Lectures to Young People
William B. Sprague, 1830
DEFENSE AGAINST TEMPTATION
"Watch and pray, that you enter not into temptation."
Matthew 26:41.
The circumstances in which these words were spoken, were
exceedingly tender and interesting. The blessed Jesus had retired to the
garden of Gethsemane for prayer, with a view to fortify himself for the
sufferings which awaited him. Peter, James, and John—who had previously been
witnesses of his transfiguration—he took with him, on this occasion, to be
witnesses of his agony. After his entrance into the garden, he apprized his
three disciples of the extreme anguish of his soul, and directed them to
remain where they were, and watch, while he advanced to a more retired spot,
for the purpose of devotion. But strange to relate, the disciples, during
their Master's absence, notwithstanding his extreme distress, and the
express command he had given them to watch with him—fell asleep. Finding
them in this situation, on his return, he gently reproves them, by saying,
"What! could you not watch with me one hour?" and then kindly subjoins the
caution in the text, "Watch and pray, that you enter not into temptation."
The temptation to which our Lord here especially refers,
is doubtless that to which his disciples were to be peculiarly exposed—of
denying their Master, or deserting his cause. Their fond expectations of
temporal distinction as the followers of Jesus, were about to be
disappointed; and he to whom they had looked as the deliverer of Israel, was
soon to die in ignominy. In these circumstances, there was great danger, as
the event proved, that they would become distrustful of Jesus, and perhaps,
renounce all relation to him. Hence the caution in our text was peculiarly
seasonable.
But notwithstanding this caution was originally addressed
to the disciples in reference to a particular case, there is enough in
common between their circumstances and those of all other Christians, to
warrant a general application of it. All other Christians, as well as they,
so long as they continue in this world, are exposed to temptation; are in
danger of turning aside from the path of duty, and thus wounding their own
peace, and injuring the cause of their Master. What the Savior says,
therefore, to his disciples, he says to all, "Watch and pray, that you enter
not into temptation."
There is one circumstance which seems to give this
passage a peculiar application to Christians in the morning of life—it is
that the words were originally addressed to people, who—whatever might have
been their age—and they could not have been far advanced—were young in the
school of Christ. If the fact that their views of Christianity were
exceedingly imperfect, and that they had had but little experience of the
trials which must attend a Christian profession, rendered it peculiarly
proper that they should be thus admonished; is there not a similar
reason, growing out of the circumstances of all young Christians, why the
same caution should be earnestly urged upon them?
One who makes a public profession of true religion, will
instantly perceive that he sustains a new relation both to the church and
the world. This is the point at which he openly and professedly commences
his warfare with temptation. Regarding the young Christian in this
peculiarly interesting attitude, it is the design of this discourse to
illustrate the fact that he is in peculiar danger of falling, and to notice
the means which the text prescribes for avoiding this evil.
I. I am, first, to illustrate the fact that new
Christians are peculiarly in danger from temptation.
This exposure results, partly, from a natural relish
for worldly pleasure. With most youth, previous to conversion, no doubt
the love of pleasure is the ruling passion. There is a natural buoyancy of
spirits incident to that period, which usually finds its element, either in
scenes of mirthful diversion, or sensual indulgence. Whenever the heart
comes under the influence of true piety, it, of course, yields to the
dominion of a new set of principles; and he who was before supremely a lover
of pleasure—now becomes supremely a lover of God.
But though the change which takes place in regeneration
is great, it is not entire; and the predominating principle of the unrenewed
nature—though it no longer exists as the ruling passion—still continues to
operate with greater or less energy. Hence it often happens that young
people, after their conversion, discover something of the same thirst for
worldly pleasure, which had previously constituted their most prominent
characteristic. As there is no lack of opportunities for gratifying this
thirst, there is great danger that they will gratify it, though at
the expense of disturbing their peace of conscience, of violating their
covenant engagements, and of making the cause of their Redeemer bleed.
