“Finally, my brethren, rejoice in the Lord” (Phil. iii. 1).
There is no spiritual value in depression. One bright and thankful look at
the cross is worth a thousand morbid, self-condemning reflections. The
longer you look at evil the more it mesmerizes and defiles you into its
own likeness. Lay it down at the cross, accept the cleansing blood, reckon
yourself dead to the thing that was wrong, and then rise up and count
yourself as if you were another man and no longer the same person; and
then, identifying yourself with the Lord Jesus, accept your standing in
Him and look in your Father’s face as blameless as Jesus. Then out of your
every fault will come some lesson of watchfulness or some secret of
victory which will enable you some day to thank Him, even for your painful
experience.
But praise is a sacrifice, for “it is acceptable to God.” It goes up to
heaven sweeter than the songs of angels, “a sweet smelling savor to your
Lord and King.” It should be unintermittent—“the sacrifice of praise
continually.” One drop of poison will neutralize a whole cup of wine, and
make it a cup of death, and one moment of gloom will defile a whole day of
sunshine and gladness. Let us “rejoice evermore.”