Old Wine and New Part 12

XXI.

CHRISTIAN CONTENTMENT.[1]

I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.--Phil. iv. 11.

An instance of the moral sublime, which none can fail to admire, and all should endeavor to emulate. What an ornament of the gospel is such a spirit! What a commendation of Christianity is such a testimony! No human philosophy, no stoical indifference, no diligence of self-discipline, ever elevated the soul of man to so serene and pure an atmosphere--nothing but that religion which the Son of G.o.d brought with him from heaven to earth, the tendency and design of which is to raise its human subjects from earth to heaven. "I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content."

Contentment is satisfaction with one's lot or condition. The word conveys the idea of fulness and sufficiency. It is opposed to envy, which is displeased with the prosperity of others. It is opposed to ambition, which is not satisfied with equality, but aspires to superiority. It is opposed to avarice, which grasps all it can reach, keeps all it obtains, and "sayeth not it is enough." It is opposed to anxiety, which is always taking needless thought for the morrow, saying, "What shall we eat? what shall we drink? and wherewithal shall we be clothed?" It is opposed to murmuring and repining, which is an ungrateful distrust of G.o.d, an unjust arraignment of his providence, an impious impeachment of his wisdom and goodness, a presumptuous spirit of rebellion against his righteous government.

St. Paul's statement seems to express complete and perfect satisfaction. In the highest sense this is applicable only to Jehovah, who is El Shaddai, G.o.d All-sufficient. But in a lower sense it is true, to a greater or less degree, of all good men. They have no sufficiency in themselves, but their sufficiency is of G.o.d. Of his fulness they have all received--the unsearchable riches of Christ. With the fatness of his house they are abundantly satisfied, and he makes them drink from the river of his pleasures. This is the only satisfying portion of the soul. Without this, men may be indifferent--may be jovial and reckless; but these are not contentment--are perhaps the very opposites of contentment; indifference, the sullen obstinacy of a perverse and rebellious will, as far from contentment as it is from submission; jovial recklessness, the effort of a restless heart to throw off its burden of care and trouble--the revolt of the whole man against Providence and against conscience. But when Divine Love brings us to its banqueting-house, and G.o.d becomes our s.h.i.+eld and exceeding great reward, then the fluctuating soul returns to its native rest, like Naphthali satisfied with favor and full with the blessing of the Lord.

When the apostle says--"I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content," no one can imagine that he refers to his former state of sin; for of that he constantly speaks in terms of strong regret, and as long as he lived he never ceased to sorrow for the evil he had done. Nor are we to suppose that he means to express his full satisfaction with his present state of grace; for he is always hungering and thirsting after the fulness of G.o.d; and no Christian can be fully satisfied with his spiritual attainments till he awakes in the likeness of his Lord.

If there can be any doubt of the apostle's meaning, the verses immediately following may solve it: "I know both how to be abased and how to abound; everywhere, and in all things, I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, to abound and to suffer need; I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me." These several conditions he had tested by experience; and found himself able, by the grace of G.o.d, to maintain a calm and unperturbed spirit amidst all their trying vicissitudes: thoroughly a.s.sured that all were ordered or overruled by Infinite Wisdom and Love, and must therefore work together for his good.

In another place he says: "Most gladly will I glory in mine infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me; therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ's sake; for when I am weak, then am I strong." To be content in success and prosperity, were easy enough; but to be content in trials such as these, immeasurably surpa.s.ses the power of the unsanctified human heart. The apostle, however, bore his tribulations, not merely with patient submission and quiet fort.i.tude, but even with exultation; rejoicing evermore; in every thing giving thanks; counting the heaviest cross his greatest blessing; with all his heart glorying in the fellows.h.i.+p of his Saviour's suffering; willing to live or die, because in life or death G.o.d would be magnified in his body; and when the alternative presents itself in imminent prospect, perplexed only as to which he ought to prefer: "I am in a strait betwixt two; having a desire to depart and be with Christ, which is far better; nevertheless, to abide in the flesh is more needful for you; and having this confidence, I know that I shall abide and continue with you all for your furtherance and joy of faith, that your rejoicing may be more abundant by my coming to you again." What heroic resignation is here! what disinterested charity! what transcendent sublimity of hope!

