greatest freedom of confession of their sins, when they have been
nearest to God, even though he be a God of holiness. At other times,
they have not only been averse to confess to any friend, but even
unwilling to talk over to themselves the aggravation of their
iniquities, or to mention them in prayer: but when they are brought thus
near the throne of God, they unbosom themselves before him, they pour
out their sins and their tears together, with a sweet and mournful
satisfaction. “I behold,” says the saint, “the great atonement, the
blood of Jesus, and therefore I may venture to confess my great
iniquities, for the satisfaction is equal to them all. When I behold God
upon his seat, I behold the _Lamb in the midst of the throne as it had
been slain_, and he is my Peace-maker. I see his all-sufficient
sacrifice, his atoning-blood, his perfect, his justifying
righteousness.” The soul then answers the call of God with great
readiness, when God says in Is. i. 18. _Come let us reason together:
though your sins have been as scarlet, they shall be as wool._ “I am
ready,” says the soul, “to enter into such reasonings; I am ready to
confess before thee, that my sins are all crimson and scarlet, but there
is cleansing blood with thy Son: Blood that has washed the garments of a
thousand sinners, and made them white as snow; and it has the same
virtue still to wash mine too: I trust in it, and rejoice when I behold
that blood sprinkled upon the mercy-seat, and therefore I grow confident
in hope, and draw yet nearer to God, a reconciled God, since his throne
has the memorials of a bleeding sacrifice upon it.”
2. If I could get near the seat of God, I would tell him how many my
enemies are, and how strong; how malicious, and how full of rage.——And I
would beg strength against them, and victory over them.——I would say as
David: _Many there be that hate me, many there be that rise up against
me; and many there be that say of my soul, there is no help for him in
God; but thou, O God, art my glory, my shield, and the lifter up of
head_: Ps. iii. 1, 2, 3. Then says the soul, I would complain to God of
all my in-dwelling corruption, of the body of death that dwells in me,
or in which I dwell; and say, “O wretched man that I am, who shall
deliver me!” I would tell him then of the secret working of pride in my
heart, though I long to be humble; of the rising of ambition in my soul,
though I would willingly maintain a middle state amongst men, and not
aim and aspire to be great.—I would acquaint him of the vanity of my own
mind, though I am perpetually endeavouring to subdue it. I would tell
him, with tears, of my sinful passions, of my anger and impatience, and
the workings of envy and revenge in me; of the perpetual stirrings of
disorderly appetites, whereby I am led away from my God: I would tell
him of the hardness of my heart, and the obstinacy of my temper. I would
open before his eye, all the vices of my constitution; all those secret
seeds of iniquity that are ever budding and blossoming to bring forth
fruit to death. These things are fit to mourn before the Lord, when the
soul is come near to his seat.
I would complain of this sore enemy, the world, that is perpetually
besetting me, that strikes upon all my senses, that by the ears, and the
eyes, and all the outward faculties, draws my heart away from God my
best friend. I would tell him of the rage of Satan, that watchful and
malicious adversary; that I cannot engage in any duty of worship, but he
is ready to throw in some foolish or vain suggestion to divert me; and I
would look forward, and point to my last enemy death, and beg the
presence of my God with me, when I walk through that dark valley:—“Lord,
when I enter into that conflict, assist me, that I may fear no evil, but
be made more than a conqueror through him that has loved me.”
3. I would tell him what darkness I labour under, either in respect of
faith or practice. If I am perplexed in my mind, and entangled about any
of the doctrines of the gospel, I would then tell my God what my
entanglements are, where the difficulty lies; and I would beg, that by
his Spirit and his word, he would solve the controversy, and set his own
truth before me in his own divine light. And then in point of practice,
what darkness lies upon the spirit at such a time, is revealed before
God: “My way is hedged up, I know not what path to chuse; it is very
hard for me to find out my duty; shew me, O Lord, the way wherein I
should walk, and mark out my path plain for me.”
