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Grieving the Spirit

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Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · May 15, 1913

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 90, No. 20.

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Grieving the Spirit

By G. B. THOMPSON

The Holy Spirit—No. 18

Grieving the Spirit

G. B. THOMPSON
SOME of the most solemn warnings in the Book of God are uttered against the sin of grieving the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit, as we have seen, is not some mere influence or angel, but a person of the Godhead, the vicar of Christ in the church. He is not to be trifled with, and his holiness sinned against with impunity. Sapphira’s sin tempted the Holy Ghost, and because of the lies of Ananias and Sapphira he smote them with death on the spot, as a warning for all time to come of how God regards that sin.
Other instances might be given. The late A. T. Pierson cites the following, among others:—
“From time to time awe comes upon as many as hear God’s awful inflictions of penalty upon flagrant transgressors. Those who are familiar with the remarkable career of the Wesley brothers will recall more than one instance of supernatural visitations of judgment. For example, during Charles Wesley’s revival meetings at St. Just, in Cornwall, England, a country squire, Eustick by name, drove a pack of hounds among the congregation in order to break up the meeting and drive the attendants away—a mode of annoyance not infrequent in those days. On this occasion a number of the Lord’s people withdrew and took refuge in a spacious kitchen. The prayer-meeting held there was of such extraordinary power as to surpass any other that those who were present had known. As the service closed, Mr. Wesley, as if endowed with prophetic vision, arose and said, with an awful solemnity and deliberation, ‘The man who has this day troubled you shall trouble you no more forever.’ Shortly afterward Eustick passed to his last account, in a state of raving madness.”
“In the year 1889 a company of twelve young men, meeting at a hotel table for a carousal, and observing their number to be that of the apostolic company at the first Lord’s Supper, actually celebrated a mock eucharist. Before midnight the leader was dead, and every other of the company hung in mortal agony on the verge of the grave!”
The admonition of the apostle is, “Quench not the Spirit.” 1 Thess. 5:19. The word quench suggests the thought of putting out fire. It is used in such texts as “smoking flax shall he not quench” (Matt. 12:20); “where . . . the fire is not quenched” (Mark 9:48); “quenched the violence of fire” (Heb. 11:34). Quenching the Spirit, therefore, means putting out the fire of the Holy Spirit in the heart. And when the fire is out, only the ashes of sin remain. The body, made to be the dwelling-place of God, through rebellion may become the habitation of devils.
It is sin that puts out this fire in the soul. Every sin is a step in this direction. Are we conscious of anything inthe life which is inclined to put out the fire kindled in the heart by the Spirit? Do we keep quiet when we feel the promptings of the Spirit to speak to the honor and glory of God? Do we, through love for some evil thing, refuse to have it put out of the life? Do we decline to say yes when convicted of some duty we should perform? Do we decline to say no when tempted to do that which we are convinced is contrary to the mind of the Spirit? If so, we are quenching the Spirit,—putting out the fire; and if such course is continued, we may soon reach the place where only dead coals and ashes will remain in the life.
“Grieve not the Holy Spirit of God, whereby ye are sealed unto the day of redemption.” Eph. 4:30. The word here translated “grieve” is the same that is translated “sorrowful,” when the Saviour in the garden said, “My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death.” Matt. 26:38. This emphasizes what is meant by grieving the Spirit. The very agony and sorrow of Gethsemane is felt by the Holy Spirit, when grieved by sin. When we read concerning the anguish of that awful hour in the garden, our wonder is that, in his love, the Spirit suffers so long with our perverseness. In Noah’s time the Lord said, “My Spirit shall not always strive with man.” Gen. 6:3. He was striving with them, with those so wicked they corrupted the earth; but the intimation is given that, unless they repented, he would, dove-like, retire, and give them over to destruction. We know of no reason why this may not be a warning to those living in the last days. Doing “despite unto the Spirit of grace” is a grievous sin, seeing it inflicts upon the Spirit the agony of Gethsemane.
“But exhort one another daily, while it is called To-day; lest any of you be hardened through the deceitfulness of sin.” Heb. 3:13. Sin hardens the heart. Every time we quench the voice of conviction in the soul, the heart is a little harder than before. The fire burns dimmer. Conscience begins to sleep, and the voice of the Spirit is not heard so distinctly as before. We may turn a deaf ear to the warning of an alarm-clock, and finally fail to hear it at all. So we may persist in obstinacy and rebellion, until the heart becomes so hard the impressions of the Spirit can no longer be felt, and we can not be awakened. It is this class “who being past feeling have given themselves over unto lasciviousness, to work all uncleanness with greediness.” Eph. 4:19.
