“The Crook in the Lot”

“The Crook In The Lot” is the title of a famous book written by Thomas Boston. There are few autobiographical disclosures more impressive than Thomas Boston’s references to his well-beloved wife. She was a woman who knew the grace of God in truth. Her deep love of her Redeemer endeared her greatly to her husband. The depth of Boston’s affection for his wife was, however, associated with a sorrow and a compassion which he could never express in mere words. Over a long period of their life together his dear one was insane. There were seasons when he had to retire to an adjoining “outhouse” to conceal his distress from his family, while she lay in what he called “the inner prison.” Yet, no word of complaint ever fell from his lips. This was because in Boston’s soul there was a bright and sure hope that their trial was but the prelude to a happy eternity for them both. Out of this womb of sorrow came his great work mentioned above. God turned his trial into a ministry of comfort to untold thousands of His people.

Boston knew that in this life there is no nest without its thorn. To envisage an undisturbed rest all our days here is not wise. God’s people, the subjects of His love and care, had in every age a cup of sorrow put into their hand. The first man who ever exercised a living faith in God in this world was the subject of his brother’s malice. Cain hated Abel for no other reason than that God loved him and that he loved his God, and that, unlike himself, his life and worship were both acceptable to his Maker. From that hour, and in every age, God’s people could say, “For Thy sake we are killed all the day.”

Some may believe that their sorrows are unique, and that others lie in quieter pastures than themselves. With the prophet they ask, “Is there any sorrow like unto my sorrow?” But we seldom know the inner nature of our neighbor’s sorrow. And as Boston reminds us, the sources of these sorrows—whether known or unknown to others — often lie on our own hearth. A fit comment on this truth is the well-known story of a good woman who believed that her own domestic trial was more unbearable than that of her pious neighbours’, and whose heart God set at ease in a remarkable dream.

The hard things which so often crush our lives may be the tokens of His love and the channel through which we enjoy more of His grace.

She dreamt that, passing through the village where she stayed, she saw opposite each door the burdens which each of her friends had to bear. She lifted each one to her back, only to discover that no burden fitted her but the one which lay at her own door! Out of all the burdens of woe which lay before her, she was led, after much reflection, to choose her own. God, in other words, had adapted her burden to her ability to bear it. This is what we learn. He will not try us beyond our endurance. His disciplines are perfectly weighed and measured by His wisdom and love, and are peculiarly fitted for the end He has in view for each and all of His people — their final consolation and perfection. Sin has wrought so many evil twists in our nature that there can be no straightening of our lives without the needed and appropriate pain. It is not willingly, therefore, that He afflicts the children of men, and especially those who are the subjects of unchanging love.

The famous Dr. Kennedy of Dingwall once said that all the afflictions meted out for us by God in that covenant “which is ordered in all things and sure” He will put into the cup of our daily experience. Since all He gives is for His own glory, and for our own good, not a drop more shall be added to that cup, and not a drop less shall be withheld. And when, in a spirit of acceptance and resignation, we uncomplainingly take it out of His hand, our will is beginning to dovetail into His. This is the secret of inner peace. But, oh, what grace is needed to say, “Not my will, but Thine be done.”

In one of his great afflictions the Psalmist wished for the wings of a dove that he might fly away to where he might rest. But not till all the sorrows which beset us here pass away shall our souls take wing to that sweet land where grief is unknown. Meantime let us pray for the needed grace that shall enable us to endure to the end. And if our sufferings, in some measure, are due to an attachment to Christ, great indeed are our honor and privilege. A story was once rehearsed in a small company of Christian people of a certain man who, bearing a sore cross, went aside to pray. He would have the Lord remove his burden. When he arose from his knees he felt that his plea was refused. That night a young man stood beside him with an open Bible in his hand. With great solemnity he read the words: “Unto you it is given in the behalf of Christ, not only to believe in Him, but also to suffer for His sake.” Through these words he realized anew that the way of blessedness is to be found in acceptance of God’s holy will for us in whatever He calls upon us to endure.

As illustrative of God’s ability to sustain us under our sharpest trials, the following story is not without its value and instruction.

