Down to Earth But Heavenly Minded

We have from time to time written about the work of God for us. This work lies at the very foundation of all true practical Christianity and personal religion. The knowledge of what has been accomplished by the atoning death of Christ is essential to the soul’s peace and liberty. We cannot too frequently reiterate or too strongly insist upon the fundamental truth that it is the work wrought for us and not the work wrought in us that saves us. Nor should we ever forget that faith is the soul’s outward, not its inward look.

All this is of the deepest importance and the reader may rest assured that nothing is further from our thoughts than to pen a single line which might tend to lessen its importance. But this grand and interesting line of truth has been largely unfolded. Therefore, we feel the more free to enter in this article upon a subject which ought ever to hold a prominent place in our minds — the work of God in us. May God’s Spirit guide our thoughts as we dwell upon this theme!

In tracing the work of the Holy Spirit in the soul of a sinner, there are three distinct things to be noticed. First, He creates a need. Secondly, He reveals an Object to meet that need. And thirdly, He enables the soul to lay hold on that Object. These are the three stages of the Spirit’s work in the soul and nothing can be more interesting than to trace them. There are various other branches of the work of the Holy Spirit, but we now confine ourselves to that special branch which bears upon the individual soul in its passage from darkness to light and from the power of Satan to God.

This need may develop itself in several ways. In some cases it takes the form of a deep sense of guilt; in others, a sense of the utter vanity and emptiness of all beneath the sun. Doubtless, in many instances, we may find all ways operating.

Let us take an example or two from the pages of inspiration. Look at Peter by the lake of Gennesaret (Luke 5). No sooner had a ray of divine light entered his soul in convicting power, than he exclaims, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord.” Here we have a sense of guilt — a deep, keen sense of personal sinfulness and unworthiness, the result of a divine operation in the soul of Peter. This is very important. It is well to remember that the question of sin must be raised and settled in the human conscience. Sin is a serious thing in God’s judgment and it must be felt as such in the soul of the sinner. Peter felt he had no right or title to be in the presence of that blessed One whose glory had just shone upon him. He felt himself utterly unfit to be there. He felt that sin and holiness could not be together, any more than light and darkness.

This was a right feeling in Peter; it is a right feeling in every case. It is always a good thing to begin with a profound sense of personal guilt. It is well to have the arrow of conviction piercing to the very center of the soul. It is well to have the plough-share breaking up the fallow ground and making a deep furrow in the heart. We invariably find that the steadiest and most solid Christians are those who have, at the first, gone through the deepest waters and endured the keenest exercises.

We do not mean to say that the soul’s exercises have anything to do with the ground of the soul’s salvation, anymore than the feelings of a man in a house on fire have to do with the fire escape by which he descends from the burning building. But still we believe it is a good thing for the soul to begin with a very clear and full sense of its guilt and ruin — a just apprehension of the judgment of God against sin. The more keenly one has felt his awful position in the burning house, the more thoroughly will he appreciate the fire escape, the mind that planned it and the hand that provided it. And so in the case of the sinner; the more he feels his guilt and unworthiness, the more will he prize the precious blood that cancels his guilt and brings him without spot into the presence of a holy, sin-hating God.

It is to be feared that, in many cases, the work of conviction or repentance is very superficial. It strikes us, too, that at times, in our great anxiety to bring the soul into peace, we interfere with the work of conviction. We go before, instead of following after the Holy Spirit. This is very serious. It is a perilous thing to tamper with God’s work in the soul. It is most marvelous grace that deigns to use us, but let us beware not to run before the Holy Spirit. It is our place to mark His operations, not to mar them.

If, for example, we meet a soul under conviction of sin, it may be that the work is not yet complete; it may be only in progress. What should we do? Seek to hasten the individual into a confession of faith in Christ, to extract from him an acknowledgment of peace with God? By no means; to do so would be to damage the precious work of God in the soul. What then should we do? Seek to follow in the wake of the Holy Spirit, to be His instrument in carrying on the work which He has in hand. He will assuredly perfect His own work. If we are waiting on Him, He will teach us what to do and how to do it, what to say and when to say it. If Ananias had gone to Saul one hour before the close of the “three days,” he would have gone too soon. Those days were serious days — days which left their imprint on the whole of the apostle’s history — days never to be forgotten. They were days during which his eyes, closed upon the external world, were turned inward upon himself and backward upon his ways. And are we not warranted in asserting that it would have been an injudicious if not an unhallowed intrusion, had Ananias gone to interfere with the deep and holy work which was going on in the soul of that remarkable man? Unquestionably; and so it is in every case. We may depend upon it, that we only injure souls if we attempt to urge them by our work, one hair’s breadth beyond the actual point to which the work of God has conducted them.

