Produced by Al Haines
Memoranda
Sacra
BY
J. RENDEL HARRIS
FOURTH EDITION
HODDER AND STOUGHTON
LONDON
MCMVII
TO MY BELOVED IN CHRIST JESUS
It pleased God, in the days when we used to meet together in Cambridge
for His worship and for personal help, to draw us unitedly very close
to Himself, so that few of us are likely to forget the seasons of
refreshing which we enjoyed from His presence; and if, by His good
providence, any of us meet in these later days, one of the readiest
sentences to rise to our lips is the word, "Do you remember?" The
papers which make up this little volume were originally designed to the
same end, the remembrance of one another, and of the truths which God
taught us. How often were the pencilled notes of one and another put
into my hand after some bright and happy meeting, that a few copies
might be made and circulated! It is more than fourteen years since
this was first done, and the latest fragment of this book is more than
ten years old. You can see the creases of time in them, and, indeed,
they were never properly rounded. Take them, however, collected and
reprinted, as a token (the only token I can give) that the moth and
rust of time have not eaten away the affection which I had for you all,
and that those two thieves, Change and Death, which were so early busy
with us, have not been able to undermine the house of our Love, nor
abstract the treasure of our common Faith.
J. RENDEL HARRIS.
CONTENTS
I. GOD THE GOD OF THE LIVING
II. BELIEVING AND BECOMING
III. GLEAMING AS CRYSTAL
IV. HEART ENLARGEMENT
V. HE RESTORETH MY SOUL
VI. ADDITION AND MULTIPLICATION
VII. A CONFERENCE ON DEATH
VIII. CHRIST WILL TAKE ALL
IX. STRONG CRYING
X. THE SENTINEL OF THE HEART
XI. THY FATHER IN SECRET
XII. TESTS OF FAITH, LOVE, AND RIGHTNESS
XIII. THE ETERNAL IDEA
XIV. MORE LIGHT
XV. OVER-OVERCOMING
GOD THE GOD OF THE LIVING
I am afflicted and ready to die from my youth up.
Forasmuch then as the children are partakers of flesh and blood, He
also Himself likewise took part of the same; that through death He
might destroy him that had the power of death, that is, the devil; and
deliver them who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject
to bondage.
Who is like unto Thee, O most mighty LORD, for verily Thy truth is on
every side. Whither shall I go from Thy Spirit, or whither shall I
flee from Thy Presence? If I climb up into heaven, Thou art there. If
I go down unto the dead, Thou art there also. If I take the wings of
the morning and remain in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there
also shall Thy hand lead me, and Thy right hand shall hold me.
Therefore when I sleep in the grave, I am in Thy cradle; and when I
shall arise up and awake, behold around me are Thy everlasting arms.
So not alone we land upon that shore:
'Twill be as though we had been there before;
We shall meet more we know
Than we can meet below,
And find our rest like some returning dove,
And be at home at once with our Eternal Love.
I
GOD THE GOD OF THE LIVING[1]
"Now that the dead are raised, even Moses shewed at the bush, when he
calls the Lord the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of
Jacob. He is not a God of dead men, but of living men, for all live
unto Him."--LUKE xx. 37, 38.
It is very likely that some of us may have been perplexed in the study
of this passage at the answer which the Lord Jesus gave to the
Sadducees, and doubtful as to whether their difficulties and questions
were fairly met by the text that He quoted.
Certainly if we had been told to search the Scriptures for passages
bearing on the Future Life and the doctrine of the Resurrection, this
is about the last text that we should have thought of adducing; we
should never have detected in these verses a key that would unlock the
closed doors between two worlds and make sunlight be where previously
all was dark.
And even if we had been pointed to this passage containing the
revelation of God at the bush, we should probably only have seen in it
another of the magnificent affirmations of the Divine self-existence,
another of the grand "I Am's" which sound forth at times from the mount
of cloud and vision. We might even have gone so far as to see how much
more wonderful it is to have a faith in which, with wonderful
simplicity, God says "I Am," than merely to have a religion which
affirms "He is," and we should have been glad that at any time there
were men to whom God spoke for Himself. But we should not have
supposed that the statement had any bearing on our life and existence,
or that it solved, or put us in the way of solving, some of the
questions that perplex us. Perhaps the principal reason for this lies
in the words of Jesus Himself: "Ye do not understand the scriptures nor
the power of God." And yet ought we not to be aware of this, that
every revelation of God involves a revelation about the creature, just
as the earth is affected by every potency and virtue in the sun?
