Observe that the first clause of my text comes as the last term in a
sequence. It began with 'being justified by faith.' The second round
of the ladder was, 'we have peace with God.' The third, 'we have
access into this grace.' The fourth, 'we stand,' and then comes, 'we
rejoice in hope of the glory of God.' That is to say, to put it into
general words, and, of course, presupposing the revelation in Jesus
Christ as the basis of all, without which there is no assured hope of
a future beyond the grave, then the facts of a Christian man's life
are for him the best brighteners of the hope beyond. Of course, that
is so. 'Justified by faith'--'peace with God'--'access into grace';
what, in the name of common-sense, can death do with these things?
How can its blunted sword cut the bond that unites a soul that has
had such experiences as these with the source of them all? Nothing
can be more grotesque, nothing more incongruous, than to think that
that subordinate and accidental fact, whose region is the physical,
has anything whatever to do with this higher region of consciousness.
And, further than that, it is absolutely unthinkable to a man in the
possession of these spiritual gifts, that they should ever come to a
close; and the fact that in the precise degree in which we realise as
our very own possession, here and now, these Christian emotions and
blessings, we instinctively rise to the belief that they are 'not for
an age, but for all time,' and not for all time, but for eternity, is
itself, if not a proof, yet a very strong presumption, if you believe
in God, that a man who thus 'feels he was not made to die' because he
has grasped the Eternal, is right in so feeling. If, too, we look at
the experiences themselves, they all have the stamp of
incompleteness, and suggest completeness by their own incompleteness.
The new moon with its ragged edge not more surely prophesies its
completed silver round, than do the experiences of the Christian life
here, in their greatness and in their smallness, declare that there
come a time and an order of things in which what was thwarted
tendency shall be accomplished result. The tender green spikelet,
pushing up through the brown clods, does not more surely prophesy the
waving yellow ear, nor the broad highway on which a man comes in the
wilderness more surely declare that there is a village at the end of
it, than do the facts of the Christian life, here and now, attest the
validity of the hope of the glory of God.
And so, brethren, if you wish to brighten that great light that fills
the future, see to it that your present Christianity is fuller of
'peace with God,' 'access into grace,' and the firm, erect standing
which flows from these. When the springs in the mountains dry up, the
river in the valley shrinks; and when they are full, it glides along
level with the top of its banks. So when our Christian life in the
present is richest, our Christian hope of the future will be the
brighter. Look into yourselves. Is there anything there that
witnesses to that great future; anything there that is obviously
incipient, and destined to greater power; anything there which is
like a tropical plant up here in 45 degrees of north latitude,
managing to grow, but with dwarfed leaves and scanty flowers and half
shrivelled and sourish fruit, and that in the cold dreams of the warm
native land? Reflecting telescopes show the stars in a mirror, and
the observer looks down to see the heavens. Look into yourselves, and
see whether, on the polished plate within, there are any images of
the stars that move around the Throne of God.
But let us turn for a moment to the second source to which the
Apostle traces the Christian hope here. I must not be tempted to more
than just a word of explanation, but perhaps you will tolerate that.
Paul says that trouble works patience, that is to say, not only
passive endurance, but brave persistence in a course, in spite of
antagonisms. That is what trouble does to a man when it is rightly
borne. Of course the Apostle is speaking here of its ideal operation,
and not of the reality which alas! often is seen when our
tribulations lash us into impatience, or paralyse our efforts.
Tribulation worketh patience, 'and patience _experience_.' That is a
difficult word to put into English. There underlies it the frequent
thought which is familiar in Scripture, of trouble of all kinds as
testing a man, whether as the refiner's fire or the winnower's fan.
It tests a man, and if he bears the trouble with patient persistence,
then he has passed the test and is approved. Patient perseverance
thus works approval, or proof of the man's Christianity, and, still
more, proof of the reality and power of the Christ whom his
Christianity grasps. And so from out of that approval or proof which
comes, through perseverance, from tribulation, there rises, of
course, in that heart that has been tested and has stood, a calm hope
that the future will be as the past, and that, having fought through
six troubles, by God's help the seventh will be vanquished also, till
at last troubles will end, and heaven be won.
Brethren, there is the true point of view from which to look, not
only at tribulations, but at all the trials, for they too bring
trials, that lie in duty and in enjoyment, and in earthly things.
They are meant to work in us a conviction, by our experience of
having been able to meet them aright, of the reality of our grasp of
God, and of the reality and power of the God whom we grasp. If we
took that point of view in regard to all the changes of this
changeful life, we should not so often be bewildered and upset by the
darkest of our sorrows. The shining lancets and cruel cutting
instruments that the surgeon lays out on his table before he begins
the operation are very dreadful. But the way to think of them is that
they are there in order to remove from a man what it does him harm to
keep, and what, if it is not taken away, will kill him. So life, with
its troubles, great and small, is all meant for this, to make us
surer of, and bring us closer to, our God, and to brace and
strengthen us in our own personal character. And if it does that,
then blessed be everything that produces these results, and leads us
thereby to glorying in the troubles by which shines out on us a
brighter hope.
So there are the two sources, you see: the one is the blessedness of
the Christian life, the other the sorrows of the outward life, and
both may converge upon the brightening of our Christian hope. Our
rainbow is the child of the marriage of the sun and the rain. The
Christian hope comes from being 'justified by faith, having peace
with God ... and access into grace,' and it comes from tribulation,
which 'worketh patience,' and patience which 'worketh approval.' The
one spark is struck from the hard flint by the cold steel, and the
other is kindled by the sun itself, but they are both fire.