitely inferior. They were as yet
ill-informed; very weak in many ways; would soon forsake Him, and one of them
deny Him. They had leaned on Him, yet He now leaned on them. In great sorrow we
also may find help from people very inferior in station, education, and
Christian attainment. It is not the wisdom, the culture, the strength that are
needed—so much as the sympathy. The nervous system of sufferers may be so
shattered that solitude becomes intolerable, and they may be refreshed by the
presence of those who can render no effectual help against the outward trouble.
Thus, in the darkness of the night, or the roaring of the storm, the company of
a child has often calmed the terror. A woman, broken-hearted by the death of her
husband, spoke of being chiefly comforted by the visits of a little girl who,
when asked what she did, replied, "I only put my cheek against hers, and cry
when she cries." So in this darkest hour even the "strong Son of God" craved the
company of friends so weak.

Then Jesus said to the disciples—"Sit here, while I go and pray yonder." There
was an agony of which there could be no close spectator. But He still clung to
human sympathy, and was unwilling to be absolutely alone. When the dark cloud
was beginning to overshadow Him, He longed for the nearer presence and sympathy
of His friends. And this is one precious leaf of healing in the Garden of Grief.
At all times, true friendship is one of the chief charms of life. But in sorrow
we specially appreciate its priceless worth. Stars shine brightest when the
night is deepest. The helping hand and the voice of cheer are most welcome when
the way is roughest and the burden heaviest. Human friendship has its outer and
inner circles. Only some of those with whom we walk on the highway, or sit down
at the marriage-feast, would we select to weep with us in the Garden of Grief.
In our sorrows let this be a solace, that God has given us the friendship of any
on whose wisdom we may rely in times of perplexity, whose sympathy soothes in
seasons of sadness, to whom we carry and confide our secret sorrows, for whose
presence and prayers we can hope in the dark valley or on the river-bank. "A
friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity."

All solace for a sorrowing heart I prize as sent by You; But most of all I thank
You, Lord, For human sympathy. For loving hearts that pure and true Beat in
response with mine; For Friendship’s sacred ivy-leaves That closely intertwine.
For friends who in the wildest storm Hasten to my relief;

Most near when most their help I need, In darkest shades of grief.

—Newman Hall


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  CHAPTER 4: 01.03.     THE CHOSEN FEW FOR THE DARKEST SHADES
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3. THE CHOSEN FEW FOR THE DARKEST SHADES Our Lord selected to be specially near
Him in Gethsemane—Peter, James, and John. He loved all, but especially those who
believed in Him. He loved all His chosen disciples, but did not think it
necessary to show impartiality by the absence of all preference. Some people’s
benevolence seems to embrace all mankind in general and no one in particular.
Jesus was more human. He had a dear home at Bethany, and He "loved Martha and
Mary and Lazarus." When the latter was dying, the urgent sisters could employ no
designation so precise and prevailing as "He whom You love is sick." He who was
"made like unto His brethren" found solace, not only in general benevolence, but
in particular friendships.

He may do what He will with His own, giving no reasons. But sovereignty would be
dishonored if exercised merely to display power, apart from wise and beneficent
purpose. Such purpose always exists in the mind of God, though often concealed.
Let us inquire what may have prompted the selection of these three.

PETER had just been warned of his danger. Special help for special peril was
provided by special love. If the foresight of failure did not destroy Peter’s
freedom, this election to privilege aided the repentance which was also
foreseen. Jesus already beheld Peter shrinking under the questions of the
maid-servant, and heard the denial with an oath; but He also had purposed the
look of loving reproof which would break the heart, and the message that would
heal it, "Go tell my disciples and Peter."

Jesus knew that with all his faults, Peter was not treacherous; and though by
lack of watchfulness he would yield to a sudden temptation, all the time it had
been true—"You know all things—You know that I love You." Others of the
disciples did not thus deny Him, but they did not follow, as Peter did, to the
judgment hall. They did not fall so low, but they never soared so high in
habitual zeal and fervent affection. To Peter, emphatically among the disciples,
were entrusted "the keys of the Kingdom of Heaven," for it was he who was to be
the first after the descent of the Spirit to preach salvation both to Jews and
Gentiles. The memories of Gethsemane would help to produce the repentance which
so soon followed, and qualify Peter to be a chief teacher and apostle of the
Church, fulfilling the word—"When you are converted strengthen your brethren."
How tender was the forgiving love of Christ in this selection, and how full of
the consolation provided beforehand for His sorrowing and suffering disciple!

JAMES, the partner of Peter in fishing and his intimate friend, one of the "sons
of thunder" who had avowed their readiness to "drink of the cup" that Jesus
drank, was the first to endure this mortal test. "Herod killed James the brother
of John with the sword." An ancient tradition states that the officer who
conducted him to the tribunal was so impressed by his bold avowal of the faith,
that he himself confessed Christ, and was beheaded at the same time. The
considerate love of the Master was shown in preparing the disciple for this
speedy drinking of the same cup, by selecting him to be a near witness of His
own conflict. The third was JOHN the brother of James, "the disciple whom Jesus
loved," who "leaned on His bosom at supper," to whose care the dying Savior
committed His mother, who would be most qualified by special love to remember
and record what he was privileged to witness, and who was to live the longest to
bear testimony of the sufferings and triumph of the Lord.

These three had previously been selected for special privileges. They alone
entered the chamber where the daughter of Jairus was raised to life. They alone
had witnessed the Transfiguration, and had heard Moses and Elijah conversing
with Jesus concerning that "decease at Jerusalem" which was so near. They had
beheld their Lord when His face was radiant with glory, and had heard the voice
of the Father—"This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased."

Thus they had been fortified for this contrasted scene of woe. They who are
favored with special privileges may expect special trials. Moments of ecstacy
are often followed by seasons of depression. If we climb the mountain we must
expect to descend the valley. The vision of God is to help us in the conflict
with Satan. The nearer we are to Christ the more we may expect to be partakers
both of His joys and His sufferings.

There are many disciples who remain on the plain when others go up where
celestial glories flash and angelic voices enchant; and there are many who
remain outside the garden, while those who had been on the mountain enter the
inner gloom and share the Master’s agony. Would we lose the ecstasy rather than
share the grief, give up the honor of higher service rather than endure the
severer discipline it involves? We should not, like the sons of Zebedee, desire
seats of special honor in His kingdom; but may we not desire to be among the
inner circle of His friends, though we may thus have to share His grief as well
as His glory? With these three our Lord withdrew farther into the Garden of
Grief. "He began to be sorrowful and very heavy." He was less restrained in the
company of these chosen few. It was the darkening eve before the blackness of
night; the lowering of the cloud before the scathing flash and deafening roar.
"He feared as He entered into the cloud."

All His allotted trial had been accepted—foreseen, forefelt, embraced in loving
purpose; yet when it was approaching, His humanity shuddered. Herein He showed
that He "was in all points tried as we are." It is one thing from a distance to
consent to some bitter trial, but quite another thing to remain calm, when the
iron is about to enter the soul depressed by the horror of a great darkness. The
patient who has long resolved to undergo a painful operation may quail at seeing
the scapel. Hearts that had long been familiar with the prospect of separation,
have broken with anguish when the inevitable hour approached. "He began to be
sorrowful and very heavy." The three had noticed—the dejected countenance—the
pallid cheek, the downcast eye—the trembling gait—the agitated gesture—the
altered voice. And now He gave His grief verbal expression. "My soul is
exceeding sorrowful, even unto death." His human spirit was oppressed with an
anguish which, more bitter than death itself, might overpower the vital forces.

Such a word is often used under the shock of grief. People say they can endure
no longer; they are ready to die. We know how to interpret such expressions. But
how much more emphatic such a word from the lips of One so uniformly calm; and
who, while ever sympathizing with the grief of others, was so reticent
respecting His own!

We have here a revelation of the inner experience of the Savior’s heart. The
strongest in public, have often been agitated and oppressed in private. The
calmness witnessed by the crowd is often preceded by a sorrow "even unto death"
known fully to God alone, and only partially to a few bosom friends. Deeds which
the people witness and history records, have often been the outgrowth of hidden
agony. The calmness has been the result of the conflict—the triumph the fruit of
the struggle—the exulting joy the harvest of the briny tears.

Jesus had said to the rest of the disciples, "Tarry here while I shall pray." It
was from His Father alone He could obtain efficient help. Yet He took with Him
these three. And when He went further, to be quite alone with God, He went only
"a stone’s cast"—the distance of a stone when tossed carelessly away; so that
they were near enough to witness the struggle and hear the prayer. Evidently
Jesus needed them. He wished to feel He was not quite alone; that, while praying
to His Father, they were near to aid by their human sympathy whenever He might
seek the expression of it. He condescended to ask their support. "Watch with
me." The prayers of the sinless Savior, bearing the sin of others, must at this
time have been so peculiar to Himself that He could not say, "Pray with me." But
He did say, "Watch with me."

How pathetic this appeal! There was a kind of help which even His Father could
not give except instrumentally through them. Without irreverence may it not be
said that even God alone did not suffice? As man He needed man also. Some
Christians have spoken as if with God they were independent of others. Christ,
our Example, was more human than some of His followers seem to be. He wanted the
response of a human heart, the grasp of a human hand, the blending of a human
tear, the solace of a human voice; and so He said, "Tarry here, be close at
hand, be ready to cheer, be vigilant to warn—watch with me." With this human
heart craving human help it was additional bitterness in His cup when again and
again He found His disciples sleeping, instead of heeding His request, "Watch
with me." "Sleeping for sorrow" indicated sorrow of an inferior quality. True
sympathy should stir our energies to useful help, not soothe them in indolent
laments. These three missed an opportunity never to return. Deeply also He felt
it when they with the other eight "forsook Him and fled." This was already in
His mind. He had expressed the grief it would give Him when He said, "You shall
leave me alone—yet I am not alone, but the Father is with me." The presence of
the Father did not prevent, though it mitigated, the pain of being "left alone"
by them.

Let not mourners be discouraged when they desire additional consolation to that
which comes direct from the Unseen God. The most eminent saints have often been
most dependent on, most responsive to, human affection. When most earnest in
seeking help from Heaven, let us not fear to say to chosen friends, "Watch with
me." In the fiercest conflicts and beneath the heaviest burdens we sometimes
wish to be quite alone with God. But this may not always be best. A friend at
hand, in the intervals of wrestling, may be as an angel of God strengthening us.
And if such friends fail us at seasons when we specially need them, slumbering
instead of watching, or leaving us when their presence is most desired, let us
take comfort from remembering that our Lord endured the same, and that He will,
by sympathizing support, supply their lack of service.

Jesus withdrew a few steps even from the chosen three that He might pray alone.
He could take them with Him some little way, but there were conflicts none could
share, a cup none else could drink. So with us all. Every soul must in some
respects be apart from all others. Each has his own special sins, struggles and
woes. Dearest friends may be very near us, but cannot be with us in the most
secret place of the soul. They may often watch with us when they cannot pray
with us. They may see our tears but not the deep fountain; hear our sighs, but
not the heart-throb; know we are sorrowful unto death, but cannot share our
crushing woe. Jesus can. He who felt the need both of Divine and human
consolation can, as God, give the help His Father gave to Himself; and can, as
Man, supply the sympathy He Himself sought from His friends. He watches with us,
suffers, prays; and He never slumbers nor sleeps. By such ministry we may render
to others the help we have needed ourselves. We watch at the bedside of a sick
friend; so let us watch with those whose hearts are wounded. Thus we may share
the privilege of the disciples, and minister to Christ Himself. If we watch with
His afflicted friends in Gethsemane He will say, "Forasmuch as you did it unto
one of the least of these my brethren you did it unto me." The heart intent on
comforting others will feel its own load lightened, and watching in their garden
of grief may prove an medicine of healing in our own.

Deliver us, blessed Master, from all self-seeking, emulation and spiritual
pride; let us envy none on whom You bestow special honors; may we rejoice if
permitted to occupy any position however obscure, and engage in any service
however lowly. Increase in our hearts that love to You which shall expel
whatever is not in sympathy with Yourself. O for increased delight in Your
society and service, more readiness to follow You wherever You go! Then shall we
esteem it an honor and delight to be among Your chosen ones, even if we are
called to Gethsemane to witness Your agony, and in our measure to share it too.

O for the love, the perfect love, The love that casts out fear; That sings amid
the wildest storm, And smiles through every tear. The love that drains the
bitterest cup, And clasps the heaviest cross;

Deeming such grief is lasting gain, And earth’s best gold but dross. The love
that serves with quenchless zeal, That sits at Jesus’ feet, That leans upon His
loving bosom When heart to heart does beat.

O God of love! kind Comforter, O loving Jesus, hear! This perfect love to me
impart, This love that casts out fear.

—Newman Hall


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  CHAPTER 5: 01.04.     THE AGONY IN GETHSEMANE
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4. THE AGONY IN GETHSEMANE "Being in an agony, He prayed more earnestly." The
word agony suggests the contests of the Grecian games, in which the competitors
struggled with tremendous exertion, often with the loss of blood, to win the
wrestler’s prize. Thus our Lord exhorts us to agonize to enter in at the strait
gate. The word is now employed to signify either intense bodily pain, or
crushing grief of soul.

We behold in Gethsemane a perfectly righteous Man enduring unexampled agony of
mind. God, in some mysterious but real sense, is also there in agony. Jesus
could say there, as everywhere else, "He who has seen me has seen the Father."
The agony is narrated by Matthew, who partially witnessed it, and who would at
once learn from his three fellow-disciples what they had seen and heard. It is
also described by Mark, to whom his intimate friend, Peter, would narrate it;
and by Luke, intimately acquainted with the disciples, and a fellow-worker. He
claims to have had "perfect understanding of all things from the very first."
John records the entering into the garden and the Sufferer’s word of loving
resignation—"The cup which my Father has given me, shall I not drink it," and so
confirms the narratives already given. These writers were under the special
direction of the Spirit whom Christ promised to "bring all things to their
remembrance." The inspired author of the Epistle to the Hebrews supplements
their accounts. Putting together these records the full narrative is as follows—

"He took with Him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, and began to be sorrowful,
greatly amazed, and sore troubled. Then He said unto them, my soul is exceeding
sorrowful, even unto death—abide here and watch with me. And He went forward a
little, and was parted from them about a stone’s cast, and kneeled down, and
fell on the ground on His face, and prayed that if it were possible the hour
might pass away from Him. And He said, Abba, Father, all things are possible
unto You, remove this cup from me; nevertheless not what I will, but what You
will. O my Father, if it be possible let this cup pass away from me—nevertheless
not as I will but as You will. And He came unto the disciples and found them
sleeping, and said unto Peter—What, could you not watch with me one hour? Watch
and pray that you enter not into temptation—the spirit indeed is willing, but
the flesh is weak. He went away again the second time and prayed, saying, O my
Father, if this cup may not pass away from me, except I drink it, Your will be
done. And He came again and found them sleeping—for their eyes were heavy, and
they knew not what to answer Him. And He left them again and went away, and
prayed a third time, saying the same words. And there appeared unto Him an angel
from heaven, strengthening Him. And being in an agony He prayed more earnestly.
He offered up prayers and supplications, with strong crying and tears unto Him
who was able to save Him from death. And His sweat became as it were great drops
of blood falling down upon the ground. And when He rose up from His prayer He
came unto the disciples and found them sleeping for sorrow, and said unto them,
Why are you sleeping? Watch and pray that you enter not into temptation. Behold,
the hour is at hand, and the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners."
The particulars thus given, with such sublime simplicity, set before us more
powerfully than by any human eloquence the depth of this mysterious agony. The
obvious depression; the features, tones and words of extreme woe; the retirement
with a few; the solitary wrestling in prayer; the kneeling; prostration; the
face on the ground; the earnest appeal that a cup so bitter might be taken away;
the rising from prayer to His Father in order to seek human sympathy; the
returning to His Father and praying more earnestly with tears and strong
cryings—in this agony of soul, blood exuding from the pores and tinging the
copious sweat of the body; and in this conflict the Sufferer so exhausted,
"exceeding sorrowful even unto death," that life might have failed and He might
have actually died then and there of a broken heart before the time of His
completed sacrifice on the cross, had not an angel come to strengthen Him—surely
the "Man of Sorrows," in Gethsemane, surpassed every other sufferer in agony.

Let us, in any garden of grief, think of Him. Jesus, the Son of God, in
agony—Jesus, the absolutely perfect Man, in agony! Jesus, with His sensitive
body, His vivid mental perception, His loving heart, His enlarged capacity for
suffering—He in such agony! Jesus in agony for us! Should not beholding Him
lessen the sense of our own grief? Unlike Him, we suffer often by our own folly;
and our sorrows are those of sinners, whose stripes are fewer than their faults,
and who need the grief as fatherly chastisement for their spiritual culture.
"Consider Him, lest you be weary and faint in your minds."

Let the sorrowful seek comfort in the same manner as their Lord. "Being in an
agony He prayed the more earnestly." He poured out His grief to God. His Father
knew all without His telling, but His telling lessened it. Expressing His sorrow
to One who loved Him helped to draw away His mind from the grief itself to the
Father who over-ruled it and shared it; who could sustain in it, and deliver
from it. Cold philosophy may suggest—"God knows, why tell Him? or, if you tell
Him, do it calmly; or if earnestly, why ’more earnestly?’" But human hearts find
comfort in expressing their grief to one who sympathizes, and in repeating their
requests to one who can help. So let us pray "the more earnestly." More
agony—more importunity! More cares—more cries! More pains—more prayers! More
sorrow—more sympathy sought—and we shall receive more Divine help to say with
Jesus, "The cup which my Father has given me, shall I not drink it?" When
crushed with care, and sunk in woe, To whom for comfort can I go, But, dearest
Lord, to Thee? In all my griefs You have a part, And in Your large and loving
heart There is a place for me.

O Jesus! Brother, Friend divine, Within my lonely dungeon shine;

Out of the depths I cry:

Let me not sink in dark despair, Help me my heavy load to bear:

Show me that You are near! The furnace fierce I will not fear If Your consoling
voice I hear; The flame will not consume: The darkest night will turn to day,
Its fearful phantoms fade away, If You the gulf illume.

Amid the toil, the daily strife, The bitter, bitter pains of life, O hold my
drooping head;

O be my constant, tender Friend, Console, preserve me to the end, Stand near my
dying bed.

Increase my faith, and give me grace Your love to trust, when least I trace Your
loving, faultless plan;

Make me by grief for glory meet—

Howe’er You will—in me complete The work Your love began.

Come when You will! then let me rest From sin and sorrow, ever blessed At home,
in heaven, with Thee: So will I praise You, as I ought For these brief woes,
o’er-ruled, that wrought Such blessed eternity.

—Newman Hall


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  CHAPTER 6: 01.05.     THE AGONY ARISING FROM HUMAN SENSITIVENESS
========================================================================

5. THE AGONY ARISING FROM HUMAN SENSITIVENESS "Let this cup pass from me." In
venturing to ask "why this agony?" we think of Moses who, at the burning bush,
was commanded to take the shoes off his feet, for it was holy ground. Here is no
place for cold criticism or speculative curiosity. Was it caused by
apprehensiveness of the Cross? The evangelists emphatically indicate that He
knew all that awaited Him. Mark, specially instructed by Peter, records that
when at Caesarea Philippi, Jesus taught His disciples "that the Son of Man must
suffer many things, and be rejected, and killed." Again He relates that when
they were going up to Jerusalem, "Jesus went before them," urged onward by an
intense desire to reach the altar of sacrifice, so that "they were amazed, and
as they followed were afraid; and He began to tell them what things would happen
unto Him, saying, Behold, we go up to Jerusalem; and the Son of Man shall be
delivered unto the chief priests; and they shall condemn Him to death—and they
shall mock Him, and shall scourge Him, and shall spit upon Him, and shall kill
Him." John relates how at Jerusalem, a few days before His crucifixion, Jesus
said, "Now is my soul troubled; and what shall I say? Father, save me from this
hour—but for this cause I came unto this hour. Father, glorify Your name. Now
shall the prince of this world be cast out. And I, if I be lifted up from the
earth, will draw all men unto me. This He said, signifying what death He should
die." At the supper He had said, "All of you shall fall away because of me this
night. You shall leave me alone. One of you shall betray me. You (Peter) shall
deny me thrice."

It is thus evident that He not only knew, but that He revealed to His disciples
that He knew all that awaited Him. Everything was depicted vividly in His mind.
He foresaw the treacherous betrayal, the cowardly forsaking, the shameful
denial. He felt already the cords that bound Him, the hands that smote Him on
the face. He saw the murderous looks of the scribes and priests at the midnight
trial, and heard their decision to put Him to death for avowing Himself the Son
of the Blessed. Already He stood before Pilate and heard the cruel clamor of the
multitude, "Crucify Him! crucify Him!" and felt the torment of the lacerating
scourge. Even now He saw Himself clothed in a robe of mockery, and felt the
smiting by the sceptre-reed and the piercing of the thorny crown, and heard the
crude jeers of the insulting soldiers. Even now He bent beneath the burden of
the cross, and saw the lamenting women struggling through the heartless throng,
and endured the indignity of being stripped of His clothing, and the torture of
the piercing nails, and the shock of the cross as it was uplifted, and the
burning fever, and the thirst, and the slow sinking of the life; and He heard
the fresh taunts which His increased torture provoked. But still greater was His
distress at witnessing the anguish of the mother standing beneath the cross, to
soothe the Sufferer by her presence and her tears. Above all, He felt beforehand
the darkness that would overcast His soul, the sense of utter abandonment, the
temporary loss of even Divine comfort, the anguish which forced from Him the
cry, "My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?" All this was vividly present in
Gethsemane, and helped to produce the agony.

Some have objected to this idea, as if dishonorable to the great Champion of
mankind. It is true that many of His followers, even women and children, have
endured bodily torture more keen and protracted, not only with patience but with
cheerfulness. It is true that the anticipation of it has sometimes even caused
delight. But Christ was to share fully our humanity, and therefore it was
necessary that He should share with the weakest as well as the strongest. As in
outward condition He was poor and not rich, in order to sympathize with the
poor, so in temperament He shared with those who are not born with iron nerves,
but who are most keenly sensitive both to bodily pain and mental anguish. Else
it would not be true of multitudes that He was tried like as they are. So He
shared their humanity in shrinking from the suffering He was about to endure,
and was in agony because of this shrinking. The writer of the Epistle to the
Hebrews, proving that Christ is fully qualified by sympathy to be our High
Priest, speaks of Him as "in all things made like unto His brethren; for in that
He Himself has suffered being tempted, He is able to support those who are
tempted; for we have not a High Priest who cannot be touched with a feeling of
our infirmities, but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without
sin"—such fellowship with us in suffering having been exhibited "in the days of
His flesh, when He had offered up prayers and supplications with strong cryings
and tears unto Him that was able to save Him from death," and so "He learned
obedience by the things which He suffered." (Hebrews 2:17-18; Hebrews 4:15;
Hebrews 5:7) The first and obvious interpretation of the narratives of the
Evangelists, with this explanation, would suggest that our Lord was shrinking
from the death of agony He was about to suffer. But can we suppose that He whose
great object in coming to the world was to die for its sin, in accordance with
His Father’s will, would wish to escape the sacrifice and leave undone the work
for which He came? He would not, could not return to His throne unable to say,
"I have finished the work which You gave me to do." But might He not, as man,
sharing human infirmity, so shrink from the process as to pray that, if
possible, the work might be done without the extreme anguish? He came to redeem
us from death by dying. This was the cup long in His view, the cup He had long
been preparing to drink. But when it was actually presented to His lips, His
human sensitiveness might recoil. That cup was so full, so bitter, so awful; the
sight of it approaching, the foretaste of it so appalling that, if He were
really partaker of our infirmities, He could not but shrink from it.

Though there are some who, apart from religion, regard death without terror,
there are others to whom, physically, it is intensely repellent, in spite of
Christian faith. Some of the best prepared for heaven have a constitutional
dread of the act of dying. Did not our Elder Brother share the infirmities of
the weakest? But in His case there was more than this. It was death in the midst
of life, not by disease but violence, not at a stroke but by protracted torture.
It was death associated with betrayal, denial, desertion by His disciples; with
accusations He loathed, with the cunning spite of the rulers and the passionate
frenzy of the people He came to save; the death of one condemned as a blasphemer
and impostor, a thief and a murderer; the death of the Representative of
mankind, bearing their sins, crushed with the sense of their guilt—the Lord
"laying on Him the iniquities of us all;" during the suffering of which He was
to experience what seemed desertion by His Father, as though, while earth was
rejecting Him, heaven was closed against Him, while man was murdering Him, God
was forsaking Him—O was it wonderful that if really Man, "compassed with
infirmity, tempted like as we are," His most sensitive, though sinless humanity
shuddered, and that He should pray, submissively to His Father’s will, that if
it were possible, consistently with the great purpose of His mission, THAT CUP
might pass from Him?

All these approaching agonies were simultaneously present to the Savior’s mind.
To us sorrows come separately. We can bear, one by one, trials which, coming all
at once, would be overwhelming. If we can anticipate a few, others are
mercifully concealed from our wisest calculations or saddest forebodings.
Looking backward, we wonder how we passed through such difficulties. One reason
is that they did not, and could not, occur together. The path must have led us
quite through the morass before it climbed the precipice; must have guided
across the burning sand before it reached the roaring torrent. In His case all
the distresses of the future were piled together to appall His soul. The water
of the lake, which in its gradual descent by its torrent-outflow, rolls
harmlessly along the well-guarded channels, will, if bursting forth in sudden
flood, strain to the utmost, or sweep away, the strongest barrier. No wonder
that the human nature of Christ was in agony!

Besides, our fear for the future is more or less mitigated by hope. What we
dread most may not come to pass. Something may intervene to divert the peril.
The dark cloud may disperse without breaking over us. Or the reality may prove
far less injurious than the fear. But in the agony of our Lord all the
foreboding was certain to be verified. His foreknowledge was all-comprehensive,
precise and certain. Therefore His suffering was unexampled. "Behold and see if
there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow."

Let not such considerations be regarded as inconsistent with His divinity. He
was also veritably Man; not in mere outward aspect, but with all the sinless
infirmities and sensibilities of humanity. As "God manifest in the flesh" He
could not be exempt from the varied sufferings to which men in the flesh are
liable. The Example for all must show to all how to bear all trials. To
underrate His keen sense of pain is to underrate His qualifications as "the
Apostle and High Priest of our profession." It is our consolation in every
sorrow, that we have the presence and sympathy of One who fully knows, not
merely by His Divine omniscience, but by His personal human experience, our
fears and pains and temptations and woe.

Thus, as the Son of Man, His experience resembled, while it surpassed in sorrow,
that of David, as expressed in Psalms 55:1-23—"Give ear to my prayer, O God; and
hide not Yourself from my supplication. My heart is sore pained within me—and
the terrors of death are fallen upon me. Fearfulness and trembling are come upon
me, and horror has overwhelmed me. And I said, Oh that I had wings like a dove!
for then would I fly away, and be at rest. As for me, I will call upon God; and
the Lord shall save me. Cast your burden upon the Lord, and He shall sustain
you." The neglect of this truth has been the fruitful cause of the superstitious
worship paid to the mother of our Lord. By many who devoutly exalt His Divinity,
His real humanity has been lowered, as if detracting from it. The effulgence of
the former has been allowed to outshine or eclipse the latter, instead of being
reflected in it. The practical result in many cases has been worship to Christ
as another God, instead of to the one God revealed in humanity. If Christ is
thus thought of only as the infinitely glorious Ruler of the Universe, instead
of as being also the true Brother of Mankind, there is a vacancy left in the
human heart, requiring human compassionateness to fill. Where is this to be
found so fully as in woman’s tender heart? How natural then for frail,
sensitive, sad men and women to invest the mother of Jesus with that tenderness
and capacity to sympathize of which her Divine Son has been divested. No wonder
that multitudes of trembling penitents, of heart-broken sorrowing suppliants,
should feel more sure of a listening ear and pitying heart in a woman, who
remembers all her womanly anguish and retains all her womanly sympathies, than
if they applied directly to the King of Glory. So they ask the mother to
intercede with her Son, as if He had not a heart of infinite tenderness, and had
not experienced the same human griefs. But if Jesus does possess that human and
therefore that womanly heart, having suffered and still remembering all human
sorrows, then there is no need for any other Mediator. "There is one God, and
one Mediator between God and men, the Man Christ Jesus." There is one High
Priest and only One who can atone and fully sympathize, who ever lives and is
ever present everywhere, to pity and support and save. In Him our complete
humanity dwelt and still dwells. That complete humanity comprises both the
masculine and the feminine natures. Every true woman has much of man’s heroism,
strength, resolve, endurance; and every true man has much of woman’s gentleness,
sensitiveness, tenderness, compassion. Both are perfected in Christ, who became
Man in the completeness of His dual nature—not as the masculine only, but as
humanity, the race—"The Man Christ Jesus" (1 Timothy 2:5). So that whatever is
characteristic of woman’s nature, as well as of man’s, is found in Him in all
its perfection. As there was never man so brave and so strong; so there was
never woman so gentle and compassionate. To go from Him to find sympathy in any
one of His servants is to leave the sun, in order to find better light in the
moon which only reflects it. An additional source of the Savior’s agony, a
bitter element in His cup, was the special assault of the devil in Gethsemane.
He had said, "The prince of this world comes, and has nothing in me;" and when
His captors arrived He said to them, "This is your hour, and the power of
darkness." The final agony of His conflict with Satan had begun. The enemy of
souls took advantage of the Savior’s depression of mind and body to offer
suggestions which were abhorred and repelled, but which intensified His grief
and the agony of His conflict. As in the wilderness Satan tempted our Lord in
His loneliness and faintness to avoid suffering and win His kingdom by unlawful
means; as by the medium of Peter he tried to dissuade the Victim from going
onward to the Cross, and Jesus, addressing the foe who was making use of the
friend, said, "Get behind me, Satan, for you savor not the things which are of
God, but those which are of man;" so in the garden the enemy was trying to
harrow the Champion’s mind by the impious thought—"Save Yourself."

Herein again the humanity of Christ has been invalidated by representing Him as
if incapable of being tempted to sin. Moral incapability of yielding is one
thing; natural capability of being tempted is another. Else there could have
been no conflict in the Champion’s case, and therefore no true championship, and
no example of victory by conflict. It was the real humanity of Christ which made
it possible for Satan to tempt Him—"for God cannot be tempted of evil," as God;
but God, manifest in the flesh, could be and was so tempted. Was not the
severity of this conflict with sin the cause of the exudation of blood with the
sweat of agony? This may explain the language of the writer to the Hebrews, when
he encouraged persecuted believers by the example of their Lord, saying, "You
have not yet resisted unto blood, striving against sin." The Captain of
Salvation never resisted His persecutors, never strove against sinners; but He
did resist temptation and He did strive against sin, even unto blood, in
Gethsemane. (Hebrews 12:4.) "Touched with a sympathy within He knows our feeble
frame;

He knows what sore temptations mean For He has felt the same.

"But spotless, innocent, and pure The great Redeemer stood, While Satan’s fiery
darts He bore And did resist to blood." (Isaac Watts)

There are seasons when believers are specially assailed by the devil. He often
comes into our garden of grief, aggravating it by making our depression an
occasion of endeavoring sometimes to crush the spirit by despair; at other times
inspiring hope by suggesting escape from duty, or by tempting us to distrust God
and murmur at His dealings, or to cherish revengeful feelings towards men as
instrumental in our sufferings. Sometimes dark forebodings, cowardly shrinkings,
wicked imaginations, even horrible blasphemies may cross the mind, which we feel
cannot be the outcome of our own renewed hearts, but must be suggestions of the
prince of darkness. But sometimes we may feel as Bunyan’s Pilgrim in the Valley
of the Shadow of Death. "I took notice that now poor Christian was so confounded
that he did not know his own voice; and thus I perceived it—just when he was
come over against the mouth of the burning pit, one of the wicked ones got
behind him, and stept up softly to him and, whispering, suggested many grievous
blasphemies to him, which he verily thought had proceeded from his own mind.
This put Christian more to it than anything that he met with before, even to
think that he should now blaspheme Him that he loved so much before." In all
such trials incident to our humanity it is a consolation to be assured that "no
strange thing has happened unto us." We are liable to them while in the flesh.
Multitudes of our fellow-believers have suffered in like manner, but passed
through the dark Valley to the Delectable Mountains and the Land of Beulah and
the Celestial City. More than all, our Divine Leader and Captain felt the like
infirmities, fears, depressions, pains of body, agony of spirit, conflicts with
Satan.

"Christ leads us through no darker rooms Than He went through before." (Richard
Baxter)

He knows all we suffer; watches, pities, suffers with us, and still is "touched
with a feeling of our infirmities, having been in all points tempted like as we
are."

Now, having won eternal victory, and spoiled principalities and powers, and led
captivity captive, He is seated at the right hand of the throne of God, our
Almighty Champion to help us in every conflict. Though we fight "against
principalities and powers, against spiritual wickedness in high places," we do
not fight alone. "Faith sets the Lion of the tribe of Judah against the roaring
lion of the bottomless pit—this delivering Lion against that devouring lion."
(Leighton.) When Satan comes to us in our garden of grief, he comes not as our
enemy alone, but as Christ’s also, an enemy defeated and despoiled by Him who in
Gethsemane resisted unto blood, and by whom we shall triumph too, "more than
conquerors through Him who loved us."


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  CHAPTER 7: 01.06.     THE AGONY ARISING FROM DIVINE PURITY AND LOVE
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6. THE AGONY ARISING FROM DIVINE PURITY AND LOVE "This cup."

Human sensitiveness, though explaining in some degree the grief in Gethsemane,
is far from fully accounting for the exceeding agony. Some have taught that our
Lord’s soul was sorrowful even unto death, because the wrath of God was resting
on Him as bearing the sin of the world. But this is repugnant to all we are
taught of the Father’s justice and love, and opposed to the facts detailed. On
the Mount of Transfiguration the conversation on "the decease He was to
accomplish at Jerusalem" was closed by the Father’s voice—"This is my beloved
Son, in whom I am well pleased." That Son so beloved, when about to die, could
not be in agony because of the displeasure of Him who was "well pleased." The
intercessory prayer just offered had expressed the Savior’s joy in finishing His
appointed work. His prayer of agony, not as to an angry God, but to His
"Father," and His readiness to drink "the cup which His Father had given;" the
angel sent from heaven to comfort Him; the strength thus imparted to enable Him
to "pray the more earnestly;" and His expressed confidence that had He so
desired His Father would send Him more than twelve legions of angels—these facts
forbid such an explanation. Dean Alford in his Greek Testament says, "We must
not for a moment think of the Father’s wrath abiding on Him, as the cause of His
suffering. Here is no fear of wrath—but, in the depth of His human anguish, the
very tenderness of filial love." May we not rather infer that the agony was
caused by His own sense of the evil of sin? Imperfect men have grieved bitterly
for the sins of others. Moses, when he descended from the Mount and witnessed
the wickedness of the people, cast down the tables of the Law and broke them—and
prayed, "Oh, this people have sinned a great sin, and have made them gods of
gold. Yet now, if You will forgive their sin—and if not, blot me, I pray you,
out of Your book which You have written." The Psalmist said, "Rivers of waters
run down my eyes, because they keep not Your law." Jeremiah exclaimed, "O that
my head were waters, and my eyes a fountain of tears; that I might weep day and
night for the slain of the daughter of my people." Paul, lamenting the unbelief
of the Jews, said, "I lie not, my conscience also bearing me witness in the Holy
Spirit, that I have great heaviness and continual sorrow in my heart. For I
could wish that myself were separated from Christ for my brethren, my kinsmen
according to the flesh." How often Christian pastors have grieved for members of
their flocks who have made shipwreck of faith, parents for children’s sins, and
friend for friend. Christians cannot, in their present condition, live in
unbroken bliss unless they are callous to the sins and sorrows of others.
Wickedness must cause sorrow to benevolent holiness, even when that holiness is
defective. How much more must the sin of others have oppressed the sinless Son
of Man!

Prophets, apostles, pastors, parents, have mourned for the sins of particular
nations, churches, families, at particular periods. But, to the all-observant
soul of Jesus, all the sins, of all mankind, of all ages, in all regions; sins
of which history has no record; sins which could not be depicted or described;
sins beyond all reckoning both in number and degree; secret as well as open
sins, of heart as well as action, with all their varied aggravations and
consequences—these were all and at once present to His holy and compassionate
mental vision, causing agony beyond any mere human capacity to understand. More
than this, He was the Representative of our race, and came to bear our sins as
well as our sorrows. He could not be personally guilty, being "holy, harmless,
undefiled, separate from sinners;" but as our High Priest the sins of the race
had been, as it were, confided to Him. He carried them on His heart. He
confessed them to God. He offered atonement and intercession for them. "He bore
our sins in His own body on the tree," and in Gethsemane also.

"We must not pass over the last and deepest mystery of the Passion—the
consideration that upon the holy and innocent Lamb of God rested the burden of
all human sin—that to Him, death, as the punishment of sin, bore a dark and
dreadful meaning, inconceivable by any of us, whose inner will is tainted by the
love of sin." (Dean Alford.) Thus the "Son of David" fulfilled the Psalmist’s
words, "Innumerable evils have compassed me about—my iniquities" (the iniquities
of humanity, of His brethren, becoming His by His fellowship with them; for
surely He has borne our sins) "have taken hold upon me, so that I am not able to
look up; they are more than the hairs of my head—therefore my heart fails me.
There is no rest in my bones because of my sin. For my iniquities are gone over
my head—as an heavy burden they are too heavy for me. I am troubled; I am bowed
down greatly" (Psalms 40:12; Psalms 38:1-6). "My soul is exceeding sorrowful
even unto death." In the case of this Sufferer, Divine purity was incarnated in
a frail human body, which had come into close contact with sin. Absolute
perfection was brought near to absolute depravity in its blackest phase—the
approaching murder of the Just One, revealing intense hatred of goodness, cruel
repulse of love, resolute rebellion against God. As a person in perfect health
might be shocked when brought into a crowded fever or small-pox ward, when the
habitual attendants, accustomed to the signs of sickness and the polluted air,
might not suffer; as one coming out of the bright sunshine into a darkened room
feels it to be blackness, while those dwelling there can see around them; as a
virtuous woman would shrink with revulsion from the talk and the conduct of the
utterly fallen and shameless—far more must the absolute Perfection of Divine
holiness be in agony when brought face to face with deadliest depravity.

Besides this, Divine love was brought into the presence of human misery. The
holy God, hating sin, was the merciful God, loving the sinner; and therefore
grieved because of the evils sin was bringing on its victims. He who wept over
Jerusalem, foreseeing the calamities their crime would bring on them, was
grieving now for the self-same reason. Knowing all the evils sin entails in the
present life, all the woes it causes in the future, all the damage it does to
the immortal nature itself—how could Divine love do otherwise than grieve? If He
had compassion on the lepers and the blind, if He felt for the weary and hungry,
much more would He feel for the infinitely greater calamities and sorrows of
sinners. This agony was a necessary result of Christ being both Son of God and
Son of Man. Incarnate Holiness was shocked—Incarnate Love was grieved. "The
chastity of His pure feeling recoils with horror from the hell-gulf of wrong and
wild judicial madness into which He is now descending; and the love He has for
His enemies brings a burden of concern upon His heart that oppresses, and for
the time well-near crushes Him." (Bushnell)

Bishop Pearson, in his Exposition of the Creed, with admirable force and
condensation, says—"We may know thus much, that the griefs He felt were
incomparably beyond all of which any man is capable. ’He began to be sorrowful,
sore amazed, and very heavy,’ words which come far short of the original, which
signifies not only excess of sorrow, but such as brings consternation, bowing
the soul under the pressure of it—signifies the highest degree of horror and
amazement, even unto stupefaction—anguish in excess. The occasion of the grief
will manifest the bitterness thereof—for God ’laid on His own Son the iniquities
of us all;’ and as we are obliged to sorrow for our own particular sins, so was
He grieved for the sins of us all. If, then, we consider the perfection of His
knowledge—He understood all the sins for which He suffered; all the evil and the
guilt; all the offence against the majesty, and ingratitude against the goodness
of God, which was contained in all those sins. If we look upon His absolute
conformity to the will of God—He was inflamed with most ardent love; He was most
zealous of His glory; and most studious to preserve that right which was so
highly violated by those sins. If we look on His relation to men—He loved them
all far more than they did themselves; and knew those sins were sufficient to
bring eternal destruction on their souls and bodies—He considered them whom He
so much loved as lying under the wrath of God, whom He so truly worshiped. If we
consider all these circumstances, we cannot wonder at that grief. For if the
true condition of one single sinner, only for his own iniquities, cannot be
without great bitterness of sorrow, what bounds can we set unto that anguish
which proceeds from a full apprehension of all the transgressions of so many
millions of sinners?"

David was in agony of soul for sin, not so much because of the consequences to
himself as of dishonor to God, saying—"Against You, You only have I sinned, and
done this evil in Your sight." It appalled him to think of his secret sins being
set before God in the light of His countenance. What must it have been for
Jesus, the Holy One of God, to have all the sins of mankind set before His soul,
as their Representative! Taking their sins and sorrows on Himself as Mediator,
and in this sense making them His own, He fulfilled the words of the
Prophet—"Surely He has borne our sins and carried our sorrows." "He who knew no
sin was made sin for us." "Christ has redeemed us from the curse of the law,
being made a curse for us." "He bore our sins in his own body." (Psalms 40:12;
Isaiah 53:1-12; 2 Corinthians 5:21; Galatians 3:13; 1 Peter 2:24.) This
soul-agony was intensified by association with His infirm humanity. Even the
most robust human frame could ill sustain the anguish of so great a heart—how
much less a frame the most sensitive! The horror of Divine holiness at such sin,
the grief of Divine love at such misery, were felt though a human brain and
thrilled a human body. Was not this enough to cause the groans and the
blood-sweat?

"That this Divine, suffering sensibility should not fearfully wrench, and burden
even to crushing, the human vehicle it occupies, is scarcely credible. A
suffering that exceeds the proportions of the vehicle must needs appear by
violent symptoms—even as a powerful engine in a frail, light-timbered vessel
must needs make it groan heavily, or shake it even to wreck. What then is the
fact? Is there any sensibility in God that can suffer? Nothing is more certain.
He could not be good, having evil in His dominions, without suffering even
according to His goodness. For what is goodness but a perfect feeling? And what
is a perfect feeling but that which feels towards every wrong and misery,
according to its nature?" (Bushnell.) But it may be asked, Why should the
everlasting Son of the Father assume the frail humanity which involved such
special suffering? Why, Himself guiltless, endure agony deserved by the most
guilty? Why might not man be saved without such divine sorrow? We presume not to
argue from what we may conceive as having been necessary, and so deduce the
fact; but we take the fact as revealed, and so conclude that it must have been
necessary to secure the best results for the salvation of man and the glory of
God. We may infer what is abundantly verified by the Word of God, that no remedy
for man’s sin and misery, no vindication of Divine righteousness, no
manifestation of Divine love, no effectual influence on man’s heart to make him
holy and happy, no method of promoting the greatest happiness of the greatest
number, the welfare of the universe and the manifestation of God, could have
been so well provided.

"Why are You cast down, blessed Jesus, and why disturbed? Certainly it was
nothing of despair or distrust of the Father, much less any conflict or struggle
with Him. He engaged in an encounter with the powers of darkness. Now the
serpent makes his fiercest onset on the seed of the woman, and directs his
sting, the sting of death, to His very heart. The sufferings were for our sins;
they were all made to meet upon Him, and he knew it." (M. Henry.) But this is
not our present subject. Holy Scripture, in its simple but emphatic words, best
answers the question. Gethsemane fulfills the ancient prediction—"Surely He has
borne our griefs and carried our sorrows. He was wounded for our transgressions;
He was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon Him;
and with His stripes we are healed. He was numbered with the transgressors; and
He bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors." He
Himself declared, "I lay down my life for the sheep. The Son of Man came to give
His life a ransom for many. This is my blood of the New Testament, which is shed
for many, for the remission of sins." This is the explanation of the Apostles,
"Christ has loved us and given Himself for us, an offering and a sacrifice to
God. Christ has once suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, that He might
bring us to God. He is the propitiation for our sins. He gave Himself a ransom
for all. He laid down His life for us. The blood of Jesus Christ His Son
cleanses us from all sin." Heaven confirms this explanation—"Unto Him who loved
us, and washed us from our sins in His own blood, be the glory and dominion
forever and ever. Amen." (Isaiah 53:1-12; Mark 10:45; John 10:15; Matthew 26:28;
Ephesians 5:2; 1 Peter 3:18; 1 John 1:7, 1 John 2:2; 1 Timothy 2:6; Revelation
1:5-6) The blood shed for man’s salvation was not only that which streamed from
His wounds on the Cross, but also the mysterious pre-libation in Gethsemane,
which the agony of the soul forced from the pores of the skin without external
violence. The atoning death, completed on the Cross, began in the Garden.
Physical pain was chiefly exhibited at Calvary; mental and spiritual pain, the
deepest agony, in Gethsemane. There He poured out His blood for us; there "He
carried our sorrows."

Let those who are in the Garden of Grief pluck some of the olive leaves of
healing which grow in this Gethsemane. Be comforted by the assurance of
pardon.—The horror of Christ’s holy soul shows that sin is unspeakably hateful.
We may well mourn because of our own guilt when He who knew no sin so mourned
for that of others. The more we know of Christ the more we shall know our
exceeding sinfulness, the burden of which would be intolerable but for this
sacrifice. In the Garden He was offering what He completed on the Cross—"A full,
perfect and sufficient sacrifice, oblation and satisfaction, for the sins of the
whole world." (Book of Common Prayer—Holy Communion.) If sin is our chief
sorrow, remission of sin by Christ is our chief comfort. If sin inflicts the
deadliest wounds, the healing leaves of the agony applied by faith effect the
cure. "Be of good cheer, your sins are forgiven; go into peace." "The leaves of
the tree are for the healing of the nations." Be comforted by help obtained to
conquer sinfulness.—If we really believe in Christ we shall share His
detestation of evil. Love to Him who forgives us at so great a cost will promote
hatred of that which caused His agony. The power of sin in us; the struggles it
costs us, and our failures; the dishonor thus cast on Christ; the injury to His
cause and to our fellow-men; above all, the grieving the Holy Spirit of Jesus by
disobedience or neglect; any failure of return of love to Him whose love to us
is so unspeakably great—surely sin, not so much for its penalties but for
itself, should be our chief sorrow. As a farm-laborer, dying in extreme agony,
said to the writer, in response to words of sympathy, "My biggest pain is ever
to have sinned against my dear Lord Jesus." Love to Him who for us endured
agony, and resemblance to Him in abhorrence of sin, will help us to say, "Thanks
be to God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." Such victory
over sin is consolation indeed. Be comforted by sharing Christ’s love for
sinners.—To feel for others is a remedy against engrossing grief for ourselves.
Let us think of those who are ignorant of our source of comfort, and instruct
them. Let us pity those who are exposed to the woes which sin entails, and pray
for them. Let us more tenderly carry the sins and griefs of others, and we shall
feel less the burden of our own.

Christ both knows our sorrows and actually sympathizes in them.—He is with us in
our Garden of Grief. "In all their affliction He was afflicted." He knows our
sorrows better than even our nearest earthly friend. He who sought His chosen
disciples for sympathy comes to us as our Brother, holding us with a hand human
as well as Divine—"I am with you always. I will never, never leave you; no, I
will never, never forsake you."

GETHSEMANE! most holy place, With unshod feet I turn to thee; With weeping eyes
and reverent pace, Human, Divine, Gethsemane!

O Man of Sorrows, why that groan, That bloody sweat of agony;

Prostrate, convulsed, o’erwhelmed, alone, In death-shades of Gethsemane?

Divine perfection sank aghast, Fronted by man’s depravity; Its basest token,
blackest, last, The murder near Gethsemane.

Divine Compassion grieved for men, The death by sin, the misery;

He bore our guilt and sorrow then, In awful, dark Gethsemane.

Unspotted Goodness, crushed by guilt;

Heart-broken Love, by enmity;

More than Your blood by sinners spilt Combined in Your Gethsemane.

O Sacrifice for sinners’ sin!

Priest perfected for sympathy! Who did by grief salvation win, We bless You for
Gethsemane.

O You whose agony of love The deadly burden bore for me, Look down with pity
from above, And save through Your Gethsemane.

—Newman Hall


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  CHAPTER 8: 01.07.     CHRIST'S GETHSEMANE APPEAL TO THE FATHER
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7. CHRIST’S GETHSEMANE APPEAL TO THE FATHER

"O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me—nevertheless, not as
I will, but as You will. O my Father, if this cup may not pass away from me,
except I drink it, Your will be done."— Matthew 26:39, Matthew 26:42

"Abba, Father, all things are possible unto You; take away this cup from
me—nevertheless, not what I will, but what You will."—Mark 14:36

"Father, if You be willing, remove this cup from me—nevertheless not my will,
but Yours, be done."—Luke 22:42 The prayer of our Lord in Gethsemane was based
on the Fatherhood of God. Because God was His Father, He, as a Man, had a will
of His own, for He was "made in the image of God," and He knew that His Father
recognized and honored that will in all His dealings with Him—"Father, my will."
And because God was His Father, He, as man, submitted with absolute
resignation—"Father, not my will, but Yours be done." Our Lord in His agony
sought relief in prayer. He addressed a personal God, distinct from the universe
of Nature; the Author, Preserver, and Ruler; a God everywhere present, taking
notice of all His creatures. He showed that the human soul can hold converse
with the Divine, and not appeal in vain for sympathy and support.

He poured forth His heart to God as His Father. God was His Father in a special
and exclusive sense. "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God,
and the Word was God. And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us; and we
beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten from the Father. No man has
seen God at any time; the only begotten Son, who is in the bosom of the Father,
He has declared Him." At His baptism, the voice from heaven proclaimed, "This is
My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased." Not only in this Divine relationship
did Christ appeal to God as His Father, but as the Representative of humanity
also; as Son of Man as well as Son of God. Union with Christ by faith unites us
with Him in sonship. He taught us to pray—"Our Father, who are in heaven." When
returning to His glory He confirmed the relationship—"I ascend to my Father and
your Father." "He is not ashamed to call us brethren."

God the Father has supernaturally and of His special grace, created to be His
children, those who are regenerated or born from above. He is Father to all by
natural creation, but only they who accept Him as such are in the full sense His
children. The prodigal, while sinfully away from home, could not share its
privileges; but when he arose and went to his father, saying, "Father, I have
sinned;" when he returned with penitence to plead for a share in the father’s
regard, then he received the kiss, and wore the robe, and joined the feast. If
we thus have returned to God, He has given us a new heart and welcomed us home,
and we, reconciled through the "only begotten Son," illustrate the word—"As many
as received Him to them gave He the right to become children of God, even to
those who believe on His name." "And because we are sons, God sent forth the
Spirit of His Son into our hearts, crying, Abba Father"—dear Father. "You
received the spirit of adoption whereby we cry, Abba, Father. The Spirit Himself
bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God." (John 1:12;
Galatians 4:6; Romans 8:15-16) A universe contemplated as without a creating and
upholding God, however beautiful, is but as a beautiful corpse, and man a
friendless—a wretched wanderer. "The universe is not dead and demoniacal, a
charnel-house with spectres; but God-like and my Father’s." (Carlyle.) Although
from marks of design we infer a contriving mind, and an intelligent force
directing nature, we never truly believe in God until we recognize His personal
nearness to ourselves, His knowledge of all our circumstances, His
approachableness and readiness to help us—until we can say, "My God."

God is to us no cold abstraction, not mere power, or intellect; not a mere
ruler, however mighty and wise; but a Being with emotions kindred to those with
which He endowed man when made "after His image." He ordained the parental
relationship, and represents parental love as an emblem of His own. This
Fatherhood is more than a figure of speech, and must not be explained away to
suit a philosophical theology.

He who made the parental heart knows how a true father yearns over his child,
grieves at its sorrow, rejoices in its gladness, consoles, caresses, succours
it, encourages its appeal to him, loves its voice, and delights to give whatever
is in his power to promote the child’s real good. There are many fathers, alas,
who do not feel thus; but these are unnatural parents, not such as God had in
view when He inspired the word—"Like as a father pities his children, so the
Lord pities them that fear Him." Would not you, if a father, wish your children
to tell you all their troubles, however trivial others might deem them; to
confide in you and seek your help and sympathy at once, making you the earliest
and chief minister of comfort, instead of uttering those troubles first to
others, or hiding them in their own sad hearts? If the sorrow were such as you
could not remove, would you not nevertheless welcome the utterance of it, and
strive to console where you could not cure? And if some part of your wise and
kind training should be felt very irksome and painful, would you not still wish
it to be told you rather than borne in silence; and even if some request were
made which you could not, or ought not to gratify, would you not still wish that
the child should bring to you the impossible or unwise request, rather than
silently brood over it, or be tempted to some unfilial mode of obtaining it? So
with our Heavenly Father. As a father’s pity is employed to illustrate Divine
sympathy, so is a mother’s tenderness. "As one whom his mother comforts, so will
I comfort you." What comforter can be compared to a mother? Bearing her little
one in her bosom, shielding it from the cold, supplying its needs from her own
life-stream, soothing its griefs by her tender caresses and the gentle murmur of
her voice, "dandling it on her knees" (as the Divinely directed prophet
graphically depicts in this illustration)—then, when grown older, entering into
all its childish griefs and troubles; not despising them because trifles to her,
but patiently listening and earnestly consoling, because to that little one
those troubles are real and great—afterwards, when the child has become the man,
so making his sorrows her own, that the heart, locked perhaps against all
besides, can unburden itself on that bosom where in infancy it first found
solace—never wearied by the long enumeration of woes, and by what to others
would be the tedious repetition of the same sad tale; cheerfully sharing the
trouble even when there may be little hope of lightening it; never treating it
with levity or indifference; advising, but, at such a time, never rebuking; and
even when that child has been the cause of her bitterest grief—when his troubles
have come on him by his own folly or wickedness—when he has forsaken his
childhood’s home and scorned the counsel and affection of his parents, yet, when
he comes to her with a heart bursting with anguish, forgetting his faults in the
contemplation of his sorrows, and with undiminished maternal tenderness, folding
him to her bosom, wiping his tears, pleading his cause—O how a mother comforts!
The Creator of that heart, when "the Word was made flesh," experienced, as the
babe of Bethlehem, the child of Nazareth, the Man of Sorrows, how it can
console. Beneath the cross, when strong men had fled, hour by hour stood one
weeping woman, whom no weakness of body, no agony of mind, no threats or jeers
of foes, could separate from her Son in His greatest need; and whose silent
sympathy, when her arms could no longer embrace Him, nor her tongue any longer
find utterance for her choking sorrow, ministered, who can tell how much of
comfort, to that tender human heart which was breaking with its great agony. And
He who, both as God the Creator and as Man the Mediator, knows so well what is
meant by a mother’s consolation, has said, "As one whom his mother comforts, so
will I comfort you." The Divine fact cannot be less than the human figure. The
finite cannot transcend the infinite. Man’s love cannot exceed God’s. He must be
more full of pity than any earthly father, more tenderly compassionate than any
earthly mother. Therefore He is not indifferent to our sorrows, under the
discipline by which He promotes our highest good. He is not a stern preceptor
who, knowing that his plans are wise, cares not for the pupil’s troubles in the
process. Though He cannot alter or regret methods which will secure our supreme
welfare, He yet pities us for the passing sorrows they cause. As our unerring
Guide He perseveres in bringing us along the very best road homeward, in spite
of its difficulties and dangers. He is too wise to take us out of it, and also
too kind to be unmindful of our flint-cut feet, our thorn-torn hands, our
rain-drenched garments, our hunger and thirst and weariness. Our Lord’s appeal
to God as "Father" was evidence that He was not, even then, forsaken in His
humanity. He experienced the deep depression, the spiritual eclipse, the
midnight darkness, under which we may speak as if utterly desolate. But a
feeling of forsakenness is no proof of the reality. As the sun is not altered
when eclipsed, so God was as near in Gethsemane as on the Mount of
Transfiguration. The Sufferer expressed this confidence when calling on Him as
"Father." God has forsaken no one who utters this cry. The appeal is the
response to His own call. If as a child I say "My Father," He as Father has
already said "My child." "Mourning after an absent God is an evidence of love,
as strong as rejoicing in a present one." (F. W. Robertson.) Speak to me, my
God; And let me know the living Father cares For me, even me; for this one of
His choice. Have You no word for me? I am Your thought.

God, let Your mighty heart beat into mine, And let my answer as a pulse to
Thine.

See, I am low—yes, very low; but You Are high, and You can lift me up to You.

I am a child, a fool before You, God; But You have made my weakness as my
strength, I am an emptiness for You to fill; My soul, a cavern for Your sea.

’You make me long,’ I said, ’therefore will give; My longing is Your promise, O
my God.’

(George M’Donald.)

It may be Gethsemane midnight with some reader, and friends whose sympathy was
relied on may slumber or depart; and it may be Satan’s hour of supreme assault;
and body and soul may be in agony, and the horror of a great darkness surround
us, yet let us cling to this relationship—"My Father! Abba, Father! Dear
Father!" He ever watches over us, loves, pities, listens, delights to support
and console. Therefore, as children plead with earthly parents, we may plead
with our heavenly Father. He needs not our importunity to dispose Him to help
us. "He delights in mercy. He waits to be gracious." We may shed our tears and
utter our sighs and groans in the presence of One ever attentive to His
children’s cry. He who inspired the desire for Him will not contradict Himself.

There are seasons when we cannot express our sorrows in form of words. The pain
may be too acute, the heart too broken, the spirit too crushed for more than
this one cry, "Father!" But what other word, what array of language, so eloquent
in His ear! It pierces the thickest overhanging cloud, it is heard amid the most
jubilant anthems of heaven’s choir. We may be confident that God is still with
us while enabled still to utter his own Name, and that He already has responded
to all it involves. "Before you call I will answer, and while you are yet
speaking I will hear." His love leads us into the Garden of Grief, that our
wounds may be healed by the leaves which grow there alone. Assured of His
fatherly pity we may appeal to Him—"My soul is exceeding sorrowful, O my Father!
Even unto death, my Father!" My Father! from the depths I cry to Thee; My spirit
faints, I sink in waves of woe; Your love my only confidence and plea, Your
sympathy the only balm I know.

There is a gulf for ordered speech too deep; A furnace far too fierce but for a
cry;

Sorrows in which ’twere luxury to weep; A darkness whence is only heard a sigh.

Give ear to plaints that from these depths arise, Nor leave me in the dark to
grope alone—

Father! behold Your child with pitying eyes, And answer prayers condensed in
sigh or groan.

—Newman Hall


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  CHAPTER 9: 01.08.     THE DIVINE FATHERHOOD
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8. THE DIVINE FATHERHOOD—AN ARGUMENT BOTH FOR IMPORTUNITY AND RESIGNATION
"Father! My will, Your will."

Earnestness in appealing to any one for help is limited—by our confidence in his
power, his good-will towards us, and his wisdom in the methods he may take. We
ought not to ask what we know to be beyond his capacity; we hesitatingly ask if
doubtful of his willingness, or if we think that by pleasing us he may harm us
in the end. Nor can we be fully resigned when our requests are refused, so long
as we think such refusal is our loss. But when we appeal to God we may be
importunate, because assured that what we ask is within His power, that His
fatherly love prompts Him to listen favorably, and that His wisdom so regulates
His answer as to preserve us from our own mistakes in asking, and to secure our
highest welfare, whether by granting or partly fulfilling, or refusing our
requests. The Father’s will is sustained by unlimited POWER. Mark records that
our Lord said, "Abba, Father, all things are possible to You." Matthew, that He
said, "If it be possible, let this cup pass from me." Luke, that He said,
"Father, if You be willing, remove this cup from me." In this seeming diversity
there is Divine harmony.

God is Almighty. Whatever exists, is within the sphere of Him by whom it exists.
He who made and controls all actual things must be capable of doing all
imaginable things, which are not self-contradictory. But there are moral limits
to the exercise of this power. God is free from without, but is bound by His own
Being. He is necessarily what He is, and all His acts proceed from Himself. If
He has power so also He has the wisdom, holiness, and goodness which regulate
its exercise. It is impossible for Him to do anything contrary to His own entire
nature. This limitation, instead of detracting from His glory, is essential to
it. Wisdom cannot err; holiness cannot sin; love cannot be cruel. This is as
true as that Infinity cannot be limited; Immutability cannot change; Eternity
cannot end. God therefore cannot do what would be contrary to perfect holiness,
wisdom and love. It is impossible for Him to do what would be opposed to His own
glory—that is, to the best interests of the universe. He who formed its plan and
ordained its laws is able, while adhering to a purpose, to vary the method. But
if to do so would be injurious, His Will would refuse what His power would
enable; so that morally it would not be possible, because opposed to His own
wisdom and goodness. For example. A ship is in peril, and the flowing of the
next tide will be its destruction. Prayer is offered that the tide may be
stayed. But the injuries resulting elsewhere from such tidal arrest would far
exceed the particular advantage to the one ship. The request might not be
possible. The owner of a small farm fears ruin unless plentiful rain falls on
it. But this might damage a far larger region, and so might not be possible. The
limit of human life is about fourscore years, and though we may wish to retain
with us those we love, in the sight of Him "in whom our breath is" and who
"orders the bounds of our habitation," it may not be wise, and therefore not
possible, that He should spare them to us. So if trial is needed for beneficent
ends, the removal of it may not be possible for Him who seeks in that trial the
welfare of His children.

Thus, possibility with God is identical with willingness. He can do all things,
and therefore "all things are possible;" but as all He does is regulated by
perfect wisdom and goodness there are some things which He cannot will to do,
and which therefore are morally impossible. Thus the universal potentiality is
limited only by the perfection of His own nature. The power to do all things is
regulated by the will to do only what is best; and thus our Savior’s word, "If
it be possible," is exactly equivalent to "If You will."

Within this will everything is possible. Man’s will is limited by human
weakness. We wish what seems to us the very best, yet often we cannot obtain it.
We try our utmost and fail. Unexpected barriers bid us halt in our swiftest
march. Our amplest resources are exhausted. But while our will in such cases
rests on treacherous sand, the will of God is based on the rock of His infinite
perfections. Omnipotence sustains every thought. "He speaks and it is done; He
commands and it stands fast." Therefore we pray with importunate confidence. If
He is willing to help us "who can stay His hand?" Every valley shall be exalted,
and every mountain and hill be made low. Fountains shall spring up in the
wilderness, and a path be opened through the deep. In His hands are the hearts
of all men. He can thwart the malice of foes, or make our enemies to be at peace
with us. He who rescued Israel from Egypt, and Jerusalem from Sennacherib, and
Daniel from the lions, is still as able to remove from His children every bitter
cup, or give them grace to drink it. By methods as effectual as miracles, and
not less Divine because unobserved, He can fulfill His promise—"Call upon me in
the day of trouble, and I will deliver you." The perfection of God is a source
of sweetest consolation to us in our feebleness and foolishness. If He were not
Omniscient, we might suffer and He not know. If He were not Omnipresent, we
might cry and He not hear. If He were not Omnipotent, we might perish and He be
unable to help. If He were not good, He would not care for us, or might crush
us. "God’s greatness encourages us in our littleness. The sun is so glorious
that it refuses not to shine on a ash-heap; the rain is so plenteous that it
disdains not to fall into a tiny flower-pot; the sea is so vast that it does not
hesitate to waft a feather; and God is so mighty that He rejects not the prayers
or praises of babes and sucklings! If God were little He might despise the
little." (C. H. Spurgeon.) "Though the Lord is exalted, yet He has regard unto
the humble. He has not despised the affliction of His afflicted children, nor
hid His face from them. I am poor and needy, yet the Lord thinks upon me. Put my
tears into Your bottle."

If such ability in God is an encouragement to importunity it is no less so to
submission. If our wish is not granted we know that, though in the power of God,
it was not in accordance with His wise and kind purpose.

He is the blessed God; and as the visible sun diffuses light by necessity of its
nature, so the Divine Fountain of bliss delights to impart it to His children.
His love prompts the will and directs the power to secure their highest welfare.
Jesus, in the woe of the garden, was still the well-beloved Son. The hand that
presented the bitter cup was the hand of Him whom the Sufferer addressed as
’Dear Father’. Love decreed it; not love to those alone who were to be saved by
it, but love to Him who was to drink it. Christians must not think that the
bitterness of the cup given to them is any sign of diminished love in their
Father who gives it. "Whom the Lord loves He chastens." He says, "I have loved
You with an everlasting love." By love He first drew us to Himself; and ever
since He has held us "by cords of love." Love rescued us from Pharaoh, divided
for us the Red Sea, smote Amalek, and daily feeds us with heavenly manna and
living water. Love ordains every struggle to strengthen us, lights every furnace
to purify us, mingles every cup to heal us. Is not a father’s love most proved,
and his pity most exercised, when persevering in some wholesome discipline, or
directing some painful surgical treatment for his son, to avoid worse suffering
and to secure life-long benefit?

Such confidence in our Father’s love should render easy submission to His will.
We could not confidently say "Your will be done" to a friend of whose wisdom we
were doubtful; still less to a stranger whose will might be governed by his own
selfish interests. But we may confidently surrender our own will to that of a
Father, whose infinite resources are at the service of infinite love, and say
with our Elder Brother, "May Your will be done."


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  CHAPTER 10: 01.09.     IMPORTUNITY IN GETHSEMANE
========================================================================

9. IMPORTUNITY IN GETHSEMANE "My Will." To those who believe in the efficacy of
prayer, importunity is natural. Transcendental philosophy may say that we should
be content with simply stating or even thinking our requests, because more than
this is useless. Transcendental piety may say that our own wishes should be so
merged in the divine Will that we should cease to have any other will. But the
heart, breaking with grief, craves comfort which neither such philosophy nor
such piety affords. How encouraging it is to turn to the perfect example of "The
Man Christ Jesus!" His agony in Gethsemane suggests chiefly His atoning
sacrifice; but it is also a most precious illustration of human piety not only
in absolute submission to his Father’s Will, but in importunate pleading for His
own.

Jesus is not only the Author and Giver, but the "Captain of Salvation," the
Example of the saved under similar discipline of sorrow, exposed to the
temptations of the same foe, and employing the same weapons, "the sword of the
Spirit which is the Word of God," and "praying always with all prayer and
supplication." "For both He who sanctifies and they who are sanctified are all
of one—for which cause He is not ashamed to call them brethren" (Hebrews
2:10-18). If prayer was to the sinless Humanity a chief weapon, strength and
solace, must it not be equally essential to His followers?

Individual Prayer.—Our Lord prayed at other times for the little band of His
disciples, for the whole world, and for His persecutors; but here He brought His
individual personality before God. "Father, my Will." So we may bring before Him
our own little, individual concerns—"my," me! If He is Infinite, our littleness
does not elude His eye or hand. We are little and overlook the little; but He is
too great to disregard the smallest of His children. The Son, "in the bosom of
the Father," assures us that the very hairs of our head are all numbered.
Therefore we may, without presumption, appeal to Him. Amid the countless
multitudes of human faces there are not two exactly alike; characters also
differ, and the circumstances of each life. Every child in the largest family
has its special characteristics, is distinctly known and loved, would be missed
if absent. And every child of God has a distinct personality, its own place in
the family, and is the object of the Father’s constant care. "I have engraved
you on the palms of my hands, I have called you by your name." The Good Shepherd
"calls His own sheep by name." He says, "My sheep hear my voice, and I know
them."

O my Father! I am Your child! Insignificant in myself, but precious to You. You
have created, preserved, redeemed, adopted, sanctified me. I am Your
workmanship. You have a home for me above. Look then on me, even me. Listen to
my cry, even mine. Let this cup pass from me.

Special Prayer.—"This cup." So we may plead, not only for our distinct concerns,
but with particularity as to our desires. Some may say, "Commit the whole of
life to Him at once, and leave the details." We are apt to pray in the general,
as much shorter and easier, "Help us in all trials, at all times." But we feel
our sorrows in particular, one by one, day by day. As our Lord sought help in a
peculiar trial, so we are instructed "in everything to make known our requests
unto God." We necessarily look at the special cup we have this day to drink; we
taste its bitterness, and shudder at the thought of drinking it. Let us then
hold it forth to our Father’s pitying eye. How trifling compared with the vast
events of His universe! But nothing which affects His children is insignificant
to the eye of Love. Let us then, in filial confidence, plead, "Father! let this
cup pass from me."

Repeated Prayer.—Filial requests may be often urged. "Vain repetitions" are
those of cold formality, as if their number gave efficacy. Christ in Gethsemane
urged the same request three separate times; and doubtless on each occasion
reiterated the appeal. So may we urge our request again and again. As long as
the bitter cup is held to us and we shrink from it, we may ask to be spared it.
We are not expected to cease thinking it bitter because repeatedly given us to
drink. It is consistent with piety in the disciple to imitate his Lord in
repeating the same prayer for relief.

Earnest Prayer.—Jesus knelt, fell prostrate, called to His Father with "strong
crying and tears," with agony of soul, indicated by the "bloody sweat." He never
hesitated in His Divine resolve, but there was a human shrinking from woe which
longed for relief. It may be very unphilosophical to add "strong crying and
tears" to the simple utterance of believing prayer, but it is very human to do
so, and very Christlike. Tears! blessed solace to suffering! There are times
when the fierce furnace has dried up the fountain. Oh, for the luxury of
weeping! Tears are often the refreshing dew of heaven; as gentle showers on the
parched ground, as "rain on the mown grass"—drops which bring rainbow-glories to
overarch the darkest storm-cloud. Jesus wept at Bethany with the weepers, and
shed tears over guilty Jerusalem. Those tears were for others; these were for
Himself also. Tears with our prayers will relieve while they express our sorrow.
Thus let us plead with our Father.

Let us tell Him the bitterness of it. Conviction that the bitter cup is
curative, does not alter the fact that it is acute. "No affliction for the
present seems joyous but grievous." Tell Him how grievous this special trial—how
excruciating the pain, how keen the unkindness, how crushing the disappointment,
how dreary the desolation, how precious the imperilled treasure, how dear the
suffering friend, how strong the craving for the blessing we seek, how irksome
the task allotted, how difficult the surrender of what is dearer than life. Let
us hold up to our Father this particular cup, and say, "Father, let it pass from
me! My will!"

Plead the fullness of it, the number and variety of trials that sometimes
oppress us—perhaps poverty, sickness, bereavement, unkindness—all together at
the same time.

Plead the duration of the trial. Throughout His life Jesus was the Man of
Sorrows; and many of His disciples go mourning all their days by reason of
continued illness, unkindness, loneliness, or anxiety—successive sorrows,
stripes repeated before the former wounds are healed; one woe treading on the
heels of another, as with Job. Some thorn is always rankling. When one crag has
been surmounted another has to be scaled, when one torrent has been waded,
another and yet another roars across our path.

Tell Him if the trial seems unsuitable. When we think the medicine prescribed by
a physician does not benefit us but increases the pain, we tell him. So, if we
think our trials not adapted to our temperament, it is better to tell even such
a thought to our Father than nurse it in our own bosom. "My Father, pity your
foolish child, but bear with me while I confess that this bitter cup depresses
my spirit, raises doubts, disturbs my faith, irritates my temper, drives me to
frivolity, hinders prayer, tempts me to seek relief wrongfully. I am taught that
affliction should make me humble and patient, gentle to others, weaned from
earth, submissive to You; but this cup seems to produce opposite results. Oh,
let this cup pass from me! "

Let us tell Him the faintness of spirit it produces; how we feel sometimes worn
out with suffering, as if unable to hold up any longer, or even to pray. "I am
poured out like water, all my bones are out of joint; my soul is bowed down to
the dust; my tears have been my food day and night. O my God, my soul is cast
down within me; all your waves and your billows are gone over me. Abba, Father,
let this cup pass from me!"

Imitating the Divine Example in Gethsemane let us then not hesitate to plead
with wrestling earnestness that God would remove whatever causes us agony; that
He would relieve pain, heal sickness, spare life, remove danger, calm anxiety,
restore love, restrain sin, abate anger, disperse the cloud, calm the storm,
send the sunshine. Submission to God’s Will implies the existence and pleading
of our own. The earnest desire is necessary for the resigned Will, and precedes
it.

There is sin in exalting our own Will to the level of His, but not in having a
Will; in trying to get our Will by whatever methods, not in asking our Father to
accomplish it. It seems an affectation of an impossible piety to profess to have
no Will but God’s. There was nothing thus overstrained in the piety of the Man
Christ Jesus. His example forbids self-condemnation for having a strong desire,
and for expressing it strongly. Let us then appeal to our Father and say,
"Behold me, even me; listen to my complaint; behold this cup; how bitter it is,
how full, how long I have had to drink it. In my ignorance it seems unsuited to
my temperament. How wearied and faint I am! How earnestly I desire to be spared
the further drinking of it, O my Father! Witness these tears, hear these cries,
consider my soul’s agony and bloody sweat, give heed to the prayer of your own
Son—Father, let this cup pass from me!"

Father, let this cup pass from me, Filled to the brim with gall; To taste alone
is misery, How can I drink it all?

I hold it with a trembling hand, Amazement chills my heart;

O let this cup, at your command, This bitter cup depart.

Fiercer than torments flesh can know Are those the mind assail, The bloody sweat
revealed a woe Keener than scourge and nail.

If it be possible, O Lord, Let this cup pass from me;

Hear your own agonizing word From dark Gethsemane.

Yet Father, not my will, but Thine, Your will alone be done; And make Your
loving purpose mine, Through Jesus Christ, Your Son.

—Newman Hall


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 11: 01.10.     RESIGNATION IN GETHSEMANE
========================================================================

10. RESIGNATION IN GETHSEMANE "Your will be done." Our Lord was truly Man, and
so possessed a human will. He desired to be spared the agony He was expecting
and suffering. It was agony of body in the tortures of the cross; agony of soul
by anticipation of the cross, by ingratitude, slander, and insult of foes, and
by the sleep, desertion, and denial of friends; agony of spirit in bearing the
sin of mankind and the fierce assault of the devil. In His agony He prayed that
the cup held out might pass from Him. As human, He prayed with intense
earnestness. As the Son of God, He bowed with absolute submission. The will of
the Father which He had come to execute, though it conflicted with His natural
wishes, was recognized as supreme in authority—best for the glory of God, for
the welfare of the universe, for the Sufferer Himself.

"He begs that this cup might pass from Him, that He might avoid the sufferings
now at hand; or at least that they might be shortened. This intimates no more
than that He was truly Man, and as Man could not but be averse to suffering.
This is the first and simple act of man’s will—to start back from that which is
sensibly grievous, and desire the removal of it. The law of self-preservation is
impressed on the innocent nature of man, and rules there until overruled by some
other law; therefore Christ expressed a reluctance to suffer, to show that He
was taken from among men, tempted as we are yet without sin. Note, a prayer of
faith against an affliction may very well consist with the patience of hope
under affliction. If God may be glorified and man saved without His drinking
this bitter cup, He asks to be excused. Otherwise not. What we cannot do with
the securing our great end we must reckon to be in effect impossible; Christ did
so. We can do nothing, not only we may do nothing, against the truth." (Matthew
Henry.) This submission to the Father’s will was displayed in all His words and
actions. He constantly declared that He had come into the world, not to promote
any personal aims, but to accomplish the will of God. To the captious Scribes
and Pharisees He said, "I can of my own self do nothing; I seek not my own will,
but the will of the Father who has sent me." After conversing with the woman of
Samaria, He was found weary and faint by the disciples on returning with food;
and when they begged Him to eat, He replied, "I have food to eat that you know
not of. My food is to do the will of Him who sent me, and to finish His work."
It was as natural and pleasant to do the will of God as it was to satisfy
natural appetite. It was to Him more so. In seeking the salvation of that one
sinner He had forgotten His hunger. The will of the Father was His supreme joy.
"This is the will of Him that sent Me, that of all He has given me I should lose
nothing." The great work the Father had entrusted to Him was the salvation of
mankind. For this He had to suffer and die. He never drew back from, He
resolutely pressed forward in, His purpose to do the Father’s will. "I have a
baptism to be baptized with, and how am I straitened until it be accomplished."

Thus He fulfilled the ancient prophecy, applied to Him by the writer of the
Epistle to the Hebrews (Hebrews 10:5-10), "When He came into the world He said,
Sacrifice and offering You do not desire, but a body have You prepared me—in
burnt-offerings and offerings for sin You have had no pleasure. Then said I, Lo,
I come to do Your will, O God." The prophecy thus applied to Christ adds, "I
delight to do Your will, O my God; yes, Your law is within my heart" (Psalms
40:7-8). Obedience was to Him not merely duty, but blessedness. The law of God
was not merely expressed in His actions, but stored up in His heart. The conduct
was the outcome of His dominant desire—His most cherished purpose. The will of
the Father was His very life, and that will was concentrated in the atonement of
which the agony in Gethsemane was a part.

Just before leaving the upper chamber, or perhaps on the way to the Garden, He
had said, in His valedictory prayer, "I have glorified You on the earth—I have
finished the work which You gave me to do. And now, O Father, glorify You me."
He prayed for the glory of completing the Father’s will and for strength, not to
evade it, but to accomplish it. Thus on the cross His dying consolation was
uttered in the final word of triumph, "It is finished."

None ever pleaded so importunately as our Lord in Gethsemane; none ever resigned
His own will so absolutely. As our example, He taught us how urgent desires may
be combined with child-like submission to the will of God. We often separate
them, or cultivate one at the expense of the other. Earnest in petition, we
murmur at a seeming refusal; or, mistaking depression for submission, and
unnatural suppression for piety, we yield as to the inevitable, and vainly try
to ignore irrepressible desires. Our Lord divinely holy in His entire humanity,
showed us how, while strongly pleading for our own will, to subordinate it to
that of God. "Father, if it be possible let this cup pass from me—nevertheless,
not my will, but Yours, be done." In a previous chapter, the Fatherhood of God
was urged as an argument both for importunity and resignation. We cannot doubt
His loving desire to bless us, His infallible wisdom in the method, or His
boundless ability to execute His purposes. We are therefore safe in His hands.
He will grant us our will if it be best; and if He refuses, it is because He has
something better to give. His love is revealed as much in denying as in
granting. As we emerge from childhood, we learn to suspect the wisdom of our
wishes. From some eminence in our pilgrimage we look back on the path, and see
plainly how much of our trouble was caused by resolutely following our own will.
We see how we sometimes turned aside from the true way because it seemed rough
and perplexing; and how, in other places, attracted by the flowers or the
scenery, we neglected the map and the sign-posts, and wandered among bogs and
thickets, where we floundered in mire, or were torn with thorns; and to
precipices, where we stumbled and were bruised, and might have perished. Thus,
by bitter experience, we have learned that our will is not always the wisest.
What we have prescribed to ourselves as medicine has proved to be poison; the
cup we have clutched as sweeter than honey has become more bitter than gall. We
resolved to take the helm into our own hands, and have struck on hidden rocks.
We have gone where the moss was brightest, and the quagmire has nearly choked
us. We have glided where the ice seemed smoothest, and it has given way in the
moment of our greatest exhilaration.

It is not safe to say unreservedly, "This is my will; O my Father, grant it."
Many have thus asked for what has proved their greatest misery, as was the case
with a mother, who, when her minister prayed for the life of her boy, adding,
"but not our will; let Yours be done," exclaimed, "No, no! I cannot give him
up." He was spared, but brought her grey hairs with sorrow to the grave. But
God’s will is infallibly wise. He knows both when the sweet in the cup disguises
the poison, and when the bitter is the needful ingredient for the healing. He
sees the end from the beginning; where the frowning ravine opens out into a
blooming valley or a fertile plain; where through the tossing tide-waves of some
narrow channel is the entrance to the safe anchorage. We may not understand His
methods, but we can rely on His love and wisdom. Our highest enduring welfare is
His object, and there is an eternity hereafter for the development. We cannot
expect to work out the problem "now in the time of this mortal life;" and during
afflictions "which are but for a moment," to perceive in what manner they are
working out the "exceeding weight of glory," which is eternal. We now "walk by
faith, not by sight;" and thus we know that infallible wisdom directs the Will
which is prompted by infinite love and sustained by unlimited power. Therefore
we pray with confidence, "Father, Your will be done." The will of God is
commended to us by special promises—promises not merely of general advantage,
but of particular benefit to ourselves individually. In the operation of a
general scheme of beneficent Providence, some must seem to suffer for the
general good. Wise alteration in human laws, the progress of discovery and
invention, while benefiting the many often entail injury on the few. Loyal sons
have often accepted personal loss, and risked even life for the honor of their
father and welfare of the family. And should not the children of God delight in
His glory, even at their cost?

Thanksgivings should not be rendered for personal benefactions alone. True piety
is not sordid. Whether our sky be cloudy or clear, whether our storehouse be
empty or full, whether in loneliness we lie on a bed of pain or go up with the
great congregation to the house of God, we should sing, "We praise You, we bless
You, we glorify You, for Your great glory." But loyal homage and filial love
towards God are inseparable from personal benefit, though this should not be our
chief motive. Our Father’s will is ever linked with our own welfare. We are
never in danger of being personally crushed in an exulting crowd. The flood that
bears fertility to other fields never desolates our own. We share in the
fertilizing influence of every cloud and every ray of sunshine. If the vapor
that drops gentle rain on others comes to us as hail, the invigorating breeze as
desolating blast, even so it brings us good and not evil. The will of our Father
not only secures advantage to His family as a whole but to every individual
child. All things work together for their lasting good. All things! Not alone
pleasant things, which we call mercies, but painful things, which we call
trials. Thus when we pray for God’s will we ask for that which, in promoting His
glory and the general good, secures also our own welfare. If then every cup,
however bitter, conveys to us some healing medicine or strengthening food,
profit as well as piety should prompt the prayer—Your will be done. Happy for us
that our Father loves us too much to let us have our own will when it would do
us harm. My will? It is often the result of ignorance, the prompting of passion.
My Father, may Your will be done! My will? I often desire as a treasure to
enrich, what would prove a burden to crush. My Father, may Your will be done! My
will? I may pursue a phantom which would allure me to the perilous precipice or
the fatal bog. My Father, may Your will be done! My will? I may be eager for a
draught of pleasure, which would poison my whole life. My Father, may Your will
be done!

Lord! take your way with me, and let me not choose my own. Ordain my lot. Mix my
cup. Your Will—unfailingly kind in its purpose, infallibly right in its method,
absolutely sure of its fulfillment. My Father, may Your will be done! Your way,
O Lord! Your way—not mine!

Although oppressed, For smoother, sunnier paths I pine, Your way is best.

Though crossing thirsty deserts drear, Or mountain’s crest;

Although I faint with toil and fear, Your way is best.

Though not one open door befriend The passing guest;

Though night its darkest terror lend, Your way is best. So seeming wild without
a plan, Now east now west;

Joys born and slain, hopes blighted, can Your way be best? My soul by grief
seems not to be More pure and blessed;

Alas! I cannot, cannot see Your way is best.

I cannot see—on every hand By anguish prest, In vain I try to understand Your
way is best. But I believe—Your life and death, Your love attest, And every
promise clearly says "Your way is best."

I cannot see—but I believe;

If heavenly rest Is reached by roads where most I grieve, Your way is best.

—Newman Hall


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 12: 01.11.     SLUMBER IN GETHSEMANE
========================================================================

11. SLUMBER IN GETHSEMANE

Then he returned to his disciples and found them sleeping. "What, could you not
watch with Me one hour? The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak."—
Matthew 26:40-41 On reaching the Garden the Sufferer had said, "Pray that you
enter not into temptation." When He took with Him into closer retirement the
favored three, He again besought them—"My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto
death—wait here and watch with Me." Then He went from them only a short distance
and for a short time, to wrestle alone in the prayer of His great agony. Yet
when, with a heart ready to break, He returned for the solace of their sympathy,
He found them sleeping.

How pathetic was His admonition! He specially addressed the one who had most
emphatically protested his zeal, not now as Peter, the rock, but saying, "Simon,
why are you sleeping?" (Mark 14:37). The others shared the gentle reproof,
"What, could you not watch with Me one hour?"

"Could you not watch with Me?" It was not much just to keep awake; as a
sentinel, to warn of danger or confer with his captain; or as a nursing friend,
to minister to the suffering and sad. Judas had been on the watch. In the space
of two or three hours he had been to the priests, concluded his wicked compact,
explained his plans, helped to gather the armed band, and was leading them on
their night-march of capture. Surely if the treacherous foe was awake and
active, to discover, seize, accuse, and slay; the faithful friends might have
been on the watch to share and soothe the grief of the Lord they loved?

"Could you not watch one hour?" The time during which their aid was needed was
so brief. It was not as if some great continuous effort was required, or as if,
after a long night of toil, sleep was an absolute necessity and could not be
delayed. Surely seeing their Lord in such deep distress, hearing His earnest
appeal, and witnessing the commencement of His agony, they should not so soon
have yielded to drowsiness. They had toiled all night in their fisher-boat in
spite of failure, taking nothing—could they not watch one hour of this night, to
secure the in estimable privilege of ministering to their Divine Master?

"Could not you watch with Me? You are those who have continued with me in my
temptations." After all they had witnessed of His endurance of trial and tender
pity for others; after all their own strong protestations, it was sad that they
should sleep.

"Could you not watch with me." He had at once risen from sleep to calm the
tempest, when they aroused Him saying, "Save, Lord, or we perish." He had
remained awake, watching and praying, when they, in the darkness of night, were
striving against the opposing winds; and He had come to them across the waves,
saying, "It is I, be not afraid." He had just been pouring out His heart to them
in many words of counsel and comfort at the final feast of love—and could it be
that they should so soon fail Him? At this very time He was watchful for them.
He came now to rouse them, not merely that they might minister to Him, but that
they might not injure themselves. In the midst of His own agony He was
solicitous for their good. They were losing a great privilege, they were
imperilling themselves, they were storing up regretful memories. Could they not
watch with Him who was so watchful for them?

David, the type of Christ, in his grief passed near Gethsemane, as he "went up
by the ascent of Mount Olivet, and wept as he went up; and all the people that
were with him went up, weeping as they went up." But these servants of the
Divine Son of David, the Messiah King, left Him to weep alone—while they
slumbered and slept.

How considerate was our Lord in making kind allowance for their infirmities.
Their guilt was great, but so was their weakness. They were sincere in their
love, though remiss in their wakefulness.

"He found them sleeping for sorrow." The Evangelist’s statement was a statement
of fact, known and appreciated by the Lord. He knew that the sleep was from
weariness, not heartlessness. The weariness resulted from mental emotion. His
pathetic address at the Supper must have grieved them by sympathy with His
manifest sorrow, and by apprehensiveness for themselves. It was evident from His
whole manner, His counsels as of one bidding a final adieu, His intimations of
suffering and death, that some terrible storm was about to burst on them. And
now, His obvious agony, and the warning which indicated approaching peril, so
added to the pressure of grief, that mental and physical drowsiness overcame
them, and instead of making the more vigorous efforts to master it, they were
"sleeping for sorrow."

Perhaps some reader may have experienced what it is to be sleeping for sorrow,
weary with woe. As severe toil exhausts the body, so does grief the mind.
Physical agony often induces sleep, and for a season no more pain is felt.
Mental distress often prevents sleep, but it also sometimes induces it. The
supply of tears is drained. The capacity for conscious distress ceases. The
spirit asks to sleep before it can again feel. So sometimes in the midst of a
storm there is a lull in the conflict of the elements, as though exhausted by
their own violence, and there intervenes a delusive, perilous pause. The rain
ceases to fall, the hurricane is hushed, no lightnings flash, nor thunders roar.
The storm sleeps. So sometimes during a fierce battle there is a brief cessation
of active hostilities. The guns are too hot to be fired, the field supplies need
to be replenished, the soldiers must recover breath, or be nourished with food.
The fierceness of the fight has necessitated such pause. The battle sleeps. And
amid the storm or the conflict of trial, there is often a temporary pause, a
partial oblivion; and the sufferer in the garden of grief is "sleeping for
sorrow." Our Lord not only recognized the fact that it was sorrow, and sorrow
for Him, which produced the drowsiness, but He also gave them credit for
willingness which was hindered by weakness, and by the temptations incident to
humanity. "The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak." This was stated
as a general fact, true of all mankind. True, therefore, of Himself as Son of
Man. At that moment it was evident from His tears, His cries, His prayer of
agony, that His own flesh was weak. But His watchfulness and earnest prayers,
His unchanged resolve and entire resignation, were evidence that His spirit was
willing in all things to obey the will of His Father. An important distinction
must be recognized between Christ and His disciples, both in willingness and
weakness. His spirit was absolutely willing because divinely perfect, while our
spirit is only defectively willing by reason of sinfulness. His flesh was weak
solely by reason of blameless infirmities, incident to the humanity He had
assumed; while our flesh is not only thus weak, but influenced by "fleshly lusts
which war against the soul." In a sense not true of Christ, our "flesh lusts
against the Spirit." Even were we like our Lord in purity, we must, like Him,
watch and pray. How much more, being what we are! The spirit will only be
willing by prayerfulness; the flesh, in its weakness, will only be kept from
wickedness by watchfulness.

Weariness of body tends to becloud the mind and weaken the will. Men are not so
capable of exertion when lacking food or rest. Thus a good general watches the
food provisions, that the soldiers may not go into battle with the hunger that
abates courage. Fatigue renders the eye less keen, the foot less firm, the hand
less steady. All this the Elder Brother recognized, and so extenuated the fault.
"He knows our frame, He remembers that we are dust."

He who promised "another Comforter," another Paraclete to help us, is Himself
our Advocate. As Counsel, specially retained for us in the Court above, He makes
the best of our case that truth permits. If our Judge, He is our Pleader too.
Even when He accuses for the guilt, He praises for the goodness. "He who has the
sharp sword with two edges," prefaced His reproofs of the church in Pergamos by
saying—"I know your works—and you hold fast my Name, and have not denied my
faith." While He said "I have a few things against you," He commended them for
steadfastness amid the fierce trials of persecution—"even in those days wherein
Antipas was my faithful martyr, who was slain among you, where Satan dwells"
(Revelation 2:12-14). With such an Advocate we need not ourselves seek for pleas
in cessation of judgment. He will do this far better than we can ourselves. When
He reproved the disciples they could find no excuse, "neither know they what to
answer Him." But He promptly put in the plea—Sorrow, Weakness, Willingness. Let
us leave to Him the extenuation, while we confess the aggravation. Sleeping!
alas—in spite of Your love, Your sorrow, Your request, Your warning—in spite of
my infinite obligations, and my often-repeated vows—Lord have mercy upon me, a
sinner!

We should learn to put the gentlest construction on the faults of our friends.
Sorrow sometimes makes us selfish, and pain induces peevishness. We are apt to
think we are badly used when those we love are not so zealous in their sympathy
as we expected. Let us try to minimise their fault, and make allowance for their
own cares, or weariness, or grief. Excuses for them will soothe the wounds,
which harsh censures of them would irritate. Our Lord’s gentleness towards us
when sleeping for sorrow, and our imitation of Him in our own forbearance
towards others, will always prove to be ’leaves of healing in our garden of
grief.’ The reader is reminded of the special lessons of consolation this
subject suggests. The love of Jesus in enduring for us this particular sorrow;
His Brotherhood in suffering as we often suffer from failures of friends; His
ability to sympathize with us in such disappointment; His gracious compassion
towards our infirmities; His pleas in mitigation of our faults; His appreciation
of the willingness combined with the weakness; His unslumbering watchfulness
over us—such are some of the leaves of healing we may pluck in this part of the
garden of grief.


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 13: 01.12.     WATCH AND PRAY IN GETHSEMANE
========================================================================

12. WATCH AND PRAY IN GETHSEMANE "Watch and pray, that you enter not into
temptation." The weakness of the flesh was not an encouragement for sleeping,
but an argument for awaking. If the body in all its functions were a perfect
instrument for a spirit perfectly willing—strong, unwearied, free from impulses
and passions by which the devil tempts the spirit—there would not be such need
of the exhortation; but because of the body’s weakness, the spirit has the more
reason to watch and to pray. The devil assailed the Savior in the wilderness
through the weakness of the flesh, when hunger was felt after long fasting. Save
yourself this pain! And now again, when the flesh was still more weak, the devil
renewed the assault with a similar suggestion, Drink not this cup! Out of His
own consciousness of human weakness, Jesus warned His disciples to imitate His
own example of watchfulness and prayer. The devil quoted and misapplied
scripture, when he tempted Christ to cast Himself from the pinnacle of the
temple. And he has often perverted these words to encourage slumber in those
whom the Lord sought to awaken. Satan says, "Your flesh is weak, but you mean
well. God will take the will for the deed. Nature craves indulgence—indulge it;
hunger asks food—take it. You cannot help feeling thirst—slake it. You are
weary—rest. You are drowsy—sleep. Take comfort from the conviction of what is
right, and from a general desire to do it when the difficulty is not too great;
but when feeling weak, especially so very weak in the garden of grief, be
content with wishing to be vigilant, and with a good conscience settle yourself
to slumber." Our Lord’s argument was the very reverse. "Because the spirit is
willing, let its will be firm. Because the flesh is weak, let the spirit be the
more strong. Because feeling drowsy, be the more resolute to watch. Because in
slumber your danger is increased, let your vigilance be increased. Because the
flesh is weak, watch and pray that you enter not into temptation." An Alpine
climber, after hours of exertion, may be so weary that he can proceed no further
until he recruits his strength. But he must beware of sleeping on the ice-slope,
or the precipice’s edge. Cold and exhausted he pauses on the snow-field, but he
must keep up the circulation by exercise. If he lies down to slumber—he may not
wake again. The more weary he feels the—more watchful must he be. A friend of
the writer was overtaken by night on a lofty mountain-ridge. The path behind was
too perilous to be retraced in the dark; and the way in front was obstructed by
a rock, which he was too weary to scale. His resting-place was a steep slope
towards a fearful precipice. One careless movement might be fatal. As the
darkness deepened, the danger was disguised. With a lessening visible sense of
peril he felt increasing drowsiness. How he had to stir up his mind to a
conviction of the need of unremitting vigilance! What efforts were his during
those long hours to drive off sleep! Thus it is with those who are weary with
wrestling with temptations, with enduring afflictions. In the darkness of the
garden of grief they are in special danger, and therefore specially need to
watch and pray. The storm may seem to slumber, but woe to the pilot who presumes
on the lull, and is sleeping at the helm when the elements awake with renewed
violence. There may be a pause in the battle, but woe to the army which sleeps
while the foe is busy in reloading his guns, and gathering his troops for a
renewed charge. In our grief there may come intervals of relief, but woe to the
sufferer who allows weariness so to take advantage of the respite as spiritually
to slumber, and be beguiled by the devil’s plausible arguments to enter into
temptation. In the garden of grief, with body and mind weakened by woe, there is
great danger of entering into temptation, by impatience and distrust of God.
These are the beginnings of paths leading away from God’s garden of trial into
the devil’s wilderness of flattering but false and fatal ease.

Others have entered into temptation by seeking solace in trouble from poisonous
pleasures and perilous delights. They would mitigate the bitterness of sorrow’s
cup by another, which may for a time dull the sense of pain and grief, but which
has often tied and bound in the chain of evil habit the sufferer who has had
life-long reason to regret, that by such relief from suffering, he fell into
such depths of sin. Others, to divert the mind from anxious and sorrowful
thoughts, have welcomed the visits of some ungodly but gay companion, whose
jokes and tales have engendered a lasting preference for such society. Others
again have sought relief in worldly pleasures, in more than questionable
entertainments, in trashy tales suggestive of evil, which, after the transitory
diversion, have left permanent wounds on the soul.

Temptation itself cannot be avoided. It is inherent to our human nature. It
assailed the holy Christ. But it is one thing for temptation to come to us, and
quite another for us to enter into it. Once willingly enter and we may ramble
further and further among thickets, bogs, and precipices; whence if we return it
will be with garments muddied and torn, with wounds and bruises and saddest
memories. "See that you ENTER not into temptation."

"A green log is safe in company of a candle;" yes, but with a few shavings and
some dry sticks the green log yields to the flames. Satan seldom assails first
with great temptations. Skillful general! he makes his approaches gradually, by
zig-zag trenches creeps towards the fortress he intends to storm, and then
suddenly unmasks his batteries. After defeat he fakes retreat, but lurks in
secret ambuscades. Though the flame has been extinguished, the ashes may be
smouldering. Our old sins may be conquered—yet not quite killed. We have
rejoiced over their funeral; but, unless we watch, they may rise up from their
coffins, and with all the added horrors of the grave, may seek to bring us back,
hopeless captives of death. All along the path we need the reiterated
warning—Watch! The chief danger is the first, and the first is yielding to
drowsiness. Extinguish the feeble flame which might cause a conflagration. To
safeguard the citadel, resist the preliminary assault on the outworks. To escape
the plague, breathe not infection. To keep from sin, enter not into temptation;
and therefore slumber not, but watch!

Avoid what are called LITTLE sins. No sin can be really little, committed
against the holy laws of conscience and of God. Little faults may be the
beginnings of great ones; to save the big ship, stop the small leak. The deadly
upas-tree is in the seed, the poisonous serpent in the egg, the fierce tiger in
the playful cub. A number of little wounds may kill—as surely as one deep gash;
a small vein kept open, may drain away the life-stream as fatally as a main
artery. The greatest peril is the slumber which renders us indifferent to all
temptation. It steals on us by imperceptible degrees; pleads the excuse of
necessary repose; flatters by the hope of fitting for future toil; asks but a
brief indulgence. It binds with films of such silken softness that we dream we
can break them when we will; but alas, what mighty cords can be twisted from
these thin threads! Some dangers are limited to certain portions of our
pilgrimage—this haunts the whole. When once overcome by it all other foes are
ready to start from their hiding-places to wound, if not to capture or to kill.

Occasional explosions in coal-mines indicate the danger always lurking there.
One candle carelessly exposed may rouse the lurking foe. Into the daily
atmosphere of life may suddenly be injected the inflammable vapor of deadly
temptation. Our only safety-lamp is the grace of God watchfully held. We carry
about with us easily besetting temptations, highly combustible, which an
accidental rub may ignite! If we cannot throw them off, how necessary to watch
lest they burst into flame!

Watchfulness implies EXERTION. A sailor on the watch sees the rocks ahead, and
warns the pilot to alter his course. The captain of a ship observes the fall of
the barometer, and gives his orders to take in sail. A soldier on the watch
spies the foe, and resists the attack. And a Christian on the watch not only
observes but acts, conquers as well as detects evil, does his duty as well as
recognizes it. As the householder in the parable, keeping watch, he "does not
allow his house to be broken into;" as the faithful servant, he improves his
talents, and when his Master knocks, is watching that "he may open to Him
immediately."

Watchfulness and prayerfulness are intimately connected, and must not be
separated. Watchfulness represents the human phase of the religious life; prayer
the Divine. The former prompts effort, the latter dependence. Watch! as if
salvation depended on ourselves; pray! as if it were to be accomplished entirely
by God. Both are one. To watch without prayer would be sinful self-reliance; to
pray without watchfulness would be sinful indolence.

We must pray in order to watch, because this is spiritual life in exercise, and
prayer for the Spirit of life sustains it. We must pray to continue to watch,
for the increase of the willingness, for support in the weakness. How can we
keep watchful in drowsiness, and resist the foe in weakness, without prayer to
One mighty to save? "My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth. He
who keeps you will not slumber." Our Fellow-Sufferer, now on the throne, "is
able to save to the uttermost, seeing He ever lives to make intercession for
us." And "the Spirit helps our infirmities." We do not pray alone.

We must also watch that we may pray. "Be sober and watch unto prayer. Continue
in prayer, and watch in the same." Watch against distracting thoughts in prayer.
Chrysostom says, "The devil knows how good a thing is prayer, therefore he so
greatly tries to hinder it." Watch for opportunities to pray. Plausible pretexts
abound for neglect, especially in seasons of great sorrow and weakness. Besides
fixed seasons for prayer let us watch for opportunities amid the labors of the
day. Rowland Hill used to commend spontaneous prayer, because "it flies up to
heaven before the devil can get a shot at it." Watch for answers to prayer.
Watch to fulfill the duties arising from such answers. If blessings are given,
watch to be grateful; if strength, to exert it; if knowledge, to use it; if
opportunities, to improve them. Greater spiritual mercies demand greater
self-sacrifice. If we feel more love, do we render more service? If comforted,
do we the more try to comfort others? As our Lord went again and again to the
disciples whom He had commanded to watch and pray, so He is ever going the
rounds of His camp and sees whether His soldiers, whom He still bids to watch
with Him, are vigilant and active in resisting the tempter, guarding His Church,
promoting His kingdom, and preparing for His coming. As affliction is a season
in which we may specially glorify Him, so also it is a season in which we may
sadly fail by sleeping when we should watch and pray.

How great was the loss of the disciples! Such a privilege as keeping watch with
the Savior in His great struggle, helping Him by their vigilance, comforting Him
by their sympathy—was offered only to those three, of all mankind. When Jesus,
in preexistent form as the Angel of Jehovah, appeared to Moses "in a flame of
fire out of the midst of a bush," the prophet turned aside "to see this great
sight why the bush was not burnt." He hid his face with reverence, and took his
shoes from off his feet, and listened to all the words of God. But there was a
greater wonder in Gethsemane when, not an olive-tree, but the Angel Jehovah
Himself was enduring the flames from which He came forth unscathed and
glorified—a sight which angels watched with wonder, which eternity will
celebrate. The opportunity never returned. This was the very last hour in which
the disciples would be alone with Him. He was now to be delivered to His foes.
Would not the neglect of such a privilege, the failure of love and duty at such
a time, be a constant regret? When Jesus returned to them "and found them asleep
again He left them and went away again." Emphatic congruity—a double
"again"—their sleeping and His leaving them. If the first sad remonstrance
availed not, was it as likely another would rouse them as it was that it would
increase their guilt? A third time He returned—and still they were slumbering.
It was now too late. The traitor was at hand. What grief of disappointed love is
in the words, "Sleep on now, and take your rest; behold the hour is at hand, and
the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners." From the companionship of
friends, who should have watched and wept with Him, He was to be seized by foes
who would mock and slay Him. The disciples might now sleep on, so far as any
help they might have rendered was concerned. Sleep on now—if you can! They would
not rouse themselves at the voice of the Savior—now they are to be roused by the
voice of the betrayer. Yet even now their Lord cares for them. They would be in
danger of being captured if they remained in the garden. "Rise, let us be going;
behold he who betrays me is at hand." Those who will not rouse up at the voice
of Jesus are likely to be roused by that of calamity. But, "better be alarmed by
swords and spears than left to perish in false security." By lack of
watchfulness they fell into sin. Christ left it to their choice, to sleep on, or
to go to their homes, or to keep near Him in His trial. This last they would
have done had they been prepared for the trial by watchfulness and prayer. But
they all "forsook Him and fled." By lack of watchfulness the most zealous of
them fell into the perilous folly of smiting with the sword, and afterwards into
profane denial of all knowledge of his Lord. Spiritual slumber is the precursor
of sin. After the first awakening of the soul from death there is constant need
of the rousing call—Awake! "Let us not sleep as do others, but let us watch and
be sober."

Trial that is sanctified is a great blessing; but when we do not, by
watchfulness and prayer, seek sanctifying grace, it may be an occasion of
grievous injury. Sorrow is not safety. Affliction is no barrier against
temptation. The garden of grief is not so fortified that the foe cannot gain
access. The slumber of grief may be troubled by dreams of sin, in which fancies
may appear facts. Vain desires, evil imaginations, self-indulgent impulses may
enter the encampment if the sentries slumber, to pollute, to injure, to steal,
if not to slay.

Eve must have been unwatchful when the arch-enemy suggested taking the forbidden
fruit. Milton represents the guardian angels as detecting Satan in the act of
whispering evil to her when asleep in Paradise—

"Him there they found, Squat like a toad, close at the ear of Eve;

Assaying by his devilish art to reach The organs of her fancy, and with them
forge Illusions as he list, phantasms and dreams;

Vain hopes, vain aims, inordinate desires Blown up with high conceit engend’ring
pride."

(Paradise Lost, Book 4.)