Revelation is not merely information about God, without relation to our
own life and being. For instance: both the Spirit and the Scripture
combine to assure us that God is Love. Is that merely a piece of
theological information about God of which the universe is independent,
or does He not in the revelation spread His wide pinions over all
creatures that He has made and gather them together as a hen doth
gather her brood under her wings? Out of such a revelation the willing
soul discerns the New Jerusalem descend as a bride adorned for her
husband; the eager soul receives, the wayward soul returns, the
sorrowful soul is comforted. No revelation of God is possible that is
simply information without a bearing on my history, my existence, my
future. And so with our text we may say the "I Am" of God involves the
"I shall be" of the creature. If one comes to me and says, "I was your
father's friend," it may be either (i.) that my father is dead, or
(ii.) that there has been a change in the affection of the person
speaking; but if he comes to me and says, "I am your father's friend,"
he implies two things: the existence of my father and the permanence of
his own love for him; and the one just as much as the other. So when
God says, not "I was the God of Abraham," but "I am," etc., He is not
merely asserting His own existence and providence, but the continued
life of the faithful of ancient days. And so the "I Am" of God
proclaims the "I am" of the creature; the soul looks down the sloping
years and says of its prospect, "God is, and I am." And Christ's
answer to the Sadducee comes to this: "You are inconsistent in denying
the future life; you ought first to have denied the being of God; but
as long as He is, beat His saints small as the dust, scatter them to
the four corners of the earth, yet He will send forth His angels and
gather His elect again from the four winds, and lo! they are sitting
down with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom of God: for He is
not the God of dead men, but of living men; and all live unto Him!"
Those who believe in God can easily take heart to look through the
mysteries of life and death and to discern glory through the gloom; but
the Sadducee did not stand in the line of the sunbeams that come from
the other world; no wonder it was dark to him.
Not but what our life is full of mysteries: birth and death alike
perplex us; the "Whence" and the "Whither."
He who has studied well his coming and his going, has written out two
books of his Bible: the Genesis and Exodus of his book of life.
Birth and death are alike mysterious; they are something like the vails
of the ancient tabernacle, each curiously wrought of purple and scarlet
and fine twined linen, but the vail of the most holy place had in
addition cunning work and tracery of cherubim. So with our birth and
dying--we may learn much from either; but death has the greater wonders
traced upon its vail, if we could but get into the right light to read
them. There is this difference, too, that, while the first vail is
moved aside that we may enter, and closes behind us so that we may not
tell from whence we came, the second vail is not drawn back but rent
from top to bottom, so that we do not lose our sight of the world that
is when we are made a part of the world that is to come.
It is through this rent vail that we are looking to-day.
It has pleased God that the first-fruits of our meeting should be laid
upon the altar; He has called our dear Arthur Neale to Himself.
Already it has been said over him, "Ashes to ashes and dust to dust";
it remains for us to take up our testimony and say, "and soul to soul."
Dear Arthur Neale! it has been said that "one cross can sanctify a
soul," and he had many crosses; chiefest of all the fear of death. He
was something like Bunyan's Mr. Fearing, only his fear was physical,
and not produced by doubts as to his final acceptance. But it was
grand to see how, at the last, this fear of death, which is, in its
very nature, a solicitude for self, was transformed to care for others;
just before he passed away, he turned to the dear one watching beside
him and asked if she was afraid to see any one die.
Now let me read you a little about Mr. Fearing.
"When he was come to the entrance of the valley of the shadow of death,
I thought I should have lost my man; not for that he had any
inclination to go back: that he always abhorred; but he was ready to
die for fear.... But this I took notice of, that this valley was as
quiet when he went through it as ever I knew it before or since. I
suppose these enemies had a special check from our Lord, and a
commandment not to meddle until Mr. Fearing was passed over it....
When he was come to the river, where was no bridge, he was again in a
heavy case. And here, also, I took notice of what was very remarkable:
the water of that river was lower at this time than ever I saw it in
all my life. So he went over, at last, not much above wet shod.... I
never had any doubt about him; he was a man of very choice spirit, only
he was always kept very low, and that made his life burdensome to
himself and troublesome to others."
He has sent us his last message: being asked if he had any word for
friends, he said, "Tell them all, it's all right."
It comforts me sometimes to believe that, as we advance in the Life,
the way becomes easier. I believe this to be the case not only with
one who has death at his back, but with every one who walks faithfully
with God. Jesus says, "My yoke is easy and My burden is light"; and I
think to those who follow Him faithfully He says, "My yoke is easier
and My burden lighter every day."
We learn to live with God until it becomes impossible to live without
Him; we learn to lean on Him, until we acquire an instinctive
abhorrence of all broken reeds. We begin with cherubim and a flaming
sword that turns every way to keep the way of the tree of life; but we
end with the same flashing armoury turning us from every path except
that which leads to glory and honour and immortality and the city of
God. We begin with "He shall give His angels charge against thee," but
we end with this, "He giveth His angels charge concerning thee, and in
their hands they shall bear thee up, lest at any time thou dash thy
foot against a stone." Such guidance and keeping is heaven; such, too,
is heaven on earth.
I have kept a few of his letters from which I should like to read you a
few sentences:--
23_rd December_ 1878.
... Thoughts seem to go almost instinctively from the cold weather to
the apparent state of spiritual life in the congregations of which I
have been a very unwilling member (_i.e. pro tem., D. V._)--the latest
invention is a system of feeding souls on historical facts dressed up
in flowery English--perhaps this sounds harsh and resentful; perhaps
others have not found it such bad food after all.
9_th January_ 1879.
