Arthur Pink, 1937
This subject is one of great practical importance and
value, though sadly neglected by the modern pulpit. By "experimental
preaching" we mean preaching which analyses, diagnoses, describes the
strange and often bewildering experience of the Christian. As we have
pointed out before, there is a real distinction to be drawn between
Christian experience and the experience of the Christian. True Christian
experience consists of a knowledge of Christ, communion with Him, conformity
to Him. But the experience of a Christian grows out of the conflict of the
two natures within—natures which are radically different in their character,
tendency, and products. In consequence of that conflict, there is a
ceaseless warfare going on within him, issuing in a series of defeats and
victories, victories and defeats. These, in turn, produce joy and sorrow,
doubtings and confidence, fears and peace; until often he knows not what to
think or how to place himself.
Now it is one important and fundamental part of the
office of God's minister, to trace out the workings of sin and the actings
of grace in the believer's heart; to turn the light of Scripture upon the
mysterious anomaly of what is daily taking place in the Christian's soul; to
enable him to determine how far he is growing in grace or is backsliding
from the Lord. It is his business to take the stumbling stones out of the
way of Zion's travelers, to explain to them "the mystery of the
Gospel," to define the grounds of true assurance, and to undermine a carnal
confidence. It is an essential part of his task as preacher to trace out the
work of the Spirit in the regenerate, and to show that He is a Spirit of
"judgment" as well as consolation, a Spirit of "burning" (Isaiah 4:4) as
well as building, that He wounds as well as heals.
The human soul possesses three principal faculties—the
understanding, the affections, and the will; and the Word of God is
addressed to each of them. Consequently the preaching of the Word comes
under this general threefold classification: doctrinal preaching,
experimental, and hortatory.
Doctrinal preaching expounds the great truths and
facts which constitute the substance of Holy Writ, and has for its prime aim
the instruction of the hearer, the enlightening of his mind.
Experimental preaching concerns the actual
application of salvation to the individual and traces out the operations of
the Spirit in the effectuation thereof, having for its main object the
stirring of the affections.
Hortatory preaching deals with the requirements of
God and the obligations of the hearer, takes up the exhortations and
warnings of Scripture, calls to the discharge of duty, and is addressed
principally to the will.
It is only as these three fundamental offices of the
minister are adequately and wisely combined, that the pulpit has
performed its proper functions.
Doctrinal preaching treats of the character of God,
proclaims His attributes, extols His perfections. It deals with the nature
of man, his accountability to God, his obligation to serve and
glorify Him. It exalts the Law, and presses its requirement that we
love the Lord God with all our hearts and our neighbor as ourselves. It is
concerned with showing what sin is, its enormity, its workings, its
consequences. It delineates God's wondrous salvation, and shows the
grace from which it springs, the wisdom which contrived it, the holiness
which required it, the love that secured it. It describes what the Church
is, both universally and locally. It expounds the ordinances—their
significance, their purpose, their value.
Experimental preaching deals with the actual
experience of those upon whom and in whom God works. It begins with
their natural estate, as those who were shaped in iniquity and conceived in
sin. It shows how, as fallen creatures, we are sin's slaves and
Satan's serfs. It describes the deceitfulness and desperate wickedness
of the heart, its pride and self-righteousness. It treats of man's spiritual
impotency, and the hypocrisy and uselessness of making this a ground of
self-pity, and an excuse for slothfulness. It delineates the workings of the
Spirit when He convicts of sin, and the effects this produces in the subject
of it. It takes up the heart exercises of an awakened soul, and seeks to
counsel, admonish, and comfort.
Hortatory preaching is concerned with the claims of
God upon us, and how we should endeavor to meet the same. It bids us to
remember the Creator in the days of our youth, and affirms that our chief
end is to glorify Him. It bids us throw down the weapons of our warfare
against Him, and seek reconciliation with Him. It calls upon us to repent of
our sins, forsake our wicked ways, and sue for mercy through Christ. It
emphasizes the various motives unto obedience. It describes the life which
the Christian is required to live, and exhorts him to deny himself, take up
his cross, and follow Christ. In short, it enforces the righteous demands of
the Lord, and urges unto a compliance therewith.
Now it is in a due combination of these three
distinct lines of preaching, that the best results are likely to ensue. Care
needs to be exercised that the balance is properly maintained.
If there be a disproportionate dwelling on any one of
these, souls are likely to be hindered, rather than helped. There needs to
be variety in our mental and spiritual food, as much as there is in
our material, and He who has graciously furnished the latter in Nature, has
mercifully provided the former in His Word. If a person ate nothing but
meat, his system would soon be clogged; if he confined himself to sweets,
his stomach would quickly be soured. It is so spiritually. An excess of
doctrinal preaching produces swelled heads; too much experimental induces
morbidity; and nothing but hortatory issues in legality.
Alas, one of the most lamentable features of Christendom
is the lopsidedness of present-day ministry. Where the Law is
faithfully expounded, the Gospel is conspicuous by its absence; and where
the Gospel is freely proclaimed, the Law is rigidly excluded.
Even when a more or less balanced doctrine is maintained,
there is very little experimental preaching, yes, it is generally decried as
harmful, as fostering doubts, as getting us occupied with ourselves instead
of Christ. In those places where really helpful experimental preaching is
to be heard, the hortatory note is never raised—promises are freely
quoted—but the precepts are shelved, while exhorting the unregenerate to
repent and believe in Christ is denounced as inculcating creature ability
and as insulting to the Holy Spirit. In other quarters, one might hear
little or nothing except our duties—becoming personal workers, giving to
missions etc.—which is like whipping a horse that has had no food.
But of the three it is experimental preaching
which is given least place in our day. So much so is this the case, that
many of God's poor people and not a few preachers themselves, have never so
much as heard the expression. Yet this is scarcely to be wondered at, for
experimental preaching is by far the most difficult of the three. A
little reading and study is all that is required to equip one naturally (we
do not say spiritually) to prepare a doctrinal sermon, while a novice, a
"young convert," is deemed capable of standing at a street-corner and urging
all and sundry to receive Christ as their personal Savior. But a personal
experience of the Truth is indispensable before one can helpfully preach
along experimental lines—such sermons have to be hammered out on the
anvil of the preacher's own heart. An unregenerate man may preach most
orthodoxly on doctrine—but he cannot describe the operations of the Spirit
in the heart to any good purpose.
Though experimental preaching be the hardest task which
the preacher has to perform, yet it is needful he attend to it, and when the
blessing of God rests thereon, beneficial are its effects. It is calculated
to expose empty professors—both to themselves and others—more effectually
than any other type of sermon, for it shows at length that the saving of a
soul is very much more than a sudden "decision" on my part or believing that
Christ died in my room and stead; for it is a supernatural work of the
Spirit in the heart. Such preaching is most likely to open the eyes of
sincere but deceived souls, for as they are shown what the work of
the Spirit is, and the effects it produces, they will discover a
miracle of grace has been wrought in them. While nothing is so apt to
establish trembling believers, above all, it honors the Spirit Himself.
