"Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there?
Why then is there no healing for the wound of my people?" Jeremiah 8:22
"I myself said, 'How gladly would I treat you like sons
and give you a desirable land, the most beautiful inheritance of any
nation.' I thought you would call me 'Father' and not turn away from
following me." Jeremiah 3:19
To Miss M., June 3, 1850.
My beloved sister in Jesus,
These "shalls" and "shall nots" reach even your hard
case, for, wayward though you may be, you have not power to get away from
them.
Spiritual life in the first quickening by the Holy Spirit
is as real and as sure of consummation, as it is in the ripest growth
thereof--though it is not always as easily discernible. Surely my spirit
feels union with yours in the bonds of the Covenant; yes, I feel one with
you in the indissoluble ties of love Divine, most truly believing you to be
part of the travail of my precious Redeemer's soul. For you, with worthless
me, He agonized in sweat of blood and pangs to us unknown, and He shall see
of the travail of His soul and shall be satisfied. All your sins shall not
be sufficient to prevent it; and, unworthy though I be, I do look in your
case to be partaker of His joy, and bid you welcome into the land flowing
with milk and honey. For as surely as you are by the quickening Spirit
passing under the rod in conviction, felt bondage, and heavy groanings which
cannot be uttered, so surely shall you "pass again under the hand of Him who
counts them," into the sweet bond of the Covenant, which is everlasting
love—a bond which cannot be broken by all the combined powers of earth and
hell. Take courage, then; "faithful is He who calls you, who also will do
it." Ah indeed, or it would never be done at all; for one step you cannot
take, one thought you cannot think, one word you cannot speak to forward
your own salvation. Poor hopeless, helpless one, you just lie entirely at
the disposal of holy sovereignty; and if He saves you not by His own power
for His own holy name's sake, perish you must and will. But He has given
commandment to save you, and before long He will pluck your feet out of the
net which now entangles your steps, will bring your soul out of prison, and
you shall praise His name who has indeed dealt wondrously with you.
You think my case was not half so desperate as yours, and
yet again and again you depict to the life the vile workings of my
abominably deceitful heart. These workings I would never mention to glory in
my shame—but only "for the lifting of Jesus on high," and for the
encouragement of those poor souls who are groaning in the pit of corruption,
and who feel that by every effort they only sink deeper into the mire. Too
well do I know what you describe when you speak of yielding to temptation,
feelingly crying out against iniquity, and yet at the same time conscious
of, in some sort, regarding it in my heart. Besetting sins I had, and did
really loathe them, yet I fell into them again and again, partly in
consequence of indulging them. Yet the outward surface was fair, although I
thought none on earth could conceive what a monster of iniquity I was. The
testimony of sin was at times deeply stamped upon everything I did, said,
thought, or looked, so that I was a burden and terror to myself, and would
most gladly have exchanged with any of the brute creation to get rid of my
polluted but never-dying soul, which trembled at the remembrance of the
holiness of Him before whom I must appear. I detested hypocrisy—but feared
it, because of being always kept outwardly moral and nurtured among
Christian friends and privileges. I trembled at a name to live, while I was
dead, and felt that I could make none really believe what a sink of iniquity
was working within. This made the feelings and expressions of my more
favored moments seem to me like hypocrisy; for if they were really
spiritual, how could I return to my filthiness, like the "sow that was
washed, to her wallowing in the mire?" True, I did hate the evil I was the
subject of, and yet I felt it had power over me, and also that there was
something in me which had a secret liking for it. These things greatly cast
me down, and made me think my spots could not be the spots of God's
children.
But how often since my deliverance have I seen cause to
bless the Lord that I learned war in my spiritual youth—that He brought me
into His temple by the north gate—that I felt so keenly the cutting blasts
of a long dreary winter, before basking in the beams of the blessed Sun of
righteousness—that the fountains of the great deep of iniquity in my heart
were broken up, and the flood of evil burst upon me, before I was brought so
blissfully into the banqueting-house, and reclined under the banner of love.