... I do not know that I can tell you anything more than is contained
in two sentences from the Chronicles of the Schoenberg-Cotta Family: "I
feel an atom--but an atom in a solid, God-governed world, where truth
is mightiest; insignificant in myself as the little mosses which
flutter on these ancient stones; but yet a little moss on a great rock
which cannot be shaken--the rock of God's providence and love." "God's
common gifts are His most precious; and His most precious gifts--even
life itself--have no root in _themselves_; not that they are _without_
root: they are _better_ rooted in the depths of His unchangeable love.
Henceforth let me be content with the only security Dr. Luther says God
will ever give us--the security of His presence and care." "I will
never leave thee." And yet one longs to be less than moss, to be a
part of the rock itself; that it may not be I that live, but Christ
that liveth in me--that death might be swallowed up of life.
7_th March_ 1879.
... It seems that I'm beginning to learn that it is little use
expecting to get messages for others, or be able to help them or speak
a word in season unless "we make mention of them _continually_ in our
prayers," and give up trying to monopolise the Holy Ghost for
particular times; _i.e._ the Holy Ghost objects to being a respecter of
persons at any time. It remains therefore to pray for you strongly
that you may be filled with a knowledge of His will in all wisdom and
spiritual understanding quite up to the mark of "rejoicing alway," for
this is the will of God concerning us.... The verse that brings me
soonest to the self-despair point is this: "Herein is love with us made
perfect, that we may have boldness in the day of judgment, _because as
He is, so are we in this world_"; the standpoint of "workers together
with God" is a strong one--"it lifts, it bears my drooping soul." To
do the will of God, surely this is to abide for ever....
8_th February_ 1880.
He begins with two Scripture quotations: one from the Septuagint--"the
Lord preserveth the infants," in the English "the Lord preserveth the
simple"; the other--"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the
kingdom of heaven."
It has been an experience of the past week, which I am now beginning
dimly to recognise, that the child and the child-spirit are necessary
elements of the presence of the kingdom--as necessary as they are for
_entrance into_ the kingdom.
And the kingdom consists in the keeping; in conscious, clearer, simpler
on-leading in the life of Christ. I am kept because I am a child--when
I cease to be kept it is because I become a rebellious child; and of
this kingdom and peace there has been no end to-day--there is therefore
no hindrance (save a divided will) to its continuance, and thus one is
led into the faith of the Son of God--that _our brothers are not
orphans_, and that prayer and work must in this faith overcome the
world.
The grace of the Lord Jesus be present continually to energise in us
this faith, and to work in us all the good pleasure of His will.
----------
And so, beloved friends, with these words of his own we conclude our
testimony to him; we keep this Memorial of the Blessed Dead, not
sorrowing, as those do who have no hope; if we grieve at all, it is
that our love was so sparing of the spikenard wherewith we should have
anointed him to his burial.
----------
Requiescit in pace.
"Thou has made him most blessed for ever, Thou has made him exceeding
glad with Thy countenace."
[1] _In Memoriam, Arthur George William Neale, B.A. (St. John's
College), who passed through the veil 1st July 1880. Aged 22 years._
II
BELIEVING AND BECOMING
"To as many as received Him, to them gave He power to become the sons
of God, even to them that believe on His name."--JOHN i. 12.
John soon gets away from abstract theology and takes the soul up into
the mount of contemplation, from which it may discern the length and
breadth of the land of promise and privilege. He knew that our faith
was not only "Emmanuel, God with us"; but that if we had the skill and
could read the word backwards, we might say,--"and we also with God."
He begins his Gospel, "the Word was with God "; he goes on, "the Word
was with man"; and then he completes the triangle by saying, "and man
also with God"; for "to as many as received Him, He gave power to
become the children of God." And again, later on, in the seventeenth
chapter, we have the thoughts, "I in them," and "Thou in Me," and "they
also in Us," until one is left in a delightful perplexity as to the
nearness of God to His creatures, and obliged to say that--
God is never so far off
As even to be near;
He dwells within, the spirit is
The home He holds most dear.
His faith was not merely that the Word became flesh that He might bring
God to us, but the Word living and suffering that He might bring us to
God; His religion not merely the humiliation of the Creator, but, in a
very real sense, the exaltation of the creature and practical union
with the Lord of the spirits of all flesh; not only that He for our
sakes became poor, but also, that we through His poverty might be made
rich. It is into this riches of our inheritance that we want to look
this evening.
Do we know what it is to have not only a heaven in prospect but also
one in possession, and to see in Christ a High Priest of good things
present as well as of good things to come? It seems to me that in this
passage the Religion of Jesus is presented to us in two lights: (i.) as
believing and receiving; (ii.) as believing and becoming. Some people
stop short with believing and do not receive. But our faith is
certainly an appropriative faculty; a sort of hand of the soul that can
be stretched out to take hold of God's offered gifts; or to link itself
on to God's hand outstretched to guide us. Of what use would a hand be
that never grasped anything? Perhaps some promise stands out before
us, telling us His Mind, or it may have been impressed upon us by His
Spirit. Even from a weak faith we can obtain promises; because faith
apprehends the nature of God; and as soon as we begin to apprehend
that, we see that certain things ought to happen, and ere long these
things shape themselves into definite promises which faith applies. So
the life is one of believing and receiving; and as our faith pleads the
promises, and the appropriative power of the soul is exercised, we find
the kingdom of God come to us not in word but in power. But our
religion is also believing and becoming; "that as many as received Him
might become the children of God, even those who believe in His name."
