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While it may be surprising to most people today, the theme of the Beatitudes is how to find real joy in life. Everyone seeks real joy in life. Someone once asked three girls what they wanted to be when they grew up. The first replied, “President of the United States.” The second responded, “The wife of a famous doctor.” The third shrugged and said, “I just want to be happy.”

In reality, all three had the same goal in mind: Happiness. The first two thought happiness could be achieved by their positions or by their associations. But they all wanted to be happy.

The theme of Jesus’ sermon is the joy of discipleship. In the Beatitudes in particular, Jesus points his followers away from what people normally think provides happiness. Instead, he directs them to the source of real happiness: a proper relationship with him.

Nine times in this short passage, Jesus calls certain people “Blessed.” Literally, he is saying that this type of person is exceedingly joyful. That’s the meaning of the word “blessed.” Yet when we read these verses honestly, we sense that happiness could never be found in the things he mentions. Since when is being poor associated with happiness? And how often do we think of those who “mourn” or those that are “persecuted” as being blessed? Certainly from the standpoint of the world, Jesus must be mistaken. Yet he asserts that these people are the ones truly blessed. Let’s examine what he means by this.

The Foundation of the Disciple’s Joy

Jesus tells us something about the foundation of true joy in this passage. To begin with, you cannot find true joy in this life, unless you begin with heaven. If you have not settled the issue of what happens to you in eternity, you can have no true and lasting happiness here on earth. Someone once said: “You have not begun to learn to live until you have learned to die.” Another person noted that the two greatest mistakes in life were both mathematical: “to miscalculate the brevity of life and the length of eternity.”

That’s why Jesus concludes his sermon in Matthew 7 by a reminder about the coming judgment. Your eternal destiny determines your present happiness. Think about it for a moment. If you could be wealthy, popular and live a long life, what good would it do you if you lost it all in eternity? What value would a little bit of pleasure be for a short time here if it only resulted in unending misery later? People avoid such thoughts because they interfere with their feelings of pleasure now. But, even though you may try to suppress those thoughts, you occasionally wonder about eternity and it robs you of present joy.

Even more than that, we must face the reality that whatever we place our joy on here in this world can never fully satisfy. Suppose money and possessions bring you happiness. Many who put their hopes for happiness in money will tell you that some of the richest people in the world are often the least happy. They have learned that having things is no guarantee of happiness. Indeed, it only creates a greater thirst for more things because the things they have never fully satisfy.

Additionally, we must face the reality that whatever we place our present joy on here in this world can be taken away very quickly. How many people have banked their joy on having a certain position in life only to lose that position unexpectedly? How many have felt that some person could bring them real joy in life only to have that person die and leave them wondering if they could ever be happy again? How many have worked all their life to gain certain possessions only to lose it all on a bad deal? Unless your joy is founded on what you have in heaven, you will never have real joy here on earth.

Such thoughts are important for both believers and non-believers alike. For the non-believer to seek happiness apart from Christ is ridiculous. Whatever you may have can be lost forever. What little pleasure and joy you may have now is only temporary at best. One day it will all be gone. Only those who have a right relationship with Jesus can have a joy that transcends this world.

But believers also need to realize the great hope and reward they have awaiting them in heaven. Though we may experience sorrow in this life, all our grief is tempered by the fact that what we receive in heaven can never be taken away. That’s why early Christians could call persecution “blessed;” they knew that “the sufferings of this present age” were not “worthy to be compared with the glory to be revealed” in them in eternity. When we lose possessions here, we know that we have treasure in heaven that can never be stolen or destroyed (Matthew 6:19). When we lose loved ones here, we “grieve not as those who have no hope” for we know the resurrection from the dead for all who are the Lord’s. Christians experience real joy because all they have can never be compared with all they will receive.

The Nature of the Disciple’s Joy

We have seen that no one can have a lasting joy apart from the consideration of eternal things. Many who think they are happy now will one day wake up to the emptiness and temporary-ness of that happiness. Since the believer’s joy does not have its foundation here on earth, his joy is not one that can be shaken by the circumstances around him. That’s why believers often display unusual happiness even when they face unbelievable situations.

