The Master's Bounty, and the Servant's Obedience 2
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II. But there were certain FRUITS and EFFECTS which David knew would follow, if the Lord would but "deal bountifully" with him—and it was these effects and these fruits which would be a proof to him of God's bounteous dealings. It is not with the child of God, that so long as the Lord appears for him he cares for no gracious fruits to follow. He wants certain effects and fruits to be brought forth; and knowing his own deadness, feeling his own hardness, and being thoroughly convinced of his own helplessness, he is looking up to the Lord, as he enables him—that he would work in him—for he knows that if the Lord will but work in him, these blessed fruits and effects must follow. Two of these fruits are mentioned in our text—"That I may live, and keep your word."
A. "That I may live." David, no doubt, at times felt, as you and I so often and so painfully feel—great deadness of soul. Is not this one of the chief standing lamentations of God's family? Go among the Lord's family, the deepest taught, the most highly favored, and those whom we could envy most for the leadings and teachings of God upon their heart—and you will hear them lamenting their great deadness of soul, their darkness and barrenness in the things of God. And go to others who are not so deeply taught; who are less highly favored, and you will find them with the same language of complaint upon their lips—bewailing their coldness, deadness, and barrenness towards God. The saints of old felt this. Paul says, "Death works in us." The Psalmist cries, "My soul cleaves unto the dust."
But can the child of God rest contentedly in these feelings of deadness and darkness? Are they not sources of continual lamentation? Can we take no notice of these feelings? Can we say, they shall not be a burden to us? Can we wholly set them aside, and say, so long as we are savingly interested in Christ's love and blood, it matters not how dead, dark, cold, and barren we are? Such language may suit those who know nothing of the vital teachings of God the Spirit in the heart; but a living soul cannot, dare not, use such presumptuous language. It is his lamentation, his grief, his complaint, that he is, day by day, so dead, so cold, so stupid, and so hard-hearted in the things of God.
But the very lamentation proves that there is a principle of life which feels the deadness—the very mourning and sighing show that there is a tender conscience which groans under it—the very desire to be delivered out of it proves there have been times and seasons when the light and life of God have been inwardly felt—and the very bondage and misery that these feelings create, manifest that there have been times when the Lord has been the light of our countenance, and liberty and love have been felt in the heart. It is the contrast, the painful contrast, between light and darkness, life and death, liberty and bondage, spirituality and carnality—it is this painful contrast that makes the soul so lament and mourn its darkness, deadness, and barrenness in the things of God.
But can the fallen creature help itself? Can the creature bring itself out of these wretched feelings of darkness, death, and bondage? No! it is utterly impossible for any child of Adam to quicken or keep alive his own soul. Therefore, the Lord, from time to time sends forth the blessed Spirit into the heart; and as he revives his work in the soul, the child of God pours out this simple petition—"Deal bountifully with your servant, that I may live"—that I may not always be dead and cold—that I may not ever be dark and stupid; that I may not perpetually be in bondage and carnality—but that there may be those sweet revivings, those blessed renewings, those divine in-shinings, and those heavenly testimonies whereby the heart being enlarged, runs in the way of God's commandments with perfect freedom. "Deal bountifully with me, that I may live!"
But in what way do we "live?" We can scarcely call it life when we are in that dead, cold, stupid, indifferent state where there is just enough life to feel our death, just enough light to see our darkness, just enough liberty to mourn over our chains. As to life, we cannot call it life, except there be some manifestations from the Lord, some revival of soul, some shining-in of the light of the Lord's countenance, some bountiful dealings of God himself with the heart. But no sooner does God begin to "deal bountifully," no sooner does he begin to work with his own blessed Spirit upon the heart; no sooner do light and life, liberty and love, flow out of the fullness of Christ into the soul—than it lives—it lives!—it revives! New feelings are experienced; life flows in and life flows out; prayer comes in, and prayer flows forth; the Lord is endeared to the soul; what the Lord loves the soul loves, for he makes himself very precious; and this is living, living indeed! "Deal bountifully with your servant, that I may live!"
But when we "live," we live by faith; as the Apostle says, "The life which I now live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God." We live by faith when the Lord is pleased to communicate true faith—the precious gift of faith to the heart. Then indeed we believe. We then believe in Jesus, believe in his blood, believe in his righteousness, believe in his person, believe in his dying love. And as faith begins to lift up its drooping head in the soul, we begin to live a life of faith upon the Son of God.
And as we begin to live, we also begin to love. When we are in darkness, coldness, and barrenness, there is neither love to God nor man—the very ways of God are a total misery to us—the Bible is neglected—prayer is little attended to—under preaching we are cold, dead, and listless—the company of God's people is forsaken—and the things of eternity seem to fade from our view.
But let the Lord revive his work upon the heart, let him bestow a gracious renewing, let him drop the unction of his Spirit, let the rain and dew of his grace fall, let him manifest himself with life and power—then the whole scene changes! It is like spring after a dreary winter—it is like the outpouring of the rain from heaven after a long season of drought, "You renew the face of the earth." There is a blessed change when the Lord himself is pleased to appear in the soul. Then it begins to live. There is life in prayer—life in the reading of God's word—life in hearing the truth preached—life in conversing with God's people. Life must ever be experimentally felt in the soul, when the Lord is pleased to deal bountifully with his servant.
