Chapter 11

Paul uses the term “persuaded” in the sense of assurance. When he said that he was persuaded of a thing involving God’s attitude, he meant that he was fully convinced that it was as it was stated to be. He meant that to him it stood out as a reality. It was a thing that he no longer questioned. In Rom. 8: 38 and 39, he speaks of one of the things of which he was persuaded. He did not seem to feel about it as some feel; and when they read what he says, they realize that they do not feel just as he did. He says, “For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Some people are all the time worrying lest they should be separated from that love, lest God’s love should be turned into hatred against them. They walk before him with fear and trembling. They are all the time questioning whether their conduct merits his approval. They are ever fearful lest they might do something that would bring his wrath upon them. Their life is a life of fear and of bondage. Paul had no such fears and no such feelings. He knew that the great heart of God is a heart of love, a heart of tender pity, compassion, and sympathy. He knew that God is tender toward his earthly children. Why, even when we were sinners, Christ died for us! and the Father so loved us that he gave his only begotten Son. This love was for rebels. How much greater his affection for his sons! Instead of thinking that he might be easily separated from the love of God, and that he should have to be exceedingly careful lest he should be, Paul cries out, “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?” (v. 35). By this he means, Who or what _shall be able_ to separate us?

Paul knew something of the strength of earthly love. He knew mother-love—how tenderly it holds to its own. He knew that no matter where the son wanders, mother-love goes with him; mother-love calls him back; mother-love yearns over him. He knew love in other forms—how tenaciously it clings to its objects. But the love of Christ, or the love of God in Christ, is above and beyond all this human love. And so he cried out, “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?” Then he named some things and asked if they should separate us from God’s love, and when he looked at them all, he was still persuaded that nothing should be able.

Paul says, “Neither death nor life.” If death should lay his icy fingers upon us, it would be but the ushering into the more immediate presence of that great love. But if we must continue to live on in our earthly circumstances and surroundings, that very life can not separate us from the love of Christ, for he will love us through it all. Through various changes, through all the trying situations that may face us, that love will hold us fast. Time and change can not make that love grow cold.

Again, he says, “Nor angels.” God is in heaven, surrounded by the angels, but he wants us to understand that those angels can not take up so much of his time and attention that he will forget us. Nor can those evil angels that hate God and hate us separate between us and his love. Even Satan himself, their leader and master, has not power to come between us and the love of God. Ah, soul, do not be afraid. Satan has no knife sharp enough to cut that love. He has no strength to tear its tendrils out of our hearts. He can not burn those cords that hold us. Even all his legions can not touch that love, if we trust it and trust ourselves in God’s keeping.

Then he says, “Nor things present.” O my brother, sister, do you believe that? Do you believe that the things of this hour, whatever they may be, can not separate you from the love of God? “Things present.” How many things there are present. How many things there are that press in upon us! How many discouragements there are in life! How many perplexities! How many things that trouble! How many things that would draw us away! Yet, if we keep our trust in God, none of these things will be able to separate us from his love. None of these things will make him turn his back upon us.

“Nor things to come.” Do you look into the future with dread? Do you see with forebodings the things that appear there? Do you think, “How shall I ever pass through it? How shall I ever overcome?” Ah, those things that are ahead of you can not separate you from God’s love. That love is going to securely hold you through them all. That love is going to be your strength and your safeguard, your hope and your all. Cast away your forebodings. Look to God with confidence until the confidence of Paul enters your soul and you can say with the same assurance that he did, “I am persuaded.”

Again, he says, “Nor height, nor depth.” It matters not if God is in heaven, high above us. It matters not if he is so great, so majestic, so powerful. His height above us shall not prevent his love from reaching us and holding us up. “Nor depth.” It matters not to what depth we sink, whether it be depths of discouragement or depths of fear or depths in the feeling of our own helplessness. It matters not if God is very high and we are very low, if he is very great and we are very small; our depth shall not separate us from his height. His love will bridge the gulf.

O soul, trust in that love. Rely upon it. It will never fail you. It will securely hold you in the gales of life. Tribulation or distress or persecution or famine or nakedness or perils or storms—none of these things shall be able to separate you from him. And the apostle continues to say, “Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us” (v. 37). Love will bear us up as with eagles’ wings. It will make smooth the rough paths. It will give strength to the fainting heart. It will preserve us while in the midst of temptation; and even when we have come short of our expectations, when we realize that we have in a measure failed, that love will not cast us off, but will hold us safe and secure until the end. Let us look to that love, and be confident, and rest in full assurance of faith, knowing that

When the storm-winds rage, and the rain falls fast, And the clouds hang low above, I shall be secure till the storm is past, For I trust my Savior’s love, And he knows the way, and he holds my hand, And he will not let it go; He will lead me home to that better land Just because he loves me so.

