Consecration to God (Rewritten )

From what has already been said, one thing should be clear: real growth in the life of faith is not likely without a settled, personal, and devout act of consecration. If a Christian is unwilling to make such a commitment — or is content merely to wish for it without actually carrying it out through a clear and decisive act — there is little reason to expect deep progress or the kind of inward spiritual experience that I will describe later.

This duty is so important, and so much depends on it, that it deserves careful and focused attention on its own.

How We Can Attain a Holy Life (Rewritten)

In our previous post, we explored an important idea: the deepest and most meaningful expressions of spiritual life — those moments when the barriers between God and the human soul seem to fall away — are inseparably linked to holiness of heart. If that’s true, then the next natural question is an urgent one: How do we actually become holy?

How do we move from weak faith to confident faith, from inconsistent love to a love that is whole and mature? How do we experience what Scripture often calls entire sanctification?

In response, we suggest that three essential elements are involved—always in partnership with the work of the Holy Spirit. Without these, holiness will remain more of a theory than a lived reality.

On Holiness of Heart (Rewritten)

 In our previous post, we talked about the Hidden Life — that deep, interior life of communion with God. A natural question follows: How do we enter into this kind of life? What path leads us there?

The gospel clearly presents the Christian life as a journey. It begins with forgiveness and acceptance — foundational and essential realities — but it does not end there. God intends for every believer to grow beyond those first steps into a deeper work of renewal and sanctification.

The apostle points to this progression in Hebrews 6, urging believers to move beyond the basics and “go on to perfection.” The question, then, is straightforward but searching: What direction should we take if we want to move past spiritual beginnings and walk in close, uninterrupted fellowship with God?

The Hidden Life (AI Rewrite)

There is a form of religious experience that can rightly be called The Hidden Life. When someone first becomes aware of their sin and, however imperfectly, puts their faith in Christ as a Savior, they truly begin a new life. Even if that faith feels weak or uncertain, it marks a real turning point.

But that new life is only a beginning. It carries within it the seed of something far greater — a restored and renewed existence that will, over time, grow into deeper understanding and stronger spiritual feeling. At first, though, it is still fragile. It struggles constantly with the old, natural way of living and often seems like little more than the faint light of dawn before the full day arrives.

Enriched by Giving

What blessedness it is to know, 
We cannot feel for others' woe, 
Without the added gift to heal
The griefs, which in ourselves we feel. 

We cannot do the smallest thing, 
With pureness in the offering, 
Without repayment in the heart, 
Far more than we ourselves impart. 

Make of thy soul a ceaseless flood
Of pure, benevolential good, 
A fountain, flowing out to men, 
And heaven shall fill it up again. 

Such is the heavenly way to live; 
Whate'er thou hast, to others give. 
GIVE LIFE TO OTHERS. Such alone 
Know how to heal and save their own.

— Christ in the Soul (1872) LXXXVIII.

Help in the Wilderness

"Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness, leaning upon her beloved"? — Cant. 8.6.

Alasl We travel in the desert now, 
Obscure our way,  perplex'd the paths we tread; 
With thorns and briars the vales are overspread, 
The mountains fright us with their angry brow. 
But who is this that hears us in distress, 
And when we fear we ne'er shall travel through, 
Doth sudden burst upon our raptured view, 
And goes before us in the wilderness! 
The Saviour comes! We lean upon his arm, 
And resting there, find strength amid our woe; 
The tempests cease that filled us with alarm, 
And o' er the burning plains the fountains flow. 
No more the storms assail, the thunders roll, 
But angels' songs are heard, and pleasures flll the soul.

— The Religious Offering (1835),  XXIX.

The Power of Love in Regulating Speech

[The person] who has faith in God, has confidence in the power of love, as well as in the power of the truth. And indeed they are closely related. True love is love without selfishness, which is always a love according to the truth. Such love will win its way against every sort of argument, which is not founded in the truth. Nothing has such efficacy in weakening prejudice, in soothing passion, and in bringing the mind of an opponent, in every respect, into a right position. If we had nothing but nature for a teacher, we could not fail to learn the lesson, that there is nothing so efficacious as the spirit of love in correcting the perversions of prejudice, and in prostrating the falsehoods of passion. But when we know from the Scriptures, that “God is love,” those who are like him can never distrust themselves in being what he is. And accordingly in a multitude of cases, holy love, having faith in God as its source, and having faith in itself as that which God will approve, will be silent, while the weakness and irritation of an unsanctified nature will fill the air with its clamors.