Much of our faith, so-called, is only a beating of the air, and not
really an advancement of the soul; we profess a great deal which has no
practical bearing on our own lives. Yet all true believing is
becoming, and a man cannot be a follower of the Lamb, in the real sense
of the term, without his becoming moment by moment a different man; he
alters his stature, not indeed by taking thought thereunto, but even as
the lilies grow; and adding together the receiving and the becoming, we
find that we are the children of God.
Hence it appears that our faith is not a single definite act, done, and
done with; but one done and gone on with. And our faith is to be not
only definite, but progressive and increasing, leading us from grace to
grace, from strength to strength, and from glory to glory.
If we take a stranger to view the Fitzwilliam Museum at Cambridge, it
is possible that he will say that the outside is the finest part of it,
and that it looks best from a distance; or he may say that the
entrance-hall, with its display of coloured marbles and polished
granite, is the best part of the museum. Certainly there are many that
look at Christianity in this manner; thinking it perhaps a magnificent
ideal of life, especially as seen in history; or perhaps as seen at
some distance, as we view Sunday from the other days of the week. And
others there are who think that the entrance of the Christian life is
the best part of it, who say honestly from experience that the
beginning of the life was the best for them. The reason being that
they stopped there; otherwise people never could think that the
happiest part of the life was that immediately consequent on
conversion; for in reality the path of the just is a shining light,
that shines more and more unto the perfect day. It is not like one of
those ancient Egyptian temples of which one reads, in which we pass
from daylight to shade as we enter, and into deeper gloom as we
approach the secret shrine.
The life of faith--progressive, increasing faith--is a motion in a
straight line, and not in a closed curve; it is not like an Irish
penance around a sacred well where one makes progress with the final
result of being where you started, and, perhaps, ready for another
revolution, as, indeed, it must appear to some Christians whose circle
is a week and whose starting-point a Sunday. Neither is it like the
pilgrimage up Pilate's staircase at Rome, in which the pain of going up
on one's knees is only varied by the discomfort of coming down again
and finding ourselves just about where we were before, as it must
appear to some good people who live the up-and-down life. It is an
upward and onward life; on our knees, if you will, but upward and
upward and, like the stairs in Ezekiel's vision, still upward. And the
Scriptures encourage us forward, bidding us leave the word of the
beginning of Christ and go (not crawl) on unto perfection.
"He gave the power to become the children of God"; the margin suggests
"right" or "privilege." Theologically this seems a high calling; but
we are not to deny things because they are high. "The devil's darling
sin is the pride that apes humility," and this affectation of humility
is one of the ways in which souls are constantly kept out of blessing;
it has been so throughout the history of the Church. In the matter of
the forgiveness of sins, it is not so long since people said that if a
man knew his sins were forgiven, it would make him conceited; and some
people still hold it to be a presumption; at other times that eternal
life, which consists in the knowledge of God and of Jesus Christ whom
He has sent, is denied; because it is presumptuous for a man to say
that he knows God in the same simple matter-of-fact way that he is
acquainted with a friend. And nowadays this spiritual affectation
takes the form of the denial of holiness, because, if you were kept
from sin, you would be sure to be proud of it; as if God were likely to
humble a man and make his heart a temple of His own, and then suffer
him to be lifted up over the fact. They do not seem to see the
contradiction. The Lord is pretty sure to humble us a good deal before
He gives us anything to be proud of. People say it is presumptuous to
be "blameless and harmless, the sons of God without rebuke," and more
humble--to be something else. Humility is one of those things that lie
right in the line of our obedience; or, as a dear friend once said to
me,--"the righteousness I am striving after, includes humility."
It is a false humility that refuses those good things which God has
laid up for those who love Him. The true humility says, when the Lord
has made a feast and bidden His guests, "I shall go and take the lowest
place"; but the affected humility says, "Oh! it's too good for me; I
shall sit down outside"; and so, practically, it becomes numbered
amongst those of whom it is said, "They shall not taste of My supper."
We need to be like Paul, ready to take our place amongst the saints,
though less than the least of them; or it may be among the apostles,
though not worthy to be called an apostle.
God gives us power for what He wants us to be; _i.e._ power for the
next step; and all our future life is conditioned upon that. We say,
"Increase our faith," and He says, "Exercise the faith you have." We
must exercise the lower power before we attain to the higher. Suppose
there is a powerful steam-engine which is able to do for you a year's
work in a day: it is a reservoir of power, but the power is conditioned
upon the exercise of a lower power; you must bring coals and fetch
water and make up fire, and by and by the power becomes accessible to
you. He that is faithful in least is faithful also in much; we must be
faithful to the light already given us, faithful to our powers of love,
thought, and obedience, if we are to be brought to the reception of the
power in which saints have walked.