Surely if the tempter could thus enter the Garden of Eden, as yet unclouded by
sin, we have special reasons, in our garden of grief, to watch and pray. In our
grief we may be comforted by our Lord’s injunction in Gethsemane. He who says
"Watch" is watching over us. He who bids us "Pray" is interceding for us. The
more we watch, the more of His words of comfort we shall hear. The more we pray,
the more of His supporting grace we shall receive. The more we watch and pray in
our tribulation, the more conscious communion with Him we shall enjoy, the more
ready we shall be to embrace opportunities of serving Him, the more comfort we
shall obtain by comforting others, and so forgetting our own troubles in
ministering to theirs.

"Christian, seek not yet repose, Cast your dreams of ease away;

You are in the midst of foes:

’Watch and pray.’

"Hear the victors who o’ercame, Still they mark each warrior’s way;

All with warning voice exclaim ’Watch and pray.’

"Hear, above all, hear your Lord, Him you love to obey;

Hide within your heart His word ’Watch and pray.’

"Watch, as if on that alone Hung the balance of the day;

Pray, that help may be sent down ’Watch and pray.’" C. E. Elliott.


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  CHAPTER 14: 01.13.     THE STRENGTHENING ANGEL
========================================================================

13. THE STRENGTHENING ANGEL "And there appeared an angel unto Him from heaven,
strengthening Him." Our Lord had in vain sought wakeful sympathy from His three
human friends, and returned with an additional burden to solitary communion with
His Father. To supply their lack, an angel was sent from heaven to strengthen
Him in visible form and audible voice, and prove to His depressed humanity that
the invisible God was there, seeing His tears, hearing His groans, answering His
prayers. As Jesus was removed only a stone’s cast, the disciples, just aroused,
could see in the moonlight, this heavenly visitant. Most probably he came, as
angels on other occasions, in human form. Which of the angels enjoyed the
distinguished honor of being sent direct from the Father in response to the
prayer of the Son? Alas for the disciples, who by sleeping, had forfeited the
privilege of rendering such ministry! In what manner was strength imparted? To
the body, wasted as it was with struggle and woe, "even unto death?" As the
angel revealed to Hagar the water which saved Ishmael; and as an angel provided
the cake and cruse of water for Elijah, did this strengthening angel sustain in
some manner the body of our Lord, to enable Him to endure the agony and finish
the work? Was it strength to the human soul by the tender sympathy which the
disciples failed to express; invigoration of His sensitive and saddened heart,
to bear up under desertion of friends and malignity of foes?

How often have men ready to faint been made strong by sympathy, courageous by
kindness! How often have gentle words of love roused the hero to fresh deeds of
valor, and the tender tones or tears of friendship been the prelude to the shout
of victory! There is no such strength as that which love can give. The love of
God makes the feeblest of men mighty to overcome the world, the flesh, and the
devil. "Your gentleness has made me great." Was it thus the angel was
"strengthening Him?" Was it strength imparted to the higher nature, the spirit
of the Divine Man? Was it by suggesting, at this hour of fierce temptation, the
greatness of the work He was now about to complete—the salvation of mankind, and
thereby the manifestation of the Divine glory—the work He had come expressly to
accomplish, which was dear to His heart, which was now so very near its
completion? Was it by holding before those sorrow-streaming eyes the crown which
the cross would win, the ocean of everlasting gladness the bitter cup would
open, so that He "for the joy set before Him, endured the cross, despising the
shame?" Of this we may be sure, that the visit of the angel, direct from heaven,
was an assurance that He was not forsaken by God, and that the cup of agony
would pass, if not by His being spared it, yet by His being strengthened to
drink it.

What a wonder is here! The Eternal Word incarnate, having assumed the nature of
man, and made "lower than the angels," needs and accepts support from one of His
creatures! The Lord of angels, in His weakness and woe, is sustained and
strengthened by one of the countless host who had bowed before His throne in
worship, and had hastened to fulfill His every command. "Jesus was pleased to
receive comfort from His servants just as God receives comfort from His
creatures; and as we feel pleasure when a friendly hand lays upon our wound the
plaster which ourselves have made." (Jeremy Taylor.) This ministry exhibited the
extremity of the woe which needed it, and the vastness of the love which stooped
to such need.

Why should the existence and ministry of angels be regarded by any one as
impossible, and such belief the offspring of credulous superstition? A law of
the natural world is ’agency by instruments’—one great Efficient working by
second causes. He makes day and night, summer and winter, instrumentally, by the
motions of the earth. In causing the grass to grow, He employs the showers; in
bringing the showers, the clouds; in producing the clouds, the sun; in
preserving man and beast, one generation for ministering to the next. He cares
for children; "it is not His will that one of these little ones should perish,"
and the parents are naturally His angels on earth, while "their angels do always
behold the face of their Father in heaven." The less minister to the greater,
and the greater to the less. All the lower orders of being minister to man. Are
there no higher orders to minister to him, even as he, the greater, ministers to
so many less? But are there any greater? Why not? Below man are countless orders
of graduated life, from infusoria to quadruped, from mollusc to mammal. Above
man up to the Creator is Infinity. Does nothing exist in that interval? Man is
the first in the upward series possessing a soul; does the progression end here?
May there not be above him modes of intelligent existence even as below him
there are modes of unintelligent? What the Bible reveals in the spiritual world
has its analogy in the natural. The Old Testament records many instances of such
ministry, while the New Testament crowds into the history of a few years a much
larger proportionate number. ANGELS predicted the birth of Christ’s forerunner
and of Himself, sang His Advent hymn, sustained Him in the desert and the
Garden, gathered around Calvary, rolled away the stone from the sepulcher,
announced His resurrection, and attended His ascension. Continuing this ministry
to His disciples, they opened prison doors for their escape, smote Herod their
persecutor, brought to Cornelius the answer to his prayers, assured Paul of
safety in the storm, and were beheld by John surrounding the throne in
numberless array, singing the anthem of delivering grace.

"There is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that
repenteth." They must, therefore, take deep interest in the facts and truths
relating to the Savior’s kingdom. "Which things the angels desire to look into."
They will share the final triumph "when the Son of Man shall come in His glory,
and all the holy angels with Him." Their voices will swell the Hallelujah Chorus
of the skies. "I beheld, and I heard the voice of many angels round about the
throne, and the number of them was ten thousand times ten thousand and thousands
of thousands, saying, with a loud voice, Worthy is the Lamb who was slain to
receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honor, and glory, and
blessing."

We must necessarily be interested in the character and qualifications of such
allies. We may infer that they were created before Adam, because nothing is said
of their origin, and their pre-existence is taken for granted. With faculties
originally higher than our own, they have had ages during which to acquire
knowledge and wisdom. They have the wealth of experience derived from such long
existence. We may, therefore, suppose their intelligence.

Sinless, their faculties have not been impaired by moral imperfection. Doubtless
they were tempted when Satan and his angels fell, but they were kept from
falling. Christ spoke of His second appearing "with the holy angels." They
cannot, therefore, be influenced by any unworthy impulse. They are sure
zealously to carry out all the purposes of a God of holy love. Being sinless,
they are deathless—for sin is death. "Those who are accounted worthy to attain
that world cannot die any more, for they are equal to the angels."

They are strong. "The Lord Jesus will be revealed from heaven with His mighty
angels." Their strength is seen in their actions as revealed. They are thus
appealed to—"Bless the Lord, you His angels who excel in strength."

They are loyal—for they "do His commandments, hearkening to the voice of His
word." We pray that His will may be done on earth as it is done in heaven. With
unanimity, constancy, promptitude, cheerfulness, they carry out all His loving
purposes towards us.

Because of such loyalty they are beneficent—for His will is love; and, because
also of their own nature, they take special interest in our welfare. The Good
Shepherd is sure of their sympathy when He says, "Rejoice with Me, for I have
found the sheep which I had lost."

These heavenly allies are numerous—"The chariots of God are twenty thousand." As
on Sinai, in the holy place, so at the Nativity there was "a multitude of the
heavenly host," and both Daniel and John beheld their "thousands of thousands."
Our Lord when leaving Gethsemane knew that "more than twelve legions of angels"
would be sent for His rescue, if He needed them. These multitudes of celestial
beings are employed for us. Unseen, they are our companions—companions before we
reach their abode. Already "we have come to an innumerable company of angels."
The Word of God assures us that their ministry is rendered to all His people in
general, and not merely to the special saints respecting whom such intervention
is recorded. "The angel of the Lord encampeth round about those who fear Him."
So we say that a general encamps round about a city. The Arabs thus encamp round
their chief, whose tent is in the center. So did the Israelites round the
Tabernacle, three tribes on each side. This teaches us the completeness of our
defense. No part is left exposed to the foe, who cannot, by sudden assault, rush
in to destroy us. The angel-circuit must first be broken. It suggests
permanence; not such help as may be given by an escort which guards us to a
certain point and then returns, but abiding support. It is personal permanence,
not local. The escort keeps with the travelers, and does not, as a garrison,
remain in the fortress after those travelers have left it. Angels not only
encamp where we tarry, but strike tents and accompany us when we move forward.
The idea of vigilance is connected with encamping. Not as troops who have
returned home, or are dwelling in a city. Angels are camping out with us on
hostile ground—

"They for us fight, they watch and duly ward, And their bright squadrons round
about us plant; And all for love and nothing for reward:

O why should heavenly God to men have such regard?"

(Spenser.) In that wonderful outburst of holy confidence for all who "dwell in
the secret place of the Most High," recorded in Psalms 91:1-16, we are told that
He gives His angels charge concerning them, lest at any time they dash their
feet against a stone. Not only are they often employed in rescuing believers
from harm which obviously threatens, but in guarding them from unseen danger—not
only from great perils, but from those little obstacles, as "stones," which
cause discomfort if not disaster. The writer to the Hebrews asks, not in
doubtful inquiry but in confident assurance, "Are they not all ministering
spirits, sent forth to minister for those who shall be heirs of salvation?" All
of them are servants of God employed for the saints; all of them are sent forth
to minister; all of them are engaged on behalf of all who, by faith in Christ,
are "heirs of salvation."

We become heirs of salvation when, by faith, we become children of God, and thus
"joint-heirs with Christ." Then angels rejoice over a sinner that repenteth. If
they rejoice in our spiritual birth, will they not be interested in our growth?
If they exult at the beginning of such life, will they not watch over and help
its development? If evil angels are busy to mislead us, will not holy angels be
at hand to counteract such agency and help us along the narrow road? Will they
not do what they can, by command and help of their Lord, to draw us out of the
Slough of Despond, to help, as Great-heart, up every Hill Difficulty, to rescue
from the dungeons of Despair, to cheer in the dark valley, to rouse from slumber
in the Enchanted Ground, to gladden in the Land of Beulah, to unfold bright
visions as we cross the river, and with songs of bliss accompany us to the
Celestial City? Is it too much to believe that the same "helmed cherubim and
sworded seraphim" who attended their Lord, attend also on His humblest
friends?—that the bright-harnessed angels," who "all about the courtly stable"
sat "in order serviceable," (Milton) are also round about many other
manger-beds, and make many lowly hovels "courtly?"

How priceless is the sympathetic help of friends in our garden of grief—when, by
voice or touch or tear we have been animated with new courage—whose tender
sympathy and wise counsels have rendered them verily angels of God, raised up on
earth yet sent by Heaven. But even the kindest may fail. Because our trouble
seems to them light, some may think it should be light to ourselves. They cannot
understand all our hidden, unspeakable woes; they may have absorbing sorrows of
their own. Do angels sometimes supply the lack? Have we never felt as if an
unseen helper was with us? Sometimes, in great perplexity, not knowing how to
take the very next step, light has suddenly shone upon the path, and a voice has
seemed to speak—"This is the way, walk in it." Sometimes, when grievously
tempted, and ready to faint or yield, some "sword of the Spirit" has been put
into our hand, and we have exclaimed, "Rejoice not against me, O my enemy!" In
some grievous sorrow, when we felt as if body and soul would sink beneath the
weight of our cares, an invisible friend has seemed to interpose and lighten the
burden, so that we could bear it. Sometimes, when the gloom has been that of the
shadow of death, and not a star has glimmered, a gentle radiance has lighted up
the darkness, as though some lustrous form, direct from the realms of light, had
come to cheer us. When bound hand and foot with despondency, our chains have
sometimes suddenly fallen, and the dungeon door has opened, as though by the
visit of the angel who rescued Peter. When the storm has been furious, and our
little boat ready to sink, there has been a sudden calm as though He who rebuked
the waves of Galilee had sent an angel over the waves to repeat His own word,
"Be not afraid."

"It may be that God will not send such a comforter until after a long
expectation and a patient sufferance, and an enduring hope. But know this also,
that the holy angel and the Lord of all the angels stands by every holy person
when he prays; and although He draws before His glories the curtain of a cloud,
yet in every instant He takes care we shall not perish, and at a right time
dissolves the cloud, and makes it to distill in holy dew, and in drops sweet as
manna, pleasant as nard, and wholesome as the breath of heaven." (Jeremy
Taylor.)

Surely we may indulge the hope that angels will be near to encourage us in the
hour of death, as with our Lord when anticipating the cross so near at hand.
Having "ministered" to us all along the journey will they not be with us at its
close? Numberless deathbeds of saints have been thus attended, unless we are to
suppose that testimonies so many and varied have all been the utterance of
delusions. Aged believers and little children, philosophers and rustics, have
alike seemed to see and hear attendant angels brightening the darkened chamber,
and thrilling it with unearthly harmonies.

Let this comfort us in the departure of those we love. They are taken from us,
but are received by angels. Earthly companionships are exchanged for heavenly.
Mourning relatives were not the only watchers at their bedside. Rejoicing angels
were there, to gladden their departing spirits with visions of glory even amid
the gloom of the grave. Let us also take courage in view of our own decease. We
know not where this may happen, but wherever it may be, it will become to us the
gate of heaven. A stone was Heaven’s gate when Jacob slept And saw the sparkling
causeway to the skies:

Thus, every spot on which a Christian dies, O’er whose long sleep heart-broken
friends have wept, Has been Heaven’s portal, whence a soul has leapt To glory,
waking up with glad surprise. The chamber, hallowed home of love and prayer, The
couch, the empty cot, the old arm-chair, The sea, the ship, the crag, the
mountain-side, The deepest mine—where’er ’tis said, "he died," Has witnessed
angels ministering there.

Each Christian death-place bears the title given, This is the house of God, the
gate of Heaven.

—Newman Hall on the death of his friend, C. E. Reed, Secretary of the Bible
Society, from a fall on the Morteratsch Glacier, July 29, 1884.

Superstitious abuse of this truth has sometimes produced a recoil from the
subject altogether. But we must bear in mind that whatever that ministry may be,
it is merely instrumental, by direction and help of the Lord of angels.
Scripture gives no sanction to prayers offered to them, as it encourages no
assurance that such prayers are heard. For this, Omnipresence and Omniscience
would be needed. Our prayers are to be offered to God alone, in the name of
Jesus alone. He is everywhere, and listens to every supplication. When John
"fell down to worship before the feet of the angel," who showed him the wonders
recorded in the book of Revelation, the angel at once repudiated such homage,
saying, "Don’t do this, for I am your fellow-servant, and of them which keep the
sayings of this book—worship God." The angels are only His servants, to execute
His will. We thank Him for the help He thus affords by them. Above all, we rely
on the "other Comforter" whom Jesus promised to "abide with us forever," and on
His own assured presence—"I am with you always." We may rest confident that He
who needed the angel to strengthen Him will not leave us alone in our garden of
grief.

While comforted by the thought of angelic support, let us look for such visits,
not to lull us to sleep, but to rouse us to action; not to lead us away from the
gymnasium and the battle, but to animate for the hardship and the strife; not to
bring us out of Gethsemane, but to strengthen us, as our Lord, to "pray more
earnestly." So the angels met Jacob, to teach him how to wrestle in prayer, "as
a prince to have power with man and with God," and go forward to meet Esau; to
Gideon, saying, "The Lord is with you, O mighty man of valor; go in this your
might against the Midianites;" to Elijah, that by strength received he might
return to duty; to Paul, saying, "You must appear before Caesar;" and to Christ,
encouraging Him to endure the cross.

We may all share in some degree the privilege of the angel who strengthened
Jesus, by strengthening His weak disciples, by fellowship with the lonely, by
companionship in watching and prayer, by leading to Christ those over whose
repentance angels rejoice. "Forasmuch as you have done it unto one of the least
of these My brethren, you have done it unto Me." If the grief of our own garden
is too great for us, as sufferers, let us go out of it to some other sufferer’s
garden on an errand of sympathy. In thus acting as ministering angels we may
sometimes forget our own griefs. Such leaves of Gethsemane applied to others
will help to heal our own wounds.


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  CHAPTER 15: 01.14.     THE ANSWER TO THE PRAYER OF GETHSEMANE
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14. THE ANSWER TO THE PRAYER OF GETHSEMANE "O my Father, if this cup may not
pass away from me, except I drink it, YOUR WILL BE DONE."

"He was heard for His godly fear." The remarkable passage in the Epistle to the
Hebrews, supplementing the Gospel narrative, says of Christ, the High Priest of
the Church—"Who in the days of His flesh, having offered up prayers and
supplications, with strong crying and tears, unto Him that was able to save Him
from death, and having been heard for His godly fear, though He was a Son, yet
learned obedience by the things which He suffered" (Hebrews 5:7-8) Two important
questions arise—

What was the prayer?

How was it heard? The prayer being addressed to "Him who was able to save Him
from death" has been interpreted by some to mean a request to be delivered from
the impending crucifixion. If so, the prayer was not heard. Consequently this
was not the request. A marginal note in the R.V. says "Out of death." And some
have considered that our Lord prayed that, though He must die, death might be
the speedy entrance to the life beyond. Thus He prayed for the Resurrection and
Ascension, and so was heard. The Old Version renders the clause, "He was heard
in that He feared," and many interpreters have maintained that the prayer was
answered by our Lord being delivered from the oppressively agonizing fear which
had prompted the prayer—"Let this cup pass from me." But some of the best
scholars are of opinion that the word rendered fear never means the fear of
terror, but of reverence, and that the meaning of the clause cannot be from but
on account of this reverence. Dean Alford renders "He was heard on account of
His pious resignation;" and the R.V. "He was heard for His godly fear."

Although no child of God would claim merit for resignation, yet this is a
condition of mind which may render it suitable for God to grant our requests. It
may be good for us to obtain what we ask when willing to forego it, and not
before. We are more likely to be heard when we yield to His will than when we
press our own. Our Lord was our perfect Example. We often begin by making our
own wishes paramount, and gradually let them recede behind the will of God. But
our Lord, throughout this agony of prayer, desired supremely that the will of
His Father might be done. But why is it said that the prayer was addressed to
"Him who was able to save Him from death?" As already explained, His humanity
shrank from the sufferings of both body and mind awaiting Him. Had the cup not
been to Him bitter, had the cross not been torture, had such a death not been
agony, He would not have been really human—the "Son of Man;" and so He shuddered
in view of it. But had He relented in purpose, and willed for a moment that His
human feelings might prevail over His Father’s will, He would not have been our
perfect Redeemer and Example. "If he had not felt the cross to be a dread, it
had been no sacrifice. If he had allowed the dread to penetrate to His will, He
had been no Savior." (Alexander Maclaren). He carried His human fear to One,
able, if He chose, to deliver Him from all that He apprehended. It was the
prayer of the faith that "God is, and that He is a rewarder of those who
diligently seek Him." But while appealing to Him who was able to save Him from a
death so terrible, from drinking a cup so bitter, the burden of the prayer from
beginning to end was this—"Not my will, but Yours be done."

Thus the prayer in Gethsemane was that of "piety," of "godly fear," of "pious
resignation." It was an earnest, importunate pleading for His Father’s will, and
therefore for help to accomplish it. His humanity was shrinking, the flesh was
weak, the devil was tempting, there was an agony of conflict, the "hour of
darkness" was striving against the Light; and from the gloom of the deadly
combat came forth from the first, reiterated, prevailing over every suggestion
of Satan, every desire of the weak though sinless flesh, every prompting of the
perfect though sensitive humanity, this conquering cry—"Father! Your will be
done!" This prayer was answered. He was "heard for His godly fear," heard in the
one prevailing request which His godliness, His reverence, His filial love
dictated. He had come to the world for the very purpose of carrying out the
Father’s purpose of love—"I delight to do Your will!" And He was heard by being
enabled to do it, by the strengthening of His frail body, by the allaying of His
human fears, by victory over the foe in this fierce final struggle. His prayer
was answered, not by escape from the death in view, but by victory over it, and
from all fear of it; so that although He was still to be betrayed, condemned,
mocked, scourged, crucified, yet He was heard by deliverance from the agony then
crushing both body and spirit, and by invigoration to perform that will of God,
the accomplishment of which was the prayer of Gethsemane. This had been His
prayer when He predicted His death, saying, "The hour has come, that the Son of
Man should be glorified. Now is my soul troubled; and what shall I say? Father,
save me from this hour—but for this cause came I unto this hour. Father, glorify
Your Name." He prayed that His Father might be glorified by strengthening Him to
endure the hour, to suffer the death, to realize the glory. Save me out of this
hour, not that I may escape it, but that I may endure it, and be delivered out
of it by accomplishing the purpose of it—Your Will. (John 12:23-28).

Throughout the whole of His ministry on earth our Lord spoke and acted as the
obedient agent of His Father. He "took on Him the form of a servant," and as a
servant He regarded the will of God as supreme. "I came not to do my own will,
but the will of Him who sent me." It was impossible for Him to have any aim or
wish that might interfere with His dominant purpose. The will of the Father was
the will of the Son, and the prayer which was heard was for the strength needed
for the execution of that will. The first evidence of this was the angel sent
from the Father as the minister of such invigoration. "There appeared an angel
unto Him from heaven, strengthening Him." Here was a direct, immediate, visible
answer—the angel of invigoration, giving strength for the doing of the will. The
reality of the invigoration was evident in the behavior of the Sufferer in all
that followed. The agony had not at once become less, but power to endure it had
increased. The prayer was not feebler by weariness, but stronger in importunity.
"Being in agony he prayed the more earnestly." This was itself an answer, in the
evidence of strength bestowed; not rendering the Father more willing to hear,
but solacing the Sufferer in such utterance of His deepest desires, and in the
increased assurance that the Father who helped His infirmities so to pray, would
assuredly "hear Him for His godly fear." The infirmity of the humanity was now
exchanged for the strength communicated in answer to the prayer. The form was no
longer prostrate but erect. The cries were hushed. No more tears were shed. Calm
had succeeded conflict. The spirit ever willing was now directing the flesh no
longer weak. Jesus rose from prayer, woke the sleepers, warned them of the
danger, and advanced to meet the foe. "Rise up, let us be going; behold he is at
hand who betrays me." There was no idea of escape. "Let us be going," not away
from, but towards the traitor. The hand which had shrunk from the cup when not
actually presented was now stretched out to receive it.

Capture might have been avoided. Amid the shadow of the great trees, behind the
rocks, or in the caves and tombs, hiding-places might have been found, until at
dawn of day Christ and His disciples might have reappeared amid the admiring
crowds at Jerusalem, whom a few miracles might have aroused to an enthusiasm
which their rulers would not dare to provoke. Apart from Divine knowledge, His
human faculties, all awake as He was, must have detected the moving lights and
increasing murmur of the crowd. But there was no attempt at flight or
concealment. He Himself advanced to meet His captors, and was the first to
speak.

Judas was now approaching, "and with him a great multitude, with swords and
knives, from the chief priests and the scribes, and the elders." There were also
present some of the Roman Guard from the Tower of Antonia, whose special duty
was to keep order in the Temple, and so were sent to secure the one charged with
gathering disorderly crowds there, and promoting sedition. A small rabble of men
leagued against twelve legions of angels! Soldiers of the decaying Empire to
bind the Lord of Heaven and earth! Priests of the perishing temple to drag to
death the everlasting High Priest!

"Jesus, knowing all things that should come on Him, went forth, and said unto
them, Whom do you seek? They said, Jesus of Nazareth. Jesus said unto them, I am
He." He was ready for their wicked will, made ready in answer to prayer. So
sublime was His fortitude, such dignity combined with such sorrow in His
demeanor, that they, surprised, confounded, self-condemned, in a moment of
terror, shrank backward on the rocky, sloping ground—stumbling in confusion
against each other and lying prostrate, so that escape even then would have been
easy. "They went backward and fell to the ground." Without the need of any
miracle to effect this, they were overawed by the majestic dignity and courage
which proved that His prayer had been heard.

Rallying after brief discomfiture, the motley crowd again advanced. For a moment
they were irresolute, Judas also "stood with them." They seemed uncertain whom
to seize. The calmness of Jesus was again evident in His repeated inquiry, "Whom
do you seek?" "They said, Jesus of Nazareth. Jesus answered, I have told you
that I am He—If therefore you seek Me, let these go their way." His composure
was seen in thoughtful care for others. "You have said you seek only Jesus of
Nazareth. I have repeatedly told you I am He. My name alone is in your warrant,
and you cannot detain my friends. Let them go where they will." The officers
still hesitated. Could it be that the ’dangerous criminal’, the formidable
conspirator and leader of sedition, was thus, without an attempt at resistance
or concealment, offering Himself to bonds, and probably to death? Might not one
of His confederates be pretending to be the Chief, so that the object of pursuit
might meanwhile escape? The doubt was removed by Judas, who now gave the sign,
preconcerted to avoid mistake. "And forthwith he came to Jesus, and said, Hail,
Master; and kissed Him." The answer to the prayer was revealed also in the
Lord’s address to Judas. The quiet, sad, pathetic, but searching
question—"Judas, are you betraying the Son of Man with a kiss?"—proved how calm
and strong He had become.

Still more was the fact that our Lord "was heard" evident from those precious
words, "The cup which my Father has given me, shall I not drink it?" He had
first prayed that the cup might pass from Him, if possible. This was not
possible. Then—"If this cup may not pass from me unless I drink it, Your Will be
done." The unconditional prayer was this—"Your Will be done"—Whatever the cost,
however painful the process. So His prayer was really heard by the being
strengthened to do that Will for which He prayed. He no longer says, "Let the
cup pass from me," but "Shall I not drink it?"

Thus it was that Christ was "heard for His godly fear." His repeated, paramount,
agonizing prayer was for the accomplishment of His Father’s Will. His "godly
fear" was this godly longing for the will of God. He "was heard" in the
invigoration He needed. The angel from Heaven strengthened Him. The "other
Comforter" possessed His soul. His Heavenly Father was consciously near. The
frail body was upheld by the willing human spirit, both now made invincibly
strong by the indwelling of the Holy Spirit.

Thus he was enabled to drive away the tempter, to meet the betrayer, to advance
towards the cross, to drink the cup; and thus His prayer was answered, "Your
will be done." "He was heard." Thus let us desire an answer to the prayer of our
grief and our best consolation, in grace sufficient to bear the burden, to drink
the cup, to carry the cross, to suffer and to do the will of our Father.


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  CHAPTER 16: 01.15.     DELIVERANCE IN TRIAL BY STRENGTH TO DO THE WILL OF GOD
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15. DELIVERANCE IN TRIAL BY STRENGTH TO DO THE WILL OF GOD "You answered me, and
strengthened me with strength in my soul."— Psalms 138:3

Sufferers in Gethsemane are comforted by seeing, in this example, that prayer is
answered when strength is imparted to suffer and do God’s will. We are apt to
think that our prayers are in vain when the very request is not granted. We pray
to be spared such and such a trial—pain, sickness, poverty, bereavement. These
continue. Though we ask to be spared the bitter cup, it is still presented. Can
the promise be fulfilled, "All things whatever you shall ask in my Name shall be
granted"? But what do we ask in Christ’s Name beyond that which He himself
asked, that the will of God may be done? If we ask anything irrespective of His
will, it cannot be in the Name—that is, in the spirit—of Him who prayed in
Gethsemane. In every request which is really Christian, we therefore pray,
"Father, not my will, but Yours be done." If so, His will becomes our will, and
our prayer is heard when we receive strength to do it or suffer it. To continue
to pray, even when there is no outward answer in the removal of the trial, is
itself an answer; for it is a proof of strength bestowed, without which we
should cease to pray. To persevere in duty, as did Christ; to be gentle towards
failing friends; to be forgiving towards foes and traitors; to be willing to
suffer rather than sin by evading duty; to refuse deliverance when within our
power, if at the cost of conscience; to be in the furnace and not murmur; to
toil up the rugged hill and not look back—surely this is the answer to our
prayer, when our supreme desire is to be strengthened to do the will of God.

Faith conquers when we are resigned to trials we cannot escape; but it is "more
than conqueror" when we wrestle with difficulties or endure agony which it is in
our power to avoid, but which we gladly embrace as the will of God. "Christ’s
was the quiet surrender of what was His, because He could not both have it and
yet do His work and save the world. We talk of the glory of resignation to the
inevitable; but the true glory is resignation to the evitable. To stand
unchained, with perfect power to go away, and so standing to let the fire creep
up to the heart—that is the truer heroism. When Christ refused to call the
angels to His help the strength which was implied in the support of the angels
was surely entering into Him, and making Him ready for the battle which He was
just about to fight." (Phillips Brooks)

Trials may obstruct our path, which we feel unable to surmount. We pray, "O
Lord, remove the mountain. Have You not promised such an answer to the prayer of
faith? Is anything impossible with You? But Your will be done." The mountain
remains in all its threatening inaccessibility. But new strength is imparted to
the body, new courage to the soul. An invisible Hand is stretched forth and
grasps our own. Now we begin to climb with cheerful hope, higher and higher
above the clouds of doubt and despondency, until we breathe the exhilarating air
and revel in the glorious landscape of the summit. Then we go on our way with
invigorated powers, happy memories, useful experiences, confirmed hopes. Is not
this a true answer? Is not such strength to climb the mountain its practical
removal? Is it not better? Its removal would be but one event and relief.
Strength to climb it remains in permanent invigoration of character, and has
results enduring as eternity. When Moses was summoned to go and demand the
liberation of captive Israel, he earnestly prayed for the removal of such a
mountain. He pleaded his weakness—"Who am I, that I should go unto Pharaoh?"—his
lack of credentials and of eloquence, and at length presumed to say, "O Lord,
send, I pray you, by the hand of him whom You will send." The work must be done
by himself, and his prayer was heard in strength given—"Certainly I will be with
you; I will put forth My hand; I will be your mouth and teach you what you shall
speak." Thus the mountain was removed by strength to climb it. Was it not better
for Moses that he should thus be the great Lawgiver and Deliverer of the chosen
people of God, and a blessing to the world, than that he should have had his
first wish, and spend his remaining years in feeding a few sheep in the
wilderness?

Prayer in trial is often answered with a fuller blessing, by strength for trial,
than by escape from trial. David’s experience has been shared by multitudes—"In
the day that I cried, You answered me, and strengthened me with strength in my
soul." The answer to the cry was by strength to endure the cause. This answer
came at once—on the same day—in the strength so to pray and so to endure. We
cannot escape conflict; it is better to fight and conquer. "Without combat you
can not attain patience. If unwilling to suffer you refuse to be crowned.
Without labor there is no arriving at rest, nor without fighting can the victory
be won." (Thomas a Kempis.) Our prayer is answered when we can say—"God is my
strength; He teaches my hands to war. You have girded me with strength to the
battle." We ask for peace, and He answers by grace to win it. "The Lord will
give strength to His people; He will bless His people with peace;" with peace,
by strength. When we have felt too weak to encounter the difficulty and bear the
sorrow—He has put this new song into our mouth, "You have been a strength to the
poor, a strength to the needy in his distress;" and then, instead of hesitating
in any perilous or painful path, we have exclaimed—"I will go in the strength of
the Lord God."

Trial endured by help from God is better than trial shunned. It was better for
Columbus to go forward in spite of Atlantic storms and a murmuring crew than to
seek inglorious shelter in some tranquil harbor or royal palace. He who has
fought many battles, which have left many scars, is a better soldier than
another who has lived secure in the barracks. And the Christian who prays for
the help of God is no loser when enabled to fight the good fight, however
fierce, rather than being spared the struggle. If with severer trial more
strength is bestowed, we may rather desire than shun that which brings the more
abundant grace. If more than for ease a Christian prays to be "strengthened with
all might by God’s Spirit in the inner man," he should not lament the necessity
which brings the supply. It was better for Abel to be strengthened to suffer
martyrdom than to be spared the persecution; for such avoidance would have been
fruitless in result, whereas by strength to endure it, "He, being dead, yet
speaks."

Against the powers of darkness, With hellish craft and rage, Our heavenly
Captain calls us Incessant war to wage. But who would ask exemption From such a
noble fight?

All needful strength is promised, We struggle for the right.

We’ll bless You for the battle, We’ll glory in the strife;

We’ll shout at call of trumpet, We’ll win eternal life.

Strong in the strength of Jesus, And in His spirit brave, Crowned through
eternal ages We’ll sing His power to save!

—Newman Hall The disciples, left alone after the Ascension, might dread the
hostility of those who had murdered their Lord, and pray to escape. But their
request was better answered by the assurance, "You shall receive power, after
the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you shall be my witnesses"—Greek,
martyrs. They were to bear testimony even unto death by strength bestowed, and
then to become founders of the Church, teachers and examples for the world. Paul
prayed to be relieved from his thorn in the flesh, but it was better that he
still had to endure it when assured by Christ, "My strength is made perfect in
weakness;" so that he said, "I glory in weakness, that the power of Christ may
rest upon me." Thus Christian martyrs were rescued, not from slimy cell, galling
chains, hungry lions, fiery faggots, but by strength to suffer, and so
conquer—strength not merely to submit to force, but of their own free will to
welcome the furnace, to kiss the cross. And the blood of the martyrs became the
seed of the Church. So, ever since, the ’Gethsemane of conflict’ has been the
sure pathway to the ’Calvary of conquest’ and the ’Olivet of glory’. All who,
like their Lord, have "offered up prayers and supplications with strong crying
and tears" unto Him who was able to save them from sorrows and death, yet with
supreme desire that the will of God might be done, "have been heard for their
pious resignation;" and their true request has been granted in strength bestowed
to do that will.

"Peace! doubting heart; my God’s I am! Who formed me man, forbids my fear The
Lord has called me by my name; The Lord protects, forever near; His blood for me
did once atone, And still He loves and guards His own.

"When passing through the watery deep, I ask in faith His promised aid, The
waves a dreadful distance keep, And shrink from my devoted head;

Fearless their violence I dare;

They cannot harm, for God is there!

"To Him my eye of faith I turn, And through the fire pursue my way— The fire
forgets its power to burn, The lambent flames around me play;

I own His power, accept the sign, And shout to prove the Savior mine.

"Still near me, O my Savior, stand! And guard in fierce temptation’s hour;

Hide in the hollow of Your hand;

Show forth in me Your saving power;

Still be Your arms my sure defense Nor earth nor hell shall pluck me thence."

(Wesley.)


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  CHAPTER 17: 01.16.     THE TRAITOR'S KISS
========================================================================

16. THE TRAITOR’S KISS "Judas, do you betray the Son of Man with a kiss?"

Glancing at the merely human aspects of the call of Judas, we may suppose that
he was first attracted by the eloquence, miracles, and rising fame of the young
Prophet. At the first he may have been conscious of no insincerity, and seemed
as true-hearted as the others. Thus many in our day experience certain religious
emotions and make confession of faith, which their after-life proves to have
been like the seed on the rocky ground, springing up hastily, but soon withering
from lack of root.

He was naturally covetous, and when the first enthusiasm cooled, yielded to the
dominant passion. His seeming integrity induced his intimate companions to trust
him as treasurer. This was an opportunity of purloining. He murmured at the cost
of the ointment, in professed care for the poor. "This he said, not because he
cared for the poor; but because he was a thief, and having the bag, took away
what was put therein." The rebuke on that occasion, the pricking of conscience
by the Lord’s habitual teaching, the growing lack of accord between his own mind
and that of his brethren more and more alienated him; he felt ill at ease. "Two
cannot walk together except they are agreed." Disappointed, vexed, and angry, he
might gratify both his spleen and avarice by becoming a secret ally of those who
openly were the foes of Jesus. He was willing to take a bribe, however paltry.
And so he bargained to betray Jesus at a place and time when He might be seized
in the absence of the people. He may have expected that when actually captured,
Jesus would exert His latent power to establish a temporal kingdom, which might
yield Judas greater opportunities of self-aggrandisement. Such may have been the
motives prompting him to an act unparalleled in vileness. This treason was
premeditated, deliberate, carefully contrived, and carried out in all its
arranged details. He offered his services to the priests; he bargained for a
certain sum, doubtless asking more, but willing to take even so contemptible a
reward as thirty pieces of silver, which he counted out and put into his bag; he
described his proposed method, and himself secured both a cohort of Roman
soldiers with their captain, and a posse of police from the Jewish authorities.
"Judas, then, having received the band (or cohort) of soldiers and officers from
the chief priests and the Pharisees, came there with lanterns and torches and
weapons." In the uncertain light, amid the gloom of the olive grove, it might be
possible for the captors to mistake their victim, especially as some of them
might never have seen Him face to face. To avoid such contingency, Judas
contrived a sign of designation; and this was to be the kiss of friendship,
whereby he, as one of the disciples, should thus deliver over their own Leader.
In all this there was evidence of careful arrangement to overcome resistance,
prevent escape, and avoid mistake. "the one I shall kiss, that is He; take Him,
and lead Him away under guard."

Perhaps the upper chamber was first visited. Finding it vacated, the traitor led
the way to the retired spot where he had shared the sacred retirement of his
Lord. Judas "knew the place, for Jesus ofttimes resorted there with the
disciples." He abused the most sacred privileges of trusted intimacy, and his
knowledge of the Lord’s habits of private prayer and confidential communion, to
execute his wicked design.

Jesus, grieved by the slumber of the disciples but invigorated by the ministry
of the angel, emerged from the shadows of the Garden and met the traitor at the
head of his armed band. After the first surprise and consternation, caused by
the unexpected self-surrender and dignified demeanor of Jesus, although He had
declared himself to be the Nazarene of whom they were in quest, they seem to
have hesitated. Perhaps, having heard of or witnessed some of His miracles, they
feared lest supernatural injury would be inflicted on any who laid hostile hand
on a Prophet regarded by many as another Elijah. But Judas knew that His power
had never been exerted to injure even His worst foes. If the traitor handed Him
over with impunity the captors need not hesitate. "And forthwith He came to
Jesus, and said, Hail, Rabbi and kissed Him"—with emphasis, as the Revised
Version has it in the margin, "Kissed Him much." A kiss is the sweetest, holiest
pledge of faithful friendship, and the heart’s true love. We remember still the
mother’s fond kiss as we lay in the tiny crib–

"Her nightly visits to my chamber made, That she might know me safe, and warmly
laid."

We remember the parting kiss, with the regretful tears, when leaving home for
the distant school; and the welcoming kiss on our return, the mother’s radiant
smiles reflecting more than all the child’s delight; the kiss of congratulation
on success achieved, and the kiss of sympathy that sweetened sorrow’s cup. We
think of the kiss that foretells and the kiss that cements the holiest and
dearest of earth’s relationships, and the last kiss before the lips are
stiffened in death; and, yet again, the kiss on the cold marble brow before the
form beloved was shut from view forever. In such connections the kiss is
identified with all that is most tender, beautiful, and true in a human nature
which still bears traces of its Divine original.

We think of Jacob, who met Rachel at the well and kissed her, and lifted up his
voice and wept—the expression of his fondest hopes; and of Esau who, though
deeply wronged, when he met his brother, with generous affection "ran to meet
him, and fell on his neck and kissed him"—an assurance of reconciliation; and of
Joseph, who beholding again those who had cruelly sold him unto slavery, kissed
all his brethren, and wept upon them—a pledge of forgiveness; and again, of this
mighty governor, who, when Jacob was dead, fell upon his father’s face, and wept
upon him, and kissed him"—a token of enduring filial love; and of Aaron, who,
commanded to go with Moses to rescue Israel from Pharaoh’s thrall, met his
brother in the Mount of God, and kissed him—a covenant of fraternal alliance;
and of David and Jonathan, who, at a time of great peril, "kissed one another,
and wept one with another"—a token of unselfish friendship; and of the disciples
of Ephesus bidding Paul farewell on the seashore at Miletus, who "all wept sore,
and fell on his neck, and kissed him"—a pledge of undying remembrance. But most
of all we think of Jesus, who did not rebuke the woman "a sinner" when, with the
ointment she anointed His feet, and washed them with tears, and kissed them—her
expression of penitence and grateful homage; and especially we think of the
father in the parable, who, when the prodigal was yet a great way off, "saw him,
and had compassion, and fell on his neck and kissed him"—the emphatic symbol, by
Him who cannot lie, of Divine forgiveness. And now He, who had uttered these
words in the traitor’s hearing, is to be insulted and grieved by this symbol of
love being profaned as a signal of treachery and a prelude to murder! The same
word is employed in both connections, the kiss of the father and that of the
traitor, an intensified kiss—kissed him emphatically.

Never was friendship so degraded to the service of the devil. How weak the words
of Solomon—"The kisses of an enemy are deceitful." How far less damnable seems
the crime of Joab, the only other instance in Scripture of such abuse of such a
token, when he said to Amasa, "Is it well with you, my brother, and took him by
the beard with his right hand to kiss him, and smote him with his sword; and he
died." But all the history of villainy, and all unrecorded deeds of treachery,
can present no parallel to the kiss of such a one as Judas, given to such a One
as JESUS—the token of discipleship—the signal of treason. Truly had Satan
entered into him.

How divine the forbearance of the Lord towards this treachery! Righteous
indignation of those whose goodness makes them hate evil might have prompted the
expression of abhorrence by the holiest of human saints. Jesus, on the first
sight of Judas, gently said, "Friend (or companion) why have you come?" "You
have been one of my chosen followers, with me in my journeys, listening to my
words, a witness to my works, admitted to my intimacy. Consider your present
errand! Has it really come to this? Will you persist in your plot, and complete
the treachery? Before it is too late, think of it!" Here was another opportunity
for Judas to repent. Would not the gentle remonstrance touch even his hard
heart?

Jesus did not indignantly refuse the insult. "He hid not His face from shame and
spitting." It was easier to receive the spitting of an open foe, than the kiss
of a treacherous friend. This required a meekness more sublime. He enjoined much
less than this on His followers when He said, "If any smite you on the one
cheek, turn to him the other also." How much easier this difficult test of
patience than not to turn away the cheek from such a polluted kiss! "Would you
ask what Satan can do and God can bear; what the basest of mankind can do and
the best of mankind can bear? Behold the lips of Judas who kisses, and the cheek
of Jesus which receives the kiss. What righteous man among men would not have
turned away his face? What saint might not have felt holy and vehement anger?"
(Stier.) The forbearance of Jesus to His worst foe, in the very act of his
basest enmity, was expressed in the second appeal—"Judas, are you betraying the
Son of Man with a kiss?" He bore an honored name, henceforth to be trampled in
the mire of world-long contempt. The title of the chief tribe of Israel was
hereafter to represent the betrayal to death of Israel’s Prince, the King of the
Jews. What a contrast this last address, by the name of one of the disciples, to
His first recognition after death—"Mary!" Judas! companion, disciple—are you
betraying Me? Judas, do you betray, treacherously, deliberately—for money? Are
you betraying the "Son of Man," after the warning at the Supper, "Woe to that
man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed"? With a kiss?—token of loyalty and
love?—how much better, if at all, with threats and blows! Has it indeed come to
this?

What a contrast between the ’hate of Judas’ and the ’love of Jesus’! the
hardening hate, the persevering love! the grace that pursued for salvation the
traitor who was pursuing Him for destruction! "The great ocean clasps some black
and barren crag that frowns against it, as closely as with its waves it kisses
some fair strand enamelled with flowers and fragrant with perfumes. But what
matters it though we float in the great ocean of the Divine love, if with pitch
and canvas we have carefully closed every aperture at which the flood can enter?
A sealed jar, plunged in the Atlantic, will be as dry inside as if it were lying
on the sand of the desert." (Maclaren)

Again, we are reminded of the cost of our redemption. This betrayal was a bitter
ingredient in the cup of sorrow. It formed no small part of the burden which
pressed down the soul of the Sufferer in Gethsemane. It was all distinctly
foreknown. "One of you shall betray me." Not so much did the body feel pain, as
the sensitive spirit ingratitude and treachery. It was bitter grief that one of
His chosen companions should betray Him to His bitterest foes—and with a kiss!
The grief of David was shared with intensity by the Son of David, "My own
familiar friend, in whom I trusted, has lifted up his heel against me." The sin
of the world with the woe it entails, for which sin He suffered, was thus
exhibited in its aggravated form. Was it this to which mankind had sunk?
Contrast humanity in Jesus, as it originally was, as it ought to be—with
humanity in Judas! And Jesus was bearing the sin of the traitor who was
betraying Him!

"Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world." Let us hate the
sin that needed the sacrifice, love the Savior who bore the sin, rejoice in the
salvation thus secured. Let this love comfort us in every garden of grief.
Whatever our other trials, our heaviest burden has been borne, our darkest fear
dispelled, our deadliest wound healed by the Sufferer of Gethsemane; and our
spirit may rejoice in Christ our Savior, "with joy unspeakable and full of
glory."

We see also another proof that our great High Priest is fully qualified for
sympathy. He shared with us hunger, thirst, weariness, pain—but pangs far more
poignant are those arising from ’unrequited affection’ and ’confidence
betrayed’. Of this bitter cup the Savior drank, and every follower of His may be
sure of the brotherly sympathy of Him whom Judas betrayed with a kiss.

Here is a suggestion for self-scrutiny. None can ever exactly commit the sin of
Judas—but it may be approached. A profession of religion may be made for
wrongful ends, to gain confidence and lull suspicion. The kiss of seeming zeal
may hide the thief’s dishonesty and the adulterer’s wiles, or may be given to
secure office in the Church, and gratify ambition, or covetousness, or ease.
Christ’s character as Man or Teacher may be lauded, while His claims as Divine
Savior are rejected. We may kiss Him in the Creed, in hymns, in the ascription,
"You are the King of Glory, O Christ," while secretly rejecting His authority,
and by our inconsistency injuring His cause. We may bow at His Name, yet trample
on His laws. We may salute Him with "Hail, Master," and yet dishonor Him. We may
kiss Him and yet betray Him.

Let us examine ourselves. Does our lack of consolation arise from any lack of
sincerity? Can it be that Jesus asks us the question, calling us by name as He
did Judas—"Are you betraying the Son of Man, with a kiss? You, who have known me
so long, professed to serve me so faithfully, received from me so many proofs of
love—Are you betraying Me? Are you betraying the Son of Man? your Redeemer, who
suffered for your sin; your Brother, who sympathizes with your sorrow; your
Advocate, who pleads for you in heaven? Are you betraying the Son of Man with a
kiss? By false profession of friendship, under mask of discipleship, even at the
Holy Supper, devising iniquity, cloaking sin, scheming sinful indulgence,
inventing excuses and palliations of evil, prostituting ’love’s tenderest token’
as an instrument of betrayal—Are you betraying the Son of Man with a kiss?" The
very thought is agony. Can it be ever possible? Lord, is it I? Search me, O
Savior, and try my heart, and see if there be any wicked way in me—any lurking
lust, any cunning covetousness, any secret bosom sin, any falseness of
friendship. O make me altogether Yours—sincerely, unreservedly, forever! Let
every outward homage be the token of a loyal heart and devoted life; and never,
oh never, may I give You cause to ask, "Are you betraying the Son of Man with a
kiss?" To feel towards Christ more than any human kiss can express—entire trust,
unreserved surrender, and conscious sincerity in appealing to Him as did Peter,
"Lord, You know all things, You know that I love You"—this will comfort us in
every garden of grief, and enable us, though "sorrowful," to be "always
rejoicing." If His foes, to escape judgment, are exhorted to "kiss the Son, lest
He be angry," how much more should His friends, by reverent yet endearing
affection, daily renew their vows, and bow before Him, anointing His head with
the fragrant ointment of unswerving love, homage, and obedience!

Then may we rejoice in an increasing and endeared communion which a kiss can
only faintly indicate; and employ, without presumptuous familiarity, the
language of sacred passion of saints of old, and say—"The love of Christ
constrains us. We love Him because He first loved us. Lord, You know that I love
You! You have put gladness into my heart! I will be glad, and rejoice in You!
How excellent is Your loving-kindness! Your loving-kindness is better than life.
With my soul have I desired You in the night. My soul waits for the Lord more
than those who watch for the morning. My soul thirsts for You as a thirsty land!
As the deer pants after the waterbrooks, so my soul pants after You, O God! My
meditation of Him shall be sweet; I will delight in the Lord. Whom have I in
heaven but You, and there is none upon earth that I desire in comparison with
You! My heart and my flesh fails, but You are the strength of my heart and my
portion forever. Lord, what will You have me to do? Bless the Lord, O my soul! I
will bless the Lord as long as I live. I will extol You and praise Your Name
forever and ever. Blessing, and honor, and glory, and power be unto Him who sits
on the throne, forever and ever. My Lord and my God!"

Such habitual communion of soul will repel all temptation to any approach
towards denial or betrayal. The kiss of love renders impossible the kiss of
treason, and makes the garden of grief, in the company of Jesus, the vestibule
of Paradise—the gate of Heaven. THE KISS OF REVERENTIAL LOVE "You hidden source
of calm repose;

You all-sufficient love divine; My help and refuge from my foes, Secure I am, if
You are mine: From sin and grief, from guilt and shame, I hide me, Jesus, in
Your name. Your mighty name salvation is, And keeps my happy soul above;

Comfort it brings and power and peace, And joy and everlasting love. To me, with
Your dear name, are given Pardon and holiness and heaven.

Jesus, my All in all You are, My rest in toil, my ease in pain— The medicine of
my broken heart; In war, my peace; in loss, my gain. My smile beneath the
tyrant’s frown; In shame, my glory and my crown: In need, my plentiful supply;
In weakness, my Almighty power; In bonds, my perfect liberty; My light, in
Satan’s darkest hour; In grief, my joy unspeakable; My life in death; my heaven;
my all."

