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CHRISTIAN REMEMBRANCER

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CHRISTIAN REMEMBRANCER

10 minuten leestijd Arcering uitzetten

(Continued from last issue)

CHAPTER XXVI

“On the Fear of Man”

HE that unduly fears man, cannot truly fear God: and he that lives much in the fear of God, will not regard over-much what man can do unto him. The want of faith is the root of all carnal fear, which becomes less and less, as faith gathers strength and increases in the soul. It is a sad hinderance in the ways of God, as well as torment, to live under the views, opinions, prejudices, and passions of worldly men.

“The fear of man bringeth a snare;” and a snare for all sorts of evils. Mild, gentle, feeling, and delicate tempers, are most exposed to this danger; and they should pray much to him who strengtheneth the weak, for fortitude without rudeness, for resolution without roughness, and for stability without stubbornness, that so they may properly act and hold out in the time of trial.

When it is a principle graciously established in the soul, that men can do nothing to us but which is for our good, and that they must do whatever is; it greatly abates that fickle feebleness of nature, which, out of too much love and care for itself, brings us into bondage of heart to wretched worms, “whose breath is in their nostrils,” and themselves, in this way, “not to be accounted of.”

CHAPTER XXVII

“On My Own Imperfections”

While I am in the flesh, I must be encompassed with many infirmities; and while I am in the world. I cannot escape trial and temptation, These things are grievous to my spirit; but I see that they are permitted to wean me from myself, and to draw off my heart from the creatures to my only true refuge in God.

What feebleness, at times, do I not feel in duty; what fickleness and unsteadiness in following my Redeemer; what dulness and distraction in prayer; so that I can hardly remain firm and lively long together in the pursuit of that good which my soul most desires and approves. It is a war indeed in my members to get my corrupted nature down, and to have the life of grace warm and vigorous within me. I cannot but groan, at times, in this tabernacle, being burdened, and almost oppressed, by the evils within and about me.

Were it not for divine help, O what should I do? Like Peter on the sea, I have sometimes ventured boldly after my Lord; but like him too, through faintness of heart and weakness of faith, at other times, I have cried out, “Lord, save, or I perish!” Thou hast helped me indeed, blessed be thy name, O my God! and yet I cannot but reproach myself for the cold forgetfulness and weakness of my spirit, in doubting so often of thy faithfulness, and in not keeping hold of thy promises.

Thus, Lord, I feel myself a poor, a frail, and altogether a weak and worthless man; fit for nothing but thy mercy, and capable of nothing, when left to my own nature, but rebellion against it. When I survey myself, and all my confused and ruined faculties, I am filled with shame, and cannot but wonder at thy long-suffering towards me. O wretch that I am, in what a vile body of sin do I live! How am I always struggling against thee with my perverse and wicked flesh, contrary to the true and lasting interests of my soul! How ready to yield to thine enemy and mine; or to give up all for lost, rather than maintain the hard and painful struggle with corruption and sin!

When I have been lively and zealous for my God, how often have I been ready to overlook, to misapply, or to turn his grace to the foolish vanity of my own mind! Insomuch, at times, I seem all flesh to myself, and to have neither true light, life, wisdom, nor strength from above within me. My failures are and have been so numerous, the apostacy of my heart so great, the conduct of my life and temper so mutable and irregular, and all my frame so poor and wavering, so cold and weak in embracing the best things, that I am ready to bemoan with the prophet, “Woe is me, for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips! My whole head is sick, and my whole heart is faint.”

Others may talk of their wills and their powers, their duties and their deserts; but, as for me, I can scarce lift up my eyes to heaven when I consider myself: rather with the publican, my brother, I must smite upon my breast and say, “God be merciful to me a sinner!” Instead of looking on myself as a fine holy creature, who can appear confidently before my God, I shrink with contrition and shame at the thought, that I have done little else than dishonor him all my days, and deserve nothing for the best thing I was ever able to do, but confusion and sorrow.

O what a plague is discovered in a man’s own heart, when he knows himself; and how little doth he appear in his own eyes, when he hath been made to view, in some true light and degree, the piercing purity and perfections of God!

And yet, O marvellous to say, God is pleased, by all the weak and contrary things in me, to magnify his own power and glory! By these he makes me out of humour with myself; by these he drives me from a thousand refuges of lies; by these he compels me to cleave unto him, as my only rock, succour, and remedy. In this way, I can feel, as well as read, what the apostle meant, where he says, “Most gladly therefore will I glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me” — “For when I am weak, then I am strong.” These are strange paradoxes to the natural heart; but blessed is the man who can truly understand, and enter into their sweet sense and experience.

