JOY AND PEACE IN BELIEVING

'The God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in

believing, that ye may abound in hope, through the

power of the Holy Ghost.'--ROMANS xv. 13.

With this comprehensive and lofty petition the Apostle closes his

exhortation to the factions in the Roman Church to be at unity. The

form of the prayer is moulded by the last words of a quotation which

he has just made, which says that in the coming Messiah 'shall the

Gentiles hope.' But the prayer itself is not an instance of being led

away by a word--in form, indeed, it is shaped by verbal resemblance;

in substance it points to the true remedy for religious controversy.

Fill the contending parties with a fuller spiritual life, and the

ground of their differences will begin to dwindle, and look very

contemptible. When the tide rises, the little pools on the rocks are

all merged into one.

But we may pass beyond the immediate application of these words, and

see in them the wish, which is also a promise, and like the

exhibition of every ideal is a command. This is Paul's conception of

the Christian life as it might and should be, in one aspect. You

notice that there is not a word in it about conduct. It goes far

deeper than action. It deals with the springs of action in the

individual life. It is the depths of spiritual experience here set

forth which will result in actions that become a Christian. And in

these days, when all around us we see a shallow conception of

Christianity, as if it were concerned principally with conduct and

men's relations with one another, it is well to go down into the

depths, and to remember that whilst 'Do, do, do!' is very important,

'Be, be, be!' is the primary commandment. Conduct is a making visible

of personality, and the Scripture teaching which says first faith and

then works is profoundly philosophical as well as Christian. So we

turn away here from externals altogether, and regard the effect of

Christianity on the inward life.

I. I wish to notice man's faith and God's filling as connected, and

as the foundation of everything.

'The God of hope fill you ...'--let us leave out the intervening

words for a moment--'in believing.' Now, you notice that Paul does

not stay to tell us what or whom we are to believe in, or on. He

takes that for granted, and his thought is fastened, for the moment,

not on the object but on the act of faith. And he wishes to drive

home to us this, that the attitude of trust is the necessary

prerequisite condition of God's being able to fill a man's soul, and

that God's being able to fill a man's soul is the necessary

consequence of a man's trust. Ah, brethren, we cannot altogether shut

God out from our spirits. There are loving and gracious gifts that,

as our Lord tells us, He makes to 'fall on the unthankful and the

evil.' His rain is not like the summer showers that we sometimes see,

that fall in one spot and leave another dry; nor like the destructive

thunderstorms, that come down bringing ruin upon one cane-brake and

leave the plants in the next standing upright. But the best, the

highest, the truly divine gifts which He is yearning to give to us

all, cannot be given except there be consent, trust, and desire for

them. You can shut your hearts or you can open them. And just as the

wind will sigh round some hermetically closed chamber in vain search

for a cranny, and the man within may be asphyxiated though the

atmosphere is surging up its waves all round his closed domicile, so

by lack of our faith, which is at once trust, consent, and desire, we

shut out the gift with which God would fain fill our spirits. You can

take a porous pottery vessel, wrap it up in waxcloth, pitch it all

over, and then drop it into mid-Atlantic, and not a drop will find

its way in. And that is what we can do with ourselves, so that

although in Him 'we live and move and have our being,' and are like

the earthen vessel in the ocean, no drop of the blessed moisture will

ever find its way into the heart. There must be man's faith before

there can be God's filling.

Further, this relation of the two things suggests to us that a

consequence of a Christian man's faith is the direct action of God

upon him. Notice how the Apostle puts that truth in a double form

here, in order that he may emphasise it, using one form of

expression, involving the divine, direct activity, at the beginning

of his prayer, and another at the end, and so enclosing, as it were,

within a great casket of the divine action, all the blessings, the

flashing jewels, which he desires his Roman friends to possess. 'The

God of hope fill you ... through the power of the Holy Ghost.' I wish

I could find words by which I could bear in upon the ordinary type of

the Evangelical Christianity of this generation anything like the

depth and earnestness of my own conviction that, for lack of a

proportionate development of that great truth, of the direct action

of the giving God on the believing heart, it is weakened and harmed

in many ways. Surely He that made my spirit can touch my spirit;