4. I would mourn, and tell him, how little converse I have with himself,
how much he is hidden from me: I would complain to him, how far off I am
from him the most part of my life, how few are the hours of my communion
with him, how short is the visit, how much his face is concealed from
me, and how far my heart is divided from him. A soul then says, “Surely
there is too great a distance between me and my God, my heavenly
Father!” and cries out with bitterness, _Why is God so far from me, and
why is my heart so far from God?_ How often do I wait upon him in his
own sanctuary, and among his saints, but I am not favoured with the
sight _of his power and glory_ there! And how often do I seek him in my
secret retirements, but I find him not? I would tell him how often I
read his promises in the gospel, and taste no sweetness; I go frequently
to those wells of consolation, and they seem to be dry; then _I turn my
face and go away ashamed_.
5. I would tell him too of my temporal troubles, if I got near to God,
because they unfit me for his service, they make me incapable of
honouring him in the world, and render me unfit for enjoying him in his
ordinances: I would tell him how they damp my zeal, how they bow my
spirit down, and _make me go mourning all the day long_, to the
dishonour of christianity, which is a dispensation of grace and joy.
Thus I might complain before God of pains, of weakness, of sickness, of
the disorders of my flesh; I might complain there too of the weakness of
all my powers, the want of memory, the scatterings and confusions that
are upon my thoughts, the wanderings of my fancy, and the unhappy
influence that a feeble and diseased body has upon the mind: “O my God,
how am I divided from thee, by dwelling in such a tabernacle! still
patching up a tottering cottage, and wasting my best hours in a painful
attendance on the infirmities of the flesh!”
I might then take the liberty of spreading before my God, all the
sorrows and vexations of life, that unhinge my soul from its centre, and
throw it off from my guard, and hurry and expose me to daily
temptations. I might complain of my reproaches from friends and enemies;
because these, many times, wear out the spirit, and unfit it for acts of
lively worship. These are my weekly sorrows and groans, these are my
daily fears and troubles; and these shall be spread before the eyes of
my God, in the happy hour when I get near him.
_Lastly_, I would not go away without a word of pity and complaint
concerning my relations, my friends, and acquaintance, that are afar off
from God. I would put in one word of petition for them that are careless
and unconcerned for themselves: I would weep a little at the seat of God
for them: I would leave a tear or two at the throne of mercy, for my
dearest relatives in the flesh, for children, brothers or sisters, that
they might be brought near to God, in the bonds of the spirit. Then
would I remember my friends in Christ, my brethren and kindred in the
gospel; such as labour under heavy burdens, languish under various
infirmities of life, or groan under the power of strong temptations.
When God indulges me the favour of his ear, I would spread their wants
and sorrows before him, together with my own, and make supplication for
all the saints. I would leave a petition at the mercy-seat for my native
country, that knowledge and holiness may overspread the nation: that our
king may be a nursing father to the church, and our princes may be
blessings to the land. And while I send up my request for the British
islands, I would breathe out many a sigh for Zion, that she may be the
joy of the whole earth. I proceed now to,
III. The third head of enquiry, which is this: why does a saint, when he
gets near to God, delight to tell him all his circumstances, and all his
sorrows?
In general I might say this, because it is so seldom, at least in our
day, that a saint gets very near to God; therefore, when he finds that
happy minute, he says to his God all that he wants to say: he tells him
all his heart, he pours out all his wants before him; because these
seasons are very few. It is but here and there an extraordinary
christian, who maintains constant nearness to God: The best complain of
too much distance and estrangement. But to descend to particulars:
1. He is our chief friend, and it is an ease to the soul to vent itself
in the bosom of a friend, when we are in his company.—More especially as
it was in the case of Job, when other friends failed him when he had
begun to tell them some of his sorrows, and withal maintained his own
integrity; they would not believe him, but became his troublers instead
of his comforters: _My friends scorn me_, says Job, _chap._ xvi. 20.
_but mine eye poureth out tears unto God_. I go to my best friend, my
friend in heaven, when my friends here on earth neglect me.
