God, Comforting the Disconsolate

Part 2 God, Comforting the Disconsolate

"God, Comforting the Disconsolate"

"God, who comforts those that are cast down." -2 Cor. 5:6

What an untold blessing to one believer may be the dealings of God with another! As 'no man lives to himself,' so no Christian is tried and supported, wounded and healed, disciplined and taught, for himself alone. God designs by His personal dealings with us to expound some law of His government, and to convey some lesson of instruction to the mind, or to pour some stream of consolation into the heart of others. Thus the experience of one child of God may prove the channel of peculiar and immense blessing to many. God, in this arrangement, is but acting in accordance with a law of our nature of His own creating- the law of individual and reciprocal influence. No individual of the human family occupies in the world a position isolated and alone. He is a part of an integral system. He is a member of a complete and vast community. He is a link in a mighty and an interminable chain. He cannot think, nor speak, nor move, nor act, without affecting the interests and the well-being, it may be, of myriads. By that single movement, in the utterance of that one thought, in the enunciation of that great truth, He has sent a thrill of sensation along an endless line of existence. Who can tell where individual influence terminates? Who can place his finger upon the last link that vibrates in the chain of intelligent being? What if that influence never terminates? What if that chain never ceases to vibrate? Solemn thought!

In another and a remote period, in a distant and an undiscovered region, the sentiment, the habit, the feeling, once, perhaps thoughtlessly and carelessly, set in motion, has gone on working for good or for evil, owned and blessed, or rejected and cursed, of Heaven. Nothing can recall it; no remorse, nor tears, nor prayers, can summon it back; no voice can persuade, no authority command it to return. It is working its way through myriads of minds to the judgment-seat, and is rushing onward, onward, ONWARD through the countless ages of eternity!

Thought is immortal. Its propagation is endless. It never dies, and it never ceases to act. The forest oak, beneath whose waving boughs we sit today, and which perhaps sheltered and shaded the Druid in his senseless worship centuries ago, owes its form, its species, and its tint, to the acorn which dropped from its remote ancestor. And still the seed is falling, and the winds, bearing it away, are dropping it where it will take root and spring up, and mount heavenwards, and extend its branches; and generations yet unborn will come and worship, perhaps the living and the true God, under its green foliage. Such is the history of personal character and of individual influence. Borne along upon the stream of time, who can calculate the good, or compute the evil, or descry the end of a single life? My soul! aim to live in view of this solemn thought!

But especially is this true of the child of God. He belongs to a people within a people, to a church within a church, to a kingdom within a kingdom- designated as a "chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a peculiar people." In this separate and hidden community, there is a Divine cement, an ethereal bond of union, which unites and holds each part to the whole, each member to the body in the closest cohesion and unity. The apostle more than recognizes- he emphatically asserts this truth, when, speaking of the church of God, he describes it as the "whole body fitly joined together, and compacted by that which every joint supplies."

And again, when speaking of the sympathetic influence of the Church, he says, And when one member suffers, all the, members suffer with it." And so also of the consolation. When Paul penned the letter to the church at Corinth, now under consideration, he was with his companions in circumstances of deep trial. He was 'cast down,' and disconsolate. God sought to 'stay his rough wind in the day of his east wind' by sending to him an affectionate Christian minister and beloved brother. "Nevertheless," writes the apostle, in recording the fact, "God, who comforts those who are cast down, comforted us by the coming of Titus." He who wrote these words has long since been in glory; and yet the experience he then traced upon the page, has been, and is still, telling upon the instruction, the comfort, and the holiness of millions, and will go on telling until time shall be no more.

Remember, my reader, you must depart this world, but your influence will survive you. Your character and works, when dead, will be molding the living; and they, in their turn, will transmit the lineaments and the form of a mind whose thoughts never perish, to the remotest posterity. "He being dead yet speaks." What an expressive epitaph! A truer sentiment, and one more solemn, never breathed from the marble tablet. The dead never die! Their memory speaks! Their character speaks! Their works speak, and speak forever!

