IT
IS WELL
But sure enough, the woman soon became pregnant. And at
that time the following year she had a son, just as Elisha had said.
One day when her child was older, he went out to visit his father, who was
working with the harvesters. Suddenly he complained, "My head hurts! My head
hurts!"
His father said to one of the servants, "Carry him home to his mother."
So the servant took him home, and his mother held him on her lap. But around
noontime he died.
So she saddled the donkey and said to the servant, "Hurry! Don't slow down
on my account unless I tell you to."
As she approached the man of God at Mount Carmel, Elisha saw her in the
distance. He said to Gehazi, "Look, the woman from Shunem is coming. Run out
to meet her and ask her, 'Is everything all right with you, with your
husband, and with your child?' "
And she answered, "It is well." –2 Kings 4:17-20, 24-26
A dark cloud was now settling upon the home of the
Shunamite woman and her husband. As the evening of life drew on, and life
itself had lost its object and its charms, according to the promise of the
prophet, God gave them a son. It was an unexpected and precious gift. He
came like a winter's flower, to gladden them with its late and delicate
beauty, and to refresh them with its rich and rare fragrance. The stillness
of their home was now broken with the echo of childhood's gaiety, and the
walls which the twilight shadows had been slowly darkening now smiled with
unusual light. Life assumed another aspect with its new object and a new
purpose. God had given them a being whom, by the tenderest of bonds and the
dearest of rights, they could call their own. Approaching towards manhood
they seemed about to reap, in a more full enjoyment of their treasure, the
reward of their early anxiety and care. He would now become their grown-up
companion, the beautiful staff of their declining years--abroad sharing the
field-toil of his father, and at home charming the hours of his mother, and
often kneeling at her side while both would implore the blessing of Israel's
God.
But God's thoughts and purposes were otherwise, and He
was about to accomplish in His own way His wise and gracious designs. Just
at this juncture the household plant they loved so fondly and nurtured so
tenderly, whose unfolding beauty inspired such gladness and hope, sickened,
drooped, and died. "One day when her child was older," says the
simple, touching story, "he went out to visit his father, who was working
with the harvesters. Suddenly he complained, 'My head hurts! My head hurts!'
His father said to one of the servants, 'Carry him home to his mother.' So
the servant took him home, and his mother held him on her lap. But around
noontime he died." What a withering of all their hopes! what a
crushing of all their expectations! how anguished were now those parental
hearts! and how desolate that happy home, the shadows of which fall deeper
and faster since the spirit that was its light is gone. "Like a
flower, we blossom for a moment and then wither. Like the shadow of a
passing cloud, we quickly disappear." Job 14:2
With a mother's smitten heart the Shunamite woman
hastened to the prophet Elisha at Mount Carmel, to relate her calamity and
seek in his counsel and sympathy, direction and soothing, in her affliction.
With what frame of mind and with what words of grief does she approach the
man of God? How does she deport herself in her sad bereavement? Does she
upbraid him for promising her a son, or murmur at God for recalling him?
Does she indulge in vain lamentations that a gift unasked, when it had
become so lovely and precious, had been so early, so rudely, and so suddenly
removed? Is there any indulgence in excessive grief, in fruitless regrets,
in repining thoughts, in rebellious words, anything that betrays opposition
to God's will, that disputes His right, or that impeaches His wisdom,
faithfulness, and love? Far, very far, from this is the posture of the
Shunamite. Listen to her reply to the question of the prophet's servant sent
by his master to inquire of her welfare. "Is it well with you? is it well
with your husband? is it well with the child? And she answered, IT IS
WELL!"
O, touching picture of deep yet chastened
sorrow! Lovely attitude of soul--meek and submissive--in the hour of keen
anguish! The child was dead, and it was all winter now, but--It is well!
The hope of future years was extinguished, and it was all disappointment
now--but It is well! The "strong staff and the beautiful rod was
broken," and the weight of years bowed them to the dust now, but--It is
well! Could it be otherwise? The stricken parents knew that their
covenant God "Himself had done it," and that it was well done. It was
wise, it was righteous, it was even good, because He had done it.
What moral sublimity invests this picture of domestic
bereavement? What a study, were it the province of a human pencil to
portray an attitude of soul so spiritual, so unearthly, almost divine! Has
it no reflected image? Can we not find its copy? Yes! death still
reigns--bereavement still desolates--sorrow still has its home in the human
heart. But the same grace that formed this beautiful picture of holy
submission, of sweet, cheerful acquiescence in the will of God, that could
say, when the loved one was smitten, It is well! still lives to
produce the same holy and blessed fruit.
If, dear reader, you are lying at God's feet, His
afflicted, chastened child, gazing in calm, mute submission upon the
wreck of human hopes, and gently whispering, "My God, my Father, it
is well!" then your spirit is as this Shunamite's, and God fashions your
hearts alike. May the Holy Spirit graciously give His divine teaching while
we glean the instruction and the comfort which these words so richly
contain.
In looking back upon the by-gone Year, and forward to the
New--the past, perhaps, in some of its aspects, sad and mournful, the
future, cloud-veiled and uncertain--how suitable the sentiment and the
spirit embodied in the words selected as the basis of our address--"IT IS
WELL." We purpose, in the following pages, to view them as the grateful
acknowledgment of the REDEEMED soul--as the believing
acquiescence of the chastened soul--and as the triumphant language of
the glorified soul.
It is proper that we should seek our first illustration
of this truth in the salvation of God. Salvation is God's
greatest work; in nothing has He so manifested forth His glory as in this.
