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The Blessed Man by A. W. Pink

December 30, 2009 by ADMIN

The Blessed Man by A. W. Pink

“Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful” (Psalm 1:1).  We have been much impressed by the fact that the wondrous and precious Psalter opens with the word “Blessed,” and yet a little reflection shows it could scarcely begin with any other.  As most of our readers are doubtless aware, “Psalms” means “Praises,” and the key note is here struck at the very outset, for it is only the “Blessed man” who can truly praise God, as it is his praises which are alone acceptable to Him.

The word “Blessed” has here, as in so many places in Scripture (like Matt. 5:3-11), a double force.  First and primarily, it signifies that the Divine benediction—in contrast from God’s curse, rests upon this man.  Second and consequently, it denotes that he is a happy man. “Blessed is the man,” not “blessed are they:” the singular number emphasizes the fact that piety is strictly a personal and individual matter.  Now it is very striking to observe that God has opened this book of Psalms by describing to us the one whose “praises” are alone acceptable to Him  In all that follows to the end of verse 3, the Holy Spirit has given us a portrait (by which we may honestly compare ourselves) of the man on whom the Divine benediction rests, the only man who can worship the Father “in spirit and in truth.”  The outstanding features in this portrait of the “blessed” man may be briefly expressed in three words: his separation (v. 1), his occupation (v. 2), his fertilization (v. 3).

“Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly.” As most readers are doubtless aware, the best of the commentators (as Spurgeon’s “Treasury of David”) take as the leading thought of this verse, the downward course of the wicked: walking, then standing (a more fixed state), and ending by sitting—thoroughly confirmed in evil; tracing a similar gradation of deterioration in their “counsel,” “way” and “seat,” as also in the terms by which they are designated: “ungodly—sinners—scornful.”  But personally, we do not think this is the thought of the verse at all, for it is irrelevant to the passage as a whole, and would destroy its unity.  No, the Spirit is here describing the character and conduct of the “blessed man.”

How very significant it is to note—how searching for our hearts—the first characteristic of the “blessed man” to which the Spirit here called attention is his walk, a walk in separation from the wicked!  Ah, my reader, it is there, and nowhere else, that personal piety begins.  There can be no walking with God, no following of Christ, no treading of the way of peace, till we separate from the world, forsake the paths of sin, turn our backs upon the “far country.”  “Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly.”  But notice exactly how it is expressed: it is not “who walketh not in the open wickedness” or even “the manifest folly,” but “walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly.”  How searching that is!  How it narrows things down!

The ungodly are ever ready to “counsel” the believer, seeming to be very solicitous of his welfare.  They will warn him against being too strict and extreme, advising him to be broadminded and to “make the best of both worlds.”  But the policy of the “ungodly”— i.e., of those who leave God out of their lives, who have not His “fear” before their eyes—is regulated by self-will and self-pleasing, and is dominated by what they call “common sense.”  Alas, how many professing Christians regulate their lives by the advice and suggestions of ungodly friends and relatives: heeding such “counsel” in their business career, their social life, the furnishing and decorating of their homes, their dress and diet, the choice of school or avocation for their children.

But not so with the “blessed man.”  He “walketh not in the counsel godly.”  Rather is he afraid of it, no matter how plausible it sounds, apparently good the intention of those who proffer it.  He shuns it, and says “Get thee behind me, Satan.”  Why?  Because Divine grace has taught him that he has something infinitely better to direct his steps.  God has given him a Divine revelation, dictated by unerring wisdom, suited to his every need and circumstance, designed as a “lamp unto his feet and a light unto his path.”  His desire and his determination is to walk by the wholesome counsel of God, and not by the corrupt counsel of the ungodly.  Conversion is the soul’s surrender to and acceptance of God as Guide through this world of sin.

The “blessed” man’s separation from the world is given us in three details. First, he “walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly,” that is, according to the maxims of the world.  Eve is a solemn example of one who walked in the counsel of the ungodly, as is also the daughter of Herodius.  On the other hand, Joseph declining the wicked suggestion of Potiphar’s wife, David refusing to follow the counsel of Saul to meet Goliath in his armor, and Job’s refusal to heed his wife’s voice and “curse God,” are examples of those who did not do so.

Second, “nor standeth in the way of sinners.” Here we have the associations of the blessed man: he fellowships not with sinners.  No, rather does he seek communion with the righteous.  Precious examples of this are found in Abram’s leaving Ur of the Chaldees, Moses turning his back on the honors and treasures of Egypt, Ruth’s forsaking Moab to accompany Naomi.

