RICHES of J. C. PHILPOT - Volume 9

This internal warfare "Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavily burdened, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28 The believer is heavily burdened with a daily conflict. This conflict between a body of sin and the holy, pure, and divine nature of which God's people are made partakers—lasts during the whole of our mortal span upon earth. Lasts, did I say? It increases in intensity. This internal warfare is more or less experienced by all God's family. But what a burden it is to have such a daily conflict with a body of sin! It is the greatest burden that we have on earth. We all have our trials—heavy trials. But of all the burdens that I am acquainted with—the daily conflict with the workings of my corrupt heart—my fallen and depraved nature perpetually lusting to evil entangling my eye, catching my affections, ensnaring my soul, dragging me, or drawing me into everything that is foul and filthy, base and vile, not externally, through mercy, but internally—forms the heaviest burden I have to carry. The conflict I daily and sometimes hourly feel with my wretched heart has been my trouble and grief continually. Now when we are so laden with a body of sin and death—when we feel such vile sins perpetually struggling for the mastery—and such a depraved heart pouring forth its polluted streams—when we feel this common sewer of our depraved nature pouring forth this polluted stream—must it not make us grieve and groan? Yes, daily make a living soul grieve and groan—draw at times scalding tears from his eye—and force convulsive sobs from his burdened bosom—to feel that he is such a monster of depravity and iniquity—that though God keeps his feet so that he does not fall outwardly and manifestly—yet there is such a tide of iniquity flowing in his heart, polluting his conscience continually. Jesus fixes His penetrating gaze, His sympathizing eye upon, and opens the tenderness and compassion of His loving bosom unto those who are weary and carry heavy burdens—to His poor, suffering, sorrowing, groaning, and mourning family—to those who have no one else to look to—those who are burdened in their consciences, troubled in their minds, and distressed in their souls. He says to such, "Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavily burdened, and I will give you rest." Where else can I hide? "For in the time of trouble He will hide me in His pavilion: in the secret of His tabernacle will He hide me; He will set me up upon a rock." Psalm 27:5 We have no refuge but Jesus where we can hide our guilty heads. Where else can I hide? In the law? That curses. In self? That is treacherous. In the world? That is under the curse of God. In my own righteousness? That is filthy rags. In my own strength? All is weakness. In my own resolutions of amendment? They will all issue in my falling more foully than before. Take the lid off the boiling pot All true sight and knowledge of our sinfulness flows from the teachings of the Spirit. As, therefore, we obtain light from on high, and feel spiritual life in our bosom, there is a deeper discovery of our own miserable state, until we are brought to see and feel, that in us, that is, in our flesh, dwells no good thing. Now this will ever be in a proportionate degree to the manifestation of the purity and holiness of the character of God, to the soul. This will effectually dispel all dreams of human purity and creature perfection. Let one ray of divine light shine into the soul out of the holiness of God—how it discovers and lays bare the hypocrisy and wickedness of the human heart! How it seems to take the lid off the boiling pot, and shows us human nature heaving, bubbling, boiling up with pride, unbelief, infidelity, enmity against God, peevishness, discontent—every hateful, foul, unclean lust—every base propensity and filthy desire. To know yourself, you must look below the lid to see how it steams, and hisses, and throws up its thick and filthy scum from the bottom of the cauldron. A calm may be on the face, but a boiling sea within. It is this laying bare of our deep-seated malady that makes a soul under the first teachings of the Spirit feel itself lost. And oh, what a word! Lost! utterly lost! The purity of the divine image lost—and with it, utter loss of power to return to God. What a condition to be in! Without power, without will—an enemy and a rebel—by nature hating God and godliness—when we would do good, to find evil, horrid evil, present with us—to feel sin thrusting its hateful head into every thought, word, and action, so that when we would settle down and find rest in self, "all tables are full of vomit and filthiness, so that there is no place clean" Isaiah 28:8. Where this is opened up in a man's soul, and a corresponding sense of the purity and holiness of God is manifested, he will see and feel himself too the vilest of the vile—and he will be glad to put his mouth in the dust, if so be there may be hope. Now in this melancholy state, what can such a poor lost wretch do? Condemned by the law—hunted by Satan—pursued by conscience—alarmed by fear of death—troubled with a dread of eternal perdition—what can he do to save himself? When, in the depth of his soul, he knows himself "lost, lost, lost!" and feels the inability of the creature to save—this is the man, this is the spot, unto whom and into which the Savior and salvation comes—and he, and he alone, will welcome and drink in with greedy ears the joyful sound of salvation by grace. But oh, the tender mercy, heavenly grace, and sympathizing compassion of the Triune Jehovah! When man was sunk in the lowest depths of the fall—ruined and alienated from the life of God—that the Son of God should become the Son of Man, to suffer, bleed, and die for such wretches—and thus be a Mediator able to save to the uttermost all that come unto God by Him! The greatest attainment in religion "But we glory in tribulations." Romans 5:3 What would you say was the greatest attainment in religion? If this question were put to different people, the answer might be different. One might say, "It is to be well established in the doctrines of the gospel—to be no longer a child tossed to and fro with every wind of doctrine—but to be rooted and grounded in the truth as it is in Jesus." Another might answer, "It is