Using the marginal suggestion, we have the _right_ given us to be
children of God. We hear much nowadays of people standing on their
rights,--on rights real and rights imagined; we have our rights against
the enemy of souls; oh! that we would insist on them, and that we would
realise how the powers of darkness fly when we look to God bravely and
confidently for the promised help.
What is involved in thus becoming a child of God? Well, for one thing,
God is pledged to love us just as much as He loves Christ. We
sometimes get the idea into our minds that God loves us in a sort of
afterthought manner, as a superfluous or unnecessary part of creation.
I have found out that He loves us just as much as He loves Christ;
Jesus Himself said--"Father, Thou hast loved them as Thou hast loved
Me."
Was Christ's consciousness of the love of God a mere wavering thing,
perhaps known only at critical times; or was it not rather His vital
breath and native air? "I will that they also whom Thou hast given Me
may be with Me where I am"; and "the only-begotten Son is in the bosom
of the Father."
Another side of this privilege is that we may be kept from sin. Three
passages I call to mind in which the children of the Highest are spoken
of: one is in Matt. v. 45: "That ye may be the children of your Father
which is in heaven." It goes on--"Be ye therefore perfect, even as
your Father in heaven is perfect." Another is in 2 Cor. vi. 18; "I
will be a Father unto you, and ye shall be My sons and My daughters,
saith the Lord God Almighty." It goes on--"Having these promises,
dearly beloved, let us cleanse ourselves from all filthiness of the
flesh and spirit, perfecting holiness in the fear of the Lord." The
third is in 1 John iii. 1: "Behold what manner of love the Father hath
bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God"; and the
best reading continues--"and we are so"; it continues with "purifieth
himself as He is pure," and "he that abideth in Him sinneth not."
Finally, does it seem a contradiction in terms to talk of becoming a
child? it is indeed hard to turn the streams of life backward and make
them return to their source: a long way back, too, for some of us;
again we take comfort from the Scripture, and remember that "when he
was yet a great way off, his father ran and fell on his neck and kissed
him."
III
GLEAMING AS CRYSTAL
"And he shewed me a pure river of water of life, gleaming as crystal,
proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb."--REV. xxii. 1.
If we are to understand the New Jerusalem properly, we almost need to
have been citizens of the _Old_. On this subject, even more than in
the general interpretation of the Scriptures, we are entitled to answer
the question--"What advantage then hath the Jew?" with an unhesitating
expression of "much every way"; for unto them pertained the city of
God. For example, when we read, in Galatians, the passage in which St.
Paul speaks of the old Covenant, under the terms "Agar" and "Mount
Sinai in Arabia," who but those who had felt the galling of a foreign
yoke, and the insolence and exaction of Roman tyranny, could have
realised the pathos of the words "and correspondeth to Jerusalem, which
now is, and is in bondage with her children"; and what citizen of the
New and Spiritual City, who had not also dwelt within the ancient and
outward walls, could have felt the full contrast expressed in the
triumphant thanksgiving that "Jerusalem, which is above, is free"? In
the same way, if one would understand the magnificent passage in which
the writer of the Epistle to the Hebrews describes the New Jerusalem,
one would need to have worshipped within the courts of the Old. How
else can one see the lines traced in the picture, and mark the analogy
between the multitude of white-robed priests and the innumerable
company of angels; or see the general assembly of folk gathered for
festival from all parts of the land? here, too, are the consecrated
eldest-born, and here the rolls in which their names are entered; and,
passing within the veil, even in ancient days, one might say, in some
sense, "We are come to God the Judge of all, and to Jesus the Mediator
of the covenant, and to the Blood of sprinkling." So you will
understand that the best place to view the New Jerusalem from is the
ruins of the Old. It is in this spirit that we want to study the
gleaming waters "that make glad the city of God."
Observe, then, that the ancient Jerusalem was not situated, as most
cities, on the banks of some river, or the shore of some sea. It stood
in a peculiar position, at some distance from either: it was badly
watered; we read of a pool or two, of a little brook, of an aqueduct
and some other artificial water-structures. Bearing this fact in mind,
you will understand how forcible an appeal to the imagination would be
contained in the verse of the 46th Psalm, which tells of a river that
should "make glad the city of God."
In evidence of the foregoing you may notice the following remark of
Philo on the verse quoted (_de somniis_, ii. 38); "The holy city, which
exists at present, in which also the holy temple is established, is at
a great distance from any sea or river, so that it is clear that the
writer here means figuratively to speak of some other city than the
visible city of God." It is evident, therefore, that the mention of a
pure, fresh stream flowing through the midst of Jerusalem was a figure
of a very striking nature; and we say, that the basis of this
magnificent description in the Apocalypse lies in the insufficiency of
the water-supply of the ancient city. God takes our outward
necessities and uses them as figures by which to make us alive to the
facts of our inward neediness, and of the abundant power that there is
in Him to satisfy us. The Bible is full of promises as outwardly
impossible as that a river should flow through the midst of Jerusalem.
The streams of life, the floods of holy influence, the manifestations
of Divine grace, shall be for you like that imagined river; and however
difficult it may be to believe such a heaven on earth as that indicated
to be possible--
Faith, mighty faith, the promise sees,
And looks to that alone;
Laughs at impossibilities,
And cries--"It shall be done."