Let us now point out along what lines experimental
preaching is to proceed, in order to be most helpful to the saints. First
and primarily, its business is to show of what "Salvation" consists
in its actual application to the individual. Doctrinal preaching lays the
foundation for this by an exposition of the grand truth of Election
(which makes known the blessed fact that God has chosen a people unto
salvation—2 Thess. 2:13), and by opening up the subject of the Atonement,
showing how Christ has fully satisfied every requirement of Divine justice
upon the elect, thereby purchasing redemption for them. Doctrinal preaching
is the means which the Spirit uses in the enlightenment, conviction
and conversion of the elect, and the practical value of experimental
preaching is that it enables concerned and attentive hearers to ascertain
what stage has been reached in the Spirit's work in them.
In taking up the Spirit's application of that salvation
which the Father ordained and the Son secured, the preacher first shows
how the soul is prepared to receive it. By nature his heart is as hard
and unresponsive to the Truth as the "highway" is to the reception of
wheat—so there has to be a preliminary plowing and harrowing, a breaking up
and turning over of the soil of his soul before the Word will obtain
entrance and take root therein.
Experimental preaching, then, will show which of
his hearers is still accurately pictured by the "wayside" ground, namely,
those whose hearts are thoroughly antagonistic to God's claims upon them,
those who are unconcerned about their eternal interests, those who wish to
be left alone and undisturbed in their pleasures and worldly interests. The
preacher will then press upon them the woeful state they are in, the
terribleness of their condition, that they are dead toward God, devoid of
any actual interest in spiritual things.
As the preacher develops and follows out the above line
of thought, those who have been quickened and awakened by the Spirit of God
will be better able to place themselves.
As they measure themselves by the message, as they apply
to themselves what the minister is saying (which the hearer should ever do
if he is to "take heed how you hear"—Luke 8:18), he will perceive
that by the sovereign grace of God it is now no longer with him—as it once
was. He will recall the time when he too sat under the preaching of
the Word with stoic indifference, when it was a meaningless jumble to him, a
weariness to sit through. He will remember he rarely gave more than a
passing thought as to where he would spend eternity. But now it is
otherwise. He is no longer unconcerned—but is truly anxious to be saved. The
preacher will point out that this is a hopeful sign—but must press the fact
that it is not one to be rested in, that it is the height of folly
and most dangerous, to be contented with anything short of the full
assurance of faith.
Again; the preacher will show that the great work of the
Spirit in preparing the heart for a saving reception of the Gospel, consists
in revealing to the individual his dire need of Christ, and this is
accomplished by His making him to see and feel what a vile sinner he
is in the sight of God. A life belt receives little notice from those who
are safe on dry ground—but let a man be drowning in the water and he will
eagerly grasp at and deeply appreciate one. Those who are whole need not a
physician; but when they are desperately sick—he is most welcome. So it is
spiritually. Let a man be unconscious of his moral leprosy, unconcerned of
how he appears in the eyes of the Holy One, and salvation is little
considered by him. But let him be convicted of his lifelong rebellion
against God, let him discover that there is "no soundness" in him, let him
realize that the wrath of God abides on him—and he is ready to give the
Gospel a sincere hearing.
Now the great instrument or means used by the
Spirit in bringing the people to see their ruined and lost condition is
the Law, for "by the Law is the knowledge of sin" (Romans 3:20). A
striking illustration of this is found in Nehemiah 8. There we read of Ezra
ministering to those who had returned from the Babylonian captivity, "Ezra
the priest brought the Law before the assembly, which was made up of men and
women and all who were able to understand. He read it aloud from daybreak
till noon as he faced the square before the Water Gate in the presence of
the men, women and others who could understand. And all the people listened
attentively to the Book of the Law" (vv. 2, 3). He, in turn, was assisted by
others, who "instructed the people in the Law while the people were standing
there. They read from the Book of the Law of God, making it clear and giving
the meaning so that the people could understand what was being read" (vv. 7,
8). And what was the outcome? This, "all the people wept when they
heard the words of the Law" (v. 9). The Spirit had applied it to their
hearts in power; they were convicted of their wicked self-will and
self-pleasing, their disobedience and defiance to the Lord, and they
repented of the same and mourned before Him.
God wounds before He heals, and abases
before He exalts. When the Spirit applies the Law to a sinner's heart, his
self-delight is shattered and his self-righteousness receives its
death-wound. When he is brought to realize the justice of the Law's
requirements, discovers that it demands perfect and perpetual conformity to
the revealed will of God in thought and word and deed—then he perceives that
"innumerable evils have encompassed him about," his iniquities "take hold of
him" so that he cannot look up, and he recognizes that his sins are "more
than the hairs of his head" (Psalm 40:12). Such an experience is beyond
misunderstanding—those subject to the same cannot mistake it. Unspeakably
painful though it be, it is most necessary if man's proud heart is to be
humbled and made receptive to the Gospel of God's grace. Such an experience
evidences that God has not abandoned him to a heart that is "past feeling"
(Eph. 4:19)—yet this is not to be rested in as though the goal had been
reached.
So far from a state of becoming aroused to see our danger
and be concerned about our eternal destiny being, of itself, something to
complacently rest in, assured that all will certainly end well, it is one
that is full of peril. Satan is never more active than when he discovers
souls are being awakened, for he is loathe to lose his captives, and
redoubles his efforts to retain them. It is then that he transforms himself
as an angel of light, and performs his most subtle and successful work.
There are multitudes, my reader, who were shaken out of their indifference,
and became diligent in seeking the way of salvation. But false guides misled
them, and they were fatally deceived—as Ezekiel 13:22 expresses it, they
"strengthened the hands of the wicked, that he should not return from his
wicked way, by promising him life." The sinner must "forsake his way"
before he can return to the Lord and find pardon (Isaiah 55:7).
Not until we actually comply with the terms of the
Gospel, not until we really close with Christ as He is presented
therein, is forgiveness obtainable. To stop anywhere short of that, is to
gravely endanger the soul's going to sleep on the Devil's "enchanted
ground"—to borrow a figure from Bunyan. It is therefore the pressing duty of
the preacher to sound the alarm here, and warn awakened souls of the danger
of taking their ease, assuming that all is well. The foolish virgins "went
forth to meet the Bridegroom" but they went to sleep, and when they awoke it
was too late to procure the requisite oil! It is good that the ground
should be plowed, yet that is only the preliminary work—seed must actually
be sown and take root therein, before there can be any fruit. The anxious
soul, then, must be continually exhorted to make sure that "the root of the
matter" (Job 19:28) is in him.
This brings us to the next important stage or branch of
experimental preaching—the making clear unto the concerned how it may
be ascertained whether or not "the root of the matter" is in them; in
other words, whether a work of grace has actually been started in their
souls. This is a point of vast importance, for it concerns the vital
difference between the general and special work of the Spirit—on which we
wrote at some length when expounding Hebrews 6:4-6.
"He who has begun a good work in you—will
complete it" (Phil. 1:6). And how is an exercised soul to
ascertain whether this "good work" has actually begun in him? How is he to
distinguish between the natural workings of conscience, and the supernatural
conviction which the Holy Spirit produces? How is he to distinguish between
the spasmodic religiousness of the flesh—which appears conspicuously in many
of the devotees of Mohammed and the worshipers of the Virgin Mary, and finds
its counterpart in thousands of those who come under the magnetic influence
of "Evangelists" and "Revivalists" —and true spiritual aspirations after
God? How is he to distinguish between a radical moral reformation and
a Divine regeneration—for some of the effects of the one closely
resemble those of the other? How is he to distinguish between the general
work of the Spirit on the non-elect (like king Saul and those described in
Heb. 6:4, 5) and the special work of the Spirit in the elect?