But let us move on to examine something of the nature of this joy. In one word, we can describe its nature: it is different. Deitrich Bonhoeffer, in his The Cost of Discipleship, noted that the gap between the believer’s joy and the joy experienced by non-believers widens with each beatitude. The believer finds his joy in things totally different from the things that give joy to others. Let’s examine some of these differences.

First, the believer’s joy is not dependent on circumstances. Notice the paradoxes in these beatitudes. In every case, the very things that would normally make one unhappy Jesus cites as reasons for being called “blessed.” When was the last time you heard someone say, “If I could only be poor. . . if I was only mourning more. . . if I was only more persecuted. . . then I’d really be happy. Yet that is exactly what Jesus says!

Believers do not lose their joy even in the most difficult of circumstances because their joy is not dependent on those circumstances.

Christians face all sorts of difficulties yet they are not troubled. Before they experienced any persecution, Jesus told his disciples, “These things I have spoken to you, that in Me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world” (John 16:33). Christians face difficulties, but even difficulties cannot take away their joy because it does not depend on circumstances.

Second, the believer’s joy is not dependent on worldly possessions. Many say, “I would be happy if I only had. . . .” For some, another job would make them happy. For others, a different spouse or better children would make the crucial difference. For still others, more money or more possessions seems to be the key. But for all the above, even when they get what they thought would provide happiness, they still find an emptiness in their hearts.

The reason is simple: possessions can never fill a spiritual need. Solomon provides the best example. He had everything that a man could ever want: houses, horses, education, women, money. He had more than even the rich could dream about today. But what was his conclusion: it was all vanity–emptiness–unfulfilling! The Puritan Thomas Watson put it best when he noted “the things of this world will no more keep out trouble of spirit than a piece of paper will stop a bullet.” Paul said, “I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want” (Phil. 4:11-12, NIV). The Christian’s joy is different in that it does not depend upon things for happiness.

The Secret of the Disciple’s Joy

Real joy can only be found in a heavenly focus. How can believers be happy no matter what is going on around them? They are happy because they have learned to have a different focus than non-believers. In Matthew 6:22-23, Jesus reminded his disciples about the importance of the “single eye.” What he referred to was the ability to keep one’s eye focused on the single goal. That goal is a heavenly goal, not an earthly one. Paul says the same thing at the end of Philippians 3: ” Join with others in following my example, brothers, and take note of those who live according to the pattern we gave you. For, as I have often told you before and now say again even with tears, many live as enemies of the cross of Christ. Their destiny is destruction, their god is their stomach, and their glory is in their shame. Their mind is on earthly things. But our citizenship is in heaven” (vv. 17-20). Notice the contrast: “their mind is set on earthly things;” our mind is set on our citizenship “in heaven.” The believer who has joy in this life is one who has learned to set his “mind on things above, not on earthly things” (Col. 3:2).

Look carefully at the difference. The joy of believers is characterized by the things they admire. What do you admire: pride, power, popularity? Or do you admire those who are humble, those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, those who mourn, those who are persecuted? J. B. Phillips paraphrased the beatitudes to show how we today admire the exact opposite of what Jesus desires.

Happy are the pushers, for they get on in this world.

Happy are the hard boiled; they never let life hurt them.

Happy are those who complain; they get their way in the end.

Happy are the blase, for they never worry about their sins.

Happy are the slave drivers, for they get results.

Happy are the knowledgeable men of the world, for they know how to get around.

Happy are the trouble-makers, for they make people take notice of them.

Notice the tremendous difference! The world admires an entirely different set of characteristics. Believers are distinguished by what they admire.

Second, they are distinguished by what they seek in life. What do you hunger for? What do you desire more than anything else? Jesus said, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness.” Near the end of his sermon, Jesus reminds his disciples: “For after all these things the Gentiles seek. . . . But you seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you” (Matt. 6:32-33). What are you seeking in life? The secret of the disciple’s joy is found in seeking His righteousness and His kingdom first. But to seek the right things, we must begin to admire the right things. What a person admires, they will usually seek.

How different are believers from non-believers! That’s the message of the beatitudes. But often we as believers have slipped into admiring and seeking the same things as the world admires and seeks. The result is that we lose our joy because a joy rooted in this world can change at any moment. A joy focused on the life to come can never be taken away from us. What is the foundation of your joy?

