Deliverance from Discouragements and Extremism

Along the narrow way that leads to heaven, the Christian meets with many experiences that to him seem strange and inexplicable. That at times he should walk in light and then again in darkness; that sometimes he should run with ease and then again be compelled (as Bunyan puts it) “to fall from running to going, and from going to clambering upon his hands and his knees, because of the steepness of the place”; that he should stand today upon the mountaintop of glory and tomorrow find himself plunged into the valley of despondency and gloom; that today he should feel so clearly his Savior’s presence, and tomorrow be left seemingly so entirely to himself. All these and many other things of like nature tend to puzzle and confuse the souls of pilgrims on the way to glory. That discouragements and disappointments would come from outside sources almost all have expected, but that the inward life should be changeful and varied in anywise many have not thought consistent with true Christian experience.

Varied Experiences

Some, upon discovering that the Christian’s pathway leads not always through verdant valleys and beside still waters, conclude that the way is too often rough and that therefore the prize is not worth the running, become discouraged and turn back into sin. Others, after wondering and seeking in vain for a way always bright and easy, and learning that all Christians have similar experiences of inward light and shade, conclude that these things are part of the way and determine to take them as a matter of course and make the best of them. They consider the prize too great to miss, and so they press on at any cost, having settled down to endure what must be endured and to enjoy what may be enjoyed, hoping someday for an end to it all, but never discovering the causes, of being able to think the thoughts of God concerning their difficulties.

Another class cannot be satisfied with this condition of mingled light and shade. Their souls must ever see the face of God, and with nothing short of that can they abide content. They would make any sacrifice if only the glory and joy they desire might be theirs, and without it they cannot be still. Everywhere they turn crying, “Wherefore hidest thou thy face,”* (Job 13:24) “Make me to know my transgression and my sin”* (Job 13:23); and, like Job again, “[they] go forward, but he is not there; and backward, but [they] cannot perceive him”* (Job 23:8); on the right and left they seek, but cannot find him (Job 23:9). But they never quiet their souls sufficiently for God to tell them the causes of the conditions which they so much deplore.

Yet another class of Christians go through like experiences with the others, but somehow God by His grace enables their hearts, perhaps after years of struggling, to settle down at last into a state of stillness and calm submission where He can teach them the causes of their troubles and so bring them out into that “wealthy place”* (Psalm 66:12) which is the normal state of a mature Christian. Then they can sing with Job, “I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear; but now mine eye seeth thee.”* (Job 42:5)

In religious as truly as in physical and temporal affairs, there is never an effect without an adequate cause. If the Word of God loses its richness, if darkness falls upon the soul, if it is hard to pray, if there is a lack of victory in any respect, there is a reason, a sufficient cause for such a condition. Let it be understood here that the causes are not always, in fact often are not, sins. Much confusion has arisen from imagining that every chastening of the Lord is the punishment of some sin, when, in fact, each of God’s sons must endure chastisement that they may become in a fuller sense partakers of His holiness. Thus, we conclude that all the unpleasant experiences with which we meet in the upward way must be for the sake of eliminating something of self and of conforming us more to the divine image. We do not meet them simply because they are in the way, but they are in the way because we need them. Hence the best way to meet all such things is to bring them quickly to Father, not inquiring impatiently, “Why must I suffer so?” but rather, “What is there in my nature that makes this suffering necessary? What is it that Thou art endeavoring to do for me? And how may I conduct myself so as to receive the benefit?”

Tests In Early Chiristian Life

Happy is the child of God who can say that from the day of his conversion he has never sinned nor grieved the Spirit of God. Such, however, has not been the experience of the writer. For several years I was plunged, sometimes within the space of a few hours, from extreme happiness and joy into deepest gloom and sadness. Weeks of walking in the joy of the Lord often terminated in some sad failure, causing untold misery of soul. When faith again gained the victory, praises in the day and songs in the night were mine until some other episode or depression of feeling caused me anxiety and fear. In spite of God’s matchless grace and patient endeavor to teach me the lessons of absolute dependence and humble trust in Him, this condition continued until gradually and almost imperceptibly my soul reached a place where I seemed past feeling, joy was no longer mine, love seemed a sensation foreign to my heart, the power of prayer was gone, and I felt that God had indeed forsaken me. My testimonies (for I was not conscious of any sin and could not give up my hope in Christ) sounded to my own ears “as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.”* (1 Corinthians 13:1)