Such questions as the above may never have arisen in the
minds of some of our readers, and now that they have seen them raised, may
consider them as "hair-splitting" or theological distinctions of little
practical interest. But others of our readers are deeply exercised by such
considerations. They dare not take it for granted that all is well with
them, until they are satisfied from God's Word that a miracle of grace
has been wrought in them. They fear that Satan may be deceiving them
with his lies, comforting with a false assurance. As they seek to
contemplate an endless eternity unto which time is so swiftly conducting
them, they are deeply anxious to make sure where they are bound!
And well may such inquiries disturb our serenity, and
agitate our minds—they are of vital consequence, of vast importance—for they
concern the difference there is between life and death, Heaven and Hell.
It is an essential branch of experimental preaching, that
must deal with such momentous issues. It is the bounden duty of the pulpit
to afford help unto such exercised souls. It is the office of the minister
to take up such distinctions and show clearly wherein the difference lies.
It is the business of God's servant to define and describe of what
the "good work" of the Spirit consists, and how it may be identified.
That "good work" is but another name for the new birth, which consists of
the Spirit's communicating to the heart a new nature, a principle of grace
and holiness. It is the impartation of that which is radically different
from anything that was in us by nature. It is something which has come from
God, is Godlike in its nature, and which instinctively turns unto God. It is
discoverable by the fact that there is now in the soul a relish for
spiritual things, which was not there previously; a "relish" which goes far,
far deeper than a mere intellectual interest being awakened in a new
subject. It evidences itself by a hungering after righteousness, a thirsting
for holiness, pantings after God Himself, yearnings for Christ.
But while an entirely new nature is imparted at
regeneration, the old one is not removed, nor is it even improved or
refined. The old nature, the "flesh," indwelling sin, remains in the
Christian to the end of his earthly life and is a constant source of grief
to him. It opposes every aspiration and effort of the new nature. It is
earthly, sensual, devilish, and craves only that which the swine feed on.
Nor does the finishing of that "good work" in the soul effect any change for
the better in the flesh, or even render it less active.
No, the carrying on of that "good work" is the
preserving of a spark of grace—in an ocean of sin, the maintaining
of the new nature in a heart that is desperately and incurably wicked.
Notwithstanding every effort of carnal enmity to quench it, love for God
survives, "faint, yet pursuing" (Judg. 8:4); and despite all the
ragings of unbelief, faith's head is kept above the waters.
Just as the natural infant clings instinctively to its
mother and yearns for her breast, so the spiritual babe seeks after Christ
and desires the pure milk of the Word. That is another evidence of
the Spirit's "good work" in the soul. The Spirit's quickening is in order to
capacitate the heart for Christ, for one who is yet "dead in
trespasses and sins" has neither spiritual desires not spiritual ability.
But once a person has been born again, and truly convicted of his ruined and
lost condition, he is spiritually fitted to receive the Gospel. It is at
this point he is ready to hear how the Spirit works in revealing Christ to
such, bringing them to believe on Him, and thereby putting them into actual
possession of Him. The Spirit causes the quickened soul to live over the
truth of the Gospel in his own mind, moves him to give full credit thereto,
mix faith with the same, and derive spiritual nourishment from it.
As the truth of the Gospel is received into the heart—in
some cases rapidly, in others much more slowly—it becomes the means of the
believer's growing into an experimental and practical acquaintance with
Christ, to be rooted and grounded in Him, to live upon Him. When God is
pleased to shine upon the souls of the elect, and make an open discovery to
them of His work of grace within them, or when Christ is first made a living
and precious reality to their hearts, there is a going forth of their
spiritual affections unto Him.
All seems to be life and vigor in their souls,
difficulties vanish, doubts are dispelled, they are quite carried out of
themselves, lifted above their sins and iniquities, and made to rejoice in
Christ and praise God for His wondrous grace. This is "the love of your
espousals" (Jer. 2:2), the "joy of salvation." It is very rare, however,
that this blissful season is of long duration, and wisely has God so ordered
this. Such spiritual ecstasy which is often experienced by newly converted
souls would, if it lasted, unfit them for the discharge of life's duties in
this world. For example, one engaged in office work would be unable to
concentrate on his books if his mind were enrapt with visions of glory.
There was only one Elim—with its well of water and palm trees—for
Israel in the wilderness. God grants His people a foretaste of Heaven
and its realities, and then brings them down to a consciousness that they
are still on earth. Even the Apostle Paul needed a thorn in the
flesh, lest he be exalted above measure, after he had been caught up to
Paradise. Heavy ballast is needed, if the ship is to sail steadily, and this
the believer obtains by painful discoveries of his corruptions.
It is therefore the duty of the preacher to faithfully
warn the young convert that the peace, joy and assurance which usually
follows the first realization of sins' forgiveness, will in turn be
succeeded by fierce temptations, inward conflicts, sad failures which will
produce grief, darkness, and doubtings. It was so with Abraham, with Moses,
with Job, with Peter, with Paul; yes, with all the saints whose biographies
are recorded at any length in the Scriptures. Great changes are to be
expected in the young convert's feelings and frames, so that his comforts
are dampened, and the dew of death seems to settle upon his graces. A deeper
realization of his awful depravity—what he is by nature—will make him groan
and cry out "O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of
this death?" (Romans 7:24); yet that only makes way for a fuller and further
weaning from SELF.
Very often the young Christian is allowed by God to sink
yet lower in his experience. Satan is let loose upon him and sin rages
fiercely within him, and strive and pray as he may, it often obtains the
upper hand over him. Guilt weighs heavily on his conscience, no relief is
granted from any source, until he now seriously questions the genuineness of
his conversion and greatly fears that Satan has fatally deceived him. He
feels that his heart is as hard as the nether millstone, that faith in him
is dead, that there is no help and no hope for him. He cannot imagine that
one who has been born again and is indwelt by the Holy Spirit could be so
enslaved by sin. If God were his Father, He would surely hear his
cries and grant deliverance from his spiritual enemies. But the heavens are
as brass over him—until the very breath of prayer seems frozen within him.
Hoping against hope, he seeks relief from the pulpit. But
in vain. The sermons he hears only aggravate his woes for they depict the
Christian's experience as vastly different from his own—they deal with the
bright side and say little or nothing on the dark side. If he converses with
the professing Christians of the day, he is likely to get laughed at, and
told to cease being occupied with himself and look only to Christ—to lay
hold of the promises of God and go on his way rejoicing. That is the
very thing he most of all desires, "to will IS present" with him, "but how
to perform that which is good" he "finds NOT" (Romans 7:18). Poor soul! is
there no one who understands his case? no one qualified to minister comfort
to him? Alas, alas, there are few indeed in this frothy age!
Here, again, experimental preaching is urgently
needed, preaching which enters into the very experiences described
above—experiences shared, in some measure, by all quickened souls while they
are in this "Wilderness of Sin." But O what wisdom from on High (not from
books!) is needed if, on the one hand, the "smoking flax" is not to
be "quenched" and the "bruised need" be not broken—on the other hand, sin is
not made light of, failures are not excused, and the standard of holiness is
not lowered. The pulpit should declare frankly, that there are times when
the mind of the believer is filled with deep distress, that there are
seasons when the light of God's countenance is turned away from His people,
and the Devil is permitted to sorely wound them, tell them that they have
committed the unpardonable sin, and that there is no hope for them; but that
such experiences are no proof at all that they are still
unregenerate.
