Poor and Contrite Spirits—the 2
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And as to his own gracious qualities, they appear small, exceeding small to him! When he considers how much they fall short of what they should be, they as it were vanish and shrink into nothing! How cold does his love appear to him in its greatest fervour! How feeble his faith in its greatest confidence! How superficial his repentance in its greatest depth! How proud his lowesthumility! And as for the good actions he has performed, alas! how few, how poorly done, how short of his duty do they appear! After he has done all, he counts himself 'an unprofitable servant!' After he has done all, he is more apt to adopt the language of the publican than the Pharisee , "God be merciful to me—a sinner!"
In his highest attainments he is not apt to admire himself; so far is he from it, that it is much more natural to him to fall into the opposite extreme, and to account himself as the least, yes, less than the least of all other saints upon the face of the earth! And if he contends for any preference, it is for the lowest place in the list of Christians.
This disposition was remarkably exemplified in the apostle Paul, who probably had made greater advancements in holiness than any other saint that was ever received to heaven from this guilty world.
3. He who is poor in spirit, has also a humbling sense of his own sinfulness. His memory is quick to recollect his past sins, and he is very sharp-sighted to discover the remaining corruptions of his heart, and the imperfections of his best duties. He is not quick to excuse them—but views them impartially in all their deformity and aggravations. He sincerely doubts whether there is a saint upon earth so exceeding corrupt as himself! And though he may be convinced that the Lord has begun a work of grace in him, and consequently, that he is in a better state than such as are under the prevailing dominion of sin—yet he really questions whether there is such a depraved creature in the world—as he sees himself to be. He is apt to count himself the chief of sinners, and more indebted to free grace—than any others.
He is intimately acquainted with himself; but he sees only the outside of others, and hence he concludes himself so much worsethan others; hence he loathes himself in his own sight for all his abominations. Ezekiel 36:31.
Self-abasement is pleasing to him. His humility is not forced; he does not think it a great thing for him to sink thus low. He plainly sees himself to be a vile, sinful, exceeding sinful creature, and therefore is sure that it is no condescension—but the most reasonable thing in the world—for him to think lowly of himself, and to humble and abase himself.
It is unnatural for one who esteems himself a being of great importance, to stoop; but it is easy, and appears no self-denial for a poor lowly creature to do so, who looks upon himself, and feels himself, to be such.
4. That man who is poor in spirit—is deeply sensible of his own unworthiness. He sees that in himself he deserves no favor from God for all the good he has ever done—but that he may after all, justly reject him. He makes no proud boasts of his good heart, or good life—but falls in the dust before God, and casts all his dependence upon his free grace!
5. That man who is poor in spirit—is sensible of his need of the influences of divine grace to sanctify him, and enrich him with the graces of the Spirit. He is sensible of the lack of holiness; this necessarily flows from his sense of his corruption, and the imperfection of all his graces. Holiness is the one thing needful with him, which he desires and longs for above all others; and he is deeply sensible that he cannot work it in his own heart by his own strength. He feels that without Christ he can do nothing, and that it is God who must work in him both to will and to do. Hence like a poor man that cannot exist upon his stock, he depends entirely upon the grace of God to work all his works in him, and to enable him to work out his salvation with fear and trembling.
6. He is deeply sensible of the absolute necessity of the righteousness of Christ for his justification. He does not think himself rich in good works to bribe his judge, and procure acquittance, but, like a poor criminal who, having nothing to purchase a pardon, nothing to plead in his own defence—casts himself upon the mercy of the court, he places his whole dependence upon the free grace of God through Jesus Christ. He pleads Christ's righteousness only, and trusts in it alone. The rich scorn to be obliged; but the poor, who cannot exist of themselves, will cheerfully receive it.
7. And lastly, the man that is poor in spirit is an importunate beggar at the throne of grace. He lives upon charity; he lives upon the bounties of heaven; and, as these are not to be obtained without begging, he is frequently lifting up his cries to the Father of all his mercies for them. He attends upon the ordinances of God, as Bartimeus by the way-side, to ask the charity of passengers. Prayer is the natural language of spiritual poverty. "The poor," says Solomon, "uses entreaties," Proverbs 18:23; whereas those who are rich in their own conceit, can live without prayer, or content themselves with the formal, careless performance of it.
This is the habitual character of that poor man to whom the Majesty of heaven grants the looks of his love. At times indeed he has but little sense of these things; but then he is uneasy, and he labours to re-obtain it, and sometimes is actually blessed with it. And is there no such poor man or woman in this assembly? I hope there is. Where are you, poor creatures? Stand forth, and receive the blessings of your Redeemer! "Blessed are the poor in spirit—for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven!" He who has his throne in the height of heaven, and to whom this vast earth is but a footstool—looks upon you with eyes of love!