That a soul who commits no known sin and who never loses the determination to serve God could get into such a state seems incredible. Such, however, was my condition, and I have met some who are on the way to just such a place of confusion, others who have reached and are now suffering in the same state of misery, and still others who have passed through and found that sweet rest of soul so plainly promised to all who come to Jesus. Such, then, as may be passing through or who are entering upon such experiences, I trust to be able to show how my feet came to sink into the miry clay and how at last God graciously set me upon the solid rock of His eternal truth and gave me new songs of praise and love once again.

A Deeper Spiritual Experience

For the two years intervening between my conversion and the time when I was enabled to make a complete consecration and receive an experience which I had not before attained, I enjoyed and endured the experiences common to the Christian in his early religious life. Many times I presented myself to God for cleansing, but as often failed to receive the Holy Ghost, because I could not believe unless I should have such manifestations of His incoming as some others had received. At last, in desperation, being confident that I had yielded all to God, I determined to believe that He did cleanse my heart and give me the Holy Spirit whether I ever received any feelings or not; for had not the immutable God promised, and could His word be broken? After a severe testing of this decision, the Holy Spirit came into my heart, cleansing it and filling me with joy unspeakable and full of glory.

“Now,” I thought, “surely all my difficulties are past, and I shall walk in glory the rest of my life.” This bubble soon burst, however; for in my very testimony to the gracious infilling of the Spirit, I was shown a degree of self and a lack of humility, which, had I understood the truth of the matter, should have sent me in faith to the throne of grace for a supply of what I lacked, but which, instead, I allowed to throw me into a state of doubt and fear from which I did not emerge for some days. The agony of soul which I suffered through not understanding the fact that I had an individual self-life with which I must reckon, even though I was sanctified, can be understood only by those who have become victims to doubts in a like manner. After a time faith became stronger, the seasons of depression became fewer, and my soul lived upon the wing. Prayer was a delight; the reading of the Word filled me with praise; meeting the people of God was the joy of my life; and every newly revealed truth made my soul leap for gladness.

Glorying in Self

I came at last to revel in my experiences. Insensibly to myself, I gloried in my joy, my victory, my trueness to God. Others told of trials and difficulties; my testimonies were full of victory and praise, and I rejoiced in the fact. Little by little I began to notice the faults and failures of others, and having begun to think so much of what I was, I had but a little step to go to make a comparison of their faults with my virtues.

As I remember, I did this all quite unconsciously; but a brother at last said to me, “I fear you are losing that burning love for others which you once had.” Thus reproved, I sought the Father in a very simple prayer that He would fill me again with that sweetness and tenderness so necessary for a child of God. That He answered no one could doubt, least of all I myself. A passion for souls took hold upon me. No labor was too hard, no sacrifice too great, if only I could influence a soul for Jesus. I felt a tenderness of soul toward those whom I had formerly criticized, and whereas I had avoided them, now I felt a drawing toward them, and though I believed (because some in whom I had confidence warned me of it) that they possessed very serious faults, someway I could not see them so plainly.

I was young in years, and oh, so ignorant! If only at that time my wisdom had been equal to my love for God and souls, how much of sorrow I might have been saved! How hard the Spirit of God tried to keep me from taking counsel with self and others! But I had yet to develop that individuality which can stand alone with God in sunshine or tempest and at the same time hold an attitude of humble, submissive love to the brethren. I needed that single eye which sees only God and is not occupied with self or others, except in humbly loving and serving them. Partly through a lack of understanding, but more especially because spiritual pride was gaining a foothold in my heart, making it impossible for me clearly to distinguish the voice of the Spirit of God, I failed to heed His warnings, and entered an experience of darkness and gloom, lighted by a very few rays of His divine presence, which continued over a period of several years.

