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Post by Admin on Aug 9, 2024 15:01:28 GMT -5
"SEEK YE MY FACE."
It was common at one time for Christian people to speak of their conversion with joyous pride. It was said: '"At such and such a time I came to know the Lord." Afterward this was changed. Then it was said: "In such and such a way I came to know myself," or, "I was converted then and there;" or, "Then and there I gave myself to Christ;" "In this way or in that I found my Savior." And in whatever way it was expressed, it always meant the narrative of personal religious experience.
Every form of expression has its own value. It can scarcely be denied, however, that the older way of saying, "I have come to know the Lord," is in nowise less accurate, profound and fervent than the later ones. Jesus himself declared: "And this is life eternal, that they might know Thee" (John 17:3), and in saying this he confirmed the complaint of Hosea (4:1) that "there is no knowledge of God in the land."
It must be granted, however, that with the lapse of time the saying, "I have learned to know the Lord," has not proved satisfactory, because it has come to mean intellectual and doctrinal knowledge of God, apart from its mystical background. For this knowledge of God has more than one significance. He who knows nothing of the Divine Being, attributes and works, can not be said to know the Lord. But neither can he be said to know him, who has not learned to worship him in his Holy Trinity. In connection with this, moreover, the saying of our Redeemer should never be lost from sight: "No man knows the Father, save the Son, and he to whom the Son will reveal him" (Matth. 11:27). This revelation must include, without doubt, the light that shines forth upon us from the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
But as readily as this is granted, it is maintained with equal emphasis, that this does not constitute the whole knowledge of God. True knowledge of God includes a spiritual reality which far exceeds mere intellectual acumen, and which merely employs the abstractions of dogma and doctrine as means by which to clarify impressions that are received and to explain sensations of soul and inner experiences. And this has gradually been forgotten. Knowledge of God in the abstract has been retained. It has come to consist largely of the studies of formal and doctrinal expositions. And the man who can most cleverly explain some point of dogma is deemed to be best grounded in knowledge of the Lord.
This could not permanently satisfy. And so the experience of grace in the heart has gone over into the other extreme and mysticism has begun to interpret religion altogether, or nearly so, from the work of redemption by Christ, in connection, of course, with personal experience of grace. This was undoubtedly a partial gain. This inward state of soul warmly delights itself in the work of Christ's redemption, and glories in the way of salvation and is far better than a kind of Christianity that merely weaves webs for itself out of doctrinal intricacies.
But this is not yet the highest. The oldtime worthies were far more correct when they interpreted the knowledge of God to be both doctrinal and mystical. At this viewpoint God himself was always the central object of interest and religion (i. e., the service of God) came to be better understood. As we have been created after God's Image, it is only natural and indeed necessary, that in relation to God, our experiences should be as nearly as possible like those which we have in our relation of man to man. There is language in nature and in the animal world. But human language is altogether different and far richer, even though no word is spoken. The countenance speaks; it speaks through the facial expression, but particularly through and by the eye. Through the eye, as a window of the body, we look into a man's soul. And through the eye he steps forth from his soul to look upon, examine and address us. Compared with the face the rest of the body is dumb and inanimate. Charms, indeed, are also effected by the hand.
In Southern lands it is customary to accompany and emphasize every word with gesticulations. In moments of great excitement the whole body forsooth is tense and expressive of emotion. All this, however, does not deny that the farther one advances in culture and self-control, the more calm and composed the rest of the body remains in order that the face may speak. For thereby the expression of the countenance becomes far nobler and much finer. A rough fellow in the street speaks with both hands and feet. A king from his throne speaks with his look and majesty of face.
From this it necessarily followed that in our speech regarding our relation to God, "the face of God" appeared in the foreground, and that distinctions were made in that face between what proceeded out of his mouth, what was expressed by his eyes, and what breathes in anger from his nose. In the nobler sense we disclose ourselves by meeting each other face to face. Hence of human fellowship with God it could not be said otherwise than that the highest form of it is to meet God face to face.
This can not be taken in a material sense. Temptation leads to this and the Divine Father has been pictured in the form of an old man. Even Moses went astray in this direction when he prayed for a sight of God's face. It was a bold prayer. It brought this answer: "Thou canst not see my face, for there shall no man see Me and live" (Exod. 33:20). This, then, is
impossible. We should never think of our Holy God in an earthly way.The metaphorical language which is our only point of support in this matter, remains enveloped in mystical darkness. A visible face only accompanies what is corporeal. God is Spirit. Hence no physical features can be attributed to Him. In fact, when we look anyone in the face so intently as at length to grasp, as it were, his inner self, the external face is but the means by which we obtain knowledge of his inner existence. It can be imagined in the last instance that all outwardness may fall away and the knowledge of the person still be retained. But it is different with God. Physical means do not come in between him and us. Only as God's Spirit enters into us can our spirit enter immediately into the spirituality of God. As a result we obtainan equally vivid, and even a better, spiritual knowledge of the Existence, Being and Nature of God. Hence we only use figurative language that we might explain this knowledge.
The main point is that we should no longer be satisfied with an idea of God, and a scientific knowledge of God, but that we should come into touch with God himself, so that there is personal contact with him, as in and by our daily life he discloses himself to us, and personal relationship is established between the Living God and our soul.
The Scripture expresses this mystical knowledge of God in various ways. It speaks of the "secret walk with God," of "dwelling in the House of the Lord," of "walking with God." And the Gospel develops this into the rich and glorious thought that "The Father comes and tabernacles with us." But the most commonly used term for this higher knowledge is: "The face of God." The highest tribute that distinguishes Moses from all the prophets is that God "spoke with him face to face as a man speaketh with his friend." The meaning of "face" in this connection shows itself.
Hence when in Scripture the Lord meets us with the exhortation,"Seek ye my face," it is deeply significant. We can see a person afar off, we can hear from him, we can become conscious that he is nearby without having yet gone to him or having yet placed ourselves before him, so that he looks at us and we at him. So there are times in the life of the Christian when he feels impelled to have no rest until he finds God; until, after he has found Him, he has placed himself before Him; and standing before Him, seeks His face, and does not cease until he has met God's eyes, and the consciousness dawns full and clear that God looks him in the soul, and that he looks God in the eye of Grace. When this comes to pass, the mystery of grace discloses itself.
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Post by Admin on Aug 9, 2024 15:17:16 GMT -5
"EVERY ONE WHICH SEETH THE SON."
The one thing of all others among men is to believe on Christ. The Scripture announces in every way that God has given his only begotten son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. To this is added with equal emphasis that he that believeth not the Son shall not see life; but the wrath of God abides on him (St. John 3:16, 36). When asked what the great work is, which we have to do in obedience to God, Jesus answered: The work of God which
ye have to do, is, to believe in me. Faith in Christ shall once bring about the division in eternity, and this same faith leads to decision here on earth. Not a certain general religiousness, not personal pious inclination, and not a general faith on God, but solely and very
definitely faith in Jesus, in its presence or absence, determines eternal destiny, and decides the question already here below whether one belongs to the flock of the Good Shepherd, or whether he stands outside of it.
The whole Gospel hinges on this faith. The entire Revelation of God--read it in Heb. XI--from the days of Paradise was directed to this faith in Christ. The sola fide, through faith alone, is still in another sense than that in which Luther used it, the fundamental thesis of all higher human life. There are also all sorts of other marks and signs and utterances of soul and relationships among men which indicate another tendency in our life, or which can impart another tendency to it. And all this can have worth and significance, but only in a small circle, for a limited time and in a given measure. Sympathy, inclination, preference, affection, all blossom with silvery blossoms, but never dominate all of life, do not change the ground of existence,
and have no all-deciding and ever-abiding results. Faith in the Son of God stands far above everything else that flourishes in the world and acts as a uniting and inspiring factor among men.
All other things are in part, lack the deep fulness of life, and are as the grass that flourishes, and when the wind passes over it, withers. What alone remains as foundation of the inner life, what gives the tone to life and forever guarantees life in endless unfolding, is faith in the only
begotten Son of the Father, or as it was said in the prison at Philippi: "Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved."
This is the all-embracing, all-permeating, and in itself complete and perfect happiness, that endures unto the eternal morning.
We need not consider here what this faith is, how it operates, wherein it consists. It is a mystery which the church of Christ has tried again and again to express in words, but which she has never been able to state in all its fulness and in so many words, so as to exclude all
misunderstanding. When the church outlined faith too distinctly it led to cold and barren intellectualism without spiritual fervor; when she entered more deeply into the mystery of the hidden life of the heart, she frequently crowned a scorching mysticism, which presently
volatilized in excitement. But the sum and substance of it always was, that a lost world, an undone human heart, cried out for deliverance, and that age upon age all human ingenuity, heroism, and tender compassion had tried to provide it, but in vain, until at length God brought it. He imparted it, not in the form of a gift, but in a most holy person; who was not one taken from among us but one who came down from heaven; and not as an angel, which as God's servant and our helper stands outside of both Divine and human natures, but as one sent from heaven and come down to us as the only begotten Son of the Father, who having entered into our nature, brought God himself to our view. "Philip, he that hath seen me hath seen the Father; and how sayeth thou then, show us the Father" (John 14:9).
And therefore faith in Christ can never be anything else than the highest, the one and only thing. When God gives himself in Christ to the world, and enters so fully into our human life that this Son takes our nature upon himself, that the Word becomes flesh, which angels hail as Immanuel, God with us, the absolute and in itself complete revelation of Divine compassion has come to us. Hence it can neither go higher nor farther, since the end of what is eternally complete in itself has been reached. Nothing therefore transcends faith in Christ. Nothing can be placed by the side of it. There is nothing with which it can be compared. It transcends all human thought. It can neither be substituted nor excelled by anything else. Faith in Christ brings salvation, or there is none; without Christ there is no salvation for the lost world or for the heart that in itself is lost.