to have much enjoyment of the Spirit, grace and presence of God in the soul—to have clear and blessed views of our interest in Jesus—and to experience a continual sense of that perfect love which casts out fear, and of that peace which passes all understanding." Another might reply, "It is to have a conscience very tender and alive to the evil of sin—to walk very humbly with God—to be kept very close at His footstool—and to be watchful and prayerful all the day long." Another might say, "It consists in having the mind and will of Christ stamped on the soul—in walking with the strictest regard to all the precepts of the gospel—and in having heart, lip and life perfectly conformed to the image and example of the Lord Jesus." Now I do not say that all or any of these answers would be wrong—but I do say that none of them would precisely hit the mark. "Well, then," it may be asked, "what do you think to be the greatest attainment in religion?" I answer, "to glory in tribulations." That was certainly the mind of the Apostle Paul. "But we glory in tribulations." Sail down the stream of a dead profession Now here a living soul differs from all others, whether dead in sin, or dead in a religious profession—the persuasion that in God alone is true happiness. The feeling of misery and dissatisfaction with everything else but the Lord, and everything short of His manifested presence—is that which stamps the reality of the life of God in a man's soul. Mere 'professors of religion' feel no misery, dissatisfaction, or wretchedness, if God does not shine upon them. So long as the world smiles, and they have all that heart can wish, so long as they are buoyed up by the hypocrite's hope, and lulled asleep by the soft breezes of flattery—they are well satisfied to sail down the stream of a dead profession. But it is not so with the living soul—he is at times panting after the smiles of God—he is thirsting after His manifested presence—he feels dissatisfied with the world, and all that it presents—if he cannot find the Lord, and does not enjoy the light of His countenance. Where this is experienced, it stamps a man as having the grace of God in his heart. Have you ever felt the love of God in your souls? "The love of God is shed abroad in our hearts." Romans 5:5 Have you ever felt the love of God in your souls? If you have felt it shed abroad there, I will tell you what it has done for you. It has made your soul burn with love to Him in return. It has drawn forth the affections of your heart to embrace Jesus as your all in all. It has deadened the world, and all that the world can offer, in your estimation. It has made you earnestly long to be with Christ, that you may bathe in His love, see Him as He is, and enjoy Him forever! That eternal line which separates The true believer can never be satisfied with 'doctrine in the mere letter'—nor can he ever rest until he has the manifestation and discovery of it with power to his heart by the Holy Spirit. And here is that eternal line which separates the living from the dead—here is that narrow, narrow path which distinguishes the heaven-born children, from those who are wrapped up in a nominal profession. The living family must have the power of the truth in their hearts—while others are satisfied with the mere form of truth in their heads. The living family must have heavenly teaching, while those who are dead in sin can be contented with seeing truth in the Scriptures—without a feeling application of it with dew and savor to their hearts. Dipped in love "Blessed is the man whom You discipline, O Lord." Psalm 94:12 Until we are chastened, we make this present world our home—and a very pleasant paradise it is. Our children, friendships, pursuits, worldly ease, the many airy castles that we build up—are all very pleasant to us, until strokes of chastisement come, and the Lord begins to afflict us in body, in family, or in soul. Yet how kind it is, and all the kinder for being painful—for the Lord to chasten us back to our true home! He will not let us lie down in the green fields and flowery meadows, and sleep under the trees. His strokes are strokes dipped in love—and, however cutting to the flesh, if blessed by the Spirit, they are made instrumental in driving us home, bringing us to our right mind, and showing us where true rest is only to be found—in Christ, in His love, grace, and suitability—in all that He is and all that He has. What a wise and kind parent, then, He is to chasten us—though painful at the time! The difference between a believer & an unbeliever "Blessed is the man whom You discipline, O Lord." Psalm 94:12 Nothing comes to a child of God as a matter of accident or chance. It all proceeds from God—and all is dealt out in measure and for certain purposes. If the Lord touches our bodies—it is for our spiritual good. If He brings affliction through our children—it is for our spiritual good. If He afflicts us in our circumstances—it is for our spiritual good. When the eye is opened to see—the ear to hear—the heart to believe—and the conscience made tender to feel—we know and confess that these things are sent from God. Here is the difference between a believer and an unbeliever. The unbeliever says, 'it is chance!' for unbelief sees the hand of God in nothing. The believer says, 'it is the Lord!' for faith sees the hand of God in everything. There are many afflicted—but only few chastened. Many have abundance of worldly trouble—but only God's people are really chastened, so as to see and feel the hand of God in the rod, and submit to it as such. Here is all the difference between a believer and an unbeliever—between a child of God and an infidel. Rods of different sizes "Blessed is the man whom You discipline, O Lord." Psalm 94:12 The Lord has various ways of chastising His people. But He generally selects such chastisement as is peculiarly adapted to the individual whom He chastens. What would be a very great chastisement for you—might not be so to me. And what on the other hand might be a very severe stroke to me—might not be so to you. Our dispositions, our constitutions, and our experiences may all differ—and therefore that chastening is selected which is suitable to the individual. It is as though the Lord has suspended in His heavenly closet, a number of rods of different sizes. And He takes out that