All true spiritual ministry will tend to deepen in the soul that special character of work which the Holy Spirit is carrying on at the moment. Hence, if we come in contact with one in whom the work of conviction or repentance is in progress, we should not seek too hastily to urge the soul into a confession of having found peace. If we aim at being co-workers with God, it will be our place to watch, with earnest prayer and holy diligence, the progress of the divine work — to wait much on God that He may be pleased to use us as His instruments in carrying out the purposes of His grace. This is most blessed work, but it is most solemn and demands much spirituality, much nearness to Christ, much self-denial. The most serious mistakes are committed by unskillful hands undertaking to deal with cases in which the work of God’s Spirit is going on. We must remember that God’s work is sometimes very slow, but it is always very sure. We, on the contrary, are often impetuous. In our desire to reach speedy results, we may often unduly hasten on the soul to a professed position far beyond its actual practical state. We may often urge from the lips more than the Holy Spirit has worked in the heart. This is very serious for all who have to deal with souls.

But the grace of God is all-sufficient for every case. Nothing can be more interesting than to watch the unfoldings of the Spirit’s work in the soul — to mark the stages of God’s new creation, the establishment and progress of His kingdom in the heart. Far be it from us to urge or encourage cold heartless indifference as to precious souls in their deep and varied spiritual exercises — a species of most miserable fatalism which, under the plea of leaving souls entirely in the hands of the Holy Spirit, in reality throws off all sense of responsibility. God forbid that we should lend any approval to anything of this kind. We deeply feel ourselves responsible to care for souls. We believe all Christians are responsible. Hence arises the need of skill and spiritual tact in dealing with souls so we may not in any way retard, but by all means further the blessed work of God’s Spirit in them.

But we have been rather digressing from our immediate line, to which we shall now return.

We have stated that the Spirit of God sometimes produces in the soul a sense of danger. He presses upon the heart and conscience the awful reality of the Lake of Fire and the worm that never dies. He at times sees fit to draw aside the curtain and reveal what awaits all those who die in their sins. The sense of guilt and the sense of danger frequently go together, but they are distinct exercises, and in many cases the latter is the more prominent of the two. The soul is filled with horror at the thought of burning forever and ever in the flames of hell. The Holy Spirit uses this horror to make the heart feel its need of Christ.

Many object to the preaching of everlasting punishment as a means of leading souls to Christ. Not that they deny the truth on this subject, but they question the propriety or usefulness of it. They deem it wiser to dwell only upon the love of God in giving His Son, and the love of Christ in giving Himself. They judge it better and more effective to dwell upon the joys and glories of heaven than the woes and horrors of hell. Well, we do not mean for a moment to compare the two themes; no intelligent person could think of so doing. But we must bear in mind that our blessed Lord again and again addressed His hearers on the awful subject of hell fire. Read Matthew 5:22-30. Three times in this brief passage He warns His hearers against the danger of hell.

So also in that most solemn passage at the close of Luke 16. Who can read this without feeling pressed with the weight and seriousness of the parable? What a presentation of the past, the present and the future! “Son, remember.” Here memory is flung back upon the past. And what a past! Memory will be terribly active in hell. “But now thou art tormented.” Here the lost soul is called to contemplate the present. And what a present! Tormented in the flames of hell! But is there no end, no faint hope of cessation? None whatever. “There is a great gulf fixed.” Here is the future. And what a future! Hell is an eternal reality. If hell fire is not everlasting, what would be the force of the word “fixed”?

Are not the above Scriptures quite sufficient to prove that the Holy Spirit uses the truth of everlasting punishment to create a need in the immortal soul? Most surely. And if He does so, should not we? Did not the Apostle Paul reason before Felix on the subject of judgment to come, and in such a manner as to make that sensuous man tremble on his throne? Ah! yes; it is a wholesome thing for the soul of a sinner to be impressed with a deep sense of his danger of hell. And when we find a soul so impressed, what should we do? Should we not seek to deepen the impression? Would it not be our wisdom to follow up what the Holy Spirit is manifestly doing? Truly so. To act otherwise would be to hinder instead of furthering the work of God in the soul. The blessed Spirit will teach us the proper moment to present the divine Object to meet the need of the exercised soul. The Master will at the right moment issue the command, “Loose him and let him go.” God will do His work and use us therein, if we wait on Him. All we desire is to press upon the reader the reality of God’s work in the soul and the necessity of guarding against anything like undue haste in urging souls beyond the measure of the Spirit’s operation. We should beware of healing the wound slightly and of crying Peace, where there is no peace, yes, where there is not even true preparedness for that blessed peace which Jesus has made by the blood of His cross, which God proclaims in His Word and which the heart enjoys by faith through the power of the Holy Spirit.