For the rising of this star of faith in the life of the soul Jesus demands an act on the part of the soul. Not, as is self-evident, that any action of the soul can ever create faith in Christ, produce it, imprint and implant it. The seed of faith is a Divine sowing. Faith in Jesus is as much a gift as Christ himself is. Faith is a work of Divine compassion, wrought by the Holy Ghost. But all faith in Christ has this peculiarity and necessity, that it must be taken up into the consciousness, and that therefore it enters into the consciousness with irresistible power. Faith enters in as a sensation, as an impelling force, as an inspiring principle, and as a power which governs and changes all of life. And in behalf of our consciousness faith is bound to obtain a content, a form, an appearance. It brings also emotions with it, even unspeakable emotions of uncommon power. But above and outside of all this, it also has an intellectual content, which needs to be understood, a content which fills itself with what we know from the sacred Revelation, of the person of the Son of God, of his life on earth, of his works, of his words, of his sitting at God's right hand, and of his continued activity from heaven. This is what is learned by heart; there is memory work in it; memory of names, facts, conversations; memory of words and deeds, mortal sufferings and glorious resurrection. Only memory does not cherish faith. Ideas and faith are not essentially one. Learning ignites no glow in faith. And therefore Jesus declares, that in order to become ever clearer, stronger and more inspiring, the one thing faith needs is, that you see the Son of God. "Everyone which sees the Son, and believeth on him, has everlasting life" (St. John 6:40). This seeing of the Son of God alone brings the rapture of soul, which maintains the glow of faith and makes it to burn brightly.
The entire content of the memory must be reduced from the memory to the unity of the image of the Son of God. It must all be united and brought together, in order to portray this image in sacred purity to the eye of the soul. And where this image makes itself perfect in you, all inner pressure and sensation and all holy emotion must fuse with this image in you, that you may enjoy it. This living image of the Son of God must impress you, and attract you, must not let go of you, must engage you and bring you into sacred ecstasy. Not as a knowing after the flesh. It must be a spiritual vision, but always such that the name of Jesus passes over into the person of the Christ, and that from the person of Christ the inner Divine being takes hold of you and with magnetic power attracts you. No glorification of Jesus, as in the days of Feith and Van Alphen, which brings the words to the lips: "Oh, were Jesus still on earth, at once I'd hasten to him." That would be the descent from the high to the low. The spiritual vision, the soul's seeing of the Son of God stands incomparably higher than what the disciples have ever seen and handled in Jesus' person on earth.
The Apostle knows the Savior far better than the disciple has ever known him. The Ascension has not impoverished, but enriched us. And the seeing of the only begotten Son of the Father which nurses the faith, feeds and every time refreshes it again, is such conscious fellowship of soul with the Lord of glory, that in and through him, the Eternal Being himself is reached, and, spiritually seeing the son with the eyes of the soul, the child of God knows himself to be one with the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. Hear the petition in the high priestly prayer: "Holy Father, I pray thee, that they all may be one, as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us; that the world may believe that thou hast sent me" (St. John 17:21).
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Post by Admin on Aug 9, 2024 15:43:44 GMT -5
"IN THE NIGHT I COMMUNED WITH MINE OWN HEART."
Sleep and prayer have this in common that both he who prays and he who sleeps closes his eyes, and retires from light into darkness. But they are not the same.He who prays will close his eyes, in order not to be distracted by what is seen around him. If possible he would stop his ears in order not to be distracted by noises from without. There is also prayer with others to which other considerations apply. But by itself one who prays seeks strength in retirement. This is expressed in what Jesus told his disciples: "But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet and shut the door behind thee" (Matth. 6:6). And he set us the example, as often as he withdrew himself for prayer into the solitude of the wilderness, or into the loneliness of the mountains.
Even in Gethsemane the Lord seeks solitude for his last agonized prayer, and leaves his disciples at a distance, that he might pray alone. Insofar as this expresses a desire for rest and quiet in prayer, it agrees with what we seek in sleep. But with this the likeness ends. With prayer we withdraw from the world that in our fellowship with Almighty God we may be more fully awake to the higher order of things. In sleep, on the other hand, we retire from the world, in order to lose ourselves in unconsciousness and in forgetfulness of self. At least, such it is, when everything is normal.
In Paradise it would always have been so. But in stern reality prayer and sleep are continually confused in a two-fold way. They are confused in such a way that prayer is overtaken by what belongs to sleep, and when we lie down to sleep the soul passes into the attitude of prayer. Not as though in prayer many actually fall asleep. That this happens sometimes when prayer is too long, is granted. This, however, is always exceptional. But what frequently happens is, that he who with others prays with him who leads in prayer, either allows his mind to be diverted or unconsciously lets it rest. And that the night, which was intended for sleep, frequently ends in prayer, see it in the case of Asaph, as in Psalm 77 R. Vs. 2,5, he complains: "My hand was stretched out in the night to my God in prayer. Thou,Lord, held mine eyes watching. In the night I communed with mine own heart; and my spirit made diligent search."
When we close our eyes for sleep, or for prayer, we go out from light, by excluding the same, into desired darkness. We do this with respect to sleep, that with our spirit we may sink back into the darkness of unconscious life; and with respect to prayer, that, shut out from light of day, we may seek in clearer consciousness the higher light which shines around the throne of God. In nature, light is not disturbed by darkness, for darkness is there on itself, and it is only by increasing light that darkness is overcome.
At first there was no light, but darkness. "The earth was without form and void and darkness was upon the face of the deep;" and in that darkness light broke forth by the creative word of God. And when, later on, darkness again covers the earth, it does not obtrude upon light from without, but is there of itself, as soon as light withdraws itself. This is so in the world of matter, and spiritually it is not otherwise. There was darkness in nature, and so it remained until God created light; and so soon as God withdraws the light of sun, moon and stars, darkness returns.
So in the mind of a new-born child there is at first entire unconsciousness and ignorance. This continues until the light of the consciousness awakens in the soul, and gradually gains in clearness. But this clearness of the consciousness can fade again into darkness.
This happens when one faints, or is hypnotized,in part also with the insane and the dotage of old age. The same happens moreover every night. Sleep is the passing of the light of our consciousness into the twilight of slumber, and finally into deep, sound sleep. At night the light of day without, and the light of self-consciousness within, set in darkness and unconsciousness. It may even be said that the more absolutely the light of the self-consciousness passed out, the better and more healthy was sleep. Not to know anything on waking of the seven hours we slept, is the most normal operation of nature.
In paradise, before he fell, the first man slept like this. So the young child still sleeps at mother's breast. So the weary day-laborer of little intelligence in part still sleeps. But such sleep is no longer the rule. Our sleep is all too frequently restless, either when physical causes of sickness or excesses disturb it, or when the mind is too excited to allow the self-consciousness to pass into entire forgetfulness. And so we come to dreams or to half or entire sleeplessness.
Dreamlife is a dark domain which has been investigated but little. It is enough that we know what anxiety and agony it can occasion; how in sinful imagination it can soil the consciousness; how prophecies and premonitions sometimes loom up in it; and also how God has used it more than once as a means by which to execute his holy Counsel.
Next to dreamlife, however, and more distressing, is the woe of a sleepless night, when cares keep the heart awake; when the mind is too much on a tension; when a task, which awaits us in the morning prevents us from sleep, or when sickness holds back the passionately longed-for sleep from our eyes. Sleeplessness is a part of human misery, which is foreign to younger years, but which in later years few escape.
As in good prayer the mind excludes itself from the world, but is the more clearly awake to the higher world of thought, so it can also be in the dream and in sleepless slumber.
In sleep the mind should sink away in forgetfulness, but on the contrary it lives the more intensely in terrifying or in holy dreams. And in place of rest the mind finds in sleepless slumber only a greater tension and far more pressing and wearing activity. And the Lord is also in this. Asaph expressed it with fervent piety: "Thou holdest mine eyes watching."
This spiritual recognition, that it is not chance, but the Lord who holds our eyes waking, shows that dreamlife and sleepless slumber serve a purpose. By means of them the Lord intends to do something; and when at night the heart communes with itself, and the spirit makes diligent search, this, too, is a part of our life for which we are responsible.
Sin consists not only of words and deeds, but also in thoughts, also in what goes on in the mind. We are responsible even for our dreams. Not for what happens to us in our dreams, but for what we do in them. We do not all have the same dreams. Every one dreams according to the content of his imagination. And however little we may be lord and master over our dreams, everyone feels, that in case our Savior has known a dreamlife, it can not have been otherwise than perfectly holy. In the night itself we can not make the dream different from what it is, but purifying our imagination and cleansing our thoughts will in time transport our dreams into sinless domains.
Our responsibility for what our mind does in sleepless hours of night is of necessity far greater. For in the darkness of night our spirit can invite the world, or it can meditate and ponder on holy things. It can also toss itself about in us without will and without aim. What our spirit then must do in the darkness, is to open the door to holy things and dwell in a higher world. Even when in the midst of sleep there is a quarter of an hour of wakefulness the mind can and should engage itself with God. The first thought on awaking must be again of God. "O God,Thou art my God: early in the morning will I seek Thee" (Ps. 63:1 Dutch version). For him who so understands it, sleepless slumber is a spiritual gold mine.
In such sleepless nights many people have been wonderfully enriched in spiritual things. Here also is Divine mercy. Sleeplessness is occasioned by our misery, but this misery also God by his grace transposes into supreme mercifulness. In such nights God has remembered his own with such spiritual benefits that a night of sleep has sometimes seemed a loss. Divine work goes on through the hours of night in the souls of his elect in a way that glorifies his name.
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Post by Admin on Aug 9, 2024 16:09:44 GMT -5
"THOU TRIEST MINE HEART, THAT IT IS WITH THEE."
Many causes can interrupt the secret walk with God. The most mysterious to the pious mind is, that God withdraws his face, in order, by the want of it, to make you thirst more strongly after it. The most common is, that earthly interests so engage the attention and keep it absorbed that the soul is ensnared by them. And the most offensive to the soul is that actual sin came in the way, which not only broke your fellowship with God, but continued to prevent the return to the nearness of the Holy One.
Actual sin alone has mention here. A word, a deed, of which you felt, when you faced it, that it would be a sin to you, and which you failed to evade. A sinful tendency, a sinful mood, especially a sinful desire, can seriously affect the fellowship with God, but the working of it is different. For on this side of the grave this sinful inclination will stay by us, but provided it is not cherished, this by itself will not prevent the secret walk with God. The secret walk with God is always in Christ, from which it is evident that we do not come to God as one who is holy, but as one who in himself is a sinner. But it is different with a sin that has been committed. Then there was consent, permission and the doing of it. Then at once the light of God's benign countenance was gone. Then on the side of God it become dark, and the inclination to flee from God was stronger than to be near unto God.