Criticizing Others

Gradually my former experience was repeated. Criticism of others slowly but surely took the place of fervent charity. Contemplation of self and self-complacency supplanted meditation on God and the humble realization of my need of His constant help. Self-sufficiency succeeded humble dependence upon the Lord. All this was utterly uncomprehended by my heart, and soon I began vaguely to wonder why I did not love secret prayer as formerly, why the Word did not seem so good to me as before, and why my thoughts ran so much upon myself and others, whereas in times past the Lord had been the Alpha and Omega of my meditations. My zeal for the truth did not abate. My public devotions were earnest and apparently spiritual, but deep within my soul I knew that there was a difference.

However, I was so much taken up with helping others do right that I had not much time to attend to my own needs. God had given me much light, many things for my personal benefit. These I was very anxious for others to see; for if they were good for me, why not for others also? Thus, I endeavored to force my convictions upon all I met. I loved their souls and my actions were born of a desire for their best good, but my attitude must have repelled rather than have attracted them. Anxiety to see everyone get as much as possible as quickly as possible, made me oversolicitous and exacting. At this time I came in contact with some who were inclined to lower the standard in some respects and give more room for looseness of walk and conversation than was expedient. These I looked upon at first with pity, then with indignation, and at last as willful deceivers. At this stage, I think, the last vestige of divine tenderness vanished from my soul, and I entered the conflict determined to vindicate the truth and see the standard upheld. When efforts were made to discover to me my faults, I could see only theirs. If it was suggested to me that I was lacking in love, I felt that judgments instead of love should be meted out to them. Instead of feeling free in their presence, I felt like avoiding them and almost feared to be with them. This I ascribed to the bad spirit which I felt actuated them. Had I only known how, I might have held to the true standard in righteousness and also in mercy, but I could see no middle ground. Either I was right and they wrong or the opposite was true. And I thought that if I was wrong at all I must be wholly wrong. I had not at that time seen the truth that God judges us by our motives, and condemns or excuses us as we have or do not have an earnest determination to serve Him and do His will. So any attempt to recognize those who were failing in doing some of what I was sure was the will of God only resulted in terrible confusion to my soul.

Warned by a Dream

At last God in mercy gave a dream to a brother who was trying to help us. I cannot recall it perfectly, but to the best of my recollection, it was somewhat as follows: He thought that he was in the center of a beautiful stream of water, clear as crystal. The banks on each side were perpendicular and very high. On each bank was a large bundle to which was attached a strap. The brother was trying hard, but without success, to pull those bundles into the stream. In the midst of his exertions he awoke. Wondering what was in the bundles, he looked to the Lord and received this solution: The crystal stream represented God’s eternal truth; the obstinate bundles contained a list of things which he gave to us somewhat as follows:

Indifference or Doubts

Such a revelation of my heart should have helped me, but so blind was I that the only change it wrought was to turn the weapons of harshness, criticism, and exaction upon myself. And for three long miserable years, with a heart like a stone so far as feelings were concerned, I wrestled with doubts and fears and tried, oh, so hard! to reach the standard of spirituality which I had formerly held up for others. Labor in prayer as I would, the light would not dispel the darkness, the stony heart would not soften, except for a short season. Then, how I gloried in the light and how I mourned when it was dark again! Worse than all else, there fell upon my soul a state of seeming indifference to my condition and carelessness toward both God, the souls of others, and myself. Stir myself out of it, I could not. Sorrow and joy alike seemed strangers to me. As there was no blessing, so there was no grief. There was a great calm, but it was the calm of the grave; it was not peace. When reproved for causing trials to others, as I often needed to be, I endeavored not to be guilty of the same offense again; but no matter what I did, I seemed to experience no great depth of sorrow. Withal there developed a lightness quite foreign to what I had been by nature or grace. I seemed to live only upon the surface, and to have no ability to reach any depth of grace. This I deplored, and longed for the blessing of genuine sorrow. How often I wished that I had never heard the truth if only I might have the chance to begin all over again!