Copyright Jim Ehrhard, 1999. You are permitted to reproduce and distribute this material in any format provided that: (1) you credit the author; (2) any modifications are clearly marked; (3) you do not charge a fee beyond the cost of reproduction; and (4) you do not make more than 100 copies without permission. If you would like to post this material to your web site or make any use other than as defined above, please contact Teaching Resources International

To discover what true repentance is, I shall first show what it is not. There are several deceits of repentance which might occasion that saying of Augustine that “repentance damns many.” He meant a false repentance; a person may delude himself with counterfeit repentance.

I. The first deceit of repentance is legal terror.

A man has gone on long in sin. At last God arrests him, shows him what desperate hazard he has run, and he is filled with anguish. Within a while the tempest of conscience is blown over, and he is quiet. Then he concludes that he is a true penitent because he has felt some bitterness in sin. Do not be deceived: this is not repentance. Ahab and Judas had some trouble of mind. It is one thing to be a terrified sinner and another to be a repenting sinner. Sense of guilt is enough to breed terror. Infusion of grace breeds repentance. If pain and trouble were sufficient to repentance, then the damned in hell should be most penitent, for they are most in anguish. Repentance depends upon a change of heart. There may be terror, yet with no change of heart.

II. Another deceit about repentance is resolution against sin.

A person may purpose and make vows, yet be not penitent. “Thou saidst, I will not transgress” (Jer. 2.20). Here was a resolution; but see what follows: “under every green tree thou wanderest, playing the harlot.” Notwithstanding her solemn engagements, she played fast and loose with God and ran after her idols. We see by experience what protestations a person will make when he is on his sick-bed, if God should recover him again; yet he is as bad as ever. He shows his old heart in a new temptation.

Resolutions against sin may arise:

(1) From present extremity; not because sin is sinful, but because it is painful. This resolution will vanish.

(2) From fear of future evil, an apprehension of death and hell: “I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him” (Rev. 6.8). What will not a sinner do, what vows will he not make, when he knows he must die and stand before the judgment-seat? Self-love raises a sickbed vow, and love of sin will prevail against it. Trust not to a passionate resolution; it is raised in a storm and will die in a calm.

III. The third deceit is the leaving of many sinful ways.

It is a great matter, I confess, to leave sin. So dear is sin to a man that he will rather part with a child than with a lust: “Shall I give the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?” (Mic. 6.7). Sin may be parted with, yet without repentance.

(1) A man may part with some sins and keep others, as Herod reformed many things that were amiss but could not leave his incest.

(2) An old sin may be left in order to entertain a new, as you put off an old servant to take another. This is to exchange a sin. Sin may be exchanged and the heart remained unchanged. He who was a prodigal in his youth turns usurer in his old age. A slave is sold to a Jew; the Jew sells him to a Turk. Here the master is changed, but he is a slave still. So a man moves from one vice to another but remains a sinner still.

(3) A sin may be left not so much from strength of grace as from reasons of prudence. A man sees that though such a sin be for his pleasure, yet it is not for his interest. It will eclipse his credit, prejudice his health, impair his estate. Therefore, for prudential reasons, he dismisses it.

True leaving of sin is when the acts of sin cease from the infusion of a principle of grace, as the air ceases to be dark from the infusion of light.

From The Doctrine of Repentance.

The current formatting and editing is copyrighted by Jim Ehrhard, 1999. You are permitted to reproduce and distribute this material in any format provided that: (1) you credit the author; (2) any modifications are clearly marked; (3) you do not charge a fee beyond the cost of reproduction; and (4) you do not make more than 100 copies without permission. If you would like to post this material to your web site or make any use other than as defined above, please contact Teaching Resources International

Frank Boreham was a pastor in New Zealand and Australia in the late 1800s and early 1900s. One Sunday evening, he began a series of sermons entitled, “Texts That Made History.” He began that first Sunday with “Martin Luther’s Text,” and continued the series for 125 Sundays!

This article deals with Hudson Taylor’s text. Taylor was a pioneering missionary to inland China and founder of the China Inland Mission in 1865.