We perceive this change in our spiritual attitude clearly, at once and in the most painful way, when it was a sin that tempted us; a sin which, once committed, startled us, and for which we would give anything if the stain of it could immediately be removed from our soul. When, if we may say it in an ordinary way, it was a bad sin. For nothing shows our low moral viewpoint so sadly as our general ignorance of our minor daily sins, neglected duties, unlovelinesses, expressions of egotism, pride and vanity; small untruths, little dishonesties, and much more of the same kind.
This is still entirely different from what David calls "secret faults." They are faults which may stain the garment, but so little as to escape our notice. This refers to unknown sins, and which only with later development of soul, will be recognized by us as such. But we know the sins which we say are "not so bad." We have become accustomed to them and therefore they have ceased to trouble us. Our soul no more reacts on them. And of this sort of sins it is certainly true, that they hinder the secret walk with God, but do not prevent it. They do not break what once existed. But they affect the hidden walk with God to this extent, that it becomes sporadic, remains fellowship from a distance, and that we fail of the fuller enjoyment of the same.
Interruptions by sin in fellowship with God are only possible when, as a rule, you are near unto God, when you know him in all your ways, and have been initiated into the secret of salvation, and then commit a sin which startles and frightens you, and brings a dark cloud to your sky, and you are thrown back upon yourself, and you feel that you have no more part in the lovely walk with God.
In Psalm 32 David speaks of such a break, and frankly confesses that this condition was continued because he kept silence. "When I kept silence thy hand was heavy upon me day and night." But at length he broke this silence, "I said, I will confess my transgressions unto the Lord." And when he has done it, the break is at once removed. Now he seeks and finds God again, and so he sings: "For this shall every one that is godly pray unto thee in a time when thou mayest be found. Thou compassest me with joyful songs of deliverance." Yea, now he meets with God again, and God does not repel him nor hold him back. But he hears it sweetly whispered in his soul: "I will instruct thee; I will guide thee with mine eye."
And in this Davidic experience of soul lies the only true diagnosis, and the only effective medicine. When we were so weak, nay so wicked, as willingly and knowingly to commit a sin, the first impression which it made on us was that we wanted to hide from God, that we were afraid of appearing again before his presence, and that with the bitter remembrance of our sin we drew back within ourselves. Not from enmity, but from fear. Not from lack of will, but from shame. We well knew that we must get back to God, but we postponed it. We wanted to pray, but we allowed time to intervene. We kept silent. And in this oppressive silence, which so sorely weighed upon the soul, we got farther and farther away from God.
This is the diagnosis, i. e., the explanation of the wound from which at such a moment the soul bleeds. The only true medicine is immediately to break your silence, seek solitude, kneel down, and without sparing yourself confess plainly and candidly your sin before God, call upon him for forgiveness, yea, implore him that he take not his Holy Spirit from you.
This takes pains. At such a time you must do violence to yourself. You feel the sharpness of God's anger, and back of it you must grasp his mercy. But the outcome of this is always surprising. It is just as David said. It breaks at once the ban which sin put upon the heart. Something in the soul gives way, and liberation follows, deliverance, reconciliation, and God comes near in faithfulness as Jesus pictured it in the shepherd with the lost sheep. It seems as though in such a moment God draws nearer than ever to convince you of his infinite compassion.
Satan whispered within: "Stay away from God," but your Father in heaven called out to you: "No, come unto me, my child." In this approach of your sin-confessing heart to God, and of God to your soul, the interruption falls away, and it is good for you, unspeakably good, to be near again unto God.
And what is the secret of this healing work of the soul? Is it not stated in Jeremiah's words: "Lord, thou knowest me, thou seest me, thou triest mine heart that it is with thee" (Jer. 12:3 Dutch version). That which makes the utterances of Psalmist and prophet so striking is, that they interpret all of life within the scope of battle for or against God. Battle against God on the part of Satan. Battle against God on the part of unholy, worldly powers. Battle against God's holiness on the part of every sin. They do not speak the weak, cowardly language of a self-developing and degenerating moral life, but they relate every thing to God, as the center of all things. It is all a battle of sin and unrighteousness against God, and a battle of God against all unrighteousness and sin. It is an age-long battle, from the days of paradise on, which will not cease until the end of the ages, when God in Christ shall triumph over the last enemy. And we are all involved in this conflict, and have our part in it. When we sin, it is on the side of Satan against God. When we live by faith, it is on the side of God against Satan.
This is the interpretation of life as given by prophets and apostles. And this should be the profound and striking interpretation of life on the part of all God's children. And what is a sin which we commit? Even this: that in an evil moment we strengthen the forces of evil against God, and that in co-operation with Satan we oppose God. And if this be the case what is it to make confession of sin, save that so soon as you realize this, you at once step out from among the ranks of Satan and return to the battle lines of God, imploring mercy, that you may be counted worthy again to fight under his banner, and again to join forces with him?
And now the heart appeals to the omniscience of the God of all compassions. Did you mean to desert the ranks of God and to join the forces of Satan? No, no; and once again, No. You did not mean to do it. The thought of such an evil did not rise from within yourself. You allowed yourself to be taken unawares. You slipped without realizing the dreadful wickedness of your deed. And now as you perceive that this is the sin that you committed, you appeal to God. In the inmost recess of your heart there was no desire to desert God. And your sorrow of soul, your remorse, your self-reproach is, that in the face of it, you have incurred the guilt of an act of enmity against God. And, therefore, you plead with him and ask him, the all-knowing, whether as he tries your heart, he does not see, and does not know, that in its deepest depths, as against Satan, it is with him.
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Post by Admin on Aug 9, 2024 16:12:29 GMT -5
"WHATSOEVER YE DO, DO IT HEARTILY, AS TO THE LORD."
God, in his word, opposes every tendency and every effort to break up life into two parts; one for ourselves and one for God. He allows no division, no separation; no six days of the week for us and Sunday for God. No unconsecrated life interspersed with consecrated moments. No unhallowed existence through which at distances a sacred thread is interwoven. No life apart from religion marked here and there with piety. No, the claim of Scripture on this point is absolute, and though it seems strange to us, the claim remains: ""Pray without ceasing;" in everything give thanks; rejoice in God always; and: "Whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord" (Col. 3:23).
To Thessalonica Paul writes: "Pray without ceasing. Rejoice evermore. In everything give thanks" (I Thess. 5 : 16, 17, 18) . To the Philippians: "Rejoice in the Lord always" (Phil. 4:4). And to those at Colosse: '"Whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord" (Col. 3:23). There is no respite given. No compact made with you. God takes no pleasure with anything less than all of your life. Where faith becomes the rule of life, its dominion aims to be absolute. No finds, no excuses, no half-measures are tolerated. He who would live this life as a child of God, as a servant of Jesus Christ, inspired by the Holy Ghost, must be led and carried in everything by faith. He who divides and makes distinctions robs God of a part that is God's. If you would love God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind and with all your strength, every subterfuge is closed off, and the all-claiming and all-demanding character of faith is founded in Love itself.
Every division works injury to your life, and to your religion. He who makes division here, and does too much for religion, neglects his family or his calling. And he who divides and is not pious, gives the lion-share to the world, and with an avaricious heart deducts from what he pretends to set aside for God in strength, time and money. He who would have the blessing of nearness unto God and of going through life in secret fellowship with God, can not cultivate it spasmodically. With him God must be known in everything he undertakes to do. God must be the sole end and aim, God must be entreated and given thanks. This can not be done in a formal way with closing of eyes and folding of hands and muttering of words, but in the inmost chamber of the heart and in that hidden recess of self-consciousness whence are the issues of life as well as of prayer.
This is opposed by the idea that a clergyman can continually turn this fellowship with God into a reality in life, but not a business man; that the man or woman who is zealous for missions, philanthropy or evangelization, stands in holy service before God, but not the father and mother in the family. The work of a clergyman, missionary or nurse is then called consecrated labor, and the work performed by the gardener, merchant or seamstress is said to be secular. This false representation of the matter has worked much injury to piety and to vital godliness.
It goes without saying that he who ministers in the sanctuary is of itself more closely engaged with holy things, and enjoys an uncommon privilege, of which he shall give an account before God. Nor can it be denied that at the exchange and in the shop it takes more effort and victory over self to continue in everything near unto God. This is a greater struggle in which God knows what we are made of, and is mindful that we are dust. But by the side of this stands the fact that ministering in the sanctuary brings with it in no small measure the danger of becoming accustomed to holy things, and of handling the same more and more with unholy hands, whereby judgment is made so much the heavier. In best churches and in most excellent missions also evil times returned again and again, in which priests and priestesses profaned the sanctuary, and when not from among them, but from among plain patrons and working people and shop-keepers and merchants the new action arose, which restored the holy to honor. A pious preacher, a godly missionary, a consecrated nurse, and likewise a truly godly warden, elder or deacon, represents a glorious power. But it is a mistake to think that of itself the more consecrated calling brings true godliness with it. Young preachers of tender consciences, have frequently been bound to confess that they were put to shame by the godliness of many a plain member of their congregation.
Moreover, it must be granted that in our extremely defective condition certain definite and special consecration of a part of our life, of our strength and of our money to religious activities and interests is necessary. You can not serve God all the days of your life in such a way but that the day of rest retains its supreme significance. You can not continue near unto God in everything you do in such a way, but that the particular moments of direct prayer, of worship in the Word, and of thanksgiving and praise continue to be a need of the heart. Neither can you practice justice and compassion in everything in such a way, but that setting apart of special gifts for the service of God is appreciated by you as a sacred duty.
In the Jerusalem above this duality also shall fall away. The church triumphant in heaven shall not stand in, nor by the side of, the life of glory, but shall be that life itself. But such it is not as yet here. It can not be otherwise but that here this duality continues. The church is something else than the family or the shop. The mighty antithesis between things of this world and things of the Kingdom demands this. But this may never allow religion, piety or godliness so to withdraw itself within the sacred domain as to become a churchly life with godliness by the side of a life in the world without godliness. Godliness may find a more exalted utterance within the sacred domain, and impart strength for daily life, but to be true and genuine, it must be a golden thread that maintains its glistening brightness throughout all of life.