That there are many pleasures growing out of our present
condition, which, though not strictly pious, are yet rational, and may be
innocently enjoyed by the Christian—far be it from me to question. Such
are the pleasures resulting from the exercise of a cultivated taste, of a
well regulated imagination, of the social and benevolent affections; and
even of pleasures of a still lower kind—those which belong more immediately
to the animal nature, the Christian may innocently partake, provided he does
not transcend the limits marked out by the Creator.
But what I here refer to under the name of worldly
pleasure, is that which is either wrong in itself, or which becomes
so by excessive indulgence; everything, in short, which has a tendency to
check the spirit of devotion, or to diminish our interest in eternal
realities. Now, that this is the tendency of what are commonly called
fashionable amusements, even the more decent of them, is too obvious to
admit of question: all experience proves that they serve to relax the whole
spiritual system. But towards some or other of these forms of worldly
pleasure, the young Christian is liable to be drawn by the remains of his
unsanctified nature: pleasure, more frequently than anything else,
entangles him with her silken cord, and draws him away from the plain path
of Christian duty.
Closely connected with the preceding remark, is
another—that young Christians are in peculiar danger of yielding to
temptation, from their love of social fellowship.
As the social principle is one of the original elements
of our nature, it is also one of the earliest in its development; and
perhaps it never operates with so much strength as in the morning of life.
It is a principle common both to the good and the bad; and while it is
capable of being made subservient to the most useful purposes, it may be
perverted as a powerful auxiliary to the cause of true religion. Most young
people, previous to their conversion, have been associated with those who
are, at least, careless of piety; and who, it may ordinarily be presumed,
still remain so. Now it is by no means their duty, on becoming pious, to
stand aloof from their former associates, or to assume towards them any airs
of artificial sanctity; but it is their duty to decline all that interaction
with them, which is marked by levity and inconsideration. Let their
fellowship be as frequent and intimate as it may—only let it be conducted on
Christian principles—let it minister to edification and not to destruction.
But need I say that the young Christian is here in great
danger of being led astray? He goes into a circle, where perhaps all but
himself are professedly devoted to worldly pleasure; and where it is
expected that the conversation will not only be worldly—but vain. It may
indeed generally be presumed, that if he ventures unnecessarily into
circumstances like these, he goes without even a wish to resist the current;
but suppose he be cast into such a situation, by the providence of God, and
unexpectedly to himself—there is still great danger that, from the influence
of former habit, the fear of giving offence, or the dread of being looked
upon as a reformer, he will at least connive at that which his conscience
condemns; and perhaps may even give occasion to its being triumphantly said,
by his careless associates, that they had one professor of religion among
them—though his appearance would never have excited a suspicion of it.
Whoever you are, my young friend, of whom this can be said, rely on it—you
have already incurred the evil against which the caution in the text was
intended to guard you.
But does the young Christian ask me whether all his
fellowship with impious people, must be strictly of a pious character? I
answer, by no means; but it ought all to be of a useful character. In
ordinary cases, if you would converse with an impious friend in respect to
his own condition, it had better be a matter between you and him only; but
the subject of true religion is of such immense extent, that it may be
introduced in some or other of its various bearings, in almost any
circumstances in which the Christian ought to be found; and that too without
any appearance of ostentation. In general, I would say that, in all your
social fellowship with the world, you are bound to let your light shine; and
while you are always to avoid whatever is inconsistent with a Christian
profession, you are to make it manifest, directly, by your conversation, as
often as you have opportunity—that you are on the Lord's side.
But young Christians are in danger of perverting their
social fellowship, not only with the irreligious—but with each other.
It usually happens, indeed, that, at their entrance on the pious life, they
have a strong relish for Christian fellowship, and find great delight in an
unreserved interchange of thought and feeling. But experience proves that
there is great danger that it will not always be so. There is danger that,
as their first pious joys subside, they will approach the subject of piety
with increasing reserve, until, at no distant period, it scarcely comes in,
even by way of allusion. I doubt not that there are many to whose experience
I might appeal for the truth of this remark—who can remember the time when
they scarcely ever met, but to encourage and assist each other in their
Christian course; whose fellowship has become scarcely less worldly than
that of the world itself.
