Chapter VI: Part 6

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.

Patience is largely a matter of the proper use of the will. The Bible does not say, “Feel patient,” for our feelings are largely involuntary; but it says, “Be patient,” that is, _act patiently_, for our actions are voluntary. There are those who, when waiting for a train, can not sit still. Such an individual walks up and down the platform and looks at his watch again and again. He sits down and rises again, and turns this way and that way. Another sits quietly and is unperturbed. It matters not to him if he does have to wait a while. It is no task for him to be patient. He is of a patient temperament. The other is quite the opposite. Because of this, however, we can not say that one has more salvation than the other. Both are feeling naturally. The difference is in their natures, in their temperaments, and not in their hearts.

The fact that we are exhorted again and again to be patient signifies that the acting out of patience is a matter of our wills. No matter how pure our hearts are, we have tests of patience. A pure heart is not an automatic heart, working out things independently of the will. When we have a pure heart, our will is fully set to do right, and through our will we regulate our actions so that they are right. Our feelings are _influenced_ by the will, but are not _controlled_ by it. We can not help feeling sad or joyous when there is an occasion that influences our feelings. So we can not but feel impatient sometimes; that is, things will try our patience, and we find that our feelings respond, in some degree at least, to those circumstances. The degree of response will depend upon our temperament, and the amount of grace we have, and how much we have cultivated patience.

Do not forget that we are not told to feel patient, but to “be patient,” though we should be careful to control our feelings so far as is possible by the force of will. When an impatient feeling comes, we do one of two things: we either yield to it and act it out, or we resist it and act patiently. The latter is what we should always do. When we are full of joy and everything is going smoothly, it is easy to believe that we have plenty of patience; but in time of stress, of trial, when we are weak or suffering in body, when we are weary or feel discouraged, then it is that we most readily feel impatient. It is not that we have less patience at such times, but that impatience more easily manifests itself. We should at all times resist every feeling of impatience, yet we should not condemn ourselves for feeling what we can not help feeling. We should not think that we are not sanctified simply because we are not so patient as we desire to be.

It is natural for a saved person to long for greater patience to endure and suffer. We should do all in our power to grow in patience. “But how shall I add patience?” you may ask. There are two things to do. First, pray; and second, cultivate patience. Make it a practise day by day never to yield to an impatient feeling. Let this attitude be manifested by word and act. Reflect upon the patience of Jesus and study to know what is the Scriptural ideal. When your patience is tried, deliberately take hold of yourself by your will-power and make yourself act and speak as you know you should. By following this rule you will become more and more patient. This is the only possible way of adding patience.

We become in nature the reflection of our acts. Good acts repeated become good habits. Good habits followed out make good character. Not that good habits will save or take the place of grace, but they are equally necessary in the formation of Christian character. “Let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing.”

TALK THIRTY-SEVEN. STUMBLING-STONES, OR STEPPING-STONES?

Things may be stumbling-stones or stepping-stones to us. They may be hindrances or helps—trials or blessings. What they prove to be depends not so much on their nature as upon our attitude toward them. It is not our opportunities that count, but the use that we make of them. It is not how much money we possess, but the wisdom we display in its expenditure. It is not how many obstacles we meet in life, but the manner in which we meet them. It is not the soul who has the fewest trials and difficulties that prospers most, but the one who meets them with courage and confident trust. Some are crushed down and made to despair by the very things that stir others to renewed effort and courage.

