Peace, Tribulation, Victory 2
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6. No, the very bodies in which our souls are lodged, what a little thing may make those earthly tabernacles the source of keenest tribulation! One tender fiber of the brain unstrung—what a source of tribulation may that be to a man all his life! How the Lord too has planted the seeds of disease and death in the very tabernacles of clay that we carry about with us! So that, from without and from within, from the church and from the world, from body and from soul, from friend and from foe, from sinner and from saint—from every source and quarter troubles and tribulations are all upon the watch to seize upon the children of God. Thus each has his appointed portion; for the most part as much as he can bear; for the most part enough to make him live a life of sorrow and anxiety—enough for the most part to weigh him heavily down, and to convince him that in the world he never can have, he never will have, anything but tribulation and trial.
But is not all this for wise purposes? Dare we say, dare we even think, that the Lord is unwise or unkind in ordaining these tribulations? Was it not the will of God that his dear Son should endure suffering before us? Did he not drink the cup of sorrow to the very dregs? Was he not baptized with a baptism of suffering? And was he not the Forerunner, that in all things he might have the preeminence? If, we then, are to walk in his footsteps, and to be conformed to his image, must we not suffer with him? The word of God declares that we must suffer with him, that we may be also glorified together. It is therefore necessary, indispensably necessary, that we also should pass through tribulation; for if we are out of the way of tribulation, most certainly we are out of the way altogether.
But what is the effect, the merciful effect, of these troubles? Is there not a voice with them? When the ear is opened, tribulation speaks. Are there not most beneficial fruits and effects that flow out of tribulation? For instance. Is not our heart by nature very much glued to the world? Do we not naturally love and cleave to it? As we watch the varied movements of our hearts, are they not perpetually going out after something idolatrous—something to gratify and amuse, to interest, occupy, and please our carnal mind? Can we walk the length of the street without the carnal mind going out after some food? It is in order, then, to sever this union, to bring us out of the world, and make us feel it is not our abiding place, and that no happiness is to be found in it, that the Lord sees necessary to lay tribulation upon us; and tribulation of that peculiar nature which will genuinely separate us from the world.
When we are passing through tribulation, what a poor vain thing the world appears to us! We need inward consolation; the world cannot give it. We need balm to our conscience; the world, instead of pouring in that balm, rather rips the wound asunder. We need an assurance of the love of God to our souls; the world, so far from helping forward that assurance, interposes to shut out the manifested loving-kindness of God. We need sacred, internal peace spoken to our souls by the voice of the blood of sprinkling; the world intrudes between that blood and us. So that we need—aye, and sometimes feel that we need, tribulation after tribulation, trial upon trial, affliction upon affliction, stroke upon stroke, grief upon grief, sorrow upon sorrow, to cut asunder that close union which there is between us and the world, and to convince us in our very heart and conscience that there is no rest, no peace, no happiness, no consolation to be found in anything that the world presents.
Now when we are thus exercised with tribulation in various shapes and forms, the Lord is often pleased to lead us into himself, and from time to time to bring us with earnest desires and breathings that he would speak that peace to our souls, which the world can neither give nor take away. We are for instance, made to feel that we live in a dying world. We see men dropping down as it were before our eyes upon every side. We see the scythe of death mowing down thousands and tens of thousands; and we fear, perhaps, lest we carry the seeds of death in our own body. Now under these exercises, we look round. We see nothing in the world that can give us a moment's peace; all, all is marred, polluted, defiled; nothing there that our eyes see, or that our ears hear, which can bring one moment's solid peace into our hearts.
But when we behold, as the Lord is pleased to give us a view by faith, who Jesus is, and what Jesus is, and his words begin to drop with a measure of sweetness and power into the soul, and we can believe what he says to be unalterably true; and as we come to his feet, and cast ourselves before him, if he is but pleased to apply his precious word to our heart, then there is peace—peace in him, though tribulation in the world.
But these two things ever go together. Directly we are out of tribulation, directly affliction is taken off our necks, directly trial and temptation cease—what becomes of us? Away we go back into the world! No stone let loose ever rolled more rapidly down a mountain's side, than we run headlong into the world, headlong into evil, headlong into carnality, headlong into security and fleshly ease, when the hand of God, through affliction, trial, or temptation, ceases to hold us back. Such is the bias of our hearts, such the corruption of our fallen nature—sin, dreadful sin—evil, horrid evil, being its very food, its very breath, its very life. Our carnal minds are altogether one mass of sin—the very moment, therefore, that God ceases to restrain us, our carnal mind hurries off into the things of time and sense. There it grovels, there it buries itself, there it seeks to lie down and wallow as the swine in the mire.