Some striking examples are given in the Bible of the sad results of a continual resistance of the Holy Spirit. Take the case of Saul. After he was chosen king, the prophet of God said to him, “And the Spirit of the Lord will come upon thee, and thou shalt prophesy with them, and shalt be turned into another man.” “And it was so, that when he had turned his back to go from Samuel, God gave him another heart.” 1 Sam. 10:6, 9. Saul experienced a change of heart, wrought by the power of the Holy Spirit. He was converted, and had he continued to yield to the influence of the Spirit, his obituary would have read very differently. But he hardened his heart, he rebelled against God, and disobeyed his commandments. His persistent disobedience quenched the fire of the Spirit in his soul. As a result, we read the awful words, “But the Spirit of the Lord departed from Saul, and an evil spirit from the Lord troubled him.” 1 Sam. 16:14. We see him later facing the Philistine hosts greatly perplexed. The prophet Samuel was dead. “And when Saul inquired of the Lord, the Lord answered him not, neither by dreams, nor by Urim, nor by prophets.” 1 Sam. 28:6. Having by headstrong rebellion grieved the Spirit, and severed his connection with the throne of God, he turned into the darkness of satanic delusion, and died by his own hand on the field of battle. One can scarcely read this sad account without weeping. It is indeed an impressive example of hardening the heart against the pleadings of the Spirit.
Another case, among the saddest recorded in the Bible, is that of Samson. God had a work for him to do. He was a judge in Israel, and great opportunities were before him; but they were squandered on the altar of folly. At different times it is recorded of him that “the Spirit of the Lord came mightily upon him.” Judges 14:6, 19; 15:14. As a result of this he was not only spiritually but physically strong, and able to put to flight the enemies of the Lord, with no weapon, on one occasion, but the jaw-bone of an ass. He stands to this day a synonym for strength. “As strong as Samson” is a common expression. But later we see him seemingly deserted by the Lord, shorn of his strength, a captive, his eyes put out, bound in irons, made to grind in the prison-house, the sport of the Philistines. While on a visit to Copenhagen, I saw a painting of this scene by a famous artist. Looking upon the scene, I was greatly impressed with the vanity and foolishness of sin.
But why this change? Why was this giant in Israel, who had delivered them at different times, now unable to deliver himself? Why should this man, whom the Spirit of God had used mightily, be now shorn of his power? The secret of his downfall is that by an unconsecrated life he had grieved the Spirit, and thus cut himself off from divine power.
From his childhood the vow of a Nazarite was upon Samson. Those who took this vow upon them separated themselves unto the Lord; they drank no strong drink; no razor came upon their heads; and they were to abstain from every unclean thing “because the consecration of his God is upon his head.” See Num. 6:1-8. God recognized this consecration, and from his childhood “the Spirit of the Lord began to move him.” And as long as his consecration remained, his power remained. But there came a change. Bad associates corrupted him. Samson made the mistake others have since made of finding a wife among the fashionable, unconsecrated people of the world, instead of among the daughters of the brethren. God bore long with him, and continued to bless him, even when his life was far from what it should have been. But finally the secret of his strength was wrung from him by the treachery of a woman. He said to her, “I have been a Nazarite unto God from my mother’s womb: if I be shaven, then my strength will go from me, and I shall become weak, and be like any other man.” And when his locks were cut off, “he awoke out of his sleep, and said, I will go out as at other times before, and shake myself. And he wist not that the Lord had departed from him.” See Judges 16:16-20.
His strength gone, and he knew it not! What a sad picture! His strength was not in the length of his hair, but in the depth of his consecration. His unshaven locks stood as an outward sign of his consecration and loyalty to God, and when his consecration was gone, and he had lost even the outward sign of it, his strength was gone also.
How clearly this teaches us that power and consecration go together! How many shorn Samsons there are to-day, once strong Christians, but backslidden and weak now. Some besetting sin has been cherished, and spiritual stagnation and decay are the result. As has been well said, “Like Judas, men for a while cast out devils and then fall by a devil themselves.” The decline of spiritual power is not an accident. There may be no outward sign, but uncover the privacy of the life and the reason will be seen.
Repentance precedes forgiveness. Through grieving the Spirit, the heart becomes hard and callous, and finally “past feeling.” The desire to repent is gone; we sin without caring or repenting, and the sin is, therefore, unpardonable. Darkness instead of light fills the soul, and the very work of the Spirit is attributed to Satan. “In rejecting Christ, the Jewish people committed the unpardonable sin; and by refusing the invitation of mercy, we may commit the same error.”—“Desire of Ages.”
O, that we might be impressed with the dangers of grieving the Spirit of God! Our moral disintegration is not all at once. It is gradual; we die piecemeal. We lose our spiritual sensibility, somewhat as the paralytic suffers a progressive loss of feeling and strength. A little indulgence here and a little there, and ere we are aware we have crossed the dead-line, and we awaken to the fact that although we once could carry off the gates of Gaza, posts and all, we find ourselves captives and grinding in some Philistine mill. There is no sadder thing that can befall us on earth than, after having enjoyed the blessing and power of God, to be laid aside because through moral decay we have become spiritually incompetent.