But WHO ARE THOSE WHOM GOD COMFORTS? They are the 'cast down,' or, in other words, the HUMBLE. Their deeper humiliation is the great end, as it regards themselves, which God has in view in all His dealings with His people. "You shall remember all the way which the Lord your God led you these forty years in the wilderness, to humble you, and to test you, to know what was in your heart." The first step which God takes in this work of humiliation is in conversion. The great casting down of a man is when he is brought by the Eternal Spirit to see his true state as a sinner before God. When the mind is convinced of sin, and contrition bows the spirit, and self-righteousness falls before the cross, and Jesus is received into the heart, and the man ascribes his salvation solely to the free and discriminating grace of God- then it is that the great humiliation, the true casting down of the soul, takes place.

What a spectacle of spiritual beauty is this! To witness an idolatrous Manasseh, a proud Nebuchadnezzar, a self-righteous Saul, a covetous Zaccheus, trampling their own glory in the dust, and 'praising and extolling and honoring the King of heaven,' taking their stand upon the finished work of Jesus, and ascribing their recovery to the sovereign mercy of that God whom they had hated; must add delight to the inhabitants of heaven, as it does glory to heaven itself. Such humble souls God lifts up. Passing by the lofty, whom He disdains, and the self-sufficient, upon whose boasting He pours His withering contempt, He will show to the world that to "to this man will he look, even to him who is of an humble and a contrite spirit, and who trembles at his word." "And all the trees of the field shall know that I the Lord have brought down the high tree, have exalted the low tree, have dried up the green tree, and have made the dry tree to flourish: I the Lord have spoken it and have done it." This, then, is the first step which God takes in the true humiliation of the soul. With a view to 'hide pride from man,' the Lord veils his eye to his own 'imaginary' greatness, and opens it to his real deformity. "The loftiness of man is bowed down, and the haughtiness of men is made low: and the Lord alone is exalted in that day."

But in the subsequent and more advanced stages of the Christian life, we find much into the experience of which the believer is brought, tending to cast down the people of God. Without minutely describing the many causes of soul-disquietude which exist, we may group together in one view those, the most fruitful, which conspire to this casting down of the spirit. We may mention, as among the most powerful, the clinging body of sin, to which his renewed spirit is enchained, from which it sighs to be delivered, but from which death only frees it; consequently, there is the daily battle with a heart of unbelief, incessantly departing from God. Then there are the labyrinths of the desert, the straitness of the narrow way, the 'fears within, and the fightings without,' the trials of faith, the chastisements of love, the offence of the cross, the intricacies of truth, the woundings of the world, the unkindnesses of the saints, and the varied trials and afflictions of the wilderness- all these create oftentimes great disquietude and despondency of soul.

And when to these are added the yet more painful and humbling remembrance of his sins since conversion, his stumblings and falls, his unkind requitals of God's love, the base returns which he has made, and the deep ingratitude which he has felt for all the divine goodness, and the consequent hidings of God's face, and the withdrawments of Christ's presence, he exclaims in the bitterness of his spirit, "My soul is cast down within me." Ah! there is no humiliation like that which a sight and sense of sin produces, the heart laid open and the soul laid low before God. The world's bitter scorn, the creature's cold neglect, are nothing in comparison. In the one case, the heart is only mortified; in the other, it is truly humbled. The one is a feeling that has to do with man only- the other is an emotion that has to do with God.

And when once the believer is solemnly conscious of acting beneath the eye of God, the gaze of other eyes affects him but slightly. Oh how little do some professors deport themselves as though they had to do only with God! How imperfectly do they look upon sin as God looks upon it! But did they live more as setting the Lord always before them, how superior would they rise to the poor opinion of their fellow-sinners! To them it would then appear a very little matter to be judged of man's judgment.

Thus the 'soul of the people is much discouraged because of the way.' Ah! how imperfectly we know the history of a single believer! What gloomy despondency of mind, what deep anguish of spirit, what hidden sorrow of heart, and what painful trials, too personal and too sacred to reveal to another eye, may form the path along which the lonely traveler is pensively treading his way to God- no one knowing, and no one suspecting it! And then in this hidden path how little real sympathy is gathered from the creature! "We have but few companions with us," remarks a beloved minister of Christ. Enlarge your heart as you will in love towards the family of God- take an extended view, pray for a large heart, pray for width, pray for breadth, pray for largeness, yet beware of letting down the truth; and with that truth before you, you will be forced to acknowledge, 'few there be that find it.'

