“That Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith.” Ephesians 3:17
God bade Moses receive from the people oil for the light, and to set up a candlestick with seven lamps, ever burning with this oil, to illuminate the holy place. This light was typical, no doubt, of the Holy Spirit, but as it is only by his own gracious light that the Lord Jesus is made known, we may still say, that as Christ dwells in the heart by faith, faith giving him a place in the bosom, he dwells in the enlightened understanding of his saints, in the gracious light of his own manifestations. Have you not seen at times wondrous beauty in the gospel? Has not a sacred light shone, from time to time, upon the holy page, when it testified of Christ? Have you not seen wondrous glory in a free gospel, a gospel that saves the sinner, and yet magnifies and glorifies the justice of God; a gospel that reconciles every apparently jarring attribute, brings justice and mercy to kiss each other, and makes God to be just, and yet the justifier of him which believeth in Jesus? Now that light whereby you saw the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ, was gospel light; and as Christ came into the heart in the glory of that light, he may be said to dwell in the shining light of his own grace.
You may complain, and often bitterly complain, of the darkness of your mind, and it may seem at times as if you never had any true light to shine into your soul. But I would have you carefully observe these two things; first, that the very cause of the darkness which you feel is the presence of light. The Apostle, therefore, says, “But all things that are reproved, (margin, ‘discovered,’) are made manifest by the light, for whatsoever doth make manifest is light” (Eph. 5:13). Apply these words to your case. Is there not something in you that discovers to you your darkness, and not only discovers, but reproves it, and makes it manifest as a thing to be condemned? This secret something is light, for “whatsoever doth make manifest is light.” And as you not only see it, but feel and mourn under it, it is “the light of life” which the Lord promised those should have who follow him. But observe, secondly, that whenever a little light dawns in again upon your soul, in that light you again see the same grace and glory in Christ which you saw in him before. Now, what a proof this is that Christ dwells in the heart by faith, and that the light in which we see him, is the light wherewith he hath enlightened our understanding, and himself dwells in it.
“I will satisfy her poor with bread.” Psalm 132:15
What a sweetness there is in the word “satisfy!” The world cannot satisfy you and me. Have we not tried, some of us perhaps for many years, to get some satisfaction from it? But can wife or husband “satisfy” us? Can children or relatives “satisfy” us? Can all the world calls good or great “satisfy” us? Can the pleasures of sin “satisfy” us? Is there not in all an aching void? Do we not reap dissatisfaction and disappointment from everything that is of the creature, and of the flesh? Do we not find that there is little else but sorrow to be reaped from everything in this world? I am sure I find, and have found for some years, that there is little else to be gathered from the world but disappointment, dissatisfaction, “vanity and vexation of spirit.” The poor soul looks round upon the world and the creature, upon all the occupations, amusements and relations of life, and finds all one melancholy harvest, so that all it reaps is sorrow, perplexity, and dissatisfaction. Now when a man is brought here, to want satisfaction, something to make him happy, something to fill up the aching void, something to bind up broken bones, bleeding wounds, and leprous sores, and after he has looked at everything, at doctrines, opinions, notions, speculations, forms, rites and ceremonies in religion, at the world with all its charms, and at self with all its varied workings, and found nothing but bitterness of spirit, vexation and trouble in them all, and thus sinks down a miserable wretch, why, then when the Lord opens up to him something of the bread of life, he finds a satisfaction in that which he never could gain from any other quarter. And that is the reason why the Lord so afflicts his people; why some carry about with them such weak, suffering tabernacles, why some have so many family troubles, why others are so deeply steeped in poverty, why others have such rebellious children, and why others are so exercised with spiritual sorrows that they scarcely know what will be the end. It is all for one purpose, to make them miserable out of Christ, dissatisfied except with gospel food; to render them so wretched and uncomfortable that God alone can make them happy, and alone can speak consolation to their troubled minds.
