The Spirit of Power, of Love, and of a Sound Mind

Next Part The Spirit of Power, of Love, and of a Sound Mind 2

"For God has not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind." 2 Timothy 1:7

Every Christian who is at all acquainted with his own heart is conscious of possessing two distinct sets of feelings. He feels, for instance, that there dwell in him anger, pride, self-righteousness, carnality, worldly-mindedness, with a host of other evils; and that these are neither dying nor dead, but are alive in him to his sorrow; for he has more or less daily reason to groan under their burden, and to feel their miserable power and influence.

But on the other hand, so far as light and life are given to him to see and feel, he cannot but be conscious that he possesses another set of feelings, quite distinct– such as faith, hope, love, patience, humility, repentance, godly sorrow for sin, prayerfulness and spirituality of mind, with heavenly affections that often carry his soul upward to God. For though these gracious and divine feelings may be obscured and buried for a time in clouds of mist and darkness, yet are they again and again revived and brought to light.

Now as he is conscious that he possesses those two distinct sets of feelings in his soul, so he has little difficulty in deciding of what nature those feelings are and whence they take their rise. He knows one set of them to be altogether bad, and the other to be altogether good; that one set proceeds wholly from sin and self, and the other wholly and solely from the grace and power of God.

But there are certain feelings in his soul of which he is doubtful what is their source, to what influence he is to ascribe and to whose account he shall place them. For instance, such feelings as guilt of conscience, distress of soul, bondage of spirit, slavish fear, perplexity and darkness, with many exercises that arise in the mind out of trial and temptation– what shall he say of these? What name shall he give them? Are they evil or are they good? Do they come from heaven, or from hell? Do they spring from grace or are they rooted in nature? How can he call them evil when he had them not in a state of nature, and when they seem– if not grace, at least to accompany grace? For he must come to this conclusion, that if he had no religion he would have no such exercises.

On the other hand, how can he say that they are good? They are not faith, nor hope, nor love, nor anything like these heavenly graces. They communicate no present enjoyment to his soul, nor do they seem to bring any glory to God. So he does not know what to make of them nor where to place them. Shall he call them good or evil? Shall he put them down to the flesh, or ascribe them to the Spirit? He hangs in uncertainty where he shall place them and what he shall think of them, and still more what he shall think of himself as under their power and influence.

I think the words before us may contribute, with God's help and blessing, to throw a little light upon these perplexing points.

The apostle declares, in the most plain and positive manner– "God has not given us the spirit of fear." He here lays down, with divine authority, that a certain spirit, which he calls the "spirit of fear," God has not given us; and he lays down by its side certain blessings that he says, with the same decisive authority, God has given us. Now what shall we say of anything in the heart which God has not given us? Can we say that it is good, spiritual, heavenly, saving, or divine? We cannot say so, for if "every good and perfect gift comes from God," then what God has not given us is neither good nor perfect. On the other hand, what shall we say of those things which God has given us– such as "a spirit of power, and of love, and of a sound mind?" We must say of them that these are blessings indeed– choice gifts from the God of all grace.

I shall endeavour, with God's blessing, in opening up the words of our text, to cast a little light, as the Lord may enable me, upon those feelings which I have been speaking of as so puzzling and perplexing to the child of God, and shall endeavour to trace their source, how they arise, and to what they tend; why they are permitted, what good they bring about; and how, though not from God, they are made still to work for the soul's good. That will form with God's blessing, the first branch of my discourse this afternoon. I shall secondly, as the Lord may enable me, pass on to show what God has really given by his grace to those who fear his name, which I find the apostle sets down under three distinct heads– "A spirit of power, of love, and of a sound mind."

I. What God has NOT given us. Fear, as spoken of in Scripture, and as felt in the experience of God's saints, is two-fold: there is a gracious, godly fear; and a slavish, carnal fear. Of gracious fear, we read thus– "I will put my fear in their hearts that they shall not depart from me;" that it is "a fountain of life, to depart from the snares of death;" and that it is "the beginning of wisdom." In fact, it is, as an old divine has called it, "a grace of the largest import;" for it contains in its bosom all other graces; and is of this peculiar nature, that the more the other graces of the Spirit flourish, the more does this grace flourish likewise. It lives in the closest union with faith; it thrives with a growing hope; flourishes with an increasing love. The more the Lord appears in his grace, the more does filial fear (for that is its best and truest name) flourish and abound in the soul; the deeper it sinks into the heart, the firmer root it takes; and the firmer the root, the nobler stem it raises, and the larger, more spreading, and more fruitful branches it sends forth on every side. It is not, therefore, of this holy, this filial fear that the Holy Spirit speaks by the pen of Paul, when he declares that God has not given it to us; for the Lord does give us that spirit of godly fear– it is one of his choicest graces; it is eminently good for him to give and us to receive, as being that grace whereby we are preserved from departing from him.