The day on which James Hudson Taylor–then a boy in his teens–found himself confronted by that tremendous text was, as he himself testified in old age, “a day that he could never forget.” It is a day that China can never forget; a day that the world can never forget. It was a holiday; everybody was away from home; and the boy found time hanging heavily upon his hands.

In an aimless way he wandered, during the afternoon, into his father’s library, and poked about among the shelves. “I tried,” he says, “to find some book with which to while away the leaden hours. Nothing attracting me, I turned over a basket of pamphlets and selected from among them a tract that looked interesting. I knew that it would have a story at the commencement and a moral at the close; but I promised myself that I would enjoy the story and leave the rest. It would be easy to put away the tract as soon as it should seem prosy.”

He scampers off to the stable loft, throws himself on the hay, and plunges into the book. He is captivated by the narrative, and finds it impossible to drop the book when the story comes to an end. He reads on and on. He is rewarded by one great golden word whose significance he has never before discovered: “The Finished Work of Christ!” The theme entrances him; and at last he only rises from his bed in the soft hay that he may kneel on the hard floor of the loft and surrender his young life to the Savior who had surrendered everything for him. If, he asked himself, as he lay upon the hay, if the whole work was finished, and the whole debt paid upon the Cross, what is there left for me to do? “And then,” he tells us, “there dawned upon me the joyous conviction that there was nothing in the world to be done but to fall upon my knees, accept the Savior and praise Him for evermore.”

“It is finished!” “When Jesus, therefore, had received the vinegar he said, “It is finished!” and He bowed His head and gave up the ghost.”

“Then there dawned upon me the joyous conviction that, since the whole work was finished and the whole debt paid upon the Cross, there was nothing for me to do but to fall upon my knees, accept the Savior and praise Him for evermore!”

“It is finished!” It is really only one word: the greatest word ever uttered; we must examine it for a moment as a lapidary examines under a powerful glass a rare and costly gem.

It was a farmer’s word. When, into his herd, there was born an animal so beautiful and shapely that it seemed absolutely destitute of faults and defects, the farmer gazed upon the creature with proud, delighted eyes. “Tetelestai!” he said, “tetelestai!”

It was an artist’s word. When the painter or the sculptor had put the last finishing touches to the vivid landscape or the marble bust, he would stand back a few feet to admire his masterpiece, and, seeing in it nothing that called for correction or improvement, would murmur fondly, “Tetelestai! tetelestai!”

It was a priestly word. When some devout worshiper, overflowing with gratitude for mercies shown him, brought to the temple a lamb without spot or blemish, the pride of the whole flock, the priest, more accustomed to seeing the blind and defective animals led to the altar, would look admiringly upon the pretty creature. “Tetelestai!” he would say, “tetelestai!” And when, in the fullness of time, the Lamb of God offered Himself on the altar of the ages, he rejoiced with a joy so triumphant that it bore down all His anguish before it. The sacrifice was stainless, perfect, finished! “He cried with a loud voice, ‘Tetelestai!’ and gave up the ghost.”

This divine self-satisfaction appears only twice, once in each Testament. When He completed the work of Creation, He looked upon it and said that it was very good; when He completed the work of redemption, He cried with a loud voice, “Tetelestai!” It means exactly the same thing.

In his own narrative of his conversion, Hudson Taylor quotes James Proctor’s well-known hymn: that hymn that, in one of his essays, Froude criticizes so severely:

Nothing either great or small,

Nothing, sinner, no;

Jesus did it, did it all,

Long, long ago.

“It is Finished!” yes, indeed,

Finished every jot;

Sinner, this is all you need;

Tell me, is it not?

Cast your deadly doing down,

Down at Jesus’ feet;

Stand in Him, in Him alone,

Gloriously complete.

Froude maintains that these verses are immoral. It is only by “doing,” he argues, that the work of the world can ever get done. And if you describe “doing” as “deadly” you set a premium upon indolence and lessen the probabilities of attainment. The best answer to Froude’s plausible contention is The Life of Hudson Taylor. Hudson Taylor became convinced, as a boy, that “the whole work was finished and the whole debt paid.” “There is nothing for me to do,” he says, “but to fall down on my knees and accept the Savior.” The chapter in his biography that tells of this spiritual crisis is entitled “The Finished Work of Christ,” and it is headed by the quotation:

Upon a life I did not live,

Upon a death I did not die,

Another’s life, Another’s death

I stake my whole eternity.