I lived in circles, making no progress. Daily I prayed for a return of the joy, love, peace, and victory I had once known. Sometimes the clouds rifted a little, and I gloried in it, thinking that surely the Lord had heard, and I should be delivered; but soon I would feel the same dulness settle down, leaving in me the same aching void as before. Again, and again I tried to repent, thinking that I surely must be a sinner; but I could not work up any earnestness, nor could I find anything in particular of which to repent, only the darkness and general dissatisfaction which I was experiencing. If only I could have begun again; but there seemed no place from which to start, no foundation for my feet, and I felt myself almost entirely swallowed in the quicksand of despondency and discouragement. I realized then the force of the Psalmist’s words, “If the foundations be destroyed, what can the righteous do?”* (Psalm 11:3)

Discouragements

At last my thoughtlessness brought upon me some very severe reproofs. I knew that I was not feeling the weight of them as I should, and I knew also that unless I should be able in some way to see why I did such things I could never get any help. Why should I, who longed to be a soul-winner, be a source of trial to others? Having at last gotten it settled that there was something fundamentally wrong, I determined not to content myself until I should discover what it was. Instead of praying as I had done for so long, for love, joy, etc., I endeavored to humble myself before God and entreat Him to show me what was wrong within. I made very slow progress. A day of fasting and prayer revealed nothing. But I would not cease searching my heart. It was very dry praying, for I had no ability even to feel sorry that my condition was so bad; but I had one promise to which I clung desperately: “They that seek the LORD shall not want any good thing.”* (Psalm 34:10) I could not make myself feel, nor change my state, but I could seek. And it was within my power, as it is within the power of all, to believe that He would be found of me.

At last, little by little, it dawned upon me that I was selfish. The reader may smile, as I myself do now, that I did not know it before. But up to that time I had never stopped to consider why I did things. If I spoke harshly, I was sorry and begged pardon, but it never occurred to me to think why I had spoken so, except that something had not pleased me. If I prayed when I felt inclined and neglected prayer when I did not feel inclined to pray, I knew that I had neglected duty, but to consider why I had neglected it never entered my mind. If words not unto edification escaped my lips, I was ashamed, but my motive for so speaking was unknown to me. But now the Lord showed me clearly that a desire for personal pleasure and profit lurked deep at the root of all those acts of indifference and carelessness. Grateful for one ray of light, I sought again His presence and cried, “But why, O Lord, should I, who have tasted Thy divine grace, who have felt the sanctifying power of thy Holy Spirit—why should I be selfish?” My spiritual eye was regaining its sight now and my ear its keenness, so that through many days, in the testimonies of others, through reading, and in prayer and meditation, the answer came by degrees, until at last I understood.

Self-Love and Pure Love

There is, I learned, in every human heart an element called self-love. This is not sinful in itself, being synonymous with that desire for happiness which is the medium through which God appeals to the soul. It is not annihilated in the sanctified soul, else Jesus could not have said, “Love thy neighbour as thyself,”* (Mark 12:31) but it is there subordinated to that pure love which places God first in all circumstances. To love the Lord with all the heart, might, mind, and strength is to love with pure love; but the heart that loves thus still contains self-love, and it is through this property of the soul that the sanctified can be tempted. Adam was a perfect man, with a perfectly pure heart; but when tempted to obtain something which promised to improve his state and increase his happiness, he proved that he loved himself by yielding to the temptation. It is this part of ourselves which must daily be denied lest it degenerate into selfishness and cause us trouble. There is a degree to which this self-love and pure love may become mixed in our service to God. This had happened in my case.

Pure love serves without any hope of reward. When light and peace and joy fill the soul, or when grief, sorrow, or loneliness presses the heart, pure love goes on loving and serving. Pure love desires, not to be pleased, but to please. It gives all and demands nothing in return. It loves God, not so much for what He has done for the soul, or for what the soul expects Him to do for it, but for what He is. It seeks Him, not so much that it may be blessed, as that it may be a pleasure to Him. It desires, not so much satisfaction for its own heart, as that He may be satisfied with it. It seeks not place nor position nor anything, but only that He may find pleasure in it, that He may be able to rejoice in the work of His hand. If it pleases Him to give good things, the soul is grateful, but does not forget that the Giver is more than the gift. If evil comes, pure love can quietly rest, desiring naught for self, but all for Him. Even if His face is hidden, pure love, though feeling keenly the absence of its beloved, can still say in sweet submission, “Thy will be done”* (Matthew 26:42); for it feels itself unworthy of any blessing and so is content with whatever its Lord is pleased to do. It yields itself to the Author of every good, and, trusting His love, receives thankfully and in deep humility what He pleases to give, and as gratefully humbles itself to go without what He does not please to give. “Willingly to receive what Thou givest, to lack what Thou withholdest, to relinquish what Thou takest, to suffer what Thou inflictest, to be what Thou requirest”—this is pure love and real consecration.