The life of the future, and by that we mean heaven on earth as well as
heaven, shall be as different from that which you are now realising as
the water-supply of Jerusalem would be if a river flowed in the midst,
from what it is now with merely Kidron and Bethesda and Siloam and
Solomon's Pools. So we say (i.) that the Life is not a half-stagnant
pool, like Siloam; nor (ii.) an intermittent fountain, like Bethesda;
nor (iii.) an artificial construction, like Solomon's aqueducts; nor
(iv.) a poor weak puny stream, defiled by the city through which it
passes, like the brook Kidron.
(1) It is not a standstill life: no one can stand still who lives with
God. If God is the fountain of your life, there will be no green
mantle on the surface telling how long you have been in one place.
Neither in earth nor in heaven do we stand still or stay where we are.
Take up the anchor and the ship follows the tide, and in God the tide
always sets one way. You cannot stand still without anchoring to the
creature. There must be fresh discoveries of truth and duty every day;
and fresh inquisition made into the heights and depths of Redeeming
Love. Abandonment to God must mean advancement in God.
They who love God cannot love Him by measure,
For their love is a hunger to love Him still better.
(2) Neither in earth nor in heaven is the Life to be an intermittent
one. Some have said that the pool of Bethesda was connected with one
of those intermittent springs that one sometimes comes across, and have
explained by that means the periodical disturbances in the waters.
There is one of these springs pointed out on the road from Buxton to
Castleton in Derbyshire, but it showed no signs of anything
extraordinary when I was there. However, whether Bethesda is of this
nature or not, it is certain that the spiritual life of many believers
is too much of the character of an intermittent spring. I want to tell
you that there should be no such word as "revival" in the dictionary of
the Christian Church: we want "life," not "revival." You hear people
saying of certain religious movings--"They are having quite a revival";
alas! and were they dead before? Indeed, I am sure this intermittent
fountain expresses only too accurately the lives of many of us. The
best that God can do with us is to make us an occasional blessing--a
sorrowful thing to confess when there are suffering ones around waiting
and watching the surface of our hearts to see whether there is any
moving of the water. I think, therefore, to tell you the secret of the
intermittent spring. Every such spring is fed from an inner chamber in
the rock in which the rains accumulate; but it is only as long as the
water is above a certain level that the outward flow is maintained. If
the inner chamber be kept full, the outward supply will be constant.
And we know, apart from our figure, that when the inner life is renewed
day by day, the outward is no longer an intermittent spring, but an
overflowing cup.
Neither in earth nor in heaven has a Christian a right to go below
"par" in his spiritual life. I have been trying to imagine what it
would be in heaven if angels were to neglect the influx of vital force
that comes from the throne of God and of the Lamb; if at any time they
were to feel not up to singing-mark or service-mark, what a strange
heaven it would presently be; and what strange music with notes
wanting,--sometimes in the air and sometimes in the bass. We know,
however, that the real character of their life and service is not
intermittent, but is expressed in the words, "They rest not day nor
night, saying, 'Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord of Hosts.'"
(3) It is not a life for which the world is too strong, and which
cannot therefore be kept pure. It is not figured by a little brook, as
Kidron, defiled with all the impurities of a city, and that an oriental
city. And yet how many lives there are of which we have to say, "The
world is too strong for them"; well-intentioned people, but feeble in
grace, and who have received but little of the Life of God. The cup
was indeed put into their hands, but they were afraid to drink deeply,
though the voice by their side was saying, "Drink abundantly, O
beloved."
They drink down to the level of forgiveness, and, perhaps, grace; but
not down to glory and the receiving of the Spirit; they do not realise
that "he that drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never
thirst"; they do not overcome the world; one has almost to make a fresh
text for them,--"This is the defeat wherewith they are worsted, even
their little faith."
(4) It is not a humanly-devised life, as Solomon's aqueducts. Our
faith stands not in human structures; not in the Westminster
Confession; not in the XXXIX. Articles. It stands not in the wisdom of
men, but in the power of God. The Divine Life is not sect, and it is
not system. What is your sect? A pipe whose power of supply is
limited by its diameter; whatever we can learn from the maxims and
traditions of men, is but a little compared with what we may learn from
God directly. The channel of a sect! it is a pipe that bursts when the
tide of life rises beyond a certain point. The channel of a system! it
is an aqueduct through which, if one stone be taken out, the water
ceases to reach you.
Our little systems have their day;
They have their day and cease to be;
They are but broken lights of Thee;
And Thou, O Lord, art more than they.
If one travels on the continent, one can see (I think it is at Avignon)
the ruins of the ancient Roman aqueduct; but the Rhine and the rest of
the rivers of God flow on still, full of water.
Let names and sects and parties fall,
That Jesus may be all in all.
As we learn to live the life of dependence upon the Lord, we must not
be surprised if a great deal of our early theology drops off: it does
not always sit down with us in heavenly places in Christ Jesus.
