In my last chapter I tried to settle the question as to the scripturalness of
the experience sometimes called the Higher Christian Life, but which to my own
mind is best described in the words, the "life hid with Christ in God." I shall
now, therefore, consider it as a settled point that the Scriptures do set
before the believer in the Lord Jesus a life of abiding rest and of continual
victory, which is very far beyond the ordinary line of Christian experience;
and that in the Bible we have presented to us a Saviour able to save us from
the power of our sins, as really as He saves us from their guilt.
The point to be next considered is, as to
what this hidden life consists in, and how it differs from every other sort of
Christian experience.
And as to this, it is simply letting the Lord
carry our burdens and manage our affairs for us, instead of trying to do it
ourselves.
Most Christians are like a man who was toiling
along the road, bending under a heavy burden, when a wagon overtook him, and
the driver kindly offered to help him on his journey. He joyfully accepted the
offer, but when seated, continued to bend beneath his burden, which he still
kept on his shoulders. "Why do you not lay down your burden?" asked the
kind-hearted driver. "Oh!" replied the man, "I feel that it is almost too much
to ask you to carry me, and I could not think of letting you carry my burden
too." And so Christians, who have given themselves into the care and keeping of
the Lord Jesus, still continue to bend beneath the weight of their burden, and
often go weary and heavy-laden throughout the whole length of their journey.
When I speak of burdens, I mean everything that
troubles us, whether spiritual or temporal.
I mean, first of all, ourselves. The greatest
burden we have to carry in life is self. The most difficult thing we have to
manage is self. Our own daily living, our frames and feelings, our especial
weaknesses and temptations, and our peculiar temperaments, our inward affairs
of every kind, these are the things that perplex and worry us more than
anything else, and that bring us oftenest into bondage and darkness. In laying
off your burdens, therefore, the first one you must get rid of is yourself. You
must hand yourself and all your inward experiences, your temptations, your
temperament, your frames and feelings, all over into the care and keeping of
your God, and leave them there. He made you, and therefore He understands you
and knows how to manage you, and you must trust Him to do it. Say to Him,
"Here, Lord, I abandon myself to thee. I have tried in every way I could think
of to manage myself, and to make myself what I know I ought to be, but have
always failed. Now I give it up to thee. Do thou take entire possession of me.
Work in me all the good pleasure of thy will. Mould and fashion me into such a
vessel as seemeth good to thee. I leave myself in thy hands, and I believe thou
wilt, according to thy promise, make me into a vessel unto thine honor,
`sanctified, and meet for the Master's use, and prepared unto every good
work.'" And here you must rest, trusting yourself thus to Him continually and
absolutely.
Next, you must lay off every other burden, --
your health, your reputation, your Christian work, your houses, your children,
your business, your servants; everything, in short, that concerns you, whether
inward or outward.
Christians always commit the keeping of their
souls for eternity to the Lord, because they know, without a shadow of a doubt,
that they cannot keep these themselves. But the things of this present life
they take into their own keeping, and try to carry on their own shoulders, with
the perhaps unconfessed feeling that it is a great deal to ask of the Lord to
carry them, and that they cannot think of asking Him to carry their burdens
too.
I knew a Christian lady who had a very heavy
temporal burden. It took away her sleep and her appetite, and there was danger
of her health breaking down under it. One day, when it seemed especially heavy,
she noticed lying on the table near her a little tract called "Hannah's Faith."
Attracted by the title, she picked it up and began to read it, little knowing,
however, that it was to create a revolution in her whole experience. The story
was of a poor woman who had been carried triumphantly through a life of unusual
sorrow. She was giving the history of her life to a kind visitor on one
occasion, and at the close the visitor said, feelingly, "O Hannah, I do not see
how you could bear so much sorrow!" "I did not bear it," was the quick reply;
"the Lord bore it for me." "Yes," said the visitor "that is the right way. You
must take your troubles to the Lord." "Yes," replied Hannah, "but we must do
more than that; we must leave them there. Most people," she continued, "take
their burdens to Him, but they bring them away with them again, and are just as
worried and unhappy as ever. But I take mine, and I leave them with Him, and
come away and forget them. And if the worry comes back, I take it to Him again;
I do this over and over, until at last I just forget that I have any worries,
and am at perfect rest."
My friend was very much struck with this plan and
resolved to try it. The circumstances of her life she could not alter, but she
took them to the Lord, and handed them over into His management; and then she
believed that He took it, and she left all the responsibility and the worry and
anxiety with Him. As often as the anxieties returned she took them back; and
the result was that, although the circumstances remained unchanged, her soul
was kept in perfect peace in the midst of them. She felt that she had found out
a blessed secret, and from that time she tried never again to carry he own
burdens, nor to manage anything for herself.
And the secret she found so effectual in her
outward affairs, she found to be still more effectual in her inward ones, which
were in truth even more utterly unmanageable. She abandoned her whole self to
the Lord, with all that she was and all that she had, and, believing that He
took that which she had committed to Him, she ceased to fret and worry, and her
life became all sunshine in the gladness of belonging to Him. And this was the
Higher Christian Life! It was a very simple secret she found out. Only this,
that it was possible to obey God's commandment contained in those words, "Be
careful for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with
thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto God"; and that, in obeying
it, the result would inevitably be, according to the promise, that the "peace
of God which passeth all understanding shall keep your hearts and minds through
Christ Jesus."