“But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength.” Isaiah 40:31
How different the religion of a living soul is from the religion of a dead professor! The religion of a dead professor begins in self, and ends in self; begins in his own wisdom, and ends in his own folly; begins in his own strength, and ends in his own weakness; begins in his own righteousness, and ends in his own damnation. There is in him never any going out of soul after God, no secret dealings with the Lord, no actings of faith upon the divine perfections. But the child of God, though he is often faint, weary, and exhausted with many difficulties, burdens and sorrows; yet when the Lord does shew himself, and renews his strength, he soars aloft, and never ceases to mount up on the wings of faith and love till he penetrates into the very sanctuary of the most High. A living soul never can be satisfied except in living union and communion with the Lord of life and glory. Everything short of that leaves it empty. All the things of time and sense leave a child of God unsatisfied. Nothing but vital union and communion with the Lord of life, to feel his presence, taste his love, enjoy his favour, see his glory— nothing but this will ever satisfy the wants of ransomed and regenerated souls. This the Lord indulges his people with. “They shall renew their strength.” They shall not be always lying groaning on the ground, not always swooning away through the wounds made by sin, not always chained down by the fetters of the world, not always hunted in their souls like a partridge upon the mountains. There shall be a renewal of their strength; and in their renewal, “they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.”
“The fire shall try every man’s work of what sort it is.” 1 Corinthians 3:13
The fire which is to prove every man’s work of what sort it is, is not merely God’s wrath as manifested at the last day; but his fire as significative of the fiery trial which takes place in this life, and which God mercifully brings upon his people to burn up their wood, hay, and stubble. Now it is an inestimable mercy to have all this combustible material burnt up before we come to a death-bed. Fiery trials, such as God sends through afflictions, temptations, distressing feelings, and painful soul exercises, will burn up the wood, hay, and stubble which any of his saints may have gathered up as a superstructure. Guilt pressing upon a man’s conscience, the terrors of the Almighty in a fiery law, his arrows deeply fixed in the breast and drying up the spirit, fears of death, hell, and judgment, and the terrible consequences of dying under the wrath of God, all these are a part of the fiery trial which burns up the wood, hay, and stubble heaped by Babel builders on the foundation. All sink into black ashes before this fire, which proves what they are, and what a vain refuge they afford in the day of trouble.
What then stands the fiery trial? God’s work upon the soul, the faith that he implants by his own Spirit. It may be weak; it may be, it must be tried; it may seem at times scarcely to exist; and yet being of God, it stands every storm, and lives at last. A good hope through grace, a hope of God’s own communicating and maintaining,—like a well-tried anchor, this will stand the storm; like gold and silver, this will bear the hottest furnace; lose its dross, but not lose the pure material, but be refined, purified, and manifested all the more as genuine metal. So, too, these “precious stones” (1 Cor. 3:12), these heavenly visits, sweet manifestations, blessed promises, comforting discoveries, and gracious revelations of the Son of God, with the whispers of his dying, bleeding love,—these heavenly jewels can never be lost and never be burnt up. They may be tried, and that keenly and sharply, but being of God’s gift and operation, they are essentially indestructible.
“For we which have believed do enter into rest.” Hebrews 4:3
To rest is to lean upon something. Is it not? So spiritually. We want to lean upon something. The Lord himself has given us this figure. “Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness, leaning upon her Beloved?” The figure of “a rock” on which the Church is built, “the foundation” which God has laid in Zion, points to the same idea, that of leaning or dependence. Now when the soul comes to lean upon Jesus, and depend wholly and solely on him, it enters into the sweetness of the invitation. Have we not leant upon a thousand things? And what have they proved? Broken reeds that have run into our hands, and pierced us. Our own strength and resolutions, the world and the church, sinners and saints, friends and enemies, have they not all proved, more or less, broken reeds? The more we have leant upon them, like a man leaning upon a sword, the more have they pierced our souls. The Lord himself has to wean us from the world, from friends, from enemies, from self, in order to bring us to lean upon himself; and every prop he will remove, sooner or later, that we may lean wholly and solely upon his Person, love, blood, and righteousness.
