Bearing with the Infirmities of Others

"Forbearing one another, and forgiving one another, if any man have a quarrel against any: even as Christ forgave you, so also do ye." — Colossians 3:13 KJV.

We should bear the infirmities of others meekly and patiently, because... to meet them in any other way is only to increase, instead of diminishing our affliction. To permit ourselves to be unduly disquieted and troubled, is to add interior affliction to that which is external; and that, too, with much injury in other respects, without any compensating gain. The indulgence of a fretful and repining spirit, whether it result from the infirmities of others or from any other cause tends to weaken faith, to harden the heart, and effectually to separate us from God. On the contrary, he who manfully bears this cross, heavy as it sometimes is, experiences an internal support and blessing which is exceedingly consoling, and which truly makes the yoke of this temptation easy, and its burden light.

…it is obviously the will of God that we should thus be afflicted, in a greater or less degree, in the present life. “In the world,” says the Savior, “ye shall have tribulation.” Christ himself was a man of sorrows; and God sees fit, for mysterious but wise reasons, that Christ’s people should also know the bitterness of grief. And one of the forms of affliction, to which we are subject here, is the grief which we frequently and necessarily experience in connection with the imperfections of our fellow-men. God is willing that we should in this way be reminded of our fallen condition; and he sees it also, as we have already intimated, to be for our good. As there is nothing so desirable and glorious as being perfectly in the will of God, we ought to be not only resigned but happy, in experiencing an affliction which comes from the hand of Him, who doeth all things well. It will aid us in some degree, if we always remember, (which is sometimes not the case,) that afflictions which come through others, such as jealousies, misrepresentations, and various human persecutions, are as much afflictions sent upon us from our heavenly Father, as the physical trials to which we are subject. Christians have frequently experienced the practical benefit of this important truth. When, as they supposed, they had been misrepresented and injured by others, as soon as they connected with this unpleasant experience the idea that the hand of God was in it, they have found a sweet peace and resignation pervading the mind, which made even suffering delightful. And what was not the least beneficial result of this important view, it has enabled them at once to exercise the most kindly and Christian feelings towards those, who had been the wicked instruments of their suffering. Thus should the mind, in suffering as well as in joy, and in all kinds of suffering as well as all kinds of joy, soar above the creatures, and connect itself with God.

We would observe, further, that these remarks apply to the afflictions we endure from the infirmities of those who are most advanced in religion, as well as to afflictions from other sources. Truly holy persons may at times entertain peculiar views with which we cannot fully sympathize, and may occasionally exhibit, notwithstanding the purity and love of their hearts, imperfections of judgment and of outward manner which are exceedingly trying even to “those of the like precious faith.” We naturally expect much more from these persons than from others; and hence the keenness of our sorrow, if, notwithstanding their exemption from intentional sin, there is not an obvious perfection of judgment, of expression, and of manner. But we must learn to bear with trials from this source also, always remembering, although we are permitted to indulge the humble hope, that there may be, and that there are instances of holiness of heart on earth, that absolute perfection exists only in another world. Unless we adopt this view, and act upon it, we shall be apt unnecessarily to distrust the profession and hopes of others, which would be a great evil to ourselves and to them.

— edited from The Life of Faith, Part 2, Chapter 6.

Bear Patiently the Defects of Others

"Forbearing one another, and forgiving one another, if any man have a quarrel against any: even as Christ forgave you, so also do ye." — Colossians 3:13 KJV.

There are but few practical directions, which are more important to those who desire to be wholly the Lord’s, than the direction that we should bear with entire meekness and patience the infirmities and defects of others. The adoption in practice of any other principle than this necessarily involves us in continual disquietudes and troubles.
 

We should bear patiently with the infirmities and defects of others in the first place, because the doctrine of faith requires it. The doctrine of faith... will not admit of exceptions and distinctions, We do not, and cannot, have acceptable faith in God, unless we have faith in him to the full extent of what he claims to be, and of what he is. ...faith restores God to events, and makes him present in all things that take place; and also, ...faith identifies every thing with God’s superintendence, and accordingly makes every thing, with the exception of sin, an expression of his will. The doctrine of faith, therefore, requires us to believe, that God, in his permissive will at least if not in his direct agency, sustains a connection, and sustains it for good and wise purposes, even with human infirmities.
 

We should bear with patience the infirmities of others, in the SECOND place, because, in their results to ourselves, they evidently tend to our own purification. And this remark tends to illustrate what has already been said, viz., that God for wise purposes has a connection even with human infirmities. It is very clearly a part of God’s spiritual economy to purify his people by means of the various crosses which he lays upon them. We are not at liberty to make crosses for ourselves, but are cheerfully and quietly to meet and endure them, when they come upon us in the divine providence. Now, the infirmities of men, the many and trying infirmities of all around us, are a cross, which the divine providence lays at our feet at every step of our progress in the path of life. To be obliged to meet and to bear these infirmities is an affliction, oftentimes a heavy affliction. But it has a purifying power. It strikes a blow at self love. It makes us better.