very rod which is just adapted to the very child whom He intends to chastise—inflicting it in such a measure—at the precise time—and in such a way as is exactly fitted to the individual to be chastised. And here is the wisdom of God signally displayed. The Lord, for instance, sees fit to chasten some in body. It is in sickness and affliction, oftentimes, that the Lord is pleased to—manifest Himself to our souls—bless us with His presence—and stir up in us a spirit of prayer. I myself am a living witness of it. The greatest blessings I have ever had—the sweetest manifestations of the Lord to my soul—have been upon a sick bed. Illness is often very profitable. When the Lord is pleased to manifest Himself in them, bodily afflictions—separate us from the world—set our hearts upon heavenly things—and draw our affections from the things of time and sense! Fleeting, fluctuating opinions of worms "Blessed is the man whom You discipline, O Lord." Psalm 94:12 What a different estimate men form of blessedness and happiness—from that which God has declared in His word to be such! If we listen to the opinions of men about happiness, would not their language be something like this, "Happiness consists in health and strength—in an abundance of the comforts, luxuries, and pleasures of life—in an amiable and affectionate partner—in children healthy, obedient, and well-provided for in the world—in a long and successful life, closed by an easy and tranquil death." I think a unsaved man would, if he did not use the very words, express his ideas of happiness pretty much in the substance of what I have just sketched out. But when we come to what the Lord God Almighty has declared to be happiness—when we turn aside from the opinions of men, to the expressed words and revealed ways of the Lord, what do we find 'blessedness' to consist in? Who are the people that the unerring God of truth has pronounced to be blessed? "Blessed are—the poor in spirit—those who mourn—the meek—those who hunger and thirst after righteousness—the merciful—the pure in heart." And again, in the words of our text, "Blessed is the man whom you discipline, O Lord." These are the unerring words of God—and by His words man will be tried. It is not the fleeting, fluctuating opinions of worms of the earth—but it is the unerring declaration of the only true God by which these matters are to be decided! The two characters in the temple Look at the two characters in the temple. See the proud Pharisee buoyed up with his own righteousness! Was that man, as he thought, near to God? But what set him so far from the Lord? His self-righteousness—it was that which set him far from God—the pride which he took in his doings and duties! Now, look at the tax collector, who in his own feelings was indeed far from God, for he dared not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven. But which was nearer to God—the broken-hearted tax collector—or the self-righteous Pharisee? So when a man may think himself nearest to God by his doings and duties, by his obedience and consistency—by this very self-righteousness he thrusts himself away from God—for he secretly despises the gospel of Christ, makes himself his own savior—and, therefore, pours contempt on the blood and obedience of the Son of God. Thus, a poor guilty sinner, who in his own feelings is ready to perish, and but a miserable outcast, is brought near to God by the righteousness of the gospel—while the Pharisee is kept far from God by the wall of self-righteousness, which his own hands have built and plastered. It is to the perishing and the outcast that the gospel makes such sweet melody. And why? Because it tells them the work of Christ is a finished work—that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanses from all sin—because it assures them that His righteousness is upon all who believe—because it proclaims mercy for the miserable—pardon for the guilty—salvation for the lost—and that where sin has abounded, there grace does much more abound! The road to heaven "But the gateway to life is small, and the road is narrow, and only a few ever find it." Matthew 7:14 Man cannot obtain eternal life by any wisdom, any strength, any righteousness, or any goodness of his own. We are very slow learners in this school. The pride of our heart, our ignorance, and our unbelief—all conspire to make us diminish the difficulties of the way. But the Lord has to teach us by painful experience that the road to heaven is so difficult that a man can only walk in it as he is put in and kept in it by an almighty hand. Think for a moment "A bruised reed shall He not break, and smoking flax shall He not quench." Matthew 12:20 When you think for a moment—how filthy and abominable your corruptions are—how strong and powerful your lusts and passions—how many and grievous your slips and falls—how carnal your mind—how cold and lifeless too often your frame—how wandering your prayers—how worldly your inclinations—how earthly and sensual your desires—is it not sometimes a wonder to you, that the Almighty God does not in righteous wrath put His foot upon you and crush you into hell, as we crush a spider? We deserve it every day that we live. I might almost say, that with well near every breath that we draw we deserve, deeply deserve—to be stamped out of life—and crushed into a never-ending hell. But herein is manifested the tender condescending mercy and grace of the compassionate Redeemer—that He will not quench the smoking flax—but will keep the flame alive which He Himself so mercifully in the first instance kindled. The hand that brought the spark must keep alive the flame—for as no man can quicken, so no man can keep alive his own soul. How it is kept alive is indeed most mysterious—but kept alive it is. Does it not sometimes seem to you as though you had no life of God in your soul—not a spark of grace in your heart? Where is your religion? Where is your faith and hope and love? Where your spirituality and tenderness of heart, conscience, and affections? Where your breathings after God? Gone, gone, gone! And all would be utterly, irrecoverably gone—if it were in your own hands—and consigned to your own keeping. But it is in better hands and better keeping than yours! Christ's sheep shall never perish—and none shall pluck them out of His hand! And thus it comes to pass, that