And how had the apostle attained to such experience? In what school, from what teacher, had he learned so great a lesson? Certainly not from nature, nor from any human system of morality. Ever since man went forth from the blessed garden, he has been a restless and unhappy creature, always seeking repose for his spirit in some inferior good, and ever disappointed in the end. Contentment is a lesson to be learned, and to be learned only, in the school of Christ. There St.

Paul learned it, not at the feet of Gamaliel. There he learned it, under the tuition of Providence, aided by the Holy Spirit of grace, by a long and painful course of discipline--by hunger and thirst, cold and nakedness, desertion and persecution, s.h.i.+pwreck and dungeon, scourging and stoning, a life of perpetual conflict, and the frequent menace of death.

So others have learned it. And what a blessed lesson it is, well learned! Aaron, when his sons were smitten, "held his peace." And Eli, when informed of coming judgments, said: "It is the Lord; let him do what seemeth him good." And Job, bereft of every earthly comfort, exclaimed: "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." And David, trained in every school of affliction, is ever singing of the loving-kindness of the Lord, and extolling the excellence of his mercy which endureth forever. Such contentment as these instances exemplify, nothing can produce but the grace of G.o.d in co-operation with his providence, the one purifying and the other disciplining the heart. But when we learn to draw water from the wells of salvation, we shall imbibe contentment with the draught. Believing in Christ as our Saviour, we shall confide in G.o.d as our Father. All made right within, all will be right without. An Almighty Friend in heaven--"a very present help in trouble," we have no real cause for anxious thought or disquieting fear. Faith overcomes all apprehension of evil, and enables every saint to sing with the psalmist--"The Lord is my portion, Faith my soul, therefore will I hope in him;" and to say with the apostle--"I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content."

Brethren, let us aspire to this apostolic experience. In this grace, why should we not equal St. Paul? Is it not the high calling of every Christian? And what reason for discontent have we, that this n.o.ble hero had not? Our present state, like his, is G.o.d's appointment, and only for a season; and the discipline of sorrow and conflict may be no less needful for us than it was for him, and the result no less a blessing.

How much worldly good is necessary for any of us? how much wealth, honor, happiness? Most of our wants are artificial and unreal. We create them, or imagine them, and then complain that they are not supplied. Our first needs--our only absolute needs--are food and raiment; and having these, we are divinely counselled to be content.

And many have been content with much less of them than we possess, and no health for their enjoyment--have been content without either sufficient food or comfortable raiment, and for years scarcely an hour of exemption from pain--content in great poverty and utter dest.i.tution, on the bed of sickness, in the gloom of the dungeon, under the foreshadow of martyrdom--consoling themselves with the a.s.surance that G.o.d hath chosen the poor of this world, the afflicted, the persecuted, rich in faith, and heirs, of his heavenly kingdom.

And to be content--is it not, after all, the best way to be well supplied? "Seek first the kingdom of G.o.d and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you." Will not the Good Shepherd provide for his confiding sheep? Will not he who clothes the lilies and feeds the sparrows regard your necessities, O ye of little faith? Can you not trust the bounty of your King, the affection of your Father?

"Cast all your care upon him, for he careth for you." Jacob asked food and raiment, and G.o.d gave him also abundant flocks and herds. Solomon prayed for a wise and understanding heart, and received in addition great riches and honor. With the divine love you are rich, whatever else you lack; without it poor, whatever else you possess.

And what avails your discontent? What can it bring you but present trouble and future regret? Why disquiet yourselves in vain? Can all your anxiety change the color of a hair, or add a moment to your little all of life? Does not G.o.d know what is best for you, and will he alter his wise and gracious economy to gratify your foolish and capricious desires? What claim have you on him? What service have you ever done him? What benefit has he ever received from your virtue? Nay, you are sharers of a thousand blessings, not one of which have you merited.