Faith and Social Controveries

Strong faith has the tendency to remove undue fears and anxieties, in relation to existing public evils. The man of strong faith does all that he can to remove such evils, and to prevent the extension of their results; but having done this, he is willing to leave every thing calmly and patiently in the hands of God. His soul is at rest in the consciousness of having done his duty. He remains silent in the Lord. 

But the anxieties of the man, who is weak in faith, never end. He is looking, first, in one direction and then in another, addressing one with denunciations and appealing to another’s sympathy, making a world of trouble by the constant use of his tongue, without effecting his ultimate object and probably with injury to it. His tongue does not rest, because his heart does not rest. And his heart does not rest, because he has little or no faith. And the movement of the tongue, founded upon the sin of a too weak faith, is necessarily unsanitary. In relation, therefore, to existing public evils, strong faith, having first led persons to do all their duty, leaves them in a state of patient and quiet waiting upon God. “I waited patiently for the Lord,” says the Psalmist, “and he inclined unto me, and heard my cry.” Psalm 40:1.

The Grace of Silence

Strong faith in its results tends to promote the grace of silence, by placing objects in their true position, and by assigning them their true value. To the natural mind all those things, which have a special relation to self, appear distorted and exaggerated. Indeed all things, whether they have a particular relation to self or not, inasmuch as they are perceived out of their true relations, are perceived incorrectly. The ordinary events and occurrences of life, as they are viewed in reference to this life alone, are too much magnified in importance. They expand themselves, in the mind’s eye, out of all just limits. Faith, on the contrary, views them in the light of eternity, which brings them to their true size. Events, therefore, which leave the man of faith in quietness of spirit, disturb and agitate the natural man, unloose the tongue of suspicion and complaint, and fill the world with his outcries. In the storm on the lake of Galilee, Christ was asleep in the vessel, while every thing around was filled with confusion and clamor. His disciples awoke him with the request, that he would interfere in their behalf. His reply was; “Why are ye fearful, oh, YE OF LITTLE FAITH? Then he arose, and rebuked the winds and the sea; and there was a great calm.” Matthew 8:26.

True faith is naturally followed by silence in regard to those trials and those interests, which are of a private and personal nature. It is so for the important reason, which has just been mentioned, namely, that it places objects in their true relation and assigns them their true value. And it is so for other reasons, which might be mentioned. When we are tempted and afflicted, it is natural for us to look for assistance and consolation somewhere. We are so constituted that we cannot well avoid it. And in the defect of faith, which attaches us to that which is unseen and spiritual, we turn and rest upon that, which is seen and sensible. We fill the ears of our families; and not contented with this, but looking every where for help except to Him who alone can give aid, we extend the voice of our complaints to every one, who is willing to hear. But it is very different with the person, who has faith; especially if it exists in a high degree. He has but little to say to men in his trials. He as naturally and confidingly goes to his heavenly Father, as the child, in its season of affliction goes to its earthly parent.

— edited from The Life of Faith (1852), Part 2, Chapter 14.

Faith Can Tame Inordinate Speech

["Even so the tongue is a little member, and boasteth great things. Behold, how great a matter a little fire kindleth! And the tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity: so is the tongue among our members, that it defileth the whole body, and setteth on fire the course of nature; and it is set on fire of hell." — James 3:5, 6 KJV.]

Many things, which are good in themselves, become evil in their excess. This is especially true of the faculty of speech, one of the most valuable gifts, which our heavenly Father has seen fit to impart to us. The tongue, which is described by an inspired Apostle as an “unruly member,” is ever in action; but not always in profitable action. Statements are made thoughtlessly and often maliciously; which, if they are susceptible of increase in the first instance, are magnified by repetition. Thus the first exaggerated statement soon becomes positive falsehood. And the falsehood, which at first was modest and mitigated in its manner, becomes bold, noisy, and intense.