Man is a sociable creature, and our joys and our sorrow are made to be
communicated, that thereby we may double the one, and alleviate the
other. There is scarce any piece of human nature, be it never so stupid,
but feels some satisfaction in the pleasure of a friend, in
communicating the troubles and the pleasures that it feels; but those
that have God for their highest and best friend, they love to be often
exercising such acts of friendship with him; and rather with him than
with any friend besides, rather with him than with all besides him. This
is the noblest and highest friendship; all condescension and compassion
on the one side, and all infirmity and dependence on the other, and yet
both joined in mutual satisfaction. Amazing grace of God to man! The
christian rejoices in this admirable divine indulgence, and delights in
all opportunities to employ and improve it.
Besides, this is the way to maintain the vigour of piety, and keep all
the springs of divine love ever opening and flowing in his own;
therefore he makes many a visit to the mercy-seat, and takes occasion
from every troublesome occurrence in life, to betake himself to his
knees, and improves every sorrow he meets on earth, to increase his
acquaintance with heaven. He delights to talk all his grievances over
with his God. Hannah, the mother of Samuel, is a blessed example of this
practice; 1 Sam. i. 10. When she was in bitterness of soul, by reason of
a sore affliction, and the teazing humour of her rival, she prayed to
the Lord, and wept sore: and when she had left her sorrows at the
mercy-seat, she went away, and did eat, and her countenance was no more
sad; ver. 18. So saith the christian, “I commit my sorrows to my God; he
is my best friend, and I go away, and am no more sad: I have poured out
my cares into his ear, and cast my burdens upon him, and leave them
there in peace.”
2. The saint knows God will understand him right, and will judge right
concerning his case and his meaning. Though the expressions, it may be,
are very imperfect, below the common language of men, and propriety of
speech, yet God knows the meaning of the soul; for it is his own spirit
that breathes in that soul, and he _knows the mind of his Spirit_; Rom.
viii. 27. The friends of Job perverted his sense: Therefore he turns
aside to God, for he knows God would understand him. It is a very great
advantage, when we spread our concerns before another person, to be well
assured that person will take us right, will take in our meaning fully,
and judge aright concerning our cause. Now we may be assured of this,
when we speak to our God: he _knows our thoughts afar off_, and all
circumstances, better infinitely than we can tell him. These our poor
imperfect expressions of our wants, shall be no hinderances to his full
supplies, nor any bar to his exercise of friendship towards us.
3. A saint pours out his soul before God, because he is sure of secrecy
there. How many things are there transacted between God and a holy soul,
that relate to guilt and inward workings of iniquity, that he could
never publish to the world! and many things also that concern his
conduct in life, his embarrassments of spirit, his difficulties, his
follies, or the obstinacy, guilt, or follies of his friends or
relatives, which prudence and shame forbid him to tell his
fellow-creatures; and yet he wants to spread them all before God his
best friend, God his dearest relative, the friend nearest to his heart.
There may be many circumstances and cases in life, especially in the
spiritual life, which one christian could hardly communicate to another,
though under the strictest bonds and ties of natural, and civil, and
sacred relation: But we may communicate these very affairs, these secret
concerns with our God, and unburden our souls of every care without the
least public notice.
We cannot be perfectly secure of this with regard to any creature; for
when we have experienced the faithfulness of a friend many years, he may
possibly be at last unfaithful: Unfaithfulness is mingled with our
nature since the fall, and it is impossible any person can be infallibly
secure from it: Ps. lxii. 9. _Men of low degree are vanity, and great
men are a lie_: but we may leave our case with our God, as secure as
though we had communicated it to none: Nay, we may be easily secure and
free in speaking, because God knows all before-hand. Our complaint adds
nothing to his knowledge, although it eases our souls, and gives us
sweet satisfaction in having such a friend to speak to.