It all depends on whether you truly believe that God is almighty, the Creator of heaven and earth. Whether you believe and consider that every material you handle is his creature; that every article of food and drink on your table is his creature and his gift; that your body and all your senses are his embroidery; that every force of nature with which you come in contact, is his omnipresent working; that every circumstance you encounter has been appointed you by God; that every relation in which you are placed by blood, by marriage, by appointment or choice, has come to you under and by his providential plan; that your every exigency and difficulty has been put in your way by God; that every task or duty to which you are called comes to you from God and has a definite significance in his government; that you can not think of anything so high or so low on earth but it all forms a link, great or small, in the chain of his dispositions; that no joy is enjoyed and no suffering suffered, but God measures it out to you; in brief, that nothing can be thought of in heaven or on earth, and nothing can exist, but God, who created heaven and earth, maintains and governs it, has a holy purpose with it all, in everything is God who disposes and ordains, and who in all things uses his people, which includes you, to carry out his counsel. To make an exception of anything whatever with reference to this, is unbelief.
When, therefore, the Apostle says: "Whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord," he says nothing but what immediately flows from your confession that you believe in God the Father Almighty, the Creator of heaven and earth. For then there is nothing in your personal life, or in your family life, or in your study and work, or in anything you do, that would separate you from God, and that should not rather, provided it is rightly interpreted, lead you to God. You can, indeed not sin as to the Lord. Sin separates, breaks fellowship and throws you back upon yourself. But for the rest, whether you stand behind the counter or work at your trade; whether you sit in your office; whether you lose yourself in study or devote yourself to art; whether you are at home or in other company--it all can and must be one working, one activity with strength imparted of God, in things Divinely created, for a purpose which God has ordained.
Hence the question is whether your faith, not in the mysteries of salvation, no, but your faith first of all in God as Creator of heaven and earth floats with you as a drop of oil on the waters, or whether it permeates all of your life and is applied by you to everything. In case of the latter there is no division anywhere, and the man who plows and sows, the carpenter at the bench or the stone layer, the mother who cares for her children and her home, in brief, every man and woman, in any position of life whatsoever, never labor apart from God, but always in his creation and in his service.
Then to be near unto God, the fellowship with the Eternal, the secret walk with him who knoweth the heart, is no sweet-smelling savor by the side of life, but the breath of life itself, spreading its sweet perfume upon your whole existence. Then in everything you are glad, because the majesty and the grace of God breathes upon you from everything and in everything. Then, in everything, you pray, not with the lips, but in the heart, because, in whatsoever you do, you feel your deep dependence upon his Almighty power. Then in everything you give thanks, because all trouble is outcome of his grace. And every adversity is intended to stimulate you, with the aid of ever more grace, to greater exertion of strength. Then everything will be done heartily, i. e., not mechanically, not slavishly, not of necessity, but willingly and gladly, because in this way you are permitted to do it in his service. And thus you attain that high level of existence where godliness and fulfillment of duty are one, because whatsoever you do, in quiet and restful nearness unto God, you are permitted to do as to the Lord.
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Post by Admin on Aug 9, 2024 16:13:59 GMT -5
"A DECEIVED HEART HATH TURNED HIM ASIDE."
The world, our environment, our business, yea, and what not, as a rule leads us away from God. This means that it takes definite effort, in the midst of daily activities, to keep our thoughts and utterances of soul directed toward God. There have even been whole days of which at night on bended knee, it had to be confessed that the mind and soul had not once been lifted up to God. To picture this in brighter colors than the case warrants, will not do. Thus and not otherwise is the sad reality with many whole days of life in which God has had no remembrance. We were too busy, too overwhelmed, too much diverted and preoccupied than that at night we could retire with the blissful experience of how good it was "to be near unto God."
This is, of course, exclusively a result of the sinful character of our earthly life, for by itself there was no need that anything should draw us away from God. God does not stand by the side of things. He is in all things. From him, by him, and to him. Diversion is a necessity when too onesidedly and too exclusively our spirit has been engaged with one thing. This is noticed by the staring eye, the expressionless face, and the constant return to the same subject. And the specialist recognizes the danger of this. When the soul and the mind are directed to one thing too onesidedly and too continuously, so that one thinks of nothing else, forgets everything else, and involuntarily keeps busy with the selfsame thought, there is the beginning of mental disorder, and diversion is the proper medicine.
This is not the case with thinking of God. In the created world a number of things stand side by side of one another, each with their own claim, and our mind is normal when in just proportions we pay proper attention to them all. If this order is broken, by thinking too much of one thing, and too little of the other, equilibrium is gone and the spirit fails at length in its own confusion. God, on the other hand, never stands by the side of a created thing. It should never be ninety parts of our attention for the creature and ten parts for God. Neither should it be ten parts for the world and ninety parts for God. In the full one hundred parts of everything God is to be worshipped. Jesus emphatically declares: Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy strength, with all thy soul and with all thy mind. In the same way the one hundred parts of our strength should be operative in created things. But both should proceed so as to enter into and permeate each other, and together constitute one blessed life. Thus it is in the Father house. Thus it was in paradise. Thus it sometimes is here for the space of one brief moment. But as a rule it is so no longer. There is division. There is distraction. The struggle of godliness is to oppose this division, to resist this distraction, and yet, at least parts of each day and parts of each night, "to be near unto God."
What divides and distracts should be justly estimated. With respect to this, Adam is still inclined to put it upon Eve, and Eve to charge it to the serpent. The world, the many activities of life, the diversions of the moment are held accountable for our distractions and life without God. One is busy from early morn till late night, and in dead weariness one falls asleep, sometimes before prayer is said. There is no time for God and for his service. There may be for those who quietly remain at home, but not for the man of business. And so life is ever held accountable, the restlessness and noise, the ever-enticing world. Or complaint is made of the body. One does not feel well, headaches, fevers and other troubles keep the spirit bound. Only there is almost no complaint of one's own soul. And against this Isaiah enters his striking accusation: Your deceived heart hath turned you aside.
Surely the world has come in with its enticements, life with its activities. Thereby you have allowed your heart to be deceived. But it is not the world, nor its activities, but your deceived heart that has turned you aside. It has even turned you aside to this extent, Isaiah adds, that your soul can no longer save itself, i. e., it can no longer escape from its own intoxication. Isaiah declares this regarding the man who has an idol for himself. A tree has been taken home. The knotty parts have been cut off, and of the smooth part the poor soul makes an idol. And it is not the idol that is at fault, but the idolatrous thought in the soul, which had captivated the heart, before he made his idol. That piece of wood, that idol is but the expression of what went on in his heart. Not the idol, but his deceived heart turned him aside, even so effectively" that at length he no longer sees the difference between a piece of wood and God. Or, as the prophets put it: "He is turned aside so far that he can not come to discover that there is a lie in his right hand" (Isaiah 44:20). This selfsame evil operates, not only among the heathen, but, if in another manner, among Mohammedans, Jews and Christians. It is a human evil. An immediate outcome of our sinful nature.
How does this show itself? Very sharply and clearly, as soon as a magnet operates upon the heart, which attracts, interests and holds the attention, and which involuntarily and of itself again and again stimulates the soul and the senses, fills the thoughts, animates conversation and brings one into a fanatical state of mind. This does not mean the tension and activity of spirit, when duty, business, the course of conversation, etc., arrest the attention to itself. On the contrary, in this case lack of attention and neglect of due examination of the interest at stake, is a fault; and may even be a sin. No, the idolatrous turning aside of one's inner self only becomes apparent when this magnet continuously draws, and even without occasion, and when the drawing does not operate from without, but from one's own heart.
There are people who, when they come to you, you instinctively know in advance what they will talk about. There is but one thing that fills their minds. One interest to which they are continually awake. With one it is money, the idea of becoming rich, of increasing gains in every way. With another it is pleasure and the desire to shine. With a third it is art, music, a concert, a piece of literature, a museum, so long as it is dedicated to art, and makes an artistic showing. With another, again, it is a scientific problem which constantly pursues him. With another, again, it is politics, or society gossip, or the hunt, or sport. In all this, spiritual sickness is symptomatically present as soon as one particular interest, even apart from special occasion, of itself engages the attention, animates and preoccupies, and renders one dense and unsympathetic with respect to other things.
For then there is one-sided concentration of mind upon one given point. This one thing is, then, the main thing, to which everything else is rendered subservient. This means to say that this one thing takes the place with him, which in a normal condition of soul, is only accorded to God. And thus it becomes idolatrous. It is the one absorbing subject of thought. One never gets through talking about it. No sacrifice is deemed too great in its behalf. One devotes himself to it with all his soul and mind. Nothing higher is known and respected. With respect to it even brotherhoods are formed, insomuch as one is interested only in those who live in behalf of the same interest and are absorbed by the selfsame thing. With those who live like this the equilibrium is broken, and the highest place, which is God's right to fill, is occupied by this other thing, which they love with all their heart, and with all their mind, and to which they devote themselves with all their strength.
Now, it is self-evident, that being magnetized in this idolatrous fashion, does not occur with Christians in this literal sense. This neither can be so, nor is it so. He with whom this is the case may announce himself as a Christian, but a Christian he is not. But from this it by no means follows, that the child of God is not exposed to this danger. It is even confessed, of those who have most earnestly sought after the secret walk with God, that no sin was so constantly at the door of their heart as this inclination to allow themselves, by the workings of their own heart, their soul and their mind, to be turned away from God to creaturely things or creaturely thoughts. To be full of the Holy Ghost means, that the desire of the heart, which goes out after God and holy things, is constant. He with whom this is the case does not need to repress other things from his thoughts in order that he might think of God. Involuntarily he thinks of God, and of other things only by special effort.
But what continually occurs, even among Christians, is the very opposite, to-wit: That of itself all sorts of other things are subject of thought, and that only by determinate effort the soul is engaged with God. If, now, these are every time other, alternating things, the danger is not so great. For then it is not one given thing that captivates the heart, and the worship of God stands high above every other interest. On the other hand, however, the danger is great when the heart allows itself to be turned aside onesidedly to one given thing or to one special sort of things, which enthuse us and engage the heart, for then they are apt again and again to take the place in the heart which belongs alone to God.
You can not be near unto God and have part in his secret walk, when involuntarily and of itself magnetically you are every time turned aside again to things that are finite. For then the heart has deceived itself and the deceived heart has turned you aside. And, therefore, when you struggle, and feel that your life is not one that is near unto God, then cease to complain onesidedly of the world, of your environment and of your busy life, as though these alone turn you aside from God. Rather turn in upon yourself. Spy your thoughts, conversations and perceptions. And when you see that not alone, and not even mostly from without, but from these thoughts within there arises the diverting working, which disturbs your fellowship with God, and prevents you from living near unto God, then cast down this idol within and destroy it.