He embarked all His infinite resources, and staked all His divine honor in
the accomplishment of this work so dear to His heart--the salvation of His
Church. The universe is full of His beauty, but myriads of worlds, on a
scale infinitely more vast and magnificent than this, could give no such
'concept of God' as the salvation of a single sinner. Salvation required the
revelation and the harmony of all the divine perfections.
CREATION affords only a partial view of God. It displays
His natural but not His moral attributes. It portrays His wisdom, His
goodness, His power--but it gives no idea of His holiness, His justice, His
truth, His love. It is but the alphabet, the shadow of God.
These are parts of His ways, and how little of Him is known! But in the
person of Immanuel, in the cross of Christ, in the finished work of
redemption, God appears in full-orbed majesty. And when the believing soul
surveys this wondrous expedient of reconciling all the interests of heaven,
of uniting all the perfections of Jehovah in the salvation of sinners by the
blood of the cross--"Mercy and truth meeting together, righteousness and
peace kissing each other"--it exclaims, in full satisfaction with the
salvation of God--It is well!
The anxious question of an awakened soul, as it bears its
weight of sin to the cross, is, "Is the salvation of the Lord Jesus a work
commensurate with my case? Will it meet my individual condition as a sinner?
May I, in a deep conviction of my guiltiness, venture my soul upon Jesus? Am
I warranted, without a work of my own, apart from all my merit or demerit,
to believe in Christ and indulge the hope that I shall be saved?" The Bible,
in brief but emphatic sentences, answers these inquiries. "Believe in the
Lord Jesus Christ, and you shall be saved." "Him that comes unto Me I will
in no way cast out." "By grace are you saved." "If by grace, then it is no
more of works." "You are complete in Him." The Holy Spirit giving the
inquirer a possession of these declarations, working the faith that receives
the Lord Jesus into the heart, the believing soul is enabled to exclaim, "It
is well! I see that it is a salvation for sinners, for the vilest, the
poorest, the most unworthy. I came to Christ, and was received; I believed
in Him, rested in Him, and I am saved. Christ is mine, His salvation is
mine, His promises are mine, His advocacy is mine, His heaven is mine. It
is well!"
But it is not always that in the same strength of faith
the child of God can say, 'it is well with his soul'. Through the feebleness
of your faith, and the power of indwelling sin, and your many conscious
backslidings and infirmities, you may be led to question the well-being of
your state. Harassed with doubts, assailed by temptations, agitated by
fears, you tremble to say, "It is well with my soul." But let me
caution you against a rash judgment or a hasty conclusion as to your real
condition. I have a message from God to you, my reader: "Say unto the
righteous, it shall be well with him."
Now, in all the spiritual exercises through which the
believer in Jesus passes, it must in truth be well with him as to his real
standing in Christ. You may be walking in darkness or in light; you
may be mourning in the valley or be rejoicing on the mount; now conquering,
now foiled; now weeping, now rejoicing; yet it is still well with you as a
pardoned, justified, saved sinner. Nothing can touch your interest in the
Savior--or expel you from the covenant--or change the love of God towards
you.
There are tides in the faith and comfort of a
child of God even as there are in the ocean. The believer has his ebb and
flow, his fluctuations of spiritual feeling. It is often low tide
with his soul. The waves of spiritual joy and peace ebb, and all looks
barren and cheerless. The arid sands, the moss-covered rocks, the entangled
weeds that line the shore when the ocean's waves have receded, are, in his
mournful view, but the apt emblems of his spiritual state. And now he begins
to question the reality of all his former experience, and the
sincerity of all his past professions. He abjures his adoption, doubts his
interest in Christ, puts from him the promises, appropriates the judgments,
keeps back from the ordinances, and his soul refuses to be comforted.
But, beloved saint of God, is there no flow, as
well as ebb, in the spiritual joy and comfort of the believer? Is there no
return of the tide of faith and consolation and hope in the Christian's
experience--the waves of love's infinite ocean, of the soul's perfect peace,
of glory's anticipated joy rolling back again upon the shore, in sweet
heavenly cadence! Oh, yes! Listen to the divine assurances of this: "I
have loved you with an everlasting love"--"I have chosen you, and not cast
you away"--"Yes, she may forget, yet will not I forget you"--"I will never
leave you nor forsake you"--"I have prayed for you, that your faith fail
not"--"I will restore comforts unto you"--"Though I spoke against him, yet
do I remember him still"--"I will not leave you comfortless"--"You have a
little strength"--"Therefore will the Lord wait that He may be gracious unto
you"--"He will be very gracious unto you at the voice of your cry: when, He
shall hear it, He will answer you"--"He restores my soul." All these
exceeding great and precious promises, beloved, are yours. They are
your Father's epistles of love, and He bids you read, believe, and enjoy
them.
Yet, with all affectionate fidelity would I exhort you
not to rest where you are. Be not satisfied with your present state, but
seek to obtain a renewed application of the atoning blood, a fresh "blink of
Jesus," as Rutherford says, looking away from your sins, backslidings and
unfruitfulness, your infirmities, shortcomings, and flaws to Christ, and
getting a closer, clearer, fuller view of the cross. The all-sufficiency of
Christ meets your case. Sweet truth! I ask not how peculiar, how aggravated,
how desperate, how discouraging, the state of your soul may be; I hesitate
not to affirm that such is Christ, such His love, His compassion, His
fullness, His power, your condition of soul comes within the scope of His
sufficiency. Christ's merit meets your demerit; Christ's unchangeableness
meets your backslidings; Christ's grace meets your corruptions; Christ's
blood meets your guiltiness; Christ's fullness meets your emptiness;
Christ's power meets your impossibilities; Christ's compassion meets your
misery; Christ's sympathy meets your sorrow; Christ's intercession covers
all your circumstances and needs. "Christ is all and in all." "From the
fullness of His grace we have all received one blessing after another."