And, as I have said, the very words that Froude so bitterly condemns are quoted by Hudson Taylor as a reflection of his own experience. And the result? The result is that Hudson Taylor became one of the most prodigious toilers of all time. So far from his trust in “The Finished Work of Christ” inclining him to indolence, he felt that he must toil most terribly to make so perfect a Savior known to the whole wide world. There lies on my desk a Birthday Book which I very highly value. It was given me at the docks by Mr. Thomas Spurgeon as I was leaving England. If you open it at the twenty-first of May you will find these words: “‘Simply to Thy Cross I cling’ is but half of the Gospel. No one is really clinging to the Cross who is not at the same time faithfully following Christ and doing whatsoever He commands;” and against those words of Dr. J. R. Miller’s in my Birthday Book, you may see the autograph of J. Hudson Taylor. He was our guest at the Mosgiel Manse when he set his signature to those striking and significant sentences.

“We Build Like Giants; We Finish Like Jewelers!”–so the old Egyptians wrote over the portals of their palaces and temples. I like to think that the most gigantic task ever attempted on this planet–the work of the world’s redemption–was finished with a precision and a nicety that no jeweler could rival.

“It is finished!” He cried from the cross.

“Tetelestai! Tetelestai!”

When He looked upon His work in Creation and saw that it was good, He placed it beyond the power of man to improve upon it.

To gild refine’d gold, to paint the lily,

To throw a perfume on the violet,

To smooth the ice, or add another hue

Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light

To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish,

Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.

And, similarly, when He looked upon His work in redemption and cried triumphantly, “Tetelestai!” He placed it beyond the power of any man to add to it. There are times when any addition is a subtraction. Some years ago, White House at Washington–the residence of the American Presidents–was in the hands of the painters and decorators. Two large entrance doors had been painted to represent black walnut. The contractor ordered his men to scrape and clean them in readiness for repainting, and they set to work. But when their knives penetrated to the solid timber, they discovered to their astonishment that it was heavy mahogany of a most exquisite natural grain! The work of that earlier decorator, so far from adding to the beauty of the timber, had only served to conceal its essential and inherent glory. It is easy enough to add to the wonders of creation or of redemption; but you can never add without subtracting. “It is finished!”

Many years ago, Ebenezer Wooton, an earnest but eccentric evangelist, was conducting a series of summer evening services on the village green at Lidford Brook. The last meeting had been held; the crowd was melting slowly away; and the evangelist was engaged in taking down the marquee. All at once a young fellow approached him and asked, casually rather than earnestly, “Mr. Wooton, what must I do to be saved?” The preacher took the measure of his man. “Too late!” he said, in a matter of fact kind of way, glancing up from a somewhat obstinate tentpeg with which he was struggling.

“Too late, my friend, too late!” The young fellow was startled.

“Oh, don’t say that, Mr. Wooton!” he pleaded, a new note coming into his voice. “Surely it isn’t too late just because the meetings are over?” “Yes, my friend,” exclaimed the evangelist, dropping the cord in his hand, straightening himself up, and looking right into the face of his questioner, “it’s too late! You want to know what you must do to be saved, and I tell you that you’re hundreds of years too late! The work of salvation is done, completed, finished! It was finished on the cross; Jesus said so with the last breath that He drew! What more do you want?” And, then and there, it dawned upon the now earnest inquirer on the village green as, at about the same time, it dawned upon young Hudson Taylor in the hay-loft, that “since the whole work was finished and the whole debt paid upon the cross, there was nothing for him to do but to fall upon his knees and accept the Savior.” And there, under the elms, the sentinel stars witnessing the great transaction, he kneeled in glad thanksgiving and rested his soul for time and for eternity on “The Finished Work of Christ.”

“The Finished Work of Christ!”

“Tetelestai! Tetelestai!”

“It is finished!”