There is no room for Christ and Belial in one and the selfsame heart. Or do you not know,
with St. Paul: "Do ye not know your own selves, how that Jesus Christ is in you?" (II Cor, 13:5).
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Post by Admin on Aug 9, 2024 16:20:15 GMT -5
"AS IN HEAVEN."
For the soul "to be near unto God" implies, that we lift up ourselves with mind and heart from our everyday surroundings into the sphere of the Divine Majesty. This is what, in language of Scripture, the Sursum Corda has become, namely: the impulse to lift up soul and mind unto God and to appear in the audience-chamber of his holiness. In his infinite compassion God truly comes down to us, to dwell with us, and with his rod and staff to comfort us. This by itself brings God near to us, but by no means always brings our soul near unto God. The seeking love of God can for long times be near unto our heart, and can even be within it, while the heart is unconscious of it. An infant can be carried by God's nearness, and have no sense whatever of the Divine Majesty. In conditions of sickness, which darken our consciousness of self, God's nearness to his child is not removed. Even when in dying our consciousness fails us, the nearness of God continues to support the soul, which he has called unto himself.
But however closely these two are allied, they must always be carefully distinguished. Whether God is near unto us, and whether we are near unto God, is not the same. And in behalf of the latter, not of the former, it is exceedingly important that our mind be not too closely chained to the world of visible things, but that we should understand the sacred art of turning our mental perception from this world into that which is around God's throne.
The soul first learns this in prayer. And it is noteworthy that in the short form of the Our Father, Jesus repeatedly directs our thoughts to the invisible world. At once in the address: "Our Father, who art in heaven." According to the Heidelberg catechism, this means that we should not think of God in an earthly way. And this is correct, provided it is properly taken not as a sound, as a word or as a term whereby to express something supermundane, but as an effort of the soul, by which, at the very beginning of the prayer, to free itself from the embrace of earthly interests and to enter into the high and holy spheres that surround the throne of God. The prayer: "Thy kingdom come," carries the same effect, since that kingdom can not be anything else than the kingdom of heaven. Hence the petition implies, that the powers of the kingdom of heaven ought to permeate our life ever more strongly.
Fellowship with life around God's throne, however, is most clearly expressed in the third petition: Thy will be done on earth among us as in heaven among thy angels. Here the reference to heaven is immediate. Here both the similarity and the difference of life on earth and life in heaven is simultaneously shown. Here Jesus urges us that in prayer, and in seeking the nearness of God, we should acquaint ourselves with the world of angels and of the redeemed, in order by our relationship with their world, to strengthen our approach to God. Jesus urges us even so strongly in prayer to bring our souls into contact with the invisible world, that in the last petition he makes us sensible of the inworking that goes out upon us from the head of the fallen angels. "Deliver us from the evil," is the petition which reminds us that evil, that sin which springs up in our heart, is fed and inspired by a higher power from the invisible world, and that God alone can deliver us from this deadly inworking. Is it then too much to say, that in this brief prayer of six petitions, Jesus leads us out from the earthly sphere of visible things, and unveils to the sense of our soul clearly and strongly the reality of the invisible world? And all for the sake that we might the more fully and the more intimately enjoy "to be near unto God."
In Scripture, this communion with spirits from the invisible world, is shown in more than one instance to be inseparable from nearness unto God. Only think of the vision call of Isaiah and of the Revelations on Patmos. Isaiah not only saw the Lord upon the throne, but also the Seraphim around it, and he heard the "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts," which with other music rang through the arches of heaven. On Patmos it was the same. There, too, the seer's eye beheld the holy One, and also the Cherubim who reveal God's majesty, and what is more, from "the elders," i. e., from the circles of the blest, he heard the hymn of praise: "Thou, Lord, art worthy to receive glory and honor and power!"
And so throughout the entire Scripture there runs a golden line of heavenly light, which brings the prayers and the hymns of praise of God's people into fellowship with the songs of praise of angels and the redeemed. It is not only that the angels and the blest in unapproachable light, and we on earth in our twilight, sing praises to the Trinity, but that there is a connection between the voices of angels and the tongues of men. Indeed, sometimes it seems that we on earth but echo what is sung around God's throne in heaven, and that our heart only finds rest when there is holy accord and blessed harmony between created spirits above and the creature that on earth thirsts after the nearness of God.
But this presents the question whether this indispensable fellowship with God's angels and the redeemed around the heavenly throne has not been too much lost from sight in our circles. That we should be on our guard against abuse in this matter, is self-evident. Idolatry has not improbably arisen from this search after intercourse with the world of spirits. Even within the church of Christ the search after this fellowship has all too frequently drawn souls away from the nearness of God, rather than introduced them into his holy presence. Dealings of the soul, if we may so express ourselves, with angels and the blest, have tempted anxious souls all too often to introduce intermediary persons between our soul and God, to whom to look for help rather than to God. It is plain, therefore, that for the sake of correcting this abuse, safety was sought in sobriety, and that with holy enthusiasm it was undertaken not to allow oneself to be drawn away in his prayer by anything, not even by angels, from God himself and from immediate communion with God. But it can not be denied that by exaggeration this carefulness has led to the other extreme. For is it not a fact, that in the prayers of the church, in prayer at home, and in personal supplication, the spirit-world is almost entirely ignored, and that thereby all such prayer has become antagonistic to the note which Jesus himself has struck in the Our Father?
In the Our Father, Jesus brings our soul again and again in touch with this higher world of spirits, while from our prayer this communion has almost entirely died away. For the sake of avoiding the abuse of one extreme, one can easily and of itself pass over into the other extreme, and this is bound to injure the life of our soul. He who dies, knows that he will not find God and the Savior alone by themselves, but he will find them surrounded by a world of saints. Not a Father alone, but a Fatherhouse, and in that Fatherhouse the many mansions, and in those mansions, with God's angels, the saints that have gone before.
And though we speak of this world of glory as of the world above, because we can not think of it otherwise than as being far exalted above this guilty earth, we well know that this distinction is not a separation, and that already here on earth communion with that world is possible. When the Psalmist would praise God, he calls upon the angels to praise and bless the Lord (Ps. 103). There is an host of the Lord that encampeth round about them that fear God. Not only Satan, the head of fallen angels, but good angels, too, are in communication with our soul. And in moments of blessed elevation of spirit the soul has been conscious of the nearness of the good spirits of God, and it has seemed that they made us feel in a more tender and more intimate way the nearness of our God.
We undergo the same inworking for good or for evil from men. One evil-minded person in your environment can draw your soul away from God, estrange every utterance of life from God, and throw you back into your earthly, sinful shallowness. On the other hand, one devoted child of God in your midst can effect the exclusion of every unholy suggestion from conversation, the opening up of the soul, and the closer approach to God.
Such is the case here. He who accustoms himself to enter into the life of the holy world of God's angels, and already here on earth admits the company of the saints into the circle of the perceptions of his own soul will thereby not only banish evil, but will himself attain a holier mood, will feel himself supported in praise and prayer, and will encounter far less difficulty in raising himself from his earthly life to the nearness of his God.
We were not created for solitariness. The moment when, deserted of all, you have to fight your fight alone, you feel that something unnatural has come upon you. Not alone, but "With all the saints," we will come to the knowledge of our God, and if in eternity it will be the wonderful exaltation of life together with all angels and all saints to glorify God forever, why, then, should we forsake and neglect the glorious power which already here on earth can unfold in our prayer, if by anticipation we live already here in the blessed communion, which awaits us up yonder. With all God's saints we are one body in Christ, as our head, but on earth we taste little of the fellowship of the whole body of the Lord. On the other hand, communion with saints and God's angels is continually open to us. Blessed is he who not only enjoys this in his own soul, but also knows how to inspire thereby the nearness of his God.
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Post by Admin on Aug 9, 2024 16:22:13 GMT -5
"THE BODY IS NOT ONE MEMBER, BUT MANY."
Christ is your King. He has been anointed King not merely over Zion, the mountain of his holiness; not merely King, after the earthly Zion had been profaned, over God's kingdom in the earth. No, Christ is also King over the persons who are subject unto him. Our personal relation to Christ can not be expressed in a single word. It is many-sided. When we think of the guilt of sin, which threatens doom, Christ is our Reconciler. When we seek safety with Christ against the power of sin and of temptation, he is not our Reconciler, but our Redeemer. Or when we look to Christ for direction and guidance in the labyrinth of life, the selfsame Savior is not our Reconciler, not our Redeemer, but our Shepherd, who has gone before us in the way, and has left us an example.
But even this does not exhaust our many-sided relation to our Savior. For that self-same Christ is also our glorified Head with the Father, the Lord before whom our knee must bend, and whom our tongue must confess; and therefore the King who has incorporated us with his people; whose subjects we have become; and in whose palace we shall once be expected. The honorary title of King is even so little accidental, that the great plea on Golgotha is at length fought out under it, and at the bar of Pilate the conflict between the Emperor of Rome and the Anointed One of God concentrated itself in the struggle for the honor of Kingship. As announced to John
the Divine, in Revelation, the Lamb is not alone our Reconciler and Surety, not alone our Redeemer and Savior, and not alone the Shepherd and Bishop of our soul. No, the Lamb of God--and in this antithesis you feel what strikes and irritates--the Lamb of God is also Lord of lords and King of kings (Rev. 17:14). The Lamb with the crown is the exalted, the holy combination of self-effacement and dominion.
Your King! But in what sense? Is earthly kingship here the real, the actual, and is the kingly image of the earthly prince applied to the Savior, merely by way of comparison, by which to express his power and honor? Christ your King! Does this title of honor merely serve to have you think of Christ, as in a distant hamlet the man behind the plow thinks of his sovereign in the royal residence? This is to him a secret and mysterious power, expressed in the image on a coin, but for the rest it is a power which remains foreign to him, a power far off, of whose splendor and lustre, of whose glory and pomp, he can form no faint idea, but which he honors from afar. A sovereign in the glorious palace, but who is unapproachable by him, to whom he pays tribute because he is his subject, and for whom, if he is pious, he intercedes in his daily prayer.
And truly, there is likeness here. Christ also is enthroned in a palace of glory, even in such a palace, that all royal pomp on earth pales before the splendor of its greatness. The subject of Jesus also sacrifices for his king his child in Divine service, his money in the labor of love, his strength in what must be done in behalf of his kingdom. This King also has his throne afar off, and here on earth the King of God's kingdom can not be seen. But with this the likeness ends. That Christ is your king is as a figure of speech, so little derived from earthly princes that on the contrary the kings in the earth are only image bearers of his glory, and that true, real, actual kingship is never realized in a prince on earth, but is known in Christ alone.
