By Rev. JOHN TALLACH.
(Continued from p. 128.)
“Then he remembered the days of old, Moses, and his people saying, . . . Where is he that put his Holy Spirit within him? . . .” (Isaiah lxiii. 11-14).
A Serious Inquiry.—”Where is He?” I come now to that part of my discourse which I find most difficult. In seeking to put forward this question I fear that I may appear a mere busybody, or worse. I fear that it should be thought that I profess some kind of concern for which there is no cause. I may be wrong in entertaining any concern, but if I do, I can assure the brethren that at least I am sincere in holding it. As you know, I have been abroad for a number of years, and it is natural that I should find myself making comparisons between the days of past prosperity and the present discouraging conditions. It was while thinking on this contrast between what once was and what now is, that this question began to intrude itself. Where is he? Where is the God whose life and presence was so manifest in our fathers’ days? For a time I evaded any answer to this most serious question but there came a day when I could no longer shelve it and leave it unanswered.
I had been reading again the life of the late Mr. McFarlane and I was led to pay more attention than before to his diary. As I read, I felt the power of this man of God grow on me. His piety, his close walk with God, his discernment, his loyalty, his spiritual sensitiveness, his zeal, courage and humility were things which filled me with respect and admiration. I read over again the prayer in his diary, his covenant with his God and of his expectation of special visitations from the Lord to commemorate his spiritual birthday. The whole diary is so manly, so devoid of the cheap and slipshod in spiritual things that I found it easy to transfer my thoughts from the man to the man’s God. As I meditated, the question came again, this time with the solemnity of a summons. I now began to apply the inferences from this question to the church of the past.
I thought of God’s people, men and women of the past. I thought of their numbers, of their spiritual bulk, their weight of holiness, their zeal, their singleness of eye, their fearlessness, their honesty, their discernment, their love, unity and warmth. I thought on them as a whole, I thought of them as congregations, at communions, on Friday meetings. I thought of them as typical—the type of Christian which gave stamp, strength and character to our early church.
I then thought of the movement which under the hand of God they were the chosen instruments of setting afoot. I thought of its growth, its power, its energy, its enthusiasm, of its sanctified aggressiveness, of its out-reaching to Canada, Australia and South Africa.
I thought of individuals I was privileged to know. Of the elder who on the Sabbath night of a communion prayed through his whole prayer with almost but one petition, and that with tears coursing down his furrowed cheeks: “Lord, what art thou to do with the young of this parish?” Of the elder who had in his district a number of young men in lodgings and who each Sabbath morning went round to their lodgings and actually made his way to their bedrooms so as to get them out to the morning service. “At last they knew my step so well, they would rise themselves.” Or the old saint whom I found on an ordinary working day in tears. “I have often thought of the soul of Christ being the soul of his sufferings, but to-day I have been led to think of his physical sufferings. Oh, when I think of Him hanging on you irons for a sinner like me, I cannot refrain tears.” Or of the two men in the Lord, whom I happened to find locked in each other’s arms, kissing each other, in the passage of a Manse at communion time. These are but a few of a great many. Where is the God of these men and women? Where is the fullness of life within and the fullness of blessing upon us as it was with our fathers? Must we conclude from this comparison that the God of our health had departed altogether? No, not altogether; to say that would be contrary to reason and conscience, as well as an outrage against the Spirit of all grace who in many ways shows that He is still with us. May He give us the grace of honesty to-day so that we may acknowledge that while He is with us it is not in that measure our fathers had experience of.
A partial deprivation.—And so we must speak of a partial deprivation. Let us see then how far we may claim that it is only partial and not complete. Cannot we trace His presence and blessing in the way we have been preserved? To-day, the larger churches in Scotland are directly or, indirectly the offspring of the Declaratory Act Church, and we have to live side by side with them, and often, on account of their great influence, we are handicapped in a number of ways. But of their doctrines and unscriptural practices we have none. Has He not preserved us in the purity of our membership? Has He not preserved us in a persistent unwillingness to co-operate with any doubtful scheme, or with any body suspect of disloyalty to His word? Is not His Word supreme in pulpit and court? Is not the Confession of Faith still where our fathers placed it? These are but a few of the many evidences of His power and presence among us. We might go on to speak of the appetite our people have for the truth, of their attendance on communion occasions, and of their unity when faced with those trying conditions which might be expected to breed disunity? Perhaps we miss His presence there more than anywhere, yet we have to acknowledge that the Spirit of regeneration has not left us. People are being born again although not in the numbers our fathers were used to. In this process of being kept we have suffered many things, and have been called many unworthy names, yet His gracious presence has kept us from any change of attitude towards the things of His Gospel and towards the enemies of it.