And this life will manifest itself in various ways. While we are dead, prayer is a burden—when we have life, prayer is our very breath! When we are dead, the very thoughts of God are grievous—when we are alive, the thoughts of God are sweet and pleasant! When we are dead, our affections cleave to the things of time and sense—when we are alive, our affections mount upward! When we are dead, the world is our home, though it is but a miserable one—when we are alive, we are looking upward to heaven as the home of the soul, when time shall be no more.
But we are utterly unable to produce these feelings in our own soul. We feel our deadness, and mourn over it—we lament our barrenness, and cry unto the Lord, "O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" But to revive our own souls—to bring life and feeling into our own hearts—to lift ourselves up out of the pit of carnality—is beyond our power! We need sovereign grace to do this! We need almighty power put forth in our hearts, to bring about this blessed change! We need—a touch from the Lord's finger—a smile from the Lord's countenance—a manifestation of the Lord's mercy! But when he deals bountifully with the soul—then it lives. And when he does not deal bountifully with it—then it droops and dies.
How different is this experience of a living soul from those 'deceived and deceiving professors', who think they can do something to revive their own hearts! Poor deluded creatures! they have not yet felt the 'misery of slavery'! Poor deluded wretches! they have not yet learned this lesson, that in them, that is, "in their flesh, dwells no good thing." Poor blind creatures! they know not the depth of the fall into which man has sunk! Therefore, they may talk of doing this and doing that—of reviving their own souls—and of cultivating this or that grace. But the Lord's people, who have felt both sides of the question, and know what it is sometimes to sink and sometimes to rise—sometimes to be miserable, and sometimes happy—sometimes to be in bondage and sometimes in liberty—sometimes shut up and sometimes able to come forth—sometimes dead and sometimes alive.
They know, painfully know, experimentally know, that no man ever quickened his own soul, and that no man ever kept alive his own soul—and if they are to live, if ever they are to have gracious revivals, if ever their soul is to enjoy the presence and favor of God, it must come as a gracious gift from him who deals bountifully with those whom he makes and manifests as his servants.
B. "And keep your word." David earnestly desired to keep God's word. However men may slight and despise God's word, or however little they may think about obeying it—David was not so minded. Read the 119th Psalm, and see what godly sincerity and simplicity run through it, what earnest desires, what fervent breathings, that he may keep God's word. But he could not do it himself. He could not obey God's precepts—he could not shape his life in conformity with God's will—he could not for a single half hour keep his thoughts upon God—nor could he obey God's revealed will except by the Lord's grace! But he was not therefore satisfied with neglecting God's word. He could not pack it off upon the "old man," or upon the devil, and say, "If I am one of the Lord's people, it does not matter whether I keep God's word or not."
He well knew that without God's power he could not keep it—his inability and helplessness were too deeply wrought in his soul—he was too acutely sensible of the dreadful fall of man—and the carnality of his depraved nature to think of keeping God's word unless he enabled him. But he was looking up to a higher power to help him to obey God's precepts. Still there was that principle in his soul—that love of God—that holy fear—that tender conscience—that desire to please God and that dread to offend him—which made the real bent of his mind to desire to keep God's word. Seeing, therefore, what a blessed thing it was to keep God's word—but feeling his inability to do so—and yet desiring to have this obedience brought forth in his heart, in his lip, and in his life—he goes to the footstool of mercy, and pouring out his soul there in simplicity, he breathes forth this petition, "Deal bountifully with your servant, that I may live, and keep your word."
But when do we KEEP God's word?
1. We keep it when we feel any part of it to be very PRECIOUS to our soul. Is it not so in nature? We are very careful of that which we value—bank notes, gold, silver, jewels, precious stones—how carefully these are kept because a certain value belongs to them. So if the word of God is ever made precious to our souls, we keep it. It is with us like the Virgin Mary, she "pondered these things in her heart." They were kept by her—pondered over—diligently treasured—carefully stored.
2. But again. If the Lord has ever APPLIED any word to the conscience—if any portion of his blessed truth—has ever come home to our hearts—has ever enlightened our eyes—has ever been made sweet to our souls—has ever delivered us from temptations—has ever broken a snare—has ever made Jesus precious—has ever melted us at the footstool of mercy—that word is kept. It is God's word; it has been made life and spirit to the soul, and it is kept because a high value is put upon it. When the Lord deals bountifully with his servant, it is, for the most part—by dropping a word into his soul—by opening up some precious Scripture to his heart—by giving him some manifestation from the revealed word of his goodness and love. And then, as this word drops from the mouth of God, it is caught up by the hungry and thirsty soul—lodged in the heart—stored and locked up in the treasure-house of his conscience.
3. But we also keep God's word when we OBEY it, attend to it, act upon it—when it is our regulator and our guide. As the Psalmist says, "How shall a young man cleanse his way? by taking heed thereto according to your word." If the Lord gives a check—to attend to it; if he drops an admonition—not to despise it; if he sends a reproof—to submit to it; if he brings a warning—to heed it. In this way we keep God's word. The word is thus made life and spirit to the soul—it is brought with power into the heart—and the soul keeps it—because the Lord applies it with savor and unction to the conscience.