Third, “nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.” The “scornful” may here be.  The Blessed Man regarded as the ones who despise and reject the true Rest-giver.  “The seat” here speaks of relaxation and delectation: to sit not in the scorner’s seat means that the blessed man takes not his ease nor seeks his joy in the recreations of the world.  No; he has something far better than “the pleasures of sin”: “in Thy presence is fullness of joy”—as Mary found at the Lord’s feet.  “But his delight is in the Law of the LORD” (Psalm 1:2).  The opening “But” points a sharp contrast from the last clause of the previous verse and serves to confirm our interpretation thereof.  The worldling seeks his “delight” in the entertainment furnished by those who scorn spiritual and eternal things.  Not so the “blessed” man: his “delight” is in something infinitely superior to what this perishing world can supply, namely, in the Divine Oracles.  “The Law of the LORD” seems to have been one of David’s favorite expressions for the Word: see Psalm 19 and 119.  “The Law of the LORD” throws the emphasis upon its Divine authority, upon God’s will.  This is a sure mark of those who have been born again.  The carnal mind is enmity against God, for it is not subject to the Law of God” (Romans 8:7).  To “delight in the law of the LORD” is a sure proof that we have received of the Spirit of Christ, for He declared “I delight to do Thy will, O My God” (Psalm 40:8).  God’s Word is the daily bread of the “blessed” man—is it so with you?  The unregenerate delight in pleasing self, but the joy of the Christian lies in pleasing God.  It is not simply that he is interested in “the Law of the LORD,” but he delights therein.  There are thousands of people, like Russellites, and Christadelphians, and, we may add, in the more orthodox sections of Christendom, who are keen students of Scripture, who delight in its prophecies, types, and mysteries, and who eagerly grasp at its promises; yet are they far from delighting in the authority of its Author and in being subject to His revealed will.  The “blessed” man delights in its precepts.  There is a “delight” —a peace, joy, and satisfaction of soul—pure and stable, to be found in subjection to God’s will, which is obtainable nowhere else.  As John tells us “His commandments are not grievous” (1 John 5:3), and as David declares “in keeping of them there is great reward” (Psalm 19:11).

“And in His Law doth he meditate day and night” (Psalm 1:2).  Thereby does he evidence his “delight” therein: where his treasure is, there is his heart also!  Here, then, is the occupation of the “blessed” man.  The voluptuary thinks only of satisfying his senses; the giddy youth is concerned only with sport and pleasure; the man of the world directs all his energies to the securing of wealth and honors; but the “blessed” man’s determination is to please God, and in order to obtain a better knowledge of His will, he medi1ates day and night in His holy Law.

Thereby is light obtained, its sweetness extracted, and the soul nourished.  His “meditation” herein is not occasional and spasmodic, but regular and persistent: not only in the “day” of prosperity, but also in the “night” of adversity; not only in the “day” of youth and strength, but in the “night” of old age and weakness.  “Thy Words were found, and I did eat them; and Thy Word was unto me the joy and rejoicing of mine heart” (Jeremiah 15:16).  What is meant by “did eat them?”  Appropriation, mastication, assimilation.  Meditation stands to reading as mastication does to eating.  It is as God’s Word is pondered by the mind, turned over and over in the thoughts, and mixed with faith, that we assimilate it.  That which most occupies the mind and most constantly engages our thoughts, is what we most “delight” in.

Here is a grand cure for loneliness (as the writer has many times proved): to meditate on God’s Law day and night.  But real “meditation” in God’s Law is an act of obedience: “Thou shalt meditate therein day and night, that thou mayest observe to do according to all that is written therein” (Joshua 1:8).  The Psalmist could thus appeal to God—can you: “Give ear to my words, O LORD; consider my meditation” (Psalm 5:1).

“And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither, and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper” (Psalm 1:3).  Here we have the “blessed” man’s fertilization.  But notice very carefully, dear reader, what precedes this.  There must be a complete break from the world—separating from its counsel or policy, from fellowshipping its votaries, and from its pleasures; and there must be a genuine subjection to God’s authority and a daily feeding upon His Word, before there can be any real fruitfulness unto Him.

“He shall be like a tree.” This figure is found in numerous passages, for there are many resemblances between a tree and a saint.  He is not a “reed” moved about by every wind that blows, nor a creeper, trailing along the ground.  A tree is upright, and grows heavenward. This tree is “planted:” many are not, but grow wild.  A “planted” tree is under the care and cultivation of its owner.  Thus, this metaphor assures us that those who delight in God’s Law are owned by God, cared for and pruned by Him.

“Planted by the rivers of water.” This is the place of refreshment—rivers of grace, or communion, of renewing.  Probably the more specific allusion is unto “and a Man shall be as a hiding-place from the wind and a covert from the tempest; as rivers of water in a dry place, as the shadow of a great rock in a weary land” (Isaiah 32:2).  That refers to Christ, and tells us that just as a tree derives life and fruitfulness from the adjacent river, so the believer, by communion, draws from the fullness there is for him in Christ.

“That bringeth forth his fruit in his season.” This is an essential character of a gracious man, for there are no fruitless branches in the true Vine.  “In his season,” for all fruits do not appear in the same month, neither are all the graces of the Spirit produced in the Blessed Man simultaneously.  Trial calls for faith, suffering for the exercise of patience, disappointment for meekness, danger for courage, blessings for thanksgiving, prosperity for joy; and so on.  This word “in season” is a timely one: we must not expect the fruits of maturity in those who are but babes.

“His leaf also shall not wither.” This means that his Christian profession is a bright and living reality.  He is not one who has a name to live, yet is dead.  No, his works evidence his faith.  That is why “his fruit” is mentioned before “his leaf.”  Where there is no fruit to God’s glory our profession is a mockery.  Note how it is said of Christ that He was “mighty in deed and word” (Luke 24:19): the same order is seen again in “that Jesus began both to do and teach” (Acts 1:1).

“And whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.” This necessarily follows, though it is not always apparent to the eye of sense.  Not even a cup of water given in the name of Christ shall fail to receive its reward—if not here, certainly in the Hereafter.

