How To Meet Temptation

How to Meet Temptation

J. R. Miller

Temptation has a mission. Our Lord was led by the Spirit into the wilderness—to be tempted. If he had missed being tempted—he would have missed something that was necessary to the complete development of his manhood. For any man, temptation is an opportunity. If the soldier never had a battle, how could he become a hero? How could he ever learn the art of war? It is foolhardy for anyone to seek to be tempted—but when temptation comes to us while we are in the line of duty, as we follow the divine guidance—we dare not shirk it, nor run away from it; we must meet it with faith and courage, and in doing so we shall take a blessing from it. In this way lie crowns, which can be won only by those who are victorious in temptation.

Yet there is no fear that any of us may be overlooked in this matter, or may miss this opportunity. Soldiers sometimes chafe in time of war, because they are kept in the camp while their comrades are in the field. They are eager to become real soldiers. But none miss struggle with temptation. No one escapes the experience. Then, our foes are also real. They are not fancied or imaginary. They are of two classes—there are enemies in our own heart, and enemies fighting outside.

The enemies within complicate the struggle. In war, a traitor in the camp may do great mischief. He is unsuspected. He knows all that is going on inside, the movements that are planned, the strength or weakness of the citadel, the resources at command. Then he can open the door for the enemy—and deliver the place into his hands.

So the enemies in our heart have vast power of hurting us. They may betray us in the very time of our battle with some outside foe, and cause us to lose the victory; or after we have been victorious in the struggle—they may cause us to fall into some other subtle sin. These hidden evils in our own heart make it easy for the assailants without to break through the gate. They parley with them over the wall, and treacherously slip the bolt on some door and let them in. We have much to fear from the unholiness that we carry within us. If every feeling, disposition, affection, desire, and impulse in our heart were pure and altogether like Christ; if the enemy came and found nothing in us—we would be far safer in the midst of this world's wickedness.

But there are also outside foes. We are like little forts in an enemy's country. All about us swarm those who are hostile to us, watching every opportunity to break in at some gate, or to climb over the ramparts to take possession. We must never forget that this world is not a friend to grace.

We are in danger of imagining in quiet days, that the antagonism around us has ceased, and that we shall no more be assailed by evil. This is always a fatal mistake for anyone to make. The tempter is never better pleased, that when he gets us into this kind of confidence. We are then off our guard, and it is easy for the foe to steal in. When the sentinels at our heart doors and the outposts of the enemy get on familiar terms—our danger is greatly increased. We are safest—when we are fully aware of our danger. We are kept then ever watchful and on the alert. An important counsel, given over and over again in the Scriptures, is, "Watch that you enter not into temptation." Incessant watchfulness is half of every Christian's defense!

We should never forget that no hand but our own—can open the door to the tempter. Every man's house is his castle, and no one can cross the threshold, but by his permission. This is true of the good, as well as of the evil. No angel of heaven can gain access to our heart, unless we show him hospitality. With all the gifts of divine love in his hands for us, Christ comes to our door and knocks, and stands and waits. We must open the door if he is to come in. The same is true of evil. No temptation can evercompel its way with us. Our quiet, persistent "No!" will keep it out. If we resist the devil—he will flee from us. We cannot hinder temptations flying about us like birds—but it is our fault- if they build their nests in our heart!

The enemies outside us—are of many kinds. There are evil men who are under the control of Satan, filled with his spirit, and who come to us continually with temptations to sin. We need to be on our guard against these. They are among those whom we meet daily in our common interaction. We cannot keep ourselves apart from them, and we need, therefore, to watch against theirunholy influence. Many a young person is led away from God and into sin—by a friendship which at first seems altogether harmless, and even sweet.

The upas tree which grows in Java has an acrid, milky juice which contains a virulent poison. According to the story told by a Dutch surgeon, the exhalations of this tree are fatal to both animal and vegetable life. Birds flying over the tree fall dead. Noflower or plant will live near the tree. The story illustrates human lives in this world, whose influence always leaves a blight on others. They may be winning and attractive. They may come in the guise of friendship, and wear the garb of innocence—but they have absorbed the poison of evil until their very breath is deadly! One cannot be with them, accepting their friendship, or coming under their influence, without being hurt by them. The sweet flowers of purity wither in their presence. There are men and women whose merest touch is defiling, who carry moral blight for other lives wherever they go!

How can we hope to live unhurt—in this world so full of evil and danger? This is one of the most serious problems of Christian living. Yet it is possible for us to do it—through the grace and help of Christ. We can never do it without Christ—but we are assured that he can keep us. One inspired word tells us that he is able to keep us from stumbling, and to set us before the presence of his glory without blemish in exceeding joy. The secret of safety lies, therefore, in staying ever in the keeping of Christ.

We miss much of the comfort we should get from Christ, by narrowing our thought of his redeeming work. This was not all wrought on the cross, when he there gave himself to die for us. Comfort should come to us from the knowledge that he was tempted in all points like as we are—yet without sin. That is, he met every form of temptation and of evil, and was victorious. This assures us, first, of his sympathy with us in all our temptations—he knows what the struggle means. Then, having himself overcome—he is able to help us to overcome.

We should never forget that Jesus Christ is living. He is our personal friend, with us in every battle. Too often this element of faith is lacking in our experience. We look back to the cross for help—while our help is close beside us. Moses endured, as seeing him who is invisible. He did not see God—no eye can see him; but it was as if he saw him. His faith made God as real to him—as if God were actually visible to his sight. If we have such faith in the living Christ, no temptation can ever overmaster us; we shall be more than conquerors, through him who loved us.