What our trials are to us depends on what we are to them. This is well illustrated in Elijah’s experience. The king and queen were his bitter enemies. He feared them and fled away and lived in hiding.(2) He was afraid, lest he should be betrayed to them. He looked to his enemies; he saw their power; he looked at himself and saw his own impotence. And so he dwelt in fear. But the time came when God spoke to him, and as he looked to God he began to see His greatness and his soul was lifted up with courage. His own weakness and the might of his enemies faded away from his gaze. He came out boldly and challenged the idolatrous party to a test of strength. Single-handed and alone, we see him walk out before the assembled multitude, superior to them all. There is no fear in his heart now. He is not in the least daunted by his adversaries. He can look them squarely in the eyes without shrinking. His heart is full of confidence. He knows whom he is trusting. Throughout the long day while the priests of Baal are calling so earnestly upon their powerless god, the prophet is the calmest man of all the many witnesses. He is looking on God’s side now, and he is conscious master of the whole situation. He even grows ironical toward his enemies.

The outcome does not surprize us, for we know the God he served. He was victorious now, but let us look at him a few days later. Under a juniper-tree in the wilderness sits a man, weary and dejected. He has fled for his life, but now even his life has lost its value, and he says, “It is enough: now, O Lord, take away my life.” Elijah has fallen from the summit of victory to the depths of despair. What occasioned this great change? Things did not turn out as he had expected them to. Instead of the queen being humbled by the display of God’s power, she was only made harder and her anger became more fierce. And when Elijah heard her threat to kill him, he lost sight of God and saw only the anger of the queen and his own weakness and danger; so his heart was filled with fear, and he fled as does a hunted animal to the depths of the wilderness. So long as he looked to God, he was victorious over his enemies and fearless as a lion; they could not harm him. But when he looked upon the strength of his foes and his own weakness and lost sight of God, he was overcome with fear and fled terror-stricken.

What made the difference in his conduct? Were not his enemies the same? Was not their wrath to be feared as much one time as another? Was not God protecting and keeping him all the time? Had he need to fear them more at one time than at another? The secret of his different behavior was his attitude toward them. When he feared them, they were stumbling-stones to him. When he feared them not, their enmity became the stepping-stone by which he was raised to the lofty height of victory.

The same principle is true in our lives. If we approach a conflict or trial with fear and trembling and shrinking, it will very likely prove a stumbling-stone to us; but if we approach it with calm confidence in God and a settled determination to overcome, we may make it a stepping-stone upon which we may mount to higher and better things.

Sometimes things that are at first very discouraging to us afterwards become sources of help and encouragement; not that the things themselves change, but because we see them from a different angle. This is well illustrated by the effect of my long affliction. One of the worst things that I had to face in the first two or three years was the consciousness of the depressing and discouraging influence that it was having upon others, not only upon those about me, but upon many persons here and there, as evidenced by numerous letters showing that the effect was wide-spread. It seemed to be a hindrance to the faith of many people. But in the last two or three years I have received many letters telling me how greatly the writers had been encouraged and helped by my affliction. The affliction itself was the same; the change was in them; for that which was once a source of discouragement would have continued so had they continued to look at it as they had formerly done. The fact that the changed point of view, or changed attitude, changed the effect shows that it is not so much the thing itself as our attitude toward it that affects us.

It is so in regard to all things. We have need to learn the lesson that one sister learned. Speaking of the early months of my affliction, she writes, “At that time it was a hindrance to my faith; but it has ceased to be so, for I have learned not to ask why, but to have faith in God and wait and trust.”

Learning to wait and trust is the secret. This gives God the opportunity to bring out that which is best. How could we know the virtue of patience if no one had a trial of his patience? If we looked only at the trial, where would be the blessing? We often must look beyond the things that first appear. We must often look at “the things which are not seen” that we may have courage to meet the things that are seen. It is when we do this that our trials become blessings; our stumbling-stones, stepping-stones.

When we face things courageously and hold to our course steadily through the storm, or when we bear opposition and trials patiently and hold fast our integrity through temptation, it is then that we mount up by means of these very things to a loftier height and a broader outlook. When we try to lift up ourselves by expending our forces upon ourselves, we make but little progress. How hard it is to keep good resolutions! How hard it is to make ourselves better or stronger by the study of abstract goodness or by wishing ourselves something else than we are! We may look to the heights above us and long to be there; we may think of the noble outlook were we there, but there is but one way to attain those heights—by the slow, laborious, and wearisome process of climbing; and the things upon which we must set our feet are the difficulties that we have overcome.