Having glanced at two of those modes in which the Spirit of God works in the soul to produce a sense of need — by convincing the conscience of guilt and by pressing upon the spirit the just dread of danger — it remains for us to consider a third method which is by making the heart to feel the utter vanity and dissatisfaction of all that this poor world can offer in the way of pleasure or enjoyment.

This is by no means uncommon. We frequently meet with very matured Christians who say they were brought to Christ, not so much by a sense of guilt or a dread of danger, as by an intense longing after a certain undefinable something — a painful void in the heart, a sense of weariness, loneliness and desolation. They felt an emptiness which nothing in this world could fill. They were heartsick and disappointed. No doubt they felt and acknowledged the broad truth that they were sinners. Moreover, when they looked in the direction of the future they felt there was nothing for them but eternal misery and torment. But then the great prominent feature of the divine work in them was not so much conviction of sin or a fear of punishment as a feeling of utter desolation and dissatisfaction. They found themselves in that condition of soul in which the study of the book of Ecclesiastes shows. They had tried the world in every shape and form, and like the royal Preacher had found it to be “vanity and vexation of spirit.”

Now we must be prepared for this variety in the ways of the Spirit of God. We are not to suppose that He will confine Himself in His blessed operations to any one particular type. Sometimes He produces in the soul the most overwhelming sense of guilt so the heart is crushed to the earth, and nothing is felt, seen or thought of but the vileness, the heinousness, the blackness of sin. The dark catalog of sins rises like a great mountain before the vision of the soul and nearly sinks it into despair. The soul refuses to be comforted. Shame and confusion, sackcloth and ashes, are felt to be the only suited portion of the guilty one.

At other times God sees fit to bring before the soul the terrors of hell and the awful reality of spending an eternity in that region of unutterable gloom and misery. The dark shadow of the future is made to fall upon the brightest scenes of the present. The thought of the wrath to come so presses upon the heart that nothing seems to yield the smallest relief or comfort. All is deep, deep gloom and horror.

Finally, in other cases, the divine Worker is pleased to awaken the soul to the painful discovery and consciousness that it is not within the boundaries of earth to furnish a satisfying portion for an immortal spirit, that all under the sun wears the stamp of death upon it, that human life is but a vapor that speedily vanishes away, that if a man were to live a thousand years and possess the wealth of the universe and concentrate in his own person all the honors and all the dignities which this world could bestow — were he at the very highest pinnacle of power and be renowned throughout the world for genius, intellect and moral worth, if he had all that earth could yield or mortal man possess — the heart would still want something. There would still be a painful void. There would still be the cry, “Oh! for an object.”

Thus varied are the operations of the Spirit of God in the souls of men. No doubt, there may be a sense of guilt, a fear of danger and a painful consciousness of the emptiness and vanity of all earthly possessions and enjoyments, altogether apart from any divine work in the soul, but we are now occupied only with this latter, and we feel the deep importance of being able to discern and appreciate the work of God’s Spirit in the human heart, as also of seeking to help it on. We greatly dread anything like human interference with the progress of the kingdom of God in the soul. There is danger on all sides. There is danger of casting a damper on converts and there is danger of mistaking the mere workings of nature for the action of the Spirit of God. Nor is this all. We are frequently in danger of running directly counter to the object which the Lord has in view in His dealings with the soul. We may, for example, be seeking to extract the arrow which He is sending home to the very center of the soul. We may be seeking to cover up a wound which He would have probed to the very bottom.

All these things demand the utmost vigilance and care on the part of those who take an interest in souls. We are, all of us, liable to make the most serious mistakes either in the way of discouraging and repulsing souls that ought rather to be fostered and cheered, or of recognizing and accrediting as of God what is merely the fruit of religious nature working. In short, it is a serious thing to seek to do the work of God in any way. He alone can give the needed wisdom and grace in each case as it arises. And He will, blessed be His name, give abundantly to all who simply wait on Him. “He gives more grace.” Precious word! There is absolutely no limit to it. It shines as an exhaustless motto on our Father’s treasury door, assuring us of the most ample supply “for the urgent need of every hour.”

