The ways and dealings
of God
by J. C. Philpot
The ways and dealings of God with his people, in
providence and in grace, are usually in the outset shrouded in mystery,
and yet in the end shine resplendently forth as stamped with the most
perfect wisdom, mercy, and grace.
When Luther, on his return from the Diet of Worms,
was seized by armed men in masks, and carried off to the lonely castle of
Wartburg, it seemed as if his life and work were both about to be suddenly
extinguished. The consternation of his friends was almost unparalleled. "A
cry of grief," says D'Aubigne, "resounded through Germany. Luther has fallen
into the hands of his enemies." But in that quiet retreat, hidden alike from
friend and foe, he had time and opportunity to translate the Scriptures into
his native language, and thus deal Rome a far heavier blow, and advance the
cause of God a thousand times more than if he had been permitted again
without molestation to occupy his pulpit at Wittenberg.
When Bunyan was haled to prison, and his labors in
the gospel were thus suddenly and violently brought to a close, this heavy
stroke would doubtless appear, both to himself and his attached people, an
utter extinguishment of his light and usefulness. But should we have had his
"Grace Abounding," or his "Pilgrim's Progress," if it had not been for his
gloomy cell in Bedford Jail? Has not the church of God the greatest reason
to bless the wisdom of the Most High in permitting ungodly men to triumph
for a season? For though they might stop his tongue which could not reach
hundreds, they set loose a pen which has been blessed to thousands.
When Rutherford was torn from his beloved Anwoth,
and ordered to confine himself to Aberdeen; when his tongue was thus
forcibly silenced, and he forbidden to speak in the name of his dearest
Lord, what a gloom it cast over his soul, what a dark cloud gathered over
his fondest hopes. He had, he says, "but one joy," that of preaching the
gospel, and that gone, all seemed gone. But where would have been the
richest portion of his letters but for his imprisonment? His ministry at
Anwoth, however powerful in itself or at the time abundantly blessed, was
restricted to a small village and to a scanty district; and, however it
might be subsequently enlarged by his visiting other places, was necessarily
confined to that day and generation. So fully, also, was he there occupied,
as we have already seen, with the labors of his ministry, that the use of
his pen in private correspondence must have been greatly limited. But at
Aberdeen not only had he abundant leisure to write to his numerous friends,
but his very trials there and deliverances, his exercises and blessings,
furnished his heart with matter suitable and edifying to the people of God
in all generations; and his pen was thus made the pen of a ready writer, not
only for the narrow circle of a few Scottish friends, but for numbers then
unborn. The light placed on this candlestick could not be hidden. Its rays
have shone far and wide beyond the Scottish border; and for the last 200
years have these powerful letters been as goads to stir up living souls to
take the kingdom of heaven by violence.
No, even as regards that very flock which then lay so
near to his heart—his church and congregation at Anwoth—we may well believe
that the life and power with which his letters to them were impregnated, and
to which his forced absence doubtless instrumentally much contributed,
might, and probably were, more blessed to them than his preached discourses.
The love and affection felt towards him, enhanced by his persecutions and
exile for their sake, would make his letters eagerly read by those to whom
they were addressed; from their real worth and intrinsic excellence they
would be passed from hand to hand and religiously preserved, as their being
at this day extant abundantly shows; their heavenly warmth might kindle a
flame in many a cold heart, and their force and energy stir up many a
sluggish bosom, which had remained dull and unmoved under the sound of his
voice; and thus his letters might be more blessed even at Anwoth than his
sermons, and his absence be more valuable than his presence. All this we
can now clearly see and can admire it in the wisdom of God.
It argues, in our judgment, a great narrowness of mind,
as well as extreme ignorance of the diversified dealings of God in
providence and grace, to chalk out a certain rigid line for his saints and
servants to walk in—a line, that is, more narrow and precise than the
Scriptures warrant—and then condemn or cut them off because their every step
does not move in exact accordance with it.