All the Lord's ways are right ways; but I do now esteem it a favor to have
been thus dealt with, because I observe those who have made more slight
discoveries of their own corruption before their pardon is sealed, do appear
often so astounded to find the enemy still in the land, and are ready to die
with fear when the trumpet sounds them from the banquet to the battle. But,
O thoroughly vile creatures, such as I have felt myself to be, do know that
the moment the sun goes down the beasts of the forest will again creep
forth, that the richest feast is only just to strengthen for more conflict
or tribulation, and that there can be no long cessation of arms while we
carry about this body of death. It may be, my beloved, you cannot yet take
any comfort from these thoughts, because you are so severely feeling the
painfulness of the discipline—but the end of a thing is better than the
beginning. Those "who sow in tears shall reap in joy." Those who feel the
heaviest load will prize deliverance most; those who are most beaten off
from confidence in themselves will be the least moved as they discover their
own weakness; and those who have the sentence of death most deeply inscribed
in their hearts will be most constrained to live outside of themselves, and
trust wholly in another.
May the Lord cheer your heart, for in the midst of all
your casting down He is drawing near you, and giving you cause to sing of
mercy as well as judgment. What are all those little bedewings upon your
spirit, and beamings of light through the gloom—but drops of mercy
betokening a shower of blessings to come. Oh, seek to give the Lord the
glory due unto His name! give not place to the devil, who would have you
"lie against your right," and say your wound is incurable. There is balm in
Gilead which can heal it. There is a Physician there who can reach it; He
can cure your body, He can bless your soul; and though the lion has roared
so frightfully, yet out of this eater He can bring meat, and out of this
strong one He can bring sweetness. You are just fitting for a marvelous
display of invincible power and omnipotent grace.
Shall Satan have you? No! you are none of his, though so
long disguised in black livery. The prey shall be taken from the mighty, and
the lawful captive delivered, not for price or reward on your part. You
shall come forth free by a royal grant, without any demand made upon you;
but mind it is because another has paid the full cost of your release. And
on whom then will your admiring eyes be fastened? Oh, on Him who not merely
said He would give—but really has given His own life for your ransom!
Eternal praises to this dear Deliverer who was anointed "to bind up the
broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the
prison to those who are bound;" yes, bound in affliction and irons, like you
and me, the iron bonds of our nature's corruption and evil, and the iron
grasp of the law revealing iniquity, and saying, "Pay me that you owe!" Oh,
this does bring down the heart, indeed, with labor and sorrow! we fall down,
and there seems none to help; then we cry unto the Lord in our trouble, and
He brings us out of our distresses. (Read the 107th Psalm, which has been
precious to me.) He has brought me out, though encompassed with every
improbability. I am free to praise Him and to encourage you, and I would
have you know that His prisoners are as safe as His freed ones. He is
judging and chastening you now, that you should not be condemned with the
world.
As for writing to me "to give you up as a hypocrite," I
should just have answered, "How shall I give you up, Ephraim?" "My
affections are troubled for you)" and if I should speak or think against
you, I should "earnestly remember you still." I can only say of our
correspondence,
"God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform."
Your letters touch a most sensitive chord in my heart,
and I weep tears of sympathy with you, and wondering thankfulness, that the
Lord should in the least refresh you by my unworthy means. It is
condescension indeed! I know not that any one ever so fully described my
former self and feelings. You say you write selfishly; so you must and will
while the case of your soul is, to your apprehension, pending in
uncertainty: it is the sphere where self is all-important and all-absorbing;
and it will often tend to produce an unkind fretfulness towards all around,
which you deplore, while feeling and manifesting it. But you do not say
enough about self. Do tell me about your health. I long to know of any
improvement, and how far you are an invalid. The Lord blend your will into
His! Your letters are very precious to me—but never write to increase your
suffering in mind or body. It is more pleasure and privilege to me to write
to you than I can describe, and the freedom of spirit therein is wonderful
as a stranger in the flesh—but not strangers now. I feel to know and love
you, though I often think you would never love me if you knew me in person;
it is all for Jesus' sake, and that is most sweet.
I am quite ashamed to write again so quickly to you—but
the Lord our God seemed to bring the portion, and though I have had many
misgivings, I felt such a flow of soul, that I feared to grieve or quench
the Spirit if I withheld it.
And now, my dear Miss M—, I commend you to that tender
Shepherd, who knows all your case and will meet it; and, with much love and
sympathy, I am your truly affectionate,
Ruth