But it may be asked what harm, after all, results
from this fellowship of which I have been speaking? Suppose young Christians
do, when they are together, prefer some other topic of conversation to that
of true piety; or suppose they occasionally enter a mirthful circle, and so
far conform to the world as to spend a few hours in trifling conversation,
or vain amusement—does this deserve any serious reprehension? I answer, I do
not see how anyone, with the Bible in his hand, can justify it. What is its
tendency in respect to the person who engages in it? Ask any who have had
experience, and if you get the honest answer, I venture to say, it will be,
that this manner of spending time—has served to dissipate serious
reflection, to unfit them for the duties of the closet, and to awaken
remorse, when they came to look at their conduct, in view of the Bible and
of eternity.
And what is its influence—what must be its influence, on
those careless companions who have been witnesses of it? That you may
estimate it aright, take into view this important truth—that mere neglect
of true piety will just as certainly destroy the soul, as open contempt of
it. What then though you have not profaned the name of God, or spoken
irreverently of true religion, or committed any act which the world calls
immoral; yet, by your presence and example, you have lent your sanction
to a spirit of levity; a spirit which you know must be dislodged from
those very individuals, or they must perish; a spirit, moreover, which, as
it is in their case the ruling passion, constitutes the grand obstacle to
their becoming pious.
And let me say, they understand the language of your
conduct, even better than you do yourself; they regard you as lending the
most practical testimony to the notion that true religion is gloomy; as
virtually telling them that you cannot find happiness in it; and therefore
you have come to seek it in the world. Or else, on the other hand, they are
willing to admit, upon your authority, that true religion is consistent with
a spirit of levity, or perhaps even that levity, called by the more decent
name of innocent cheerfulness, makes part of true religion; and if this be
so, they, very charitably for themselves, conclude that they are either
Christians already, or have little to do to become so. What more effectual
means could you use, to keep them at the greatest distance from serious
reflection than this? I fear that many a professing Christian, if he could
look into the world of woe, would see some there lifting up their eyes in
torment, who would reproach him with having contributed, by his example, to
that habit of carelessness, by which they were carried down to perdition.
Again: young Christians are in peculiar danger of
yielding to temptation, from the fact, that their condition awakens,
in an unusual degree, the vigilance and activity of the wicked. Of
this fact, no person of the least observation, can entertain a doubt. It is
not the Christian who has lived long, and whose character is firmly
established, who is most frequently assailed by the arts of the wicked; but
it is the youth, who is just turning his back upon the world, and setting
his face towards heaven. This fact is often strikingly illustrated after a
revival of true religion; when many young people are seen entering upon a
Christian course, and all the wiles of the wicked are put in requisition, in
order to oppose them.
And the reasons of this fact are as obvious as the fact
itself. Young Christians have far less strength to resist temptation, than
belongs to a more mature Christian experience. Moreover, the wicked not only
assail them under peculiar advantages—but they feel that they must do it
then or never; as there is little probability, when they have once grown
into established Christians, that they will be carried back to the beggarly
elements of the world. Now, is it not manifest that these circumstances
invest the condition of young Christians with peculiar danger? On every side
are those who watch for their halting—and among them, it may be, some with
whom they are united in the most endearing earthly relations. By flattery,
on the one hand, and ridicule on the other; by appealing first to one
principle of their carnal nature, and then to another; here to the love of
pleasure, and there to the dread of being singular, they do their utmost to
turn their footsteps backward into the path of death. Happy is that young
Christian, who, amidst so many snares, is enabled to walk uprightly, and to
escape unhurt!
I observe, once more, that young Christians are in
peculiar danger of yielding to temptation, from the fact that the
principle of true religion in their hearts is comparatively feeble.
I have already said that this is a reason why they are
especially liable to be assailed by the enemies of true religion: it is
equally a reason why they are in peculiar danger of yielding to temptation.