Many years ago a group of Christian men were working in a district. They were men who greatly valued the means of grace. They were also men of much spiritual discernment. Each Lord’s Day they sat in the local church listening to a comparatively young minister of the gospel. As they listened they were amazed at his spiritual maturity, and at the tenderness with which he proclaimed his message. He was the friend and comforter of the afflicted soul. One day, one of the men ventured to ask him where he had learned these deep lessons in Christian sufferings and the fruits they bear. “If,” he said, “you will come with me to my home I shall let you know.” This they did. After they had eaten of the meal which he had prepared, he said, “Come now, and I shall show you where I got my sermon.” He led them to a room where they saw, tied to its bed, a deformed and retarded child. And in another room lay a woman — his wife—in a drunken stupor. As they walked away they knew how true was the Word of the Lord in relation to many of His own, “Thou hast showed Thy people hard things; Thou hast made us to drink the wine of astonishment.”

A similar story could indeed be told of another excellent man who labored for many years in a Scottish parish. Sometimes, in the night, this man would yoke his horse and search the ditches by the wayside for his foolish son whom, he knew, had fallen by the way. The cry of David, “O Absalom, my son! my son!” was one which must have often wrenched his spirit. God, however, gave him the needed strength for his burden, and out of the furnace he emerged refined by the presence of the One “who was born for adversity.”

God can truly use the path of pain as a means of blessing. The hard things which so often crush our lives may be the tokens of His love and the channel through which we enjoy more of His grace. “By these things men live, and in these is the life of the spirit.” “As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten.” As Boston reminds us, one reason why the Lord brings some of His people into the path of adversity is that they might know how to comfort others “with the comfort wherewith themselves are also comforted of God.”

During my earlier years in the ministry I knew two men who each bore a heavy cross in his home. When they stood up in public, either to witness or to pray, one could discern how deeply God had taught them in the school of affliction. Once they met, and as they greeted one another, they both wept. They wept in mutual sympathy and understanding; for their crosses were identical. Each understood the nature and the sharpness of the thorn which wrung the heart of the other. They were men who knew how to minister comfort to burdened souls.

As an example of how God can sweeten life’s bitter waters, we recall the words of a Highland divine, the holy Mr. Fraser of Alness, in Ross-shire. Till he breathed his last this man’s unbelievably cruel wife would deny him both his necessary food and the minimum comfort of his home. But to him she was “the best wife in the world,” for each day as he kneeled under his burden, God, through His promise, assured him of His unfailing love and that His grace would always be sufficient.

We should pray for those who oppress us.

To those whose path here is often strewn with such sharp thorns, there is a promise that has often been fulfilled in the experience of many of His people. It is that God, by a work of grace, is able to change those who may oppress us. The prophet, in figurative words, speaks of the great and lasting change which God’s saving power can bring about in the lives of men. “Instead of the thorn shall come up the fir tree, and instead of the briar shall come up the myrtle tree, and it shall be to the Lord for a name, for an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off.” The serpent from which Moses once recoiled in fear afterwards became a staff in his hand. God can change the sources of our sorrows into a means of strength and comfort. Let me elucidate this great truth by one or two examples.

I once knew an excellent Christian man whose wife was also a jewel of God’s grace. Three times a day they both kneeled together in prayer at the family altar. The Bible was always open on their little fireside table. Never did I enter that tiny cottage with its “bed-and-board,” without the feeling that the Lord was there. But it had not always been so. The man whom I took—at my first acquaintance with him — to have been a Samuel from the womb, had once been the heartbreak of his wife. When drink and ill-temper took possession of him he became a destroyer of his home and a terror to his lovely and devoted spouse. God, however, saw her tears and heard her prayer, and their last years in this world were lived in the quiet assurance of God’s love and forgiveness.

Let me describe another such home. Once I stood outside a church in one of our cities. Out of the crowd a man approached me and asked me to his home. There a goodly company sat down at his table, which was followed by family worship. This man was a very joyous believer. He was like one who had found great spoil or had suddenly lighted on a hid treasure. His happy wife was the willing Martha of his home. When, in a kindly way, I chided with him for placing such a burden on her, as our visit entailed, he looked at me earnestly, and in a voice full of sorrow he said, “There was a day when I was hard on my wife…” Afterwards I heard the story of his reckless years, and of her broken heart and home. Now her sighs had given place to smiles, while he never wearied of telling what God had done for him in “a day of His power.”