surely He who filleth all things according to their capacity can

Himself enter into and fill the spirit which is opened for Him by

simple faith. We do not need wires for the telegraphy between heaven

and the believing soul, but He comes directly to, and speaks in, and

moves upon, and moulds and blesses, the waiting heart. And until you

know, by your own experience rightly interpreted, that there is such

a direct communion between the giving God and the recipient believing

spirit, you have yet to learn the deepest depth, and the most blessed

blessedness, of Christian faith and experience. For lack of it a

hundred evils beset modern Christianity. For lack of it men fix their

faith so exclusively as that the faith is itself harmed thereby, on

the past act of Christ's death on the Cross. You will not suspect me

of minimising that, but I beseech you remember one climax of the

Apostle's which, though not bearing the same message as my text, is

in harmony with it, 'Christ that died, yea, rather, that is risen

again, who is even at the right hand of God, who also maketh

intercession for us.' And remember that Christ Himself bestows the

gift of His Divine Spirit as the result of the humiliation and the

agony of His Cross. Faith brings the direct action of the giving God.

And one more word about this first part of my text: the result of

that direct action is complete--'the God of hope fill you' with no

shrunken stream, no painful trickle out of a narrow rift in the rock,

but a great exuberance which will pass into a man's nature in the

measure of his capacity, which is the measure of his trust and

desire. There are two limits to God's gifts to men: the one is the

limitless limit of God's infinitude, the other is the working

limit--our capacity--and that capacity is precisely measured, as the

capacity of some built-in vessel might be measured by a little gauge

on the outside, by our faith. 'The God of hope' fills you in

'believing,' and 'according to thy faith shall it be unto thee.'

II. Notice the joy and peace which come from the direct action of the

God of hope on the believer's soul.

Now, it is not only towards God that we exercise trust, but wherever

it is exercised, to some extent, and in the measure in which the

object on which it rests is discovered by experience to be worthy, it

produces precisely these results. Whoever trusts is at peace, just as

much as he trusts. His confidence may be mistaken, and there will

come a tremendous awakening if it is, and the peace will be shattered

like some crystal vessel dashed upon an iron pavement, but so long as

a man's mind and heart are in the attitude of dependence upon

another, conceived to be dependable, one knows that there are few

phases of tranquillity and blessedness which are sweeter and deeper

than that. 'The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her'--that

is one illustration, and a hundred more might be given. And if you

will take that attitude of trust which, even when it twines round

some earthly prop, is upheld for a time, and bears bright flowers--if

you take it and twine it round the steadfast foundations of the

Throne of God, what can shake that sure repose? 'Joy and peace' will

come when the Christian heart closes with its trust, which is God in

Christ.

He that believes has found the short, sure road to joy and peace,

because his relations are set right with God. For these relations are

the disturbing elements in all earthly tranquillity, and like the

skeleton at the feast in all earthly joy, and a man can never, down

to the roots of his being, be at rest until he is quite sure that

there is nothing wrong between him and God. And so believing, we come

to that root of all real gladness which is anything better than a

crackling of thorns under a pot, and to that beginning of all true

tranquillity. Joy in the Lord and peace with God are the parents of

all joy and peace that are worthy of the name.

And that same faith will again bring these two bright-winged angels

into the most saddened and troubled lives, because that faith brings

right relations with ourselves. For our inward strifes stuff thorns

into the pillow of our repose, and mingle bitterness with the

sweetest, foaming draughts of our earthly joys. If a man's conscience

and inclinations pull him two different ways, he is torn asunder as

by wild horses. If a man has a hungry heart, for ever yearning after

unattained and impossible blessings, then there is no rest there. If

a man's little kingdom within him is all anarchical, and each passion

and appetite setting up for itself, then there is no tranquillity.