The trouble with us ofttimes is, however, that we forget Christ—and then we fall. If we would always believe that he is with us, and then always remember it—we would not fall in temptations.

When Frederick Arnold was writing the life of F.W. Robertson he went to Brighton to talk with Robertson's friends, to find incidents for his biography. Among other places, he went to a bookseller's shop, and learned that the proprietor had been a constant attendant upon Robertson's ministry and had in his parlor a picture of the great preacher. The bookseller said to Mr. Arnold, "Do you see that picture? Whenever I am tempted to do an evil thing—I run back here and look at it. Then I cannot do it. Whenever I feel afraid of some difficulty or some obstacle, I come and look into those eyes—and I go out strong for my struggle."

If the mere picture of the great preacher, had such a power over this humble man, how much more power will a vision of the Christ have in helping us to overcome temptation! If always in the moment of danger, we would run to Christ and look into his face—we could not commit the sin! This is one of the great secrets of meeting and overcoming temptation.

Thus temptation may be so met—as to be transformed into a help; so met at least as to be compelled to yield up a blessing to the victor. We are stronger for having overcome. Then the experience of struggle and victory, prepares us to be a guide, helper, and friend to others in their time of temptation. But we should never forget that only in Christ, can we overcome. He who enters the terrible conflict without the aid of the strong Son of God, can only fail and perish on the field.

The Father's Love

The Father's Love

by Horatius Bonar (1808-1989)

"And he arose, and came to his father. But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him;"
—Luke 15:20

IT was hunger, not love, that drew the prodigal back to his father. There was no high nor disinterested motive in his return. He stayed away as long as he could; he only came back when he could not help himself. It was not the thought of his father, but of the plenty of his house, as contrasted with his own want, that led him out of the far country to seek his father's face. So with the sinner. It is want, misery, danger, not love nor any noble motive that lead him to seek the face of God. How foolish the thought of those who would shrink back from God because they have not come to Him with a pure and disinterested motive! But it is with the Father that we have now specially to do. (i.) Paternal watchfulness and far-sightedness; (2.) paternal haste; (3.) paternal compassion; (4.) paternal tenderness; (5.) paternal reconciliation.

I. Paternal watchfulness and far-sightedness. "When yet a great way off, his father saw him." He had doubtless been watching; "this man looketh out for sinners." How quick-sighted is the paternal eye, made keen and clear by the yearnings of the paternal heart. The figure seen thus far off was no doubt very unlike his boy for it was one of rags, and filth, and disfigurement. Yet it is recognised. There is my son at last! Poor wanderer, God's eye is on you in yon far land of famine. He has not forgotten; He has his reasons for not coming out and taking you back by force, like the shepherd the sheep; for He wants your heart, and that cannot be won by force or gold, yet He is on the outlook for you, however far "off" you be.

II. Paternal haste."He ran." The son was coming to him, yet he ran to meet him, eager to shorten the distance. He did not keep state or ceremony. He did not think of what might comport with dignity or with offended authority; he did not wait nor move slowly towards him; he ran, as if every inch of distance or moment of separation were intolerable. What eagerness to meet did that haste imply! What heedlessness of all ceremony! No fear of seeming too eager--- no thought of thus encouraging sin, or making the prodigal think lightly of his wickedness. Haste was the best for the prodigal, as well as most congenial to his own feelings. What a rebuke does that word ''ran" furnish to those who think that a sinner can come to Christ too soon--can be reconciled too quickly. God runs, sinner, to you, will you not run to God ? He makes haste, oh make you haste.

III. Paternal compassion."He had compassion." It would seem as if the pity were stirred by what he saw. The nearer he came the more he had compassion. The rags and filth, instead of repelling him, only awoke still more his pity. Instead of turning away from the loathsomeness, his paternal heart was moved by the sight of it. As we read that Jesus, when He saw the multitudes, was moved with compassion, so was it with the father here. Poor wanderer, you need not then try to cover your rags, or to hide your filth, or to try to make yourself more like what you were in order to attract your father. It is just that which you are which excites his compassion. Your wretchedness, ignorance, defilement, squalor, will be no obstacle. They awake his pity. Go to him then just as you are, and see if his compassions are not infinite. Whoever and whatever you may be, He pities you. The tears of Jesus over Jerusalem are the expressions of that pity, sincere, and true, and deep.

IV. Paternal tenderness."He fell on his neck." So was it when Jacob and Esau met; Joseph and Benjamin. Falling on another's neck is the expression of tender love, love that, for the moment, cannot express itself in words, but buries its face (and with it, past grief and present joy) out of sight on the neck of the beloved one. Ah this is tender love! He fell on his neck! It is the tender love of God. Yet all these manifestations of human love, these tokens of family endearment, are poor to express his unutterably earnest yet tender grace. In listening to God's gospel we too often feel as if it were the mere intimation of his consent to our salvation, implying but a cold willingness to save us from hell. How much we mistake. His is true parental fondness, pity, tenderness, yearning; his is the eagerness to bless us, which words cannot express. Yes, God is in earnest in his tender love.