Oh, it is, it must be well with those whose sins
are forgiven through Christ, who are 'accepted in the Beloved', whose God is
the Lord, and upon whom His eye of love and delight rests from the beginning
of the year to the end of the year. Say not it is ill with your soul,
and not well, because the Holy Spirit is inserting the plough more deeply
into your heart, thus discovering more of its hidden evil, detecting the
lurking sin where its existence was not suspected, and discovering the flaw
and the failure in the action, the principle, the motive, the end, which the
fair surface, self flattery, or specious reasoning, had concealed. O say not
that it is ill with your soul, and not well, because Jesus does not
speak, God does not smile, and prayer is not answered. "For a small
moment," says God, "have I hidden myself from you; but with great
mercies will I gather you." In the dreary, lonely, trying path you now
tread, you may trace the 'footsteps of the flock', and yet more distinct and
blessed than all, the footprints of the Shepherd of the flock. Be not, then,
cast down. The Lord will bring you through this night of weeping into a
morning of joy. And your knowledge will be the deeper, and your faith
the stronger, and your joy the fuller, and your hope the brighter, and your
song the sweeter and the louder for all the painful exercises through which
your soul has passed, and with deeper emphasis you shall exclaim--"IT IS
WELL."
But these words express the sentiment and feelings of the
CHASTENED soul. It is the language of faith in trial.
Let us trace some of the afflictive circumstances under which the child of
God can say, "It is well."
Affliction and poverty are the distinctive features of
the saints of God under the new dispensation; affluence and exemption from
great suffering were probably those of the saints of the former economy. The
character of the gospel economy is unique. It is the dispensation of
suffering, the economy of the cross. The suffering of the old
dispensation was more in type, and shadow, and symbol; that of the new is
the great, the dark filling up of the outline of the picture. The Son of God
SUFFERED--the Son of God DIED! And Christianity derives all its efficacy,
and the Christian dispensation all its character, and the Christian all his
glory, from this single, this wondrous fact. "Unto you it is given, in
the behalf of Christ, not only to believe in His name, but also to suffer
for His sake." "Whoever does not bear His cross; and come after Me, cannot
be my disciple."
Such is the nature of Christ's religion, and such the
terms of His discipleship--suffering and self-denial. By those who are not
initiated into the mysteries of the kingdom of grace this is a truth hard to
be understood. To them it is inexplicable how one whose person is loved by
God, whose sins Christ has forgiven, whose life appears holy, useful, and
honored, should be the subject of divine correction, and, perhaps, in some
instances, should, more than others, seem smitten and afflicted by God. But
to those who are students of Christ, who learn at the feet of Jesus, this is
no insoluble problem. They understand, in a measure, why the most holy are
frequently the most chastened. Ah! beloved, in the school where this truth
is learned, all truth may be learned--at the feet of Jesus.
There is no mystery in revelation that may not be satisfactorily elucidated,
no discrepancy in truth that may not be sufficiently explained, no doctrine
that may not be understood, or precept that may not be welcomed, sitting in
the attitude of a little child at the feet of Christ, the Great Teacher of
men.
In His light we shall see light. But men turn from the
sun and wonder that in the study of divine truth, shadows should fall darkly
upon their path. They study the Bible so little beneath the cross with an
eye intent upon Christ, from whom all truth emanates, of whom all truth
testifies, and to whom all truth leads. Reader, are you a sincere inquirer
after the truth? Then listen to the words of Jesus: "I Am the Truth." You
have sought it in the schools, you have sought it in systems, you have
sought it in creeds, you have sought it in churches; and many a weary step
you have trod in quest of the precious gem, and your heart has sighed and
your spirit has panted in vain. Lay aside your philosophy, your reasoning,
your caviling, and receive the gospel of Christ as a learner, not as a
teacher; as a sinner, not as a saint; as a humble child, not as a proud
philosopher; as one who is really desirous of knowing how he may be saved.
What does the Truth Himself say? "This is life
eternal, that they might know You the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom
You have sent." The crisis in your life speeds on when all knowledge,
except the knowledge of Christ loving you, pardoning you as a guilty sinner,
saving you as a lost sinner, and reconciling you to God as a rebellious
sinner, will prove as unsubstantial as a shadow, as unreal and fleeting as a
dream. Oh, let this be the one desire and earnest resolve of your soul,
"That I may know Him"--"Yes, doubtless, and I count all things but loss for
the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus"--"Acquaint now yourself
with Him, and be at peace, thereby good shall come unto you."
Such, then, as have learned of Christ can understand why
a child of God should be a child of affliction, why "the Lord tries the
righteous." Declarations such as these have a significance of meaning they
can well comprehend. "I have chosen you in the furnace of
affliction"--"It is good for me that I have been afflicted"--"Whom the Lord
loves He chastens, and scourges every son whom He receives"--"As many as I
love I rebuke and chasten." But what are the general grounds of this
believing acquiescence in the afflictive dealings of God expressed by the
chastened soul? We can but group them in the smallest possible space.
Tracing the affliction, whatever its nature, to God as
the First great Cause, faith calmly acquiesces, and says, "It is well."