The preacher has to bear steadily in mind that if there
are among his hearers, carnal professors who are ready to seize
eagerly anything which would bolster them up in their false assurance, there
are also feeble and ailing babes in Christ which require tender
nursing (Isaiah 60:4; 1 Thess. 2:7), and little ones of God's family who
lack assurance, and because of this think the worst of themselves. It is
therefore wise business to "take forth the precious from the vile" (Jer.
15:19)—that is, by a discriminating ministry expose and terrify the
sin-hardened—but speak words of comfort to the real mourners in Zion.
"In our congregations there are wheat and chaff
on the same floor—we cannot distinguish them by name—but we must
by character" (Matthew Henry). We must make it clear that those who
regard sin lightly, have not the fear of God before their eyes; those not
grieved because they find so much in their hearts opposed to Divine
holiness, are unregenerate—no matter how much head-knowledge of the
Truth they possess or how loud be their Christian profession! It is at this
very point that the true under-shepherd of Christ stands out in marked
contrast from the "hireling" of the flock, concerning whom God says, "You
have made the heart of the righteous sad, whom I have not made sad; and
strengthened the hands of the wicked, that he should not return from his
wicked way, by promising him life" (Ezek. 13:22).
On the one hand, the regenerate are "made sad" by
pratings about "the victorious life," or "the second blessing," or "the
baptism of the Spirit." These blind leaders of the blind claim to have so
"got out of Romans 7 into Romans 8," to have so left behind them all inward
conflicts and agonizing doubtings, as to virtually have entered into the
state of the glorified—causing real Christians to conclude that they
know nothing of that Gospel which is "the power of God unto salvation" and
must be complete strangers to a miracle of grace within them.
On the other hand, these false prophets declare that all
who have "accepted Christ as their personal Savior" are saved, even though
they have not yet received the second blessing, that they are justified
though not "entirely sanctified." They assure the godless, the worldling,
the pleasure-intoxicated, that they may be saved at this very moment on the
sole and simple condition that they believe God so loved them as to give His
Son to die for them. Thus peace is assured to the unconcerned "when there is
no peace," the hearts of the careless are hardened, and the wicked are
promised life without any regard to God's demand that they must "forsake"
their idols. "Nor can anything strengthen the hands of sinners more than to
tell them they may be saved in their sins without repentance; or that there
may be repentance, though they do not return from their wicked ways"
(Matthew Henry).
The duty of God's servants is clearly enough defined in
this respect, "They shall teach My people the difference between the holy
and profane, and cause them to discern between the unclean and the clean"
(Ezek. 44:23). Surely it is of vast importance that a deeply exercised soul
should know whether or not his sins have been cleansed by the blood
of Christ. But for that, teaching is necessary, teaching from a
Divinely-qualified teacher; for if an inexperienced "novice" lays his hand
to such a task he will only make bad matters worse, and add to the fearful
confusion which now prevails on every side.
Only one who has himself sailed much in these deep
waters—is fitted to serve as pilot to floundering ships; none but one who
had been harassed by Satan as Bunyan had, could have written "The Pilgrim's
Progress." "That we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, by
the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted of God" (2 Cor.
1:4) states the principle. One who has actually suffered from a serious
disease is best fitted to recognize symptoms of it in others and recommend
the remedies which he found most efficacious. Furthermore, one must be
personally taught by the Spirit before he can explain to sin-sick and Satan
tormented souls, the "mystery of the Gospel"—the strange paradoxes of the
Christian life.
It is one thing to read "for when I am weak—then
am I strong" (2 Cor. 12:10), it is quite another matter to prove the
truth of it in actual experience. Nor is that statement any more paradoxical
than the fact that it is the spiritually "poor" who are spiritually rich
(Matt. 5:3). And equally true is it that those who most clearly perceive
their filthiness and mourn over their pollution—are those who have the best
evidence that their sins have been washed away; as the most humble
souls are the ones who most bewail their pride.
It is by no means easy to combine tenderness—with
faithfulness, sympathy for doubting ones—with a deep concern for the honor
of God. Of old the Lord complained, "For they have healed the hurt of the
daughter of My people slightly, saying, Peace, peace; when
there is no peace" (Jer. 8:11). We have personally met not a few who were
pitying themselves when they should have been condemning
themselves, hugging their doubts instead of contritely confessing them to
God. Unbelief is not a virtue—but a heinous sin; it is to be
reproved, and never excused. There is no real relief for a badly festered
limb by scratching the skin—the lancet must pierce right down
to the seat of the trouble, if the poisonous matter is to be pressed out.
Self-love, self-delight, self-righteousness must be thoroughly probed by the
knife of the Word—before the heart will be broken before God.
The great issue between God and man is SIN, and salvation
is deliverance from sin.
True, that in the fullest meaning of the term, salvation
is not complete in this life, for glorification is included within its
scope; nevertheless there is a very real sense in which the believer is
initially saved even now. In other words, there is a present aspect
of salvation, as well as a future; and that present salvation is an
experimental thing, as well as judicial.
But it is just at this point, that the conscientious
Christian confronts his most acute problem—how dare he profess to be saved
from sin, or even regard himself as now being saved from it, when sin
rages so fiercely within and so often gets the upper hand of him? Here,
again, the business of the preacher is to throw light upon this problem.
First, by showing that the believer is not yet saved from the
presence of sin, for it still indwells him; nor is he saved from the
power of sin, except relatively, for it is still a mighty force within
him, utterly beyond his control. Second, by showing that the believer is
now saved from the love of sin. THAT is the essence of the
matter. The thrice holy God is "of purer eyes than to behold evil, and can
not look on iniquity" (Hab. 1:13), and therefore He abhors all sin, saying,
"Oh, do not this abominable thing that I hate" (Jer. 44:4). But man by
nature loves sin, therefore the first thing God does in salvation is
to put within His people a principle or nature that hates sin.
But here, too, we must pass from generalities and get
down to details. The honest soul will at once ask, If I really hate sin—then
why do I so often yield to it? If I have been delivered from the love of
sin, why can Satan's temptations still appeal to me? The answer is, because
the "flesh" is still left in you, and it remains unholy to the end of
its history. Our responsibility is to "make no provision for the flesh"
(Romans 13:14), to "mortify" its members (Col. 3:5), to unsparingly judge
it, root and branch (1 Cor. 11:31, 32), to confess its evil works (1 John
1:9). The fact that the believer resists sin, prays and strives against it,
mourns and groans over it, loathes himself for it—are so many proofs that he
no longer loves it as he once did.
Here, then, is the task of experimental preaching, to
make clear what salvation is—and what it is not; to trace out the heart's
history of one who is being saved, and this in such a way that the
unregenerate are not emboldened in their sins, nor the regenerate
crushed by their defeats. There is urgent need to show what the love of sin
consists of, and then to describe how a holy hatred of sin may be
recognized, and what is compatible and what is not compatible with this
hatred.
Our principle object in these articles is, under God, to open the eyes of
preachers (to quite a number of whom this magazine is sent) to see the
necessity and importance of taking up some of the soul-exercises which
occasion so much concern to their most interested hearers, and to offer some
suggestions along what lines this may be accomplished.
Incidentally, we are endeavoring to make them of interest
and profit to the general reader as well. Much skill and spiritual wisdom
are required to speak on those subjects which more immediately affect the
experience of Christians, and those are acquired only by the anointing of
the Spirit and a careful analysis and diagnosis of our own inward life.