The rapturous exercises and burning zeal which are often manifested by the
new convert, are, by no means, to be regarded as any pledge in respect to
future character; nor are they to be considered as indicating even the
present existence of a high degree of true religion. In almost all cases,
these strong feelings, after a little period, subside; and he who, at first,
imagined that he had faith enough to move mountains, soon learns that, if he
has any faith at all, it is only as a grain of mustard seed. The principle
of spiritual life in his soul, like the principle of natural life in an
infant, is feeble in its operations; and though Almighty power and grace are
pledged for its preservation, it is less able to endure the storms of
temptation, than after it shall have gained more strength and maturity.
You thought, my young friend, while you were standing on
the mount, and overlooking your path to heaven, that you were girded for a
conflict with all your spiritual enemies. The temptations of the world
appeared to you as less than nothing, and you supposed it impossible that
you should ever even agitate the question whether you would yield to them.
You seemed to yourself to have large stores of strength at command, and to
be able to march with a firm step, even to the martyr's stake.
But since you have come down from the mount, to the
actual reality of trial and conflict—Oh how differently does the case
appear! Your resolution which you expected would accomplish wonders, proves
to be a feeble principle. Your zeal, which once rose in a bright flame
towards heaven, has, in a great measure, died away. Your hope, which had
formerly mounted up well near to assurance, has sunk to a low point of
doubt, and perhaps sometimes trembles on the point of extinction. In short,
you now feel that, if you are a Christian, the actings of spiritual life are
so weak as scarcely to be discernible; and perhaps even to give occasion for
distressing apprehensions that you are yet dead in trespasses and sins. In
these circumstances, how much are you in danger of yielding to temptation!
How much reason is there to fear that the world will gain a victory over
you, which will mar your peace, cloud your evidences, and diminish your
usefulness!
II.
Having now attempted
to illustrate the fact that young Christians are in peculiar danger from
temptation, I proceed, secondly, to illustrate
the MEANS which the text prescribes
for avoiding this evil. They are
watchfulness and prayer. "Watch and pray, that you enter not into
temptation."
It is a truth distinctly implied in this direction, and
one of great practical importance, that watchfulness and prayer ought
always to exist together. Watchfulness without prayer, is
self-confidence; prayer without watchfulness, is presumption. In the one
case, we proudly repose for security in our own strength; in the other, we
pervert the scriptural doctrine of dependence to fatalism. They are two
things which God has joined together in his word; and both reason and
experience sanction the connection. "Work out your own salvation with fear
and trembling; for it is God that works in you both to will and to do of his
good pleasure."
We will now inquire in what manner the duties
enjoined in the text are to be performed.
1. In respect to the first of these duties, namely,
WATCHFULNESS.
I observe, that
you are to watch against the
OCCASIONS of temptation. There are
indeed temptations of various kinds involved in our providential allotments:
the plain path of duty is often beset with them, so that you cannot decline
to encounter the one, without, at the same time, turning your back upon the
other. In all cases of this kind, you are to go forward unhesitatingly; not
doubting that you are called of God to the conflict, and that if you arm
yourself suitably for it, he will give you the victory.
The occasions of temptation against which you are to
watch, are of a different kind; they are needless occasions—those which
offer themselves, not in the course of duty—but in the pursuit of mere
worldly pleasure or advantage. For instance, something presents itself to
your view as an object of desire, which is by no means necessary to your
comfort, and which will not contribute, in any degree, to your usefulness.
But in order to attain it, you must place yourself in circumstances in which
you will be exceedingly liable to fall into sin. The case then is clear,
that you ought not to place yourself in these circumstances; for while the
good to be attained is little or nothing, the evil to which you are exposed
may be immense.
Or you may think to expose yourself to temptation, where
there is no other purpose to be gained than merely to test your own
strength; to secure to yourself the pleasure resulting from a victory. Here
again, you place yourself on the enemies' ground without a warrant; you rush
into the field, before you have orders from the Captain of salvation; and
you have nothing to expect but that your presumption will be punished by an
ignominious defeat. I repeat, then, watch against all needless occasions
of temptation! While you are careful not to decline any conflict to
which you are called in the course of duty, be equally careful not to
volunteer your service in this way, where there is no occasion.