It is easy to go down toward the valley of discouragement. It takes no effort to let a thing weigh us down. We can easily let our courage and our confidence slip if we will. It is sometimes easier to go down-hill than it is to stop in our going. But in life it is the up-hill going that counts. Every time you overcome or trust clear through to victory, you have made progress upward. If you see a trial coming, do not shrink and do not fear. Do not say, “Oh, how shall I bear it!”

God designs that your trials shall help you, not hinder you. He could keep you from having them if it were wise; but he sees that you need them, yes, that you must have them, or you will never rise above your present level. Look for the good in them; count them blessings. Meet them bravely, and you will find them in truth stepping-stones, not stumbling-stones.

TALK THIRTY-EIGHT. USE WHAT YOU HAVE

Few people really are and do their best. Nature has blessed a few with great talents and abilities. These persons often become proud, self-centered, and feel themselves to be superior, and for that reason many times they fail to make the proper use of their abilities. How often are they used in a bad or foolish way, so that what might be a blessing to the world fails to be such! There are many others who realize they do not possess these natural gifts. They look upon those who have them, and envy them. They bemoan their own lack, and say, “If I only had the talents that person has,” and meanwhile they sit in idleness, making no use of what they have.

“If I could preach like So-and-so, what I would accomplish for the Lord!” another says; or, “If I had the money So-and-so has, what I could accomplish for the kingdom!”

“If my circumstances were different, I might hope to do something,” comes from another.

But all these are like the dreamer who says, “Tomorrow I will do great things,” and yet today he does nothing.

Make the Best of Yourself.

You will always be yourself. You can never be any one else. If you ever accomplish anything, it will be through those powers and abilities you now possess. It is of no use to lament that you are not as somebody else is; it is of no use to envy another’s talents. You are only yourself. You might as well face that fact, and endeavor to make the best possible use of the gifts you have. They may look very small compared with those of some others, but they are all you have. Time spent in troubling yourself because you are not greater is worse than wasted. The question is, Shall I improve and make use of what I have?

Man is capable of great development. Eye, hand, strength, mind, will—in fact, the whole man may, by proper efforts, be taught and developed, and expanded until he becomes something very different from what he was at first. The blessing of God will help us much, but that will not take the place of our own determined and persevering efforts.

Have you ever attempted to develop yourself? Do not think that because your abilities now seem small they never can be greater. You were only a child once. You did not think that you never would be larger. You looked eagerly forward to the time when you would be as large as grown-up people. Each day you ate and drank and breathed and exercised—the very things that would produce the growth that you desired. You used what you had of energy and strength, and thus increased them. We ought to be as wise in spiritual things as in natural things. Paul said to Timothy, “Neglect not the gift that is in thee.”

You must make use of what you have, then God will bestow more. But he can not bestow more until you use with your might what you have. You are, so to speak, the raw material of what you may be. What you will be depends on the use you make of this material. The responsibility for the final product lies with you. Develop your mind, develop your soul, develop patience, courage, faith, loyalty, justice, benevolence, endurance, cheerfulness, determination, diligence, industry, and all those other qualities that make up real Christian manhood and that are the foundation of success in life. If you lack the will to try and keep trying, you will see yourself always a failure. Decide to be your best and do your best. If you will do this by God’s help, you will not fail.

Use Wisely What You Have.

Israel was oppressed. The Philistines had taken the Israelites’ swords and spears, in fact, swept the country bare of armor. Shamgar had not much to fight with. He had no sword nor spear, no shield, no helmet. The Philistines were coming; something must be done. There was the ox-goad, but what would that amount to against swords and spears? It was all the weapon he had. But he had something else; he had courage, determination, and faith. So he started straight for the host of enemies, and we are told that he slew “six hundred men with an ox-goad: and he also delivered Israel” (Judges 3: 31). He had only an ox-goad, but he used it manfully. Had he not done so, Israel would not have been delivered.