It is just as requisite for the preacher to make a study
of the human heart, as to be assiduous in the reading of books,
otherwise he will not know how to speak a word in season to him who is
weary.
To know what our spiritual state really is, and
what our practical acquaintance with Christ actually amounts to—is most
desirable and profitable, for it arms us against our spiritual enemies, puts
a stop to doubting, and causes us to glory in the Lord. But to describe
clearly and declare fully the influences and operations of the Spirit
within us, as they truly are, is a very difficult task. It is much easier to
preach the doctrine of grace, than to describe the effects of
it when applied to the heart by God. It is to those portions of the Word
which treat most directly and largely with the exercises of the heart, that
the preacher should turn, both for guidance and material. Much in the Book
of Job and in the Lamentations will afford help; but it is in
the Psalms more particularly that the Spirit has recorded the varied
breathings and traced out the diverse experiences of "the living in
Jerusalem."
True Christian experience may be defined as the
teaching of God in the soul, an inward acquaintance with Divine things.
It is a feeling sense of their reality, in contrast from a mere notional
and theoretical knowledge of them, so that we know them not "in
word only—but also in power, and in the Holy Spirit, and in much
assurance" (1 Thess. 1:5). It is the Spirit's application of the Truth to
the soul—so that what is written in the Word, is now inscribed on the heart.
This supplies demonstration of what before was intangible and unreal, the
Divine verities have become known realities. The soul can now say of
God, "I have heard of You by the hearing of the ear—but now my eye sees
You!" (Job 42:5). He knows that God is holy, for he has been made painfully
conscious of the exceeding sinfulness of sin; he knows that "the
wrath of God is revealed from Heaven against all ungodliness and
unrighteousness" (Romans 1:18), for he has felt the same, scorching
his own conscience. He knows that He is "the God of all grace," for he has "tasted
that the Lord is gracious" (1 Peter 2:3).
Christian experience is the teaching of God in the
soul—and the effects which this produces. Those effects may be, broadly,
summed up in two words—pain and pleasure, sorrow and gladness,
mourning and rejoicing. The natural world illustrates the spiritual world—as
there is a continual alternation between spring and autumn, summer and
winter—so there is, in the history of the soul. He who gives rain and
sunshine, also sends droughts and biting frosts; likewise does He grant
fresh supplies of grace—and then withhold the same; and also sends grievous
afflictions and sore tribulations. Herein is His high sovereignty
conspicuously displayed; as there are some lands which enjoy far more
sunshine than others—so some of His elect experience more of joy than
sorrow. And as there are parts of the earth where there is far more cold
than heat, so there are some of God's children who are called on to suffer
more of adversity—both inward and outward—than of prosperity. Unless this is
clearly recognized, we shall be without the principle key which unlocks the
profoundest mysteries of life.
But while there is great diversity in the lot of
different Christians, there is an underlying unity. In incidentals
there is infinite variety—but in fundamentals there is a real
agreement. This may be illustrated by the analogy furnished from the members
and groups of the human family. What differences of form, feature, and
complexion, distinguishes individuals one from another! Where, out of all
mankind, can we find two persons precisely alike? Nevertheless, how much
greater is their resemblance than their dissimilarity.
Take any man, black or white, red or yellow, and then
place him by the side of a horse or cow—and it at once appears that an
impassable gulf separates the lowest man from the highest animal. Yet of any
two men, taken at random from the remotest nationalities, and their greatest
contrast is but as nothing when compared to their general resemblance. The
differences are but superficial and on the surface.
Let us now apply the above illustration to the spiritual
family of God. Here too there are many variations—yet an underlying oneness;
differences of species—yet but a single genus.
Each of the twelve tribes of Israel had its distinctive
individuality—yet they formed a single nation. Peter was quite different
from Nathanael, and Thomas from John—yet they were equally dear to Christ
and equally gave proof they belonged to Him. The differences are patent
because they lie on the surface, as freckles and wrinkles are seen on the
face; whereas bones and muscles, arteries and nerves—the real stamina of the
body—are unseen.
Some believers have more faith than others, some more
courage, some more gentleness. Some believers have a lighter burden to
carry. Allowance must be made for temperament, heredity, environment,
privileges, etc.; yet notwithstanding, all have the same cast of spiritual
features, speak the same language, evidence the same stock, and stand out as
distinct from the unregenerate, as men differ from beasts.
"We must not make the experience of others, in all
respects—a rule to ourselves; nor our own a rule to others; yet these are
common mistakes. Though all are exercised at times—yet some pass through the
voyage of life much more smoothly than others" (John Newton). Excellent
counsel is contained in those words, and some of God's dear children would
be spared many a heartache, if they would but heed it. There are some who
know the very hour and place where they were first converted—but there are
others who cannot even single out the year when their hearts were first
really turned to the Lord, and because they cannot—they grieve, and doubt
the reality of their conversion. This is very silly, for God does not deal
with all of His people in the manner he dealt with the dying thief and Saul
of Tarsus. Moreover, the genuineness of conversion is not to be determined
by its suddenness or drastic character—but rather by its lasting effects
and fruits.
"The wind blows where it wills . . . . so is everyone
that is born of the Spirit" (John 3:8). The figure which Christ there
employed is very suggestive. Sometimes the wind blows so softly it is almost
imperceptible; at other times it comes with hurricane velocity and power. It
is so in connection with the new birth. In some cases there is long travail
and much hard labor, in others the deliverance is speedy and easy. There is
no uniformity in the natural realm; nor is there in the spiritual. If
"order" is Heaven's first law, endless variety and diversity
is surely its second.
As we have said above, considerable allowance must be
made (in our calculation and consideration) of what is termed the
"accidentals" of life, though of course there are no accidents in a world
where everything has been ordained by God. Those reared in a godly home, and
who have sat under sound preaching from earliest days, can hardly expect the
Spirit's application of the Word to produce so drastic a conscious
change—as those who were comparative strangers of the Truth when God first
meets with them.
The same thing is true of the experiences which follow
conversion. Some long retain their newborn peace and joy, while others
quickly come under a cloud and are shut up for years in "doubting castle."
It is often due to the lopsided and deficient teaching they sit under, for
there are some preachers who, if they do not plainly say so, at least convey
the impression that it is sinful for anyone to be joyful in this world.
There is a class of spiritual dyspeptics who are never happy unless
they are miserable, and the influence of such is very chilling upon those
who are still enjoying their "first love." But more generally the blame for
losing his assurance lies at the young convert's own door—failure to
separate from worldly companions will grieve the Spirit and cause Him to
withhold His witness; while neglect of private prayer and daily feeding on
the Word will give the Enemy an advantage which he will be quick to seize.
But even where there is a complete break from
ungodly companions, and where the means of grace are diligently
used—the joy of conversion is usually short-lived. Nor is this surprising,
for deeper discoveries of our depravity must sober those with the
most exuberant spirits, and cause groans to mingle with their songs. At
conversion, sin is only stunned, and not killed—and sooner or
later it revives and seeks to recover its lost ground, and gain complete
mastery again over the heart. This presents a painful problem to the babe in
Christ, for unless he has been previously instructed, he naturally thought
he was completely done with sin when he gave himself to the Lord. It was his
sincere and deep desire to henceforth live a holy life, and the sight he now
obtains of his corruptions, his weakness in the face of temptations, the sad
falls he encounters, awaken serious doubts in his heart, and Satan promptly
assures him that he has been deceived, that his conversion was not a genuine
one after all.