V. Paternal reconciliation."He kissed him." This is the completion of the whole the consummated and manifested reconciliation. There is the kiss of affection, Jacob kissing Joseph's sons ; the kiss of sorrow, when the disciples fell on Paul's neck and kissed him; the kiss of reconciliation, when Jacob and Esau kissed, and when righteousness and peace are said to kiss each other. How much is implied in that paternal kiss, love, joy, pardon, pity, reconciliation. Thus God comes up to the sinner with the fulness of reconciliation in his heart. He does not stay to be entreated, or pleaded with, or persuaded. He hastens up to us, and embraces us in the fulness of his heart. Ah, this kiss is the seal of pardon to the prodigal; and it is this kiss that He is longing to imprint now on your polluted lips! He comes up to you with the reconciliation of the cross; for He is reconciling the world to Himself, not imputing unto them their trespasses.

Bless Is Anyone Who Takes No Offense at Me (and others)

Blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me. (Luke 7:23)

It is sometimes very difficult not to be offended in Jesus Christ. The offenses may be circumstantial. I find myself in a prison-house—a narrow sphere, a sick chamber, an unpopular position—when I had hoped for wide opportunities. Yes, but He knows what is best for me. My environment is of His determining. He means it to intensify my faith, to draw me into nearer communion with Himself, to ripen my power. In the dungeon my soul should prosper.

The offense may be mental. I am haunted by perplexities, questions, which I cannot solve. I had hoped that, when I gave myself to Him, my sky would always be clear; but often it is overspread by mist and cloud. Yet let me believe that, if difficulties remain, it is that I may learn to trust Him all the more implicitly—to trust and not be afraid. Yes, and by my intellectual conflicts, I am trained to be a tutor to other storm-driven men.

The offense may be spiritual. I had fancied that within His fold I should never feel the biting winds of temptation; but it is best as it is. His grace is magnified. My own character is matured. His Heaven is sweeter at the close of the day. There I shall look back on the turnings and trials of the way, and shall sing the praises of my Guide. So, let come what will come, His will is welcome; and I shall refuse to be offended in my loving Lord.
—Alexander Smellie

Blessed is he whose faith is not offended, 

When all around his way

The power of God is working out deliverance 

For others day by day;

Though in some prison drear his own soul languish, 

Till life itself be spent,

Yet still can trust his Father’s love and purpose, 

And rest therein content.

Blessed is he, who through long years of suffering, 

Cut off from active toil,

Still shares by prayer and praise the work of others, 

And thus “divides the spoil.” 

Blessed are thou, O child of God, who sufferest,

And canst not understand

The reason for thy pain, yet gladly leavest 

Thy life in His blest Hand.

Yea, blessed art thou whose faith is “not offended”

By trials unexplained,

By mysteries unsolved, past understanding, 

Until the goal is gained.

~L. B. Cowman~

_____________________________

Mercy!  Forgiveness!  Acceptance!  Pardon!  Welcome!

In Hebrews 12:22-24, we are given a powerful word on how the blood of Jesus speaks such better things than the blood of Abel.  This is a great insight, so bear with me,

But you have come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, to an innumerable company of angels, to the general assembly and church of the firstborn who are registered in heaven, to God the Judge of all, to the spirits of just men made perfect, to Jesus the Mediator of the new covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling that speaks better things than that of Abel.

You can read the story of Abel and his brother, Cain, in Genesis 4.  What we learn is that Cain became jealous of Abel, and as a result, Cain rose up against Abel in the field and killed him.

God said, "Cain, the blood of your brother, Abel, cries out to Me from the ground."  What did the blood of Abel say?  "Vengeance!  Judgment!"

The blood of Jesus cries better things.  The blood that soaked the cross and made it red, the blood that soaked the ground below the cross at that place called Calvary, the blood that today is in the heavenly Holy of Holies, that blood cries out day and night into the ears of God.

The blood of Jesus today does not cry out, "Vengeance!  Judgment!"  Instead, it cries out, "Mercy!  Forgiveness!  Acceptance!  Pardon!  Welcome!"

The question is:  How will you respond? Hebrews 12:25 issues a stern warning,

See that you do not refuse Him who speaks.  For if they did not escape who refused Him who spoke on earth, much more shall we not escape if we turn away from Him who speaks from heaven.

If you have yet to accept Jesus as your Savior, do so today.

~Bayless Conley~

__________________________

For the Holy Ghost was not yet [given]; because that Jesus was not yet glorified - John 7:39

Calvary must precede the Ascension, and both must come before Pentecost. The glorified Lord was the text on which the Spirit was to discourse, and the text must be complete before the sermon can commence. Moreover, it was only when our Lord had ascended to the right hand of the Father, that He could receive or transmit the Divine Comforter. It was needful for Him to be by the right hand of God exalted, before He could ask for and receive, and shed forth the Holy Spirit of promise. The one Paraclete must finish His work, and be withdrawn, ere the other could come to take up and finish His work on earth. The Son must sit down on the throne, or the Spirit could not descend to sit on each of the disciples.

But there is a deep inner lesson for us all in these words. We sometimes wonder why we have not received the Spirit, and why our lives are not channels through which He pours in mighty rivers to make desert hearts and lives blossom and sing. How gladly would we part with all beside, if we might be conscious that not tiny streamlets, not one river of holy influence merely, but that rivers were issuing from us as the waters from the temple threshold!