I will trust his love, for it e’er will last; It is rich and warm and free; Through the years of life it will hold me fast, And my help and comfort be. To my waiting heart all its treasures rare, As a sparkling stream shall flow; In the joy of God I shall ever share, Just because he loves me so.

TALK THIRTY-FOUR. IN CHRIST AND IN EPHESUS

Paul addressed his Ephesian epistle, “To the saints which are at _Ephesus_, and to the faithful _in Christ Jesus_.” The people addressed were in Ephesus, and they were likewise in Christ. What did it mean to be in Ephesus? Ephesus was one of the great centers of paganism. It was adorned with costly and magnificent temples. It was rich and voluptuous. Both private and public life were utterly corrupt. Even the religious practises of the Ephesians were unspeakably vile. This city was a moral bog, a sink of pollution, filled with all corruption, and reeking with vileness. It was a second Sodom. Vice stalked abroad everywhere and was honored and worshiped.

We might therefore well say, “Can any good thing come out of Ephesus? Can Christianity flourish in such surroundings?” But there were saints in Ephesus, and faithful ones, too. They were such in their lives and characters as to win the commendation of that great apostle to the Gentiles. Out of that obnoxious mud of iniquity were growing the pure white lilies of Christian character. That is the glory of Christianity and of Christ. Those who were now Christians were not superior to the other Ephesians; they were not by nature different. In fact, Paul tells them that they had been the children of wrath, even as others, and that they had been such by nature. What a triumph of divine grace that raised these people up out of such unspeakable filth and made them faithful saints! And yet that is the power of our great Christ.

Some persons look around at the present condition of things in this world, at sin abounding on every hand, and say, “There is no use for me to try to be a Christian or to be different from the others.” There are many who look at things in this way. They think it useless to try to be righteous under present conditions. Once while walking down the street of a certain city, I came upon a policeman standing on the street-corner. I engaged him in conversation, which I quickly turned into religious channels, and began inquiring about his own standing. He said to me in a hopeless voice, “Oh, there is no use talking; there is no chance for a policeman.” I tried to tell him of the power of God and of what salvation would do for him. But it seemed as an idle tale to him, and he could only reply, “There is no hope for a policeman.”

There are many other people today in various situations who say: “There is no hope for me. There is no use for me to try.” Those Ephesians might have talked the same way. They had just as much reason to do so as any one else. Probably some of them did talk like that and were lost; who can tell? There were a great many, however, who turned from idols to serve the true and living God, received Christ into their hearts, and found the power of salvation in the gospel. They found power in the blood of Christ to cleanse them from their impurities, and not only so, but also to raise them so far from the mire of sin and wickedness abounding around them as to keep them faithful in Christ Jesus while still dwelling in Ephesus.

It is not so much a change of environment that people need as a change of heart and of character. Diamonds are often found embedded in volcanic mud; mud surrounds them on every side, and yet they have lain there for centuries and are still diamonds. What is the secret of it? Why have they not become contaminated? It is because the mud never entered the diamond; and that was the reason that the Ephesian saints could be faithful and still live in Ephesus. They were left amidst the foul mud of corruption, but the mud was taken out of them, and the grace of Christ kept it from getting back in again.

We can not get away from the mud and defilement of sin in this world. Sin will ever be all about us. Its stench will be in our nostrils from day to day. Our eyes will be offended by it, and our ears will be shocked. But so long as we keep it all on the outside, we can be saints and faithful in Christ Jesus. We are told that one of the chief things for us to do is to keep ourselves “unspotted from the world.” Phil. 2: 15 says, “That ye may be blameless and harmless, the sons of God, without rebuke, in the midst of a crooked and perverse nation, among whom ye shine as lights in the world.” Again Paul says, “Neither be partakers of other men’s sins: keep thyself pure” (1 Tim. 5: 22). We are not only to keep free from committing any sins of our own, but also to avoid partaking of the sins of others. That is very important.

Now, we are, as it were, in Ephesus. There is sin abounding all about us. God wants us so to abhor the sins of others that we shall not follow them, nor find pleasure in those who do sinful things. There are two ways in which we can partake of other people’s sins. One way is to approve of their evil works. It may be that we ourselves would not do those things, but if we approve of some one else’s doing them, it is just about as bad.