From nothing does the believer find it more difficult to disengage his
mind, in the first blow of his affliction, than second causes. The
reasoning of the bereaved sisters of Bethany finds its corresponding frame
of mind in almost every similar case, "Lord, if You had been here
my brother would not have died." Ah! that "if," in the first hour
of the heart's anguish, what bitter self-accusation does it occasion, what
deep aggravation of the wound does it produce. But with second causes the
child of God has nothing to do. Second causes are all by the appointment
and under the control of the First Cause. They are but the agents God
employs, the means which He selects, to accomplish His own eternal purpose.
"He Himself has done it," is the voice of His word, and faith responds,
"It is well." Rise, then, O child of sorrow, above the circumstances of
your calamity--dwelling upon which will but intensify your suffering,
prolong your grief, and rob you of comfort--and rest in the Lord, from whom
your affliction proceeds. "For He wounds, but He also binds up; He
injures, but His hands also heal." Then shall you indeed exclaim, from
the depth of your stricken heart--It is well!
The believer, regarding all God's dispensations in the
light of needed discipline, cheerfully acquiesces in the wisdom and
righteousness of the divine procedure. Discipline by trial is an essential
element in the Christian's sanctification and instruction. Our adorable
Lord, as man, exemplified this truth in His own personal history. We read
that, "Though He were a Son, yet He learned obedience by the
things which He suffered." The lesson which Christ learned--to Him a
new one--was the lesson of obedience--obedience to the will of His
Father in suffering. As the curse expanded before Him, into more perfect and
dreadful proportion, He came to learn more of the evil of sin and more of
the difficulties of redemption, and so more deeply the lesson of
obedience--doing and suffering the will of God. It was thus our blessed Lord
was perfected through suffering.
And this, beloved, is the school in which the "many
sons," Christ is bringing to glory learn submission to the Father's will.
The discipline which was becoming in the case of the Head, cannot be
without its need and its blessing in the case of the members. There
is much--many deep truths of God, and many holy lessons of practical
Christianity--to be learned in the pathway trodden by the Savior, which can
be learned in no other path--the path of afflictive discipline.
When bereavement darkens our homes, and funeral
following funeral leaves our doorways; when joys are blighted, and hopes are
crushed, and hearts are sorrowful, then it is that the most difficult, yet
most holy, of all lessons is inculcated--submission to the will of God,
expressed in the language of the Shunamite, "It is well." But, oh, how
needful and how wholesome this discipline! Who would be exempted from it
that has once plucked and tasted the fruit which clusters so richly on the
blossoming rod? If submission to the divine will is ever learned,
beyond all question it is where Christ learned it, by the things which we
suffer.
And, oh, what holy fruit is this--the will of God
accomplished in us! The pathway may be through the furnace, whitened
seven-fold with the heat, but if your will has become more pliant with the
will of your Heavenly Father, if the Christian character has become
purified, and the graces of the Holy Spirit have become strengthened, and a
wider and freer scope has been given to faith, and hope, and love, then
ought we not to rejoice in tribulation, and exclaim, "He has done all
things well"?
The canker-worm has been busy at the root of your
pleasant gourd, the cold north wind has blown rudely over the
long-nurtured buds, and the fell hand of death has laid the cedar low, and
in the anguish of your soul you exclaim, "Is it nothing to you, all you
that pass by? behold, and see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow,
which is done unto me, with which the Lord has afflicted me in the day of
His fierce anger"--but the Son of God drank a deeper and bitterer cup,
and trod a more suffering and a gloomier path than you, and yet could say,
"My Father, not my will, but Yours be done," and shall you shrink from a
training and a discipline through whose courses God led the Elder Brother
and High Priest of our profession? "Oh, no!" you reply; "the self-knowledge
I have already attained unto has been so needful and so salutary, that I
would not desire that the cup of sorrow had passed my lips untouched. I
little thought that I was so unbelieving, until the Lord tried my
faith. I little suspected that pride so lurked within, until God made
me stoop. I little imagined that I was so impatient, self-willed, and
restiff, until God bade me wear the yoke, and wait for His will. I
little supposed that my strength was so small until the Lord laid
upon me the burden. And little did I suspect that my heart was so
idolatrous--its affections so closely entwined around the
creature--until my Father asked the surrender. Little did I believe how
limited was my knowledge of Christ, how deficient was my acquaintance
with divine truth, and how estranged my heart was from true prayer, until
the affliction of my God set me upon examining my resources to meet it. Then
I discovered how shallow was my experience, and how low and meager was my
Christianity."
Thus when we trace the discipline to its necessity,
the rebuke to the sinfulness that occasioned it, the chastisement to
the evil it was designed to correct; the meek and lowly heart can
say, "It its well!"
And when the present and hallowed results of the divine
dealings are in a measure realized--when some sheaves of the golden fruit of
the precious seed sown in weeping are sickled--the heart awakened to more
prayer, Christ more precious, sin more hated, self more
loathed, holiness more endeared, and the soul brought into greater
nearness to God--when the suffering Christian reviews the divine supports he
has experienced in his affliction, how God encircled him with the
everlasting arms, how Christ pillowed his languid head, how the Holy Spirit
comforted and soothed his anguish, by unfolding the sweetness and fullness
of the Scriptures, sealing promise upon promise upon his smitten heart, his
chastened spirit can exclaim, "You have dealt WELL with your servant, O
Lord, according to your word." You have broken but to bind up, have
wounded but to heal, have emptied but to replenish, have embittered but to
sweeten, have removed one blessing but to bestow another and a greater.