Seeing My Condition

As God revealed this precious truth, I felt as though someone had said of me, “Doth Job fear God for nought?”* (Job 1:9) and that God could not have justified me as He did Job. My own heart showed me self-seeking. I saw then that I had prayed to be blessed; that I had longed for satisfaction; that I had sought for joy and peace and love and spirituality, partly at least, that I might be satisfied and well pleased with myself, and, furthermore, that I might be considered spiritual among the brethren. Also, I was honestly anxious to be a blessing to others and in everything to be an “example of the believers.”* (1 Timothy 4:12) But to seek the Lord simply to please Him never occurred to me, until I was reminded of His unselfish love for me. He desired me to be “all for him,” not because my little all could make Him any richer, but because it was only then that He could really be “all for me” and bestow upon me the riches of His love. A sentence from Fenelon made me more ashamed than ever. It reads something like this: “Would you serve God only as He gives you pleasure in serving Him?”

Light Breaks upon My Soul

In the beginning of my Christian experience I had but to see a truth to feel within a strong drawing to obedience. But now all was different. The cold facts of my condition were plain to me, but there was no inward force compelling me to act according to the knowledge I had gained. I was tossed about and wished more than I can tell for some inward urging of the Spirit of God toward the performance of my duty. I did not know the truth that God accepts the decision of the will as the purpose of the heart. I supposed that no act could be acceptable to God unless it came from a warm feeling of love. The deadness and the apathy of my heart were sickening. I saw clearly the wretchedness of my condition, but there was no breaking up, no feeling of sorrow, no conviction (as I thought), no love for God. If I could only have shed some tears; if my soul had only been exercised for its own deliverance! But all within was as still as a stone; only my mind seemed active.

At last, however, I saw that this apparent lack of sorrow was only another step toward the utter repudiation of self. In the past, self had hidden behind my tears, and I had unconsciously trusted in my sorrow instead of in the Lord, thinking that surely because I felt so sorry, I should not repeat the offense. But a feeling of sorrow cannot save, as I proved again and again by repeated failures, and so God, wishing to strip me of anything in which to trust except Himself, allowed me not even the satisfaction of tears or a breaking up of heart. He wished to teach me that real repentance is an act of the will and not of the emotions. For a tender heart, one should be grateful, but to trust in that for victory over sin or faults can only lead to repeated failure. So at last I was willing to submit this point to Him who doeth all things well and was willing to cast myself, unworthy, undone, without a vestige of hope in myself, nor a place to set my feet, wholly upon Him and to believe that He took me as I was, whether I was able to do or be anything or not, and would begin to work in me His divine will.

Learning My Mistakes

The same trouble arose about my lack of feeling any love for God. How could I, who had been the recipient of so many favors from the hand of God, be so hard-hearted as not to love Him! Could I dare come to Him or ask anything from Him when I did not love Him, when I had given so much place to self-love and had been so indifferent concerning the pleasure of my King? How difficult it is to come to God empty-handed! If only I might have brought at least a little love in my hand to offer Him! But no, there seemed to be none; and at last my poor soul came to see and confess that, after all, it was not because of my love to Him that He loved me and saved me, but because of His great mercy and love for me. At length my soul, falling down before Him, could cry out in truth,

“Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to Thy cross I cling.”*

Then He taught me that love does not depend upon emotion; that so far as God is concerned, it is a free gift to us; that in order for us to enjoy it we must accept it as our own. The acceptance depends upon our will and decision in the matter, and not upon our feelings. To illustrate: If a person does much for me that is hard and difficult for him, willingly makes many sacrifices for me, without any hope of reward, I conclude that he loves me far better than the one who does much for me for which he receives or expects remuneration. Nowhere does the Bible command us to feel like obeying the Lord; nowhere is it even suggested that we should feel like loving Him. But we do find that God’s pleasure rests upon those who “will do his will”* (John 7:17), and we do have this definition of love: “This is the love of God, that we keep his commandments.”* (1 John 5:3) Feelings have nothing to do with the keeping of God’s commands. Of course, it is more pleasant to us to do what we feel inclined to do, but it does not necessarily give more pleasure to God. If we obey God because He is God and because it is right to obey Him, we act from pure love, and the pleasure God feels toward such service will in time be poured out upon the soul in streams of love, and there will be all the feeling desired.

