by James Buchanan, DD, LLD
(continued from page 204)
That the general design of all the afflictions with which any of God’s people are visited in the present state, is their progressive sanctification and final perfection, is evident from the whole scope and tenor of Scripture, wherein the necessity and usefulness of affliction, for this end, are frequently stated in very emphatic terms, and illustrated by apposite examples: “This is the will of God concerning you,” says the apostle, “even your sanctification“; and this being the grand object of God’s design in Scripture, is also the end of all his dealings in providence. It is not only said, “that affliction yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness,” but that “God chastens us not for his pleasure, but for our profit, that we might be partakers of his holiness.” That this is the design of all the afflictions with which we are visited, may well serve to reconcile us to them, even when they are most frequent and most severe. For to a mind that is sensible of its own high capacity, and of its best interests, what object can appear so truly great or desirable as this — a progressive and ultimately a perfect conformity, through the sanctification of its powers, to the very image and character of God? That man is capable of such a resemblance, is the very highest proof of his dignity as a rational and moral being. That God designs such a resemblance, is the noblest proof of his affection; for what higher gift could he bestow than a character similar to his own? And that affliction is one of the means by which this
boon is to be bestowed, and this resemblance improved and perfected, is one of the most precious truths of Scripture, and the very sweetest consolation of sorrow. Were we sensible of the infinite capacities for improvement and happiness which such a design, on the part of God, necessarily implies on the part of man; were we duly impressed with the consideration, that the nobility of our nature consists in our capacity of knowing God, and being like to him; that the misery and degradation of our present estate, flow from our ignorance of God, and the dissimilarity of our thoughts and feelings to those of the Divine mind; that our only prospect of being restored either to honour or happiness, depends on our being restored, in some measure, to a state of conformity to the will and likeness of God; and that, for this high and lofty end, affliction is employed as a means by which, if duly improved, that end may be attained in some measure on earth, and enjoyed perfectly and eternally in heaven; — oh! what heart would then murmur or complain, because of the strokes by which the rock is beaten into a conformity with God’s image; or because of the fire of that furnace, by which the dross of our nature is separated from the pure and precious ore, and out of which we are to come as “gold seven times purified — vessels of honour, fitted for the Master’s use?”
That affliction is a means fitted to this end, might be inferred from the fact, that it is employed as such by a God of unerring wisdom, who knows our frame and all the influences by which it can be affected, for good or for evil. But we are not left to conceive of it as an arbitrary appointment, betwixt which and its end, no natural adaptation can be traced. It is not only a sovereign, but a suitable remedy, and adapted, in many respects, to the evil which it is designed to cure. The evil of our present condition consists mainly in our affections being estranged from God and given to the creature; in our tendency to “forsake the fountain of living waters, and to hew out for ourselves in the world, cisterns, broken cisterns, which can hold no water.” The connection betwixt alienation from God and attachment to the creature, is so intimate and sure, that the one is inseparable from the other; it being a law of our nature, that our affections and desires must have some object on which they fix their regards, and from which they draw, or expect, their gratification; and if they be once estranged from God, their proper object, they will infallibly fix on some one or more objects in the world. Nor is their attachment to these objects, when once formed, capable of being easily broken. If they are attached to wealth, they cling to it with the tenacity of avarice; if to sensual indulgence, with the blind infatuation
of passion; if to power, with the recklessness of ambition; inasmuch, that so long as these objects are within their grasp, or capable of being either enjoyed or hoped for, they will effectually fill and occupy the whole mind, and exclude God and all spiritual things. Now, God’s method of breaking up this unhallowed and degrading attachment betwixt a rational and immortal creature, and the lying vanities of the world, is by either removing the favourite object from his reach, or smiting it with a curse, or visiting him with sickness, which spoils his relish for it; in one way or other, God shatters his favourite cistern, so as that he shall find it to be “a broken cistern, which can hold no water.” Were this done, after all his fond dreams of happiness, and his earnest endeavours for its attainment, with no other view than to disappoint his hopes and blast his efforts, we might pity the fate of man, and wonder at the dispensations of God; but when it is done with the view of severing his affections from objects which are unworthy of them, and which, even were they attained, could not satisfy or fill the desires of an immortal spirit; and, above all, with the view of raising his thoughts and affections to God himself, as his chief good and satisfying portion, we cannot fail at once to see the benevolence which prompts God to interpose, and the wisdom of the means by which he endeavours to raise man to his true happiness, by the overthrow of his dearest earthly delusions, and the disappointment of his fondest earthly hopes.