But there is another idea in the word “rest”—termination. When we are walking, running, or in any way moving, we are still going onwards; we have not got to the termination of our journey. But when we come to the termination of that we have been doing, we rest. So spiritually. As long as we are engaged in setting up our own righteousness, in labouring under the law, there is no termination of our labours. But when we come to the glorious Person of the Son of God, when we hang upon his atoning blood, dying love, and glorious righteousness, and feel them sweet, precious, and suitable, then there is rest. “We which have believed do enter into rest,” says the Apostle. His legal labours are all terminated. His hopes and expectations flow unto, and centre in Jesus—there they end, there they terminate; such a termination as a river finds in the boundless ocean.
We speak sometimes of the attributes of God, and we use the words to help our conception. But God, strictly speaking, has no attributes. His attributes are himself. We speak, for instance, of the love of God, but God is love; of the justice of God, but God is just; of the holiness of God, but God is holy; of the purity of God, but God is pure. As he is all love, so he is all justice, all purity, all holiness. Love, then, is infinite, because God is infinite; his very name, his very character, his very nature, his very essence is infinite love. He would cease to be God if he did not love, and if that love were not as large as himself, as infinite as his own self-existent, incomprehensible essence. The love of the Son of God, as God the Son, is co-equal and co-eternal with the love of the Father; for the holy Trinity has not three distinct loves, either in date or degree. The Father loves from all eternity; the Holy Ghost loves from all eternity. The love of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, as one, equal, indivisible, infinite Jehovah cannot be otherwise but One. We therefore read of “the love of God,” that is the Father (2 Cor. 13:14); of “the love of the Son” (Gal. 2:20); and of “the love of the Spirit” (Rom. 15:30). This love being infinite, can bear with all our infirmities, with all those grievous sins that would, unless that love were boundless, have long ago broken it utterly through. This is beautifully expressed by the prophet: “How shall I give thee up, Ephraim? how shall I deliver thee, Israel? how shall I make thee as Admah? how shall I set thee as Zeboim? mine heart is turned within me, my repentings are kindled together. I will not execute the fierceness of mine anger, I will not return to destroy Ephraim: for I am God, and not man.”
“Hear now, O Joshua the high priest, thou, and thy fellows that sit before thee:
for they are men wondered at.” Zechariah 3:8
A sinner saved is a spectacle for angels to contemplate. As the Apostle says,
“We are made a spectacle unto the world, and to angels and to men.” The
ancients used to say that “a good man struggling with difficulties was a sight
for the gods to look at.” We may say, with all Christian truth, that the
mysteries of redemption are “things the angels desire to look into;” and
among the mysteries of redemption, what greater than a redeemed sinner?
That a man who deserves, by sin original and sin actual, nothing but the
eternal wrath of God, should be lifted out of perdition justly merited into
salvation to which he can have no claim, must indeed ever be a holy wonder.
And that you or I should ever have been fixed on in the electing love of God,
ever have been given to Jesus to redeem, ever quickened by the Spirit to feel
our lost, ruined state, ever blessed with any discovery of the Lord Jesus
Christ and of his saving grace,—this is and ever must be a matter of holy
astonishment here, and will be a theme for endless praise hereafter. To see a
man altogether so different from what he once was; once so careless, carnal,
ignorant, unconcerned; to see that man now upon his knees begging for
mercy, the tears streaming down his face, his bosom heaving with convulsive
sighs, his eyes looking upward that pardon may reach him in his desperate
state,—is not that a man to be looked at with wonder and admiration? To see
a man preferring one smile from the face of Jesus, and one word from his
peace-speaking lips to all the titles, honours, pleasures, and power that the
world can bestow; why, surely if there be a wonder upon earth, that man is
one. Was not this the very feeling of the disciples when Saul first “preached
Christ in the synagogues, that he is the Son of God?” “All that heard him
were amazed, and said, Is not this he that persecuted the Church of God?”
So we look and wonder, and feel at times a holy joy that he who reigns at
God’s right hand is ever adding trophies to his immortal crown. And
whenever we see any of those near and dear to us in the flesh; be it husband,
wife, sister, brother, child, relative, or friend, touched by the finger of this
all-conquering Lord, subdued by his grace, and wrought upon by his Spirit,
then not only do we look upon such with holy wonder, but with the tenderest
affection, mingled with the tears of thankful praise to the God of all our
mercies.