Is not the reason to be sought in our neglect to glorify Christ? We have never yet abandoned ourselves to Him, content to live the branch-life, with no other aim than to realize the one purpose of His most blessed life, the glorifying of the Father. We have never seriously made it our life-purpose to glorify the Lord Jesus. There has been no triumphal entry into our hearts, no enthronization, no challenge to the gates of our soul that they should lift themselves up to admit the King of Glory.

~F. B. Meyer~

A Time for Thanksgiving

A Time For Thanksgiving

by Samuel Logan Brengle (1860-1936)
/..
“Enter into his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise: be thankful unto him, and bless his name."
—Psalm 100:4

“In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you."
—1 Thessalonians 5:18

As lilies of the valley pour forth perfume, so good hearts pour forth thanksgiving. No mercy is too small to provoke it, no trial too severe to restrain it. As Samson got honey from the carcass of the lion he slew, and as Moses got water from the flinty rock, so the pure in heart are possessed of a sort of heavenly alchemy, a divine secret by which they get blessing out of all things, and for which there is giving of thanks.

A jubilant old saint in Boston came down to hoary hairs in deepest poverty and had to live on the charity of such friends as God raised up, and He raised them up. Bless His name! He who fed Elijah in the wilderness by the brook and in the poverty-stricken home of the desolate widow, found a way to feed His child in Boston. God is not blind, nor deaf, nor indifferent, nor indigent. He is not "the silent God" that some people in their self-conceit and wayward unbelief suppose. He knows how to be silent, and how to hide Himself from the proud in heart. But He cannot hide Himself anywhere in His big universe from childlike faith and pure, obedient, long-suffering, patient love. Hallelujah!

This old saint believed, obeyed and rejoiced in God, and He raised up friends to supply her needs. Now, one day one of them went upstairs with a dinner for the old lady, and as she came to the door, she heard a voice within, and thinking there was a visitor present, and delicately wishing that her charity should not be a cause of embarrassment, she stopped and listened. It was the voice of the old Christian at her
table, and she was saying, "O Father, I do thank Thee with all my heart for Jesus and this crust!"

To her thankful heart that crust was more than a feast and a well-filled cupboard and a fat bank-account to him who has not a trustful, thankful spirit.

I heard of a rich man the other day who killed himself because he feared he might become poor. He was poor. Jesus said, "A man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesseth," and no more does a man's real riches, but rather in the spirit with which he possesses them.

Heaven is not parceled off into lots and estates. The angels own nothing and yet they possess all things and are eternally rich. And so with the true saint that trusts God and loves and obeys and is thankful.

The stars in their courses fight for him. He is now in harmony with the elemental and heavenly forces and the eternal laws of the universe of God, and all things work together for his good. Not a hair of his head falls without God's notice. Not a desire rises in his heart but God's great heart throbs responsive to fulfil it, for does not the Psalmist say, "He will fulfil the desires of them that fear Him"? Not simply the fervent prayer, but the timid, secret desire that has not been voiced in prayer, shall be fulfilled. And how dare God do that? Because a holy fear will not allow a desire that is not in harmony with God's character and the interests of His Kingdom.

Napoleon gave blank checks on his bank to one of his marshals. One complained to the Emperor that the drafts made were enormous and should not be allowed. "Let him alone; he trusts and honors me, and I will trust him," said Napoleon. God puts all things at the command of His saints, and trusts them while He asks them to trust Him. Why, then, should we not be thankful?

Nothing will keep the heart so young and banish carking care so quickly, and smooth the wrinkles from the brow so certainly, and fill the life with such beauty, and make one's influence so fragrant and gracious, and shed abroad such peace and gladness, as this sweet spirit of thankfulness.

This spirit can and should be cultivated. There is much in the lot of each of us to be thankful for. We should thank him for personal liberty, and for the measure of health we have. There is a good old soul up the Hudson who for thirty years or thereabout has been lying in bed, while her bones have softened, and she is utterly helpless and always in pain, but she praises and praises and praises God.

We should thank Him that we are not insane, that our poor minds are not unbalanced and rent and torn by horrid nightmares and dreads and nameless terrors and deep despair and wild and restless ravings. We should thank Him for the light and blessings of civilization, past mercies, present comforts and future prospects, food, with the appetite to eat it, and the power to digest it, raiment to wear, books to read,
the Church, The Salvation Army, the open Bible, the revelation of Jesus Christ, the Fountain opened for sin and uncleanness, the glorious possibility of escape from the penalty and the power, the consequences and the character of sin, for home and friends, and heaven bending over all, with God's sweet invitation, "Come !" Truly we have much to thank God for, but if we would be thankful, we must set our hearts to do it with a will. We grumble and complain without thought, but we must think to give thanks. To murmur and repine is natural, to give thanks to really give thanks is supernatural, is gracious, is a spirit not earth-born, but comes down from God out of heaven, and yet, like all things from God, it can be cultivated.

David said, "I will praise Thee." He put his will into it. Daniel "prayed and gave thanks" three times a day. David outdid Daniel, for he says, "Seven times a day do I praise Thee."

Know this, that if you are not thankful your heart is yet bad, your soul unclean, for good hearts and pure souls are thankful. So go to the root of the matter and get rid of sin and get filled with the Holy Spirit. Flee to Jesus for riddance from the unholy spirit, and the subtle selfishness that possesses you.