How far, dear reader, do you and I resemble this “blessed” man?  Let us again press the order of these three verses.  Just so far as we fall into the sins of verse 1 will our delight in God’s Law be dulled, and just so far as we are not in subjection to His will shall we be fruitless.  But a complete separation from the world, and wholehearted occupation with the Lord will issue in fruit to His praise.

Posted in A. W. Pink, Reforming Reflections |

How Sweet is Thy Word by C. H. Spurgeon

December 30, 2009 by ADMIN

How Sweet is Thy Word by C. H. Spurgeon

“How sweet are thy words unto my taste!  Yea, sweeter than honey to my mouth!” — Psalm 119:103

It is delightful to find how exactly the experience of David, under the Jewish dispensation, tallies with the experience of the saints of God in these gospel times.  David lived in an age of miracles and divers manifestations.  He could have recourse to the Urim and the Thummim and the priesthood; he could go up to Zion and listen to the holy songs of the great assembly; he could converse with the priesthood; but, still, the food of his soul was supplied to him from the written Word of God, just as it is with us now that we have no open Vision, and the Urim, and the Thummim and the priesthood are altogether departed, we still feed upon the Word.  As that is the food of our souls, so it was the food of David’s soul.

Martin Luther says, “I have covenanted with the Lord that I would neither ask him for visions, nor for angels, nor for miracles, but I would be satisfied with his own Word, and if I might but lay hold upon Scripture by faith, that shall be enough for me.”  Now it seems to be so with David here.  The honey that gratifies his taste is not found in angels’ visits or miraculous signs or officiating priesthoods or special revelations, but in the words of God’s mouth and in the testimonies of Holy Writ.

Let us, then dear brethren, prize this Book of God. Be not ambitious, as some are, of seeking new revelations, or enquire for the whispers of disembodied spirits, but be satisfied with this good household bread which God has prepared for his people; and while others may loathe and dislike it, let us be thankful for it and acknowledge with gratitude the bread which came down from heaven, testifying to us, as it does, of the Lord Jesus, the Word of life that liveth and abideth forever.

Notice that the Word of God is greatly appreciated! This exclamation of David is a clear proof that he set the highest possible value upon the Word of God.  The evidence is more valuable, because the Scripture that David had was but a slender book compared with this volume which is now before us.  I suppose he had little more than the five Books of Moses, and yet, as he opened that Pentateuch, which was to him complete in itself, he said, “How sweet are thy words unto my taste!”  If that first morsel so satisfied the psalmist, surely this fuller and richer feast of heavenly dainties ought to be yet more gratifying to us.  If, when God had but given him the first dish of the course, and that by no means the best, his soul was ravished with it, how should you and I rejoice with joy unspeakable, now that the King has brought on royal dainties, and given us the revelation of his dear Son!

Think a minute.  The Pentateuch is what we should call, nowadays, the historical part of Scripture; and haven’t you frequently heard persons say, “Oh, the sermon was historical, and the minister read a passage out of the historical parts of the Word.”  I have, with great pain, heard persons speak in a very depreciating manner of the histories of Holy Writ.  Now, understand this.  The part of the Word which David loved so much is mainly historical, and if the mere history of the Word was so sweet, what ought those holy Evangels and sacred Epistles to be which declare the mystery of that narrative — which are the honey whereof the Old Testament is but the comb — which are the treasures of which the Old Testament is but the casket?  Surely we are to be condemned indeed who do not prize the Word now that we have it all.

That Word of God, which David so much prized, was mainly typical, shadowy, symbolical.  I do not know that he understood it all.  I do know that he understood some of it, for some of his Psalms are so evangelical that he must have perceived the great sacrifice of God foreshadowed in the sacrifices described in the books of Numbers and Leviticus, or it would not have been possible that he should, in so marvelous a style, express his faith in the great offering of our Lord Jesus.  I put it to some professors here: do you often read the types at all?  If, now, your Bible was so circumscribed that all was taken from you but the Pentateuch, would you be able, to say, “Thy Word is sweet unto my taste?”  Are not many of us so little educated in God’s Word that, if we were confined to the reading of that part of it, we should be obliged to confess it was unprofitable to us?  We could not give a good answer to Philip’s question, “Understandest thou what thou readest?”  Oh, shame upon us that, with so many more Books, and with the Holy Spirit so plenteously given to guide us into all truth, we should seem to value at least half of the Word of God even less than David did!

A great portion of the Pentateuch is taken up with precepts, and I may say of some of them that they are grievous.  Those commandments which are binding upon us are not grievous.  Some of the commands of Leviticus and Deuteronomy are so complex, that they were a yoke of bondage, according to Peter, which neither our fathers nor we were able to bear.  Yet, that wondrous 20th chapter of Exodus with its ten commandments and all the long list of the precepts of the ceremonial law, which you may perhaps account wearisome to read, David says were sweet to his taste, sweeter than honey to his mouth.  What!  Did he so love to hear his heavenly Father speak that it did not much matter to him what he said so long as he did but speak, for the music of his voice was gladdening in its every tone to him?  Now that you and I know that all the bondage of the ceremonial law is gone, that nothing remains of it but blessing to our souls, and now that we are not under the law, but under grace, and have become inheritors of rich and precious and unspeakably great promises, how is it that we fall so far short, and do not, I fear, love the Word of God to anything like the degree that David loved it?

