The Soul's Desertion

"My beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone." Solomon's Song 5:6

The happiest condition of a Christian out of heaven is to live in the conscious enjoyment of the presence of the Lord Jesus. When the love of Christ is shed abroad in the heart by the Holy Spirit, the believer need not envy an angel his harp of gold. It matters not what may be his outward trial; the Holy Spirit is able to make the heart live above all surrounding circumstances, so that we can have summer in the midst of winter, and pluck our ripest fruits when there are neither leaves nor fruits upon the tree.

But the Christian is unhappy, unhappy to the utmost degree, whenever he loses the sense of the presence of his Lord. Then the pillars of his house are made to tremble; his fresh springs are dried up; the sun is hid from his eyes; and the sky is so dark overhead that he walks, rather wanders, about a world which cannot render to his soul any substantial comfort. Were he a worldling he could live upon the world, but having been taught by grace to aspire after something nobler and better, the loss of that is exceedingly grievous to his spirit.

I question whether the most of Christians do not sometimes lose the enjoyment of the Lord's company. I question yet further, whether there are not very many professors who live contentedly under that loss; nor can I account for this, except on the supposition that they can have known but little of that presence their best estate. Otherwise, they must be in a most sickly and slumbering condition of soul, gradually becoming worse and worse; or else they never could bear to have things as they are with them.

It seems to me that a real believer in a sound state of health no sooner loses the presence of his Lord than he begins to cry for him. Where has Christ gone? Why have I lost sight of him? The sounds of his footsteps still linger in the ear. The believer wakens and starts, and asks himself, "How is this? Where has my Beloved gone? What is it that has chased him from me? I cannot live if he leave me; therefore, let me speedily seek him, and never rest until once more I am restored to full communion with him." Let me, then, talk a little with such believers as have lost for awhile the comfortable presence of their Lord.

The first question shall be-- WHY WAS THE BELOVED GONE?

According to the text, he was gone. Read the preceding verses, or perhaps you have them upon your memories. The spouse had been asleep. This was the beginning of the mischief. "I sleep, but my heart wakes." If we begin to fall asleep, we must not wonder if we miss the quickening and comforting influences of our Lord's presence. Jesus Christ did not put us in his Church that we might sleep away our time on earth. Do not fancy that such an active spirit as that which burned and blazed in our Savior's flesh can he content to hold communion with lazy sluggards who toss upon their beds and say, "Yet a little more sleep and a little more folding of the arms to slumber."

It is the active Christian who keeps pace with Christ. Christ is a quick walker; if you crawl along the path of duty, he will soon leave you behind, until you begin to enquire, "Where is he gone" and quicken your pace to overtake him. Are there any here who have missed Christ's presence, and who may trace it to the fact that they have been drowsy in prayer of late, heavy in all the exercises of study and duty, and, in fact, sleepy altogether? Have they been without care for the conversion of others, having scarcely any concern even about their own children; perhaps indifferent to the welfare of Christ's Church, feeding little upon the Word, and resorting but little to the assemblies of the saints? Marvel not if the Beloved withdraw himself when his spouse does nothing but nod and sleep, instead of keeping company with him in active service!

After the spouse had fallen asleep, her Beloved came and knocked at the door, saying, "Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled; for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night." Yet she refused to open the door to him. Surely this is another sin which drives Christ away- when admonished for falling into a drowsy state, not to regard it. Depend upon it there is extreme peril to a soul that does not accept the warning. Awful as it is to sin when unwarned, it is still more horrible to persevere in sin in the teeth of rebuke, and after gentle, loving expostulations. What! did conscience prick me, and will I not be scrupulous? After having seen my fault and smarted for it, do I still persist in it? Have I been lukewarm and indifferent? Does the Holy Spirit visit me, remonstrate with me, and make me feel that I am gradually backsliding, and little by little declining? Have I vowed and resolved that I would seek spiritual recovery, and am I still as dull, careless, and unconcerned as ever?