the "smoking flax" is never quenched. O how quickly would Satan throw water upon it! He would soon, if permitted, pour forth the flood of his temptations, to extinguish the holy flame that smoulders within. How sin, also, again and again pours forth a whole flood of corruption to overcome and extinguish the life of God in the soul! The world without, and the worse world within—would soon drown it in his destruction and perdition—were the Lord to keep back His protecting hand! Have you not wondered sometimes, that when you have been so cold, so dead, so stupid, so hardened—as if you had not one spark of true religion or one grain of real grace—yet all of a sudden you have found your heart softened, melted, moved, stirred, watered, blessed—and you have felt an inward persuasion that in spite of all your corruptions and sins and sorrows—there is the life of God within? It is thus that the blessed Lord keeps alive the holy flame which He Himself has kindled. Otherwise, it would soon go out—no, it must go out—unless He keeps it alive! O how Satan would triumph if any saint ever fell out of the embraces of the good Shepherd—if he could point his derisive finger up to heaven's gate and to its risen King, and say, 'Your blood was shed in vain for this wretch—he is mine—he is mine!' Such a boast would fill hell with a yell of triumph. But no, no! it never will be so! The blood which cleanses from all sin never was, never can be shed in vain! Though the flax "smokes," it will never be extinguished! Temptation Is there one temptation that you can master? Is there any one sin that you can, without divine help, crucify? Is there one lust that you can, without special grace, subdue? We are total weakness in this matter! There is nothing which makes us feel our weakness so much as an acquaintance with temptation. Temptation brings to light the evils of the heart. These are, for the most part, unnoticed and unknown until temptation discovers them. David's adulterous, murderous heart—Hezekiah's pride—Job's peevishness—Jonah's rebellion—Peter's cowardice—all lay hidden and concealed in their bosoms until temptation drew them forth. Temptation did not put them there—but found them there. Two effects are produced by temptations— 1. Pride, strength, and self-righteousness are more or less crushed. 2. The heart is bruised and made tender. You perhaps get entangled in a sinful snare—you are overtaken by some stratagem of Satan—or some besetment from within. And what is the consequence? Guilt lies hard and heavy upon your conscience. This bruises it—makes it tender and sore—and often cuts deeply into it until it bleeds at well-near every pore! When I am weak "When I am weak, then am I strong." 2 Corinthians 12:10 A child of God in himself is all weakness. Others may boast of their strength—but he has none—and he feels he has none. But it is one thing to subscribe to this truth as a matter of doctrine—and another to be acquainted with it as a matter of inward, personal experience. It must be learned—painfully for the most part—inwardly learned under the teachings of the Spirit. Now it is this weakness—experimentally known and felt—that opens the way for a personal experience of the strength of Christ. For when Paul was groaning under the buffetings of Satan and the festering throbs of the thorn in the flesh, the Lord Himself said to him, "My grace is sufficient for you: for my strength is made perfect in weakness." If, therefore, we do not experimentally know what weakness is—we cannot know experimentally what it is to have the strength of Christ made perfect in that weakness! A time to weep "A time to weep." Ecclesiastes 3:4 Does a man only weep once in his life? Does not the time of weeping run, more or less, throughout a Christian's life? Does not mourning run parallel with his existence in this tabernacle of clay? for man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upwards. True Christians will know many times to weep—they will have often to sigh and cry over their base hearts—to mourn with tears of godly sorrow their backslidings from God—to weep over their broken idols, faded hopes, and marred prospects—to weep at having so grieved the Spirit of God by their disobedience, carnality, and worldliness. But above all things will they have to weep over the inward idolatries of their filthy nature—to weep that they ever should have treated with such insult that God whom they desire to love and adore—that they should so neglect and turn their backs upon that Savior who crowns them with loving-kindness and tender mercies—and that they bear so little in mind, the instruction that has been communicated to them by the Holy Spirit. Oh, how different is the weeping, chastened spirit of a living soul from the hardened, seared presumption of a proud professor! How different are the feelings of a broken-hearted child of God from the lightness, the frivolity, the emptiness, and the worldliness—of hundreds who stand in a profession of religion! How different is a mourning saint, weeping in his solitary corner over his base backslidings—from a reckless professor who justifies himself in every action, who thinks sin a light thing, and who, however inconsistently he acts—never feels conscience wounded thereby. A time to mourn "A time to mourn." Ecclesiastes 3:4 We need indeed to mourn over our wretched hearts—that we are so carnal, so stupid, and so earthly—that we have so little power to resist our evil passions. We need to mourn over our lightness—our frivolity—our emptiness—the things that drop from our lips—the unsteadiness of our walk in the strait and narrow path—our many declensions, backslidings, and secret departures from the Lord. "Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted." Matthew 5:4 The flesh "That which is born of the flesh is flesh." John 3:6 There is no promise made that in this life, we shall be set free from the indwelling and the in-working of sin. Many think that their flesh is to become "progressively holier and holier"—that sin after sin is to be removed gradually out of the heart—until at last they are almost made perfect in the flesh. But this is an idle dream, and one which, sooner or later will be crudely and roughly broken to pieces. The flesh will ever remain the same—and we shall ever find that the flesh will lust against the Spirit. Our fleshly nature is corrupt to the very core. It cannot be mended. It cannot be sanctified. It is the same at the last, as it was at the first—inherently evil, and as such will never cease to be corrupt until we put off mortality—and with it the body of sin and death. All we can hope for, long after, expect, and pray for—is that this evil fleshly nature may be subdued, kept down, mortified, crucified, and held in subjection under the power of grace. But as to any such change passing upon the flesh—or taking place in the flesh as to make it holy—it is but a pharisaic delusion, which, promising a holiness in the flesh, leaves us still under the power of sin. The true sanctification of the new man of grace—which is wrought by a divine power—is utterly distinct from any imagined holiness in the flesh—or any vain dream of its progressive sanctification. Bought with a price "For you are bought with a price." 