'Rejoice in the Lord _always_,' says Paul. That is a hard nut to crack.
I can fancy a man saying, 'What is the use of giving me such
exhortations as this? My gladness is largely a matter of temperament,
and I cannot rule my moods. My gladness is largely a matter of
circumstances, and I do not determine these. How vain it is to tell me,
when my heart is bleeding, or beating like a sledge-hammer, to be glad!'
Yes! Temperament has a great deal to do with joy; and circumstances have
a great deal to do with it; but is not the mission of the Gospel to make
us masters of temperament, and independent of circumstances? Is not the
possibility of living a life that has no dependence upon externals, and
that may persist permanently through all varieties of mood, the very
gift that Christ Himself has come to bestow upon us--bringing us into
communion with Himself, and so making us lords of our own inward nature
and of externals: so that 'though the fig-tree shall not blossom, and
there be no fruit in the vine,' yet we may 'rejoice in the Lord, and be
glad in the God of our salvation.' If a ship has plenty of water in its
casks or tanks in its hold, it does not matter whether it is sailing
through fresh water or salt. And if you and I have that union with Jesus
Christ of which my text speaks, then we shall be, not wholly, but with
indefinite increase of approximation towards the ideal, independent of
circumstances and masters of our temperaments. And so it is possible, if
not absolutely to reach this fair achievement of an unbroken continuity
of gladness, at least to bring the lucent points so close to one another
as that the intervals of darkness between shall be scarcely visible,
and the whole will seem to form one continuous ring of light.
Brother, if you and I can keep near Jesus Christ always--and I suppose
we can do that in sorrow as in joy--He will take care that our keeping
near Him will not want its reward in that blessed continuity of felt
repose which is very near the sunniness of gladness. For, if we in the
Lord sorrow, we may, then, simultaneously, in the Lord rejoice. The two
things may go together, if in the one mood and the other we are in union
with Him. The bitterness of the bitterest calamity is taken away from it
when it does not separate us from Jesus Christ. And just as the mother
is specially tender with her sick child, and just as we have often found
that the sympathy of friends comes to us, when need and grief are upon
us, in a fashion that would have been incredible beforehand, so it is
surely true that Jesus Christ can, and does, soften His tone, and select
the tokens of His presence with especial tenderness for a wounded heart;
so as that sorrow in the Lord passes into joy in the Lord. And if that
be so, then the pillar which was cloud in the sunshine brightens into
fire as night falls on the desert.
But it is not only that this divine gladness is consistent with the
sorrow that is often necessary for us, but also that the continuity of
such gladness is secured, because in Christ there are open for us
sources of blessedness in what is else a dry and thirsty land. If you
would take this epistle at your leisure, and run over it in order to
note the various occasions of joy which the Apostle expresses for
himself, and commends to his brethren, you would see how beautifully
they reveal to us the power of communion with Jesus Christ, to find
honey in the rock, good in everything, and a reason for thankful
gladness in all events.
I have not time, at this stage of my sermon, to do more than just glance
at these. We find, for instance, that a very large portion of the joy
which he declares fills his own heart, and which he commends to these
Philippians, arises from the recognition of good in others. He speaks to
them of being his 'joy and crown.' He tells them that in his sorrows and
imprisonment, their 'fellowship in the Gospel, from the first day until
now,' had brought a whiff of gladness into the close air of the prison
cell. He begs them to be Christlike in order that they may 'fulfil his
joy'; and he may lose himself in others' blessings, and therein find
gladness. A large portion of his joy came from very common things. A
large portion of the joy that he commends to them he contemplates as
coming to them from small matters. They were to be glad because Timothy
came with a message from the Apostle. He is glad because he hears of
their well-being, and receives a little contribution from them for his
daily necessities. A large portion of his gladness came from the spread
of Christ's kingdom. 'Christ is preached,' says he, with a flash of
triumph, 'and I therein do rejoice; yea, and will rejoice.' And, most
beautiful of all, no small portion of his gladness came from the
prospect of martyrdom. 'If I be offered upon the sacrifice and service
of your faith, I joy, and rejoice with you all; and do ye joy and
rejoice with me.'
Now, put all these things together and they just come to this, that a
heart in union with Jesus Christ can find streams in the desert, joys
blossoming as the rose, in places that to the un-Christlike eye are
wilderness and solitary, and out of common things it can bring the
purest gladness and draw a tribute and revenue of blessedness even from
the prospect of God-sent sorrows. Dear brethren, if you and I have not
learned the secret of modest and unselfish delights, we shall vainly
seek for joy in the vulgar excitements and coarse titillations of
appetites and desires which the world offers. 'Calm pleasures there
abide' in Christ. The northern lights are weird and bright, but they
belong to midwinter, and they come from electric disturbances, and
portend rough weather afterwards. Sunshine is silent, steadfast, pure.
Better to walk in that light than to be led astray by fantastic and
perishable splendours. 'Rejoice in the Lord always.'