The promises of God are to the believer an inexhaustible mine of wealth. Happy is it for him if he knows how to search out their secret veins, and enrich himself with their hid treasures. They are an armory, containing all manner of offensive and defensive weapons. Blessed is he who has learned to enter into the sacred arsenal, to put on the breastplate and the helmet, and to lay his hand to the spear and to the sword. They are a surgery, in which the believer will find all manner of restoratives and blessed elixirs; nor lacks there an ointment for every wound, a cordial for every faintness, a remedy for every disease. Blessed is he who is well skilled in heavenly pharmacy, and knoweth how to lay hold on the healing virtues of the promises of God. The promises are to the Christian a storehouse of food. They are as the granaries which Joseph built in Egypt, or as the golden pot wherein the manna was preserved. Blessed is he who can take the five barley loaves and fishes of promise, and break them till his five thousand necessities shall all be supplied, and he is able to gather up baskets full of fragments. The promises are the Christian's Magna Charta of liberty; they are the title deeds of his heavenly estate. Happy is he who knoweth how to read them well, and call them all his own. Yea, they are the jewel room in which the Christian's crown treasures are preserved. The regalia are his, secretly to admire to-day, which he shall openly wear in Paradise hereafter. He is already privileged as a king with the silver key that unlocks the strong room; he may even now grasp the sceptre, wear the crown, and put upon his shoulders the imperial mantle. O, how unutterably rich are the promises of our faithful, covenant-keeping God! If we had the tongue of the mightiest of orators, and if that tongue could be touched with a live coal from off the altar, yet still it could not utter a tenth of the praises of the exceeding great and precious promises of God. Nay, they who have entered into rest, whose tongues are attuned to the lofty and rapturous eloquence of cherubim and seraphim, even they can never tell the height and depth, the length and breadth of the unsearchable riches of Christ, which are stored up in the treasure-house of God—the promises of the covenant of His grace.
The Lord gets his best soldiers out of the highlands of affliction.
It is a tough battle which the Christian is called to fight; not one which carpet knights might win; no easy skirmish which he might gain, who dashed to battle on some sunshiny day, looked at the host, then turned his courser's rein, and daintily dismounted at the door of his silken tent. It is not a campaign which he shall win, who, but a raw recruit to-day, foolishly imagines that one week of service will insure a crown of glory. It is a life-long war; a contest which will require all our strength, if we are to be triumphant; a battle at which the stoutest heart might quail; a fight from which the bravest would shrink, did he not remember that the Lord is on his side; therefore whom shall he fear? God is the strength of his life: of whom shall he be afraid? This fight is not one of main force, or physical might; if it were, we might the sooner win it; but it is all the more dangerous from the fact that it is a strife of mind, a contest of heart, a struggle of the spirit—ofttimes an agony of the soul.
Do you wonder that the Christian is called to conflict? God never gives strong faith without fiery trial; he will not build a strong ship, without subjecting it to very mighty storms; he will not make you a mighty warrior, if he does not intend to try your skill in battle. The sword of the Lord must be used; the blades of heaven must be smitten against the armor of the evil one, and yet they shall not break, for they are of true Jerusalem metal, which shall never snap. We shall conquer, if we begin the battle in the right way. If we have sharpened our swords on the cross, we have nothing whatever to fear; for though we may be sometimes cast down and discomforted, we shall assuredly at last put to flight all our adversaries, for we are the sons of God even now. Why, then, should we fear? Who shall bid us "stay," if God bid us advance?
It is said, that when the stars cannot be seen during the day from the ordinary level of the earth, if one should go down into a dark well, they would be visible at once. And certainly it is a fact, that the best of God's promises are usually seen by His Church when she is in her darkest trials. As sure as ever God puts His children in the furnace, He will be in the furnace with them. I do not read that Jacob saw the angel, until he came into a position where he had to wrestle, and then the wrestling Jacob saw the wrestling angel. I do not know that Joshua ever saw the angel of God, till he was by Jericho; and then Joshua saw the angelic warrior. I do not know that Abraham ever saw the Lord, till he had become a stranger and a wanderer in the plains of Mamre, and then the Lord appeared unto him as a wayfaring man. It is in our most desperate sorrows that we have our happiest experiences. You must go to Patmos to see the revelation. It is only on the barren, storm-girt rock, shut out from all the world's light, that we can find a fitting darkness, in which we can view the light of heaven undistracted by the shadows of earth.