David, when he went against Goliath, had only his home-made sling and a few stones from the brook. But he went up to battle with unshaken faith in God. He had not much to start with in the way of weapons, but he had the courage to use what he did have. And he is famous to this day as Israel’s deliverer.

Samson had only a jaw-bone, but he did not stop a moment to lament that fact. He did have the three things necessary in himself—courage, determination, and faith. And we are told that the Spirit of the Lord came mightily upon him. The result was he slew a thousand of his enemies, and put the rest to flight. Have you not as much equipment as any of these men had? But the results of their efforts were glorious. If you think you have but little to use for God, just add to it courage, determination, and faith, and go ahead. You will find that the Spirit of the Lord will make you mighty. Do not worry because you have so little to give; just be sure you give what you can. Do not worry because you seem to have so little ability, or so little time, or so little opportunity; but do not fail to use what you have. Make the best of them.

Use Your Environment.

It is of no use to say, “If my surroundings were different,” or “If I were in some other place, then I could do better.” Possibly you could, but that is not the question. Are you doing what you can in your present environment? If you can change your environment for the better, do it. If you can not, then decide to do your best where you are.

You may dream of ideal conditions, but you will not find them in this world. Whether you succeed or fail depends less on your environment than it does on yourself. If you will be true to the best that is in you, your environment will not have the influence that you imagine it will. Favorable circumstances never take the place of soul-qualities. Develop your soul-qualities, and you will be master of your environment. You need not let it master you. Be your best, and do your best, in your place. Make the best of your situation. There is a way for you to succeed, no matter what is against you. God will help you find that way if you are determined to find it. Never permit yourself to spend time in lamentation over yourself or your circumstances. Keep the following thought and determination ever before you: “I will make the best of myself and my circumstances.” This is the true and only road to success.

TALK THIRTY-NINE. WHERE THE JOY IS

A sister wrote to me recently desiring me to tell her how she might find sweetness and joy in her trials. She seemed to have in her mind an ideal experience in which she could be joyous and calm and sweetly contented while undergoing trials, and she was struggling to attain to her ideal.

This sister is not alone in her reaching out after such an experience. People often chide and condemn themselves because they have not attained to such heights. When they suffer and are distressed in their trials, they think there is something wrong with their experience, and they become discouraged. The Bible lifts the standard just to the place where it ought to be; and if we have a higher ideal, we are sure to be constantly coming short of it.

My answer to the sister was that she was looking in the wrong place for the sweetness and joy. Jesus is our example, and we can expect trials to have the same effect upon us as they had upon him. In that dark hour of trial in Gethsemane, with the heavy weight of the cross already upon his spirit, did he say to his disciples, “Behold, how joyful I am in such awful circumstances”? Ah, no! his state was very different, and we hear him say, “My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death.” He was “a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.” When he hung upon the cross, he cried out in agony, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” Do you think there was joy or sweetness in that? Such feelings had no place in his emotions that day. But there was joy connected with these trials. We read that “for the joy that was set before him, he endured the cross” (Heb. 12: 2). Here we have endurance and joy, but we do not find them together: the endurance is present; the joy is “set before him.” This is the order in which such things come to us. Christ’s joy came, not from his sufferings, but from the result of these sufferings. His joy is in the redeemed souls that have been saved through his sufferings.

Our own trials will of necessity mean suffering, and there can be little joy in suffering. Joy never has its direct origin in suffering; but it does often come out of suffering, or as a result of enduring suffering. The order in which it works is clearly seen in Heb. 12: 11—“Now no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous: nevertheless _afterward_ it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness.” This is what you may expect—grievousness in time of trial and chastening, and afterward the reaping of joy. The Bible speaks of our being “in heaviness through manifold temptations,” and also says, “We count them happy which endure.” Enduring implies suffering; and suffering, of itself, can never be joyful. We might, in a figure, say that suffering is the soil in which the tree of patient endurance grows, and that joy is the ripened fruit of the tree.