— from The Life of Faith, Part 2, Chapter 6.

God Righteous in Judgements

"Clouds and darhness are round about him; righteousness and judgment are the habitation of his throne." — Ps. 97.2.

Sad is my heart, embittered with deep grief,
E'en as a bulrush I bow down my head;
The dark, substantial clouds are overspread,
I see no friendly hand, find no relief.
No more I taste the joys which once I tasted,
My hopes, my honors, and my pleasures flown;
There's nought on earth which I can call my own;
All blacken'd, wither'd, torn away, and wasted,
And, in their stead, afllictive tears and woe.
Oh, give me faith, Thou holy, sovereign Power,
That I may know the hand that smites me so.
Oh, give me faith, when the dark tempests lower,
To yield Thee reverence and submission due;
Thou art the righteous God, thy judgments just and true.

— The Religious Offering (1835) XIX.

Young Madam Guyon's Trials

Reflections on
the Life of
Madame Jeanne de la Mothe Guyon.

---

Her statement of some of her trials continues:

The place, which was assigned for my residence in my husband's house, was the room which properly belonged to my step-mother. I had no place into which I could retire as my own; and if it had been otherwise, I could not have remained alone in it for any length of time without offense. Kept thus continually in her presence, she took the opportunity to cast unkind reflections upon me before many persons who came to see us. And to complete my affliction, the person who was chosen to act as nurse to my husband in his sicknesses, and who at other times was expected to perform the offices of waiting-maid to myself, entered into all the plans of those who persecuted me. She kept me in sight like a governess, and treated me in a very singular manner, considering the relations actually existing between us. For the most part I bore with patience these evils, which I had no way to avoid; but sometimes I let some hasty answer escape me, which was to me a source of grievous crosses and violent reproaches for a long time together. And when I was permitted to go out of doors, my absence added but little to my liberty. The footman had orders to give an account of everything I did. And what contributed to aggravate my afflictions, was the remembrance of my former situation, and of what I might have enjoyed under other circumstances. I could not easily forget the persons who had sought my affections, dwelling, by a contrasted operation of mind, on their agreeable manners, on the love they had for me, and on the dispositions they manifested,— so different from what I now had before me. All this made my present situation very gloomy, and my burthen intolerable."

It was then I began to eat the bread of sorrow, and mingle my drink with tears. But my tears, which I could not forbear shedding, only furnished new occasion for attack and reproach. In regard to my husband, I ought perhaps to say, that it was not from any natural cruelty that he treated me as he did. He seems to have had a real affection for me, but being naturally hasty in his temper, his mother found the art of continually irritating him against me. Certain it is, that when I was sick, he was very much afflicted. Had it not been for the influence of his mother and of the waiting maid whom I have mentioned, we might have lived happily together.

As it was, my condition was every way deplorable. My step-mother secured her object. My proud spirit broke under her system of coercion. Married to a person of rank and wealth, I found myself a slave in my own dwelling, rather than a free person. The treatment which I received so impaired the vivacity of my nature, that I became dumb, like 'the lamb that is shearing.' The expression of thought and feeling which was natural to me, faded from my countenance. Terror took possession of my mind. I lost all power of resistance. Under the rod of my despotic mistress, I sat dumb and almost idiotic. Those who had heard of me, but had never seen me before, said one to another, ‘Is this the person who sits thus silent like a piece of statuary, that was famed for such an abundance of wit?’ In this situation, I looked in various directions for help; but I found no one with whom I could communicate my unhappiness; no one who might share my grief, and help me to bear it. To have made known my feelings and trials to my parents, would only have occasioned new crosses. I was alone and helpless in my grief.

— from The Life of Madam Guyon Volume 1, Chapter 5.

Although Affliction Smites My Heart

Although affliction smites my heart,
And earthly pleasures flee,
There is one bliss that ne'er shall part,
My joy, Oh God, in Thee.

That joy is like the orb of day,
When clouds its track pursue;
The shades and darkness throng its way,
But sunlight struggles through.

Oh Thou, my everlasting light,
On whom my hopes rely;
With Thee the darkest path is bright,
And fears and sorrows die.

— Religious Maxims (1846).

All for the Best

We dare not doubt, that all will end
In what is good, and true, and best;
That all we suffer here will tend
To make us pure, and wise, and blest.

'Tis true, rebellious thoughts arraign
The mysteries of God's decree;
But hearts of love will not complain
Of aught, that hath its source in Thee.

'Tis Thine, to mold us at Thy will,
Oh God, the artist of the soul;
'Tis ours, to sit, in meekness, still,
Beneath the blows, that make us whole.

Then smite us here, and smite us there,
As best Thy Providence shall find;
Afflictions, sent from heaven, repair,
And mold, and beautify the mind.

— Christ in the Soul (1872) LIII.

Afflictions

Afflictions are from the same benevolent source from which mercies originate. They equally indicate God's goodness, and in their result will show that they are equally beneficial, and perhaps more so, to those who, in being the subjects of them, receive them in a proper temper of mind.