The Christian's battle-field is here, but the triumphal procession is above. This is the land of the sword and the spear: that is the land of the wreath and the crown. This is the land of the garment rolled in blood and of the dust of the fight: that is the land of the trumpet's joyful sound, the place of the white robe and of the shout of conquest. O, what a thrill of joy shall be felt by all the blessed, when their conquests shall be complete in heaven; when death itself, the last of foes, shall be slain; when Satan shall be dragged captive at the chariot wheels of Christ; when the great shout of universal victory shall rise from the hearts of all the redeemed! What a moment of pleasure shall that be!
Something of the joy of victory we know even here. Have you ever struggled against an evil heart, and at last overcome it? Have you ever wrestled hard with a strong temptation, and known what it was to sing with thankfulness, "When I said my feet slipped, Thy mercy, O Lord, held me up?" Have you, like Bunyan's Christian, fought with Apollyon, and after a fierce contest, put him to flight? Then you have had a foretaste of the heavenly triumph—just an imagining of what the ultimate victory will be. God gives you these partial triumphs, that they may be earnests of the future. Go on and conquer, and let each conquest, though a harder one, and more strenuously contested, be to you as a pledge of the victory of heaven.
The Lord turned the captivity of Job." So, then, our longest sorrows have a close, and there is a bottom to the profoundest depths of our misery. Our winters shall not frown forever: summer shall soon smile. The tide shall not eternally ebb out: the floods must retrace their march. The night shall not hang its darkness forever over our souls: the sun shall yet arise with healing beneath his wings. "The Lord turned the captivity of Job." Thus, too, our sorrows shall have an end when God has gotten His end in them. The ends in the case of Job were these, that Satan might be defeated, foiled with his own weapons, blasted in his hopes when he had everything his own way. God, at Satan's challenge, had stretched forth his hand and touched Job in his bone and in his flesh; and yet the tempter could not prevail against him, but received his rebuff in those conquering words, "Though he slay me, yet will I trust in Him." When Satan is defeated, then shall the battle cease. The Lord aimed also at the trial of Job's faith. Many weights were hung upon this palm-tree, but it still grew uprightly. The fire had been fierce, yet the gold was undiminished; only the dross was consumed. Another purpose the Lord had was His own glory. And truly He was glorified abundantly. God hath gotten unto His great name and His wise counsels, eternal renown, through that grace by which He supported His poor afflicted servant under the heaviest troubles which ever fell to the lot of man. God had another end, and that also was served. Job had been sanctified by his afflictions. His spirit was mellowed, and any self-justification which lurked within was fairly driven out. And now that God's gracious designs are answered, He removes the rod; He takes the melted silver from the midst of the glowing coals. God doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men for nought, and He shows this by the fact He never afflicts them longer than there is a need for it. He never suffers them to be one moment longer in the furnace than is absolutely requisite to serve the purposes of His wisdom and of His love. "The Lord turned the captivity of Job." Despair not, then, afflicted believer; he that turned the captivity of Job can turn thy captivity as the streams in the south. He shall make thy vineyard again to blossom, and thy field to yield her fruit. Thou shalt again come forth with those that make merry, and once more shall the song of gladness be on thy lip. Let not Despair rivet his cruel fetters about thy soul. Hope yet, for there is hope concerning this matter. Trust thou still, for there is ground of confidence. He shall bring thee up again, rejoicing, out of captivity, and thou shalt yet sing to his praise, "Thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing: thou hast put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness."
When once the human heart is put under the microscope of Scripture, and we see it with a spiritual eye, we perceive it to be so vile, that we are quite sure it would be just as impossible to expect to find good works in an unrighteous, unconverted man, as to hope to see fire burning in the midst of the ocean. The two things would be incongruous. Our good works, if we have any, spring from a real conversion; yet more, they spring also from a constant spiritual influence exercised upon us, from the time of conversion even until the hour of death. Ah, Christian, thou wouldst have no good works if thou hadst no fresh grace day by day! Thou wouldst not find the grace given thee at the first hour sufficient to produce fruit to-day. It is not like the planting of a tree in our hearts, which naturally of itself bringeth forth fruit; but the sap cometh up from the root Jesus Christ. We are not trees by ourselves, but we are branches fixed on the Living Vine.