Let us not, therefore, be discouraged by the magnitude and seriousness of the work, or the danger attending it. God is sufficient. The work is His. If He deigns in His marvelous grace to use us, as He surely does, as His co-workers, He will liberally furnish us with all that is needed for each case as it arises. But we must wait patiently, humbly and trustfully on Him. We must seek to lay self aside with its bustling self-importance and excitement. We must seek through grace to get rid of that spirit which would be continually thrusting forward that wretched “I, I, I.” In a word, nature must be kept in the shade and Christ alone exalted. Then, assuredly, the Spirit of God will use us in the glorious work which He is carrying on in souls. He will give us the needed skill and ability for each specific case. He will lead us along that path in which He is moving and in which, too, He is displaying the precious mysteries of His new creation.

Nothing can be more wonderful, nothing more intensely interesting, than to mark the progress of the work of God in the soul. A poet has given expression to this when he says

“This is my joy that ne’er can fail,
To see my Savior’s arm prevail,
To mark the steps of grace:
Now new born souls convinced of sin,
His blood revealed to them within,
Extol the Lamb in every place.”

But in order to discern and appreciate — to say nothing of cooperating in — this most precious and sacred work, there must be the anointed eye, the circumcised heart, the unshod foot, the clean hands. The Spirit of God is very sensitive, very easily grieved, quenched and hindered. He does not like to have a noise made about His work. We have seen the work of the Holy Spirit interrupted altogether by reason of the unhallowed excitement of those who were engaged in it.

It is well to remember this. Unbelief hinders the commencing of the Spirit’s work. Undue interference also hinders its progress. The slightest mark of the human finger is apt to soil the mysterious and beautiful work of God. True it is, the Lord will use us if we really look to Him in humility of mind and self-emptiness. Indeed, we constantly find that, in carrying on His work, He allows us to do just as much as we can do, while He Himself, adored be His holy Name, only does what we cannot. This is strikingly illustrated in the scene at the tomb of Lazarus in John 11. There, the Lord commands those around Him to “take away the stone” because it was something they could do. But it is He who cries, “Lazarus, come forth,” because this was something which only He could do. Then again He says, “Loose him and let him go,” thus allowing them to cooperate so far as they were able.

It strikes us that we have in all this a sample of the Lord’s gracious way with His servants. In every little thing in which He can use them He does. But oh! let us be careful not to meddle with His work. Let it be ours to gaze and worship, to mark the marvelous unfoldings of that new creation in which “all things are of God.” His work shall endure throughout all generations. All which bears the stamp of His hand shall abide forever. Hence it is our wisdom as well as our blessing, just to mark His hand and follow where He leads.

Carry on Thy new creation –
Faithful, holy, may we be,
Joyful in Thy full salvation,
More and more conformed to Thee.
Changed from glory into glory,
Till in heaven we take our place,
Then to worship and adore Thee,
Lost in wonder, love and praise!

Before entering upon the second division of our subject, we feel constrained to put a pointed question or two to the reader. We trust he will bear with us in so doing. We are aware that some persons do not like close, personal dealing. They prefer the simple unfolding of truth and leaving it to do its own work. Well, we also value the unfolding of truth in saving or edifying power to the heart and conscience of the reader or the hearer.

But we believe it to be the absolute duty of the writer or speaker to do his very utmost in the way of appeal, exhortation and pointed enquiry to affect the heart, reach the conscience and enlighten the understanding of his reader or hearer. We must remember we have a double duty to perform. We have to unfold truth and we have to deal with the soul. All preachers, teachers and writers should remember this. If a man occupies himself only with abstract truth, his ministry is apt to prove unpractical and unfruitful. If he occupies himself only with souls, his ministry will prove unfurnished and uninteresting. If he occupies himself duly with both, he will prove “a good minister of Jesus Christ.”

Hence, beloved reader, we feel we should be leaving one half of our work undone, did we not from time to time turn from our subject to make an earnest appeal to you; and we would now earnestly entreat of you, as in the immediate presence of Him with whom we have to do, to give your undivided attention to the following question. Be honest with yourself, be earnest, be real, and rest assured that God will bless you.