We are told that we are too detached, yet that aloofness complained of by our accusers is just that detachment gifted to us by our fathers and preserved in us by their God. We hear no call from God to give allegiance to the offspring of an apostate church to-day, any more than our fathers felt bound to give it to the church of their day. We are also told that we are too suspicious. Well, suspicion is so often coupled with a God-given fear that it is sometimes almost a grace. We are as men in an enemy’s country. We have got a fort to hold. There are other forts and their flag is very like ours, but when we see their flag unfurled and flown often in a very half-hearted fashion, we cannot be blamed if we are suspicious. We cannot forget our fathers’ experience in a like experience. We do well to fear that there is some gang of the Rainy stamp, somewhere in some dark corner, busy sewing up a new flag. We may have a lonely furrow to plough, but we are well content with the Lord, the Bible and the system we have. We desire nothing new, but we do desire an increase and blessing on what we have. Surely when we look over this text prayerfully, this is how we feel on the matter. The passage of time finds us decided on this point. Surely as we turn with wistful eyes and yearning hearts to the God of our fathers, surely as to-day, we stretch out our hands to Him and anew hail Him: “He is my father’s God and I will exalt Him”; surely in this discernment and in the singleness of this desire, which to-day runs out to Himself and to Himself alone, we can humbly claim a very great measure of his kindly presence with us.
A Hopeful Observation.—You will notice in the short passage in which we find our text, the Holy Spirit is mentioned three times. It seems to me that there are three things in particular we have to mourn to-day—the low spiritual plane on which we are content to live, the falling off in the number of conversions, and the loose way in which nominal Free Presbyterians hold their ties to the parent church. For this state, many explanations are forthcoming:—“It is a testing time; the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine; the judgments of the Lord are abroad, and part of them fall on the sound church as well as on the unsound; there has always been an ebb and flow in spiritual life; as things are of the Lord’s making, we should do nothing about it, but wait for His time,”—to mention but a few. Now, I find no fault with anyone taking any degree of comfort from these explanations, for there is a measure of truth in them all. But I fear lest we should rest in any of them for the purpose of lightening or shifting our responsibility. Our hearts are deceitful things, and they are very untrustworthy when it comes to a question of blame and responsibility.
You see, brethren, in the short history of our Church we have had clearly demonstrated to us something of what the Holy Spirit must continue to be to us. He has not shown to unsound churches what He can do, simply because He has left them to their own devices. Our case, to the glory of His name, is different. Well now, here is one text of many which bears down directly on our circumstances as we find them to-day. “According to the word that I covenanted with you when ye came out of Egypt, so my spirit remaineth among you, fear ye not.” Yes, he remaineth, and that because of promises given to and obtained by the fathers when they came out of Egypt.
Are we called to confess any particular sin by which we have vexed Him? I know not, but I am much impressed these days with the large place given in Scripture to sins of attitude. I call them that for sake of any better name. I am now speaking of sins of the Church of Christ. What specific sin is the Church guilty of? Where in the Song she is too lazy to get up to admit her beloved when He comes to visit her? Or under what name would you put the sin of forsaking the first love? It is just a sin of attitude—spiritual inertia. Well, if so, there is only one cure—the returning presence of His Spirit in power to revive and quicken. This is not a question of belief in the doctrine of the Holy Spirit. It is rather a question of the personal indispensability of the Holy Spirit. To be possessed with a feeling, deep and thorough, that we cannot, we dare not, we must not attempt to get on without Him. “I think I can say that I have never preached without complete reliance on the Holy Spirit.” So said a man whose ministry was one long manifestation of the Spirit’s power—Spurgeon.
Brethren, how often is it the experience of some of us, that with our hand on the vestry knob, we are almost challenged by the question: “Are you going in there to preach before your people and you hardly know upon whom you are relying.” Often we can go no further than: “I hope I am relying on Him, yet I fear I am still relying too much on myself.” Brethren, this is far short of the good ground for hope furnished both by our text and experience. The beginning and the ending of this deliverance were of the Holy Spirit, and if to-day we are to seek deliverance from the torpidity of spirit which robs us of life and strength, and the Lord of His glory, we must seek that deliverance at the hands of Him to whom alone has been committed the welfare of the Church. Let us not seek to put matters right ourselves; let us not think that any preaching or law-making can of themselves put matters right. No number of rules and regulations, no mere formal firmness on any point, can make up for the loss of the Spirit of Regeneration. It is when the circumstances attending His withdrawal become acute upon us that we shall find ourselves tempted to forget the one great want—Himself. We shall find ourselves concentrating on the ordering of things often small and petty; on things which are not always important. In doing this, we shall be devoting ourselves to the curing of symptoms while the disease continues to grow on us. Our real trouble is that we have not His presence as we ought to have it, and our first responsibility can only be that of seeking His return.