It is at this stage, that the distressed and fearing
young saint is in need of real help. Alas, only too often he is hindered and
stumbles. Some will laugh at his fears and say "to the winds with your
doubts." The absurdity of such a course may be exposed by drawing an
analogy. What good would it do to jeer at one who has a splitting headache
or a raging toothache? Would it afford him any relief to say, You are
foolish to harbor the thought that all is not well with you? Or to tell the
poor sufferer that he is simply heeding the Devil's suggestions? "Physicians
of no value" are all such Job's comforters. They do not understand
the malady, nor can they prescribe the remedy; and if we yield ourselves to
their guidance, being blind themselves, they can but lead us into
"the ditch." Beware, my reader, of those who mock at souls in despair.
"Prepare a way for the people! Build up the highway;
clear away the stones!" (Isaiah 62:10). This word to God's servant is most
pertinent to the case we are now considering. To "clear away the stones"
from the path of experience of a tried saint, is a great part of the
minister's work. Now that which is stumbling our young convert is the
discovery of his (unsuspected) inward corruptions, the power which sin still
has over him, and the fact that earnest prayer seems to produce no change
for the better.
Only one who has himself known these stumbling stones in
his own soul is qualified to take them out of the way of others; in fact the
preacher knows nothing in reality of any branch of the Truth, except as he
has felt its necessity, suitableness and power in his own experience. We
must ourselves be helped by God—before we can be of service to His needy
people.
It is the preacher's business to point out that
corruptions are no evidence of grace—yet that grace manifests corruptions,
causes its recipient to strive against them, and groan beneath them. The
sighs of a wounded spirit, the cries for deliverance from the ragings of
indwelling sin, the sinkings of soul amidst the turbulent waves of
depravity—are evidences of spiritual life, and he who sneers at such is a
Pharisee, despises a poor publican.
Many of God's people are greatly harassed with
temptations, frequently buffeted by Satan, and deeply exercised over the
workings of sin in their hearts; and for them to learn that this is the
common experience of the regenerate, strengthens their hope and moves them
to renew their struggles against their spiritual foes. It means much to a
sorely tried and deeply perplexed Christian, to learn that his minister is "also
his brother and companion in tribulation" (Rev. 1:9).
Much wisdom and grace are needed here, if the preacher is
to be both faithful and helpful. On the one hand, he must not lower God's
standard to his own poor attainments, nor must he give any countenance to
failure. Sin in the believer—is as vile in God's sight as sin in the
unbeliever, and the allowance of it doubly reprehensible, for in the case of
a believer it is against more light, fuller knowledge, greater privilege,
deeper obligations. Unbelief is not to be pitied, doubtings are not to be
condoned, falls are not to be excused. Sin must be frankly confessed to God,
failures penitently acknowledged, all that is of the flesh condemned by us.
On the other hand, the minister must be much on his guard
lest by unnecessary roughness, the bruised reed is broken and the smoking
flax is quenched. Feeble knees are to be strengthened and not
ignored; and the hands which hang down are to be lifted up. Patience,
too, must be exercised, for as old heads do not grow on young shoulders,
neither are raw recruits as well versed in spiritual warfare as the veterans
of Christ's army.
There are some godly ministers who have failed to express
themselves consistently with their own actual experience and with that of
other holy persons, and thereby the faith and hope of gracious souls are
weakened and dismayed, and occasion is given unto unbelief to more
completely prevail over them. Perhaps some ministers are fearful that if
they speak too plainly and freely about their own failures and falls,
the impression will be conveyed that Divine grace is an empty expression,
rather than a powerful deterrent to sin. But such a fear is quite
needless—surely none should hesitate to be as frank as was the Apostle Paul
in Romans 7—and none was more jealous of the glory of Divine grace than he!
But we suspect that in some instances it is pride which dominates,
causing the preacher to be ashamed of acknowledging his own vileness,
fearful lest his people will cease to look up to him as a spiritual giant.
Here too these are two extremes to be guarded against;
while we are far from advocating that the preacher should make it a practice
of referring to his own spiritual ups and downs in every
sermon—yet we are convinced that he has failed in discharging an important
branch of his duty—if he never makes reference to his own experiences. The
servant of God is not only a herald—but a witness as well, and how
can he feelingly testify to the longsuffering of God, unless he
affirms that He has exercised infinite patience to such a wretch as
himself? In like manner, he should bear personal witness to the
ceaseless conflict between the two natures in the regenerate, the ragings of
sin against grace, the surgings of unbelief against faith, the eclipses of
hope by doubtings.
True, this should always be done in a spirit of
humiliation and self-loathing, never minimizing the sinfulness of sin, and
still less glorying in his "putrefying sores." There should be a balance
preserved between describing how a Christian ought to live—and how
the Christian does live—how far short the falls of measuring up to
the standard which God has set before him, that "in many things we
all stumble" (James 3:2).
There should also be a balance preserved between the
reproving of failure—and a setting forth of the gracious provisions which
God has made for the meeting of the same. There must be no hesitation in
proclaiming the sufficiency of Christ to deal with the most desperate
cases, His compassion for the most wretched sufferers, His readiness to hear
the feeblest cry which goes up from a penitent heart. The groaning saint is
to be exhorted unto cultivating the freest possible dealings with the
Friend of publicans and sinners, and assured that He is as ready and
willing to minister unto the needy now as when He tabernacled here on earth,
for He is "the same yesterday and today and forever" and "His compassions
fail not."
As the young convert, distressed by the discovery of the
deceitfulness and desperate wickedness of his heart, is to be informed that
that is no proof he is still unregenerate; so he is to be told that
the ragings of sin within him are no occasion why he should turn away from
the Throne of Grace—but rather a reason why he should go boldly thereto,
that he may "obtain mercy." While he is to be frequently exhorted
unto keeping his heart with all diligence, and the necessity,
importance, and method thereof explained to him—he is also to be warned that
his most diligent efforts therein will meet with very imperfect success.
He is to be instructed that the spiritual warfare to
which God has called him, the good fight of faith in which he is to be daily
engaged, is a lifelong task, and that sincerity and faithfulness
therein, rather than victory—is what God requires. The wounds
which he receives in this warfare, are so many reasons for him to constantly
have recourse to the Great Physician.
The mere quoting of Scripture in the pulpit is not
sufficient—people can become familiar with the letter of the Word by reading
it at home; it is the expounding of it which is so much needed today.
"And Paul, as his manner was . . . reasoned with them out of the
Scriptures, opening and alleging, that Christ must needs have
suffered, and risen again from the dead" (Acts 17:2, 3). But to "open" the
Scriptures helpfully to the saints, requires more than a young man who has
had a few months' training in some "Bible Institute", or a year or two in a
theological seminary. None but those who have been personally taught of God
in the hard school of experience, are qualified to so "open" up the
Word that Divine light has cast upon the perplexing experiences of the
believer, for while Scripture interprets experience, experience is often the
best interpreter of Scripture. "The heart of the wise teaches
his mouth, and adds learning to his lips" (Proverbs 16:23), and that
"learning" cannot be acquired in any of man's schools.
