May 14
17
“It is profitable for Christians to be often calling to mind the dealings of God with their souls. It was Paul’s accustomed manner, and that when tried for his life, even to open before his Judges the manner of his conversion. He would think of that day and that hour in the which he did first meet with grace, for he found it support unto him. There was nothing to David like Goliath’s sword. The very sight and remembrance of that did preach forth God’s deliverance to him. Oh, the remembrance of my great sins, of my great temptations, and of my great fears for perishing forever. They bring afresh into my mind the remembrance of mercy and help—my great support from heaven, and the great grace that God extends to such a wretch as I.”—John Bunyan.
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But “what will you see in the Shulamite?” Another experience testifies afresh, “As it were the company of two armies.” (Song 6:13.) HOPE has no sooner risen to the surface than despondency returns. The struggling believer threatens to sink. The wave is again beat back. His soul is again “cast down!” But one word—an old monosyllable of comfort—is borne on the ebbing billow, “O MY GOD!” This “strong swimmer in his agony” seizes hold of that never-failing support, the faithfulness of a covenant-keeping Jehovah. With this he breasts the opposing tide, and will assuredly at last reach the shore. The very tribulations that are casting him down—threatening to submerge him—are only nerving his spirit for bolder feats; leading him to value more the everlasting arms that are lower and deeper than the darkest wave.
We have heard of a bell, set in a lighthouse, rung by the sweep of the winds and the dash of the billows. In the calm, stormless sea, it hung mute and motionless; but when the tempest was let loose and the ocean fretted, the benighted seaman was warned by its chimes; and beating hearts ashore, in the fisherman’s lonely hut, listened to its ominous music. We read, in the previous verse, of the lighthouse of FAITH, built on the rock of HOPE. God has placed bells there. But it needs the storms of adversity to blow before they are heard. In the calm of uninterrupted prosperity, they are silent and still. But the hurricane arises. The sea of life is swept with tempest, and, amid the thick darkness, they ring the note of heavenly confidence, “MY GOD, MY GOD!”
My God! What a heritage of comfort do these words contain—in all time of our tribulation—in all time of our wealth—in the hour of death, and at the day of judgment! They describe the great Being who fills heaven with His glory, as the covenant portion and heritage of believers. His attributes are embarked on their side; His holiness and righteousness, and justice and truth, are the immutable guarantees and guardians of their everlasting well-being. Hear His own gracious promise—“I will bring the third part through the fire, and will refine them as silver is refined, and will try them as gold is tried: they shall call on my name, and I will hear them: I will say, It is my people: and they shall say, The Lord is my God.” (Zech. 13:9.)
Moreover, He is the only possession which is theirs absolutely. All else they have, is in the shape of a loan, which they receive as stewards. Their time, their talents, their possessions, their friends, are only leased by them from the Great Proprietor of life and being. But they can say unreservedly, “The Lord is my portion.” “God, even our OWN God, shall bless us.” Yes, and we are told, “God is not ashamed to be called THEIR GOD.” (Heb. 11:16.) “The name of the Lord is thus “a strong tower: the righteous runs into it, and is safe.” (Prov. 18:10.) That salvation purchased by Jesus—the amazing method by which every attribute of the Divine nature has been magnified, and every requirement of the Divine law has been met—is “for walls and bulwarks.”
The believer not only can lay hold on higher blessings—”the good hope through grace,” “glory, honor, immortality, eternal life”—but even with regard to the circumstantials of the present, the appointments and allotments in the house of his pilgrimage, he can feel that they are so regulated and overruled as best to promote his spiritual interests; and that “all things” (yes, “ALL things”) are “working together for his good.”
Take then, desponding one! the opening words of David’s lamentation. They quiet all apprehensions. This all-gracious Being who gave His own Son for you, must have some wise reason in such discipline. Oh, confide all your perplexities, and this perplexity, into His hands, saying, “I am oppressed, YOU undertake for me!” Who can forget that it was this same monosyllable of comfort that cheered a greater Sufferer at a more dreadful hour? The two most memorable spots in His midnight of agony—Gethsemane and Calvary, the Garden and the Cross—have this solitary gleam of sunshine breaking through the darkness, “O MY FATHER!” “MY GOD, MY GOD!” ( extract from The Hill Mizar- author unknown)
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Such a perpetual and unceasing conflict?