It is not a sigh of relief at having reached the end of things. It is the unutterable joy of the artist who, putting the last touches to the picture that has engrossed him for so long, sees in it the realization of all his dreams and can nowhere find room for improvement. Only once in the world’s history did a finishing touch bring a work to absolute perfection; and on that day of days a single flaw would have shattered the hope of the ages.

This article does not contain the complete essay by Frank Boreham. Much has been edited for space. Also, many spellings have been changed to conform to American style. For the original, see a recent reprint by Kregel entitled Life Verses: The Bible’s Impact on Famous Lives, Vol. 2, pp. 102-112

The current formatting and editing is copyrighted by Jim Ehrhard, 1999. You are permitted to reproduce and distribute this material in any format provided that: (1) you credit the author; (2) any modifications are clearly marked; (3) you do not charge a fee beyond the cost of reproduction; and (4) you do not make more than 100 copies without permission. If you would like to post this material to your web site or make any use other than as defined above, please contact Teaching Resources International

We offer no apology, then for devoting a separate article to the consideration of the personality of the Holy Spirit, for unless we have a right conception of His glorious being, it is impossible that we should entertain right thoughts about him, and therefore impossible for us to render unto Him that homage, love, confidence, and submission, which are His due. To those who are strangers unto the operations of the blessed Spirit in the heart, the theme of this article is likely to be a matter of unconcern, and its details wearisome.

Some of our readers may be surprised to hear that there are men professing to be Christians who flatly deny the personality of the Spirit. We will not sully these pages by transcribing their blasphemies, but we will mention one detail to which appeal is made by the spiritual seducers, because some of our friends have possibly experienced a difficulty with it. In the second chapter of Acts, the Holy Spirit was said to be “poured out” (v. 18) and “shed abroad” (v. 33). How could such terms be used of a Person? Very easily: that language is figurative, and not literal. The figure is easily interpreted: as water “poured out” descends, so the Spirit has come from Heaven to earth; as a “pouring” rain is a heavy one, so the Spirit is freely given in the plenitude of His gifts.

Having cleared up what has given difficulty to some, the way is now open for us to set forth some of the positive evidence. Let us begin by pointing out that a “person” is an intelligent and voluntary entity, of whom personal properties may be truly predicated. A “person” is a living entity, endowed with understanding and will, being an intelligent and willing agent. Such is the Holy Spirit: all the elements which constitute personality are ascribed to and found in Him.

1. Personal properties are predicated of the Spirit. He is endowed with understanding or wisdom, which is the first inseparable property of an intelligent agent: “the Spirit searcheth all things, yea, the deep things of God” (1 Cor. 2:10). Now to “search” is an act of understanding, and the Spirit is said to “search” because He “knoweth” (v. 11). He is endowed with will, which is the most eminently distinguishing property of a person: “All these worketh that one and the selfsame Spirit, dividing unto every man severally as He will” (I Cor. 12:11). How utterly meaningless would be such language were the Spirit only an influence or energy! He loves: “I beseech you, brethren, for the Lord Jesus Christ’s sake, and for the love of the Spirit” (Rom. 15:30)–how absurd would it be to speak of the “love of the Spirit” if the Spirit were nothing but an impersonal breath or abstract quality!

2. Passive personal properties are ascribed to the Holy Spirit: that is to say, He is the Object of such actions of men as none but a person can be. “Ye have agreed together to tempt the Spirit of the Lord” (Acts 5:9) — rightly did John Owen say, “How can a quality, an accident, and emanation from God be tempted? None can possibly be so but he that hath an understanding to consider what is proposed unto him, and a will to determine upon the proposals made.” In like manner, Ananias is said to “lie to the Holy Spirit” (Acts 5:3) — none can lie unto any other but such a one as is capable of hearing and receiving a testimony. In Ephesians 4:30 we are bidden not to “grieve the Holy Spirit” — how senseless would it be to talk about “grieving” an abstraction, like the law of gravity. Hebrews 10:29 warns us that He may be “done despite unto.”