Never allow yourself to approve of another’s sins. You can not keep clean and do it. Again, we may be partakers of other men’s sins by partaking of the results of them. If a man cheats another in business, and then I share in his ill-gotten gain, I am partaking of his sin. It may be that I would not steal my neighbor’s melons; but if another steals them, and I, knowing his theft, eat of them with him, do I not partake of his sins? And so it is with all the affairs of life.

We must keep ourselves separate from sin. We can not help being in Ephesus. We must live in this corrupt and sinful world. So the important thing is that we attend to keeping ourselves in Christ—unspotted from the world. If the Ephesians could do this, so can we. But to do it, we must walk uprightly. We must not stoop down into the mire of sin, but keep ourselves erect, and keep our spiritual nostrils above the poisonous gases of sin.

Lot was a man of God. He dwelt in Sodom, and we are told that his righteous soul was vexed from day to day because of the wicked conduct of the Sodomites. But he kept himself clear; he had no part with them; he hated their sins. When we reach a place where we do not hate sin, where we can see it and hear and know of it and find no vexation in our souls, it causes us no uneasiness, we have no particular repugnance for it, it is time that we were becoming awakened. We are commanded to abhor that which is evil, and it is only by so doing and by keeping ourselves clean from it that we can be safe in Christ Jesus and dwell in this wicked world.

There was a bit of heaven in every Christian heart in Ephesus. That bit of heaven was just as pure as the celestial realms above. We too have that heavenly element in our hearts; and in that transplanted bit of God’s holiness will flourish all the plants of righteousness that bloom in the courts eternal. But we must guard these plants by keeping the gates of our hearts closed night and day against evil. Only thus can we keep pure and acceptable to God. This we can do and be holy and faithful in the worst “Ephesus” that exists today, if it be our lot to abide there.

TALK THIRTY-FIVE. THE PRACTICAL SIDE OF RELIGION

The sun was slowly sinking toward the western horizon while I wended my way up the rugged hillside. As I ascended the winding path ever higher and higher, my horizon broadened. When at length I reached the summit and turned to gaze back over the valley, the city lay spread out like a great picture at my feet. The winding river, with a steamer slowly moving along on its bosom, shimmered in the evening sunlight. The sounds from the city were softened and blended until they rose to me like the musical strain of far-away melodies. The low-hanging sun glorified the drifting clouds with the hues of the autumn mountain-side. Crimson and orange and gold, they burned in that western expanse. I gazed upon the scene, and its influence seemed to exalt and enrapture my spirit. There stole into my being a sense of rest and peace and joy that lifted me out of the monotony of ordinary things. I sat there and drank in the beauties of the scene until the sun sank out of sight behind the hills and the stars began to twinkle overhead. The lights flashed out in the city beneath. The quiet hush of the evening seemed to settle down over me, and it seemed good to be alive and to be there.

The mountain-top is a delightful plate. There the soul reaches heights and depths such as it reaches at no other time. Preachers love to preach and poets love to sing of the mountain-tops of life. How delightful are these times in our spiritual life, and how naturally we long for these seasons! How often they are pictured up till one would suppose that they are the principal things in the Christian life! Some people have fancied that when they became Christians the mountain-top experience would be their constant portion. They may have been led to expect this from hearing preaching that exalted the emotional side of religion. It may be that when they were converted their new-born joys seemed to be unending. They thought that this exaltation of spirit was the normal state of a Christian. They gloried in it as the days passed by. The time came, however, when this emotional glow subsided. As the barometer of their feelings fell, they began to question themselves thus: “What is the matter with me? Have I done something wrong? Am I mistaken in thinking that I was saved?” Thus, their faith fell with their emotions. After a while their emotions rose again, and their faith rose with their emotions. Now they knew that they were all right.

There are times when we seem to draw near to God in prayer, when the sight and sound of the world is shut out. An inexpressible sweetness and joy and satisfaction come into the heart. How near God seems! How calm and precious is the hour! How our spirits drink in of the water of life! How we seem to talk face to face with our Lord, and how the curtain seems drawn back till our eyes behold the secrets of the Eternal! We give ourselves over to the supreme enjoyment of the hour. But alas! in a short time we find ourselves no longer on the mountain, but out in the broad plain of life, and how tame and monotonous is that plain when we think of the mountain!

In this the natural and the spiritual are alike. What would you think of the man who would build a store upon the mountain-top, apart from the throng of purchasers whose business he desired? Would you think that wisdom was displayed? Do business men do this way? No, they seek the busy street that is trodden by a multitude, where flows the constant stream of traffic; and there, amid the noise and dust and hurry, they ply their trade with little thought of the mountain-top.