“Thus saith the Lord; I remember thee, the kindness of thy youth, the love of
thine espousals, when thou wentest after me in the wilderness, in a land that
was not sown.” Jeremiah 2:2
If we look at salvation, we shall see that it consists of three parts; salvation
past, salvation present, and salvation future. Salvation past consists in having
our names written in the Lamb’s book of life before the foundation of the
world. Salvation present consists in the manifestation of Jesus to the soul,
whereby he betroths it to himself. And salvation future consists in the eternal
enjoyment of Christ, when the elect shall sit down to the marriage-supper of
the Lamb, and be for ever with the Lord. Now, as none will ever enjoy
salvation future who have no interest in salvation past; in other words, as
none will ever be with Christ in eternal glory whose names were not written
in the book of life from all eternity; so none will enjoy salvation future, who
live and die without enjoying salvation present. In other words, none will live
for ever with Christ in glory who are not betrothed to him in this life by the
manifestations of himself to their soul. According to the Jewish custom, the
man, at the time of betrothing, gave the bride a piece of silver before
witnesses, saying to her, “Receive this piece of silver as a pledge that at such
a time you shall become my spouse.” And the parties then exchanged rings.
This meeting of the espoused parties together, who then saw each other for
the first time, is a sweet type of the first meeting of the soul with Jesus. The
damsel had heard of the youth, but till then had never seen him; as seeking
souls hear of Jesus by the hearing of the ear, before their eyes see him. The
vail was upon her face (Gen. 24:65), as the vail is upon the heart (2 Cor.3:15),
until Jesus rends it in twain from the top to the bottom. The bridegroom gave
his betrothed a piece of silver, as a pledge that all he had was hers. And thus
Christ gives to the soul, whom he betroths to himself by his own
manifestations, a pledge, a token, a testimony, which, in itself, is the firstfruits
and assurance of eternal glory. The parties exchanged rings, as pledges
of mutual affection and eternal faithfulness. And thus, when Christ reveals
himself to the soul in his dying love, mutual engagements, mutual promises,
mutual assurances and pledges of faithfulness and love pass between the soul
and him. “One shall say, I am the Lord’s, and another shall call himself by
the name of Jacob, and another shall subscribe with his hand unto the
Lord.” At these seasons, “in the day of the King’s espousals,” the language of
the soul is, “I sat down under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was
sweet to my taste; he brought me to the banqueting-house, and his banner
over me was love.”
“Having therefore, brethren, boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus.” Hebrews 10:19
Nothing will satisfy a living soul but coming “into the holiest.” He wants to have communion with God, the holy, holy, holy Lord God of hosts. He is not dealing with a God distant and afar off, an idol, a God in whom he has neither faith, nor hope, nor love; who can neither see, nor hear, nor save; a God of his own conception or of some indistinct, traditional opinion; but he feels in his very conscience that he is carrying on a sacred and holy intercourse with the God of heaven and earth, the God who has made himself in some measure known to his soul as the God and Father of the Lord Jesus Christ. With him he has to do; to him he must come; and with him he must hold holy communion. Before his heart-searching eyes he feels he stands; into his ever-open ears he pours his petition; to his mercy and pity he appeals; his compassion he craves; his love he seeks; his salvation he longs for; and his presence above all things he earnestly desires. So he must come into the holiest, for there God dwells; and to come unto God is to come there. The man who thus feels and acts is an Israelite indeed in whom there is no guile; one of the true circumcision who worship God in the Spirit, rejoice in Christ Jesus, and have no confidence in the flesh. Others are satisfied with the courts of the house, with admiring the external building, or the painted windows, carved pews, and long drawn aisles; with the mere worship of God as so much lip service. But the living soul goes beyond all that into the very heart of the sanctuary itself. As the high priest on the day of atonement did not tarry amongst the people in the court, nor with the priests in the holy place, but pressed on, ever pressed on through the thick veil until he got into the holy of holies; so with the saint of God—he does not tarry in the outer court with the profane, nor in the sanctuary with the professor, so as to be satisfied with seeing God with a veil between. But he must come into that immediate presence of God, where he may see something of his grace, behold something of his glory, feel something of his mercy, and taste something of his power. And this makes him press forward into the holiest.