Rightly estimating yourselves, instead of murmuring against G.o.d, you would be ready to say with the pilgrim patriarch: "I am not worthy of the least of all the mercy and truth which thou hast shown unto thy servant."

But discontent is ingrat.i.tude. Recently redeemed from the iron furnace, shall the children of Israel complain of their hard fare in the wilderness, spurn the manna, clamor for flesh, and talk of the fish they freely ate in Egypt, of the cuc.u.mbers and the melons, the leeks, the onions, and the garlics? Let them remember the toils of the brick-kiln, the voice of the oppressor, the scourge of the task-master, and all the burdens which there imbittered their lives. And you, have you not infinitely more ground for grat.i.tude than for grumbling? G.o.d's mercies, fresh every morning and new every evening, crowd the day and crown the night. One single gift hath he bestowed--one unspeakable gift--the channel through which all others flow--worth more than a solar system to every child of Adam. Redeemed by the blood of Christ, every moment becomes an inestimable mercy; nay, every breath becomes a thousand mercies; nay, every pulse metes out incalculable mercies by the million; and while we receive them, what deserve we but reprobation and ruin infinite? Add to these the many great and exceeding precious promises with which the Bible overflows, all pointing to an incorruptible inheritance reserved for you in heaven; and tell me, have you no cause to be content?

All things ours--G.o.d with all his communicable fulness--Christ with all his riches of grace and glory--heaven with all its cl.u.s.tering honors and immunities--who will not say: "Return unto thy rest, O my soul! for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee"? Ye who now like Lazarus have your evil things on earth, will you not hereafter with Lazarus be comforted in Abraham's bosom? Oh! what is poverty to you who are to inherit all things--heirs of G.o.d and joint-heirs with Jesus Christ?

What are toil and pain, reproach and persecution, the utter prostration of health, the loss of every living friend, and the burial of all you ever loved below, to you who look for your Lord's return from heaven, the renovation of the world, the redemption of the body, the immortal fellows.h.i.+p of the just, and the termination of all the sad vicissitudes of time in the blissful calm of eternal content?

And those of you who are trying to content yourselves with these fleeting vanities! know ye not that your treasures will decay, your glories wither, and all the delights of sense perish with the world?

What will you do when the ground dissolves beneath you, and the atmosphere around you becomes flame? A surer trust we proffer you, and a n.o.bler felicity. Come and feed your famis.h.i.+ng souls with the hidden manna of G.o.d, and slake your spirit's thirst from the fountain of living waters. Here, in the love of G.o.d--here, in the blood of Christ--here, in the a.s.surance of pardon--here, resting upon the Rock of ages--here, anch.o.r.ed in a sure and steadfast hope--you shall learn at last the tranquil blessedness of true content!

[1] Preached at Seneca Falls, N.Y., Aug. 12, 1883--the last actual pulpit-utterance of the author.

XXII.

"YE KNOW THE GRACE."[1]

Ye know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that, though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, that ye through his poverty might be rich.--2 Cor. viii. 9.

To the rich, commonly, what is more terrible than poverty? So great, sometimes, their dread of it, that they seek to avoid or avert it by measures the most dishonorable and even the most desperate. Rather than be poor, many will practise the worst hypocrisies or commit the greatest crimes. For thirty pieces of silver, more than one Judas has sold his Saviour to the murderers and his own soul to Satan; and to escape the possible condition of Lazarus at his gate, many a Dives has slain himself in his palace. Horrified at such insanity, we scarcely wonder at the fear from which it springs. The n.o.blest spirits quake at the thought of want, and a prospective reverse of fortune is enough to make the bravest quail.