The mountain-top is a very good place to which to make an excursion now and then. It is the place to spend our holidays, but it is not the place for the real accomplishments of life. When we wish to make a living, we must leave the mountain-top with its far-flung panorama of beauty. We must roll up our sleeves and take up the rugged toil and, mid sweat and grime and noise and discord, produce the real results that feed and clothe and shelter us. The real accomplishments of life are not on the mountain-top, but in the monotonous, soul-trying daily grind of business. If you imagine that you are to live in the idealism of a mountain-top experience you will find yourself coming short of it most of the time. You will be continually lamenting over your failure to make your experience measure to your ideal. So long as you are reaching toward this ideal and are conscious of your failure to reach it, your attention will be absorbed by this, and you will be of little use to God. The sooner you come down to the place where you stop condemning yourself because your emotions are not always joyous or because you can not always pray with that full outpouring of soul, the better it will be for you. You will never become a practical Christian till you learn that the Christian life, like the natural life, is largely made up of a monotonous round of duties.

There is little of glamor or brilliancy in labor or ordinary things. That is reserved for the special things in life. It is true that there is joy in the toil and in the hardness, yea, even in the bitterness, if there is a consciousness of duty well done. It is the daily grind that tests the faithfulness. God wants people who will be true in the daily toil of life, who will do well the little, uninteresting things. He wants practical Christians, people who are willing to do the work even if it means weariness, even if it means little of emotion, even if it means sacrifice.

If you lived on the mountain-top always, the scene would soon lose its beauty, and you would soon forget its loveliness. When, after the days of toil, after the months of the prosaic, you lay aside your tools and turn from your labors, it is then that you can go out and enjoy the beauties of nature. It is then that you can enter into her moods and be her comrade. You can enjoy her then and be refreshed by her as you could not be without those weary days of toil. Many people are willing to enjoy, but they shun the work. In natural things we call such persons lazy.

Idealism has its place in life, but it must not close our eyes to the practical side of life. Enjoy what of the mountain-top God may give to you, but do not count this the ordinary, usual thing of Christian life. Learn to enjoy the toil. Learn to find the sweetness that is in it. Learn to find the beauty in the common things of life, for some of the most common things are among the most beautiful when our eyes are taught to see their beauty. The Christian life is preeminently a life of service. That is its highest and broadest purpose. To try to be a Christian merely for the joy that is to be found in it is often to render ourselves miserable. To seek happiness for ourselves as the chief end of life is a very unworthy purpose, and is one that can but end in disappointment.

See that you do your part in life in the every-day things, and God will permit you to live on the mountain as he sees best. Appreciate the mountain experiences when they come, but do not let them make you despise the common things.

TALK THIRTY-SIX. DO YOU NEED PATIENCE?

Have you not often heard people say, “My greatest need is more patience”? Possibly you feel just that way yourself. There is probably no lack that so quickly and persistently manifests itself as this lack, which can not exist without revealing itself, for in order to possess patience one must employ it in his every-day life. Many people who do not understand its real nature nor how to come into possession of it realize their need of it.

Much of the teaching on the subject of patience proves to be ineffectual because the teacher himself does not understand his subject. Sometimes it is taught that all impatience comes from sin in the heart, and that if one manifests a lack of patience he is not sanctified. Such teaching can come only from a misapprehension of the facts. Sanctification is a wonderful thing, and it does wonderful things for us. It purifies, softens, and refines our whole nature; but it does not perfect our natural faculties, and patience is one of these natural faculties, or qualities. There is an impatience, however, that has its root in sin, and which is itself sinful. The blood-cure reaches and eradicates this type. There is also a natural impatience. How much we have of this depends largely upon our general make-up. A lack of discrimination between these two kinds of impatience often causes souls great distress. Before we teach on the subject, we ought to be sure we have the distinction clearly drawn in our own minds.

Patience is a matter of temperament, of grace, and of cultivation. Some people are patient by nature. They can take almost anything patiently. Sometimes this is from natural calmness of disposition; sometimes it is the result of lack of spirit. But in any case, such a person will be more naturally patient when saved than will others who are of a different temperament. Salvation does not destroy our natural temperaments.

Grace goes far towards supplying us with patience, but grace alone will not always be sufficient; therefore patience must also be a thing of cultivation. We are told to “add patience.” This means that not all our patience comes by grace, but that some of it comes by works. In our sinful lives we cultivate impatience by acting out our feelings of impatience. The more we put our feelings into action, the more impatient we become. When we are saved, we begin to act out patience, and the more we act it out, the more patient we become in our nature.