Head, Lord and King are but three rays of the selfsame glory. Head points to the inner relationship and sodality of your life, existence and inner being, with the life, existence and being of your Savior, Lord expresses that Christ owns you, that you are his property, that you belong to him, that he has redeemed you from the power of Satan, and that he has bought you with his blood. And only in this two-fold relation, because he is your Head and Lord, he is also your King, who has taken you up into his Kingdom, incorporated you with his people, made you sharer in his lot, and rules you by his royal law of life. You are his subject, but only because thereby you are a member of the body of which he is the head.
This seems at first hearing an enigmatical union, but it is one which beautifully explains itself when that body, and in it the significance of the head, and what under the head every member is, is clearly understood. Imagine man, to take a perfect instance, as in paradise he came forth from the hand of God. The clean, pure, beautiful body, and in that body the several members, in which it revealed itself, and its noble head, with the fullness of facial expression, with the fine, expressive features, with the animation that uttered itself in them. Thus only can we have
the image before us of the body of Christ, of the members in that body, and over all these members, the glorious Head.
The image here, however, is not merely the human body. Body in this connection rather indicates in a broader sense what we more commonly call an organism, even in the sense in which an animal also is an organism, and the plant an organism, and as we apply the figure of a body or of an organism to all sorts of association of man with man. Thus we speak of a corporation (which is nothing else than a body) signifying thereby all sorts of unions, societies and confederations that are formed. So we say that the family has an organic existence. So we speak of the body of the state, and of the body of the people. And for this reason, and in this connection, we call him who directs such a corporation, the head of such a corporation, or the head of the body of the state. It is even the rule to call those who belong to such a society or body, members of the society, or members of the church. To become a member of a nation, is to become in corporated in that nation.
And this is the figure of speech which the holy apostle applies to Christ and his people. The organism of the plant also renders service here. Did not Jesus say: "I am the true vine, and ye are the branches?" And does not St. Paul speak of having become one plant with Jesus? It is always the one effort, to make it tangible and clear, that Jesus' Kingship is no external dominion over us from without, but that before we become subjects of Jesus, we are linked into his life, and that with the thread of life itself, if we may so express it, we are bound to him; so that it is one blood of life that circulates in him and in us; and that it is one spirit of life that animates us and him unto life. Yea, that as little as the head can be moved from one place into another, but the foot, the hand, the eye and the ear go with it--so also every vital movement of our King of itself stirs also in us, and puts us into motion with him. Thus Christ is our King, because of itself and of necessity the members follow the body, and the body goes wherever the head directs it.
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Post by Admin on Aug 9, 2024 16:27:55 GMT -5
"I IN THEM AND THOU IN ME."
The soul's nearness to God and our "mystical union with Christ" belong together. All the apostles placed the emphasis on this; and in their writings the fathers of the Reformation, with Calvin in the lead, always referred to the mystical union with Christ as an indispensable factor in all true religion. The temptation to which, alas, so many yield, of staying on Golgotha, and of there closing off their account with Christ, kills the faith. The course of procedure is, that the conscience awakens for a moment; that the weight of sin burdens the soul; and that fear of judgment strikes the heart. In such a moment the consolatory thought of the cross arises invitingly in the soul. If the atoning sacrifice is accepted, one is saved. Nothing more is needed save only to believe. And one is readily persuaded to do this. To express this as sharply as the case allows: One closes the bargain. And now he deems himself saved. He accepts it as a fact, that he is assured of eternal life. He thinks that the atoning sacrifice is glorious. It brings perfect salvation. Thus Christ has become his Savior. But in his conversation nothing is heard of a closer, tenderer relation of the soul to Christ. In the utterances of his spiritual life nothing is perceived that refers to it. He is now saved, and that is the end of it.
This, however, is nothing but self-conceit. Nothing but spiritual egotism is at play in this. Escape is sought from eternal punishment; one wants to insure himself for eternal salvation. But
there is nothing indicative in this of thirst after the living God; nothing of the child's longing for his Father's house; nothing of sacred jealousy for the honor of God's name. And from this, no spiritual power can proceed. No religion can operate in, nor go forth from, this. And what is more, it can not be true, that in this wise Golgotha can bring propitiation for the life of the soul.
The Gospel does not preach this. It does not explain the atoning sacrifice to us in this way. The Scripture never attributes power of salvation to Golgotha, except as the mystical union binds our inner life to the life of Christ. It must be a being buried with him in his death, in order to rise with him unto life. They alone who have become one planting with Christ, share the grace which he obtained. They alone who have become sheep of his flock, can come after the great Shepherd of souls. It is not Golgotha which saves us. He who saves us is Christ, who died on Golgotha. You must become one with him, as member of his body. You must be accepted and incorporated under him as your Head, before one drop of grace can fall on you. In the Father you must have been given to Christ, so that his glory may be revealed in you. The mystical union must have laid the tie of love eternally between him and your soul. Yea, it must become Christ in you, and the Father in Christ, so that through this middle link your life of nearness to God can become a reality. For so your Savior himself prayed in his high-priestly prayer: Holy Father, I in them and thou in me" (St. John 17 :23).
If, however, our mystical union with Christ shall maintain its true religious character, and not degenerate into sentimental Christolatry, this relation to Christ must never be taken as an end in itself. Christ is the Mediator, and there can be no Mediator except for the sake of making our approach to God possible. To be near unto God, in sacred confidence to feel oneself to be close by God to live here on earth in nearness to God through faith, and once, after death, to serve God eternally in the Fatherhouse above--that is and remains the end and aim; and everything the Scripture reveals to us regarding the Mediatorship of Christ, must result in this, and can never rest in itself. Once Christ himself shall deliver up the Kingdom to God, even the Father, that God may be all in all. He who stops short with himself, or has no further desire than to be numbered with God's people, arrests spiritual progress in his own soul.
The ideal end at which we aim, may and can not be less, than to enjoy God forever, and to exist for no other purpose than to glorify his name. And just because this is the ideal end, all religion on earth is imperfect, which does not already here bring us nearer to God, make us dwell in nearness to him, and induce us to spend all our strength and all our talent in his service. Piety that consists in soothing emotion and in spiritual recreation, lacks strength and inspiration.
And our piety only becomes energetic when we love God with such perfect consecration, that we know of no higher joy than to drink in his peace, no greater recreation than to be near unto him, and no holier ambition than to fight and to suffer for his holy name. And not even service of Christ may detract anything from this. The Savior himself has never desired or aimed at anything else than to bring us to the Father. Whosoever turns this into a sort of Christ-worship, making him the end and aim, and thereby losing from sight the approach to our Father who is in heaven, does not honor Christ, but opposes him, and does not confirm the mystical union with his Savior, but tears away the fibres thereof.
This makes the union mystical, i. e., it is not lost in emotions, sensations and meditations, but rests in the nature of the soul. The feelings which you cherish for Christ, the sensations wherewith the Person and the gracious work of the Savior affect you, the thoughts concerning him on which you ponder, and on which your confession is based, truly possess supreme merit. They are indispensable. All of your conscious life must be saturated through and through with Christ. But without more, this gives you no share in the mystical union. That which is mystical in a holy sense, lies deeper than the consciousness, and roots in your being itself. Hence, the Scriptural teaching concerning regeneration, the new creature, the new man. There is not merely atonement and forgiveness, and on your part confession, faith and singing hymns of praise. No, Christ has entered into our nature. This was possible, because our nature was created after the image of God; and therefore that which shall take you away from yourself and from sin, must touch you in your own nature, in your very manner of existence, it must bring about the change in your person, in your outward life, and thus it will be an holy and a Divine work, which does not take place in your lips, nor in your brain, but in the mystical underground of your being.
And this wondrous work is not directly brought about by the Father, and in every one by himself, but is effected through Christ, is bound to him as Mediator of all, and finds in this Mediator its indestructible guarantee. For the tie which Christ establishes between himself and us, is so sacred, that he compares it with the tie that binds him in his Divine nature to the Father. "I in them, and Thou in me, Holy Father, keep through thine own name those whom thou hast given me, that they may be one, as we are" (John 17:11).
No outward, mechanical representation should be made of "the body of Christ." Among ourselves we speak of the body, the corps, the corporation of those who are like minded, who work together for a given aim. They who belong to it, are called members, and the management is the head. But with the body of Christ all this has a far deeper sense and a far more serious significance. No one becomes member of the body of Christ by making application, or by subscribing to a doctrine. No one is incorporated in this body by a military oath. No one becomes a member here, in order presently from choice, to resign his membership. No, the body of Christ is anchored in the soul, as an organism which forms one whole, no part of which can ever be alienated from it. It is invisible to the eye, but known of God. Even an infant can belong to it as an integrant part, before it has ever lisped the name of Jesus. We do not join that body, but God adopts us into it, incorporates us in it and appoints each of us, as members of Christ, an own, fixed place in it. At the same time our calling and destiny are thereby forever fixed. In this body we are fellow-members with other members, not from our choice, nor from theirs, but pursuant to Divine disposal, we and they form a unity which never can be broken. And with them all we are under Christ, as our living, quickening and inspiring head, from whom alone warmth of love is obtained. And our existence as members in that body and under that Head has no other aim than through the mediator to bring us near to God again, to assure us of an eternity in his holy presence, and thus to guarantee the highest end of our existence: even an existence throughout everlasting ages for the sake of the honor of the thrice holy God.
This is the mystical end, which the mystical union with Christ serves as means, and therefore Christ intertwines the tie that binds him to his own with the tie that binds him to the Father
in the: "I in them and Thou in Me." A unity sealed of God.
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Post by Admin on Aug 9, 2024 16:29:05 GMT -5
"THE SPIRIT OF MAN IS A CANDLE OF THE LORD."