David here speaks of all God’s words, without making any distinction concerning some one of them. So long as it was God’s Word, it was sweet to him, whatever form it might take.  Alas, this is not true of all professors.  With an unwise partiality, they pronounce some of God’s words as very sweet, but other portions of God’s truth are rather sour and unsavory to their palates.

There are persons of a certain class who delight in the doctrines of grace. Therein they are to be commended, for which of us do not delight in them if we know our interest in them?  The covenant and the great truths which grow out of the covenant, these are unspeakably precious things and are rightly enough the subjects of joy to all believers who understand them.  Yet certain of these persons will be as angry as though you had touched them with a hot iron if you should bring a precept anywhere near them; and if you insist upon anything being the duty of a believer, the very words seem to sting them like a whip; they cannot endure it.  If you speak of the “holiness without which no man shall see the Lord,” and speak of it as a holiness which is wrought in us by God the Holy Spirit and as a holiness of mind and thought and action — a personal holiness which is to be seen in the daily life — they are offended.  They can say, “How sweet are thy doctrinal words to my taste, but not thy precepts, Lord; those I do not love; those I call legal.  If thy servants minister them, I say they are gendering bondage and I go away from them and leave them as Arminians or duty-faith men or something of that kind; for I love half thy Word and only half of it.”  Alas, there are not a few of that class to be found every here and there.

And there are some who go on the other side. They love God’s Word in the precepts of it, or the promises, but not the doctrines.  If the doctrine be preached, they say it is dangerous — too high; it will elevate some of God’s servants to presumption it will tempt them to think lightly of moral distinctions; it will lead them to walk carelessly, because they know they are safe in Christ.  Thus they love one half of the truth and not the whole of it.  But, my dear brethren and sisters, I hope you are of the same mind as David.  If God shall give you a promise, you will taste it, like a wafer of honey, and feed on it; and if he shall give you a precept, you will not stop to look at it, and say, “Lord, I don’t like this as well as the promise;” but you will receive that and feed upon that also.  And when the Lord shall be pleased afterwards to give you some revelation with regard to your inward experience or to your fellowship with his dear Son, you welcome it with joy, because you love any truth and every truth so long as you know it to be the truth of God’s own Word.

It is a blessed sign of grace in the heart when God’s words are sweet to us as a whole — when we love the truth, not cast into a system or a shape,  but as we find it in God’s Word.  I believe that no man who has yet lived has ever proposed a system of theology which comprises all the truth of God’s Word.  If such a system had been possible, the discovery of it would have been made for us by God himself: certainly it would if it had been desirable and useful for our profit and holiness.  But it has not pleased God to give us a body of divinity; let us receive it as he has given it each truth in its own proportion — each doctrine in harmony with its fellow — each precept carefully carried out into practice and each promise to be believed and by-and-by received.  Let the truth and the whole truth, be sweet to our taste.  “How sweet are thy words!”

There seems to be an emphasis on the pronoun, “How sweet are thy words!”  O my God, if the words be thine, they are sweet to me. Had I perceived them to be merely the words of man, I might then have estimated them at their own weight, without reference to their authority; but when my Father speaks, when the Spirit lives and breathes in the truth to which I listen, when Jesus Christ himself draws near to me in the preaching of the gospel — then it is that the Word becomes sweet unto my taste.  Beloved, let us not be satisfied with the truth except we can also feel it to be God’s truth.  Let us ask the Lord to enable us, when we open this Book, to feel that we are not reading it as we read a common book — truths put there by some means, unimportant to us how; but let us recollect that we are reading truth put there by an inspired pen — that we have there God’s truth such as he would have us receive — such as he thought it worth his while to write and to preserve to all ages for our instruction.

The psalmist is not content to say, “God’s Word is sweet, and sweeter than honey,” but “How sweet are thy words unto my taste!  Yea, sweeter than honey to my mouth!”  After all, the blessedness of the Word is a matter to be ascertained by personal experience.  Let others choose this philosophy and that form of thought, let them gad abroad after the beauties of poetry, or dote upon the charms of oratory; my palate shall be satisfied with thy Word, O God, and my soul shall find an excess of sweetness in the things which come from thy mouth into my mouth!

Posted in C. H. Spurgeon, Reforming Reflections |

The Fight of Faith by A. W. Pink

December 30, 2009 by ADMIN

The Fight of Faith by A. W. Pink

There are some who teach that those Christians who engage in spiritual fighting are living below their privileges. They insist that God is willing to do all our fighting for us.  Their pet slogan is, “Let go, and let God.”  They say that the Christian should turn the battle over to Christ.  There is a half truth in this, yet only a half truth, and carried to extremes it becomes error.  The half truth is that the child of God has no inherent strength of his own: says Christ to His disciples, “Without me, ye can do nothing” (John 15:5).  Yet this does not mean that we are to be merely passive, or that the ideal state in this life is simply to be galvanized automations.  There is also a positive, an active, aggressive side to the Christian life, which calls for the putting forth of our utmost endeavors, the use of every faculty, a personal and intelligent co-operation with Christ.

There is not a little of what is known as “the victorious life” teaching which is virtually a denial of the Christian’s responsibility.  It is lopsided.  While emphasizing one aspect of truth, it sadly ignores other aspects equally necessary and important to be kept before us.  God’s Word declares that “every man shall bear his own burden” (Galatians 6:5), which means, that he must discharge his personal obligation.  Saints are bidden to “Cleanse themselves from all filthiness of the flesh and spirit” (2 Cor. 7:1) and to “keep themselves unspotted from the world” (James 1:27).  We are exhorted to “overcome evil with good” (Rom. 12:21).  The apostle Paul declared, “I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection” (1 Cor. 9:27).  Thus, to deny that a Christian is called upon to engage in a ceaseless warfare with the flesh, the world, and the Devil, is to fly in the face of many plain Scriptures.