But there is a fear that does not come in the same way from God, which is not a new covenant grace, and yet is in the heart of those who fear God. What does this fear, then, spring from, for it must have some origin? Why, it springs from a sense of guilt, and is found to exist where the grace of God is not. We see it in Adam immediately after the fall. WhenAdam was in his unfallen condition, he could meet his Creator cheerfully and walk and talk with him as a man talks with his friend. But when Adam sinned and fell, fear, servile fear, became at once made manifest. He hid himself from the presence of the Lord among the trees in the garden. And why did he do this but because he feared to meet him?

When Cain slew his brother, this fear fell upon him, for he feared lest every one that found him should slay him. So it was with Saul, when he "fell immediately on the earth, and was sore afraid because of the words of Samuel;" so it was with Ahab; so with Herod, so with Judas; and so it will be to the end of the world; for to most men Death is the king of terrors. And what is this but a slavish, servile fear? God has not given a fear that has torment. And such is ever the mark of this slavish spirit of fear.

But not only have such characters as I have alluded to this servile, slavish fear, but the saints of God are also much under its influence; for as they are often under the influence of unbelief, so are they frequently under the influence of this, its bosom friend and partner.

1. But whence springs, what is the source of this kind of fear? It evidently arises from guilt of conscience. Were the conscience not guilty there would be no room for this fear in the heart. A guilty conscience is produced by the law, and therefore the law both generates and feeds this slavish fear. The law is ever telling us to "do and live;" and when it has thus set before us a task to perform which we can never execute, then it begins to curse us for not doing all that it requires, ever saying– "Cursed is every one that continues not in all things which are written in the book of the law to do them." Not being able, then, to perform what the law requires, we fall under the wrath that the law reveals, come under the curse that the law thunders out, and thus fall into bondage, darkness, and slavish fear before God.

2. Again, this spirit of slavish fear that God has not given to us is very much mingled with, as, in fact, it is much grounded upon, unbelief. Before our eyes and in our hands is the Gospel; there is Jesus Christ set forth in his blood and righteousness; and there are the promises, all full of mercy, grace, and truth. Here they all are– the table, as it were, spread with delicacies and luxuries. Why not come and eat? Why not approach and feast upon the gospel banquet? Why not sit under the shadow of Jesus with great delight and find his fruit sweet to your taste? Unbelief forbids. Unbelief keeps the soul back. Unbelief says, "It is not spread for you. You have no interest in this precious blood. True it is that it 'cleanses from all sin;' but it does not cleanse you from your sins. You have neither part nor lot in the matter." Therefore, though you may see the righteousness of Jesus revealed in the word of truth, you cannot get under it; though you see the atoning blood, you cannot feel its application to your conscience; though you behold mercy and grace shining forth in the glorious person of Christ, yet cannot you bring that mercy and grace with divine power into your own soul; and while you cannot obtain pardon and peace, you feel your mind full of unbelief. Now wherever there is the presence and power of unbelief, there will be a spirit of fear, of this slavish, guilty fear, that holds the soul down in bondage, darkness, and death.

3. But again, this spirit of fear is often very much connected with backsliding and departing from the right ways of the Lord. There is not an individual under the influence of grace who does not more or less backslide in heart, lip, or life; in fact, every step we do not take forward, we really take backward; and every moment we are not enjoying the sweet presence of God, we are living to sin and self. To do this is to backslide. Whenever we cease to come to the Fountain of living waters and begin to hew out for ourselves "cisterns, broken cisterns, that can hold no water"– this is to backslide. We may not be given up to great, grievous, and open backsliding. The Lord may and usually does keep the feet of his saints, and preserves them from the commission of sins that might grievously injure their character, wound the cause, and bring much distress upon their own souls. But apart from this, all do more or less wander or backslide in their feelings from God. A sense of this produces guilt of conscience; and from this guilt comes slavish fear.

4. But again, worldliness of mind, being too much occupied in business, or unduly carried away with the cares and anxieties of life, producing a neglect of seeking the Lord's face and calling upon his name, and getting as a necessary consequence into a cold, lifeless, stupid state of soul, when all the life and power of godliness seem for a time buried and lost– all these things, as they produce guilt of conscience, so they open the door for this spirit of slavish fear.

In this state there is little or no access to God, the Bible is a sealed book, the company of God's saints little sought, the Lord himself much forsaken, his presence seldom felt, and his love rarely or scarcely ever shed abroad. Many of the saints of God seem to go on for much of their lives under the continual influence of this spirit of fear, and rarely feel any enjoyment of the things of God. And so they go on sometimes year after year without any liberty, sweetness, or spiritual consolation; pressed and kept down by the slavish fear that works in them, and brings forth fruit unto death.