Have you, dear friend, been led to feel your need? Has the Spirit of God worked in your heart to produce a sense of guilt, a dread of judgment or a consciousness of the utter vanity of all under the sun? Can you say from your very heart, “Woe is me! for I am undone,” “Behold, I am vile,” “I am a sinful man?” All these are distinct utterances of men like yourself — men of like passions — but of men under the quickening visitation of the Holy Spirit and the convicting action of the truth of God. Be assured of it, they are good words, the fruit of most precious exercises in the soul, such exercises as we delight to see.

It is a grand thing to see the soul thoroughly broken down before God, thoroughly sensible of its lost and ruined condition, of its deep guilt, and of its exposure to the just judgment and wrath of a holy, sin-hating God. It was no mere surface work with Job, Isaiah or Peter when they said the words we have just transcribed. The ploughshare had entered the very depths of the soul. The whole moral being was permeated by the light of divine holiness. The arrow of conviction had pierced to the very center of the heart. It was real work. Not one of those beloved saints of God could have rested in the flippant wordy confession of the fact that “we are all sinners.” No mere empty generalities would do for them. All was deep, real and personal. They were in the presence of God, and this is always a real and a solemn matter.

Now we would here distinctly state, once for all, that the exercises of the soul have nothing to do with the ground of salvation or peace. We cannot possibly be too simple and clear as to this. Job did not rest in his own words, “Behold, I am vile,” but in God’s declaration, “I have found a ransom.” Isaiah did not build upon a “Woe is me!” but upon “This has touched thy lips.” Peter did not find relief in his own exclamation, “I am a sinful man,” but upon those two sweet and soothing words of Jesus, “Fear not.”

All this is most true. Far from us be the thought of leading any soul to build upon its exercises, however deep, real and spiritual they may be. No, we must build only and altogether on Christ. “Thus says the Lord God, Behold, I lay in Zion for a foundation a stone, a tried stone, a precious corner stone, a sure foundation: he that believes shall not make haste” (Isaiah 28:16). This “stone” is not an exercise of any sort. It is not even the work of the Holy Spirit, essential as that is. It is not even the Holy Spirit Himself. It is the One to whom the Holy Spirit ever delights to bear witness, even Christ who is the “tried,” the “precious,” the “sure foundation” who died for our sins according to the Scriptures, and rose again for our justification, according to the Scriptures.

Still, while we not only fully admit, but earnestly and constantly insist upon all this, we must be allowed to give expression to our deep and ever deepening sense of the value of a profound work of the Spirit of God in the soul. We fear there is an appalling amount of unbroken material to be found in the ranks of Christian profession, a quantity of truth floating about as so much unpractical and uninfluential theory in the region of the intellect, a large amount of mental traffic in unfelt truth, a great deal of what is unreal. We question if, in many cases, the head is not far in advance of the heart — the mind more at work than the conscience. This is the secret of much of the unreality, the hollowness and the inconsistency so grievous to contemplate. We are convinced of this. Hence it is that we so earnestly desire to deal faithfully with the heart and conscience of the reader. He need not be the least afraid to look this weighty matter straight in the face. Let him not be afraid of the knife. Let him beware of mere intellectualism which is bringing about the temporary reign of superstition and infidelity.

We shall now proceed to consider

The Object Unfolded

Inasmuch as pointed reference has already been made to Isaiah and Peter — a prophet of the Old Testament times and an apostle of the New — we can hardly do better than to look at the mode in which our thesis is illustrated in the history of these two remarkable men. First, let us contemplate the case of Isaiah the prophet. We have seen in his case how the need was created; let us now consider how the object was revealed.

No sooner had the convicted soul given utterance to the cry, “Woe is me! for I am undone,” than the angelic messenger was dispatched with all the earnestness and energy of divine love from the very throne of the eternal thrice holy Jehovah. “Then flew one of the seraphims to me, having a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with the tongs from off the altar: and he laid it upon my mouth and said, Lo, this has touched thy lips and thine iniquity is taken away, and thy sin purged” (Isaiah 6:6-7).