This spiritual poverty is greater riches than all the treasures of the universe! Be not ashamed, therefore, to own yourselves poor men, if such you are. May God thus impoverish us all; may he strip us of all our imaginary grandeur and riches, and reduce us to poor beggars at his door! But it is time to consider the other character of the happy man upon whom the Lord of heaven will graciously look; and that is,
II. Contrition of spirit. To this man will I look that is of a contrite spirit. The word contrite signifies one that is beaten or bruised with hard blows, or with a heavy object. And it belongs to the mourning penitent whose heart is broken and wounded for sin. Sin is an intolerable burden that crushes and bruises him, and he feels himself pained and sore under it. His old stony heart, which could not be impressed—but rather repelled the blow, is taken away; and now he has a new heart of flesh, easily bruised and wounded. His heart is not always hard and senseless, light and trifling; but it has tender sensations; he is easily susceptible of sorrow for sin, is humbled under a sense of his imperfections, and is really pained and distressed because he can serve his God no better—but daily sins against him.
This character may also agree to the poor anxious soul that is broken with cruel fears of its state. The stout-hearted can venture their eternal all upon uncertainty; and indulge pleasing hopes without anxiously examining their foundation. But he who is of a contrite spirit is tenderly sensible of the importance of the matter, and cannot be easy without some good evidence of safety.
Such shocking suppositions as these frequently startle him, and pierce his very heart; "What if I should be deceived at last? What if after all, I should be banished from that God in whom lies all my happiness?" etc. These are suppositions full of insupportable terror, when they appear but barely possible; and much more when there seems to be reason for them. Such a habitual pious jealousy as this, is a good symptom; and to your pleasing surprise, you doubtful Christians, I may tell you that that the Divine Majesty, who you are afraid disregards you—looks down upon you with pity! Therefore lift up your eyes to him in wonder and joyful confidence. You are not such neglected ones as you imagine. The Majesty of heaven thinks it not beneath him to look down through all the glorious orders of angels, and through interposing worlds, down, down even upon you in the depth of your self-abhorrence! Let us,
III. Consider the remaining character of the happy man to whom the Lord will look: he who trembles at my Word. This character implies a tender sense of the great things of the Word, and a heart easily impressed with them as the most important realities. This was remarkably exemplified in tender-hearted Josiah. 2 Chron. 34:19-21, 27.
To one who trembles at the divine Word, the threatenings of it do not appear vain terrors, nor great swelling words of vanity—but the most tremendous realities! Such a one cannot bear up under them—but would tremble, and fall, and die away—if not relieved by some happy promise of deliverance.
He who trembles at the Word of God is not a stupid hearer or reader of it. It reaches and pierces his heart as a sharp two-edged sword; it carries power along with it, and he feels that it is the Word of God, and not of men, even when it is spoken by feeble mortals. Thus he not only trembles at the terror—but at the authority of the Word.
He trembles with filial veneration of the majesty of God speaking in his Word. He considers it as his voice, who spoke all things into being, and whose glory is such that a deep solemnity must seize those that are admitted to hear him speak.
How opposite is this, to the temper of multitudes who regard the Word of God no more than (with horror I express it) the word of a child or a fool! They will have their own way—let God say what he will. They persist in sin—in defiance of his threatenings. They sit as careless and stupid under his Word, as though it were some old, dull, trifling story! It seldom makes any impressions upon their stony hearts. These are the brave, undaunted men of the world, who harden themselves against the fear of futurity. But, unhappy creatures! the God of heaven disdains to give them a gracious look, while he fixes his eyes upon the man who "is contrite, and who trembles at his Word."
And where is that happy man? Where in this assembly, where is the contrite spirit? Where the man who trembles at the Word? You are all ready to catch at the character—but be not presumptuous on the one hand, nor excessively timorous on the other. Inquire whether this is your prevailing character. If so, then claim it, and rejoice in it, though you have it not in perfection. But if you have it not prevailingly, do not seize it as your own. Though you have been at times distressed with a sense of sin and danger, and the Word strikes a terror to your hearts—yet, unless you are habitually of a tender and a contrite spirit—you are not to claim the character.
But let such of you as are poor and contrite in spirit, and who tremble at the Word of the Lord, enter deeply into the meaning of this expression, that the Lord looks upon you. He does not look on you as a careless spectator, not concerning himself with you, or caring what will become of you—but he looks upon you as a father, a friend, a benefactor: his looks are efficacious for your good.
He looks upon you with acceptance. He is pleased with the sight. He loves to see you labouring towards him. He looks upon you as the objects of his everlasting love, and purchased by the blood of his Son, and he is well pleased with you—for his righteousness' sake. Hence his looking upon him that is poor, etc., is opposed to his hating the wicked and their sacrifices, verse 3. And is he whom you have so grievously offended, he whose wrath you fear above all other things—is he indeed reconciled to you, and does he delight in you? What cause of joy, and praise, and wonder is here!