If a sound creed, if clear views of doctrine, if a little alteration of conduct, if addicting ourselves to a denomination; if this is Christianity, then we must change the text, and confess many 'there are many that find it.' But if Christianity is walking with God, living on Christ, aiming to please Him, if it be those who 'know the plague of their own hearts,' and feel sin to be their burden; if this be the characteristic of the family of God, that the desire of their souls is to consecrate themselves to the God who loved them and gave His Son to die for them- then it still remains a solemn truth, 'Few there be that find it.'

Some who once walked with us, have dropped away; they walk with us no more. Some have never walked with us, though they walk with Christ; they have out-walked us, out-run us, out-talked us. Some rejoice so much, they seem but little affected by the inward plague, though they may yet have to endure it, and will, if they are the children of God; and some there are that think so much of their plague, they never rejoice. We can have but little communion with them. And some have dropped away, gone away, because they have entered upon their holy home. Some- oh! it is touching- some that walked once with us to the house of God, and 'with whom we took sweet counsel'- where are they? In the world! Awful, fearful thought! Oh! it is among the things that make us feel our path to be a trying path; and oftentimes our 'soul is much discouraged because of the way.'

But if there is much to cast down the child of God, there is more to lift him up. If in his path to glory there are many causes of soul despondency, of heart-sorrow, and mental disquietude, yet in that single truth- God comforts the disconsolate- He has an infinite counterbalance of consolation, joy, and hope. That GOD COMFORTS THOSE WHO ARE CAST DOWN, His own truth declares. It is in His heart to comfort them, and it is in His power to comfort them. He blends the desire, deep and yearning, with the ability, infinite and boundless. Not so with the fondest, tenderest creature. The sorrow is often too deep and too sacred for human sympathy to reach. But what is fathomless to man, is a shallow to God. I have said, that it is in the heart of God to comfort His people. Everything that He has done to promote their comfort proves it. He has commanded His ministers to 'speak comfortably to them.' He has sent forth His word to comfort them. He has laid up all comfort and consolation for them in the Son of His love. And in addition to all this, He has given them His own Spirit to lead them to the Divine sources of 'all consolation' which He has provided.

Who could comfort the disconsolate but God? Who could effectually undertake their case but Himself? He only knows their sorrow, and He only could meet it. There is not a moment that God is not bent upon the comfort of 'those who are cast down.' All His dealings with them tend to this- even those that appear adverse and contrary. Does He wound?- it is to heal. Does He cause deep sorrow?-it is to turn that sorrow into a deeper joy. Does He empty?- it is to fill. Does He cast down?- it is to lift up again. Such is the love that moves Him, such is the wisdom that guides Him, and such too is the end that is secured in the Lord's disciplinary conduct with His people.

Dear reader, so interesting is this thought, I know not how to relinquish it- that it is in God's loving heart to speak comfortably to your sorrowful heart. Let but the Holy Spirit enable you to receive this truth in simple faith; and your grief, be its cause and its degree what they may, is more than half assuaged. Not a word may yet be spoken by the 'God of all comfort,' not a cloud may be dispersed, nor a difficulty be removed; yet to be assured by the Divine Comforter that the heart of God yearns over you, and that consolation is sparkling up from its infinite depths, waiting only the command to pour its stream of joyousness into your sorrow-stricken bosom, and it is enough. Yes, I repeat it- for every reiteration of so precious a truth must still be but a faint expression of its magnitude- it is in the loving heart of God to lift up your disconsolate soul from the dust. Listen to His words- there is melody in them such as David's harp spoke not when its soft and mellow strains soothed the perturbed spirit of Saul- "I, even I, am he who comforts you." Mark with what earnestness He makes this declaration. How solicitous does He appear to impress this truth upon the heart- that to comfort His own tried saints, is His sole prerogative, and His infinite delight. "I, even I, am he who comforts you."

But as it regards THE COMFORT ITSELF with which God comforts the disconsolate, how much have we yet to learn touching both its nature and the channel through which in His sovereignty it may flow to us. How prone is the believer to attach an undue importance to the mere 'instrument' of comfort! To give place to the feeling that when comfort vanishes, all other good vanishes with it- thus, in fact, making the real standing of the soul to depend upon an ever-fluctuating emotion. But let it be remembered that the comfort of grace may be suspended, and yet the existence of grace may remain; that the glory of faith may be beclouded, and yet the principle of faith continue.

