Our Dependence on God by G. B. Thompson

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Apr 8, 1915

Our Dependence on God

By G. B. Thompson

MAN is indebted to God for every breath he draws. It is “in him we live, and move, and have our being.” Without him we can indeed do nothing, and we should continually render thanksgiving to God for his watchful care over us. He who watches the sparrow fall, and numbers the very hairs of our head, gives to us moment by moment the life we possess.

The following paragraphs concerning the heart, greatly impress this thought, and vividly place before us the fact that man is indeed a most delicate piece of workmanship, fearfully and wonderfully made:—

Whether we sleep or wake, sit or stand, walk or run, toil or rest, the tireless heart toils on, keeping the current of life in motion without any thought, attention, or will of ours. And if for one minute it should become, like the hand or arm, weary and demand rest, it would never beat again. Watches must be wound up or they will not run. Engines must be supplied with fuel or they cease to work. All machines must be watched and their moving power constantly renewed, or they become useless. We give no attention to the beating of our hearts. The force that moves that small living engine is as independent of our will as the force that moves the sun in the heavens. And yet in each of our bosoms that unwearied worker keeps counting the seconds, one, two, three, stroke by stroke, and it must count thirty millions of strokes for every person that lives from the beginning to the close of a year; and the moment it stops counting, we are in eternity. This tireless timekeeper, which every one carries in his bosom, is all that preserves our connection with the months and years of time. When it stops, time to us shall be no more.

Is it not a very wonderful thing that so frail and sensitive an organ as the heart can work so long without resting? Is it not a very fearful thing that we should have no choice or will or command over the heart, and yet the continued counting of strokes by that unwearied worker in our bosoms is all that stands between us and the tremendous destinies of death and eternity? Suppose a pendulum, swinging in your bedchamber, kept in motion by no visible hand or machinery, moving sometimes faster, sometimes slower, yet always going, and you lie down upon your bed, knowing that if it should stop for a moment, while you sleep, or when you wake, you will be in eternity,—would you not look upon that pendulum with fearfulness and awe? You go forth to your daily task leaving it swinging there, and it must keep swinging or you will never come back alive. Would you not think many times in the day of the mysterious power that holds your life without asking your leave?—“Our Father’s House,” pages 521, 522.

Truly we ought to render to God the deepest gratitude for his manifold blessing and constant care, and glorify him in our bodies and in our spirits, which are his.

G. B. THOMPSON.