Again, he looks to you so as to take particular notice of you. He sees all the workings of your hearts towards him. He sees and pities you in your honest, though feeble conflicts with indwelling sin. He observes all your faithful though weak endeavours to serve him. His eyes pierce your very hearts, and the least motion there cannot escape his notice. This indeed might make you tremble, if he looked upon you with the eyes of a judge, for oh, how many abominations must he see in you! But be of good cheer, he looks upon you with the eyes of a friend—and with that love which covers a multitude of sins. He looks upon you with the eyes ofcompassion in all your calamities. He looks upon you to see that you are not overborne and crushed.
David, who passed through as many hardships and afflictions as any of you, could say from happy experience, "The eyes of the LORD are upon the righteous, and his ears are open to their cry!" Psalm 34:15.
Finally, he looks upon you—so as to look after you, as we do after the sick and weak. He looks to you so as to provide for you. He will give you grace and glory, and no good thing will be withheld from you. Psalm 84:11. And are you not safe and happy under the inspection of a father and a friend? Let a little humble courage then animate you amid your many dejections, and confide in that care of which you feel yourself to be so unworthy.
Here it may not be amiss to observe, what must give you no small pleasure, that those very people who, according to the estimate of men, are the most likely to be overlooked—are those whom God graciously regards. The people themselves are apt to cry, "I would be happy—could I believe that the God of heaven thus graciously regards me; but, alas! I feel myself a poor unworthy creature; I am a trembling, broken-hearted thing, beneath the notice of so great a Majesty!"
And are you so indeed? then I may convert your objection into an encouragement. You are the very person upon whom God looks! His eyes are running to and fro through the earth in quest of such as you are; and he will find you out among the innumerable multitude of mankind! Were you surrounded with crowds of kings and nobles, his eyes would pass by them all—to fix upon you! What a glorious artifice, if I may so speak, is this—to catch at and convert the person's discouragement—into a ground of courage! to make that the character of the favourites of heaven—which they themselves look upon as marks of his neglect of them!
"Alas!" says the poor man, "if I was the object of divine notice, he would not allow me to continue thus poor and broken-hearted." But you may reason directly the reverse; he makes you thus poor in spirit, sensible of your sinfulness and imperfections, because that he graciously regards you. He will not allow you to be puffed up with your imaginary goodness, like the rest of the world, because he loves you more than he loves them!
However unaccountable this procedure seems, there is very good reason for it. The poor are the only people who would relish the enjoyment of God, and prize his love; they alone are capable of the happiness of heaven, which consists in the perfection of holiness.
To conclude, let us view the perfection and condescension of God, as illustrated by this subject. Consider, you poor in spirit, who he is, who stoops to look upon such little things as you! It is he whose throne is in the highest heaven, surrounded with myriads of angels and archangels! It is he whose footstool is the earth, who supports every creature upon it! It is he who is exalted above the blessings and praise of all the celestial armies, and who cannot without condescension behold the things that are done in heaven! It is he who looks down upon such poor worms as you!
And what a stoop is this! It is he who looks upon you in particular, who looks after all the worlds he has made. He manages all the affairs of the universe; he takes care of every individual in his vast family; he provides for all his creatures—and yet he is is pleased to specifically regard you. He takes as particular notice of you—as if you were his only creature! What perfection is this! what an infinite reach of thought! what unbounded power!
And what condescension too! Do but consider what a small figure you make in the universe of beings. You are not so much in comparison with the infinite multitude of creatures in the compass of nature, as a grain of sand is—to all the sands upon the sea shore; or as a mote is—to the vast globe of earth. And yet he who has the care of the whole universe, takes particular notice of you—you who are but trifles compared with your fellow-creatures; and who, if you were annihilated, would hardly leave a blank in the creation! Consider this, and wonder at the condescension of God; consider this, and acknowledge your own baseness; you are but nothing, not only compared with God—but you are as nothing in the system of creation!
I shall add but this one natural reflection: If it is so great a happiness to have the great God for our patron—then what is it to be out of his favour? to be disregarded by him? methinks a united tremor may seize this assembly at the very supposition. And is there one such a creature in the universe in this wretched condition? methinks all the creation besides must pity him. Where is the wretched being to be found? must we descend to hell to find him? No, alas! there are many such on this earth! Nay, I must come nearer you still, there are many such in this assembly! All among you are such, who are not poor and contrite in spirit, and do not tremble at the Word of the Lord.
And are you not one of the miserable number, oh man? What! disregarded by the God who made you! not favoured with one look of love by the author of all happiness! He looks on you indeed—but it is with eyes of indignation, marking you out for vengeance! And can you be easy in such a case? will you not labour to impoverish yourself, and have your heart broken, that you may become the object of his gracious regard?
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