How applicable are the words of Solomon with regard to the grief which is so often found in the hearts of many parents. “A foolish son is the heaviness of his mother.” A young man whom I once knew seemed to live for no other thing than to bring misery into his home. He boxed his compass in his own foolish way. After years of ploughing his deep furrows of ill-conduct he arrived one evening in church where he sat beside his father whose prayers on his behalf had, we believed, at last prevailed with God.

A minister once preached a sermon in which he exhorted those of his hearers who “sowed in tears” not to forget the promise that they would “reap with joy.” He told a remarkable story of a Christian man whose sons made light of their Christian upbringing and heritage, and who went on carelessly in the hard way of transgressors. Over the long years their father prayed for their salvation; but he passed into God’s presence with his prayers apparently unanswered. Then he died, and his wayward sons followed his dust to the grave. On that day, as they entered the home of their early years, they saw the old, tear-stained chair beside which their father so often kneeled in prayer for them. As they stood there in silence something like a wave out of the eternal world touched their spirits and compelled them to fall down on their knees and ask God for mercy. From that hour they were new men in Christ. Their subsequent life of devotion to the cause of Christ was ample proof that God had richly answered their father’s prayers.

These things do happen. They teach us that we should pray for those who oppress us. There are those who taste of such joys of prayers answered on earth, and, for reasons of His own, there are those whose prayers meantime remain unanswered and whom the Lord leaves here all their days with afflictions which pierce deeper and deeper into their spirits. But “God is not slack concerning His promise.” Only in the world to come shall many see how their prayers on behalf of those who had so often grieved them here, did prevail with God. And these sweet surprises “within the veil” shall add to their cup of joy.

Meantime He says, “My grace is sufficient for thee…” “All things work together for good to those who love Him.” If our earthly lot is therefore hedged in with many sorrows, let us remember that there is a lot without a crook, and a blessing to which no sorrow is added. How wonderful are the words of the Psalm:

God is of mine inheritance
And cup the portion;
The lot that fallen is to me
Thou dost maintain alone

Besides, our season of pain is but for “a little while.” The years of our mourning shall cease. The tears which sometimes dim our eyes He shall shortly wipe away.

A few years ago a man sat in a church. In front of him he could see a company of men who were the local elders. He knew them well; he also knew something of the trials which some of them had to endure. Some of them were men on whose hearts the shadows of sorrow lay. When the service had ended he went over and stood among them. “Cheer up, friends,” he said, “the worst is over, and the best is yet to be.” He meant that their voyage on life’s sea was now almost over and that the blissful shore of a better world was already in view. They all understood and smiled. The sure hope is beautifully expressed in the Psalm:

Weeping may for a night endure,
At morn doth joy arise.

Let me conclude with the story of an eminent Christian man who once “spoke to the Question.” The man ended his remarks by saying that whatever bitter herbs God’s people may have to taste in this life there was one herb which would never lose its sweetness. He then sat down. Immediately the presiding minister stood up and said: “Perhaps our friend might tell us what this sweet herb is.” The man arose, and with great tenderness, quoted the words: “Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, to-day and for ever.” The words, needless to say, came with much comfort to many present.

Rev. Murdoch Campbell, a deceased Scottish minister, has authored several books highly esteemed for their practical spirituality. This article is extracted from his “In All Their Affliction.”

Clear

It is obvious that when God Himself awakens us by His Spirit and occupies our heart, we possess the most excellent treasure life can hold. Paul said, “God has quickened us from the dead.” If we do not have this new life, we are still dead, dead in sins and trespasses. When our spirit is quickened by the grace of God, then we truly come to life.

Why is this life such a blessed life? Because they who possess this spiritual life know that their sins are forgiven. They have received faith to embrace Jesus. “There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit. For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus hath made me free from the law of sin and death.”

These quickened souls have received God’s grace because of His good pleasure towards them. The Lord is their life, day after day. They possess God’s life-giving Spirit. Paul writes: “Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you?” And: “Now if any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of His.”

— Wilhelmus à Brakel

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