"You do but take my lamp away,
To bless me with eternal day."
"Whom have I in heaven but You? and there is none upon
earth that I desire beside You."
But the place where the clearest view is taken of the
present unfathomable dispensations of God, and where their unfolding light
and unveiling glory wake the sweetest, loudest response to this truth--"He
has done all things well"--is HEAVEN. The glorified saint has
closed his pilgrimage; life's dark shadows have melted into endless light;
he now looks back upon the desert he traversed, upon the path he trod, upon
the river he passed, and as in the full blaze of glory each page unfolds of
his wondrous history, testifying to some new recorded instance of the loving
kindness and faithfulness of God; the grace, compassion, and sympathy of
Jesus; the full heart exclaims, as no angel's lips could utter it--"It is
well!"
The past dealings of God with him in providence
now appear most illustrious to the glorified mind. The machinery of
divine Government, which here seemed so complex and inexplicable, now
appears in all its harmony and beauty. Its mysteries are all unraveled, its
problems are all solved, its events are all explained, and the promise of
the Master has received its utmost fulfillment, "What I do, you know not
now, but you shall know hereafter." That dispensation that
was enshrouded in such mystery; that event that flung so dark a shadow on
the path; that affliction that seemed so conflicting with all our ideas of
God's infinite wisdom, truth, and love; that stroke that crushed us to the
earth, all now appears but parts of a perfect whole--and every providence in
his past history, as it now passes in review, bathed in the liquid light of
glory, swells the anthem--IT IS WELL!
But when from that elevated position the glorified saint
looks back upon all God's conduct in grace--electing,
redeeming, calling, and preserving him; when he thinks of the righteousness
that gave him acceptance, the blood that procured his cleansing, the grace
that effected his sanctification, the upholding power that kept him from
falling, and that conducted him at last to glory--a sinner, perhaps the very
chief, saved by grace--oh, what music do the words awaken through all the
bowers of paradise--He has done all things well! In what new and
perfect light is every truth of the Bible now placed! All is cleared up! All
that perplexed the mind in the doctrines of the revealed word, and all that
embarrassed it in the administration of the divine government, gives place
to complete satisfaction. "I shall be satisfied when I awake with your
likeness," is the fond anticipation of the believer on earth; that
expectation is the full realization of the believer in heaven.
The beatific vision has brought his whole soul into the
most perfect harmony with God. He is satisfied with the character and
perfections of God which now unfold their grandeur without a cloud, and fill
the soul without a limit. "Now we see through a glass darkly; but then
face to face: now we know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am
known." An angel's sight and an angel's knowledge, enkindle an angel's
fervor; and as growing discoveries and endless illustrations of the divine
perfections increase with eternity, glory, honor, and thanksgiving to Him
who sits upon the throne, will be the saint's undying song.
He is satisfied, also, with all God's providential
dealings with him in the world he has passed. The present is the repose of
faith--and faith can say, amid scenes of perplexity and peril, of obscurity
and doubt, it is well, trusting in the wisdom and faithfulness of
God. And yet how difficult often do we find it to trace God's design,
or connect His strange dealings with a wise purpose or a gracious end. We
cannot unravel the web! Is it not so, my reader? Let faith look back
upon the past of your life, not to revive its painful emotions, but that
with steadier wing and bolder flight it may bear you forward.
That dark cloud of sorrow that settled upon your fair
prospects--that blast of adversity that swept away riches--that stroke of
providence that tore from your sight the wife of your youth, or hurried the
child of your hopes prematurely and amid harrowing circumstances to the
grave, or that placed the friend of your bosom, the life-companion, the
sharer of your toils, into darkness--or that came near to your own person
and arrested you with disease--you pause and inquire, why is it thus?
Ah! the full answer you may never have in this world--for faith must have
scope--but by and by, if not here, yet from a loftier position and beneath a
brighter sky, and with a stronger vision, you shall look back, and know and
understand, and admire it all, and shall be satisfied.
The glorified are satisfied, also, with the conduct of
God's grace. If there is often inexplicable mystery in providence,
there is yet profounder mystery in grace. Loving him as God does, yet
that He should hide Himself from His child; hating sin, yet allowing its
existence, and permitting His children to fall under its influence; leaving
them often to endure the fiery darts of Satan, and to tread dreary paths,
cheerless, starless, the sensible presence of the Heavenly Guide withdrawn,
and not a voice to break the solemn stillness or to calm the swelling
wave--ah! this is trying indeed!
But all, before long, will be satisfactorily explained!
Then the glorified see how harmonious, with every principle of infinite
holiness and justice, truth and wisdom, was God's scheme of redeeming mercy;
and that it was electing love, and sovereign mercy, and free favor, that
made him a subject of grace on earth, and an heir of glory in heaven. And as
he bends back his glance upon all the way the Lord his God brought him the
forty years' journey in the wilderness--traces the ten thousand times
ten thousand unfoldings of His love--the wanderings and the restorings; the
stumblings and the upholdings; the falls and the upliftings; the love that
would not and the power that could not let him go; the
faithful rebukes, the gentle dealings, the tender soothings, the unwearied
patience, and the inexhaustible sympathy of Jesus, with what depth of
emotion and emphasis of meaning does he exclaim, I am satisfied--it is
well!
The saints are satisfied, also, with the heaven of
glory to which they are brought. They wake up in God's likeness.