But this never can be. There is that tenderness of conscience in the child of God, that godly fear of his sacred name, that anxious desire to be right, that trembling fear to be wrong; there is that aching void, that crying and sighing after the living God; and blended with all this, that dissatisfaction with self, that though the carnal mind may for a time be amused and interested, there is that in his bosom which speaks a different language, and tells a different tale. The first breath, therefore, of tribulation—the first angry stroke, the first thread of the scourge, (for "the rod is made for the fool's back,") makes him feel how guilty he has been in lusting after the flesh-pots of Egypt, in plunging his affections into the world, in being so engrossed and taken up with its business and anxieties. He is thus made to feel what a wretched backslider, what a filthy idolater he has been, in allowing the world to get so fast a hold upon his affections. He comes, therefore, full of guilt and shame, once more to the footstool of mercy, begging the Lord to reveal himself to his soul, to speak peace to his conscience, to seal home his pardoning love and atoning blood, and so give him that peace which passes all understanding.
Thus we find there is so close, so intimate a relation between tribulation and peace, that they never can be severed or dissociated. I am sure that we should go, I know not where, were it not for tribulation. Some of us would go headlong into the world, and be swallowed up in its cares and anxieties; some would rush headlong into the lusts and pleasures that everywhere surround them; some would be satisfied with an empty, graceless profession, or a form of sound doctrines in the head; some would take the chair of the scorner, and be filled with pride and self-righteousness. But trials, exercises, troubles, sorrows, in a word, "tribulations," in various shapes and of various kinds, drive us home, and bring us, in the hands of the Lord, to that only safe spot—the feet of Jesus, the footstool of mercy, the throne of grace, that we may there find and feel that peace which his blood alone can impart.
But the Lord has said to his disciples, "These things have I spoken unto you, that in me you might have peace." It is, then, by believing "these things," by receiving "these things" into our hearts, and feeling the blessed power of "these things" in our soul, that peace is communicated. If I can believe that I am a branch of the living vine; that I am a friend of Jesus; that he shed his precious blood for my redemption; that he has given me his blessed Spirit to guide me into all truth; that because he lives, I shall live also; that he will come and manifest himself unto me; that he is "the way, the truth, and the life," and that through him I find access unto the Father; that he has gone before to prepare a mansion for me, and will come again and receive me unto himself—if I can believe "these things," and feel the sweet fruits of faith flowing forth, must I not, shall I not, find peace in him?
But how often are we in a kind of middle state! No peace in the world, and little peace in Christ! The world a blank, little else but tribulation and sorrow without and within; and yet, through the workings of unbelief and infidelity, through the weakness of our faith, through the carnality of our minds, through the temptations of Satan, through various inward suggestions, through barrenness and darkness of soul, though we come to Jesus, call upon his name, endeavor to believe what he has revealed in his word, yet we do not find that peace which he has promised. But does not the Lord thus teach us that he himself must create peace in our consciences by himself speaking peace to our souls, and mercifully and graciously shedding abroad his love in our hearts?
Of one thing I am very sure; if ever I have found one moment's peace, it has been "in him." It may have been very transitory, very fleeting; but while it lasted, it was peace, and that peace was "in him;" not in self, not in sin, not in the world, but "in him"—by union to him, by communion with him, by receiving out of his fullness grace for grace; and through some manifestation of his mercy, goodness, and love.
But when we compare these two things together, how long are the seasons of tribulation! how short are the seasons of peace! How enduring the affliction, how transient the joy! How many rolling waves and billows of tribulation! how few moments of real solid, enduring calm! Yet enough to show us that peace is to be found nowhere else but in Jesus, enough to give us something of a foretaste of eternal peace, and make us desire to receive it more substantially, more fully, more feelingly, that our hearts may be wholly bathed with it, and our peace, according to his gracious promise, may flow like a river.