3. Personal actions are attributed to Him. He speaks: “The Spirit speaketh expressly” (I Tim. 4:1): “he that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the Churches” (Rev. 2:7). He teaches: “The Holy Spirit shall teach you in the same hour what ye ought to say” (Luke 12:12); “He shall teach you all things” (John 14:26). He commands or exercises authority: a striking proof of this is found in Acts 13:2, “The Holy Spirit said, Separate unto Me Barnabas and Saul for the work whereunto I have called them” — how utterly misleading would such language be if the Spirit were not a real person! He intercedes: “The Spirit itself maketh intercession for us” (Rom. 8:26) — as the intercession of Christ proves Him to be a person, and a distinct one from the Father, unto whom He intercedes, so the intercession of the Spirit equally proves His personality, even His distinct personality.

4. Personal characters are ascribed to Him. Four times over the Lord Jesus referred to the Spirit as “The Comforter,” and not merely as “comfort”: inanimate things, such as clothes, may give us comfort, but only a living person can be a “comforter.” Again, He is the Witness: “The Holy Spirit also is a witness to us” (Heb. 10:15); “The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God” (Rom. 8:16)–the term is a forensic one, denoting the supplying of valid evidence of legal proof; obviously, only an intelligent agent is capable of discharging such an office. He is Justifier and Sanctifier: “But ye are sanctified, but ye are justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God” (I Cor. 6:11).

5. Personal pronouns are used about Him. The word “pneuma” in the Greek, like “spirit” in the English, is neuter, nevertheless the Holy Spirit is frequently spoken of in the masculine gender: “The Comforter, which is the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in My name, He shall teach you all things” (John 14:16) — the personal pronoun could not, without violating grammar and propriety, be applied to any other but a person. Referring again to Him, Christ said, “if I depart, I will send Him unto you” (John 16:7)–there is no other alternative than to regard the Holy Spirit as a Person, or to be guilty of the frightful blasphemy of affirming that the Savior employed language which could only mislead His Apostles and bring them into fearful error. “I will pray the Father and He shall give you another Comforter” (John 14:16)–no comparison would be possible between Christ (a Person) and an abstract influence.

Borrowing the language of the revered J. Owen, we may surely say, “By all these testimonies we have fully confirmed what was designed to be proved by them, namely, that the Holy Spirit is not a quality, as some speak, residing in the Divine nature; not a mere emanation of virtue and power from God; not the acting of the power of God in and unto our sanctification, but a holy, intelligent subsistent, or person.” May it please the Eternal Spirit to add His blessings to the above, apply the same to our hearts, and make His adorable Person more real and precious to each of us.

From Studies in the Scriptures, February 1933.

The current formatting and editing is copyrighted by Jim Ehrhard, 1999. You are permitted to reproduce and distribute this material in any format provided that: (1) you credit the author; (2) any modifications are clearly marked; (3) you do not charge a fee beyond the cost of reproduction; and (4) you do not make more than 100 copies without permission. If you would like to post this material to your web site or make any use other than as defined above, please contact Teaching Resources International

[Even] the sense of their own sinfulness will be overruled for the good of the godly. Thus our own sins shall work for good. This must be understood warily, when I say the sins of the godly work for good — NOT THAT THERE IS THE LEAST GOOD IN SIN. Sin is like poison, which corrupts the blood, infects the heart, and, without a sovereign antidote, brings death. Such is the venomous nature of sin, it is deadly and damning. Yet, God, by His mighty overruling power, makes sin in the issue turn to the good of his people. Hence, that golden saying of Augustine, “God would never permit evil, if He could not bring good out of evil.” The feeling sinfulness in the saints works for good several ways.

I. SIN MAKES THE CHRISTIAN WEARY OF THIS LIFE.

That sin is in the godly is sad, but that it is a burden is good. Paul’s afflictions were but a play to him, in comparison of his sin. He rejoiced in tribulation, “I am exceedingly joyful in all our tribulation” (2 Cor. 7:4). But how did he weep and bemoan himself under his sins! “Who shall deliver me from the body of death?” (Rom. 7:24). A believer carries his sins as a prisoner his shackles; oh, how does he long for the day of release. This sense of sin is good.

II. THIS IN-BEING OF CORRUPTION MAKES THE SAINTS PRIZE CHRIST MORE.

He feels his sin, as a sick man feels his sickness, how welcome is Christ the physician to him! When Paul had cried out of a body of death, how thankful was he for Christ! “I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord (Rom. 7:25). Christ’s blood saves from sin; it is our sacred ointment.