To be near unto God is a luxury of soul which by grace can be our portion also in unconsciousness. When a child of God that enjoyed the secret walk is put under an anesthetic for the sake of an operation, it does not break fellowship between his heart and God. The same is true of a swoon. In high fever when the heated blood over-stimulates the brain, and delirium ensues, the relation with God remains equally intact. Even sleep, which for many hours deprives us of self-knowledge, may not be taken otherwise, and this entirely apart even from our consciousness in dreams. And yet in each of these conditions, from our side, as far as conscious life goes, being near unto God is inactive. But consciousness of fellowship with God is not, therefore, lost. Being wakened by a gentle touch, it is felt again and resumed. Consciousness of this fellowship has only become inactive. It is with this as with our capacity of sight. This, too, in sleep is not gone, but its at rest. Electric light illustrates this clearly. When the button is turned, everything is light, and when it is turned again, everything is dark. The power remains the same. It only draws itself back from shining.
From God's side, on the other hand, fellowship with the soul of his child operates continually; even under narcotic influence, in a swoon and during sleep it maintains itself and acts. The knowledge of this imparts rest, as one undergoes an anaesthetic, and no less that peaceful feeling with which at night we lose ourselves in sleep. "Let me sleeping wait for thee; Lord, then sleep I peacefully," as it was sung in Hernhutt. And who can doubt but that the strength-imparting and strength-renewing operations with which our Father who is in heaven favors his children, are yet more manifold and effective in sleep than by day. The third part of our life, that binds us to our couch, by no means serves the needs of the body alone. It meets a higher end. Particularly by night God builds his temple in our hearts. This detracts nothing from the fact that, "To be near unto God" only obtains its highest significance, when with our clear consciousness of day we hold blessed fellowship with God. When we perceive, observe and know, that the soul is near to God and God near to the soul; when, humanly speaking, there is an exchange of perceptions between God and us; when we, speaking reverently, with the telephone call up God in prayer, and far from on high the answer comes. But consider well, that this calling and answering are not exhausted by the words you stammer and the ideas which thereby operate in you. A mother has tender, affectionate communion with the little one at her breast, apart from any word and outside of any intellectual understanding. That which operates in this fellowship and maintains it, is life itself, the drawings of the blood, the thrilling of the feeling. And though, when the child shall have become a youth and a young man, this fellowship will express itself in words and in ideas, the root of this communion, even in later years, will reach deeper than the lips that speak the word. What does not the look of the eye convey, the expression of the face, a tear, a smile, and how sweetly does not operate in and under all this the communion of the same blood, the tenderness of hiding love?
All this is not unconscious,but constitutes part of the consciousness. It is as the fragrance of a flower, as an atmosphere of love which we breathe in. It is the perfume and the atmosphere of the heart, which we drink in with full draughts. And truly, you well know what the scent of a rose is, and of an hyacinth; you are perfectly conscious of it, even though the ablest botanist is not able to analyze this perfume in ideas, nor to describe it in words. Thus to be consciously near unto God, means far more than you can understand, or express in words. It is a becoming aware, a perceiving, a feeling, which may not be attributed to the nerves. That creates false mysticism. But it is a perceiving and an expressing of self in a spiritual way, in the immediate union of your inner sense with the life of God.
To make this plain the Scripture distinguishes between the soul and our inner being. It speaks on one hand of the heart and of the soul, and on the other hand of something that lies far behind and deep underneath the two. This is expressed plastically in several ways, mostly by contrasting the heart and the reins, and also by speaking of the bowels, or as in Proverbs 20:27, by contrasting the soul with "the innermost chambers of the belly." Translating this into our language, "the soul of man" here means our consciousness, and the latter clause what we call: Our hidden inner being. In this sense it is said, that "our consciousness is a candle of the Lord that searches our innermost being." Our consciousness is a searchlight which God himself sends forth across our entire inner being, in order that in its brightness and clearness we should learn to know our own inmost self.
Thus only are these words intelligible to us, and unveil a deep, far-reaching thought, which penetrates and appeals to us. Our consciousness is not of our own making. To become conscious is not our act. But all consciousness is an operation in us which is quickened by God, and which is maintained in us by him from moment to moment. It is on a line with the sun. The sun is the light in the world of nature, by which God enables us to see, to observe and to investigate nature. And in like manner the consciousness is a light which is ignited by God in our personal ego; or better yet, it is a light which God causes to shine in the world of our innermost being, in order that in this spiritual light we should examine and estimate our own spirit. This light of our consciousness is called a candle, because when we go down into ourselves, we begin with a sinking away into pitch darkness, and in this black darkness of our innermost being, God meets us with the candle of our consciousness.
Of course, our consciousness is no candle, which the Lord uses to search us. God has no need of the light of the sun by which to clearly see his whole creation. In the deepest parts of the earth, where no beam of sunlight ever enters, it is light before God as the day. As David sang in Psalm 139: "Yea, the darkness hideth not from thee; but the night shineth as the day; the darkness and the light are both alike to thee." What is here true of the light of the world, applies equally to the world of our inner being. There, too, God has no need of a candle, wherewith to throw light upon us. In the darkness of this hidden world also the darkness shineth as the day. But we have need of this candle and it is grace, that by the light of this candle of our consciousness God lightens the darkness of our inner being. We make artificial light. This makes us think. We do this by reasoning. We do this by our representations. And that can have its use. But frequently this artificial light shines falsely. It misleads. It never shines further in than the surface. This artificial light of our own pondering and musing never enters into what Solomon calls, with such plastic, graphic power, "the innermost chambers of the belly." And all too frequently it blinds our eyes, so that we can not see the light of the candle of the Lord with the eye of the soul. Hence the so-called "civilized world" for the most part is blind to the light of God's candle in us.
The light of this candle of the Lord in us does not argue, and does not analyze, but shows what there is in us, lays bare our own being before the eye of the soul, gives us self-knowledge, and cuts off all self-deception. And it is the light of this candle of the Lord which makes us clearly see in the deepest underground of our being, the fibres by which the root of our being has fellowship with God; fellowship by reason of our creation after the image of God; fellowship through the blessed, glorious regeneration of our sin-corrupted nature; fellowship through the Divine indwelling of the Holy Ghost; fellowship through the glorious inworking of ever-increasing grace; fellowship above all else through the tie that binds us to Christ, and makes us members of his body.
The brightness of this light is always the same in degree, but the effect of it gradually increases in strength. At first there is still so much that is wrong in the heart, so much dust of sin, that covers the heart and renders brightest light invisible to us. But gradually this vile dust flies away before the breath of the Lord, and then the eye comes to see what was hidden underneath this dust. And thus it can not be otherwise, but that the deeper the light can shine in, the more gloriously it becomes manifest to the eye of the soul that we are bound to God with all the ties of our life, and that our fellowship with God embraces our whole life.
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Post by Admin on Aug 10, 2024 15:50:45 GMT -5
"LIVE IN PEACE."
When Asaph wrote: "But it is good for me to be near unto God," and thereby expressed in words a deep utterance of soul, which age upon age has found an echo in thousands of hearts, life had many more advantages for those who sought the Lord than it has for us now. In the East, where Asaph lived, it is still the custom that every event in life is put into relation with God; that in everything God is remembered, and the name of God is named. There is so much that draws us away from God, and therefore, pious usage prescribed, that from early infancy the child should be trained to remember God in every event of life. This is still the custom under Islam, where it is overdone, even to the extent that it must give rise to abuse.
But there is something attractive in the habit. The call to prayer from the pinnacle of the minarets has the same tendency. Where there is so much that draws us away from God and keeps us far removed, a counterpoise was sought in life by which to bind the soul to God. The Christian church did the same in the middle ages. The ringing of bells, the stations of the cross, crucifixes, and so much more, all tended to quicken the thought of Christ. And in the age of the Reformation our fathers tried to reach the same end by putting prayer in between everything, by multiplying church services, and by the effort to sanctify every event of life in God. Not only testaments, but also contracts of rents were begun in the name of God. On coins the words appeared, "God with us," or, as in the United States of America, "In God we trust," and wherever it was possible God's holy name was brought to remembrance. An atmosphere prevailed in this which was pregnant with something of the holy, sometimes even too much so. To this was added that in the days of Asaph and of our fathers the religious undulation was far stronger, and religion occupied a far broader place in life.
But we have everything against us. In society life the name of God is scarcely ever mentioned. No bells are rung. An entirely different world of thoughts fills minds and hearts. He who tries to keep up sacred usages is criticized as being old-fashioned, if he is not scorned. A life divested of God and his name is most desired. And as regards religious undulation, it still continues in small circles, but the tidal wave of life goes, purely materially, for money and sensual pleasure. In such a time "to be near unto God" requires a double effort, and nothing should be neglected, neither positively nor negatively, that here may have effect. Positively every means should be persistently applied to engage the soul with God each day for a longer period of time and with greater intimacy; and negatively by opposing and resisting everything that hinders or prevents our communion with God.
Does the church of Christ understand the great interest that is here at stake? Can it be said, that an effort is in evidence, at least within the church, to pursue this exalted aim? As one means "to be near unto God," the Apostle indicates a "life in peace." His exhortation runs: "Be of one mind, live in peace, and the God of love and of peace shall be with you" (II Cor. 13:11). And yet this peace is continually broken. Let us be well understood. It does not say, that there may no differences arise, nor that with every difference safety must be sought in indifference. Paul did not do this. No, the point in question is the spirit in which differences are faced and settled. A twofold impulse may have play. On one side the holy impulse, in the face of differences to be doubly on our guard, that love shall suffer no less, and that no unholy word shall escape our lips or pen. But also on the other side the unholy impulse, in the face of differences to allow one's bitter mind free play, to give one's passion to annoy free rein, and to inflict whatever pain one can. With the first, one puts himself in an atmosphere of love and peace. With the second, one breathes an atmosphere of bitterness and anger.
In the church it is the same as in the family. Between husband and wife, between parents and children, and between children among themselves, differences continually arise. It can not be otherwise. Interests, insights and endeavors run in opposite directions. But see the difference between one family and another. In the family that is of a noble mind, a limit is put upon these differences, a spirit of love prevails, which of itself opens a way of escape. And where love dwells, the Lord commands this blessing, that hearts remain united. But next to this, alas, how many families there are in which pains are not spared to measure out the difference as broadly as possible, to put the sharpest arrow, as long as it is not poisonous, on one's bow, and where again and again husband and wife, parents and children, brothers and sisters face one another like furies. This is always the same antithesis which we have indicated. This sinful earth brings us no world, no family or church, without differences or disputes. But it all depends whether a dispute in family or in church finds an atmosphere of love and peace, or one of bitterness and anger.