This argues ill for my soul! The Beloved will not put up with our rebuffs of him forever. Out of love to us, he will hide his face; if we grieve him, he will go; if we walk frowardly towards him, he will soon walk frowardly towards us. These are God-provoking sins; it is a defying of his Spirit when you thus spurn his gentle admonitions.

Note, further, that the spouse, when her Beloved knocked at the door, made idle excuses that she had put off her cloak, and put off her sandals, and could not put them on. She was taking her rest upon her couch, and could not bring herself to come to the door to let him in. Ah! how often self-indulgence lies at the bottom of the sin that drives Christ away! A believer cannot let his lower nature get the uppermost, and yet find that he is walking agreeably to the Lord's mind. Your spiritual nature ought to keep your mental nature under control, and your mental nature ought to keep your bodily or animal nature entirely in check.

A man who, is a thinker and a philosopher will scorn to let the mere passions govern him, but a true Christian, having a yet higher spirit within him than the mere mind, having that new living seed within himself which comes from God, and leads him to God, should not and must not allow his baser nature to reign supreme. If we indulge the flesh, depend upon it- Christ will not be with us. He does not come to dwell with swine, but with men; and not with men of the earth earthy, except in order to renew them and make them like himself, who is the second man, the Lord from heaven; in order to make them heavenly.

If your daily walk is to be with Christ, your daily walk must be in heaven. If you would enjoy the sunlight, you must not bow your face down to the earth. If you seek to be enriched in the things of God, you must not be for ever groping among the dark pits and bogs, and morasses of earth. Oh! soul, are you indulging yourself and taking things easy? Carnal security is one of your worst enemies. Do I hear any man say, "It is enough, my soul; you have much spiritual goods laid up for many years; take your ease"? Do you think that there is no need for you to watch? You have become so experienced that there is no occasion for you to be much in prayer, for a word with you is as an hour with some; that there is no cause for you to be continually striving against your besetting sin, you have gotten such complete mastery over these infirmities. Oh! when we talk so we betray the darkness in which we are living, the self-deception we are fostering; the corruption we are degenerating into, and the desertion we are provoking. Such backsliding as this will soon make Jesus hide his face from us.

Beloved, the simple reason of Christ's conscious absence from our souls is, in most cases, sin. I say in most cases, for sometimes Christ may hide himself in absolute sovereignty, but I am always jealous lest we should charge God foolishly. You are so apt to put too many saddles on that stalking horse. There are such multitudes of professors who would even excuse their sins upon the plea of a divine sovereignty which exposed them to temptation, that I scarcely like to mention it.

I believe that God does not afflict willingly or arbitrarily the children of men. Neither does Christ hide his face from his people for nothing; but your sins have separated between you and your God. He chastises us, not as silly parents may do, out of mere spleen or caprice, or to please themselves, as the Apostle seemed to think some fathers did in his day; for he says, " They verily chastened us after their own pleasure." But when God chastens us, it is for our profit. Our good is his aim, and his end in using the rod of correction. He makes us suffer for the sin which seemed sweet. He nauseates our palate with the bitter fruits of disobedience, that we may afterwards relish the peaceable fruits of righteousness.

Now, beloved, in each individual case the hiding of the Lord's face may be occasioned by a different sin. It is very probable that my Lord thinks that to be a high sin in me which he would take little notice of in you. It is equally possible that he may think that to by peculiarly offensive in you which he would not visit in my case with stripes. For according to our constitution, our office, our experience, our light, and our several circumstances, our transgressions may be estimated.

You are not provoked, perhaps, by a good deal of noise from one of your children, but half that noise from another of your children would vex you exceedingly. Because the one happens to be of a quick, impetuous temperament, you set it down to natural disposition; but the other being of gentler habit and quieter mood, you upbraid him for his excitement, as if it were of evil propensity, and intended to aggravate and annoy. So you may have a confidential servant in your family, from whom you may reasonably expect more care, thoughtfulness, and circumspection than you look for in any of the other servants. The more trust you repose, the more scrupulousness you require. Let us, then, each one according to his position, seek grace to walk uprightly, carefully, tenderly.