CHAPTER XXVIII

“The Believer Receives Food, as Well as Light, in The Word and Doctrine of Christ”

The mere notion of divine things, without their power, cannot profit the soul. As a man may be poor with the plan of a large estate, of which he hath no possession; so a professor of Christianity may have the Bible before him, and may be able to raise very high and fine speculations from it, and yet have no true knowledge or enjoyment of the truths which it contains.

A minister may preach of these truths with great clearness, great readiness, and great noise; and yet have no true savour, no solid experience, and no real communion, of the truths themselves within him. What proves this is, that he is not the same man in the pulpit and in the world. The doctrines of the Gospel will serve for orations as well as other topics; nay, will serve for the finest orations, because there is more of sublimity and truth in them than in any other.

An author likewise may write about divine revelation, and all the mysteries of redemption, with precision, accuracy, force, and elegance, and yet be destitute of the main concern, which is the faith and inward perception of these things for his own soul. I would deal fairly and closely with my own self in this respect, as well as with others; and I will own, that my light is far beyond my liveliness; and though I humbly trust that I have some little real life in my knowledge of God and his truths, yet I confess, with an aching heart, that it is indeed but little, too little, and much less than my own fondness for myself, or vanity, or pride, or conceit, (for, Lord, thou knowest, and I know, that I have all these in abundance within me!) will suffer me at times to think that I have. Perceiving then my own weakness, and the deceivableness of unrighteousness in my own heart, I am able to see, and yet to pity and bear with, the same infirmities and defects in others.

However, no real believer can find much or long satisfaction in any notions or conceptions of divine truth ,though very sublime, clear, full, extensive, and convincing, without something more in them than from them. He does not despise head-knowledge indeed, because by this he can see the wisdom of God; but he would have heart-knowledge too, because he wishes to taste, to enjoy, to be assured of his interest in the love of God. He can no more feed upon words and syllables, in his soul, than he can live upon air only for his body.

The Lord, therefore, when he imparts the demonstration of the Spirit to a man, imparts it “not in word but in power:” and so the gospel is “the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth.” He cannot receive it aright without this power; he cannot live upon it but by this power; nor hold out in living and believing to the end but by the same power.

This gracious feeding of the soul upon the things of God is its greatest enjoyment here upon earth, and one of its bright evidences for heaven. It is a secret holy act, carried on best without the clatter of the animal passions or the intercourse of corporal things. The holy bread was eaten in the holy place, before the holy light; and all out of the air, or view, or correspondence of the world. Thus, in the secret place of the Most High, the soul feeds upon Christ, beholds Christ, and obtains all its divine communion with the things of God. And when it hath thus tasted that the Lord is gracious, it loves to be with him, and says earnestly, as Peter did, “It is good to be here.” The carnal notion even of the best things will no longer satisfy or feed it. The bread of God which cometh down from heaven, and giveth life to the hungry soul, can alone satiate its cravings, and completely answer its desires.

CHAPTER XXIX

“On The Spirit of Scoffing”

It is no less ungracious than unwise to indulge a scoffing temper in our souls. Pride and an unmortified opinion of self, joined with contempt of others, are the true origin of this evil. It is the more dangerous, and not so much to the scorned as to the scorning, when set off with wit and mimicry, point and satire. But attic salt is not the salt of the covenant; and, in sacred things especially is not to be used by a Christian.

It may be diverting to mimic and to take off others, in order to expose their foibles or defects; but how and to whom is it diverting? Is it to the humble, spiritual, and mortified mind? No, but to the profane and the carnal; or, at least, to what is carnal and profane in a Christian, which is the very principle of all others that he would not strengthen or encourage, but subdue.

There is so much inhumanity, as well as irreligion, in this jeering temper, and usually so little good sense, that the Christian is bound to oppose it both in himself and in others. Cheerfulness is his privilege; but surely he may be happy in his mind without planting thorns elsewhere; nay, it proceeds from the want of true happiness, if he can endure at any rate such a contemptible shadow of it. True peace is gentle in itself, and glows most sweetly in diffusing gentleness and kindness on every side. The happy Christian would increase his own joy, by making, if possible, every one happy about him.

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Bekijk de hele uitgave van donderdag 1 juli 1943

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CHRISTIAN REMEMBRANCER

Bekijk de hele uitgave van donderdag 1 juli 1943

The Banner of Truth | 16 Pagina's