Now God has not given us this spirit of fear. It does not proceed from his grace. It is not the fruit of the Spirit. It is not wrought by his own divine hand in the soul. And yet though it is not a grace or a gift, the Lord in a wonderful way overrules it and makes it work for spiritual good. It is the same with this as with some other kindred feelings. Who can say that he has not derived benefit from guilt of conscience? What made you first pray– seek the Lord's face– cry for mercy through a Saviour's blood? Guilt of conscience.

What made you first come to hear the gospel, or at least receive the truth contained in it as suitable to your wants and woes? What made you mourn and sigh in secret, and hang down your head overwhelmed with gloom and trouble? What made life a burden to you, what stripped the world of all its fancied charms, dissolved all its magic, and showed you in its true colours what this scene was and what happiness it could give? Guilt of conscience.

What kept you from resting upon a name to live– on an empty profession– on a mere doctrinal acquaintance with the truth? What made you long for something that you never had felt, experienced, tested, or known? What made you feel dissatisfied with all your own experience and everything that others seemed so well satisfied with? Why was there in your mind a secret condemnation of the whole of your religion, first and last? Why were you afraid at times that you were a hypocrite, and had been deceiving others, or were deceived yourself? And why did you feel miserable, and wretched, so that you thought none could be burdened like you? Guilt of conscience.

What, too, made you to give the Lord no rest until he began to appear in love and mercy to your soul, and what made you ply him with his own promises and come to the throne of grace with earnest desires that he would show mercy to you? Why, guilt of conscience. So you see that guilt of conscience, though it is the parent of this slavish fear, yet does produce in the hands of God good effects; and you have had the evidence of it in your own hearts.

In the same way, servile fear, though it makes a man who is under its influence very wretched and miserable, debars him of much comfort and peace, and robs him of much that other Christians seem to enjoy, yet has this good effect– it keeps him from false liberty. There is a presumptuous liberty, much of it in our day– a liberty God never gave and which he will never own– a liberty of the flesh, arising out of a mere notional and doctrinal acquaintance with God's truth. Now servile fear, though it produces bondage and darkness will keep the man who is under its influence from taking hold of this presumptuous liberty, because false liberty and slavish fear can never reign and rule together in the heart. One must go down before the other. Either presumptuous liberty will turn slavish fear out of the house, or slavish fear will be the death of presumptuous liberty. They cannot both dwell as friends and brethren in the same heart; they cannot both be masters. If you are under the influence of slavish fear, you cannot be under the influence of presumptuous liberty. If presumptuous liberty rules and reigns in your heart, it will never tolerate the presence and power of slavish fear. So that if you have been kept from presumptuous liberty, it may have been in a good measure owing to that wretched fear that has worked such bondage, and darkness, and death in your soul.

And yet the apostle tells us, "God has not given us the spirit of fear." Then how can we view the spirit of fear as a benefactor or a friend if it does not come from God? Well, do you think God has given you unbelief? Has God given you temptations? Has God given you infidelity? Has God given you darkness of mind? Has God given you bondage of spirit? None of these things God has given you; and yet, in God's mysterious way, these things are continually over-ruled by his grace and made to work great benefits in the soul.Who sent Job his temptations? Was it God? It was indeed with the permission of God; but they were not sent directly or immediately from his hand. They came from Satan, as we find in the 1st and 2nd chapters. And yet they were made a great blessing to Job. So a spirit of fear– the slavish bondage that your soul may perhaps even now be under– the fears of death that you may be terrified with– the terrors and apprehensions of eternal wrath– your dread lest you be a hypocrite in the things of God– God has not revealed these things as mercies and blessings that flow from his gospel, nor has his Spirit wrought them in you by his grace. Yet there they are; and the Lord may and does work by them, and out of this evil bring forth good, as he does out of a thousand other things.

Here is this terrible rebellion in India. At present all is dark. The tempest is still roaring, and we cannot see clearly through the storm; but after it has passed away, we may see great good come out of it. We may see England's power established there as it never was before. We may see idolatry put down to an amazing extent and the devil defeated and outshot with his own bow. I do not say that it will be so. We cannot prophesy in matters of this nature. But if we cannot prophesy as regards temporal things, we may as regards spiritual. You may have had a little India in your own heart. War and fire and massacre may have been going on there; and you may have thought, "What good can ever come out of all this scene of confusion and trouble?" Yet good has already, could you see it, come out of it, and still further good will come out of it; for God's prerogative is to bring good out of evil. Therefore, though God has not given you by his Spirit and grace the servile fear which the text speaks of, yet there it is; and God may and does work by it and bring good out of it.

It is called, I may just remark, "the spirit of fear," because it is so subtle, so energetic, and so penetrating into all the corners of the heart; this being the character of spirit as opposed to flesh. Flesh is lumpish and heavy, does not easily move; but spirit, like the wind after which it is called, acts and moves everywhere. So the spirit of fear is used to denote that subtle energy and that penetrating activity which servile fear exercises in a man– possessing him, as it were, and piercing into every secret recess and corner, and bringing him under its direct and powerful influence, as the wind acts on the sails of a ship.

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