People who live in the midst of foul odors and harsh sounds cease to smell and hear them, but if for a while they could slip away to the sweet air and holy quiet of the woods and fields, and then return to their noxious and noisy homes, their quickened senses would be shocked by the noisome surroundings. And so selfish people often live in themselves so long that they do not realize their selfishness and sin, except as
light from heaven falls upon them. But when God's sweet breath blows over them and His light shines into them, then they are amazed at themselves. When some humble saint, full of faith and joy and the Holy Ghost, crosses their path, if they will but look, they may see themselves as in a glass. But especially is this so when we look at Jesus; and if we continue, the look will transform us. It is of this that the
Apostle speaks when he says, "We all with open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord are changed into the same image from glory to glory, as by the Spirit of the Lord.'' And when this change has taken place the joy of Jesus will be poured into the heart, and praise will well up and bubble forth in thanksgiving as an unfailing fountain of sweet waters, filling it with joy, and earth, your little corner of earth, with peace, and gladdening all who see and hear. But if that change has not fully taken place in you, do not withhold the praise that is God's due, but think of His loving kindness and tender and multiplied mercies, and begin to thank Him now, and your very giving of thanks will help to hasten the change. Begin now! Praise the Lord!

The Purpose In Your Pain

The Purpose in Your Pain 

Guest Writer: Meet my friend Shana Schutte. We are blessed to have her as our guest writer.

Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete not lacking anything. James 1:1-4

Lately I have been wondering why two people can experience almost exactly the same trial and one stays hopeful while the other becomes hopeless. Of course there are many answers to this question, but yesterday as I read the above scripture, a few thoughts came to mind. In the above passage, James is telling us we have reason to hope while we suffer because there is purpose in pain. Trials develop perseverance which then produces a mature faith.

Perhaps this is one of the qualities of those who are hopeful during tribulation, who see themselves as winners instead of losers in life: They do not view their trials as useless, a waste, or a distraction from the goodness that they could experience in life if only they didn’t have problems. They see them as a reason for greater intimacy with Jesus. They believe that through every trouble God is shaping them into a greater likeness of Himself. They believe in Romans 8:28.

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”

They also know their trials have not been haphazardly given to them by God. Instead, they see their suffering as a very personal thing between them and their Lord; every trial they experience has been carefully filtered through the loving hands of Christ to mold them and their faith and to mature them as He deems necessary. Because these overcomers know their suffering is a personal thing between them and Christ and no trial is in vain, they do not grieve as those who do not have hope. Instead, they grieve in hope. They struggle in hope. They suffer, and they wrestle, and they cry in hope.

My very good and beautiful friend, Maxine, passed away almost two and a half years ago from cancer. I was amazed as I watched her submit to Christ in her suffering. Indeed, she suffered in hope. One day she said to me, “I am not sure why, but I know this is a path I have to walk. I don’t know how I know. I just know.” Maxine trusted God with her life. She believed that no matter what happened to her that she was safely in her loving Lord’s arms.

“In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed” (1 Peter 1:6-7).

Prayer:  “Lord, thank you that in you I always win because through every trial you are shaping me into a greater likeness of yourself. Please help me submit to your Lordship.”

Application: What are you going through today? Are you grieving in hope, suffering in hope, wrestling, and struggling and crying in hope? Today, even through tears, tell the Lord that you trust Him no matter what road He asks you to walk. Then praise Him for a growing faith that is more precious than gold.

~Wisdom Hunters Devotional~

Getting Along with People

Getting Along with People 

J.R. Miller, 1898

(from his book, "Young People's Problems")

One of the earliest experiences of life, is the realizing that there are other people. It comes to the child when it first discovers that its freedom is limited by the will of another. It cannot always have its own way. It finds its will opposed, and its pleasure interrupted. Other people have something to say about the carrying out of its little plans.

At every point as we go on into the thickening experiences of life — the lesson of living with others meets us. It is not always easy to accept gracefully these contacts with others, and to enter into kindly relations with them.

There are some people who seem to be very good alone, while no one comes near them, while no other life touches theirs, when they have to think of no one but themselves — who make wretched business of living when they come into personal relations with others! Then they are selfish, tyrannical, despotic, willful, exacting. They will not yield to any other one's desire or needs. They must have their own way; and they drive their life like a rough plow-share right through the comfort, the desire, the feelings, of others!

It seems almost a pity there could not be a few corners fenced off in this great world for such people as these, where they could live altogether alone, with no one ever to interfere with their rights or liberties, or to impinge upon their comfort in any way.

But this is not God's ordinance for human lives. We are to live together in families, in communities, in friendship's circle. Indeed, no worse fate could befall us than to be doomed to live alone.

We might thus be absolved from the duties of love,
we could then have our own way,
we would not be required to think of anybody but ourselves, and
there would be no call for self-denial or sacrifice.
But, meanwhile, we would be growing into monsters of selfishness!

We never can learn love's lessons, except in life's school, where the lessons are set for us in actual human relationships.

It is certainly hard to live with other people. We have to give up many of our own preferences to please them. We have to deny ourselves many enjoyments, so as not to give them pain. The price of living with others sweetly and harmoniously — is self-forgetfulness, and self-effacement. But this cost is the very gold of life. It is the only antidote for selfishness. It is the way of Christ-likeness. People are means of grace to us in many ways, and not in the smallest degree through the self-denials which we are required to make in living with them. It is the self-discipline of friendship and home and human fellowship which makes men and women of us, which makes us like Christ.