As an example of what we have just referred to above,
what would be the use of quoting, what benefit would be derived from simply
hearing the words of such a passage as this?, "Listen and hear my voice; pay
attention and hear what I say. When a farmer plows for planting, does he
plow continually? Does he keep on breaking up and harrowing the soil? When
he has leveled the surface, does he not sow caraway and scatter cummin? Does
he not plant wheat in its place, barley in its plot, and spelt in its field?
His God instructs him and teaches him the right way. Caraway is not threshed
with a sledge, nor is a cartwheel rolled over cummin; caraway is beaten out
with a rod, and cummin with a stick. Grain must be ground to make bread; so
one does not go on threshing it forever. Though he drives the wheels of his
threshing cart over it, his horses do not grind it. All this also comes from
the Lord Almighty, wonderful in counsel and magnificent in wisdom." (Isaiah
28:23-29).
Where are the preachers today endowed with wisdom from on
High to "open" a Scripture like this one? Obviously, the above passage is a
parable—that which obtains in the natural world is made a similitude of what
pertains to the spiritual realm. God's Church upon earth is His "husbandry"
(1 Cor. 3:9). The subordinate "farmers" are His ministers, who,
instrumentally, break up the fallow ground of the hearts of His people. As
the farmer varies his work as occasion requires, plowing, sowing,
reaping, threshing, as the need arises—so the ministerial gardener does
likewise. The "seed" is the Word of God (Luke 8:11), and as God gives wisdom
to the farmer to sow "wheat" or "barley" or "rye"—according as the soil be
clayey, loamy, or sandy, so He teaches His ministers to preach according to
the condition of the hearts of His people. Painful afflictions, both
inward and outward, are God's "threshing" instruments, to loosen from the
world, to separate the wheat from the chaff in our souls, to fit us for His
garner.
There are two ways of learning of Divine things—true
alike for the preacher and hearer—the one is to acquire a letter
knowledge of them from the Bible, the other is to be given an actual
experience of them in the soul under the Spirit's teaching. So many
today suppose that by spending a few minutes on a good concordance they can
discover what humility is, that by studying certain passages of
Scriptures they may obtain an increase of faith, or that by reading
and re-reading a certain chapter they may secure more love. But that
is not the way those graces are experimentally developed. Humility is
learned by a daily smarting under the plague of the heart, and having its
innumerable abominations exposed to our view. Repentance is learned
by feeling the load of guilt and the heavy burden of conscious defilement
bowing down the soul. Faith is learned by increasing discoveries of
unbelief and infidelity. Love is learned by a personal sense of the
undeserved goodness of God to the vilest of the vile. It is thus with all the spiritual graces of the
Christian. Patience cannot be learned from books—it is acquired in
the furnace of affliction! "Not only so, but we also rejoice in our
sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance;
perseverance, character; and character, hope" (Romans 5:3, 4).
Ah, my
reader, we beg the Lord to teach us—but the fact is that we do not
like His method of teaching us. Fiery trials, storms of afflictions,
the dashing of our carnal hopes, are indeed painful to flesh and blood; yet
it is by them that the heart is purified.
We say that we wish to live to God's glory—but fail to
remember that we can do so only as SELF is denied and the Cross
be taken up. The crossing of our wills and the thwarting of our plans
stirs up the enmity of the carnal mind—yet that makes way for our taking a
lower place before God. God's ways of teaching His children are, like all
His ways, entirely different from ours.
I asked the Lord that I might grow,
In faith and love and every grace,
Might more of His salvation know,
And seek more earnestly His face.
It was He who taught me thus to pray,
And He I trust has answered prayer.
But it has been in such a way,
As almost drove me to despair!
I hoped that in some favored hour,
At once He'd answer my request.
And by His love's constraining power,
Subdue my sins and give me rest!
Instead of this, He made me feel,
The hidden evils of my heart.
And let the angry powers of hell,
Assault my soul in every part!
Yes, more with His own hand, He seemed,
Intent to aggravate my woe.
Crossed all the fair designs I schemed,
Blasted my gourds, and laid me low!
"Lord, why is this?" I trembling cried.
Will You pursue Your worm to death?"
"This is the way" the Lord replied,
"I answer prayer for grace and strength."
"These inward trials I employ,
From self, and pride, to set you free;
And break your schemes of earthly joy,
That you may find your all in Me!"
--John Newton
These lines may not suit the sentiments of a few of our
readers—but we are sure they accurately express the actual experience of
many of God's people.
The more we really grow in grace—the more tender
becomes the conscience, the more conscious we are of our corruptions,
and the more distressing is the hiding of the Lord's countenance. The
brighter the sun's shining into a room, the more apparent becomes any
dust or cobwebs in it; and the greater the illumination granted
by the Holy Spirit, the more will the filth of our hearts be manifested.
So too when the Word of God is accompanied with life and
power to the soul, it pierces "even to the dividing asunder of soul and
spirit" (Heb. 4:12). That is, there is a separating between the wheat and
the chaff, a dividing between what God has wrought and that which is
merely natural religion. But an honest soul loves a searching
ministry, even though it cuts him to the quick! He does not want to be
soothed in his sins—and he dreads a false peace. His earnest prayer is
"Search me, O God, and know my heart—try me, and know my anxious thoughts"
(Psalm 139:23).
The more God searches us—the more will He bring to light
the "hidden things of darkness," and the more will we be made to loathe
ourselves. As the conscience becomes more tender it increasingly feels
the enormity of sin, and correspondingly grieves over the same. Then it
is, that "the heart knows its own bitterness" (Proverbs 14:10), and like
Hannah—we become "of a sorrowful spirit" (1 Sam 1:15). And then it is, very
often, that the Job's comforters of our day add to the grief of the groaning
saint. They unseasonably prate to him of "the joy of the Lord," and
tell him he should commend Christianity by a glowing countenance and a
cheerful demeanor. Well may we remind such meddlers into matters they
understand not—of those words, "Singing cheerful songs to a person whose
heart is heavy is as bad as stealing someone's jacket in cold weather or
rubbing salt in a wound" (Proverbs 25:20). My reader, God does not require
us to play the part of hypocrites before others, nor to mock Him by
singing when our hearts are full of heaviness.
It is not only the workings of indwelling sin which
occasion the honest-hearted believer so much distress—but also the
feebleness of their graces—yes, as it often seems, the total absence of
them. The weakness and fickleness of his faith occasions the true Christian
much exercise of heart. He knows that God is worthy of his fullest
confidence, that His Word is inerrant and His promises sure; and it is a
painful trial to him—that he fails so sadly to trust Him more fully, and
count upon His covenant faithfulness more constantly.
Herein his experience is quite different from that of the
empty professor. That natural "faith," which stands only in the
wisdom of men, knows no such fluctuations, ebbings and flowings, risings and
sinkings, as those which characterize the faith which is of "the operation
of God" (Col. 2:12). God is very jealous of His glory, and makes us realize
that what He has given can only be exercised by His enabling. It is
not within the Christian's power to call forth his faith into action—when he
has a mind to. In this, as in all things, God keeps us entirely dependent
upon Himself.