Instead of Solomon's pools and aqueducts there is given to us a pure
river of water of life, gleaming as crystal, proceeding out of the
throne of God and of the Lamb; and I think we may say of those who
receive the life of God in this immediate and wonderful manner, that
"not even Solomon, in all his glory, was so well supplied as one of
these."
Finally, we may say, that the Life is one of absolute dependence, and
is conditioned on the sovereignty of God and of the Lamb. Grace and
the Holy Ghost are the portions of the dependent soul: they only flow
from the throne of God and of the Lamb. I am amazed to find how much
of true religion may be resolved into that one word "dependence." I
can remember the time when I could not enter into the Psalm, "Lord, my
heart is not haughty, nor mine eyes lofty, neither do I exercise myself
in great matters, nor in things too high for me"; nor sing the verse,
"I would be treated as a child, and guided where I go." Now it is, I
hope, different. Moreover, we are sure that this spirit of dependence
is one of the main features of the angelic life; we cannot imagine it
otherwise; for the source of the river is the throne.
We sang in our hymn the lines--
I know Thou hast my heart,
And I have heaven;
but we can only sing the second line where we have said or sung the
first.
IV
HEART ENLARGEMENT
"I will run the way of Thy commandments, when Thou shall enlarge my
heart."--Ps. cxix. 32.
If we were to study the names of the different sects and parties that
make up the "Ishmael" of God, we should find them to be singularly
unsuggestive of such a thing as the existence of a spiritual life; nor
could we easily infer from the nomenclature of so-called Christendom
that "there is a spirit in man, and that the inspiration of the
Almighty giveth him understanding." Now, this is a very curious fact;
for one would have expected that about the first thing suggested by the
appellations of Christian bodies would have been some phase or other of
the inward life.
But we are not going to spend our time to-night in discussing sects, or
deploring their divisions, although we cannot altogether refrain regret
when we contemplate the seamless robe of Christ rent into more than
twain, and dabbled in blood worse than Joseph's coat was when his
father said, "Some evil beast hath devoured him"; and although it does
seem to us sometimes, as we contemplate the havoc of schisms and strife
of sects, as if some convulsion from beneath had shaken down the towers
of the New Jerusalem, and streams from the nether fires had coursed
down the channels of the river of life. What we want to do is to think
a little about the true Broad Church; not that branch of Christianity
which commonly goes under the name, and which makes one of the
instances referred to of the unsuitableness of names applied to
religious schools and parties, but the spiritual Broad Church, which is
the church of enlarged hearts. The school we want to belong to is the
school of spiritual free-thinkers, who are at liberty to learn all that
God has to teach them. The true Broad Church is that in which an
enlarged obedience to God's commandments is brought about by an
enlarged experience of His love; and His commandments and His love are
both of them exceeding broad.
All true spiritual life must widen the soul; the more we live with
Jesus, the more impossible will it be for any of us to be narrow. Our
littleness takes refuge with God, and His greatness makes its abode
with us; we bring Him our unworthiness and He imparts to us His
righteousness; we offer to Him our hearts barren of sympathy and
deficient in affection, and presently we find the love of God shed
abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost that is given to us.
Thus, when acquainted with God we cannot be really narrow; they might
as well call the Lord Jesus Christ narrow. We want to be as broad in
our sympathies and in our views as He was; and neither broader nor
narrower.
True spiritual life will widen the soul in its _possessions_, its
_perceptions_, its _will_, and its _love_; it will extend our powers of
_having_, of _knowing_, of _willing_, and of _loving_; and, in one or
other of these four, most of our life is included.
(1) How very little we possess, both in outward and inward things.
This is one of the points in which we are disposed to agree with the
saying that the circumference of our circle is very near to the centre.
We can grasp very little. Our hands are small and the world is large.
"Tell me how I can make my broad acres more broad," is the request of
the rich man. "Tell me how I can make my narrow holding less narrow,"
is the cry of the poor. But a life in God makes us rich, for "all
things are yours; whether Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas, or the world, or
life, or death, or things present or things to come;--all are yours;
and ye are Christ's; and Christ is God's." "Blessed are the meek; for
they shall inherit the earth." "There is no man that hath left house,
or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or
lands, for My sake and the Gospel's, but he shall receive an
hundredfold now in this time, houses, and brethren, and sisters, and
mothers, and children, and lands, with persecutions; and in the world
to come eternal life."
And Madame Guyon says, "Have I not infinitely more than a hundredfold,
in so entire a possession as Thou my Lord hast taken of me, in that
unshaken firmness which Thou givest me in my sufferings, in a perfect
tranquillity in the midst of a furious tempest that assails me on every
side, in an unspeakable joy, enlargedness, and liberty which I enjoy in
a most strait and rigorous captivity?"
(2) How trifling is our knowledge! Yet fewer people will assent to the
lack of knowledge, for many think they know a good deal. As in the
times of Socrates, it is only the wise man who knows he knows nothing.
