— Religious Maxims (1846) CLXXVIII.
The life of those who dwell in the secret place of the Most High may be called a Hidden Life, because the animating principle, the vital or operative element, is not so much in itself as in another. It is a life grafted into another life. It is the life of the soul, incorporated into the life of Christ; and in such a way, that, while it has a distinct vitality, it has so very much in the sense, in which the branch of a tree may be said to have a distinct vitality from the root.
Monday, May 16, 2016
God's Friendship
Human friendships, resting on the changeable foundation of humanity, cannot be more stable, more enduring, than the frail foundation which supports them. They exist to-day; and too often are dissolved and scattered to-morrow. But he, who on Christian principles possesses God's friendship will never find him changing and different in future from what he is at present. He is a friend to-day, to-morrow, and for ever.
Saturday, May 14, 2016
Are We Standing Where We Should?
It is sometimes a serious and important question with the Christian, whether he is in his right position, standing precisely where he should stand, in the order of God's providence. In order to understand what we ought to do under such circumstances, we should be faithful, in the first place, to every obligation, which our present situation imposes; so that there shall be found within us no condemnations and rebukes of conscience for neglect of duty. And discharging our duties in this manner, we should remain calmly and quietly where we are, till the providences of God shall so clearly open another situation, that conscience, enlightened by the Holy Ghost, (as the conscience of a truly consecrated man always is,) shall condemn us for not leaving the present one.
— Religious Maxims (1846) CLXXVII.
Friday, May 13, 2016
When Our Ministries Do Not Bear Fruit
There are few situations more trying than those in which we find our labors for the spiritual good of others fruitless. It requires strong faith, especially in ministers of the Gospel, not to find the yoke of God's providence, which binds us to such a situation, a heavy one. Nevertheless it is possible, that the duty which we owe to our heavenly Father, requires us to stay there with the same submission and the same grateful confidence, which reconcile us to other trying circumstances.
— Religious Maxims (1846) CLXXVI.
Thursday, May 12, 2016
When Private Times are Injurious
Seasons of retirement and of private communion with God, are of great value; but they ought never to be sought and indulged in, at the expense of those more social and public duties, to which the providence of God clearly calls us. Such a course, which could originate only in the reality of selfishness under the appearance of sincere devotion, would be a violation of God's will, and would be exceedingly injurious.
— Religious Maxims (1846) CLXXV.
Wednesday, May 11, 2016
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.
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.
Tuesday, May 10, 2016
Judge Not
Reproachful epithets forbear;
He hath his place in Heaven's great plan;
The God, who made, hath placed him there.
He's POOR. But in his rags behold
A heart of pure and high intent;
And if his form is bent and old,
It is no cause of merriment.
Perhaps he's EVIL. Let thy prayer
Implore the God of truth and grace,
That soon his footsteps may repair
To virtue's bright and better ways.
OH, DO NOT JUDGE HIM. Hadst thou been,
Cast out like him to pine and die,
Thou too, allur'd and stain'd by sin,
Hadst needed tears of sympathy.
— Christ in the Soul (1872) LII.
Monday, May 9, 2016
Freedom From the Fear of God's Displeasure
And, what is greater than all, the man who in the exercise of faith is fully united to God has rest from the fear of the divine displeasure.
John Climachus, one of the devout and learned anchorites of Mount Sinai, in referring to the inward state of a holy man with whose history he had become acquainted, represents the divine grace to have been so marked and powerful in its operations as to have taken away from him apparently even the fear of God. Although such expressions are liable to be misunderstood, it is beyond question that they are susceptible of a meaning which involves an important truth. It is a universal truth, applicable in all times and situations, and not a particular truth limited to specific cases, that "perfect love casts out fear." Love and fear, in their very nature, are antagonistical principles. Where love rules, fear is extinguished. The triumph of the one is necessarily the exclusion of the other.
But, in laying down this universal principle, we must have a regard to the meaning of terms. The fear which is based upon the consciousness of guilt, is a different thing from that fear which is synonymous with reverence. It is certain, where love is perfected in the heart, that all fear which results from sin is extinguished. In that sense of the term, or rather with that limitation of the use of the term, the holy man ceases to fear. God has no sooner merged the character of a judge in that of a friend, than the man of God delights to be with him, and to converse with him. It is no more his nature to flee from God under the influence of sinful fear, than it is the nature of an innocent child to flee from its mother. He rests, like calm and helpless infancy, on the arm that is wreathed with lightnings. The lightnings have no terror for innocence; but rather, divested of everything which can harm it, they shine like flowers, and play round it like sunbeams. But to those who are in a state of fear, originating in sin, they retain the terrors of their original nature, smiting with a power which rends the rocks in pieces, and burning with a consuming fire.
John Climachus, one of the devout and learned anchorites of Mount Sinai, in referring to the inward state of a holy man with whose history he had become acquainted, represents the divine grace to have been so marked and powerful in its operations as to have taken away from him apparently even the fear of God. Although such expressions are liable to be misunderstood, it is beyond question that they are susceptible of a meaning which involves an important truth. It is a universal truth, applicable in all times and situations, and not a particular truth limited to specific cases, that "perfect love casts out fear." Love and fear, in their very nature, are antagonistical principles. Where love rules, fear is extinguished. The triumph of the one is necessarily the exclusion of the other.
But, in laying down this universal principle, we must have a regard to the meaning of terms. The fear which is based upon the consciousness of guilt, is a different thing from that fear which is synonymous with reverence. It is certain, where love is perfected in the heart, that all fear which results from sin is extinguished. In that sense of the term, or rather with that limitation of the use of the term, the holy man ceases to fear. God has no sooner merged the character of a judge in that of a friend, than the man of God delights to be with him, and to converse with him. It is no more his nature to flee from God under the influence of sinful fear, than it is the nature of an innocent child to flee from its mother. He rests, like calm and helpless infancy, on the arm that is wreathed with lightnings. The lightnings have no terror for innocence; but rather, divested of everything which can harm it, they shine like flowers, and play round it like sunbeams. But to those who are in a state of fear, originating in sin, they retain the terrors of their original nature, smiting with a power which rends the rocks in pieces, and burning with a consuming fire.
— edited from A Treatise on Divine Union (1851) Part 8, Chapter 5.
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