III. THIS SENSE OF SIN WORKS FOR GOOD, AS IT IS AN OCCASION OF PUTTING THE SOUL UPON SIX SPECIAL DUTIES:

1. A sense of sin puts the soul upon self-searching.

A child of God being conscious of sin, takes the candle and lantern of the Word, and searches into his heart. He desires to know the worst of himself; as a man who is diseased in body desires to know the worst of his disease. Though our joy lies in the knowledge of our graces, yet there is some benefit in the knowledge of our corruptions. Therefore Job prays, “Make me to know my transgressions” (Job 13:23).

It is good to know our sins, that we may not flatter ourselves, or take our condition to be better than it is. It is good to find out our sins, lest they find us out.

2. The inherence of sin puts a child of God upon self-abasing.

Sin is left in a godly man, as a cancer, or a hunch upon the back, to keep him from being proud. Gravel and dirt are good to ballast a ship, and keep it from overturning; the sense of sin helps to ballast the soul, that it be not overturned with vain glory.

We read of the “spots of God’s children” in Deuteronomy 3:5. When a godly man beholds himself in the glass of Scripture, and sees the spots of infidelity and hypocrisy, this makes the plumes of pride fall; they are humbling spots. It is a good use that may be made even of our sins, when they occasion low thoughts of ourselves. Better is that sin which humbles me, than that duty which makes me proud.

3. Sin puts a child of God on self-judging.

He passes a sentence upon himself; I am more brutish than any man (Prov. 30:12). It is dangerous to judge others, but it is good to judge ourselves, “If we would judge ourselves, we should not be judged” (1 Cor 11:31). When a man has judged himself, Satan is put out office. When he lays anything to a saint’s charge, he is able to retort and say, “It is true, Satan, I am guilty of these sins, but I have judged myself already for them; and having condemned myself in the lower court of conscience, God will acquit me in the upper court of heaven.”

4. Sin puts a child of God upon self-conflicting.

Our spiritual-self conflicts with our carnal-self, “The spirit lusts against tile flesh” (Gal. 5:17). Our life is a wayfaring life, and a warfaring life. There is a duel fought every day between the two seeds. A believer will not let sin have peaceable possession. If he cannot keep sin out, he will keep sin under; though he cannot quite overcome, yet he is overcoming, “To him that is overcoming” (Rev. 2:7).

5. Sin puts a child of God upon self-observing.

He knows sin is a bosom-traitor, therefore he carefully observes himself. A subtle heart needs a watchful eye. The heart is like a castle that is in danger every hour to be assaulted; this makes a child of God to be always a sentinel, and keep a guard about his heart. A believer has a strict eye over himself, lest he fall into any scandalous enormity, and so open a sluice to let all his comfort run out.

6. Sin puts the soul upon self-reforming.

A child of God not only finds out sin, but drives out sin. One foot he sets upon the neck of his sins, and the other foot he turns to God’s testimonies (Psalm 119:59).

Thus the sins of the godly work for good.

God makes the saints’ maladies their medicines. But let none abuse this doctrine. Do not say that sin works for good to an impenitent person. No, it works for his damnation, but it works for good to them that love God; and for you that are godly, I know you will not draw a wrong conclusion from this, either to make light of sin, or to make bold with sin. If you should do so, God will make it cost you dear. If any of God’s people should be tampering with sin, because God can turn it to good, though the Lord does not damn them, He may send them to hell in this life. He may put them into such bitter agonies and soul-convulsions, as may fill them flail of horror, and make them draw nigh to despair. Let this be a flaming sword to keep them from coming near the forbidden tree.

DO NOT THINK LIGHTLY OF SIN.

Edited and excerpted from All Things for Good.

The current formatting and editing is copyrighted by Jim Ehrhard, 1999. You are permitted to reproduce and distribute this material in any format provided that: (1) you credit the author; (2) any modifications are clearly marked; (3) you do not charge a fee beyond the cost of reproduction; and (4) you do not make more than 100 copies without permission. If you would like to post this material to your web site or make any use other than as defined above, please contact Teaching Resources International