There is a very real twofoldness to the Christian life and every aspect of Divine truth is balanced by its counterpart.  Practical godliness is a mysterious paradox, which is incomprehensible to the natural man.  The Christian is strongest when he is weakest, wealthiest when he is poorest, happiest when most wretched.  Though unknown (1 John 3:1); yet he is well known (Gal. 4:9).  Though dying daily (1 Cor. 15:31), yea, dead; yet, behold, he lives (Col. 3:3-4).  Though having nothing, yet he possesses all things (2 Cor. 6:10).  Though persecuted, he is not forsaken; cast down, he is not destroyed.  He is called upon to “rejoice with trembling” (Psalm 2:11) and is assured: “Happy are ye that weep now” (Luke 6:21).  Though the Lord makes him to lie down in green pastures and leads him beside still waters, he is yet in the wilderness, and “in a dry and thirsty land, where no water is” (Psalm 63:1).  Though followers of the Prince of Peace, Christians are to endure “hardness as good soldiers of Jesus Christ” (2 Timothy 2:3); and though “more than conquerors,” they are often defeated.

“Fight the good fight of faith” (1 Tim. 6:12). We are called upon to engage in a ceaseless warfare.  The Christian life is to be lived out on the battlefield.  We may not like it, we may wish that it were otherwise, but so has God ordained.  And our worst foe, our most dangerous enemy, is self, that “old man” which ever wants his way, which rebels against the “yoke” of Christ, which hates the “cross”; that “old man” which opposes every desire of the “new man,” which dislikes God’s Word and ever wants to substitute man’s word.  But self has to be “denied” (Matt. 16:24), his “affections and lusts crucified” (Gal. 5:24).  Yet that is by no means an easy task.  O what a conflict is ever going on within the true Christian.  True there are times when the “old man” pretends to be asleep or dead, but soon he revives and is more vigorous than ever in opposing that “new man.”  Then it is that the real Christian seriously asks, “If it be so (that I truly am a child of God) why am I thus?”  Such was Rebekah’s puzzling problem when “the children struggled together within her” (Gen. 25:22).

What a parable in action is set before us in the above Scripture!  Do we need any interpreter?  Does not the Christian have the key which explains that parable in the conflicting experiences of his own soul?  Yes, and is not the sequel the same with you and me, as it was with poor Rebekah?  “She went and inquired of the Lord.”  Ah, her husband could not solve the mystery for her; no man could, nor did she lean unto her own understanding and try and reason it out.  No, the struggle inside her was so great and fierce, she must have Divine assurance.  Nor did God disappoint her and leave her in darkness.  “And the Lord said unto her, Two nations are in thy womb, and two manner of people shall be separated from thy bowels; and the one people shall be stronger than the other people; and the elder shall serve the younger” (Gen. 25:23).  But the meaning of such a verse is hid from those who are, in their own conceits, “wise and prudent.”  But, blessed be God, it is revealed to those who, taught of the Spirit, are made to realize they are babes, that is, who feel they are ignorant, weak, helpless—for that is what “babes” are.  And who were the two nations that “struggled together” inside Rebekah?  Esau and Jacob, from whom two vastly different nations descended, namely, Edom and Israel.  Now observe closely what follows: “And the one people shall be stronger than the other.”  Yes, Esau was so strong that Jacob was afraid of him, and fled from him.  So it is spiritually, the “old man” is stronger than the “new man.”  How strange that it should be so!  Would we not naturally conclude that that which is “born of the Spirit” is stronger than that which is “born of the flesh” (John 3:6)?  Of course, we would naturally think so, for “the natural man receives not the things of the Spirit of God” (1 Cor. 2:14).  But consider the matter from the standpoint of spiritual discernment.  Suppose the “new man” were stronger than the “old man”—then what?  Why, the Christian would be self-sufficient, proud, haughty.  But God, in His infinite wisdom, allows the “new man” in His children to be weaker than the “old man.”  Why?  That they may depend upon Him.  But it is one thing to know the theory of this, and it is quite another to put it into practice.  It is the one thing to believe the “new man” (Jacob) is weaker then the “old man” (Esau, who was born first!), and it is quite another thing to daily seek and obtain from God the needed strength to “fight” against the “old man.”  That is why it is called the “good fight of faith,” for faith treats with God.

“Fight the good fight of faith” (1 Tim. 6:12). Our circumstances are the battleground.  The “flesh” is never long satisfied with the “circumstances” in which God places us, but always wants to change them, or get into another set than we are now in.  Thus it was with Israel of old.  The “circumstances” into which God had brought the children of Israel was the wilderness, and they murmured, and wished they were back in Egypt.  And that is written as a warning for us!  The tendency of circumstances is to bind our hearts to the earth: when prosperous, to make us satisfied with things: when adverse, to make us repine over or covet the things which we do not have.  Nothing but the exercise of real faith can lift our hearts above circumstances, for faith looks away from all things seen, so that the heart delights itself and finds its peace and joy in the Lord (Psalm 37:4).  This is never easy to any of us; it is always a fight, and only Divine grace (diligently sought) can give us the victory.  Oftentimes we fail; when we do, this must be confessed to God (1 John 1:9) and a fresh start made.