(C. Wesley.)

~~~~~~~~ "I lift my heart to Thee,

Savior Divine, For You are all to me, And I am Thine. Is there on earth a closer
bond than this— That my Beloved’s Mine, and I am His?

Thine I am by all ties; But chiefly Thine, That through Your sacrifice You,
Lord, are mine; By Your own cords of love so sweetly wound Around me, I to You
am closely bound. To You, You bleeding Lamb, I all things owe;

All that I have and am, And all I know All that I have is now no longer mine,
And I am not my own—Lord, I am Thine.

How can I, Lord, withhold Life’s brightest hour From You—or gathered gold Or any
power?

Why should I keep one precious thing from Thee, When You have given Your own
dear self for me?

I pray You, Savior, keep Me in Your love, Until death’s holy sleep Shall me
remove To that fair realm where, sin and sorrow o’er, You and Your own, are one
for evermore."

(C. E. Mudie)


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 18: 01.17.     THE FATHER'S CUP IN GETHSEMANE ACCEPTED
========================================================================

17. THE FATHER’S CUP IN GETHSEMANE ACCEPTED "The cup which my Father has given
me—shall I not drink it?" The signal-kiss having been given by the traitor, the
soldiers and officers "laid hands on Jesus and took Him." Then Peter, in a fit
of momentary but ill-timed enthusiasm, drew his sword and smote one of the
foremost of the band, a servant of the High Priest who was the real leader of
the conspiracy. Perhaps he aimed at the head, but, better versed in the use of
oar than sword, he only hit the ear. This was divinely over-ruled. Had the blow
been fatal, both Leader and disciples would have been reasonably charged with
armed insurrection, and in that case Jesus could not have pleaded before Pilate,
"My Kingdom is not of this world."

Peter showed something like heroism—one armed man attacking a multitude. But it
was not true courage. He acted without orders from and in opposition to the
whole spirit of his Lord. He broke the compact which Christ had just made with
His captors—"If you seek me, let these go their way," safely, peaceably. The act
was one of insanity, for it was calculated to provoke wholesale retaliation. Had
it proceeded from true courage, Peter would not have at once forsaken his Lord,
nor denied Him. At once Jesus rebuked Peter, and forbade all resistance, saying,
"Put up again your sword into its place, for all those who take the sword shall
perish by the sword"—this would have occurred then and there but for the
intervention of the Prince of Peace. At once He calmed the rising wrath of the
guard—Loose my hands that I may approach the wounded man and heal him. Or—Thus
far you have suffered from my friends, forbear to retaliate; there will be no
further resistance; the injury shall be redressed—and He touched his ear and
healed him." He had compassion on His captor, and returned good for evil. He
drank the cup. In commanding Peter to sheathe the sword, He gave a permanent law
to His Church. Force would only provoke force, and in the use of this weapon,
the world has the superiority. The violent invite violence; but the gospel
message is gentleness and love. He rebukes all who would promote His Kingdom by
force, as He had rebuked His disciples when they desired to bring down fire from
heaven to consume some hostile Samaritans—"You know not what manner of spirit
you are of; for the Son of Man has not come to destroy men’s lives, but to save
them." His work was to "bear witness of the truth," not by inflicting, but
enduring suffering, so that witnessing should mean martyrdom, if need be. The
bitter cup was to be drunk, not forced on others. By suffering, His followers
were to conquer. Jesus came to suffer, and so to save. He would neither reject
nor avoid the appointed and necessary cup of sorrow. "Shall I not drink it?"

Peter was repeating his former fault when he tried to dissuade Jesus from going
up to Jerusalem to suffer. Had Jesus wished such deliverance, the moral power
which had made His foes fall back, and the miraculous power which healed
Malchus, would have availed without Peter’s sword.

Far more—could not the Lord of angels have at once called their thousands to His
rescue? "Don’t you think that I cannot beseech my Father, and He shall even now
send me more than twelve legions of angels? But how then shall the Scriptures be
fulfilled, that thus it must be?" Even now, having suffered thus far, and face
to face with the soldiery and police, it was at His own free option that He went
forward to the cross. He laid down His life of His own accord. At His request,
the Father would at once send, not a solitary angel, as in the garden; not a
single cohort, like that which had come to seize Him, but "twelve legions of
angels." The Roman Legion, composed of many cohorts, numbered six thousand men.
Twelve legions, this number probably suggested by the united number of Christ
and the eleven disciples, would constitute seventy-two thousand. More than
twelve legions—not of feeble men, but of invincible, irresistible, celestial
warriors, then mustering round about Gethsemane in unseen array—would in one
instant flash forth for His rescue. But, instead of uttering the word which
would have secured safety, He said, "The cup which my Father has given me, shall
I not drink it?"

It was the Savior’s own desire to suffer. To escape would be to falsify
Scripture, to renounce His own purpose, to abandon His work of salvation; above
all, to contravene the Father’s loving will. My Father has ordained this cup,
mingled it, knows every drop in it, presents it—shall I not drink it? He is
infinite in wisdom, and cannot err; infinite in love, and cannot be unkind;
infinite in resources, and would not give it to me to drink if His and my own
great purpose to save the world could be better realized. It is not so much a
grief as a gift—for my own blessedness; for "the joy which is set before me;"
for my triumph on man’s behalf over sin and death. It is a cup which, drained by
me, shall procure to countless multitudes a cup of redemption, a cup of
consolation, a cup of glory in the everlasting banquet of heaven. "The cup which
my Father has given me, shall I not drink it?" And He drank it to the dregs! He
uttered a final word which might reach the hearts of His murderers, and lead
them afterwards to repentance, "Are you come out as against a thief, with swords
and staves to take me?" Has my life been one of lawlessness and injury? Do you
come with weapons to seize one who never resisted wrong, and lanterns as if to
search out a thief hiding from justice? "I sat daily with you teaching in the
temple, and you laid no hold on me." Was my teaching immoral or seditious? Had
it been so you might then and there have apprehended me. Why this midnight
violence?

"But this is your hour, and the power of darkness." You are now left to
yourselves, for full revelation of your cherished hate, for unchecked execution
of your cruel purpose. It is a brief hour of my seeming defeat, soon to be
followed by eternal triumph. It is the power of darkness for a little moment
prevailing, soon to be driven off by the dawn of the everlasting day.

"Then all the disciples forsook Him and fled." After His care for their safety,
His generous setting them at liberty to act on their own impulses, His obvious
desire in the Garden for their presence and sympathy, His sorrowful anticipation
of such desertion when, at the Supper, He said—"All of you shall fall away
because of me this night—for it is written, I will smite the Shepherd, and the
sheep shall be scattered. Behold the hour comes, yes, is now come, that you
shall be scattered, every man to his own, and shall leave me alone—and yet I am
not alone, because the Father is with me."

Surely, had they watched with Him they would still have continued with Him. As
human, He still needed their companionship and sympathy. They might also have
gone prepared to bear witness on His behalf against the malicious slander of
false witnesses. This was another bitter element in His cup of sorrow, that with
the sole exception of John, "they all forsook Him and fled."

Then His enemies mustered their forces to secure Him. As though He were to be
more dreaded than the Samson whom the Philistines took such pains to capture,
the cohort of Romans and the Jewish police, "the band and the captain and
officers of the Jews, took Jesus and bound Him." And He, the Messiah King, the
Lord of heaven and earth, submitted to be thus bound, and was led unresistingly
to be condemned and crucified. His own words were verified—"I say unto you, that
this that is written must yet be accomplished in me, And He was reckoned among
the transgressors." "He was led as a lamb to the slaughter." He drank the cup
His Father had given Him.

Let His followers, whenever they have to drink a cup of sorrow, be comforted in
remembering this last word of Christ at Gethsemane. He, the sinless One,
suffered for us the sinful ones. By reason of our transgressions, His cup was so
bitter. By drinking it, He provided an antidote for the poison which sin infuses
into every cup of ours. His love prompted Him to drink it all. He has thus
removed from us the danger, fear, and sorrow. Our garden of grief, by His bitter
cup, has been delivered from its darkest gloom, has been illumined by Divine
love and rejoicing hope. He who has thus saved us from sin and death ever lives
our sympathizing Brother and High Priest, will be with us in every trial, and
enable us also to say, "The cup which my Father has given me, shall I not drink
it."


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  CHAPTER 19: 01.18.     PERFECT THROUGH SUFFFERRING
========================================================================

18. PERFECT THROUGH SUFFERING

"In bringing many sons to glory, it was fitting that God, for whom and through
whom everything exists, should make the author of their salvation perfect
through suffering." Hebrews 2:10

All suffering is a mystery, especially that of the "sons of God." Why should the
Omnipotent Ruler allow His children to endure so many trials? Gethsemane
replies. Even the well-beloved Son of God, free from all sin, needed to be
perfected for His work and triumph by the discipline of sorrow. It is less a
mystery that we sinners should also suffer.

It was a "stumbling-block" to the Jews that the Messiah was despised and
crucified. After the first exultation caused by the Resurrection, Ascension, and
Pentecost; the humiliation of their Lord in His suffering humanity was a
difficulty to many disciples, and a hindrance in winning converts. The argument
of the writer to the Hebrews is that, although God had power to prevent such
suffering, He not only allowed but ordained it, in order that the Christ might
thus be fully qualified both to perform effectually His great work and to attain
fully the higher glory the grief would win. The gracious purpose of God is to
bring "many sons to glory" by the agency of His Son, who is represented as the
"Captain" or the "Author" of their salvation. He secures it by sacrificing
Himself as the "Propitiation for the sins of the whole world;" by His High
Priestly sympathy and intercession; by His perfected glory. It is essential that
He be completely fitted in His Divine Humanity for the mission He undertook. As
God He was always perfect. As man He was ever "holy, harmless, undefiled." But
as regarded His office He needed to be qualified.

Thus the word here rendered "to make perfect" is frequently employed. "Though He
were a Son, yet He learned obedience by the things which He suffered; and having
been made perfect, He became the Author of eternal salvation" (Hebrews 5:8-9),
"completed, brought to His goal of learning and suffering" (Alford). "Solid food
is for full-grown men" (that is, "perfect," Hebrews 5:14, Marg. R.V.) completed,
mature manhood, in contrast to childhood. "If there was perfection through the
Levitical priesthood, what further need was there that another priest should
arise after the order of Melchisedek? For the law made nothing perfect" (Hebrews
7:11, Hebrews 7:19). The legal system was incomplete. The Messiah was to be the
fully qualified and perfected High Priest of the Church. "Gifts and sacrifices
cannot, as touching the conscience, make the worshiper perfect—but Christ,
through His own blood, entered in once for all into the holy place, having
obtained eternal redemption." By suffering death He was perfected in
qualification.

Saints of old had not their condition in glory completed apart from the
completed gospel. "They received not the promise (that is, its fulfillment), God
having provided some better thing concerning us, that, apart from us, they
should not be made perfect," that is, in relation, not to character but
condition (Hebrews 11:40). "Though they had already obtained so good a name
through faith, they had nevertheless still to wait for something better. . . .
The final blessing made known by the Gospel has become the joy of all the
patriarchs in the heavenly world." (Delitzsch.) "You are come to the spirits of
just men made perfect" (Hebrews 12:23). Incomplete while in the flesh, their
spirits have now entered on the fullness of the glory ordained until the
Resurrection. In this sense, Christ was to be "made perfect through sufferings";
that is, fully qualified for His office. (Hebrews 5:9, Hebrews 5:14; Hebrews
7:11-12, Hebrews 7:28 Hebrews 10:14; Hebrews 11:40; Hebrews 12:23)

It "was fitting that" God that this completeness should be attained through
suffering. It was not derogatory to His character or inconsistent with His
purpose, but befitting the whole system of redemption, a reasonable and
unavoidable sequence from the facts. If God brought many sons to share Christ’s
glory, it was fitting that their Leader should share their sufferings on the way
to it, and so become perfect as their Savior. "In order to raise humanity from
the depths of misery, in which it is so unlike its ultimate destination, to the
heights of glory for which it is destined, God must first lead up His only Son
to glory through deeps of human suffering, that thus by Him, the Son made
perfect through suffering, He might make of us also, glorious sons of God. This
is what was God-befitting in the work of salvation." (Delitzsch.)

It was not weakness, but wisdom, which ordained those sufferings. It "was
fitting that God," as Ruler, that law should be honored—it "was fitting that
God," as Father, that love should be manifested; it "was fitting for God," in
bringing many sons to glory, to provide for them a Ransom, an Example, a
Sympathizer; it was fitting for Him to bring their Captain to glory by the same
path along which they must necessarily walk. Thus suffering was needed for
atonement, for example, for sympathy, for High Priestly efficacy. "In all things
it was fitting for Him to be made like unto His brethren, for in that He Himself
has suffered being tempted, He is able to support those who are tempted"
(Hebrews 2:17-18).

Suffering was also needed for His perfected triumph. As Divine Man, He was to be
rewarded, exalted, and glorified. His former glory in heaven appertained to Him
as Son of God. The glory of humanity could only be His by His becoming Son of
Man; and, as Man, suffering was needed for the perfection of glory. Thus we
honor patriots, philanthropists, martyrs, in relation to their sufferings. They
would not be so honored had they not endured so much. Thus we behold "Jesus,
because of the suffering of death, crowned with glory and honor, that by the
grace of God He should taste death for every man." Because He suffered unto
death He was crowned with glory, and because thus crowned He became competent
for the salvation of all men, and His sufferings effectual in the case of every
sinner who trusts Him. It is as the fully consecrated Priest, the victorious
Captain, the King of Glory, that He is able to "save to the uttermost" the sons
of God; and it was through suffering He thus became "mighty to save." "He
humbled Himself, becoming obedient to death, yes, the death of the cross.
Therefore, also, God highly exalted Him."

Sorrow was the highway to joy. Gethsemane was the portal to Paradise. The cross
was the ladder to the crown. He was "made perfect through suffering."

Abundant consolation is here provided for sorrowing sons of God. They may
rejoice that He is sole Lord of the universe. There is no superior force to
defeat His saving purposes. His control includes "all things," small and
great—the daisy and the oak, the pebble and the mountain, the rivulet and the
ocean, the glow-worm and the sun, men and angels, the poorest, the youngest, the
most unworthy. If Christ suffered, it was not because His Father was unable to
prevent it. So He "for whom and by whom are all things" is able to protect all
who trust in Him.

There is comfort in the purpose of God. He is "bringing many sons unto glory."
He does not adopt them and then forsake them as foundlings. They are new-born as
heirs of an "inheritance that fades not away." The sonship precedes the glory,
and is a pledge of it. They are "sealed with the Holy Spirit, who is the pledge
of our inheritance." This promise is not the privilege of a few. God is
"bringing many sons unto glory." Not many as opposed to all, but to few. It is
provided for all, offered to all, accepted by a multitude "whom no man can
number;" for whom "many mansions" are prepared. The purpose of God towards His
"many sons" cannot be frustrated by any sufferings which they may endure. Their
adoption as "sons," their call to "glory," their being "brought" along the way
by their Father, should encourage them in the assurance that no afflictions on
the road shall prevent them from reaching their home. "Who shall separate us
from the love of Christ?"

There is comfort in contemplating the "Captain of our salvation." He is "Author"
of it, by the sacrifice of Himself; as our Guide He leads us onward towards its
full possession; as our Champion He fights for us; as our Commander He directs
us what to do; as our ever-present Helper He enables us to say, "I can do all
things through Christ who strengthens me;" as our Forerunner He lights up the
dark valley, bursts the tomb, and "opens the Kingdom of Heaven to all
believers;" as our Intercessor he pleads our cause before the throne of God. How
assuring that He, our Captain, has been made competent for this great work, that
nothing is lacking in qualification! Our safety is bound up in His. His triumph
is a pledge of ours. "Because I live you shall live also."

There is comfort in the fact that He has been made thus "perfect by suffering."
Although He did not need suffering to purify from sin, we do. Our faith is more
precious than gold, but, like gold, is mixed with dross, and needs the furnace.
While thus called to suffer, let us be comforted by looking to Him who is the
"Author and Finisher of the Faith," its chief Exemplar. Let us "consider Him who
endured such contradiction of sinners against Himself lest we be weary and faint
in our minds." Every step of the painful path has been trodden by Him. The foes
who threaten us have been vanquished by Him. Through all the obstacles that
threaten to impede us He has forced a passage. As a company of Alpine climbers
are attached by a rope to their guide, who shares all their toils and perils,
showing and often making the way and always preceding them, so the Captain of
our salvation is linked with all His followers, guiding, guarding, sharing. Can
the "many sons" complain of the roughness of the road which their Elder Brother
had to tread with bleeding feet and weeping eyes? If He, in whom the Father was
always "well pleased," suffered, shall not we, who have so often grieved our
Father?

If, following Him as our Captain, we must expect the suffering, we may be also
sure of the glory. Like Himself, "we must through much tribulation enter into
the Kingdom." The short night of weeping heralds the dawn of endless rejoicing.
In suffering pain of body, anguish of heart, spiritual conflict and depression,
we must not think it "strange," when not only all the "many sons" share the
trial, but even God’s well-beloved Son. His Father is our Father. What it "was
fitting that Him" to appoint for Jesus we should welcome, rather than resent.
"Shall we be gold and not be purified, children and not be chastened, Christians
and not suffer," sons of God and not be perfected? Great privileges are linked
with great trials. The mountain-summit has an exhilarating atmosphere, and
commands extensive views, but can only be reached by contending with
difficulties and enduring toil. Shall we not suffer these cheerfully when the
mountain is the Mountain of God’s Holiness, and the highway to His abode? Shall
we complain of the path which has such ending? Beyond all thought is the full
meaning of the word, "An exceeding and eternal weight of glory." Should we pace
the path merely with resignation? Should we not "go on our way rejoicing," in
company with the many sons whom the Father is "bringing to glory?"

Blessed Lord! who did taste death for everyone, therefore for me, admit me among
Your followers. They who receive You have the privilege to become the sons of
God. I receive You penitently, gratefully, gladly, as my Savior and Lord! Make
me, by Your Spirit, one of the many sons whom God, by You, is bringing to glory.
Help me to trust, follow, obey, glorify You. Lead me in any path You see best;
and if it be sometimes dark and rough, help me to rejoice that thus I am
following You, and that each step leads me nearer to Yourself.

"My God, I thank You who have made The earth so bright; So full of splendor and
of joy, Beauty and light; So many glorious things are here, Noble and right.

"I thank You more that all our joy Is touched with pain; That shadows fall on
brightest hours, That thorns remain So that earth’s bliss may be our guide And
not our chain.

"I thank You, Lord, that You have kept The best in store;

We have enough, yet not too much, To long for more— A yearning for a deeper
peace Not known before.

"I thank You, Lord, that here our souls, Though amply blessed, Can never find,
although they seek, A perfect rest; Nor ever shall, until they lean On Jesus’
bosom."

(A. Proctor)


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  CHAPTER 20: 01.19.     THE BROTHERHOOD OF THHE DIVINE SUFFERER
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19. THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE DIVINE SUFFERER "He is not ashamed to call them
brethren." — Hebrews 2:11

If the Leader of God’s "many sons" must share their trials He must Himself
become Man. This was a Brotherhood to be gloried in. He Himself was not ashamed
of it, since they and He are "all of One, for which cause He is not ashamed to
call them brethren." "Since then the children are sharers in flesh and blood, He
also Himself in like manner partook of the same." "Born of a woman" He shared
their entire humanity. He experienced the feebleness and dependence of infancy,
and is Brother to every little child. Toiling in obscurity, year after year, He
is Brother to all who, by sweat of brow, earn their daily bread. Having
experienced hunger and thirst He is Brother to all who suffer privation, and all
who ever hunger naturally for what they cannot obtain righteously. Weary at the
well and in the boat, He is Brother to all whose labor of hand or head is
excessive and exhausting. In the agonies of scourge and cross He was Brother to
all who suffer pain, and are in danger of impatience or of wrongful escape. He
experienced the separation of soul and body, and the instinctive fear of death
common to humanity. As our Brother, He took to Himself a human soul as well as
body, with human emotions—exhibited in His "compassion on the multitudes"; His
pity towards the sick and sad; His sympathy when He wept on seeing the tears of
others; His love for little children; His benevolence towards all, with His
special friendship for a few. With the bravery of the bravest He united the
tenderness which some falsely contrast with manliness, but which is an essential
element of it. He sought human sympathy, even in the intervals of prayer to His
Father; and was pained by unrequited affection and desertion. He exhibited the
self-respect which every true man should feel, when He said, "have you come out
as against a thief?" In spirit, as well as body and soul, He was our
Brother—exhibited in His exceeding sorrowfulness, the anguish of the Sin-bearer,
His cry from the midnight gloom of the cross. Whatever has been endured by any
of His followers in depression of spirit, in agony of forsakenness, was felt by
Him.

Without sin, He partook of the faculties which to us are occasions of sin. "God
made man upright;" with human instincts, "very good." The first Adam was
tempted, and fell; the second Adam was tempted, and stood firm. Because
tempted—our Brother. As Brother He shared the discipline of trial. Our High
Priest sanctifies us, by His Sacrifice, Spirit, and Example; and we who are thus
sanctified are all children of the Father who led Him and is leading us to
glory. God ordains the suffering and the glory, both in the case of the "Captain
of Salvation" and His followers. Therefore, sharers in the discipline of the
same Father, in the sanctifying grace of the same Spirit, subject to the
purifying flames of the same furnace, journeying along the same painful path to
the same blessed Home—He and we are "both of One;" and, therefore, He is not
ashamed to call us brethren.

It may happen among men that one becoming great in position, but small in heart,
is ashamed to acknowledge his brother, who still lives in the cottage they had
shared together. Not so with Christ. After His brief sojourn on earth as our
Brother, now raised to the glory of His Father’s throne, He is not ashamed to
own those with whom He shared poverty and pain.

He acknowledged this Brotherhood when He said to the multitude, "Whoever does
the will of my Father, the same is my brother." He owned it after His
resurrection—"I ascend to my Father and your Father." He ascended in the same
human form. The angels expressed it when they said, "This same Jesus shall in
like manner" return—as Man. At the Second Advent "the Son of Man will come in
His glory"—glorious, yet Man. On the judgment-seat He will proclaim the
relationship—"Forasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these, my brethren,
you did it unto me;" the very least of them—His brother! And in heaven, when He
might have put away a form reminding of humiliation, He retains it forever. "The
Lamb as it had been slain" means the Savior as a Man, with the scars of Calvary,
seated on the throne.

Why is He not ashamed? Because we are children of the same Father, "both of One
Father." Because of the true love which is never ashamed of its object, but is
the more ready to express itself the more it is needed. Because He knows the
infirmities with which we struggle, the yearnings of unsatisfied desire, the
cravings of poverty and pain, the opportunities presented by circumstances for
Satan’s assaults—weariness of mind and weakness of flesh. He is "touched with a
feeling of our infirmities," and, in spite of our failures, is not ashamed of
us. Because He knows the good that is in us, for He put it there. He knew how
sincere Peter was, in spite of his failure when he said, "You know that I love
You." He sees that, battling with temptation and often wounded, we still retain
the shield and grasp the sword; and that although often stumbling and faint, our
faces are still heavenward. Beneath fading blossom and torn leaf He sees the
living germ that shall yet burst into beauty and fruitfulness.

He does not despise the day of small things—the first tear of the penitent, the
first genuine struggle against sin, the first homeward step of the prodigal. He
sees the little patches of blue sky that foretell fair weather, the first few
flowers that show the path of coming spring, the first streaks on the horizon
that proclaim the dawn—and He is not ashamed of us.

He has a work of grace going on in our hearts. He knows what He has done and
will do. He sees the end from the beginning; the flower in the bud, the fruit in
the blossom, the day in the dawn, the river in the streamlet, the man in the
babe, perfected Glory in the beginnings of Grace. Because in us—fearing,
sorrowing, struggling, bleeding, fainting, sometimes falling—He sees those He is
leading to glory, who will surround His throne, radiant in holiness, exulting in
bliss, perfect as He is perfect—"He is not ashamed to call us brethren."

Let this Brotherhood with the chief Sufferer comfort all "the sons of God" who
mourn. What an honor is such relationship! What a treasure is such love!
Heavenly realities transcend all earthly terms. His is a love which never loses
its freshness, never wearies in its manifestation, and which no lapse of time
can weaken. We shall never fully know "the length and breadth and depth and
height" of a love that "passes knowledge."

It is consolation that there is nothing in us the discovery of which will
diminish His love, because He already knows more of our unworthiness than we
ourselves. We may sometimes think that if those we love knew all our faults they
would love us less. Jesus knows. He has "set our sins in the light of His
countenance," but that light is love. There is nothing for Him to find out that
will make Him ashamed to call us brethren.

"Since You have deigned, Creator of all hearts, to own and share The woe of what
You mad’st and we have stained.

"You know’st our bitterness; our joys are Thine; No stranger You to all our
wanderings wild; Nor could we bear to think how every line Of us, Your darkened
likeness and defiled, "Stands in full sunshine of Your piercing eye, But that
You call’st us Brethren! Sweet repose Is in that word! The Lord who dwells on
high Knows all, yet loves us better than He knows."

(Keble) The lowliest Christian may exult in a Brotherhood nobler than all
worldly relationship. Those in peril may rely on the safety this assures. In all
distress we have a "Brother in adversity;" a Friend who "sticks closer than a
Brother." When tempted we can confidently appeal to Him who "resisted unto blood
striving against sin." When bereaved we can be sure of the sympathy of the
Brother of Bethany. And when we cross the river called Death, our Brother will
fulfill His promise, "When you pass through the waters I will be with you." He
will welcome us on the other shore, lead us by the hand to the Father’s
presence, and say, "Here am I, and the children You have given me!" Before the
innumerable multitude of unfallen angels He will own us as co-heirs with
Himself, and summon us to share the home He is preparing for us—saying, "Come, O
blessed children of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the
foundation of the world." Then, when we are "perfected," reflecting His
image—"like Him, seeing Him as He is" throughout eternity He will "not be
ashamed to call us brethren!"


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  CHAPTER 21: 01.20.     THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE SORROWFUL WITH CHRIST
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20. THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE SORROWFUL WITH CHRIST "And the fellowship of His
sufferings." The Son of God, as our Brother, willingly shared our sorrows. So
we, sons of God, are brethren of Christ, and should willingly have fellowship
with His sorrows. The apostle, instead of deprecating this, regarded it as the
highest privilege. "I count all things to be loss, for the excellency of the
knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord—for whom I suffered the loss of all things,
and do count them but rubbish, that I may gain Christ—that I may know Him, and
the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings" (Php
3:7-12).

Strange that such a One should suffer; strange that any other can wish to share
the suffering; still more that such an inflicter of suffering on Christ’s
friends should feel such desire! But consider what he gained. He won Christ; he
obtained "righteousness," not merely deliverance from penalty, but a renewed
nature, regulated not by law but love—conformity to Christ Himself. He gained
such knowledge of Him as includes communion, friendship, joy—"I know whom I have
believed." He experienced "the power of His resurrection;" not mere conviction
of the miraculous fact, but present resurrection of the soul, quickened by His
risen life—"God has raised us up and made us to sit together in heavenly places
with Christ Jesus;" "risen with Him" already, "through faith of the operation of
God, who raised Him from the dead." As inseparable from all this, Paul desired
"the fellowship of His sufferings;" not as a loss set-off against the gain, but
as itself part of the gain.

Though none can share the atoning sufferings, we do, by faith, share in the
benefits they secured. But this had been already expressed. More is meant. Paul
was ready to endure similar afflictions. If the Master was scorned, maligned,
scourged, killed—the servant was willing to endure the like, from love and
loyalty. It would be a satisfaction to be thus identified with Him. "I take
pleasure in reproaches, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ’s sake;"
"always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life
also of Jesus might be made manifest in our body." But these are not Christ’s
own sufferings. The grief in Gethsemane has been explained as arising chiefly
from holiness and love. Love to His Father made Him grieve for dishonor done
Him. Love for law caused distress at its violation. Love towards men filled Him
with grief at their ruin and wretchedness, their alienation from God, and
exposure to the penalties of law. Jesus was "grieved for the hardness of men’s
hearts." He wept over guilty and doomed Jerusalem.

Paul desired to endure such sufferings. The more he resembled Christ the more he
must necessarily have fellowship with such sorrow. He did experience such
fellowship. He "ceased not to warn everyone, night and day, with tears." He
said, "Many walk of whom I have told you often, and now tell you even weeping,
that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ." He gladly exposed himself to
persecution, while beseeching the Gentiles to be reconciled to God. How he
mourned over the unbelieving Jews! "I say the truth in Christ, I lie not, my
conscience bearing witness with me in the Holy Spirit, that I have great sorrow
and unceasing pain in my heart. For I could wish that I myself were anathema
from Christ for my brethren’s sake, my kinsmen according to the flesh, who are
Israelites." Have we such fellowship with Christ? Husbands and wives are so
united, that the sorrow of each is that of the other. Children and parents,
brothers, sisters, and friends, thus bear one another’s burdens. Our sins have
cost Christ sorrow; do we sorrow with Him as well as for ourselves? The Holy
Spirit is "grieved;" do we grieve too for the sins of others, for dishonor done
to Christ? "Fools make a mock at sin," or regard it with indifference, even with
some interest, in works of art, books, shows; people who would not do the same
things, do not always regard them with grief. Do we abhor the sin which cost
Christ the agony of Gethsemane? Do we share with Him in compassion for the
sinner? This "fellowship" is further illustrated by the apostle’s words in
Colossians 1:24—He rejoiced that "trials in his flesh" were "the afflictions of
Christ." "He is the Head of the Body, the Church" v. 6. No part of the human
body suffers without the head. Luther says—"If the toe is hurt the countenance
shows it;" and Augustine, "the Savior of the Body and its members, are two in
one flesh;" and Paul, by the Holy Spirit, "No man ever hated his own flesh, but
nourishes and cherishes it, even as Christ also the Church; because we are
members of His body," (Ephesians 5:28-33); and the Divine Head of the Church"
"He who receives you, receives me." "I was sick and in prison, and you visited
me."

Thus the sorrows of believers are Christ’s also. "In all their afflictions He
was afflicted." "Bruise your finger, and the brain throbs; strike the man that
is joined in Christ here, and Christ up yonder feels it." "He who touches you,
touches the apple of My eye." Paul remembered how Christ had appealed to him,
"Why are you persecuting me." So, now, he who once persecuted Christ in His
followers is comforted by knowing that his own sufferings are those of his
Lord—"The afflictions of Christ in my flesh."

He rejoiced also that he was helping to fill up the remainder of the suffering
allotted to Christ’s Body. There was nothing left to be supplied to the one
all-sufficient sacrifice for sin. He "when He had offered one sacrifice for sins
forever, sat down on the right hand of the throne of God." But the sufferings of
Christ as examples of patience, as evidences of Divine support, as
qualifications for sympathy, as preludes to victory, are still effectual for
strength and comfort; and as such are shared by believers.

"All the tribulations of Christ’s body are Christ’s. Whatever the whole Church
has to suffer, even to the end, she suffers for her perfection in holiness and
her completion in Him; and the tribulations of Christ will not be complete until
the last pang shall have past, and the last tear have been shed. Every suffering
saint of God in every age and position is, in fact, filling up, in his place and
degree, the afflictions of Christ in his flesh and on behalf of His body. Not a
pang, not a tear is in vain." (Alford.) Thus Paul said, "I rejoice to fill up,
on my part, that which is lacking of the afflictions of Christ."

He rejoiced that his sufferings were borne for the good of others. His
imprisonment at Rome spread the knowledge of Christ even in the palace, and
produced the Epistles to the Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians, and Timothy.
How precious have been the teachings of prisons, whether at Rome or Bedford! How
the Body of Christ has been nurtured and strengthened by the endurance of
martyrs!

All suffering saints thus help the Body of Christ. By their patience, trust, and
triumph, whether witnessed or read of in their biographies, they help others to
be patient, reliant, victorious. "No man gets good out of his sorrows for
himself alone. Whatever purifies and makes gentler and more Christ-like is for
the common good. We shall never understand our sorrows unless we try to answer
the question—What good to others is meant to come through me by this? Alas that
grief should so often be self-absorbed!" (Maclaren.)

Paul said, "I endure all things for the elect’s sake, that they also may obtain
the salvation which is in Christ Jesus, with eternal glory." The salvation is in
Christ alone, but help to faith may be afforded by example. So again he says,
"Blessed be the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, that
we may be able to comfort them that are in any affliction, through the comfort
with which we ourselves are comforted of God; for as the sufferings of Christ
abound with us, even so our comfort also abounds through Christ. But whether we
be afflicted, it is for your comfort and salvation; or whether we be comforted,
it is for your comfort, which works in the patient enduring of the same
sufferings which we also suffer" (2 Corinthians 1:3-6). This fellowship with
Christ was a present delight. "Now I rejoice in my sufferings." Not in heaven,
after the sufferings had ceased; not in the palace, after the battle; not in the
home, after the journey—but now, on the rocky path, amid the fierce fight, in
the fiery furnace. He sang songs when in the stocks of the inner prison. As
"sorrowing" he was "always rejoicing." He "gloried in infirmity." He "took
pleasure in reproaches." And now, deprived of liberty to prosecute his mission,
chained day and night to a soldier, liable at any moment to be put to death, he
says, "Now I rejoice in my sufferings."

Abundant consolation is provided for afflicted believers in such teaching and
example. They need not wait, they may rejoice now; not although, but because
they suffer. "If you are reproached for the name of Christ, happy are you."
Sorrow links us to Him in fellowship of grief. The bitterest cup should be
sweetened by remembrance that He drank it; the roughest road alluring, if He
trod it; the darkest gloom brightened, if He consecrated it.

"Is it fit that He should lead through rugged, thorny ways—and we try to get
away through flowery meadows? This is the way we must follow, or else resolve to
leave Him—the way of the Cross is the royal way to the Crown. Reproaches for
Christ, why do these fret you? They were a part of His treatment while here. You
are a partaker of His sufferings, and in this way He is bringing you forward to
the partaking of His glory." (Leighton.) Our griefs are His. He feels them all.
Let us endure them as the "sufferings of Christ," and rejoice that thus we
diminish the sufferings of others, and hasten on the time when "there shall be
no more pain, neither sorrow, nor crying."

Let us earnestly desire fellowship with Christ in His sorrow because of men’s
sin and woe. Animated by zeal for God and compassion for sinners, let us labor
as He did—to raise the fallen, comfort the sad, and save the lost. Such sorrow
for others will lighten our own load. Such fellowship will help us even to
rejoice in sufferings "in our own flesh for His body’s sake." In actual
suffering, joy is impossible except by actual union with Christ. "Then, even
when we are in the whitest heat of the furnace, we have the Son of Man with us;
and if we have Him, the fiercest flames will burn up nothing but the chains that
bind us, and we shall walk at liberty in that terrible heat, because we walk
with Him." (Maclaren.) Thus closely in fellowship with Jesus let us remember
that "if we suffer with Him we shall also reign with Him." Therefore "rejoice
inasmuch as you are partakers of Christ’s sufferings; that when His glory shall
be revealed, you may be glad also with exceeding joy." Not alone in lull of
tempest, Not when viewing grief afar;

Waiting not until heavenly glory Wipes the tear and gilds the scar—

Now we joy in tribulation;

Christ is with us in the flame;

All our sorrow He is sharing;

Now we triumph in His Name.

Every ailment of the Body Centers in the living Head;

Shared are all His servants’ trials By the Lord who for them bled.

Every grief of ours is helping Christ’s afflictions to complete;

Hastening on the consummation When all saints in glory meet.

Joy we then in tribulation, Furnace moulds for use the ore;

Better far than fruitless comfort Pain that fits for service more.

—Newman Hall


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  CHAPTER 22: 01.21.     THE WEEPING ONE OF GETHSEMANE TO WEEPING WOMANHOOD
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21. THE WEEPING ONE OF GETHSEMANE TO WEEPING WOMANHOOD

Jesus said to her, "Mary!" She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic,
"Rabboni!" (which means Teacher). John 20:16

Woman is specially honored in connection with the human life of Jesus. "Born of
a woman," He made maternity glorious, so that the primeval curse is more than
compensated by the joy that such "a Man is born into the world." Dependent, as
an infant, on His mother’s tender care, He dignified forever all those
unostentatious but anxious toils which are the most important and characteristic
part of woman’s mission. Holy women were among His most faithful followers, and
"ministered to Him of their substance." He specially encouraged her who touched
the hem of His garment, and those who brought their children that He might bless
them, and the penitent who bathed His feet with her tears, and her who anointed
Him for His burial, and of whom He said—"Wheresoever this Gospel shall be
preached throughout the whole world, this also that she has done shall be spoken
of as a memorial of her." No woman shared in His betrayal; and though "His
disciples forsook Him and fled," "the women who came with Him from Galilee
bewailed and lamented Him." A woman, in spite of the jeers of the crowd and her
anguish at His torture, consoled His human heart by a mother’s silent sympathy.
Women watched the burial of His body, and when the great stone was rolled to
shut the tomb, "Mary Magdalene and the other Mary were sitting near the
sepulcher." Women were the first witnesses of the resurrection, for "very early
in the morning, when it was yet dark, they came bringing the spices which they
had prepared." And it was to a woman the risen Savior first appeared. It was
only the third day since, in the Garden of Gethsemane, He had uttered His last
words to the disciples. Now, in the garden near unto Calvary, He uttered His
first resurrection word. Then He had wept, praying to the Father, and was
comforted. Now, His first work was to comfort a woman, weeping, in quest of
Himself.

Christians are often sorrowful when, if they had clearer knowledge and stronger
faith, they would rejoice.—"Mary stood outside the sepulcher weeping." She wept
because she thought He was dead. But the absence of the body—an additional
grief—was a proof that there was no cause for grief. That which then caused
weeping, afterwards caused rejoicing. And thus we often weep at that which would
give us joy, did we rightly know or fully trust; we have dreaded what afterwards
we prized, and mourned over that which became a permanent joy. When we stand at
the sepulcher weeping for some dear friend, could we see him as he now is, robed
in spotless holiness, and exulting in fullness of joy, sighs would be changed to
songs for his eternal gain.

Angels sympathize with Christians in their sorrow.—Mary saw "two angels in white
sitting, the one at the head and the other at the feet, where the body of Jesus
had lain. And they said unto her, Woman, why are you weeping?" If angels shed no
tears, they are not indifferent to ours. They seem to say, "What you grieve for
is helping you onward to the home where all grief will be remembered only with
thankfulness. Our Lord and your Lord is not dead—He is risen. He is near you.
Tell Him all your sorrows. He will strengthen you in every trial; and soon will
summon you where all tears are wiped away. Woman, why are you weeping? The
thought of losing Jesus is enough to make His friends weep.—"She said unto them,
Because they have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid Him."
It is grief to Christians when, in any sense, their Lord is taken away. When He
is absent from the Church, and outward shows divert the eye from the Lord; when
instead of a living Christ there is only a sepulcher, no whitening of which can
compensate for the absence of the Prince of Life; and when He is absent from the
pulpit, and mere philosophy or ethics or polemics are discussed, and the living,
loving Christ is absent; and when by worldliness we have no longer that
fellowship with Him we once enjoyed—if we are indeed His friends we shall weep,
saying of our follies and our sins, "They have taken away my Lord, and I know
not where they have laid Him."

Jesus is often very close to His disciples when they do not perceive Him.—"She
turned herself back, and saw Jesus standing, and knew not that it was Jesus."
Though He addressed her, she did not recognize Him. She was not expecting Him,
His resurrection body was somewhat changed. Through the thick veil of tears she
could not see distinctly. And so "she knew not that it was Jesus." Thus also we
often fail to see Him when He is very near. We are not looking out for Him. He
comes in a method unfamiliar. We are so absorbed in sorrow that we do not see
Him who comes to soothe it. Like the sisters of Bethany at the grave, we grieve
so much for Lazarus that we do not recognize the "Resurrection and the Life."
Like the disciples in the storm, we are affrighted when He walks to us across
the waves. We often think He is farthest when He is nearest. Is he not "a very
present help in trouble?" Broken-hearted penitent, mourning because your sins
have driven away your Savior—that very sorrow is a sign that He is close at
hand, for "He is near unto those who are of a contrite spirit." Like Mary also,
we sometimes mistake Him for the gardener. We think only of the servant when we
should acknowledge the Master. We rest in the means of grace when we should rise
to the Giver of grace. We deem Him absent when, in the blessing He gives,
through the humblest of instruments, we should adore Himself.

Christ’s first resurrection word was one of consoling sympathy—not of power,
victory, or vengeance. He is tender, loving still—"the same yesterday, today,
and forever." His first word was not to an official but a private person; not to
the strong but to the weak; not to an apostle but to Mary. He spoke to womanhood
through her. He knew how often woman weeps unseen—what a martyrdom of grief she
often undergoes by sensibilities wounded, yearnings unsatisfied, love
unrequited, closest ties torn asunder, anxieties and toils which only love like
hers could enable her to endure, and wounds hidden from all eyes which only love
like hers could bear and yet conceal—and so Christ’s first word after His
resurrection was one of sympathy with woman’s grief. "Woman, why are you
weeping?" He asks the cause, not that He does not know, but that He would have
the sorrowful lighten their sorrow by pouring out their heart into His.

"Woman, why are you weeping? whom do you seek you?" Seeking Jesus is the best
antidote to weeping. The question implies that sorrow should be dispelled by
such a search. Are you seeking one who is angry? Then you might weep, dreading a
foe. Or one who is treacherous? Then you might weep, fearing betrayal. Or one
who is feeble? Then you might weep at his inability to help. But if you do you
seek the loving, faithful, mighty Savior, why are you weeping? Weeping and
seeking are sure to end in finding and rejoicing when He whom we seek is Jesus.

True love may be combined with deficient knowledge.—"Sir, if You have borne Him
hence, tell me where You have laid Him, and I will take Him away." No name had
been mentioned, but Mary speaks so, because He was uppermost in her feelings all
the world besides must think of "Him" too. So let the thought of Jesus be in our
hearts. Will He be pleased? What would He have me to do? In this enterprise, in
that company, shall I have His presence and enjoy His blessing? Affection sees
no difficulties. Love laughs at the impossible. Mary was alone, a weak woman,
but she was ready to bear away the body at once! Yet how little knowledge! She
was thinking of Christ as dead, and expected to minister only to His corpse.
Jesus accepts true love in spite of its errors. There may be theology, correct
and complete in every detail, but without love; and there may be love, true and
deep, allied with much ignorance. Should not we also be lenient with
intellectual mistakes when associated with reverent love? Even doctrinal errors
should be treated gently, much more should ecclesiastical. Are those who use
other church forms be more alien from us, than those who do not love the same
Savior? Shall we separate from any loyal soldier of Christ merely because he
does not wear our uniform, and regard those who do not serve Him as nearer to
us, because within our own pale, than his true friends outside? Jesus will
excuse mistaken modes of worship and of thought; but no orthodoxy or
churchmanship, however sound, will win recognition from Him without love. If we
sorrow because we cannot as yet see as some other Christians do, let us not fear
rejection from Him who seeks first the homage of the heart, and will eventually
enrich with all truth those on whom He has already bestowed the greater gift.

Christ knows His disciples individually. "Jesus said unto her, Mary!" He
addressed her by the old familiar name. The friend of former days was still
individually dear. So Jesus knows all His disciples personally. "I have engraved
you on the palms of My hands." The good Shepherd "calls His own sheep by name."
The High Priest carries their memorial on the sacred breastplate. So He appeals
to us. Are we in sorrow, inconsolable, forgetting Him who sends it for our good?
He reminds us of His presence, saying—Mary! Are we fearing some danger as though
we had no Almighty Friend to protect us? He places Himself between us and it,
and says—Mary! Are we becoming worldly, restraining prayer, toying with
temptation, looking at some forbidden fruit until it becomes pleasant in our
eyes? Jesus, in a tone of faithful remonstrance, says—Mary!

Every true disciple recognizes the Savior’s voice.—"She said unto Him, Rabboni,
which is to say, Master." Do we thus confess Him to be "Master"—saying, "Lord,
what will You have me to do?" In sorrow, do we submit with patience, and say,
Rabboni? In danger, do we trust with holy confidence and repeat, Rabboni? When
tempted, do we turn at His reproof and penitently, resolutely exclaim, Rabboni?
At death Jesus will say—"Mary." It will be the voice not of an enemy, but of our
best, our heavenly Friend. It will be Jesus coming to take us to Himself. Shall
we be ready at once to welcome Him as Rabboni? When He sits on the throne of
judgment He will invite to His kingdom every one of His faithful followers, with
an individual recognition, calling each by name—Mary! Shall we be among them and
joyfully respond, Rabboni?

Let such be our response now in every garden of grief. Let us cheerfully submit
to His will, and drink every cup He gives us. In answer to His personal appeal,
let us habitually and practically imitate her who, when Jesus said unto her,
"Mary!" turned herself and said unto Him, "Rabboni!


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  CHAPTER 23: 01.22.     THE PETITIONER OF GETHSEMANE OUR HELPER IN PRAYER
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22. THE PETITIONER OF GETHSEMANE OUR HELPER IN PRAYER

"Let us come with boldness to the Throne of Grace, that we may obtain mercy and
find grace to help in time of need." In times of trouble, there is no comfort
like that of prayer. It is a marvel that sinful man may have any communion with
his Maker; still more, that such communion may be with boldness! How shall we
think of Him so as to be encouraged to pray to Him? As on the throne of
Empire?—It is too vast! As on the throne of Justice?—It is too stern! As on the
throne of Glory?—It is too dazzling! He is on the Throne of Grace! The Empire is
ruled with kindness, the justice linked with mercy, the glory beaming with love.
Our encouragement to approach it is this—He who prayed in Gethsemane has passed
into the heavens, to pray for us. Our chief and comprehensive request must ever
be "Mercy and Grace." The first prayer of penitence is "God be merciful to me a
sinner." He who atoned for sin is before the throne to plead for sinners. Grace
includes more than mercy. It is seasonable support at all times. If mercy
forgives our failings, grace helps us not to fail. We need mercy to pardon,
grace to purify; mercy to give life, grace to nourish it; mercy to rescue us
from Pharaoh, grace to guide us to Canaan; mercy to lay the foundation of the
temple, grace to complete it to the top-stone. Grace every day, in all
circumstances—in prosperity, lest we forget God; in adversity, lest we distrust
Him; in temptation, lest we fall; in conflict, lest we yield; in anguish, lest
we faint. Our great encouragement is that on the Throne is One who has known the
need of help from God, from angels and from men.

It is in the garden of grief that we specially need "grace for seasonable help"
to sustain the heavy burden of the oil-press—patience, submission, acquiescence,
undoubting trust, the love that accepts cheerfully every cup, however bitter,
which our Father gives us to drink! Surely He who so took the cup in Gethsemane,
and who is now "perfected" on the throne, will bestow the grace for which we may
ask in full assurance of faith.

We may come "with boldness." Not the boldness of presumption; for if we would
"serve God acceptably" it must be "with reverence and godly fear." Not the
boldness of self-will; but ever praying—"Father, Your will." Not the boldness of
self-merit; but saying with Daniel, "We do not present our supplications before
You for our righteousnesses, but for Your great mercies."—It is the boldness of
reliance on God’s own nature and promise. He has bidden us pray, assured
response, and promised help. He means what He says. So we may come with
reliance, though with reverence; with earnestness, though with submission; with
confidence, though with penitence; with the boldness of a child telling all its
griefs and needs to a pitying parent—the boldness Jesus encouraged in the
parable of the importunate widow, and rewarded in the case of the Syrophenician
mother. Are we discouraged by the infinite majesty of God? He is revealed in
Jesus as full of compassion and near to every one of us. Does sin make me
fearful in approaching a God so holy? My Priest offers Himself as a sacrifice,
pleading His merits to atone for my misdeeds. Do I hesitate because of the
unworthiness of my prayers, the defective penitence, the lack of fervor, and the
wandering thoughts? He is "touched with a feeling of our infirmities." He knows
the habitual desire of the heart in spite of the intrusion of other things. He
knows we "hate vain thoughts," and though they persist in flying round us like
stinging gnats, we do not encourage them to settle upon us. If we cannot drive
them off let us turn them into prayer, and use the subjects they suggest for
fresh petitions; so shall these very hindrances become helps. Our best prayers
are indeed defective, but His mingle with ours, and "Him the Father always
hears." But I need so very much! my guilt is so great, my faith so weak, my
burden so heavy! He knows it all. Our very guilt is a plea with Him who came on
purpose to bear it. Our need is an argument with Him who has a boundless store
and wishes to dispense it. Our sorrow is a resistless recommendation to Him who
came to "bind up the broken-hearted."

"The Spirit also helps our infirmities; for we know not what we should pray for
as we ought; but the Spirit Himself makes intercession for us with groanings
which cannot be uttered." Jesus pleads for us before the throne—He also sends us
more than angelic help, even that of the "other Comforter," who pleads with us
in our hearts, prompting desires beyond the imperfection of words to express.

Let us then pray with full assurance of faith, seeing that the throne is the
throne of grace, that our Father is "the God of all grace," and "waits to be
gracious;" and that at His right hand is He who died for us, who is not ashamed
to call us brethren, shares our sorrows, pities our infirmities, and is pledged
for our salvation. Whatever the burden of our grief, whatever the desire of our
heart, let us "draw near with boldness unto the throne of grace, that we may
receive mercy, and may find grace to help us in time of need."


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  CHAPTER 24: 01.23.     PEACE BY PRAYER
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23. PEACE BY PRAYER "In everything let your requests be made known unto God. And
the peace of God shall guard your hearts."

Prayer is the pathway to peace. It is essential to piety. It is as light to
plants, fuel to fire, food to the body. If we were to cease from prayer we would
cease to live, for by prayer we are united to the Source of Life.The precept
"Pray without ceasing" means, not that we are always to be in the act of
supplication, but habitually prayerful, so that at no time it would be
incongruous to express our desires to God. Prayer should not resemble a solitary
pillar on a level plain, but a cluster of pines on a swelling hill. The whole of
life should be elevated above the world, and acts of prayer harmonious uprisings
from what altogether soars heavenward.

Affliction prompts us to pray for help, and this is one of its chief uses. It is
better to suffer and pray than to rejoice while forgetting God. In everything we
shall be saved from anxiety, if we bring everything to our Father. Paul spoke
from experience when he said, "In nothing be anxious; but in everything by
prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto
God. And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, shall guard your
hearts and your thoughts in Christ Jesus" (Php 4:6-7).

Exposed to dangers on all sides—accidents, disease, poverty, bereavement, death;
with commercial or family responsibilities; the trader with his liabilities; the
father providing for his family; the mother tenderly watching over her
children—how can they avoid anxiety? The indolent, the selfish, the frivolous
may say they don’t care; but the nobler the nature the less the indifference to
whatever involves the welfare of others—of individuals, of the nation, of the
Church. And should not every one be anxious about his own soul, inquiring
earnestly, "What must I do to be saved?" The remedy is in "prayer and
supplication." "Supplication" perhaps means the special petitions of prayer in
general, the prayer and the petition respecting the thing causing anxiety. And
such request is to be made known to, brought into the presence of God, laid
before Him as we would spread out a case to an earthly father, expressing our
feelings, and asking the special help needed. Our heavenly Father knows it
already, but desires that we ourselves go to Him. He "pities" His children, and
listens to them lovingly. He knows that their telling the trouble relieves it.
We are not to be falsely humble, as though our troubles were too insignificant
to bring before His throne. Our anxieties arise from individual troubles, and so
we are to bring each individual care to God as it occurs—"in everything." We
speak of unburdening the mind to a friend. So by prayer to God we are lightened
of the anxiety we express. As He has all needful capacity to help us in all
things, not one thing should be omitted which causes us distress. When John the
Baptist was put to death, his disciples "went and told Jesus." When Lazarus was
sick unto death, the sisters sent and told Jesus. So let us tell everything to
Him—tell Him first, tell Him all; for He is ever near, the "same Jesus."

Such prayer should be "with thanksgiving." Acknowledgment of former answers
encourages new petitions. "You have been my help, leave me not, O God of my
salvation." In the darkest gloom we have cause for praise; not only for temporal
mercies, but for spiritual grace—the indwelling of the Spirit, fellowship with
Christ, the Father’s love, the hope of glory. We should also thank Him for the
expected answer to our present prayer. "This is the boldness which we have
toward Him, that, if we ask anything according to His will, He hears us—and if
we know that He hears us, we know that we have the petitions which we have asked
of Him" (1 John 5:14-15). We should also thank Him for Himself, in whom "all
things are ours." To "glorify Him for His great glory" will encourage us in
every prayer uttered in the garden of grief.

Anxiety is the hurricane which troubles the waters of sorrow with contending
waves and driving spray. Prayer rebukes the tempest, and though the sorrow
remains there is a great calm. Make the anxiety a subject of prayer, then it
will become a helpful means of grace. It has been said that "care and prayer are
as opposed as fire and water." Rather let us use care as we use coals, and pile
it as fuel on the fire of prayer, to make it burn more brightly.

Then "the peace of God, which passes all understanding, shall guard your hearts
and your thoughts in Christ Jesus." By faith we have peace with God—by prayer we
enjoy the peace of God. We have surrendered our will to His. We have committed
ourselves to Him, and all that concerns us. Why then be anxious? This "peace of
God" guards the "hearts and thoughts," the fountain and its streams, the
emotions and the ideas, the affections and the will. It is said to "guard them;"
the word is military, and is used in 2 Corinthians 11:32—"In Damascus, the
governor guarded the city;" and in 1 Peter 1:5—"Guarded through faith unto
salvation." It is a peace, not of sentimental luxury, but, like that of a
garrison, keeping watch and ward against a beleaguering foe. It is the best
defense against disturbing doubts. We have facts and arguments, testimony and
criticism, with which to do battle with unbelief on its own ground. But these
weapons are not always available. For all believers at all times "the peace of
God" is a sure protection. Personal experience is the best answer to theoretic
objections. Walls and battlements are important, but the garrison within forms
the sure defense. "One thing I know, that whereas I was blind, now I see," was
an unanswerable reply to those who questioned the miracle. "I know whom I have
believed" is armor which no fiery dart from without can pierce—an iron-plated
ship, richly freighted, which laughs at pistol-shots. This peace of God "passes
all understanding." It is most reasonable and yet cannot be understood merely by
the intellect. It must be experienced to be known. When known it surpasses all
power of language to express. It is "the secret of the Lord which is with those
who fear Him." This peace of God "guards the heart and thoughts in Christ
Jesus." Through His mediation we obtain it. By His Spirit it is imparted. "He is
our Peace;" and He says, "My peace I give unto you." Thus guarded we may rejoice
in full assurance of faith, whatever our grief and dangers. What can the world
offer to allure us from this fortress? How tasteless its dainties to those who
feed on the Bread of Life; how empty its honors compared with those of the
children of the King of kings; how weak its attractions to those who dwell in
His presence; how paltry its promises to those who are "joint-heirs with
Christ!" Shall we leave the castle over which the royal standard floats to enter
the rebel tents? Shall we exchange the food of Heaven for poisoned banquets?
Shall we exchange the music that entrances the soul, for syren-songs that
beguile to death? Carnal lusts may assail the gate of the flesh, infidel doubts
that of the intellect, unhallowed passion that of the affections; but the peace
of God will guard the citadel from capture. A battery of earthly troubles may
thunder round the believer, but will not disturb, far less injure one who
"dwells in the secret place of the Most High." The chief solace in all sorrow
must ever be the assured presence and love of our heavenly Father. We cannot
doubt the existence of One with whom we are in habitual communion. Having this,
let us rejoice that all the events of our life are ordered by Him in love. "My
times are in Your hand;" not only because You are Ruler over all events, but
because I take my times and place them in Your hands with childlike reliance.
Therefore I will not be anxious either for what is present or what is future.
Thus may Your peace guard my soul as a garrison. My times are in Your hand!

I know not what a day Or fleeting hour may bring to me, But I am safe while
trusting Thee, Should all things fade away.

All weakness I—On Him rely Who fixed the earth, and spread the sky. My times are
in Your hand!

Pale poverty or wealth, Corroding care or calm repose, Spring’s balmy breath or
winter’s snows, Sickness or buoyant health Whate’er betide—If God provide, ’Tis
best; I wish no lot beside. My times are in Your hand!

Many or few my days, I leave with You—this only pray, That by Your Grace, I,
every day Devoting to Your praise, May ready be—To welcome Thee, Whene’er You
com’st to set me free.

—Newman Hall


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  CHAPTER 25: 01.24.     BELIEVING PRAYER SURE OF GRACIOUS RESPONSE
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24. BELIEVING PRAYER SURE OF GRACIOUS RESPONSE "Shall not God avenge His own
elect?"— Luke 17:1-8

Prayer is specially appreciated in the garden of grief, because it brings us
into the immediate Presence of Him who is able to deliver and console. As prayer
is our most effectual weapon against our adversary, he endeavors to weaken the
arm that wields it by suggesting doubts of its efficacy. Can our imperfect
petitions reach the infinite Ruler, or change His purposes? Sometimes the
darkness seems deeper, and the storm more fierce. Then we are apt to pray with
less fervor, or even desist from what seems useless. Knowing how His disciples
are thus tempted, our Lord taught them, on diverse occasions and especially in
the parable of the importunate widow, "always to pray and not to faint."

Believers in Christ have, in these words, an absolute reply to all skeptical
objections. He who was in the beginning with God, in the bosom of the Father,
knows the Father’s heart. He is at the right hand of the Majesty on high, before
whom countless petitions are presented, and, knowing how our petitions are
received, encourages us to go on presenting them. He confirms to us this high
privilege. We may "pray." He impresses on it the seal of His Divine authority.
We "ought to pray!" He teaches us that not on special occasions alone, but at
all times, in every trouble, we "ought always to pray!" And though hope still
deferred makes the heart more and more sick, still we are to pray in full
assurance of the best answer, in the best method, at the best time "Men ought
always to pray and not to faint." The argument in the parable by which our Lord
enforced this duty was one, not of resemblance but of contrast. In every
particular the "unjust judge" was the reverse of "Our Father." If the widow
gained her suit, how much more certainly will God’s elect! (Luke 18:1-8).

Like many Oriental judges this man seemed to glory in saying, "I fear not God,
neither regard man." The widow knew it, yet, having no other resource, she
appealed to the official minister of justice. Some villain, taking advantage of
her weakness had stolen her cow, or robbed her orchard, or filched part of her
ground by removing the ancient landmark, and was threatening further injury. So
she went to the magistrate for protection and redress. "Avenge me of my
adversary." She had no influential friend, no public press to appeal to, no
power to compel or money to purchase justice—yet she persevered. At first
without success. One day the judge had not yet risen; another day he had retired
early. Now he was at dinner; now with friends; now too busy. At length he
promised to help her, not because of duty or pity, but because annoyed by her
pertinacity. Many a seemingly good deed is prompted by no better motive. Our
adversary, the devil, wages perpetual war against the elect of God, seeking to
beguile or drive them into sin. Alas, that many should treat their foe as a
friend! They give heed to his counsel, admit him to their abode, make over to
him their chief treasure, and do his drudgery as a delight; little dreaming that
all the while he is apprehending their ruin.

Happy they who, whatever their sorrows, appeal against sin as their foe. They
know that the sin which is in them is not of them—not what they were made for or
wish—but an invader claiming what was never rightfully his, a murderer seeking
by separating them from God to destroy them—as in the case of Job, trying to
make earthly trouble an occasion of spiritual injury, by distrust and resorting
to wrong methods of alleviating it. Therefore, the children of God appeal to Him
for support. This adversary tries to rob me of a good conscience, to snatch away
my robe of righteousness, to destroy my peace, to invade my heart, which belongs
only to You. Help me, O my Father! I cannot struggle alone against an adversary
so strong! Trials sent by You are, I know, for my good, but the enemy puts
poison into the cup, whose bitterness alone would never harm me. He perverts
Your dispensation of merciful chastisement into an occasion of malicious injury.
Counteract his devices! Drive away from this Gethsemane the lurking devil who
would make it a desert of doubt, instead of a garden of confidence! The judge,
"for a while" turned a deaf ear to the supplicant; and God sometimes appears to
"bear long" with the elect. The rain does not at once descend on the parched
ground; the empty cistern is not filled; the light does not shine; the adversary
mocks. But we are taught "to pray and not to faint." God never delays to listen,
but chooses His own time for letting His help appear. Jesus tarried long after
the urgent message that His friend was sick. The woman of Canaan repeatedly
urged her petition, and Paul prayed again and again about his thorn in the
flesh. Our Lord Himself, in Gethsemane, shared in this seeming delay. He who was
thus tried as we are, bids us, in spite of discouragements, "always to pray and
not to faint." The argument is a twofold contrast. The JUDGE was unrighteous. He
would help for the sake of a bribe, but disregarded the widow who could pay him
nothing. To him truth, equity, honor, were unmeaning terms. How much more will
prayer be heard by the infinitely righteous One, whose promise and oath are
pledged to uphold His law, support the needy, and punish the wrong-doer! The
judge was unmerciful as well as unrighteous. This widow’s tears had no effect on
a nature steeped in selfishness. How much more will prayer be answered by a God
merciful and gracious, whose name is Love, who pities His children, whose throne
is a throne of grace, whose nature is ever to have mercy! The judge, if willing,
might be unable by infirmity, absence, or press of engagements, to attend to the
widow; but our God never slumbers nor is weary, is always at hand, and, however
numerous the applicants, can give undivided attention to each one, at every
moment and without delay.

There is also a contrast between the PETITIONERS. In the parable the suitor is a
widow, indicating helplessness. There was nothing in her position to commend her
to notice. But believers belong to the highest of all aristocracies. They are
the chosen of God; their names are enrolled in the archives of the royal palace;
their peerage dates from before the foundation of the world; they are kings and
priests unto God. However poor and despised in this world they claim
relationship with glorified spirits, angels are their ministers, they belong to
the Royal Family of Heaven. "And shall not God avenge His own elect?" The widow
applied on a private and personal matter. Protect me—avenge me of my adversary.
This enemy of hers had not insulted or injured the judge. But the cause of God’s
elect is His—as well as theirs. They are the Lord’s jewels, and Satan tries to
rob the royal treasury. His success would be God’s dishonor, whose heart is set
on bringing His many sons to glory; therefore the foe who would hinder them is
His foe too. If he who touches us "touches the apple of His eye," our petition
is for God as well as for ourselves. The widow was not summoned by the judge. On
the contrary, his notorious character discouraged her. But God’s elect are
specially invited by the King. The Ruler’s chosen Ambassador says, we "ought
always to pray and not to faint." Should we not then "come with boldness to the
throne of grace?" How can prayer be disregarded by Him who commands it? The
widow might fear lest importunity would incense the judge. But our persevering
supplication is welcomed by our Father, who loves to hear His children’s voice.
The widow drew up her own petition. The judge had given her no advice how to
approach him or what to ask. But our petition has been indited by the Judge
Himself. He has taught us what to pray for, and even furnished us with words and
pleas. He has recorded promises with which to back up our requests. The widow
was alone. There was no crowd of petitioners appealing against the same
adversary. But God’s elect are an innumerable multitude. The saints in heaven
unite with those on earth, saying, "How long, O Lord, how long? How long shall
the adversary assail Your Church, distress Your children, seek to despoil and
destroy Your elect?" Crowds of petitioners stand day and night in the Presence,
with one heart and voice saying, "Avenge me of my adversary." If the solitary
petitioner was heard, will not the countless hosts of God’s elect be heard?

Most of all, in the way of contrast, is the consideration that the widow stood
before the judge, without advocate or friend to plead for her, whereas we have
with us God’s own Son to support our petition, and ensure a favorable response.
"He ever lives to make intercession," and "Him the Father hears always." If the
widow, standing there alone, was successful in her suit, how much more will God
avenge His own elect, when they come before Him in numberless array, and with
God’s own Son for Advocate. Do we hesitate to take this comfort to ourselves,
fearing we are not of the elect? They are described as those who habitually
pray. This we are all commanded to do. If we accept the privilege and obey the
command, we have the best reason to know that we belong to the elect. If we feel
that sin is our chief adversary, earnestly strive to resist its assaults, and
fervently pray God to help us, we are among the elect of God, whom Jesus
described as praying day and night unto Him.

"And will not God avenge His own elect? He will avenge them speedily, though He
bears long with them." Trials often are removed speedily, in a literal sense.
"Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning." And when
deliverance seems delayed, yet in view of an eternity of bliss, it comes
speedily. When we reach our eternal home we shall be astonished at the shortness
of the journey which has led to such unending bliss; and the lightness of the
afflictions which wrought out such an exceeding weight of glory.

Let us then never grow faint in prayer, but be assured that we are answered in
the best way, and that although sometimes the very reverse of what we ask may
seem to be sent, such disappointment to our passing wishes is the real granting
of our habitual desire—to be purified from sin, to enjoy more of God, to be made
more fit for heaven, and thus to be delivered from our adversary. Yes, even in
disappointment, we will rejoice that God is answering the prayer of His elect,
"though He bears long with them."

PRAYER ANSWERED IN DISAPPOINTMENT "One jewel more"—I asked, "to make me glad."

He took the one I had.

"At length from trouble bid my soul repose."

Yet thicker came the blows.

"Grant me a life of active zeal," I said.

He laid me on sick bed.

"O let me rest with You in pastures green!"

Only steep crags are seen.

"Why with keen knife, dear Lord, do prune me so?"

"That richer fruits may grow!"

"Why in my portion mix such bitter leaven?"

"To nourish you for heaven."

"Lord, take Your way with me, Your way, not mine."

"My child! all things are thine—

All speedily, though grievous, shall prove best, And then—eternal rest."

—Newman Hall


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  CHAPTER 26: 01.25.     THE MOURNER'S SELF-EXXAMINATION
========================================================================

25. THE MOURNER’S SELF-EXAMINATION

"Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disturbed within me? Put your
hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God." Psalms 42:5 In a
fog, some objects which would guide and please us are concealed, others are
magnified or distorted. In the approaching friend we fear a foe. A beautiful
shrub, or the sign-post pointing homewards, may provoke terror. So in our
seasons of sorrow we are sometimes perplexed, anxious, perhaps desponding as to
our path. It is well to ask whether there is valid reason for this; to
interrogate ourselves, as the Psalmist when he said, "Why are you cast down, O
my soul, and why are you disturbed within me?"

We may be victims of a morbid imagination—fancying poverty, sickness,
unkindness, which have no reality. We may dread something future which may never
become present; a dark cloud in the distance which may soon become radiant with
beauty, or altogether disappear. "Many of our sorrows are purely homespun, with
a pattern of our own invention, like certain painters who delight in heavy
masses of shade." (C. H. Spurgeon) Our fears are often greater than our
misfortunes. If not a present reality, why be cast down now? The trouble may be
self-caused, and should be self-ended; arising from my own improvidence,
injudicious or unkind treatment of others, unreasonable demands and
expectations. Let me stop the leak of my fault, and so prevent the outflow of my
disquiet. Perhaps, on consideration, I may be convinced that my trouble arises
from some contemptible trifle, which I may be ashamed to acknowledge even to
myself.

Still there may be a great trouble, unavoidable and distressing. But why so
disturbed, O my soul? You have experienced trials before; no strange thing has
happened to you. They are far less than your faults deserve; they will not last
long. Why then be cast down?

Above all other arguments of comfort, "Hope in God, who is the health of my
countenance and my God." Bodily health is one of the best of earthly blessings,
for without it no other can be fully enjoyed. But God is my true health. Without
Him nothing else can fill my heart with peace, and make my countenance radiant
with joy. When Stephen was maligned, condemned, about to be stoned, his face
shone as an angel’s, because he beheld his Lord, the health of his countenance.
Whatever else I lose, having Him, "all things are mine." He is not a strange
deity; not merely the universal Ruler, but "my God," my very own, with whom I am
on covenant relations—my Father!

"Hope in God." He overrules all events. No trouble comes to you accidentally.
All things work together for your good. If He wounds, it is to heal. If He
impoverishes, it is to enrich. "I shall yet praise Him." Be not impatient,
hurting your wings against the cage which He, who watches the sparrows, is on
the way to open for you to soar into the blue heavens. At evening time it shall
be light. "It is when the hour is darkest, when the clouds are thickest, and the
hollow moaning of despair is awakening on the chill night breeze, that He
interferes, to whom time is not, save as the setting wherein He has been pleased
to place His work." (Wilberforce.) When Cuthbert, missionary to Northumbria, was
driven on the coast of Fife, he said, "Snow closes the road on land and storm
the sea, but still the way of heaven lies open." Why then so cast down? for at
the worst you will be at the best—at home. "I shall yet praise Him." My distress
may be spiritual. I fear I do not rightly believe, love, and obey! O my soul,
hope in God. His love, not your own feelings, is your health. Your fear reveals
a desire for Him, which He inspired and accepts. Take your unworthiness to
Christ, and cast your burden on the Lord. Have you no enjoyment in religion?
Still "hope you in God." The mountain of God’s grace, on which you have often
gazed with delight, has not melted away in the mist that conceals it. Remember
Him from "the land of Jordan;" how He brought you out from Egypt and the
wilderness, and opened a way through torrents of fears and temptations, into the
fair Canaan of promise. Remember Him of whom our fathers have told us what
things He did in their days, and in the old times before them—all recorded
blessings to His children in all ages, and the still more numerous blessings
unrecorded. Remember Him who blessed you in former days, whether on some great
mountain like Hermon, or on some little hill Mizar; in great or little troubles.
Remember all your delight in communion with Him—in the church, or the chamber;
on some high mountain of adoration, or a little hill of trust and love; in the
palace of privilege, or the prison of privation. Yes, Lord, though disturbed
about myself at present, I will bear in grateful remembrance the past, and
remember You. "Though deep calls unto deep at the noise of Your waterfalls,"
Your love is deeper than any sorrow of my soul, and if, through depth of sorrow,
I reach depths of love, "I shall yet praise You."

Yes, I will remember You, O Savior!—how You did weep and agonize in Gethsemane,
how Your prayer was heard, how You did drink the cup of sorrow for me! I will
remember You from the hill Calvary, where Your blood was shed for my sins, and
from the hill Olivet, whence, Victor over death, You did ascend to the throne on
which You are seated for evermore—"mighty to save!" "I will remember You, the
health of my countenance and my God!" "The Lord will command His loving-kindness
in the day-time," and if sorrow still casts its dark mantle over me, yet "in the
night His song shall be with me." Are you grieved because of yielding to
temptation? It would indeed be a reason to mourn if sin caused no sorrow. If I
am indulging in any wrong I may well be disturbed. There can be "no peace to the
wicked," until he repents; and none to God’s children while cherishing any evil
in the heart. Unreserved surrender is the cure of such disquiet. But ceasing to
do evil does not remove the guilt already incurred. Does past sin weigh
heavily?—"Hope in God;" cast your burden afresh on Him who says, "Come unto Me,
all you that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." You shall yet
praise Him. You may at once. He says to every penitent seeker—"Your sins are
forgiven, go into peace."

Yes! though my tears have been my food day and night, though all Your waves and
Your billows have gone over me, the night will soon be over, the battle ended,
the victory won; I shall yet praise You. Yet? I will praise You now! Now in the
fight, now in the furnace, now "in the night His song shall be with me, and my
prayer unto the God of my life. Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are
you disturbed within me?" God is more than circumstances, more than all things
visible, more than my changing ideas and feelings respecting Him. He abides
ever, Infinite in goodness. I will "try when I have comforts to find God in all;
and when I have no comforts to find all in God." (C. H. Spurgeon.) Why cast
down? Hope in God;

Love’s own hand uplifts the rod;

Wisdom guides each painful blow, All things work for good, we know.

Why amid the darkness fear? Your protecting Lord is near—

Why should fiercest foes alarm?

He will shelter you from harm.

Why are you cast down, my soul?

Jesus Christ has made you whole; Are you tempted? He can save;

Fearing death? He spoiled the grave.

Why cast down with such a Friend?

He will love you to the end, Guide and guard you all your way, Bring you to
unclouded day.

Soon, all doubt and sadness o’er, Safe on Canaan’s peaceful shore—

Joyful, grateful, you shall raise, For brief sorrow, endless praise!

—Newman Hall


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  CHAPTER 27: 01.26.     ANXIETY
========================================================================

26. ANXIETY

"Be not anxious for your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body,
what you will wear." Matthew 6:25 "Fear not, little flock, it is your Father’s
good pleasure to give you the kingdom." Luke 12:32 In the parable of the man who
said to his soul, "You have many goods laid up for many years," the Great
Teacher warned the rich against eagerness in accumulating wealth. He then warned
the poor against anxiety about securing the necessaries of life. Covetousness is
of the mind, not of the condition. The poor may be as eager for pence as the
rich for pounds. There is anxiety of the cottage, as well as of the
counting-house; fretting care, not only that the barn be full, but lest it
become empty. So our Lord admonishes all His followers not to be perplexed about
earthly things. Take no fretting thought—be not anxious. For this He gives six
powerful reasons, Luke 12:22-32.

1. Contrast the smallness of what makes us anxious—with the greatness of what
God has already given. He bestows life without our labor or taking thought. We
breathe when asleep as when awake, and the blood circulates and builds up the
wasting tissues without our consciousness. Is not that life more than the food
which supplies it, and that body more than the clothing that clothes it?

Sometimes the rich are anxious in their abundance, what selection shall be made
for the feast—"what shall we eat?" And sometimes the crowded wardrobe causes
anxiety as to which dress shall be selected for some occasion of pleasure or
display—"with what shall we be clothed?" But many more are anxious about the
empty cupboard—how to obtain food for their day’s hunger, or clothing to shield
the body from the cold. But if God gives life, will He not sustain it—and if He
sustains the body, will He not clothe it? "The life is more than food, and the
body than clothing."

2. God provides for birds and flowers—much more for us. "Consider the ravens,"
so familiar to the disciples. Let us consider our own homely or beautiful
musical birds—the blithe sparrow chirping in the hedge or city-street; the
thrush as it warbles its glad matins and vespers, repeating each strain as
loving it; the black-bird, with mellow plaintive tones; the lark upspringing to
heaven, rapturously singing as it soars; the rustic robin cheering winter’s
gloom with its mellifluous sweetness, worthy to be named even with the
nightingale, faithful summer-visitant, gladdening both darkness and day with its
enchanting melodies. They do not sow nor reap nor gather into barns—yet God
feeds them! He endowed them with that keen vision to spy their food, those agile
wings to reach it, that sharp bill to seize it.

"He hears the ravens that cry, and satisfies the desire of every living thing."
And will He not much more feed you whom He has more richly endowed—you who can,
and therefore should, sow and reap and store, with all industry and prudence?
But having done your duty in the exercise of such capacities, and having prayed
to your Father who much more cares for you—should you be anxious, as if inferior
to birds in trusting Him?

Consider also "the lilies how they grow;" (flowers in general, or specially the
scarlet anemone—making the spring pastures of Palestine radiant with beauty). We
may consider the flowers poetically, and listen to the wisdom or the music of
their speech. The painter considers them artistically, and reproduces their
forms and hue, so that in smoky towns we may be reminded of rural beauty, and in
winter’s dreariness of summer’s loveliness. But we may also and chiefly consider
the lilies as reminding us of God. "How they grow!" Who can understand all the
mystery of the life even of a tiny flower? They "toil not," as men; "neither do
they spin," as women. Their life is brief; flourishing today, and, as in the
East, cut down to dry in the sun, and next day burnt up in the oven; and yet so
graceful in form, so beautiful in color, the objects of so much thoughtful and
tasteful care, "that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of
these." And will God not much more clothe you, who can both toil and spin, and
who have the same God who esteems you of far greater value, and has promised
that you shall not lack anything that is good? Children’s voices may reprove our
anxiety as they sing—

I know who makes the daisies, And paints them starry bright:

I know who clothes the lilies, So sweet and soft and white: And surely needful
clothing He will for me provide, Who know Him as my Jesus And in His love
confide.

I know who feeds the sparrow, And robin, red and gay;

I know who makes the skylark Soar up to greet the day: And me much more He cares
for, And feeds with daily bread, Whom He has taught to love Him, And trust what
He has said. The daisy and the lily Obey Him all they can; The robin and the
skylark Fulfill His perfect plan. And I to whom are given A heart, and mind, and
will, Must try to serve Him better And all His laws fulfill. The daisies they
must perish, The lark and robin die; But I shall live forever Above the bright
blue sky:

Dear Jesus, You will help me To love You more and more, Until in heaven I see
Thee, Am like You, and adore.

—Newman Hall

3. The USELESSNESS of anxiety. Who, by all his "worry, can add one inch to his
stature"? By temperance in all things, and observance of the laws of health, we
may add some years to our age. But not by anxiety. This shortens life. Some are
anxious to increase their apparent height, but who can increase his real height
by an inch? How small a thing it would be to add a little to length, either of
life or limb, compared with the constant supplies of God for the body’s life!
"If you then, are not able to do even that which is least, why are you anxious
concerning the rest?"

Anxiety is useless. It does nothing towards attaining its end. It hinders clear
thinking, firm purpose, steady perseverance, final success. An old author
says—"Don’t fret about what you can’t help, or what you can help. If you can’t
help it, fretting won’t mend it. If you can help it, help it, and there will be
nothing to fret about." Exercise caution, diligence, perseverance, prayer. "Work
but don’t worry." Then commit the result to God—"Casting all your care upon Him;
for He cares for you."

4. It is heathenish to be "anxious for all these things." It is right to desire,
work for, and enjoy them; but if we make them our supreme aim we lower ourselves
to the level of idolaters—"for all these things do the heathen seek after." The
nature of the particular idol does not constitute heathenism, but the idolatry
which exalts anything above God. Alas, how many professed Christians are only
baptized heathen! setting their affection on things of the earth; "lovers of
pleasure, more than lovers of God;" indulging "covetousness, which is idolatry;"
as if man’s chief end were to please himself instead of "to glorify God and
enjoy Him forever." As if our clothes were more than our body—our money more
than our mind—our things more than ourselves—what we think we have more than
what we really are. "A man’s life consists not in the abundance of the things
which he possesses," but in what by God’s grace he is—in faith, love, holiness,
childlike trust. If eager chiefly for things of earth we are only like "the
heathen."

5. Our Father knows our need. The Creator of the birds and flowers is our loving
Father. Christ does not say that we can do without these things, and should not
wish for them. He was more human than some philosophers—He is more considerate
of our present needs than some Christians. He said that we have need of these
things, and that our Father knows it—knows that we require food and clothing,
the comforts of home and the solace of affection. "He who made the need, pledges
the supply." The very need is evidence that He who caused it considers it. So in
the higher need of the soul. If He implants the desire for what is good, He will
help us to attain it. The longing for Himself is evidence that He has already
given Himself. "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for
they shall be filled."

6. If our Father gives us the kingdom—we may trust Him to provide all else. The
disciples were few, feeble, poor, and exposed to the world’s enmity. They were
as timid sheep. But Jesus said, "Fear not." If a little flock, you have a great
and good Shepherd, able to supply all your need, ever keeping watch, mighty to
save. To Him you are precious. You are on your way to the kingdom. Though
wanderers in a wilderness you will soon dwell in a palace—not as strangers, but
as children of the King! It is your Father who gives it, and it is of His "good
pleasure."

If so, will He not provide all needful things on the way? If a loyal subject
volunteers in the army of his king, will not daily rations be provided? If a
loving father urges his far-off son to come home, and prepares for his
reception, will he allow him to perish by the way for lack of what his father
could supply? Will not the love that gives the greater, give the less? "He who
spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how will He not with
Him also freely give us all things?" Little flock, you already realize the
promise.

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." Christ
now reigns in the heart, protecting and blessing all who obey Him. "We have
eternal life." If then we possess the kingdom of heaven, shall we be anxious
respecting the things of earth?

Let us then "seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness," assured that
all these other things shall be added unto us. Not all that others have—not all
that we may desire—but all that is really best. We may have large
contentment—with small stores. The peace of God does not depend on plentiful
gold. To have the will of God in heart and life; to "desire what He has
promised, and to love what He has commanded;" to "hunger and thirst after
righteousness" more than after riches, and thus to be filled, is to be rich
indeed.

Worldliness can be driven from the heart only by the entrance of godliness—the
baser passion must be conquered by the nobler; covetousness by
contentment—anxiety by faith—selfishness by love—Mammon by God. A paramount
desire to obtain the kingdom and become righteous, will counteract every base
craving. Kings and priests of God, will not desire to be slaves of Mammon.

Jesus in Gethsemane, by His prayers and agony, showed how He loved those for
whom He was thus securing the kingdom. He is now seated on that kingdom’s
throne. Let us not dishonor Him by distrusting Him about the lesser needs of the
body. Come, O Savior King, into my heart, to rule there without a rival! All
else I leave. My Father knows what I need. It is His good pleasure to give me
the kingdom, and I may well be without anxiety respecting all things else!


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 28: 01.27.     JOB IN THE GARDEN OF GRIEF
========================================================================

27. JOB IN THE GARDEN OF GRIEF "Though He slays me, yet will I trust in Him."

Wave after wave swept over Job. Sabeans captured his oxen—lightning destroyed
his sheep—Chaldeans carried off his camels—and the hurricane buried his children
beneath the ruins of their house. As soon as he received these tidings, he bowed
himself on the ground and worshiped, saying, "Naked came I out of my mother’s
womb and naked shall I return there—the Lord gave and the Lord has taken
away—blessed be the name of the Lord."

What I seemed to have was never mine. It was always God’s. I will bless Him for
the loan, and all the comfort it gave me. And now that He takes it back, I will
still praise Him. It is not merely the robbers, the lightning, the
hurricane—"Who knows not in all these, that the hand of the Lord has wrought
this? in whose hand is the soul of every living thing, and the breath of all
mankind? Blessed be the name of the Lord."

Other troubles followed. Losses may be borne in health with a patience, which
gives way under pain. "Put forth Your hand now, and touch his bone and his
flesh, and he will curse You to Your face." Such was the suggestion of the
Adversary who was taking occasion of his troubles in the flesh to destroy his
soul. "Satan smote Job with sore boils from the sole of his foot unto his
crown." Then mistaken friends, who came to comfort, vexed him by attributing
such grievous sufferings to great sins.

Hear the lament of this early sufferer in his garden of grief. "Man that is born
of a woman is of few days, and full of trouble. O that my calamity were laid in
the balances, for it would be heavier than the sand of the seas. When I lie
down, I say, When shall I arise? but the night is long, and I am full of
tossings to and fro unto the dawning of the day. My days are spent without hope.
When I say, My bed shall comfort me, then You scare me with dreams. I am a
burden to myself. O that it would please God to cut me off."

Now listen to his song as it modulates from such minor tones into those of
resignation and hope. "What! shall we receive good at the hands of the Lord, and
shall we not receive evil?" Shall we forget the past years of prosperity—the
riches, the health, the household, enjoyed so long, and shall we murmur now that
he sends woe? Are not our sins more than our sorrows? Should not these sorrows
lead to repentance? "How can man be just with God? If I wash myself in snow
water, and make my hands ever so clean; yet will you plunge me in the ditch, and
my own clothes shall abhor me. Make me to know my transgression and my sin. I
had heard of You by the hearing of the ear; but now my eye sees You—therefore I
abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes." His afflictions became profitable
by increased prayerfulness. He yearned, as did the Sufferer of Gethsemane, for
human sympathy. "Have pity upon me, have pity upon me, O my friends, for the
hand of God has touched me!" They failed him, but he the more sought comfort in
God. "O that I knew where I might find Him, that I might come even to His seat!
I would order my cause before Him, and fill my mouth with arguments."

Prayer brought peace. "I have treasured up the words of His mouth more than my
necessary food. Would He contend with me in the greatness of His power? No, but
He would put strength into me. He hides Himself that I cannot see Him, but He
knows the way that I take; when He has tried me I shall come forth like gold.
Though He slays me, yet will I trust in Him" (wait for Him, R.V.). Though I fall
under the burden He lays on me, though I die in the furnace He kindles, I will
expect the fulfillment of His promises. I may cease to trust friends who fail
me, but I will never cease to trust in God. The fuller revelation of God in
Christ enables us with still stronger assurance, not only to hope and trust, but
also to love and rejoice. The author’s father, who had passed through many
trials, made an addition to these words, which he was so in the habit of using
during half a century that he seemed to think he was quoting Job when he said,
"Though He slays me, yet will I trust in Him, and love Him too." Mere philosophy
or stoicism or a phlegmatic temper may endure without complaining; but the
religion of the Bible alone can enable us to trust in God and love Him, whatever
the sorrows He may ordain. The words in which Job expressed belief in a future
state have given consolation to the children of God ever since. He could not
know the full meaning of the inspiring Spirit. "Holy men of God spoke as they
were moved by the Holy Spirit," but like children who are taught lessons of
wisdom which they cannot fully understand, so the prophets of the Old Testament
spoke mysteries for which the New Testament furnishes the key. Their eye did not
see, nor their heart conceive the things which God had prepared for His people,
but which He has now "revealed to us by His Spirit" (1 Corinthians 2:10). What
to them was given in the bud we possess in full blossom; and we in our turn know
not as yet all that shall yet be developed. But the future fruit is enveloped in
our blossom, as this was enveloped in their bud. "They present, not only the
first lines of the picture which is worked up in detail later on, but also an
outline sketched in such a way that all the knowledge of later times may be
added to it." (Delitzsch.)

"I know that my Redeemer lives, and that He shall stand up at the last upon the
earth—and after my skin has been thus destroyed, yet from my flesh shall I see
God—whom I shall see for myself, and my eyes shall behold, and not another" (Job
19:25-26, R.V.).

"All the days of my warfare would I wait until my release should come. Even now
my witness is in heaven. My advocate is there on high. My friends scorn me, but
my eye pours out tears unto God; that He would maintain the right of a man with
God, and of a son of man with his neighbor." Though I die unvindicated, I know
that my Redeemer lives; He could stand up for me even on the dust of my body,
over my grave, to plead for me. And after my skin has been thus destroyed by
disease, yet apart from my flesh shall I see God. I shall see Him "for myself,"
vindicating me against all traducers; my eyes shall behold Him, "and not
another;" the same God whom now I trust. This passage proves Job’s undying faith
in God his conviction of a future state in which what seems wrong here will be
set right; and so illustrates his fixed resolve, "Though He slays me, yet will I
wait for Him." "It points to the resurrection; and the poem of the Old Testament
saint, this old song of the night breathing forth faith’s yearning towards the
glorious appearing of Him who is "the Last" as He is "the First," may be chanted
by the Christian believer with no less confidence and with a fuller realization
of what it means." (Lange.)

Yes! we will sing as our Easter Anthem, on every "Lord’s Day" of Resurrection,
every hour of our pilgrimage, in the joy of our hearts, "I know that my Redeemer
lives." I know that "Now has Christ risen from the dead, and has become the
first-fruits of those who sleep." I know that He ever lives as my Intercessor,
and defense. Foes may condemn, friends fail, helpers die, flesh decay—but He
lives! I know it, not from testimony alone, but from personal experience of His
presence in my soul. There is much I may doubt, but I am certain here. I "know
Him and the power of His resurrection," and "am persuaded that He is able to
keep that which I have committed unto Him against that day."

Mourners rejoice! He is not a dead historic deliverer, a hero enshrined in
grateful memory. He lives still—He is among us—He dwells within us—as He said,
"I am with you always." Death has lost its terrors. Through its portal we enter
His presence. "The Lord blessed the latter end of Job more than the beginning."
This is true of all the children of God. For them He keeps His "best wine until
the last." Their sorrow always ends in joy. Meanwhile, the gloom of the dungeon
is dispelled by this ray from heaven—the shipwreck is averted by this anchor of
the soul—the despair of weariness in the long wilderness is prevented by this
voice which reaches us from saints in advance—"Who is he who condemns? It is
Christ who died; yes, rather, who has risen again, who is even at the right hand
of God, who also makes intercession for us." I know that He will come again in
the glory of the Father, and that He will stand in the latter day upon the
earth, and raise in glory the bodies of those who sleep in Him. And therefore as
we bear such bodies to the grave, and anticipate our own burial, we will repeat,
with fuller realization of their import, the Divine words, consecrated by so
many tears, by so many joyful hopes, "I know that my Redeemer lives!"


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  CHAPTER 29: 01.28.     DAVID IN THE GARDEN OF GRIEF
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28. DAVID IN THE GARDEN OF GRIEF "I will bless the Lord at all times." Psalms
34:1

DAVID SIGHING

"MY God, my God, why have You forsaken me? why are You so far from helping me? I
cry in the daytime, but You hear not; and in the night season, and am not
silent. I am weary with my groaning; I water my couch with my tears. For
innumerable evils have compassed me about—my iniquities have taken hold upon me,
so that I am not able to look up; they are more than the hairs of my
head—therefore my heart fails me."

"My lovers and my friends stand aloof from my sore; and my kinsmen stand afar
off. Yes, my own familiar friend, in whom I trusted, who ate of my bread, has
lifted up his heel against me. My tears have been my food day and night, while
they continually say unto me, Where is your God? And I said, O that I had wings
like a dove! for then would I fly away, and be at rest. How long will You forget
me, O Lord? forever? how long will You hide Your face from me? Consider and hear
me, O Lord my God—lighten my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death."

DAVID PRAYING

"Save me, O God; for the waters are come in unto my soul. I sink in deep mire,
where there is no standing—I am come into deep waters, where the floods overflow
me. Hear me, O Lord; for Your loving-kindness is good—turn unto me according to
the multitude of Your tender mercies. And hide not Your face from Your servant;
for I am in trouble—hear me speedily. I am poor and needy—make haste unto me, O
God—You are my help and my deliverer; O Lord, make no tarrying."

"As the deer pants after the water brooks, so my soul pants after You, O God. My
soul thirsts for God, for the living God—when shall I come and appear before
God? Turn unto me, and have mercy upon me; for I am desolate and afflicted. Look
upon my affliction and my pain; and forgive all my sins. Hide not Your face from
me; put not Your servant away in anger—You have been my help; leave me not,
neither forsake me, O God of my salvation. Have mercy upon me, according to Your
loving-kindness—according unto the multitude of Your tender mercies blot out my
transgressions. Restore unto me the joy of Your salvation; and uphold me with
Your free spirit."

"O turn unto me, and have mercy upon me; give Your strength unto Your servant,
and save the son of Your handmaid. Be not far from me; for trouble is near; for
there is none to help. Give us help from trouble—for vain is the help of man.
Lead me, O Lord, in Your righteousness because of my enemies; make Your way
straight before my face. Hold up my goings in Your paths, that my footsteps slip
not."

"My times are in Your hand—deliver me from the hand of my enemies, and from
those who persecute me. Make Your face to shine upon Your servant—save me for
Your mercy’s sake. O God, You are my God; early will I seek You—my soul thirsts
for You, my flesh longs for You in a dry and thirsty land, where there is no
water. Be my strong habitation, whereunto I may continually resort. Keep me as
the apple of the eye, hide me under the shadow of Your wings."

DAVID PRAISING

"I love the Lord, because He has heard my voice and my supplications. Because He
has inclined His ear unto me, therefore will I call upon Him as long as I live.
Return unto your rest, O my soul; for the Lord has dealt bountifully with you.
For You have delivered my soul from death, my eyes from tears, and my feet from
falling. What shall I render unto the Lord for all His benefits toward me?"

"Come and hear all you who fear God, and I will declare what He has done for my
soul. I waited patiently for the Lord; and He inclined unto me, and heard my
cry. He brought me up also out of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set
my feet upon a rock, and established my goings."

"Bless the Lord, O my soul—and all that is within me, bless His holy name. Bless
the Lord, O my soul, and do not forget all His benefits—Who forgives all your
iniquities; Who heals all your diseases; Who redeems your life from destruction;
Who crowns you with loving-kindness and tender mercies."

"O Israel, trust in the Lord—He is their help and their shield. You who fear the
Lord, trust in the Lord—He is their help and their shield. The Lord upholds all
that fall, and raises up all those that are bowed down. The Lord is near unto
all those who call upon Him, to all who call upon Him in truth. The Lord takes
pleasure in those who fear Him, in those who hope in His mercy. Cast your burden
upon the Lord, and He shall sustain you—He shall never allow the righteous to be
moved. The Lord also will be a refuge for the oppressed, a refuge in times of
trouble. And those who know Your name will put their trust in You—for You, Lord,
have not forsaken those who seek You. Let all those who seek You rejoice and be
glad in You—and let such as love Your salvation say continually, Let God be
magnified. Be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart, all you that
hope in the Lord."

"I will bless the Lord at all times—His praise shall continually be in my mouth.
I sought the Lord, and He heard me, and delivered me from all my fears. He who
dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the
Almighty. I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress—my God; in Him
will I trust. For in the time of trouble He shall hide me in His pavilion—in the
secret of His tabernacle shall He hide me; He shall set me up upon a rock. God
is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. The Lord is my light
and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the Lord is the strength of my life; of
whom shall I be afraid?"

"I will extol You, my God, O King; and I will bless Your name forever and ever.
Every day I will bless You; and I will praise Your name forever and ever. The
Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not be in need. He makes me to lie down in green
pastures—He leads me beside the still waters. Yes, though I walk through the
valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil—for You are with me—Your rod
and Your staff, they comfort me. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all
the days of my life—and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever."


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  CHAPTER 30: 01.30.     WITH CHRIST ALL'S WELL
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30. WITH CHRIST "ALL’S WELL"

"Is it well with you?" 2 Kings 4:26

All is well with us when Christ dwells in our hearts. The Shunamite mother could
say "All is well," because she was a believer in God. Her faith was seen in her
works. She loved God, and therefore loved the "man of God." Observing that he
often passed her abode on his Divine errands, she prepared a chamber for his
special use. So let us provide in our hearts an abode for Christ. He is always
passing. He is willing to stay with us. He knocks and asks us to receive Him.
The rich woman provided for the poor traveler. The Divine Master condescends to
dwell with the lowest of His servants. The Shunamite carefully provided for the
prophet’s comfort—"Let’s make a little room for him on the roof and furnish it
with a bed, a table, a chair, and a lamp. Then he will have a place to stay
whenever he comes by," and this was gratefully noticed by the prophet. Elisha
said to Gehazi, "Tell her that we appreciate the kind concern she has shown us."
So let us thoughtfully, generously, lovingly, be careful to entertain the Lord
Jesus. Let it not be enough that we open the door for Him to enter. Let us
prepare and provide as we do for an honored guest in our earthly home. Let us
diligently consider what will please Him. Let us give Him our attention, our
admiring, adoring, inquiring thoughts. Let us hold reverent and confiding
converse with Him, and avoid whatever would dishonor or grieve Him. Nothing, not
even the cup of cold water, will be unnoticed by Him. Such reception of Christ,
the Great Prophet, daily ministry to Him in response to His unmerited love, will
be our best security and consolation. With Him abiding with us, we can appeal to
Him in all trial, sure that He will lend a ready ear, and stretch forth a ready
arm for our help. Our Divine Prophet asks us, "Is it well with you?" as He asked
Peter, Do you love me? not because He is ignorant, but because He wishes us to
examine ourselves to exercise our faith. All will be well. In a little while we
shall be beyond the reach of sickness, bereavement, sin, and death. All is
well—because these trials which seem ill are on the path to that heaven. No,
more—these trials help us; they speed our pace, they strengthen our feet for the
march, our hands for the fight; they "work out for us" the glory to come, and as
the end will be well, the road must be well also. All must be well. Afflictions
are not accidents, nor the working of mere physical laws. God is infinitely kind
and wise to direct the best methods to fulfill His love. We see perfection in
His smaller works which are completed before our eyes, in the life of a flower
or a plant. The microscope reveals that in the smallest organism invisible to
the naked eye, there is perfect design and workmanship. His procedure in
Providence and Grace is a work in process. We see only a small portion of it;
but we may infer, from what we know of His completed works, that "He does all
things well."

We are assured of this by His written Word, and by the testimony of His Son who
came to reveal the Father. And so when vision fails, faith is confident, and
says, "It is well." Well, when He gives; well, when He takes; in storm as in
calm, in sickness as in health, in sorrow as in joy, in death as in life—all is
well. With Asaph we will "wash our hands in innocency;" but, as in his case,
this will not give us assurance that all is well. It is only when we can say, "I
am continually with You; You have held me by my right hand; You shall guide me
with Your counsel, and afterwards receive me into glory;"—it is only when we
cast ourselves in all our unworthiness and weakness on Himself, and say, "God is
the strength of my heart and my portion forever," that we fully know all will be
well, all is well, all must be well. Can it be well without Him? Well with
revellers in a sinking ship? well with sleepers in a burning house? Well with
Belshazzar at his banquet, when the fatal finger wrote, "Weighed in the balances
and found wanting?" Well with the rich man with goods laid up for many years,
when the warning was given, "This night your soul shall be required of you"? But
with Christ all is well. It was well with the Jewish youths in the fiery
furnace; with Daniel in the den of lions; with Paul and Silas in the inner
prison.

Though a river has many windings, it is still flowing to the sea. Now it turns
to the right, now to the left, now backward; yet the current rolls on without
stay, and bears our boat towards home. Each bend, each seemingly opposing turn
flows forward. If disappointed, it is well. If our dearest hopes are baffled, it
is well. If the voyage seems tediously protracted, it is well. If speedily to
end, it is well. However wild the waves of the narrow sea we have to cross, it
will be well; for our Savior, who crossed it to secure our safe passage will be
with us. He will welcome us on the distant shore. And then, could a voice from
those we leave behind reach us amid the glories of heaven, asking "Is it well?"
with what exultant joy we would shout the answer back—"It is well!"

ALL IS WELL Say, Mourner! is it well with thee— Your store, your self, your
family? With garb of grief and tracks of tears, With face where faith contends
with fears, Bending beneath your burden-tell, Toiling and tried one—Is it well?
The night is dark, and not a star Sparkles faint comfort from afar;

I cannot trace the path I tread I see not where I am led—

How it may be, I cannot tell, But this I know—that All is well! Of gladness,
griefs are but the seeds;

Trials are sent to root out weeds; As showers that fertilize are tears;

Prompters to prayer are painful fears;

Even ’mid love’s ruin blessings dwell— A bleeding heart says—All is well!


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  CHAPTER 31: 01.31.     PAUL IN THE GARDEN OF GRIEF
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31. PAUL IN THE GARDEN OF GRIEF "My grace is sufficient for you." 2 Corinthians
12:9

Paul was a hero—defying difficulties, danger, death. He gloried in tribulation,
yet he deeply felt it. He knew the darkest shadow of the garden of grief. In
writing to the Corinthians he spoke as having been "pressed out of measure,
above strength, insomuch that we despaired even of life." In defending his
apostleship against false teachers, he briefly refers to having endured stripes
above measure, been in prisons more frequent, deaths often, thrice beaten with
rods, stoned, shipwrecked, in perils of waters, of robbers, in the wilderness,
in the city; weariness, painfulness, hunger and thirst, cold and nakedness; with
the daily care of all the churches. (2 Corinthians 1:8-10; 2 Corinthians
11:24-28) He also testified that he had been "caught up into paradise;" but that
to prevent undue elation "there was given unto him a thorn in the flesh, a
messenger of Satan to buffet him." The trial, whatever it was, is described as a
"thorn," not a sword or a spear. Comparatively small annoyances, continued, may
become a severer trial of patience than great calamities, which rouse all our
energies to meet them, but, like a thunder cloud, discharge their bolts and roll
away. The traveler with a thorn in his foot may be obliged to travel on without
halting to extricate it. Every step gives pain; he is hindered, vexed, and
receives little sympathy. It is only a thorn. The thorn may be some bodily
ailment, not perilous but painful—vexations in business, petty worries, painful
restraints, uncongenial occupation, social antipathies, aggravating intimates,
malicious slander, cruel criticisms, plotting foes, Job’s comforters. The devil
often takes advantage of such trials to tempt to sin. Such a "messenger of
Satan" may come to "buffet;" not to give one heavy blow and depart, but to
continue to deliver stinging slaps, allowing no interval of rest. The Apostle
says this thorn was "given him." It was not by accident or merely the malice of
Satan. The permission of it was the kind dispensation of a Father, in order to
prevent greater evil. "Lest I should be exalted above measure" is the reason
repeated twice in the same sentence. This confidence in God’s loving purpose was
great consolation. A thorn may not only pain the body, but irritate and depress
the mind, and hinder important work. Thorns out of sight, rankle in spite of
littleness. Doubtless Paul’s chief desire was the removal, not of the pain so
much as of the hindrance to usefulness. But greater humility was more important
than greater work. What we are is more than what we do. If the continuance of
the thorn kept him from being "exalted above measure," the result was better
than active labor. The tool is more valuable than the extra wages, in earning
which it is damaged; and pride unfits for holy service, especially pride in what
appears pious.

Whatever drives or draws to the throne of grace does us good, whether bitter cup
or piercing thorn. Even a messenger of Satan brings us some blessing, and his
malicious buffets fresh experiences of Divine love. "Concerning this thing I
besought the Lord thrice, that it might depart from me." Here again he learned a
lesson from Gethsemane. It is natural to continue to ask relief from continued
pain. Little things that trouble the child are not too little to bring again and
again to the Father. The prayer was answered in a better manner than Paul
expected. The thorn remained, but not because the prayer lacked faith,
sincerity, or earnestness. It is an error to suppose that every real prayer will
be answered literally, and that disappointment is evidence of unbelief. Moses
asked in vain to enter Canaan. The prayer of Paul was answered by the assurance,
"My grace is sufficient for you—for my strength is made perfect in weakness."
The Lord disappointed for a time, in order to enrich forever.

"My grace is sufficient!" What a proof that "the Lord" to whom Paul prayed was
Divine! How could man or angel presume to say that his influence would suffice
Paul at all times, in bearing all trials? "God manifest in the flesh," who lives
forever, "mighty to save," is alone able to supply all the need of all His
disciples. We may, with full assurance, rely on His promise of grace. It is
Sovereign grace, the free gift of the King; Covenant grace, ratified by His
precious blood; Effectual grace, successfully working in all who believe;
Unchangeable grace, never diminishing in quantity and power. The grace promised
is "sufficient;" adapted to the case in quality, quantity, continuance. It is
"grace for seasonable help;" grace for today, and similar grace for tomorrow’s
additional or different trials. As in a great ocean-steamer all necessaries are
provided for the voyage, so that passengers entering into contract and going on
board need have no anxiety about the daily provision, so God assures us, not
that we shall escape all storms and discomfort, but that we shall be amply
provided for and brought safely home. The promise of grace was confirmed by the
assurance that the strength of God would be made perfect, in the weakness of
man. The weakness would be the occasion for the bestowment of the strength. The
strength being that of Omnipotence, and the weakness that of frail humanity,
such weakness would become immeasurable gain. It was not promised that the
strength of God would be given to supplement that of Paul, but as linked with
the very weakness he dreaded, the very thorn he would be rid of. And this
strength was to be given, not in limited measure, but would be "made perfect."
The weaker, the sadder, the more tempted, so the more strengthened, comforted,
victorious, would Paul be. The child most ailing receives most of the parent’s
care; the patient in greatest danger the physician’s greatest and most prompt
attention.

If grace is needed when our path is plain, much more when it leads among bogs
and precipices; if when we have no burden to carry, much more when weighed down
with sorrows; if when the wind is fair and only dancing wavelets beautify the
sea, much more when the cyclone rages, and our dismasted vessel leaks, almost a
wreck—how precious in such extremity this promise!

What was its effect on Paul? "Most gladly, therefore, will I rather glory in my
weaknesses, that the strength of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take
pleasure in weaknesses, in injuries, in necessities, in persecutions, in
distresses, for Christ’s sake—for when I am weak, then am I strong." Paul
submitted to disappointment as regarded the thorn, because of the greater
benefits of the grace. He ceased to pray that the former might be removed,
rejoicing that by its means the latter was bestowed. He was convinced that the
strength of Christ did encompass him even as a tent. He did not submit as to a
disappointment; he had realized something better. He now gloried in the thorn
which had so distressed him. He retained it "most gladly," as a mark of favor,
as an honor from God. He could now "glory in tribulations also." He had been in
danger of glorying in his eloquence, miraculous gifts, labors, usefulness, and
of being ashamed of this humiliating thorn; but now he rejoiced in it as the
occasion of additional grace—not in his power to speak with tongues, to cure the
sick, to raise the dead; not in his over-abundant labors and successes, nor even
in his vision of Paradise, but in his infirmities. He took "pleasure in
reproaches," for by the power of Christ these became titles of honor; in
"necessities," for they opened wider the doors of God’s treasury; in
"persecutions," for the hatred of men increased the sense of the love of Christ;
in "distresses," for these yielded new delights.

"There is, as the Apostle has remarked, a way to strength through weakness. Let
me then be the most feeble creature alive, as long as that feebleness serves to
invigorate the energies of my rational and immortal spirit; as long as in that
obscurity in which I am enveloped the light of the Divine presence more clearly
shines—then, in the proportion as I am weak, I shall be invincibly strong; and
in proportion as I am blind, I shall more clearly see. O that I may thus be
perfected by feebleness, and irradiated by obscurity." (Milton) "One adequate
support For the calamities of mortal life Exists; one only—an assured belief
That the procession of our fate, howe’er Sad or disturbed, is ordered by a Being
of infinite benevolence and power, Whose everlasting purposes embrace All
accidents, converting them to good."

(Wordsworth) The gospel assures me that the God "of infinite benevolence and
power" is my very own God and Father. My personal interests are not lost sight
of in those of the universe. Each trial I suffer is "given" as a blessing,
though it appears as a buffet. The surgeon’s knife has often averted death. Even
God’s thorns are curative. His withholdings enrich as well as His bestowings.
But though this is not always seen as regards the interests of time, it is
always true as regards those of eternity. The thorn in the flesh saved Paul from
pride in the spirit. How exposed are the most useful Christians to this
temptation! To be proud of our beauty, strength, riches, station, power,
learning, genius—this is absurd, for what have we which we have not received?
and the greater the trust, the greater the guilt of unfaithfulness. But to be
proud of our piety, our spiritual experience, our prayerfulness, zeal,
usefulness—this is the worst kind of pride, most offensive to God, most
injurious to our own soul, and most obstructive to usefulness. If so, how
beneficent the thorn, in whatever shape, that checks such self-destructive abuse
of heavenly gifts! A vessel that carries much sail needs much ballast. A tree
that spreads wide its branches must plant its roots deep, if it is not to be
blown down by the tornado. No true prayer is lost. Faith may be exercised, in
full expectation that the precise request will be granted. But it is a loftier
reliance on God when we leave the manner of the response to His superior wisdom.
Asking in Christ’s Name is asking in His spirit—"Father, Your will!" We desire
the very best He can give us—and this He alone knows. "My thoughts are higher
than your thoughts." Strength to endure a trial may be better than its removal.
Paul’s stripes at Philippi were more painful than a thorn, but were the occasion
of his songs in the night. Madame Guyon records, "The stones of my prison-walls
have often seemed as rubies in my eyes." Martyr-tortures have often brought
heavenly raptures. May not thorns, then, be blessed? Suppose they are in
themselves trifles, may not even the worries of daily life become occasions of
subduing anger, exercising patience, praising God, and so be dignified and
glorified, helping us heavenward? May we not become "more than conquerors," by
the "invincible might of weakness"? If the thorn remains, but grace is given to
endure it, our prayer is granted in the spirit, while refused in the letter.

"The record book of every Christian’s life has pages written at the bidding of
that severe teacher, Disappointment. Tears blotted and blurred the page at the
time. But as we turn to the page and read it in the light of experience, we
write beneath it, ’Thank God for those losses; they were my everlasting gain.
All things have worked together for good.’ When we reach our Father’s house we
shall look back and see that the rough-visaged teacher, Disappointment, was one
of the best guides to lead us to it. The lessons were hard to learn. But the rod
we so disliked, stripping off much we valued, enabled us to travel freer and
faster. Dear old, rough-handed teacher! We will build a monument to you yet, and
crown it with garlands, and inscribe on it—’Blessed be the memory of
Disappointment.’" (T. L. Cuyler) But how can we endure the thorn meanwhile? By
faith in our Lord Jesus. It was the Sufferer of Gethsemane who said, "My grace
is sufficient for you." These words are not recorded in the gospels. They were
not spoken while Jesus was on the earth. They are utterances of the ascended,
glorified Christ. They prove His words, "I am with you always." He was with
Paul—He is with us. He spoke to Paul—He speaks to us. By His Spirit He can so
impress His written words on our hearts that we shall, with the Apostle, hear
His voice addressing ourselves. "My grace!" the grace of the Man of Sorrows, the
Friend of Sinners, the Healer of the Sick, the Brother of Bethany, the Weeper at
the grave, the Suppliant of Gethsemane, the Omnipotent Head of the Church, the
Lord of Glory—it is he who still says, "My grace is sufficient for you."

How often in fear and woe I’ve cried—

"Dear Lord deliver me!" But still thus only He replied—

"My grace suffices thee." This thorn, which rankles in my heart, O Lord, with
pity see, And bid it speedily depart!

"My grace suffices thee."

How can I meet each boisterous wave On life’s wild stormy sea?

O calm the tempest! support! save!

"My grace suffices thee." The night is dark, the way is long, And friends and
helpers flee! The fight is fierce, the foe is strong!

"My grace suffices thee."

Enough, enough, what Jesus says!

I’ll boast infirmity! In conflict, sorrow, darkness, death, Your grace suffices
me!

—Newman Hall


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  CHAPTER 32: 01.32.     FATHERLY CHASTENING
========================================================================

32. FATHERLY CHASTENING "God deals with you as with sons."— Hebrews 12:1-13 As
with wrestlers after long conflict, the arms of afflicted saints sometimes droop
and their knees tremble. But they are encouraged to "lift up the hands that hang
down and the feeble knees" by thinking of the "great cloud of witnesses" and of
Him who "endured the cross," and is now "at the right hand of the throne of
God." "Consider Him lest you be wearied and faint in your minds; you have not
yet resisted unto blood, striving against sin," as He did in Gethsemane. They
are also consoled by the fact that all their afflictions are the wise discipline
of a loving Father. This was already revealed in their Scriptures, but the
Hebrew Christians seemed to have forgotten it. We may become so familiar with
statements of truth that the truth itself escapes notice. One advantage of trial
is the being reminded of what had become indistinct in memory. The rain may wash
off the obscuring dust from the crystal. The lightning may reveal what had been
unnoticed in the gloom. Affliction, like the setting sun making radiant obscure
objects in the landscape, shows up many a text of Holy Scripture which had been
long overlooked. "Have you quite forgotten the exhortation which speaks unto you
as unto children?" The Bible is not a dead, dusty volume of laws and precedents
in some record office, but a present living teacher. The exhortation given in
the past still "speaks." Circumstances change but great principles endure.
Divine commands and consolations are ever new. The Bible "speaks unto you." As
"all Scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for
instruction" in every age, God, by Solomon (Proverbs 3:11), "speaks unto you."
On the Mount of Transfiguration a cloud overshadowed the disciples; "and they
feared as they entered into the cloud." So we are apt to fear when sorrow casts
its shadow over us, or wraps itself around us and conceals the path. But the
disciples no longer feared when "there came a voice out of the cloud, saying,
This is my beloved Son." Thus the voice of the Father comes out of every cloud,
saying, "Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am Your God." He
speaks to us as unto children. "My son, regard not lightly the chastening of the
Lord, nor faint when you are reproved of Him; for whom the Lord loves He
chastens, and scourges every son whom He receives." We are in danger of treating
trials too lightly. We are not, as others, to assume a "don’t care" attitude; or
assign trial to chance, or mere second causes; or to suppose God is angry, or
indifferent to our sorrows. But we are to accept them, reverently, as from a
Father, acknowledging that we are erring children, and inquiring what faults of
ours may have needed the correcting rod. But we are not to "faint when rebuked
by Him." This we may do when we are so absorbed in grief that we do not listen
to His voice of love, nor search the Scriptures of consolation, nor carry our
woes to Him in prayer; or when, in indolent lamentation, we neglect our own
duties and the sorrows of others—and even worse, when we distrust our Father,
and say, "Has God forgotten to be gracious?" The antidote to both tendencies is
the revealed truth of the Divine Fatherhood. Trials are a token of
remembrance—not forgetfulness; of care—not indifference; of training—not
abandonment; of mercy—not punishment; of love—not wrath. God speaks to you, not
as unto strangers or enemies or condemned sinners, but "as unto children." What
joy when we recognize the Father’s voice! when His call breaks the spell of
despondency and we see that His chastisements are sent as blessings!

"In that hour, From out my sullen heart a power Broke like the rainbow from the
shower— To feel, although no tongue can prove, That every cloud that spreads
above And veileth love, itself is love."

(Tennyson)

"If you endure chastening, God deals with you as with sons; for what son is he
whom the father chastens not?" An earthly father prescribes the child’s
treatment and duties, provides and regulates its food and culture, appointing
not what the child most wishes—but most needs, not what would be most pleasant
for an hour—but most healthful and useful for future life. Therefore, the son of
a wise and loving father must often learn difficult lessons, perform uncongenial
work, be denied desired delights, and submit to painful discipline—"for what son
is he whom the father chastens not? But if you be without chastisement, whereof
all are partakers, then are you illegitimate children and not sons." Would we
desire to cease to be God’s children—in order to escape the discipline? Is not
the sonship worth the chastisement which is a necessary part of it? God said to
Israel, "I have chosen you in the furnace of affliction; I am the Lord your God
who teaches you to profit." If chosen at all should we repine at ’the where’? Is
not the privilege more than the place? If the furnace "teaches us to profit"
should we not bless God for it as well as for the choice?

"Furthermore, we have had fathers of our flesh who corrected us, and we gave
them reverence—shall we not much rather be in subjection unto the Father of
spirits, and live?" They chastened us "as seemed good to them" (R.V.); according
to their own discretion, sometimes erroneously, unduly, angrily; for a few days
only, during childhood, then leaving the grown man to himself—but God perseveres
through maturity to old age, always for our profit.

If we submit when the result of correction is only for this life, much more when
its fruits are to endure forever. The longest life here is but "a few days"
compared with eternity. "A little while" and the earthly advantages of parental
discipline will cease; while those of God’s chastisement will go on forever, in
enlarged capacity for enjoying the inheritance of the saints. "Should we not be
in subjection unto the Father of spirits, and live!" The end of an earthly
father’s discipline is death. There is no end to God’s present discipline. We
live forever with Him, and retain the fruits of His chastisement as a subject of
endless hallelujah.

"He for our profit." What profit? Nothing less than this—"That we might be
partakers of His holiness;" that we may reach not simply the higher life of
human excellence, but of Divine; that we may become more and more conformed to
the Sufferer of Gethsemane, who was "made perfect by suffering"; and so become
"like Him, seeing Him as He is." Thus, His severest chastisements resemble in
design His kindest consolations—for He has "given to us exceeding great and
precious promises, that by these we may become partakers of the Divine nature."
Our Father reigns in heaven above!

Why then in fear be weeping? His arm of might, His heart of love, All harm from
us are keeping.

He guards us from our foes, Our secret grief He knows, He wipes the tear we
shed, He watches by our bed, When we are sick or sleeping. Our Father loves us
in the grief We suffer by His training;

’Rebukes’ are of His blessings chief, How foolish our complaining!

He knows the checks we need; His blows are boons indeed; His ’takings’ aid our
wealth; His ’bitter works’ our health;

