Consecration and the Assurance of Faith (Rewritten)

It’s hardly necessary to say much more to highlight just how important the assurance of faith really is. Anyone who genuinely longs for holiness of heart will naturally place great value on assurance, because holiness — understood in the gospel sense — is simply perfect love. And perfect love grows out of a mature, confident faith. In other words, deep assurance and deep holiness rise together.

When we look carefully at what assurance of faith actually is, it seems to rest on two essential elements. First, there is a steady, unshakable confidence in God — his character, his ways, and his promises. Second, there is a confident belief that we ourselves are accepted by God through Christ. Assurance is not limited to this personal element alone, as some people assume. Personal confidence rests on a broader, settled trust in God as a whole. Without that foundation, personal assurance has no place to stand.

A Life of Consecration and Trust (Rewritten)

From everything we’ve already considered, it becomes clear that the sanctification of the heart — and all the blessings that come with it — rests largely on two foundational principles. First, there must be a complete and wholehearted consecration of ourselves to God. Second, there must be a firm, steady belief that this consecration is truly accepted by Him.

We have already touched briefly on this second principle before, but it deserves further attention here.

When we consecrate ourselves to God in the way described, we take a step that is absolutely essential from every possible angle. Yet simply offering everything is not enough. In the same spirit of reliance, we must also believe — without wavering — that God has accepted that offering.

This belief is nothing less than trust in God’s faithfulness to His word. It is the confidence that God will receive — and does now receive — all who place themselves without reservation on His altar. This faith, more than anything else, secures the presence of sanctifying power in the soul. On the other hand, someone may consecrate themselves sincerely and yet dishonor God’s truth by failing to believe that their offering is accepted. In doing so, they cut themselves off from the very power that faith alone can bring, leaving themselves exposed and defenseless against the adversary.

Holy Love

The love of self seeks earthly treasure,
And close in secret chambers folds it;
But HOLY LOVE, no place, no measure,
In all the universe can hold it.

Go, tread the path of secret fountains, 
And thou shalt find it shining bright; 
Go, tread the forests and the mountains, 
And there it sheds its holy light. 

Go, seek the poor man's cottage lowly; 
Ascend the monarch's lofty tower; 
And, in the bosoms of the holy, 
'Tis everywhere their life and power. 

It marches forth with banners flying; 
No sword can slay, no prisons bind it; 
No fear, no grief, no pain, no dying, 
Can mar the happy souls that find it.

— Christ in the Soul (1872) LXXXIX.

A Faith That Takes Hold and Receives (Rewritten)

A person doesn’t really begin to experience the full effects of God’s work within them until they’ve taken the decisive step of consecration — described in our previous post. From that moment on, something changes. It becomes possible to see, in a new and deeper way, just how wide, high, deep, and far-reaching God’s inner work truly is. This is especially true when it comes to learning how to live by faith.

Most people who consider themselves Christians already have some experience with faith. They’ve exercised what’s often called justifying faith — trusting Christ as the source, and the only source, of forgiveness. But even so, many haven’t yet grasped what faith really is or how powerful it can be as an everyday, sustaining force in their lives. They may understand faith as something that brings pardon, but not as something that also makes us holy — and keeps us that way.

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 (Rewritten)

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.