Our good works spring from union with Christ. The more a man knows and feels himself to be one with Jesus, the more holy will he be. Why is a Christian's character like Christ's character? Only for this reason, that he is joined and united to the Lord Jesus. Why does the branch bring forth grapes? Simply because it has been engrafted into the vine, and therefore it partakes of the nature of the stem. So, Christian, the only way whereby thou canst bring forth fruit to God is by being grafted into Christ and united with him. If you think you can walk in holiness without keeping up perpetual fellowship with Christ, you have made a great mistake. If you would be holy, you must live close to Jesus. Good works spring only thence. Hence we draw the most powerful reasons against anything like trusting in works; for as works are only the gift of God, how utterly impossible it is for an unconverted man to produce any such good works in himself. And if they are God's gifts, how little of our merit can there be in them!
It is the distinguishing mark of God's people that they know the love of Christ. Without exception, all those who have passed from death unto life, whatever they may not know, have learned this. And without exception, all those who are not saved, whatever they may know besides, know nothing of this. For to know the love of Christ, to taste its sweetness, to realize it personally, experimentally, and vitally, as shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost, is the privilege of the child of God alone. This is the secure enclosure into which the stranger cannot enter. This is the garden of the Lord, so well protected by walls and hedges that no wild boar of the wood can enter. Only the redeemed of the Lord shall walk here. They, and only they, may pluck the fruits, and content themselves with the delights thereof.
How important, then, becomes the question, Do I know the love of Christ? Have I felt it? Do I understand it? Is it shed abroad in my heart? Do I know that Jesus loves me? Is my heart quickened, and animated, and warmed, and attracted towards Him through the great truth that it recognizes and rejoices in, that Christ has really loved me and chosen me, and set His heart upon me?
But while it is true that every child of God knows the love of Christ, it is equally true that all the children of God do not know this love to the same extent.
There are in Christ's family, babes, young men, strong men, and fathers. And as they grow and progress in all other matters, so they most certainly make advances here. Indeed, an increase of love, a more perfect apprehension of Christ's love, is one of the best and most infallible gauges whereby we may test ourselves whether we have grown in grace or not. If we have grown in grace, it is absolutely certain that we shall have advanced in our knowledge and reciprocation of the love of Christ. Many have believed in Jesus, and know a little of His love; but, O! it is little indeed they know, in comparison with some others who have been brought into the inner chamber, and made to drink of the spiced wine of Christ's pomegranate. Some have begun to climb the mountain, and the view which lies at their feet is lovely and passing fair, but the landscape is not such as would greet their eyes if they could but stand where advanced saints are standing, and could look to the east and to the west, to the north and to the south, and see all the lengths, and breadths, and depths, and heights of the love of Christ which passeth knowledge.
The sway of Christ as King, according to David's description, is like "Clear shining after rain," whereby the tender grass is made to spring out of the earth. So have we often seen it. After a heavy shower of rain, or after a continued rainy season, when the sun shines, there is a delightful clearness and freshness in the air that we seldom perceive at other times. Perhaps the brightest weather is just when the rain has ceased, when the wind has drifted away the clouds, and the sun peers forth from his chambers to gladden the earth with his smiles. And thus is it with the Christian's exercised heart. Sorrow does not last forever. After the pelting rain of adversity cometh ever and anon the clear shining. Tried believer, consider this. After all thy afflictions there remaineth a rest for the people of God. There is a clear shining coming to thy soul when all this rain is past. When thy time of rebuke is over and gone, it shall be to thee as the earth when the tempest has sobbed itself to sleep, when the clouds have rent themselves to rags, and the sun peereth forth once more as a bridegroom in his glorious array. To this end, sorrow coöperates with the bliss that follows it, like rain and sunshine, to bring forth the tender blade. The tribulation and the consolation work together for our good. "As the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also aboundeth by Christ." The clear shining after rain produces an atmosphere that refreshes herbs and cereals: and the joy of the Lord, after seasons of sorrow, makes the soul fruitful. Thus we grow in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.
Unless