Yet are there cases on record in which men and women, for some worthy principle, have cheerfully welcomed absolute privation, or patiently endured the dest.i.tution of all things. The fear of G.o.d, the love of truth, devotion to duty, domestic affection, patriotic sentiment, disinterested philanthropy--have not some of these again and again led the dwellers in palaces to the hovel and the hermitage, subst.i.tuting for the downy couch a pallet of straw, for the purple and fine linen a suit of sack-cloth, and for the daily sumptuous banquet a crust of bread and a cup of water? While we recognize in such cases only a conscientious service rendered to G.o.d or a life of superior charity to his rational and immortal creatures, we can but admire and honor the n.o.ble principle that thus renounces the conveniences and advantages of high birth and ample fortune for the lowest conditions of civilized humanity. The impulse is divine; the spirit is that of Christ. Some become poor through misfortune, some through improvidence, some through criminal indulgence, these through stanch adherence to duty. If they had not relinquished their riches, they must have repudiated the authority of conscience and let go their hold on virtue. Poverty has saved its thousands, where wealth has ruined its tens of thousands.

Here we are reminded of One who was originally rich beyond all human conception, but became poorer than the poorest that ever trod the earth--not because he desired the change, nor because he could not help it, nor because it was his bounden duty, nor because a superior bade him, nor because the peris.h.i.+ng implored him, but because he loved us with an infinite love--beyond all imagination of men or angels.

"'Twas mercy moved his heavenly mind, And pity brought him down."

First, then, we must think of the poverty of Christ as the manifestation of his grace. What was it but purest goodness, gratuitous favor, unmerited compa.s.sion, that moved him to forsake his glory and become the brother of worms and the Man of sorrows? What saw he in this revolted province of his boundless empire, that he should come to seek and save the self-destroyed? Among all the myriads of Adam's children, what one quality was there worthy of his love? Who solicited his aid, or repented of his own sin? What obligation pressed or necessity impelled the Saviour? Had he remained indifferent to our helpless woes in the heavenly mansions, who could have impeached one of his perfections? Had he smitten this guilty planet from its...o...b..t, and sent it staggering among the stars--a reprobate world--a warning to the universe of the ruin wrought by sin--might not the minstrelsy of heaven have chanted over its catastrophe--"Just and true are thy ways, thou King of saints!" Perfectly he foreknew all that awaited him in his mission of mercy; yet with what divine alacrity did he vacate his throne, leave the bosom of his Father, and retire from the adoring host of heaven--as if a loftier throne, a more loving bosom, and a worthier concourse of wors.h.i.+ppers, were ready to greet him in the world to which he came!

"O love that pa.s.seth knowledge! words are vain!

Language is lost in wonder so divine!"

Secondly, we must consider the poverty of Christ in contrast with his previous riches. How much we commiserate the poor who have seen better days! His better days what human art shall depict or finite mind conceive? Lift up your thoughts to the glorious state of the Eternal Son in the bosom of G.o.d the Father. As yet the worlds are not; no star reflects his smile, nor seraph chants his praise; but, possessed of every divine excellence in the most transcendent degree, he has within himself an infinite source of happiness. Now he arises to the work of creation, and myriads of self-luminous suns, each with his retinue of rejoicing planets, begin their eternal march around his throne. All are his, created by him and for him; and all their countless billions of rational and immortal beings own him as their supreme Lord, and adore him as the sole giver of every good and perfect gift. Down from all this glory he descended into one of the poorest provinces of his illimitable realm, a.s.suming the frail and suffering nature of its fallen people,

"And G.o.d with G.o.d was man with men."