Watch against the POWER of temptation.
I have already said that, in the discharge of duty, you
will often necessarily be placed in circumstances in which you may be
tempted. Here then your whole vigilance is to be put in requisition, that
you do not fall; and you have every encouragement to this course from the
fact that you are engaged in the cause, and at the bidding, of your Master
"Count it all joy," says the apostle James, "when you fall into divers
temptations;" that is if God in his providence brings his children
into temptation, it may be an occasion of joy to them, as furnishing
additional evidence of his paternal kindness in bringing them through
it, and of their renovation.
As temptation derives its power chiefly from a wrong
state of the heart, it is especially necessary, when you are placed in these
circumstances, that you should
keep your HEART with all diligence. You
are to cultivate indeed, at all times, that lively sense of divine things,
that spiritual and heavenly frame of feeling, which will be most likely to
shield you from this evil—you are to take special care to bring yourself
under the influence of pious feelings, as you are about to approach a scene
of temptation. You are to go with your whole soul bathed in the holy
influences of the gospel; with that spirit which prompted the blessed
Redeemer, in similar circumstances, to say, "Get behind me, Satan." And if
you discover the least drawing of your affections towards the forbidden
object, you are to regard it as a signal for alarm; and when you have once
begun to dally with the temptation, to institute the inquiry with yourself
whether you may yield to it or not, or to cast about you for palliating
circumstances, rely on it you have already begun to sink under its power.
Watch, watch, my young friends, against the beginning of this evil.
Watch unto PRAYER.
Watch for opportunities of prayer. It is an
important part of Christian economy to have stated seasons for private
devotion; for experience proves that where this duty is made a matter of
convenience merely, and is left to occupy only the remnants of time which
may be occasionally gathered up from the occupations of the world, there is
a chilling influence exerted, under which all the graces of the Christian
languish. Be careful, therefore, that you have stated seasons for visiting
your closet; and let your worldly concerns all be arranged, so far as
possible, with reference to these seasons. When you foresee providential
circumstances which will prevent you from observing the usual hour,
anticipate your devotions. And when you are prevented by some unexpected
event, instead of passing over the duty for that time, avail yourself of the
first opportunity to perform it. I know indeed that the form of this duty
may be observed, without the spirit: but if the form be habitually
neglected, it is scarcely too much to say that the spirit is lacking of
course.
I am aware that there are many situations in which the
discharge of this duty is attended with peculiar difficulties; and there is
much reason to fear that many young professors, after struggling with these
difficulties for a while, come, at length, to regard them as constituting an
apology for the neglect of the duty altogether. Hence, I have no doubt, it
is, that many a youth who once gave fair promise of being a devoted
Christian, has sunk into a state of spiritual apathy so deep as scarcely to
be distinguished from the lethargy of impenitence. As you would avoid this
tremendous evil, my young friends, guard against that neglect of secret
devotion, which will be sure to lead to it.
If your circumstances subject you to peculiar
embarrassment in reference to this duty, endeavor to counteract their
unfavorable influence, by a double degree of watchfulness and diligence.
There is hardly any condition in which you will be likely to be placed—but
by proper exertion, you may secure at least some moments every day for pious
retirement. And where this is impracticable, you may, and ought, to lift up
your heart to God in frequent silent prayers. If, in his providence, he
places you in a condition in which you can commune with him in no other
manner, such an offering, no doubt, will be accepted.