Positively and perfectly holy, positively and perfectly happy,
actually with Christ, and contemplating, with an intellectual and moral
perception all unclouded, the glory of God, how completely satisfied is he
with the new world of purity and bliss, of light and splendor, into which
his ransomed spirit sprung. The last polluted earthly passion has died away,
the last remnant of corruption is destroyed, the last moan of suffering and
sigh of sorrow is hushed in the stillness of the tomb; the corruptible has
put on incorruption, the mortal has put on immortality, and the glorified
spirit stands among the throng of holy and adoring ones who encircle the
throne and swells the universal anthem--IT IS WELL.
"This life's a dream, an empty show;
But the bright world to which I go
Has joys substantial and sincere;
When shall I wake and find me there?
Believer in Jesus, how animating the hope, and how
elevating the prospect before you! Ascend with me to the upper world. Place
yourself in imagination as a glorified spirit amid the splendors of the holy
city. To what are you come? To Mount Zion--to the heavenly Jerusalem--to an
innumerable company of angels--to the general assembly and church of the
firstborn--to God the Judge of all--to the spirits of just men made
perfect--to Jesus the Mediator of the new covenant.
Return back to earth! With this blissful vision before
you--all so soon to be realized--what manner of people ought we to be in all
holy conversation and godliness? How unearthly, how heavenly, how separate
from the world, how Christian in principle, how Christ-like in spirit,
temper, and conversation. How like him in our communion with each
other--loving, forbearing, and forgiving; gentle, charitable, and kind. How
condescending in position, liberal in wealth, humble in prosperity,
submissive in adversity, contented in poverty, devoted and active in the
Master's service!
Sorrowing Mother!--"it is well" with the child
(that is, if the child was a true Christian– for there is no
salvation outside of faith in Jesus –editor). The spirit has returned to God
who gave it, and now communes with its Creator, of whose greatness, and
wisdom, and glory it knows infinitely more than the profoundest philosopher
or the holiest divine. It is safer and happier with its Father in heaven
than with you on earth. And who can tell from what evil it is taken, and
from what bitter anguish you are preserved--anguish greater in his life than
now wrings your heart in his death. He has gone where innocence has no
snares, where there exists no temptations to beguile, and where no foes
invade. Your child may have stolen your heart from Jesus, who did not intend
that His precious gift should supplant Himself in your love. It is well with
him.
And is it not well with you? The vacant place is occupied
with a sympathizing Savior--the stricken heart turns to Him who smote
it--and the ensnared and truant affections, severed from the idol they had
worshiped, find their way back again to God. It is well that your Heavenly
Father has dealt with you thus. It is well that He condescends to instruct
you, though it be by chastening, and to heal your heart-wanderings, though
it be by suffering. Twice gracious has your God been to you--gracious when
He loaned the blessing--a little flower to gladden you a while with
its presence, and now to cheer you with its memory--and gracious in
taking it away, transplanting it to a holier soil and sunnier skies,
beneath whose influence its youthful faculties and young affections have
expanded and ripened into more than an angel's intellect and a seraph's
love. "It is well with the child."
Bereaved Christian!--"it is well." God has
smitten, and the stroke has fallen heavily. The blessing you thought you
could least spare, and would be the last to leave you, God your Father has
taken. Why has He done this? To show you what He can be to you, in
your extremity. It may be difficult for faith, in the first moments of your
calamity, to see how it can be well, or to acknowledge that it is really so.
But be still, and wait the outcome. Banish from your mind every hard thought
of God, stifle in your breast every rebellious feeling, suppress upon your
lip every repining word, and bow meekly, submissively, mutely to the
sovereign, righteous will of your Father.
The blessings, like spring flowers blooming
on the grave over which you weep, that will grow out of this affliction,
will prove that God never loved you more deeply, was never more intent upon
advancing your best interests, never thought more of you, nor cared more for
you, than at the moment when His dear hand laid your loved one low. Receive
the testimony of one who has tasted, aye, has drank deeply, of the same cup
of grief which your Father God now mingles for you. Let us drink it without
a murmur. It is our Father's cup. As a father pities his children, so
does He pity us, even while He mingles and presents the draught. It is
bitter, but not the bitterness of the curse; it is dark, but not the frown
of anger; the cup is brimmed, but not a drop of wrath is there!
Oh, wondrous faith that can look upon the beautiful stem
broken; the lovely, promising flower, just unfolding its perfection,
smitten; the toils and hopes of years, all, and in a moment, extinguished,
and yet can say--"It is well!" Go, now, precious treasure! God will
have my heart. Christ would not desire that I should be satisfied with His
gift of love, but that I should be satisfied with His love without
the gift. "You alone are my portion, O Lord."
The world looks dreary, life has lost a charm, the heart
is smitten and withered like grass, some of its dearest earthly affections
have gone down into the tomb, but He who recalled the blessing is greater
and dearer than the blessing; and is just the same Himself, as when He gave
it. Jesus would be glorified by our resting in and cleaving to Him as our
portion, even when the flowers of earthly beauty, and the yet more precious
fruits of spiritual comfort and consolation wither and depart. Satan would
suggest that we have sinned away our blessings and forfeited our comforts,
and that, therefore, the Lord is now hiding His face from us, and in anger
shutting up His tender mercies. But this is not really so. He is hiding the
flowers, but not Himself. In love to them He is transferring
them to His garden in heaven, and in love to us He thus seeks to draw us
nearer to His heart. He would have us knock at His door and ask for a fresh
cluster.