There are two things in the foregoing quotation demanding our attention. First, the substance; secondly, the style of the action recorded. The substance is the thing that was done; the style is the way of doing it. The prophet had been led to see himself in the light which came from the throne of God. This was a serious moment. It could not possibly be otherwise. It is deeply solemn to be brought to the discovery of what we are in the presence of God. When so brought, nothing but divine provision can meet our need, nothing but a divine object can satisfy the heart. Had Isaiah seen only the throne, his condition would have been hopeless. But there was the altar as well, and here lay the secret of life and salvation for him as for every other convicted and self-destroyed sinner. If the throne had its claims, the altar had its provision. The one stood over against the other — two prominent figures in this most sublime vision, two grand realities in the glorious economy of divine grace. The light of the throne revealed the sinner’s guilt; the grace of the altar removed it.

Most assuredly, nothing else could have done for Isaiah, nothing else for the reader. It must be this in every case. The measure may vary, but the great fact is always the same. “Woe is me!” and “This has touched thy lips” must go together. The former is the effect of the throne; the latter, the fruit of the altar. The former is the need created; the latter is the object revealed. Nothing can be more simple, nothing more blessed. It is only the One who creates the need who can unfold the object to meet it; the former He does by the action of truth; the latter by the provision of grace.

“This has touched thy lips.” Mark the words, reader! Note them carefully. See that you understand their force, their meaning and their application to yourself. “This” — what is it? It is the provision — the rich, ample, perfect provision of divine grace. It has wrapped up in its comprehensive folds all a poor guilty, hell-deserving, broken-hearted sinner can need to meet his guilt and ruin. It is not anything from within, but something from without. It is not a process, it is not an exercise, it is not a feeling; it is a divine provision to meet the sinner’s deepest need, to remove his guilt, to hush his fears, to save his soul. All was contained in that mysterious “live coal from off the altar.”

We may have occasion to return to this scene again in connection with the last point in our subject — the soul’s taking hold of the object. We shall here just refer to the style of that wonderful action which spoke peace to the troubled soul of Isaiah. There is no one who is not conscious of the immense power of style over the heart. Indeed, we may almost say that the style of an action is more influential than the substance. And is it not most blessed to know that our God has His own unique style? Truly so. Adored forever be His holy Name, He not only meets our need, but He does it in such a way as to let us know without a shadow of a doubt, that “His whole heart and his whole soul” are in the act. He not only pardons our sins, but does it after such a fashion as to convince our souls that it is His own richest joy to do it.

The style of the divine action in Isaiah 6 shines forth in that little word “flew.” It is as though God was in haste to apply the divine balm to a wounded spirit. Not a moment was to be lost. That bitter cry, “Woe is me!” coming forth as it did from the very depths of a sinner’s broken heart, had gone straight to the ear and heart of God, and with the intense rapidity of a seraph’s wing, must a divine response be sent from the sanctuary of God to purge the convicted conscience and tranquilize the troubled heart.

Such is the way of our God. Such is the manner of His love. Such is the style of His grace. He not only saves us, but He does it in such a way as to assure us that it makes Him far happier to save us than it makes us to be saved. The poor legal, doubting, reasoning heart may often be full of fear as to how God will deal with us. In spite of all the precious assurances of His love, all the proofs of His mercy and goodness, all the pledges of His readiness to save and bless, still the heart doubts and hangs back. It still refuses to listen to that voice of love speaking in ten thousand touching and eloquent strains. It still proves its readiness to lend a willing ear to the dark suggestions of the arch enemy — to its own wretched reasonings, to anything and everything but the whispers of divine love. In vain does a Savior God stand before the sinner, beseeching him to come; in vain does He open His very heart to the sinner’s view, “showing His thoughts how kind they be”; in vain He points to the sacrifice of His own providing — the Lamb of His free giving, the son of His bosom. Still the heart will harbor its dark and depressing suspicions. It will not give God credit for love so full, so free. It will not admit that God delights to save, delights to bless, delights to make us happy.

Oh! beloved reader, are you a doubter? Do you still hang back? Do you still continue to wrong and wound that deep, tender, marvelous love of God that stopped not short of giving His only begotten Son from His bosom and bruising Him on Calvary’s cursed tree? Why, oh why, do you hesitate? What are you waiting for? What more do you want? Say not, we beseech you, “I cannot believe; I would if I could, but I cannot. I am waiting for power.” Hear these words. “If we receive the testimony of man, the testimony of God is greater.” Have you not, many a time, received the testimony, the record, the witness of man? If you were to tell a fellow man that you could not believe him, what would he say to you? Would he not tell you that you were calling him a liar? Will you make God a liar? You have done it long enough. Do it no longer, we beseech you, but come now, just as you are, and behold the manner of the love of God — its substance and its style. Come now with all your guilt, all your wretchedness, all your misery, all your need, and you will find in that object which God unfolds in His Word, all you can need for time and eternity. Not only so, but you will receive a welcome as hearty as the God of all grace can give. Do come!