Earth’s griefs are heaven gaining. Our Father rules the earth and sky, He lives
and reigns forever; Our Father hears our feeblest cry, Our Father leaves us
never. No tempest’s angry breath, Nor foe, nor grisly death, Nor Satan fierce
and fell, Nor all the powers of hell, Father and child shall sever.

—Newman Hall


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 33: 01.33.     FRUITS FROM THE GARDEN OF AFFLICTION
========================================================================

33. FRUITS FROM THE GARDEN OF AFFLICTION "It was good for me to be afflicted, so
that I might learn your decrees." Psalms 119:71 In this catalogue of some
fruits, more or less alluded to throughout the volume, Repentance may be first
named. Why this chastisement? "Search me, O God, and see what wicked way there
is in me;" what duties neglected, sins committed, evil desires encouraged. Is
there some Achan in the camp? Was the property lost honestly gained, generously
used? What neglect of physical law may have caused this pain of body, of
spiritual law this sorrow of soul? Trial acts as a chemical test, precipitating
and thus revealing poisonous elements, unsuspected before. Thus the soul is
cleansed from what might have killed it. Trial rouses from slumber, as by a
trumpet call. It often prevents meditated sin, hedges up with thorns a perilous
bye-way, and reveals the vanity of worldliness. In sorrow for the dead some have
been born into eternal life, and in sickness found spiritual health. "Before I
was afflicted I went astray, but now have I kept Your word."

Prayer. Many who never prayed before "call upon God in the day of trouble"
(Psalms 107:1-43). Believers are roused to increased prayerfulness by special
need of Divine help. Submission results from such recognition of a Ruler and
Father. Trust is more than mere submission to authority. We lean more
confidingly on the arm of the guide when the path is difficult, and we feel our
weakness. Trust brings Patience; abiding concurrence in His will, rather than a
restless desire for our own. Experience follows. A patient sufferer tests the
promises and the power of faith, is conscious of the presence of the Comforter,
and thus enjoys an internal evidence of the truth stronger than any outward
testimony. His conscience approves as blessed the endurance of the trial. Thus
Hope is encouraged. Help in the past guarantees the future. This hope springs
from the assured experience of the love of God, which is the true life of the
soul, a union with the eternal Life, which is the assurance to us of life
eternal; for "God is not the God of the dead, but of the living," and is "not
ashamed to be called their God," for "He has prepared for them a city." This
hope of life in the future, arising from the life of love now, will never shame
by disappointing us. Thus, "Tribulation works patience; and patience, probation;
and probation, hope—and hope puts not to shame; because the love of God has been
shed abroad in our hearts through the Holy Spirit which was given unto us"
(Romans 5:1-5). This is a hope which floods with sunshine the darkest valley,
and gives "songs in the night" of the innermost prison.

Humility. Pride of strength is shattered by infirmity. Pride of beauty is
shattered by disease. Pride of wealth is shattered by losses. Pride of success
is shattered by failure. Pride of fame is shattered by slander. If pride is our
great foe, the affliction that destroys it is our great friend. Humility
promotes teachableness, and this increases Knowledge. Affliction gives leisure
and inclination for prayerful study of the word of God. Most of the marks of
loving assent in many Bibles have been made in the chamber of trial.

Luther said, "Affliction is the best book in the minister’s library," and we
respond, Affliction is the best teacher of the best book. "It is good for me
that I have been afflicted, that I might learn Your statutes." Such learning is
practical and secures Obedience. Affliction is a High School of Christian
morals, and an Industrial School for practicing them. Even Christ "learned
obedience by the things which He suffered."

Brotherhood. Grief makes all men kin. We forget differences of rank and opinion,
political and religious, in the community of sorrow. This is a precious fruit of
trial, in a world where we are so apt, because of differences, to forget our
common brotherhood. Especially will this operate in softening personal
resentments, leading us to think more kindly, to forgive more readily, to make
greater allowance for the faults of those who have wronged us. Affliction is
often the instrument by which the Holy Comforter nourishes the charity which
"suffers long, and is kind, which envies not, which is not easily provoked,
which endures all things."

There are beauties of holiness which are specially developed by affliction. The
full foliage of an oak conceals the symmetrical architecture and sturdy strength
of trunk and branches, which are only displayed when the storms of autumn have
torn the screen away. There are beauties in the stream as it flows with
unruffled surface through the meadows, reflecting each flower on the bank, each
cloudlet in the sky; but there are other beauties caused by rocky obstructions
in its course, where the waters foam and flash, and rainbow-glories hover above.
It is only when the light of the sun is broken, and the rays are refracted by
the rain-drops, with the storm-cloud for setting, that it reveals its varied
colors and transcendent beauties.

Usefulness. We are apt to think exclusively of the good to ourselves. But we may
benefit others as much in the shade, as the sunshine. Joyful patience in our
pain has often been more instructive than our lessons in prosperity. How much
easier will trial be borne if we regard it as a special opportunity of bearing
witness for God, confirming the faith of His children, and proving that "though
there is a great deal of the counterfeit coin of profession, yet some there are
who have the reality of it, that there is truth in it, that the very Spirit of
God dwells in true believers." (Leighton.)

Paul thus valued affliction, because, by the comfort he received from God, he
was better enabled to comfort others. (2 Corinthians 1:3-6.) Only by suffering
are we qualified for sympathy. Should not the attainment of the faculty
reconcile to the method? Brave men have undertaken arduous journeys amid
deserts, mountains, dense forests and frozen seas, to open routes for others.
Noble women have endured agonies in witnessing them, and dared contagion, in
order to learn better to minister to the sick and dying. Should we not thus
imitate Him who "for the joy set before Him" in saving the lost and solacing the
sad, "endured the cross"? We can repeat, with the force of personal experience,
the texts, hymns, and arguments specially helpful in our own sorrow. When the
Comforter has spoken to our own hearts, we are better able to speak of Him with
tenderness to those whom sorrow has rendered sensitive, and whom words, cold,
however clear, and a hand, hard, however ready, might hurt when intended to
heal.

Afflicted believer! value trial as helping you to comfort other sufferers. It
was not sent for yourself alone. The "God of all comfort, who comforts us in all
our tribulation," intended that thus "we may be able to comfort those who are in
any trouble, by the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted of God." If
then, "whether we be afflicted, or whether we be comforted," it is for "the
consolation and salvation" of others, let us, both during and after our
afflictions, say with the apostle, "Blessed be the Father of mercies and the God
of all comfort!"


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 34: 01.34.     AFTERWARDS
========================================================================

34. AFTERWARDS

"No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Afterwards, however, it
produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by
it." Hebrews 12:11

Believers sometimes distress themselves because they cannot take pleasure in
pain. They read of those who have rejoiced in Gethsemane; who, like Paul, have
"gloried in tribulation." It is consolatory that the very exhortation to filial
resignation in Hebrews 12:1-29 recognizes the fact that "no chastening for the
present seems to be joyous, but grievous."

"Chastening" means child-training. There would be no training in repentance,
patience, faith, if the rod caused no pain. Divine trust does not ignore human
nature. Peter, sharing Paul’s magnanimity, writes to the "elect" as those who
were "in heaviness through manifold trials." They are "chosen of God,"
"sanctified by the Spirit unto obedience," on their way to "an inheritance
incorruptible," "kept by the power of God," "greatly rejoicing"—and yet "in
heaviness!" (1 Peter 1:2-7.) "This the apostle blames not, but aims at the
moderating of it; seeks not altogether to dry up the stream, but to bound it and
keep it within its banks. Grace does not destroy the life of nature, but adds to
it a life more excellent; yes, does not only permit, but requires some feeling
of afflictions." (Leighton.)

Weep then, sorrowing one; tell your trouble to sympathizing friends; above all,
to your fellow-Sufferer in Gethsemane; but let your sorrow be soothed by the
"afterwards." The corn-field, ploughed, harrowed, weeded, storm-swept,
snow-covered, shall bear golden sheaves, not only after, but by reason of, such
culture. The husbandman "has patience." The vinedresser with kind care uses the
knife, yet sometimes with a seeming severity which makes an ignorant observer
think he will kill the tree. But he knows that the abundant pruning will produce
abundant fruitage afterwards.

Christ said, "I am the Vine, you are the branches." Insincere professors are no
real part of the tree, but as branches tied on; not to be pruned, but cut off,
unless they repent. "But every branch that bears fruit He pruneth it, that it
may bring forth more fruit." Does not the "more fruit" repay the more pruning?
Should not the process, though painful, be prized for the result? Is our highest
end to display mere leafage, or to glorify God? "Herein is my Father glorified,
that you bear much fruit; so shall you be my disciples." Ought we to be
satisfied to bear only so much as to secure us from being altogether cut away?
Should not every Christian desire to be as fruitful as possible, so as best to
prove his discipleship and glorify God?

These results are described as "the peaceable fruits of righteousness."
Submission to pruning and desire for righteousness are evidences of being
children of God, fruits of the Spirit, the pledge of the fuller harvest, "the
Spirit witnessing with our spirit that we are the children of God." They prove
that we have faith; by faith we are justified; and, being justified, "we have
peace with God, through Jesus Christ." Reconciliation is peace. Contention has
given place to harmony, restless searching to contented finding, painful
doubting to glad assurance, "the peace of God which passes all understanding."

Affliction, patiently endured, strengthens the habit of confidence in our
Father’s care, and so we are at peace. Whatever the wildness of the storm, we
have proved the safety of our Refuge. Perplexing doubts about the mysteries of
Providence are lost in the calm trustfulness of love. But this does not come at
once. Like other works of God, the process is gradual. Life is given at once,
but the full maturity "afterwards." Suffering a while helps to make us "perfect,
to establish, strengthen, settle us." The early apple is sour, the early peach
flavorless; but how sweet, fragrant, beautiful, "afterwards!" When the pain is
very acute, the bereavement very fresh, the sufferer may say, with Job, "My
grief is heavier than the sand of the sea;" or with David, "Has God shut up his
tender mercies?" or with Elijah, "It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life."
But as with those eminent saints, the fruit will gradually become ripe, will
ripen afterwards. Trial is not a dead pebble but a living seed, planted and
nurtured by God. "The fruit of righteousness is sown in peace." "And the work of
righteousness shall be peace; and the effect of righteousness, quietness and
assurance forever" (James 3:18, Isaiah 32:17).

After a long war, how joyful the proclamation of peace! After the tempestuous
storm, how delightful the clear sky, the calm waters! Still more delightful when
we can look back at the warfare and the storm, not as injuries but as blessings;
when, however fierce the battle and wild the storm, we can bless God for it all,
and testify "That care and trial seem at last, Through memory’s sunset air, Like
mountain-ranges overpast In purple distance fair.

"That all the jarring notes of life Seem blended in a psalm, And all the billows
of its strife Slow sinking into calm.

"And so the shadows fall apart, And so the west winds play And all the windows
of my heart I open to the day." (Whittier)

There are Christians whose piety is strong but not tender, sublime but not
lovely, who need sorrow to soften and to make them more like their Lord, more
useful to others. A Devonshire wall, when first built up of undressed stones,
though strong, is rough and unsightly; but when winds and storms have carried to
it the seeds of ferns and flowers, which sunshine has developed into Nature’s
unrivalled tapestries, how lovely becomes the lane thus bounded by walls no less
strong than before, but how soft and beautiful!

I have watched the Matterhorn in its stern sublimity, with jagged precipices and
black frowning peak overhanging the valley, until I have turned away oppressed
with its threatening strength. And then has rolled up a dark cloud, from which
the forked lightning has gleamed, while the pealing thunder has made the ground
to tremble. But presently the cloud has dispersed, and the sun has shone on a
transfigured scene. Those rugged precipices, those pointed rocks, that
threatening peak, are now invested with a soft and stainless robe; sublimity is
arrayed in beauty; and awe has been forgotten in delight. This chastening is
said to yield these fruits "unto those who are exercised thereby." The word is
from gumnazo, from which comes our gymnastics. As the athlete willingly
undergoes discipline in hope of the prize; and as "afterward," when mature in
strength and skill, he does not regret the training, even so the followers of
the "Captain of Salvation" should not regret being "exercised," gymnastisized.
We were not born as molluscs or sloths, to live merely for ease and enjoyment,
but for growth in all true manliness and womanliness, for virtue and usefulness,
for God and eternity. The marble block, could it speak, would not resent the
chisel that cut away what imprisoned the angel to be revealed afterwards. The
rough, dull diamond would not quarrel with the grinder’s tool that enabled it to
flash back all the glory of the solar ray, and be a fit ornament for a kingly
crown. The swelling Nile, which seems to devastate the land, leaves the
fertilizing deposit that afterwards enriches it with plenty. The soul may not
complain of the plough and the harrow that yield in autumn the "peaceable fruit
of righteousness."

How much more in eternity will be understood the meaning of "afterwards"! In
this life we may have to wrestle long in the gymnasium. During some night of
polar duration, from the depths of some dark valley, from the vortex of the
cyclone, from the inner recesses of some Gethsemane of grief, the cry may be
continuous—"Not joyous, but grievous!" But how rapturous and never-ending the
Hallelujah song "Afterwards!"

"Now the sowing and the weeping—

Working hard and waiting long;

Afterward the golden reaping, Harvest-home and grateful song!

"Now the pruning-sharp, unsparing, Scattered bloom and bleeding shoot:

Afterward the plenteous bearing Of the Master’s pleasant fruit.

"Now the tuning and the tension, Wailing minors, discord strong;

Afterwards the grand ascension Of the Hallelujah song.

"Now the training, strange and lowly, Unexplained and tedious now Afterward the
service holy, And the Master’s ’Enter thou.’"

(F. Havergal)


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 35: 01.35.     PATIENT WAITING
========================================================================

35. PATIENT WAITING "Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for Him." Psalms 37:7
The tide was low, the sands stretched far and wide, and the briny sea spread
away until its azure blended with the sky. During centuries that shore,
alternately saturated with salt and scorched by sun, had never yielded
refreshment to the faint. The "sad sea waves" sullenly breaking reminded of the
thirst they could not slake. But suddenly I saw a tiny pool bubbling amid the
sand. It was fresh, living water, forcing its way from hidden depths,
irrepressible. Little birds came to sip it. I stooped, and my thirst was
quenched. My soul was refreshed, for it sang an old familiar song, "O rest in
the Lord, and wait patiently for Him."

There are times when life seems a dreary desert. Yet, after days of weary
travel, we reach some Elim with its palm trees, and if, as at Marah, the
inviting waters are bitter, God casts some tree of promise into them, and makes
them sweet. We faint, and perhaps murmur, but God opens fountains from the
flinty rock. We rest beside some Jacob’s well; and, though it be deep, faith
draws up its living water, and we hear the voice of God saying, "I give waters
in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert, to give drink to my people, my
chosen." Let His people therefore trust in Him, and wait.

We could not rest in our weakness. But underneath the weakest believer are "the
Everlasting Arms." The Red Sea still divides at His touch. The wildest storm
obeys His word, "Peace, be still." Strength without love does not give rest—but
He in whom we trust is our compassionate Father. He gave his Son for our
salvation. He dwells in us by His Spirit. We are "engraved on the palms of His
hands." A father will not leave unsuccoured the child who appeals in need or
peril. Jesus says—"Let not your heart be troubled."

We seek earthly support from sources on the permanence of which we cannot
absolutely rest. The cistern leaks; the fountain fails; storm desolates the
vineyard; the solid ground turns to quicksand. But Jesus Christ is "the same
yesterday, today, and forever." He is not an unknown God—"We have heard with our
ears, and our fathers have told us what things You did in their day, and in the
old time before them." We have ourselves proved His power, love, and constancy.
He has delivered us from a worse bondage than Egypt, and has promised never to
leave us or forsake us—"My sheep shall never perish."

Patient waiting is sometimes more difficult than actual suffering. How
distressing the suspense when expecting critical tidings, waiting the arrival of
the physician, watching for rescue from a sinking ship! But if our help comes
from the Lord, we may "wait patiently for Him." Patiently, because He acts on a
plan prompted by wisdom and love, deliberately formed, carefully carried on,
sure to be perfected. Delayed deliverance is being accomplished meanwhile.
Intervening frosts and rains are "preparing for our use the kindly fruits of the
earth, so that in due time we may enjoy them." During the darkest hours of night
the earth is rolling onward to the dawn. Vessels on changing tacks, bound to the
same port, may seem going from it, yet they are thus approaching it, and by that
contrary course are escaping wreck. Children might disturb the roots to see how
their plants and flowers are growing. Impatience hinders, not helps. Why pluck
the fruit before it is ripe? Be patient, and let it swell into fullness, and
sweeten in the sun.

God is patient. The silent stars, with seeming slowness yet unamusing certainty,
pursue their course. Steadily the seasons change, and day follows on to night.
The husbandman has long patience until he reaps the reward of his ploughing and
sowing. God was patient during Joseph’s reproach and imprisonment, until the
Divine plan was perfected in the protection and nurture of the chosen race. He
was patient during the sins and wanderings of the Israelites, until, purified
and strong by trial, they were fit to occupy the promised land. The disciples
waited patiently for the promised Comforter, and the Church still waits
patiently for the glorious appearing of her Lord. How patiently has God waited
for us, saying, "Behold I stand at the door and knock!" And shall we not wait
patiently for Him? His season for manifested support is the best. "God is never
before His time, and never too late." Let us wait the Lord’s leisure. "If the
promise tarries, wait for it—it will surely come—it will not tarry."

"Yet a little while." The pain, the grief, the privations, the fears, are but
"for a moment" compared with the "eternal weight of glory." Heaven is not far
off! Safely landed on the heavenly shore, we shall wonder that the trials of the
wilderness journey seemed long. And these very trials are the pathway to that
home, strengthen us in reaching it, and fit us for enjoying it. They "work out
for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory."

Let us, then, respond to our Savior’s call—"Come unto me, all you who labor and
are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." "Rest in the Lord, and wait
patiently for Him." For salvation, we may rest on His atonement. In all our
weakness, we may rest on His strength. In all our sorrow, we may rest on His
sympathy. In all our perplexity, we may rest on His guidance. In all our need,
we may rest on His help. In all our danger, we may rest on His deliverance. The
snows of winter nurse the hopeful corn;

Long patient months produce the harvest fair; The darkling clouds the sunset’s
throne prepare;

’Mid glacier-crags are noblest rivers born; The tempest’s tracks the
mountain-face adorn; In deepest mines are treasured gems most rare; The port
seems calmer reached through storms of care. The night of weeping ends in joyful
morn;

Events are not as first they meet the sight; The sons of God, by passing griefs
are blessed;

Amid the dark He ever leads to light, His purposes and plans are always right.

Commit your way to Him—His way is best;

O wait for Him, wait patiently, and rest.

—Newman Hall


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 36: 01.36.     COMFORT IN THE WILL OF GOD
========================================================================

36. COMFORT IN THE WILL OF GOD "I delight to do Your will, O my God." Psalms
40:8 The perfect example of this delight was given by the "Son of David," who,
"when He came into the world, said, Lo, I come to do Your will, O God." The
emotion of the heart, gives readiness to the hand and swiftness to the foot. We
do for one another much that would be grievous without the love that makes it
luxury. So, true love to God makes His will our delight. "We freely serve,
because we freely love."

We sometimes wish to do some great thing for God. How eagerly we would set about
it! There are few such things within the reach of any one; but small things done
cheerfully are great in God’s esteem. He who is willing to obey in the least, is
a better servant than the man of superior ability who waits for the greatest
opportunity to display it. The same sap is in the twig as in the trunk. The
value of work is not in the much but in the why. We have what we are; what we
are results from what we do; and habitually doing the will of God makes us
"partakers of the Divine nature."

Great is the comfort of service. It is the active breeze which drives away the
brooding mist. If no special voice from heaven summons us, let us search out for
ourselves some way of usefulness which we know will be pleasing to God. The
woman cured of fever at once rose up and ministered to her Healer and His
disciples. Varied services for Him wait at our door. "Do the duty which lies
nearest you; your second duty will already have become clearer. Your condition
is but the stuff you are to shape the ideal out of—what matters whether such
stuff be of this sort or that, only be sure the form you give it be heroic, be
poetic." (Carlyle) Be Christian, be godly.

"Oh, what hidden powers are lying Deep within your dormant will!

Why not rouse them? lest they, dying, Fade away-forever still.

"Kindnesses if never o’ertaken Pass beyond your power to do;

Loving words of your might waken Noble deeds in others too.

"Every talent has been given By your God for His employ;

They who, serving Him, have striven, They alone can know true joy."

(H. M. M. M.)

Great troubles are more easily recognized as His will than trifling ones.
Torrents, precipices, storms, belonging to the mountain we climb, are cheerfully
accepted; but not the blistered foot, the sprained ankle, the broken staff. We
joyfully address ourselves to what we think our proper task, but fret at
interrupting circumstances. Let us regard these as also the will of God, and
therefore our true work, and so delight in them. Taking a trouble, large or
little, from His hands, transmutes stone to gold! We surrender easily what we
value, in proportion as we surrender it to Him; and drink the cup of sorrow the
more cheerfully when we remember that our Father has given it. Not by resisting
or avoiding the correcting hand, but by reposing in it, find we peace. What joy
in surrendering, because it is the will of Him who loves us with an infinite
love! In losing the thing we gain God. "There is in man a Higher than love of
happiness—he can do without happiness, and instead thereof find Blessedness!
Which God-inspired doctrine are you honored to be taught; and broken with
manifold merciful afflictions, even until you become contrite and learn it—the
Self in you needed to be annihilated. On the roaring billows of Time you are not
engulfed, but borne aloft into the azure of Eternity. This is the everlasting
Yes wherein all contradiction is solved." (Carlyle.)

It is nobler and easier to carry the cross than drag it; to embrace sorrow as a
Father’s gift, than submit to it as a Ruler’s fiat. In accepting His
chastisements, as well as "in keeping His commandments, there is great reward."
Let us carry all our trials up to the "exceeding high mountain" of our Father’s
will, and they shall become transfigured as was the homely garb of Christ by the
dazzling splendors with which angels are enrobed. Gethsemane will be glorified.
Instead, then, of sitting down in listless woe, with profitless longing for rest
beyond the grave, let us find comfort in doing the will of God now.

Life is wasted if we spend it Idly dreaming how to die;

Study how to use, not end it;

Work to finish, not to fly.

Godly living—best preparing For a life with God above:

Work! and banish anxious caring;

Sorrow yields to active love.

Death is but an opening portal Out of life to life on high, Man is vital, more
than mortal, Meant to labor, not to die.

Praise for present mercies giving, With good works your age endow;

Death defy by Christlike living, Heaven attain in service now.

—Newman Hall


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  CHAPTER 37: 01.37.     THE COMFORT OF PRAISE
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37. THE COMFORT OF PRAISE "I will bless the Lord at all times." To "praise the
Lord for His goodness" is comforting music in every garden of grief. If we fix
our thoughts on the many blessings He gives us, we shall think less on those He
withholds. If we praise Him for what He is as well as for what He gives, we
shall feel more sure that the sorrows He ordains are themselves reasons for
thanksgiving.

It is easier to pray than to praise; because we are more conscious of our wants
than of our wealth—of our pains than of our pleasures—of the moments when the
stream of enjoyment is interrupted, than of the hours during which it flows with
unrippled surface. We pray for what we want more than praise for what we have.
Praise belongs to a higher order of devotion than the mere asking for favors.
Praise is the life of heaven, and saints on earth may share the privilege. The
Bible enjoins it, the example of believers encourages it, the divine Spirit in
the heart prompts it. If saints of old said, "I will sing praise to my God while
I have my being," shall not we, even when most sorrowing, bless the "God and
Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us with all spiritual blessings
in Christ Jesus?"

We bless God "for all the blessings of this life." The psalmist roused himself
to this duty, "Bless the Lord, O my soul, and do not forget all His benefits."
How apt we are to forget! One alone of the lepers returned to thank the Healer,
who noticed the omission. "Were there not ten cleansed? but where are the nine?"
If those who have been healed should praise, surely those also who have not
needed healing. The mercies we receive every hour make up the largest
benefactions from God, and yet these, because of the very constancy of their
bestowment, are often forgotten. If I am knocked down by a carriage, and
scarcely escape being crushed, I give thanks for the special providence; but
should I not daily give thanks for the continual providence which preserves me,
not only from such danger, but such fright?

Gratitude to the giver enhances the value of every gift. Such praise dignifies
and brightens the smallest of our comforts. As these are continually bestowed,
we are continually comforted in the recognition of them. Above all, we praise
Him for His "inestimable love in the redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus
Christ, for the means of grace and for the hope of glory." This outweighs all
reasons for lament. We praise Him for Himself. The pleasure which nature and
science yield is increased by our perception of the power and wisdom they
reveal. Above all, beholding His glory "in the face of Jesus Christ" we blend
our voices with the whole Church, saying, "We praise You, we worship You, we
glorify You, for Your great glory." Such stimulants to praise in all places and
times are constant ministrants of comfort.

Patience under trial becomes easy while we bless the Lord who sends it. How can
we be murmuring at, or distrusting Him whom we are praising? It must also needs
guard us from temptations which might plunge us into greater grief than that of
affliction. We cannot be breaking God’s laws when engaged in God’s praise. A
superior homage will prevent degrading alliances. Genuine praise produces
genuine gladness. The exercise and expression of gratitude are in their own
nature pleasurable; how emphatically so when the object is God! When we praise
"we rejoice in the Lord;" and "the joy of the Lord is our strength." The happier
we are in Him, the more patient in trial, brave in difficulty, diligent in
service. But when are we to bless the Lord? David says, "I will bless the Lord
at all times." But suppose our hopes are disappointed, our requests denied, has
He changed? If at all times we may say "Father;" if Jesus is "the same
yesterday, today, and forever;" if at all times He intercedes, and is preparing
mansions for us, and if at all times the Holy Spirit is our Sanctifier and
Comforter, should we not bless Him at all times? If the promise is true, "When
you pass through the rivers I will be with you," in these rivers we will bless
the Lord! So long as the word stands "I will never leave you nor forsake you,"
we will never leave off praising Him. If "all things work together for good,"
then in all things, painful or pleasant, we will praise Him. Daniel, when he
knew that the decree was signed, "kneeled upon his knees three times a day and
gave thanks before his God." Paul and Silas, in the inner prison, at midnight,
"sang praises unto God." The great apostle, awaiting martyrdom, wrote from Rome,
"The Lord will preserve me to His heavenly kingdom, to whom be glory forever and
ever. Amen." God’s saints, in all ages, have blessed the Lord at all times. So
will we. When not a ray lightens the path, and I know not where my next footstep
may fall, in the midnight of anxiety and grief, as well as in the noontide of
confidence and joy, I will bless the Lord! In the winter of fog and frost, when
bitter winds of disappointment chill the heart, and the streams of consolation
are frozen, and the ground is iron and the heavens lead, and the garden is
without a flower and the tree without a leaf; as well as in the springtide of
blossoms, and the summer of roses, and the autumn of rich harvests and fruits, I
will bless the Lord. Amid the raging tempest, when lightnings gleam through the
rifted clouds, and thunders make the mountains tremble, and wild waves threaten
to overwhelm my frail bark; as when the sky is cloudless, and not a ripple
disturbs the smoothness of the sea, I will bless the Lord. When the trumpet
calls to war, and the conflict is fierce and I have to fight for very life, as
well as when at the festal banquet of spiritual joy, I will bless the Lord. When
death approaches, and the beloved activities of life must cease, and the
familiar home be left, and those dearer than life be parted from; when heart and
flesh fail, as much as in the full vigor of life, I will bless the Lord, who
"gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ."

I’ll bless the Lord at all times, In darkness as in day;

I’ll sing glad hallelujahs All through my pilgrim way;

Until I cross the river I’ll sing my Savior’s praise, And then, in heaven
forever An endless song I’ll raise.

—Newman Hall


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  CHAPTER 38: 01.38.     THE SUFFERER CONSOLING THE SAD
========================================================================

38. THE SUFFERER CONSOLING THE SAD "Let not your heart be troubled." John 14:27

It was a dark day for the disciples. They would soon be as orphans. They grieved
for themselves and for their Lord. But they were also "troubled." Turning from
His own approaching agony in Gethsemane, He strove to comfort them. How often
our heart would be comforted if, in sacred sympathy with mourners, we said, "Let
not your heart be troubled." Christ does not counsel the impossible. He was
Himself the Man of Sorrows. What He forbids is not heart sorrow, but heart
trouble—agitation of spirit, a mental hurrying to and fro in fear and
perplexity. The whole of the valedictory discourse was designed to calm the
troubled hearts of the disciples. But for this they must believe what He said.
So this is the practical cure of heart-trouble—"Believe in God." This alone can
keep the heart tranquil. "Believe also in me." This was a stupendous claim if
Jesus were merely man. The disciples did believe in God; but stronger faith
would have resulted in better understanding of the Divine testimony to His Son.
"Believe in me, not as dead or distant, but able to help in every necessity, and
to welcome you in my eternal home." Then our Lord poured forth a full flood of
comfort which, if received, would be an effectual preservative against
heart-trouble. These "exceeding great and precious promises" are our inheritance
also. Come, sad heart, and contemplate the reasons Jesus gives why, if
sorrowful, you should not be troubled. This world is not your home. There is a
Father’s house on high where Jesus is preparing a place for you (John 14:2). He
soon will come again and take you to dwell with Him forever (John 14:3). Your
reliance on Him will surely bring you to God, for He is the Way (John 14:6). His
words and works are those of God, and worthy to be trusted (John 14:10). Prayer
in His Name is sure to be answered (John 14:13). Another Comforter has been
sent, who abides with us, the Spirit of Truth (John 14:16). We are not left
orphans (John 14:18). Christ by His Spirit already comes to us, and is still
with us (John 14:23). We have the privilege and solace of working for Him and
with Him (John 14:21). In love and obedience we shall surely find comfort, and
the Father will reveal Himself to us and dwell within us (John 14:23). We have a
gift from Christ better than any the world can bestow—"My peace I give unto you"
(John 14:27). We are not separated from Him, but are as branches in vital union
with the Vine, by life from whom we bear fruit to His glory (John 15:5). Our joy
will be complete if we abide in His love and laws (John 15:11). He laid down His
life for us; could He show greater love? (John 15:13). He calls us His friends
(John 15:14). If the world hates us, we only share with Him (John 15:18).

Let us not be surprised when troubles come of which He forewarned us. Let not
sorrow fill our hearts when He has promised the Comforter to dwell within us, to
guide us into all truth. He will Himself soon return. It is but a little while
we have to wait. He will soon turn our sorrow into unclouded and everlasting
joy. Meanwhile, whatever we ask according to the will of God and our real good,
the Father will bestow. Let us ask and receive that our joy may even now be
full. The Father Himself loves us, loves us especially because we love the Son.
He is interceding for us, that we may have eternal life; that we may be bound in
holy oneness with each other and Himself; that we may be kept by the power of
His holy Name from the evil that is in the world; that Christ’s own joy may fill
us, and that hereafter we may be with Him where He is, beholding and sharing the
glory of heaven. Such prayers for us by the well-beloved Son "whom the Father
hears always," are sure to be answered (John 17:1-26).

Jesus said—"These things have I spoken unto you that in me you might have peace.
In the world you shall have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome
the world." The tribulations are on the surface. The wildest waves of ocean do
not disturb the abiding calm of the waters not far below. In confiding communion
with a dear friend, or in loving service, we do not notice the roaring wind and
rattling rain against the window-panes. When the promise is fulfilled, "I will
come to him and sup with him, and he with me"—though in the world of
tribulation, we have peace in Christ.

Having this peace, we are enabled to overcome all difficulties and bear all
trials. The disciples might well be dismayed by having to encounter a
persecuting world, and by seeing their Champion in Gethsemane and on the Cross.
But He sought to dispel their fears by a cry of victory in advance. He had no
doubt of the outcome. He went forth to the battle with the shout of a
conqueror—"I have overcome the world."

Christ overcame the sin of the world by atoning for it; the world’s sorrows by
suffering them; the world’s hatred by love. The world would have overcome Him
had He rendered evil for evil. He overcame persecution by perseverance; the
allurements of the world by scorning them; the temptations of the world by
resisting them; "the prince of this world" by casting him down from his usurped
throne. He overcame death by dying, and thus "destroyed him who has the power of
death, and delivered them who, through fear of death, were all their lifetime
subject to bondage." But why should His victory make us of good cheer? He showed
us how to conquer. Let us overcome tribulation by patient suffering, carrying
the cross, kissing the rod. Let us conquer hatred by love; difficulties by
mastering them; persecution by perseverance; worldly allurements by the inner
life of godliness; and Satan’s temptations by the Word of God and prayer. The
example of Christ in overcoming cannot alone make us of "good cheer," as a
giant’s victory will not give confidence to a child when assailed by the same
formidable foe. But He conquered as our Champion, to secure our salvation. We
have now to fight a defeated, wounded, weakened foe. The enemy is in retreat.
Before our David the Philistine armies fly, and we may now win an easier
victory. Christ’s triumph obtains for us the help of the Holy Spirit, so that we
fight, not in our own weakness, but in the strength of God. "He has ascended up
on high, He has led captivity captive, and has received gifts for men, that the
Lord God might dwell among them." His victory proves that He survives the
conflict, a living, not a dead Champion. He went down into the grave and came
forth from it unhurt, "Mighty to save." He said, "All power is given unto me in
heaven and in earth." He is stronger than the world. He can "put down all rule
and authority and power."

Surely such a victory should make us of good cheer. This was its effect on the
disciples. How these feeble few blew the trumpet of victory on the day of
Pentecost! When scourged, they "rejoiced that they were counted worthy to suffer
for the name of the Lord Jesus." Paul and Silas sang in the inner prison. Not
the captive, but Felix, trembled. The apostle said, "Thanks be to God, who
always makes us triumph in Christ." "In all these things we are more than
conquerors through Him who loves us." The disciple who recorded these words of
the Master said, "This is the victory that overcomes the world, even your
faith." "You have overcome, because greater is He who is in you than he who is
in the world." And Jesus the glorified conqueror says, "He who overcomes, I will
give to him to sit down with me in my throne, as I also overcame, and sat down
with my Father in His throne."

Let afflicted believers be of good cheer. In Christ they have inward peace, and
may well endure the world’s outward trouble. Do not regard tribulation as an
evil. Tribulation! It is a whetstone to sharpen the sword by which we are to win
the battle! It is the harsh blast of the trumpet calling to the fight that shall
secure the victory! It is the fire, not only of the purifying furnace, but of
the flaming chariot to carry us to glory! Tribulation is the path to
triumph—along which our Savior marched to the throne; it reminds us of Him who
fought for us, conquered for us, won eternal life for us, and who is saying to
us this very day, as He said to His disciples of old, "In the world you shall
have tribulation, but be of good cheer—I have overcome the world."

Jesus! our Leader, Pattern, Guide, Never let me wander from Your side, Nor from
the narrow pathway slide, But closely follow You. By meekness, patience,
kindness, prayer— By works of love and friendly care— By holy conduct
everywhere—

Help me to follow You. When fears and foes beset the way, When darkest clouds
obscure the day, And easier paths tempt me to stray, Help me to follow You.

Courageously in spite of foes, With cheerfulness whate’er oppose, Unto the
journey’s final close, Help me to follow You.

Then along Heaven’s own pathway bright, No more with foes and fears to fight,
With victory crowned, and robed in white, I’ll ever follow You.

—Newman Hall


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  CHAPTER 39: 01.39.     NOT DEAD BUT GONE HOME
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39. NOT DEAD BUT GONE HOME "Our Savior, Jesus Christ, abolished death."

"In my Father’s house are many mansions."

We lament for the dead, because we ourselves dread death. The physical instinct,
wisely given for the preservation of life, is controlled but not destroyed by
faith. We may begin life as a summer holiday, on which we start with a guess of
rain and certainty of nightfall. We see fleecy cloudlets on the radiant sky
which threaten tempest. Every step along the gayest path leads to the grave. We
look on the dying and the dead with sadness and awe. But there are far greater
fears, and from these we are delivered by Him who "abolished death, and brought
life and immortality to light through the gospel."

We dread the after-death. "Tis conscience that makes cowards of us all." But
Christ, by death, atoned for sin, and so "destroyed him who has the power of
death, and delivered them who, by fear of death, were all their lifetime subject
to bondage." His victory in Resurrection and Ascension has become ours. "Thanks
be to God who gives us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ. He who
believes in me shall never die."

Just prior to His final conflict He assured His sorrowing friends that He would
still live for them, and that they would live forever with Him. "In my Father’s
house are many mansions; I go to prepare a place for you; and I will come again
and receive you unto myself, that where I am you may be also."

Afflicted believers, your sorrows are only the discomforts of a journey, each
stage of which, however rough the road and wild the weather, brings you nearer
home. The darkness is only that of the tunnel through which you are hurrying,
and the speck of light at the end is nearing and brightening as you speed onward
to the eternal sunshine. Our Lord speaks of heaven as home—"My Father’s house."
What a contrast to the gorgeous imagery employed by servants is this sublimely
simple familiarity of the Son! Inspired men are overawed by the distant vision
of the Celestial City, with its pearly gates and streets of gold; as if a poor
cottager, after visiting a royal palace, tried to describe the unimagined
splendors of a place which members of the royal family simply knew as home. This
was in harmony with His high claims of Deity! The disciples were not to be
troubled on His account. Although betrayed, condemned, crucified, He was going
home. They were not to be troubled for Him; and because of their intimate union
with Him they were not to be troubled for themselves.

If heaven is Christ’s home, it is ours also. We are "joint heirs with Jesus
Christ." What hallowed associations are suggested by the word! Most men who have
a real home feel, "There’s no place like home." Not the outward investiture but
the indwelling light and the pervading atmosphere of affection render the
humblest dwelling, equally with the grandest mansion, home. LOVE makes home.

Home promises REST. There the wearied limbs or wearied brain repose after the
day’s toil. So amid the cares of life we look forward to "the rest that remains
for the children of God." There will be occupation, but no painful toil.
"Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord; they rest from their labors."

Home suggests FIDELITY. We may suspect deceit and treachery outside, but we can
cast off all reserve, all distrust at home.

Home suggests SYMPATHY. There may be coldness outside, no interest in what
deeply concerns us, no response to our warmest feelings, but at home we are
always sure of a listening ear, a kindling eye, a responsive hand-grasp, a
heart-expressive kiss. There may be enmity outside, avowed or concealed, and
even friends may sometimes prove forgetful, selfish, and unkind; but home, true
home, is the palace of love, "where hearts are of each other sure." But the
purest of earthly homes are but faint types of that above. There every heart is
wholly true to every other, being wholly true to God. No suspicion lurks there,
no envy at other’s gifts, no ill-will, no mere pretended kindness, but hearty,
warmly manifested love. Whatever in this world hinders true communion among
Christians will have been left behind, and the unloveliness which more or less
mars fellowship will disappear when the Bride of Christ will be "without spot or
wrinkle or any such thing."

Oh, the rapture of meeting again and being forever at home with the dear ones we
have loved on earth, all made perfect in the presence of the Elder Brother,
whose likeness all will bear! Oh the bliss of holiest, deepest, constant
sympathy with Christ Himself, and so being in the fullest sense "at home" in
heaven! by grace, and yet by covenant right; not strangers, nor visitors, but
children at their Father’s, having "a right to the tree of life;" penetrating
every recess of that paradise, entering every chamber of that palace, and
feeling, as a bride entering her new home, "It is all mine, because it is all
His, and I am His."

It is a PERMANENT home; mansions, not movable tents, but an enduring habitation.
"We know that when this earthly tabernacle is dissolved we have a building of
God." How unlike the uncertainty of earthly things! The lake, reflecting from
its unruffled surface the sky and stars, may, in one short hour, be wild with
storms. The stream, which often refreshed us, suddenly becomes dry. The fairest
flowers droop even as we gaze on them. The loveliest homes are quickly broken
up. No locks and bolts can shut out sickness and death. But as the home above is
everlasting, so its "pleasures are for evermore." The sunshine will never be
overcast by one fleeting thought of change or death. And there is ABUNDANCE of
supply. There are "many mansions." The Father’s house is large enough for all
His children—vast as His own heart. Holy angels are there, and "a great
multitude whom no man can number, out of all kindreds and tribes and peoples,"
but "still there is room." There are multitudes, unknown to men but known to
God, who have not bowed their knees unto Baal. Heathen nations are pressing into
the kingdom; and the day is not far distant when all shall know the Savior,
"from the least to the greatest." There is room for them all; there is still
room for us—room for every mourner.

Number implies VARIETY. The mansions are not uniform, though all are perfect.
They are prepared for dwellers of varied capacity—for children and young men,
for babes in Christ and for those of full age. There will be no seclusion of
classes, but there will be variety of degrees of glory; and thus the very lowest
in attainment may be sure of a home yonder. There is no place in hell for any
who sincerely repent and trust in the Savior. Timid, doubting, sorrowing one, be
not troubled—those gates shall open for you; those streets shall be trodden by
you; you shall drink of the river, clear as crystal, and you shall eat of the
Tree of Life, and find a home in the many mansions.

These hopes are REALISTIC . "If it were not so, I would have told you." In this
promise our Lord confirmed all the hopes He had already encouraged. But His
silence ought to have sufficed had He not uttered such words. He knew what their
expectation must be. The culture of religion in itself implies hope of the
future. Are sacrifices made, pleasures surrendered, sorrow endured, prayers
offered, and then is death to be the final end? If there be no heaven—"if in
this life only we have hope,"—many might say, with Paul, "we are of all men most
miserable." Conscience awakens hopes and fears beyond the present life, and
Christ strengthened conscience. The Old Testament taught that He who called
Himself the God of Abraham was the God, not of the dead, but of the living; and
Christ confirmed the Old Testament. The disciples had forsaken all to follow
Him. They loved their Lord, and knew He loved them. Could such love perish? They
expected a kingdom; and as it was not to be earthly, it must be heavenly. Would
Christ allow them to serve Him as they did, on false expectations? He did
contradict their expectation of a temporal kingdom—would He not have
contradicted this heavenly hope had it also been unfounded? We value our Lord’s
positive and repeated promises; but there is a special emphasis, a most touching
assurance in this supposed silence. If they had falsely interpreted His meaning,
if their wishes alone had suggested their expectations, if their loving loyalty
was to have no recompense beyond the present life—He would have told them. Not
to contradict such expectations would be to sanction them. Silence alone world
have given emphatic consent and assurance.

O believer, your hope of heaven is no idle dream! That city does glow with
splendor. That paradise is radiant with beauty. That home of perfect love is
preparing for you. Earthly hopes perish, human promises fail; but expectations
of believers shall be more than realized, for they are based on the truth and
love of Him whose silence would have sufficed. "If it were not so, I would have
told you."

Paul says," We are of good courage, and are willing rather to be absent from the
body, and to be at home with the Lord" (R.V.). Death is only the migration of
the soul from the fleshly tabernacle, to the house not made with hands, eternal
in the heavens. If thus believers are to be at home with the Lord, they must be
at home with one another. As we still enjoy spiritual communion with those gone
before, when we meet, it will not be as strangers. It would seem incongruous if
love so pure and deep should be incapable of mutual expression yonder. We might
ask "Why have You made such capacities in vain?" The heart that truly loves,
craves for and anticipates the continuance of those spirit-relationships which
most nearly ally us with the Divine nature—God is love. At the Transfiguration
the two from heaven who conversed with Jesus were particular individuals—Moses
and Elijah—known to each other, made known to Peter, James, and John. How could
the apostle hope to meet his converts, as his "crown of rejoicing," without
recognition? Weep, then, for the dead, in full assurance that they live with
Jesus, and that you will soon rejoin them. Their rapture in His presence
enhances the bliss of friendships, formed on earth to be perfected in glory.

Let us rejoice for them! They have left below all bodily infirmity, all mental
errors, all imperfection of the spirit. On earth their chief delight was the
will of God. Yet how often it was done with imperfection, intermission, and
weariness! Now they "serve Him day and night in His temple." The perfect answer
to their Gethsemane-prayer is the perfection of their blessedness—"Your will be
done." There is no description of heaven more glorious than this—"His servants
shall serve Him." His servants serve Him. Happy, happy they! The perfect service
of a perfect Lord, With duty and desire in full accord, Is Heaven indeed; ’tis
rapture to obey When love constrains, unweariedly, always.

Alas! in seeming service, often now, To some veiled form of self we basely bow;

Some worldly motive dims the heavenly ray, And thus the prize of service true we
miss ’Tis perfect sunshine that makes perfect day. In Heaven, the radiant,
all-inclusive bliss, The brightest glory of their crown is this—

They from their Lord’s commandments never swerve;

Him with exulting joy "His servants serve."

—Newman Hall

We will not weep for them as dead. Is it death to reach home after the toilsome
journey, to wear the crown after the fierce fight, to serve in the presence of
the King, where there is fullness of joy? The funeral was only that of frailty,
sorrow, and sin. A Christian in that coffin, in that grave? No! he is at home in
the Father’s house. Away with heathen symbols from Christian cemeteries! The
column never stood so firm, the flower never bloomed so fair, the torch never
burnt so bright. Lamenting the separation for ourselves we will rejoice for
them, and press forward to the home of reunion, where they await our coming, and
where, with them, we shall be forever with the Lord."


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  CHAPTER 40: 01.40.     THE GLORIFIED SUFFERER
========================================================================

40. THE GLORIFIED SUFFERER

"The Lamb in the midst of the throne shall be their Shepherd, and shall guide
them unto fountains of waters of life—and God shall wipe away every tear from
their eyes." Revelation 7:17 Where is now our Brother in Adversity, and how is
He employed? John the Baptist pointed Him out as "The Lamb of God who takes away
the sin of the world." John the Apostle beheld Him as "The Lamb in the midst of
the throne." Our Lord spoke of Himself as "sitting on the right hand of power,"
and Mark tells us that "He was received up into heaven, and sat down at the
right hand of God" (Mark 14:62; Mark 16:19). Apostles testify that God has made
the risen Christ to "sit at His right hand" (Ephesians 1:20; Colossians 3:1);
that "we have such an High Priest who sat down on the right hand of the throne
of the Majesty in the heavens" (Hebrews 8:1), "who is on the right hand of God,
angels and authorities and powers being made subject unto Him" (1 Peter 3:22).
In encouraging the church at Laodicea to overcome, He said, "I also overcame,
and sat down with my Father on His throne" (Revelation 3:21); and to the Father
and the Son together the anthem of the glorified ascends—"Unto Him who sits on
the throne and unto the Lamb, be blessing and honor and glory and dominion
forever and ever" (Revelation 5:3). Surely then "He is able to save to the
uttermost."

He is Lord of Creation and Nature’s Laws. He is "mightier than the mighty waves
of the sea," the wrath of man and the assaults of the devil. Is not the Church
safe under His guardianship? Is not every disciple? If, when enemies, we were
reconciled by His death, shall we not much more, now we are friends, be saved by
such continued life! When we pray, "O Lamb of God, who died to take away the sin
of the world, have mercy upon us," let us think of Him as no longer in
Gethsemane or on the Cross, but on the throne of God, mighty to save!

Crown Him! our Prophet true;

Crown Him! our Kingly Priest;

Crown Him! our Champion-Monarch, who From sin our souls released. That
anguish-furrowed brow, Which thorns of mockery tore, Is crowned with deathless
triumph now, And Joys for evermore. The Church He ransomed sings His vict’ry
o’er the grave:

O crown Him! crown Him! King of kings, Who lives and reigns to save!

Crown Him! Creator, Friend;

Sound His dear Name again!

Crown Him! through ages without end, Emmanuel! God with men.

—Newman Hall

How is He employed? The Lamb of sacrifice is the Shepherd of guardianship.
Departed saints often sang "The Lord is my Shepherd" as they followed Him
through the gloomy valley or reposed in the green pastures. His words are still
verified, "I am the Good Shepherd;" the scars he bears are a constant memorial
that He "gives His life for the sheep;" and their safety and bliss verify His
promise, "My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me, and they
shall never perish." Not as before, with feeble, faltering, sometimes reluctant
steps, but ever vigorous, faithful, rejoicing, "they follow the Lamb wherever He
goes."

He guides them unto "fountains of waters of life." Cisterns, however large, are
limited, may leak, are sometimes broken and "can hold no water." Thus with all
earthly consolations. But "the river of the water of life" is clear as crystal;
inexhaustible, for its source is ever the same; yet ever new, as varied lights
on a stream’s dancing wavelets and sparkling spray. The boundless universe
filled with the works of God, the countless multitudes composing the society of
heaven, the diverse kinds of service, the ever new revelation of Divine love and
glory secure unceasing freshness in the unfailing fountain. Even now, thirsting
for spiritual grace and consolation, we accept the Shepherd’s call, "If any man
thirsts, let Him come unto me and drink." But what must it be to drink of those
waters at the Fountain! In close connection with these words we read that "God
shall wipe away every tear from their eyes." This also is the employment of the
Shepherd who guides to the living waters, for God and the Lamb are inseparably
united in these revelations of heaven. "The glory of God did lighten it, and the
lamp thereof is the Lamb." "The throne of God and the Lamb shall be in it." "He
showed me a river of water of life, proceeding out of the throne of God and of
the Lamb" (Revelation 7:17; Revelation 21:22-23; Revelation 22:1-4). Conjointly
with the Father, the glorified Son, the ever-living Shepherd, wipes away all
tears.

How can this be in a world where no tears are shed? By effacing from the volume
of memory the sad traces of former tears. How many aged saints, after long and
happy assurance of pardon, have still lamented with David, "Remember not the
sins of my youth." These sometimes creep out from the shadowy past, and sadden
those who long before entered into the peace of pardon. When what men call great
sins are not on record, how often will acts of folly, self-indulgence, passion,
unkindnesses, neglect of opportunities, and the dark days spent without God come
to mind!

Though the wounds have been healed, the scars remain. But in heaven these also
disappear, and pardoned sins will be remembered only to excite renewed praises
to the Savior who took them away. "They have washed their robes, and made them
white in the blood of the Lamb; faultless before the throne." So with other
sorrows. After long years, former griefs become vivid in the imagination and
cause new distress. Again we tremble at the past peril, quail under the threat,
grieve because of the unkindness, lament the bereavement. But in heaven such
memories will forever be effaced, and nothing remain but records of mercy. There
will be no new occasion of tears, and no apprehension of it, "for the former
things have passed away."

Let us, then, be comforted respecting those who have gone before. We shall soon
join them. Meanwhile their Shepherd is ours. Drinking of the streams now is a
sure token that we shall drink with them at the Fountain, and the pledge is the
fact that "the Lamb is in the midst of the throne."

RESPONSIVE PRAYER OF THE SORROWFUL The cup which my Father has given me shall I
not drink it? His wisdom mingled it, His love presented it, His glory in my good
and that of others prompted it—shall I hesitate to take it? Shall I not rather
give thanks for it? If bitter to the taste, it is sweetness in the result—the
passing pain is lasting health; even were it otherwise, should not my Father’s
will make it a privilege and blessing? The cup which my Father has given me
shall I not drink it?

O You who in Gethsemane did drink the cup of unequaled woe, embittered by the
sin of the world, grant that I may share in the Redemption secured through Your
agony and bloody sweat, Your cross and passion! Then, saved from the guilt and
power of sin, all other sorrows will be easy to bear, every other cup made
sweet.

O Son of Man, Brother in adversity, who did pray in Your garden of grief, with
strong crying and tears, who know, by sharing, our weakness and our woe—You who
are touched with a feeling of our infirmities, cheer me with Your sympathy, and
let me hear You say, "Let not your heart be troubled!" As You did partake our
woes, so let me rejoice in the fellowship of Your sufferings. May I be numbered
with Your friends to share with You in the sorrows, sympathies, and prayers of
Your Body, the Church. Let it console me that I drink of the cup You did drink
of, and am baptized with the baptism with which You were baptized. Let the path
along which I am led become beautiful and bright by the traces of Your feet, the
memories of Your tears, the presence of Your Spirit, the pressure of Your hand.
When I go through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, for You
are with me, Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

O You who did drain Your cup to its dregs, perfectly fulfilling the Father’s
loving will, and, having finished the great sacrifice, did ascend to the right
hand of God, grant that I may prove that You are able to save to the uttermost.
Lord support, help, and comfort me. In all times of danger, necessity, and
tribulation, good Lord, deliver me!

Forbid it that in any garden of grief my soul should slumber. Let me not be so
absorbed in my distresses as to forget You; let not the voice of pain silence
that of prayer, nor let care for my own comfort make me indifferent to others,
and negligent of duty. Let one not thus be found by You sleeping for sorrow; but
help me to watch and pray that I enter not into temptation.

Lord of Angels, may I participate in their ministry to the heirs of salvation;
and as You did thus receive strength, grant that I, by the agency of earthly
friends or of heavenly messengers, may be comforted. But, above all, be You
Yourself ever near. Having known the need of such consolation, and condescended
to receive it, come to me when ready to faint, and strengthen me to say,
"Father, Your will be done."

Hear me and deliver me! If You will, by taking the cup from me; but, if
otherwise, by enabling me to drink it. Save Your servant by strength to serve
and suffer. May I say, with Job, "The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away,
blessed be the name of the Lord," and with David, "God is my refuge and
strength, a very present help in trouble," and with the woman of Shunem, "It is
well," and with Habakkuk, "Even though the fig trees have no blossoms, and there
are no grapes on the vine; even though the olive crop fails, and the fields lie
empty and barren; even though the flocks die in the fields, and the cattle barns
are empty, yet I will rejoice in the Lord! I will be joyful in the God of my
salvation. The Sovereign Lord is my strength! He will make me as surefooted as a
deer and bring me safely over the mountains," and with Paul, "I glory in
weakness, that the strength of Christ may rest upon me." O help me to do and
endure all things by hearing Your voice saying—"My grace is sufficient for you."

Help me to bring everything to You in prayer, and so in everything to be without
anxiety. I know You care for me; let me not then worry myself. Help me to cast
my burden on You, trusting in You to sustain me. Let me come to the throne of
grace, not doubtingly but boldly, because You are there to bestow all the help I
need. Let me rejoice in the certainty that prayer is heard by Him who delights
in mercy. Let habitual prayerfulness be to me an assurance that I am Your child,
and so may I take to myself the promise of unfailing support to God’s elect.

Let me not forget that, as one of the children of God, I must expect fatherly
discipline; that whom the Lord loves He chastens; and that such sorrows are
needful for my spiritual culture. O that I may thus be led to repentance of what
is wrong; that faith and patience, trust, knowledge, prayerfulness, experience,
hope, may be thus perfected. May not merely the primary essentials of godliness
be mine, but by trial may the beauties of holiness be developed—whatever things
are lovely, gentle, pure; and may I rejoice in my sufferings, if thereby others
may be blessed both by my example of patience and by increased capacity to
comfort others with the comfort with which I myself am comforted of God. Let me
therefore consider, not so much the grievousness of affliction for the present,
as the peaceable fruits of righteousness afterwards. I will rest on the Lord,
and wait patiently for Him.

Affliction is leading me towards home, and fitting me for its enjoyment. From
the gloomiest garden of grief I may see the many mansions of the Father’s house
which Jesus has gone to prepare. May I behold Him as the Lamb in the midst of
the throne, at the seat of all authority. He who once died for my sins now lives
and reigns for my perfected salvation. He will not fail me in my utmost need. He
is still acting as the Good Shepherd of His glorified flock. He leads them to
living waters, and has wiped all tears from their eyes. I may not mourn for
them. Blessed are the dead who thus live with the Lord! I will not dread the
hour that will bring me to join them in the presence and perfected service of
God. Ought I not to say of every cup of sorrow thus given by my Father, "Shall I
not drink it?" But I will not regard sorrow as my cup. It is only one element in
it, a small and transitory element. My cup is Salvation. In that cup are pardon,
sonship, purity, peace, fellowship with God, everlasting bliss. The penitent
prodigal has been welcomed home. Justified by faith, I have peace with God,
through our Lord Jesus Christ. My sins and iniquities are remembered no more. I
am born from above. I am a child of God. I look up to the Creator of the
universe and say, Father! I may hold constant communion with Him. His Spirit in
my heart helps me to conquer sin, and fills me with joy and peace in believing.
Though I see Him not, yet believing in Jesus, I rejoice with joy unspeakable and
full of glory. I know whom I have believed. I am persuaded He will keep me to
that day. We know that we have eternal life. We know that we have a home above,
eternal in the heavens. We are looking for that blessed hope, the glorious
appearing of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ. This is my cup. In it there
are some bitter drops, but how few compared with the whole contents of it! and
these few essential to the health of those who drink. I cannot have the whole
without the part. This is the cup my Father has given me, and shall I not drink
it? Yes! I will take the cup of salvation, and call on the name of the Lord. Now
on earth, and afterwards in the glorified assembly above, I will pay my vows
unto the Lord; in the presence of all His people; in the courts of the Lord’s
house; in the midst of You, O Jerusalem! Praise you the Lord! Hallelujah!

"The mountains shall depart and the hills be removed, but my kindness shall not
depart from You." The joys of Earth may Heaven conceal, God lives while these
remove; The hillock sinking may reveal His mountain-range of love. The dearest
treasure I resign Whene’er the word is given, Becoming Yours is more of mine,
Less earth, but more of Heaven. To suffer or to do Your will, Though hard the
task may be, By emptying self, the more does fill My soul, O Lord, with Thee.

If fading bloom brings fruit to reap;

If lapse of stream, the sea;

If joys abide by tears I weep, I gain by more of Thee.

I lose the fading forms of sight, The true abides always I lose the shadowy
things of night, I gain the glorious day.

Dearer are dearest gifts of Earth Which love resigns to Thee;

Such love is of celestial birth And lives eternally. Your likeness dimly was
portrayed In picture prized but lost If God unveiled is thus displayed, Why
murmur at the cost?

If gift recalled brings You more near Than gift conferred had done, Why should I
shed regretful tear?

Such loss is treasure won. Be this my joy, to see Your will Above my wishes
soar: My bliss Your counsels to fulfill, My Heaven for evermore.

—Newman Hall TO LIVE FOR CHRIST IS GLORY We will not pine for death and rest,
Too soon from service breaking;

Fruit plucked unripe can never be blessed, Our task beneath forsaking— Not until
the course is run, Our Leader says, "Well done!" Not until the conflict’s borne,
The chaplet can be worn; The Cross, the Crown is making. Our life on earth has
tender ties We should not wish to sever:

Rich works of faith, sweet charities, Which soon must cease forever— To watch,
and weep, and wait, By love to conquer hate, The flesh in curb to keep, To
rescue wandering sheep How noble such endeavor!

’Tis gain if Jesus bids us die, When young, mature, or hoary;

’Tis loss to wish the fight to fly, Foreclosing life’s bright story: To battle
for His laws, To suffer for His cause, To share His grief and shame, To
vindicate His name— To live for Christ is glory.

SECOND ADVENT Come, Lord, to earth again;

Come quickly, come and reign:

Lord Jesus, come!

Enthrone the struggling right, Make clear the clouded night, In victory close
the fight:

Lord, quickly come! The love of some grows cold; Your foes are waxing bold:

Lord Jesus, come!

They mock our hope delayed, Our little progress made, Your precepts disobeyed:

Lord, quickly come!

Bid war and faction cease, Bring in the reign of peace:

Lord Jesus, come!

Set every captive free;

Let all men brothers be;

Heal earth’s long malady:

Lord, quickly come Assert Your right Divine;

O’er all the nations shine;

Lord Jesus, come!

Then earth like heaven shall sing With Hallelujahs ring, And hail her rightful
King:

Lord, quickly come!


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  CHAPTER 41: 02.00. PRACTICAL MEDITATIONS ON THE LORD'S PRAYER
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Practical Meditations on the Lord’s Prayer Newman Hall, 1889

INTRODUCTION 1. Prayer Reasonable and Useful 2. Direct Benefits of Prayer,
Objections to Prayer 3. Reflex Benefits 4. Christ’s Authority for Prayer 5.
Method of Prayer—

Form or Freedom

Brevity

6. Authorship 7. General Scope THE INVOCATION 1. Divine Fatherhood—"Father"

2. Fatherhood by Creation 3. Fatherhood by Redemption 4. Blessings Involved in
the Fatherhood 5. Universal Brotherhood—"Our"

6. Majesty of the Father—"In Heaven"

7. Practical Lessons THE FIRST PETITION 1. The Place of this Petition

2. The Meaning 3. What is Involved 4. Reasons for the Petition THE SECOND
PETITION 1. The Kingdom Spiritual 2. Difference between the Kingdom of God and
the Kingdoms of the World 3. The Coming of the Kingdom 4. The Millennial Reign
5. Prayer for the Kingdom THE THIRD PETITION 1. The Will of God 2. God’s
Preceptive Will 3. Why should God’s Will be Done?

4. Angelic Nature 5. Angelic Obedience 6. Passive Obedience 7. Illustrations 8.
Example of Christ THE FOURTH PETITION 1. Meaning and Reasonableness 2. The
Giver—"Our Father"

3. The Gift—"Daily Bread"

4. Community of the Gift—"Us"

5. Conditions of the Gift—"Our,"

Honesty

Industry 6. Period of the Gift—"This Day"

Covetousness 7. Prayer for the Gift THE FIFTH PETITION 1. Sin as a Debt to God
2. The Debts of God’s Pardoned Children 3. Our Father’s Forgiveness 4. Prayer
for Pardon 5. Forgiveness of One Another Human Forgiveness A Condition of Divine
THE SIXTH PETITION Connection with Prayer for Pardon 1. Meaning of Temptation 2.
Meaning of the Prayer 3. Consolation for the Tempted 4. Practical Lessons No to
go into Temptation Resist in the Way Appointed Turn Hindrances into Helps Not
Bring Others into Temptation Compassion towards the Fallen THE SEVENTH PETITION

1. The Evil One Personality of the Devil Agency of the Devil Resistance to the
Devil 2. The Evil Resulting from Sin 3. The Evil in Ourselves THE DOXOLOGY 1. A
Confession of Faith The Kingdom The Power The Glory 2. An Argument in Prayer 3.
An Ascription of Praise

4. Forever

5. Amen 6. Period of the Gift


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  CHAPTER 42: 02.000.     INTRODUCTION
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INTRODUCTION The prayer which our Lord delivered to the disciples as a model in
their approaches to God, and which has been designated "The Lord’s Prayer," is
recorded by two Evangelists, and was spoken on two different occasions. In the
Sermon on the Mount our Lord was reproving the superstition which regarded the
frequent iteration of mere words as acceptable with God, and the Pharisaism
which made a public parade of prayer to obtain the praise of men. Luke records
that at a later period of Christ’s ministry, "As He was praying in a certain
place, when He ceased, one of His disciples said unto Him, Lord, teach us to
pray, as John also taught his disciples." This disciple may have forgotten the
earlier instruction. Or he may have regarded it as too brief, or designed for
the general multitude to whom it was addressed, and so asked for some counsel
specially applicable to the inner circle of the disciples, similar to some
teaching so given to the more intimate friends and followers of the Baptist. But
our Lord simply repeated the subject-matter of the same Divine model, as
containing the essence of all we need to ask, and as showing the spirit and
manner of all acceptable prayer. Matthew 6:5-13; Luke 11:1-4. On both occasions
the reasonableness and duty of prayer were taken for granted; the Divine
authority of our Lord being superadded to that of the older Revelation. Prayer
is not simply one of many other features of religion; but is essential to its
existence. "There is not among all moral instincts a more universal, a more
invincible one than prayer. The child betakes himself to it with ready docility;
aged men return to it as a refuge against decay and isolation. Prayer rises
spontaneously from young lips that can scarcely lisp the name of God, and from
expiring ones that have scarcely strength left to pronounce it" (Guizot). Human
nature is so constituted, that the acknowledgment of a superior Being by
adoration and petition, harmonizes with our intellectual and moral instincts.
"The widely-spread belief, that man may draw near to God, that he may transfer
his thoughts and wishes to the mind of the Eternal, proclaims his sense of a
Divine relationship between himself and God. As the magnetic needle points to
the unseen pole, so the soul, before it is hardened or demagnetized by the crude
blows of the world, will point to the home and heart of the Great Father" (H. R.
Reynolds). We feel it is befitting that we render adoration to Him on whom we
are dependent for breath and all things, extolling His greatness, expressing our
dependence, seeking His favor, and thanking Him for His gifts.

DIRECT BENEFITS OF PRAYER The almost universal practice of prayer is proof of a
general belief in its utility. Its reflex benefit to mind is not disputed; but
we pray, expecting some direct advantage, not because of the wholesomeness of
the exercise. Digging a garden may improve the health, but the hope of produce
speeds the digging. Holy Scripture and the authority of Christ encourage us to
expect direct and positive benefits, from prayer.

OBJECTIONS That God knows already whatever we can tell Him—Yes, and He knows far
better than we do, what we really need. But He would also know our wishes from
ourselves. An earthly parent may know many the child’s desires and griefs, but
likes to hear them from the child’s own lips, because they interest the parent,
and the habit of telling them cultivates filial affection in the child. In
prayer we are not instructing God, but communing with Him, and lifting up our
minds into the region of His own. That we cannot improve God’s Methods nor alter
His Decrees—These co-exist with our moral nature. His Will does not destroy the
freedom of our own. Benefit to us from action of His may depend on a
corresponding fitness in ourselves. The gift, to be beneficial, needs certain
qualities in the recipient. The purpose of God may therefore embrace the prayer
of man, the object of which is not to improve His plans, but only to complete
their manifestation. God may, in answer to our prayer, change His methods
without any fluctuation of purpose. A sailor alters his tack to reach his port.
A father carries out his abiding intention by altering his treatment according
to the child’s conduct. A physician varies his medicine with varying symptoms,
in order to accomplish his unvarying purpose of cure. And so, though by prayer
we cannot improve the Divine plans, prayer may so alter our own moral condition
as to render suitable a change of method on God’s part, which will bring us the
very blessing we ask. Though all God’s purposes are eternally fixed and
unalterably sure, everyone tries to guard his body from accident, improve his
estate, and secure the comforts of life. If we think we can improve our
condition by exertions of our own, is it foolish to hope God may improve them in
answer to our prayer? That if God is willing to give all good, asking is
superfluous—Our asking may be a necessary condition of His giving. Good seed
will be wasted unless the soil be prepared to receive it. Without healthy
appetite, wholesome food may injure. The soul must "hunger and thirst after
righteousness" before it can be filled; and prayer stimulates as well as reveals
this spiritual appetite. So also gifts of Providence may require the receptivity
which prayer cultivates, to render those gifts beneficial. By prayer we come
into the Divine storehouse where God’s gifts are waiting for us. "Those things
which God intends for us, we bring to ourselves by the mediation of holy
prayers" (Jer. Taylor). God’s light is always shining, but into the region of it
we must come as He has ordained. "Thus prayer becomes the turning of the heart
to Him who is always prepared to give, if we will receive what He gives. Unto a
fountain so vast, the empty vessel must be moved" (Augustine-Trench). No place
for Prayer in the realm of Law—It is alleged that all existing things are
subject to definite forces which operate uniformly and irresistibly, so that
prayer can have no influence in bringing to pass any desired event. But among
natural forces that of Will cannot be omitted. It is the force of which we know
most, because we know it by our own consciousness. By our will we can influence
that of others, through instruction and persuasion, and prompt them to set in
motion a train of physical causation which may bring to pass events otherwise
impossible. I may by personal influence (call it prayer) induce the crew of a
lifeboat to save shipwrecked seamen, whom otherwise the waves, by natural law,
would destroy. I may by persuasion (prayer) induce a physician to go to a man
seemingly at death’s door, and he, not by miracle, but by working within the
sphere of law, may save a life which otherwise, by physical law, would have been
the victim of disease. I may, by the exercise of my own will, hold out my arms
to catch, when falling from a window, the child whom otherwise the law of
gravitation would have killed. If then even I, by the exercise of my will, can
interpose to bring about results in the operation of natural law, and can
influence other wills to do the same, it cannot be impossible that the Author of
Nature, without any interference with order, may do, in answer to prayer, what
my fellow-creature can do on my request, and what I can do myself. Must the
Divine order shut out the operation of the Divine will? Shall the uniform
working of natural law be consistent with the exercise of freedom on my part,
and not with that of freedom on God’s part?

We do not believe that the "Reign of Law" excludes the agency of the "Lord of
Law." Whence came the laws but from the Divine Mind? "I believe in God the
Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth," and not in eternal forces without
thought, emotion, or character. He is free to act in modes novel to us, yet in
harmony with law. Seeming changes may be law’s developments, and my prayer and
His response may be parts of the eternal order; God working according to
prearranged principles which are developed whenever their appropriate sphere of
operation unfolds. Thus our prayers may bring about the very conditions in which
the results we ask may come to pass, in harmony with the higher order which
includes moral as well as physical forces. This argument assumes the universal
reign of Law. But we also believe in the reign of Grace.

Such objections have been current in all ages; yet in all ages prayer has been
offered; and the worshipers have included the wisest and best of men. Poets,
statesmen, heroes, prophets have prayed. Abraham, Moses, David, Daniel brought
petitions to God, habitually, earnestly, and in full assurance of faith. They
have had numberless counterparts up to the present day. Have all men who in all
ages and lands have thus gratified the special yearning and employed the highest
faculties of the mind been mistaken? If so, "the whole human race has a lie
enshrined in its inmost heart; and this lie perpetually emerges age after age,
generation after generation, in the child and the philosopher, in the heathen
and the Christian. If it be so, the most noble are the most deceived; those who
have risen highest, and who have in the largest extent blessed their fellow-men,
have been the most entirely baffled and deluded; while, on the other hand, the
sensualist, the barbarian with the fewest ideas, the imbecile who is most like
the brute that perishes, has made, in a matter that is fundamental to happiness,
honor, and usefulness, the nearest approach to the truth of things" (Reynolds).

O men of science! all honor to you in your own sphere. Show us the beauty, the
wisdom, the beneficence of God, by showing us the order that pervades His works.
But do not shut Him out of His own creation. Do not say that your experiments
with microscope and telescope include all the facts of the universe, when the
facts of Christianity and the facts of consciousness are not within your
induction. There are facts which are incapable of being subjected to scientific
scrutiny. God will not, at your bidding, come into your laboratory, cross the
field of your telescope, or enter the wing of some hospital which you may choose
to designate for experiments upon His handiwork. "There are more things in
heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

REFLEX BENEFITS OF PRAYER

Humility—In the presence of the Infinite we feel our insignificance. In
proportion as by prayer we have really met with God, we are less disposed unduly
to exalt ourselves over our fellow-creatures, since we are all alike but "dust
and ashes" in His sight. When we see God, we "abhor ourselves."

Dignity—There can be no greater honor than personal communion with God. We
cannot leave the Presence Chamber of the Infinite feeling we are mere grains of
sand in a desert; unnoticed, uncared for, hopeless. No! we are living people,
and are in direct communion with a personal God, who hears our voice, reads our
heart, helps our need. This produces a grand humility, a self-abasing dignity,
which will make us respect both ourselves and all our fellows, and should keep
us from dragging our nobility in the mud of sinful indulgence.

Sincerity—We are apt before our fellow-men to wear a mask, to hide our defects,
to magnify our merits, or simulate those we do not possess. Before Him who knows
the secrets of all hearts, the mask must be thrown off. In prayer we learn to
know ourselves, to discover our hidden faults, to test the true nature of our
motives and conduct.

Holiness—It is one thing to credit the fact that God is holy; it is quite
another thing to feel that we are in the very presence of that holy God. Thus it
is that the habit of praying induces the habit of obeying. It conveys no new
truth, but it strengthens holy impulses. We cannot come direct from an interview
with the king and violate his laws; from converse with our Father, and forget
the claims of His love.

Moderation of Desire—Longings which may become passions, poisoning our whole
life, must be checked when we try to bring them before God in prayer. When we
wish for some questionable pleasure, some unrighteous gain, the gratification of
vanity or revenge; and by the heating of this internal furnace of wrongful
desire are in danger of some explosion which might be our ruin, the expression
of such desire to God will reprove and possibly destroy it. There is so much we
cannot ask God to give! We should be ashamed, afraid to ask it.

Trust and Courage—If we have any real faith in prayer, hope of needful help will
enable us to bear our trials more patiently; to brace ourselves anew for
difficult duty; to continue the fight we were ready basely to surrender.

Peace and Consolation—By the mere telling our troubles to a sympathizing friend,
the burden is lightened, the bitter cup sweetened, the wound half healed. Much
more should this be the result of pouring forth our heart-sorrows before a
compassionate God, our Father. If "by prayer and supplication we make known our
requests," we need "be anxious in nothing, and the peace of God which passes all
understanding shall guard our hearts and thoughts in Christ Jesus."

Gratitude—Prayer cultivates gratitude, by linking benefits with Him from whom
they are asked. Recognition of the giver enhances the gift. Gratitude prompts to
willing service, stimulates obedience, and promotes our own happiness. They who
do not pray are not likely to praise. "In the earnest asking is the needful
preparation for receiving with due thankfulness; while, on the contrary, the
unsought would often remain the unacknowledged also." Prayer thus elevates
earthly benefits into Divine blessings, so that the humblest fare of God’s
providing yields greater delight than costliest dainties regarded as the result
of accident, or of our own unaided efforts. Does an objector say that all this
reflex benefit is only the natural effect of certain ideas? Then it is evident
that our moral organization is adapted to this exercise, and we infer that our
Maker and the Being to whom we pray are one and the same; for He who bids us
pray has so constituted us that compliance with His law corresponds with our
moral nature, satisfies, purifies, exalts and gladdens it.

CHRIST’S AUTHORITY FOR PRAYER

Though Divine He prayed, because He was also human, and shared our weaknesses
and wants. He prayed for a blessing on the bread He broke, for help in the
miracles He wrought, for comfort in the sorrows He endured. He retired to
mountain solitudes for prayer. He prayed in the upper chamber for His disciples;
in the garden and on the cross for Himself and for His murderers. He has gone up
to heaven to pray, and sits on the right hand of God to intercede. If He,
without stain of sin, and in perfect accord with God, needed to pray, how much
more must we! And this He enjoined on His followers by precept and promise.
"Ask, and you shall receive." "If you, being evil, know how to give good gifts
to your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good
things to those who ask Him?" His great work was to help man’s approach to God.
His mediation was to remove the obstacle of our guilt. His Spirit was to remove
the disinclination of our hearts. He was "the Way;" and He said, "No man comes
to the Father but by me." Acceptance of His salvation brought men at once into
the presence of their Father. Faith in Him was life; and the evidence and
exercise of the Divine life in the soul was prayer. He brought men into a
condition in which prayer was a necessity. He so guided the stream that it must
fall into and flow along with the great river. He taught His disciples "always
to pray, and not to faint." If they are to conquer in the strife with sin, the
armor of God will not avail unless they "cry day and night unto Him." When our
Lord gave this prayer, He ignored all objections. There was no question as to
whether the disciples prayed or not. Of course they did. All devout Jews did.
The only question was as to the matter and manner of prayer. "When you pray."
Our Lord knew all the objections that ever had been, that ever could be, raised
against prayer, yet He said, Pray! He was the Author of Nature, the Creator of
the worlds, the Head of the universe of Law, knowing the operation of all
forces, yet He said, Pray! He was from eternity in the bosom of the Father,
sharing the Father’s counsels and eternal purposes, yet He said, Pray! He who
conquered death and the grave can, should He so please, suspend the order of
Nature in answer to prayer. Nothing is impossible with Him to whom is given "all
power in heaven and earth." With full assurance we may pray, when He, who is the
only-begotten Son, Himself pleads with the Father on our behalf. THE METHOD OF
PRAYER

Form or Freedom?—"When you pray, say," etc. The desires of the heart are to be
expressed. Meditation is liable to pass off in frivolous thoughts or mental
drowsiness. It is true that God regards fervent desire as prayer, and that no
words avail without it; yet our Lord teaches us to express the desires of the
heart, which are increased and made definite by utterance. "Take with you words,
and return to the Lord—say to Him, Take away all iniquity, so will we render as
bullocks the offering of our lips." And there are times when the believer is
conscious that "the Spirit makes intercession within him with groanings which
cannot be uttered." Yet these are exceptional seasons. If all prayer were to be
denied vocal utterance, little prayer would be left. Our Lord Himself, holding
ineffable Spirit-communion with His Father, expressed His divinely-human
longings in human words. This our Lord taught us to do. But in what words?
Surely sometimes in the very form prescribed. But did He mean that we should be
restricted to this? Were this so, the two versions would be identical. But they
vary. In the Revised Version of Luke we have simply "Father," instead of "Our
Father in heaven." "Your will be done" is omitted. Instead of "Give us this
day," we have "Give us day by day." Instead of debts, we have sins; and instead
of "as we also have forgiven our debtors," we have "for we ourselves also
forgive every one that is indebted to us." These variations show that not the
precise form was prescribed, but the substance. Ours is the dispensation not of
the letter but of the Spirit. Dean Alford says—"It is very improbable that the
prayer was regarded in the very earliest times as a set form delivered for
liturgical use by our Lord. The variations are fatal to the supposition of its
being used liturgically at the time when these Gospels were written. Add to
this, that we find very few traces of such use in early times. Yet this very
prayer, though not imposed as an obligatory form, must ever be specially dear to
Christian hearts. We feel encouraged when we use a petition drawn up by Himself.
But to regard it as of itself efficacious, as though the mere utterance would
bring down some blessing; and to repeat it many times, as if the reiteration
would more effectually win regard, is to debase what was intended to cure
superstition, as an instrument for promoting it. But the question arises,
whether, by giving this prayer, our Lord enjoined or sanctioned the use of forms
of prayer, in preference to free utterance. There are two extremes; some
advocate the exclusive use of forms, others condemn them altogether. In private
prayer the spontaneous expression of desire is most natural, and best fitted to
promote devotion. Prayer should begin in the heart and find utterance by the
lip. In the "chapel which every man can build in his bosom, himself the priest,
his heart the sacrifice, and the earth he stands on the altar," there is no need
to regard any other mind than our own. No form ever composed can meet all the
needs of any one soul. There are sins to confess, sorrows to utter, desires to
express, constantly new and varied. The heart cannot be satisfied with mere
generalities when the child is alone with its father. The most stammering
petition which is the genuine utterance of the heart, is better in private
devotion than the most perfect composition of another mind. For public prayer in
a prescribed form the following arguments are urged—The needs of the
congregation as a whole are more likely to be expressed by a form carefully
prepared by the concurrence of many minds, than when one individual prays
according to his own feelings and circumstances. There is less intellectual
excitement when the language is familiar, than when it comes as a novelty,
possibly startling by strangeness, bewildering by obscurity, provoking
criticism, and suggesting wandering thoughts. There is less of human performance
when prayers previously prepared are simply read, than when the leader in
worship has to exercise his own powers of conception and utterance. He is less
tempted to obtrude himself, and to consider what others may think of him, than
when originating prayers which, though addressed to God, are listened to and
judged of by men. The people are better able to take their part in responses
when they know what the prayers will be, than when they have to listen and judge
before they can intelligently say, Amen. The psalms were inspired forms of
prayer and praise, used by the Jews in the temple-worship.

Against the use of forms, and in favor of free prayer, it may be urged—Forms are
apt to promote formalism. Familiar expressions are heard listlessly. The lip may
utter the words unconsciously, while the thoughts may be wandering far away.
Forms cannot express the varied needs of the people; nor be applicable to
constantly changing circumstances. Forms confine the thoughts, repress the
feelings, and restrain the motions of the Divine Spirit. "Where the Spirit of
the Lord is, there is liberty." There are many examples in Scripture of free
prayer being offered according to the special circumstances and needs of the
worshiper.

There is force in both sets of arguments. Either Form or Freedom is
objectionable when one is prescribed to the exclusion of the other. In Christ’s
religion of liberty, things in themselves lawful become unlawful when what was
left optional by the Master is made obligatory by His servants. He sanctioned
the liturgic use of the Psalms by His own example at the Passover. Every form of
prayer cannot be consistently condemned by those who habitually employ prayers
artistically arranged in verse, and sung to elaborate tunes. Every free prayer
is a form, except to the person speaking it. If he utters it from the fullness
of his heart at the moment, it is only his own spontaneous prayer. To all who
listen it must be form—as regards the speaker, the emotions prompt the words;
but as regards the hearer, the words precede the desires, and do not necessarily
produce the prayer in others, though John or Paul were the speaker. For the
exclusion of forms it has been said, that "a hungry beggar does not ask alms by
set form." It is also true that a community, presenting a united request to
Government, agree together the wording of their petition.

Dean Vaughan says—"Christ prohibits not other forms. He forbids not to pray
without forms. All that is from the heart is welcome in heaven. But
unquestionably He silences here the silly tradition that nothing can be prayer
but that which is extemporaneous and sudden. Neither with regard to prayers nor
to sermons does the question lie between written and unwritten, but between
formal and spiritual." Archbishop Leighton says of forms—"We are not to be bound
to their continual use in private or in public; nor is there anything in the
word of God, or any solid reason drawn from the word, to condemn their use." A
learned and devout Principal of a Nonconformist College (Dr. Reynolds) says—"God
does not listen to our words at all, but to our spirits. There is nothing in a
form, when rightly used, inconsistent with the spirituality which is the
indispensable condition of acceptable prayer. Sympathy with the blessed dead,
communion with those who have passed within the veil, and holy fellowship with
all who claim this rich inheritance of the Church, is possible in the use of
hallowed, time-honored forms of praise and prayer; but the refusal to any man of
the right to pour out his heart to God in words, fresh-coined there by his own
personal sense of infinite need, seems like deliberately quenching the Holy
Spirit, and resisting His mightiest operation in the heart of man." The author
of the Pilgrim’s Progress says, "In prayer it is better to have a heart without
words, than words without a heart."

Each method has its advantages, and therefore neither should exclude the other.
To make human forms binding on the Church which Christ has left free; or to bind
the Church not to use forms which He has not forbidden, is equally a restriction
of Christian liberty. Forms may degenerate into formalism; and the absolute
forbiddal of forms may deprive the Church of much help from the piety and wisdom
of past ages, and of the special advantages furnished by concerted prayer, as
well as concerted praise. Why should not the Church avail itself of all the help
both methods may afford, and rejoice that "all things are ours"? But in vain do
we pray, whether in words of our own, or in forms composed by the holiest men
and sanctioned by centuries of worship, or in these very words taught by Christ
Himself, unless the heart ascends to God. Alas! how often we have to confess—

"My words fly up, my thoughts remain below; Words, without thoughts, never to
heaven go." —Shakespeare

Another question arises. Our Lord gave us, as a model, a prayer characterized by
brevity. Did He mean that no prayer should be longer? His own example is opposed
to such an idea. We read of His continuing "all night in prayer to God." In the
garden He was long in prayer, "saying the same words." After His ascension the
disciples "continued with one accord in prayer and supplication." Paul exhorts
Christians to "pray without ceasing," and to continue instant in prayer." The
Scribes were condemned, not for long prayers, but because they made them "for a
pretense." The Lord censured mere verbal utterances in place of heart-desires;
prayer, to be noticed by man instead of to be accepted by God. "It is a bad sign
when the prayers made before men are longer than those heard only by God." Every
prayer, however few the words, is long if it comes not from the heart; no prayer
is long which is the soul’s true expression. Its Authorship

Some critics have said, that as the several petitions may be found in Jewish
writings, the prayer is not original, and therefore not "the Lord’s." Tholuck
says that the agreement which has been asserted between this prayer and prayers
of the Rabbis is wholly null. Our Lord expressly said that He had come, not to
destroy the older revelation, but to fulfill; not to ignore any portion of truth
already known, but to supplement it. Accordingly, His teaching abounded with
allusions to the Old Testament. He often quoted its words as expressive of His
own feelings. He died with them on His lips. It would indeed be strange if the
petitions in a form solemnly given as being specially in accordance with the
Divine will, had no parallel whatever in the thoughts and devotions of the Old
Testament Church. Thus, although the character of God as Father was not
prominent, yet it was known. "Doubtless You are our Father;" "If then, I be a
Father, where is my honor? says the Lord Almighty." The hallowing of the Name
was commanded through Moses—"You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in
vain;" illustrated by David—"From the rising of the sun to the going down of the
same, the Lord’s name is to be praised;" and guaranteed by Jehovah—"I will
sanctify my great name." The kingdom was portrayed and prayed for by David, and
predicted by Daniel. The doing the will of God was the subject of frequent
petitions—"Teach me to do Your will;" "Incline my heart to Your testimonies."
Agur prayed—"Feed me with food convenient for me." Forgiveness was assured by
"The Lord God is merciful and gracious, forgiving iniquity;" and for it the
Israelites were encouraged to pray, "Let the wicked return to the Lord, and He
will abundantly pardon." To be delivered from temptation and saved from evil was
the theme of many of David’s prayers—"Oh, let me not wander from Your
commandments. Turn away my eyes from looking at worthless things. Let not any
iniquity have dominion over me." And this was answered by the Divine
promise—"The Lord will preserve you from all evil. He will preserve your soul."

There was no need, therefore, for our Lord to search the writings of Jewish
Rabbis in order to compile this formulary. Its truths were already revealed by
His own Spirit through the prophets. What He did was to gather into a focus the
scattered rays; to bring out into clearer light what had been indistinctly seen;
to give prominence to what had been in the background; to arrange in progressive
order what had hitherto existed in disjointed fragments. It is this combination,
this concentration of so much into a space so small, this taking up of gems
which had lain about amid the general stores of the Church, and setting them all
together in this circlet of purest gold; it is not only what is included but
what is omitted; it is not the separate petitions, invaluable as they are, but
their combination in a prayer unrivaled not only for its substance, but for "the
full brevity, the deep plainness, the lovely simplicity of expression"
(Barrow)—it is all this which constitutes its superiority to all more human
utterances of devotion. "The Lord’s Prayer, for a succession of solemn thoughts,
for fixing the attention upon a few great points, for suitableness to every
condition, for sufficiency, for conciseness without obscurity, for the weight
and real importance of its petitions, is without an equal or a rival"
(Paley)—these features entitle it to be called "The Lord’s Prayer." The General
Scope As the Ten Commandments are a summary of our duties, so the Lord’s Prayer
is a summary of what ought to be our desires. The Decalogue begins with duties
we owe to God, and passes on to those we owe to one another. The prayer begins
with desires for God, and ends with desires for ourselves. The first four
commands, to have no other God, to worship no image, to reverence the Name, and
to observe the Sabbath of God, correspond with the prayers that His name may be
hallowed, His kingdom come, and His will be done. The next command and the next
petition may be regarded as transitional in order. The claims of God are
illustrated in those of parents; and our duties to parents have their origin and
highest illustration in the honor we owe to God. The command to honor earthly
parents suggests the title of God in the Prayer, reminding us both of duty and
privilege. The parental relation is Divine, and involves mutual functions; and
the bread we ask is the gift of God in heaven for His children’s needs on earth.
Thus both in the Law of Moses, and the Prayer of Jesus, we are here brought down
to the human level. The rest of the commandments forbid the sins to which our
lusts expose us. The rest of the petitions seek deliverance from the evils into
which sin brings us. We ask God first for His own good things, and then for
deliverance from our own evil things. And as the Decalogue is prefaced by a
statement of His claims on the obedience of the Israelites as their Deliverer
from Egypt, so the Prayer is prefaced by the comprehensive plea—"Our Father in
heaven."

It might be expected that there would be resemblances between the Prayer and the
Beatitudes which had just been pronounced. The Prayer teaches that God is our
Father, and the Beatitude declares that "peacemakers shall be called the
children of God." His name is hallowed by the humble and "meek." The privileges
of the kingdom belong to "the poor in spirit;" for even now, "theirs is the
kingdom of heaven." The will of God is done only by "the pure in heart." The
prayer for daily bread has a spiritual as well as physical application, and they
realize it who "hunger and thirst after righteousness." Sorrowing for sin, we
pray that our trespasses may be forgiven, and are assured that "Blessed are
those who mourn, for they shall be comforted." We profess that we who ask
forgiveness, practice it towards others, and we are taught that "Blessed are the
merciful, for they shall obtain mercy." We ask to be delivered from temptation
and all evil, and are assured that, even though persecuted for righteousness’
sake, we shall not only be preserved from harm, but that "great shall be our
reward in heaven." Matthew 5:1-12. The prayer is not formally ’in the name of
Jesus’. He had not yet fully developed His mediatorial character and work.
Subsequently, on the eve of offering Himself as the sacrifice for sin, He
distinctly taught His disciples to pray in His name. "Verily, verily, I say to
you, If you shall ask anything of the Father, He will give it to you in my name.
Hitherto you have asked nothing in my name—ask, and you shall receive, that your
joy may be fulfilled." It is not only in accordance with His teaching that we
should thus come before God, but it would be difficult for anyone who loved Him
as Savior, to omit His name in any prayer to the Father.

Yet much more than the mere use of the word is required if we would pray in His
name. We must come to God relying on His mediation, asking what He has taught us
to desire, seeking His glory and to be aided by His Spirit, else the formula
alone will not fulfill the condition. Thus the apostles prayed. Some of their
petitions were offered directly to Christ. Other prayers, without the formula at
their close, contained the name of Christ, expressing reliance, homage, service,
adoration. Prayer and praise to God, as "the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,"
were offered in this name. That this method of appealing to God was uniform and
constant, we may gather from the words of Paul—"Through Him we both have access
by one Spirit to the Father." From these examples it is evident, that it is not
so much the mention of Christ at the end of the prayer, as the breathing through
the whole of it of faith and love towards Christ, which constitutes praying in
His name. It is this reliance on Him while we pray, and this blending of our
will with His in our petitions, which, without the customary clause, render a
prayer more truly Christian than any number of repetitions of the mere name in
the absence of this spirit. And therefore this prayer, because taught by
Himself, as the very essence of what we should ask for, is eminently a prayer in
His name, when, without the formula, we offer it in obedience to His teaching,
and relying on His mediation.

"After this manner" means, if not by this very form, yet in this spirit, and for
these benefits. Adoration of every kind, prayer for the Divine glory, for the
spread of truth, holiness, and happiness, and for help to do and suffer the will
of God, are embraced in the first portion of it. Supplication for every real
necessity of our nature, the satisfaction of every pure instinct, bodily,
mental, social, is involved in asking for daily bread; the confession of all
sin, and the plea for all pardon, are in the prayer "Forgive;" grace to bear
with and to forgive others, in the condition annexed; help in all temptations,
trials, sorrows, and final deliverance from every form of evil, in the closing
petitions. Whatever it is lawful to pray for is embodied here; and therefore at
all times, and under all circumstances, all mankind may pray "after this
manner."

They who use liturgies never omit this. They who repudiate the pre-composed
prayer of men, with few exceptions avail themselves of this prayer of the Lord
Jesus. Whatever the difference of Church government, whatever the variation of
creed, all blend their voices harmoniously here. Surely they must be really
united, however seemingly divided, who from the heart send up to heaven such
requests. In the words of the Dean of Llandaff, "They who can pray together the
Lord’s Prayer in spirit and in truth, must be substantially one. The Church of
all space and of all time meets and is one in the Master’s Prayer." Thus it is a
Divine bond of brotherhood for all who use it. It is a fulfillment of the
condition joined to the promise, "If two of you agree as touching anything you
shall ask, it shall be given." It may be urged with full confidence that, "If we
ask anything according to His will, He hears us;" and the prayer He Himself
taught must be according to His will. We may be sure that His intercession in
heaven blends with our prayers on earth, when we pray "after this manner."

It is a prayer capable of ever varied enlargement. We may crowd a volume into
each clause. We may, in protracted supplication, "continue all night in prayer
to God," and yet keep within its limits and be guilty of no vain repetitions. It
is suitable for seasons of safety and peril, joy and sorrow, health and
sickness, festival and funeral. We may offer it amid the activities of life, and
when drawing near to the gates of death. It is suited to all ages and all minds.
There are depths in it which the most thoughtful intellect cannot fathom, and
shallows where little children may lave their feet—heights which the strongest
climber cannot scale, and valleys where the weak and wounded may rest and be
refreshed. It was given for the Church universal, in every stage of development,
both as a whole and in each member. The newborn child of God may acceptably
present it, though he only understands as a child; the matured believer finds
increasing help in it as he puts away childish things. What the poet so
beautifully says of prayer in its various utterances, may be said of this one
particular prayer, this one and the same utterance, according to the different
thoughts and emotions of those who offer it:

"Prayer is the simplest form of speech That infant lips can try; Prayer the
sublimest strains that reach The Majesty on high."


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  CHAPTER 43: 02.01.     THE INVOCATION—
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The INVOCATION—

"Our FATHER Who is in Heaven."

1. The Divine FATHERHOOD—

We look back with loving remembrance to our first conscious acts of prayer. We
think of the kind father who told us of our other Father above the blue sky—or
we recall the time when we knelt at our mother’s knee, and felt her soft hand
hold ours, as she taught our child-lips to say, "Our Father in heaven." So, when
the Church was in its infancy, the Savior, acting towards His disciples as to
"one whom his mother comforts," taught that infant Church to pray. And now, in
its maturity, that Church recalls the early lesson, and treasures those sweet
words, and with no epithet so loves to approach God as with this—"Our Father in
heaven."

"The invisible things of God are clearly seen by the things that are made; even
His eternal power and Godhead." But the heart yearns for more. In our own nature
there are emotions as well as thoughts. Our relationships and their instincts
are more than what we possess or do. Of these none are stronger than the
parental. Children know the treasure of a father’s, a mother’s tender affection,
and the happiness of confiding to them every sorrow or desire; and parents know
how musical is the voice of the loving child, and their delight to listen and
help. Can such feelings be shared by Deity? Not if He be a mere abstraction, a
force, a formula—or if, being a Person, He is only calm thought and inexorable
will. But why may I not regard Him as Father, if He is known by His works? The
noblest of these works is man, and He made man in His own image—therefore in all
that we most admire in human nature we may trace the Creator as much as in the
flowers and the stars. We may then infer resemblance in the Divine nature to
this fatherliness in human nature; the faultless ideal of the copy which, though
sin has defaced it, is yet so beautiful.

We are not left to speculation. He has made His nature known in the man Christ
Jesus. What other form could be so appropriate if man himself was made after the
image of God—an image existing therefore from eternity? What if God did not only
adopt our nature, but also manifest to men the Eternal Type from which man was
originally molded; so that Christ was the very Image of God, because perfect
man? And now, God "manifest in the flesh," He who could say, "He who has seen me
has seen the Father," is asked by men how they may best approach God, by what
name know Him, what relationship claim with Him. And God, incarnate in the man,
speaking to men, some of whom felt the tenderness of parental love, all of whom
knew the trustful love of children, replied—"When you pray, say, Father"! Not
"Great Creator," "Majestic Ruler," "Omniscient Judge"—He is all these—but the
idea of Him we are habitually to cherish, the title we are chiefly to use, is
one which assures us that our prayer will certainly be heard, for God Himself
teaches us to call Him "Father."

Some say it is only a figure of speech. They may give it a grand name, and call
it an anthropomorphism. But suppose, in using a term adapted to our nature, God
employs the exact term adapted to the model on which that nature was framed; so
that, instead of borrowing from human paternity, human paternity is only an
imperfect copy of His own? How they err who deem they exalt the Divine Majesty
by denying it such emotions as this term suggests; "who would make heaven clear
by making it cold, and would assert the dignity of the Divine Essence by
emptying it of its love, and reducing it into nothingness" (Maurice).

Figures of speech are not facts, but may mean much more. Earth’s facts must be
infinitely inferior to heaven’s glories, yet may help us to conceive of them. A
figure used by God is not a fiction, but a gracious method to assist our infant
powers to attain some faint idea of what exceeds all power of language. He who
made the father’s heart, and knows what is in man, adopts the title "Father,"
and bids us so address Him. Indistinctly seen by Old Testament saints, this
truth, which is life and immortality, was brought into clearer light by the
gospel. The title "Father," feebly felt, was seldom uttered by the lips of
worshipers who adored the Almighty God, the infinite "I AM." Now we know that
among all other titles there is none He so loves to hear from His children as
this. Thus approaching, we recognize His power without trembling, and adore His
holiness without shrinking; we can exult in all His perfections as children who
share in His honor, and while bowing before Him with reverence may rejoice with
confidence.

Atheism says there is nothing but what we perceive by our senses; and that all
things are the result of law that has no author, and forces that have no
originator. Pantheism, with a web of words, would entangle God in His works, and
blend the soul itself with Deity. Paganism, admitting personality, represents
Him, one or multiform, as a Being whom it is necessary to placate by offerings,
and whom we must approach with dread. But the soul, divinely taught, rejoices to
recognize a personal God who is not wrath but love, and who bids us approach Him
with child-like confidence. Agnosticism has searched the universe and has found
many things, but cannot discover God. It says, if such a Being exists, He hides
Himself from most diligent search of geologist, chemist and astronomer. If
existent, He is unknown and unknowable.

How blessed those who are as certain He is their Father as they are that He
exists; who by faith see His face, hear His voice, feel His hand and respond to
His love; who have daily communion with Him; and ever coming forth anew from
such communion are more sure of His Being than they are of that of any earthly
friend. He is not to them an "Unknown God." The little child, shrinking timidly
from every stranger, flies to its father’s open arms. He may be gigantic in form
and solemn in feature; and as he returns from field of toil or scene of strife,
may be to others an object of fear; but his own little one, as father’s step is
heard on the threshold, runs to clasp his knee and be folded in his arms. And so
the mighty God, before whom angels veil their faces, encourages us to run and
welcome His advance, to trust Him, to love Him as "Our Father."

2. Fatherhood by CREATION—

Earthly parents are only links in the chain of dependent causation; but He who
made all things is God. Whatever the methods, whether by a separate fiat
creating each distinct species in its full maturity, or whether by slow process
of evolution from lower forms, a Primal Originator there must be, adequate in
power and wisdom to form a universe replete with evidences of strength and
design. In all things we trace

"The unambiguous footsteps of the God Who gives its luster to an insect’s wing,
And wheels His throne upon the rolling worlds. Nature is but a name for an
effect, Whose cause is God. . . . Not a flower But shows some touch in freckle,
streak, or stain, Of His unrivaled pencil." —Cowper

Strange, that in an age of scientific discovery any should fail to recognize the
Designer of works which, the better they are known, inspire the more admiration.
Lord Bacon said he would rather believe all the fables of the Talmud or Koran,
than that this universal frame of nature was without a God. Of all the evidences
of a wise Creator, none are more impressive than those nearest to us—in man
himself. Every advance in anatomical and physiological science demonstrates more
clearly that we are "fearfully and wonderfully made." Any single organ should
suffice for proof—the hand, the foot, the ear, the eye; each fitted for special
service; the marvelous mechanism within—for all functions necessary for life;
the adaptation of these to each other; the intellectual and moral nature in
harmony with the physical; and all with the external world—so distinctly speak
their Divine Original, that even heathen writers, as the poet quoted by Paul,
confessed, "We are also His offspring."

I see a portrait and admire the outline, the coloring, the character revealed in
eye and mouth. I contemplate a statue, so perfect in its representation of the
human form that the marble seems to breathe. Should any suggest that no painter
had drawn skillful brush across that canvas, that no sculptor with cunning
chisel had shaped that marble, but that both had come into existence without any
personal agency, such a critic would be regarded either as joking or as insane.
And can I look on the human artist possessing the life of which his productions
only wear the semblance, and refuse to recognize in him the handiwork of the
Divine Artist, the Father of men?

3. Fatherhood by REDEMPTION and REGENERATION—

Although, as Creator, God is the Father of all men, yet, as "all men have
sinned," they have forfeited the higher privileges of sonship, our restoration
to which was the object of the mission of Christ. "The Son of man came to seek
and to save that which was lost." The nature of His mediation, it is not the
purpose of these pages to discuss; but the result is stated by the
Evangelist—"As many as received Him, to them gave He the right to become
children of God, even to them that believe on His name;" and by Paul—"God sent
forth His Son, to redeem those who were under the law, that we might receive the
adoption of sons." Sonship is here restricted to believers in Christ. Sentence
of banishment is annulled, and their unfitness for dwelling in God removed. All
others remain in a state of alienation. To the Jews who boasted, "We have one
Father, even God," Christ replied, "If God were your Father, you would love
me—you are of your father the devil." "The good seed are the children of the
kingdom; but the tares are the children of the wicked one." "As many as are led
by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God," and receive "the spirit of
adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father." Those who are "dead in trespasses and
sins" are "the children of wrath, even as others." The distinction is again
clearly drawn by John—"Behold what manner of love the Father has bestowed upon
us, that we should be called children of God! Whoever is begotten of God does
not sin. In this the children of God are manifest, and the children of the
devil." It was only to disciples Jesus said—"I ascend to my Father and your
Father."

If, then, all people are children of God, they cannot be so in the same sense.
Between them there exists the difference of light from darkness, of life from
death. It cannot therefore be scriptural to speak of the unregenerate as needing
only to see and recognize a relationship already existing. Our Lord declared
with solemn emphasis, "Verily, verily, I say to you, Except a man be born anew,
he cannot see the kingdom of God." Without this new birth he cannot therefore be
a child of God. "For you are all sons of God, through faith in Christ Jesus."
The "all" is here limited to the possession of faith, which implies filial
obedience. No one should be buoyed up with the false hope of being saved by
virtue of relationship to the Father, while discarding His love and violating
His laws. May we not then appeal to sinners in any sense as His children? Even
the prodigal, far from home and feeding on the husks of his own wickedness,
still claimed the relationship, saying—"I will arise and go to my father." He
knew that his father loved him still, but he could not obtain the allowance of
even one of his father’s "servants" if he remained away in guilty rebellion. So
long he must expect nothing better than swine for company, and husks for food.
There is a vital difference between the dutiful child at home and the rebellious
profligate in self-chosen exile, although both may have one father. "This my son
was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found." Sinners are "lost"
until they return to God—they are dead until by believing in Christ they live
anew. God is still their Father, inasmuch as He created them, has provided a way
for their return, and invites them home. "Return, O backsliding children, says
the Lord." Sinners may be appealed to as having in

God a Father who has not ceased to care for them, and who, if they return, will
see them when far off, and welcome them home; so that none are excluded from the
privilege of thus addressing the Most High—"Our Father in heaven."

4. BLESSINGS involved in Fatherhood—

1. Love—That "God is Love" is a grand revelation—that God is "Father" is grander
still. This comes home to the heart. It has more beneath it and not less than
our loftiest conceptions can picture and our strongest yearnings crave. Earthly
parents, the tenderest and best, do not fully realize the Divine ideal of
fatherhood, and therefore human experience inadequately represents what God is
to His children. How great, then, is the encouragement given us to pray when we
address God as Father! All pleas are blended in this one opening word—"Father."
Earthly parents love their children before those children love them, in spite of
very inaccurate knowledge, feeble affection, imperfect obedience, and even
rebellion; they love them unselfishly, hoping for nothing but the response of
love, the value of any service by those children being the love that prompts it.
So our Father loves us with all the love the word can suggest, and can do all
that such love desires.

2. Sustenance—An earthly parent provides for the child, which, at least in its
early life, would otherwise perish. So our Father in heaven cares for us. "No
good thing will He withhold." He who made us "knows our frame." "Your heavenly
Father knows that you have need of all these things." He feeds the fowls of the
air; much more His children. Only during childhood do we absolutely depend on an
earthly parent—but we never cease to need and experience our heavenly Father’s
care. In the person of Jesus He appealed to the heart of earthly fathers. If,
though degenerate and selfish, they give their children the good things needed,
how much more will the perfectly righteous and loving Father act in accordance
with His name! If He gives the greater gift of His Spirit, whereby we say
"Father," He will not deny those lesser gifts required for the body in which
that Spirit dwells.

3. Protection—An earthly parent offers a weak emblem of our heavenly Father’s
guardian care. His omniscience keeps watch over us, His omnipotence shelters us,
His providence directs us. "The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are
the everlasting arms." "God is our refuge and strength; therefore will not we
fear;" for this refuge is "Our Father."

4. Education—No wise father neglects the educating of the faculties of his
child. He will never allow mere fondness, the pleasure of the hour, to supersede
the training needed for the long future of life. So our heavenly Father trains
His children for His service and glory. He instructs them by His word and
Spirit, and exercises them in all godliness. Many a difficult lesson must be
learned, many a hard task performed. Like children at school, we sometimes
question the utility and murmur at the difficulty of the lesson. Much that a
father insists on in the education of his child can be appreciated only in
relation to the enlarging capacity of the child for the work of manhood. So our
Father seeks not merely our present comfort, but our permanent well-being. He is
training us for immortality.

"The ills we see, The mysteries of sorrow, deep and long, The dark enigmas of
permitted wrong, Have all one key; This strange sad world is but our Father’s
school, All chance and change His love shall grandly overrule.

How sweet to know The trials which we cannot comprehend Have each their own
divinely purposed end: He trains so For higher learning, ever onward reaching
For fuller knowledge yet, and His own deeper teaching.

What though today You cannot trace at all the hidden reason For his strange
dealings through the trial season, Trust and obey. In after life and light all
shall be plain and clear." —Havergal

5. Discipline—Though reproof is even more painful to the parent than to the
child, it would be unkind clemency and pernicious selfishness to withhold it. A
child without discipline grows up to be a misery to itself, and a plague to
others. So our heavenly Father will permit no child of His to perish through
lack of needful correction. "Whom the Lord loves He chastens. God deals with you
as with sons; for what son is he whom the father does not chasten?" If even the
"Captain of Salvation" was "made perfect through suffering," much more is it
necessary for God, "in bringing many sons unto glory," to appoint for them the
"tribulation that works patience, and patience experience, and experience hope."
Sorrows which He sends are among the "all things" that "work together for good;"
because He is

"A Father, whose authority, in show When most severe, and mustering all its
force, Is but the graver countenance of love: Whose favor, like the clouds of
spring, may lower, And utter now and then a dreadful voice, But has a blessing
in its darkest frown, Threatening at once, and nourishing the plant."

—Cowper

6. Consolation—This idea is bound up in the very words Father, Mother. What
earthly comforter can be compared to a mother? Bearing her little one in her
bosom, shielding it from the cold, supplying its needs from her own life-stream,
soothing its griefs by her tender caresses and the gentle murmur of her voice,
"dandling it on her knees" (as the divinely-directed prophet graphically
depicts); then, when grown older, entering into all its childish griefs and
troubles, not despising them because trifles to her, but patiently listening and
earnestly consoling, because to that little one those troubles are real and
great—afterwards, when the child has become the man, so making his sorrows her
own that the heart, locked up perhaps to all besides, can unburden itself on
that bosom where in infancy it first found solace—never wearied by the long
enumeration of woes, and by what to others would be the tedious repetition of
the same sad tale; cheerfully sharing the trouble even when there may be little
hope of lightening it; never treating it with levity or indifference; advising,
but at such a time never rebuking! Even when that child may have been the cause
of her bitterest grief—when his troubles have come on him by his own folly or
wickedness—when he has forsaken his childhood’s home and scorned its love, yet,
when he comes to her with a heart bursting with anguish, forgetting all his
faults in the contemplation of his sorrows, and with undiminished tenderness
folding him to her bosom, wiping his tears, palliating his errors, pleading his
cause—O how a mother comforts! And God who inspired that maternal tenderness,
and who gave the father’s heart its pity, says—"As a father pities his children,
so the Lord pities those who fear Him;" and, "As one whom his mother comforts,
so will I comfort you." How fully assured may we be that the compassion of any
earthly parent is surpassed by Him who says, "Can a woman forget her nursing
child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? Yes, they may
forget, yet will not I forget you." All this, and much more than this, was
revealed by Him who, as the Word, came to express in His spirit and conduct as
man the tender compassion of "the God of all consolation," "Our Father."

7. Communion—A father does not treat his children as strangers or visitors, but
is on terms of loving familiarity. They are not kept at a distance, as courtiers
by a stately monarch, but are "at home" with him. Even so we may draw near to
God, not merely on stated occasions of solemn worship, but in our chamber, and
amid the varied toils, sorrows and joys of daily life. Not only may we bring to
Him our greatest necessities and bitterest griefs, but all our little cares,
purposes, hopes and fears, and know He loves to listen.

8. Inheritance—A father’s wish to lay up in store for his children may be
carried to excess, so as to foster idleness in his son. Many a rich heir has
been ruined by wealth for which he did not work. And at the best, the
inheritance bequeathed lasts but for a little while. But God provides "an
inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fades not away"—wealth which we
could never secure by our own exertions, yet the hope of which stimulates to
industry and makes us rich indeed. If we are "children, then heirs; heirs of
God, joint-heirs with Christ."

5. Universal BROTHERHOOD in the Divine Fatherhood—

Many use the word "OUR" thoughtlessly, forgetting that it implies the individual
acceptance of God in this relationship. It is comparatively easy to recognize a
general fatherhood in God, without yielding the heart in solemn surrender,
saying, "My Father." The prodigal said, "I will arise and go to my Father." Thus
all sinners must return one by one. Thus every believer with adoring faith
exclaims, "My Lord and my God." So Christ teaches in this very discourse. "You,
when you pray, enter into your closet, and pray to your Father who is in secret;
and your Father, which sees in secret, shall reward you openly." The "Our"
encourages me to say "My." I know God is willing to be Father to me because He
is Father to all besides. I shall utterly despair if I am to establish a special
personal plea—assurance resulting from my own mind might disappear with
tomorrow’s clouded sky. It is only as one among mankind that I can begin to call
God "my Father." He "so loved the world" as to give His Son to save it. Because
Christ is the "propitiation for the sins of the whole world," I put in my claim
simply as a sinner. Because God is "Our Father," I claim Him as "My Father." And
now I recognize with new emphasis my relationship to others with whom I share
the qualification and the blessing. We are thus taught human brotherhood, while
appealing to the Divine fatherhood. "When you pray alone, shut your door—shut
out as much as you can the sight and notice of others, but shut not out the
interest and good of others" (Leighton). In the very act of asking help for
ourselves we are reminded of the aid we owe to one another. We cannot pray
acceptably if we pray selfishly. We cannot truly call God "Father" unless we
cherish the spirit that would call every man "brother." "Christ says—Bear others
upon your heart all through—pray for yourself and them in one—say, ’Our Father,’
and prayer is intercession at once. Take your friend with you, your pastor, your
Church, your friend—yes, your enemy too, and your slanderer—and kneel with them,
as one, in your own prayer and confession. So, at the very spring and
fountainhead of your life, you will have cast in the salubrious tree which shall
make every Marah of your converse sweetness" (Vaughan).

Thus we are reminded of a corresponding privilege; we share in the prayers of
our brethren. What a blessed community of goods! This is indeed the "Communion
of saints." All true prayers from filial hearts to "Our Father" bring ourselves
into the tide of their benedictions, which help to bear us onward to God. "The
most private prayer of the godly is a public good. Every believer has a share in
all the prayers of all the rest; for he is a partner in every ship of that kind
that sets to sea, and has a portion of all their gainful voyages" (Leighton).

How delightful is the realizing of this fellowship when the whole
household—parents, children, servants—gathered round the family altar, seek
daily blessings from their Divine Head, and the voices of young and old blend as
they invoke the common "Father"! How impressive is it, when a ship’s
company—officers, seamen, passengers—one family, alike dependent on the care of
Him who rides upon the storm, send up from the wide waste of waters this
invocation—"Our Father"! And what more impressive part of any service in any
congregation, however imposing or however simple the ceremonial, than the
blending of the accents of rich and poor, minister and people, in this first
word! This recognition of brotherhood should include all who invoke the one
Father. The special interest we feel in "Our Church" should not exclude from our
hearts those who, in other organizations and with other forms, call upon "Our
Father." How often our Creed has shut Charity out of doors! By whatever term
distinguished, all congregations of believers belong to each; and each should
regard as brethren "all that in every place call upon the name of Jesus Christ
our Lord, both theirs and ours." Varieties of form there must ever be; but while
holding our own convictions with loyalty to conscience, we should cultivate
brotherhood with all who invoke this Fatherhood. To narrow it by human
authority, sectional jealousy, or personal antipathy; to cut ourselves off from
the fellowship of any who, in the name of Christ and by the Holy Spirit, call
God "Father," is a schism which this prayer condemns. How different from the
mind of Christ, who said, "Whoever does the will of my Father who is in heaven,
the same is my brother, and sister, and mother." "There is one body, and one
Spirit, even as you were called in one hope of your calling; one Lord, one
faith, one baptism; One God and Father of all, who is over all, and through all,
and in all." This brotherhood in "Our Father" extends to the various conditions
of social life. Rich and poor, master and servant, prince and peasant, queen and
cottager, unite in one and the same confession, which should abate pride in the
lofty and envy in the low, and prompt us to "bear one another’s burdens." "This
shows how far the equality reaches between the king and the poor man, if in
things the greatest we all of us are fellows. No one has anything more than
another—neither the rich more than the poor master than servant—ruler than
subject—philosopher than barbarian—scholar than unlearned. For to all He has
given one nobility, having given to be called Father of all alike" (Chrysostom).
This is the only real equality, the true Christian Socialism; not a bringing
down of any, but a leveling up of all into the relationship of sons of God. The
writer can never forget the exclamation of a negro woman, amid a congregation of
recently emancipated slaves at Richmond, Virginia, to whom he had been preaching
from the words, "Let the brother of low degree rejoice in that he is
exalted"—"When I feel the love of God in my heart, I know I belong to the royal
family of heaven." This word "Our" embraces nations. "Have we not all one
Father? Has not one God created us?" The monopoly of the Fatherhood by the Jews
to the exclusion of the Gentiles, and the haughty disdain of the Greeks towards
barbarians, were grandly rebuked by Paul on Mars Hill, when he told the
Athenians that "God has made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell on all
the face of the earth." All nations! colored and white, are included in the
command to each member of the one brotherhood—"All things whatever you would
that men should do to you, do even so to them." How would the recognition of
this brotherhood influence the foreign policy of so-called Christian nations!
There is but one law for us as individuals and as communities. We do not cease
to be under the law of Christ when our responsibility is shared in a committee,
or a senate, or an executive government. As all the inhabitants of the globe,
however different their longitude, are lighted by the same sun in the course of
every twenty-four hours; so, all men who pray this prayer, though as regards
nationality, station and culture, they are opposites of each other, fix their
eyes upon the same Throne of Grace, and invoke the same Father. What a bond to