And yet how little we know! We know but little of things in this
world, with all our sciences and study, and we know much less about
God, and glory, and immortality, and the spirits which live outside the
tent of this mortal flesh, or of any of those things which "eye hath
not seen, nor ear heard." And with all our books of theology and
treatises on spiritual life, we are almost obliged to say that "all is
less than nothing and vanity." But we believe that for those whom God
enlarges, there is an unspeakable increase in the perceptive powers of
the soul: they are taught things that no one else knows anything about,
and that are hidden from the wise and prudent. There is knowledge for
the simple and lowly ones; for those who, in the spiritual strength
they have derived from God, run in the way of His commandments.
Looking into the Father's face, and into the Saviour's heart, the soul
can say, "This is life eternal, to know Thee the only true God, and
Jesus Christ whom Thou hast sent." And with the knowledge there comes
the aspiration that we, "being rooted and grounded in love, may be able
to comprehend with all saints," and to beseech for all souls, "the
breadth, and length, and depth, and height, and to know the love of
Christ, which passeth knowledge." And again it is said, "Ye have an
anointing from the Holy One, and ye know all things." Is this a little
knowledge? All things are possible to you in possession and in
perception.
(3) How little is our _will-power_. We often want to do right, and the
force of habits or of grooves is too strong for us. We have not enough
momentum to carry us out or enough moral force to deny the past and to
assert the future. Constantly rises up in judgment the days that have
been; and when looking at the blessed vision of God of the days that
shall be, the past rises up and says, "It is not for you"; and we have
not power to deny this, and to believe in God that He will work all the
good pleasure of His will in us. It seems almost impossible for us
ever to become saints. When we get to understand a little about
righteousness and holiness, we do feel utterly inadequate to choose
such a righteousness, or to compel ourselves to live out such a
holiness.
The only remedy is the Divine enlargement of heart which comes from the
visitation of the Spirit. We carry our brokenness to God; we put our
helpless will at His feet, and He energises it, and sends us back from
the altar-steps, or from the glory where we have met with Him, able to
say, "I _delight_ to do _Thy_ will, O my God."
And although for each one of us there will be a Gethsemane, "a place of
tears," as there was for the Master, yet we shall come through with our
will unbroken, because it will be the will of God strong within us.
(4) How small is our capacity for loving or forgiving. Many think they
have capacity for an infinite love, and would be able to exhibit it if
they could find a worthy object. But I believe our love is a strictly
measurable quantity, and dependent on the state of grace we are in.
Only those who have the Spirit within them, energising them, can truly
love at all. Again, we fall at the Lord's feet, and tell Him we have
no power even to be civil to some people, much less to love them;
scarcely power to put up the weapons of revenge against some; and even
to those whom, like the publicans and Pharisees and sinners, we love
because they love us, we have not been able to make an adequate return
for the love they have lavished upon us. Then God teaches us that
there lies in Him the power of enlarging the human affections, and He
enlarges our hearts that we, "being rooted and grounded in love,"--not
only in the experimental realisation of His love to us, but also in the
experimental living out of our love to Him, and to all that He has made
and given us,--are able to "run the way of His commandments." For that
is His new commandment, "that we love one another." Our practical
state will depend on the enlarging of our hearts. We talk of
large-hearted people, but they are not so by nature in the sense God
wishes. It needs a Divine operation and a definite Divine experience
to enable us to live out the law of the New Testament.
Thus to _do_ more, we must first of all _be_ more. This is the Gospel
way all through. God never teaches us that we are to _do_ and
afterwards to _be_. What preachers tell you about dead works means
simply that it is a mistake for us to try to do before we have learned
to be. You may see a little child trying to lift a heavy weight, and
you tell it that it must wait till its muscles are stronger: it must
wait till it has _become_. This was the way at the beginning in
conversion: "dead works" means that in us there does not dwell force or
power to lift the great weight of the commandment or righteousness of
God; hence they are useless or stupid works. When you find in your
heart your inability to fulfil the Divine commandment, and have not the
strength and power you want, though all day trying to lift the heavy
weight, you come to God and say, "It is plain that, as I am, I cannot
live out this righteousness, and I come for a new life to live it out.
I must have Thine own strength." Then we understand our Lord's saying,
"Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God."
You have lived this out in some way since you were converted; but you
have not realised enough the more blessed life; you know a little of
walking in the way, but running in the way brings you face to face with
something outside your strength and power. It is no use to try and do
work which needs a stronger man, unless we can become stronger men.
Many make a mistake here; they are trying to live out holiness before
they have got the heart-enlarging. But it is no use our trying to be
holy, until God makes us holy. We try to take the first part of the
verse alone, and then we break down. "My heart breaks down: I can
never be a runner." You are trying to live out His commandments,
without having the visitation of the enlarged heart; you must get on to
definite dealings with God for a visitation of the Spirit; when He has
come, you will have the strength and peace of God with you. It seems
to me painfully sad to hear people sorrowing: "I know it is my
privilege, but I cannot make it real; and although one can sometimes do
little acts of mercy, or even attain to humble acts of faith, the life
does not flow on naturally and simply." And _it will not_, unless you
have an experience at the back coming out of His visitation.
To do more we must be more; get a new master, be a new man; get a new
experience, and you will be a new Christian.
All writers who have spoken of the advanced spiritual life have taught
that there is an enlargement of the soul, and they use the strongest
language possible.
So we find Madame Guyon saying:--