Contemplate, as affording an illustrious example of this, our adorable Lord upon the cross. Was there ever sorrow like His sorrow? Was there ever desertion like His desertion? Every spring of consolation was dried up. Every beam of light was beclouded. All sensible joy was withdrawn. His human soul was now passing through its strange, its total eclipse. And still His faith hung upon God. Hear Him exclaim, "My God! my God! My Strong One! my Strong One!" His soul was in the storm -and oh what a storm was that! But it was securely anchored upon His Father. There was in His case the absence of all consolation, the suspension of every stream of comfort; and yet in this, the darkest cloud that ever enshrouded the soul, and the deepest sorrow that ever broke the heart, He stayed His soul upon God.

And why should the believer, the follower of Christ, when sensible comfort is withdrawn, cast away his confidence which has great recompense of reward?' Of what use is the anchor but to keep the vessel in the tempest? What folly were it in the mariner to weigh his anchor or to slip his cable when the clouds gather blackness, and the waves swell high! Then it is he most needs them both. It is true he has cast his anchor into the deep, and the depth hides it from his view; but though he cannot discern it through the foaming waves, still he knows that it is firmly fastened, and will keep his storm-tossed vessel from stranding upon a lee shore.

And why should the believer, when 'trouble is near,' and sensible comfort is withdrawn, resign his heart a prey to unbelieving fears, and cherish in his bosom the dark suspicion of God? Were not this to part with the anchor of his hope at the very moment that he the most needed it? I may not be able to pierce the clouds and look within the veil with an eye beaming with an undimmed and assured joy, but I know that the Forerunner is there; that the Priest is upon His throne; that Jesus is alive, and is at the right hand of God- then all is safe. Faith demands, hope expects, and love desires no more. I would have you, then, my reader, not overlook the truth that the covenant of grace has made provision for everything in the life of a child of God, especially for the life of suffering.

It strews the richest blessings, and the most profusely, upon the chequered path- the path inlaid with stones of various colors, and yet each one needful and most precious. "O you afflicted, tossed with tempest, and not comforted, behold, I will lay your stones with fair colors, and lay your foundations with sapphires." It is true that the covenant has anticipated as much the perilous season of prosperity, as the dark hour of adversity. But it always supposes the way to glory to be one of trial and of danger. A heavenly-minded man will learn to look upon the earthly distinction and wealth which the world, so lavish sometimes of its favors, may confer upon him, as a trial and a snare to one desirous of bearing the cross daily after his crucified Lord. And yet for this specific form of danger the covenant of grace amply provides. Be satisfied, my reader, with any station your God may assign you, believing that for every station in which He places His child, there is the grace peculiar to its exigencies, treasured up for him in the everlasting covenant.

We have now reached an interesting and important inquiry in the unfolding of our subject- HOW DOES GOD COMFORT THOSE WHO ARE CAST DOWN? His method is various. He adapts the comfort to the sorrow. He first writes the sentence of death upon all comfort outside of himself. If you have been accustomed to scrutinize narrowly God's way of dealing with you, you will often have marked this peculiar feature- that before He has unsealed the fountain, He has cut off the spring. In other words, He has suspended all human channels of comfort, preparatory to the fulfilment of His own exceeding great and precious promise, "I, even I, am he that comforts you." It was thus He dealt with His Church of old. Behold, I will allure her, and bring her into the wilderness, and speak comfortably to her." In that wilderness, as a 'woman of a sorrowful spirit,' she is brought: in that wilderness she is separated from her companions; yet in that dreary, lonely wilderness the God of all comfort speaks to her heart. And then follows the "song of the Lord in the strange land"- the music of the wilderness. "And she shall SING there, as in the days of her youth, and as in the day when she came up out of the land of Egypt."

This is one way by which God comforts the disconsolate. Overlook it not. It may be painful, humiliating, and trying to faith, but the issue, like all the conduct of our Heavenly Father, will be most blessed and holy. Is He now, in your case, writing the sentence of death upon all creature comfort? Does no eye pity you, no heart feel for you, no tongue address you, and is no hand outstretched to rescue you? Look now for God! for He is on the way, in the time of the creature's failure, Himself to comfort you.

Part 2 God, Comforting the Disconsolate

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