our otherwise dissevered humanity is this word "Our"! It ignores conventional
exclusiveness; overleaps sectarian barriers; disregards social distinctions;
knows nothing of crowns and coronets, titles and decorations; disdains the
boundaries of mountains and rivers; sets at nothing varieties of hue and
language; and sees only, springing from the one Fatherhood of God, the one
Brotherhood of man. Thus the gospel, by drawing all men to the Father, draws all
men to one another.

6. The MAJESTY of the Father—"in HEAVEN" The Heidelberg Catechism replies to the
question– Why is this added? ’In order that there may not be anything earthly in
our conception of the heavenly majesty of God.’ The word "heaven" is not to be
explained as referring to some definite locality to which Deity is confined. The
Infinite Spirit cannot be localized. "God is within all things, but is shut up
in nothing; outside all things, but excluded from nothing; beneath all things,
but not depressed under anything; above all things, but not lifted up out of the
reach of anything" (Augustine). "Do not I fill heaven and earth?" "Behold, the
heaven, and heaven of heavens, cannot contain You." But we may conceive of some
region where God is specially manifested. Christ’s ascended body is beheld and
worshiped by angels and saints. "Christ has entered into heaven itself, now to
appear in the presence of God for us," still revealing the Father. But we
severely miss the purpose of these words if we dwell on ideas of mere locality.
By this word we are taught that God is not a vague abstraction, or unknowable
force, but an actual Personality, existing somewhere, distinct from ourselves.
We look beyond this earth to the immeasurable regions above us. We soar beyond
the clouds and the blue sky; beyond the sun, the planets, and the stars; and we
believe that everywhere in that immensity is God our Father. His works we see,
but He is not His works. We are His creatures, but we are not God. Between Him
and ourselves there are personal and distinct relations. We are His creatures,
He is our Creator; we His children, He our Father; we on earth, He in heaven.
Agnosticism would ignore God; Pantheism confound Him with His works; Paganism
bring Him down from the boundless heaven and limit Him to this visible universe
as the God of the sun, moon, ocean, or dry land. But this word teaches that
while we address Him on earth, He is still in heaven. We need not despair of
finding Him because throned above—we need not wish to bring Him to earth and
detain Him here, in order at all times to approach Him. In the person of His Son
He satisfied the yearnings of the race that God should visit man; but in the
Resurrection and Ascension we worship the Incarnate One no longer in the cave of
the Nativity, nor on the cross of Calvary, but "on the right hand of the Majesty
on high." We look above ourselves for help, even to the sublimest heights of
Divine glory; without despairing on account of the vast distance, for though in
heaven, He is our Father, and we on earth can hold filial communion with Him.

1. The term "in heaven" is suggestive of Dignity—The measureless expanse helps
us to the conception of infinity. The beauty of the blue ether; the radiant
glory of the sun, the mild majesty of the moon, the varying splendors of the
countless stars—all impress the mind with admiration and awe. "Heaven is my
throne," "You have set Your glory above the heavens," and He is our Father!

2. Power—The resistless winds, the rolling clouds, the lightning’s flash and
thunder’s peal, the revolution of the heavenly bodies by forces so stupendous,
suggest Omnipotence. "The heavens declare the glory of God, the skies shows His
handiwork." "He meted out heaven with the span." "By His Spirit He has garnished
the heavens." "Can you hold back the movements of the stars? Are you able to
restrain the Pleiades or Orion? Can you ensure the proper sequence of the
seasons or guide the constellation of the Bear with her cubs across the
heavens?" Our Father is on the seat of supreme dominion; above all
circumstances, and can control them; stronger than all the forces of nature, and
can make them serve His fatherly will; mightier than the enemies of His
children; His love as Father moves the arm of Omnipotence. Earthly parents often
have the desire, but lack the ability to help their children. But our Father is
in heaven, and therefore "mighty to save."

3. Knowledge—Standing on a plain or in a valley, we see only a little way; but
as we climb a tower or a mountain, we extend our view. Still wider is our vision
if in an air-balloon we float through our lower heavens. So the idea of
knowledge is suggested by the word "heaven." "The Lord looked down from heaven
upon the children of men, to see if there were any who understand." We are
reminded that our Father, who is in heaven, sees and knows all things. He looks
through the eternity past and future. He sees the end from the beginning. He
knows the secret purposes of all men; all we are, do, need; and can never be
unmindful of one of His children, nor fail to listen to their cry, "for God sees
under the whole heaven."

4. Purity—The perfect clearness of the atmosphere above the region of the clouds
is a fit emblem of the character of God. "He covers Himself with light as with a
garment;" "dwelling in light which no man can approach." "God is light, and in
Him is no darkness at all." No thought of evil can taint His nature. None of the
moral imperfections which often deprive children of the help they need from
earthly parents, can for a moment overshadow Him whom angels adore, saying,
"Holy, holy, holy!"

5. Mystery—The measureless expanse of the heavens, the number and motions of the
stars, the phenomena of meteors and comets, the mysteries of wind and
weather—these suggest our ignorance in reference to other departments of the
Divine government. Order pervades the physical universe notwithstanding the
mystery; and so we are sure that though "clouds and darkness are round about"
our Father, yet "righteousness and judgment are the habitation of His throne."

"The ways of heaven are dark and intricate; Our understanding traces them in
vain, Lost and bewildered in the fruitless search, Nor sees with how much are
the windings run, Nor where the regular confusion ends." —Addison

6. Constancy—Whatever the mystery, order and regularity are conspicuous with
every advance of astronomical science. There is no hurrying and no delay. No
efforts of man can interfere with the working of those forces, so sublime both
in might and minuteness. And our Father is steadfast in His loving purposes.
Earthly parents may be swayed by current opinions, the influence of others,
their own caprice; they may become impatient, self-indulgent, or weary of
forgiving and assisting; but our Father, because He is in heaven, like the
unchanging stars, abides ever. "I the Lord change not, therefore you sons of
Jacob are not consumed." Earthly parents die—but "when my father and my mother
forsake me, then the Lord will take me up." "Our fathers, where are they?"—but
"the Lord lives;" for He is our "Father in heaven."

7. Nearness—However distant the utmost limit of the heavens, we are at their
very threshold. Our littleness always touches the infinite that reaches beyond
the stars. We feel its influences, we see its light. And this is the same in
every part of the globe. And so we are taught that if God is in the heavens, He
is always near to us, and we to Him, and all mankind to Him, and therefore to
one another in Him; and so we again are reminded of our Brotherhood in the
Fatherhood. Every tiny dewdrop sparkles with the sun’s own light, and in its
smaller sphere reflects the whole circle of the sky, and brings heaven down to
earth–

"And the clear region where ’twas born, Round in itself encloses And in its
little globe’s extent, Frames, as it can, its native element." —Andrew Marvel So
each individual soul may appropriate the blessings of this heavenly
relationship, and shine in the light of its native Home and Father, God. He is
reflected in every filial heart. And as the dewdrop equally portrays the
heavens, whether radiant from wayside hedge or castle-slope, so, wherever we may
be and whatever our earthly station, we may shine in the light of God and
rejoice in "heaven begun below."

VII. PRACTICAL LESSONS—

1. Filial Confidence—We should absolutely rely on the representation He gives of
Himself. Bible names express qualities—they are descriptions, not mere
designations. As "Jehovah" means the Self-existent; and "Jesus" means Savior; so
"Father" is an assurance of what God actually is. He who cannot lie will prove
Himself to be all He thus expresses, more than all we can conceive. May we not
therefore "come with boldness to the throne of grace," when He who sits there is
"Our Father"? As "Our Father" He must desire to give us all that is good for us,
and being "in heaven" He is able to fulfill all the yearnings of His fatherly
heart. To those who can in faith say "Father," the Apostle says "All things are
yours." "What will not the Father give to sons seeking Him, who has already
bestowed this—that they are His sons!" (Augustine). Never should we doubt the
love that prompts, the power that executes, or the wisdom that directs.

It is related of three little children, that during a thunderstorm they were
asked each to choose a favorite text. One selected "The Lord of glory thunders,"
and being asked her reason, said, "I once heard a great noise when I thought I
was all alone in the house; and I was so frightened, I screamed, and father’s
voice called out, Don’t be afraid, little Margie, it’s only father. And now when
it thunders very loud, it always seems as if I heard God say, ’Don’t be afraid,
little Margie, it’s only Father;’ and I don’t feel a bit frightened." With
confidence a loving child tells everything to a loving parent. A secret is a
burden until revealed. Joys and sorrows are alike poured forth to listening
love. Does some unexpected pleasure present itself, the child says, "I must tell
father!" Does some danger threaten or is pain felt, the ready instinct is at
once to tell father. He will soothe the pain, protect from the peril, explain
the difficulty, rejoice in the joy. "God’s children in all their troubles should
run to their heavenly Father as that sick child who cried, ’My head! my head!’
So pour out your problems to God—’Father! my heart! my heart! my dead
heart—quicken it! my hard heart—soften it in Christ’s blood! Father, my heart!
my heart!’" (Watson). So let us confide in God. Let our filial trust respond to
His paternal love. O for more of the childlike communion which He invites! O for
more simplicity in prayer; more habitual, trustful, happy, all-embracing,
nothing-withholding outpour of the heart as to "Our Father"!

Let us not fear that such communion will be reproved. If an earthly father loves
such signs of filial affection, He who has given us the Spirit of adoption will
never be deaf to this appeal—Father! There are times when it is the only word we
are able to utter. When we are unable to define what we feel, and can only say
"Father!" we utter a word He never fails to hear. There may be more real prayer
in that one word than in a whole liturgy. No imperfection in method will nullify
its efficacy. An earthly parent never refuses the letter that breathes affection
because blotted or misspelled. What blottings are there in our holy things! Yet
our Father in heaven accepts us. Says God, ’He is my child; and he will do
better.’ A prince might stand on ceremony and reject the petition incorrectly
drawn up, but no child of God need fear that the imperfections of sincere
appeals will ever hinder their entrance to the Father’s heart. No words can
adequately set forth the blessedness of those who can thus, however poor, call
on God. They have a wealth beyond earth’s arithmetic, who look up from humblest
hovel or stony pillow and say, My Father! However sick, theirs is a solace
beyond all that medical skill or tenderest nursing or boundless treasures can
furnish. However unknown in the world, theirs is an honor no earthly prince
could confer, in the luster of which all the splendors of royalty pale. How
paltry are the prizes some spend their lives and wear away their hearts to win,
compared with the real nobility, the deep abiding peace of the humblest of those
who can say, "Our Father in heaven." Does my cup flow over with gladness? I know
who fills it—nor less when it is filled with woe. Amid the roaring of the winds
and waves I hear Him say, "My child," and I respond and say, "My Father!" no
less than when there is a great calm. His reproofs are blessings. His blows are
boons. His withholdings are conferrings. He delays only to augment. He
impoverishes to enrich.

2. Reverence—If the word "Father" gives confidence—the word "In Heaven" teaches
reverence. "O come let us worship and bow down, let us kneel before the Lord our
Maker." The unfallen angels who need not say, "Forgive us," veil their faces
before Him. The Elders in the Revelation "fall down before Him who sits on the
throne." Sinners on earth, though privileged to call Him "Father," should not be
less reverential. Those who are learning more and more of the meaning of this
word, become increasingly humble thereby. It is only in such hearts that the
voice of God is heard—it is only in such children that the Father dwells. For
thus says the high and lofty One who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy: "I
dwell in the high and holy place; but also with him also who is of a contrite
and humble spirit." Isaiah 57:15. How astonishing that God has two
homes—"Eternity" and the contrite, humble heart! The highest heaven is the
habitation of His glory! The humble heart is the habitation of His grace! And
this reverence is not in spite of the confidence, but is caused by it. Instead
of saying, "Notwithstanding our privileges," we say, "In consequence of them."
The more intimate we become with some person of eminent wisdom and goodness, the
more we respect as well as love him; the more by nearness we are able to detect
faults, the more we become impressed with the absence of them. Familiarity,
instead of breeding contempt, increases reverence. It was said of Augustus, that
those who feared him, did not know his goodness; nor those who presumed, his
power. But goodness itself, even more than power, often produces reverence. Some
earthly parents are so tender and sympathetic, making such allowance for the
weakness and ignorance of their children—that the children have no hesitation in
coming to them on all occasions and opening their inmost hearts. This closeness
of intimacy so reveals the character of those parents, that with the tenderest
love there grows an ever-deepening reverence, so that any omission of dutiful
respect would be almost an impossibility. So will it be with the children of
God. When our Lord encouraged Thomas to handle Him and see, this condescension
called forth the adoring homage—"My Lord, and my God." The beloved disciple who
was permitted to lean on the Savior’s bosom was more than all the rest imbued
with a sense of His Divine majesty, and left an enduring record of the homage He
receives in heaven. Paul rejoiced in saying, "Abba, Father," but He said, "I bow
my knees unto the Father, of whom the whole family in earth and heaven is
named."

3. Gratitude—"Behold what manner of love the Father has bestowed upon us, that
we should be called the sons of God!" We "love Him, because He first loved us."
The reason why we should "love the Lord our God with all our heart," is this—He
is our "Father." Thanks be to God for His unspeakable gift—even Himself! What
gratitude should be ours to Him who, having given Himself, will surely give us
all things else!

4. Resemblance—A child often reminds us of its parents by its features, manner
and tone of voice. So we should be "Followers (imitators) of God as dear
children." Much of a child’s obedience is spontaneous. He naturally conforms to
the wishes of the parent, the customs of the home. And the more we cultivate
filial communion with our Heavenly Father, breathe the atmosphere of His
Presence and listen to His voice, the less shall we be alive to external and
contrary influences; the more we shall reflect His image, echo His words, think
His thoughts, and, as children, become "partakers of the Divine Nature." We are
to be "perfect, even as our Father who is in heaven is perfect," by imitating
the broad beneficence of Him who "makes His sun to shine on the evil and on the
good." We are to be peacemakers, and so obtain the fulfillment of the
promise—"They shall be called the children of God." We should "walk worthy of
the vocation with which we are called." We should, as children of a king, not
degrade ourselves by stooping to anything unbecoming our high birth. Is our
Father in heaven? We should set our affections on things above. Does He dwell in
the light that no man can approach? Let us "walk as children of light." From His
lofty throne does He behold every child of His? Let us "do always those things
which are well-pleasing in His sight."

5. Assurance—These filial characteristics constitute the only valid evidence of
sharing the filial relationship. John said—"Let no man lead you astray—he who
does righteousness is righteous, even as He is righteous." So we may say, "He
who feels and acts as a child of God is a child of God, even as He is Father to
such children." "The Spirit Himself bears witness with our spirit that we are
the children of God." This cannot be a mere persuasion of our own minds. It is
fanaticism to think all is right, while the life shows all is wrong. There are
here two witnesses—the Holy Spirit and our own spirit, and these concur. They
testify that we are children of God. But the Spirit so witnessing is "the Spirit
of adoption." "You received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba,
Father." Father! dear Father! the repetition of the name expressing tenderness
of affection. Do we thus cry to God? Do we in penitence say, "I will go to my
Father"? Do we in submission say, "My Father, Your will be done!"? And is it our
desire to do His will? If so, we do cry, "Abba, Father"—"dear Father!" This is
our own spirit thus crying out; but it is inspired by the Divine Spirit who is
the Spirit of adoption, producing such a temper of mind. Our own spirit
expressing sonship, responds to Him who is the Spirit of sonship, and who thus
testifies within us that we are the children of God; not that we shall become
so, but that we are so now. We need not wish to read our names in the Lamb’s
book of life; if "Abba, Father," is written on our hearts, that is the seal of
the Spirit testifying that "Now are we the sons of God," because now, actually,
we think of Him, and feel and act in reference to Him as to "Our Father."

6. Hope—This assurance awakens in us those hopes which the sons of God may
reasonably cherish. "If children, then heirs—heirs of God and joint-heirs with
Christ." Children naturally claim what is their father’s. They speak without
presumption of his property as their own—"our garden," "our carriage," "our
house;" and if God is our Father, there is a sure sense in which all that is His
belongs to every child of His. Every one of them, however poor, is thus
possessor of the universe, and may say, "All things are mine." His are the
mountains, and the valleys his, And the resplendent rivers. His to enjoy With a
propriety that none can feel, But who, with filial confidence inspired, Can lift
to heaven an unpresumptuous eye, And smiling say, ’My Father made them all!’
—Cowper

Therefore the heaven where his Father dwells, is his also. Jesus said—"In my
Father’s house are many mansions; I go to prepare a place for you—where I am,
there you shall be also." Amid the toils and trials of the way, let us be
encouraged by thinking of the repose, safety, purity and joy of that heaven
toward which its God, our Father, is guiding us. Jesus said "I go to my Father
and your Father." If He is ours, we also shall go to Him, and we are sure that
"in His presence there is fullness of joy, and at His right hand there are
pleasures for evermore."

7. Prayerfulness—In the new Law Courts in London there is a grand central hall
out of which, all around, are entrances to the chambers where lawsuits of
various descriptions are tried. And so, having entered into the meaning of this
appeal, "Our Father who is in heaven," we are provided with free access in the
presentation of every petition! To fix the mind on God as our Father, and in
heaven, is the best remedy for wandering thoughts and depressing doubts. We may
well pray that such a Name may be hallowed; that the kingdom of such a Monarch
may come; that the will of such a Father may be done; we may with confidence ask
daily bread, and forgiveness, and help in temptation, and deliverance from evil,
at the hands of a God who has taught us to call Him "Father." "This is the
golden thread on which all the precious fruits are strung" (Saphir). This is the
key to every door in the prayer. This is everywhere a ladder up which our
petitions may climb to the highest heaven. We can always scale the skies with
this one word—"Father"! The whole prayer is condensed in the first invocation
and bears its name—the "Our Father." This is a word easily uttered, but never
fully known. "The ’Our Father’ is not, as some fancy, the easiest, the most
natural of all devout utterances. It may be committed to memory quickly, but it
is slowly learned in the heart" (Maurice). How deep its significance! How it
enfolds all the promises! It is the very gospel itself—and means pardon,
reconciliation, favor, holiness, blessedness, heaven! What encouragement is here
held out to every sinner! If God shows us in the light of His love how great our
sin must be—His being a Father encourages us to seek forgiveness. We have not to
think about ’inducing’ Him to be kind. He has not to be turned from being an
angry Ruler into a gracious Father. He is this already! As such He is calling us
home. "Before you call I will answer." However far we have wandered, if only we
desire to come back—"Thus says the Lord, I have heard your prayer, I have seen
your tears." "Christ says, When you pray—when you first begin to pray—when the
thought first comes to you, I am not happy, I am not at peace, I am far from
home—say, at once, without waiting for fitness—without raising the question of a
satisfactory repentance—without investigating your evidences whether of
Christian faith or godly sorrow—begin by saying—’Father,’ begin by going
straight home" (Vaughan).

Return by the one and only way, Christ Jesus, who taught this prayer, died for
our sins, and "makes intercession for the transgressors." Our response, "Abba,
Father"—brings us home! Do we seem to dwell in the black shadow of His
displeasure? It rests only on the region of alienation—let us leave it by
returning to God—and we are at once in the sunshine! Do we dread the thunderbolt
of justice? let us come nearer to Him who holds it—He will cast it away, and
hold out the golden scepter of mercy! No one desiring to live as a child of God
need despair while this word "Father" is inscribed on His throne. No love is so
comprehensive, tender, enduring. He is in heaven, and "as the heaven is high
above the earth—so great is His mercy toward them that fear Him."

"There is no place where earth’s sorrows Are so felt as up in Heaven There is no
place where earth’s failings Have such kindly judgment given. Oh, if our love
were but more simple, We should take Him at His word; And our lives should be
all sunshine, In the sweetness of our Lord." —Faber


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  CHAPTER 44: 02.02.     THE FIRST PETITION—
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The First Petition—

"Hallowed Be Your Name."

I. The PLACE of this petition— At first sight it seems strange that we commence
our supplications with a prayer for God the All-sufficient, instead of for
ourselves the all-dependent. It would be most natural to begin by asking for the
supply of some of our most pressing needs. Feeling our need of food to maintain
animal life, our first prayer would be—"Give us bread." When conscious of
guilt—a still more urgent need would be pardon. Yet we are taught to defer all
petitions for ourselves until we have prayed to God for himself—"Hallowed be
Your Name." Man’s worship has been uniformly characterized by selfishness. We
come to God either to thank Him for benefits received—or to ask more—food,
clothing, health, safety, comfort. Like Jacob, we stipulate for "food to eat and
clothing to put on." This is seen not only in the votaries of false systems, but
in the majority of the prayers of professed Christians. By this ’order’ in our
petitions we are taught that the glory of God should have the highest place! We
are not required to desire His glory in opposition to our own welfare. God is
Love, and His highest glory is the good of His creatures. Nor are we taught to
be indifferent to what is subordinate. We cannot be so if we try. In a warfare
against ’bodily needs’—success, if not a mere sham, would be only temporary,
because won by repression of God’s own work in us. We do not hallow His Name if
we ignore the nature He has given us. He does not ignore it Himself. "Your
Heavenly Father knows that you have need of all these things," and therefore we
are divinely taught to pray for daily bread. Nor is it to be understood that no
prayer is acceptable which the heart does not present in this order. Our Father
has children of every age. He listens to the infant’s cry as well as to the
full-toned voices of those who already offer worship in harmony with that of
cherubim before the throne. If "He hears the ravens," will He not listen when
His hungry children say, "Give us bread"? and when returning prodigals can only
pray, "Forgive us our trespasses"? But such prodigals, when at home again,
grateful and glad, soon learn to say, "Father! hallowed be Your Name!" This will
now be their chief desire. They do not cease to feel their dependence for daily
bread because at home, nor their need of pardon—they are more conscious of this
than ever. But above all this is their delight in God, who not only gives both
bread and pardon—but, as they now see, has given Himself—so that they rejoice in
the Giver more than in His gifts, and seek His glory above their personal good.

"O bounteous Giver of all good, You are, of all Your gifts, Yourself the Crown.
Give what You can—without You we are poor, And with You rich—take what You will
away." —Cowper When very young, the child first of all asks food and protection.
But as it grows in enlightened love, and in the fullest sense honors father and
mother, the highest desire of such a filial heart is not benefits to be
obtained—but honor to be rendered. "Let my parents’ interests be promoted, their
character esteemed, their reputation vindicated. I am identified with them. Let
them be honored first—then, and not apart from this, care I to ask from them any
benefit to myself." This is the true sentiment of even earthly sonship. And so
it must be with those whom the Spirit of adoption enables to cry, "Abba,
Father." As His child I glory in His greatness. O let that greatness be known
and honored. "Make mention that His Name is exalted." In calling Himself my
Father, He has guaranteed to me all things. I need not hurry to bring petitions
for myself to Him who, as Father, cares for His children. The more He is
glorified, the more my best desires are gratified. This will give me greatest
confidence when I pray for myself, and make me willing to be denied my personal
requests; for such denial will be for His glory, and therefore for my good.
"Father, hallowed be Your Name."

It may be said that such a prayer is unsuited for "babes in Christ." But are not
many lessons given to a scholar which cannot be fully understood at once? Are
not objects presented to the eye of the infant which a whole life of study will
not enable him fully to appreciate? The first book of Euclid contains principles
capable of being developed in a way which the boy cannot even conjecture; yet,
up to his capacity, he can study and delight in that which, to a mature
mathematician, furnishes methods for measuring the heavens. The very words we
employ in our simplest talk, and which are familiar to baby lips, have meanings
which will gradually shine with clearer and intenser light. Yet those words must
be used, though imperfectly understood. Thus our Divine Teacher has given us a
perfect model, and though we imperfectly apprehend it, we may always be
approaching nearer towards it.

What are our most advanced attainments here, compared with those we hope for?
The very A B C’s of the Christian religion contains mysteries at which we now
can only guess. Words are familiar to our lips whose hidden meanings we have
never imagined. We speak—we understand as children—we know but in part. Yet we
should not lose the imperfect vision because it comes so far short of the full
perception when "we shall see face to face." Our Lord gave His infant Church and
gives each infant disciple a lesson by which the very feeblest may profit, but
which will present to expanding knowledge and increasing holiness ever new
incentives to effort, and new treasures for enjoyment. The words grow to our
apprehension with our own growth in grace, so that although as children we
chiefly asked for daily bread, when "of full age" our desires go with our words
when we give precedence to the petition, "Hallowed be Your Name." This
precedence harmonizes with the older Revelation. As "the first and great
commandment" was to love the Lord God with all the heart, so the first and great
petition is that the Name of God may be hallowed. As that commandment embraced
all the rest, for "love is the fulfilling of the law;" so the hallowing the Name
of God involves the coming of His kingdom in our hearts and the doing of His
will; it involves also trust for bread, pardon, and deliverance from evil. A
citizen of an earthly State cannot be secure apart from the security of the
government—and that cannot be secure unless held in honor. True devotion and
filial love desire first the Divine glory—but this is also the highest prudence,
though when offering such homage we are not thinking of this. Nor would these
suffice—God alone can satisfy man. The world with all its vast resources was
made for man; but man was made for God, in whose image He was created. The soul
is a wanderer until it finds its true home with its Father. Then it possesses
all the resources and security of home. To hallow the Name of God as Father, is
to possess Him who feeds, forgives, and saves! If the fountain is in honor, the
streams cannot fail. If God is ours, "all things are ours." If we "seek first
the kingdom of God and His righteousness," He who gave us this prayer assures us
that "all these things shall be added to us." The place of this petition being
thus—so unlike what unassisted human reason would have given it, and yet so
suited to the revelation of God as Father, and so advantageous to ourselves, is
one evidence of Divine authorship. Such a prayer Paganism never offered nor
Philosophy suggested. It is "The Lord’s Prayer."

II. The MEANING of the petition— A name enables us to know an object. It may be
simply a designation; it may be also a description. Bible names, especially
those denoting Deity, are chiefly ’descriptive’. The Name in this prayer which
we ask may be hallowed, is "Father." The infinitely Holy One cannot be made more
holy. We pray that what is revealed of Him may be better known, and that the
Name embodying such revelation may be more reverenced. We add no honor to His
intrinsic excellence—but we may add to the honor we cherish towards Him, and may
pray that this rendering "the honor due to His Name" may become universal.

God blesses us by increasing our bliss—we bless God by acknowledging perfections
which are incapable of increase. "He blesses us really, as the Giver of
blessedness itself; and our blessing Him is no other than the acknowledgment of
this. He sanctifies us by His Spirit, and we sanctify His Name when we
acknowledge that He is holy" (Leighton). The meaning of the prayer is—that God
would so order events in His Providence, and would so influence the minds of men
by His Spirit, that His Nature as revealed in His Name may be universally known
and revered. The truths contained in this name "Father" had already been dimly
revealed. When Moses said, "I beseech You, show me Your glory," we read that
"the Lord proclaimed the Name of the Lord—The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and
gracious, patient and abundant in goodness and truth, keeping mercy for
thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, and who will by no
means clear the guilty." In this Name are embodied righteousness that requires
obedience to a holy law; and mercy to forgive all who repent. So in the Name
prefixed to the prayer. "In HEAVEN" tells of purity, law, power, purpose, to
maintain righteousness—while "FATHER" tells of mercy not only to pardon rebels,
but to receive them as children. If "Our Father in Heaven" is the Name which it
was the great purpose of the Son to proclaim, no petition can be more important
than the one which seeks that this Name may be understood and adored. The Name
of God was proclaimed by all the works of creation, was hallowed at Sinai, in
the Temple worship, by the lips of prophets, but chiefly by the Advent of Him
who, as the "Word," came specially to reveal it. He said, "I am come in my
Father’s Name;" and "I have manifested Your Name." He was Himself "God manifest
in the flesh," and His whole life was a portraiture of the Invisible God. The
better we comprehend His combined purity and gentleness, holiness and
compassion, the better we understand the meaning of His Name. He said, "He who
has seen Me has seen the Father." Jesus is Himself the exponent of the Name of
God.

"O unexampled love, Love nowhere to be found, less than Divine! Hail, Son of
God! Savior of men! Your Name shall be the copious matter of my song henceforth;
and never shall my harp Your praise Forget, nor from Your Father’s praise
disjoin."—Milton III. What is INVOLVED in this petition—

1. Honor to JESUS as revealing the Name of the Father. We read the Name of
Father in the light thrown on it by Christ, both in His words and in His life.
We would not have known the Fatherhood in its fullness of glory if Jesus had not
revealed it. "The only-begotten Son, who is in the bosom of the Father, He has
revealed Him." "God has shined in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge
of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ." If then we would hallow the
Name of the Father, we must hallow the Name of the Son as interpreting it.

It has often been asked what there is in a name. A name has established a
throne, maintained a dynasty, roused a nation’s enthusiasm, turned the tide of
battle, convulsed a continent, dictated a history. A name has been the charm of
a life that would otherwise have been dark and dreary; it has roused to noble
exertion, it has given perseverance in toil, courage in peril, solace in sorrow,
and comfort in death. The name of the lover, husband, wife, how it has thrilled
human hearts! The name of the brother, sister, friend, what a charm it has been!
In those pliable first-times of childhood, what is the whole world compared with
the name of "Father," "Mother"! and how deep and abiding its influence through
all the after-life! And when the soul is new-born, and by faith becomes a
partaker in the salvation of the Son of God; when the eye that was blind first
beholds the Redeemer, and the ear that was deaf first listens to His voice, how
precious becomes the Name of Jesus! The heart is then again "infantine;" the
Name thrills to its center, and the seed-grain ceases not to grow until it
becomes a great tree which overshadows, beautifies, enriches, gladdens the whole
life.

"Whatever" the believer does, "in word or deed," he does "all in the Name of the
Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him." With this Name on his
lips he approaches the throne of grace, relying on the promise—"Whatever you
shall ask in my Name, that will I do." In every assembly of Christians, at any
time or place, it assures him of the real presence of his Lord, who said—"Where
two or three are gathered together in my Name, there am I in the midst of them."
If "reproached for the Name of Christ," "happy" is he. This Name he publishes to
the heathen abroad; with this Name he goes to the bedside of a dying sinner;
this alone he utters as the symbol of salvation for prince or peasant, for
philosopher or little child, because "there is no other Name under heaven
whereby we must be saved." It is in and by this Name that the kingdom of God
will come and the will of God be done on earth as in heaven, because "God highly
exalted Him, and gave to Him the Name which is above every name, that in the
Name of Jesus every knee should bow, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ
is Lord, to the glory of God the Father."

Thus the Name of the Father becomes hallowed to us by the Name of Jesus, through
whom alone we know, approach and love Him. The joy of sonship is experienced by
those alone to whom the Name of Jesus is thus dear. The multitudes of believers
whose hearts have thrilled while their blended voices have celebrated this Name,
have ever felt that in thus "confessing Christ as Lord" they were singing to the
glory of God the Father!

"Your mighty Name salvation is, And keeps my happy soul above; Comfort it
brings, and power and peace, And joy and everlasting love. To me, with Your dear
Name are given Pardon and holiness and heaven." —C. Wesley

2. Appropriate THOUGHTS of God. We pray that He may be known as being all that
is implied in the Name—that all false notions of Him which have lured men to
wickedness or driven them to despair, may give place to the understanding of the
Name which represents Him to be the righteous Ruler and the tender Father in
One—that so the true Light, the Divine Revealer of God, may enlighten the
world—showing all men that they may take refuge in the Fatherhood of
God—inviting all men to come home to the enjoyment of His love—and in hallowing
the Name of the one Father, become united to each other as brethren.

3. Suitable EMOTIONS towards God. We pray that the truths implied in the Name
may be actually experienced; that as Father He may be trusted and loved; that as
Heavenly He may be worshiped and obeyed; that as Holy He may be admired and
imitated; that instead of wishing His purity debased "to suit our sinfulness, we
may be lifted up into the region of that purity; that all men may acknowledge
His kingdom and obey His will; that we who offer the petition may be more
profoundly impressed with the majesty, holiness and love of God; that we may bow
with reverence before His Infinite Glory, and cultivate a more reverential
trust, a more unquestioning obedience.

"Let knowledge grow from more to more, But more of reverence in us dwell; That
mind and soul, according well, May make one music as before, But vaster. We are
fools and slight; We mock You when we do not fear; But help Your foolish ones to
bear, Help Your vain worlds to bear Your light."—Tennyson

4. REVERENTIAL use of the Name. This petition has sometimes been limited to a
narrow literalism. It condemns much more than profane language. Whenever we
introduce the Divine Name in our speech uselessly and triflingly; when we employ
it to turn a sentence or give emphasis to a statement or point to an anecdote;
when we make the Divine Word the subject-matter of joke, punning on solemn
truths of Revelation, and quoting Scripture with ludicrous adaptations to
provoke mirth; thus—and even when we take this great Name on our lips in worship
without any endeavor to feel the homage it demands—we violate the spirit of the
prayer.

5. CONFESSION of the Name. Do not the people of God sometimes use it too little?
When we express our joy in health, the comforts of life, the beauties of Nature,
might we not hallow the Name by a grateful recognition? If we would not remain
silent in case an earthly parent were spoken of with contempt, should we by
silence seem to consent when the Name of our Heavenly Father is dishonored? In
public profession of discipleship we should hallow the Name. God has a chosen
family who are called by the Name of His Son. They have "come out from the
world," and are "a chosen generation, a peculiar (purchased) people." They are
named after their Father—"In whom the whole family in earth and heaven is
named." Everyone who really and openly joins this family helps to hallow the
Name before the world. The Church is God’s great instrument for hallowing His
Name. Those who believe are to "confess with their mouth the Lord Jesus." The
question is not of belonging, by any special method, to some special
denomination, but of confessing Christ in any society of believers, and so
becoming an avowed member of the Church Universal. Those who shrink from this
and ostensibly remain outside the fold, surely fail, in this respect, to hallow
the Name. In other times such confession cost liberty and life. The martyrs who,
rather than cast a little salt on the pagan altar, were thrown to the lions or
roasted at the stake, hallowed the Name in the presence of all who witnessed or
heard of their sufferings. In our own time, among heathen converts, tender women
and mere boys and girls have gone to death singing the praises of the Name—and
by so hallowing it did more than by their lives to make it revered. Surely none
who sincerely offer this prayer should withhold a confession of Christ under the
plea of being "secret disciples."

6. Private and public WORSHIP of the Name. We hallow it in our own chamber when
we "pray to our Father who is in secret"—in domestic worship when we acknowledge
Him as the Guardian and Sanctifier of the home—in public worship when we
assemble and meet together to render thanks for the great benefits that we have
received at His hands, and to set forth His most worthy praise. Too often this
purpose in worship is forgotten. We go to witness a ceremony, to enjoy music, to
hear a sermon. Perhaps we excuse ourselves from attendance because of the "dull
service," the "bad singing," the "poor preaching." It is desirable that there
should never be occasion for such complaints. But we should not forget that
public worship is for the honor of God as well as for our own benefit—and that
in seeking the former we are sure to gain the latter. Whether or not the ear may
be charmed by harmony or the intellect by eloquence—even though our devotional
taste may be offended—we should not forget that we go to worship—to testify to
an unbelieving world that we "believe in God the Father Almighty and in Jesus
Christ His only Son our Lord"—and that in such union with fellow-believers we
hallow the sacred Name.

If we bear this in mind we shall not be indifferent to the outward expression of
reverence. If, when invited to the house of one held in great honor, we take
pains to be punctual, surely we should not by late arrival, and thus disturbing
others, let it be supposed we are less respectful towards God. Prayer may ascend
to Him as surely when we are walking by the way, sitting at our table, lying on
our bed, as when prostrate in adoration; but when an attitude of reverence,
being possible, is omitted, the effect may be injurious both on ourselves and
others. There are few whose piety is of so exalted a nature, that when they
"enter their closet and shut the door" to pray, they can feel as devout while
lolling in an easy-chair, as when, like Daniel, kneeling on their knees. Such
worship will be likely to degenerate into lazy rumination, and then the pretense
may as well be given up. We are in danger of ceasing to hallow the Name in our
hearts when we disregard all outward expressions of reverence. And in public,
the effect on others will be equally injurious. A stranger looking on when a
congregation are uniting in worship will be impressed in proportion as the
sincerity of the heart is shown in outward expression. If the demeanor of the
worshipers is such as they would not dream of showing when addressing any
fellow-creature of rank above their own, or even when addressing one another;
if, while prayer or praise is being offered to God, they are looking about or
lounging on their seats, though it is possible the heart may be devout in the
sight of God—yet men cannot know it, and therefore cannot be impressed, as they
otherwise might be, by the honor paid to God.

’Tongues’ in the church of Corinth, though a miraculous gift, were, as the
apostle taught, worthless without interpretation. And so, if reverence is not
interpreted in demeanor, strangers cannot be favorably influenced, and God’s
Name is not hallowed in their minds. But if "the whole church be comes together
into one place, and all prophesy," or teach by evident signs of reverence, "and
there comes in one unlearned or unbelieving, he is reproved by all, he is judged
by all—the secrets of his heart are made manifest," and, impressed by the
evident earnestness of the worshipers, he may be himself led to reverence the
Name, "and so he will fall down on his face and worship God, declaring that God
is among you indeed."

7. Observance of special INSTITUTIONS. Baptism is ordained "in the Name of the
Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit." Whatever the view taken of the
mode or the subjects, the ordinance itself should be honored; nor is
superstitious abuse any excuse for neglecting thus to hallow "the Name" of the
Triune God. Still more important is this consideration in regard to the "Lord’s
Supper," which is enjoined for our frequent observance. In this service we meet
in the Name of its Founder; and "we show forth His death until He comes."
Besides all the spiritual good we may receive, we should observe this Sacrament
as the most solemn of all methods of hallowing the Name. The Sabbath is
emphatically "the Lord’s day." We need not plead for Jewish interpretations, and
bind heavy burdens on those to whom the gospel has brought freedom. "The Sabbath
was made for man, and not man for the Sabbath." But it was made for man—for man
therein to hallow the Name. It is the day of the Lord’s resurrection, and so of
the believer’s hope. From the first, His followers have met on this day to
worship Him. The observance of this day is one great mark of Christian
profession. The world ignores it except for pleasure—and denies its sacredness.
Let those who offer this prayer observe it as linked with the Name they
adore—let their children, domestics, workpeople, friends and neighbors know
that, without dictating to others, they, as Christians, hallow it—and so hallow
the Name it bears.

8. SUBJECTION to the Name. "Let everyone who names the Name of Christ depart
from iniquity." Otherwise we practically show that we ourselves do not reverence
it, and thus hinder others from doing so. But when unbelievers see men of like
passions with themselves, living holy lives in the midst of temptations to sin,
they may consider that there must be some fountain above the world, to account
for these streams. Purity amid allurements to vice—temperance amid incentives to
excess—patience under provocation—persevering kindness to the ungrateful or
hostile—blessings given in exchange for curses, and boons for blows—resignation
amid grievous sorrows—self-sacrificing labors for others—such fruits of
godliness have often induced the careless and even the profane to reverence the
Name in which such features of character have been exhibited and such works of
benevolence have been done. As the Jewish rulers, "beholding the man who was
healed standing with them, could say nothing against it," so moral cures of the
spiritually diseased have been the most convincing arguments in favor of the
Name in which they are wrought. "Many believed on Him when they saw the miracles
which He did." The writer recently heard a missionary relate how a notoriously
wicked Chinese man had been converted by the simple message of the gospel. From
being infamous for every kind of wickedness, he became a consistent Christian.
After some months’ instruction and oversight, he went, by his own desire, to his
native village. So marvelous was the change in his disposition and conduct, that
many of his former acquaintances took a journey to the mission-station to
investigate the cause, and the result was the conversion of nearly the whole of
that village. In every land, men turned from the power of Satan to God are
living evidences of the might of the Name. Opponents, loud in logical
disputation, are hushed when they "behold the man who was healed." When
believers are "living epistles of Christ, known and read of all men," all men
are the more likely to revere Him whose epistles they profess to be, and the
more rapid is the advance of the day when "in the Name of Jesus every knee shall
bow."

9. Making known the Name. If we sincerely ask God to cause the Name to be
hallowed, we profess that we are willing to exert ourselves in the use of means
for that purpose. But how shall men hallow a Name of which "they have not heard,
and how shall they hear without a preacher?"

It is a prayer that atheists may bow before the Creator—that pagans may worship
the true God—that the superstitious may without terror adore the Father—that all
who are living in practical ungodliness may respond to His love and revere His
name. The Macedonians are said to have carried round in procession, once a year,
a jeweled picture of Alexander, that the beholders might be reminded of his
fame. So in this petition let us every day be reminded of the power, holiness,
love, of our Father in heaven; that we ourselves may adore Him, and that others
may become illustrations of the promise, "From the rising of the sun even to the
going down of the same, my Name is great among the Gentiles."

IV. REASONS for offering this petition—

1. The welfare of the world—The character of a nation must be influenced by that
of the God they worship, even more than by that of the men they honor. A people
bestowing their chief admiration on warriors—will be warlike; on
philanthropists—will be philanthropic. This will especially be the case in
connection with the highest of all honors, Divine worship. Pagans have always
reflected the character of their gods by cruelty, lust, revenge. If the only
true God, revealed to us as our Father in heaven, is known as He really is, in
that proportion will the world which hallows His Name become righteous, pure,
and merciful.

2. For the good of ourselves—In a still greater degree this effect will be
produced on those who offer the prayer. If I habitually ask that God’s Name may
be hallowed, His attributes of holiness and love are constantly before me, and
must influence me. "As a man thinks in his heart, so is he." Living in the light
of God by habitually praying that His Name may be hallowed, we must ourselves
reflect that light. "We, reflecting as a mirror the glory of the Lord—are
transformed into the same image, from glory to glory, even as from the Lord the
Spirit." This will promote happiness. There is no joy more pure and profound
than that which is produced by the revelation of God to the soul. "Your Name is
like ointment poured forth." "Let those who love Your Name be joyful in You." To
know God as our Father is salvation. We may well wrestle in prayer "until the
breaking of the day" to obtain it. A holy boldness is amply justified when we
ask, "Tell me, I pray, Your Name. I will not let You go except You bless me." We
are blessed indeed when this Name is revealed by the Holy Spirit. Any place, any
occasion of such manifestation we may designate Peniel, "for we have seen God
face to face." Then indeed the night-shadows flee, the day breaks, and we may go
on our way rejoicing as we sing:

"The Sun of Righteousness on me Has risen with healing in His wings; Withered my
nature’s strength; from Thee My soul its life and support brings; My help is all
laid up above; Your nature and Your Name is Love."—Wesley

"The chief end of man is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever." The glorifying
and the enjoying are inseparable both now and hereafter. The more we place God
first in thought and aim, the greater will be our happiness. No one ever found
it in seeking it as a direct object. A resolution to be happy on any one day is
almost sure to defeat its purpose. We are most happy when we lose sight of
self—in cherishing some lofty idea, in pursuing some worthy object, in promoting
the honor, welfare, and happiness of others. There can be no higher aim in life
than hallowing the Name of God. The apostles, when scourged, "rejoiced that they
were counted worthy to suffer for His Name." They were thus followers of Him who
was the supreme example of the prayer He taught. Amid deep mental anguish and
the anticipation of the crushing agony, He thus prayed—"What shall I say?
Father, save me from this hour? but for this cause came I unto this hour.
Father, glorify Your Name." This was His Consolation—"I have glorified You on
the earth."

Let this sublime desire possess the soul, and a thousand petty cares about
ourselves will vanish. Whatever becomes of our property, health, comforts,
reputation, life—only let God be glorified, let Jesus Christ be praised, and our
chief desire is fulfilled. How such a master-passion—elevates the
lowliest—enriches the poorest—gladdens the saddest! We shall never ask the
question, "Is life worth living?" if we value life chiefly as giving
opportunities to glorify God, and if at all times from the heart we pray,
"Hallowed be Your Name."

3. For the glory of God—Earthly honors are often given to men whose great titles
accentuate their own littleness. The Divine perfections infinitely transcend all
our ascriptions of praise. We can never adequately "give to God the glory due to
His Name." Why do we honor an earthly parent, a true friend, some noble
character? It is sufficient to say, "Because they deserve it." We do not think
of rendering them any service or securing for ourselves any advantage. And so
will every true child of God feel towards Him. Because He is all that the Name
"Our Father in heaven" can suggest, we pray, "Hallowed be Your Name." Let us by
the Spirit of Adoption rise to this higher level of prayer—asking God not merely
to bestow some benefit, but to promote His own honor; praising Him not merely
for what He gives, but for what He is. "We praise You, we bless You, we worship
You, we glorify You, we give thanks to You for Your great glory, O Lord God,
heavenly King, God the Father Almighty."

Thus we shall become "fit to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in
light," whose glory is to hallow His Name. Many of the prayers we offer now will
be unheard then. No longer shall we need to ask bread for the mortal body, or
pardon for the guilty soul; but we shall never cease to desire that the Name of
God may be hallowed. This is the all-comprehensive employment, the supreme
consummation of bliss. Cherubim and seraphim "rest not day and night, saying,
Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty." The noble army of martyrs sing the song of
Moses and of the Lamb—"Great and marvelous are Your works, O Lord God the
Almighty; righteous and true are Your ways, King of the ages; who shall not
fear, O Lord, and glorify Your Name?" The innumerable multitudes of the redeemed
unite with "the many angels round around the throne, saying with a great voice,
Blessing, and honor, and glory, and power, be unto Him who sits upon the throne,
and to the Lamb, forever and ever!" "Hallowed be Your Name" is earth’s response
to heaven. It is a faint but true echo of the Hallelujah Chorus of the skies. By
it we take our part in the liturgy of the celestial temple. Therefore with
angels and archangels, and with all the company of heaven, we laud and magnify
Your glorious Name; evermore praising You and saying, Holy, holy, holy, Lord God
Almighty, heaven and earth are full of Your glory—glory be to You, O Lord most
High!"


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  CHAPTER 45: 02.03.     THE SECOND PETITION—
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The Second Petition—

"Your Kingdom Come"

"Three weighty, instructive, monitory words. The first, ’Your,’ lifts the
thoughts upward—bids us think of God, and lose ourselves in Him. The second,
’Kingdom,’ reminds us of a great system in which to have a place is glory, for
which to be allowed to pray is the highest honor and the highest dignity of the
creature. The third, ’Come,’ bids us exercise this honor at once. As we utter
the petition, we are putting the hand to a work which is all God’s, we are
claiming a franchise and a citizenship and a priesthood, not of earth but of
heaven" (Vaughan).

I—THE KINGDOM OF GOD SPIRITUAL The "kingdom of God" refers, not to the whole
universe nor to the final perfection of Heaven—but to His authority in this
world—and its meaning is further unfolded in the next petition, "Your will be
done on earth." The coming of the kingdom is the progressive recognition of this
rule until all mankind shall either willingly accept it or unwillingly submit to
it. In material nature the kingdom has already come, has never ceased to be. It
is the ’moral government’ of God for the triumph of which we pray—His rule in
the region of mind, heart, and will—the establishment of His authority where it
has been ignored and resisted—the final victory of God’s righteousness and love
over every form of wrong and hate—His reign on earth.

Once this reign was undisputed. But there were angels who "kept not their first
estate." Yielding to their malign influence, man also revolted. But still the
kingdom was not subverted. Satan disturbed—but never supplanted it. He is not
lord of men or the world—and is king only by usurpation. God has never ceased to
be the rightful and actual Ruler, though His authority has been defied. In the
rewards and penalties of physical and social laws He has given indications of
His moral rule and foreshadowings of His future judgment. In every land He has
had His witnesses—in every conscience His vicegerent. From eternity it was in
the Divine purpose to cure man’s revolt and overrule its evil for still greater
good. Man had now to be dealt with no longer as a loyal subject, but as a guilty
rebel. Pardon was to be offered consistently with righteousness, and moral means
instituted to bring man’s moral nature into harmony with the Divine kingdom.
Thus the kingdom was no longer one of mere rule and obedience, but of mercy to
the disobedient. In relation to fallen man it is a kingdom of grace. A kingdom
still; asserting the supremacy of God and the sanctity of law; but providing
pardon for the transgressor, and help for his recovery. The foundations of it
were laid from the beginning. It was proclaimed when man sinned. As years rolled
on, its principles and claims were more fully developed. By Enoch, Noah,
Abraham; by Moses on Sinai, by the ceremonial law, by the trumpet-notes of
prophets, by the harp-songs of psalmists—its majesty was asserted and its
triumph foretold. Solomon prayed for it—"Give the king Your judgments, O God—and
let the whole earth be filled with His glory." Isaiah exulted in beholding afar
off the day when "the government shall be upon His shoulder," when men shall no
longer "hurt nor destroy, for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the
Lord, as the waters cover the sea." As among heathen nations there was an
expectation of the coming of some great benefactor and ruler of men, it is no
wonder that with such Divine promises the Jews were expecting their
long-predicted Messiah, and listened eagerly to the clarion blast of the
Baptist, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!" Thus heralded, Jesus
began His ministry as its special Ambassador, saying, "The time is fulfilled,
and the kingdom of God is at hand—repent, and believe in the gospel." The
kingdom long expected, portrayed on the glowing canvas of prophets, extolled by
the inspired rapture of poets, prepared for by a long series of providential
arrangements, was now proclaimed, and all men were summoned to submit to Jehovah
and His Christ. But the Jews mistook its nature. They expected a warlike monarch
who would deliver them from the Romans, and establish a worldly kingdom which
should more than reproduce all the glories of David and Solomon. There was
nothing in our Lord’s teaching to encourage such an idea. The blessedness He
announced was not that of successful ambition, of splendid kingly courts—but of
"the poor in spirit." Not of those who can compel compliance with human laws,
but of those who are "persecuted for righteousness’ sake—for theirs is the
kingdom of heaven." When the disciples disputed which of them would be greatest,
their Lord taught that unless such notions were laid aside, they could have no
part in it. "Truly I say to you, except you turn and become as little children,
you shall never enter into the kingdom of heaven." Not outward grandeur, but
inward renovation was the qualification—"Except a man be born anew, he cannot
see the kingdom of God." Instead of wealth being essential for securing it, He
taught "how hard shall those who have riches enter into the kingdom of God." No
self-indulgence was to be expected, but only self-sacrifice—"It is good for you
to enter into the kingdom of God with one eye—rather than having two eyes to be
cast into hell." The often-repeated preface to parables explaining its nature,
"The kingdom of heaven is like unto," was followed by no description of worldly
thrones, with armies, pageantry, and pomp. It was a kingdom of quiet growth from
the smallest to the greatest—like a grain of mustard seed; of silent
influence—like leaven in meal; of unseen yet priceless treasure—which to
purchase, men might well renounce all worldly wealth. "The mysteries of the
kingdom of heaven" were illustrated by the various kinds of soil on which the
good seed fell—its highest rewards are not for successful fighters, but for
those who "hear the word and understand it, and bear fruit."

Thus when the Pharisees asked "when the kingdom of God should come," He replied,
"The kingdom of God does not come with observation." It is not to be known by
the outward signs of this world’s kingdoms. "Behold, the kingdom of God is
within you," or in the midst of you. It had already appeared, but was not
perceived by their worldly minds. When accused by them of doing the very thing
they wanted Him to do, His refusal to do which so exasperated them, He replied
to Pilate, "My kingdom is not of this world—if my kingdom were of this world,
then would my servants fight, that I should not be delivered to the Jews—but now
is my kingdom not from hence." Developing such instruction, the apostles
proclaimed the kingdom as one of spiritual virtues, not of outward forms—"the
kingdom of God is not eating and drinking, but righteousness and peace and joy
in the Holy Spirit"—a kingdom to be entered not by a career of worldly triumph,
but of patient suffering—"Through many tribulations we must enter into the
kingdom of God."

We are thus taught that the kingdom of God signifies His rule in the hearts of
men—a rule based on eternal righteousness, not destroyed though assailed by
man’s sin—asserted in man’s moral nature—vindicated and its final triumph
predicted by inspired prophets, proclaimed by Christ, sealed by His blood,
attested by the Resurrection, ratified by the Ascension, confirmed at Pentecost,
published to the world by the apostles, illustrated in the character and conduct
of every believer born again as a subject of it. The Church is its embodied
witness; the Word its authorized code; Christian fellowship and the sacraments
its outward and visible signs; holiness its test of loyalty. This kingdom is to
grow until Christ Himself shall return with power and great glory—to vindicate
His authority—to give victory to His faithful ones—to overwhelm incorrigible
rebels—to perfect His Church. Then the gospel of love shall universally prevail
over every form of ignorance, wrong, and misery—and the glad chorus break forth,
"The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of His
Christ—and He shall reign forever and ever!"

II—ESSENTIAL DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE KINGDOM OF GOD AND KINGDOMS OF THE WORLD The
rule of God essentially differs from worldly monarchies. Disregard of this has
hindered the progress of the kingdom—real strength having been exchanged for
external show—inward purity for outward pomp—spiritual freedom for worldly
bondage—and self-denying zeal for false security and dignified repose. Let us
consider some of these differences.

1. The Ruler—In an earthly kingdom the ruler may be selfish, proud, tyrannical,
contemptible. But the Head of this kingdom is the Infinitely Holy and Good.
Man’s autocracy, owing to faults from which even the very best are not free—is
generally to be dreaded. It is the glory of this kingdom that the will of the
Sovereign is supreme. Every invasion of His authority, every attempt to share
it, is injurious to the subjects. Earthly kings reign through delegated
officers; here, God rules personally in every soul. Earthly rulers have power
only where they are present; but this King is in every place and searches every
heart. Earthly rulers can only control the conduct, but this King reigns over
the thoughts, affections, and will.

2. The laws—Earthly laws insist on obedience and inflict penalties; but God’s
kingdom is a rule of grace. What kingdom of this world could proclaim pardon to
all transgressors? What judge could commence an assize with offering to acquit
all criminals pleading guilty? But this kingdom restores rebels to allegiance by
first forgiving them, even the ringleaders. The rulers of this world must be
content with the observance of the letter of the law; but this kingdom secures a
homage which scorns such limitation, arouses a loyalty which cannot be
restrained in its expression, creates an enthusiasm which no mere code can
satisfy. And the wonder is that by this very proclamation of pardon, it secures
this fervor of obedience; by this Grace it vindicates Law.

3. The subjects—Earthly kingdoms claim all who dwell within territorial limits.
A river, a chain of hills, an imaginary line, may determine the question who are
the subjects of its rule. But in this kingdom all are enrolled who voluntarily
submit to it, and none else. Within the same township, the same household, may
dwell those who, while members of the same nationality, are on opposite sides in
relation to the kingdom of heaven. Relation to earthly rule is not altered by
surrender to Christ. No prince nor republic need be jealous of this kingdom nor
alarmed at its progress. Monarchs lose no subjects by enrollment here. There
cannot be such a thing as a Christian country or a Christian nation, except so
far as the individuals who compose it are members of Christ. The locality of
birth constitutes no one a citizen of the heavenly kingdom. The rule of God
extends wherever a heart yields its homage, and includes no heart not thus
surrendered.

4. The objects—Earthly kingdoms levy taxes to maintain their regal state, to
defend or extend their territory, and to protect their subjects. The object of
the kingdom of God is to win hearts to their Father in heaven, to instill a love
for righteousness, to cultivate spiritual worship, to promote the Divine glory
and prepare for the perfected kingdom on earth and in heaven. Who ever heard of
an earthly kingdom making its object the prosperity of other nations? But the
kingdom of God seeks the happiness of all mankind, irrespective of territory or
race, by reconciling all to God, and so to each other.

5. The methods—Earthly kingdoms are based on force. The revenue is not dependent
on the choice of individuals. The soldier is in the rear of the tax-collector.
Opposition is punished by confiscation, imprisonment, or death. Attacks from
without are met by armies prepared to slaughter tens of thousands rather than
surrender one acre of land. Extension of domain is often sought by
violence—under pretext of civilization, commerce, and even religion.

How different are the methods of God’s kingdom! It is upheld by spiritual
agencies alone—truth enlightening the conscience, love constraining the heart.
To resort to bribery, whether the vulgar bait of money, or the more refined
allurements of fashion, status, and worldly dignities, may multiply professed
adherents, but cannot extend a kingdom which scorns all allegiance but the
spontaneous homage of the heart. Torturing the body to secure the affections is
a contradiction. Our Lord said that if His kingdom were of this world, His
servants would do what every earthly government must be prepared to do for its
preservation. But "the weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty through
God to the pulling down of strongholds," and "bringing into captivity every
thought to the obedience of Christ." Such a kingdom—wages no warfare but of
truth—wields no sword but that of the Spirit—scorns all homage but that of love.
Can it stoop to imitate the ambitions of earthly courts, the rivalries of
worldly kings? Can it condescend to ask alms from governments, to invoke the
patronage of parliaments, by surrendering any of its heavenly prerogatives? Can
it fetter its freedom by chains which crafty politicians have forged for their
own purposes, and hug them because those chains are gold? Can it limit its own
internal freedom by imposing a yoke on itself which its Lord never sanctioned,
crippling its activities under the plea of order, and restricting the limits of
that which is for all classes and climates? Shall it become an institution only
for this or that class, instead of realizing its Divine ideal, a kingdom for
rich and poor, learned and unlearned, princes and peasants, Englishman and
Hottentot, bond and free?

It is a question of great importance as regards loyalty to its Divine Head and
its spiritual, which are its true interests, how far help can be accepted from
political governments consistently with the scriptural idea of the kingdom. May
pecuniary aid be furnished from funds which rely on compulsion—to support a
religion based on willingness? How far, in return for the supposed stability and
dignity of the Church, is it right to surrender the Church’s liberty under its
heavenly Lord, so as to permit the State to authorize its creed, regulate its
worship, and appoint its ministers? On this question many sincere subjects of
the kingdom hold varying views. Each may give honor to others’
conscientiousness, while lamenting the supposed ignorance or prejudice which
causes difference of opinion. But on the great fundamental truth of the
spiritual nature of the kingdom there should be no difference.

6. The extent—Other monarchies perish—Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage—where are
they? But this kingdom shall widen and strengthen until the twilight of its dawn
shall have developed into the glory of the perfect day, and God shall be all and
in all. We have received "a kingdom which cannot be moved." His people shall
fear Him "as long as the sun and the moon endure, throughout all generations His
Name shall endure forever, and men shall be blessed in Him; all nations shall
call Him blessed." In contemplation of the rule of this King, shall not prayer
be made for Him continually? Shall not the Church without intermission send up
this heaven-taught petition—"Your kingdom come!"

III—THE COMING OF THIS KINGDOM

Truly to offer this prayer is evidence that the kingdom has already come in the
heart of him who utters it. It increasingly comes as the moral nature yields to
its sway. It comes—to the intellect as we better understand its laws—to the
conscience as we more readily approve them—to the will as we more resolutely
respond to them—to the heart as we more ardently love them—to the life as we
more loyally conform to them. The King has been proclaimed in the citadel of
man’s soul—but in many byways, courts, and alleys His authority is not yet
supreme. "You who have received this kingdom need to wish the coming of it in
further degrees. Find you not many rebels yet unsubdued? Those who search their
own hearts often complain of them to their King. O such swarms of lusts, and
unruly, irregular desires! When shall they all be brought into subjection?"
(Leighton). The prayer naturally expands from the individual to all who truly
"profess and call themselves Christians"—all "congregations of faithful men"—all
who "love our Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity." In this Church, as a whole and in
each portion of it, we pray that God, in Christ, may rule. It is reasonable that
every Christian should be chiefly concerned for the prosperity of the particular
society which is the sphere of his own personal activity. He who is not in
earnest for the prosperity of his own church is not likely to be earnest for the
Church universal. And this prosperity consists not in circumstances which to the
worldly view are most impressive, such as royal patronage, legal status,
numbers, wealth, influence; good music, an ornate ritual, eloquent preaching.
There may be all of these, without the kingdom. The kingdom comes to a church
when there is fidelity in the pulpit; when the preacher shows forth not himself
but Christ, teaches not human theories but revealed truth, turns men "from
darkness to light;" and "feeds the flock of God." It comes—when there is
spirituality of worship—when hearts go up to God in earnest desire and grateful
praise—when "those who name the Name of Christ depart from iniquity"—when
sinners ask, "What must I do to be saved?" and, having believed in the heart,
"confess with the mouth the Lord Jesus Christ"—when the real Presence of the
King is revealed at sermon and sacrament, at prayer-meeting and
mission-service—when spiritual life produces zeal in teaching the ignorant,
tending the sick, helping the needy, reclaiming the lost, "doing good unto all
men."

Such coming of the kingdom will necessarily promote its coming to the universal
Church. When we find ourselves praying and laboring for "Our Church" rather than
for "Your kingdom," we are not praying "after this manner." It is so much easier
to pray for ourselves than for Him, that when seeming to plead for His kingdom,
we may be chiefly seeking our own exaltation—my system, my methods, my church.
If in battle one regiment were to seek exclusively its own renown, breaking its
line of connection, and indifferent to the progress of the fight elsewhere—such
valor might prove a hindrance rather than a help to the whole army. Rivalries of
churches, frivolous controversies, sectarian jealousies, must be reproved by
earnest prayer for the kingdom of God. This is a prayer for all Christian
missions.

We pray that the kingdom may come to God’s ancient people—to Romanists, who have
disguised and distorted it—to nominal Christians, as well as to gross
idolaters—and to all, of whatever religion or of none, who know not God as "our
Father." Under the influence of this kingdom, laws will become more humane,
rulers more righteous, the customs of society more pure, nations more peaceful.
Wealth will be less unequally distributed; the rich will care more for the poor,
the poor will envy less the rich, and every subject of the kingdom will gladly
admit that he is his brother’s keeper. As Christ healed as well as taught, so,
with the growth of His spiritual reign, the hungry will be better fed, disease
more skillfully treated, the laws of Nature better known and obeyed, education
more widely spread, and all evil more controlled by Him who "came to destroy the
works of the devil." We need not dissociate ourselves from the interests of
earth while praying for the kingdom of heaven. "The lofty expressions of
contempt for the littleness of mere earthly transactions which some divines
affect, are not learned in His school, or in the schools of His prophets. The
kingdom of God begins within, but is to make itself manifest without. At last it
is to penetrate our whole social existence, to mold all things according to its
laws. For this we, pray when we say, ’Your kingdom come.’ We pray for the
extinction of all tyranny, whether in particular men or in multitudes; for the
exposure and destruction of corruptions inward and outward; for truth in all
departments of government, art, science; for the true dignity of professions;
for right dealings in the commonest transactions of trade; for blessings that
shall be felt in every hovel. If God had not heard this prayer going up from
tens of thousands in all ages, the earth would have been a den of robbers"
(Maurice).

IV—THE MILLENNIAL REIGN By what means will this be accomplished? Many consider
those in operation will suffice, with a fuller outpouring of the Spirit. Let the
Church pray more earnestly for a blessing on existing methods, and the kingdom
will extend until all shall know the Lord, "from the least to the greatest."
Then, after a millennium of such reign, Christ will come for the final judgment,
and take His saints to His kingdom in the heavens. Why should we doubt the
efficiency of God’s Word and Spirit to convert and sanctify the soul? Have they
not triumphed over the worst forms of sin? Have not the most degraded been
raised to sit in heavenly places; persecutors become apostles; revolting
sensualists and criminals made new creatures in Christ Jesus? Agencies thus
effectual in a thousand instances, might be equally so in a thousand millions.
Such a coming of the kingdom would involve no change of dispensation, and would
not seem to disparage agencies divinely appointed. It would be in harmony with
the spiritual nature of the kingdom, involve no interference with political
governments, and not look like a return to the Church’s childhood.

There is surely much to encourage our hopes. Within the last fifty years, into
how many languages has the Bible been translated—how many missionaries have been
sent forth—in how many lands already have the idols been utterly abolished—how
many tens of thousands—sunk in lowest barbarism, reveling in vice and
bloodshed—are now sitting at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in their right mind!
In our own land there were never so many faithful preachers, so many devout
worshipers, so much evangelistic zeal. Christianity by its indirect influence
has humanized our laws, liberated the slave, and mitigated the horrors of war.
If such advance during the last fifty years, what may it not be during the next
five hundred? Suppose the existing Church were to become fully alive to its
responsibilities; every individual claiming his share in the crusade against
sin; every believer acting as a member of its "Royal Priesthood"—would the
conversion of the whole world seem hopeless?

Limiting the present number of real Christians to half a million, and supposing
that each led one other soul to Christ every year, in eleven years there would
be one thousand and twenty-four million subjects of this kingdom, exclusive of
infants, and the kingdom would have come to the whole human race. This cannot be
without the special help of the Holy Spirit; but if the Church prayed more
earnestly, would not the Spirit work more effectually? If, as some think, the
actual appearing of Christ in person is needed to win the human family to God,
may it not be urged that a special outpouring of the Holy Spirit would produce
the same results? May not Christ be expected to come in the power of His Spirit,
no less than in the manifestation of His Person? But many are discouraged. After
nearly nineteen centuries of witness-bearing, the Church has secured only a
small part of the earth, even nominally, for Christ. How few the converts in
proportion to the hundreds of millions unreached! Look at Christendom. Can we
think the kingdom of God has come in France, Spain, Italy, Germany, Russia,
except in exceptional cases? Are not superstition on the one hand, and atheism
on the other, in the ascendant? Have we not within our own time witnessed a
series of wars between "Christian" nations, rivaling in slaughter those of
Paganism? Are not millions of men under so-called Christian governments daily
being trained for mutual slaughter, and the people oppressed to provide the cost
of enormous armaments, even in times of peace? Do not frivolity and
licentiousness run riot; and are not the stage and the press largely prostituted
to the demoralization of the people? In our own land a vast portion of the
population never enter a place of worship; and of those who do, the number is
very small who profess personal subjection to Christ. Is not the increase of
conversions less than that of the population, so that relatively the kingdom is
receding? Even from such professors a large deduction must be made. Within the
Church, how much looseness of doctrine, fickleness of faith, conformity to the
world, inconsistency of conduct! how much covetousness and self-indulgence! how
much ambition, pride, contention, jealousy! How often, in various ways, is God’s
house of prayer made a house of merchandise! How much flattery or fear of some,
how much despising or patronizing of others; how much mere outward show or
undisguised indifference, how much formal ceremonial or dead informalism! How
much sectarian exclusiveness, ecclesiastical usurpation, bitter controversy,
intolerant judgment, and lack of charity! Can we be surprised at the slight
influence of the Church on the world outside? Alas for much of the current
literature!—science perverted to disprove the existence of the Creator whose
works she explores; fiction degraded to stimulate the passions by portraitures
of vice; daily journals crowding their columns with theatrical and sporting
news, while almost ignoring the work of the Christian and the philanthropist;
and even periodicals designated religious, and provided ostensibly for Sunday
reading, needing to increase their attractiveness and sale by trashy and
sensational tales, far less wholesome for the young than many standard books
which would be condemned as too secular for the Lord’s day.

Few popular amusements are profitable, except those which attract by indecency
of dress, immodesty of demeanor, and the representation of what is either
frivolous or immoral. Parents take their children to see and hear what must
corrupt their hearts. Licentiousness unblushingly parades our streets.
Intemperance has its temples at every corner, numbers its votaries by hundreds
of thousands, boasts a revenue of a hundred millions of pounds, and has an
annual death-roll of myriads of souls. In the region of trade, of politics, of
fashion, in the manners of all classes, how much there is totally opposed to the
kingdom of God! Who can examine into the condition of the multitude of the
poorer classes without sadness!—the pig-sties in which many of our agricultural
laborers exist, filth and crowding illustrating an evolution downward into the
brute; the dull routine toil of the factory, amid dust and heat and foul air;
the dismal perilous labor of the mine; the protracted health-sapping hours in
shops and warehouses; the starving wages of the needle-woman; the teeming
lodging-houses of the city, whole families crowded into a single narrow room;
the gin-pub producing poverty, and poverty seeking to relieve its wretchedness
in the gin-pub and the base dance-hall; and then, the multitude of the sick and
poor who are shivering and starving and dying; while wealth and pomp in
ever-increasing ratio are stimulating luxury and licentiousness not only in the
palaces of the great, but in the dwellings of the middle classes, who imitate
and emulate the self-indulgence of many in higher grades. Can we see all this
without lamenting how far, how very far we are from that condition of our world
we are all hoping for, and how little progress we seem to be making towards it
with the means now possessed? For this is in a land where, above all others,
Christian agencies are in full operation. Suppose India were equally
evangelized, Christian congregations being gathered in every city and every
village; could we hope that the people at large would be more in subjection to
the kingdom than in our own land? And if not, the Church would be there a little
sanctuary for the few rather than the kingdom for all; a witness-bearer rather
than instrumentally a savior to the many. With such thoughts it is not
surprising that many are expecting a different and more powerful agency than any
now in operation, even the "glorious appearing of our great God and Savior Jesus
Christ." Their hopes are inspired by the prophecies of Daniel. Nebuchadnezzar’s
image was cast down by the stone cut out without hands which "became a great
mountain and filled the whole earth." We are still expecting the triumph of the
stone which is to "break to pieces" the remains of the last monarchy, when the
kingdom of God will appear, not as now, only here and there as green hillocks in
the desert, but as a "great mountain" filling "the whole earth." This kingdom
"shall stand forever" (Daniel 2:1-49). In another vision "One like the Son of
man came with the clouds of heaven, and there was given Him a kingdom, that all
the peoples, nations, and languages should serve Him." The coming of the Son of
man here predicted is the cause of the triumph of the kingdom, and introduces
the era of its universal sway (Daniel 7:1-28). From the prophecy of Zechariah,
it is inferred that a great reaction against Christianity will be overcome by
the personal Advent of Christ, whose punishment of the ungodly will be a
preliminary judgment, to be followed by a long period of loyal obedience to the
King, when all nations shall drink of the living waters of salvation, and shall
come to Jerusalem, if not to the earthly, to the spiritual city, the Church; and
when all earthly relationships and avocations shall be sanctified by the fear of
God, "Holiness" being inscribed upon them all. The last and greatest of the
prophets presents to us a vision of similar import. A warrior appeared riding on
a white horse; His eyes were as a flame of fire, and "on His head were many
crowns, and His name was called the Word of God; and He had on His vesture and
on his thigh a Name written, King of Kings and Lord of Lords!" A mighty army of
foes "made war against Him," and were overcome; and "the beast was taken, and
with him the false prophet," and were "cast alive into a lake of fire." Then an
angel "laid hold on that old serpent, the Devil and Satan, and bound him a
thousand years. And I saw the souls of those who had been beheaded for the
testimony of Jesus and for the Word of God; and they lived and reigned with
Christ a thousand years. Blessed and holy is he who has part in the first
resurrection." At the close of this millennium Satan will be loosed, and will
make a final effort to deceive the nations and gather them together against the
kingdom. Then fire from heaven will consume them, and the Judge will be seen on
"the great white throne;" and "the dead, small and great, will stand before God,
and be judged according to their works."

After this description of the triumph of the kingdom on earth, follows that of
the glories of the kingdom in heaven (Revelation 19:1-21, Revelation 20:1-15,
Revelation 21:1-27, Revelation 22:1-21). From this vision of John it is inferred
that after an anti-Christian reaction overcome by Christ in person, the powers
of darkness will be held in restraint, and the saints then living, with the
souls of many of the dead, shall reign with Christ a thousand years prior to the
final judgment and to the perfected bliss of the heavenly Jerusalem. It is
during this intervening period that the kingdom so graphically predicted in
Psalms 72:1-20 will have its peaceful sway; when Christ "shall have dominion
from sea to sea," and "all nations shall call Him blessed." Our Lord frequently
spoke of His coming again in connection with the final judgment. "When the Son
of man shall come in His glory, then shall He sit upon the throne of His glory;
and before Him shall be gathered all nations—and He shall separate them one from
another," etc. (Matthew 25:31-46; Matthew 16:27; Matthew 26:64; Mark 8:38; Acts
17:31; 2 Corinthians 5:10-11; 1 Thessalonians 4:16-17; 2 Thessalonians 1:6-9; 2
Timothy 4:1; 2 Timothy 4:8; 1 Peter 4:5). Such passages seem to many readers to
indicate that the judgment will be immediately consequent on the second Advent;
and if so, that the millennial age must precede the Advent. To this inference it
is objected that our Lord and the apostles spoke of His coming as immediately
near, as the first great event to be expected, which would not be the case to
our apprehension, if the Millennial Reign were known to precede it. How could
the Church be "looking for and hasting unto the coming of the day of God;" how
could it be said, "The coming of the Lord draws near;" how could He bid us to
"watch, lest coming suddenly He should find us sleeping," if He were not to come
until a long period of millennial glory had transpired? It is therefore inferred
that our Lord spoke of the event which was the nearer, and not of the one more
remote; that which the Church was first to expect. And as His coming would be at
once attended with judgments on the rebellious then living, and would be
followed by a continued rule of righteousness, to close with the general
judgment, He to whom a thousand years are as one day might appropriately speak
of coming to judgment, though that judgment would only be completed at the
termination of that thousand years. Thus the apostles habitually urged the
churches to be living in joyful hope of and diligent preparation for the
"glorious appearing" of Christ, as the proximate great event in the history of
the Church. From such statements of Scripture it has been inferred that, while
existing agencies are to be diligently employed to spread the truth, we are not
to be discouraged if the result should illustrate the Lord’s words, "This gospel
of the kingdom shall be preached in the whole world for a testimony unto all the
nations, and then shall the end come;" testimony to all rather than conversion
of all. If such universal conversion is the hope that chiefly animates
missionary enterprise, a hope so long deferred may make the heart sick and
discourage exertion. But does any passage of Scripture represent that by the
preaching of the gospel, prior to the Advent, all mankind will be converted? The
promise of the "heathen for His inheritance" is immediately followed by the
threatening, "You shall break them with a rod of iron;" intimating that such
possession of "the uttermost parts of the earth" will be with triumphant
judgment on His foes (Psalms 2:8-9). Jehovah will make the enemies of Christ
"His footstool," not necessarily by their willing submission, but by their final
punishment; for "He shall strike through kings in the day of His wrath" (Psalms
110:1; Psalms 110:5). Isaiah intimates that when the Lord comes to establish the
kingdom, the land will be "full of idols;" multitudes who "worship the work of
their own hands," will "hide in the dust for fear of the Lord and for the glory
of His majesty." Then "the loftiness of man shall be bowed down, and the Lord
alone shall be exalted in that day; and the idols He shall utterly abolish." We
are not therefore to anticipate the abolition of idolatry prior to the
Advent—but as its result (Isaiah 2:1-22). The deliverance of the Church is to
follow the destruction of its foes. "For He put on righteousness as a
breastplate, and an helmet of salvation upon His head; and He put on garments of
vengeance. He will repay fury to His adversaries." As the result of such
judgments the kingdom will come, rather than of the universal reception of the
gospel. The following chapter is generally regarded as a glowing description of
the millennial reign—"Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of
the Lord has risen upon you." The Church shall then be made "an eternal
excellency, a joy of many generations." "Violence shall no more be heard in the
land." "The Lord shall be your everlasting light, and the days of your mourning
shall be ended." This graphic picture of the millennial kingdom does not precede
but follow judgments on men then living; "For the nation and kingdom that will
not serve You shall perish; yes, those nations shall be utterly wasted." In the
new Jerusalem the voice of weeping will not be heard; "the wolf and the lamb
shall feed together;" and none "shall hurt nor destroy." But this condition of
things follows the threatening against the enemies of the King—"For, behold, the
Lord will come with fire, to render His anger with fury; for by fire and by His
sword will the Lord plead with all flesh." It is after this that in the new
heavens and the new earth, "all flesh shall come to worship before me, says the
Lord" (Isaiah 66:15-24).

Zechariah says, "The Lord shall go forth and fight against those nations;" after
which "everyone that is left of all nations which came against Jerusalem shall
go up from year to year to worship the King, the Lord Almighty." This idea would
seem to be expressed by Paul when he cheered the persecuted believers in
Thessalonica by the hope of rest after trouble, "when the Lord Jesus shall be
revealed from heaven with His mighty angels, in flaming fire taking vengeance on
those who know not God, and who obey not the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ."

Christ compared His kingdom to a man who sowed good seed, but the enemy came and
sowed tares among the wheat. Both grew together until the harvest. However
widely the gospel may spread, its success for a season will only be partial.
There will be the wicked intermingled with the righteous. But at "the end of the
world, the Son of man shall send forth His angels, and they shall gather out of
His kingdom all things that offend, and those who do iniquity. Then shall the
righteous shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of their Father." Our Lord
predicted that "all the tribes of the earth shall mourn, and they shall see the
Son of man coming in the clouds of heaven with power and great glory." This does
not indicate a state of universal submission. "Behold, He comes with clouds; and
all the tribes of the earth shall mourn over Him." These are not friends who
"love His appearing," but foes dreading it. The Transfiguration has been
regarded as symbolical of the second Advent. Christ appeared in glory, attended
by Moses and Elijah, representing the glorified saints who will accompany their
Lord in the clouds of heaven. The three disciples represented the Church on
earth meeting the Lord in the air, and sharing His triumph. They were those of
whom the Lord had said—"There are some standing here who shall not taste of
death until they see the Son of Man coming in His kingdom." They did see it in
vision. Peter refers to this—"We have not followed cunningly devised fables,
when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but
were eye-witnesses of His majesty." This vision pointed forward to the day for
the coming of which believers should be "looking for and hasting," in hope of
"the new heavens and a new earth, where righteousness dwells." But this is
connected with great judgments—"the heavens that now are and the earth have been
stored up for fire, being reserved against the day of judgment and destruction
of ungodly men." (2 Peter 1:16-21; 2 Peter 3:7-14)

Although it is not essential to this theory that there should be any vision of
the Lord at one time by all mankind, yet many people do thus interpret the
prediction, "Every eye shall see Him." All will know, friends and foes, that the
King has come to perfect His kingdom, gladden His loyal subjects, and execute
judgment on hardened rebels. This has been objected to on the ground of physical
impossibility. But as the sun is seen every twenty-four hours by nearly all
inhabitants of earth, the vision of Christ as He approaches to establish His
kingdom might be obvious to all. "Is anything too hard for the Lord?" His Advent
having been witnessed, His subsequent appearances in all parts of the world
might be "at sundry times and in diverse manners;" analogous to the appearances
of His risen body to the disciples prior to His Ascension. "The Son of man will
come in His glory with all the holy angels." The souls of the martyrs and of
those who "had not worshiped the beast, shall live and reign with Christ a
thousand years. This is the first resurrection." Angels of light will drive away
the spirits of darkness; that old Serpent will be bound a thousand years and
hardened rebels, still refusing to repent, will be judged and sent to their own
place (Revelation 20:1-15). Then will commence that glorious era of which Peter
spoke, when, filled with the Holy Spirit, he looked forward to "the times of
restoration of all things, whereof God spoke by the mouth of His holy prophets
which have been since the world began." Then shall the saints share in the
government of the kingdom, according to the words of Paul, "Do you not know that
the saints shall judge the earth?" and of John, "They lived and reigned with
Christ a thousand years;" and of the King Himself, "He who keeps my works to the
end, to him will I give authority over the nations."

As, during the Theocracy, Jehovah was visibly present in the temple by cloud and
Shekinah, so Christ will be present in Jerusalem; not necessarily in the Syrian
city, but in His Church; not subject to material laws, but as His
resurrection-body appeared to the disciples unexpectedly in various places, so
His whole Church shall know that He dwells among them. Theoretic infidelity will
be no longer possible. The question will be, not "Is Christ the King?" but,
"Shall I submit to His rule?" The Jews will recognize their long-rejected
Messiah, who will now "reign on the throne of His father David." Their
conversion will bring in the fullness of the Gentiles. Antichrist will be
dethroned, and the spell of the false prophet broken. All the people who sit in
darkness will see the great light. The Church, animated by the presence of the
King, and filled with the Spirit, will then literally "go into all the world and
preach the gospel to every creature," and "all shall know Him, from the least to
the greatest." To this theory it is objected that conversion by external vision
is inferior to that produced by internal perception of the truth, even as Christ
said, "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed." But Saul of
Tarsus was converted by the vision of Christ, and his subsequent career did not
suggest inferiority in the method of his spiritual birth. Surely the expectation
of a personal reign of Christ on the earth will not necessarily tend to render
those who share it less spiritual, inasmuch as all Christians are looking for
the personal reign of Christ in heaven, and to the beholding Him "face to face"
as the consummation of their purity and bliss. In support of the objection that
conversion by a personal revelation would be a retrogression instead of an
advance in method, it has been urged that "we are not to expect a future
dispensation in which the Savior will subdue unbelievers by that visible sign
from heaven which He always refused because it was contrary to His method of
dealing with souls" (Monsell). But our Lord refused the sign from heaven to
Pharisees who were "tempting Him." Yet even to these He predicted "the sign of
the prophet Jonah;" and fulfilled it when He rose from the dead, and ascended to
heaven in the sight of His disciples. This manifestation gave new vigor to their
faith; it caused a resurrection of their own spiritual life; it was the mighty
truth with which they went forth on their gospel mission to the world. The sign
which the Pharisees were denied, was distinctly promised to be given at the
coming of the Son of man—"Then shall appear the sign of the Son of man in
heaven." Inasmuch as the sign from heaven heralded the Mosaic dispensation, and
the sign from heaven in the Resurrection and Ascension prefaced the publication
of the gospel to the world, the sign of the visible Advent of Christ to
introduce the millennial reign would not be a "retrogression," but an advance;
not a new method, but a further development of the old. The Spirit and the Word,
the only present agencies, existed in the Old Testament dispensation, yet the
fuller manifestation of both was accompanied by the outward signs of the first
Advent, and may also be by those of the second. And the Apostles, when they
sought help to speak the word, asked for outward signs, saying, "Grant to Your
servants that with all boldness they may speak Your word, by stretching forth
Your hand to heal; and that signs and wonders may be done by the Name of Your
holy Servant Jesus." There is no evidence that such signs will never be renewed.
If "majestic steps in Providence, startling men from their stupid slumbers,
awing their spirits and constraining their attention," if such aid may
supplement the Word and the Spirit, why not the aid of "supernatural signs"?

Although some millenarians carry too far the system of literal interpretation,
we are reminded that the prophecies respecting the first Advent were fulfilled
literally, although such fulfillment had seemed impossible. The Jewish scribes
could not comprehend how the glorious Messiah could come to Jerusalem riding on
a donkey, how His garments should be divided by lot, how He should "make His
grave with the wicked, and with the rich in His death;" yet these and other
predictions were literally accomplished. Why, then, should all predictions
respecting the second Advent be interpreted spiritually, because their literal
fulfillment is attended with difficulties which we cannot as yet explain? It has
been objected that "millenarianism is inconsistent with the scriptural doctrine
of the nature and growth of Christ’s kingdom;" that "it implies failure in the
Divine methods of working hitherto;" and that "its practical influence is evil,
by discouraging present efforts to bring it about" (Harris).

All are agreed that the kingdom now grows from heart to heart by purely
spiritual means; but it is nowhere in the Bible declared that by these means
alone the kingdom is to become universal. For nearly nineteen hundred years the
gospel has been preached, yet the vast majority of those who have known
something of it have rejected it, but this failure has resulted not from
imperfection in the methods, but from the wickedness of men. This general
rejection of the message until the coming of our Lord verifies the predictions
of God’s own Word. It is discouraging; but greater discouragement would arise
from the expectation of the kingdom by present agencies alone; whereas the
expectation of the personal Advent animates us with the certainty of a triumph
which may speedily be accomplished; and prompts to diligence, "lest coming
suddenly He find us sleeping." Present methods will only be supplemented. The
Word of God will still be circulated, the gospel will be preached, the Church
still bear witness; but this will be accompanied with visible tokens of the
presence of the King and more abundant outpourings of the Holy Spirit.

It is to the possible nearness of this personal coming of Christ that many are
looking. They do not consider that the golden age, so slowly advancing, must
first intervene. They hope that very soon the King will appear who shall "judge
the people with righteousness, and break in pieces the oppressor, and save the
souls of the needy; whose Name shall endure forever, and all nations shall call
Him blessed." Before the enjoyment of the kingdom in heaven, the kingdom of God
on earth will come. "Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and He will
dwell with them; and they shall be His people, and God Himself shall be with
them, and be their God."

Each theory has its difficulties. There are texts which are not easily explained
in harmony with either view. But all believe that some day, remote or near, the
kingdom of God will come. Milton shared this hope when, impatient of the level
plains of prose, he soared aloft in such rhapsodies as when he pictured his
country casting away from her the rags of vice, and pressing on in happy
emulation "to be found the soberest, wisest, and most Christian people at that
day, when You, the shortly-expected King, shall open the clouds to judge the
several kingdoms of the world, and distributing national honors and rewards to
religious and just commonwealths, shall put an end to all earthly tyrannies,
proclaiming Your universal and mild monarchy through heaven and earth; where
they, undoubtedly, that by their labors, counsels, and prayers, have been
earnest for the common good of religion and their country, shall receive, above
the inferior orders of the blessed, the regal addition of principalities and
thrones into their glorious titles, and in supereminence of beatific vision,
progressing the dateless and irrevoluble circle of eternity, shall clasp
inseparable hands with joy and bliss, in overmeasure forever." Poetry, when not
apprehending the higher and spiritual blessings which the coming of the kingdom
will bring, has delighted to extol that Golden Age when—

"All crimes shall cease, and ancient Fraud shall fail; Returning Justice lift
aloft her scale; Peace o’er the world her olive wand extend, And white-robed
Innocence from heaven descend."—Pope But that of which philosophers and poets
have dreamed and sung, is to be realized only by the coming of Christ. It is the
acceptance of His salvation, the recognition of His authority, the prevalence of
His kingdom—it is this which will secure all other blessings to mankind. The
believer, praying, working, waiting—rejoices in hope of the day when—

"One song employs all nations; and all cry, ’Worthy the Lamb, for He was slain
for us!’ The dwellers in the vales and on the rocks Shout to each other, and the
mountain-tops From distant mountains catch the flying joy; Until, nation after
nation taught the strain, Earth rolls the rapturous Hosanna round. Bright as a
sun the sacred city shines; All kingdoms and all princes of the earth Flock to
that light. From every climate they come To see Your beauty and to share Your
joy, O Zion! an assembly such as earth Saw never, such as Heaven stoops down to
see. Come then, and, added to your many crowns, Receive yet one, the crown of
all the earth; Your word fulfilled, the conquest of a world!" —Cowper

What Christian does not long for such a millennium of blessedness to dawn? O for
the time when the Right shall reign, and not mere Might; when distinctions of
station, endowment, nationality, shall not be the destruction of brotherhood;
when men shall everywhere show that they are children of one Father; trusting,
not fearing one another, and each seeking his own good only in alliance with
that of his neighbor; when fortresses shall no longer frown defiance; when
boundaries of mountains, rivers, and oceans shall no longer separate the human
family into antagonistic rivalries; when swords shall indeed "be turned into
ploughshares, and spears into pruning hooks;" when thrones shall never be
symbols of pride, objects of fear, and prizes of ambition; when laws and rulers
shall no more be needed to resist violence or punish wrong, but only to guide
and assist in common action for the common weal!

O for the time when holy love shall no longer be debased to brutish lust, nor
strength of body or brain be used to injure or distress; when Science shall pour
fresh light on Religion, and every new discovery evoke new hallelujahs to the
Creator; when the pen and the press shall never be employed to assail the truth
of God or corrupt the minds of men; when speech shall never utter what is false,
impure, or unkind; when music shall never lend its charms to licentiousness or
stir the passions of war, and painting and sculpture shall portray only what is
beautiful and pure; when commerce in all its transactions shall be honest and
beneficent; when labor shall never be oppressive and irksome, but give joy to
the producer as well as to the purchaser; when amusement shall be only an
exchange of pleasure, recreating for fresh toil, and never stooping to give
delight by stimulants that enervate the body or corrupt the mind!

O for the time when in the Church there shall be no more sectarian rivalries,
bitter controversies, worldly expedients, mammon-worship, ambitious intrigues,
popularity-courting, secret envyings, personal jealousies; when, though all may
never think and worship exactly alike, varieties of method shall only the more
illustrate unity and stimulate love—when all will rejoice in each other’s
fellowship, promote one another’s usefulness, and fulfill the Savior’s prayer
"that they may be one, even as we are one; I in them and You in me, that they
may be perfected in one"!

How blessed the day, Lord hasten it! when there shall no longer be the Church
and the world, but when the Church will have absorbed the world, and God be all
and in all. Then at length shall the glowing prophecy of Isaiah become an
accomplished fact—"The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard
shall lie down with the lamb; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling
together; and a little child shall lead them. They shall not hurt nor destroy in
all my holy mountain—for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord,
as the waters cover the sea." "Now, O earth! You may resume the place you had
lost. You have borne our revolts and our sorrows through the depths of
measureless space; you may now advance all adorned through the still heavens,
bearing the pennon of a Redeemer" (Monsell) V—PRAYER FOR THE COMING OF THE
KINGDOM

1. Necessary—All acceptable prayer must be for what is the Will of God. Such
prayer benefits ourselves by blending our will with His; and thus promotes
obedience, because, as He rules in a universe of mind, the fulfillment of His
purposes involves our accord, which prayer promotes and so helps on the
accomplishment of His Will. We are thus "fellow-workers with God."

2. What the prayer includes—We ask the King to control the powers of Nature and
events in Providence to promote His kingdom. He rules supreme, and everything
may become a minister in His service. He who bade the waters of the Red Sea
overthrow Pharaoh, and gave Israel streams from the rock, can interpose to
preserve His Church in the wilderness which still separates us from the land of
promise. If Satan may corrupt the Church within, or stir up enemies from
without, much more may the Divine Head of the Church maintain its internal
purity and strength. We pray that whatever is intended by the foe for harm may
be overruled for good; and that even ambition and war may be overruled to hasten
the final victory of Christ. We pray especially that "the Spirit may be poured
upon us from on high, and the wilderness be a fruitful field, and the fruitful
field be counted for a forest." The disciples were commanded not only to
proclaim the kingdom, but to expect the promise of the Spirit, and we know that
while they prayed the Holy Spirit was given, and they saw "the kingdom of God
come with power." We hear Him say, "I come quickly;" and we respond, "Even so,
come, Lord Jesus."

3. A test of character—If we are truly regenerate, we do not simply submit to
the kingdom of God because we cannot help it, but we welcome it because we love
it. If we truly say "Our Father," we, as His children, naturally desire the
coming of His kingdom, because, being "heirs of God, joint-heirs with Christ,"
it is our own. Subjects may submit, but the children of the king are identified
with Himself, and share His honor. Some people yield to His will as inevitable;
others accept it merely as just and beneficent; those who share the adoption of
sons long for His kingdom, and rejoice in it as their Father’s.

4. Personal concurrence—All prayer is practical, for, if sincere, it is
accompanied by corresponding efforts. There are three stages in the coming of
the kingdom, involving three several kinds of exertion. It comes to our own soul
experimentally, to the world by the diffusion of the Truth, and universally in
the final Advent. The prayer therefore involves efforts to promote the kingdom
in our own hearts and lives, by study of its laws, observance of its precepts,
response to its claims. "In Worship, we give our homage to God; in the Word, we
come to learn His laws; in the Sacraments, we renew our oath of allegiance; in
Alms and Charity, we pay Him tribute; in Prayer, we ask His sanction,
acknowledging His dominion; and Praise, it is our rent to the great Lord from
whom we hold all things" (Manton). The kingdom is all-comprehensive, and demands
entire subjection. We cannot truly pray for it to come unless we open the door
of every part of our nature to its entrance, that its principles may permeate
every thought, motive, and action. "A good Christian is like a pair of
compasses, one foot of the compass stands upon the center, the other part of it
goes round the circle" (Watson). We should give "all diligence," "For so an
entrance shall be ministered to us abundantly into the everlasting kingdom of
our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ." The life of its subjects best recommends the
kingdom to others, as it also best hallows the Name. When we "shine as lights in
the world," with a flame clear, strong, constant, we attract others to the safe
harbor of the kingdom. When we are "living epistles of Christ, known and read of
all men," we become emissaries, recommending His rule wherever we go. Loyal
tribute to the King on the part of all who breathe this prayer will promote the
kingdom in the minds of strangers and even foes, who, "seeing our good works,
will glorify our Father who is in heaven."

Alas, how many utter this petition without any intention to submit to the rule
of God! What multitudes salute the Monarch with formal gestures while plotting
against His throne! How many, while repeating with their lips "Your kingdom
come," say by their actions, "We will not have this man to reign over us"! To be
self-pleasers instead of God-pleasers is self-exile from the kingdom. We are
banished by our own act. We are outlawed by refusing to come within the law; and
our own petition is our self-pronounced doom.

5. The prayer thus prompts to missionary zeal—It is hypocrisy to pray for the
coming of the kingdom if we are not helping to promote it. To be content with
the saving of our own soul without caring for others, shows how little that
kingdom has come to ourselves. There are various offices in the Church to which
all are not called, but every man, until all shall know Him, is to "say to his
neighbor, Know the Lord." "Let him who hears say, Come." This prayer, then,
should prompt those who offer it to extend the kingdom—by evangelizing the
multitudes who are still outside the Church; by circulating the Scriptures and
religious literature; by teaching the young; by rescuing the fallen, reclaiming
the drunkard, saving the lost. Sincerity in offering this petition involves
efforts, personal or monetary, to send the gospel through the world. The command
of the King is clear—"Preach the gospel to every creature." Christianity is
necessarily aggressive. It is intended for the world, and its adherents are
bound to propagate it. "How shall they believe in Him of whom they have not
heard? and how shall they hear without a preacher? and how shall they preach
except they are sent?" Who is willing to go? Who will spare his son? Who will
deny himself to provide the cost? The prayer asks for fresh openings for service
at home. Who is willing to enter the open door; to give up time and ease; to
spare some personal comfort, and not merely give a part of his surplus? Again
and again the King repeated the emphatic word—"Except a man take up his cross
and deny himself, he cannot be my disciple." And except we are willing to make
sacrifices to promote it, we cannot consistently pray—"Your kingdom come." Our
chief inquiry should not be, "When will Christ come?" but, "What is my present
duty?" Christ reproved idle curiosity for all time when He said to His
disciples—"It is not for you to know the times or the seasons; but you shall
receive power, and you shall be witnesses unto me." Their duty was to bear
testimony even as martyrs, relying on the promised power; not to relax their
energies in service by speculations about "seasons." Zeal in extending the
kingdom should be stimulated by either of the views held. If that reign of
righteousness is to be expected as the result of present agencies, how earnest
should they be who pray "Your kingdom come," to promote an event the means of
hastening which are already entrusted to the Church! But if the personal
appearing of Christ is expected to introduce the millennial reign, and if such
Advent may be very near, what an incitement to be at our post of duty, watching,
waiting, working! Whether we expect the whole world to be won to the kingdom by
missionary zeal or by the Advent of Christ, it is His imperative command that we
make known the truth. If we relax our efforts because His appearing will at once
accomplish what He designs, we are desisting from the work which He has
entrusted to us, and thus we cannot be ready for His Advent. "Blessed is that
servant whom his Lord when He comes shall find so doing;" so doing our present
duty, not idly dreaming of what may happen in the future.

6. The prayer also admonishes to preparedness for the final coming of the
kingdom—"We pray that it may come in us, we pray that we may be found in it; for
come it certainly will, but what will it profit you, if it shall find you at the
left hand!" (Augustine). By many a mourner at the open grave the prayer is
offered with solemn emphasis, "We beseech You, that it may please You, of Your
gracious goodness, shortly to accomplish the number of Your elect and to hasten
Your kingdom." Do we really desire this? Are we of the number of the elect of
whom Jesus said, "They cry day and night unto God"? Suppose the kingdom should
come while we are neglecting its claims and trampling on its laws! Suppose it
should come while we are discussing the method and the time of it, but are
neglecting to prepare for it! The premillennial Advent of our Lord may appear to
many, as to good Matthew Henry, a "doubtful notion," but all should resolve, "I
will so live that I may live with Him, come when He may, and reign where He
may." The kingdom of Glory can only be enjoyed by those who have already become
subjects of the kingdom of Grace. Grace is glory in the seed; glory is grace in
the flower. The King gives both grace and glory; but those who reject the former
are not fit for the latter. If we would reign with Christ, we must ourselves be
subject to Christ. Those who breathe this prayer should be "looking for and
earnestly desiring the coming of the day of God. What manner of persons ought
you to be in all holy living and godliness! We, according to His promise, look
for new heavens and a new earth, where righteousness dwells. Wherefore, beloved,
seeing that you look for these things, give diligence that you may be found in
peace, without spot and blameless in His sight." In closing this meditation, let
us be encouraged by thinking of the great congregation by whom this petition has
been and is presented to God. Though many never utter it at all, and many repeat
it without thought, yet from what multitudes of true hearts during nearly
nineteen centuries has it gone up to God, its volume and fervor still increasing
to the present day! It is ascending now from every climate, in varied accents of
human speech. Greenlander and Eskimos echo it back to Bechuana and Hottentot;
learned Brahmin and cultured Chinaman respond to the same litany with Caifres
and Zulus; the prayer, wafted to heaven in our dear English tongue from both
sides the Atlantic, is swollen by the voices of a "great multitude which no man
can number, of every tribe and people and kindred and nation;" many an earnest
Christian worker breathes it, from Sunday school class and motley throng in
mission-hall or gathered crowd by the wayside; it ascends from rustic
meetinghouse and city temple, from village church half hidden by ancient yews,
and from dome-crowned cathedral and venerable minster; there are babes in Christ
who lisp it, and veterans of service who, with ever-increasing fervor, plead
"Your kingdom come;" there are poor saints unable to do anything for it by
money, but who do very much for it by prayer; there are the sick and infirm ones
no longer capable of actively promoting it, but who, from chambers of weakness
and beds of pain, speed all the workers by giving this petition precedence above
any personal request for health and life. And while it ascends from earth, it
mingles with the same petition from angels and saints in heaven. O that we may
share in this "Communion of the saints"! That God may reign in our own hearts,
throughout the world, and in the latter day glory, let us ever pray, "Your
kingdom come."

Come, Lord, to earth again; Come quickly, come and reign: Lord Jesus, come!
Enthrone the struggling right, Make clear the clouded light, In victory close
the fight Lord, quickly come! The love of some grows cold; Your foes are waxing
bold: Lord Jesus, come! They mock our hope delayed, Our little progress made,
Your precepts disobeyed Lord, quickly come! Bid war and faction cease, Bring in
the reign of peace: Lord Jesus, come! Set every captive free; Let all men
brothers be; Heal earth’s long malady: Lord, quickly come! Assert Your right
divine; O’er all the nations shine: Lord Jesus, come! Then earth like heaven
shall sing, With hallelujahs ring, And hail her rightful King Lord, quickly
come!" —Newman Hall


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  CHAPTER 46: 02.04.     THE THIRD PETITION--
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The Third Petition--

"Your will be done on earth, as it is in heaven." The third petition is the
appropriate sequel to those which precede. As the hallowing of the Name of the
Father is essential to the coming of a kingdom based on intelligent apprehension
and cordial reverence; so the kingdom implies rule, and the coming of it
submission. This is not strictly a separate petition, but a development of the
second. We pray that the kingdom may come on earth, by its laws being obeyed.
The Will of God, perfectly done in heaven, has been only partially known and
obeyed on earth. We pray that this discrepancy may cease, and that the whole
realm of God may be harmonized in obedience. As with all the petitions, this
one, besides being related to the rest, is based on the Invocation, "Father."
God says, "If I am a Father, where is my honor?" And His children pray, Our
Father in heaven, let Your holy, loving, Fatherly Will be done. On Sinai the Law
rang out trumpet-tongued, "Do the Will of God:" on the Mount of Beatitudes the
Savior taught us to obey this Law by asking grace from the Lawgiver to fulfill
it.

I—The will of God This petition is, like the Invocation, a protest against the
materialism which recognizes Power alone. Mere material forces, physical laws,
have no volition. The abstraction called "a power, not ourselves, that works for
righteousness," suggests ideas utterly different from those of the prayer, "Our
Father! Your Will be done!" How cold, dreary, terrible, the notion of mere Power
controlling us, with no loving thought, emotion, purpose! What a sense of
helplessness is engendered by it, what terror of the Power which cannot be
resisted or evaded, against which there is no appeal, under which we may be
crushed! This would foster a Fatalism as discouraging to exertion as to prayer.
It would also prevent any sense of sin. I may be unfortunate in becoming its
victim, I cannot be guilty of resisting its volition. I may lament my weakness,
but cannot be conscious of wickedness. But when I recognize the rule of a loving
and holy Father, I acknowledge my sin in resisting His commands, and am prompt
to reform what is wrong instead of pleading a resistless necessity. "Hence comes
a conviction, not that we have been unable to resist, but that we have actually
resisted that Power which is working for our deliverance and blessedness. A
Power we shall then joyfully confess it to be, when we know that it is not that
merely or principally" (Maurice).

We recognize a loving will, for He is our Father; a holy will, for He is in
heaven. We need not fear the Power which executes the Will of "Our Father." We
appeal to Him as developing in His Will, tender compassion, beneficent purpose,
perfect righteousness. He does not reign to exhibit sovereignty; He does not
decree simply because He chooses; His Will is the outcome of His Fatherhood.
There must be much mysterious and inscrutable in the Will of the Infinite God.
It would be presumptuous to dictate what it ought to be, or to pronounce by our
unaided understanding what it is; but it would also be derogatory to our own
nature, which owes to Him its origin, and reflects though imperfectly His
likeness, to say we cannot in any degree conjecture what His Will is likely to
be. In the light of His own revelation, it would be ungrateful and false to say
that we know nothing of His Will, when He has revealed it not only in His Word
but by His Son, who, being from eternity "in the bosom of the Father," has
"declared Him." He is the everlasting Word, the Revealer. In all His earthly
life we learn the nature of His Father’s Will. And He who from eternity knew it,
bids us pray that it may be done. He who came to save us would not instruct us
to pray for the accomplishment of a Will opposed to His own mission. There can
be no secret purpose in God conflicting with His Will as illustrated by Christ.
We are therefore secure when we pray, "Your Will be done," inasmuch as the
prayer is indited by our Savior, and the Will is the Will of our Father.

God’s Potential Will in creation and providence none can resist. "He speaks and
it is done. Who can stop His hand, or say, What are You doing?" This is done by
all creatures inferior to man, everywhere, absolutely, on earth as in heaven.
Our part is mentally to concur in it, to be glad that His Power is supreme. "The
Lord reigns, let the earth rejoice." We ask that all men may carry out the Will,
either by active service or patient suffering. We pray "not in order that God
may do His own Will, but that we may be willing and enabled to do what He wills
to be done by us" (Cyprian). This brings us to the consideration of II—God’s
preceptive will in relation to the human will

God recognizes in man, made in His likeness, a capacity of Will corresponding
with His own. He is not mere Force, and we are not mere machines. We have the
Divine faculty of observing, considering, judging, approving, resolving,
performing. We can concur with His Will or dispute it; perform or resist it. It
is frivolous to debate about foreknowledge, and preordination, and philosophical
necessity, as though what will be must ever have been certain, and therefore
such as no will, or act, or prayer can change. We know by our own consciousness
that we possess this power of Will, which can be exercised in obeying that of
God, and is as free when in harmony with it as when resisting it. But we also
know that such resistance is possible, that such resistance is a sad and solemn
fact. A created will can resist the Creator. Sun, moon, and stars unconsciously
obey, but man stands forth amid the loyal universe, and dares to say "No" to the
Almighty. This faculty is recognized in all the commands, promises and
threatenings of Holy Scripture. We are not told to abrogate our function of
volition, no other mind but His being active; but to exercise our will freely in
accord with His. Our volition is appealed to by motives. The Son of God said to
the Jews, "You will not come to me that you might have life." He declared that
His own Will was opposed by theirs. "How often would I have gathered your
children, and you would not!" I had the will to save you; you had the will to
reject me. God sent His Son to bring our will into accord with His own. The
apostles besought men "in Christ’s stead, Be reconciled to God." To produce this
harmony the Divine Spirit enters human hearts. "It is God who works in us to
will and to do." We have still the power to cherish or resist these Divine
influences. "Grieve not the Holy Spirit of God;" "Quench not the Spirit." "you
do always resist the Holy Spirit; as your fathers did, so do you." This petition
implies that God can influence our will for good without destroying our freedom
of choice. For this prayed saints of old, "Teach me to do Your Will. Incline my
heart to Your testimonies." And for this our Lord taught us to pray when we say,
"Your Will be done."

III—Why should God’s will be done?

Because it is God’s. He has every right to rule; as Creator and Preserver, He
gives laws to all things that depend on Him for existence; as infinitely Good,
He has a moral right to the willing homage of all intelligent beings. It is
reasonable that they should employ the faculties He gave in accordance with His
own inherent perfections and revealed commands. We ask for the fulfillment of
"that good, acceptable, and perfect Will of God." We obey it because it is His,
and because it must be beneficent like Himself; for it is our Father’s will, and
corresponds to His Name. His precepts no less than His promises are the
expressions of His love; in commanding duties, He bestows benefits; in
forbidding sins, He guards from injuries. "Honor your father and your mother"
implies, Receive honor in your turn. "You shall not kill" involves, None must
kill you; and "You shall not steal" declares, None must rob you. His most
emphatic warnings against sin mean, "Do yourself no harm;" His severest
threatenings cry in the ears of sinners, "Why will you die?" Nothing is
forbidden which would not be an injury to ourselves; nothing enjoined which is
not for our good. He places us on an estate and bids us cultivate it for Him,
asking no rent but our diligence, and promising that we shall enjoy as our own
the fruits of orchards and corn-fields. He bids us dig a mine, and then take all
the gold for ourselves." But besides the benefits resulting, there is joy in the
very act of performing His Will. When we obey Him, our lesser wheels revolve
smoothly in harmony with the great machinery of Love, instead of grating and
breaking in hopeless counteraction. There is peace in being consciously in
accord with our own higher nature. We rejoice when what we will and what we do
is what Truth and Righteousness require. Above all, there is satisfaction in
feeling that our strongest and most habitual desires and efforts correspond with
the holy laws of our Creator and the loving Will of our Father. "In keeping them
there is great reward." This dignifies the humblest lot, and raises to the rank
of Divine service the most menial employment. The apostle comforted those
bond-slaves of the Roman Empire who believed in Jesus by this grand
consideration, that however unjust or cruel their earthly masters might be, yet
in obeying them those slaves were serving the Lord Christ. Physical bondage
became spiritual freedom when endured patiently from love to the Lord. When the
thing we do possesses in itself neither interest nor honor, if we do it in His
name, it at once becomes noble and blessed.

"Teach me, my God and King, In all things You to see, And what I do in anything,
To do it as for Thee. A servant with this clause Makes drudgery divine; Who
sweeps a room, as for Your laws, Makes that and the action fine. This is the
famous stone That turns all to gold: For that which God does touch and own
Cannot for less be told." —George Herbert IV—Angelic nature As Moses when
erecting the tabernacle was commanded to "make all things according to the
pattern shown him in the mount," so we have here set before us an example of the
way in which the will of God is to be done by men on earth—"as it is done in
heaven." If for a moment the word suggests the starry heavens, we see an
illustration of obedience, unceasing, untiring, exact; but it is mechanical,
involuntary, lifeless. One man endowed with mind and will may render more homage
than all the solar system. We must look beyond the constellations, even to "the
third heavens," for the pattern of our obedience. The resemblance of the
obedience of angels to that of men suggests resemblance of nature. At the
creation of the world "the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God
shouted for joy." We say "Our Father," and rejoice that "now are we the sons of
God." There exists therefore a near brotherhood. God made man "a little lower
than the angels." This implies only a difference of degree between kindred
natures. Our Lord, when He became man, "was made a little lower than the
angels." He who appeared to the patriarchs as the angel of Jehovah, appeared in
the fullness of time as "the Son of man." Angels are described as men. "Three
men appeared to Abraham," who at first took them to be simply men. He
"entertained angels unawares." "There came two angels to Sodom." "And the men
said to Lot, Have you here any besides?" "There came an angel of the Lord" to
Gideon, and as "he sat under an oak," Gideon thought he was a man, but
afterwards exclaimed, "Alas! for I have seen an angel of the Lord face to face."
Thus Daniel describes the angel Gabriel—"While I was speaking in prayer, even
the man Gabriel, being caused to fly swiftly, touched me about the time of the
evening oblation." Zechariah speaks of "the man that stood among the olive
trees" as being "the angel of the Lord." Matthew describes "the angel of the
Lord" rolling away the stone from the sepulcher, but Mark describes him as "a
young man sitting" where the body had lain; and Luke says "two men stood by them
in shining garments." When Jesus ascended, "as He went up, two men stood by them
in white apparel." In John’s description of the heavenly city, we have this
remarkable expression—"He measured the wall thereof, an hundred and forty and
four cubits, according to the measure of a man, that is, of the angel." In the
closing chapter the angel forbids the homage of the apostle, saying, "I am your
fellow-servant." From such statements we may infer that angels are only a higher
species of man; higher in endowment; higher by actually obeying, just as we
ought to obey, so that the true ideal of humanity is to be found in them; and we
are restored to the true human type, by resemblance to angels, when the Will of
God is done by us as by them. It is a joy to feel that if there are spirits of
evil plotting to do us harm, there are holy angels, closely allied to us, only a
little above us, in sympathy with us and employed in helping us. Very little has
been said of the angelic nature in Scripture; but obedience is the same with all
moral beings. Everywhere the same authority exists, the same wisdom and love
appeal to a similar understanding and volition. Holy angels as well as good men,
from love to God, give heed to His Will; perform it; delight in it; and so their
obedience is a model for our own.

V—ANGELIC OBEDIENCE

1. Angels do the Will of God LOVINGLY—It must be universally true that no
obedience is acceptable to God which love does not inspire. Angels are highest
in the scale of moral beings, and must therefore be highest in the possession
and exercise of that love which is the fulfilling of all law. They are in the
immediate presence of God, whose essence is love, and therefore under its most
potent influence. Dwelling in His light, they reflect and share it. They are all
seraphim burning with a holy fire which impels them, as their supreme delight,
to do the Will of Him they adore.

Such love secures the perfect loyalty which obeys every command of God because
it is His. They do not first bring it to the tribunal of their own judgment, and
then comply with it in proportion as they understand the reason of it. Their
faith must have been severely tried when they were bidden to overthrow the
cities of the plain, to destroy the first-born of Egypt, and to slay one hundred
and eighty thousand of the army of Sennacherib; when they saw their Lord
insulted and tormented by His foes, and were not allowed to rescue Him; and when
they have watched the persecution of the heirs of salvation, and "their angels"
have not been permitted to deliver them. Their only inquiry is, "Has God
commanded?"

Obedience prompted by love is sure to be cheerful. Unloving service is
reluctant, grudged, regretful, sad. A willing heart makes a merry countenance,
and inspires an obedience the happy spontaneity of which renders fragrant, the
work done. Such "service is perfect freedom." Angels obey not because they must,
but because they would. As it would be pain to birds to be restrained from
singing when the flowers deck the fields; as it is cruelty to cage the lark
whose loftiest flights express its greatest pleasure; so it would be a burden to
angels to be spared the service which is their purest bliss. Heaven is a synonym
for happiness; and there is not a truer description of its joy than this—"His
servants shall serve Him." An old writer exclaims, "It is the joy, I had almost
said the mirth, of heaven to obey the statutes of its King."

They therefore do it promptly. Love does not loiter. Angels are compared to
winds and lightning in swiftness of service. "He makes His angels winds, His
ministers a flaming fire." They never wait for a more convenient season, nor
substitute a purpose to do for present doing. Gabriel, "being caused to fly
swiftly," brought the reply to the prophet "while he was speaking in prayer."
Love spares no pains. Angels who "excel in strength," with all that strength "do
his commandments." Their capacities may vary, but each does the Will of God with
his might. Nothing is too trivial for the putting forth of every needful energy,
when the end in view is the Will of God whom they perfectly love.

We are taught to pray that our obedience may, like theirs, be that of love. Then
will it be loyal, unquestioning, cheerful, prompt, unsparing. As children obey
wise and tender parents from loving trust before they acquire from experience
the conviction that their own welfare is thus best secured, so let us obey our
Father in heaven, even when we cannot understand the reason and methods of His
Will. Called to such obedience, we are called to noblest liberty. Our service
may well be cheerful when it has become the gratification of our own heaven-born
impulses; when "we love the thing which God commands, and desire that which He
promises." It may well be cheerful when thereby we share the privilege and the
joy of heaven; and possess a sign that we belong to Him whose example, as the
Lord of angels, we are supremely to follow, and who said, "I delight to do Your
will."

Then will our obedience be prompt. Alas! how often we are convinced of some evil
and resolve to forsake it, or of some duty and comfort our conscience by the
purpose of performing it tomorrow! whereas, in an attitude of loving obedience,
we should pray, "Speak, Lord, for Your servant hears;" and in grateful
retrospection be able to say, "I made haste, and delayed not to keep Your
commandments." Then also will obedience be unstinted. We should always do our
