Troubles not Detrimental to a Growth in Grace.
By J. Q. Foy
Are not some of us who profess to be Christ’s followers apt to feel sometimes that were circumstances different—had we fewer troubles, cares, and perplexities—we might be better Christians, and excuse the inconsistencies of our course, our worldly-mindedness, our want of interest and zeal in the cause of God, and perhaps our impatient spirit, hoping that the time will come when we shall be differently situated, and more free to serve God, as though our great Example knew nothing of these things? It may be true that had we no trials, was everything pleasant and agreeable about us, if we must go in our own strength, we might be able to pursue a course less objectionable to those around us, do less that would be unworthy our profession in their estimation and pass for very good Christians. But I must believe that so far from troubles and cares being detrimental to our spirituality, they are really necessary, essential to the formation of sound Christian characters. They are the fire that consumes the dross and makes the gold to shine. To be a Christian is to follow Christ. Was his a life of ease? Had he no conflicts? then may we expect that all will be sunshine. But was he weary from labor? pressed by care? buffeted by Satan? surrounded by enemies, how can we ask anything better? To know how to endure these, follow him to the mountain, to the garden. They are necessary not only to reveal to us the true condition of our hearts and to wean us from the world, but to lead us to feel our dependence upon God, and to seek him for grace to endure patiently, and properly discharge them, thus affording us opportunity to prove, and show to others, the real and substantial character, of the religion of the Bible, thereby glorifying God. One reason of the feeling mentioned, I conceive to be that of our having too meager views of what the service of God consists, having imbibed the idea that the sum and substance of it are certain forms and ceremonies, good in themselves, but, to which we want time to attend, instead of that heart work, that love for God, and devotion to his cause, that will lead us to study to know his will and pleasure concerning us, and how we may best glorify him; that confidence that will enable us under any and all circumstances to lean upon and to trust in him—the fiercer our conflicts, the heavier our burdens, the greater our perplexities, the more earnestly to seek him for guidance and direction and to be grateful that it is our privilege thus to do. Another reason, I think has its origin in selfishness, which leads us to lay up treasure on earth, and to not only neglect to seek God, but with this selfish object in view to take upon ourselves unnecessary burdens and cares, which, having no help from above to bear, engross our minds and destroy our spirituality, and we become worldly-minded—carnally-minded, which is death. Oh! are we not too slow to learn? or too apt to forget the great object for which this life of probation is granted? namely, to prove ourselves loyal to our Creator, and thus be brought again into his favor, to which we have forfeited all claim. Are we not too99slow to realize that God requires the whole heart, and that nothing short of entire consecration to his service and meekly submitting to his will in all things will meet his approval? Into this position we must come, and the sooner the better, as then, and not till then, can we enjoy uninterrupted communion with God, be able to “count it all joy when we fall into divers temptations,” and be prepared for translation into his kingdom. Now, life is made up of cares, perplexities, and sorrows, as well as of joys, comforts, and blessings, and, indeed, these very things which seem so adverse are, when rightly considered, real blessings; for, though for the present they may seem grievous, yet afterward, if patiently borne, will yield the peaceable fruits of righteousness, and will eventually, as says the apostle, work out for us a far more exceeding and an eternal weight of glory. To the man of the world, the question of success or failure in worldly things is an important one. Failing to accomplish his purpose, how complete his failure, how deplorable his condition. But does he gain the object of his ambition; is he successful; just in proportion his burdens and perplexities increase, until, though admired by some, and envied by not a few, he is doomed to realize that all is vanity and vexation of spirit. But to the Christian, they are what the winds and storms are to the mariner. Keeping his eye fixed upon the haven of eternal rest, he makes use of all lawful means to gain his object. But if he fail? Ah! thank God, there is no such thing as failure. The eternal God is his refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms. The word of the Omnipotent is pledged: “I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.” It is only when forgetful of God, when he forsakes him, and trusts in his own strength, that he is in danger—that he fails. No; I repeat it, trusting in God, he cannot fail. But there must be yielding, submission, consecration. Ambition, talents, friends, life, yea, his own body, all must be a sacrifice upon the altar. And what more reasonable? What less can be required? Rebels that we have been, how else can we show our fealty? Why not then, amid the shifting, changing scenes of life, press onward, until, our earthly career closing, we may be able, with the great apostle, to rejoice that we have not run in vain, neither labored in vain?