Thus, a man who, forgetting his immortal prospects, debases his nature by making himself the slave of avarice; whose earliest thoughts and whose latest cares are engrossed with money; who thinks of nothing, speaks of nothing, cares for nothing, and does nothing, without a reference to the accumulation of a fortune; who, for this, lives the life of a slave, and stirs not from his place of business, and plies the oar of trade “from shining morn to dewy eve;” — on such a man, what could have so powerful an effect as the total ruin of his fortune, and the scattering of his gains? Cruel, indeed, would such an issue be to all his anxious thoughts, and prudent plans, and industrious habits, and bold enterprises, had he no other than an earthly prospect; but God designs that man for eternity — he offers him a portion in heaven — money stands between him and that prospect; and God dashes the cup of prosperity from his trembling hand, that it may not drown his soul in everlasting perdition. And is not this a benevolent deed? Is it not dictated by the highest wisdom, as the very discipline which is most necessary, and will be most effectual in such a case?
Again, a man who, losing all relish for the sweets of divine contempla-
tion, and the exercise of his moral affections, gives himself over to the indulgence of his sensual appetites, who finds his highest happiness in the gratification of his palate, or the excitement of intemperance, or the habits of profligacy — on such a man, what would have so powerful an effect as the total ruin of his health, and the visitation of an illness which left him neither the capacity nor the wish for his favourite indulgences? God designs that man, also, for eternity; but he lingers around the cisterns of worldly pleasure, in the fond hope of realising a happiness which he has long waited for in vain: God shatters the cistern, and dashes the cup of pleasure out of his reluctant hand, that he may no longer deceive himself with the vain hope, but seek to the fountain of living waters which springeth up unto everlasting life. And is not this, also, a benevolent deed — however painful may be the present disappointment, and however protracted the suffering which it occasions, is it not dictated by the highest wisdom, as the very discipline which is most necessary, and will be most effectual in such a case?
Again, a man of ardent affections has allowed his heart to be estranged from God, by an undue attachment to his wife, or children, or other relatives and friends. Amiable as his kindness to them appears, yet, if they engross that place in his affection which is due to God only, his heart is not in a right moral state, and his happiness is based on a precarious foundation. God takes away the desire of his eyes by a stroke; he is stunned by the shock of bereavement; but, perhaps, even this is not enough; his affections thus violently severed from one object, may only gather into greater strength, and settle on another; that other is also smitten and dies; and it is not till, by such strokes, he is impressed with the vanity of every thing, save the enjoyment of God as his chief good, that the afflicting hand of providence shall be withdrawn from him and his house. Painful, indeed, is the breaking up of a family by bereavement, when death smites one, and then another, of the happy household; and desolate, indeed, is the heart of him who is thus left alone in a wilderness where roses had encircled his path; but they stood betwixt him and God, and it was in mercy and faithfulness that God sent a worm into his gourd, till it withered around him and died.
These illustrations may serve to show, at once, the goodness and the wisdom of God in sending affliction, and adapting the methods of his discipline to the necessities of his people; and they cannot fail to recall to the minds of some, the recollection of many incidents in their past life, which were felt to be very painful, and seemed very dark and mysterious at the time of their occurrence, but to which they can now look back as
the very brightest manifestation of the care and kindness of their Redeemer. They may remember a time when the wealth, or pleasures, or business of the world appeared to them robed in attractions to which they were too willing to yield, and threatened to engross the chief place in those affections which God challenges as his own. They may remember some one object, which, more than any other, engaged their eager pursuit, and awakened their deepest interest; and that, for this, they were on the very verge of committing themselves to a course of life, which if prosecuted with the ardour with which they were about to enter on it, would have long ere now estranged them altogether from God, and ultimately conducted them to perdition. But, just as their affections were gathering around it, and just as they were stretching forth their hand to seize it, that cup of pleasure, or power, or prosperity, was dashed in pieces, and as they wept over its broken fragments, they were taught a lesson which they were very loth to learn, even that the creature is too frail and perishing to satisfy an immortal soul, and that God would not permit them to seek their happiness in what was unworthy of their nature. If, by these means, they were first awakened to a perception of the vanity of the world, and of the infinite magnitude and importance of divine things; if their afflictions were so sanctified as to become the means, in the hand of God, of their conversion, then, sure I am, that they cannot fail to look back on the most painful of them all, not only without one sentiment of rebellious regret, but with the deepest emotions of gratitude and of admiration; and they will never cease to regard the discipline of affliction as one of the most powerful instruments of good in the hands of the Redeemer, and one of the most precious privileges of his people. For is it conceivable that it should be otherwise, if, by these means, they have really “had their eyes opened, and have been turned from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto the living God?” With the views which were then, for the first time, opened up to them of the transcendent truths of religion, and which, if they be really converted, they must still cherish with the fondest attachment, they can look back on affliction, and see it in a new and most interesting light — even as a very thick dark cloud, but a cloud, nevertheless, which has showered down upon them the most precious blessings, and has shed over their souls the freshness and fertility of “a well watered garden, which the Lord hath blessed.”