best. "Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with your might;" when God
commands, inspects, rewards. "She has done what she could" is a commendation not
to be surpassed, and not confined to rank or power. The very weakest and
lowliest may share it with the strongest and greatest. Men on earth are accepted
with cherubim and seraphim, when, with them, they do what they can. It is to be
feared that some who bear the Christian name are still but as Jews, under the
restraints of law. They try to do their duty, fearing to displease God and to
incur penalty. But believers in Christ have not received "the spirit of bondage
again unto fear; but the spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father." We
obey, not as slaves, but as sons. Our service is not measured by payment nor
constrained by fear; "We freely serve because we freely love."

2. They do it INTELLIGENTLY—Their faith is rational, their loyalty discerning.
They take pains to know whether the command is really from God and not their own
imagination; and then to understand what it really means, not what their own
fancy may suppose it capable of meaning. "Bless the Lord, you His angels, who do
His commandments, listening to the voice of His word." They do not rush
heedlessly into service. So we should pray, "Make me to understand the way of
Your precepts. Give me understanding, and I shall keep Your law." In order
intelligently to obey, we are to "search the Scriptures," which are "profitable
for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness."

3. They do it PRAYERFULLY—If prayer is far more than the mere asking for sorrow
to be relieved, needs supplied, and sins forgiven; if it is the outpouring of a
filial heart, heaven would lack one chief element of bliss if angels did not
pray. The Lord of angels prayed. Knowing how surely the Will of the Father would
be accomplished, He expressed His concurrence with that Will in earnest
supplications. He still prays. He makes intercession for transgressors, that
they may begin to do the Will of God—and for His faithful servants, that they
may go on to do it. "This must surely be a law of the spiritual universe and of
the heavenly world. Angels and the ’spirits of just men made perfect,’ martyrs
from beneath the altar, the four and twenty elders, and the principalities and
powers in heavenly places, because of their thorough submission to the law and
love and will of God, are the most fervent and intense of all His creatures in
their prayers, and see by the piercing glances of their faith, and soar by the
strong wings of intercession, on into the everlasting purposes of the Infinite
and Eternal God" (H. Reynolds). Many of our petitions can have no place in
heaven, but surely this one will never cease to be the desire of glorified
saints and unfallen angels. Heavenly perfection must include reliance on the
Heavenly Father, both for existence itself and for the purity and happiness
which are inseparable from obedience. Not for themselves alone, but for all
intelligent beings they pray. While they do God’s Will, they pray that it may be
done. So let us do it; doing it, the more we pray; praying for it, the more we
do it.

4. They do ALL God’s Will—We on earth are apt to make selections. Obedience is
easy when the Will of God agrees with the opinions of the world, of the society
in which we move, of patrons or friends; when it does not threaten property,
trade, comfort; when it does not demand uncongenial exertion, the breaking of
matured habits, or painful self-sacrifice. We think we are obeying the Will of
God when we may be only pleasing ourselves. If we walk along the path of duty
only when it is level, smooth and flowery, but turn aside when it scales the
steep crag--our motive is the gratifying of self, not the obeying of God. But in
heaven, inasmuch as they do God’s Will because it is His, angels do it all. We
cannot imagine them selecting what may be most easy, profitable, or honorable.
They loyally execute every order—whether to destroy Sodom or rescue Lot; in
brilliant array to proclaim the Law, or singly to withstand Balaam; to give food
to Elijah, or to carry him to heaven; to form a bodyguard for Elisha, or to shut
the lions’ mouths for Daniel; to destroy the armies of Sennacherib, or to bear a
quick reply to one lonely suppliant’s prayer. So we do God’s Will as they do it
in heaven when we obey without preference, whether to work amid the blaze of
publicity or in the shade of obscurity, whether to range the earth in unresting
activity or to wait His Will in humble readiness.

After an important battle, a great general was conversing with his officers
respecting the various incidents of the fight. The names were mentioned of men
who had stormed batteries, held their post against fearful odds, fought
single-handed against a crowd of assailants, or carried off wounded comrades
amid a shower of bullets. "No (said he); you are all mistaken—the best man in
the field today was a soldier who had his arm lifted up against an enemy, but
who, on hearing the trumpet sound a retreat, checked himself, and dropped his
arm without striking the blow. That perfect and ready obedience to the will of
his general is the noblest thing that has been done today" (A. Hare). How often
we feel it easier to wield the sword than sheathe it, to pursue than to retreat,
to work than to wait! Yet there should be no difference in our obedience when we
cannot doubt what is the Will of God. One command neglected, because
uncongenial, mars the rest of our obedience. In a harp of many strings, one that
is out of tune makes the whole seem discordant. Then only "shall we not be
ashamed" when, like the angels, we "have respect for all" the commandments of
God.

5. They do it ALWAYS—"They serve Him day and night in His temple." There are no
intervals of idleness; they wish no vacation. Interruption in obedience would be
a suspension of bliss. Let ours resemble theirs; not by fits and starts, with
intervening relapses; not needing revivals out of apathy; not dependent on
novelty, which must soon lose its charm, but patient and persevering under all
circumstances; not as a mountain-torrent whose rocky channel is bare and
sunburned when snows are not melting and rains do not fall, but as a deep, broad
river ever flowing with fertilizing tide. "O that there were such heart in them,
that they would fear me, and keep all my commandments always!"

6. They all do it, and do it altogether—Not as here, a few among the many, and
these objects of curiosity and wonder, sometimes of ridicule and hatred; but
everyone does it; that countless host forming a glorious and perfect unity of
obedience with endless diversity of gifts. There is not one among that great
multitude who makes objection, or questions why. "Are they not all ministering
spirits?" All do it in perfect harmony, each contented with his allotted service
as most honorable and advantageous, because appointed by God. No time or
strength is wasted on controversy. The possessor of ten talents does not despise
the possessor of only one, nor does the latter envy the former. One worker does
not condemn his fellow because he uses varying methods. There is no insisting on
uniformity of operation where there is this grand unity of motive; no attempt to
fetter the freedom the Creator gives by bonds the creature invents. There is no
friction of the wheels, because each is perfectly fitted to the central power
and plan. All the workers are in harmony with each other, because all are
perfectly doing the Will of God.

O for such harmony among Christian workers on earth! Alas, how much time and
energy are wasted in contentions between fellow-servants in imposing their
preferences on others who have an equal right to their own; and in failing to
recognize true service unless performed according to some standard of man’s
devising! The cure is an earnest desire to do the Will of God. As the structure
of the earth is consolidated by every particle gravitating towards the same
center, so the more our minds and hearts in all our service are directed towards
God, the more we must approach each other.

7. They do it in the presence of God—The actual presence and inspection of one
we honor acts as an additional stimulus to the obedience of love. The angel who
appeared to Zacharias said, "I am Gabriel, who stands in the presence of God."
The "many angels round about the throne do always behold the face of the
Father," and the eye of Him whom they supremely love and adore is upon them. No
wonder, therefore, that they do His Will earnestly, constantly, cheerfully,
harmoniously. So let us do it. For is not God really as near to us here on earth
as He is to them in heaven? We do not behold His face, but we may by faith
realize His presence, and in holy service "endure, seeing the Invisible." If
soldiers are animated by the presence of the general, if servants by the
inspection of their master, if children by the loving looks of their parents,
should not we serve and obey "as ever in our Great Taskmaster’s eye," when He is
our loving Father? Although the prayer refers to the manner of obedience, not to
the kind of work, we cannot refrain from noticing how numerous and varied are
the services performed by angels which are of a beneficent character. They all
"minister for the heirs of salvation;" they "encamp round about those who fear
God;" they have a "charge concerning" the righteous, to "keep them in all their
ways;" they do not overlook "one of these little ones who believe in Jesus;"
they rescued an apostle from prison, and carried a beggar into Abraham’s bosom.
In doing the Will of God, princes in heaven serve sinners on earth.

If thus angels act as "ministers of grace" to aid fallen men, surely we should
obey that same Will in acts of beneficence to one another; ministering to the
saints, protecting the weak, caring for little children, visiting the sick,
tending the dying. In such service we are apt to neglect small acts of kindness
while thinking to do great things, and waiting for these to present themselves.
"A wise man," said Lord Bacon, "will make more opportunities than he finds."
Benevolence like that of the angels will never wait for a call to some mighty
act, when to give a cup of cold water is at hand. While imitating their
obedience to Him whose "Nature and property is ever to show mercy," we shall
never be at a loss for opportunities. In all benevolent work we are doing the
Will of God. But there is no department of such work so important as that of
endeavoring to save the souls of men. Here also we may learn a lesson from the
angels. They announced His birth; ministered to Him in the wilderness and in
Gethsemane; appeared at the Resurrection and Ascension; came to the disciples to
aid and direct then; to Philip, Acts 8:26; Cornelius, Acts 10:3-22; Peter, Acts
12:7-9; Paul, Acts 17:23; and John, Revelation 1:1; and are deeply interested in
the salvation provided for sinful men. "Which things the angels desire to look
into." "There is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who
repents." Possessed of lofty intelligence, with vast and accurate knowledge of
truth, they understand how much is involved in the salvation of one soul.
Already in possession of joy so complete, they would not burst forth into fresh
gladness on account of any trivial event. We may learn from them the unspeakable
reasons for joy in the salvation of one sinner. If we do the Will of God on
earth as they do it in heaven, we shall feel that the repentance of even one
sinner is ample reward for a life of labor, since it furnishes occasion for
fresh joy in heaven. O for the time when earth shall thus resemble heaven; when
all men in doing the Will of God shall best serve themselves and one another;
when the varied wills of men, not destroyed nor compressed into a rigid
uniformity controlled by a single dominant and all-embracing volition, but in
their multiplicity of individual wills, each free yet all concurring, shall form
one Commonwealth of Willinghood in the perfect service of the Eternal King!

VI—PASSIVE OBEDIENCE

Men have also to obey in another method unknown to angels. We are exposed to
varied sorrows, all sent or permitted by God and overruled for good, but needing
special help to endure them patiently. The purposes of God must be accomplished
whether we assent to them or not. We here pray that we may render this assent.
"Our repining hinders not His working, but it hinders our own comfort—our
wrestling and fretting does but pain ourselves" (Leighton). How the character of
any trial is changed when we accept it from our Father; when we are cheerfully
led instead of being unwillingly driven; when we take up our burden and carry it
instead of trailing it along the rocky path! God’s Will may concur with our own
wish; or our prayer may bring us what we ask; but there will often be times when
what we wish we cannot have. But we may always relinquish our own will and
embrace that of God, and so, by making His Will ours, have our own. Luther said,
"I do not ask ’Your Will be done,’ but my will be done, because Your Will is now
my will, and I best get my own will by unquestioning acceptance of Yours." It
would not be good for us to have our own will always, if it were possible. Were
God to give us the liberty of choice, it would be wise to resign that liberty
again to Him who is infallibly wise and unfailingly kind. Often, as we look
back, we see places where we wished to take some other path than that in which
God was leading us, and we perceive that our own preference would have led us
into bogs or over precipices. And we also see places where we resolutely chose
our own path, and God overruled our disappointment to teach us the folly of
refusing to be guided by Himself!

"Lord, You are mine and I am Thine, If mine I am—and Your much more, Than I or
ought, or can be mine. Yet to be Your, does me restore; So that again I now am
mine; And with advantage, mine the more, Since this being mine brings with it
Thine, And You with me do You restore. If I without You would be mine, I neither
should be mine nor Your."—George Herbert

How unanswerable the argument for resignation to the Divine Will in times of
trial is the assurance of the apostle, "Our light affliction, which is for the
moment, is working for us more and more exceedingly an eternal weight of glory"!
Light compared with the weight of glory, momentary compared with the eternal
result, they are always operating for our welfare even when causing us most
suffering. "We know that all things work together for good to those who love
God." They are active, beneficent, harmonious; they work together for good.
Often our trials act as a prickly hedge which wounds, but guards us from the
steep precipice or the deep river. Loss of property may enrich the soul. Trials
reveal to us ourselves, "as soaking rain shows damaged places in the roof which
need mending." They bring our sins to remembrance, as in the case of Joseph’s
brethren. They separate us from many perilous temptations and worldly snares;
they draw or drive us to the throne of grace; they are a needful discipline of
faith, and our patient endurance is a helpful example.

"If loving hearts were never lonely, If all they wish might always be, Accepting
what they wish for only, They might be glad, but not in Thee. We need as much
the cross we bear As air we breathe, as light we see; It draws us to Your side
in prayer, It binds us to our strength in Thee." The brave and godly Sir John
Eliot said—"In wrestling with calamities there is this advantage for all—First,
yourself; the favor of God giving you this education, knowledge of yourself,
confirmation of virtue. Secondly, your neighbors; profit by your example, your
fortitude adding courage to them. How then in this great duty of advantage to
ourselves and neighbors we should repine, as ’tis a prejudice to our happiness,
so ’tis a wonder unto reason." As the destruction of Aquileia and other towns on
the Italian coast caused their inhabitants to flee to the islets of the lagoon,
from which there afterwards arose the temples and palaces of the queenly city of
the Adriatic, so the most threatening perils and darkest trials of the believer
have often been the means of erecting temples of spiritual beauty, far
surpassing that palatial city of the sea. Whatever brightness there may be in
any object through color of its own, this is far exceeded by the sun’s own rays
when reflected from it. A broken vessel, a fragment of glass, may blaze with
solar splendor, when objects of perfect form, artistic beauty, and costly
material may send back no heavenly radiance. The stream flowing placidly through
the meadows may be beautiful; but not until obstructed by rocks, broken into
rapids, tumbling over precipices, is it brilliant with all the colors of the
solar spectrum, and spanned by the rainbow. Resistance to our Father’s Will is
opposition to our own welfare; murmuring at trials is discontent with blessings
He designs. Let us then take the oar of duty and leave to Him the helm of
direction. Whatever course the pilot steers, let us aid the vessel’s progress,
whether it bears us through smooth or stormy waters, and while pulling let us
pray, "Your Will be done."

"Man’s weakness, waiting upon God, Its end can never miss; For man on earth no
work can do, More angel-like than this. Siding with God, I always win; No chance
to me is lost: His Will is sweet to me, even when It triumphs at my cost. Ills
that God blesses are my good— All unblest good is ill; And all is right that
seems most wrong, If it be His dear Will." —Faber VII—ILLUSTRATIONS OF PASSIVE
OBEDIENCE

We have no examples of passive obedience in unfallen angels, but we have many in
the history of those who joined their ranks when they "came out of great
tribulation." Job said, "The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be
the name of the Lord." David—"Let Him do to me as seems good to Him."
Habakkuk"—"Although the fig-tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in
the vines, yet I will rejoice in the Lord." Apostles and early Christians
"rejoiced to be counted worthy to suffer shame for His name," and could "glory
in tribulation also." Richard Baxter, when suffering extreme pain on his
deathbed, prayed for release, but checked himself thus—"It is not fit for me to
prescribe—What You will, when You will, how You will." When asked how he was, he
would reply, "Almost well; better than I deserve to be, but not so well as I
hope to be." Milton said, "It is not so wretched to be blind as it is not to be
capable of enduring blindness. There is a way to strength through weakness. Let
me then be the most feeble creature alive as long as that feebleness serves to
invigorate my spirit; as long as in that obscurity the light of the Divine
presence more clearly shines, then in proportion as I am weak I ’shall be
invincibly strong, and in proportion as I am blind I shall more clearly see. O
that I may thus be perfected by feebleness and irradiated by obscurity!" Thus
our trials may become means of blessing, and seeming hindrances real helps.
Climbing the mountain of God’s holiness, our path is obstructed by projecting
rocks which tempt the timid to despair and the indolent to turn back, but which
the resolute climber grasps with his hands, and uses as a fulcrum for his feet,
so making what might have become a stumbling-block a stepping-stone. The wife of
Archbishop Tait thus wrote of the death of five children within a few weeks—"We
were called to part with these five blessed little daughters, each of whom had
been received in prayer, educated with prayer, and were now given up, though
with bitter anguish, yet with prayer and thanksgiving." The trial is spoken of
as "a bright chain to draw the heart up to heaven." And when a son was cut off
in the morning of his usefulness, we read that "as the benediction was
pronounced over his resting place, his parents felt that their many prayers for
his welfare, offered up from his infancy onwards, had been answered, though not
in the way they had expected."

Mr. Fisk relates that a Grand Vizier, in high favor with the Sultan, was
suddenly disgraced and deprived of all his property. He at once conformed to his
new circumstances, and was seen selling lemons at a street corner, where he was
sympathetically accosted by an English nobleman who had known him in his glory.
He replied, "I am not at all unhappy. Allah gave me what I had—He had a perfect
right to take it away—Allah is great, Allah is good!" How much more should we
who know God as the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ pray with unquestioning
submission, "Your Will be done"! To a friend of the writer, a poor man, prior to
the days of chloroform, related how it had been necessary that his little boy
should undergo a most painful operation. The father explained this to his child,
asking if he could bear it. "Yes, father, if you will hold my hand." The hand
was held, the boy was patient, and health was restored. In every trial our
Father holds our hand, and recovery is certain; shall we not then be "patient in
tribulation"? A woman in the writer’s congregation who had been prostrate during
forty years, with an active spirit but helpless body, said to him, "I would
rather be in heaven; but if it be my Father’s Will, I’m ready to lie here forty
years longer." Her sister, during nineteen years lying helpless and scarcely
ever free from pain, said to the author on the day when the preceding page was
written, "Last week I was very near home, but the Lord has brought me back. I
hoped He would have taken me, but it must be best." The case of the boy was
related to her whose father held his hand, and she replied, "Oh, He does more
for me—’His left hand is under my head, and His right hand embraces me’! I have
seen more of His mercy by lying here than I should have seen if well. What a
sweet text that is—’I will greatly rejoice in the Lord, my soul shall be joyful
in my God; for He has clothed me with the garments of salvation, He has covered
me with the robe of righteousness.’"

Thus the Father helps His children to "glory in tribulation also;" not only to
be resigned, but thankful; "strengthened with all might unto all patience and
patience with joyfulness, giving thanks to the Father," while from the midst of
the furnace exclaiming, "Your Will be done."

VIII—THE EXAMPLE OF CHRIST

He who was so high above angels stooped to become below them, that He might
illustrate His own prayer. Throughout His ministry He made it manifest that He
came to obey—"I seek not my own will, but the Will of the Father who has sent
me." When the disciples wondered that their Lord talked with the woman of
Samaria and seemed indifferent to food, He said, "My meat is to do the Will of
Him who sent me, and to finish His work." His satisfaction at the close of life
was this, "I have finished the work which You gave me to do." In this active
service He illustrated how the Will of the Father would be done in heaven if
sorrow could find entrance there. His agony in the garden was intense. The
bloody sweat was the sign of anguish beyond all possibility of flesh to feel. He
knelt, He bowed down, He fell on His face to the ground, "with strong crying and
tears" He appealed to His Father, "O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup
pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will." The utmost
suffering was united with entire resignation, so that He said, "The cup which my
Father has given me, shall I not drink it?" And He did drink it to the dregs.
When scourged and crucified, He never ceased to illustrate the prayer, "Your
Will be done," until He said, "It is finished." "The cross is at once the
complete utterance of the prayer and the answer to it" (Maurice). Here is the
highest possible example of heavenly obedience in patient suffering—agony
intense, desire strong, submission absolute. "He learned obedience by the things
that He suffered." It was fitting, it was needful that the Father, "in bringing
many sons to glory, should make the Captain of their salvation perfect through
sufferings." Our Leader in the same path of trial "is not ashamed to call us
brethren." Thus we pray to be enabled to submit in the same spirit of filial
trust. My Father, Your Will! Because as Father Your Will can purpose nothing
which is not for Your glory in Your children’s good, therefore "Your Will be
done on earth, as it is done in heaven." The example of Christ Himself is the
high mark at which we are to aim. We are not to consider what other people do,
nor what many Christian professors do, nor what even the best of fallible men
do; we are to imitate the obedience of angels, more so, of the Lord of angels.
To aim lower would make us untrue both to God and ourselves. He accepts inferior
degrees of service from loyal hearts, but He cannot be satisfied with less than
perfection, nor will loving children of His be content with offering less. His
Will cannot be lowered to our mean attainments, but our standard must be lifted
up to His perfection. Our dilatory dial must be adjusted to the true solar time.
Though we fail in this life to reach the ultimate goal, we must press towards it
rather than rest short of it; thus shall we run farther than if our goal were
nearer. "Though an archer shoot not so high as he aims, yet the higher he takes
his aim, the higher he shoots" (Leighton). "He who aims at a star will shoot
higher than he who aims at a bush" (Manton). The Divine target for human
endeavor is Divine perfection. "You shall be perfect as your heavenly Father is
perfect." That we may with all our heart illustrate this prayer is the purpose
of God in the discipline of trial. Such obedience is the test of faith and
steadfastness, for the great Teacher likened the doer of His word to "the wise
man who built his house upon a rock." This secures repose, for the promise is
linked with the precept—"Take my yoke upon you, and you shall find rest." This
alone gives reasonable assurance of salvation, for "hereby we do know that we
know Him, if we keep His commandments." This is the true key of knowledge, the
torch to guide into new paths; for "if any man will do His will, He shall know
of the doctrine." This elevates to a dignity surpassing noblest descent or royal
lineage, for it constitutes us near relatives of Him who said, "Whoever does the
Will of God, the same is my brother and sister and mother;" and "If a man loves
me, he will keep my word; and my Father will love him, and we will come to him
and make our abode with him." This secures immortality, for though "the world
and its desires pass away, he who does the Will of God abides forever." This
antedates heaven’s bliss and allies us already with angels, for it is
characteristic of the home of the blessed that "His servants shall serve Him."
With what thoughtfulness and sincerity should we offer such a prayer! How many
are self-convicted as they utter it, acknowledging as the standard of conduct an
example they have no intention to imitate! "In this prayer the godless man
condemns himself, the sufferer comforts himself, the slothful invigorates
himself, the self-willed rebukes himself, and the will of the spirit prays
itself through all the impediments of an opposing flesh, to perfect victory"
(Stier). The essential difference between the children of God and others is,
that they place the Will of God foremost. Human depravity is alienation from the
Divine Will, and may underlie great varieties of external behavior. Every true
convert asks at once, "Lord, what will You have me to do?" Alas for professors
who daily say, "Your Will be done," while daily doing their own! How apt we are
to be content with convictions that the Will of God ought to be done, with forms
of prayer that it may be done, with regrets that we have not done it, and
resolutions to do it hereafter! How often we think we do it when we only do it
partially, in trifles that cost nothing, in actions concurring with our own
inclinations and worldly interests, or when we wait for some grand occasion for
doing it, and let slip the opportunities which each day offers in little things!
How often we make abstinence from one fault a palliative to conscience while
indulging another! We may be temperate but avaricious, chaste but uncharitable,
orthodox but irritable and unforgiving, and all the while suppose we are doing
the Will of God.

"This is the great difficulty which stops so many in their Christian journey. It
is like a great steep mountain, which blocks up the road to heaven—and some of
us waste our time in trying to find a path round it; and some of us fall asleep
at the foot of it; and some of us in despair turn our backs on it, and set our
faces toward the way of sin and death—but few, very few have the wisdom and the
courage to say within themselves, ’The city of our God and King is at the top of
that steep mountain—unless I climb the mountain, I can never get there—so the
sooner I begin the better’" (A. W. Hare). The worst doom that can overtake us is
being left to our own will. "My people would not heed my voice, and Israel would
have none of me; so I gave them up to their own hearts’ lust, and they walked in
their own counsels." Refusal to walk in God’s ways results in walking in our
own; and walking in our own, means following that other guide who always leads
those who will not be led by the Spirit. We may fancy we are masters of
ourselves when we refuse to be servants of God, but while dreaming of freedom we
are becoming spell-bound by the stronger will of the devil. He promises us
freedom in order to rivet on us his chain. He bribes with the assurance of
securing to us our will that he may make us subject to his own. It is a terrible
description of his victims—"taken captive of the devil at his will." Alas for
those who are "tied and bound by the chain of their sins," and have yielded up
their freedom to their soul’s worst foe!

Cyprian, Bishop of Carthage, A.D. 252, who illustrated this petition both by
active service and martyr-suffering, thus admirably summarizes what we pray to
be enabled to do—"The Will of God is what Christ has done and taught—it is
humility in conduct, steadfastness in faith, scrupulousness in our words,
rectitude in our deeds, mercy in our works, governance in our habits; it is
innocence of injuriousness, and patience under it, preserving peace with the
brethren, loving God with all our heart, loving Him as our Father and fearing
Him as our God; accounting Christ before all things because He accounted nothing
before us, clinging inseparably to His love, being stationed with fortitude and
faith at His cross, and when the battle comes for His Name and honor maintaining
in words that constancy which makes confession, in torture that confidence which
joins battle, and in death that patience which receives the crown. This is to
fulfill the Will of the Father." This petition, like the rest, includes all
mankind. As we recognize the whole brotherhood when we say "Our Father;" so we
pray that His Will may be obeyed throughout the whole earth. What a reign of
peace will it be when everyone will be aiming at the same object, obeying the
same perfect Will? Then will earth resemble heaven, when the Will of God is done
by men as by angels.


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  CHAPTER 47: 02.05.     THE FOURTH PETITION--
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The Fourth petition-- "GIVE US THIS DAY OUR DAILY BREAD."

I—MEANING AND REASONABLENESS

Some have explained this petition spiritually, as a request for spiritual
bread—some sacramentally, as if the real Presence of Christ could be
communicated in the Eucharist. Whatever the worth of any such ideas, the
petition itself asks for things necessary for the body. It is not, like those
preceding it, suited for angels as well as men. As yet we are a little lower
than them, and are dependent on supplies of daily bread. Neither is it a prayer
suited for the Stoicism which would regard the body as an incumbrance to be
ignored, its demands despised. Nor is it a prayer of the Monasticism which would
punish the body for the sins of the soul, and please the Creator of it by
opposing His designs. The body He made dependent on daily bread, is to be
nourished and prayed for. He Himself took our nature, and did not scorn its
needs as undeserving attention because the body is less valuable than the soul.
However some may fanatically or hypocritically profess to be superior to its
demands, He said, "Your heavenly Father knows that you have need of all these
things." Not "He knows that you can do without them, and should rise superior to
the desire for them," but "He knows that you do really need them, and therefore
you may ask them from Him." But the place allotted to this petition teaches us
that God should be paramount. Not until we have asked that His Name may be
hallowed, that His kingdom may come, that His will may be done, do we
appropriately ask that our bread may be given. To seek exclusively the supply of
bodily wants is to rise little above the beasts of the field, who "roar after
their prey and seek their meat from God." Such quest is begging, not praying;
or, as an old author says, "It is howling when we come to God merely for corn,
wine, and oil; when we prefer these things before His glory and the graces of
His Spirit." This request, though the first relating to ourselves alone, is the
last for positive blessings, the remainder being deprecations of evil; and so
the rule of precedence is observed, the least important coming last. Really,
though not avowedly, we pray for our own highest interests when we pray for
God’s Name, Kingdom, and Will; but here we more explicitly plead for ourselves.
Yet in so doing there is no sudden descent from heavenly to earthly things, no
abrupt separation between the Divine kingdom and bodily necessities; for if we
ask to do the Will of God on earth, we need to have our earthly life nourished
to enable us to do it, and so we ask for bread as a help to service.

Some persons who pray for Divine help in relation to what is moral and
spiritual, question the utility of asking for anything within the region of
physical law. But events both great and small are influenced by men’s thoughts
and volitions; if God may be asked to influence these, He may be asked to direct
those. And if we ask God to influence human volitions to bring about physical
facts, can we suppose that His own volitions have no influence on such facts?
The spiritual and the natural spheres are inseparable. God presides in both, and
may be sought in relation to both. To the same Being whose Will we ask may be
done, we may say, "Give us bread;" for is He not our Father, and as such must it
not be His Will to supply His children’s needs? The duty, privilege, and natural
instinct of an earthly parent were recognized by our Lord when He said, "If a
son shall ask bread of any of you that is a father, will he give him a stone?"
It is a child’s instinct to ask food from its parent, whose instinct prompts to
give it; it is the instinct of our spiritual nature to look up to God—it is a
moral necessity with those who have "received the spirit of adoption whereby we
cry, Abba, Father." We may be unable to reply to all objections against such
prayer, but if we are children of God we cannot cease from praying; and though
we chiefly ask for the Divine glory and for help to trust and obey, we do
promote His glory, and obey, when the filial spirit prays—"Our Father in heaven,
give us this day our daily bread."

II—BREAD THE GIFT OF "OUR FATHER"

God is the universal Giver. His gifts precede His claims. We do not purchase His
favor but respond to it. "We love Him because He first loved us." We do His Will
because He has first taught us to say "Father." As His children we are dependent
on His goodness, and say with filial confidence, Father! give! Giving implies
personality, thought, emotion. We cannot ask material forces to give. It is vain
to appeal to gravitation to bestow anything. What a dreary abode this world
would be if deprived of God the Giver! How would all the enjoyments of life lose
their highest charm, if we no longer received them as from our Father! "These
are convictions the loss of which I believe to be the most inexpressible
calamity which can fall either upon a man or upon a nation" (W. E. Gladstone).
Were there no personal God, we could not say "Give:" were He not our Father, we
could not as children come to Him day by day for bread. Our Father is the
universal Giver because He is the universal Proprietor. "The earth is the
Lord’s, and the fullness thereof." He is the life of all that lives. "He
preserves man and beast." By His providential care the innumerable tribes of
living creatures are fed. "He hears the ravens that cry." The birds have neither
storehouse nor barn, yet our "heavenly Father feeds them." He is always giving,
so quietly that we are often unobservant of His bounty as of the silent dew; so
regularly, that we notice His gifts more by their occasional seeming
interruption than by their regular bestowment.

How marvelous is the supply of food throughout the ages for the support of man!
Inorganic substances cannot feed him, but they are transmuted by an unfailing
chemistry into vegetable products which are suitable nourishment for animals,
and both become the food of man. But how is it that dead particles of earth and
water and gas combine to form a plant, and arrange themselves into a complex
organism which is itself alive? "There must be some power distinct from the
force possessed by each particle, and superior to all, which directs the
movements of each, as the general directs the movements of every soldier on the
field. What is this power? You say it is Life. Yes, that is a beautiful word—but
it means nothing unless it means pattern-forming mind. These wonders conduct us
to the all-pervading Spirit of God, who ’makes the grass to grow upon the
mountains, and satisfies the desire of every living thing.’ It is not then a
piece of poetry, but profoundest truth, when we say, It is God who ’gives food
to all flesh’" (E. White). This was the great truth the Israelites were taught
in the wilderness. Accustomed to the abundant stores of Egypt, they had no
sooner entered the desert than they felt their helplessness. In answer to their
cry the manna fell. Besides furnishing necessary supplies, it taught their
dependence on God for daily bread. "He fed you with manna, that He might make
you know that man does not live by bread only, but by everything that proceeds
from the mouth of the Lord." God showed that He could feed them independently of
the Nile flood and the corn of Egypt. By His command He could make the air
distill this unknown product and endow it with nutriment to satisfy their hunger
during forty years. Thus they were taught that ordinary food nourishes not by
any inherent necessity, and that when they were settled in Canaan the produce of
their own cornfields would, equally with the manna, be the gift of God. Our
Lord, tempted to employ His miraculous power to relieve His hunger, quoted these
words. Satan suggested that if He were indeed the Son of God, He had power to
turn stones into bread. But He replied that man’s life depends not on bread
alone, but on God who gives bread and renders it nutritious, whose power can
support life without it, whose favor therefore is life, and obedience to whose
word is the life of life. If bread is effectual for food by the Word of God
alone, how foolish as well as sinful to violate that word in order to obtain
that food! "Better starve than go to the devil for food." Our Lord placed
Himself on our level. As man, He both suffered temptation and triumphed. He did
not assert any special privilege, but as one of us He said, "It is written,
Man"—all men, the race of mankind—"shall not live by bread alone, but by every
word that proceeds out of the mouth of God." That Word alone makes bread to
nourish; and therefore the bread must be received as the gift of God, which can
only really benefit when it is sought and received as such.

Other miracles besides that of the manna had reminded the Jews of the same
truth. On two occasions Moses was supported during forty days without food;
Elijah was thus preserved in the desert; ravens brought him meat beside the
brook; and the widow’s barrel of meal wasted not. These facts showed that the
Word of God could preserve life in other ways than by natural processes, which
are equally the product of His Word. That Word brought the great multitude of
fish to the net of the disciples who had toiled for them all night in vain, and
that Word multiplied the five small loaves to feed five thousand men. In the
regular harvest no less than in the obvious miracle, the hand of God is at work.
The comparatively small quantity of seed corn resulting in the produce which
feeds the whole multitude of mankind is the miracle of the loaves on a larger
scale. Those miracles were "but flashes of light from the heavenly regions to
illuminate our darkness—concentrated lessons, strongly-marked diagrams, to teach
our dull minds that our heavenly Father gives us our earthly bread" (Saphir).
Because God works by means, such as sunshine and rain; and because He ordains
that we should be fed in connection with our own efforts in ploughing and
sowing, men are apt to dwell on these second causes and forget Himself. The seed
grows by the action of light and heat, of sun and rain; but it is He who ordains
these influences. "He left not Himself without witness, in that He did good, and
gave us rain from heaven and fruitful seasons, filling our hearts with food and
gladness." So as regards our own exertions. Faculty of thought, invention,
contrivance; power of will, resolution, perseverance; strength of arm,
mechanical skill—all these come from Him, and therefore He is the Giver of all
they produce. "Say not in your heart, My power and the strength of my hand has
gotten me this wealth. But you shall remember the Lord your God—for it is He who
gives you power to get wealth."

"One day I asked the children in our infant school, Who gives you the bread you
get to your dinner? Almost every voice answered, ’My mother.’ But who gave it to
your mother? ’The baker.’ And who gave it to the baker? ’The miller.’ And who
gave it to the miller. ’The farmer.’ And who gave it to the farmer. ’The
ground.’ And only when I asked, Who gave it to the ground? did I get the answer,
’It was God’" (J. H. Wilson). How many children of a larger growth attribute
their blessings to any second cause rather than to the gift of their Father!
When the food has been produced we still need to say, "Give." The field may be
golden with corn, but there may be no fit weather for harvesting it. The barn
may be filled with grain which the mold may corrupt or the fire consume.
Throughout the year and every day of it the beautiful prayer is appropriate,
"Give and preserve to our use the kindly fruits of the earth, so as in due time
we may enjoy them." And when thus preserved we need to say, Give; for it is by
the Word of God alone that the grain can nourish. We might have no appetite to
desire it, no power to digest it, no health to enjoy it. For all this we need to
say, Father, Give!

III—THE GIFT—"DAILY BREAD"

There has been much discussion on the word rendered "daily." It occurs nowhere
in Greek literature, and is found only in the Lord’s Prayer. Some have
interpreted it as referring to the future; bread being asked for tomorrow, or
even all the days following. But this seems totally opposed to our Lord’s
teaching on the same occasion, "Be not therefore anxious for the morrow; for the
morrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof."
The meaning is seasonable, bread suited to our need. "The idea of fitness for a
purpose and of actually serving it are united in the closest manner. The ’daily’
stands in the middle between the past and the future, and designates that which
is just enough" (Tholuck).

Honor is here given to food as the appointed means of nourishment. How little
they reverence God who, in professing to pay Him homage, regard any of His works
as in themselves to be despised! How contrary to the teaching of the Bible are
the cave of the hermit and the cell of the monk, and how inevitable is the
revolt from such unnatural restraint! Unfallen man needed and was supplied with
food in Paradise. It was not eating which caused his fall, but disobedience.
Angels did not refuse to eat the food provided by Abraham and by Lot. Our Lord
was not only sustained during His human life by the food of man, but shared it
after His resurrection. Having on their way to Emmaus fed the souls of the two
favored believers, He "sat at meat with them, and took bread, and blessed it,
and broke, and gave it to them." Later in that evening of that first day of
Resurrection, "He said to the assembled disciples, Have you here any meat? And
they gave Him a piece of broiled fish and of an honeycomb. And He took it and
ate before them." As a sanction to that fellowship in food which so tends to
kindle sympathy, when He confirmed Peter in his apostleship by the charge, "Feed
my sheep," He said, "Come and dine. Jesus then took bread, and gave them, and
fish likewise."

Religion sanctifies common life. "Godliness is profitable unto all things." The
body is not only the lodging place of the soul, but "the temple of the Holy
Spirit." To supply it with food, to protect it from harm and dishonor—this is a
religious duty, not so important as caring for the soul, but deriving its
authority from the same source, and therefore not to be neglected. We glorify
God not by ignoring the nature He gave, and which Christ shared, but by
nourishing it as the clothing and instrument of the soul. We are to "glorify God
in our body" as well as "in our spirit, which are His;" equally His, and
therefore each, in its degree, to be cared for according to His purpose in
regard to each.

Godliness was never intended to make a separation between our earthly and our
spiritual life, but between both and sin; teaching us, not to distinguish things
secular from things sacred, but to make all things sacred by faith and love; not
to expect to secure happiness in heaven by giving ourselves pain on earth, as
though the feast of eternity could be purchased by the fast of time, but, except
where conscience intervenes, thankfully to use God’s gifts for the "life that
now is," as well as for "that which is to come." But while the necessities of
the body are recognized, we are taught to be content with what is sufficient for
our need, and not to desire what shall furnish our luxury. It is bread that we
are taught to ask for. And though we may regard this term as comprehending
whatever else we may need for the present life, yet it does suggest the simplest
kind of provision.

Here then is a lesson of contentment, and a warning against extravagance. We are
not to ask God for that which is merely to please the palate. What He gives we
may use in moderation and gratitude, but we are not instructed to ask for more
than daily bread, How often has undue pampering of appetite led Christians
astray! "We had two common parents, Adam and Noah, and one failed by eating, and
the other by drinking. These sins are natural to us. The throat is a slippery
place, and had need be looked unto" (Manton). The apostle lamented the failures
thus caused in the early Church—"For many walk, of whom I told you often, and
now tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ,
whose god is the belly." Some crave luxuries for ostentation. They must keep
pace with society. They must not be outdone by their neighbors. Wholesome food,
reasonable variety, moderate expenditure suited to their means—this is not
enough. Viands are valued the more, the less they are seasonable; not for their
suitableness, but for their rarity. Social communion cannot be enjoyed without a
prodigal waste on one feast which may cripple the resources of the family for
weeks to come, or may exceed the amount spent in bread for the hungry poor
during a whole year. What a sarcasm on some of the feasts of professing
Christians would be, as grace before meat, the prayer, "Give us this day our
daily bread"! The prayer simply for "daily bread" which forbids extravagant
waste, may suggest the question how far it is consistent to destroy as food the
grain bestowed, and turn it into that which in many cases destroys life, besides
producing poverty, disease, vice, crime and misery. Mr. William Hoyle, author of
Our National Resources, gives the following statistics—"The average annual
amount spent on intoxicating drinks during the ten years 1870 to 1881 was
£134,103,461. In the manufacture 80,000,000 bushels of grain have been destroyed
each year, that is, 4,240,000,000 lbs. of food, or a total in twelve years of
50,880,000,000 lbs. This would supply the entire population with bread for four
years and five months. The grain thus destroyed yearly would make 1,200,000,000
4 lb. loaves; requiring 750 bakeries producing 500 loaves each hour, and working
ten hours daily during the whole year. To grow the grain to manufacture the
liquor consumed yearly would take a cornfield of more than 2,000,000 acres; or
it would cover the entire counties of Kent, Surrey, Middlesex, and Berkshire."
Dr. Norman Kerr, in an address to the British Medical Association in August
1882, stated as the result of very careful investigation, that the drink thus
obtained by the destruction of food was the cause annually of 40,500 deaths from
personal intemperance-and of 79,500 others from disease, violence, accident or
starvation consequent on the intemperance of others. Does not the prayer, "Give
us suitable bread," seem incongruous with this misuse of so much of the bread
already bestowed for daily sustenance?

Let not those who have only "daily bread" repine. The apostle, who knew "both to
be full and to be hungry," said, "Having food and clothing, let us be therewith
content." A crust gratefully received from God is a richer feast than the
costliest banquet which He does not bless. "The bread God carves, though a
lesser slice, has a heavenly excellence when taken with content. The love of God
makes its relish sweet" (Watson). Better "a dinner of herbs," where such love
is, "than a stalled ox" without it. God’s crumb weighs more than the devil’s
loaf. "Godliness with contentment is great gain."

IV—THE COMMUNITY OF THE GIFT—"US" This word places us side by side with our
fellow-men, and forbids us to pray selfishly. In asking bread for myself, I am
taught to ask it for others. If I pray for my own interests merely, I do not
pray scripturally, and therefore not acceptably. I cannot come to the throne of
grace in the Lord’s Name unless I come in the Lord’s spirit. "After this manner
pray, Give us." As in the opening word, "Our Father," we are reminded of our
common brotherhood, so in this word "us" we are taught our common dependence on
the one Father’s bounty. It would sound very strangely if a family were gathered
together, and one of the members prayed, "Give me this day my daily bread." And
so we learn by this petition that the human race is one family, and that we must
not isolate ourselves from our brethren by seeking good things for ourselves
alone. We may learn a lesson from the ants. They store up food as a common
stock, each for all. Suppose a few, stronger than the rest, appropriated the
largest portion of the supply, so that, though there was ample provision for the
daily sustenance of all, large numbers of ants in the same home perished with
hunger; it could not be said that they perished from lack of food for the many,
but from the selfishness of the few. Mankind are a community, and the universal
Father provides abundantly for all. If one kind of food may fail, other kinds
supply the lack. If there is dearth in one land, there are plentiful harvests
elsewhere. There is always food enough sent by the Father for the great "us."
Ought there to be destitution among any of His children?

During a recent war there was at one time an open-air enclosure where thousands
of captured soldiers were confined within strong stockades, closely guarded.
Within this barrier the prisoners were at liberty. Each day food was carried
within the gates, just sufficient for them all. But there was no attempt at
equable distribution. Thus the strong and selfish made a rush at the common
store, taking more than their due share, while many of the sick and wounded
obtained nothing. Morning by morning scores of corpses were carried out. Had
those sharers of a common captivity all acted in the spirit of the word "us,"
none would have died from lack. Two hundred persons sail in a vessel with ample
stores which are under the control of a few, who deal them out only to
themselves. The rest pine away with hunger, and every day some lifeless bodies
are dropped with funeral services into the deep. The ship’s company assemble
daily for prayers, and the captain leads their devotions with "Our Father, give
us bread!" We are all sailing together over life’s ocean, and God has provided
ample stores. Are we then to bid all men share alike? Political Communism would
soon produce universal need by destroying capital, discouraging industry,
promoting indolence, rewarding vice. If all were equal in capacity, and equally
intent on fulfilling each his part, the case might be different. Thus angels
share together, no one of them having his own property, but each possessing all.
Although this cannot yet be so on earth, every man should remember there are
moral obligations he may not neglect, which bind him to care for others while
seeking bread for himself. So the apostle taught, "Look not everyone on his own
things, but every one also on the things of others."

Primitive believers did actually practice a community of goods. But this was
never enjoined, and soon came to an end. It could not work in an imperfect
society. It exposed to such temptations as destroyed Ananias and Sapphira, and
would soon have pauperized the Christian society by making it the prey of
hypocrisy. We afterwards read of both wealthy and poor saints. But the principle
holds good, "The multitude of those who believed were of one heart and soul; and
not one of them said that any of the things which he possessed was his own." It
is still true that nothing we possess is absolutely our own, but a stewardship,
and ours conditionally on keeping in mind that we are "every one members one of
another." Worldly governments enforce the rights of property; the Christian
Church teaches its duties too. Perhaps in supporting the State by defending the
rights of property it has sometimes performed a superfluous work, while not
sufficiently diligent in its own special function. Governments cannot impose
laws of love. The terms are self-contradictory in the mouth of the magistrate.
Human laws are precise, rigid, and are enforced. Love is free, and its
promptings cannot be excited or limited by legislation. The kingdom of Christ is
not of this world, and while it recognizes the rights of property, insists
chiefly on the obligation of love to use it generously. "Whoever has the world’s
goods, and beholds his brother in need, and shuts up his compassion from him,
how does the love of God abide in him?"

"The Church proclaims tacitly by her existence—she should have proclaimed openly
by her voice—that property and rank are held upon this tenure; that they can
stand by no other. Alas! she has not spoken out this truth clearly and strongly
here or anywhere." The consequence of such failure in duty is lack of power.
"She can scarcely make her voice heard against schemes for reducing all things
to a common stock, for establishing a fellowship upon a law of mutual
selfishness, because she has not believed that the polity of brethren confessing
a common Father is a real one—has left people to fancy that it is only a fine
dream, a cruel mockery, incapable of bringing any tangible blessings." "If we
had understood that we were children of one Father, and were asking Him to bless
all the parts of His family while we were seeking blessings for ourselves; that,
in fact, we could not pray at all without praying for them, we should have found
the answer in a new sense of fellowship between all classes" (Maurice). We are
reminded of this community whenever we say, "Give us." Masters, kneeling with
their servants, are thus admonished to "give to their servants that which is
just and equal." Employers of labor are reminded that beyond the working of
Political Economy there are the duties of brotherhood, and should be ashamed and
afraid of accumulating fortunes while those who help to make them well-near
starve, though receiving the "market price" of their toil. Landowners, kneeling
with their tenants and acting out the spirit of this word, would not require
more than the land can fairly yield, whatever the competition for the tenancy,
and would not allow their brothers who plough the soil to live in hovels where
they would be ashamed to stable their horses. Grinding competition in trade
would cease. The "Song of the Shirt" would no longer syllable the inarticulate
groaning from garret and cellar; nor would haggard children be employed in
making match-boxes for twopence-halfpenny the gross. The intelligent recognition
of this principle would influence international relations. The whole world would
be regarded as the Almighty Father’s storehouse, as well as the dwelling-place
of His children. What He provides in one country would be considered the
property of all, and no artificial restriction would be placed on commerce to
prevent the free circulation of His gifts. Had this principle been recognized,
there would never have been laws for the exclusive supposed benefit of a class,
while the millions were starving within sight of plenteous harvests across a
narrow strait, or an imaginary boundary line. As in the next petition those who
ask to be forgiven must themselves forgive, so in this we learn that those who
ask God to give must themselves be willing to give. We stand in His presence
together with the sick, the aged, the sorrowful, the hungry, and we say, "Give
us!" We are one company. We plead for each other. And God hears our plea in
giving bread enough and to spare. Only He does not divide it into portions for
each, but leaves us to distribute it, conferring on those who have abundance the
honor and privilege of acting as His commissariat. Can we intelligently and
honestly say, "Give us," and then practically live as though we had only said,
"Give me"? Are we not bound to help our brethren who, when we utter this word,
may be regarded as kneeling with us? "Charge those who are rich in this present
world" (and riches are comparative; he who has two loaves being rich in relation
to him who has not a slice); charge the rich "that they do good, that they be
rich in good works, ready to distribute, willing to communicate; laying up in
store for themselves a good foundation against the time to come, that they may
lay hold on eternal life"—the life which is life indeed. God gives to His
children more than they need for themselves, to exercise in them the grace of
giving, and to open to them the opportunity of a special reward. He who gives
wealth "is able to make all grace abound," including this special grace of
giving; so that "having all sufficiency in all things, we may abound unto every
good work—as it is written, He has scattered abroad—he has given to the poor,
his righteousness abides forever." It is He who "supplies seed to the sower,"
giving what is more than enough for ourselves for the purpose of distributing
it; and we should pray that "He would both supply bread for food," bread which
we ourselves need, "and multiply our seed for sowing, and increase the fruits of
our righteousness." "He who sows plentifully shall reap also plentifully." In
receiving from God we are on a level with our needy brethren; but when we are
enabled to relieve their wants, we are sharers with God Himself, the universal
Giver. And what can we give which we have not already received? "Of Your own
have we given You, O Lord." We are His almoners; His hand to distribute the
daily store. Our Lord illustrated such beneficence "He went about doing good;"
and we are to remember His words, how He said, "It is more blessed to give than
to receive." It is more blessed, for there is more conscious pleasure in giving;
there is more profit, for it benefits the soul of the giver, while the bread may
only feed the body of the receiver; what is secured by the giver is more lasting
than the gift, because the benefit to the soul abides when the garment given is
worn out, the bread eaten and the money spent; there is a richer reward from
God, for though grateful receiving is acceptable to Him, yet special promises
are recorded for those who generously bestow. Jesus regards the bread given to a
poor disciple as given to Himself. A "cup of cold water given in His Name will
not lose its reward," and He will say to those who with true love have
ministered to others-" Inasmuch as you have done it unto one of the least of
these my brethren, you have done it unto me." Thus the poor and the rich are
mutually helpful. If the rich help the poor by material benefaction, the poor
help the rich on a still higher scale in affording them the opportunity of
increasing their spiritual wealth both here and hereafter, and of rendering
special service to their Lord. This is the true community of bread.

V—THE CONDITIONS OF THE GIFT—"OUR"

1. Honesty—God’s bread cannot become our own in any true sense when we obtain it
by dishonest means. We do not in such a case really ask it from God, nor does He
give it. It is a seizure by us, not a donation by Him. If we are providing for
our needs by any species of fraud and exaction, or by trades which injure either
the bodies or the souls of men, we may not consider that the bread we eat was
given by our Father. We cannot ask a blessing on what is sure to entail a curse.
"He who increases his estate by indirect means stuffs his pillow with thorns,
and his head will lie very uneasy when he comes to die." Such wealth will prove
"daggers of gold to stab us, ropes of silk to hang us. Though we tread the
courts of the Lord and nail our ears to the pulpit; yet a false weight in our
bag and a heavy hand will wipe off our title to ’our bread;’ and our names too,
if we repent not, out of the book of life" (Farindon).

2. Industry—Intelligent prayer has regard to the Divine methods. It is His Will
that bread should be the reward of labor. Adam was placed in the garden not
simply to enjoy its produce, but "to dress it and to keep it." Idleness is the
paradise of fools alone. The curse pronounced when man sinned was not labor
itself, but the now conditions attending it. Man would have been much more
cursed had he been doomed to inactivity. "In the sweat of your brow you shall
eat bread" has been the law of the Giver from the first. Satan goes where men
stand idle for his most ready slaves. God’s law, linking labor with bread, is a
law of love. The Son of man honored humble toil for daily maintenance. He of
whom it was said, "Is not this the carpenter?" did not eat the bread of idleness
during that long abode at Nazareth. In praying for bread we pray for health and
strength to earn it, that by industry it may become fairly ours. The most
distinguished patriarchs, lawgivers, and prophets were trained in humble toil.
The Bible abounds in admonitions to industry. "The hand of the diligent makes
rich." "Be diligent to know the state of your flocks." "See a man diligent in
his business, he shall stand before kings," whereas "drowsiness shall clothe a
man with rags." Christians are instructed to "work with their own hands, that
they may walk honestly and have lack of nothing." Prayer for bread linked with
laziness is mockery. We only truly pray, "Give us bread," when we pray, "Your
Will be done," and do it.

Those whose circumstances raise them above the necessity of labor are not
thereby discharged from the obligation to do some useful work. King Lemuel’s
model woman "eats not the bread of idleness," though possessing fields and
merchandise, with maidens to serve her. Paul wrote to the Thessalonians—"When we
were with you, this we commanded you, that if any would not work, neither should
he eat." He then "commands by the Lord Jesus" those who "walked disorderly,
working not at all, but who were busy-bodies, with quietness to work and eat
their own bread," as if no man by mere purchase could make it his own. If we
would "eat our own bread," it must either be by manual toil in its production,
or by rendering some equivalent service to the community. Of course children and
infirm persons are exceptions; all others, however exalted in station, should,
by some beneficial industry, earn their bread if they would regard it as their
own. "Every man is to work for his food either directly or by commutation; for
the gentleman cannot, at least worthily, obtain it otherwise than by redeeming
it from the ploughman and the craftsman, by compensation of other cares and
pains conducible to public good. Sloth is the argument of a mind wretchedly
mean, which disposes a man to live gratis on the public stock as an
insignificant cipher among men, as a burden of the earth, as a wen of any
society, seeking nourishment from it, but yielding no benefit or ornament
thereto. A noble heart will disdain to exist like a drone upon the honey
gathered by others’ labor, like a vermin to filch its food out of the public
granary, or like a shark to prey on the lesser fry; but will one way or other
earn his subsistence, for he who does not earn, can hardly own his bread"
(Barrow).

Such industry is not opposed to piety, but is a part of it. Religion has too
often been regarded as confined to mental exercises and acts of worship; and so
the duties of common life have been regarded as a hindrance in the way to
heaven. But when bread is sought from God, and strength for winning it is
acknowledged as His gift and exercised according to His Will, then work becomes
worship, and the most humble manual toil or the most engrossing mental labor is
an acceptable sacrifice, being "sanctified by the word of God and by prayer."
"Religion is not confined to the ear, nor is it a prisoner to so narrow a
compass as to be shut up in the temple. If you will entertain her, she will come
and dwell with you in your private houses and shops; she will walk with you in
the streets and fields, and sit down with you at your meals. The husbandman,
while he holds his plough, may chant forth a Hallelujah; those who work with
their hands may sing the songs of Zion, and ease their labors and rouse up their
spirits with this heavenly noise, as the mariners do when they draw up the
anchor" (Jerome). Religion will sit with the king on his throne and with the
judge on the bench. It will accompany the preacher as well in his study as in
the pulpit, and the tradesman as well in his shop as in the church" (Farindon).

VI—THE PERIOD OF THE GIFT—"THIS DAY" In Matthew we read this day; in Luke, for
the day, or day by day. The meaning is the same. We are taught to ask needful
sustenance for each day as it comes, and not be anxious to lay up a store for
the future, or ask God to provide more than for the necessities of the present
time. "Matthew touches the readiness, Luke touches the steadiness; Matthew the
promptitude, Luke the patience of God’s supply" (Vaughan). Our Lord warned His
disciples against anxiety respecting earthly things. Their Father, from whom
they sought daily bread, would provide what He knew to be best. They must not
therefore make it their chief aim to secure the wealth which perishes. The
life’s chief treasure possesses the heart’s chief affections. "You cannot serve
God and mammon." Therefore we are to take no anxious thought respecting food or
clothing. God, who gave life, will not fail to bestow the lesser gift of food to
sustain it. Birds do not store up in barns, but our heavenly Father feeds them.
Surely His children will not be less cared for. All our anxiety cannot add to
our stature, nor prolong our life beyond its limit. And why be anxious about
clothing? He who formed the body may be trusted for its dress. "If God so
clothes the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is cast into the
oven, shall He not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?" Today’s wants,
labors, sorrows, are enough for us to bear today; the morrow will bring its own
needs and supplies. Therefore let us be content to ask from our Father "this day
our daily bread." Our Lord does not command us to neglect wise precautions.
Instead of "Take no thought," the R. V. translates, "Be not therefore anxious
for the morrow." The Bible never encourages indolence and improvidence. "Go to
the ant, you sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise—which provides her meat in
the summer, and gathers her food in the harvest." "The husbandman waits for the
precious fruit of the earth, and has long patience for it." In spring the
distant autumn must be sown. The culture of youth lays the foundation for the
work of manhood, and this for the support of age. The spendthrift must not plead
our Lord’s word as a palliative for self-indulgence; nor should religious
enthusiasm close its eyes to reason and truth, and think to honor Christ’s
teaching by observance of the letter while violating the spirit. If we trust
God, we shall accept His methods. But obedient industry and providence should be
free from anxiety. Anxiety is useless. It is neither thoughtful contrivance nor
practical diligence, but hinders both. We cannot think so clearly or work so
effectually when the mind is perplexed with care, as when it enjoys the calm
trustfulness of religious faith. The surgeon brings all his skill to the
operation, but if the hand that holds the knife trembles, such anxiety may be
perilous to the patient. Especially is such anxiety mischievous when it relates
to tomorrow, for we cannot today do the morrow’s work; and therefore care for
the morrow, which cannot be practical, interferes with today’s work, which
demands all our energies. Such anxiety dishonors our Father. To Him all the
future is known; whatever we shall need, and His own boundless store. The
Israelites were taught by the manna to trust Him for tomorrow. If they stored
it, it stank; they must depend on God for new supplies "day by day." Poverty
brings its special trials, but it may help to make its subjects "rich in faith"
by encouraging daily dependence on God. When food for the next day must come
from fresh exertion through the continuance of daily strength, it is easier to
feel the appropriateness of this prayer than when he who offers it has property
securely invested, or a thriving business. For the richest also this petition is
appropriate. Their wealth may vanish like a cloud, "real property" retain only a
nominal value, investments become worth no more than the paper on which they are
inscribed, and the very prosperity of business allure to ruin. "Labor not to be
rich—for riches certainly make themselves wings; they fly away as an eagle
toward heaven." The wings seem to grow out of the wealth and bear it away
unexpectedly. Such evolution is constantly going on. "Who is richer for a flock
of wild fowls which pitches in a man’s field tonight, but tomorrow they are
gone?" The riches may fly away not only by their absolute loss, but by their
ceasing to give any satisfaction. The care of keeping, the fear of losing, the
envy of others, the contentions of rival claimants, may make the possessor wish
that the wealth had actually flown away. And the health to enjoy it depends
daily on God. A believer "thinks the provision as good in God’s hands as his
own; and therefore asks not so much store laid up as bread for today. If he has
great wealth, he trusts no more in it than if he had nothing—and if he has bread
for today and nothing for tomorrow, he trusts no less in God than if he had
thousands" (Leighton). The dependence of all alike on Providence is illustrated
by the limited produce of the earth’s harvests. Every summer there is never
enough corn in store for a year’s consumption. Were the harvests of one year to
fail, there would be universal famine. Of what value would bank-notes and
title-deeds and gold and silver be to the wealthiest if there were no corn in
the barn? The whole human family may well unite in the prayer, "Father, this
day!" "This day" reminds us of the uncertainty of life. To store up for many
years implies that we expect to live many years. Tomorrow we may be beyond the
need of earthly food. To the self-confident possessor of "much goods laid up for
many years" the voice has often come, "You fool, this night your soul shall be
required of you; then whose shall those things be?" We hold our tenancy at will;
the lease is daily renewed, and may at any moment expire. We are not to pray for
stores to lay up in an abode we may quit before morning. We thus find an
emphatic warning against—

COVETOUSNESS

We ask bread, the simplest food, daily bread, what is suitable or needful and no
more. We ask it for this day only, or day by day, enough for the present
necessity without storing for the future. This reproves eagerness to amass
wealth; the longing for more than is needful in respect both to quality and
quantity, which is so often condemned as "covetousness;" the having more, the
craving for some additional possessions or advantages; leading to rapacity,
overreaching, avarice, hard-heartedness towards others. Our Lord classed
"covetousness" with "adulteries, fornications, murders, thefts, wickedness,
deceit, pride, foolishness," as the evil things which "come from within and
defile the man." When He was applied to respecting a disputed inheritance, He
said, "Take heed and beware of covetousness; for a man’s life consists not in
the abundance of the things which he possesses." It is not the things which can
enrich, nor the abundance of them; it is the soul itself which is the life; and
this may be impoverished by amassing "things." Paul wrote to the Colossians,
"Mortify your members which are upon the earth;" classing among such vices as
"fornication and uncleanness" this one which be specially stigmatizes, "and
covetousness, which is idolatry."

Many who are not greedy for dainties may be greedy for gold. They cannot be
satisfied with what God gives; but are eager and anxious for more. This "love of
money is a root of all kinds of evil; which some reaching after have been led
astray from the faith, and have pierced themselves through with many sorrows."
Such eagerness for more than "daily bread" renders the conscience dull in
perceiving the boundary line of truth and justice, and leads to defective
manufacture, adulterated stores, unfair advantage, misrepresentation,
underpayment of service, indifference to the distress of others, refusal of
imperative claims of benevolence. The covetous illustrate the pagan
satire—"Money! honestly if you can, still, anyhow, money!" and what the Roman
poet calls the "sacred hunger for gold." "Those who desire to be rich fall into
a temptation and a snare, and many foolish and hurtful lusts; such as drown men
in destruction and perdition." Achan rises before us clutching his wedge of
gold; Ahab murder-stained haunts Naboth’s vineyard; Demas, "gibbeted by Paul,"
swings to and fro with this inscription, "having loved the present world;" Judas
fleeing from his still pursuing thirty pieces of silver—these and multitudes of
similar victims of greed warn us not to crave more than "daily bread."

Especially sad is the sight of an old man still grasping if not increasing his
store. The long habit of the mind grows stronger as the faculty and
opportunities of enjoying the wealth become less. The shorter the tenure, the
closer the clutch. The less use for the hoard, the stronger bolt on the door.
The nearer the judgment-seat, the longer the account to render, and the
apparently greater eagerness to heap up the condemnation on unfaithful stewards.
The writer heard a famous preacher in Westminster Abbey relate how an old man
near death was rubbing his hands together uneasily, when his son placed a
banknote in them, and he was pacified. He could not rest unless grasping his
wealth. It possessed him, rather than he it. Those who are ambitious to "die
rich" should remember that "we brought nothing into the world, and it is certain
we can carry nothing out." We all die alike penniless. No, those who die with
wealth beyond all reasonable requirement of survivors, die the poorest, for, as
stewards, they have a heavier account to render to Him who entrusted it. Our
real wealth is what we use wisely and give generously; beyond this, riches
impoverish. "He who gives to the poor lends to the Lord." The deposit is safe,
the interest sure. Was not Lazarus in his rags richer than Dives in his purple?
An old epitaph quaintly records—"What I spent I had, what I kept I lost, what I
gave I have." Philip Henry used to say—"He is no fool who parts with that which
he cannot keep, when he is sure to be recompensed with that which he cannot
lose." The folly of making wealth the great aim of life has been exposed by
moralists in all ages, even though they may not have followed their own
counsels. Lord Bacon says—"Seek not proud wealth, but such as you can get
justly, use soberly, distribute cheerfully, leave contentedly." A full table
cannot secure a good appetite, nor a large bed sound sleep. "A great cage cannot
always make a bird sing." Increase of estate brings increase of care. Abundance
of "things" may be more a burden than a blessing. "One staff," says Leighton,
"may help the traveler, whom a bundle of them will hinder."

"Extol not riches then, the toil of fools, The wise man’s hindrance, if not
snare; more apt To slacken Virtue, and abate her edge, Than prompt her to do
anything may merit praise."—Milton A robe that not only covers the body but
drags a gorgeous train behind, may be very troublesome to the possessor; and it
is not every wearer who is skillful enough so to carry it that it shall not
gather dirt and perhaps disease by its entangling folds, and cause an
ignominious or dangerous fall. Things are seldom what they seem. "The learned
head ducks to the golden fool," but despises him in his heart, and his own
weakness too for "ducking." The glamor that surrounds the owner of gold vanishes
with the gold and leaves him in the gloom.

"Ah, when the means are gone that buy this praise, The breath is gone whereof
this praise is made." —Shakespeare The jeweled crown is prettier to look at than
easy to wear. More gold may bring more greed, more prosperity more pride, more
fame more folly, greater revenue heavier reckoning. If with larger purse comes
less peace, and with more bread more burden, we need not be eager to obtain more
than suitable supplies for our need. Property has its advantages in the supply
of comforts and innocent enjoyments, and chiefly as a means of doing good; we
may therefore value it when it comes to us in the way of Providence, but should
not make the acquiring it our great aim in life, even as we are encouraged to
pray not for what is superfluous, but only for what is needful. This has been
assured to us, and the word of God should be to us more than an earthly treasure
to secure us against need. "What the Christian has not in the cupboard he has in
the promise" (Watson).

It is suitableness, not superabundance, that gives enjoyment. A dress that fits
is more useful to the wearer than one which is too large, though more costly. A
shoe that pinches the foot is not easier for all the gold lace put on it. Saul’s
armor was useless to David, who was far better equipped with his sling and his
stone. Many who have climbed into great wealth have found their new surroundings
so incongruous with their habits, that they have sighed for their "lowly roofed
cottage again." He whose condition is not suited to his desires, because those
desires are never satisfied, is poorer than he who is contented with what he
has.

"God prohibits us from confusing wealth and welfare. To all He promises a
sufficiency; but a sufficiency is something very different from the English
’competency.’ The normal condition of Christian service is the wage of ’bread
and water;’ and whatever is beyond that is a gratuity of the Master in
heaven…Those who are at rest in the center are ’rich towards God;’ rich here,
amid the toils and hardships of poverty—rich in the power of extracting, like
the bee, honey from almost every flower, and of singing over their work—rich in
that holy love which makes the wear and tear of household life seem, not like
the convict’s trample on the world’s vast treadmill, but like an ascent on the
luminous steps of duty up to the very gate of heaven—rich in the inward light of
God’s Spirit which dwells in the soul, and, passing through the eye as a prism,
throws a sunny radiance of variegated beauty over the external scene. Of such as
these is many a Christian laboring man, and many a sleepless Christian mother,
and many a father of children whom the world accounts a poverty-stricken and
hopeless struggler with an evil destiny" (E. White).

Those whose poverty brings hunger may be consoled by remembering that our Lord
Himself lived many years on daily bread supplied day by day through manual toil,
that He knew the pangs of hunger, and how the tempter takes advantage of bodily
weakness and privation. Those whom "God has chosen rich in faith and heirs of
the kingdom," need not envy those to whom He entrusts silver and gold. Every
believer possesses more than all the wealth of which any Croesus ever boasted,
because God is his, and all God has to give. "For all things are yours; whether
the world, or things present or things to come; all are yours; and you are
Christ’s, and Christ is God’s." The universe belongs to every child of His, not
although, but because it is in the Father’s keeping. From His infinite store He
day by day selects and bestows on every child of His that which He knows to be
most suitable. May we not as surely feel that we possess the whole when our
Father gives us our portion day by day, as if we ourselves kept the key? Are not
His choice and distribution likely to be more suited to our real welfare than if
we selected for ourselves? To possess God is to possess a treasure satisfying,
enduring, infinite. No failure of earthly hopes can deprive a Christian of his
inheritance. The writer was preaching on the sufficiency of God for a
possession. A stranger in the congregation was overheard repeating to himself,
"Forty thousand pounds." As he left the church he was again overheard saying in
cheerful tones, "I’m glad I’ve lost it—I’ll have God." "Although the fig tree
shall not blossom, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my
salvation." "A little that a righteous man has is better than the riches of many
wicked." If ever tempted to repine because some who are not the children of God
"have more than heart could wish," he can say, "Nevertheless I am continually
with You; You have held me by my right hand. You shall guide me by Your counsel,
and afterward receive me to glory. Whom have I in heaven but You? and there is
none upon earth that I desire in comparison with You. My heart and my flesh
fails; but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion forever."

VII—PRAYER FOR THE GIFT As we ask only for bread sufficient for the day, this
prayer is obviously given us for daily use. In answer to the prayer of today I
receive bread for today; tomorrow’s supply must be sought tomorrow from the same
Father in heaven. Ever-recurring need renders necessary ever-renewed petitions.
Though the highest privilege of the creature is to hold communion with the
Creator, it would often be neglected did not necessity prompt. This constantly
links earth’s little things with heaven. Our Father’s bounty never fails, but He
would have His children’s faith and gratitude nourished. "The tree of promise
needs shaking by the hand of prayer." The fruit tastes the sweeter and is more
nutritious when sought and received from God. He does not limit the approaches
of His children to great crises at distant intervals, but would hear their voice
each day. Not as the high priest once a year entering within the veil; not as
the worshipers at the annual festivals; not even as those who on each weekly
Sabbath went up to the temple for worship, but day by day we are permitted to
appear before Him. Thus graciously does our Father ordain that His children
should never be long out of His company; that their need should be a spur to
their devotion; that thus in coming to Him for the Father’s bread they may
receive much more in a Father’s blessing.

It is a social prayer, and implies a company of suppliants. This at once
suggests the family. They share the daily supply, and thus are taught to seek it
together. Family prayer is not a mere puritan usage, the peculiarity of a party;
it is founded in the nature of man, and is universal in its reasonableness and
obligation. How fit, how beautiful, the daily worship of the gathered household;
parents and children together looking up to heaven and saying, "Our Father, give
us this day our daily bread"! How unnatural the opposite! Instead of any
argument being needed in defense of family worship, argument is needed for the
neglect of it. Public service in the church, however useful, should not
interfere with this more ancient worship of the family. The early Christians met
on the first day of the week to commemorate the Resurrection. As circumstances
permitted, they might assemble in the church more frequently. But each family
necessarily met every day to partake of food, and so they met for worship daily,
asking and receiving that food from their Father. There is no such argument for
daily service in the church, however profitable some may feel this to be, as
there is for daily worship in the family; and so far as the former discourages
the latter, its claims become questionable. The worship of the household
precedes that of the congregation, and the priesthood of the Family has a more
ancient title than that of the Church. Enforcing this truth, the late Dean
Alford of Canterbury condemned the practice of the head of a household
surrendering his position at family worship to a clergyman, who there is
officially inferior, "and without any dispute the less is blessed of the
better." The pious practice of "grace before meat" is encouraged by this
petition. If we ask for food each day, so when we receive it we should give
thanks for it. This should not degenerate into a mere fashionable form, but,
however brief, should be solemn and earnest. How are we "better than sheep and
goats who nourish a blind life," if we do not acknowledge the Giver of our food?
The beasts of the field unconsciously "seek their meat from God," and we show
our superiority to them when with reverence, truth and gratitude we ask our
Father for our daily bread. "Carnal men are like swine which devour the acorns,
but look not up to the oak from where they drop." In this giving of thanks we
have the emphatic example of our Lord when He exerted His miraculous power in
multiplying the loaves, no less than when at Emmaus "He took bread and blessed
it." His giving thanks for the bread He had created seems to have impressed the
mind of John quite as much as the miracle. "Howbeit there came other boats from
Tiberias near the place where they ate bread, after the Lord had given thanks."
The place was specially signalized by the fact of this thanksgiving, this "grace
before meat." If then the Lord Himself gave thanks for bread He had provided by
His Divine power, how much more should we who are entirely dependent on Him for
it!

Such prayer for bread is fraught with spiritual benefit. It teaches us humility.
How preposterous for those to be proud who are daily petitioners for the very
bread they eat! As the heathen king said to those who flattered him as a god, "I
require sleep every night, I know I am not a god" (Saphir). We cannot claim as a
right what we ask as a gift. Whatever as creatures we might have expected from
the Creator has been forfeited by sin. It is only to mercy we may appeal. "By
grace we stand" in regard to the body as well as to the soul. We may say with
the patriarch, "I am not worthy of the least of all the mercies which You have
shown to Your servant." Not worthy therefore of the plainest, scantiest fare,
not worthy of our daily bread, for which we therefore humbly petition as
suppliant children, saying, "Father, give!"

It encourages filial confidence in little things. Some Christians seem as if
they could trust God for eternal life and not for daily bread. This prayer is a
constant monitor, bidding them "cast all their care on Him who cares for them."
Believingly to say "Give" is the cure of care. Were we left to our own
exertions, or were forbidden to appeal to God except for spiritual blessings, we
might yield to anxiety; but when we are encouraged to unburden our hearts to Him
in little things as well as large, we may leave the caring to Him. So the
apostle teaches—"In everything be without anxiety—but in everything by prayer
and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God—and
the peace of God which passes all understanding shall guard your hearts and your
thoughts in Christ Jesus." Do we rejoice that He gave His Son, and shall we not
trust Him to give us bread? In addition to the plea that He is our Creator, we
possess a covenant claim through Christ, by whom all things are ours. Grand as
well as simple was that "grace before meat" of the poor woman, "Lord, I thank
You for the porridge; I thank You for an appetite for the porridge; I thank you
for a covenant-right to the porridge."

It prompts to daily gratitude. How small will be our tribute of praise if we
render it only when we receive some extraordinary benefit! Our greatest mercies
are the small but regular supplies for each day’s small but essential
requirements. What we distinctly ask, we are more likely consciously to receive
from our Father’s hand. A crust over which thanks are given and a blessing
craved, becomes a richer meal than the costliest fare not received as a royal
gift.

Daily obedience will be aided by daily petitions, gifts, and gratitude. The
strength nourished by His daily bounty we shall feel bound to use in accordance
with His will. With faculties each day invigorated by daily bread from His hand
we shall pray, "Give, O Lord, to keep us this day without sin. O Lord, our
heavenly Father, who have safely brought us to the beginning of this day, grant
that this day we fall into no sin; but that all our doings may be ordered by
Your governance, to do always that is righteous in Your sight."

Although this petition asks food for the body, yet it suggests that which is
needed for the soul. Our Lord often spoke of the one as a type of the other. "I
am the Bread of Life; he who comes to me shall never hunger, and he who believes
on me shall never thirst." "The bread that I will give is my flesh for the life
of the world." He compared eating bread with faith in Himself; for as merely
crediting the existence and nutritive qualities of bread will not nourish the
body unless the bread is eaten, so it is necessary that Christ Himself be
spiritually received into the heart; His truth, His love, His Spirit, to
quicken, strengthen, preserve the soul. "Truly, truly, I say to you, Except you
eat the flesh of the Son of man, and drink His blood, you have not life in
yourselves." "My meat is to do the Will of Him who sent me." "Labor not for the
meat which perishes, but for that meat which endures to everlasting life."
"Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be
filled." In the ordinance of the Supper the Lord honored bread by using it as an
emblem of His body; the body which once shared our infirmities, including
hunger; but which is now glorified on the heavenly throne. How such a solemn
association ought to lead us to honor food, not despising it as mean nor abusing
it by excess! We are also taught that as bread nourishes by the reception of it,
so He Himself maintains life in the soul in proportion as by faith He is
received spiritually and dwells within us. Therefore when we offer this prayer
in its primary sense, seeking what is needful for the bodily life, let us ask
for the nourishment of the soul; daily instruction by the Truth, daily aid of
the Spirit, daily grace for whatever need each day may bring. For past supplies
will no more suffice for the soul than for the body. As we cannot live healthily
today on yesterday’s bread, and without a fresh supply must soon die, so our
spiritual health begins to decline when it loses one day’s nourishment; and
death will come to the soul who trusts to religious experiences of a year ago,
as surely as it would to the body if we substituted dreams of former feasts for
present daily bread.

Father, throned in heaven above, Might and Mercy, Light and Love! Give to us, as
Jesus said, Day by day our daily bread. Satisfy our daily need, Soul and body
daily feed, Daily hear us when we pray, Support, save us, day by day. Give us
daily faith to ask Needful aid for daily task, Daily guidance on our way, Daily
warning lest we stray; Sympathy for daily grief, Daily solace and relief, Daily
patience, meekness, zeal, Hearts for others’ woes to feel; Daily help for daily
cross, Daily gain in seeming loss, Daily strength for daily strife, Daily grace
until close of life. —Newman Hall


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  CHAPTER 48: 02.06.     THE FIFTH PETITION--
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THE FIFTH PETITION-- "AND FORGIVE US OUR DEBTS, AS WE ALSO HAVE FORGIVEN OUR
DEBTORS."

It has been remarked, that whereas the first three petitions might be offered by
angels as well as by men, and the fourth would have been suitable for the
devotions of Eden, the fifth and the sixth are suited only for sinners. The word
"forgive" is the first sad note sounded in this litany. In jubilant tones we may
ask that our Father’s name may be hallowed, His Kingdom come, His Will be done,
and His daily gifts bestowed, but here we approach His throne as guilty
suppliants, seeking mercy. The first four petitions presuppose forgiveness.
Rebellious children must have repented before they can truly say, "Father,
hallowed be Your Name." Here there is a renewed confession of sin and a fresh
application for pardon. The little word "and" has a great significance, linking
the prayer for bread with that for pardon. I deserve not the supply of my bare
necessities. I have forfeited as a rebel my claim as a creature. Bread has
little value under sentence of death. No luxuries can relieve the hunger of a
soul convinced of sin. "Father, feed me! but at the same time pardon me! Give us
bread and forgive our debts."

Man has three chief necessities—bread for the body, quiet for the conscience,
righteousness for the soul; and these three needs we urge in the last three
petitions. With every lawful claim of the body fully met, the conscience may be
oppressed with guilt. There can be no peace without pardon. This has been
recognized under all forms of religion. Prehistoric cromlechs, Egyptian
monoliths, Grecian temples, Gothic spires, all utter the prayer "Forgive," or at
least ask, "What must I do to be saved?" Penance, sacrifice, oblation,
supplication, in all their varied forms, have ever acknowledged man’s sense of
sin, his fear of punishment and need of pardon.

I—SIN CONSIDERED AS A DEBT TO GOD The words "sin" and "debt" are interchanged,
as if synonymous. Luke describes not only as sin what Matthew describes as debt,
but connects the forgiveness of our sins with our own remission of our
fellow-creatures’ debts. A debt is what is due; what we owe; "oughtness." We
ought to render to God all righteousness, and this is a debt due from every
being endowed with a moral nature. Paul says, "We are debtors, not to the
flesh;" implying that we are debtors to God, to live according to His Spirit,
and thus to fulfill His purposes in the creation of our own spirit. This
obligation to be holy we do not ask to have remitted. "Abatement of rent" may
often be equitably asked between man and man, but there can be no lowering of
the claims of a perfectly righteous God without dishonor to Himself and injury
to His creatures. We ought not to desire it. It would be impossible for God to
grant it. His law is a transcript of His perfect Will. To wish for a lower
standard would be unworthy of ourselves as well as of Him. It is the glory of
man to recognize this obligation, to confess this debt. But we have failed to
discharge it, and so have incurred the penalty of disobedience. This includes
the displeasure of God. If He delights in holiness, He must regard its opposite
with displeasure. No one can be perfectly good who does not hate evil. Besides
this, sin injures the sinner’s own nature and exposes him to the righteous
retribution of the Law. Having failed in duty, we have incurred penalty, and
this debt is due to God.

Many sins are committed against ourselves. Abuse of natural faculties brings its
own punishment. How often by sensual excesses the constitution is impaired,
disease contracted, and life shortened! Indolence entails poverty, and
dissipation social disgrace and a premature grave. And if not, every sin
dishonors though it may not destroy the body which is the agent of it. The
tongue is disgraced by every false and injurious word, the hand by every evil
deed, the foot by every step it takes in the service of a corrupted will. The
intellect is degraded by thoughts of wickedness, the imagination when its lofty
powers are impressed in the mean servitude of vice. Who can estimate the
suicidal injury to conscience, when dragged from its viceregal throne, and
gagged lest it even utter its indignant protests; the damage and dishonor to the
grand nature God gave us, when, contrary to His purpose, we compel the higher to
serve the lower instincts, and bind reason to the chariot-wheels of lust! The
physical consequences of violating natural laws are not obviated by my
repentance. Self -reproach however sincere, tears however plentiful, will not
restore a shattered constitution. Laments for past folly will not call back the
wasted property, and regrets however poignant will not regain the social
position once forfeited. If they could, the damage done to my moral nature would
remain, and memory would never lose the record. In sinning against myself, I
have sinned still more against my Maker. Could I neutralize the evil
consequences or accept and submit to them, I should still be a debtor to God. My
body and mind belong to Him as their Maker; therefore by injuring myself I
injure His property, by violating the laws of my own being I rebel against the
Author of those laws.

Even the lower animals have rights, the violation of which creates a debt to
God. Man is lord of the lower animals to use them for his need, not to torture
them for his pleasure. To urge them to labor beyond their strength, to treat
them with coward tyranny or heartless negligence, to kill them not for necessary
food but for the pleasure of killing, cannot be according to the Will of that
beneficent Creator who gave them physical sensitiveness for their good, a
sensitiveness which we share and therefore should respect. If there are many who
feel with the poet—

"I would not enter on my list of friends, Though graced with polished manners
and fine sense, Yet wanting sensibility, the man Who needlessly sets foot upon a
worm;" much less can the universal Father regard as friends those who
deliberately torment the creatures which with ourselves are the objects of His
care. The Israelites, when delivered from the cruel oppressions of Egypt, were
taught compassion to God’s inferior yet not uncared-for creatures. The fallen
donkey or ox was to be lifted up, and the mother-bird sitting on the young or on
the eggs was to be set free. The Son of God said, "Your Heavenly Father feeds
them. Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall
on the ground without your Father." It is vain to plead that they are our own
property; they are God’s supremely, and ours only as stewards who must render
account, and answer for all debts incurred by violation of the Will of Him who
is their Protector and our Judge.

"But many a crime, deemed innocent on earth, Is registered in heaven; and these,
no doubt, Have each their record, with a curse annexed. Man may dismiss
compassion from his heart, But God will never." —Cowper

More obviously, all offences against our fellow-men are debts to God. Wrongs to
the property of our neighbor include not only willful injury and open robbery,
but all unfairness, however sanctioned by the customs of trade and disguised by
terms of political economy. Oppression of the laborer by inadequate wages, or
defrauding of the employer in the quality of the work; misrepresentations or
unrighteous suppression of the truth in commercial transactions; depreciation of
goods when we purchase, exaggeration when we sell; advantage taken of distress;
debts incurred without reasonable prospect of payment; speculation with the
property of others without their consent; withholding what is due when we
possess the means of payment; all swell our debts to God. To these are to be
added wrongs to our neighbor’s reputation—not only by inventing calumnious
charges and bearing false witness, but by "taking up a reproach against our
neighbor;" by finding pleasure in giving currency to coin minted by others
bearing some injurious charge, without any endeavor to certify its truth, and
not knowing but it may be altogether false; thus entailing on him possibly loss
of property, together with that of the good opinion and perhaps the friendship
that he values more than gold. Wrongs to his person include not only acts of
violence, but threats which may disturb his peace, and angry and unkind words
which may provoke or grieve him. How often has a sarcastic speech been a
lifelong sore, a passionate invective more bruising than any blow, a proud or
chilling look an abiding heart-grief! To these are to be added faults of
omission. As brethren invoking the same Father, we are bound to show brotherly
kindness to each other. Alas for the lost opportunities of helping the needy,
tending the sick, cheering the sad, encouraging the timid, warning the foolish,
saving the lost! How many might have been rescued from sinking in despair by one
kindly word! How many might have been brought back to virtue and God by one
helping hand-grasp!

"Alas! I have walked through life Too heedless where I trod; No, helping to
trample my fellow-worm, And fill the burial sod— Forgetting that even the
sparrow falls Not unmarked of God! The wounds I might have healed! The human
sorrow and smart! And yet it never was in my soul To play so ill a part: But
evil is wrought by want of Thought, As well as want of Heart." —Hood Can we
plead that all the evil we have done and all the good we have neglected was
never intentional? Alas for the money, time, influence which have been employed
merely for self-pleasing; the much we have spent extravagantly or hoarded
covetously compared with the little given, and that often grudgingly, to benefit
others! And when we consider the priceless treasure of the gospel committed to
us, not merely for our own salvation but to communicate to others, how great
becomes the debt contracted in our neglect of opportunities! This debt to our
neighbors we cannot discharge nor they remit. In most cases the injury cannot be
redressed. The slander which went forth from our lips was spread from mouth to
mouth, and no published refutation would ever overtake it. The occasion of doing
a kindness cannot recur. Other opportunities will arise, but that one is gone
forever. Many whom we have wronged have disappeared in the crowd or have entered
another world. But could they be all convened and their forgiveness obtained,
the debt against God would remain. The "false balance" was "abomination to the
Lord." "The hire of the laborers kept back by fraud cries" to heaven against the
oppressor; "and the cries of those who have reaped are entered into the ears of
the Lord of Sabaoth." Every wrong to man is a sin against man’s Maker. David was
deeply sensible of this. His great crime was an incalculable injury to the
individual wronged, and to the whole nation whom his example had so dishonored
and whose respect for law it had so weakened. But when bowed down in
overwhelming contrition, his sense of the wrong done to his fellow-creatures was
overshadowed by the still greater wrong done to God. "Against You, You only,
have I sinned, and done this evil in Your sight." Above the human law is the
Divine Will which appoints it, and which demands payment of the debt. "We have
broken a law which was not framed on earth, and cannot be repealed on earth." To
these must now be added sins immediately committed against God. The cherished
purpose of evil is a sin against the Searcher of hearts. The permitted idea, the
allowed wish, bears with it the character of the act. Thus the lustful passion
is adultery, and the cherished revenge is murder. How great the debt thus
accumulated in the records of Him who "ponders the hearts"! Duties owing to God
not thus relating to our neighbor have been already suggested by the invocation
"Our Father." We owe to Him habitual reverence, cheerful obedience, constant
gratitude, filial trust, devout worship. This we should render every day. Alas!
how often we have forgotten God altogether, received His gifts without
thankfulness, murmured at His dispensations, disobeyed His laws! What excuses we
have made for setting aside His authority, for resisting the voice of
conscience, for pleasing ourselves! When we think of His love in redemption, our
neglect of such mercy is an additional debt. How little we have studied and
tried to practice the Will of God! How often we have refused to listen to the
voice of Jesus! How often we have grieved the Spirit of God by not heeding His
persuasions, by resisting His inward striving! If our chief end is to glorify
God, how much of life has been abused! "Sins of omission, of which many think
little, are far the larger half and no less deadly, even as hunger, if unfed, is
no less deadly than sickness" (Hare). To live without seeking to please our
Maker is to incur this debt. "The God in whose hand your breath is, and whose
are all your ways, have you not glorified." When we consider the varied
opportunities within our reach of glorifying God in all the circumstances of
daily life, and how little we have acted up to the Divine ideal of duty, we may
well tremble at the thought of the great debt incurred.

Sins against God may be illustrated by the word "debts" for the following
reasons—They are entered in His books. Conscience is one of these, and its
records are sternly kept. All sins against God are wounds on ourselves, and
leave their mark. Divine Justice is another; the record in the mind of Him "from
whom no secrets are hidden," and who "will bring every work into judgment, with
every secret thing." "The books were opened, and the dead were judged out of
those things which were written in the books, according to their works." A
record is being kept unobserved by us. As a traveler calls for what he needs at
his hotel, and no demand is made at the time for payment, though every item is
carefully recorded, so it is with our daily incurred debts against God. Sins
record themselves. As a multitude entering some place of resort pass
individually through the turnstile, and a record is unerringly made, out of
sight of the visitor; and as mechanical contrivances in factories register every
beat of the piston and every fraction of the result produced, so, by the law of
God impressed on our own nature, all our actions are registered, all our debts
recorded. They increase; not merely by the addition of new sins but by
accretions to the old debt, as interest and compound interest in human
transactions. Non-repentance for a sin committed and non-renunciation of it
augment the amount. Every day’s delay not only increases the old fault, but
renders more easy its repetition. If committed and not renounced, such a seed is
prolific after its own kind. One sin also often begets another of a different
kind, as falsehood to conceal vice, as murder to destroy evidence. It also
produces increased alienation from God. As a man in debt without either the
ability or inclination to pay it avoids the presence of his creditor, and often
cherishes towards him ill-will, so an impenitent sinner, conscious of guilt,
increasingly shuns the thought of the God he has offended. "The carnal mind is
enmity against God." Thus, like earthly debts, sin ever tends to augment its
amount and degree.

These debts can never be discharged. We are more severe with comparatively
trivial injuries by man towards man than with offences against Heaven because of
our own liability to be injured." Fools make a mock at sin." When some crime
strikes at the very foundation of society and threatens the principle of
government which upholds all civil rights, we are alive to an evil which far
exceeds the injury done to the individual. But who can adequately estimate the
evil of sin as committed against the Sovereign Ruler, by obedience to whom the
happiness of intelligent beings can be alone secured? If the majesty of a ruler
and the relationship of a father unite with the best interests of the community
to require obedience to a law identified with Truth and Righteousness, disregard
of that law is proportionably culpable. In this case the Ruler is the Infinite
God, our Father in heaven. Our Lord indicated the greatness of our debt in the
parable of the unforgiving servant, who, unrelenting to his debtor of one
hundred pence, owed his lord ten thousand talents and was unable to pay. In vain
we say, "Lord, have patience with me, and I will pay You all; "since all that is
in our power to render is due each day, and the payment of it would leave the
former debt undiminished. This also our Lord taught in His description of the
servant who, in waiting diligently on his master, only performed his bare duty.
"So also you, when you shall have done all those things which are commanded you,
say, We are unprofitable servants—we have done that which was our duty to do."
There can be no "composition with the Creditor," no "payment by installments;"
the debts are recorded, are ever augmenting, and can never be paid.

They cannot be transferred to any fellow-creature. No friend can interpose and
say, "Put that to my account," since each is equally unable to pay his own debt.
There is no treasury of good works in the keeping of the Church which can be
allotted as a set-off to the debt of any applicant; for the Church is composed
of members every one of whom has incurred a debt he has not discharged, and
therefore there can be no balance in favor of the aggregate; no works of
supererogation when every member of the Church has come short in ordinary duty.
We ask that God would forgive "our debts." Ours they emphatically are, and can
belong to us alone. Augustine says, "Nothing is so much our own as our sins."
Our bodies are God’s creation; our mental faculties His endowment; our daily
bread His gift; but our voluntary actions are our own, and our sins are all
stamped with our own image and superscription. There is always a tendency to
transfer them. Adam laid the blame on Eve, Eve on the serpent. Faults are
attributed to organization, external circumstances, companionships, prevalent
customs, the devil, or fate. But if the action was voluntary, our will made it
our own. No such plea in justification would be admitted by an earthly tribunal,
and those who urge it are condemned by their own conscience, their treatment of
others, and their own daily life. Unless God deliver us, we must carry our
burden or be crushed beneath it. These are debts we cannot escape by lapse of
years. There is no "Statute of Limitations" which annuls them after a certain
period. If unforgiven, they are valid at the end of the longest life. David in
old age prayed, "Remember not the sins of my youth." We cannot escape them by
change of residence. To whatever country we migrate, we carry with us this
burden. We cannot go beyond the reach of the King’s writ. "Where shall I flee
from Your presence? If I take the wings of the morning and dwell at the
uttermost parts of the sea, even there Your hand shall lead me, and Your right
hand shall hold me." We cannot escape them by death. This event cancels human
debts, but only sums up the account with heaven, and is a summons for payment.
"Death is God’s arrest." Payment will be claimed. It is not a nominal debt,
recorded but never to be exacted. "Be not deceived, God is not mocked; for
whatever a man sows, that shall he also reap." A day is coming to each with the
summons, "Give an account of your stewardship." It may seem delayed, but is
surely approaching. "After a long time the Lord of those servants comes and
reckons with them." How wretched men may be when they know themselves encumbered
with financial obligations they cannot meet! Their seeming prosperity, by
contrast with their real circumstances, aggravates their distress. The
comfortable house, the costly furniture, the pictures, the grounds, the
consideration paid them on account of their supposed wealth, seem to mock them.
How ill at ease they feel in the presence of their creditor; in what daily
apprehension they live; how a knock at the door, or the arrival of a letter, may
startle them; what a burden is this debt, whatever the time granted for payment;
what a relief when it is cleared off! So is it with sinners. They carry a heavy
load which impedes their progress and destroys their comfort. They are tied and
bound by a chain which hinders their activity. So they try to dismiss the memory
of the debt, as if by forgetting they could be quit of it. But it is forgotten
only for a season. The record may be written in invisible ink, but it is
written, and at any moment may become terribly legible. Yes, we must give
account for "duties unfulfilled, words unspoken or spoken violently and untruly,
holy relationships neglected, days wasted forever, evil thoughts cherished,
talents cast away, affections trifled with, light within turned to darkness. So
speaks the conscience; in some it may be a feeble voice, soon lost in the noises
of the outward world, or silenced by violent efforts, or choked by the senses,
or bribed by the fancy. In others, it is loud and terrible today, then comes a
reaction of fierce merriment or a temporary lull. In some it is a low but
perpetually sounding knell, witnessing of a death begun and going on in
themselves; of the past accursed, the present withered, the future vaguely
terrible…These obligations sit like nightmares upon him, stop his breathing,
hold him chained. Why cannot he cast them from him as dreams of the night? They
come back with fearful distinctness; every circumstance, look, tone, clearly
recorded; it is no dream of the night. The voice is a real one which says, ’It
is done, and cannot be undone, and you are the man.’ What signifies it that
years have passed away? The act is gone, but you are still the same. The act is
gone into Eternity, and there it will meet you" (Maurice). The writer once
conversed with a man who had been recently rescued from seeming death by
drowning. He described his vain efforts to keep afloat, then his gradual sinking
until he lay flat at the bottom. In a moment his whole life seemed to pass
before him in review. Scenes and actions long unthought of stood out vividly on
the canvas of memory. Then he saw his deliverer diving down for him, and lost
further consciousness. The man who rescued him had plunged after him within a
few seconds of his sinking. Thus in the case of everyone, debts long ago
forgotten may in a moment start into life and demand payment. Full of solemn
warning is the word of Abraham to Dives, "Son, remember!" Even in the present
life we feel respecting these debts to God, "The remembrance of them is grievous
to us; the burden of them is intolerable." But if, even until death, a sinner
remains unconvinced of guilt, his unconsciousness of debt does not alter the
fact. Many a man is insolvent without knowing it. Carelessly or wilfully
ignorant, he goes on blindly in reckless expenditure without considering whether
his income can meet it. He neglects to take stock until sudden ruin overtakes
him. "O that they were wise, that they would consider their latter end! " The
vastness of our debt to God has often been overlooked in the light of the gospel
which proclaims remission. But we cannot rightly appreciate the pardon without a
due sense of the sin; as only those conscious of sickness seek the physician,
their earnestness in applying to him and their recognition of cure being in
proportion to their sense of pain or peril. When sin is regarded as a trifle,
the atoning sacrifice is undervalued or altogether denied. A light estimate of
past sin will render us less watchful in the future. If the debt already
incurred can be easily set aside, no great harm need be feared from fresh
trespasses. If our violation of God’s law were excusable error and not a debt
recorded, indelible, augmenting, beyond all power of ours to discharge, and
which will be brought against us in judgment, such repentance as the Word of God
describes would be excessive, and such a provision as the gospel announces for
its remission would be unnecessary.

II—THE DEBTS OF GOD’S PARDONED CHILDREN Can those who have repented and are
forgiven appropriately present this prayer? All who truly call God "Father," who
desire that His name may be hallowed, that His kingdom may come and His holy
Will be done, must have been welcomed home as His adopted children. He gave them
the kiss of forgiveness, and put on them "the best robe." What need to come day
by day for the pardon received once for all? And why ever again confess
themselves "miserable sinners," instead of exulting as God’s happy children?
When a sinner unfeignedly repents, he is forgiven and reconciled; but as long as
he is liable to transgress, it is suitable and necessary to ask for pardon.
Unless he has attained a state of absolute perfection, he needs still to pray,
"Forgive us our debts." Our Lord said to Peter, "He who is bathed only needs to
wash his feet, but is completely clean" (John 13:10). By repentance and faith
the converted sinner is bathed in "the fountain opened for sin and uncleanness."
But as in walking from the has the feet are soiled and need cleansing, so a
pardoned sinner, though justified as regards his former ungodly life, is liable
to contract fresh stains which make the prayer for pardon as appropriate each
day as that for daily bread. To avoid this inference, some interpreters maintain
that this prayer is not evangelical, because given to those still under the Law,
and prior to the crucifixion. But it was twice recorded long after that event
for those who were under the New Covenant. It is true that when a sinner repents
he is pardoned and becomes "a new creature," is "turned from darkness to light,"
and "walks not after the flesh, but after the Spirit." John says, "Whoever is
born of God does not commit sin;" but this same beloved disciple teaches in the
same epistle, "If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the
truth is not in us," which Dean Alford thus interprets—"John is writing to
persons whose sins have been forgiven them (John 2:2), and therefore necessarily
the present tense refers not to any previous state of sinful life before
conversion, but to their now existing state, and the sins to which they are
liable in that state. This state of needing cleansing from all present sin is
veritably that of all of us; and our recognition and confession of it is the
very first essential of walking in light." The preceding verse teaches us that
"if we walk in the light, the blood of Jesus Christ cleanses us from all sin;"
the cleansing here spoken of being the pardon of the faults of the children of
light who have already, in repentance and faith, been cleansed from their old
sins. Again, John connects a state of sanctification with the continued need of
pardon when he says, "These things write I to you that you sin not. And if any
man sins, we have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous."
"They cannot sin" if truly "born of God," as they once did when wandering in
rebellion; they cannot sin habitually, encouraging it, persevering in it; they
hate it, resist it, mourn over it; yet are they liable to be overcome by
occasional temptation; but they are not on this account to despair as though no
fresh pardon were possible, since those who believe have One who always pleads
their cause with God. (1 John 2:1-2) Paul teaches the same truth by warnings to
believers in every epistle. Exhortations to holiness show that perfection was
far from having been reached. He says of himself, "Not that I have already
obtained, or am already made perfect. Brethren, I count not myself yet to have
apprehended, but one thing I do, forgetting the things which are behind, and
stretching forward to the things which are before, I press on toward the goal
unto the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus." The two classes of
statement are in beautiful harmony. When a sinner repents, his sins are pardoned
and the Holy Spirit is given, but he is still liable to the influence of the
flesh, he is still in a world full of snares, and exposed to the crafts and
assaults of the devil. Sin is now alien to his nature, and when he falls into it
he has no peace until he repents of it. But he has often occasion to lament such
failures. He still with the tax-collector prays, "God be merciful to me a
sinner." The larger knowledge which, by the Spirit, He now enjoys of God, shows
the vast interval between himself and Divine perfection. An increasing sense of
obligation with growing love to God makes him more sensitive to his failures.
The more he advances in holiness, the more he perceives his imperfections. The
stronger the light, the more obvious the stains; the brighter the sunbeam, the
plainer the motes. The summit of the mountain piercing the skies with its
glittering pinnacles and spotless dome is not seen from the low-lying valley,
and he who wishes to climb has a very imperfect notion of the task before him.
The precipice concealing the distance must first be surmounted, requiring his
utmost efforts. But when, after much toil and peril, this has been conquered,
instead of thinking he has gained the goal, he is filled with admiring awe as he
beholds the mountain rising far, far beyond and above him. The sinner first
seeking pardon has no such conception of his need of it while climbing the
craggy cliffs of penitence, as when from the tableland of forgiveness he gazes
upwards at the mountain-heights of God’s holiness.

"Christian perfection" is obedience to God by men on earth similar to that of
angels in heaven. This all should hold as the true ideal; but when the term is
used as actually characterizing individuals, the real meaning intended is
generally that of maturity of character, habitual faith in God, a steady purpose
of obedience, and progress heavenward. To profess to have reached the goal
indicates a low ideal; to be unconscious of defect betrays a dullness of the
spiritual sense; to be satisfied with the service rendered reveals rather the
weakness than the strength of love. The Rev. C. H. Spurgeon remarked to the
writer respecting one who held the opinion here questioned, "I always thought
him perfect until he told me he was."

Some speak of Sanctification as attainable instantaneously by a simple act of
faith. As a sinner believing is at once released from debt, so, they say, if we
believe in Christ as the Sanctifier, we are at once freed from the liability to
sin again. But the two great blessings of salvation, while inseparable in fact,
are essentially distinct in development. In Justification, Divine Grace annuls
the sentence of condemnation; in Sanctification, the Divine Spirit produces
holiness of thought, motive, habit, conduct, character. In the nature of things
this must be gradual and continuous. The seed is sown as soon as we believe;
there is no interval between the pardon of a sinner and his reception of the
germ of the new and heavenly life, but this has to grow and blossom and bear
fruit. The chains are struck off the captive, and he is animated with new
courage and strength; but the battle has only begun, though the final victory is
promised. The leaven has been put into the meal, but the whole lump is not
immediately leavened. Thus we are admonished to "grow in grace;" to "work out
our own salvation with fear and trembling." This has been the concurrent
experience of the holiest of God’s children. Few of ancient times were nearer
perfection than Daniel, yet he says, "While I was praying and confessing my
sin." There is scarcely one of the Bible saints of whom some fault is not
recorded. David says, "Who can understand his errors? cleanse me from secret
faults;" and Solomon, "There is not a just man upon earth that does good and
sins not;" and James, "In many things we all stumble." Paul repudiated any claim
to be perfect; for though he triumphed in the assurance of final victory, he was
conscious of a liability to temporary reverses. It was said of the Romans that
they might be worsted in battle but never in war; and the soldiers of Christ,
when most hopeful of the result, are most aware of temporary failures, and
confess them with penitence lest they should become permanent. Augustine speaks
of "sins of a daily infirmity in which even he who watches most will yet be
entangled; scarcely without some of the world’s dust adhering to him will even
the faithful man walk through the world’s paths. But in this prayer there is the
shaking off this dust before it has settled and hardened upon him."

There are occasional seasons of spiritual calm when a believer may be induced to
suppose that peace of mind means freedom from sin. "It may be under some great
affliction, it may be in some eminent enjoyment of God, in the sense of the
sweetness of blessed communion with Christ, we have been ready to say that sin
was dead and gone forever. But have we not found by experience the contrary? Has
it not manifested that it was only retired into some unsearchable recesses of
the heart, as to its nature, though greatly weakened in its power? God’s delight
is with the humble and contrite ones, and such are we only when we have a due
sense of our own vile condition. This will beget reverence of God, sense of our
distance from Him, admiration of His grace and condescension, a due valuation of
mercy, far above those light, verbal, airy attainments that some have boasted
of" (Owen). To suppose perfection already reached, is not merely a theological
error, but a moral defect and disguised peril. It lowers the standard of duty to
think we have reached it; it lessens the sense of obligation to consider we have
discharged it; it weakens the motive to watchfulness to imagine the foe is
slain. "Let him who thinks he stands, take heed lest he fall." Because the
faults of God’s children differ from the daring sins of rebels, they do not
therefore lose the character of sin, nor cease to incur a debt which must be
cancelled or paid. It is possible to receive pardon of some great trespass, and
by repeated commission of smaller sins to perish. It is only when God’s pardoned
children continue to "add on their part all diligence," that they are "not idle
nor unfruitful;" whereas "he who lacks these things is blind, having forgotten
the cleansing from his old sins. Wherefore, brethren, give the more diligence to
make your calling and election sure." Lack of diligence in repenting of the
smaller sins of God’s children weakens such surety. Little expenses multiplied
may ruin a business or impoverish a family. Debts neglected because each is
small, may so accumulate as to cause bankruptcy. Buildups of rust, each particle
invisible, may stop a watch or fasten up a door. Augustine says, "It is of
little drops that mighty rivers, yes ruinous and wide-wasting inundations, are
made up. The leak may be trifling, yet if waters are always coming in, and not
being continually pumped out, they will in the end sink the ship. A mountain of
minute grains of sand will as effectually crush out the life, as the same bulk
of solid lead. Little venomous insects, if only there are enough of them, will
kill a man with their multitudinous bites, as certainly as some wild beast with
its single one. But in this prayer there is for the man who faithfully uses it,
the pledge and power of a daily cleansing, the medicine of his slight but
ever-recurring hurts" (Trench). The sins of God’s children have a speciality
which forbids us to treat them as trifles. When a friendship is peculiarly
tender, we feel sensitive to every hasty word which may grieve. The greater our
obligation, the greater our regret for any seeming ingratitude. The pardoning
love of our Father, and our privileges and joys now that we are at home, form a
new obligation specially strong and tender. We know more of His loving heart and
the goodness of His laws. Those who have tasted the bliss of filial relationship
feel that acts of negligence have now a guilt which in kind, if not in degree,
could not attach to acts of willful disobedience committed when strangers to
their Father’s love. More knowledge of His Will increases the guilt of resisting
it; higher privileges entail heavier responsibilities; filial love gives to
conscience additional sensitivity; and the child at home, without ever doubting
the Father’s favor, is conscious of frequent defects in his own love and
obedience. This very prayer serves to convince us of our need of this petition.
Our Father—but how often I fail in the reverence, trust, love, and obedience due
from a child! Hallowed be Your Name—but how have I come short in cherishing
befitting reverence of it myself, and promoting it in others! Your Kingdom,
come—but how little I have done to advance it! Your Will be done on earth as in
heaven—but how inferior my obedience to that of angels! Give us this day our
daily bread—but how often I have doubted or murmured, or been unthankful to the
Giver! If then I need to come "day by day" for "daily bread," I need also to
come day by day for daily pardon. A dear friend now in glory, who on earth
manifested more of angelic piety than is often the privilege of men to witness,
and who was a distinguished member and minister of a church including "Christian
perfection" in its doctrinal system, thus records his own sense of daily need of
seeking remission of debts contracted as a child of God—

Sins Sins unnumbered I confess, Of exceeding sinfulness, Sins against Yourself
alone, Only to Omniscience known; Deafness to Your whispered calls; Rashness
’midst remembered falls; Transient fears beneath the rod; Treacherous trifling
with my God; Tasting that the Lord is good, Pining then for poisoned food; At
the fountain of the skies Craving creaturely supplies; Worldly cares at
worship-time; Groveling aims in works sublime; Pride, when God is passing by;
Sloth, when souls in darkness die. O be merciful to me Now in bitterness for
You; Father, pardon through Your Son, Sins against the Spirit done." —W. Bunting
III—OUR FATHER’S FORGIVENESS

Belief in the possibility of pardon is essential to the asking it. "He who comes
to God must believe that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him." But
is pardon within the possibility of such reward? The "Forgiveness of Sins" is an
article of the Creed much more easily pronounced than explained. The universe is
under the great law of Cause and Effect. Every grain of sand and drop of dew,
the rolling planets and the central sun, alike obey it. Influences once set in
motion continue their operation both in the material and moral worlds. Violation
of physical law entails physical suffering, of social law social disgrace, of
moral law deterioration of character, of governmental law legal penalty. Conduct
has appropriate consequences, and "whatever a man sows, that shall he also
reap." But in asking pardon, we ask for an intervention between cause and
effect, for the neutralizing of influences actually at work. We ask for the
stone that has been flung to be stopped, for the flood that has been let loose
to be arrested, for the fire that has been lighted to be quenched, and not only
so, but also for the precious things it has ruined to be restored.

Nature does not forgive. Health enfeebled by folly is not renovated by remorse.
The spendthrift’s riches do not fly back at the call of regret. Repentance does
not atone for crime, acquit the criminal, or restore him to his former social
position. Thus it has been questioned whether there can ever be forgiveness of
sin, and men under various systems have endeavored by methods of their own to
neutralize their guilt and its consequences, without any assurance of success.
Socrates doubted whether sin could be forgiven. Without revelation, sinful men
could never be free from fear. Job felt the difficulty when he said that if he
should justify himself, his own mouth would condemn him; that if he made his
hands never so clean, he would still be as one plunged in a ditch; that God was
not as a man to come together with him in judgment; that there needed some
intermediary to effect reconciliation; but that, alas! there was no such
arbitrator to lay his hand on both. "The one Mediator between God and men, the
man Christ Jesus," does "lay His hand on both," and by His atonement declares
and explains forgiveness.

"When Christ came, He spoke of forgiveness as the most difficult of all God’s
secrets. He said that no one could tell of Atonement but He who had been in
heaven. If it were not for Christ’s clear revelation, I could not believe in a
free forgiveness. Cause and effect, antecedent and consequence, are so bound
together on God’s earth, that the idea of their severance—which is, in other
words, the release of the soul who has sinned from the death which sin
merits—can only be accepted as the explicit assertion, the direct revelation, of
Him who knows all things" (Vaughan).

Jehovah had revealed Himself to Moses as "merciful and gracious, forgiving
iniquity and transgression and sin;" although "He will not always clear the
guilty." The holy God who will uphold His law and punish willful transgressors,
is the pardoning God. This truth is extolled by the Psalmist, "Bless the Lord, O
my soul, who forgives all your iniquities;" and by the Prophet, "Who is a God
like You, who pardons iniquity? because He delights in mercy." The typical
sacrifices connected with the confession of sin were about to be set aside when
the Baptist said, "Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world."
Jesus said of Himself that He came "to give His life a ransom for many." Him the
apostles proclaimed as "a Prince and a Savior, to give repentance to Israel, and
remission of sins." When Saul the persecutor was himself forgiven, he proclaimed
to all that "through this Man is preached the forgiveness of sins." Though "all
have sinned," those who repent are "justified freely by His grace through the
redemption that is in Christ Jesus whom God set forth to be a propitiation,
through faith, by His blood, to show His righteousness because of the passing
over of the sins done aforetime." "God was in Christ, reconciling the world to
Himself, not reckoning to them their trespasses." Christ is the medium of
forgiveness, to whom all whose debts are cancelled owe their deliverance,
however defective their knowledge of Him. "In none other is there salvation—for
neither is there any other name under heaven that is given among men, wherein we
must be saved." However mysterious the doctrine of the Atonement, the apostle
plainly taught the fact "that Christ died for our sins according to the
Scriptures." "He was wounded for our transgressions, and with His stripes we are
healed; and the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all." The truth that,
"the blood of Jesus His Son cleanses us from all sin," is the theme of the new
song of heaven. "To Him who loves us, and loosed us from our sins by His blood,
be the glory and the dominion forever and ever."

Dr. Dale, commenting on Ephesians 1:7, "In Christ we have our redemption through
His blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses according to the riches of His
grace," says—"To those who have known the power of the Divine forgiveness to
cancel the guilt of sin, the act is as clearly supernatural as any of the
miracles recorded in the Gospels, and it is more wonderful, for it reveals the
ascendency of the Divine will in a region of life far nobler than that in which
the physical miracles of the Gospels were wrought…That the ground of our
forgiveness is in Christ, not in ourselves, and that His death has a unique
relation to the remission of sins, are facts which lie at the foundation of the
faith, and hope, and life of the Christian Church…The death of Christ was an act
in which there was a revelation of the righteousness of God which must otherwise
have been revealed in the infliction of the penalty of sin on the human
race…Theories of the Atonement have exercised and baffled the speculation of a
long series of theologians, but the Atonement itself has continued to give
consolation and courage to all penitent hearts, transforming their despair into
hope, their misery into peace, and their terror into perfect joy in the
righteousness and love of God."

Some have supposed that Christ actually paid the debt we have incurred, His
sufferings being exactly an equivalent for our punishment. If so, it follows
that the debt once paid cannot be justly exacted afterwards. But if any for whom
Christ suffered should themselves suffer, it is inferred that their debt would
be twice paid; and as many do actually perish, some theological logicians have
taught that for them Christ did not die, while all whose debts were included in
His Atonement must necessarily be saved. Let it suffice here to say that
Scripture nowhere teaches the absolute payment by Christ of our debts, but that
His sacrifice is a sufficient provision for the pardon of all who, by repentance
and faith, are willing to receive it. If only one transgressor is pardoned, the
law seems to need to be honored and righteousness vindicated; no, we feel this
to be needed for the mere offering of pardon. The difficulty is that of
reconciling the holiness of God and His rule of the universe with His
proclamation of pardon. When this is removed, we cease to feel a difficulty in
reconciling the holiness of God with the pardon of any multitude of penitent
sinners. If the amnesty may righteously be proclaimed, it may righteously be
ratified. For one sinner to cross the great gulf dividing us from heaven, a
bridge seemed to be needed which Deity alone could construct, but which, needed
for one, was sufficient to bear all mankind. Yet if any refuse to cross, their
ruin is the fault, not of the bridge, but of their own will. All may receive
forgiveness, but those who reject the mercy will bear their own burden, although
provision was made for its remission in the case of all who "repent and
believe." The gospel explains the mystery. The evil wrought by sin is
counteracted by Him who died for sin. The cross of Christ interposes between the