Let us, therefore, come before Him with chastened spirit and burdened soul, and let our prayer be to Him that He may give us no rest until He be restored among us to that place our Church has had experience of. Let us mourn how much we attempt to do without definite reliance upon Him. Let us seek to come so close to His indispensability as to be thrown into an agony of penitence, sorrow, deep sorrow, because of how, by our tardy and indifferent asking, we have dishonoured Him. Let us feel love almost to breaking point—love for the Holy Spirit, our Hope. Let us feel the burden of His absence until we go down in labour under the weight of it. Nehemiah not only got and took a burden for the rebuilding of the Lord’s city, but he took care to make that burden sit more closely upon his shoulders, and he bowed himself under its weight; he went out at night to view the destruction of the city. He went into details. Let us get away from generalities and come to the definite need and the definite cure.
And after all this, let us remember for our encouragement, that the basis of His blessing is always the same, the finished work of Christ. Let us also remember that His love for His church is unchanged since the fathers’ days and that love always exceeds ours. Neither let us forget that He intends to honour every promise He has given and that He only waits our inquiry of Him. We must seek to take up a position of violent waiting before Him, confessing poverty, need, weakness, unprofitableness and worthlessness, and there bowed on the knees of our souls let us hail Him again—He is my fathers’ God—the God of our early prosperity. Then let us exalt Him as our only hope. Yes, while others make effort to exalt by substitution, what is merely human, for what must always be the absolute Divine, let us exalt Him as our only hope.
The Door of Hope Opened still wider.—What a door of hope we have in those references to His name. The whole reason for deliverance, His whole reason for remaining with Israel, for His presence and the fulness of it and why He should give a promise and why He should keep it, is never found in human worth or merit. It is found in the making of His glorious and everlasting name. If our success in seeking and pleasure in finding depended upon our producing the weight of one hair of merit we are undone indeed. It is true that His promises are often coupled with our unfaithfulness, but the power to be faithful is as much grace as the promise itself. Besides, faithfulness at its highest can never rise to that standard of merit as will lay Him under obligation to help. Unworthiness is everywhere and merit nowhere. What an encouraging text we have to-day! Yet with what hardness, unresponsiveness and indifference do we meet it.
But let us look at our text again—His name, His glorious name, His everlasting name, His very character, His very life and being are immersed in our destiny. The attributes of the Redeemer, the merit of His work, the preciousness and value of His person as the God-man Redeemer, are things so deeply identified with our short and tottering steps through the wilderness, that in reality, these steps mark the advance of our victorious King of Zion. The subject matter of the high glory to His everlasting name has some part of it in the groans and the toil of the preserved of the Lord, in their wilderness journey towards that glory. The name Redeemer covers more than the act of redemption—it covers the whole history and glorification of the Redeemed. It alone is guarantee of their success and their success through His name carries an eternal weight of glory wherewith to crown Him everlastingly.
See Israel in the wilderness. See the cloudy pillar. Whence came it? What is its witness? “God is here.” With what is it bound up? The cloudy pillar and the God of it are bound up with the sins, folly, disloyalty, instability and back-sliding of a Redeemed people, and in turn with the righteousness, faithfulness, wisdom and life of that God who so closely identifies Himself with them. The cloud comes from a source forthwith themselves, but it has so dyed the fabric of their lives, that the history of the one is the history of the other. Working on the plane of their many and varied needs the Lord works out an everlasting and glorious name for Himself. A name with which He is to fill the dwelling place of both Himself and His people, with a glory which shall never dry up, never tarnish, never be anything lower than “Glory to God in the Highest.”
Surely, brethren, here is encouragement indeed. Could His love find anything sweeter and more encouraging to tell us? Can hope ask for a greater? The glory of His great name bound up with our salvation and maintenance of His cause is an antidote for defeatism and frustration, surely. Appealing to Him, waiting for Him, remembering Him with gratitude for the past and hope for the future, closed in to Him for ALL, we surely are moving along the line of His purpose, to make “Himself a glorious and everlasting name.” With more understanding than ever, we will begin to pray to-day: “For thy sake, for thy name’s sake, visit us the children of the fathers whom thou didst choose for thyself.” Does He not stand at our door and knock, and is not this text the hand He uses? Do we not hear His pleading voice? “As I was with Moses so will I be with thee.” Oh, with what frankness, decision and love He knocks and pleads. On the toe-tips of our souls, and with a ready and sincere, though broken welcome, let us acclaim Him: “My father’s God, I will exalt Him, come in thou blessed of the Lord. Why standest thou without?”