We are so apt to cherish our blessings, and rest in our
comforts, and live upon our frames and feelings; that we lose sight of, and
forget Him. He removes His gift, we might be always coming to Him for
more. Oh, matchless love of Jesus!--it is well.
"Stricken, smitten, and afflicted,
Savior, to your cross I cling;
You have every blow directed,
You alone can healing bring.
"Try me until no dross remains;
And whatever the trial be,
While your gentle arm sustains,
Closer will I cling to Thee.
"Cheerfully the stern rod kissing,
I will hush each murmuring cry;
Every doubt and fear dismissing,
Passive in your arms will lie.
"And when through deep seas of sorrow,
I have gained the heavenly shore,
Bliss from every wave I'll borrow,
And for each will love You more."
--Mrs. E. C. Judson
Sick one!--"it is well." 'Is it so, can it be?'
you doubtfully inquire. Yes, it is and must be so, since He who loves you
has permitted, no, has sent this sickness. His wisdom cannot
err, His love cannot be unkind. This trying dispensation may appear adverse
to your best interests. It has, perhaps, come at a time when you could be
least spared from your domestic duties, the engagements of business, or the
work of the Lord. Thus secluded from your family, withdrawn from your
customary employments, or, what may be a yet more painful reflection, exiled
from the public ordinances of the Lord's house--those means of grace that
have been so precious and profitable to your soul--you marvel how this
sickness can be well.
Marvel not, since God's ways are not as our ways, nor His
thoughts as our thoughts. He works His purposes of mercy and love towards us
in a way often directly opposite to all our anticipations and plans. This
sickness may appear to you a heavy calamity, the result may prove it an
untold blessing. Sanctified by the Spirit's grace, that bed of suffering,
that couch of weakness, those wearisome days, and long, sleepless nights,
shall teach you precious truths, and realize to you precious promises, and
bring your soul so near to God, and so endear the Savior to your heart, as
shall constrain you to exclaim--"Lord, it is well!" "Commune with your
own heart upon your bed, and be still." "Let patience have her perfect work,
wanting nothing."
Do not be over anxious as to your recovery. God's
time is best. Not one pain, not one moment's sense of weakness more than is
needful, will God permit. Nor will He keep you upon that bed of suffering,
nor a prisoner within that shaded room, one day longer than is necessary to
accomplish the good He designs to bestow. Be trustful--be passive--lean upon
Jesus, who will make all your bed in your sickness--open your heart to God
in inward, silent breathings--and commit yourself, your family, your
calling, yes, all your interests entirely to Him, and all will be well.
And suppose this present sickness should be unto DEATH--will
not that be well? What! not to be released from a body of infirmity and sin?
Not to go home, and take possession of your glorious inheritance? Not to go
and see Christ in His glory, and be reunited to those who have gone before,
and mingle with prophets, and apostles, and martyrs, and be as they are,
perfected in holiness and love? Oh, yes, it will be far better to depart and
be with Christ, if He sees fit. Tremble not to cross the flood. Our true
Joshua has paved the path with precious stones--the doctrines, truths, and
promises of His word--upon which your faith may plant its feet, and so to
pass over dry shod into the heavenly Canaan. The bitterness of death is
gone, to all who believe in Jesus, and "it is well."
Child of ADVERSITY--"it is well." Can you
respond to this, now that God may have taken from you health, friends,
riches, earthly comforts, and creature supports? It must be well, since
providence and not accident, God and not man, has done it. But
weep not, be not cast down, all is not gone. God is still your God and
Father, Christ is still your Friend and Brother, the Spirit is still your
Comforter and Guide, the covenant is still your inexhaustible supply, the
promises are still left you, and all these losses and trials are working
together for your good. Beware of rash steps, of creature-confidence, of
distrusting God. Make not 'man' your arm, be not too curious to know the
Lord's designs, but remember that "in quietness and in confidence shall
be your strength."
God will not leave you in this time of adversity. In Him
let your faith be filial, implicit, unwavering. If you honor Him by trusting
Him now, He will honor your trust by and by. Give yourself to prayer. You
will find it a sweet outlet to your full and burdened heart. All will yet be
well. Stand still, and let God solve His own deep and mysterious problems,
and you will then see how much infinite love and wisdom, and faithfulness
and goodness was enfolded in this dark distressing calamity. But before
this, in faith and submission, learn to say--it is well.
Is it well with your SOUL, my reader? Are you
converted by the Spirit of God? Is your soul saved? This is the only part of
your being that is worthy of a moment's serious thought. Everything else in
comparison is but as the bubble that floats down the stream. This busy life
will soon cease; its last thought, and care, and anxiety will yield to the
great, the solemn realities of eternity. Are you ready for the sequel? Are
you in a state of pardon, of justification, of peace with God through
Christ? How is it with your soul? Will it be well with you in death,
well with you after death, well with you at the judgment-seat of
Christ? Have you come to the Lord Jesus as a Savior, to His blood for
cleansing, to His righteousness for acceptance, to His cross for shelter, to
Himself for rest? Have you fled as a sinner to Jesus as the
Savior?
Look these questions, I beseech you, fairly, fully in the
face, and answer them in your own conscience, and as in view of that dread
tribunal at whose bar you will soon be cited. What, if you should prosper in
temporals, and be lean in spirituals! What if you should pamper the body and
starve the soul! What if you should gain the world--its riches, its honors,
its pleasures--and be yourself through eternity a cast-away! To die in your
sins, to die without union to Christ, to die unreconciled to God, tremendous
will be the consequences; so dire will be your condition, so fearful and
interminable your sufferings from the wrath of a holy and righteous God, it
would have been good for you never to have been born. The unrighteous will
be "punished with everlasting destruction from the presence of the Lord,
and from the glory of His power."