The Lord's family are, more or less, all exercised in this way—and thus they can all, more or less, join with David in this petition at the footstool of mercy. Do not all the Lord's family, for instance, feel at times their deadness and darkness? Do not they all sensibly mourn over their coldness and barrenness in the things of God? Is it not their daily complaint? Is it not sometimes their hourly burden? Is it not often a dark cloud that seems to depress and cast them down, and spread itself over every faculty of their soul? And when they feel this—they feel also that none but the Lord can remove it! How often they cry, sigh, beg, and groan, "Lord, O that you would remove this deadness! O revive my heart—strengthen my soul—shine upon me—lead me—guide me—hold me up—visit me—bring me out of this coldness, deadness, and darkness!"
And do not all the Lord's people earnestly desire to keep God's word? They have a holy fear of offending him—they have an earnest desire to please him—they know him to be a kind Father, a tender Parent—and the longing of their souls is to live according to his word. But they cannot do it! Their wicked heart draws them aside in one direction—and Satan drives them aside in the other direction! Sometimes lust entangles—sometimes pride inflates—sometimes hypocrisy seizes—sometimes presumption swells—sometimes one corruption, sometimes another so lays hold upon them, that they cannot obey God's word. Then conviction comes, and guilt follows—their hearts are burdened, their souls are bowed down, and they desire again to keep God's word—O that they could live to God's glory! O that they could obey him always! O that their hearts, lips, and lives were all directed according to God's revealed will and word!
But they cannot create these fruits in their own hearts, lips, and lives—and therefore, when the Lord brings them, as he does bring them, from time to time, to the footstool of mercy—they lift their hearts, if not in the very words, yet in the substance of this petition, "Deal bountifully with your servant! Lord, appear for me—give me some smile—melt my heart with some discovery of your mercy—bring a sense of your love into my soul—visit me with your salvation and the light of your countenance—and give me those sweet teachings and divine testimonies whereby I shall live and keep your word."
Thus the feeling sense of our own deadness becomes overruled to bring us more fervently to the footstool of mercy. And a feeling sense of our own sinfulness becomes divinely overruled to bring us more earnestly to the Lord that he would enable us to live to his glory. And thus the Lord takes occasion by our very complaints—our very mournings—our very lamentations—our very self-abhorrence and self-loathing—the Lord takes occasion by these things to manifest more of the riches of his sovereign grace, and to show us that where sin has abounded, grace does much more abound!
But can the Lord deal any way but bountifully with his servants? Why has he made you his servants? Why did he strike the chains of former slavery off your hands? Why did he bring you out of the service of sin, the world, Satan, and self? Why did he ever make himself precious to your heart—win your affections—and enable you to give yourselves wholly unto him? That he might cast you off? that he might mock your calamity? That he might trample you one day into hell? That he might leave you to yourself? That he might allow Satan to overcome you? That he might permit your lusts to destroy you—or allow your sins to be tied one day, like a millstone round your neck, to sink you into hell?
O, can our heart ever indulge thoughts so derogatory to sovereign grace? Was it not because the Lord had bounty in his heart towards you—that he first turned your heart towards himself? Was it not because the Lord had purposes of love towards you—that he first led your feet into his paths? Was it not because God first loved you—that he gave his Son to die for you? Now if he has taught you, led you, upheld you, kept you, all this time—is it to cast you off now—to let you sink at last? He cannot do so! He will not do so! Those whom he loves, he loves to the end! The good work which he has begun, he will accomplish, and bring to final perfection—and therefore, all the Lord's acts are acts of bounty.
But your soul may say—"Why, then, am I so straitened? Why am I so imprisoned? why so dark? why so dead? why so deserted? If the Lord deals bountifully with his servants, and I am one of his, why does he leave me in all this carnality and wretchedness?" Why, the Lord has a purpose in so doing—he means to humble you more thereby—he means to lead you thereby more deeply into an acquaintance with the fall—he means, in the end, thereby to endear himself more to your soul—that you, sinking more and more deeply into nature's wretchedness and ruin, may more bless his precious name when he appears on your behalf!
If you are his, he must deal bountifully with your soul. Let us never entertain such niggardly thoughts of God—so as to think that he can deal in any way but bountifully. He has a princely heart, he has a royal hand—and he therefore never has dealt, and never can deal in any way but bountifully with those that are his! Did not bounty move him to give up his only begotten Son? Did not bounty lead him first to deal with your conscience? Did not bounty induce him first to bless and deliver your soul? Did not bounty move him to keep you every step of the way? And will not bounty lead him to take you safely home?
It is high treason against the Majesty of heaven to think he can deal niggardly, sparingly, scantily with his people. It is treason against his princely hand and his royal heart. He declares of himself, "I am God and not man"—and being God and not man, he therefore deals bountifully with all his servants. They live upon his bounty here, and they will live upon his bounty hereafter. He admits them to a seat at the table below, that they may sit at his table above! And thus he gives to his people all the comfort—and gets to himself all the glory!
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