III. VICTORY through Jesus over the world. But the Lord adds—"Be of good cheer, I have overcome the world." Does not this show that the world is an enemy to the Lord, and to the Lord's people? and never so much an enemy, never to be so much dreaded, as when it comes in the guise of a friend. When it steals upon your heart, engrosses your thoughts; wins your affections, draws away your mind from God—then it is to be dreaded. When we can see the world in its true colors; when we can pass through the world as in it, but not of it; when we can be sweetly lifting up our hearts to the Lord, meditating upon his word, or sighing and crying unto him—there is little fear then of the world getting the conquest. But, when our eyes begin to drink it in; when our ears begin to listen to its voice; when our hearts become entangled in its fascinations; when our minds get filled with its anxieties; when our affections depart from the Lord, and cleave to the things of time and sense—then the world is to be dreaded. When it smites us as an enemy, its blows are not to be feared—it is when it smiles upon us as a friend it is most to be dreaded. But the Lord has said, "I have overcome the world."
You may be much entangled in the cares of business; the very vocation, the necessary vocation, whereby you earn your daily bread, may occupy much of your thoughts; but the Lord has said for you, "I have overcome the world." The anxieties of business, the cares of this life, shall not be your master, if you are one of the Lord's—he has overcome the world for you. But you shall have such tribulation in business, such cares and anxieties in the very calling whereby you live, that you shall not idolize it, nor have your affections wholly glued to it. You shall not have a path of prosperity; it would not suit you; you would embrace the world with both arms, and your affections would depart from the living God. Therefore, though the Lord will give you business enough to provide you sufficiently with the bread that perishes, there shall be mingled with that business so many anxieties and cares, so many distracting thoughts, so many troubles from every quarter, that you shall not idolize it—you shall see it in its true colors, as the means of passing through this life—nothing more. You shall see that you are not to rest in it, and not to worship it, but to use it thankfully for the short time you are in this valley of tears.
So, too, with all our domestic ties. We are such sad idolaters, and these very domestic ties so steal upon our hearts, that the Lord may allow them to be sources of pain and grief that our affections may not be drawn away from him, and altogether fixed upon the things we naturally love.
And so with what are called the pleasures of the world—"the lusts of the flesh and the pride of life"—those things that are continually enticing us and drawing us aside. But the Lord says, "I have overcome the world"—it shall not overcome you. We may be drawn aside, we may be entangled, we may go out after the most vile and abominable things; but we shall have so many painful feelings, so many cutting convictions, so many distressing sensations, that we shall say with Ephraim, "What have I any more to do with idols?" (Hosea 14:8.) There shall be a coming to the Lord, and a cleaving to him once more with full purpose of heart. We may have to undergo much opposition and persecution, or be under the power of masters and superiors, and dread their frown. Yet the Lord has said, "Be of good cheer—I have overcome the world." He has subdued it by his cross. It shall never become the conqueror or master of his disciples.
Do look at these words. Are they not the words of Truth himself? And do we not in some measure find there is a divine reality in them? What has been your path? Has not this been your path, more or less, since the Lord was first pleased to turn your feet into the narrow way? Tribulation in the world—sometimes opposition and persecution from ungodly men—sometimes troubles connected with our various stations in life—sometimes the scourge of the tongue—and much more often the inward sufferings produced by a heart deceitful above all things and desperately wicked. The sources of tribulation may have been very various, very different, very multiplied—yet no one child of God here present has been free from tribulation in the world—nor will be free as long as he lives in it.
But let us pass on. Have we found, do we ever find, peace in Jesus? Do we desire to find peace there? Do we look for peace, do we expect to enjoy peace, from any other quarter? Dare we think, for a single moment, of peace in self, peace in the world, or peace in sin? Is our heart so fixed upon Jesus, our eyes so up unto him, the desires of our soul so after the manifestations of his mercy and love, that we are sure there is no peace worth the name except what is found in him?
Our seasons of peace may not have been long—they may have been transient, very transient—yet sweet while they lasted, sufficient to show what true peace is, sufficient to give us longings after a clearer manifestation of it, and make us desire a fuller enjoyment of it. And yet the Lord winds it all up with the solemn and blessed declaration, that though our appointed path, our allotted path, is one of tribulation in the world, yet he has overcome it—sin shall not be our master—the world shall not be our conqueror—the things of time and sense shall not gain a victory over us. May he give us a sweet assurance that he will fight our battles, and bring us off more than conquerors!
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