For further illustration of our theme, look to the case of Peter at the Lake of Gennesaret as recorded in the opening paragraph of Luke 5. He, too, like the prophet Isaiah, was made to feel his need — his deep, deep need. The same convicting light which had entered the soul of the prophet, here penetrates the heart of the future apostle and elicits those earnest words, “Depart from me; for I am a sinful man, O Lord.”

Here we have the need created, the sense of guilt produced. But mark in passing the strange yet lovely inconsistency! Peter has not the least idea of making his escape from the light which had shone upon him; no, he actually draws nearer and nearer to it. He felt he had no right to be there and yet he would not be anywhere else. And why? Because mingled with that powerful convicting light, there was the equally powerful converting grace which irresistibly drew the heart of the “sinful man” toward it. “Grace and truth came by Jesus Christ.” “And we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth” (John 1). What could be more suited to a man full of sin than a Savior full of grace? Surely nothing and no one. Though that blessed Savior was full of truth likewise, and truth puts everything and everyone in the right place, yet the grace was amply sufficient to meet all the need which the truth revealed. Hence, although the poor convicted sinner cries out, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord,” he nevertheless feels that the only place for him is “at Jesus’ knees.”

It is ever thus in cases of true conviction. In every instance in which the genuine work of God’s Spirit is worked in the soul, we notice more or less of what we have called this strange yet lovely inconsistency, this seeming contradiction, the striking phenomenon of a sinner confessing his utter unfitness to be in the presence of a holy God and yet having a certain inward consciousness that it is the only place he can be in.

This is very beautiful and touchingly interesting. It is the sure evidence of the work of God in the soul. There is the profound sense of sinfulness and guilt and yet that marvelous and mysterious clinging of the heart to the One whose moral glory has humbled us in the dust. “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord.” But where were these glowing words said? At the knees of a Savior-God. Blessed place! Did Peter imagine that Jesus was going to depart from him? Did he really think that the gracious One who had deigned to make use of his ship and then given him such a miraculous draught of fish, would leave him in the depth of his misery? We do not and cannot believe it. Ah! no; the Spirit of God, in His most precious operations in the soul, always combines these two elements — the consciousness of utter unworthiness and an earnest clinging to and breathing after Christ. The former is conviction; the latter conversion. By the former, the furrow is made; by the latter, the seed deposited. In short, it is the need created and the object revealed. The two things go together. As in the case of Isaiah, “Woe is me!” is instantly followed by “This has touched thy lips”. So in the case of Peter, “Depart from me” is followed by the gracious words, “Fear not.”

This is divine. The object revealed is perfectly adequate to meet the need created. It must be so because the creation of the need and the unfolding of the object are both operations of one and the selfsame Spirit. And not only so, but the object so unfolded is found to be adequate to meet all the claims of God Himself. Therefore it must be adequate to meet all the claims of the convicted and exercised soul. If God is satisfied with the Person and work of Christ, we may well be so likewise. How did Isaiah learn that he was undone? By light from on high. How did he learn that his sin was purged? By grace from on high. He rested upon the testimony of God and not upon his own feelings or notions. If at the close of the beautiful scene recorded in chapter 6, anyone had asked Isaiah, “How do you know your sin is purged?” what would have been his reply? Would he have said, “I feel it is so?” We believe not. We are persuaded that this man of God rested upon something far better, far deeper, far more solid than any mere feeling of his own mind. Doubtless he did feel. But why? Just because he did not make feeling the ground of his faith, but faith the ground of his feeling, and divine revelation the ground of his faith.

Such is the divine order, an order so constantly reversed to the serious damage of souls, the subversion of their peace and the dishonor of their Lord. When we turn to Scripture, when we examine the various cases which it records for our learning, we invariably find the order to be, first, the Word; secondly, faith; thirdly, feeling. On the other hand, when we turn to the history of souls today and examine their exercises and experiences, we constantly find they begin with their feelings. As a consequence, they rarely enjoy a right sense of the nature and foundation of true Christian faith.