1 Corinthians 6:20 How deep—how dreadful—of what dreadful magnitude—of how black a dye—of how ingrained a stamp must sin be—to need such an atonement—no less than the blood of the Son of God—to take it away! What a slave to sin and Satan—what a captive to the power of lust—how deeply sunk, how awfully degraded—how utterly lost and undone must guilty man be—to need a sacrifice like this! Have you ever felt your bondage to sin, Satan, and the world? Have you ever groaned, cried, grieved, sorrowed, and lamented under your miserable captivity to the power of sin? Has the iron ever entered into your soul? Have you ever clanked your fetters, and as you did so, and tried to burst them, they seemed to bind round about you with a weight scarcely endurable? You were slaves of sin and Satan—you were shut up in the dark cell, where all was gloom and despondency—there was little hope in your soul of ever being saved. But there was an entrance of gospel light into your dungeon—there was a coming out of the house of bondage—there was a being brought into the light of God's countenance, shining forth in His dear Son. Now, this is not only being bought with a price, but experiencing the blessed effects of it. Laboring under temptations Some of the Lord's family are laboring under temptations. And these temptations are so suitable to their fallen nature—and they are so unable in their own strength to overcome them—that they are afraid lest one day they should be awfully carried away by them. The lusts of their flesh—the evils and corruptions of their wicked heart—the daily, hourly snares that Satan spreads for their feet—their own thorough helplessness—their own proneness to fall into these very snares—all contribute to distress their souls. And thus, sometimes, in an agony of soul, the tears rolling down their cheeks, and heaving sobs gushing from their bosom—they are importunate with the Lord—to deliver them from this temptation—to break this snare—to set their soul free from this besetting sin in which they are so cruelly and grievously entangled. What does God see in you? Has it not sometimes surprised you that God ever heard your prayers? And what has been the reason of this surprise? Has it not been this? "My prayers are so polluted—my thoughts so wandering—my mind so carnal—my lusts so strong—my corruptions so powerful—my backslidings so innumerable! O, when I view these things I wonder that God can hear my prayers!" And well you may wonder—if you look at the matter in that way. God does not hear your prayers because there is anything good in you! How could it be? What does God see in you? A mass of filth and folly! There is in you nothing else. Then why does God hear prayer—and answer it too? Only through Jesus. Prayer ascends through Jesus—and answers descend through Jesus. Groans through Jesus enter the ear of God Almighty—and through the same open gate of bleeding mercy, do answers drop into the soul. Our poor self-righteous hearts can hardly comprehend this—and we think we must have a good frame, or bring a good deed, or a good heart to make our prayers acceptable to God. Perish the thought! This is nothing but the spawn of self-righteousness! He cannot find real pleasure in the world The human heart must be engaged upon something—its affections must be fixed upon some object—its thoughts and desires must be occupied with one thing or other. If his heart, then, is not set Godwards, if his affections are not fixed upon Christ, if his soul is not engaged on heavenly things—he may have the greatest profession of religion, but his heart is still worldly, his affections still earthly, and his soul still going out after idols. But where the Lord has really touched the conscience with His finger, and made Himself precious to the soul—however a man may seem for a time to be buried in the world, and his affections going out after forbidden objects—however he may be hewing out cisterns, broken cisterns which can hold no water—however he may secretly backslide from the Lord—still he cannot break the hold that eternal things have upon his heart—he cannot find real pleasure in the world, though he may often seek it. Nor can he bury himself contentedly in its pursuits. There will be a restless dissatisfaction with the things of time and sense—an aching void—and a turning again to the stronghold—a seeking the Lord, who alone can really satisfy the soul, and make it happy for time and eternity! Natural conviction for sin Godly sorrow for sin differs much from natural conviction for sin. Powerful natural convictions, I believe, for the most part are not felt more than once or twice in a man's life—and when they have passed away—the conscience is more seared than it was before—the world more eagerly grasped—and sin more impetuously plunged into. But 'godly sorrow' is produced by a supernatural work of grace on the heart. The eye of faith sees sin in the light of God's countenance—and thus the soul becomes alive to its dreadful evil and horrible character. The heart too is melted down into godly sorrow by beholding the Savior's sufferings—and viewing the Lord of life and glory as stooping and agonizing under the weight of sin—not only as imputed to Him—but as pressing Him down into anguish and distress. And thus, godly sorrow for sin is not a thing which a man feels once or twice in his life—but from time to time, as the Spirit works it in his heart, godly sorrow flows