But you are also to
watch for the SPIRIT of
prayer. Without the spirit of devotion, the
form of prayer is mere hypocrisy; though, as has been already intimated, we
are not to look for the spirit of prayer, where the form is habitually
neglected. It should be your object to watch for this spirit constantly;
not merely when you go into your closet—but amidst your ordinary cares
and occupations. In the workshop, or on the farm, or in the counting-room,
even in those circumstances which would seem least favorable to devotional
feeling, you may still occasionally retire within yourself, and do something
to fan the sacred flame. You should watch for this spirit in the events of
providence, which either occur in your experience, or fall under your
observation; whether they are adapted to deepen humility, to quicken faith,
to nourish gratitude, or to bring into exercise any other of the elements of
devotion. And whenever you discover the Holy Spirit's operation in the
silent movements of your soul towards heaven—Oh cherish this divine
influence with peculiar care. Be not satisfied until the spirit of devotion
is plentifully shed abroad in your heart, and your soul is filled with all
the fullness of God.
Moreover, you are to
watch for ANSWERS to prayer.
If you should ask some signal favor of an earthly superior, and it should
not be granted, you would naturally be led to inquire whether there were not
something in the manner of your asking, which prevented the bestowment of
it. In like manner, if you do not receive the blessings which you ask of
God, it may well lead you to review your prayers—especially the spirit with
which they have been offered—and see whether your lack of sincerity, or
faith, or perseverance, does not constitute the grand obstacle to their
being answered. On the other hand, if your prayers actually are answered,
you should notice it as a ground of thanksgiving and encouragement: if you
have reason to believe that, in answer to your petitions, some sore
temptation which threatened you has been averted, or that you have received
an increased measure of strength to encounter some temptation into which you
have been brought, while you give God the glory, you will feel new
resolution for your future conflicts, and new encouragement to cast yourself
upon divine aid.
2. But the other duty which the text enjoins as a means
of defense against temptation, is
PRAYER.
Concerning this, let me say,
That you are to pray that God will not permit you to
fall into temptation, above what you are able to bear.
"In all your ways acknowledge God, and He will direct
your paths." He knows perfectly what temptations, with a given degree of
strength, you will be able to overcome; and he is abundantly able so to
arrange events in his providence, that the temptations to which you are
exposed, shall not exceed your ability of resistance. Let it be your-prayer,
then, that he will prevent you from being placed in circumstances which will
involve temptations too powerful for you. And if you should heedlessly seek
such a situation—that he will send insurmountable obstacles to your arriving
at it.
But, on the other hand, you are to pray that, if in the
providence of God, you fall into great temptation, you may be
prevented, by an increased degree of grace, from falling before it.
There are some cases in which the temptation cannot be anticipated; as it
results from circumstances into which you are brought contrary to your
expectations: but in such cases, it is your duty to send up a silent
petition to God, that he will grant you grace equal to the exigency. Other
cases there are in which the temptation approaches gradually, and you have
time to discipline your heart, and offer your prayers, in view of it. But as
you are never secure in this respect, you are always to pray for the
sustaining and overcoming influences of divine grace; to pray that whatever
may be the character of the temptation which you are called to meet, you may
have strength from on high proportioned to it. With such preparation as this
for your spiritual conflict, you will be in little danger of being
vanquished.
And finally, you are to pray that you may be
watchful. A spirit of watchfulness, as you have seen, is absolutely
essential to preserve you from falling into sin; and is, therefore, to be
regarded as a most important blessing. But, like every other blessing, it
must come from God, and must be sought by prayer. Let the petition, then,
often go up from your heart, that you may be enabled to carry a watchful
spirit with you into all your fellowship with your fellow-Christians, and
with the world; that you may watch against the occasions of temptation, and
against its power; that you may watch for opportunities of prayer—for the
spirit of prayer—for answers to prayer. And if you follow these directions,
you will find that the two duties, or rather the two parts of the same duty,
which I have been urging, will exert a mutually favorable influence upon
each other; that while watchfulness will promote the spirit of prayer,
prayer in its turn will increase the spirit of watchfulness; and that
together they will constitute an adequate defense against temptation.