There are many different kinds of trials, and they have different effects. Sometimes they are like a great storm that sweeps over the soul, when the dashing rain obscures all view of the distant landscape and its beauties, when the howling of the wind, the flashing of the lightning, and the rolling of the thunder shuts out everything else and holds our entire attention. It is only when the storm is over and the calm has come, that we can look out again upon the broad and peaceful landscape. There are other trials that remind one of a nail in one’s shoe: everywhere one goes, it is present, irritating, annoying, torturing. It hinders and detracts from all the common pleasures of life.

When trials come, there is just one proper way to meet them; that is, with determination to overcome them and to keep our integrity during the time that we are suffering under them. It was the joy set before Jesus that made him strong to suffer. And so we, if we would be strong for our trials, must look beyond them to the joy that is set before us. It is what is coming out of the trials that is the source of our rejoicing. If you have endured some trial—something that took real courage and fortitude—and you look back upon it and realize that you stood true, that you did not yield nor falter, is it not a source of great joy to your soul? When you see the grace that God gave you, does it not strengthen and encourage you?

You desire the peaceful fruit of righteousness in your life; you want joy, peace, victory; but remember that these are the “afterwards” of patient endurance through the trial or chastening. You must wait for the fruit to ripen. If you try to enjoy it before it is ripe, you may find it works like eating a green persimmon—you not only will spoil the fruit, but will find some unpleasant consequences.

There are certain kinds of trials that bring forth joy quickly if they are met in the right spirit. We read that the early Christians “took joyfully the spoiling of their goods,” and again that they “rejoiced that they were counted worthy” to suffer for the name of Christ. This was persecution. Often we can “rejoice and leap for joy,” not because of the persecution, but because of the fact that great is our reward in heaven. The joy comes from the contemplation of that reward. We suffer the persecution; we rejoice in the reward of our patient endurance.

If we walk close to God, we shall find that in the midst of our trials, even when they are bitter, there is an undercurrent of sweet joyfulness away down in the depths of our souls. The consciousness that we are the Lord’s, that he loves us, and that he is our helper will be sweet in the midst of all our woes. This may sometimes be obscured by doubts and fears for a time, but if we hide away under his wings and trust securely, the harp of joy will sound in our souls though in the tumult of emotions. We may sometimes have to listen carefully, however, to hear the soft, sweet strains of its melody.

Be patient in your trials; endure hardness as a good soldier; keep up the shield of faith; fight the good fight; and in due season your soul will sing triumphant songs of victory, and the joy-bells, pealing out their merry music, will summon God’s people to rejoice with you in your Lord and Savior.

TALK FORTY. BLOWING THE CLOUDS AWAY

I had been passing through a period of sore conflict. For several days I had had gloomy and distressing feelings. I had struggled with all my might against them. I had tried to draw near the Lord and to get special help from him. It was hard to pray, and it seemed that when I prayed no answer came. Discouragement pressed in upon me. I had no idea of giving up the fight, but I knew not what to do next. It seemed that my strength was exhausted by the conflict. As I lay there meditating; it seemed that all at once a quiet voice said to me: “Do not try to blow away the clouds with your feeble breath. If you will be content to wait, the same wind that brought them will carry them away again.”

As the voice spoke I seemed to see myself in a little ravine where I had often been, with a great mass of thick clouds overhead moving slowly along. The lesson that God would get to me illuminated my mind. I saw how foolish it would be to try to blow away those great clouds. All my blowing could not move them an inch. I might strain and struggle, and try until my strength was all gone, but the clouds would not pass away, nor would the sunshine come a moment sooner for all my efforts.