forth. If he has been—entangled in sin—overcome by temptation—slidden back into the world—or his heart has gone after idols—a living soul will not pass it by as a thing of no consequence. But, sooner or later, the Spirit touches his heart—godly sorrow flows out—and his soul is melted and moved by feeling what a base wretch he is in the sight of a holy God. Objects of undeserved love "I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I will have compassion." Romans 9:15 God sooner or later brings every elect soul to this conclusion—that those who are saved are saved, because God will save them—that He has mercy on whom He will have mercy, and on them alone—that He saves them not for any foreseen goodness in them, but of His own discriminating, sovereign grace—that He loves them freely, eternally and unchangeably—and that they are redeemed, justified, quickened, sanctified, preserved, and glorified—only because they are the objects of the undeserved love of a Triune Jehovah! Humility Humility springs from a knowledge of God and a knowledge of one's self. It consists—in a spiritual acquaintance with the deceit and wickedness of the heart—in esteeming others better than ourselves—in feeling how little grace and real religion we possess—in confessions to God and man of our vileness—in sitting at Jesus' feet to be taught by Him—in taking the lowest room among the children of God—in feeling our helplessness, weakness, foolishness and nothingness! Godly fear Godly fear—realizes God's heart-searching presence—trembles at His frown—dreads His displeasure—is afraid of His judgments—feels His chastening hand—and seeks above all things His favor and the light of His countenance! Conversion Conversion consists in—a change of heart—a change of affections—a change of feelings—a turning from formality to spirituality—from free-will to free-grace—from self-righteousness to self-abhorrence—from hypocrisy to honesty—from self-justification to self-condemnation—from profession to power! Found in hypocrites, apostates & reprobates If, then, we are asked what it is which saves a soul, we answer that it is not works of righteousness which we have done or can do—nor the use of our free-will, which is only free to choose and love evil—nor watchfulness, prayer and fasting—nor self-denial, austerity and outward sanctification—nor any duties and forms—nor, in a word, any one thing singly, or multitude of things collectively, which depend on the natural wisdom and strength of man. Nor, again, is it head-knowledge—nor firm conviction of truth in the judgment—nor such workings of natural conscience as compel us to assent to a free grace salvation—nor a life outwardly consistent with the gospel—nor membership in a gospel church—nor natural attachment to the children and to the ministers of God—nor zeal for experimental religion—nor sacrifices made to support truth. Nor, again, does salvation consist in doubts and fears, tribulations, temptations, workings of inward corruption, legal terrors, fits of gloomy despondency and heart-rending despair. All these things "accompany salvation," and are to be found in all the heirs of glory—but some of them or all may equally be found in hypocrites, apostates and reprobates. Neither does salvation consist in outward gifts, as preaching and praying, as a man may taste of the heavenly gift—and yet his end be to be burned. Saul prophesied—Judas preached—and the sons of Sceva cast out demons by the name of Jesus. Salvation consists of three parts Salvation 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. Salvation future consists in the eternal enjoyment of Christ, when the elect shall sit down to the marriage supper of the Lamb, and be forever 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 forever with Christ in glory, who are not betrothed to Him in this life by the manifestations of Himself to their soul. Salvation as an internal reality All doctrines, notions, forms, creeds, ordinances and ceremonies—short of experiential salvation—are as the dust in the balance, and as the driven stubble before the wind. What, for instance, is election—except it be revealed to my soul that I was elected before the foundation of the world? What is redemption to me—except the atoning blood of the Lamb be sprinkled on my conscience? What is the everlasting love of a Triune Jehovah—unless that eternal love be shed abroad in my heart by the Holy Spirit? What is the final perseverance of the saints—unless there is a blessed enjoyment of it in the conscience as a personal reality? To see these things revealed in the Bible is nothing. To hear them preached by one of God's ministers is nothing. To receive the truth of these into our judgment, and to yield to them an unwavering assent is nothing. Thousands have done all this, who are blaspheming God in hell. But to have eternal election, personal redemption, imputed righteousness, unfailing love, and all the other blessed links of the golden chain let down into the soul from the throne of God—to have the beauty, glory and blessedness of salvation revealed to the heart and sealed upon the conscience—this is all in all. A man's soul must be damned or saved. And a man must have salvation as an internal reality—as a known, enjoyed, tasted, felt and handled possession—or he will never enter the kingdom of heaven. He may be Churchman or Dissenter, Calvinist or Arminian, Baptist or Independent, anything or everything—and yet all his profession is no more towards his salvation than the cut of his clothes, the height of his stature, or the color of his complexion. And thus all a man's—consistency of life—soundness of creed—walking in the ordinances—long and steady profession—and everything on which thousands are resting for salvation, of a merely external nature—can no more put away sin, satisfy the justice of God, and give the soul a title for heaven, than the lewd conversation of a harlot! Man's religion Man would teach religion as he teaches arithmetic or mathematics. This rule is to be learned—this sum is to be done—this problem is to be understood—this difficulty is to be overcome—and thus progress is to be made. Religion, according to the received creed—is something which a man must be urged into. He must be made religious somehow or other. He must either be—driven or drawn—wheedled or threatened—enticed