4. A saint believes the equity, faithfulness, and the love of God;
therefore he spreads his case before him. His equity, that _the judge of
all the earth will do right; the righteous may plead with him_. His
faithfulness, that he will fulfil all his promises: and his love, that
he will take compassion on those who are afflicted; he will be tender to
those who are miserable. David takes occasion from this, to address God
under his sufferings and sorrows; Ps. lxii. 1, 2. _He is my rock, and my
salvation, and my defence, I shall not be moved; therefore mu soul waits
upon God; my refuge is in him._ lxv. 1, 2. _He is a God that hears
prayer, therefore unto him shall all flesh come._ God will not account
our complaints troublesome, though they be never so often repeated;
whereas men are quickly wearied with the importunities of those who are
poor and needy. Great men are ready to shut their doors against those
who come too often for relief; but God delights to hear often from his
people, and to have them ask continually at his door for mercy. Though
he has Almighty power with him, saith Job, _yet he will not plead
against me with his great power: No, but he would put strength in me_;
he would teach me how I should answer him; how I should answer his
justice, by appeals to his mercy; and how I should speak prevailingly
before him.
5. _Lastly_, A saint tells God all his circumstances and sorrows at such
a season, because he hopes for relief from him, and from him only; for
it is impossible creatures can give relief under any trouble, unless God
makes them instruments of relief. And there are some troubles in which
creatures cannot be our helpers, but our help must come only from God,
and that in a more immediate way. Whatsoever be our distress, whether it
arise from past guilt, and the torments of an anxious and troubled
conscience; or whether it arise from the working of in-dwelling sin, the
strength of temptation, or the violence of temporal afflictions, still
God is able and willing to give relief, _Call upon me_, saith the Lord,
_In the day of trouble, I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me_;
Ps. l. 15. _And he hath never said to the seed of Jacob, seek ye my face
in vain_; Is. xlv. 19.
IV. The fourth general head of discourse which I proposed, is to shew,
How a saint, near the mercy-seat, pleads with God for relief.
Holy Job tells us in this text, that if he was got near to the seat of
God, _he would fill his mouth with arguments_. Not as though he would
inform God of the necessity, or the justice of his cause beyond what he
knew before; no, this is impossible: _He that teacheth man all things,
shall he not know?_ Ps. xciv. 9. 10. He who orders all the circumstances
of our lives, and every stroke of his own rod, can he be unacquainted
with any thing that relates to our sorrows? Nor can we use arguments
with God to awaken his ear, or move his compassion, as though he had
neglected us, or forgotten our distress; for _all things are_ for ever
_naked and open_ before _the eyes of him, with whom we have to do_; Heb.
iv. 13. The Shepherd of Israel cannot slumber nor does his mercy want
our awakenings.
But in this sort of expressions, the great God condescends to talk, and
to transact affairs with us, and permits us to treat him in a way suited
to our weakness: He would have us plead and argue with him, that we may
shew how deep a sense we have of our own wants, and how entirely we
depend on his mercy. Since we cannot converse with him in a way equal to
his own majesty and godhead, he stoops to talk with us in such a way as
is most agreeable to our state, and most easy to our apprehension: He
speaks such language as we can understand, and invites us to humble
conference with him in the same way. _Come_, says God to his people, by
Isaiah his prophet, _Come now, and let us reason together_; Is. i. 18.
And he often, in holy scripture, represents himself as moved and
influenced by the prayers and pleadings of his afflicted saints; and he
has ordained, before-hand, that the day _when he prepares their hearts
to pray_, shall be the day when his _ear shall hear the desire of the
humble_, and shall be the season of their deliverance; Ps. x. 17.
If you enquire, how a christian pleads with his God, and whence does he
borrow his arguments? I answer, that according to the various sorrows
and difficulties which attend him, so various may his pleadings be for
the removal of them. There is not a circumstance which belongs to his
affliction, but he may draw some argument from it to plead for mercy;
there is not one attribute of the divine nature, but he may use it with
holy skill, and thereby plead for grace; there is not one relation in
which God stands to his people, nor one promise of his covenant, but may
at some time or other, afford an argument in prayer. But the strongest
and sweetest argument that a christian knows, is the name and mediation
of Jesus Christ his Lord. It is for the sake of Christ, who has
purchased all the blessings of the covenant, that a saint hopes to
receive them; and for the sake of Christ, he pleads that God would
bestow them.
But having treated largely on this subject, in my discourse, intitled,
_A Guide to Prayer_, I shall not repeat the same things here, but refer
the reader to the first chapter of that book, sect. 5.—It remains that I
make a few useful reflections on the whole foregoing discourse.