All this is greatly to be deplored. It claims the earnest attention of those who take an interest in souls and are called to watch the progress of the work of God therein. It is of the greatest importance to lead all exercised souls to the sure foundation of Holy Scripture and to teach them that faith is simply taking God at His word. It is believing what He says, not because we feel it, but because He says it. To believe because we feel, would not be faith in God’s Word at all, but faith in our own feelings, which is a worthless faith that will not stand for a moment in the presence of the enemy. The Word of God is settled forever in heaven. “He has magnified His Word above all His name.” This is the solid foundation of Christian faith.

True, it is by the Holy Spirit that the soul is led to rest on this foundation, but the foundation is Scripture and Scripture alone. It is not feelings or experiences, but the plain testimony of Holy Scripture. “Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures; He was buried and rose again the third day, according to the Scriptures.” Here lies the true foundation of Christian faith, yea, of faith in all ages. Abraham believed God and thus found rest for his soul. So with Isaiah, so with Peter, so with all. Patriarchs, prophets, apostles and saints of every age, every condition and every clime rested upon the stable rock of divine revelation, and if the reader will only do the same, he will possess a peace which no power of earth or hell can ever disturb.

But we must draw this paper to a close, and this we shall do by a very brief reference in the third and last place, to

The Object Laid Hold Of

We may be brief on this point as a good deal has already been said which bears upon it. But we would specially call attention to the practical results which are sure to follow in every case in which the soul lays hold of Christ. Our two examples, Isaiah and Peter, will serve us here as well as in the other branches of our subject.

No sooner was Isaiah’s need met, his guilt purged, than we see in him a whole-hearted consecration of himself to God and His service which may well stir the very depth of the soul and humble us, too, at the thought of how little we imitate him therein. No sooner does he hear that Jehovah wants a messenger, than the ready response comes forth from his heart and expresses itself in those ardent words, “Here am I; send me.” He was ready now to go forth in service to the One who had made him see his own ruin and revealed also the divine remedy. The order is beautiful. We have, first, “Woe is me;” secondly, “This has touched thy lips”; and thirdly, “Here am I.”

So also in Peter’s case, we have precisely the same lovely moral order. His “Depart from me” is followed by Christ’s “Fear not.” And then the practical result follows, “He forsook all and followed Him.” This truly was a laying hold of the Object. Peter evidently felt at this moment that Christ was worthy of all he was and all he had. In the early bloom of divine life in his soul, all was readily let go. Secular occupations, however right in themselves; natural ties, however important, are all surrendered for the one absorbing Object which had been revealed to, and laid hold of by his new-born and emancipated soul. Christ was more to Peter than boats and nets, father and mother, sisters and brothers.

He forsook all. Nor was it difficult in the freshness of first love to let go those natural ties and occupations. The difficulty at such a moment would be to retain them or cling to them. Regretfully that we should ever have been called to hear from Peter’s lips such words as these, “I go a fishing,” and that too after three years of marvelous companionship with that blessed One who had once commanded his whole moral being and drawn him off from all earthly cares and natural relationships.

But we shall not dwell upon this painful and humbling theme. We shall think of Peter at the Lake of Gennesaret; we shall dwell upon the moments of his first love — those charming moments when Peter could, without reserve, say, “Jesus, my all in all Thou art.” This is what we all want to look to. We want to understand the real secret, the mighty moral power, the true motive spring of all genuine devotedness and personal consecration. We want to bend our whole attention to the question, “How can I be most effectively drawn off from all those things which so readily and powerfully attract this wandering heart of mine?” What is the answer? Simply this: “Keep the heart fixed on Christ, filled with Christ, dedicated to Christ. Nothing else will do. Rules and regulations will not do, vows and resolutions will not avail. It must be “The expulsive power of a new affection.”

This is the grand requirement, the special lack of our souls, but the only effective preservative against the ten thousand fascinations and allurements of the scene through which we are passing. The moment we begin to ask, “What harm is there in this or that?” it is all over with personal devotedness. Decline has set in, our hearts have gotten away from Christ. Peter, at the Lake of Gennesaret, never thought of asking “What harm is there in fishing? What sin is there in boats and nets? Why should I not tarry with my father and friends? There was no harm in fishing, nothing sinful in boats and nets, looked at in themselves. But why did Peter give them up? Because he was called to something better. He abandoned the inferior because he had laid hold of the superior. And we may rest assured of this, if Peter returned to the inferior again, it was only because the superior had, for the moment, lost its power over his heart.

Here we must stop. We had no intention of dwelling at such length upon the subject of “The work of God in the soul,” but we have found it intensely interesting and we fondly hope it has been profitable to the reader.