Having a body and a soul like ours, he was liable to all our temptations and infirmities; and suffering--the just for the unjust--that he might bring us to G.o.d, he became poorer than the poorest of those whom by his poverty he sought to redeem. Surely, had he so chosen, with all the pomp and splendor of royal state he might have made his advent; but see! he comes as the first-born of an obscure family--a stable his birthplace--a manger his cradle; through all the years of his youth, subject to his parents, and toiling at Joseph's side with the carpenter's saw and plane; and when at the age of thirty he enters upon his Messianic mission, having no home but such as a poor fisherman can offer him at Capernaum; often hungering and thirsting over the fields and fountains of his own creation, everywhere hated for his love and persecuted for his purity; and at last basely betrayed into the hands of his enemies, abandoned and denied by his disciples, falsely accused of blasphemy, and cruelly condemned to the cross; while the powers of h.e.l.l, in all their might and their malice, co-operate with the murderers of the Lord's Anointed; and the loving Father, laying on him the iniquities of us all, withdraws from the scene of infamous horrors, and leaves the immaculate victim to die alone in the darkness.

"O Lamb of G.o.d! was ever pain-- Was ever love--like thine?"

Thirdly, we must contemplate the poverty of Christ in relation to the enrichment of his people. For our sake it was--for our benefit--as our subst.i.tute--he became poor, that we through his poverty might be rich.

"What are a million of human lives," said the great Napoleon, "to the scheme of a man like me?" Infinitely more sublime was the scheme of Jesus Christ, sacrificing no human interest to his own ambition, but enriching all his followers with the durable riches of righteousness.

Benevolence, not ambition, was the grand impulse of his action. To save mankind from sin and Satan--to quicken dead souls with the power of an endless life--he came forth from the Father, sojourned in voluntary exile among rebels, and joyfully laid down his life for their redemption. How much the apostles write of "the riches of his grace"!

How sweetly they a.s.sure us that he "hath chosen the poor of this world, rich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom which he hath promised to them that love him"! He became poorer than we, to make us as rich as himself--joint-heirs with him to an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, that fadeth not away, reserved for us in heaven. Already, indeed, the believer is rich in faith, rich in love, rich in peace, rich in joy, and rich in hope; but when the dear Lord shall return to consummate in glory the salvation thus begun by grace, the saints shall enter with him the everlasting kingdom, satisfied with his likeness and radiant with his joy. Rejoice then, O my brother! in the unsearchable riches of Christ. Is the culprit enriched by pardon on the scaffold? So Christ hath pardoned thee. Is the exile enriched by the edict that calls him home? So Christ hath recalled the banished. Is the leper enriched by the cure of his foul disease? So Christ cleanses the soul that comes to him. Is the disinherited enriched by the restoration of his lost estate? Jesus has bought back for us our forfeited possessions, and made them ours by an everlasting covenant. Is the prisoner enriched by the power that gives him freedom? If the Son makes us free, we are free indeed, and h.e.l.l cannot enslave the ransomed soul.

Is the alien child enriched by adoption into the royal household, making him heir to the crown? Brought nigh by redeeming blood, I become interested in all that belongs to my Lord, and whatever he receives from the Father I am to share with him in the kingdom of his glory. His voluntary poverty in my behalf makes him my Brother and a.s.sociates me with him upon the throne. Taking my earthly station, he raises me to his heavenly honors. Bearing my manifold infirmities, he a.s.sures me of a share in his infinite blessedness. Emptying himself of his glory for me, he fills me with all the fulness of G.o.d! Thus we know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ--not, indeed, in all the amplitude of its extension, nor in all the plenitude of its comprehension; but adequately to our necessity as sinners, and adequately to our duty and privilege as Christians--we know it, and rejoice in it with unspeakable joy. What returns shall we make, or how express our grat.i.tude? Shall we be like him who, having promised Mercury part of his nuts, ate the kernels himself, and gave the G.o.d the sh.e.l.ls? Shall we not imitate the Macedonian churches, that first gave their own selves to the Lord, and then sent their liberal collections to the poor saints at Jerusalem?

When we have given ourselves, what else can we withhold from him who gave all his wealth to enrich us, and has enriched us most by giving us himself?

"The mite my willing hand can give, At Jesus' feet I lay; His grace the tribute will receive, And Heaven at large repay."

[1] Written in the last days of September, 1883, but never preached.