sinner who believes and the punishment due to violated law. If forgiveness
through the Atonement is mysterious, forgiveness without an atonement is
inexplicable. Sin as a cause does not result in punishment as its effect,
because the Atonement accomplishes that for which punishment would have been
required in relation to the Divine government; and, in relation to our own
nature, the injury of sin is counteracted by a new spiritual life produced in
Regeneration, whereby the power of the former habit of sin is counteracted and
eventually destroyed. Left to ourselves and the natural effects of sin, the bad
seed sown must grow, producing its present and future harvest of "corruption."
But by the heavenly life imparted this seed is destroyed; old things have passed
away, and all things have "become new." The converted sinner has passed "from
darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God." This perfects the
Divine forgiveness. The record is effaced from the tablets of character. We are
"new creatures in Christ Jesus." Sanctification, the result of Regeneration, is
evidence of forgiveness; it is the canceling of the debt accumulated within us,
it is the very sending away, the dismissal, the absolute discharge we pray for…
the penalty of sin being remitted by deliverance not only from future punishment
by God, but from present pollution in ourselves. Thus God remits sin; in
Justification saving from its deserved penalty, in Sanctification from its
resulting influence. The doctrine of Forgiveness needs, however, to be explained
consistently with certain revealed truths and natural facts. God is said to
"visit the sins of the fathers upon the children to the third and fourth
generation." Those children may themselves be penitent and pardoned and yet
suffer from the sins of their parents, as by inherited disease, poverty,
disgrace; and in the case of nations, one generation may have to bear the debts
incurred and the animosities fomented by wars they blush to think of. So an
individual may suffer disease, poverty, dishonor, long after he has repented of
the sins that caused them. God not only does not interpose to arrest these
results, but may even specially appoint suffering as a sequence of sin the
pardon of which has been assured. So it was with David. Though he repented and
was forgiven, the temporal evils did come upon him, in the bitter shame that
overshadowed his own home through Absalom. He was assured of pardon, yet was
adjudged to suffer. "The Lord has put away your sin; you shall not die. Howbeit,
because by this deed you have given great occasion to the enemies of the Lord to
blaspheme, the child also that is born to you shall surely die." The sorrows
resulting from sins forgiven are to be regarded not as penal but as
disciplinary. They are often needed to illustrate the evil of sin, to show that
even the children of God must suffer if they do wrong, and to deter others from
similar faults. They are needed to teach the transgressors to cultivate
humility, watchfulness, prayer and gratitude. In the case of a pardoned child of
God, the sad consequences of sin are not a sign of wrath but of loving
discipline. "Whom the Lord loves He chastens, and scourges every son whom He
receives." The injury to character, though at once subjected to remedial
influence, is not at once effaced. The habits of long years of sin need to be
supplanted by habits of holiness. From the pages of memory the records and
images of evil do not at once fade away, nor can those pages become at once
crowded with recollections of evil conquered and good achieved. The Jews,
although forgiveness was promised, were warned of the sorrows resulting from the
memory of sin. "Then shall you remember your ways, and be ashamed—and you shall
know that I am the Lord; that you may remember and be confounded, and never open
your mouth any more because of your shame, when I am pacified toward you for all
that you have done, says the Lord God." When God promises that our sins and
iniquities He will remember no more, the meaning is that He will act towards us
as if He forgot them. He would cease to be Omniscient if any fact were to fade
from His mind. It is questionable whether anything that has once left its
impress even on our finite minds is absolutely forgotten. Paul, when rejoicing
that God had "forgiven all trespasses," did not cease to remember with
self-abasement that he had persecuted the Church of God. And saints in glory
give thanks to Him who "washed them from their sins," thus showing that the
memory of sin remains. But as God acts towards us as if He did not remember our
sins, treating us as if we had never sinned, so He can cause our joy to abound
in spite of our own memory of transgression—a memory which, while encouraging
humility, will also prompt to more intense gratitude and deeper tones of praise.
With these explanations we may rejoice to know that the remission of our debts
by God is absolute remission; no arrears remain, no penal demands to be paid
either in this world or the next. It is immediate, for no sooner is the prayer
truly offered than the answer is recorded, "Your sins are forgiven you." The
guilt is at once removed, the sentence cancelled, and the work of progressive
sanctification commenced, never to end but in the absolute removal from the soul
of every taint of sin. Nothing is now owing. The liberated debtor is treated as
if he had never been in debt—unlike the case of earthly debtors, who may be
cleared by legal process but do not recover their former credit. The sinner whom
God forgives is trusted, adopted into His family, loved and treated as a child.
The prodigal son is not kept in the outer court with the servants, but welcomed
to the inner chamber and folded to the Father’s heart. The completeness of this
pardon is expressed in the strongest language. "Though your sins be as scarlet,
they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be
as wool." God says He will cast all our sins "into the depths of the sea;" "As
far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from
us;" "He delights in mercy." We may safely appeal to Him as One "whose nature
and property is ever to have mercy and to forgive." In nothing so much as in
forgiveness are His own words illustrated—"As the heavens are higher than the
earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your
thoughts."

"Kind hearts are here; yet would the tenderest one Have limits to its mercy—God
has none! And man’s forgiveness may be true and sweet, But yet he stoops to give
it. More complete Is Love that lays forgiveness at your feet, And pleads with
you to raise it. Only Heaven Means crowned, not vanquished, when it says
Forgiven." —Adelaide Procter

There is pardon for the chief of sinners. "Him who comes to me I will in no wise
cast out." A sin for which there is no possible forgiveness is one for which
there is no actual repentance. No one is shut out by God from remission who does
not shut himself out by persevering in sin. Pardon is inseparable from
penitence. Christ "is exalted to give repentance and remission of sins." These
gifts are indissoluble. The first is a pledge of the second. Repentance is our
actually moving out from the shadow of death across the boundary into the
sunshine of life and love. He who repents is already in the region of pardon and
the light of God.

Christ the High Priest, through whose sacrifice and intercession this pardon is
conferred, is the only Mediator at whose hands we receive it, by whose word we
are assured of it. It is the privilege and duty of all who are forgiven to
declare and pronounce to all others, being penitent, the same absolution and
remission of sin which they have received; but it is Christ alone who can bestow
it, and authoritatively declare and confirm it. He said to the man whom He cured
of the palsy, "Your sins are forgiven," and claimed that "the Son of Man has
power on earth to forgive sin;" and as "none can forgive sins but God only,"
none but Christ may assume this function. In the words of the Dean of Llandaff,
"I cannot believe that Christ meant any man to come, even as a helper, even as
an abettor, between the soul and its God. It is the glory, it is the
originality, it is the power of the Gospel, that it brings together, face to
face, without any intermediate, the two Beings which are at issue, God and the
soul. You say you can aid this meeting? Take heed that you do not hinder it"
(Vaughan). Luther said, "A pope or bishop has no more power to remit sin than
the humblest priest, and even without any priest the humblest Christian, even
though a woman or a child, can do the same. For if a simple believer say to you,
’God pardon your sin in the name of Jesus Christ,’ and you receive that word
with firm faith, and as though God Himself spoke it to you, you are absolved."
The absolution Christ bestows is plenary, immediate, complete. If we have a
multitude of transgressions to confess, He has a "multitude of tender mercies"
with which to hide them. "Our sin in respect to His mercy is as a spark to the
ocean; and cannot the ocean quench a spark?" Can the food be insufficient for
the guests whom He invites? Can the lifeboat He equips be too small for the
shipwrecked crew?

IV—PRAYER FOR PARDON

God, by His Ambassador of mercy, bids us say, "Forgive us our debts," and
encourages us by the promise, "Everyone who asks receives." He who "was in the
bosom of the Father," and knows His purpose, the Christ who Himself suffered for
our sins, teaches us thus to pray. The High Priest who intercedes above
instructs us how to plead below, so that our prayers and His may blend, and "Him
the Father hears always." Thus instructed by the Son of God, we pray to a Father
who pities His children and calls them to Himself. Round about the throne of
Majesty is the rainbow of Mercy dispelling our fear. Acceptable prayer for
pardon includes

1. Conviction of guilt. We must recognize our indebtedness. Fallacies must be
put away by which we have tried to persuade ourselves that we are not guilty
before God. We must not make weakness an excuse for wickedness. If helpless as a
worm, if lifeless as a corpse, we cannot be guilty as men. God has endowed us
with capacities which make it possible for us to obey Him, but we have abused
those capacities, and so have incurred a debt which was both due and in our
power to pay. Nor may we plead temperament, circumstances, or the devil. We
never yield but by our own consent, and this is our sin. Let us beware of the
false humility that pleads helplessness, and cultivate the true humility that
confesses our abuse of ability and a depraved proneness to evil.

2. Contrition. Sorrow because of sin is an essential condition of the pardon of
it; sorrow, not merely for the consequences but for the act. Many criminals are
sorry when captured, arraigned and condemned, who, were they to escape, would
forget their grief; and many sinners against God are sorry, not because they
have sinned but because they cannot sin with impunity, or because their sins are
about to be judged. Godly sorrow mourns for the sin itself, as evil in its own
nature, as rebellion against our Creator, as ingratitude towards our Benefactor,
as undutifulness towards our Father. "Wherefore I abhor myself, and repent in
dust and ashes." Thus the tax-collector in the parable bows his head with shame
and smites his bosom for sorrow, while he cries, "God be merciful to me a
sinner." The Psalms are full of the groanings of contrite hearts. All Christian
biography records the anguish caused by sin. Without such sorrow there will be
no true joy. "Blessed are those who mourn, fur they shall be comforted." The
hope of pardon does not altogether remove this sorrow. God forgives us, but we
do not forgive ourselves. The wound is healed, but the scar remains. A little
boy was told by his father to drive a nail into a plank for every offence
committed. Whenever he did something worthy of praise, a nail was withdrawn. At
length the father said with joy, "See, they are all gone now." "Yes, father,"
said the son, "but the marks are there." The remembrance of some act of
unkindness to a friend, who, though grieved at the time, has perfectly forgiven
and forgotten it, is long afterwards recalled with an inward blush; and the
sorrow caused to parents in the days of youthful heedlessness is a source of
deep regret even in old age. Paul never ceased to reflect with sorrow that he
was once a "persecutor, and injurious." The writer cannot forget an illustration
of such sorrow in the case of a very poor field-laborer who was groaning in
extreme agony. When there seemed a little abatement of suffering, some words of
sympathy were uttered, to which the dying man replied," My biggest pain is to
think that I ever grieved my dear Lord Jesus." Such sorrow is a mark of sonship
and a sign of pardon. "The seal is set on wax when it melts; so God sets pardon
on melting hearts." Such sorrow is a means of reformation. The seeds of truth
watered by penitential tears will bear fruit in the heavenly paradise.

"He who lacks time to mourn, lacks time to mend. Eternity mourns that." —H.
Taylor

3. Confession. The burden on the soul seeks relief by utterance—"Out of the
abundance of the heart the mouth speaks." We should confess an injury to our
neighbor as a step towards redressing it. "Confess your faults one to
another"—the faults committed by one against another. So our faults against God
are to be confessed to God. "He who covers his sins shall not prosper." If we
wish God to hide them, we must not hide them ourselves. If we would be healed,
we must show our wound to the Physician. If we would get our debt remitted, we
must acknowledge our obligation. "When I kept silence, my bones waxed old
through my groaning all the day long. I acknowledged my sin to You, and my
iniquity have I not hidden. I said, I will confess my transgressions to the
Lord; and You forgave the iniquity of my sin." As God alone forgives, so to God
we are to confess. No fellow-sinner may stand between ourselves and Him, except
the One High Priest who alone has power to absolve. To substitute auricular
confession to a man for spiritual confession to God, and to be satisfied with a
fellow-sinner’s assurance of absolution, is calculated to encourage us in a
continual vibration between false comfort and fresh sin, like the see-saw of
children’s play. The comfort which some say they find in frequent confession to
a priest may be really found by daily confession to God. When there are no
willful sins burdening the conscience, relief by daily confession is still
needed from the oppressive sense of frequent imperfections, such as tainted
motives, wandering thoughts, ingratitude, distrust, indolence, neglect of
opportunities, selfish abuse of stewardship, and the long, long interval between
our attainments and the perfect Example. If these are habitually passed over as
not needing to be confessed, we cannot rejoice as we might in the full assurance
of pardon, and our own character must suffer from the tacit allowance of such
imperfection. The most loving children are the most sensitive, and are not happy
until any disrespectful word, any act of negligence, is confessed, and the
parent’s kiss of forgiveness received. And thus the children of God will daily
cultivate their filial graces, relieve the burden on their loving hearts, and
seek the reassurance of their Father’s pardoning mercy by repeated, acts of
confession, not "dissembling and cloaking their sins before the face of Almighty
God our Heavenly Father, but confessing them with a humble, lowly, penitent, and
obedient heart." But we are not required to ransack memory for every item, as
though remission depended on exact enumeration. Many faults escape consciousness
when committed, and others soon fade from remembrance. Our Father accepts us
when we come to Him with a humble sense of indebtedness, without imposing on us
the burden of detailing all the particulars. "One earnest gaze upon Christ is
worth a thousand scrutinies of self—the man who beholds the cross, and beholding
it weeps, cannot be really blind nor perilously self-ignorant" (Vaughan). No one
need fear that a sin neglected in the catalogue of confession is omitted in the
royal charter of pardon, if in self-abasement yet filial trust he says, "Our
Father, forgive!"

4. Purpose of reformation. Pardon is promised only to those who repent; and
repentance is a change of mind in regard to sin and God. Sorrow for sin involves
detestation of it; confession implies a resolution to forsake it. It would be
contrary to God’s holiness to pardon the sins of those who intend to go on
sinning. He is Holy, and the object of His mercy no less than of His law is to
promote the holiness of His creatures. "There is forgiveness with You that You
may be feared." The promise, "Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as
white as snow," immediately follows the precept, "Wash, make clean; cease to do
evil, learn to do well. Come now and let us reason together, says the Lord." The
promise is linked with the precept, "Let the wicked forsake his way, and let him
return to the Lord, for He will abundantly pardon." The purpose of Christ in
redemption was not primarily to remit penalty but to purify the heart, the
former being a means towards the latter. "The grace of God has appeared,
bringing salvation to all men, instructing us, to the intent that denying
ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly and righteously and godly
in this present world." Pardon is obtained only by the mediation of Him whose
very Name declares Him to be a Savior, not from punishment merely, but from sin.
"His Name shall be called Jesus, for He shall save His people from their sins."
None can believe in Him without accepting this salvation, and therefore
resolving to renounce the sins they confess. Every prayer for pardon is a pledge
of reformation, and every debt remitted as penalty increases the obligation of
gratitude and is an additional motive to obedience. The cost of our redemption
being "not corruptible things as silver and gold, but the precious blood of
Christ," supplies the strongest motive to forsake the sins the forgiveness of
which we ask through such a sacrifice. To feel that every sin must be confessed
will surely help us to abstain from committing it. If the evil I do must be as
far as possible redressed, why do it? If it must be sorrowed over, why give
myself this pain as well as grieve the Spirit of my Father? "He will speak peace
to His people, and to His saints; but let them not turn again to folly." This
petition, like the rest, looks beyond the individual. First of all, we pray each
for his own pardon—"Have mercy upon me, a sinner." But having learned the
brotherhood of humanity, we embrace our neighbors in our request. We pray for
the household, the congregation, the church, the world, when we say, "Forgive us
our debts;" and this helps us to comply with the condition attached to the
prayer. But in this community of prayer there must be no merging our individual
guilt, no lessening our contrition because others share in the necessity for it.
A deep sense of our own sin helps us to feel for others, and to bear them on our
hearts at the throne of grace.

Some resolve to seek pardon at the eleventh hour, like the dying thief. They do
not consider that the present hour may be to them the very last, that the end
may approach unobserved, and that it may find them less disposed than ever to
seek forgiveness, owing to the strengthened habit of impenitent delay. They seem
to think that repentance can be summoned to their bedside like the doctor, and
that having been resolutely ordered during many years to keep far away, it will
come at a moment and at a word. The repentance which precedes pardon is not a
sudden regret for the past or fear of the future, but a change of mind and
heart. The dying thief was not saved without such change. Reverence towards the
Most High was indicated in his appeal to his companion, "Do you not fear God?"
confession of sin in the words, "We indeed justly;" admiration of goodness in
the testimony, "This man has done nothing amiss;" faith in the royalty of Him
whom men derided in the address to Christ, "Lord, when You come in Your
kingdom;" humble prayer in the request, "Lord, remember me"—these, with avowal
of his own allegiance and care for the soul of his companion, indicated a
complete transformation of character. It took place suddenly in this case; but
can such repentance be reckoned on in the case of those who, unlike him, have
long known of Christ and neglected to seek mercy? Such repentance needs the
assistance of the Divine Spirit, but it is still our work. "God commands all men
to repent." It is a work so important and difficult, that not a day should be
lost in commencing it. If not one single true Christian can be found willing
deliberately to spare one day from his religious life, so that for one day he
should cease to pray and to resist sin; if those who have had years of
experience in religion so value one single day in continuing to work out their
own salvation, is it not the utmost folly for those who have not yet even begun
the work, to delay it for months and years? "Today if you will hear His voice,
harden not your hearts. Behold, now is the day of salvation."

Let this daily petition remind us of our sins, and help us to renounce them. Our
debt is in God’s book; let us bring it to remembrance, that it may be confessed
and cancelled before the account be closed. Some neglect to seek pardon because
they under-estimate their debt; others despair because it is so great. "The
devil shows some men their sins at the little end of the perspective glass, and
they seem little or none at all; but he shows others their sins at the great end
of the perspective, and these frighten them into despair." They try to rid
themselves of the burden of fear as though they could thus be rid of the burden
of guilt. There can be no true peace but in pardon. "When conscience is
troubled, they will try what merry company can do, or drink, or cards; perhaps a
Lent-whipping will do the deed, or business so take up the time that they have
no leisure to hear the clamors of conscience; but still the wound bleeds
inwardly, and they can have no peace. Suppose a man has a thorn in his foot,
which puts him to pain; let him anoint it, or wrap it up, and keep it warm; yet,
until the thorn be plucked out, it aches and swells, and he has no ease"
(Watson). Many a wounded soldier would recover if the bullet were extracted, but
while it remains in the wound there can be no cure. So must sin be removed from
us by penitence and pardon, or death must result.

Many on what has seemed their dying bed have expressed a repentance which, on
their recovery, has been proved unreal. How perilous to postpone such a work
until there will be the briefest time for it and the least capacity! as if a man
should defer a task needing great exertion until he was weak and weary, or one
needing the clearest vision until the sun had set and the shadows of night had
fallen; as if the torrent could be stemmed more easily when the boat had been
drawn more into mid-channel; as if the precipice could be better avoided after
slipping partly over the impending slope; as if a fire could be more effectually
quenched when the flames had gained greater mastery of the fuel; as if a disease
could be better cured when its force had more fully developed, and the patient
had less strength to rally! Every day’s delay increases the debt, lessens the
opportunity of pardon, and weakens the inclination to seek it. To no work more
than to this does the exhortation apply, "Whatever your hand finds to do, do it
with your might; for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom in
the grave where you go." Therefore "give no sleep to your eyes nor slumber to
your eyelids. Deliver yourself as a roe from the hand of the hunter, and as a
bird from the hand of the fowler." Luther said there were three things he dared
not think of without Christ—Sin, Death, Judgment. But if sin be pardoned, the
sting of death is extracted, and the judgment has no terrors. How "blessed is
the man to whom the Lord imputes not iniquity"! "Being justified by faith, we
have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ." If poor in this world,
countless wealth is in the assurance, "There is now no condemnation to those who
are in Christ Jesus." The sick are healed when they hear His word, "Your sins
are forgiven." If dying, behold we live when our Father says, "This my son was
dead, and is alive again." This petition blends with those that precede. "Our
Father;" being this, pity and pardon Your erring children. "Hallowed be Your
Name;" by the exercise of the mercy it implies, and in the hearts of grateful
penitents. "Your Kingdom come;" in the extension of forgiveness, in the
increased number of the forgiven. "Your Will be done;" by the manifestation of
Your love in the canceling of debt. "Give us this day our daily bread;" but in
vain the supply of all temporal wants unless the hunger of the soul is satisfied
"Forgive us our debts."

V—FORGIVENESS OF ONE ANOTHER The appended clause, "As we forgive our debtors,"
indicates a necessary qualification for presenting the request, for only those
who forgive are in a state of mind truly to ask to be forgiven; it lays down a
condition of obtaining the boon, for none may expect forgiveness who do not
themselves forgive. Many who offer the prayer overlook the condition; they
desire the benefit, but are not anxious to perform the duty; they seem to think
they may confidently expect forgiveness, while only admitting that it is their
duty to exercise it; at best, they seem to think that the wish or the intention
to forgive entitles them to expect actual and immediate forgiveness from God.

Some, out of mistaken regard for evangelical truth, interpret the qualification
less literally than the petition. They ask, How can any good quality in
ourselves recommend us to Divine favor? How can works be a plea when we are
suppliants for mercy? How can we dare to mention our imperfect forgiveness of
each other’s trivial faults, when we seek such full forgiveness of so great a
debt from God? And how can we venture to ask Him to pardon us in the manner and
degree in which we pardon our brethren? Thus the mental interpretation given to
the clause is frequently this—"Forgive us our debts, and help us to forgive our
debtors;" or, "Forgive us, and then enable us to forgive others." But the
petition is conditional not on a purpose, but on a fact; not on the admission of
a duty, but on the performance of it; not on something to be done hereafter, but
done already. It is a precedent necessity, not a resulting effect. So the R.V.
accurately renders it. Luke expresses the habitual state of mind of the
petitioners "For we ourselves also forgive everyone who is indebted to us;"
Matthew, the already-accomplished fact—"As we also have forgiven our debtors."

1. Human forgiveness—A difficult duty. Our depraved nature is characterized by
self-seeking. Our predominant thoughts, desires, exertions have reference to our
own safety, property, honor. We think more of our rights than of our
obligations, of what others owe us rather than of what we owe them. We are apt
to demand all; we are impatient of delay or excuses, stand up for our rights,
resent injuries, and insist on the uttermost farthing. This is seen in the
attitude of nations, which are but combinations of individuals. Why are armies
and navies maintained at such prodigious cost, if not sternly to demand national
rights? How often some slight to an ambassador or insult to a flag is supposed
to justify wholesale slaughter! Most wars would have been prevented had there
been a mutual disposition to forgive a debt, instead of a blind determination to
enforce it. Beyond all reasonable plea of order and defense, are there not many
professed Christians who consider that national honor demands the enforcing of
national debts at whatever cost? If this spirit is regarded as legitimate in
public affairs, it is not surprising that it should influence private life. But
it is opposed to the plain teaching of Christ and His apostles—"Love your
enemies, do good to those who hate you, pray for those who despitefully use you.
Avenge not yourselves. If your enemy hungers, feed him; if he thirsts, give him
a drink. Charity suffers long, and is kind; is not easily provoked." In this
prayer our Lord specially emphasized this appended condition—"For if you forgive
men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you—but if you
forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your
trespasses."

What is meant by this forgiveness of one another? The term debt is figurative as
regards our relations with God, and means guilt and liability to penalty. In
relation to ourselves, therefore, the term does not necessarily mean monetary
obligations. If all such debts are to be remitted, none would be incurred; no
one would lend if lending were equivalent to giving; credit would be unknown in
business, and commerce would be almost impossible. Monetary obligations ought to
be held sacred by the debtor; but though the creditor may rightly claim payment,
he ought, in the spirit of this prayer, not to exercise undue pressure, not to
take advantage of the debtor’s difficulties, but if misfortune has overtaken him
and he is unable to pay, to exercise patience and abate the claim rather than
risk the ruin of the debtor. Nor does the condition involve the loosening of
moral obligations. There are social and relative duties always owing from one to
another. We are not called on to submit to injustice. The interests of society
require that law should be upheld. "The magistrate bears not the sword in vain."
True humanity requires that law-breakers be punished. A Christian, asking
forgiveness from God, may therefore consistently prosecute the ruffian and the
thief, whose immunity would encourage them in further outrage. But in thus
vindicating law a Christian should not indulge personal revenge, but feel kindly
towards the wrong-doer even when he calls upon the law to exact its righteous
debt.

Moreover, forgiveness by man must necessarily be very different to forgiveness
by God. Weak, selfish, sinful, our forgiveness must be as inferior to His as we
are to Himself; and debts incurred to His supreme majesty must be immeasurably
greater than any of the petty obligations we incur towards each other. When
therefore we ask God to forgive us "as we forgive our debtors," we do not mean
that our forgiveness can measure His either in nature or amount. But
notwithstanding such considerations, the duty of forgiving as God forgives must
not be explained away. Certain resemblances are essential. Our forgiveness must
be sincere. Much that passes current as forgiveness is so in appearance only.
Sometimes payment is not exacted because there is no power to exact—"we do not
bite because we have no teeth;" sometimes because we deem it inexpedient,
fearing discredit or retaliation; sometimes because we only postpone exaction
for a better opportunity; and sometimes non-exaction is counterbalanced by
cherished ill-will, alienation, detraction, and the lingering resentment,
"Though I forgive, I can never forget." This is not forgiving as God forgives.
"He makes His sun to shine on the evil and on the good;" and those who are truly
His children must cherish kind feelings even towards their foes. Our perfect
Exemplar, "when He was reviled, reviled not again," but prayed for His
murderers. Our forgiveness must be genuine; no secret grudge must be cherished;
our state of mind should be as free from bitterness as if the record of the
wrong had completely faded away from our memory. But is not the repentance of
one who has wronged us a condition of our pardon, even as our repentance is a
condition of God’s pardon? "If your brother trespasses against you, rebuke him;
and if he repents, forgive him." If God does not receive us until we repent, we
are not required to assure of forgiveness any wrong-doer until he has expressed
sorrow. But prior to our repentance God cherishes pity, shows kindness, waits to
be gracious, is ready to pardon, makes advances, calls us to Himself, beseeches
us to be reconciled. "Return to me, and I will abundantly pardon." Therefore we,
on our part, before a "brother" who has offended us asks forgiveness, are bound
to cherish kind feelings towards him, to pray for him, and to be willing to
express forgiveness when he repents. Many who are not Christians might profess
to forgive an enemy crouching for pardon, for their pride might be satisfied
with his humiliation; but a child of God is to overcome his resentment prior to
the repentance of the evil-doer, and to be ready to forgive before forgiveness
is sought. Although "the wrath of God abides" on all sinners who persist in sin,
his mercy is waiting to pardon—an ocean ready to flow out towards the sinner and
cover all his transgressions, as soon as the sinner’s repentance opens the
floodgate. If thus we are to cherish forgiveness even towards those who do not
repent, how surely should we pardon generously, gladly, all who do! When an
offender has been forgiven and repeats the offense, we are apt to feel
discharged from further leniency. But this our Lord forbids. When Peter said,
"Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me and I forgive him? until seven
times? Jesus said to him, I say not to you, Until seven times, but until seventy
times seven." The apostles replied, "Lord, increase our faith;" as much as to
say that such forgiveness was impossible without strong faith; to which He
answered, "If you had faith as a grain of mustard seed, you might say to this
sycamore tree, Be plucked up by the root, and be planted in the sea; and it
should obey you." What is impossible in our own strength becomes easy by the
power of Christ, and this becomes ours by faith; so that we shall be able in the
fullness of its meaning to say, "Forgive us our sins, for we ourselves also
forgive everyone who is indebted to us." In Voices from Calvary, on "Father,
forgive them," Dr. Stanford says, "This forgiveness is not to be on one side
only. The way some have treated us has really been very bad; but have they not
some ground to say the same thing of us? If we obey this voice, ’forgiving one
another even as God for Christ’s sake has forgiven you,’ this forgiveness is
going on all round. You forgive me; I forgive you; individuals, individuals;
churches, churches; let bygones be bygones. O Lamb of God once slain! steep us
in the spirit of Your passion, show us the glory of Your cross, let Your mighty
love melt our hardness, quell our pride, and so master us all, that each one may
forgive his brother though seventy times seven he has sinned against him. O
Lord, our Vine, dwell in us richly, that so we may live with Your life, and love
with Your love, more and more, forever and ever."

2. Human forgiveness a condition of Divine—Our forgiveness of each other is
linked with forgiveness from God. The parable of the unmerciful servant is
recorded immediately after the precept to forgive "until seventy times seven,"
with the solemn warning—"So likewise shall my heavenly Father do also unto you,
if you from your hearts forgive not every one his brother their trespasses."
"Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy." Does then our
mercifulness to man deserve mercy from God? Some have encouraged this notion by
a false interpretation of the text, "Charity covers a multitude of sins:" as
though a forgiving disposition towards others atones for a man’s own sins
against God. The meaning is clear from Proverbs 10:12—"Hatred stirs up
strifes—but love covers all transgression;" and Proverbs 17:9—"He who covers a
transgression seeks love, but he who repeats a matter separate friends." So
"charity suffers long, and is kind," and instead of noticing every offense, "is
not easily provoked." How can the pardon fellow-sinners give each other be a
title to pardon from the God they have all offended? As well might a company of
rebels plead that as they had forgiven each other their petty wrongs in prison,
they might all claim exemption from the penalties of high treason! This is a
statement not of claim, but of fact—a fact the principle of which is involved in
every true asking of pardon from God. There cannot be any genuine prayer for
pardon unless we are ourselves cultivating a forgiving spirit; for the following
reasons—

1. Pardon is always linked with repentance of sins, and these include an
unforgiving spirit—I must "cease to do evil" if I would plead the promise of the
scarlet becoming white as snow. The unrighteous man must "forsake his thoughts,"
if he would hope that God will "abundantly pardon." Therefore he ceases from
cherishing an unforgiving spirit, with which the penitence implied in the prayer
is incompatible. My faults against God include faults against men. I say to God,
"I am very sorry for words, actions, thoughts, injurious to my fellow-men; sorry
for a proud, exacting, unforgiving spirit. Forgive me this debt!" How can I be
encouraging that for which I am sorry? My asking pardon means that I renounce
the sins confessed. If penitent, I have a humbling sense of my debts to God, and
must therefore be humble as regards debts to myself. Without saying the words
"for we also forgive," the fact is implied in the prayer, "Forgive us."

2. Faith in God’s mercy is incompatible with unmercifulness in ourselves—True
prayer for pardon implies reliance on God’s pardoning mercy. We believe that He
has great forgiveness for our great guilt; and to this we appeal. Can we at the
same time be cherishing an unforgiving spirit? To say, "Forgive me, although I
do not forgive others," is a prayer which cannot reach the throne of grace.
"When you stand praying, forgive, if you have ought against any; that your
Father also which is in heaven may forgive you your trespasses. But if you do
not forgive, neither will your Father which is in heaven forgive your
trespasses." The forgiveness is to be exercised then and there; not postponed.
It must precede the prayer; it is a condition of the answer. Whatever may be our
sense of the justice of our claim and the wrong done us, we cannot as sinners
truly ask or reasonably expect remission of our debt against Divine justice,
unless cultivating in ourselves a merciful spirit to others.

"Though justice be your plea, consider this: That in the course of justice none
of us Should see salvation—we do pray for mercy; And that same prayer does teach
us all to render The deeds of mercy."

3. Gratitude to God for pardon received or expected prompts forgiveness of
others—Is this our daily prayer? Then yesterday we received pardon in reply to
yesterday’s petition; and today we should gratefully remember the many pardons
of the past. The prayer of faith we now present anticipates a renewal of the
gift and augments our obligation. Gratefulness urges us to please our
Benefactor, and God who forgives us bids us glorify Him by forgiving others.
Gratitude produces gladness and inspires beneficence. I am happy in release from
debt, and adore God’s mercy. Must not this produce mercifulness? My debt to God
is infinitely greater than any debt of my fellow-servant to myself. If God loves
me in spite of my many sins, may I not see something to love in the
fellow-servant who wrongs me?" Believers are not forgiven because they forgive;
no, they forgive because they are forgiven; and thus it is, that feeling
themselves forgiven by God, they are lovingly constrained to forgive" (J. de
Valdez, tr. Betts).

4. The prayer includes those who wrong us—It is not "Forgive me," but "Forgive
us." We appear before God in company with those who are our debtors. We pray for
our enemies—"O God, forgive us; with me, forgive also this man who has injured
my property, reputation, honor; this man who has cheated, maligned and hates me;
for in so acting towards me he has sinned against You, and his debt to You
exceeds that which he owes to me; our Father, forgive him!" How obvious it is
that in truly offering this prayer, "Our Father, forgive us," we have already
ourselves forgiven!

5. It is the prayer of a child of God—Those who truly say, "Our Father," love
and resemble Him, and are "merciful even as their Father who is in heaven is
merciful." "If a man say, I love God, and hates his brother, he is a liar—for he
who loves not his brother whom he has seen, how can he love God whom he has not
seen?" God’s children do already "love one another," and "are in charity with
their neighbors," with all who under the same Fatherhood are brethren. Without a
forgiving spirit, we can have no true assurance of belonging to this
Brotherhood. Its absence invalidates our repentance and contradicts our prayer.
Sin cannot have been forgiven while unrenounced. What is our prevailing spirit
towards men? Are we chiefly bent on maintaining "our rights," and compelling
others to pay their dues? If so, is it not likely that we may in our hearts
ascribe to God the same disposition? "With what measure you mete, it shall be
measured to you again." If in ourselves a spirit of exaction rather than of
forgiveness is cherished, is it not reasonable that we should lose confidence in
the Divine forbearance? A master harsh in his requirements, a parent severe
towards his children, a citizen claiming all his rights regardless of others, a
man of business stern in enforcing all his dues, will naturally regard God
rather as a stern ruler than a forgiving Father, transferring to Him their own
spirit of exaction rather than attributing to Him delight in showing mercy.

"Pay me what you owe; is not that our first natural thought? There is abundance
of good-natured charity afloat in the world; but this is the fretwork of the
building—the pillars of it, we seem to think, are our rights; rights to
position, property, rank, the homage of others, their gratitude. It is the most
fantastic of all dreams that a man can cut his being into two portions, call one
of them religious and the other mundane, and administer them on directly
opposite principles. One or other must come to nothing. If we believe that
individual Right is the great principle we are to assert in all common
transactions, that principle will be carried to the highest ground, and so far
as we acknowledge a Divine Being at all, we shall regard Him as one like
ourselves; we shall feel that His main desire is to assert His rights over us.
If self-will governs the world, if we confess it to be our lord, it holds us in
its iron bonds; we are in prison, the evil spirit is our jailor, and we cannot
come out until we have paid the uttermost farthing" (Maurice). On the contrary,
may I not hope that God who has helped me to exercise compassion has had
compassion on me? If in my heart a pardoning rather than an exacting spirit
prevails, is it not likely that my own appeal will find response when I pray,
"Father! forgive"? In this model-prayer our Lord has undoubtedly linked together
the duty of forgiveness with the prayer for it. The connection always existed,
but it is here so expressed that no one may ask the blessing without being
reminded of the duty. Knowing how apt we are to neglect mutual forgiveness, He
gave us a prayer so expressed, that in applying for daily pardon we are
compelled to profess our readiness to pardon each other. Forgiveness is the law
of Redemption, binding God to men, and men to men. "Forbearing one another and
forgiving one another; even as the Lord forgave you, so also do you." The
obligation is involved in every clause of the prayer. "Our Father;" therefore we
are brethren and should forgive each other. "Hallowed be Your Name; "we hallow
it by cultivating the compassion it reveals. "Your kingdom come;" it is based on
reconciliation, and comes in proportion as men live together in forbearing love.
"Your will be done;" this is His will, that we forgive those who are indebted to
us. "Give us bread;" should we not forgive those who with ourselves are
dependent on the same fatherly care? "Forgive us;" should not we forgive who
require so much forgiveness? This petition passes a solemn condemnation on those
who refuse to forgive. It almost amounts to asking God not to forgive them!
Chrysostom says, "God appoints you yourself the master of the verdict. The
judgment you pass upon yourself He will pass upon you." And Luther says, "This
prayer will, in the sight of God, be a sin; for when you say, ’I will not
forgive,’ and stand before God with your precious prayer, and mumble with your
mouth, Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors, what is that but saying,
O God, I am a debtor to You, and there is one who is the same to myself. Now, I
will not forgive him, and so do not forgive me. I will not obey Your command,
although You have told me to forgive; I will rather renounce You and Your
heaven, and all, and go to the devil forevermore."

Let us then cultivate this grace of mercy. One means of conquering an
unforgiving spirit is ceasing to look back on the injuries which provoked it.
Memory is good, but sometimes forgetfulness is better. Let us treasure the
records of kindnesses to stimulate gratitude, but erase those of injuries lest
they continue to rouse ill-will. When Antony showed the dagger-rents in Caesar’s
robe, the people were roused to fury as if they beheld the murder in the very
act. So imagination may brood over wrongs until they become a constant presence,
rousing ever fresh indignation. Let us rather supplant such pictures by their
opposites. Let us think of any good qualities in our enemies, any wrongs done by
ourselves. Let us not only extinguish the spark, but bury the powder. Let us
bear in mind our great debt to God and His great remission-that these injuries
from men were permitted by God, and that in submission to Him we should cease to
be angry with them—and also that we possess in Himself infinitely more than will
compensate for any injury from man. If every wrong which pains us becomes an
occasion of renewed communion with God, we should feel that with such a refuge
we ought not to be vexed with the storm which drives us into it; that with such
an exhaustless treasury to supply the loss, we ought not to be reluctant to
forgive the thief; and that God’s love and Christ’s example should have more
effect in producing gentleness than any injuries from man in stirring up wrath.

Forgiveness produces in us real happiness, while an unforgiving spirit is ever a
source of disquiet. We attain a higher dignity when we remit than when we
resent. "Greater is he who rules his spirit than he who takes a city. It is the
glory of a man to pass by a transgression." Does our foe raise clouds of
anxiety, a tempest of passion? A forgiving spirit says to the troubled waters,
"Peace, be still." Does he rob us of wealth or reputation? To forgive him more
than restores it; our treasury becomes richer by this seeming loss. Like those
who fire in retreat, we conquer when we seem to yield. Our escutcheon is the
brighter by the dishonor flung at it. "When I am weak, then am I strong." Anger
may cast our foe prostrate, but forgiveness may raise him as a friend. Wrath can
do no more than slay him, but love transforms and makes him an ally. I may
conquer him by force, but to forgive is to conquer my own spirit by love, and so
makes me "more than a conqueror." "To render evil for good is devil-like; to
render evil for evil is beast-like; to render good for good is man-like; to
render good for evil is Godlike."

"The quality of mercy is not strained; It drops as the gentle dew from heaven
Upon the place beneath—it is twice blessed, It blesses him that gives and him
that takes." Our Father, forgive us. We all have sinned against both You and one
another. By Your grace we have been enabled to forgive others. This is no proof
of merit in us, but the result of mercy in You. Grant us more grace to forgive
the small debts due to us from our brother, and grant us day by day forgiveness
of the great debts due from us to You.


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  CHAPTER 49: 02.07.     THE SIXTH PETITION--
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THE SIXTH PETITION-- "AND LEAD [BRING] US NOT INTO TEMPTATION"

Salvation is deliverance from sin; and therefore includes both pardon of its
guilt and release from its power. A gospel would be unworthy of God which,
encouraging the transgressor to ask forgiveness, promised no aid against sin
itself. We come from the mercy-seat happy in the hope of absolution, but at once
encounter temptations by yielding to which we needed that mercy. Must we again
fall and come for repeated pardons? Is prayer merely a hospital for the wounded?
No, it is also an arsenal to equip the soldier for the fight. He who, grieving
for and hating sin, implores forgiveness, desires strength to resist temptation
and is here encouraged to ask it. The confession of sin is an acknowledgment of
frailty, and therefore of our need of Divine help. The more truly we pray,
"Forgive us our trespasses," the more earnestly we shall pray, "Lead us not into
temptation." The liberated slave who has tasted the bitterness of bondage, all
the more strives to avoid recapture. "A burnt child dreads the fire." He who has
been bitten by a serpent will ask not to be led where serpents abound, and will
himself avoid sitting on the bank where he felt the poisoned fang. On a winter
morning when the ground was covered with snow, a robin, urged by hunger, entered
an open window of the writer’s house, to eat the crumbs spread for it inside.
This visit he frequently repeated, flying away unmolested. But one day the
servant closed the window, and the bird found its way of escape cut off. As
there was no intention to imprison the trustful visitor, the window was soon
reopened. But the robin never returned. For a brief moment it had been captured,
and it would not again venture within the possible prison. "In vain is the net
spread in the sight of any bird." The more we have been forgiven, the more
gratitude we feel. The prodigal son welcomed home, desires not again to grieve
his father. The more hearty that forgiveness, the more earnest that desire. The
greater the pardon, the greater the guilt if we repeat the offense. The pardon
therefore is a deterrent from the sin. The fuller our assurance of such pardon,
the stronger will be our endeavor not to lose such assurance. We shall fear to
defile the white clothing which has been given us; to obscure the writing on the
roll of our acceptance with God. The sunshine will be so pleasant, that in
proportion as we walk in it, we shall avoid the dark shadow into which renewed
sin would bring us. The grace received in forgiveness will do more than the
threat of punishment to guard us from yielding to temptation. "There is
forgiveness with You that You may be feared." He who is blessed in the
non-imputation of iniquity is the man "in whose spirit there is no deceit." The
prayer, "Hide Your face from my sins, and blot out all my iniquities," is
immediately followed by, "Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right
spirit within me." The Divine promise, "I will forgive their iniquity," is
linked with this other, "I will put my law in their inward parts, and write it
in their hearts." Our Lord’s absolution, "Neither do I condemn you," was
followed by the command, "Go and sin no more." The gospel assurance, "There is
no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus," is applicable to those alone
"who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit." The penitent sinner hoping
pardon because "if any man sins, we have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus
Christ the righteous," is reminded that this is not to encourage but destroy
sinfulness—"These things write I to you, that you sin not." It is in accordance
with all Scripture teaching, that those who pray to be forgiven, pray also to be
saved from sin.

I—WHAT IS MEANT BY TEMPTATION The fundamental idea is test, or trial for
discovery. The strength of a ship is tested by the fierceness of the storm it
encounters; and the virtue of a youth who has never been away from home is
tested by the companionship, seductions and trials of the world into which he
enters. Temptation includes whatever presents an opportunity of choice between
good and evil. In this sense it would seem that temptation is unavoidable in the
case of all beings capable of moral goodness; inasmuch as such goodness is not
the result of physical necessity, but implies free choice, and therefore the
power of choosing or rejecting the evil as well as the good. If so, unfallen
angels are perfect not because they are outside the sphere of possible
temptation, but because they always choose what is right.

It would also seem that temptation in this sense is not only involved in moral
responsibility, but is essential to the full maturity of moral excellence. Every
faculty is strengthened by exercise. Acts of right choice repeated, form habits
of goodness which may become so strong as to constitute a moral necessity of
acting in accordance with them; so that temptation, though still presented to
the mind, loses all power of harm. We can only become strongly good by freely
choosing good. As the limbs need to be developed by exertion and the mind by
education, so also the moral nature by encountering and overcoming temptation.
There must be a gymnasium for the soul if we are to become spiritual athletes.
The most valuable soldiers are not those who have merely marched on parade or
fought imaginary foes at a review, but those who have been in real battles.
Adam, before he sinned, was capable of being tempted to sin. A persevering
course of victory would have raised him to a far higher condition than that of
his first creation. The second Adam, partaking of human nature in all but its
moral degeneracy, was tempted in the wilderness as was Adam in the garden; but
He overcame, and so not only opened the way for us to the heavenly Paradise, but
for His work as Mediator, was, like ourselves, perfected through temptation
(Hebrews 2:10; Hebrews 2:17). A test may be applied with various motives, for
opposite ends—by a friend or by a foe; to benefit or to injure to save or to
destroy. This consideration will easily reconcile texts seemingly at variance.

1. Inducement to sin. This is the most familiar use of the word. The very nature
of God forbids the thought that He ever tempts thus. "Let no man say when he is
tempted, I am tempted of God—for God cannot be tempted with evil, and He himself
tempts no man—but each man is tempted when he is drawn away by his own lust, and
enticed." The essential nature of God, His eternal and unchangeable holiness—the
purity of all His laws, forbidding the evil and enjoining the good—His promises
to those alone who are righteous, His threatenings to all the wicked above all,
His gift of Christ to redeem us from all iniquity, and the infinite cost by
which our restoration was effected—all this renders it absolutely certain that
we are never tempted in the sense of allurement to sin by Him who said, "As I
live, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked; but that the wicked turn
from his way and live." We are tempted when "drawn away by our own lusts." We
have various instincts and capacities not in themselves sinful, but, as given by
God, useful and holy. When employed according to His will, they glorify Him.
Pleasure, beneficently connected with the exercise of them, may become an
allurement to use them wrongfully, and so degrade them into sinful lusts. When
uncurbed by conscience, they become tempters to sin of which the devil avails
himself.

2. Afflictions or trials are temptations in the sense of being tests of faith,
and are either sent or permitted by God. Their object is to benefit, not
injure—to cultivate our submission, not to induce us to rebel. So the gale may
test the tree, which thereby gains more than it loses; dead branches are broken
off, enfeebling parasites torn away, while "Firmer he roots him the ruder it
blows." It is possible that by our own fault the trial may become an occasion of
sin—yet this is not its purpose—and the experience of the children of God
concurs to testify that "Happy is the man whom God corrects." Samson’s riddle
has frequent illustration—"Out of the eater came forth meat, and out of the
strong came forth sweetness." David said, "Before I was afflicted I went astray,
but now have I kept Your word." "Blessed is the man whom You discipline." Paul
could "rejoice in tribulations; knowing that tribulation works patience; and
patience, approval; and approval, hope." He tells us that lest he should "be
exalted above measure," there was given to him a "thorn in the flesh," the
result of which was that he was able to "glory in his infirmities" by reason of
"the power of Christ" resting upon him. The Apostle James says, "Count it all
joy when you fall into manifold temptations (trials); knowing that the proof of
your faith works patience." This is the Divine purpose. "Blessed is the man who
endures temptation, for when he has been approved he shall receive the crown of
life." The writer to the Hebrews echoes back the ancient truth—"You have
forgotten the exhortation which reasons with you as with sons; My son, regard
not lightly the chastening of the Lord, nor faint when you are reproved of Him;
for whom the Lord loves He chastens, and scourges every son whom He receives."
It is not as an enemy, but as our Father, that in this sense God tempts His
children. So the fire purifies the precious metal by revealing and destroying
its dross. Thus Peter comforts those who are "put to grief in manifold
temptations" by the Divine purpose, "that the proof of your faith, being more
precious than gold that perishes though it is proved by fire, might be found
unto praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ."

Satan’s tests are intended as allurements to sin. Providential tests are to
sanctify by sorrow. Thus "God tempted (proved) Abraham." The command to offer
Isaac was a severe test of resignation to the Divine will, absolute
self-surrender, and faith that in spite of a seeming impossibility God’s promise
would yet be fulfilled. Testing may be of use in making known a fact, but do no
good to the thing tested. A rope is not strengthened by the weight that tries
its tenacity, nor a boiler by the pressure of steam that proves its resisting
power. But, the skill of a sailor who steers his ship safely in a gale through a
difficult channel, or the capacity of a general who fights a battle against
great odds, is not only tested but improved. So Abraham’s faith was not only
shown to be strong, but was made stronger by exercise. So with the Israelites.
"You shall remember all the way which the Lord your God led you to prove you, to
know what was in your heart." Leighton says—"Trials stir the water that was
possibly clear at the top, to see whether it be not muddy at the bottom." Many a
domestic cistern has held concealed in its depths corrupting deposits, from
which poisonous exhalations have carried fever through the household. How
beneficent the stirring up, by however rough an implement, if it reveals the
unsuspected foe! The temptations which were permitted to assail Job revealed,
beneath very much that was godly, much of a self-righteous spirit which he was
led to renounce and "repent in dust and ashes." He verified his own prediction,
"When God has tried me, I shall come forth as gold." Prior to his denial of his
Lord, Peter did not know his need of watchfulness. The "sifting as wheat" which
he survived, enabled him ever after to "comfort his brethren."

II—WHAT IS MEANT BY ASKING GOD NOT TO LEAD US INTO TEMPTATION The RV. renders
the prayer—"Bring us not." It has been suggested that "to bring" implies more
danger than the word "to lead." God always does lead us in His Providence along
paths which are perilous by reason of temptation. This is the unavoidable result
of man’s moral nature and the circumstances of the present life. Temptation as a
necessary discipline constitutes the difference between the man and the child.
An infant is lovely in its innocence, and may well be dedicated to God in faith
and prayer, and welcomed as one of the lambs of the flock; an emblem of purity
itself. It has never committed one evil action nor cherished one sinful thought,
but it has not been tried, and cannot be compared with the mature Christian,
whose faith has been tested in many a furnace, whose valor has borne him
victorious in many a fight. Yet the latter has often yielded to temptation,
fallen into the mire, been wounded by the foe. He has not the child’s innocence,
but neither has the child his experience, matured knowledge, disciplined piety
and fitness for high service. Such men as Joseph, after the temptation of
Potiphar’s house and the trials of prison; Daniel from his open window and the
lion’s den; and even David; were far nobler characters than any babe, however
stainless, uneducated and untried. "Every one who partakes of milk is without
experience of the word of righteousness—for he is a babe. But solid food is for
full-grown men, even those who by reason of use have their senses exercised to
discern good and evil." But none can attain this maturity without that
"exercise" which involves temptation. The faculties of body and mind make
temptation possible, and the unavoidable conditions of life make it actual. Over
all these circumstances God presides. He, not the devil, is the supreme Arbiter
of our life. We are not mere material on which stern law operates. We are ever
in our Father’s care. He is our Guide in a journey from which temptation cannot
be excluded. God knows this, yet leads us on. He feeds us amid famine, opens
fountains in the desert, and guards us from foes; but the famine and the desert
and the foes await us in the path. "You prepare a table before me in the
presence of my enemies." God has a bountiful table for His children, but spreads
it within sight of the foe. He purposes that we should meet with difficulties.
He does not tempt to sin, but He guides us where temptation is. "Then was Jesus
led up of the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted of the devil." The devil
tempted Him, but God led Him. So God leads all His children, but with a great
difference of purpose. Christ was led to encounter the full force of the foe in
order to conquer as our Champion and teach as our Example we are led where
temptations assail that we may experience just so much conflict, and no more, as
may make us good soldiers of Jesus Christ. But in both cases it is true that
though the devil tempts, our Father leads us. A guide on the mountains leads the
Alpine climber where dangers exist. The summit cannot otherwise be reached. In
avoiding or conquering the danger, the traveler’s skill, courage and endurance
are both tested and improved. His health and manhood, as well as his enjoyment,
are secured by his being thus led where dangers abound. But the leader knows
what path is practicable, what perils should be shunned, and is ever ready to
lend a helping hand.

We are passing through a region partially occupied by the foe. In places least
suspected his skirmishers are lurking. We must pass through this Samaria to
reach Jerusalem. We must through much tribulation enter the kingdom. Any step
off our way may bring us within range of the enemy’s guns, within reach of the
dagger of some ambushed assassin. Our confidence is this, that our Father leads
us amid this peril; and it is for Him and not for our foe to choose where and
when and how we are to be exposed to it. Exposed to it, in some way, we must be;
this is our Father’s Will, for His children’s good. It is vain to suppose that
certain conditions of life are exempt from temptation, and to pray that our
condition may be so altered that we may escape it. Our safety is not in some
temptation-proof cell, but in having God for our shield while following His
guidance where fiery darts may abound. Poverty may tempt us to murmur, deceive,
envy, or steal; but could we escape these temptations by becoming rich, we might
be tempted to be proud, self-indulgent, forgetful of God and of the heavenly
inheritance. The vigorous and healthy may glory in their strength rather than in
its Giver; while a sick-bed may tempt to petulance, distrust, and selfish
murmuring. Society has its snares, substituting fashionable opinion for Divine
truth, and the pleasing of men for the service of God—but the solitude to which
we fly for safety may be found equally perilous in the nurture of a morbid
imagination, and the companionship of evil desires. If in honor—we may be
boastful, despise our inferiors, and fancy ourselves free from restraint; if in
obscurity—we may sin because unobserved, and make up for lack of fame by
reviling the famous. Many talents may tempt us to use them vainly or selfishly;
few talents, to hide them as not worth cultivation. Religious privileges may
tempt to a ceremonial reliance on them; deprivation may suggest excuses for
indifference. Full assurance of hope may beguile to unwatchfulness; while
depression of mind may tempt us to halt in the plain path of practical duties
while peering into the misty gloom of our doubts and fears.

"How easy it is for monks to bring evidence that marriage makes the soul less
free; how utterly they fail when they would praise the safety of celibacy!
Sometimes men escape from turmoil for security to the religious world, and find
that there they are in the midst of more fierce and implacable contentions. Into
whatever perils we have come, let us be sure it was not the Evil Spirit but God
Himself who ordered the whole frame and condition of our lives, and that this is
the best possible for us, though—yes because—it is one of tremendous temptation.
Let us be equally sure that He is not our tempter; that He never tempted any man
to evil; that we fall into it only when we think He is not with us to deliver us
from it" (Maurice). Yet we should pray that God would so guide us that we may
not be tempted beyond our strength. However surely we may rely on Divine help in
peril, inasmuch as to become the victim of that peril is sin, every true child
of God will shrink from it. Each has his special perils from inward temperament
or outward circumstances, and we reasonably pray to be protected in our most
vulnerable part. "It would be a great misfortune to a man with weak lungs to
call him to live in a cold, bleak air. So would it be to a man with weak eyes,
to fix him in a situation which required much study by candle-light. Now it is
to the full as dangerous for the soul of the ambitious man to be put into the
road which leads to high stations, or for a man like Balaam to have much to do
with money-bags" (Hare). If, careful of our bodily health, we desire not to be
lodged where the climate would try our constitution to the utmost; so, anxious
for our spiritual health, we ask God to guide us in such a way that outward
circumstances may not so accord with inward tendencies, that the resulting
temptation might overpower us. The meaning of the prayer is clear in the light
of Divine precepts and promises. We pray not to be so brought into temptation as
to be overcome by it; not to be carried into it so as to be left in it. "God is
faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted above that you are able, but will
with the temptation make also the way of escape, that you may be able to endure
it." God does permit us to be tempted, but we pray that no temptation may be
beyond our strength; we pray, not that we may escape being tempted at all, but
that our escape may be in the way of endurance and victory. "The Lord knows how
to deliver the godly out of temptation." He has two methods; sometimes by
leading us out of its reach, sometimes by leading us through it and giving
special strength to conquer it. The apostle was severely tempted when, being
brought before Nero, his friends "all forsook him," but "the Lord stood with him
and strengthened him;" he prayed "God that it might not be laid to their
charge;" and he was "delivered out of the mouth of the lion." He exulted in the
confidence of faith, saying, "And the Lord shall deliver me from every evil
work, and will preserve me to His heavenly kingdom." Through "the valley of the
shadow of death," abounding with perils, our Shepherd often leads His flock; and
it is our privilege to follow fearless, singing "For You are with me, Your rod
and Your staff they comfort me."

"After God has forgiven us, there is nothing that we have so earnestly to pray
for as that we fall not again into the same filth. Since therefore, as David
says, there are in the great sea of this world ’things creeping innumerable,’ we
have need to pray from the inmost heart, ’O Father, lead us not into temptation.
We are surrounded with temptations, but be our help, that we consent not to
them, and thus be taken and overcome by them.’ To a certain younger brother who
desired to be free from his evil imaginations, one of the elders replied, ’You
cannot prevent the birds from flying over your head, but yet you can prevent
them from building their nests in your hair.’ And again, the blessed Augustine
says, ’We cannot avoid temptations, but we can, by calling upon God for aid,
take heed that they do not overcome us’" (Luther). This prayer is the natural
heart-utterance of every believer. We say—Our Father! we mourn because of past
sin committed against You; O keep us from fresh grief in grieving You! We lament
that we have often failed to hallow Your Name and to do Your Will; help us in
the future! We hate the sins that dishonor You and wound our own soul; enable us
to conquer them! We distrust ourselves, for we have proved ’how inconstant are
our best resolves, how weak our own strongest efforts, how numerous our evil
inclinations, how slippery are the paths on which we walk, how many are the
snares laid for our feet; uphold us! We lean on You! We follow You! but O bring
us not where temptation might be too strong for us! Old Testament prayers
express the same desire—"Hold You me up, and I shall be safe. O let me not
wander from Your commandments. Order my steps in Your word, and let not any
iniquity prevail against me. Remove from me the way of lying. Make me to go in
the path of Your commandments. Lead me in Your truth and teach me, and let not
any iniquity have dominion over me." We pray with Jehoshaphat, who appealed to
God, saying, "We have no power against this great company that is coming against
us; neither do we know what to do; but our eyes are upon You." This prayer, like
the rest, is unselfish. It embraces our brethren who are exposed to the same
temptations; as on board a ship in danger we cannot pray for our own
preservation without including all the crew. For the whole Church we pray—for
struggling, tempted souls altogether unknown to us in distant lands, of other
tongues. We realize the "communion of the saints," the brotherhood of all who
are on their pilgrimage of trial. "O strange and mysterious privilege, that some
bed-ridden woman in a lonely garret, who feels tempted to distrust the love and
mercy of God, should wrestle with that doubt, saying the Lord’s Prayer; and that
she should be thus asking help for those who are dwelling in palaces, yet in
their own way are in peril as great as hers; for the student haunted with
questions which would seem to her monstrous and incredible, but which to him are
agonizing; for the minister in his terrible assaults from cowardice,
despondency, vanity, from the sense of his own heartlessness, from the shame of
past neglect, from the appalling discovery of evils in himself which he has
denounced in others, from vulgar temptations into which he had proudly fancied
that he could not fall. Of all this the sufferer knows nothing, and yet for
these she prays—and for the statesman…for her country…for all other countries in
their throes of anguish…for one and all she cries, ’Lead us not into
temptation.’ Their temptations and hers, different in form, are the same in
substance. They, like her, are tempted to doubt that God is, and that He is the
Author of good and not of evil; and that He is mightier than the evil; and that
He can and will overthrow it, and deliver the universe out of it" (Maurice).

III—CONSOLATION FOR THE TEMPTED

1. Temptation is not sin—It only becomes sin when we invite, tamper with and
encourage it; but when we resist and pray against it, faith and fortitude are
increased. Sincere prayer against it is evidence of a desire not to yield. We
shall never be overcome through the weakness that causes us to lay hold on the
arm of Omnipotence. "When I am weak, then am I strong." God does not condemn us
for obstacles in climbing the heights of holiness, but commends us for our
efforts to overcome them. He does not judge us by the side-eddies and
counter-currents and tiny whirlpools which here and there make the river seem to
flow backward, nor by the rocks in the channel which retard the crested tide;
but by the onward flood, which, despite such resisting rocks and returning
currents, rolls steadily to the ocean of Infinite Love. If we can say with the
Psalmist, "I hate vain thoughts," those thoughts are no evidence that we are
wanderers from God; but the hating of them does prove that we are His children.

2. Temptation is not peculiar to the individual—We are not alone in having to
suffer it. "Lead us not into temptation." All who call on "Our Father" need such
help. "There has no temptation taken you but such as is common to man." Incident
to humanity, it is no disparagement to the individual; no sign that we are
specially weak or wicked, that the devil is allowed some special power over us,
or that our Heavenly Father is displeased with or has forgotten us. Because we
are human we are tempted, and because we are Christian we feel temptation the
more keenly.

3. Christ Himself was tempted—He "was made like His brethren." All bodily and
mental faculties, however abused by us, are in themselves pure and holy, because
given by a holy God. These the faultless Christ shared, and through these was
tempted. His hunger was real, and His desire to satisfy it was intense, but to
satisfy it in opposition to the will of His Father would have been sin. Though
to this desire he did not yield, He felt it as we do. "He was in all points
tempted like we are;" otherwise He could not have been an example of conflict
and victory. He knew how possibilities of sin attend the exercise of the purest
affections, even as shadows are cast from the loveliest flowers. He knew the
loneliness the soul may feel when in some wilderness which the devil haunts. He
knew the pangs of unsatisfied desire, the yearnings of natural instincts, the
depression of mind caused by weakness of the flesh, and the strength which may
thus by special circumstances belong to temptations which would be powerless at
other times. He who, exhausted by the struggle, needed sympathy and aid, so that
"angels came and ministered to Him," will Himself be present to help us in our
temptations.

4. The prayer is presented to "Our Father"—He loves the children He has
redeemed. It is not His will that any of His little ones should perish. If a
sparrow falls not to the ground without His notice, how surely His eye of love
watches, His arm of power is outstretched to help those who, fearing to grieve
Him by sin, ask Him to save them from temptation! He first puts this prayer into
our hearts, and "He cannot deny Himself." He is "our Father in Heaven," and
therefore able to control all the circumstances of our lives, and must be
mightier for our weal than all who seek our woe. They who utter this cry to
their Father may be sure that "He pitifully beholds the sorrows of their
hearts."

IV—PRACTICAL LESSONS

1. We should not go into temptation—If we sincerely pray God not to bring us
into temptation, we cannot willingly bring ourselves into it; for, if we do, our
prayer does not express our true desire, and is but an empty form. The Author of
the prayer said, "Watch and pray, that you enter not into temptation." Guard
against the first approach of danger, go not near it of your own choice, "avoid
it, pass not by it, turn from it and pass away." If you ask God not to take you
there, never take yourselves there. This lesson is applicable to companionships,
books, amusements, which are felt to be, if not sinful, yet paths leading
sin-wards. If the precipice is dreaded, beware of the slope leading to it. If,
subject to dizziness, we ask our guide not to lead us too close to the edge, let
us not venture there to pluck a flower, or look down into the abyss. "The way of
sin is down hill. A man cannot stop where he would; and he that will be
tampering with dangerous occasions in confidence of his resolution, shall find
himself often carried beyond his purpose" (Leighton). "Let him who thinks he
stands take heed lest he fall."

Some enter into temptation presumptuously, to show their power of resistance;
some curiously, to see what the danger is, and taste the allurement; some
carelessly, giving no heed to their steps; some imitatively; following where
others go; and some pharisaically; boasting their piety and pretending to
glorify God by showing what His grace can do. Many, like Eve, begin by looking,
until looking leads to longing; longing, to approaching; approaching, to
smelling and handling; then to plucking and eating. Often has the case of Achan
been repeated—"When I saw among the spoils a Babylonish garment, and two hundred
shekels of silver, and a wedge of gold of fifty shekels weight, then I coveted
them and took them." Deliberate looking leads to the sin. Many, like David,
loiter on the roof to gaze at beauty that fascinates, beguiles, ensnares,
destroys. Look not off from the path of present duty to gaze upon pleasant but
perilous byways; "Let your eyes look right on, and let your eyelids look right
before you." "Turn away my eyes from beholding vanity." To preserve the streams
from pollution, guard the fountain. "Keep your heart with all diligence, for out
of it are the issues of life." If we would not have our house burnt down, let us
extinguish the stray spark, the smoldering flame. "Can a man take fire in his
bosom and his clothes not be burned? Can one go upon hot coals and his feet not
be burned?" Those who carry powder must not stand among flying sparks. If we
dread the jaws of the lion, we must not loiter at the mouth of his den. We
should beware how we enter the dungeon-door which shuts of itself with a
spring-lock, but cannot be opened without a key. "There is no necessary
connection between going into temptation and coming out."

Habits gradually and easily formed may become chains requiring more than human
strength to break. The noxious seed may be easily uprooted, but the tree may
defy your strength. An infant temptation may be slain, which, full grown, will
slay you.

"Fashion it thus—that what he is, augmented, Would run to these and these
extremities; And therefore think him as a serpent’s egg, Which, hatched, would,
as his kind, grow mischievous; And kill him in the shell." —Julius Caesar The
gentle current may float us into the raging rapids or the cruel whirlpool and
over the deadly fall. The writer was once persuaded by a friend to accompany him
and his family in a tiny steam-craft from Buffalo down the Niagara river. At
first the broad smooth stream gave no sign of its never-ceasing downward flow.
But presently the noise of the plunging prow grows less. Now it ceases. We are
no longer forcing our way through the water, but are being hurried along by it.
The silence, the smoothness, in other circumstances soothing, are awful to those
who now see in the distance a horizontal line suddenly terminating the view.
Over it is a white column of mist; between us and it a line of surf. We are
rapidly approaching the tremendous fall, when we suddenly shoot into a small
creek. An accident to the machinery, or insufficient power to counteract the
current, would be fatal. Many a boat with its cargo of precious life has thus
been carried over. Inexperience, lack of due precaution, foolhardiness, have
been death to many who fancied they could at any moment stem the tide, and
safely return to where the stream was gentle and the landing-place easy to
reach. The whirlpool was afterwards visited. Here the great cataract, surging
from its enormous plunge, has worn away a vast crater-shaped basin at the side
of the main stream, round which the heaving, foaming waters perpetually revolve.
I watched a great tree which had been carried into this whirlpool. Sometimes it
gyrated on its own axis; sometimes it rose suddenly in the air, pointing upwards
as if some huge giant lifted his arm in distress; then it plunged downwards and
disappeared; then as suddenly it shot up again perpendicularly in some other
place, and fell back helpless on the whirling tide, ever borne round and round
its prison. I looked until I fancied it was a sentient creature struggling to
escape into the main stream, and so reach the quiet refuge of the lake below.
Again and again it neared the mouth of the great basin, and I thought the main
current might mercifully embrace and rescue it. But no! after a brief struggle
it was swept back to repeat the same course of agonizing disappointment. I could
bear it no longer and turned away, for I seemed to look upon multitudes of my
fellow-creatures, the victims of evil habit. They have ventured on the placid
stream of temptation to indulgence that seemed harmless and easy to be resisted
when it might threaten injury; they have been lulled by soothing pleasure, and
the perilous silence of conscience; they have become self-secure in the purpose
of rousing themselves when in danger of going too far; but they have been swept
into the deadly whirlpool of sinful habit which is now alternately their chamber
of insensibility and torture; they sometimes awake to a sense of their peril,
they lift up their arms in despair, they resolve to escape, again and again they
think deliverance near, but again and again the power of habit asserts itself,
and they are still carried round and round in "the hell of waters" they have
made for themselves.

"Habits are soon assumed; but when we strive To strip them off, ’tis being
flayed alive. Called to the temple of impure delight, He who abstains, and he
alone, does right. If a wish wander that way, call it home; He cannot long be
safe whose wishes roam. But if you pass the threshold, you are caught; Die then,
if power Almighty save you not." —Cowper

Alas! how many a human moth flutters round the alluring flame until, with singed
wings, it falls and dies; how many a fly willfully gets entangled in a web that
seems so flimsy, yet is so strong, until the watchful foe enfolds and devours
it! The youth who would not become the victim of her whose "feet go down to
death, and whose steps take hold on hell," must "remove his ways far from her,
and come not near the door of her house." He who would avoid gluttonous excess
should "be not among wine-bibbers; among riotous eaters of flesh; for the
drunkard and the glutton shall come to poverty." To avoid their ruin, "be not
among them." He who is in danger of "woe, contentions, babbling, wounds without
cause, and redness of eyes" by "tarrying long at the wine," is bidden to "look
not on the wine when it is red, when it gives its color in the cup, when it
moves itself aright." If he would not experience that "at the last it bites like
a serpent and stings like an adder," he should "look not upon it." A good
general is cautious as well as brave, else bravery is foolhardiness. He respects
his foe for strength and vigilance if for nothing else, and gives him no
opportunity to "steal a march" or assail an unguarded post. He does not go out
of his way to "demonstrate," and provoke an unnecessary fight which may involve
failure. "Our safest course is always to be ready prepared to the battle, but
not to provoke the enemy to fight." (Farindon).

"When fierce temptation, seconded within By traitor Appetite, and armed with
darts Tempered in Hell, invades the throbbing bosom, To combat may be glorious,
and success Perhaps may crown us; but to fly is safe." —Cowper At the battle of
Waterloo, a wealthy merchant of Brussels who had been allowed access to
headquarters, asked Wellington whether he was not exposing his person to great
danger, as shot and shell were falling around. The general replied, "You have no
business here, but I am performing my duty." So let us never go into spiritual
danger from idle curiosity, but only when duty calls—then, and then alone, may
we expect to be safe. In a matter of life or death let us not run dangerous
risks, relying on what is "deceitful above all things." "He who trusts his own
heart is a fool." Let there be no sleeping on the Philistine’s lap, if we would
not have our locks shorn. Piety enfeebled by trifling with pleasant danger is no
match for the enemy when with strong cords he bursts in to bind and enslave. A
recent shipwreck was caused by the captain venturing near a rocky coast, in too
great reliance on his own skill, the depth of water and the changeful wind.
Alas! how many have "made shipwreck of faith and of a good conscience" not by
purposely heading upon the visible rocks of sin, but by venturing into the
shallow waters of temptation where shoals and reefs are hidden! Let us give a
wide berth not only to those headlands, but to these shallows too.

Burglars have been known to send into a house they intended to rob, a child who
has secreted himself until night and has then opened the door to the spoilers.
If we fear the burglars, let us beware of the child. "Admit but some inordinate
desire into your heart that you consider a small matter, and it is a hundred to
one but it shall prove a little thief got in to open the door to a number of
greater." One temptation fondled instead of strangled, may open the door to a
host of devils to rob us of our choicest wealth. Let us not allow the wedge to
enter if we would not have our roof-tree split. However thin its edge, if once
inside the crack, gentle pressure may be followed by sturdy blows, until the
strongest resolutions and longest formed habits give way.

"It is the little rift within the lute, That by and by will make the music
mute." —Tennyson

Temptation is like a quicksand, which, when the tide has left it, is firm to the
tread, but as soon as the water returns, proves treacherous to the unwary
loiterer. The sea has its regular ebb and flow, and the hours may be calculated
within which the sand may be visited; but temptation has no such limits. A wave
of passion may suddenly rise and convert that pleasure-ground into a deadly
swamp, into the mouth of hell. They cannot be innocent who venture there, nor
safe because they mean to leave it when they see danger near.

"An hour, or more, not meaning any harm? It is hypocrisy against the devil;
Those who mean virtuously, and yet do so, The devil their virtue tempts, and
they tempt Heaven."—Othello

"The common excuse is, ’We wish to see life.’ Life! my brother. Depravity is
disease, evil is corruption; to call such life, is only the gloss of an artful
delusion. You can only see life when you see truth, purity, goodness. If we wish
to see physical life, we seek it where the pure airs of heaven hue the cheek
with health, and the exercises of honest industry sinew the limbs with symmetry
and strength; not where life lies marred and crippled with the loathsome
disfigurements of self-entailed disease. Let the physician go—and God protect
him!—on his benevolent mission into the infected region where the deadly
epidemic is doing its ghastly work upon the sad and weary sufferers; but idle
curiosity may not venture there. And remember that evil has its contagion, and
sin circulates the subtlest infection" (Loraine). The writer saw at Chicago
notices placed on several houses with the warning, "Small-pox is here;" "Fever
is here." Only those having necessary business or bound on errands of affection
and philanthropy would enter such a house. But may not the mark of moral
pestilence be seen on the forehead of many a boon companion, and over the
entrance of many a saloon of pleasure? Is it not inscribed on every fascinating
temptation to sin? Should we be less cautious regarding the health of the soul
than of the body? Young men specially boast of freedom. But over how many a door
through which they enter to seek it, they might read "Slavery is here"! Who is a
more abject slave than he who yields to sinful passions, and is tied and bound
by habits of evil-doing? How often the youth thus voluntarily enslaved has been
all his life afterwards the fag of others or the drudge of adverse
circumstances, so that his early boast of liberty has ended in a lifelong
slavery, and futile complaints of injustice and tyranny! To many such the grand
words of Milton are applicable—"Instead of laying the blame on any but
yourselves, know that to be free is the same thing as to be wise, to be
temperate and just, frugal and abstinent, and lastly, to be magnanimous and
brave. So to be the opposite of all these is the same as to be a slave; and it
usually happens that those who cannot govern themselves and moderate their
passions, but crouch under the slavery of their lusts, should be delivered to
the sway of those whom they abhor, and made to submit to an involuntary
servitude." An excuse often made for young men’s sins is that they must "sow
their wild oats." It is forgotten that whatever a man sows, that shall he also
reap."Would any one expect to improve his garden by sowing weeds in it rather
than by rooting them out? Will injury to a tool make it more suitable for future
use? Is a man the stronger because he was sickly when a child? Is that soldier
the braver who, when a youth, yielded like a coward to the foe? It is monstrous
to suppose that indulgence in fleshly lusts can be needed as a discipline for
the practice of spiritual virtues. In reply to those who "assert that youthful
vice is preparative for manhood, a kind of mud-has in which the youth is
necessitated to steep," Carlyle says—"We hope they are mistaken; for sin and
remorse so easily beset us in all stages of life, and are always such
indifferent company, that it seems hard we should at any stage be fated not only
to meet but to yield to them. Clear we are it cannot be the training one
receives in the devil’s service, but only our determining to desist from it,
that fits us for true manly action. Surely such lessons are best learned from
the lips of a devout mother, in the looks and actions of a devout father, while
the heart is yet soft and pliant, rather than in collision with the sharp
adamant of fate, attracting us to shipwreck us when the heart is grown hard, and
may be broken before it will become contrite."

Little drops of water may hurl down mountain masses. Slowly and gently the tiny
rills percolate the soil and undermine the rocky strata, until suddenly the
land-slip carries away the forest and overwhelms the village. Thus many a
catastrophe of sin has been caused by the accumulated force of unregarded
temptation. The spiritual nature has been softened and saturated by allurements
to evil, until it has suddenly and forever given way beneath the pressure.
Looking into a long railway tunnel, you see a tiny spark. It seems stationary,
but it is approaching constantly, irresistibly, rapidly. Do not loiter on those
rails, else the express train will be upon you. A jeweled cup is presented,
filled with fragrant poison, and you hesitate to believe that what looks so
radiant and smells so sweet can do you harm. Handle not that glittering toy;
inhale not that stupefying odor; cast away the goblet if you would not drink the
poison. Wisdom says, not, "Look at it, but do not drink it; or if you drink,
drink not much;" but—

"Taste not at all the sweet Circean cup; He who sips often, at last drinks it
up." The gospel says not, "Go as near to the edge of the precipice as you can
without falling over;" but, "Keep as far from danger as you can without
sacrifice of duty." It says not, "Venture into the rapids without plunging into
the howling abyss;" but, "Turn from it and pass away." It does not advise us to
mingle with sinners and handle without being defiled by their toys, but, "Come
out from among them, and be separate, says the Lord; and touch no unclean
thing—and I will receive you, and will be to you a Father, and you shall be to
me sons and daughters, says the Lord Almighty." The danger of trifling with what
is falsely called a "little sin," but, which encouraged, may overpower a
multitude of moral restraints, as a small leak may cause a great embankment to
give way before the increasing pressure of the reservoir behind it, is truly
pictured by that saintly poet George Herbert—

"Lord, with what care have You begirt us round! Parents first season us; then
Schoolmasters Deliver us to laws; they send us bound To Rules of Reason, holy
Messengers; Pulpits and Sundays; Sorrow, dogging Sin; Afflictions sorted;
Anguish of all sizes; Fine nets and stratagems to catch us in; Bibles laid open;
millions of Surprises; Blessings beforehand; ties of Gratefulness; The sound of
glory ringing in our ears; Without, our Shame; within, our Consciences; Angels
and Grace; eternal Hopes and Fears. Yet all these fences, and their whole array,
One cunning bosom-sin blows quite away."

2. We must resist temptation in the way Christ Himself has appointed—not
therefore boasting of our own resolution, nor relying on a sense of propriety
and on well-matured habits, but in a spirit of humble dependence, as taught in
this prayer. We must not forge weapons of our own, but seek "the whole armor of
God." We must take "the shield of faith, with which to quench the fiery darts of
the wicked one." We must see "Him who is invisible," if we would overcome the
allurements of sense. We must behold the Lamb of God offered for sin, if we
would so hate it as to conquer it. We must take "the sword of the Spirit which
is the Word of God," if we would imitate the Captain of our salvation, who thus
parried every hostile thrust, and by Holy Scripture refuted satanic sophisms. In
the light of that Word let us look beneath the specious garb temptation wears;
let us ask, Will the pleasure promised bear reflection in sickness and death,
judgment and eternity? Is it worth the cost of conscience, God, heaven? Thus we
shall detect the serpent lurking among the flowers. As on the moors or the
mountains boggy places may be safely traversed by planting the foot only where
tufts of heather grow, so let us tread only where some Divine promises can take
root. Above all, we must obey the injunction of Him who encourages us to offer
this petition. Our importunity in urging it is one of God’s methods of
fulfilling it. We must "watch and pray" if we would not enter into
temptation—"praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, and
watching thereunto with all perseverance."

3. We should specially guard weak places in our defense—Past temptations
indicate the joints in the armor by which the arrow most easily enters; the
place in the roof which the rain soonest penetrates; the window or door most
favorable for the burglar’s admission; the part of the fence through which the
cattle may pass to trample down our tender plants; the angle of our sea-bound
estate, against which the high tides most threateningly dash. Let us then
strengthen with special care the places most exposed. We should fortify with
extra toil and watch with constant vigilance the weak part of our position,
where the foe is most likely to deliver his assault. But while specially
guarding weak places, we must not neglect the strong. A fortress has sometimes
been captured by scaling the precipice which seemed to render it on that side
impregnable. So the father of the faithful yielded to distrust, and Moses, the
meekest of men, to irritation and disobedience.

Various temperaments are exposed to corresponding temptations, and those who are
comparatively safe from one sin may be specially liable to another. Righteous
Lot, grieved at the profanity of the wicked, may be ensnared by the intoxicating
cup, and sink into shameful vice. Wise Solomon may become a fool, ensnared by
women’s wiles. Strong Samson may yield to seductive weakness. Heroic David may
basely bend beneath the yoke of tyrant passions. An inspired prophet may be
lured by lucre and preach to please. When we fancy ourselves specially secure
through removal from worldly scenes by affliction, we may be exposed to special
peril. Foes often lurk in dark shadows. Years of freedom from fierce assault may
generate self-security, so that we remit our vigilance and unclasp our armor.
Many victors have been vanquished by carelessness after conflict, and many
professing Christians have fallen away in old age by ceasing to watch against
temptation often conquered.

4. Turn stumbling-blocks into stepping-stones—The opportunity of sinning may be
made an opportunity of glorifying God. Blame not the flesh because Satan often
employs it as a ground of temptation, but make that flesh a battlefield for
winning trophies from the foe. The various faculties of the body and mind which
may become occasions of sin may also, when curbed and controlled, become
occasions for special glory to God. Chrysostom says, "We do not read, Let not
the flesh act or live, but let not sin reign—for Christ came not to subvert
human nature, but to rectify the will." We cannot eradicate our natural
instincts and faculties, nor should we desire to do so, but rather to regulate
and use them in the service of God. Not the faculties are to be blamed, but our
misuse. The same weapon which might serve the murderer may also be wielded by
the loyal soldier; the moral quality residing not in it but in him. To preserve
our faculties from serving the devil, let them be yielded wholly to God. Let
those members which temptation would desecrate for vice become consecrated
vessels for the temple. "Neither present your members to sin as instruments of
unrighteousness, but present yourselves to God, and your members as instruments
of righteousness to God." This full surrender will be the best preservative
against any particular member being employed in opposition to Him. Our body as
well as our soul belongs to God; sin, the usurper, claims it as his domain; let
us deny the claim, resist the usurpation, denounce the invader. Feudal lords
held their estates as vassals of the king, and were bound to aid him in his wars
in proportion to their holding. The ruler of a kingdom receives its tribute. If
we recognize sin as ruler, we shall yield our faculties to its service; but if
we give our entire selves to God, there will be no single faculty left with
which to serve sin.

Let the hand, when tempted to dishonest grasp or angry blow, be urged in Love’s
own service to benefit others by honest toil and gentle aid. Let the foot, when
bidden by the devil to go his errands, be the more promptly moved forward in the
path of God’s commands. Let not the wondrous faculty of vision open the door for
a rabble of unclean imaginations to enter and pollute the soul, or for sending
forth looks of lust or malice; but when thus tempted, let it the more ponder the
lively oracles of truth, and be the inlet of images of purity and love. Let the
voice, when prompted to utter angry, deceitful, or profane words, the more bear
witness for God, plead before His throne, and blend with the anthems of angels
in His praise. As all we have we hold from Him, let hands, feet, eye, tongue,
imagination, memory, will, bearing the mark of His ownership, be devoted to His
service. Let us take the harp which temptation may be preparing for the music of
sin, and make its strings vibrate with the harmonies of heaven. Circumstances
which threaten peril may become helps instead of hindrances. Are we inclined to
be made angry by some fierce provocation? Let it become an occasion of
cultivating patience. Does some sensuous pleasure allure? Let it be a summons to
crucify the flesh. Does some accession of fortune tempt us to "the love of money
which is a root of all kinds of evil"? Let us seize the opportunity of doing
good, and instead of allowing wealth to impoverish the soul, let us therewith
"lay up a good foundation for the world to come." By a godly chemistry, let
fragrant essences be distilled from filthy refuse. By a holy husbandry, let
deposits which might breed pestilence enrich and fertilize the soil. If, in the
course of Divine Providence, we find ourselves in the company of the ungodly,
instead of merely resisting their assaults, let us be ourselves assailants.
Would they allure us to sin? Let us persuade them to godliness. Instead of
simply refusing to be led into the world, let us lead them into the church. Not
content with escaping danger, let us save those who would entice us there. To
avoid temptations to evil, let us dwell among incitements to good. If we would
escape an epidemic, let us not only avoid infection, but be well supplied with
its preventive. To be secure against evil example, let us cultivate close
fellowship with the righteous. Let their sentiments, aims and actions so
impregnate and possess our minds that we may be proof against adverse
influences. To counteract the chilling frost of the world, let us keep up the
temperature of our inner life by devout reading of the Scriptures; by prayerful
attendance on gospel preaching; by "showing forth the Lord’s death" at the feast
of loving memory He has ordained; by self-examination; by interaction with the
godly; and, above all, by habitual and earnest prayer. As we are exposed without
ceasing to temptation, we must "pray without ceasing," if we would overcome it.

Thus feeding the furnace of the moral machinery within, let us wisely economize
the force created, nor let the steam blow off in mere sentiment and religious
enthusiasm. Let us beware of indulging ourselves in lazy religious melancholy,
which is often our foe’s busy opportunity. Let us be at some work for Christ, so
temptation will not find us at leisure to listen. "When a man has nothing to do,
Satan will bring christ to the mill, and find him work enough." Let not failure
discourage effort, but prompt to new resolve. It may be well to open our hearts
to some Christian friend for advice and sympathy. Above all, let us "go and tell
Jesus," our great High Priest, who always is at hand to aid and save. Thus we
may be sure of victory. The hostile current only carries away those that love to
float with the stream. How many a brave wrestler with temptation may seem as if
his efforts would be vain; but let him persevere in the strength of God, and he
will surely stem the tide and reach the shore. "They shall never perish."

"I saw him beat the surges under him, And ride upon their backs—he trod the
water, Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted The surge most swoln that met
him—his bold head ’ Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oared Himself with
his good arms in lusty stroke To the shore, that o’er his wave-worn basis bowed,
As stooping to relieve him. I not doubt, He came alive to land."—The Tempest

5. We should not bring others into temptation—As our Lord taught that if we
truly ask forgiveness we must also practice it, so also if we pray that God will
not bring us into temptation, we surely must not willingly bring others into it.
If we need help from our Father, we must render it to our brethren. If what we
do, though safe to ourselves, encourages others in what is perilous to them, how
far are we acting consistently with this prayer? There are two roads to a
village among the mountains. One is, solid, wide and safe; the other is narrow,
slippery, precipitous. By strength, practice, well-nailed boots, I can, without
danger, traverse the mauvais pas. But suppose by my example others are
encouraged to follow who fall and perish. I may assert my liberty and censure
their folly; but would it not be more Christ-like if for their sake I took the
safer path? I am bathing where the river is deep and rapid. I make no secret of
my enjoyment, and practically recommend others to bathe in the same place. But
of those who attempt it, some, by lack of strength and skill, are drowned. Would
it not be merciful in me to mark the place as "Dangerous," and bathe elsewhere?

All along our dangerous coasts lighthouses warn sailors against rocks, and guide
them into port. But, alas for humanity! false lights have sometimes been
exhibited to allure vessels to destruction, that the wreckers might seize the
spoil. Spirits of darkness do this for the ruin of the soul. But, without such
fell purpose, it has often happened that the dubious example of Christian
professors has misled the unwary to make shipwreck of faith. The more we are
trusted as safe guides, the more dangerous is any misleading signal. Let us be
quite sure that what we ourselves allow, prove not a snare to others. As true
beacons we are to "shine as lights in the world, holding forth the word of
life." At the Greenwich Observatory a signal is given every day at the exact
moment of noon. By this the captains of outward-bound vessels adjust the
chronometers by which they calculate their longitude during many weeks, and
ascertain their exact position though on the trackless ocean, hundreds of miles
from land. An error at the Observatory would disarrange all the calculations of
the navigator, and might cause the wreck of many a ship and the loss of many a
crew. The reputation of the Observatory for accuracy increases the confidence
reposed in it, and also the injury which might result from any inaccurate
signal. Christians should specially be careful to give the true time, regulated
by the Sun of righteousness, otherwise some who think they may safely follow
such example may suffer shipwreck.

Paul considered meat offered to idols as differing nothing from other meat. But
to some persons eating this meat seemed to be idol-worship, and the example of
the apostle might encourage them in an act which would be for them a sinful
surrender of the faith. So he said, "If meat makes my brother stumble, I will
eat no flesh forevermore, that I make not my brother to stumble." This principle
may be applied to a variety of indulgences, not in themselves wicked but
dangerous to many, such as the theater, the racecourse, the ballroom, games of
hazard, intoxicating drinks, etc. Many Christians abstain from them because,
however harmless to themselves, such pleasures might prove perilous to others,
especially the young. Their personal sanction would be pleaded by those to whom
the indulgence would act as the slope towards the precipice, and as the swift
current hurrying to the cataract. The higher the character for wisdom,
experience and piety, the more potent the example for good or evil. Those
therefore who have achieved a reputation for conquering temptation should take
special heed lest they lead others into it. "It is good neither to eat flesh nor
to drink wine, nor anything whereby your brother stumbles, or is offended, or is
made weak."

Vigilant ourselves, we should show compassion towards those who stumble. Perhaps
their temptations were stronger than ours, their advantages less. Perhaps they
had not our knowledge, privileges, and help from friends. Exposed to the same
assaults, we might ourselves have yielded. Perhaps they resisted long though
overcome at last. Our own experience of the force of temptation should make us
gentle in our judgments, earnest in our prayers, tender in our treatment
respecting the fallen. The world, except where its own standard has been
transgressed and the sin is vulgar, is apt to excuse the fault, or "make a mock
at sin," and even dress it up as virtue and give it titles of honor. Pharisaism,
on the other band, proudly gathers up its robes, and sweeps past the
transgressor in heartless scorn. We are taught both to abhor the sin and to pity
the sinner. There have been times when the stream of adverse influence that has
swept him down was too strong for ourselves, and it is only by Divine mercy that
we are now struggling against it. We remember conflicts with the same foe when
we also have suffered defeat, and victories which long trembled in the balance
and were at last only just won. We have weathered the gale and hope soon to be
in port, but we cannot forget how narrowly we escaped shipwreck.

"Safe home, safe home in port! Rent cordage, shattered deck, Torn sails,
provisions short, And only not a wreck. The prize, the prize secure! The
wrestler nearly fell; Bare all he could endure, And bare not always well. No
more the foe can harm, No more of leaguered camp, And cry of night-alarm, And
need of ready lamp And yet how nearly he had failed; How nearly had the foe
prevailed!" —Neale

Let us then deal gently with the fallen; cheer them lest they despair, by
telling of pardoning mercy and assisting grace; and be ourselves hopeful of
their recovery. "Brethren, if a man be overtaken in a fault, you who are
spiritual restore such a one in the spirit of meekness; considering yourself,
lest you also be tempted."

Pity the fallen—O! the bitter strife, The shame, the fear, the anguish of their
life. Assist the fallen—you may need a hand, For you may fall, who firmly now do
stand. Seek out the fallen—love them, help lend, And thus resemble Christ, the
sinner’s Friend. Restore the fallen—you have been reclaimed, For Jesus sought
you, raised you, cheered, though blamed. O save the fallen—bliss indeed ’twill
be, With souls thus won, to spend eternity. —Newman Hall


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  CHAPTER 50: 02.08.     THE SEVENTH PETITION--
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THE SEVENTH PETITION-- "BUT DELIVER US FROM EVIL."

Some have considered this clause as a part of the sixth petition; a stating
positively what had been already expressed negatively—"Bring us not in, but pull
us out." Others regard it as a separate petition, associated with the preceding
but more comprehensive, having affinity with it, but seeking a blessing higher
in degree, the absolute reverse of what had been deprecated—deliverance from
evil universally. As the petition "Forgive us" refers to the past, and "Lead us
not into temptation" to the present, so this "Deliver us from evil" reaches
forward to the future. Thus it forms a separate and seventh petition, completing
the perfect Jewish number. The expression, from the evil, may be neuter, meaning
"evil" in general, or "the evil thing" specifically; or it may be masculine, and
rendered, as by the Revisers, "the Evil One." The older and more familiar
rendering is sustained by Romans 12:9—"Abhor that which is evil;" "cleave to
that which is good." If "good" in the abstract is that which is to be cherished,
"evil" in the abstract, "the evil," is that which is to be shunned. Dean Alford
says, "it is here certainly neuter; the introduction of ’the Evil One’ would
here be quite incongruous and even absurd." Stier says—"This is the Liturgy of
all liturgies, and here it reaches its sublime close; which through the deep
lowliness of the believing ’deliver us,’ immediately passes on to the heavenly
doxology. And just at this point must the Conqueror confer that honor on the
vanquished enemy to name him with his threatening power? Are the believing
children of the Father, already redeemed, forever to be subjected to the
ridicule at the end of every private and common prayer of mentioning him? Let
him believe this who can! Our inmost sense of holy propriety recoils from it.
The Redeemer has left His own name unmentioned; though Himself the ground,
medium, end of every prayer—and can He be thought to have expressly mentioned
Satan?" In defense of the R.V. it is urged, that, as the rendering "the Evil
One" must be given to the same Greek word in most other passages, consistency
requires the same rendering here. In the parable of the Sower, our Lord says,
"Then comes the Evil One," (the masculine of person, not the neuter of thing),
"and catches away that which was sown in his heart." "The evil" is here an
intelligent agent performing an act. Our Lord in His intercessory prayer said,
"I pray that You should keep them;" on which Alford says, "Not from the evil, as
E.V., but from the Evil One, John 17:15;" and refers to the usage of the same
apostle in 1 John 2:14; "I have written to you, young men, because you are
strong, and you have overcome the wicked one;" and in 1 John 2:19, "We know that
we are of God, and the whole world lies "in the Evil One," as contrasted with
the righteous. So it is said of Cain, that he was "of that wicked one" (1 John
3:12). Paul, in describing the armor with which Christians "may be able to stand
against the wiles of the devil," says, "Withal taking the shield of faith, with
which you shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the Evil One." Dean
Mansel says—"The words may also be rendered ’from the Evil One;’ but the neuter
is more comprehensive, and includes deliverance from the evil thoughts of one’s
own heart, and from evils from without, as well as from the temptations of
Satan." We prefer the familiar and wider term, as relating to all "the evil"
connected with temptation—comprising the Tempter himself, the "Evil One;" the
evils directly and indirectly resulting from yielding to temptation; and the
evil tendencies in our own hearts which incline us so to yield. Thus praying, we
seek the final deliverance of the Church from whatever assails and pollutes it;
the rescue of the world and all who dwell on it from whatever injures it; the
accomplishment of every holy hope; the fulfillment of all millennial prophecy;
the perfect blessedness of all who call God "Our Father who is in heaven." Thus
viewed, this last petition is the climax of the whole prayer, the chief,
permanent, all-comprehensive longing of the believer. "Whatever tribulation he
may suffer, for this he groans, in hope of this he weeps; from this begins, with
this perseveres, uttering this completes his prayer" (Augustine—Tholuck).

I—THE EVIL ONE

If the petition does not refer exclusively to Satan, he is included in it. Of
the "temptation" against which we pray, he is the chief promoter; of the "evil"
from which we implore deliverance, he is the chief author. It is the fashion of
what is called "advanced thought" to deride the idea of a personal devil as a
nursery bugbear, a tradition of the dark ages, a Monastic and Puritan
superstition, a fossil of the past suitable only for the shelves of an
ecclesiastical museum. And in popular literature and amusements the personality
of Satan is employed for caricature, burlesque and ridicule. But if a fact and
not a fiction, it is too solemn a truth, with consequences too momentous, to be
treated with levity. When the devil is made a subject of jesting, his existence
is as practically disowned as when formally denied. Is this doctrine of a
personal devil so absurd as to be absolutely incredible, even if affirmed by
testimony in other respects worthy of reliance? Agnosticism finds no such Being;
but does it possess positive evidence that no such Being exists? Ignorance of a
fact is no necessary disproof. Until I know with absolute certainty all
existences throughout the universe, I cannot absolutely pronounce that any
particular person or thing has no existence, much less that such existence is
impossible. Otherwise ignorance would become positive knowledge. There are
occult agencies now regarded as distinct existences which were once never
thought of except as phenomena. Things are now familiarly known which were
recently hidden by reason of distance or minuteness, but which existed as
certainly when unknown as when demonstrated by telescope and microscope. It
would have been very un-philosophical to have pronounced their existence
impossible simply because unknown. What is now so familiar to us in the
achievements of science, telegraphy, the telephone, etc., might with equal
reason have been derided as the idle dream of enthusiasm fifty years ago. True
science holds itself ready to accept any fact when demonstrated, however
unknown, strange and improbable at present. The "Evil One" is a spirit, and
therefore his existence cannot be demonstrated in the same manner as that of
beings like ourselves, incorporate, visible, tangible. Yet we ourselves are
spirits; not so much bodies in which spirits dwell, as spirits for a time
occupying bodies. We do not actually see each other, but merely the body thus
inhabited. Is it absurd to suppose there may be other spirits existing apart
from a material body, or from such a body as may be seen and handled? If so, we
ourselves can have no existence after death, and a personal God is an
impossibility.

We know that below us in the scale of existence are innumerable living things.
Every day the microscope is bringing to view sentient creatures, elaborately
constructed, hitherto unknown. From one gradation to another, closely linked
together, the universe below us teems with life. May there not be other
existences in the region above us? If man is the chief of all visible living
creatures, may not visibility indicate the boundary beyond which life (does not
cease to be, but) becomes imperceptible to our present faculties? Is it absurd
to suppose that man, though at the head of visible existence, is not at the head
of all existence; and that as beneath him there are innumerable beings of
various orders, so also above him there may be beings superior to himself? The
distance between man and nothing is measurable; between man and infinity is
immeasurable—shall the lower and limited region be replete with living
creatures, and the higher and unlimited region be a void? If there are globes
superior to the earth in size revolving round the same center, and stars
surpassing the earth’s sun; is it inconceivable that there may be intelligent
beings somewhere in the universe surpassing in capacity the dwellers on the
earth? If it is thought unlikely that beings with superior capacities should be
morally depraved and corrupters of others, we have only to look among men to see
a similar sad combination. Is it difficult to conceive that such beings can in
any way influence our thoughts and conduct? We are, in fact, exposed to
influences which we cannot understand. Material things affect our thoughts,
emotions, purposes. A picture, a strain of music, a look, the condition of our
body, even the state of the atmosphere, may suggest ideas and excite emotions,
which may result in actions materially affecting the weal or woe of ourselves
and others. We influence each other. How great the power of mind over mind,
though often unexpected! Is it incredible that other spirits may be able in some
way to influence us? Would such agency destroy our freedom of will? But we are
in fact exposed to various influences external to ourselves, and yet preserve
our freedom. Circumstances, books, current opinions, fashions, companions—these
are ever more or less affecting without enslaving our will. No criminal would be
acquitted on the plea that his surroundings suggested and encouraged the theft
or the murder. On this plea no one would be accountable for his own actions,
which would not indeed be his own. But consciousness refutes the fallacy that we
are thus "creatures of circumstances," and not moral agents. The influence of
mind on mind does not destroy responsibility. But is it likely that the Supreme
Ruler would permit the existence of Beings, whose powers are employed in
endeavoring to counteract His purposes? Whatever the mystery of the existence of
evil, we know it to be a fact. There are, alas! multitudes of evil men and
women, some of them possessing superior powers, which are exerted to contravene
His laws, and alienate His creatures from allegiance. If this is actually so as
regards evil men, it may also be so as regards evil spirits.

We may venture another suggestion. There have been events in history very
difficult to explain by reference merely to circumstances and human nature.
Individuals have exercised power in a manner so cruel, productive of
consequences so disastrous, apparently from motives so inadequate, as to favor
the idea of some malignant spiritual influence; so that the solution often
suggested of such conduct is in the expression which may have a deeper truth
than the speaker means—"the devil is in him!" And so with whole communities,
which have sometimes seemed to be urged by an unreasoning impulse into acts of
superstitious frenzy, or unprovoked and destructive war. Systems of iniquity
have been developed during a long course of ages, which seem beyond mere human
power to devise and establish, and bear the stamp of one presiding evil genius.
There are minds to which the theory of the existence and agency of the devil
furnishes an easier solution to these problems than any explanation attempted by
philosophy. The object of these observations is not to prove the existence of a
personal devil, but to show that it is not the impossible absurdity which some
assert it to be, and to clear the way for the positive evidence as to the fact.
This is afforded by Divine Revelation. We believe that a Witness from the
spirit-world has certified the existence of both good and evil spirits. After a
life of blameless virtue and beneficence, after giving instructions worthy of
their claim to be Divine, and working miracles beyond mere human power to
effect; having declared Himself the Son of God, and predicted that in evidence
of this claim He would rise from the grave, He did in fact so rise and ascend to
heaven in the sight of witnesses, who, with no motive to influence them in
testifying to an imposture, did, with a unanimity and assurance nothing could
shake, encounter torture and death rather than cease to proclaim the gospel of a
risen Savior. We believe the fact so witnessed, and accept the authority of Him
whose claims were so attested.

He not only made known the love of Him who sent His Son to save, but clearly
warned us of that Evil One whose malice He came to thwart, and whom, as the
prince of darkness, He, the Prince of Life, encourages and enables us to resist
and conquer. On this authority we credit the existence of a personal devil. He
confirmed the earlier Revelation. The Scriptures He often quoted as the Word of
God, speak of the "Evil One" as the serpent who tempted our first parents.
Whether he appeared to them in serpent-form, or whether the term is to be
regarded as one of the designations of "that old serpent called the devil and
Satan," it is personal agency from without which is described in Genesis 3:1-7.
We read that "Satan provoked David to number Israel." The calamities which
overtook Job are represented as connected with his malign agency. The prophet
saw in vision "Joshua standing before the angel of the Lord, and Satan standing
at his right hand, to resist him. And the Lord said to Satan, The Lord rebuke
you, O Satan." If Joshua was not a principle, but a person, so also was Satan
who resisted him. The Jews were thus, by their Scriptures, made familiar with
the idea of a personal devil. The Messiah, whom these Scriptures foretold,
contradicted some of their opinions, but confirmed this. The account of His
temptation must have been communicated by Himself to the Evangelist, who
describes how the devil, a person, whether in visible form, or more probably
unseen as when he assails ourselves, did tempt Christ. Our Lord said of such
assaults—"The prince of this world comes, and has nothing in me." There was no
sinful principle or tendency in Christ to favor such temptation. The devil who
tempted Him could not therefore be the "evil principle;" for this can only
influence when within the soul. That which came was therefore not a principle,
but a person. To this personal devil our Lord referred when He said, "If Satan
be divided against himself, how shall his kingdom stand?" He described the
infirm woman as one "whom Satan had bound these eighteen years." He warned
Peter, "Behold, Satan has desired to have you, that he may sift you as wheat."
He accused the Jews as being "of their father the devil, who was a murderer from
the beginning." He spoke of "the enemy, the devil," who sows tares, as "the Evil
One;" and in His intercessory prayer besought for His disciples, not that they
might be taken out of the world, but be kept from the Evil One. The ancient
promise foretold that He would crush the serpent’s head; and He said, "I beheld
Satan as lightning fall from heaven." It was His great work on earth to
withstand this foe of God and man—"For this purpose the Son of man was
manifested, that He might destroy the works of the devil." The Apostles confirm
the truth of the agency of the "Evil One." "The devil put it into the heart of
Judas to betray Jesus." Peter said to Ananias, "Why has Satan filled your heart
to lie to the Holy Spirit?" and spoke of the devil as "a roaring lion, walking
about, seeking whom he may devour; whom" (a person, not a thing) we are to
"resist, steadfast in the faith." Paul said, "The God of peace shall crush Satan
under your feet shortly," referring to each as a person, not a mere principle.
He warned the Corinthians against allowing Satan to get any advantage over them,
"for we are not ignorant of his devices;" and spoke of Satan being "transformed
into an angel of light;" of "the messenger of Satan" sent to buffet him; of "the
prince of the power of the air, the spirit that now works in the children of
disobedience;" of not giving "place to the devil;" of "principalities and
powers" against which we wrestle, and of the "fiery darts of the Evil One;" of
Satan "hindering him;" of "the working of Satan with signs and lying wonders;"
of falling "into the condemnation of the devil;" and of those who were "in the
snare of the devil." In the Epistle to the Hebrews the devil is said to have
"the power of death." James exhorts, "Resist the devil, and he will flee from
you." John writes to "young men" who have "overcome the Evil One," and says, "He
who commits sin is of the devil." Jude refers to "the angels which kept not
their first estate;" and the closing prophetic book describes how, at last, "the
devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world," is to be "cast into the
abyss." If some of these passages can be explained on the evil-principle theory,
others of them can only be regarded as referring to a personal agent, while none
of them are incompatible with that idea. It may be said that the sacred writers
were under the influence of Jewish notions, but it cannot be said that in this
concurrent mode of speech they themselves only intended by "the Evil One," an
evil influence. We accept their statements as illustrating the testimony of the
Lord to the existence and agency of a personal devil.

If such a Being exists, it is important we should know the fact, and be on our
guard against his designs. It was worthy of a Divine Revelation to open our eyes
to our danger. It was worthy of the devil’s great Antagonist to summon His
followers to aid Him in the great conflict, and to teach His disciples to ask
deliverance from the "Evil One," the great tempter, the chief agent of evil, the
destroyer of the souls of men. As a skillful general often hides his strength
from the foe who may thus by false security become an easy prey, so Satan has no
stratagem more cunning than persuading those he seeks to destroy that no such
destroyer exists. "Dangers are no more light if they once seem light; and more
dangers have deceived men than forced them" (Lord Bacon). Let us thank God for
revealing to us our foe, and showing us how to conquer him. The names of this
foe are so many lessons of warning. He is "the Evil One:" evil in its very
essence; its author, agent, champion, king. He is Satan, Adversary, opposing
himself to all that is true and pure, the enemy of all who call God Father. He
is devil, Accuser, accusing us to ourselves to plunge us into despair, accusing
us to justice to secure our condemnation. He is Apollyon, Destroyer, taking
delight in undoing whatever tends to holiness and righteousness, in destroying
health and happiness, peace and comfort, purity and life. He is described as a
serpent, on account of his crafty and venomous nature; as "the old serpent,"
from his long experience in evil; as a "roaring lion," from his ferocity; as
"going about," from his activity; as "seeking whom he may devour," from his
insatiable rapacity in destruction.

We are warned that we contend with no mean foe. "We wrestle not against flesh
and blood, but against powers, against spiritual wickedness in high places." We
must not underrate his sagacity. We are not to be "ignorant of," that is, we are
to be constantly vigilant against, "his devices." We have need to pray against
both "the crafts and the assaults of the devil." We are not indeed to think of
the devil as omniscient or omnipresent, for God alone is in every place, and
from Him alone "no secrets are hidden;" but if there are a multitude of evil
spirits whose name is legion, and who serve the Evil One as their superior lord,
what they do may be regarded as done by him. Combining as he does so much force
of intellect with so much depravity of nature, such power with such subtlety,
such long experience in evil-doing with the aid of such hosts of wicked agents,
the devil is a foe too formidable to be treated with indifference,
self-security, ridicule, or contempt.

How does he tempt? Not overtly, for this would put us on our guard. Not,
therefore, as often represented in pictures, by hideous deformity or revolting
expression at once proclaiming who he is and bidding us beware; but rather
hiding himself under the ordinary appearances of daily life, as a serpent may
lurk amid perfumed flowers, or a wasp lie hidden in a fragrant peach. He may
look at us through a picture, charm us by a song, influence us through a book,
beguile us in the person of a friend, whisper to us in our imagination by day or
our dreams by night. He seldom appears as an "adversary," but in the guise of a
helper; not thwarting our inclinations, but gratifying them; not opposing our
will, but encouraging it. He knows how to adapt his temptations to our special
circumstances and temperaments. In the book of Job he is represented as "going
to and fro in the earth, and walking up and down in it. And the Lord said to
Satan, Have you considered my servant Job, that there is none like him in the
earth?" Whether regarded as history or parable, this opening chapter teaches
that the devil is in constant activity among men, "considering" their various
characters, and how best he may succeed against them. The question implies that
his inspection was on a very wide scale, so that he was able to compare Job with
all other men. Satan had "considered" both them and him, and supposed that he
had discovered the weak places in the patriarch’s armor. "Does Job serve God for
nothing? But put forth Your hand now and touch all that he has, and he will
curse You to Your face." Thus Satan "considers" his intended victims, goes round
about their defenses, observes their weaknesses, takes note of their special
tendencies, in order to plan his method of attack. So a farmer surveys his
fields, and selects the seed suited for different kinds of soil. So a skillful
angler chooses among his cunningly-prepared flies the one suited to the season,
the stream, and the fish.

Sometimes he tempts through curiosity, as with Eve. "In the day you eat thereof
your eyes shall be opened, and you shall be as gods, knowing good and evil." He
employs pride, as with David in numbering the people; animal passions, as with
Solomon; eager self-confidence, as with Peter; covetousness, as with Judas and
Ananias. He comes to us when suffering the innocent infirmities of humanity, as
to Christ when hungry and faint. He takes advantage of us when weary in body or
dormant in spirit. "While men slept the enemy sowed tares." He pretends
friendship when most malignant in his designs, as Joab when he took Abner aside
and then stabbed him; and as Judas when he kissed his Master in the act of
betrayal. He can make use of the well-meaning but mistaken kindness of our
dearest and most trusted friends to beguile us from our duty; as when, having in
the wilderness failed to divert Christ from His path of suffering, he influenced
Peter, from motives of generous affection, to say in reference to the cross,
"That be far from You, Lord!" But Jesus replied, "Get behind me, Satan! for you
savor not the things that are of God, but the things that are of men." Christ
detected Satan in the disguise of Peter, and addressed, not His friend, but the
foe who was using the friend as his unconscious instrument to persuade to
self-indulgence instead of self-sacrifice. The devil employs even the truth of
God as a weapon against those to whom that truth is dear. He dared to assault
even Him who is "The Truth" with quotations from His own word, using as his
plea, "It is written." Thus many have been deceived and allured to evil by what
at first seemed deference to revealed truth, but was really Satan’s perversion
of the spirit under disguise of its letter.

"The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose." He thus makes the very standard
of truth an auxiliary to falsehood, and clothes sin in the garb of virtue. He
often commends covetousness as prudence, anger as manliness, revenge as justice,
prodigal excess as hospitality, frivolity as needful recreation, fashionable
vice as becoming conformity to the opinions and usages of society, damnable
licentiousness as pardonable gaiety.

"And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us
truths; Win us with honest trifles, to betray us In deepest consequence."
—Macbeth An illustration of Satan’s method of beguiling to destroy, was one day
witnessed by the writer when rambling near Scawfell. His guide said he thought
he could find a trout, and, stooping down over the grassy bank of a small
mountain-stream, remained for a few minutes perfectly quiet, excepting a slight
motion of the arm. Presently he brought up a large fish. He knew where it was
likely to be; he gently stroked and "tickled" its back, soothed and charmed his
victim, then grasped and captured it. So "the devil’s policy is to tickle his
victims to death and damn them with delights." He knows how to cast a fair
screen over a foul picture, which, seen at once in all its native grossness,
would revolt the beholder, who is lured by the dissolving view which partially
conceals until it gradually displays its true features to the now fascinated
eye. Paul said, "We are not ignorant of his devices." We must be stronger and
wiser than the apostle if we can safely cease to watch and pray against the "the
wiles of the devil." Only when "filled with the Spirit" are we safe from the
Evil One, and then we shall be most vigilant and earnest both in avoiding his
snares and repelling his attacks. The temptation of our Lord teaches both our
liability to danger and how we may overcome. He was exposed to the devil’s
malignity when removed from the haunts of wicked men and the noisy world, in a
solitude specially favorable for meditation and communion with heaven. Thus we
learn that no season of religious seclusion, no scenes of rural solitude, are a
security against the presence of a foe, who may specially assail us when we
regard ourselves specially secure. As our Lord, when alone among the wild
creatures of the wilderness and needing human sympathy, was exposed to Satanic
approach; so the devil may be waiting for us in some desert of affliction, ready
to make the sorrows we imagine to be a security against sin the occasion of our
falling into it, and the absence of human sympathy an opportunity of receiving
forbidden solace. As our great Example was assailed when hungry and faint, so
when we are suffering any deprivation the devil may tempt us to seek the
satisfaction of what is natural and right in itself, in some method which is
wrong. As Christ’s very faith in His Father’s care was employed by the devil as
an argument for presumption; so, when we are enjoying some season of special
assurance of the Divine favor, the witness of the Spirit to our adoption may be
perverted into an occasion of boastful recklessness and a testing of God’s
grace. As the true Prince was tempted by the usurper to secure the kingdoms of
the world for their good by other than lawful methods; so our very zeal for
God’s glory and the welfare of men may become the devil’s opportunity for urging
us to attain holy ends by unholy methods, thus really worshiping Satan when
seeming to be most zealous in our homage to God.

If our Lord was thus assailed, can we expect to escape? If to Him who said "the
prince of this world has nothing in me," yet that false prince did come, how
certain it is he will come to us in whose hearts there is so much which he may
claim as his own! The Ephesian Church was addressed as composed of those who had
been "quickened," "predestinated to the adoption of children," "accepted in the
Beloved," "His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works;" yet they
were exhorted not to "give place to the devil," and warned against "the fiery
darts of the wicked one." Whatever, therefore, our spiritual advantages, instead
of thinking ourselves secure against assault, the greater our attainments the
greater will be our vigilance. Our Lord’s example shows us how to conquer. He
did not employ any weapon out of our reach. He did not entrench Himself in His
Divinity. He fought as man, and as men we are encouraged by His victory. He
quoted our Scriptures as one of ourselves. He contended, not that as the eternal
Son He could live without bread, but that as one of mankind "every word of God"
was sustenance. He placed Himself on our level when He quoted the command
against putting God to the test, and in any degree bowing down to the devil; and
so we are encouraged to resist because Christ resisted as we also have to
resist, and conquered humanly, "tempted like as we are."

Such illustrations of the character and power of the devil may well rouse us to
watchfulness and prayer. He is not omnipotent, but great must be the power of
him who is described by Christ as the "prince of this world;" by Paul as "the
god of this world, who has blinded the minds of those who believe not," and as
"the prince of the power of the air, the Spirit that now works in the children
of disobedience;" and of whom John says, "The whole world lies in ’the Evil
One.’" "He is the head of the great confederacy of fallen spirits and wicked men
against the rule of righteousness and love; the protagonist in the warfare
against the Son of God, holding all the threads of the rebellion against heaven
in which the vast majority of the human race are entangled and enslaved." Our
encouragement is this, that the world is not left to this "Evil One," but that
the Son of God has come to destroy his works. No wonder the devil strove to
resist the Captain of our salvation. He excited Herod to slay Him in His
infancy; tempted Him to save Himself and so leave men to perish; thought to
overwhelm Him with sorrows, and crush Him by betrayal to His foes when He said
to them, "This is your hour and the power of darkness;" then stirred up the Jews
to crucify Him, and yet suggested that He might save Himself and come down from
the cross. But Jesus conquered, by resisting every inducement to evil; by
suffering every sorrow ordained; by submitting to the very death which seemed