I used to pity those whom I saw in circumstances in which they were compelled to bear heavy burdens for others, to serve, to sacrifice, to deny themselves, in fulfilling love's duties; but I have learned to look upon such people with deep interest — as privileged scholars in Christ's school. If the lessons set for them are hard, the mastering of the lessons advances them in the rank of character. That is God's way of making Christly men and women.

But the problem before us now, is how to get along with other people. There are instances in which there is scarcely any problem here at all; the other people have learned the patience and love of Christ so well, that anybody could live with them. They will not quarrel, they never stand up for their rights, they would rather suffer almost any wrong than resist. Even a selfish and tyrannical man could get along with them, for they meekly let him have his own way.

But usually the problem is not so easily solved. Other people want our recognition, claim their rights, resist encroachments, demand of us attention, respect, service. Then some people are touchy, easily provoked, always watching for slights, like tinder only waiting for a spark to start the fire. Some are obstinate and unyielding, heady, unwilling to give up their own opinion or their own way. The average people are probably like ourselves — a little better, or little worse, or about as hard to live with as we are — probably no harder.

The lesson set for us teaches us that we must not only live with people — but must live lovingly with them. This applies to all sorts and conditions of men, not the gentle and peaceable only — but the rude and quarrelsome as well. We are to love our enemies, and to do good to those who treat us unkindly. The problem of Christian living is always to keep . . .
the heart sweet,
the manner gracious and loving, and
the hand outstretched for service, wherever we may be.

How can we do this? To begin with, we must have the spirit of love. We need to get the true definition of love, too, that we may know what it requires. Love is not an transient sentiment. To love, according to the New Testament, is a very costly duty. Love suffers long and is kind. Love seeks not its own, is not provoked, takes no account of evil, bears all things, endures all things. We may break up the lesson into parts:

We need patience in living with others. Patience implies suffering — keeping quiet and sweet when it is not easy to do so, enduring pain without repining or murmuring, accepting wrong and injustice without resentment. Impatience never can get along peacefully with other people; but patience moves amid the greatest complexity of tastes, dispositions, and feelings — undisturbed. We all know someone who carries out this spirit. Perhaps it is in a home where it is not easy to practice the lesson of love; but there this gentle spirit dwells with almost angelic sweetness — quiet, suffering long. The more there is to suffer — the sweeter is this patient spirit.

The spirit of SERVICE is another secret of living together happily. One who demands that others must show him deference, doing things for him, serving him — has not learned the true art of living with others. If he assumes this attitude to those around him — they will assume the same attitude toward him. The result at the best will be a sort of armed neutrality. But if one assumes toward others the spirit of loving service, the desire to help and serve — he has solved the problem. It was thus that Jesus himself lived among men — he came "not to be served — but to serve." His thought of others was, not what he might have them do for him — but what he might do for them, how he might help them, how he might advance their interests, how he might give them comfort or relief. If we relate ourselves to others in this way, we shall get on happily with them. Love begets love. Serving softens other's hearts and changes lives.

Another secret of getting on well with others is to INSPIRE them — to expect noble and beautiful things of them, to set as our aim to bring out the best that is in them. To do this we do not need to flatter others, to appeal to their vanity by saying always complimentary things; and yet there is fine grace in having a pleasing word to say to everyone, a word that will uplift him, and also inspire him to do beautiful things. The best way to do a man good, is to expect good of him. If we always call on others for their best, we also make it easier to live with them; for we see them through kindly eyes, and are patient with their faults and frailties.

THOUGHTFULNESS is another of the secrets of happy living with others. Most young people begin life without this grace. Being selfish themselves, they do not naturally think of others, or modify their own conduct for the sake of others. A boy goes through the house wearing his heavy boots, singing at the top of his voice, utterly heedless of the fact that his mother is sick in her room, and that his noise almost kills her.

Thoughtfulness has to be learned — but when it is learned it is a marvelous sweetener of life. Thoughtful people never speak the careless word which cuts to the heart. They avoid the unpleasant theme of conversation. They are careful not to say anything that would excite anger or resentment. They are ready ever with the right word at the right time, and they come always with their sympathy and kindness when the need is greatest. We never can get on well with others, without thoughtfulness; but with this beautiful grace, we are prepared to live in almost any condition without friction or irritation.

Another essential is GOOD TEMPER. Love is not easily provoked. It bears all things, and always keeps sweet. Some people have a reserve of good nature which serves them well when others are disposed to get angry. They say some pleasant word which proves to be the soft answer that turns away wrath.

Put two touchy people together — and they will not easily learn the lesson of living in companionship. They will learn it if they are Christians; but it will not be done easily, nor without much cost and pain to both.

In any case, however, a happy, cheerful temper is a wonderful sweetener of fellowship. We all are human; and there are few of us who at best, do not say words, or do things, which give pain to those closest to us. Even true love is not always just and kind. Then it is that love must outdo love — the one who has been hurt must show love's long-suffering, overcoming evil with good.

These are mere suggestions concerning the problem of how to live sweetly in relations with others. Young people are sometimes rash and hot-headed; and it is not so easy for such to live together in love, as it is for those who are older, who have learned more lessons, whose hearts have been softened by life's experiences. The young are less ready to yield their own

way. They are apt to be willful and hasty. There is all the more reason, therefore, why young people should take up this lesson as one that must be learned, if they would make much of their life. For if it is said of anyone that other people cannot live with him — then it is evident that something is seriously wrong with his life. It should be the aim of all, as much as lies in them, to live peaceably with all others. They should practice self-restraint, humility, self-renunciation, the law of loving service, patience, good temper, and all the Christian graces — so that their life shall be a blessing to all whom they touch.