or whipped into it—by human arguments or human persuasions. Religion is set before him as a river between his soul and heaven. Into this river he is persuaded, invited, exhorted, entreated to jump. He must leap in, or be pushed in. His feelings are wrought upon, and he takes the prescribed spring. He becomes a professor. He hears—he reads—he prays—he supports the cause—he attends the Sunday School—he models his garb according to the regimentals of the party to which he belongs—he furnishes his mind with the creed of the sect which he has joined. He talks as it talks—believes as it believes—and acts as it acts. And all this is called "conversion" and "decided piety," when all this time there is not—an atom of grace—a grain of spiritual faith—or a spark of divine life in the poor wretch's soul. Man's religion is to put a stick here—and place a stone there—to fill up this corner with a brick and the other corner with a tile—and in this progressive way to build a tower, whose top may reach unto heaven! This ceaseless conflict Temptations are a source of spiritual affliction to God's people. They often, in passing through temptations, think themselves different from all others. They can scarcely believe that any other children of God are as tempted as they are—that such vile thoughts—such base desires—such carnal imaginations—such wicked lusts—should work in the minds of others, who appear to them to be holy and spiritual. They often write bitter things against themselves in consequence of these temptations—to infidelity—to blasphemy—to renounce the cause of God and truth—to commit the vilest sins painted in the imagination—to pride—to hypocrisy—to presumption—and despair. These various temptations lie heavy on a tender conscience, and cut deep just in proportion to the depth of godly fear within. The daily conflict that we have to maintain in our souls against the world, the flesh, and the devil—the struggle of grace against nature, and of nature against grace—the sinkings of the one, and the risings of the other, that are perpetually going on in the souls of God's people—this ceaseless conflict is an affliction that the Lord's people are all called on to pass through. What mysterious arithmetic! "Count it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds." James 1:2 See the transmuting effect of grace enabling the tried and tempted family of God to count it pure joy, whenever they face trials of many kinds. We have here a problem in arithmetic. Take all your trials and mark them down. Now add them up, and what is the sum total? "Joy!" What mysterious arithmetic! How unlike the addition taught in schools! How different from the sums and problems in the lesson books! How different, also, a result does the Lord bring out from your own calculations when you looked at them one by one, without adding up the whole sum! Then "count it pure joy" whenever you face trials of many kinds, knowing that their effect is—to wean you from the world—to endear Christ—to render His truth precious—and to make you fit for your eternal inheritance. Are you satisfied with the solution of the problem? Can you write down your own name at the bottom of the sum and say, "It is proved—I carry the proof in my own bosom?" The height of Christian maturity What is the greatest height of grace to which the soul can arrive? To submit wholly to the will of God, and be lost and swallowed up in conformity to it—is the height of Christian maturity here below. There is more manifested grace in the heart of a child of God who, under trial, can say, "May Your will be done," and submit himself to the chastening rod of his Heavenly Father! Our coward flesh shrinks from the flame When the Lord puts us in the furnace, we go in kicking and rebelling. Our coward flesh shrinks from the flame! But when we have been some time in the furnace and find that we cannot kick ourselves out, and that our very struggling only makes the coals burn more fiercely—at last, by the grace of God working in us, we begin to lie still. It was so with Job. How he fought against God! How his carnal mind was stirred up in self-justification and rebellion until the Lord Himself appeared and spoke to his heart from heaven. Then he came to this point, "I had heard of You by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees You." Weighed, measured & timed by infinite love "The Lord tries the righteous." Psalm 11:5 The Lord appoints to every one of His children the peculiar path which he has to tread—and the number and weight of the burdens which he has to carry. Whatever trial, therefore, comes, it is of the Lord. The trials with which God Himself tries His people are not only numerous and various—but for the most part of a very painful and perplexing nature—yet all precisely adapted to the nature of the case and exactly suited to the state of the person tried, as being planned by unerring wisdom—and weighed, measured and timed by infinite love! Thus, as the God of providence—as the Maker of our bodies as well as the Creator of our souls—as the God of our families who gives and takes at will the fruit of the womb—some of His children He tries with poverty—others with sickness—others with taking away the desire of their eyes at a stroke—or cutting off the tender olive plants which have sprung up round about their table and entwined round every fiber of their heart. How sudden also, how unexpected the trials! Heavy losses in business, a sweeping away of the little savings of a life—by some fraud or failure, trick or treachery, riches making themselves wings and flying away, and poverty and need coming in as an armed man to plunder the wreck! How suddenly do such strokes come! Sickness, also, and disease—how swift their attack! The saints of God are not exempt from their share in these afflictions—many are either themselves stretched on beds of languishing and pain—or are watching by the side of afflicted relatives and dying children. How suddenly, also, trials of various kinds come! In one day Job, "the greatest of all the men of the east," lost all the substance which God had given—and the father in the morning of ten living children sat in the evening in his lonely house childless and desolate! How labor pangs fell suddenly on Rachel, and the impatient mother who had cried out "Give me children or else I die," expired