The all-important matter in connection with faith, is not
the quantity—but the quality of it. An intellectual assent
to the Divine Authorship and veracity of the Scriptures produces no
spiritual fruits. A faith which is assured of the historicity of Christ,
like it is of that of Augustus Caesar or Napoleon, is no evidence of
regeneration. A faith which "could remove mountains and have not love" (1
Cor. 13:2) is worthless. It is because of this, that an honest heart is so
deeply exercised as to whether or not his faith is the "faith of
God's elect" (Titus 1:1), or whether it is merely a product of the flesh;
and the very fact that he is so often conscious that he has no faith at all
in exercise, causes him to think the worst of himself. At this point, too,
he stands in real need of definite help from the pulpit. Then let him be
informed that a mere assent to the letter of Truth never yet melted
the soul into godly sorrow for sin. If any of our readers have a "faith"
which is not dampened and chilled by the ragings of indwelling
sin—they are welcome to it!
"Awaken, north wind—come, south wind. Blow on my garden,
and spread the fragrance of its spices" (Song. 4:16). This prayer of the
Church's plainly intimates the acknowledgment of her own helplessness.
It is the believer supplicating the Spirit (under the emblem of the "wind,"
cf. John 3:18) for His awakening and reviving influences. He begs Him to
operate upon his "garden," that is, his soul, in order that "spices" which
are a figure of his spiritual graces, may flow forth. He realizes that only
as the "north wind" blows, that is—the Spirit chills his lusts and nips his
corruptions, only as He, in power, rebukes his faults and reproves his
failings—that he will tread more softly before God. He realizes that only as
the "south wind" blows, that is, as the Spirit breathes upon his soul and
warms his graces, that faith, hope, love, patience, meekness, humility, will
become active and fruitful.
"Lord, all my desire is before You; and my
groaning is not hidden from You" (Psalm 38:9). "Desire" signifies the
longing, yearning, panting of a renewed heart. That soul ardently wishes to
be right with God, to have a heart that is cleansed from the love and filth
of sin, to have a conscience void of offence toward God and man, to be
conformed to the image of Christ, to be in complete subjection to Him, to be
fruitful unto His praise. Ah, but such a "desire" is only very imperfectly
realized in this life, and that causes disappointment and grief, hence the
Psalmist added "and my groaning is not hid from You." There is the
"groaning" which the wounds of sin occasion, the groanings from the
ceaseless conflict between the flesh and spirit, the groanings caused by
Satan's buffetings. And there is also the "groanings" over unrealized
longings, unaccomplished ideals, unsatisfied attainments.
Ah, my reader, it is one thing to read in Scripture "The
desire to do what is good is with me—but there is no ability to do it"
(Romans 7:18), and quite another to have a personal corroboration of the
same. But that is how God teaches His people, giving them an experimental
acquaintance with the Truth, that they may "set to their seal that He is
true." It is one thing to receive as an "article of faith" that not only the
unregenerate—but the regenerate also, are, in themselves, impotent unto
holiness—but it is quite another to discover from painful experience—as poor
Peter did—that "the spirit indeed is willing—but the flesh is weak"
(Matt. 26:41). It is then that we pray in earnest, "Quicken us, and
we will call upon Your name" (Psalm 80:18); "Draw me—and I will run
after You" (Song. 1:4).
Do you, my reader, find your experience to be a bundle
of contradictions—one day heartily thanking God for His mercies, the
next day wickedly abusing them? one day fondly cherishing the hope that you
have a little spiritual life, the next quite sure that you have none at all?
If so, you know something of what it is to be "emptied from vessel to
vessel" (Jer. 48:11). But if you do not, if on the contrary, your course is
a smooth and easy one, your heart always light and cheerful, there is grave
cause to conclude you belong to that class of whom it is said "because they
have no changes, therefore they fear not God" (Psalm 55:19).
As we have previously pointed out, Christian experience
alternates between pain and pleasure, sorrow and joy—pain arising
from a sense of our sinfulness, from manifold temptations, and the hidings
of God's face; pleasure from a sense of pardon, promises applied by
the Spirit, communion with Christ. It is only by degrees that believers are
"established," and even then that does not prevent them from being severely
tried and grievously assaulted by their spiritual enemies.
Satan causes many to doubt Christ's willingness to save
them, and if they receive a little encouragement from the Word, then he
seeks to stir up afresh their corruptions, and renews their fears and
doubtings. The most advanced Christian often experiences a sore conflict
from his lusts; those who enjoy the most intimate communion with God are
frequently attacked by Satan. If the Apostle Paul had to cry out "O
wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death!"
(Romans 7:24), we must not be surprised if we have cause to do
the same. But observe, that his next words were "I thank God through Jesus
Christ our Lord" (v. 25). Ah, we never value Christ more highly than
after a season of acute soul distress, as we never prize Divine
grace so much as when we have been afflicted by indwelling sin.
It is a sense of pollution and filth—which moves us to turn again to the
Fountain open for sin and for impurity.
Professing Christians are to be frequently exhorted to
diligently examine the work of the Spirit in them, and compare the same with
what is recorded of the saints in Scripture. Nor is there, as we have said
before, any "legality" in this, for the work of the Spirit proceeds
as truly from the everlasting Covenant of Grace—as did the work of Christ,
and the discovery of His operations enables the believer to "set to his seal
that God is true" (John 3:33). A lively interest in the things which concern
our eternal welfare, a trembling at God's Word and being suitably affected
thereby, hatred of sin, loathing of self, a childlike love for the Lord, are
some of the evidences of God's work in the soul. Let it also be
boldly affirmed that God exercises His high sovereignty even in the very
degrees of grace granted us—if it is true that He endows His servants
with talents, some more, some less—it is equally true that He bestows upon
the rank and file of His people a different "measure" of His Spirit.
While the minister is to be much on his guard against
building up the hope of empty professors, he must ever seek to encourage and
comfort the mourners in Zion, urging them to continue by "the
pool" (the means of grace), waiting for the moving of the waters; assuring
them that if they do, sooner or later there will be a breaking in of the
light of God's countenance, dispelling the darkness of the mind and melting
the hard heart.
Remind them of such a promise as, "For I will restore
health unto you, and I will heal you of your wounds, says the Lord" (Jer.
30:17). Remind them of the case of Abraham "who against hope believed in
hope" (Romans 4:18). Tell them that though they may have but feeble
apprehensions of God's love, nevertheless they can thank Him for His
longsufferance to them.
Let us point out that doctrinal preaching also has
its place and use in strengthening the experience of saints, and must never
be pushed into the background. It is needful not only for instruction—but
equally so for those who have knowledge of the Truth, "It is no
trouble for me to write the same things to you again, and it is a safeguard
for you" (Phil. 3:1). Our memories are very fickle; the impressions
created by a sermon quickly pass away, so that there must be "line upon
line, precept upon precept". Doctrine is the principal means used by
the Spirit in feeding the soul, strengthening faith, fortifying against
Satan.
Make Christ preeminent in all your sermons! Do
you, my reader, know something of Joseph Hart's experience when he wrote "I
often poured out, in transports of blissful astonishment, Lord, 'tis too
much, 'tis too much, surely my soul was not worth so great a price!"
Finally, the Christian must be definitely warned against
resting in his present attainments. Even though he now be rejoicing
in the knowledge of sins forgiven. Press such a verse as "Then shall we know
(have assurance), if we follow on to know the Lord" (Hosea 6:3),
explaining its meaning, enforcing its duty. It is only little by little
that the believer learns how to put on his armor and use spiritual
weapons against his enemies. A regenerated soul longs to know more of the
power of Christ's resurrection, for he so often feels sinking in the
deadness of sin, and therefore those branches of Truth best calculated to
quicken the heart, are also to be oft set before him.