Christ the Cleanser

Christ the Cleanser

by Horatius Bonar (1808-1889)
/..
“He that is washed needeth not save to wash his feet, but is clean every whit.”
—John 13:10

This washing of the disciples’ feet was one of the last of our Lord’s acts on earth, as the servant of His disciples, the servant of sinners. How fully did that towel, and that basin, shew that He had “taken upon him the form of a servant” (Phi 2:7), and that He had come not to be ministered unto, but to minister! This last act of lowly love is the filling up of His matchless condescension; it is so simple, so kindly, so expressive; and all the more so, because not referring to
positive want, such as hunger, or thirst, or pain, but merely to bodily comfort. Oh, if He is so interested in our commonest comforts, such as the washing of our feet, what must He be in our spiritual joys and blessings! How desirous that we should have peace of soul, and how willing to impart it!

This scene of condescending love is no mere show. It is a reality. And it is a reality for us to copy. Love to the saints; love shewing itself in simple acts of quiet, lowly service; service pertaining to common comforts—this is the lesson for us, which the divine example gives. If He did this, what should we do? “If I your Lord and Master have washed your feet, ye also ought to wash one another’s feet.”

But, in the midst of this scene and its lesson, there suddenly rises up a spiritual truth, called forth by Peter’s remonstrance. The whole transaction is transferred into a type, or symbol, by the Lord Himself. The earthly all at once rises into the heavenly as He utters these words, “If I wash thee not, thou hast no part in me.” It is as if He had lighted up a new star in the blue, or rather withdrawn the cloud that hid a star already kindled, but hindered, in its shining, by an earthly veil.

Accepting, then, this spiritual truth as a vital part of the transaction, let us study its full meaning, as thus unveiled to us. The words of this tenth verse might be thus translated, or at least paraphrased: “He that has bathed (or, come out of the bath) needs only, after that, to wash his feet; the rest of his person is clean.” Here, then, we have first the bathing and, secondly, the washing.

1. The Bathing

The reference here may be to “the fountain opened for sin and for uncleanness” (Zec 13:1), in which we are “washed from our sins in his own blood” by “Him who loved us” (Rev 1:5). The bath is the blood, and the bathing is our believing. From the moment we bathe, that is, believe, we are personally and legally clean in God’s sight; our bodies are “washed with pure water” (Heb 10:22). We may accept the reference here as being either to the temple or to the bath. He who bathes, say in the morning, is clean for the whole day. Our believing is our taking our morning bath.

That cleanses our persons; and during all the rest of our earthly day we walk about, as men forgiven and clean; who know that there is no condemnation for them, and that God has removed their sins from them, as far as east is from the west. Connecting the washing here referred to with the temple service, the meaning would be this: we go to the altar and get the blood, the symbol of death, sprinkled upon us, implying that we have died the death, and paid the penalty in Him Who died for us. From the altar we go to the laver and get the blood washed off from our persons, proclaiming that we are risen from the dead, and therefore in all respects most thoroughly clean—“clean every whit,” all over clean, in our persons before God.

This is the bathing; and thus it is that we are cleansed, realizing David’s prayer, “Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than the snow” (Psa 51:7). When I believe in Christ as the fountain, as the altar and the laver, that is, when I receive God’s testimony concerning His precious blood, I am washed. I become clean;
as Christ said to His disciples, “Now are ye clean through the word that I have spoken unto you.” When I believe in Christ as the righteousness, that is, when I receive God’s testimony concerning His divine righteousness, I am straightway righteous. When I receive Him as the life, I have life. When I receive Him as Redeemer, I am redeemed. When I receive Him as the sinner’s surety, I am pardoned; there is no condemnation for me. When I receive Him as the dead and risen Christ, I die and rise again.

Such are the results of this divine bathing. They are present and immediate results. They spring straight from that oneness with Him in all things into which my believing brings me. As a believing man, I enter upon His fulness; I become partaker of His riches; and so identified with Himself, that His cleanness is accounted my cleanness, His excellence my excellence, His perfection my perfection. As He was the Lamb without blemish, and without spot, so I am “clean every whit;” and to me, as part of the cleansed Bride, the Lamb’s wife, it is said, “Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee” (Song 4:7).

II. The Washing

This is something different from the bathing, and yet there is a likeness between the two things. Both refer to forgiveness; or, rather, we should say that the first refers to personal acceptance, the latter to the daily forgiveness of the accepted one. The washing is not that of the person, but of the person’s feet—those parts which come constantly into contact with the soil and dust of the earth. Considered personally, and as a whole, he is far above the earth and beyond its pollutions; for he is with Christ in heavenly places; but, considered in parts, his feet may be said to be still upon the earth. In one sense he is “clean every whit,” seated with Christ in heaven; in another, he is still a sinner, walking the earth, and getting his feet constantly soiled with its dust, or “thick clay.” Our Lord here speaks of the washing in
reference to this latter condition; and contrasts the continual washing with the one bathing; the daily pardons, upon confession, with the one acceptance, in believing; an acceptance with which nothing can interfere. With the sense
of acceptance, we may say that many things can and do interfere; but with the acceptance itself, nothing can, either within or without, either in heaven or on earth.