It has been well said that what an ordinary subject might 'do or say', one of the Cabinet Council must not even 'think'. The favorite of kings has a dangerous path to walk, and though it is a blessed privilege to be the favorite of heaven, it involves a very solemn responsibility. "You only have I known of all the inhabitants of the earth; therefore, I will punish you for your iniquities."

You can see defilement on a white slab which you would not have noticed on the common soil; so there are sins which spoil the character of saints that would hardly be observed in ordinary society. The presence of Christ can only be preserved with incessant watchfulness and inviolate fidelity. The sacred Dove is soon disturbed. The Beloved is soon waked up and made to stir. Hence it should be our cry, "I charge you by the roes and by the hinds of the field, that you stir not up, nor awake my love, until he please."

Having thus considered the cause why the Beloved is gone, let us enquire-- WHAT ENSUES UPON THE WITHDRAWAL OF HIS PRESENCE?

Great mistakes have been made upon this subject. Some have supposed that believers suddenly cease to be followers of Christ, go back into the world, apostatize, and perish. But the Lord does not desert his people after this fashion. He has not cast away his people whom he did foreknow, and he never will. Has he put his hand to the work of their salvation, he will not turn away from them. When he turns away it is always with a gracious motive; hence the consequences, though often very sad, are not fatal. The withdrawal of his conscious presence is not intended to slay us, though it brings us very low, and would leave us a prey to destruction were it not that he stays his hand in time, and gives grace to keep the soul alive under his desertion.

As soon as ever Christ is gone, there is a suspension of those influences that once made the Christian happy and strong. The Holy Spirit no longer comforts the soul. The Word does not enliven or invigorate. The sweetest sermons fail to cheer the heart. Even the promises of God's Holy Book are like lanterns without candles- they bring no light. When Christ hides his face from a disciple, his spirits flag, and he feels a general depression. He cannot pray as it was his desire to do; he cannot preach as he once did. The holy duties to which he tenaciously clings become rather a burden than a pleasure. Instead of those delightful walks he had alone, when his soul went up to God in quiet meditation, he finds his thoughts all dissipated, scattered here and there. Nor can he by any means concentrate them; far less can he make them soar and mount towards Christ.

He goes to his Bible -- not so often as he did, nor yet so solemnly as he did -- but the book does not speak to him. God answers him neither by Urim nor by Thummin, nor by open voice. And now he does not seem to have the illuminations of God's Spirit. He does not dive into the meaning of the Word as once he did.

Providence, again, seems dark. The secret of the Lord does not appear to be with him as it formerly was. He has no enjoyment. The soul follows after God after a fashion; but, alas! he has to cry, "Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me?" Thus divine influences are, for a while suspended.

Then it follows that he loses much of his assurance. He used to know he was a Christian. Now he begins to sing, " 'TIS a point I long to know." So he has to furbish up his old evidences, and eat some of the stale bread, that he used to care little for when he used to live upon a daily portion from the King, even a portion from the King's table. He sits down in the ashes, and is glad to sit there.

Sometimes he mourns because he cannot mourn, and frets because he cannot fret. While he sees his sin he is afraid he has not a true, feeling of it. Though he still looks to the cross of Christ and to the precious blood of atonement, he does not seem to have the power of looking that he once had, nor to derive that comfort from casting himself upon the finished work which aforetime he did when Jesus Christ was manifestly with him.

But perhaps it will aid you in realizing the dark features of this desertion if I use a little simile-- You see full often a house that is left by its former tenant, and is shut up. Jesus Christ never altogether leaves a heart of which he has once taken possession. There is one room in a believer's soul which the Holy Spirit never abandons. Where he comes, he comes to abide, and to abide forever. Still, that room is so secret that while he resides there the whole house may look as if it was deserted. Compare that empty house with a cheerful home. What a contrast between its previous and present condition! Why, 'the joy has gone from it'. The blinds are drawn down -- or, perhaps, the windows stare at you in their desolation. The house looks unfurnished. It is no longer any ornament to the street. Its decorations have vanished since its inhabitants have fled. The house is there, with all its capacities; the home, with all its vivacities, is lacking. The life and the loveliness have gone from it.

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