His defeat, but which proved to be His victory; by rising from the grave which
was sealed and made secure as His lasting prison; and by ascending as our
victorious champion to God. "Having spoiled principalities and powers, He made a
show of them openly, triumphing over them in His cross. Now at the right hand of
God He lives and reigns, to aid us by His intercession, to strengthen us by His
Spirit, to overrule all events for our good, to reign until all His enemies,
and. this "Evil One," be made His footstool.

Let us rejoice in His ability to aid and save. If Satan is our accuser, Christ
is our advocate. If our foe condemns, our Friend acquits. If the devil tempts,
Jesus prays. If the strong man armed attacks, the Stronger than he protects. If
the serpent beguiles and envenoms, the Seed of the woman will crush his head.
The lion that devours is no match for the Lion of the tribe of Judah. He who has
"the power of death" is vanquished by the Prince of Life. Satan the adversary
must yield to Emmanuel the Almighty Friend, Apollyon the destroyer to Jesus the
Savior. If myriads of demons obey Beelzebub, our Leader is surrounded by "an
innumerable company of angels," who under His direction are "ministering
spirits" for the heirs of salvation. "More are those who are with us than those
who are with them." The Evil One is not at the same time with all he seeks to
destroy, but Jesus is never absent from one of His disciples, to whom He says,
"I am with you always." By the help of this ever-present Savior, "we know that
whoever is born of God sins not;" not habitually, not fatally, "but He who was
begotten of God keeps him, and the Evil One touches him not." No fatal injury is
done to those whom Christ protects, and for whom He intercedes "Touch not my
anointed, and do my prophets no harm."

Victory is sure. Satan shares not in any sense the authority and power of God;
is God’s enemy, not His minister; is the object of God’s holy anger, as the foe
of all goodness and happiness; and therefore we are not to "give place to the
devil" as an inevitable necessity, but to resist him "steadfast in the faith,"
that God is against all that is evil, and will eventually conquer it, and
"subdue all things to Himself." Therefore we are to be workers together with
God, and fellow-soldiers with Jesus, in resisting and conquering "the Evil One."
Imitating Him, let this petition, like the rest, be accompanied by appropriate
efforts. While asking from God deliverance from Satan, let us not lay ourselves
open to his assaults, nor listen to his wiles. Let every evil desire rising
within us be abhorred as the devil’s suggestion. In every forbidden pleasure,
however beautiful it may appear, let us see the serpent’s coil and hear the
serpent’s hiss; so may we turn from it and pass away. Let neither his threats
nor his bribes cause us to turn aside from the narrow path. Let us so act in our
conflict with the Evil One, that the eulogy of Milton may be merited by us—"No
menace could divert him from his purpose; no intimidation on the one hand, and
no promise of emolument on the other, could alter the serenity of his
countenance, or shake the firmness of his soul." Thus imitating our Great
Leader, in His name we may confidently set ourselves

"Against whatever may tempt, whatever seduce, Allure, or terrify, or undermine.
Be frustrate, all you stratagems of hell, And devilish machinations come to
nothing."—Paradise Regained When Apollyon in his fiercest form assaults us in
our pilgrimage, and "straddles quite over the whole breadth of the way," let us
boldly face him with a renewed avowal of our loyalty to our only Lord, and say,
"I have given Him my faith, and sworn my allegiance to Him; and, to speak truth,
I like His service, His company and country; leave off to persuade me, I am His
servant, and I will follow Him." When the devil who tempted us to hesitate at
the wicket-gate, to turn aside into bypath meadow, to slumber in the arbor,
brings against us his own work to crush us with despondency, let us say with
Christian, "All this is true, and much more which you have left out; but the
Prince whom I serve and honor, is merciful and ready to forgive; these
infirmities possessed me in your country, but I have groaned under them, been
sorry for them, and have obtained pardon of my Prince." However fierce the
fight, the shield of faith will "quench all the fiery darts of the Evil One,"
and the sword of the Spirit wielded with prayer will enable Christian to say,
"In all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us." Thus
may we realize the vision of the dreamer—"With that, Apollyon spread forth his
dragon’s wings, and sped him away, that Christian saw him no more." The Evil One
often tempts experienced Christians by a false assurance that because they have
won many victories and have conquered their old sins, they may remit vigilance.
"We are never safe—the very stubble of our old sins may run into our eyes and
blind us; the dregs of them may choke us; the ashes of them may kindle again and
consume us. Therefore do we always need the present help of the Comforter, in
order that His conviction may abide in our souls full of life and power; so that
the Prince of this world may be judged in us also, even as he was judged by our
Lord" (Hare). The Evil One was condemned, despoiled, dethroned by Christ in the
wilderness, in Gethsemane, on the Cross, at the Resurrection, the Ascension, and
Pentecost—in the case of every believer turned "from the power of Satan to God."
Our Champion has given Satan his death-blow. We fight secure of victory. Let us
turn the devil’s weapons against himself, and make his assaults occasions of our
triumph. As Paul not merely endured "the thorn in the flesh, the messenger of
Satan to buffet him," but made his weakness an occasion of obtaining fresh
strength from God and gloried in his infirmity; as Christ "by death destroyed
him who had the power of death, that is, the devil," so let us turn every
assault on his part into a victory on ours, ascribing all the glory to Him in
whose strength alone we triumph. "Thanks be to God who gives us the victory,
through our Lord Jesus Christ."

II—"THE EVIL" CAUSED BY YIELDING TO THE "EVIL ONE"—THE RESULT OF SIN

Temptation yielded to "brought death into the world and all our woe." "By sin
came death." Whatever might otherwise have been the lot of man, death as we know
it, with all its circumstances of sickness, pain, infirmity, dread, anguish, and
mourning, is the penalty included in the threatening, "In the day that you eat
of it you shall surely die." The very ground was cursed by triumphant
temptation. Sorrow and anxiety were superadded to toil. We are not dependent on
ancient records for proof that sin causes suffering. Physical laws of health are
expressions of the Divine will; and ignorance of them, arising from carelessness
and indolence, is culpable, and entails various and heavy penalties. How many of
the plagues that have decimated crowded cities have been caused by the willful
blindness, the selfish apathy or greed which have neglected the first essentials
of health—pure water, fresh air, and cleanliness! How many diseases are brought
on by excessive indulgence of the appetites, how many accidents by recklessness?
Where the sufferer himself is not blameworthy, how many pay the penalty of the
faults of others; and in the case of inherited and constitutional disorders, how
often in the physical world the solemn word uttered on Sinai is illustrated, and
the sins of the father are visited on the children "to the third and fourth
generation "! Who can estimate the amount of evil caused to others by sensual
excess? Take the one case of intemperance. Think of the tens of thousands of
drunkards who bring disgrace upon their families, ruin on their homes,
brokenness of heart on parents, wives, children. By prodigality, pride,
improvidence, indolence, multitudes are beggared; by avarice and hoarding,
multitudes more are left to suffer or perish, not because there is not enough
and to spare, but because the stewards have yielded to the temptation of
regarding what was entrusted to them as their own. Think of all the sorrows
caused by an ungoverned temper, angry words, cherished hatred and revenge; evils
abiding and still extending like ripples in water, long after the first
provocation. Think of the national disasters resulting from ambition whether of
princes or peoples, the cruel wars of contending factions and rival dynasties,
the woes of millions the fruit of the caprice or pride of one; the miseries
entailed by cruel superstitions, blind prejudices, imperious customs, false
principles of legislation, oppressive governments! If we clearly see so much of
the undoubted and immediate consequences of sin, how enormous must be the
totality of "the evil" which, whether we see the connection or not, has been
caused by yielding to the temptation into which we pray not to be brought; by
serving rather than resisting "the Evil One"! The word of God teaches us to
regard all such sufferings as in themselves evil. The Stoicism which affects to
treat them with indifference or to think them good, is contrary to human nature
and the whole testimony of history. Men in all ages and countries have uttered
one cry of distress because of abounding evil, and in various forms have united
in one earnest prayer for deliverance. "The whole creation groans and travails
in pain together until now." Christianity encourages resignation by teaching us
that God is above all the evil, that He is our Father, that His name is Love,
that we are to hallow that name by trusting Him to comfort us in sorrow, to help
us in difficulty, to overrule all things for our welfare; but it nowhere teaches
us to regard evil itself as good. Our Father takes the weapons aimed to hurt us
and turns them into instruments to help us; but that which forged and aimed them
is evil nevertheless. He converts what the devil intended for poison into
heavenly medicine; but it was originally distilled from sin, and but for sin
would not be needed as medicine. Poverty may be overruled to increase our
spiritual store and sickness, to promote our soul’s health, but poverty and
sickness are evil and not good. The light afflictions that "work out a far more
exceeding and eternal weight of glory," are afflictions nevertheless; and though
"afterward they yield the peaceable fruit of righteousness," yet "they are not
joyous but grievous." They are mercifully utilized for the purifying of our
faith, "which is much more precious than gold that perishes," because at present
there is a "need be" for the process; but were there no inducements luring us to
sin, there would be no necessity to be "in heaviness through manifold
temptations." It was a mistaken heroism that induced some of the early
Christians to provoke persecution, that they might win the martyr’s crown; and
it would be foolish sentimentalism to regret that we did not live in times when
such distinction could be gained. Let us not envy the martyrs as though such
sufferings are essential to victory;

"Nor think who to that bliss aspire Must win their way through blood and fire:
The writhings of a wounded heart Are fiercer than a foeman’s dart." —Keble But
both the bleeding body and the wounded spirit, although giving occasion for the
exercise of faith and the winning of reward, are in themselves evils which we
may lawfully shun and deprecate as not of God.

We might well despair if our religion required us to feel the evils in the world
to be good. Christ did not so teach. He regarded them as the work of the devil
whom He came to vanquish. He unloosed the cords with which He said Satan had
bound the cripple (Luke 13:16). "For this purpose the Son of God was manifested,
that He might destroy the works of the devil." He set Himself against them. He
did not submit to them as a necessity, nor bid us sit down under them in
indolent despair or fatalistic apathy. He combated the evil of hunger, and fed
the multitude; the evil of disease, and cured the sick; the evil of infirmity,
and healed the lame and the blind. He rebuked the winds and waves that
threatened shipwreck; He cast out the demons that possessed the insane; He
vanquished death and the grave. Throughout the Old Testament men were taught to
expect deliverance from temporal evils as a Divine reward, and Christ fulfilled
the Law and the Prophets. He Himself suffered as our High Priest, but those
sufferings were in themselves evil. The cup which He, as our Substitute for sin,
drank in Gethsemane, was in itself not sweet but bitter, and as our Example He
prayed to be spared the drinking of it. His murder was the greatest atrocity the
world ever committed; and though overruled for man’s salvation, was the
culminating curse of the nation that perpetrated it, the evil of evils. Our Lord
willingly suffered, but never regarded the sufferings themselves as good; and we
therefore may be comforted in all our troubles by the permission to think of
them as arising not from our Father’s original design, but, although He will
overrule them for our good, evils to which He is opposed and from which He will
deliver.

No! evil cannot be good; it arises from sin; it is not the normal condition of
the world, but a frightful disorder which is to be corrected, against which we
are to contend together with God, for universal deliverance from which we are to
pray. In our present state of discipline we dare not ask to be kept from all
suffering, which may be needed for our spiritual welfare, but that we may be
delivered from all evil which might injure the spirit. Our Father, "from seeming
evil still educing good," knows when that which in itself is real evil can be
turned into merely seeming evil, by changing its harmful into helpful
tendencies; and therefore we offer this petition with reservation; we ask our
Father to deliver us from trials not needed for our spiritual welfare, which
might endanger our soul’s health, which might make us evil by leading us into
sin.

Mankind have universally sought deliverance from evils, but this has been the
commencement and burden of their prayer. Christians are taught to begin with
God, not with self. We first look up to Him as "our Father." We contemplate His
holiness, wisdom, goodness. Reverencing His perfections and seeking His glory,
desiring His will to be everywhere done, we may confidently because filially
pray, "Deliver us from evil." This gives us hope, that we have not to expect
deliverance by mere human efforts, which have been so often frustrated, but by
the agency of the Almighty Father. "We have not to work our way upwards by
stairs winding, broken, endless, to an indefinite shadowy point, which we are
afraid to reach, lest it should prove to be nothing. We begin from the summit;
we find there the substance of all the hope men have drawn from the promising
but changeable aspects of the cloud-land below; we see that all the darkness of
earth, all its manifold forms of evil, have come from the rays being intercepted
which would have scattered it, and shall scatter it altogether. Therefore we
pray boldly, ’Deliver us from evil,’ knowing assuredly that we are praying to be
set free from that to which the will of the Creator is opposed" (Maurice). This
deliverance is effected in various ways. The evil dreaded may be altogether
removed, the threatening cloud disperse, the stormy waves subside, the angry foe
retreat; or we may be sheltered amid the storm, securely guarded in the fierce
assault, and while severely distressed be so strengthened as to sustain no
injury. We may not only be enabled to endure but to rejoice, so that the season
of greatest trial may become one of greatest privilege, and the evils most
dreaded promote our eternal good. "The Lord knows how to deliver the godly out
of trials." Let us leave the method with Him, and then with fullest assurance
pray, "Deliver us from evil." This petition, like the rest, has its practical
and fraternal lessons. We are taught to say, not "deliver me," but "deliver us."
We come to the throne of grace in company with our brethren, all exposed to
similar evils. If we truly ask deliverance for them, we should endeavor to
promote it. How can I pray God to save those whom I am too indolent or selfish
to help? Sincerely to offer this prayer will stimulate our zeal in every branch
of philanthropy; succoring the poor and the sick, teaching the ignorant, lifting
up the fallen, comforting the sad, reclaiming the drunkard, promoting peace at
home and abroad, reforming abuses, encouraging righteous legislation, and in
every way according to our opportunity being "fellow-workers with God "in
delivering the world from the evil against which we pray.

III—"THE EVIL" IN OURSELVES

We have been viewing the streams, we come now to the source; those may be termed
"evils," this is emphatically "the evil;" those surround us, this is within us.
"Out of the heart proceeds" the sin that produces the evils, the heart which is
"deceitful above all things and desperately wicked." Whatever may be said of
evolution from lower to higher forms of physical organization, the word of God
declares the fact of moral degeneracy. This does not consist in any specific
form of vicious indulgence, but in the generic root of ungodliness. The
evangelical doctrine does not assert that all men are depraved in the sense of
outward wickedness, but of disregard to the Divine will. The depravity of vice
is happily far from being universal, but the depravity of setting up
self-pleasing as the rule of life is, alas! characteristic of the race. This
leads men into different paths, according to the inclinations of each; but it is
pleasure and not duty which is the guide; and though the path chosen may for a
time happen to concur with the Divine will, as soon as this opposes the human
will the latter prevails, with all its attendant evils. Paul, describing his
spiritual condition prior to faith in Christ, says—"I find then the law, that to
me, who would do good, evil is present…bringing me into captivity under the law
of sin which is in my members."

"The evil" is not ourselves, originally, naturally, necessarily, by any Divine
appointment. It is not resident in the body, as some have taught, else how
hopeless would be our condition, ever dragging about with us a corrupting corpse
from which death alone could free us! No, it is not in the body, but in the evil
use of it. It is not in sorrow, which, though the result of sin, may be
overruled for our eternal good, but in our impatience and distrust. It is not in
our joys; as if the beauties with which the Creator has thickly strewn our path,
the pleasure linked with the healthy exercise of every faculty, the delights of
knowledge, social interaction, endearing relationships, had in them a secret
poison, and must be regarded with suspicion and fear in proportion to their
sweetness; no, but in our abuse of these blessings. It is not in the world
itself; for we must live and work in it; must not dare to quit it until the
Master calls; cannot if we would, should not if we could, come out of it by
selfish isolation and indolent seclusion—but in being worldly in spirit, being
of it as well as in it, living as though the present world was supreme. Christ
was in the world, sharing its joys, sorrows and companionships, yet in Him was
no evil. The evil is sin, and the root of all sin self-will. Outward temptation
would be harmless but for this. Self-will is "the evil" of all evils.

While this remains unchecked there can be no true peace. Apart from evils caused
by it, this condition of the soul is one of degradation and disquiet. "The
wicked are like the troubled sea when it cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire
and dirt; there is no peace, says my God, to the wicked." The soul is made for
God, and can never be at peace until centered in Himself. Diderot, the infidel
Cyclopaedist, makes a character in one of his plays say "To do wrong is to
condemn ourselves to live and find our pleasure with wrong-doers; to pass an
uncertain and troubled life in one long and never-ending lie; to have to praise
with a blush the virtue we fling behind us; to seek a little calm in sophistical
systems, that the breath of a single good man scatters to the winds; to shut
ourselves forever out from the spring of true joys, the only joys that are
virtuous and sublime; and to give ourselves up, simply as an escape from
ourselves, to the weariness of mere frivolous diversions, in which the day flows
away in half-oblivion, and life glides slowly from us, and loses itself in
waste." Another votary of pleasure, who, to silence remorse, encouraged himself
in unbelief, has left this sad testimony to the bitterness of "the evil"—

"And do you ask what secret woe I bear, corroding joy and youth? And will you
vainly seek to know A pang even you must fail to soothe?

It is that settled, ceaseless gloom The fabled Hebrew wanderer bore, That will
not look beyond the tomb, But cannot hope for rest before.

What exile from himself can flee? To zones though more and more remote, Still,
still pursues wherever I be The blight of life— the demon THOUGHT."—Childe
Harold

Sooner or later, mostly in this life, always in the next, the votary of evil,
the slave of self-will, discovers that the pleasure promised by sin is a
delusion, and its seeming good evil only. A wise Chinese proverb says, "Who
finds pleasure in evil and pain in virtue, is a novice in both." Sin is the
object of the believer’s chief abhorrence and resistance. It burdens the
conscience, disturbs peace, prevents usefulness, darkens hopes, and hinders
conversation with heaven. There is no real evil in what the world calls
dishonor, poverty, pain. Sin is disgrace indeed, dragging us down from our true
nobility, whatever our earthly distinctions; it is poverty, whatever our store;
and sickness, though the body be robust; and death, while we seem to live. As a
man’s life consists not in what he has but what he is, so his poverty is not the
lack of "things," but of goodness. The wounds made by sorrow have no poison in
them, and soon heal; but sin envenoms and destroys. Disease may mark the body,
but "the evil" brands the soul. It is this which militates against the whole
prayer. Do we say "Our Father"? This prevents a filial spirit, and separates us
from God and one another. Do we add "in heaven"? This unfits for its holiness,
and obscures our hopes of reaching it. "Hallowed be Your name"? This dishonors
it. "Your kingdom come"? This hinders it. "Your will be done"? This resists it.
"Give us our daily bread"? This claims it as a right, and renders no thanks.
"Forgive us our debts"? This augments them. "As we forgive"? This exacts. "Bring
us not into temptation"? By this we bring ourselves into it. The seventh
petition therefore appropriately closes, as it summarizes the prayer—Our Father!
deliver us from evil.

All men naturally pray against temporal evils; those who are taught by the Holy
Spirit pray also and chiefly against "the evil." The former seek escape from
what is inconvenient to themselves, the latter from what is displeasing to God.
"Evils" are light and transitory, soon forgotten, and leave no trace but the
"good" they "work together" to produce in the heart; but sin, "the evil," is
unmitigated, permanent, destructive. The unregenerate may hate and strive
against some special form of moral evil, as drunkenness; but Christians strive
to destroy the root out of which all the branches grow. Others may dread the
consequences, but these hate the cause. Others may join in the petitions for
bread and pardon; but those alone who truly say, "Our Father," truly pray,
"Deliver us from evil." Is this our earnest prayer? If we are not seeking
deliverance from sin above all other evils, its consequences cannot be escaped.
There is no escape from its evils but by salvation from itself.

We are not left in doubt as to the possibility of such deliverance. To answer
the prayer He Himself taught, the Son of God came into the world. This was His
one great purpose; "You shall call His name Jesus—for He shall save His people
from their sins." As our Example, He so ruled His own strong human will that it
was ever subservient to the supreme authority of God, and He said, "Father, not
my will, but Yours be done." His whole life was one of self-abnegation. "He
pleased not Himself." "He gave His life a ransom for many." By His atonement He
removed the evil of condemnation, and by His Spirit He destroys the evil
principle in the heart. He constrains us by his own love to love Him in return,
and thus prompts us to that entire surrender to Himself which is the sure
corrective of "the evil." Thus the Baptist described Him as "the Lamb of God who
takes away the sin of the world,"—the sin, not the sins—He does take these away
with all their manifold evils; but He does more by taking away the root, the
producing cause, the very principle of evil, the sin of the world. To Him who
taught us thus to pray, we look for the deliverance which He died and lives to
accomplish. "Good Lord! deliver us. By Your Baptism, Fasting, and Temptation; by
Your Agony and bloody Sweat, by Your Cross and Passion, by Your precious Death
and Burial, by Your glorious Resurrection and Ascension, good Lord! deliver us."

We look for the coming of the kingdom in this world, when the victory over evil
shall be complete. Until then we cannot escape "evils," but we may be delivered
from "the evil." Paul and Silas were suffering the evils when they were in the
inner prison, with bleeding wounds and feet fast in the stocks; but delivered
from "the evil," they were praying and singing to God, and the prisoners were
listening in wonder. Sufferings merely external may be easily endured when the
heart’s great malady is healed; as the roaring wind and the rattle of rain and
hail at the windows outside do not diminish the pleasure of a company of loving
friends, with cheery conversation and sweet music, before a blazing hearth.
"Outward troubles do not disturb inward peace, but an unholy affection does. All
the winds without, cause not an earthquake; but that within the earth’s own
affections does" (Leighton). "One drop of sin has more evil in it than a sea of
sorrow." The entire prayer is an argument in support of the closing petition.
"Our Father in heaven;" save Your children, and let us not, by yielding to evil,
grieve You—"Hallowed be Your Name;" keep us from the evil that dishonors
You—"Your kingdom come;" let us not, by yielding to evil, retard it—"Your will
be done;" let us not by sin oppose it—"Give us this day our daily bread;"
preserve us from the evil of ingratitude to the Giver—"Forgive us our
trespasses;" let us not repeat them—"Bring us not into temptation;" lest we fall
into sin—"But deliver us from evil." Deliverance is the climax of the prayer.
Not "evil," but salvation is the closing note. O blessed hope! O glorious
certainty, that all who call God Father will some day be delivered perfectly and
forever from evil of every kind—from the power of the "Evil One;" from all the
evils sin has caused; from every taint of evil within; dwelling in our Father’s
presence, seeing Him as He is, and sharing His perfect purity and bliss. Dying
Jacob invoked "the Angel who redeemed him from all evil;" and we will adore the
Savior who for us conquered the "Evil One;" and with the apostle will exult in
the assurance, "The Lord shall deliver me from every evil work." The Author of
the prayer is Himself the Mediator by whom it is fulfilled. He reveals God as
"Our Father;" saying, "He who has seen me has seen the Father:" He hallows the
"Name" by exhibiting the nature of God—of "the Kingdom," He is the Vicegerent
and Head—"the Will" was perfectly done by Him, and, through the Holy Spirit He
gives, is done by us—the "Daily Bread" is a symbol of Himself, the manna from
heaven—"Trespasses" are forgiven through His sacrifice—He is the most
illustrious example of "Temptation" resisted, and the Giver of the grace by
which we resist—He conquered the Evil One, neutralized the evils of sin, and
delivers us from the power of evil by His love "shed abroad in the heart."

Against the powers of darkness, With hellish craft and rage, Our heavenly
Captain calls us Incessant war to wage: But who would be deserter From such a
noble fight? We’re sure of deathless triumph, We struggle for the right. We’ll
bless You for the battle, We’ll glory in the strife; We’ll shout at call of
trumpet, We’ll win eternal life Strong in the strength of Jesus, And in His
Spirit brave, Crowned through eternal ages, We’ll sing His power to save.
—Newman Hall


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  CHAPTER 51: 02.09.     THE DOXOLOGY
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THE DOXOLOGY "FOR YOURS IS THE KINGDOM, AND THE POWER, AND THE GLORY, FOREVER.
AMEN." The doxology is omitted by the Revisers. It is not in Luke’s version nor
in the oldest manuscripts of Matthew, nor in the Vulgate. Alford says, "It must
on every ground of sound criticism be omitted." It is supposed to have been
placed on the margin, and subsequently transferred to the text, such doxologies
being in frequent use. But though excluded by an exact criticism, a doxology so
dear to our associations will long be used as expressing scriptural truth and an
appropriate response to the prayer. It reminds us of David’s thanksgiving,
"Yours, O Lord, is the power, and the glory—Yours is the kingdom, and You are
exalted as head above all." The Apostles Paul, Jude, and John, record similar
ascriptions of praise—"For of Him, and through Him, and to Him are all things;
to whom be glory forever. Amen." "To the only wise God our Savior be glory and
majesty, dominion and power, both now and ever." "Blessing, and honor, and
glory, and power to Him who sits upon the throne." The doxology is also implied
in this very prayer; for His must be "the kingdom" who is asked to do kingly
acts; and He must possess adequate "power" who is asked to accomplish what needs
Divine strength; and to God alone must belong the "glory" of all His works. It
is adoration naturally arising from devout hearts, and has been hallowed by
immemorial usage in the Christian Church.

I—THE DOXOLOGY A CONFESSION OF FAITH.

He who comes to Him must believe that He is the rewarder of those who diligently
seek Him." Here we profess our belief that God is both able and willing to do
what we have asked.

1. The Kingdom—In ascribing to Him the kingdom, we deny that it is the devil’s,
from whom we have just asked deliverance. The "Evil One" who tempted our Lord,
and who tempts us by displaying the allurements of the world, saying, "This is
delivered to me, and to whomever I will I give it," is a usurper, having no true
authority; his pretended kingdom is one of darkness and falsehood, is now
overruled by God, and will soon be overthrown forever. Away with the idea of a
malignant spirit sharing the kingdom forever in conflict. No! the kingdom is
God’s altogether, unchangeably, eternally, and this God is our Father in heaven.
The kingdom of Nature is His. Its laws owe their origin to Him, and if He
pleases He can suspend or change them. The kingdom of Humanity is His. Men
aspire to control each other, to mold society, to rule in larger or lesser
spheres, to be kings. History abounds with the follies and crimes of men who
persuaded themselves that theirs was the kingdom for their own selfish ends,
claiming a Divine right to do wrong and serve the devil. Nebuchadnezzar
boasted—"Is not this great Babylon that I have built, by my power, and for the
honor of my majesty?" It cost him seven years of humiliation to learn that "the
Most High rules in the kingdom of men, and gives it to whomever He wills." And
how often have proud aristocracies and turbulent democracies abrogated all
obligations of Divine justice, as if God had vacated His throne, or delegated
His authority to them; as if human might was Divine right. Still more monstrous
has been the claim to personate Deity, as when fallible men have pretended to be
Christ’s infallible representatives and vicars, condemning those who questioned
their authority as guilty of rebellion against God. And not only so; but when,
in a less degree, the headship of Christ in His Church has been claimed by
princes, prelates, presbyteries, congregations, as if their decisions must be
accepted as endorsed by His sign manual; as though the abuses and corruptions
incident to every system, if not from selfishness and pride, yet from ignorance
and neglect, could be Divine; and as if efforts towards reformation must be
repressed as presumptuous interference with the government of God. All such
claims need to be held in check by the avowal that the kingdom is God’s; not
man’s, who is at the best ignorant, foolish, frail; but God’s, the infinitely
Wise, Holy and Good, our Father; to whom, above all the false claims of human
authority, our final appeal is made.

If the kingdom is our Father’s, every one of His children may claim its
privileges and service. The poorest peasant with the proudest peer, the lowest
servant with the mightiest monarch, may rejoice in being fellow-subjects of the
one King; there being for each some allotted place, some work, some honor—for
each the watchful care of the loving Father, whose is the kingdom. "If the words
’Yours is the kingdom’ are true words, priests, kings, saints must say as much
as any, yes, more than any—’It is not ours. We exist only to testify whose it
is, only to bring all whom we can reach within the experience of its
blessedness.’…We are bound to affirm that a Fatherly kingdom is established in
the world; that to be members of it is our highest title, and that the beggars
of the land share it with us; that under Him all may in their respective spheres
reign according to this law; that all offices, the highest and lowest, have
hence their responsibility and dignity—that this kingdom reaches to the most
trifling acts and words; that not one of the suffering myriads in a crowded city
is forgotten by Him who is its Ruler, any more than one of the spirits of just
men made perfect—that when all the subordinate vassals of the kingdom shall
confess their dependence upon Him, and feel towards one another as He feels
towards them, then His kingdom, which is now, will indeed have come in power"
(F. D. Maurice).

If we confess that the kingdom is God’s, how great our inconsistency if we
withhold our personal homage of heart and life! "Yours is the kingdom" means "We
are subjects of Your kingdom, yielding homage not to worldly opinions and
personal interests, but to You our only Lord." He said, "Blessed are the poor in
spirit, for theirs is the kingdom;" He "opened the kingdom of heaven to all
believers," and will say, "Come, you blessed children of my Father, inherit the
kingdom."

2. The Power—It would be vain to ask favors of a king in title only, who might
be entitled to promise, but would be unable to perform. Our Father has both the
might and the right. The kingdom of nature is not endowed with independent
powers. The King does not sleep on His throne while impersonal forces work their
will. We are not subjected to unfeeling, irresistible laws; we are not reeds
shaken by the wind, pebbles rounded by the wave, dewdrops exhaled by the sun;
whatever the forces of nature and our feebleness, we affirm our confidence in
our Father’s all-controlling power. His Son said—"All power is given to me in
heaven and in earth;" so that power is in the hand of gentleness, of Him who
blessed little children and cleansed the leper. The power does not belong to
man, great as are his achievements. The steamship plunging forward in the teeth
of the wind, piercing the crests of the mountain-waves, seems to defy the forces
of Nature; but this illustrates not man’s resistance to those forces, but his
obedience to the laws which govern them. Steam and machinery avail us only when
in using them we render homage to the power of God. The victories of modern
science are achieved, not by compelling Nature to conform to our theories, but
by building our theories on a reverent study of Nature; so that in science as
well as morals it is true, "Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the
earth;" the most docile and obedient making the resources of the universe their
own. All our boasted victories of science over matter are so many tokens of the
truth that "Yours is the power." So with human life and history. There is power
in wealth and station; much more in genius; more still in goodness; but all
comes from the Divine Mainspring. We are apt to regard the agency and overlook
its Lord. Yet Providence often teaches that calculations based on human
probabilities may be utterly falsified. The wisest have been controlled by
fools, the strongest overthrown by babes. Many a Goliath has fallen by a
stripling’s stone. Solomon says—"The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to
the strong, nor favor to men of skill." The power is our Father’s; so that when
"we have no might against this great company; neither know we what to do," we
can say—"but our eyes are upon You." Thus, when all seemed lost in the death of
the Founder of the Church, by the power of God He burst the tomb and ascended to
His throne. The powers of the world were enraged, and sought to destroy the
infant Church; but the power of God turned their plots to foolishness, their
force to feebleness. "The kings of the earth stood up, and the rulers were
gathered together" against the fishermen of Galilee; but they took refuge in
prayer, and said, "Lord, You are God, who made heaven, and earth, and the sea,
and all that is in them." Yours is the power! "Now, Lord, behold their
threatenings—and grant to Your servants, that with all boldness they may speak
Your word, by stretching forth Your hand to heal; and that signs and wonders may
be done by the name of Your holy servant Jesus." Yours is the power! When thus
they prayed, "they were all filled with the Holy Spirit, and they spoke the word
of God with boldness." God chose "the weak things of the world to confound the
mighty," and proved that "the weakness of God is stronger than men." The victory
was not with the princes, but with the despised Nazarene. When the foes of the
Church have seemed to prevail it has not been by their own power, but by Divine
permission. When Pilate boasted, "Do you not know that I have power to crucify
You, and power to release You?" Jesus replied, "You could have no power against
me, except it were given to you from above." So, whenever we see power in hands
least fit to wield it, and fear the consequences, let faith look up and say,
"Yours is the power." In all efforts to extend the kingdom, let us remember that
as the work is God’s, so is the power to accomplish it. We might well despair if
left to our own resources. Who are we to conquer ignorance, prejudice,
barbarism, wickedness? to convince the careless, soften the obdurate, purify the
corrupt, save the lost? The power belongs to Him who bids us do the work; and
so, conscious that without Him "we can do nothing," we believe that "we can do
all things through Christ who strengthens us." Alas for those who offer this
ascription, and yet resist the power of truth, of conscience, of the Spirit! How
certain the overthrow of those who strive against the power of God! But, on the
other hand, what consolation is theirs who embrace the power which is used for
their support, and imparted to themselves! "He gives power to the faint." I may
glory in my weakness if the power of Christ rests upon me. I am safe in my
Father’s care, for His is the power; and Jesus said of His sheep, "They shall
never perish; no one is able to pluck them out of my Father’s hand."

3. The glory—In its proper place, honor is a worthy motive. We admire one who
for it spurns the largest bribe and sacrifices life itself. Yet men often seek
false glory, slaying thousands for fame, and have been the curse of nations. But
the glory of God is the manifestation of perfect wisdom, holiness and love, His
glory is inseparable from the highest happiness of the Universe.

How difficult it is to render all the glory to Him! When ascribing it to Him, we
often try to retain some for ourselves. In glorifying our country, its wealth,
power, fame, do we not unconsciously glorify ourselves? Is not much of the
praise we give to our own Church, its formularies, usages, successes, a
disguised glorification of ourselves as belonging to it? Are we equally ready to
praise whatever is excellent in other communions? In the spirit of this
ascription we should not envy others their share of praise, but feel that it is
God’s to give; not our own to clutch at and be proud of, or to lament if we do
not obtain it. Non nobis Domine, "Not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to Your Name
be the praise." True prayer must be in harmony with the character of Him to whom
we pray. We may ask nothing which it would not be for His honor to give. We ask
virtually if not formally, in the name of the Lord Jesus, when we thus, by His
direction, pray to the Father whose glory we seek as our highest end. "What we
thus ask faithfully we shall obtain effectually." We acknowledge His royal
prerogative to give what we ask—Yours is the kingdom—His capacity to secure the
gift—Yours is the power—His honor in bestowing—Yours is the glory. The doxology
is thus a confession of the faith which is essential to the efficacy of this and
every true prayer.

II—THE DOXOLOGY AN ARGUMENT IN PRAYER

Although prayer is designed partly for the spiritual benefits derived from its
exercise, and although such benefits are often primary in importance, yet, as
shown in the introductory chapter, they are secondary in order. We are warranted
to ask blessings which might otherwise be withheld, and to obtain which we are
encouraged to be importunate. We may plead with God, employing arguments the
strongest of which are drawn from His own character. When appealing to our
fellow-men, we urge their capacity to do what we ask, their generosity, their
past favors, and their own encouragement for us to apply to them when in need.
ed. And our Father permits us thus to pray. The Bible is full of illustrations
of such pleading. "Have mercy upon me, O Lord, according to Your
loving-kindness. You have delivered me when I was in distress; have mercy upon
me, and hear my prayer." So here we plead what God is known to be, as an
argument why He should act in accordance with His own attributes; not what we
are, but what He is; not the smallness of our sins, but the greatness of His
mercy; not the minuteness of our wants, but the magnitude of His power; not the
sincerity of our prayer, but the majesty of His throne, the depth of His love,
the glory of His grace.

We plead first the prerogative of royalty. We have prayed that His Name may be
hallowed, His kingdom come, His will be done. It is for the King to establish
His own rule. We have asked for a kingdom which is His own and not another’s.
Therefore, O Lord, establish it, reveal it, extend it, perfect it, help us in
promoting it, plead Your own cause, assert Your own authority, "Your kingdom
come, for Yours is the kingdom."

We also plead for ourselves. The King is the fountain of grace. He alone can
forgive offenses against Himself. Our patience Father is on the throne, whose
"property is always to show mercy and to forgive." "He delights in mercy."
Therefore we plead, "Forgive us our sins, for Yours is the kingdom." The King is
the fountain of honor. None carry titles in a land but by sanction of its ruler.
In appealing to God as Father, we seek adoption as His children—an honor
infinitely surpassing whatever earthly kings can give. He to whom we pray is
able to confer this, for He is sovereign Lord. Grant us this nobility to call
You "Father"—for "Yours is the kingdom!" No fear of asking more than He has to
give need trouble those who can say, "Yours is the kingdom." It is reported of
Alexander, that he once gave permission to a friend to demand of the royal
treasurer any gift he pleased. The request was for a sum so great that the
treasurer appealed to the monarch, thinking it too much for any subject to
receive. The king replied, "But not too much for Alexander to give." When we
consider the boon we ask—pardon of all sin, victory over all evil, the supply of
all need, the honor of calling God "Father"—we might be discouraged by thinking
how infinitely more is all this than we have any right to ask, were it not for
the assurance that it is not too much for Him to bestow to whom we say, "Yours
is the kingdom." So also we plead His power. Men may say, "I would, if I could;"
but "is anything too hard for the Lord?" He who said, "Let there be light," can
say, "Your sins are forgiven you." "Lord, if You will, You can make me clean."
His promise to Abraham was joined with the assertion, "I am the Almighty God;"
which title all the children of Abraham by faith may plead. When we feel the
force of unholy influences, the power of evil habit, our own weakness, and the
strength of the foe; when in the cause of truth and philanthropy we feel
discouraged by the opposition of some and the apathy of others, and are ready to
say, "I have labored in vain, and spent my strength for nothing," we are
encouraged to continue to pray, "Your kingdom come," by the plea, "For Yours is
the power!" So also we plead God’s glory. All we ask tends to promote the glory
of Him to whom the glory belongs. "It is Yours already; will You not act
consistently with it. Has it not been Your glory to listen to the cry of Your
children, to supply their need, to forgive their sins, to defend them from evil,
to uphold Your own authority, to secure the performance of Your Will? Do this
still, for Yours, O Lord, is the glory." Thus Moses pleaded—"Pardon the iniquity
of this people according to the greatness of Your mercy?" and Joshua—"O Lord,
what shall I say when Israel turns their backs before their enemies? and what
will You do to Your great Name?" and David—"For Your Name’s sake, pardon my
iniquity;" and Jeremiah—"O the Hope of Israel, do it for Your Name’s sake;" and
Daniel—"O Lord, listen and do for Your own sake, for Your people are called by
Your name." Thus our Divine Exemplar pleaded—"Father, glorify Your Name." Thus
we also plead His own honor. "We have heard with our ears, and our fathers have
told us, what things You did in their days, and in the old time before them. O
Lord, arise, help us and deliver us, for Your Name’s sake! O Lord, arise, help
us and deliver us, for Your honor."

III—THE DOXOLOGY AN ASCRIPTION OF PRAISE

We praise God for His gifts. "Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His
benefits." "In everything give thanks." Our Lord, who revealed the Father,
welcomed the expression of praise in the one leper who returned to give thanks
for his cure. He Himself gave thanks at the miracle of the loaves, when He
instituted the Supper, and at Emmaus after His resurrection. For every blessing
of this life we should praise the Giver; but above all for His "inestimable love
in the redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus Christ; for the means of grace
and for the hope of glory." "In Him we live and move and have our being."
Therefore "it is meet, right, and our bounden duty, that we should at all times
and in all places give thanks to You, O Lord, Holy Father, Almighty Everlasting
God."

Delight in the giver is a still higher form of praise than gratitude for the
gift. A loving child says not so much "I want a gift," as "I love my father." A
mother is pleased with the recognition of her tender heart more than of her
helping hand. The children of God thus delight in Himself. The glorious company
of heaven unite in the anthem, "Glory and power be unto our God forever and
ever." The Church on earth responds in adoration of God, not only for His gifts,
but for Himself, saying, "We praise You, we glorify You, we give thanks to You,
for Your great glory." Such praise should ever blend with our prayers. "In
everything, by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be
made known to God." Without thankfulness it would not be for our good that fresh
favors should be bestowed. On the wings of supplication we soar to the throne,
and while gazing on its glory our petitions are brightened by the luster, and
transfigured into praise. Your kingdom come—we adore You; Your is the kingdom!
Your will be done—we magnify You; Your is the power! we desire Your
glory—Hallelujah; Your is the glory! We know our requests are already heard.
"Before you call I will answer, and while you are yet speaking I will hear."
Therefore, while praying "Your kingdom come," we may join the Church triumphant
in the song, "We give You thanks, O Lord God Almighty, who was and are and is to
come, because You have taken to Yourself Your great power, and have reigned."

Such praise to God is the best expression and aid of union among the worshipers.
Christians who differ in opinion may agree in praise. As at a political meeting
of loyal citizens who sincerely and zealously advocate differing methods of
promoting the common weal, there may be many voices so uplifted together in
debate that no coherent utterance may be distinguishable, yet when the national
anthem is sung, all those discordant voices blend in the harmony; so is it in
the songs of the Church. Controversy is hushed when we "praise God from whom all
blessings flow." This also links earth with heaven. Departed saints have ceased
to need many of the prayers we offer, but they still praise as we do, if not for
the same gifts, the same Giver. And angels unite in this Liturgy. They have no
higher employ, or purer joy. "I heard the voice of many angels round about the
throne, and the number of them was ten thousand times ten thousand, and
thousands of thousands, saying with a loud voice, Worthy is the Lamb who was
slain to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honor, and
glory, and blessing."

"FOREVER."

"Yours is the kingdom forever! "We rejoice that it must so remain. "Your
dominion endures throughout all generations." "Yours is the power forever!" Not
a reservoir which may be emptied, but an ocean to which every outflowing stream
returns; not a force which may be spent, but an infinite energy. "Yours is the
glory forever!" Not like earthly glory, whose emblems are the fading flower, the
passing wind, the transient meteor. As it was in the beginning, so is it now,
and so ever shall be. The glory of God is His love, and "His mercy endures
forever." Jesus, the brightest manifestation of the Divine Glory, is "the same
yesterday, today, and forever." Is it unreasonable to hope that those who praise
a God who lives "forever," will share in that "forever"? Will beings so endowed
perish? The Old Testament says little of immortality in direct terms; but its
records tell of those who worshiped God as the Everlasting. Must not they whose
faith and love thus rose up to the eternal throne, have cherished some hope of
immortality themselves? Our Lord showed that life eternal was thus revealed to
them. They worshiped Jehovah, the Self-existent, the "forever" God. He
proclaimed Himself as "the God of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob." He was not
ashamed to give Himself this title. "I am the God of those who worshiped,
trusted, served, and praised me." If dead and extinct, God, who could have
continued them in being for His service and love, allowed them to perish; He had
permitted and enabled them to adore His everlastingness, and yet allowed them to
sink into nothingness. Would He boast of being their God? No! "He is not the God
of the dead, but of the living." "He has prepared for them a city;" an endless
life with Himself; "wherefore God is not ashamed to be called their God." Their
praise of a "God forever" lifted them into the region of an endless life, and
made there partakers of the nature they adored. "Life and immortality" are
clearly "brought to light" by the Gospel. "We know that we have eternal life;"
"Our life is hidden with Christ in God;" "Because He lives, we live also." We
exult in a kingdom, a power, a glory, which can never cease. We rapturously
repeat the Hallelujah Chorus, "Forever! Forever! Forever!" Can we who are
privileged by God to render such worship, be allowed by the same God to perish?
Can we conceive of Him looking with complacency on such worshipers, listening to
their ascriptions, and then allowing one after another, thousands after
thousands of them, millions after millions, with this word "Forever" on their
lips, to drop into the grave and be themselves dead "forever"?

No! We are ourselves forever if we really worship a "forever God." All our
interests are thus lifted up into the great future. It is not for the present
merely that we pray. The Kingdom we seek to promote is forever; the Will we wish
to be done is forever; the bread we ask in the strength it imparts for promoting
that kingdom and doing that will, has a bearing on the "forever;" the
forgiveness is pardon forever; the trials in which we ask support are a
discipline for the forever life, and the deliverance from all evil is a
deliverance forever. Thus all things about which we now pray are linked with the
life that is forever. It is "God our Father forever" who provides our bread,
orders our steps, appoints our trials, for our good and His glory forever. Thus,
nothing that happens to us is trivial when we bring it in prayer to the region
of the "forever." When the writer was in Jerusalem, he visited the ancient
quarries beneath the city, where are seen heaps of chippings, and marks on the
rock showing the size and form of the stones which had been excavated for
building the temple. These were laid in their courses without sound of hammer,
axe, or chisel. Here, in these dark caverns, were prepared the goodly stones
which were to form parts of that majestic structure on Mount Moriah, where the
sacred feasts were celebrated, and the sacrifices were offered, and the anthems
of Hallelujah resounded, and the Shekinah of God was revealed. How mean in
itself the condition of any one stone, hewn and chipped in that dark cave; but
when its purpose was contemplated, what dignity invested every touch of the
shaping tool, and every minutest part of the process that was preparing it for
taking its place in the temple of God! And so with all the circumstances of our
earthly life. Our daily joys, sorrows, trials, and cares are no longer
insignificant when overruled by God, the great Master Builder, to constitute us
temples of the Holy Spirit now, and to prepare us for a place in the heavenly
Jerusalem, the house not made with hands, where God reveals His unveiled glory,
and every stone of the structure is resplendent with the reflection of Himself;
not insignificant when we consider that these little things of our earthly
existence are fashioning us as living stones for the temple of God, by
establishing His kingdom in our hearts, by molding our will to His, by giving us
victory over temptation, by purifying our hearts from sin, by enabling us to
appeal to Him as "Our Father in heaven," and to ascribe to Him "the kingdom, and
the power, and the glory, FOREVER."

AMEN

Amen is the echo of earth to heaven—it is man’s response to God. This very word
was uttered three thousand five hundred years ago, when the Israelites worshiped
in the wilderness, and afterwards when they responded to the priests in the
temple. Our Lord often uttered it, and the apostles and early Church habitually
employed it; martyrs have died with it on their lips, and at the present day it
is used throughout the world by "all who profess and call themselves
Christians." For it has been transferred without translation into every
language, so that Chinese and African, Greenlander and Hindu, however varied
their speech, utter the same Amen. Thus it is a bond and badge of union among
all Christians of every tribe and kindred. Day by day, among all nations, this
response is made to the one Father, anticipating the day when the kingdom shall
fully have come on earth, and when the whole creation will resound with one
harmonious, all-comprehensive Amen to God.

Amen is a strong affirmation; so our Lord employed it in uttering important
truth in relation to regeneration, John 3:3; and immortality, John 8:51. He is
Himself the Divine Amen, testifying and ratifying the truth of God. This is one
of His titles, "Thus says the Amen, the faithful and true witness." "All the
promises of God in Him are Yes, and in Him Amen, to the glory of God." The
promises are fulfilled forever by Him. His life on earth was His Amen to all
that God is in heaven. His words of wisdom, miracles of goodness, life of
purity, proclamation of mercy, death on the Cross, were His Amen to the types
and prophecies of the Old Testament. His resurrection and ascension were His
Amen to His own claims and His people’s hopes. His gift of the Spirit was His
Amen to His promises and the need of His Church; and His intercession is a
continual Amen to us, who in His Name "come with boldness to the throne of
grace." This gives special interest to our use of the word. Keeping in mind that
Christ is the great Amen, every Amen we utter is prayer and praise in His name.
It is the expression of confirmed and earnest desire. The Amen of affirmation
says, "So it is;" of supplication, "So let it be." We utter our petitions, and
then, briefly reconsidering and summing up the whole, we pray Amen. It also
means expectation of receiving what we ask. Our petitions have not exceeded what
it is in God’s power and for His glory to bestow, or what He has encouraged us
to ask; and so we utter the Amen of faith. It means confidence in our Father.
Whether He answers us in the way we wish or not, we trust His wisdom and love.
This word is the riveting of a nail to make it fast, the sealing of a document
to render it valid, the endorsing of a cheque to give it currency, the addition
of an oath to confirm a promise.

Suitable in private prayer, it is specially valuable in united worship as the
adoption by the many of the utterances of the one who speaks. So the tribes
solemnly assented to the blessings and curses pronounced by the Levites on Ebal
and Gerizim. So, when David brought up the ark to Mount Zion, after the
doxology, "Blessed be the Lord God of Israel forever and ever…all the people
said, Amen, and praised the Lord." The words and music were new, and the
congregation could not unite with the choir in the anthem, but at its close they
associated themselves with the whole of it by their own Amen. On the return from
captivity, when Ezra "blessed the Lord, the great God," "all the people stood up
and answered, Amen and Amen, lifting up their hands," indicating not only their
concurrence with the words of homage, but their willingness to hear and obey the
word. That such response was general may be inferred from the words of the
Psalmist, "Blessed be the Lord God of Israel from everlasting to everlasting;
and let all the people say, Amen." Not the ministers alone, or the choir, but
"all the people:" men, women, children; not mentally merely, but audibly. "Let
all the people say Amen." If, as Archbishop Leighton says, "all Christians are
God’s clergy;" if, as Peter says, they are a "royal priesthood;" if, as the
anthem of the Blessed says, they are "kings and priests to God," let them not
leave all worship to the church officers—priest, presbyter, or pastor—but assert
their own priesthood by this united response. This was the custom of the early
Church. Paul asks how can people "say Amen at the giving of thanks," if the
language is unknown? In heaven the Amen of gathered voices is the most familiar
sound. To the anthem, "Worthy is the Lamb who was slain," the four living ones,
representing the highest orders of angelic nature, "said Amen." And after the
Hallelujah anthem, "the four-and-twenty elders, and the four living ones, fell
down and worshiped God who sat on the throne, saying, Amen, Hallelujah!" This
impressive response was practiced by the early Church. Jerome says that at the
end of every public utterance of prayer and praise, the united Amen of the
people sounded like the waves of the sea falling on the shore, or the voice of
thunder. "The hollow idols, and their temples that were empty, did echo and
rebound the Church’s Amen, so that their fabrics shook." It was not a merely
mental assent, nor a smothered whisper, but such an outburst of emotion as made
it evident that all the people assented, thus stimulating the devotion of the
worshipers, and testifying to strangers their steadfast faith. Alluding to the
early method of celebrating the Lord’s Supper, Dean Stanley says—"The
consecration was not complete until it had been ratified in the most solemn way
by the congregation. For it was at this point that there came, like the peal of
thunder, the one word which has lasted through all changes and all liturgies—the
word which was intended to express the entire, truthful assent of the people to
what was done and said—Amen." A Puritan writer says—"When we set our seal to the
truth of God and say Amen, it is a word that fills earth and heaven—there is not
a more joyful word in the world than when whole congregations say and shout
Amen" (Sibbes). Another says—"The united breath of God’s people sends a blast
upon their enemies; the trumpet blew, and the people shouted, and Jericho fell
down to the ground. If any single soul who prays in faith, shall be heard; how
much more when the whole congregation is in harmony, and unanimously cries
’Amen’! God will say ’Amen’ to such Amens" (Woodcock). Such a collective
response to prayer, whether liturgical or "free," is grander than any music of
organ and choir; and more impressive than any sermon is the confession thus
given by all to the reality of worship and the truth of God. But let it be the
soul’s response. "The word ’Amen,’ unaccompanied with the feeling which it is
intended to call forth, loses its power from familiarity, and, though constantly
on our lips, lies bedridden in the dormitory of our soul. But it is a great word
this word Amen! and Luther has said truly, ’As your Amen is, so has been your
prayer’" (Saphir).

While many are prompt in practice, if not by speech, to say Amen to the world’s
fashions, opinions, and favor; Amen to the allurements of self-indulgence and
sin, to the flesh and to the devil, let our heart ever respond with its Amen to
God. He says, "Seek my face:" let us reply, "Amen! Your face, Lord, will I
seek." He calls, "Return, you backsliding children:" "Amen! behold, we come to
You." Jesus stands at the door and knocks—our opening the door is the soul’s
Amen. He commands—Amen, we obey. He promises—Amen, we believe. He leads Amen, we
follow. Amen is the answer of a good conscience towards God. Amen accepts the
Divine covenant—"Come out from among them, and I will be a Father to you, and
you shall be my sons and daughters, says the Lord God Almighty." What
condescension, that He should ask our concurrence What honor and joy for us to
respond to all His appointments, even unto death; as Cyprian, when condemned to
be slain by the sword, exclaimed "Amen!" When the heavenly Bridegroom says,
"Surely I come quickly," the Bride replies, "Amen, even so come, Lord Jesus."
"If we say Amen to God’s invitation, He says Amen to our salvation."

Amen is an emphatic and comprehensive summary of the Lord’s Prayer; responding
to it as a whole, omitting no one petition. "Our Father in heaven." Amen!
Creator and Preserver of all men, Redeemer from sin and death, help us with
filial confidence to say, "Abba, Father." Amen! We bless You for thus revealing
Yourself. You are more than our largest conceptions of a word so dear. May we
rejoice in Your sustenance, protection, culture, discipline, comfort, and all we
need to fit us for the inheritance You have provided for Your children. May the
word "Our" reprove selfishness. May we recognize the brotherhood of man in the
one Fatherhood that links all classes and nations together. Amen! You "are in
heaven," glorious, mighty, mysterious, unchangeable; pure as the blue ether and
ever near as the surrounding atmosphere. May we reverence Your majesty while
rejoicing in Your love. May obedient homage blend with filial confidence.
Trusting You fully, yielding ourselves to You absolutely, delighting in
habitual, reverential and familiar communion with You as children, may we more
and more respond to this title —"Our Father in heaven." Amen.

"Hallowed be Your Name." Amen! Let this very designation be universally known
and honored. May God, as revealed in His Son, be worshiped, loved and
reverenced. May the Name of Jesus, who is "the Image of the invisible God," be
dear to the hearts of all! May we have true conceptions of this Name, cherish
appropriate emotions, manifest suitable reverence, fail not in worship and
service; and by thus hallowing it ourselves, impress others with its majesty and
goodness. Amen! May Your glory take precedence in our desires and aims, and Your
Name be more to us than worldly good. "God is LOVE." Let all mankind know and
honor You; by the whole earth "Hallowed be Your Name!" Amen!

"Your kingdom come!" Amen! Let Your rule of holiness and love universally
triumph over all that is false, wicked and cruel, overcoming infidelity,
idolatry, superstition, ignorance and sin. And may we who pray for it strive
diligently to promote it. Amen! Let Your kingdom come in every church by its
increasing purity and usefulness; let it come in our hearts by more absolute
self-surrender to the King! O for the time when Christ shall come again to claim
this world as His; when tyranny, war, greed, lust, pride, poverty, sickness,
sorrow, death, shall be known no more! We love Your appearing! We are looking
for this blessed hope! Let the whole earth be filled with Your glory Amen, and
Amen!

"Your will be done on earth even as it is done in heaven." Amen! We rejoice that
Your will rules the universe; not fate, or force, or chance. As You are our
Father, that Will must be wise, kind, for our good; O let it be done! Amen. Let
it be done by men as by angels, not from compulsion but from love; cheerfully,
promptly, unstintedly, freely, intelligently, prayerfully, always. Let it all be
done, and as in Your presence. Let me do it; let us do it; let all do it, in
passive submission as in active service. Help us to imitate Him who said,
"Father, not my will but Yours be done." In the blending of our own will with
Your may we enjoy "the peace of God that passes all understanding." So let it be
done here on earth and now, even "as it is done in heaven." Amen!

"Give us this day our daily bread." Amen! You who have made us to hallow Your
Name and long for Your kingdom and do Your will, will not permit us to lack any
good thing. You who fed Israel with manna and performed the miracle of the
loaves, do by that same word "give and preserve for our use the kindly fruits of
the earth." Give us seasonable food; enough for our need; give it from day to
day; and help us to trust You for tomorrow. We ask for one another, for the
family, the nation, the world; for our friends, for our foes, Give us! May we
feel our dependence on You for it; cherish gratitude; be diligent in the use of
means, and not waste Your gifts. May the bread we eat be our own by industry and
honesty, and as Your gift; and may we be willing to share with those for whom we
ask it. And while we ask food for the body, give us the living Bread to
strengthen the soul. Amen!

"And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors." Amen! Against
You, You only have we sinned. All wrongs done to ourselves and our neighbors are
sins against our Father. Our debts are written in Your book. They increase and
cannot be discharged nor transferred. O cancel them! "If we say we have no sin,
we deceive ourselves." But You have sent Your Son to discharge the mighty debt
by His life given for us all. We ask for pardon in His Name—Amen! May we be
truly contrite because of sin, confess it and forsake it. Pardon as well as feed
us, day by day. Pardon also our neighbors, our enemies, mankind! We do not ask
mercy which we ourselves refuse to show. We cannot ask pardon for those to whom
we deny it. We have forgiven, we do forgive! O help us to forgive others more
generously, more fully, and do You forgive both them and us. Amen!

"And lead us not into temptation." Amen. Past sin is our grief and shame—guard
us from the repetition of it. It has shown us our weakness—be our strength. So
direct the circumstances of life that the temptations we cannot avoid may not be
beyond our strength to resist through Your help. Break the force of hostile
influences in the world, in our companions, in our condition, in ourselves. Set
a hedge around us to keep us from going astray. Let us not be tempted above that
we are able, but with every temptation make a way of escape, that we may be able
to bear it. Amen! You who Yourself have suffered, being tempted, are able to
help us the tempted. Let us not go into the perils into which we ask You not to
bring us. May we watch and pray that we enter not into temptation. Preserve
others also from the danger which we dread for ourselves; and let us not by
carelessness or selfish indulgence encourage them in dangerous paths from which
we ask You to preserve both ourselves and them Amen!

"But deliver us from the evil." Amen! Save us from the Adversary who tempts us
to destroy us. May we be watchful against his devices, and brave to resist his
assaults. You who came to destroy the works of the devil, destroy his works in
us. Deliver us from the evil in ourselves which affords him such advantage.
Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts. May we be filled with the Spirit, and so
have no vacant space for the Evil One to enter. "Deliver us from the evil,
whatever it is, that lurks even in the best of good things—from the idleness
that grows out of youth and fullness of bread—from the party-spirit that grows
out of our political enthusiasm or our nobler ambition—from the fanatical
narrowness which goes hand in hand with our religious earnestness—from the
harshness which clings to our love of truth—from the indifference which results
from our wide toleration—from the indecision which intrudes itself into our
careful discrimination—from the folly of the good, and from the selfishness of
the wise, good Lord deliver us" (Stanley). Deliver us from all the evil
tendencies of our own hearts; from all the evil consequences of sin; let sin
itself be soon destroyed, and may we be perfectly conformed to the image of our
Father. Amen.

"Our Father in heaven!" Hear, we beseech You, these Your children’s prayers,
responding to the teaching of Your Son. Will You not grant what You have
instructed us to ask? Earth echoes back the voice of heaven. We ratify with
rejoicing hearts the Divine word. Yours is already the kingdom for which we
pray! Yours is the power to secure obedience to Your will! Yours is the glory
which in all our prayers we seek! We bless You for Your gifts! We adore You for
Yourself! King forever; Mighty forever; Glorious forever! OUR FATHER IN HEAVEN,
YOURS IS THE KINGDOM, AND THE POWER, AND THE GLORY, FOREVER. AMEN. THE LORD’S
PRAYER Our Father Who in heaven does dwell, In love directing all things well,
Hallowed forever be Your Name, Let earth and heaven Your praise proclaim.

Soon may Your glorious kingdom come, In homage not one voice be mute; Your
loving will obeyed on earth, Even as by those of heavenly birth.

Our needful bread give day by day, Take all our trespasses away; And as for
pardon we entreat, So let us show forgiveness meet.

Preserve us in temptation’s hour, Your children save from Satan’s power; For
Yours the rule, strength, glory be, Both now and through eternity. —Newman Hall

THE DOXOLOGY The kingdom, Lord, is Thine, The right o’er all to reign; None can
assail Your throne Divine, Nor of Your laws complain.

The power, O Lord, is Thine To vindicate the Right; With strength Your love does
intertwine, Mercy allied to might.

The glory, Lord, is Thine; All praise to You be given! Through all Your works
Your wonders shine, In earth and highest heaven.

For evermore the praise, The kingdom, power, belong To You; throughout eternal
days, Creation’s endless song.

Amen! the chorus rings From earth to heaven again; The universe adoring sings
One blessed, glad AMEN. —Newman Hall


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  CHAPTER 52: S. THE VOICE OF JESUS IN THE STORM
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"IT IS I", or "The Voice of Jesus in the Storm" by Newman Hall (Matthew
14:22-33; Mark 6:45-50; John 6:15-21) Is it stormy weather with you? Do cares,
disappointments, bereavements, as a heavy cloud, deluge you with sorrow? Do
spiritual troubles assail you as a hurricane, and drive here and there your
harassed soul? Do the winds and the waves beat upon your frail bark, so that it
seems about to sink? "O afflicted one, tossed with tempest, and not comforted,"
listen to the voice of Jesus, who comes to you in the storm, walking upon the
waters, and says, "It is I; do not be afraid!" The design of religion is to make
us joyful. This world is indeed a valley of tears, but the Man of sorrows has
visited it that we may rejoice. We are surrounded by causes of alarm, but the
gospel bids us fear not. And that which alone can enable us to be joyful amid
sorrows, and of good courage amid perils, is the presence of our God and Savior.
To believe in Him as always near, always kind, always mighty to save, is the
true and sole antidote to fear and grief. It is only in proportion as we
recognize His voice, as that of a friend, saying, "It is I," that we can comply
with his exhortation, "Be of good cheer; do not be afraid." The disciples were
once in a storm on the Sea of Galilee. Their Master had been miraculously
feeding five thousand people, with five loaves and two fishes. The people were
so astonished at His power, that they resolved to make Him their King. But as He
had come not to reign, but to suffer, He urged them to return quietly to their
homes, and He Himself retired to a mountain to pray. Meanwhile, Jesus
"constrained His disciples to get into a ship, and to go before Him unto the
other side" of the lake. It is most likely that they did not understand the
reason of this request. It seemed strange to them. Why should He be left to
disperse the multitude alone? Why should they be deprived of His company? If He
wished retirement, why could they not wait on the shore until He came from the
mountain? How could He follow them, if they went away with the ship? But they
were commanded, and this was sufficient.

Even so, Christians still have to do and to suffer many things, the reason of
which is hidden from them. But an obedient disciple will not say, "Why has this
been appointed me to do? Why has that been given me to suffer?—for until I
comprehend the reason I will not obey the command." Oh, no! His language will
rather be, "Lord, what will you have me to do?" If the head of a family, the
commander of a ship, the general of an army, often gives orders which, though
not explained, are promptly obeyed, shall we presume to sit questioning the will
of Jesus, instead of making haste and delaying not to keep His commandments? May
we not expect to hear Him reprovingly say to us, "What is that to you? Follow
Me!" But the Christian’s duty not only sometimes baffles his reason, but also
opposes his preferences. How much more willingly would the disciples have
remained in the company of their beloved Master! How much they perhaps fancied
they were losing, while, deprived of His company, they were in the ship alone!
So, in obedience to duty, the Christian may still seem to be a loser, not only
in temporal, but even in spiritual respects. His opportunities of religious
advancement may appear to be curtailed by a course which, otherwise, he would
not hesitate to pronounce his duty to his Savior. It is his duty still. Apparent
consequences do not diminish the obligation of an obvious command. And he who
most scrupulously adheres to the path of obedience will most successfully travel
in the path of improvement too. Duty is identical with privilege. However
delightful and profitable the company of Jesus must have been, the disciples
gained far more by being obediently absent, than rebelliously near. Obedience is
the best kind of nearness. The evening on which the disciples embarked was calm
and fair. The day had not been stormy—else the five thousand could not so
comfortably have sat upon the grass at that miraculous feast. It was after the
disciples had left the shore that "the sea arose by reason of a great wind that
blew." They therefore must have anticipated a safe and pleasant voyage. Thus how
often do storms visit believers, when only calm weather is expected! The
brightest beginnings are not sure harbingers of continued prosperity! The
morning sun may be undimmed, but black thunderclouds may conceal his rays at
noon. The finest day may be followed by the stormiest night, and the ocean, now
without a ripple, may before long writhe beneath the lashings of the tempest.
Our dearest treasures may suddenly be taken from us, and our fairest hopes are
withered in the bud. Sunshine and calm are treacherous—they cannot always last.
Do not sailors expect to encounter gales and tempests, and therefore provide
themselves with anchors and all other things that may be of use in such
emergencies? How foolish are they who voyage on the perilous ocean of life
without the Christian’s hope "as an anchor of the soul, sure and steadfast!" We
should be prepared for storms, that we may not be overwhelmed with surprise and
terror when they come. But if Jesus is with us, the most terrific tempest cannot
harm us. The profoundest calm is infinitely perilous without Him.

Behold the frightened disciples in their storm-driven boat! They have to
struggle with difficulties. The favorable breeze with which they weighed anchor
has changed to an opposing gale. They have taken down their sail as no longer of
any use, and they are now tugging at the oars! "They toiled in rowing, for the
wind was contrary unto them." Moreover, the night "was now dark!" They were in
danger too, for their little vessel was "in the midst of the sea, tossed with
waves." Worse than all, they were alone, for "Jesus had not come unto them."
This is a fit representation of the circumstances by which believers are still
often tried. What contrary winds and tides have they to contend with! What
darkness surrounds them! What perils threaten them! And sometimes, even Jesus
seems withdrawn! The stormy gales of trouble blow from various quarters. Bitter
disappointments, grievous losses, perplexing cares, anxious apprehensions,
pinching poverty, the injuries of foes and, far worse, the slights of friends.
Painful diseases, suspension of beloved activities, prostrated strength,
debilitated faculties, weary wakefulness, gnawing pain. Heartbreaking
bereavements, tearing from us those with whom our very life was bound together,
leaving a blank which nothing earthly can fill. A wounded spirit, bending
beneath the burden of anguish, or severe conflicts with the great adversary of
souls, harassing temptations, distorted views of truth, awful terrors of mind,
gloomy doubts, dark despondency. Oh!, what black clouds do such stormy winds as
these often cause to gather round the believer, so that scarcely a ray of light
can struggle through to cheer him as he is tossed up and down amid the billows!
Was this to be expected? Am I not a disciple, under the special protection of
Jesus? Has He not promised to defend me from all harm? Has He not told me that
His angels have charge over me, and that no evil thing shall happen unto me? If
He were my Protector, my Savior, my Friend, could such troubles as these assail
me? These thoughts may have assailed the disciples. Though Jesus was then bodily
on the earth, yet they did not escape the storm. But Jesus was not unfaithful or
forgetful. Do not be then, O reader, surprised if sometimes you also are "in the
midst of the sea, tossed with waves." Who expects the ocean to be always calm?
Discipleship is distinguished rather by exposure to troubles than exemption from
them. "We must through much tribulation enter into the kingdom." Christ has
promised to deliver us out of the storm, but not to secure us from encountering
it. "There has no temptation taken you but such as is common to men; but God is
faithful, who" (not will preserve you from trial, but) "will not allow you to be
tempted above that you able, but will with the temptation also make a way of
escape that you may be able" (not to avoid it, but) "to bear it." "The same
afflictions have been accomplished in the brotherhood" of faith in all ages. The
saints in glory all toiled in rowing amid similar billows. Though never
shipwrecked, they were all tempest-tossed. The elder Brother himself did not
escape! He was made like to His brethren—in all points tempted as we are!
"Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you,
as though some strange thing happened unto you" (1 Corinthians 10:13; 1 Peter
4:12, 1 Peter 5:9).

These storms may often rise against us, even when acting in direct obedience to
the will of Christ. The disciples had not set sail without His express command.
Yet the tempest assailed them. Jesus knew that the wind would arise. He Himself
permitted it to blow. Nevertheless, He told the disciples to go over to the
other side! We should learn never to interpret duty by success. The opposition,
which assails us in the course of obedience, is no evidence that we are
mistaken. He who gives laws to His servants is the controller of all events. It
may be His will that in the very act of obedience we should encounter storms. He
foreknew every trial we should meet with when He laid down the route we should
pursue. We must not dare to turn back. The disciples, when the wind became
contrary, might have wished to return to shore, especially as Jesus was there.
But they had been commanded to go to the other side; and so they continued
rowing, even though they made little or no progress. They were not responsible
for the contrary wind that stopped them, but they were responsible for striving
to obey the will of their Master. Even so, no difficulty must daunt us in the
way of obedience. Let the prow of our vessel be ever turned toward the point of
duty, however terrible the gale, however mighty the waves which beat against it.
Though they may seem to force us back, yet, if we persevere in obediently
struggling against them, we are really making rapid progress. Christ secures
deliverance and success to every faithful disciple. Better, infinitely better,
to suffer the loss of all things in obeying Jesus, than to purchase the universe
by retreating from the storm. Better to perish in the tempest than to seek
safety in a disobedient flight. "For whoever will save his life shall lose it;
but whoever will lose his life, for My sake, shall find it." But while the
disciples are battling with the winds and the waves, where is Jesus? In the
mountain, alone with His Father, spending the night in prayer. Are His afflicted
followers forgotten? When were they ever absent from His considerate thoughts,
His loving heart? Doubtless He is interceding for them. He intercedes for you,
afflicted, tempest-tossed reader! Most consoling truth. "He ever lives to make
intercession for us!" By night and by day, in the tempest and the calm, His
all-prevalent prayer arises, "Father, keep them from the evil!" You are never
forgotten by Him. The hands of Moses grew weary as he was praying for the
Israelites, and when they drooped, Amalek prevailed. But a mightier than Moses
is here, who never is weary, and whom the Father hears always. He bears your
name upon His heart; you are engraved on the palms of His hands; in every storm
He is on the mount, and His intercession renders your deliverance certain. Do
not think that because the wind is boisterous, and the storm continues long, He
intercedes in vain. Your not sinking proves that His advocacy prevails. Expect a
calm, and you may be disappointed. But charge not His mediation with inefficacy.
Expect supporting grace, and final deliverance, and your hope shall never make
you ashamed. He prays not that our day may never be stormy; but, in answer to
His intercession, we may always be confident that "as our day so shall our
strength be."

Jesus not only prayed for His disciples, but also watched them in the tempest.
They could not see Him. They might think themselves beyond His sight; for they
had rowed a distance of some three miles. And as we are told, the night was
dark, their small vessel could not be seen from the shore. Yet the eye of Jesus
was on it! He saw every wave that broke over it. He beheld the poor disciples in
dismay, laboring unavailingly at the oars. He understood all that was in their
hearts. "He saw them toiling in rowing." And does He not see you also,
storm-driven reader? Do not think your case is unknown to Him. Every secret
anxiety, every heart-buried grief, is watched from His throne on high! He knows
all your difficulties, sorrows, and temptations. You shall not perish by any
oversight of His. When He sees that the fitting season has arrived, He will
appear for your deliverance! This manifest deliverance may be delayed. It was
not until the fourth watch in the night that the disciples beheld their Savior.
How long those hours appeared! Until three o’clock in the morning they toiled in
rowing against the furious winds and waves. Perhaps they unbelievingly thought
they were quite forgotten by their Master, and abandoned to the raging storm.
And still it often happens to afflicted believers, that Jesus seems to delay His
promised help. It is delay in appearance only. Was He not assisting His
disciples most effectually while watching them from the shore, and interceding
on their behalf? Were they not preserved from destruction, though as yet they
had not seen their deliverer? Were they not saved in the storm, though not from
it?

Thus Jesus is ever present to protect us, even though we may not see Him.
Troubles may appear overwhelmingly great, and spiritual darkness benight our
souls, without one ray of comfort to dart across the gloom. And this may
continue days, months, years! Jesus may delay to reveal Himself, but not to
support and help His disciples. And for that very delay, He has the kindest,
wisest reasons. Oh, to say from the heart, "My times are in Your hand!" To
believe them to be in the best hand! To wish them in no other! And therefore not
to murmur or be dismayed, even though until the fourth watch in the night, we
are allowed to continue "toiling in rowing, the wind being contrary." His time
is the best time. The hour of deliverance will certainly arrive. "For the vision
is yet for an appointed time; but at the end it shall speak, and not lie: though
it tarries, wait for it; because it will surely come, it will not tarry." When
at length Jesus did appear to His storm-tossed disciples, the manner of His
coming was so unexpected and strange that, instead of joy, their first emotion
was terror. He approached them walking on the waves! Who would have expected Him
thus? It was a phenomenon never witnessed before. Notwithstanding former
displays of His power, the disciples doubtless regarded the intervening sea an
impassable barrier between them and their divine Master. This was the last
manner in which they would expect to behold Him. And when He did come, making
the very waters, which they thought must keep Him absent, the path by which He
approached, their terror was such that they did not recognize their Deliverer,
but fancied that they saw a ghost.

Ah! how often do we limit the Holy One of Israel! We too often think of Him as
like ourselves in His resources! We regard as an impossibility that which
presents to Him no difficulty. We despair of help from the very quarters where,
perhaps, He is that moment advancing to our deliverance! We presume to prescribe
to the Almighty. Instead of praying for His aid, and leaving to His loving
wisdom the manner of it, we too often determine in our own minds the method by
which the hoped-for assistance will be given. Disappointed in our expectation,
we perhaps murmur that our prayers have been disregarded, though at the very
time we are receiving in some other way the aid we sought. Is not strength to
bear a burden as much an answer to prayer as its removal? Is not grace to
persevere in supplication, amid surrounding gloom, as much a proof of our
Savior’s faithfulness as if the sunshine dispersed the darkness? May not a still
deeper sense of our vileness and helplessness be an answer to prayer for
spiritual growth, still more valuable at some seasons than even the joy and
peace we coveted? Though the enemy may not have left us, yet is it no mercy to
be enabled to maintain the conflict, and "having done all, to stand"? And though
the storm may continue to rage, and the calm is long delayed, yet is it not a
proof that Jesus is with us, so long as the waves are not allowed to overwhelm
us?

Like the disciples, who "cried out for fear, saying, It is a spirit," we often
mistake the form and presence of our Lord! We look with apprehension on what
should disperse our fear. Our best blessings, and the answers to our most
earnest prayers, cause us alarm and grief. What shortsighted, blind and ignorant
creatures we are! How we mistake the intentions of our dearest Friend! How often
we tremble, when we should be of good courage! How often we mourn and complain,
when we should abound in thanksgiving! Oh, help us, gracious Savior, to leave
with You the manner of Your appearing! However strange, however terrible the
outward shape, may we recognize the presence of our ever-faithful Friend!
Nothing is impossible with You! Still You often walk upon the waters. What we
most dread as distressing and ruinous, You may select as the best method of
effecting our deliverance! Though the tempest is high, and though the night is
dark, yet let us adoringly recognize and hail You, walking to us on the
boisterous waves! The terror of the disciples was speedily allayed by the
encouraging voice of Jesus, "It is I; do not be afraid! It is no ghost, no
avenging angel, none of the powers of darkness; it is I—your Master, your
Protector, your Friend: fear not!" What consolation this must have afforded to
that affrighted crew! There is nothing that can so allay the grief of afflicted
believers as hearing Jesus say, "It is I." In every calamity, in every grief, He
is present. We are never alone. Our best Friend is always near. And He is not
only with us in the storm, but He sends and controls it! We are too apt to
attribute our troubles to secondary causes alone, losing sight of Him without
whom not even a sparrow falls to the ground. Men say, "This was an accident," or
"That was owing to the operation of general laws," or "An enemy has done this."
Jesus says, "It is I!" Whatever may be the truth, respecting human agency and
natural laws, there is a Supreme Controller, without whose permission and
direction no event transpires. Though man’s free agency is not invaded, nor the
ordinary course of nature impeded, most absolutely true is the Savior’s own
declaration, "My Father works hitherto, and I work." In every event, important
or trivial in the estimation of man, he speaks and says "It is I!" In poverty,
"It is I!" In sickness, "It is I!" In anxiety, "It is I!" In bereavement, "It is
I!" Whatever be the nature of the storm, from whatever quarter the hurricane may
blow, still Jesus says, "It is I!" Not merely when the waters are smooth,
reflecting every shadow on their mirrored surface, while an unclouded sun
diffuses light and gladness all around, but when the dark clouds gather, and the
night is black, and the tempest howls, and the thunder rattles, and the waters
rage, and hideous gulfs yawn as if to swallow up the despairing disciple—"When
tempests shriek through all the cleaving sky, And the mad billows writhe in
their huge agony"—even then amid the gloom, may Jesus be seen by the eye of
faith, walking in majesty upon the waves and, amid the elemental din, His "still
small voice" of mingled dignity and love may be heard saying, "It is I; do not
be afraid."

Oh, to recognize Christ more vividly in all our troubles!—to lose sight of human
agency in the absorbing contemplation of Jesus! Regrets and murmurs will never
end, if we look only or chiefly at secondary causes. "If I had not done this—if
I had been more prudent in that—if such a one had not been so unfaithful and
unkind"—oh, how endless may such false reasoning become! What discontent they
will occasion! How difficult will it be to feel resigned, when we blame others
or ourselves as the sole causes of our troubles!

Let me look away from inferior agencies. Jesus sends the storm! Did He ordain
this affliction, and shall I not be submissive to His authority? If He sent this
poverty, ought I not to welcome it? If He ordered this disappointment, should I
regret it? If He has commissioned this sickness—shall I not patiently endure it?
If He has allowed enmity to assail me, shall not hatred to my enemy be forgotten
in submission to my Friend? If He has bereaved me, and earth appears a blank in
the absence of those so dear, though I cannot but mourn, shall I murmur? If He
mixes the embittered cup, shall I not drink it? May I not be sure that it is
wisely and kindly mingled and, though it may be bitter, that life and health
must result from the draught? Not beholding God in the storm, or entertaining
false conceptions of Him, is a prolific source of fear. Some other form is seen
in the tempest, which inspires alarm. Men are afraid of fate, or chance, and
behold phantoms of evil all around. An assassin lies in ambush at every turn.
Each cloud that gathers conceals an enemy, and the muttering of the tempest, is
the voice of a foe. Thus, superstition is full of fears, in proportion as it
fails to recognize the one sole object of religious reverence. How great a truth
is there in the saying of Solomon, "In the fear of the Lord is strong
confidence, and his children shall have a place of refuge!" Fear and courage are
allied. If we rightly fear the true God, we need fear none besides. What can
harm us, if He is our Protector? Whose enmity need we dread, if He is our
Friend? Why should the storm distress or frighten us, if Jesus is there to
shield us from injury, and even to make the fury of the winds and waves
conducive to our good? We cannot escape from the storms of life; but those
storms lose their power, not only to injure, but also to alarm, when we hear the
voice of Jesus saying, "It is I; do not be afraid!" As the only reason why the
disciples should not fear, Jesus simply said "It is I!" As if this was quite
sufficient to banish alarm. It was unnecessary to assure them of their safety;
or what He would do to effect it. It was enough to let them know that it was He!
His presence was a sufficient guaranty for deliverance. And does not this
assurance, "It is I," involve everything needed to calm the fears and soothe the
sorrows of afflicted believers still?

It was the voice of POWER —He spoke of whom it is recorded that "all things were
made by Him!"—who said, "All power is given unto Me in heaven and in earth"—whom
the elements of nature reverently obeyed, and who at that moment was manifesting
His supremacy, by suspending His own laws, while He walked upon the sea. It was
the voice of one who obviously was able to do everything that was necessary for
the safety of the disciples. The storm might be furious, but He could control
it! The waves might be boisterous, but He who marched upon their foaming crests
could curb their violence. He could, by a word, either still the tempest or
preserve His disciples in the midst of it. And it is the same voice of
Omnipotence, which still speaks amid the storm. He who made, can control.

It is as true in reference to troubles of every kind as it is of the elements of
nature—that "fire and hail, snow and vapors, stormy wind, fulfill His word. He
has established them forever: He has made a decree that shall not pass. The sea
is His, and He made it. He set for it bars and doors, and said, Hitherto shall
you come, and no further; and here shall your proud waves be stayed." And surely
He who "commands and raises the stormy wind, which lifts up the waves thereof,"
is equally able to "make the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still."
Afflicted disciple, be of good cheer! He who speaks to you in the tempest
produced it, and can control it. The Friend who bids you, fear not, is the God
by whom all things were made. He who appears for your support has but to speak,
and it is done—to command, and it stands fast. His word is as mighty when it
speaks for the comfort of His afflicted people as when it said, "Let there be
light, and there was light." Is anything too hard for the Lord? His very word of
grace is strong As that which built the skies; The voice that rolls the stars
along Speaks all the promises. But the recognition of this voice as one of power
is not alone sufficient to take away our fear. It might increase it. For He who
speaks is the God whom I have offended by my sins, and whose power enables Him
only the more effectually to secure my punishment. If He can control the storm,
He may direct that lightning to scathe me, those waves to engulf me! The
acknowledgment merely of the God of nature is not enough to calm the agitated
breast. Until I can hope for pardon, the very perfections that render Him
glorious render Him dreadful too! That infinite majesty, that unlimited
sovereignty, that boundless might, is all arrayed against my sins! I must behold
Jehovah as the God of grace, I must see Him in the person of his Son, before my
fears can vanish. And it is Jesus, Immanuel, God with us, who says "It is I."

It was also the voice of LOVE. The disciples at once recognized it as such. It
was their best Friend who addressed them, whose tenderness had been uniform, who
always made allowances for their infirmities, bore with their provocations, and
sympathized with their sorrows. They had never witnessed any act of His life
that was not marked by love. None who sought His assistance were ever rejected
by Him, and to no request did He ever turn a deaf or an indifferent ear. They
were therefore perfectly sure that His power would be put forth to help them.
The same voice of love speaks in the storm still. He addresses us—of whom it is
written, "Like as a father pities his children, so the Lord pities those who
fear Him. As one whom his mother comforts, so will I comfort you. Can a woman
forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion upon the son of
her womb? Yes, she may forget, yet I will not forget you."

It is the voice of "the Consolation of Israel" who was "anointed to bind up the
broken-hearted, and comfort those who mourn," and of a High Priest who "can have
compassion." What could more emphatically prove His love than coming to this
world of sorrow and sin to suffer and die for us, when we were enemies to God?
He left the habitation of glory for the stable of an inn, the homage of angels
for the insults of men, the smile of His Father for the temptations of the
devil, the raptures of heaven for the groans of Gethsemane, the splendors of the
throne for the ignominy of the cross, the brightness of the celestial glory for
the darkness of the tomb. And why was this? It was love that prompted the
sacrifice. Love to the undeserving, to the rebellious, to those who then
crucified, and to those who now pierce Him by their sins! And love still prompts
His intercession at God’s right hand. Having done so much to save us, will He
allow us to perish in the storm? "He that spared not His own Son, but delivered
Him up for us all, will He not with Him also freely give us all things?" Will
the love that has already effected so much fail us in any extremity? May we not
feel every doubt dispelled, when we recognize it to be Jesus who says, "It is
I?" The scepter He grasps is omnipotence, but we need not be afraid when the
hand that wields it is love! The winds and the sea obey Him; but the voice to
which the universe pays homage says to every trembling disciple, "Be of good
cheer." The God that rules on high, And thunders when he please; That rides upon
the stormy sky, And manages the seas: This awesome God is ours, Our Father, and
our Friend!

It is the voice of WISDOM as well as Love. It might be asked, "Why should not
the power that can control the tempest have forbidden it to arise? Why should
not the love which tells us not to fear have kept far from us all occasion of
fear?" There is love in sending the storm, no less than in appearing to us in
the midst of it. Afflictions are themselves proofs of kindness; but the kindness
of a wise Father, who withholds not chastisement when He sees it to be for His
children’s good. Love, not directed by wisdom, is often injurious to the objects
of it. But the love of Jesus is such, that whatever is calculated for the
advantage of His people is sure to be bestowed. "They shall not lack any good
thing." And are not afflictions among the best of good things, if they tend to
alienate us from earth, and to fix our affections more on Himself? Is not ’the
tempest’ an inestimable blessing, if it brings us more obviously into the
presence of Jesus? If when all was serenity we were becoming indifferent to the
company of our divine Friend, should we not praise Him for the storm that opens
our eyes to watch for His appearing, and our ears to listen to His voice? Are
not our heaviest trials among our greatest mercies, when they reveal Jesus to us
more vividly, and unite us to Him more closely?

Jesus knows that trials are necessary for us. Though the way to glory has
numberless and incomparable delights, yet He Himself has told us to expect
storms. "In the world you shall have tribulation." The experience of believers
of all ages testifies that: The path of sorrow, and that path alone, Leads to
the land where sorrow is unknown. In some form or other, at some time or other,
suffering we should look for, suffering we shall have. They who appear exempt
are so for a season only. When the calm seems most profound, the tempest may be
gathering. The darkness, however deep, the waves, however wild, are no disproof
of Christ’s love; but they are illustrations that His love is wise. "He does not
afflict willingly, or grieve the children of men." If the trial were not
necessary, it would not be sent. "Now, for a season, if need be, we are in
heaviness through manifold trials." There is always a "need-be," though we may
not fully perceive it. Trials remind us that this world is not our home. If we
met with no sorrows in our way, we would be still more prone than we are at
present to forget that better land towards which we are journeying. The
inconveniences of the road continually tell us that we are only strangers and
sojourners. We are taught our frailty, made to feel the insufficiency of earthly
things to give us lasting and full enjoyment, and led in our misery more
earnestly to seek the aid of our divine Comforter, and to "look to the Rock that
is higher than we."

Faith is strengthened by trial. Every Christian grace becomes more vigorous by
exercise. Therefore, we are taught by the apostle Paul to "rejoice in
tribulations, knowing that tribulations work patience, and patience experience,
and experience hope." The apostle James speaks in similar terms: "My brethren,
count it all joy when you fall into diverse trials; knowing this, that the
trying of your faith works patience." The apostle Peter also encourages
believers to patience and cheerfulness in affliction, by the thought that "the
trial of our faith, being much more precious than of gold that perishes, though
it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise, and honor, and glory, at the
appearing of Jesus Christ" (Romans 5:3-4; James 1:2-3; 1 Peter 1:6-7). Not that
the beneficial effects of the storm are always felt while it continues. The mind
may be too much agitated by terrors, too much debilitated by sympathy with a
diseased body, to be conscious of any immediate advantage. And thus, for our
encouragement, we are told that "no affliction for the present seems joyous, but
grievous: nevertheless, afterward it yields the peaceable fruit of righteousness
to those who are exercised thereby." So in a tempest, the gale from which the
mariner dreads destruction often drives the vessel onward in her course. This
may not be perceived while the storm is at its height. But afterwards, when the
sky becomes clear—afterwards, when the necessary observations can be taken—it is
often found that much more progress has been made during one tempestuous night
than many previous days of calm. This is always the case with the storms that
assail the believer. They invariably speed him onward towards his desired haven.
And though, while the winds are howling and the waves roaring around, he may
say, "All these things are against me," and fears being driven farther from
port. Nevertheless, afterwards, he discovers with thankfulness that the winds he
dreaded, have been wafting him onward in his voyage. And that the waves which
seemed to threaten him with death, have borne him heavenward.

"It is I!" Yes; the result proves it was Jesus. How many of His people in all
ages have echoed the sentiment of the Psalmist, "It was good for me that I have
been afflicted!" It is this that He intends. "Whom the Lord loves He chastens,
and scourges every son whom He receives. If you endure chastening, God deals
with you as with sons." Children seldom see, at the time they are corrected,
what advantage can result from it. They may think it hard to be denied this
gratification, to submit to that exercise of discipline, to be made to apply
themselves to a course of tedious study, or to take nauseous medicine when they
are ill. But it is wise love in the parent that imposes present pain for the
sake of permanent advantage. Earthly fathers may err, but our heavenly Father
never. What He does is always "for our profit." "We know that all things work
together for good to those who love God." Then let us not murmur at the storm.
"Would we be children, and not be chastened—overcome, and not contend—be gold,
and not be tried—be Christians, and not suffer?" (John Owen) As the bush which
Moses beheld on Horeb was not consumed although in flames, for God was there—and
as Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego came forth from the midst of the burning fiery
furnace unhurt, because the Son of God had walked with them there. Even so, the
afflictions that Christians suffer cannot so kindle upon them as that one hair
of their head shall be injured! We may have to endure even fiery trials, but we
know that the furnace is heated, not to consume, but to purify. In the language
of Malachi, "He shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver." Does the refiner
throw the precious metals into the flames, and forget them? No, for they are too
costly. He is anxious and careful, respecting them. He sits patiently at the
door of the furnace, intently watchful. As soon as he sees his own face
reflected from the molten metal within, he knows that the process has been
successful, and he abates the fury of the flames. So does Jesus watch the
furnace of affliction in which His people are being purified, not allowing them
to suffer injury and loss, but only waiting to see His own image reflected from
their hearts. They come forth as gold seven times purified.

"Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or
peril, or sword, separate us from the love of Christ?" The very contrary: they
unite us more closely to Him. We not merely survive, but are victorious. "No, in
all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us." More
than conquerors—not merely remaining in possession of the field, but coming
forth unscathed from the conflict, and not merely unscathed, but invigorated. He
is indeed a conqueror who, resolutely resisting an attack, wards off every blow
so that he suffers no injury, and who, though the conflict may be stern,
overthrows, disarms, and tramples under foot his assailant. But if with a
generous hand he raises him from the ground and, not content with overcoming his
body by superior valor, subdues his spirit also, by superior love, he gains a
victory yet more complete. By mastering the foe, he becomes a conqueror; but by
converting that foe into a friend, he becomes "more than conqueror."

Such is the victory of the believer. The trials by which he is assailed are not
only deprived of all power to injure, but become the principal occasions and
instruments of his invigoration, comfort, and salvation. However forbidding
their appearance, however rough their salutation, they are bearers of Heaven’s
most precious blessings. They wear the aspect of foes only at a distance, and in
the beginning of the fight. Soon the Christian warrior embraces them as friends;
and the weapons that seemed pointed against him are by faith reversed, and
become ranged around him for his defense. His assailants are now his allies; and
thus recruited by the encounter, "in all these things he is more than conqueror,
through Him that loved us." The faith, which recognizes in all events the voice
of Jesus, is the true alchemy that transmutes all baser substances into gold!
However otherwise valueless, even though pernicious and destructive, they now
become a precious treasure. In the calculation of his wealth, the believer may
include his heaviest trials and keenest sorrows! The apostle Paul says, "All
things are yours, the world, life, death, things present, things to come, all
are yours." Men do not reckon losses among their possessions. These "all things"
are therefore gain to those of whom it may be added "and you are Christ’s."
Afflictions therefore, the frowns of ’the world" as well as its smiles; the
sorrows of "life" as well as its joys; the sad separations and painful
approaches of "death," as well as the heavenly summons it conveys; the storms
and struggles of "things present," as well as the calm and the repose of "things
to come"—ALL are ours. Were we wise, we would not wish to part with one of them;
for who deliberately impoverishes himself? Did we see as God sees, we would
understand how they were all working together for our good. But though "we walk
by faith, not by sight," may we not be as certain of the result, since God
declares it, as if we comprehended the process? The storm is ours!

"There shall no evil befall you, neither shall any plague come near your
dwelling" (Psalms 91:10), is a promise to the fullest extent verified in the
case of all who "dwell in the secret place of the Most High." To them sorrows
are not "evils;" sicknesses are not "plagues." "The shadow of the Almighty,"
extending far around those who "abide under it" alters the character of all
things which come within its influence. Joys are enhanced, and sorrows become
joys. The day is brighter, and the night itself is turned to day. Passing
through this medium, the lightning, which would have blasted, now only serves to
render luminous the path, gilding it with glory; and the poisonous stream, in
such an atmosphere as this, not merely loses every noxious quality, but, as it
flows by the believer, refreshes, heals, and strengthens him.

Thus the storm is terrible in appearance only. The winds and waves, which beat
on the vessel, instead of weakening, make it stronger and more sea-worthy. The
buffeting of the billows renders its timbers the more compact. The voyage will
be the more prosperous, and the admission into the peaceful harbor at its
termination the more triumphant. "For so an entrance shall be ministered unto
you abundantly into the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus
Christ." Trials, however evil in themselves, become invaluable blessings when
inflicted by a Father’s hand! Of all the children of God now in glory, it is
true that "He led them forth by the right way, that they might go to a city of
habitation." It was often a rugged way, a dark way, a mysterious way, a stormy
way, but always the right way. It is so still. I may experience it to be a
valley of tears through which I pass, but whatever grief I feel, whatever
difficulties I encounter, it is the right way, for it is my Father’s way—and who
so wise and kind as He? It is the way to the city of God. Every step is
necessary to take me nearer to that heavenly home. The very toils of the journey
will result in bliss—and how soon will they be over! What a bright dawn will
follow the few dark hours during which we may be "tossed by the waves, toiling
in rowing, the wind being contrary!" "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy
comes in the morning." How short the night compared with the eternal day of
which that morning is but the harbinger! Yes, amid the tumult and terror of the
tempest, Jesus, rendering all things subservient to our welfare, bids us to be
of good cheer, saying, "It is I; do not be afraid."

God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform; He plants his footsteps in
the sea, And rides upon the storm.

You fearful saints, fresh courage take, The clouds you so much dread Are big
with mercy, and shall break In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust him for His grace; Behind a
frowning providence, He hides a smiling face.

Moreover, the voice that speaks to us in the storm is that of one who has
Himself been tempest-tossed. He was once the "man of sorrows," with an emphasis
to which none of His followers can lay claim. There are no trials they endure
with which He is not experimentally familiar. He knew what it was to suffer
bodily privation. "He had no where to lay His head." He "hungered." He endured
the torture and ignominy of the scourge and the cross. "He was despised and
rejected of men." His own friends "forsook Him and fled." He endured unutterable
anguish of spirit. "It pleased the Lord to bruise Him." "He put Him to grief."
"Being in agony He prayed more earnestly." His soul was "exceeding sorrowful,
even unto death." He "sweat great drops of blood." On the cross He exclaimed,
with a bitter cry, "My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?"

These were real agonies, real temptations. It was not a fictitious storm that
burst upon Him. It was not the mere appearance of tempest. The conflict was not
imaginary. He was without sin, but not without a struggle against sin. He
overcame, not because there was nothing to resist, but because love to His
Father was supreme in His breast. The pain of hunger in the desert was real and
acute. The inducement to appease that pain was real. So also the agony of the
cross was real, and nature must have shrunk from it. But submission to the will
of His Father was a stronger principle. Yet the struggle was severe. Else it
would not be true that in "all points He was tempted like as we are." There is
no degree of suffering, or conflict, which He did not endure. The wind never
blew against any bark so furiously as against His! The night was never so dark,
the waves never so boisterous, as when he encountered the storm.

What strong consolation is thus presented to afflicted disciples! Jesus is as
able to feel for our distress as to deliver us out of it. His is a true
sympathy. We do not suffer alone. He bears our grief. What encouragement to
"come with boldness to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find
grace to help in time of need," when we know that "we have not a High Priest who
cannot be touched with a feeling of our infirmities!" The sorrows which oppress
us, weighed more heavily on Him. The foes we battle with more fiercely assailed
Him. We but taste the bitter cup; He drained it. There fall on us but a few
drops of the tempest, which spent its rage on Him!

If then He, the holy, harmless, undefiled; escaped not the storm, shall we
wonder or repine at affliction? In us there is much dross to be consumed; but in
Him there was none. If He suffered, not for Himself, but for us, shall not we be
content to suffer for ourselves? He consecrated the path of sorrow by His own
sacred footsteps, and thus conferred on it a peculiar dignity. As the thorns
that lacerated His brow composed a crown, so there is henceforth a majesty in
grief, which no earthly joys can boast. The King of kings wore a diadem of pain,
and appeared on earth, not as the man of gladness, but "the Man of sorrows." Let
us rejoice in being conformed unto our Lord. Should not the servant be like his
Master? If He encountered storms, is it fitting we should enjoy unbroken calm?

"If He led through rugged ways, shall we think to traverse only flowery meadows?
It is a joyful thing to be a sharer with Christ in anything. All enjoyments
wherein He is not, are bitter to a soul that loves Him, and all sufferings with
Him, are sweet. The worst things of Christ are more delightful than the best
things of the world. His afflictions are sweeter than its pleasures. Love
delights in likeness, not only in things pleasant, but also in the hardest
things, which have nothing in them desirable but only that likeness. What does
the world by its hatred, but make us more like Him? When He was sought to be
made a king, He escaped; but when He was sought to be brought to the cross, He
freely yielded Himself. And shall I creep back from what He calls me to suffer?
Has He not gone through all before, and made all easy and lovely? Has He not
sweetened poverty, persecution, hatred, disgrace, and death itself—perfumed the
grave, and turned it from a pit of horror into a sweet resting bed?" (Leighton)

"It is I!" Jesus calls our attention to Himself. He says not "Be of good cheer;
you are skillful, strong, persevering, and well able to cope with the storm"—but
"Be of good cheer; it is I." Our rigging may be rent, our sails torn, our rudder
lost, our vessel dismasted, leaky, and almost a wreck; but when Jesus says "It
is I," we cannot sink. Nothing can injure us with Him—nothing save us without
Him! A babe and Christ can master the universe. But the babe does nothing,
Christ everything. In our carnal pride we would be doing everything—pumping,
rowing, shifting the sails, as though by our own efforts we could escape. But
Christ will make us know how vain are all our labors without Him. He alone can
save. When the angel of destruction smote Egypt’s firstborn, but passed over the
houses of the Israelites, the feeble infant was as safe as the vigorous man was,
if the blood was sprinkled on the doorposts. The strength of the vigorous man
could not have defended him. The helplessness of the feeble infant could not
have endangered him. So the blood of Christ is our only and all-sufficient
safeguard. When Jesus was in the ship with His disciples, the weakest of them
was as safe as the strongest, for the security of all was the same—the presence
of their Lord. So if He is with us in the storm, our safety is not affected by
anything in ourselves, but is absolutely guaranteed by Him. "It is I!" Whatever
our unworthiness, however weak our faith, Christ is our deliverer; and "He is
able to save to the uttermost." A helpless disciple, holding the hand of a
mighty Savior, will come forth unhurt out of every storm. Jesus says, "My grace
is sufficient for you: for My strength is made perfect in weakness." With the
apostle let me respond, and say, "Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in
my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take
pleasure in infirmities, in necessities, in distresses: for when I am weak, then
am I strong" (2 Corinthians 12:7-10).

"It is I!" This was a voice the efficacy of which the disciples had often
witnessed. It had said, "Arise; take up your bed, and walk," and the poor
cripple was made whole. It had said, "Be opened," and the ears of the deaf were
unstopped. It had said to the leper, "Be clean," and "immediately his leprosy
departed from him." It had said, "Go out of him," and the demoniac was restored
to his right mind. It had said, "Arise," and "he who was dead sat up, and began
to speak." It had just blessed the five loaves and the two fish—and twelve
baskets full of fragments remained after five thousand had feasted. And the
disciples had been before in a storm, when Jesus was asleep in the hinder part
of the ship. "They were in jeopardy," for "the ship was covered with the waves."
But when Jesus rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, "Peace; be still," the
wind ceased, and there was a great calm. Might not the disciples reasonably
dispel their fears, when a voice, which had always been so mighty said, "Be of
good cheer"?

Afflicted believer, is the voice that addresses you altogether strange? Can you
not call to mind many a storm in which it has dispelled your fears and soothed
your sorrows? Does not the history of the Church in all ages testify to the
wonderful deliverances Christ has effected for His people! Have not His
followers always been tossed with tempests? Yet has not the Lord delivered out
of them all? It is not more certain that Christians have always been an
afflicted people, than that Jesus has always been with them to preserve them
amid the tempest. How great the cloud of witnesses who testify to His constant
care and unchanging love! How innumerable the multitudes who have come out of
great tribulation, and now, clothed in white clothing, ascribe salvation to God
and the Lamb!

Yes! It is a voice that has never spoken in vain! Be of good cheer, afflicted
disciple! Think what He has already done for you! He groaned, bled, and died for
you. You were lost, but He found you; an enemy, but He reconciled you; a
captive, but He freed you; blind, but He cured you; dead, but He quickened you.
He washed you from your guilt in His own blood. He clothed you with His own
white robe. He renewed your corrupt nature. He imparted to you His sanctifying
and comforting Spirit. He introduced you to the Father, and you became a child
of God. He now intercedes for you, is preparing for you a mansion of glory. "For
God has reserved a priceless inheritance for his children. It is kept in heaven
for you, pure and undefiled, beyond the reach of change and decay." How often
has He spoken to you in tones of tenderness! How has your heart burned within
you as He has walked with you in the way! What peace and joy have you
experienced while He has held converse with your soul! Has not He turned your
mourning into dancing, your night into day, and your tempest into calm already?

Having done so much for you, will He now leave you to perish? May you not with
confidence use the same argument with which Manoah was comforted by his wife,
when, having been visited by the angel of Jehovah, he feared they would be
destroyed? "If the Lord were pleased to kill us, He would not have received a
burned offering and a food offering at our hands, neither would He have showed
us all these things." Would Jesus have done so much for you already—would He
have called you by His grace, renewed you by His Spirit, comforted you by His
love, and preserved you to this day, if He intended now to abandon you? If He
sought you when a stranger, will He not take care of you now that you are a
child? If the foe was loved, how much more the friend! "If, when we were
enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of His Son, how much more, being
reconciled, we shall be saved by His life!" Will He refuse to answer the prayers
He Himself has prompted, to fulfill the hopes He Himself has inspired, to honor
the confidence He Himself has encouraged, to complete the work He Himself has
begun? No! Former mercies are a sure pledge of the future inheritance, former
deliverances a certain pledge of final safety! Amid the howling of the storm,
let this be your song— His love in time past forbids me to think He’ll leave me
at last, in trouble to sink; Each sweet Ebenezer I have in review Confirms his
good pleasure to bring me quite through.

How unreasonable is it for a disciple of Jesus to worry! We are told to cast all
our burdens on Him, "for He cares for us." How unnecessary to do that for
ourselves which is so much better done by Him! He has undertaken to do all for
us which not only our safety but our happiness requires. His infinite love
prompts Him always to choose what His infinite wisdom sees to be best for us,
while His infinite power enables Him to accomplish it. Are we not perfectly safe
then in such keeping? Suppose we could control the elements, and that for some
important object we had called forth a storm. If we were in a vessel that could
not sink, we would contemplate the raging waters with pleasure, knowing that
they were fulfilling our own intentions, and that a perfect calm would ensue the
moment that we gave the word. But this is actually true—only the ruling of the
storm is in the hands of Jesus instead of our own. Shall we be less courageous
on this account? Doesn’t He know much better than we the special purposes for
which the storm is needed, and the precise moment when its tempest should be
allayed? Should we not rely with fullest confidence on His watchful care, and
rejoice, however loud the tempest, that it can accomplish only our good, having
no power to do us harm?

"It is I!" Oh, how should all anxieties subside at the sound! Are they caused by
the cares of this life? Jesus says, "So I tell you, don’t worry about everyday
life—whether you have enough food, drink, and clothes. Doesn’t life consist of
more than food and clothing? Look at the birds. They don’t need to plant or
harvest or put food in barns because your heavenly Father feeds them. And you
are far more valuable to him than they are. Can all your worries add a single
moment to your life? Of course not. And why worry about your clothes? Look at
the lilies and how they grow. They don’t work or make their clothing, yet
Solomon in all his glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are. And if God
cares so wonderfully for flowers that are here today and gone tomorrow, won’t he
more surely care for you? You have so little faith!" "All things work together
for good to those who love God." "For the angel of the Lord guards all who fear
him, and he rescues them." "Even strong young lions sometimes go hungry, but
those who trust in the Lord will never lack any good thing." "The righteous face
many troubles, but the Lord rescues them from each and every one." (Matthew
6:25-34; Romans 8:28; Psalms 34:7, Psalms 34:10, Psalms 34:19).

Why then should Christians fear? And if Jesus cares for the body, how much more
will He supply the needs of the soul! Is not His assurance, "My grace is
sufficient for you," encouragement enough in every extremity? Has He not
undertaken everything for the sinner? Is He not made to us "wisdom, and
righteousness, and sanctification, and redemption?" However "poor and wretched,
and miserable, and blind, and naked" in ourselves, are we not "complete in Him?"
What could He say that He has left unsaid, to calm our apprehensions? "O
afflicted one, tossed with tempest, and not comforted, I hid My face from you
for a moment; but with everlasting kindness will I have mercy on you. For the
mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed; but My kindness shall not
depart from you, neither shall the covenant of My peace be removed, says the
Lord that has mercy on you. Do not be afraid, for I have ransomed you. I have
called you by name; you are mine. When you go through deep waters and great
trouble, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will
not drown! When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned
up; the flames will not consume you. For I am the Lord, your God, the Holy One
of Israel, your Savior!" He is faithful who has promised. He cannot deny
Himself. Heaven and earth shall pass away, but His words shall not pass away;
and He has said of all His people, "I give unto them eternal life; and they
shall never perish, neither shall any one pluck them out of My hand" (Isaiah
54:6-17; Isaiah 43:1-3; John 10:28).

Let us but believe these promises, and there will be a great calm. As when the
disciples "received Jesus into the ship, the wind ceased, and immediately they
were at the land where they went," so when we by faith fully receive Christ into
our hearts, the raging of the storm is over. The external troubles may continue,
but can produce no tempest within. The believer is "kept in perfect peace whose
mind is stayed on God." One of the martyrs, exposed to public derision in an
iron cage, is reported to have said to a bystander, who expressed surprise at
the cheerfulness he manifested, "You can see these bars, but you cannot hear the
music in my conscience." So the world, looking only at the outward affliction,
may see no abatement of the hurricane, and may wonder at the composure the
Christian exhibits in the midst of it. They hear the thunder, and the roaring of
the winds and waves, but cannot distinguish the voice of Jesus saying, "It is
I," which so cheers the tossed disciple. They can view the outward trouble, but
not the inward consolation of the life "hidden with Christ." It is "the peace of
God, which passes all understanding."

Let us then reply to the promises of God in the exulting language of faith. Let
songs of praise arise from the ark in which we are securely borne along amid the
storm. "God is our refuge and strength, always ready to help in times of
trouble. So we will not fear, even if earthquakes come and the mountains crumble
into the sea. Let the oceans roar and foam. Let the mountains tremble as the
waters surge! I hear the tumult of the raging seas as your waves and surging
tides sweep over me. Yet the Lord will command His loving-kindness in the
daytime, and in the night His song shall be with me, and my prayer unto the God
of my life. O Lord God Almighty! Where is there anyone as mighty as you, Lord?
Faithfulness is your very character. You are the one who rules the oceans. When
their waves rise in fearful storms, you subdue them! Why are you cast down, O my
soul? And why are you disturbed within me? I will put my hope in God! I will
praise him again—my Savior and my God! (Psalms 46:1-3; Psalms 42:7-8, 11; Psalms
89:8-9) When conscience accuses, hear Him say, "It is I! I, who have fully
atoned for your sins! I, who have blotted them all out by My blood!" When the
thought of God alarms, listen to His voice: "It is I! I, who have made peace by
the blood of the cross! I, by whom the just God becomes the justifier of the
ungodly!" When the painful conviction of shortcomings, after all our striving,
overwhelms, again He says, "It is I! I, whose white robe will cover all your
filthy rags! I, from whose perfect obedience, and not from your own
unworthiness, you are to look for acceptance with God!" When a sense of
weakness, and inability to cope with the many difficulties and dangers which
surround us, depresses the mind, again His voice is heard, "It is I! I, who have
engaged to perform all things for you! I, who will never leave you nor forsake
you!"

"It is I!" This is enough to satisfy every doubt, to quell every fear, to meet
every difficulty. Am I guilty? Jesus receives the chief of sinners! Am I
helpless? Jesus is able to save to the uttermost! Am I lost? Jesus "came to seek
and to save the lost!" Have I no merits? Jesus is "made to us righteousness!"
Have I nothing? In Jesus, "all fullness dwells!" He died for me; He lives to
intercede for me; He watches over, strengthens, supports me; He guides me in
darkness, cheers me in sorrow, defends me in danger, and is preparing a place
for me in heaven! If He is with me, what can injure me? If He is for me, who can
be against me? The winds and the waves may roar around, but they have no power
to harm me while Jesus says, "It is I!" And when the last storm of life assails
me, He will still be at hand. "Yes, though I walk through the valley of the
shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for You are with me; Your rod and Your
staff they comfort me." It will not be a dark valley, if His form appears in it;
it will not be dreary, if His voice is heard. There is no such thing as death to
the believer. "He who believes in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live;
and he that lives and believes in Me, shall never die."

Jesus, by His own dying, extracted the sting from death, and deprived it of all
power to injure. "He destroyed death, and delivered them who through fear of
death were all their lifetime subject to bondage." We can echo the sentiment of
a departing saint, who said, "I can smile on death, because Jesus smiles on me."
Or rather death disappears, and Christ alone is seen. He holds the keys of the
invisible world, and is present at the deathbed of every saint, to liberate the
spirit from the corruptible body, and to receive it into the "house not made
with hands, eternal in the heavens."

Let this be our consolation when we mourn over those who sleep in Jesus. It is
not an enemy who has done this. It is no frightful monster who has torn that
dear one from our loving embrace. It was a Brother’s arms that received the
departing spirit. He commits the important office to no inferior messenger, far
less to an enemy. "I will come again, and receive you unto Myself." The dying
Stephen beheld Him, when he said, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit." Yes, it is
Jesus! In that chamber of anxiety and tears, where the feeble tide of ebbing
life is watched so tenderly, and all is being done that skill and kindness can
suggest to delay the dreaded moment of separation, Jesus is saying, "It is I!"
In that darkened abode, where the activity of love no longer holds back the
floodgates of grief, Jesus whispers, "It is I!" At that sad funeral procession,
each advancing step of which seems as though it were conveying the mourners to
their own burial, Jesus—as at Nain—touches the coffin, and says to the widow,
the fatherless, the friendless, "It is I." At the open grave, where with that
dead body are to be sepulchered so many living joys and hopes, Jesus—as at
Bethany—stands among the mourners and, while weeping with them, allays their
sorrow, saying, "It is I." Yes, it is Jesus who has taken away the departed
spirit, to the full enjoyment of a love still tenderer than theirs, in a world
where tears are never shed, and pain is never felt, and death is forever
unknown! Let us then be consoled by the thought of the instantaneous and perfect
bliss of those whose separation from us we lament. Amid the storm, in which we
lose sight for a season of those who were dearer than life itself, This is the
solace to our sorrow given, That they were borne on tempest’s wing to heaven,
And are rejoicing, midst the pure and free, In the high home of God, where there
is no more sea! This consideration should be enough to sustain our minds when a
similar tempest bursts upon us. Death to the disciple is Jesus. Every symptom of
increasing disease only proves that Jesus is nearer. The clouds may seem dark,
the thunder terrible, the waves overwhelming; but they only betoken the near
approach of our heavenly Friend. He speaks amid the tumult, and says, "It is
I!—I, who, having prepared your mansion, have come to take you to Myself! Be of
good cheer; it is I; do not be afraid!" Shall we shrink from His embrace? Shall
we not rather rejoice that our deliverance draws near, knowing that to depart
and be with Jesus is far better? The author, being recently at Scarborough,
during tempestuous weather, observed early in the morning two small fishing
vessels approaching the harbor. The crews had been exposed to the gale for
several days, and their strength and provisions were nearly exhausted. How
eagerly they longed for the plenty, and security, and repose, which seemed now
so near! But such furious breakers raged round the pier, that it was obvious to
those on shore that to attempt an entrance would be destruction. The cliff was
hastily scaled, a beacon kindled, and signals made that they must again stay out
to sea. In a few minutes the warning would be too late. There was a moment’s
anxious suspense. Then the little vessels were seen reluctantly to alter their
coarse and, disappointed in their hopes, their exhausted crews had again to face
the storm!

How happy the contrast in the case of the disciple of Christ! The fury of the
tempest, instead of driving him from his strong refuge, makes him only the more
welcome there. The harbor of Christ’s love is always accessible! The greater our
distress, the readier our entrance! And the final resting place—the heaven of
glory, where that love is fully manifested, and where those who enter are secure
from all future perils—is full in view when the great and final tempest bursts
over us. How invitingly does it spread itself out before the eye of faith! How
perfect the peace, how unbroken the calm, how ineffable the bliss which are
experienced there! No tears are shed, no alarm is felt, no temptations assail
there! The beacon blazes, not to repel, but to allure! Angels beckon us to
approach! Jesus bids us not be dismayed! For the last time, he says, "Be of good
cheer; it is I!" No disciple ever suffered shipwreck in endeavoring to enter
there. The tempest that rages outside only drives the laboring vessel more
quickly in. Those waves only bear the soul more rapidly home. That hurricane
only wafts the spirit more triumphantly to God! How brief the struggle, how long
the repose! "After you have suffered awhile, eternal glory!" Of the accumulated
trials of the longest life, we may say, with such a prospect, "For our present
troubles are quite small and won’t last very long. Yet they produce for us an
immeasurably great glory that will last forever! So we don’t look at the
troubles we can see right now; rather, we look forward to what we have not yet
seen. For the troubles we see will soon be over, but the joys to come will last
forever." "O death, where is your sting? O grave, where is your victory?"

Lord, I believe! Help my unbelief! Pity and pardon the fears of your poor, weak,
trembling disciple! Help me to behold You more clearly, more constantly! May I
hear Your voice both in the tempest and the calm. Let the kind assurance, "It is
I," always be enough to gladden my heart. Often have You said, "Come unto Me,
all you who labor and are heavy laden; and I will give you rest." Lord, I would
now accept Your gracious call. I bring You nothing but a burden of guilt and
wretchedness! Naked, vile, undone, just as I am, I come! And I know You will not
cast me out. From the midst of the waves, I look up to You! I am come into deep
waters! The winds are boisterous, the tempest is high! Outward woes, inward
conflicts, assail my feeble bark! I must soon sink without Your promised help!
Save me, O God, for the waters are come in unto my soul! Let not the
flood-waters overflow me, neither let the deep swallow me up! The sorrows of my
heart are enlarged: oh, bring me out of my distresses! Lord, save me, or I
perish! Rebuke the waves! Bring me out of many waters! Let the light of Your
love disperse the darkness! Let the thunder of the storm be hushed by Your
voice, saying, "It is I; do not be afraid!"

Jesus! lover of my soul, Let me to Your bosom fly, While the nearer waters roll,
While the tempest still is high. Hide me, O my Savior, hide, Until the storm of
life is past: Safe into the haven guide: O receive my soul at last!"


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Source: https://sermonindex.net/books/writings-of-newman-hall/
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