Reflection I. What a dull and uncomfortable thing is religion, without
drawing near to God! for this is the very business for which religion is
designed; the end and aim of religion is getting nigh to God; if it
attain not this end, it is nothing.
O the madness of hypocrites, who satisfy themselves to toil in long
forms of worship, and appear perpetually in the shape of religion, but
unconcerned whether they ever get near to God by it or no! They lose the
end and design for which religion was made. What if we know all the
doctrines of the gospel; what if we can talk rationally about natural
religion; what if we can deduce one truth from another, so as to spread
a whole scheme of godliness before the eyes or ears of those we converse
with; what if we can prove all the points of christianity, and give
incontestible arguments for the belief of them; yet we have no religion,
if our souls never get near to God by them. A saint thinks it a very
melancholy thing when he is at a distance from God, and cannot tell God
his wants and sorrows. Though he be never so much studied in divinity,
and the deep things of God, yet if God be not with him, if he does not
come near to his mercy-seat, so as to converse with him as his friend,
the soul is concerned, and grieved, and never rests till this distance
be removed. It is to little purpose that we get into churches, join in
the fellowship of the gospel, and attend many seasons of prayer: It is
to very little purpose to read chapters, and to hear sermons, one day
after another: It is to little purpose all these forms are maintained,
if we have not the substance and power of godliness? if our God be not
_near us_, if we never _get near to God_.
Reflection II. How happy are we under the gospel, above all ages and
nations besides us, and before us! For we have advantages of getting
near to God, beyond what any other religion has; above what the heathen
world ever enjoyed; for their light of nature could never shew them the
throne of grace: above what the ancient patriarchs had, though God came
down in visible shapes, and revealed and discovered himself to them as a
man or an angel: above what the Jews had, though God dwelt among them in
visible glory, in the holy of holies. The people were kept at a
distance, and the high-priests were to come thither but once a year; and
their veil, and smokes, and shadows, did, as it were, conceal God from
them, although they were types of a future Messiah; and even their
_shekinah_ itself, or cloud of glory, gave them no spiritual idea or
notion of godhead, though it was a shining emblem of God dwelling among
them.
We have better ordinances, and brighter mediums of converse with God; we
have more powerful assistances to raise us heaven-ward; we have the
Messiah, the Emmanuel; that is, _God in flesh_, God come near us, that
we may get near to him; we have the _promise of the Spirit_, which is
one of the glorious privileges of the gospel; Eph. ii. 13, 18. _Ye who
sometimes were afar off, are made nigh through the blood of Christ: and
through him—have we access by one Spirit to the Father._ Through Christ
Jesus, and the purchase of his blood, and the working of his Spirit, we
approach to the Father, we are brought near to God.
And this very method, _viz._ the atonement of the blood of Christ, and
the working of the Spirit by which we are brought near to God in our
first conversion, are the ways by which we must draw near him in duty
ever afterward: it is by the same atonement, and by the same Spirit. We
are continually contracting fresh guilt, and were it not for the
perpetuity of the virtue of that sacrifice, our guilt would be an
irremovable bar against our coming near to God daily and hourly; and
after every new sin, were it not for that Spirit, we could never get
near to God again: but that Spirit is promised _to abide with us_; John
xiv. 16. and in Heb. iv. 14, 16. _Christ is passed into the heavens_, is
very near to God, and hath shewn us the way thither; Heb. x. 19, 20.
_Having therefore boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of
Jesus, let us draw near with a true heart, in full assurance of faith._
O how should we value our acquaintance with Christ, and pray earnestly
for his Spirit! one makes a way for our coming near to God, and the
other actually brings us near. How glorious would churches be, if there
were more of this Spirit poured down upon us! When an assembly of
saints, all joining together in one act of worship, shall at once rise
by the same Spirit, and approach to the mercy-seat, and order their
cause before God; what might not such a worshipping assembly obtain at
the hands of God? What beauty would appear in the worship of christians
then? What glory would be found in a society of saints, if this Spirit
were but there? Christianity has had these ornaments, and these honours:
let us pray that God would restore them again.