In their subsequent history, too, they may remember, that just as often as their affections were about to return to the world, when they had begun to backslide from God, or were in danger of doing so, just so often
did God interpose, by a new stroke of affliction, whereby they were admonished of their danger, and prevented from ruin. They may remember many seasons, when the impressions of religion were almost effaced from their minds, and when “the lusts of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life,” were making gradual but sure encroachments on the sovereignty of that divine principle by which they professed to be animated; and when, although they still retained the belief of immortality, their hearts were beginning to settle down into a contented enjoyment of the world, and little, if at all, animated by the heavenly hopes of the Gospel. In these circumstances, it was needful for their correction, and progress, and comfort, that God should take them into his own hands, and administer such rebukes and chastisements as might wean their affections from the world, and bring them back to himself; and, in such cases, if they will consider the matter attentively, they will find, that the affliction with which they were visited, was the very likeliest and fittest means of accomplishing his gracious design. And what gratitude should they cherish towards God — what profound admiration of his wisdom — what unshaken confidence in his faithfulness, when they reflect, that at such seasons, and in such circumstances, his thoughts towards them were thoughts of love? That when they were doing what they could to provoke him, by manifesting a preference for the creature, and when they had fallen from their first love, he did not, and would not let them forsake him; that, although willing to live at a distance from him, he was determined to bring them near; and, that when, if they had been left to themselves, they would have gone on in a course of declension and discomfort, he did, in confirmation of his holy promise, chasten them, “that they might not be condemned with the world?” And if, at such seasons, the religion which had long lain dormant in their bosoms, and seemed ready to die, was revived and invigorated, and enabled them to bear up under the shock of bereavement, oh! how should they rejoice and be thankful, that the light of religion was made to dawn on their hearts, and that the thick dark cloud was sent to turn their eye again to that light, shining amidst the storm, as the bow of peace and the pledge of safety?
If the believer has thus experienced, even on earth, the blessed effects of affliction, he will the more easily comprehend the import, and believe the truth, of those statements in Scripture, which refer to its ultimate issue and effect, in a future world of perfect holiness and peace. Here, the benefits of affliction, however valuable in themselves, are only partially enjoyed, by reason of the opposition which every holy influence
meets with, from the remaining depravity of his heart, and other influences of a contrary nature to which he is exposed, from the contagion of a world that lieth in Wickedness. The iron may be taken from a furnace heated seven times, and beaten with many strokes, but it contains within itself much dross, which prevents the pure ore from being fashioned as it ought, and there plays upon it a cold current which hardens it, even while it is subjected to the artist’s stroke. But there, all dross having been removed, and all unfriendly influences excluded, it shall be presented pure and spotless, and remain so for ever. It is in heaven alone that the full benefit of earthly afflictions shall be known and enjoyed. And what can reconcile us to the discipline of affliction, if this reflection will not, that it will terminate in a state of perfect holiness and peace; and that, meanwhile, it is preparing us for that blessed consummation?
It will terminate: the period is not far distant when all our sorrows and privations shall come to an end, when death shall bring us to that house where “the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest”; and when once the grave “has opened its peaceful bosom to receive us,” the world, with all its changes and sorrows, can affect our comfort no more. The storm may rage above us, and the whirlwind sweep the solitary churchyard; the din of civil tumult may arise in the streets; the war-cry may be raised, and the shock of battle succeed; the voice of famine may wail around us; yet no note disturbs the peaceful slumbers of the dead! But affliction will not terminate merely in the stillness of the tomb; it will be succeeded by the bliss of heaven, for which it is even now preparing us, and where, finally and for ever, “the broken heart shall be bound up; the mourner comforted; beauty shall be appointed for ashes, and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness”; “and God himself shall wipe away all tears from our eyes.”