— Religious Maxims (1846) CLXXIV.

God Felt It First

When we are injured and afflicted by our fellow men, we should remember, that our heavenly Father felt the wound first.  He always feels in what his people feel, and if, for wise purposes, he is patient and bears with the infliction, whatever it may be, we should both be taught and be encouraged to do likewise.

— Religious Maxims (1846) CLII.

Sorrows of the Sanctified Life

There is some reason to believe, that those, who love most, will suffer most; that those, who are the strongest in the Lord, will have the heaviest burden to bear.

They are afflicted in view of the condition of the Church. With all disposition to be grateful for what amount of piety there is, and also to make all due allowance for the deficiencies that exist, they perceive and cannot help perceiving, that the Church is, to a considerable extent, in bondage. They see very distinctly, that she lives far below her duties and privileges; those duties and privileges to which her God calls her. It is their sympathy with the Divine mind, as well as their sorrow for the Church, which affects them. How can they possibly be without grief, in view of the insulted honor and the disregarded beneficence of the God whom they love? And if this were possible, as it certainly cannot be, how is it possible for them to refrain from weeping, when the Church, for whom their bleeding Savior has purchased garments of light, voluntarily walk in sordid and defiled habiliments?

Support in Affliction

"God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.  Therefore will not we fear,  though  the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea." Ps. xlvi. 1, 2.

When, Father, thou dost send the chastening rod,
Oh, what am I, that I should dare reply,
Thy love arraign, thy righteousness deny,
And set the creature in array with God?
Far be it from my soul to question Thee,
For I am nought. Be this my only prayer,
That I may have due strength the rod to bear,
And bless the hand that doth environ me.
So that, what time the outward man doth perish,
Smitten with many stripes, inflicted deep,
The inward man renewed hopes may cherish,
And high above the storms in glory sweep.
We sink in the deep waters; but thy hand
Shall hold us in the waves, and bring us safe to land.

— American Cottage Life (1850) XV.

Holding God's Providences Dear

In the case of the truly holy man, God's providences are dear. In conforming to the law of Providence, he obeys the law which secures efficacy and application to every other law. The law of God, for instance, requires us to reprove sin in our neighbor; but unless we are guided in doing it by the providential law, we shall be likely to do more evil than good. If we reprove him without regard to time and place, — if we take an occasion to do it which will unnecessarily expose him to contempt and injury from others, while he is made the subject of our own reprehensions, — we shall obviously fail of our object.

The law of God requires us to do good, by speaking to impenitent persons on the subject of religion. But this requisition must be carried into effect, in connection with the law of Providence; in accordance with the appropriateness of time, place, the presence or absence of friends, and all other circumstances which are naturally or necessarily involved.

The law of God requires us to be benevolent; but benevolence, without regard Io the adjustments and claims of Providence, is not benevolence, but prodigality; in other words, it is unbelieving and unacceptable wastefulness. We are to consult God's will in the manner of giving, as much as in the fact of giving. His written law requires the fact; — his providential law indicates the manner. A failure in the latter, if it is intentional, vitiates and annuls the obedience of the former.

The law of God requires us to be submissive and acquiescent under those afflictions which from time to time come upon us. But submission to afflictions, without recognizing God's providential foresight and arrangements in sending them, is mere acquiescence in unavoidable events, and not acquiescence in God's wise and just agency; it is the submission of a brute animal, and not the submission of a Christian.

— edited from A Treatise on Divine Union (1851) Part 6, Chapter 8.

Consolation in Sorrow

Although affliction smites my heart,
And earthly pleasures flee,
There is one bliss that ne'er shall part,
My joy, oh God, in Thee.

That joy is like the orb of day,
When clouds its track pursue;
The shades and darkness throng its way,
But sunlight struggles through.

Oh Thou, my everlasting light,
On whom my hopes rely;
With Thee the darkest path is bright,
And fears and sorrows die.

— American Cottage Life (1850)

The Value of Affliction

The remark is somewhere made, and very correctly, that  "it is a great loss to lose an affliction."  Certain it is, that afflictions have great power in purifying the mind. And if it be true that mental purification, in other words, holiness, is a result of all others the most desirable, we may properly attach a great value to whatever tends to this result. Prosperities flatter us with the hope that our rest is here; but afflictions lead our thoughts to another and better land. "Whom the  Lord  loveth he chasteneth; and scourgeth every son that he  receiveth."

— Religious Maxims (1846) XXXVIII.

Think Not That the Blest...

Think not that the blest, whom the Lord hath befriended,
Though scorned by the world, and though smitten with grief,
Will be left by the arm, that has once been extended,
To suffer and perish without its relief.

Oh, no! When the clouds of affliction and sorrow
Encircle their souls with the darkness of night,
Thy mercy, Oh God, like the sun of to-morrow,
Shall gleam on the shadows and turn them to light.

He leaves us awhile to the billow's commotion,
To see if our faith in the storm will remain;
But soon He looks out in his smiles, and the ocean
Is hushed from its threats, and is quiet again.

— American Cottage Life (1850).