Nothing but faith can enable us to rise above “circumstances.” It did so in the case of the two apostles, who, with feet fast in the stocks, with backs bleeding and smarting, sang praises to God in Philippi’s dungeon; that was faith victorious over most unpleasant circumstances.  We can almost imagine each reader saying, “Alas, my faith is so weak.”  Ah, ponder again this word; “Fight the good fight of faith.”  Note the repetition!  It is not easy for faith to rise above circumstances; no, it is not.  It is difficult, at times, extremely difficult; so the writer has found it.  But remember, a “fight” is not finished in a moment, by one blow; oftentimes the victor receives many wounds and is sorely pounded before he finally knocks-out his enemy.  So we have found it, and still find it: the great enemy, the “flesh” (self) gives the “new man” many a painful blow, often floors him; but, by grace, we keep on fighting.  Sometimes the “new man” gets the victory, sometimes the “old man” does.  “For a just man falleth seven times and riseth up again” (Prov. 24:16).

Yes, dear reader, every real Christian has a “fight” on his hands: self is the chief enemy which has to be conquered; our circumstances the battle-ground where the combat has to be waged.  And each of us would very much like to change the battle-ground.  There are unpleasant things which, at times, sorely try each of us, until we are tempted to cry with the afflicted Psalmist, “O that I had wings like a dove, that I might fly away” (Psalm 55:6).  Yes, sad to say, the writer has been guilty of the same thing.  But, when he is in his right mind (spiritually), he is thankful for these very “circumstances.”  Why?  Because they afford an opportunity for faith to act and rise above them, and for us to find our peace, our joy, our satisfaction, not in pleasant surroundings, not in congenial friends, nor even in sweet fellowship with brethren and sisters in Christ; but—in God!  He can satisfy the soul.  He never fails those who truly trust Him.  But it is a fight to do so.  Yes, a real, long, hard fight.  Yet, if we cry to God for help, for strength, for determination, He does not fail us, but makes us “more than conquerors.”

There is that in each of us which wants to play the coward, run away from the battlefield, our “circumstances.”  This is what Abraham did (Genesis 12:10), but he gained nothing by it.  This is what Elijah did (1 Kings 19:3), and the Lord rebuked him for it.  And these instances are recorded “for our learning” (Romans 15:4), as warnings for us to take to heart.  They tell us that we must steadfastly resist this evil inclination, and call to mind that exhortation, “Watch ye, stand fast in the faith, quit you (act) like men, be strong” (1 Cor. 16:13).

“Fight the good fight of faith.” Nor does the Lord call upon us to do something from which He was exempted.  O what a “fight” the Captain of our salvation endured!  See Him yonder in the wilderness: “forty days tempted of Satan, and was with the wild beast” (Mark 1:13), and all that time without food (Matthew 4:2).  How fiercely the Devil assaulted Him, renewing his attack again and yet again.  And the Savior met and conquered him on the ground of faith, using only the Word of God.  See Him again in Gethsemane; there the fight was yet fiercer, and so intense were His agonies that He sweat great drops of blood.  Nor was there any comfort from His disciples: they could not watch with Him one hour.  Yet He triumphed, and that, on the ground of faith: “when He had offered up prayers and supplications with strong crying and tears unto Him that was able to save Him from death, and was heard in that He feared” (Heb. 5:7).

Those two instances are recorded for our instruction, and, as ever, their order is beautifully significant.  They teach us how we are to “fight the good fight of faith.”  Christ Himself has “left us an example!”  And what do we learn from these solemn and sacred incidents?  This: the only weapon we are to use is the Sword of the Spirit; and, victory is only to be obtained on our knees—“with strong crying and tears.”  The Lord graciously enables us so to act.  O that each of us may more earnestly seek grace to fight the good fight of faith.

Posted in A. W. Pink, Reforming Reflections |

Room for Jesus? by C. H. Spurgeon

December 30, 2009 by ADMIN

“And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.” — Luke 2:7

Have you room for Christ?  Have you room for Christ? As the palace, and the forum, and the inn, have no room for Christ, and as the places of public resort have none, have you room for Christ?

“Well,” says one, “I have room for him, but I am not worthy that he should come to me.”  Ah! I did not ask about worthiness; have you room for him?  “Oh,” says one, “I have an empty void the world can never fill!”  Ah! I see you have room for him.  “Oh! but the room I have in my heart is so base!”  So was the manger.  “But it is so despicable!”  So was the manger a thing to be despised.  “Ah! but my heart is so foul!”  So, perhaps, the manger may have been.  “Oh! but I feel it is a place not at all fit for Christ!”  Nor was the manger a place fit for him, and yet there was he laid.”  Oh! but I have been such a sinner; I feel as if my heart had been a den of beasts and devils!”  Well, the manger had been a place where beasts had fed.  Have you room for him?  Never mind what the past has been; he can forget and forgive.  It matters not what even the present state may be if thou mourn it.  If thou hast but room for Christ he will come and be thy guest.

Do not say, I pray you, “I hope I shall have room for him;” the time is come that he shall be born; Mary cannot wait months and years.  Oh! sinner, if thou hast room for him let him be born in thy soul today.  “Today if ye will hear his voice harden not your hearts as in the provocation.”  “Today is the accepted time; today is the day of salvation.”  Room for Jesus! Room for Jesus now!