The person who is bathed is exposed after coming from the bath to constant soiling of his feet; but that is all. His person remains clean. The priest who has washed at the laver is constantly getting his feet soiled with the dust of the temple pavement or with the clotted blood which adheres to it. But this does not affect his person. That remains clean. So is it with the believing man. Personally accepted, and delivered from condemnation, he is every moment contracting some new stain, some defilement which needs washing. But this defilement does not affect his personal forgiveness, and ought not to lead him into doubt as to his acceptance. He himself is clean, through his reception of the word spoken to him by his Lord and Master; and he goes about the removal of his ever-recurring sins, as one who knows this. He betakes himself to Christ for the hourly removal of his sins, as one who has tasted that the Lord is gracious; he comes for the washing of his feet to Him Who has already bathed his person.

It is this distinction between the bathing and the washing that meets the difficulty felt by some, as to a believer constantly seeking pardon. He that has bathed needeth not save to wash his feet; but still he does need to have these washed. He that has been accepted in the beloved, has not daily to go and plead for acceptance, nor to do or say anything which implies that the condemnation, from which he has been delivered, has returned; but he has to mourn over, to confess, to seek forgiveness for daily sins. The two states are quite distinct, yet quite consistent with each other.
The complete acceptance of the believing man does not prevent his sinning, nor do away with the constant need of new pardons for his sins; and the recurrence of sin does not cancel his acceptance, nor is the obtaining of new pardons at variance with his standing as a forgiven man.

It is this distinction which answers a question often raised, “Are all our sins, future as well as past, forgiven the moment we believe?” In one sense they are; for from the time of our believing, we are treated by God as forgiven men, and nothing can interfere with this. But in another they are not; for, strictly speaking, no sin can be actually forgiven
till it exists, just as no one can be raised up till he actually fall, and as we cannot wash off the soil from our feet until it is
on them. That God should treat His saints as forgiven ones, and yet that He should be constantly forgiving, are two things quite compatible—and the bathing and washing of our text, furnish an excellent illustration of their consistency. All such questions have two sides, a divine and a human one. The mixing up of these two, or the ascribing to the one what belongs to the other, confuses and perplexes. The keeping of them separate makes all clear. With the divine
side God has to do, with the human we have to do. Eternal forgiveness is God’s purpose: daily forgiveness is our enjoyment and privilege.

We are apt to get into confusion here, and to feel as if our daily sins did interfere with our acceptance, and ought, for the time, to destroy our consciousness, or assurance, of acceptance. Our Lord’s words here clear up this difficulty and rectify
this mistake. “He that hath bathed needeth not, save to wash his feet.” Our state of “no condemnation” is one which our daily sins cannot touch. These sins need constant washing; but that does not affect the great truth of our personal cleanness in the sight of God, our having found grace in the eyes of the Lord. To suppose that it could do so, would be to misunderstand our Lord’s distinction between the bathing and the washing.

Let us learn, then, how to deal with our daily sins, in consistency with this distinction. Suppose I sin—suppose I get angry; shall I conclude that I have never been accepted by God, or that this sin has thrown me out of acceptance? No! But holding fast my acceptance, I go and confess my anger to the Master. Suppose I allow the world to come in, and perhaps for days I become cold, and prayerless; shall I say, Ah, I have never been a forgiven man? or, This has broken up the reconciliation? No! but, undisturbed in my consciousness of pardon and reconciliation, I simply take my worldliness, my coldness, my prayerlessness to God. I go and wash my feet as often as they need it, and that is every moment; but, in doing so, I never lose sight of the blessed fact, that I have bathed, and that as nothing can alter this fact, so nothing can invalidate its effects. It abides unchanged. Once bathed—then bathed forever!

Shall we sin, then, because grace abounds? Shall we soil our feet because our cleansing has been so perfect, and because the washing is so easy? No! How shall we who are dead to sin, live any longer therein? So far from being now in a more favorable position for committing sin, we are placed in one which, of all others, is the most effectual for delivering us from it. The conscious completeness of the pardon is God's preservative from sin; and it is the best, the most effectual preservative. There is none like it. It is the source of our power against sin, and for holiness. Without this, progress in goodness, freedom in service, and success in labor are all impossible.

The bathing and the washing are, both of them, God's protests against sin; and, if understood aright, would be our most effectual safeguards. They come to us like Christ's words to the woman, "Neither do I condemn you—go and sin no more." And what more likely to deepen our hatred of sin, than this necessary communion with our holy Master, in the reception of constant forgivenesses from his priestly hands. The more that we have to do with Him, the more are we sure to become like him; nor is anything more fitted to make us ashamed of our sins, than our being compelled to bring them constantly, and to bring them all, small and great, for pardon to HIMSELF.

It is thus that the Highest stoops to the lowest, and discharges toward them the offices of happy affection and considerate sympathy in the most menial things of life. Shall we not imitate his love, and by our daily acts of kindly service to our fellow-saints, knit together the members of the blessed household? However great in rank, or riches, or learning—shall we not stoop? "High in high places, gentle in our own." Shall we not thus win love? Not so much to ourselves, as to the beloved One; showing his meekness in ours, his gentleness in ours, his lowliness in ours, his patience in ours; thus melting hearts that would not otherwise be melted, and winning affections that would not otherwise be won. "For as He is, so are we in this world."