But if by faith we let the God of hope come in, then hungry hearts

are satisfied, and warring dispositions are harmonised, and the

conscience becomes quieted, and fair imaginations fill the chamber of

the spirit, and the man is at rest, because he himself is unified by

the faith and fear of God.

And the same faith brings joy and peace because it sets right our

relations with other people, and with all externals. If I am living

in an atmosphere of trust, then sorrow will never be absolute, nor

have exclusive monopoly and possession of my spirit. But there will

be the paradox, and the blessedness, of Christian experience, 'as

sorrowful yet always rejoicing.' For the joy of the Christian life

has its source far away beyond the swamps from which the sour drops

of sorrow may trickle, and it is possible that, like the fabled fire

that burned under water, the joy of the Lord may be bright in my

heart, even when it is drenched in floods of calamity and distress.

And so, brethren, the joy and peace that come from faith will fill

the heart which trusts. Only remember how emphatically the Apostle

here puts these two things together, 'joy and peace in believing.' As

long as, and not a moment longer than, you are exercising the

Christian act of trust, will you be experiencing the Christian

blessedness of 'joy and peace.' Unscrew the pipe, and in an instant

the water ceases to flow. Touch the button and switch off, and out

goes the light. Some Christian people fancy they can live upon past

faith. You will get no present joy and peace out of past faith. The

rain of this day twelve months will not moisten the parched ground of

to-day. Yesterday's religion was all used up yesterday. And if you

would have a continuous flow of joy and peace through your lives,

keep up a uniform habit and attitude of trust in God. You will get it

then; you will get it in no other way.

III. Lastly, note the hope which springs from this experience of joy

and peace.

'The God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that

ye may abound in hope.' Here, again, the Apostle does not trouble

himself to define the object of the hope. In this, as in the former

clause, his attention is fixed upon the emotion, not upon that

towards which it goes out. And just as there was no need to say in

whom it was that the Christian man was to believe, so there is no

room to define what it is that the Christian man has a right to hope

for. For his hope is intended to cover all the future, the next

moment, or to-morrow, or the dimmest distance where time has ceased

to be, and eternity stands unmoved. The attitude of the Christian

mind ought to be a cheery optimism, an unconquerable hope. 'The best

has yet to be' is the true Christian thought in contemplating the

future for myself, for my dear ones, for God's Church, and for God's

universe.

And the truest basis on which that hope can rest is the experience

granted to us, on condition of our faith, of a present, abundant

possession of the joy and peace which God gives. The gladder you are

to-day, if the gladness comes from the right source, the surer you

may be that that gladness will never end. That is not what befalls

men who live by earthly joys. For the more poignant, precious, and,

as we faithlessly think, indispensable some of these are to us, the

more into their sweetest sweetness creeps the dread thought: 'This is

too good to last; this must pass.' We never need to think that about

the peace and joy that come to us through believing. For they, in

their sweetness, prophesy perpetuity. I need not dwell upon the

thought that the firmest, most personally precious convictions of an

eternity of future blessedness, rise and fall in a Christian

consciousness with the purity and the depth of its own experience of

the peace and joy of the Gospel. The more you have of Jesus Christ in

your lives and hearts to-day, the surer you will be that whatever

death may do, it cannot touch that, and the more ludicrously

impossible it will seem that anything that befalls this poor body can

touch the bond that knits us to Jesus Christ. Death can separate us

from a great deal. Its sharp scythe cuts through all other bonds, but

its edge is turned when it is tried against the golden chain that

binds the believing soul to the Christ in whom he has believed.

So, brethren, there is the ladder--begin at the bottom step, with

faith in Jesus Christ. That will bring God's direct action into your

spirit, through His Holy Spirit, and that one gift will break up into

an endless multiplicity of blessings, just as a beam of light spilt

upon the surface of the ocean breaks into diamonds in every wave, and

that 'joy and peace' will kindle in your hearts a hope fed by the

great words of the Lord: 'Peace I leave with you, my peace I give

unto you,' 'My joy shall remain in you, and your joy shall be full,'

'He that liveth and believeth in Me shall never die.'

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