(Philpot, – extract from “The Groaning Captive’s Deliverance” 1847)
For that which I do I allow not: for what I would, that do I not; but what I hate, that do I. If then I do that which I would not, I consent unto the law that it is good. Now then it is no more I that do it, but sin that dwelleth in me. For I know that in me (that is, in my flesh,) dwelleth no good thing: for to will is present with me; but how to perform that which is good I find not. For the good that I would I do not: but the evil which I would not, that I do. Now if I do that I would not, it is no more I that do it, but sin that dwelleth in me. I find then a law, that, when I would do good, evil is present with me. For I delight in the law of God after the inward man: But I see another law in my members, warring against the law of my mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin which is in my members. O wretched man that I am! Who shall deliver me from the body of this death? Romans 7:15-24.
What a picture of that which passes in a godly
man’s bosom! He has in him two distinct
principles, two different natures—one . . .
holy,
heavenly,
spiritual,
panting after the Lord, and
finding the things of God its element.
And yet in the same bosom a principle . . .
totally corrupt,
thoroughly and entirely depraved,
perpetually striving against the holy principle within,
continually lusting after evil,
opposed to every leading of the Spirit in the soul,
and seeking to gratify its filthy desires at any cost!
Now, must there not be a feeling of misery in a man’s
bosom to have these two armies perpetually fighting?
That when he desires to do good, evil is present with
him—when he would be holy, heavenly minded, tender
hearted, loving, seeking God’s glory, enjoying sweet
communion with Jehovah—there is a base, sensual,
earthly heart perpetually at work—infusing its baneful
poison into every thought, counteracting every desire,
and dragging him from the heaven to which he would
mount, down to the very hell of carnality and filth?
There is a holy, heavenly principle in a man’s bosom
that knows, fears, loves, and delights in God. Yet he
finds that sin in himself, which is altogether opposed to
the mind of Christ, and lusts after that which he hates.
Must there not be sorrow and grief in that man’s bosom
to feel such a perpetual and unceasing conflict?
Is there ever this piteous cry forced by guilt, shame,
and sorrow out of your bosom, “O wretched man that
I am!” If not, be assured that you are dead in sin, or
dead in a profession. You will have to come to this resolution—”With the mind I myself serve the law of God; but with the flesh the law of sin.” “I desire to know His will, and to do it, to submit to His righteous dealings with me, to walk in the light of His countenance, and live under the shinings of His favor. And yet, in all, with all, and in the midst of all, I find and feel a contrary nature—a vile heart of unbelief—proud, hypocritical, presumptuous, covetous—a lustful eye, perpetually captivating my affections, ensnaring my soul, and inflicting cruel wounds in my heart and conscience.”
And yet you must bear the burden, endure the load, and look forward to the day of your deliverance. No, God in mercy overrules these painful exercises for the good of His people. Where would be your humility, where would be your self-loathing, where would be your contrition, brokenness, and godly fear? where would be your shame of face and abasement of soul before a holy God, if you did not carry within you these painful testimonies that you are the very chief of sinners, and less than the least of all saints? Why, you would be throwing stones at everyone from ‘your own little hill of holiness’.
Therefore, let men say what they will, and let presumptuous professors shoot out arrows of bitter scorn against it, we have reason to thank God for the knowledge of our corruption; we have reason to bless His name that He has humbled us by showing it; and we have reason to thank Him that He has shed that light into our souls, and given that life in our conscience, whereby sin is, in a measure, ever brought to light, mourned over, hated, and repented of. Thus we shall walk softly before God all our days “in the bitterness of our soul,” and thus be neither swallowed up by despair on the one hand, nor inflated with presumption on the other. To walk so is to walk safely.
We then come to this solemn resolution—”I with my mind serve the law of God—that is my delight. Yet with the flesh I have painfully to serve the law of sin—and that is my misery. To serve the law of God is my joy; to serve the law of sin is my sorrow. To serve the law of God in my soul is my heaven; to serve the law of sin in my members is a bitter relic of hell.” Yet all is necessary to make the soul watchful and humble, and teach it the super-aboundings of grace over the aboundings of sin; to keep us little and low in our own esteem, and lay us prostrate at the foot of the cross, “being determined to know nothing, except Jesus Christ and Him crucified.”