But there is hope! Does this page meet the eye of a
penitent mourner, one whose heart is smitten with godly grief for sin? Truly
can I say it is well with your soul, if this be so. If the sacrifice you
bring to God's altar is that of a broken heart, be it known to you that the
sacrifice of a broken heart and of a contrite spirit God will not despise.
Despise it! Oh, no! It is the precious, holy fruit of His own Spirit in your
soul, and in His eye it is too holy, too costly, too dear, to be despised.
Bring to Him that broken heart, and Jesus will bind it up, heal and fill it
with joy, and peace, and hope. It was His mission to receive and save
sinners--it is His office to receive and save sinners--it is His delight to
receive and save sinners; and if you will but approach Him, exactly
as you are, He will receive and save you. "Believe on the Lord Jesus
Christ, and you shall be saved."
On one ground only is there a possibility of your
rejection. Come with a price in your hand with which to purchase
salvation--be it your tears, your confessions, your sacraments, or whatever
else it may be--and Christ will have no dealings with you. It is as though a
sound man should come to be cured of the physician; or, as though a full man
should come to sit down at a banquet; or, as though a beggar should offer to
purchase at the door the bread he had craved in his hunger. But come to the
Lord Jesus empty-handed, broken-hearted, sin-burdened, with no plea but your
deep necessity, with no argument but your utter unworthiness, with no price
but your insolvency, and Jesus will receive you graciously, will welcome you
freely, and save you eternally. "And when they had nothing to pay He
frankly forgave them both."
Christian professor, is it well with you? Is your
soul prosperous? Are you making progress towards heaven, advancing in the
divine life, and walking worthy of your high and holy calling? Is Jesus
increasingly precious to you, is your heart warm with divine love, and have
you the inward testimony--the comfortable, cheering witness of the
Spirit--to your interest in Christ, and your adoption into God's family? We
are entering upon a New Year of our earthly pilgrimage; let us commence it
with a new setting out for heaven. Begin the year with a renewed application
to the atoning blood, with a fresh draft upon the supplies of the covenant
of grace, with a fresh coming to the fullness of Jesus, with a closer,
clearer, more simple sight of the cross. Do not let us commence the New Year
with the old stores, but let us repair to our true, spiritual Joseph
for a fresh impartation of new grace, new strength, new faith, new
love, new courage. Let the old things pass away, and forgetting the things
that are behind, let us start anew for glory.
It is recorded of the children of Israel, that when they
reached the confines of the good land they ceased to eat of the old corn,
and "ate of the fruit of the land of Canaan that year." In like
manner are we invited to live upon the foretastes and pledges of the coming
glory; to partake of the new corn, and to press into our cup the first ripe
fruits of the new vintage. Let us relinquish the old stores for the new. Let
no remembrance of past backslidings, no lingering taint of past sins, no
cloud-veiling of past sorrows discourage us from laying all our burdens at
the foot of the cross, making it the starting-point of a new and more
advancing stage in the glorious race that is before us. Jesus stands
prepared to supply every need, to sympathize with every sorrow, to uphold us
with His hand, to guide us with His eye, and to conduct us by a right way
safely to heaven. In a little while and we shall behold Him. All things
betoken the shaking of the heavens and the earth, when the "Desire of all
nations" shall come. The late movements in the East--the present trembling
in the valley of dry bones (the Jewish people)--the diffusion of the gospel
as a witness to all nations--the daily fulfillment of prophecy--the rapid
transit and close intercommunication with all parts of the globe, are
striking and significant indices of the great events which are approaching.
The grand event to which all others point, and of which all are but
the herald, is--the Personal Appearing of the Son of Man. "The coming of
the Lord draws near." In a little while He that shall come will come,
and then shall be the rapture of the saints! In view of this illustrious and
solemn event, let our attitude be that of holy, watchful, prayerful
expectation, "looking for and hastening unto the coming of the Lord."
Let brotherly love abound--let charity towards one another increase--let the
saints of different Christian communions band more closely together in the
Lord's work--and let all seek to be filled and animated with the lowly,
gentle, winning, loving spirit of Christ, the one Lord and Master of His ONE
Church.
Saints of the Most High! over these broken waters of a
sinful, sorrowful, toilsome life we shall soon have passed, and standing
upon the "sea of glass," with the harp of God in our hand, there shall be
reflected from its tranquil bosom the glory, and there shall breathe from
every string the praise of our God in having done all things well! Oh, what
harmony shall we then see in every discrepance, what wisdom in every
labyrinth, what love in every affliction, what tenderness, gentleness, and
forethought in every stroke of His hand, and in every event of His
providence! The mystery of God will be finished, and God will be all in all.
"Through the love of God our Savior,
All will be well.
Free and changeless is His favor;
All, all is well.
Precious is the blood that healed us,
Perfect is the grace that sealed us,
Strong the hand outstretched to shield us,
All must be well.
"Though we pass through tribulation,
All, all is well.
Ours is such a full salvation,
All must be well.
Happy still in God confiding,
Fruitful if in Christ abiding,
Holy through the Spirit's guiding:
All, all is well.
"We expect a bright tomorrow;
All, all is well.
Faith can say in deepest sorrow
All, all is well.
On our Father's love relying,
Jesus every need supplying,
All in living, all in dying,
ALL MUST BE WELL."