“Oh!” saith one, “I have room for him, but will he come?”  Will he come indeed!  Do you but set the door of your heart open, do but say, “Jesus, Master, all unworthy and unclean I look to thee; come, lodge within my heart,” and he will come to thee, and he will cleanse the manger of thy heart, nay, will transform it into a golden throne, and there he will sit and reign forever and forever.  Oh! I have such a free Christ to preach this morning!  I would I could preach him better. I have such a precious loving, Jesus to preach, he is willing to find a home in humble hearts.  What!  Are there no hearts here this morning that will take him in?  Must my eye glance round these galleries and look at many of you who are still without him and are there none who will say, “Come in, come in?”

Oh! it shall be a happy day for you if you shall be enabled to take him in your arms and receive him as the consolation of Israel!  You may then look forward even to death with joy, and say with Simeon — “Lord, now let thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation.”  My Master wants room!  Room for him!  Room for him!  I, his herald, cry aloud, Room for the Savior!  Room!  Here is my royal Master — have you room for him?  Here is the Son of God made flesh — have you room for him?  Here is he who can forgive all sin — have you room for him?  Here is he who can take you up out of the horrible pit and out of the miry clay — have you room for him?  Here is he who when he cometh in will never go out again, but abide with you forever to make your heart a heaven of joy and bliss for you-have you room for him?  ‘Tis all I ask.  Your emptiness, your nothingness, your want of feeling, your want of goodness, your want of grace — all these will be but room for him.  Have you room for him?  Oh! Spirit of God, lead many to say, “Yes, my heart is ready.”

Ah! then he will come and dwell with you.

“Joy to the world the Savior comes,

The Savior promised long;

Let every heart prepare a throne

And every voice a song.”

But I must remind you … that if you have room for Christ, then from this day forth remember THE WORLD HAS NO ROOM FOR YOU; for the text says not only that there was no room for him, but look — “There was no room for them,” — no room for Joseph, nor for Mary, any more than for the babe.

Who are his father, and mother, and sister, and brother, but those that receive his word and keep it?  So, as there was no room for the blessed Virgin, nor for the reputed father, remember henceforth there is no room in this world for any true follower of Christ.  There is no room for you to take your ease; no, you are to be a soldier of the cross, and you will find no ease in all your life-warfare.  There is no room for you to sit down contented with your own attainments, for you are a traveler, and you are to forget the things that are behind, and press forward to that which is before; no room for you to hide your treasure in, for here the moth and rust doth corrupt; no room for you to put your confidence, for “Cursed is he that trusteth in man, and maketh flesh his arm.”  From this day there will be no room for you in the world’s good opinion — they will count you to be an offscouring; no room for you in the world’s polite society — you must go without the camp, bearing his reproach. From this time forth, I say, if you have room for Christ, the world will hardly find room of sufferance for you; you must expect now to be laughed at; now you must wear the fool’s cap in men’s esteem; and your song must be at the very beginning of your pilgrimage.

“Jesus, I thy cross have taken,

All to leave and follow thee;

Naked, poor, despised, forsaken,

Thou from hence my all shall be.”

There is no room for you in the worldling’s love.  If you expect that everybody will praise you, and that your good actions will all be applauded, you will quite be mistaken.  The world, I say, has no room for the man who has room for Christ.  If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him. “Woe unto you when all men speak well of you.”  “Ye are not of the world, even as Christ is not of the world.”  Thank God, you need not ask the world’s hospitality.  If it will give you but a stage for action and lend you for an hour a grave to sleep in, ‘tis all you need; you will require no permanent dwelling-place here, since you seek a city that is to come, which hath foundations whose builder and maker is God.  You are hurrying through this world as a stranger through a foreign land, and you rejoice to know that though you are an alien and a foreigner here, yet you are a fellow citizen with the saints, and of the household to God.  What say you, young soldier, will you enlist on such terms as these?  Will you give room for Christ when there is to be henceforth no room for you — when you are to be separated forever, cut off from among the world’s kith and kin mayhap — cut off from carnal confidence forever? Are you willing, notwithstanding all this, to receive the traveler in?  The Lord help you to do so and to him shall be glory forever and ever.  Amen.

Posted in C. H. Spurgeon, Reforming Reflections |

Having a Thankful Heart by Thomas Watson

December 30, 2009 by ADMIN

Having a Thankful Heart by Thomas Watson

‘Give unto the Lord the glory due unto his name’ (Psalm 29:2).

Let us prove our godliness by gratefulness:

1. ‘It is a good thing to be thankful: ‘It is good to sing praises unto our God’ (Psalm 147:1). It is bad when the tongue (that organ of praise) is out of tune and jars by murmuring and discontent.  But it is a good thing to be thankful.  It is good, because this is all the creature can do to lift up God’s name; and it is good because it tends to make us good.  The more thankful we are, the more holy.  While we pay this tribute of praise, our stock of grace increases.  In other debts, the more we pay, the less we have; but the more we pay this debt of thankfulness, the more grace we have.

2. Thankfulness is the rent we owe to God. ‘Kings of the earth and all people; let them praise the name of the Lord’ (Psalm 148:11, 13). Praise is the tribute or custom to be paid into the King of heaven’s exchequer.  Surely while God renews our lease, we must renew our rent.