On a review of our subject, we remark, first, that
the Christian life is a life of great activity. Is not the life of
the soldier, stationed in an enemy's country, exposed to innumerable
stratagems, and often called out to battle, an active life? What do you say
then, of the life of the Christian, who has to "wrestle not against flesh
and blood" only—"but against principalities, against powers, against the
rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high
places?" And if there be occasion for every Christian to be
constantly active, in order to prosecute with success the warfare to which
he is called, is not this emphatically true of the young Christian, who is
assailed by a thousand temptations, and yet is comparatively unfurnished for
the conflict? Better a thousand fold think to remain idle on the field of
battle, or when a band of murderers are plotting for your destruction, than
to think to encounter the enemies which the young Christian has to meet,
without severe effort.
But, though the Christian life is a life of activity,
that activity is itself a source of enjoyment. It is not idleness—but
exertion—persevering, successful exertion, which makes men happy. It is the
privilege of the Christian who has triumphed in the conflict with his
spiritual enemies, to enjoy a peaceful, grateful, confiding state of mind,
in view of that grace which gives him the present victory, and of that glory
which will crown his final triumph. Even Heaven itself, the abode of perfect
happiness, though not a scene of warfare, is a place of activity; for its
inhabitants "rest not day nor night," but "give glory, and honor, and
thanks—to Him who sits on the throne, who lives forever and ever."
I ask you, then, my young friend, in view of the
consideration now suggested, to examine anew your claim to the Christian
character. Is your true religion a true religion of indolent ease—or
of vigorous effort? Are you satisfied to float down with the current of
temptation—or do you exert yourself to the utmost to resist it? Do you lead
a life of watchfulness and prayer—or are you contented to leave open the
doors of your heart to every temptation? Be not deceived. If the path in
which you are walking is smooth and easy; if you find in it little of
conflict and self-denial, you may imagine indeed that you have found an easy
way to heaven—but take heed lest the event should prove that you had been
walking in the broad road to hell!
Again: Learn from this subject, that the
Christian's actual strength is in proportion to his sense of weakness.
"When I am weak," said the apostle, "then am I strong;" and the same
spiritual paradox occurs in the experience of every Christian. Observe the
solution of it. When the Christian, looking around upon his spiritual
enemies, and looking inward upon himself, feels his inability to grapple
with them; when he is brought most deeply to realize that, in his own
strength, he can do nothing; then he is induced to cast himself on the
boundless resources of God's grace. If left to his own unassisted efforts,
he feels that he is as helpless as an infant; but girded with Omnipotence,
he can do all things.
To a spirit of activity, then, my young friends—join a
spirit of dependence. Be fearless of temptation, only when you repose in
Jehovah your strength. And let every victory which you gain, while it
ministers to your humility by reminding you of your own weakness, carry your
soul upward to Almighty God in devout thanksgiving for his all-conquering
grace.
Finally: Happy they who are trained up in this world
of conflict—for a world of glory! There are those who enjoy far less
happiness than the Christian, who, by living here, are prepared only for a
world of despair. But the Christian, by the warfare which he maintains, in
the strength of Almighty grace, is becoming qualified for the everlasting
communion of angels. Does the thought ever rise in your heart, my young
friend, in some moments of impatience—that these struggles with temptation
are almost too severe to be endured? Beyond that dark valley which lies a
little way onward in your path, and into which you will soon descend, there
is a bright region of immortal glory. You cannot see it now; for the
darkness that hangs around that valley obstructs your vision. But as sure as
you are enlisted in Jehovah's service, you will soon be there. And thence
you will look back upon the conflicts of this short period of your
existence, and weep, if tears can be in heaven—that you should ever have
felt a sentiment of reluctance at enduring them.
Travel on then, young Christian; for though young, the
hills of Canaan will soon greet your longing eyes. And is it so, that you
are so near that bright inheritance? Is it so, that sweet fields beyond the
swelling floods, watered by the river of life, and smiling with immortal
verdure, are so soon to receive your weary feet? Welcome then all the
horrors of this howling desert—welcome all the fiery serpents which hell
itself can send out—welcome the most rough and stormy passage over Jordan—if
this brief hour of conflict is to be succeeded by an eternity of glory!