‘The Lord has done great things for us, whereof we are glad.’—Psalm 126:3
‘O love, you bottomless abyss!
My sins are swallowed up in thee;
Covered is my unrighteousness,
Nor spot of guilt remains on me;
While Jesus’ blood, through earth and skies,
Mercy, free, boundless mercy cries.
With faith I plunge me in this sea;
Here in my hope, my joy, my rest;
Here when hell assails I flee;
I look into my Saviour’s breast;
Away, sad doubt, and anxious fear!
Mercy is all that’s written there.
Fixed on this ground will I remain,
Though my heart fail, and flesh decay;
This anchor shall my soul sustain,
When earth’s foundations melt away;
Mercy’s full power I then shall prove,
Loved with an everlasting love.’
He who dares to prescribe one uniform standard of experience for the children of God, is either grievously ignorant or hopelessly full of self?esteem. Facts teach us that in the highway to heaven there are many paths, not all equally near to the middle of the road, but nevertheless trodden by the feet of real pilgrims. Uniformity is not God’s rule; in grace as well as providence he delights to display the most charming variety. In the matter of conversion this holds good of its attendant rejoicing, for not everyone loudly sings the same rapturous song. All are glad, but not all are alike. One is quiet, another excitable; one is constitutionally cheerful, another is inclined to sadness: these will necessarily feel different degrees of spiritual ecstasy, and will have their own peculiar modes of expressing, their sense of peace with God.
It is true, God usually displays to the newly regenerate much of the riches of his grace; but there are many who must be content to wait for this until a future time. Though he dearly loves every penitent soul, yet he does not always manifest that love. God is a free agent to work where he will and when he will, and to reveal his love even to his own elect in his own chosen seasons. One of the best of the Puritans has wisely written, “God oftentimes works grace in a silent and secret way, and takes sometimes five, sometimes ten, sometimes twenty years—yes, sometimes more—before he will make a clear and satisfying report of his own work upon the soul. It is one thing for God to work a work of grace upon the soul, and another thing for God to show the soul that work. Though our graces are our best jewels, yet they are sometimes, at the beginning of our conversion, so weak and imperfect that we are not able to see their lustre.” All rules have exceptions; so we find there are some who do not rejoice with this joy of harvest, which many of us have the privilege of remembering.
Therefore, let none conceive that our book pretends to be an infallible map from which none will differ; on the contrary, it considers itself happy if it shall suit the experience of even a few, and shall break the chains of any who are enslaved by the system of spiritual standards set up by certain men against whom it enters its earnest protest. Like the tyrant Procrustes [a mythical Greek giant who stretched or shortened captives to make them fit his beds], some classes of religionists measure all men by themselves, and insist that an inch of divergence from their own views must entail upon us present and eternal severance from those whom they delight to speak of as the peculiar people, who through much tribulation must enter the kingdom of heaven. Thus much by way of caution; we now proceed.
The style of our last chapter scarcely allowed us to ask the question, Whence this happiness? or if it suggested itself, we were in too much of a hurry to express our gladness to reply to the inquiry. We will. now, however, sit down coolly and calmly to review the causes of that exceeding great joy; and, if possible, to discover God’s design in affording us such a season of refreshing. Those who are now mourning the loss of the peaceful hours, sweet still to their memory, may perhaps be cheered by the Ebenezers then erected, and by them may be guided again to the Delectable Mountains [Pilgrim’s Progress]. Great Light of the soul, illuminate each of us while meditating on your former, mercies!
I. We shall discuss the causes of the happiness which usually attends a sense of pardon.
The study of experience is one far more calculated to excite our admiration of the wisdom, love, and power of God than the most profound researches which contemplate only the wonders of nature and art. It is to be regretted that masterminds have not arisen who could reduce a science so eminently practical and useful into some kind of order, and render it as rich in its literature as the science of medicine or the study of the mind. An exceedingly valuable volume might be written as a book of spiritual family medicine for the people of God, de scribing each of the diseases to which the saint is subject, with its cause, symptoms, and care and enumerating the stages of the growth of the healthy believer. Such a compilation would be exceedingly interesting, and its value could scarcely be estimated. In the absence of such a guide, let us continue our musings by the help of the little experience that we may have acquired.
1. Among the many things which contribute to the ravishing sweetness of our first spiritual joy, we must mention the circumstances in which it found us.
We were condemned by God and by our conscience, and harassed by fears of the imme diate execution of the wrath of God upon us. We were exercised, both day and night, by sorrows for the past and apprehensions of the future; impending destruction prevented sleep, and the sense of guilt made life a burden. ‘When,’ says one, ‘the usual labours of the day required that I should sleep, and my body, toiled and wasted with the disquiet of my mind, made me heavy, and urged it more, yet I was afraid to close my eyes lest I should awaken in hell; and durst [dared] not let myself sleep till I was by a weary body beguiled into it, lest I should drop into the pit before I was aware. Was it any wonder then that the news of pardon and forgiveness was sweet to one in such a case whereby I was made to lie down in safety, and take quiet rest, while there was none to make me afraid? “For so He giveth his beloved sleep”’ [Halyburton]. It is but natural that rest should be exceedingly sweet after such a period of anxiety. We expect that the sailor will exhibit his joy in an extraordinary manner when, at last, after a weary and tempestuous voyage, he puts his foot upon his native shore. We did not wonder when we heard of festivities in the islands of the West among the slaves who were declared free forever. We do not marvel at the shouts of soldiers who have escaped the hundred hands of death in the day of battle. Shall we then be surprised when we behold justified men exulting in their liberty in Jesus, and their escape from fearful perdition?
“This article originally appeared here at Bible Bulletin Board.”