under the load of her coveted burden! The discovery of what we are "When He has tried me, I shall come forth like gold." Job 23:10 The Lord tries the righteous by laying bare, and thus discovering to them the secret iniquities of the heart. So the Lord—to strip us of our own pride—to crush our vain confidence—to show us that all our strength is weakness, and that grace must freely sanctify as well as fully save, subdue sin as well as pardon it—often leaves us to the discovery of what we are. As, then, sin after sin becomes discovered—and the teaching of the Spirit making the heart soft and the conscience tender—the soul is painfully and acutely tried by seeing and feeling these inward abominations. How markedly we see this in Job! In the furnace what a discovery was made of the corruptions of his heart—which before were to himself unsuspected and unknown! They had not escaped the searching eye of Omniscience—but they had much escaped the eye of the most perfect and upright man who then dwelt upon the earth. When, however this eminent saint of God was tried by afflictions and desertions—pain of body and agony of mind—then the deep and foul corruptions of his heart become manifest—and the most rebellious and unfitting expressions found vent through his lips. You may think harshly of Job—but the greatest saint, the most highly favored Christian put into the same furnace—would behave no better than he. If the Lord withdraws His presence, and leaves us to the workings of our corrupt heart—what can be the outcome but fretfulness, rebellion, murmuring thoughts, unbelief, and self-pity? They shall walk and not faint "They shall walk and not faint." Isaiah 40:31 Walking implies—a steady, progressive pace—a calm, steady progression in the things of God—a sober persuasion of the truth as it is in Jesus—a calm movement in the ways of the Lord—a living in peace with God, and in peace with His people—a walking in the commandments of the Lord blameless—a going onward in that humility, integrity, godly fear, tenderness of conscience, wariness, and uprightness of heart which befit the true believer. Wait "But those who wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint." Isaiah 40:31 The very word wait implies perseverance and fixed determination in the soul—that to God alone will we look. The Lord by His mysterious dealings cuts us off from resting upon an arm of flesh. He will not allow us to lean upon any friend, however near or dear. He will not let us look to any one but Himself, for He is a jealous God—and therefore He keeps cutting off link after link, tie after tie, bond after bond—that not having any human comfort, we may seek consolation only in Him. The soaring soul "They shall mount up with wings as eagles." Isaiah 40:31 Sometimes we are so fastened down to this earth—this valley of tears—this waste-howling wilderness. We are so chained down to it, that we are like a bird with a broken wing, and cannot soar. We are swallowed up in the world—forgetting God and godliness. But are there not times and seasons when the soul is delivered from these chains and fetters—when earthly cares drop off from the mind—when the world and its temptations—sin and its snares—are left behind—and there is a sweet soaring up in the feelings of heavenly affection? The soaring soul never ceases to soar until it comes into the very presence of God! The religion of a dead professor 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! But the true child of God—though he is often faint, weary, and exhausted with many difficulties, burdens, and sorrows—yet when the Lord does show Himself, and renews his strength, he soars aloft, and never ceases to mount up on the wings of faith and love until he penetrates into the very sanctuary of the Most High! All the things of time and sense leave a child of God unsatisfied. Nothing but vital union and communion with the Lord of life and glory, to—feel His presence—taste His love—enjoy His favor—see His glory—nothing but this will ever satisfy the desires of ransomed and regenerated souls! He knows what is best for you! Why do you say, O Jacob, and complain, O Israel, "My way is hidden from the Lord; my cause is disregarded by my God"? Isaiah 40:27 The path in which the family of God were then walking was exceedingly perplexing. Their "way"—that is, the path they were taking—the mode of the Lord's dealing with their soul—was so perplexing and obscure—that they could not believe it was a right way. The Lord had hidden His face from them, and did not show them the nature or reason of His dealings with them. With respect to this intricate path in which you are walking, He adds, "there is no searching of his understanding." He knows what is best for you! And though your present path is dark and obscure in your eyes, it is bright and clear in His. He would, therefore, urge this upon the conscience of His exercised and complaining child, 'Your part is to sit still, and wait until the deliverance appear. In due time, I will explain to you the nature and reason of these mysterious dealings.' Great barriers to receiving Christ Self-righteousness and fleshly-holiness are as great barriers to receiving Christ into the heart—as sin and profanity. The cause of all our misery Now sin, horrible sin—this dreadful and damnable sin of ours—is the cause of all our misery! We not only inherited it from our first parents—but we have sinned ever since we came into being. Yes, we were conceived in sin and shaped in iniquity, and so ever since we came forth into this world until the present time, we have sinned in every thought, word and deed. Now when the Lord the Spirit begins His gracious work upon a sinner's heart and conscience, one of the first things He makes him to feel is that he is a captive to sin. He feels in a position from which he cannot extricate himself. He is tied and bound with the chain of his sins. Sin has cast around him a chain, from which he cannot extricate himself—and under the sense of sin he feels bound in captivity and bondage. How he hails the first gleam of light that shows him the way of escape out of his dungeon! The authors of our own misery

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RICHES of J. C. PHILPOT - Volume 9

J.C. Philpot

J.C. Philpot (1802 - 1869)

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