And now the Apostle points out that cherishing the atmosphere of love and peace is not only a Christian duty, which brings gladness and comfort into life, but that it is also a necessary requisite for the cultivation of life in fellowship with God. A child of God can, and indeed must, be near unto God and live in communion with God even amid conditions of restlessness and strife. He who perseveres obtains this blessed end. But, O, it is made thereby unspeakably much more difficult. Where the atmosphere that surrounds us is charged with evil electricity, and the tongue can not be held in leash, and discord rends the robe of love, and the passion of strife breaks loose, everything draws the heart away from communion with its God. There the peace of God, that passeth all understanding, can not fill the soul. There is no calm there and no inward
restfulness to lift oneself up from this earthly sphere into the world above, and to enjoy the bliss of nearness unto God. And then in two ways harm is done. First, you fail of one of the most precious means of being near to God; and again you become subject to the dominion of an element that inserts itself with separating effect between you and your God.
A gently tempered mind can, with respect to this, be a blessing to a whole family, to a whole community; and a mind that is poisoned with the bitterness of gall can spoil the tone and spirit of an entire family and an entire community, and make godliness therein to suffer bitter loss. Of every thoughtless and unholy word, and also of every bitter and irritable frame of mind, account must once be made before God. For do not forget, that nothing trains the mind and heart so effectively as the custom and the habit which form and govern the condition and the mood of heart and mind.
If you have once acquired the habit of holding yourself back and of self-control, and when Satan places poison into your hands, at once to reach out for the alabaster box of precious ointment, the struggle becomes gradually easier, the effort to encourage stillness more lovely, and the joy of having cultivated peace and love increasingly rich. If, on the other hand, you give way to your sharpness, to your passion, to your bitterness of mind, you lose more and more the power of self-control, and create for yourself and your surroundings unspeakable harm and wrong.
The peace of which the apostle speaks has nothing to do with sentimentalism, with lack of courage
to speak, with being blind to wrong practices. Mere sentimental goodness is no sacred art, but cowardice. But this is sacred art: to stand strong and courageous, in everything, and yet so to take hold of things, deal with them, and settle them, that no unholy spark starts fire in your own mind, and that you do not disturb for a moment the inward peace of those who are around you.
He whose piety is more appearance than reality, cares for none of these things. But he who strives unto the end in every way to keep sacred his secret walk with God, and to be continually near unto God, can offer no resistance to the stress of this apostolic word. He feels in his own soul that the atmosphere of love and peace makes him dwell near unto God, and therefore he flees from the sphere of strife and unrest, because it draws him away from God.
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Post by Admin on Aug 10, 2024 16:15:46 GMT -5
"A DECEIVED HEART HATH TURNED HIM ASIDE."
The world, our environment, our business, yea, and what not, as a rule leads us away from God. This means that it takes definite effort, in the midst of daily activities, to keep our thoughts and utterances of soul directed toward God. There have even been whole days of which at night on bended knee, it had to be confessed that the mind and soul had not once been lifted up to God. To picture this in brighter colors than the case warrants, will not do. Thus and not otherwise is the sad reality with many whole days of life in which God has had no remembrance. We were too busy, too overwhelmed, too much diverted and preoccupied than that at night we could retire with the blissful experience of how good it was "to be near unto God."
This is, of course, exclusively a result of the sinful character of our earthly life, for by itself there was no need that anything should draw us away from God. God does not stand by the side of things. He is in all things. From him, by him, and to him. Diversion is a necessity when too one-sidedly and too exclusively our spirit has been engaged with one thing. This is noticed by the staring eye, the expressionless face, and the constant return to the same subject. And the specialist recognizes the danger of this. When the soul and the mind are directed to one thing too one-sidedly and too continuously, so that one thinks of nothing else, forgets everything else, and involuntarily keeps busy with the selfsame thought, there is the beginning of mental disorder, and diversion is the proper medicine.
This is not the case with thinking of God. In the created world a number of things stand side by side of one another, each with their own claim, and our mind is normal when in just proportions we pay proper attention to them all. If this order is broken, by thinking too much of one thing, and too little of the other, equilibrium is gone and the spirit fails at length in its own confusion. God, on the other hand, never stands by the side of a created thing. It should never be ninety parts of our attention for the creature and ten parts for God. Neither should it be ten parts for the world and ninety parts for God. In the full one hundred parts of everything God is to be worshipped. Jesus emphatically declares: Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy strength, with all thy soul and with all thy mind. In the same way the one hundred parts of our strength should be operative in created things. But both should proceed so as to enter into and permeate each other, and together constitute one blessed life.
Thus it is in the Fatherhouse.
Thus it was in paradise.
Thus it sometimes is here for the space of one brief moment. But as a rule it is so no longer. There is division. There is distraction. The struggle of godliness is to oppose this division, to resist this distraction, and yet, at least parts of each day and parts of each night, "to be near unto God."
What divides and distracts should be justly estimated. With respect to this, Adam is still inclined to put it upon Eve, and Eve to charge it to the serpent. The world, the many activities of life, the diversions of the moment are held accountable for our distractions and life without God. One is busy from early morn till late night, and in dead weariness one falls asleep, sometimes before prayer is said. There is no time for God and for his service. There may be for those who quietly remain at home, but not for the man of business. And so life is ever held accountable, the restlessness and noise, the ever-enticing world. Or complaint is made of the body. One does not feel well, headaches, fevers and other troubles keep the spirit bound. Only there is almost no complaint of one's own soul. And against this Isaiah enters his striking accusation: Your deceived heart hath turned you aside.
Surely the world has come in with its enticements, life with its activities. Thereby you have allowed your heart to be deceived. But it is not the world, nor its activities, but your deceived heart that has turned you aside. It has even turned you aside to this extent, Isaiah adds, that your soul can no longer save itself, i. e., it can no longer escape from its own intoxication. Isaiah declares this regarding the man who has an idol for himself. A tree has been taken home. The knotty parts have been cut off, and of the smooth part the poor soul makes an idol. And it is not the idol that is at fault, but the idolatrous thought in the soul, which had captivated the heart, before he made his idol. That piece of wood, that idol is but the expression of what went on in his heart. Not the idol, but his deceived heart turned him aside, even so effectively" that at length he no longer sees the difference between a piece of wood and God. Or, as the prophets put it: "He is turned aside so far that he can not come to discover that there is a lie in his right hand" (Isaiah 44:20). This selfsame evil operates, not only among the heathen, but, if in another manner, among Mohammedans, Jews and Christians. It is a human evil. An immediate outcome of our sinful nature.
How does this show itself? Very sharply and clearly, as soon as a magnet operates upon the heart, which attracts, interests and holds the attention, and which involuntarily and of itself again and again stimulates the soul and the senses, fills the thoughts, animates conversation and brings one into a fanatical state of mind. This does not mean the tension and activity of spirit, when duty, business, the course of conversation, etc., arrest the attention to itself. On the contrary, in this case lack of attention and neglect of due examination of the interest at stake, is a fault; and may even be a sin. No, the idolatrous turning aside of one's inner self only becomes apparent when this magnet continuously draws, and even without occasion, and when the drawing does not operate from without, but from one's own heart.
There are people who, when they come to you, you instinctively know in advance what they will talk about. There is but one thing that fills their minds. One interest to which they are continually awake. With one it is money, the idea of becoming rich, of increasing gains in every way. With another it is pleasure and the desire to shine. With a third it is art, music, a concert, a piece of literature, a museum, so long as it is dedicated to art, and makes an artistic showing. With another, again, it is a scientific problem which constantly pursues him. With another, again, it is politics, or society gossip, or the hunt, or sport. In all this, spiritual sickness is symptomatically present as soon as one particular interest, even apart from special occasion, of itself engages the attention, animates and preoccupies, and renders one dense and unsympathetic with respect to other things.
For then there is one-sided concentration of mind upon one given point. This one thing is, then, the main thing, to which everything else is rendered subservient. This means to say that this one thing takes the place with him, which in a normal condition of soul, is only accorded to God. And thus it becomes idolatrous. It is the one absorbing subject of thought. One never gets through talking about it. No sacrifice is deemed too great in its behalf. One devotes himself to it with all his soul and mind. Nothing higher is known and respected. With respect to it even brotherhoods are formed, insomuch as one is interested only in those who live in behalf of the same interest and are absorbed by the selfsame thing. With those who live like this the equilibrium is broken, and the highest place, which is God's right to fill, is occupied by this other thing, which they love with all their heart, and with all their mind, and to which they devote themselves with all their strength.
Now, it is self-evident, that being magnetized in this idolatrous fashion, does not occur with Christians in this literal sense. This neither can be so, nor is it so. He with whom this is the case may announce himself as a Christian, but a Christian he is not. But from this it by no means follows, that the child of God is not exposed to this danger. It is even confessed, of those who have most earnestly sought after the secret walk with God, that no sin was so constantly at the door of their heart as this inclination to allow themselves, by the workings of their own heart, their soul and their mind, to be turned away from God to creaturely things or creaturely thoughts. To be full of the Holy Ghost means, that the desire of the heart, which goes out after God and holy things, is constant. He with whom this is the case does not need to repress other things from his thoughts in order that he might think of God. Involuntarily he thinks of God, and of other things only by special effort.
But what continually occurs, even among Christians, is the very opposite, to-wit: That of itself all sorts of other things are subject of thought, and that only by determinate effort the soul is engaged with God. If, now, these are every time other, alternating things, the danger is not so great. For then it is not one given thing that captivates the heart, and the worship of God stands high above every other interest. On the other hand, however, the danger is great when the heart allows itself to be turned aside one-sidedly to one given thing or to one special sort of things, which enthuse us and engage the heart, for then they are apt again and again to take the place in the heart which belongs alone to God.
You cannot be near unto God and have part in his secret walk, when involuntarily and of itself magnetically you are every time turned aside again to things that are finite. For then the heart has deceived itself and the deceived heart has turned you aside. And, therefore, when you struggle, and feel that your life is not one that is near unto God, then cease to complain onesidedly of the world, of your environment and of your busy life, as though these alone turn you aside from God. Rather turn in upon yourself. Spy your thoughts, conversations and perceptions. And when you see that not alone, and not even mostly from without, but from these thoughts within there arises the diverting working, which disturbs your fellowship with God, and prevents you from living near unto God, then cast down this idol within and destroy it.
There is no room for Christ and Belial in one and the selfsame heart. Or do you not know,
with St. Paul: "Do ye not know your own selves, how that Jesus Christ is in you?" (II Cor, 13:5).
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