3. The great cause we have to be thankful. It is a principle grafted in nature, to be thankful for benefits.  The heathen praised Jupiter for their victories.

What full clusters of mercies hang on us when we go to enumerate God’s mercies!  We must, with David, confess ourselves to be nonplussed: ‘Many, O Lord my God, are thy wonderful works which thou hast done, they cannot be reckoned up in order’ (Psalm 40:5). And as God’s mercies are past numbering, so they are past measuring.  David takes the longest measuring line he could get.  He measures from earth to the clouds, no, above the clouds, yet this measure would not reach the heights of God’s mercies: ‘Thy mercy is great above the heavens’ (Psalm 108:4). Oh, how God has enriched us with his silver showers!  A whole constellation of mercies has shone in our hemisphere.

(i) What temporal favors we have received!  Every day we see a new tide of mercy coming in.  The wings of mercy have covered us, the breast of mercy has fed us: ‘the God which fed me all my life long unto this day’ (Genesis 48:15). What snares laid for us have been broken!  What fears have blown over!  The Lord has made our bed, while he has made others’ graves.  He has taken such care of us, as if he had no-one else to take care of.  Never was the cloud of providence so black, but we might see a rainbow of love in the cloud.  We have been made to swim in a sea of mercy, and does not all this call for thankfulness?

(ii) That which may put another string into the instru­ment of our praise and make it sound louder is to consider what spiritual blessings God has conferred on us.  He has given us water from the upper springs; he has opened the wardrobe of heaven and fetched us out a better garment than any of the angels wear.  He has given us the best robe and put on us the ring of faith, by which we are married to him.  These are mercies of the first magnitude, which deserve to have an asterisk put on them.  And God keeps the best wine till last.  Here he gives us mercies only in small quantities; the greatest things are laid up.  Here there are some honey drops and foretastes of God’s love; the rivers of pleasure are reserved for paradise.  Well may we take the harp and viol and triumph in God’s praise!  Who can tread on these hot coals of God’s love and his heart not burn in thankfulness?

4. Thankfulness is the best policy. There is nothing lost by it.  To be thankful for one mercy is the way to have more.  It is like pouring water into a pump which fetches out more.  Musicians love to sound their trumpets where there is the best echo, and God loves to bestow his mercies where there is the best echo of thankfulness.


5. Thankfulness is a frame of heart that God delights in. If repentance is the joy of heaven, praise is the music.  Bernard calls thankfulness the sweet balm that drops from a Christian.  Four sacrifices God is very pleased with: the sacrifice of Christ’s blood; the sacrifice of a broken heart; the sacrifice of alms; and the sacrifice of thanksgiving.  Praise and thanksgiving (says Mr. Greenham) is the most excel­lent part of God’s worship, for this shall continue in the heavenly choir when all other exercises of religion have ceased.

6. What a horrid thing ingratitude is! It gives a dye and tincture to every other sin and makes it crimson.  In­gratitude is the spirit of baseness: ‘They that eat thy bread have laid a wound under thee’ (Obadiah 7). Ingratitude is worse than brutish (Isaiah 1:3). It is reported of Julius Caesar that he would never forgive an ungrateful person.  Though God is a sin-pardoning God, he scarcely knows how to pardon for this. ‘How shall I pardon thee for this?  Thy children have forsaken me, when I had fed them to the full, they then committed adultery’ (Jeremiah 5:7). Draco (whose laws were written in blood) published an edict that if any man had received a benefit from another, and it could be proved against him that he had not been grateful for it, he should be put to death.  An unthankful person is a monster in nature, a paradox in Christianity.  He is the scorn of heaven and the plague of earth.  An ungrateful man never does well except in one thing — that is, when he dies.

7. Not being thankful is the cause of all the judgments which have lain on us. Our unthankfulness for health has been the cause of so much mortality.  Our gospel unthankfulness and sermon-surfeiting has been the reason why God has put so many lights under a bushel.  As Bradford said, ‘My unthankfulness was the death of King Edward VI.’  Who will spend money on a piece of ground that produces nothing but briars?  Unthankfulness stops the golden phial of God’s bounty, so that it will not drop.

Question: What shall we do to be thankful?

Answer 1: If you wish to be thankful, get a heart deeply humbled with the sense of your own vileness.  A broken heart is the best pipe to sound forth God’s praise.  He who studies his sins wonders that he has anything and that God should shine on such a dunghill: ‘Who was before a blasphemer, and a persecutor, but I obtained mercy’ (1 Timothy 1:13). How thankful Paul was!  How he trumpeted forth free grace!  A proud man will never be thankful.  He looks on all his mercies as either of his own procuring or deserving.  If he has an estate, this he has got by his wits and industry, not considering that scripture, ‘Thou shalt remember the Lord thy God: for it is he that gives thee power to get wealth’ (Deuteronomy 8:18). Pride stops the current of gratitude.  O Christian, think of your unworthiness; see yourself the least of saints and the chief of sinners, and then you will be thankful.

Answer 2: Strive for sound evidences of God’s love to you.  Read God’s love in the impress of holiness upon your hearts.  God’s love poured in will make the vessels of mercy run over with thankfulness: ‘Unto him that loved us, be glory and dominion forever’ (Revelation 1:5, 6). The deepest springs yield the sweetest water.  Hearts deeply aware of God’s love yield the sweetest praises.

Posted in Reforming Reflections, Thomas Watson |

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