There are many other things to be said about this
life hid with Christ in God, many details as to what the Lord Jesus does for
those who thus abandon themselves to Him. But the gist of the whole matter is
here stated, and the soul that has got hold of this secret has found the key
that will unlock the whole treasure-house of God.
And now I do trust that I have made you hunger
for this blessed life. Would you not like to get rid of your burdens? Do you
not long to hand over the management of your unmanageable self into the hands
of One who is able to manage you? Are you not tired and weary, and does not the
rest I speak of look sweet to you?
Do you recollect the delicious sense of rest with
which you have sometimes gone to bed at night, after a day of great exertion
and weariness? How delightful was the sensation of relaxing every muscle, and
letting your body go in a perfect abandonment of ease and comfort. The strain
of the day had ceased for a few hours at least, and the work of the day had
been thrown off. You no longer had to hold up an aching head or a weary back.
You trusted yourself to the bed in an absolute confidence, and it held you up,
without effort, or strain, or even thought on your part. You rested.
But suppose you had doubted the strength or the
stability of your bed, and had dreaded each moment to find it giving away
beneath you and landing you on the floor; could you have rested then? Would not
every muscle have been strained in a fruitless effort to hold yourself up, and
would not the weariness have been greater than not to have gone to bed at
all?
Let this analogy teach you what it means to rest
in the Lord. Let your souls lie down upon His sweet will, as your bodies lie
down in your beds at night. Relax every strain and lay off every burden. Let
yourselves go in perfect abandonment of ease and comfort, sure that when He
holds you up you are perfectly safe.
Your part is simply to rest. His part is to
sustain you, and He cannot fail.
Or take another analogy, which our Lord Himself
has abundantly sanctioned, that of the child-life. For "Jesus called a little
child unto Him, and set him in the midst of them, and said, Verily I say unto
you, Except ye be converted and become as little children, ye shall not enter
the kingdom of Heaven."
Now, what are the characteristics of a little
child and how does he live? He lives by faith, and his chiefest characteristic
is thoughtlessness. His life is one long trust from year's end to year's end.
He trusts his parents, he trusts his caretakers, he trusts his teachers, he
even trusts people often who are utterly unworthy of trust, because of the
confidingness of his nature. And his trust is abundantly answered. He provides
nothing for himself, and yet everything is provided. He takes no thought for
the morrow, and forms no plans, and yet all his life is planned out for him,
and he finds his paths made ready, opening out to him as he comes to them day
by day, and hour by hour. He goes in and out of his father's house with an
unspeakable ease and abandonment, enjoying all the good things it contains,
without having spent a penny in procuring them. Pestilence may walk through the
streets of his city, but he regards it not. Famine and fire and war may rage
around him, but under his father's tender care he abides in utter unconcern and
perfect rest. He lives in the present moment, and receives his life without
question as it comes to him day by day from his father's hands.
I was visiting once in a wealthy house, where
there was one only adopted child, upon whom was lavished all the love and
tenderness and care that human hearts could bestow or human means procure. And
as I watched that child running in and out day by day, free and light-hearted,
with the happy carelessness of childhood, I thought what a picture it was of
our wonderful position as children in the house of our Heavenly Father. And I
said to myself, "If nothing could so grieve and wound the loving hearts around
her, as to see this little child beginning to be worried or anxious about
herself in any way, about whether her food and clothes would be provided for
her, or how she was to get her education or her future support, how much more
must the great, loving heart of our God and Father be grieved and wounded at
seeing His children taking so much anxious care and thought!" And I understood
why it was that our Lord had said to us so emphatically, "Take no thought for
yourselves."
Who is the best cared for in every household? Is
it not the little children? And does not the least of all, the helpless baby,
receive the largest share? As a late writer has said, the baby "toils not,
neither does he spin; and yet he is fed, and clothed, and loved, and rejoiced
in," and none so much as he.
This life of faith, then, about which I am
writing, consists in just this; being a child in the Father's house. And when
this is said, enough is said to transform every weary, burdened life into one
of blessedness and rest.
Let the ways of childish confidence and freedom
from care, which so please you and win your hearts in your own little ones,
teach you what should be your ways with God; and leaving yourselves in His
hands, learn to be literally "careful for nothing"; and you shall find it to be
a fact that "the peace of God which passeth all understanding shall keep (as in
a garrison) your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus." Notice the word
"nothing" in the above passage, as covering all possible grounds for anxiety,
both inward and outward. We are continually tempted to think it is our duty to
be anxious about some things. Perhaps our thought will be, "Oh, yes, it is
quite right to give up all anxiety in a general way; and in spiritual matters
of course anxiety is wrong; but there are things about which it would be a sin
not to be anxious; about our children, for instance, or those we love, or about
our church affairs and the cause of truth, or about our business matters. It
would show a great want of right feeling not to be anxious about such things as
these." Or else our thoughts take the other tack, and we say to ourselves,
"Yes, it is quite right to commit our loved ones and all our outward affairs to
the Lord, but when it comes to our inward lives, our religious experiences, our
temptations, our besetting sins, our growth in grace, and all such things,
these we ought to be anxious about; for if we are not, they will be sure to be
neglected."
To such suggestions, and to all similar ones, the
answer is found in our text, --
"In NOTHING be anxious."
In Matt. 6:25-34, our Lord illustrates this being without anxiety, by telling
us to behold the fowls of the air and the lilies of the field, as examples of
the sort of life He would have us live. As the birds rejoice in the care of
their God and are fed, and as the lilies grow in His sunlight, so must we,
without anxiety, and without fear. Let the sparrows speak to us: --