Thus, I saw that if I willed to love God and acted as nearly as possible as I should act if I felt the glow of His love in my heart, this was more acceptable to Him than the same service would be if rendered because my feelings prompted me to do it.

Victory Over Accusations

In acting upon this truth, I was often accused of being a hypocrite, because my prayers, my manifestations of love and interest in others, and whatever I did for the Lord, seemed unreal and strained. Here, however, faith came to my rescue, enabling me to say to Satan, “No, I am not a hypocrite. I know that I do not feel like doing what I am doing; I know that I am not getting any particular pleasure out of it. But I do not deserve any pleasure, and I shall continue to do the best I can to prove to God that I do love Him and am trying to give Him pleasure. If He never sees fit to give me back again the joy which I formerly had in His service, that is His business. Mine is to love and serve. Let Him do as He will with His own.”

It was all very dry and hard at first, for the old doubts about being His when I did not feel His presence, knocked hard for admittance; but I was enabled to meet them always with the same confidence: “I cannot doubt that He loves me now, whether I seem to love Him or not; for did He not “[love] me and [give] himself for me”* (Galatians 2:20) when I was not trying to serve Him at all? Anyway, my salvation does not depend upon my love for Him, but upon His for me. But I will love Him and prove it by trusting and obeying Him. This is all I can do; the rest I leave with Him.” The test was a long one, and a lesson that I shall not forget.

When, at last, God saw that I would ask only for ability to satisfy and please Him, whether I felt pleased and satisfied or not, there came into my soul gradually light and joy, and oh! such a sweet sense of His presence. Praise His name! The love and other graces I then felt in my soul, I could not boast of, however, for they all came from and belonged to Him; and when I was enabled again to bow before Him with a sweet sense of love and reverence, I felt that in adoring and loving Him, I was not bringing to Him something of my own, but only returning to Him that which He had given me. I felt as I had not for years that

“The graces within are not mine,
For the love and the power and glory
Belong to the Savior divine.”*

Locating Myself Spiritually

One other point of which I must speak in this connection is the difficulty I experienced in endeavoring to locate myself spiritually when in the midst of the confusion I have described. Could I be saved at all when in such a state? Did I need to repent, or only try to do better? Were my careless actions and thoughtless words sins, or only mistakes? Fortunately, I was advised not to try to figure out so carefully what was sin and what was not, but to present to Jesus anything that troubled me, and to trust Him implicitly to work in me the victory that I needed. By humbly confessing my weakness and claiming the promise, “For it is God that worketh in you both to will and to do his good pleasure,”* (Philippians 2:13) I was enabled to gain victory almost immediately over many faults and failures with which I had wrestled long and over which I could never have gotten victory if I had spent my time picking every failure to pieces to find out whether it was something of which I needed to repent as a sin or only a mistake. I felt that God was pleased to have me humbly confess and trustingly turn over to Him for correction any and every error whether it seemed to me serious or not.

It would take too much space to tell here of all the changes which were wrought in me by these experiences. Suffice it to say that life has been different ever since. Not that I have always felt the Lord just as near, for He has needed to remind me of the lessons I have recorded and to teach me others; but whether He seems near or far, Satan has never succeeded in making me fear and doubt. I have learned that whether God leads in light or in darkness, He is leading and I have nothing to fear. If darkness comes upon me, it is for a purpose, and I can wait patiently upon Him until He makes that purpose known. Submissively to wait and patiently to trust in Him till He reveals His purposes is my part. His part is to lead and take care of me, and this, I am sure, He will do unto the end. Therefore I have no responsibility except to go on obeying and trusting Him. Whatever bothers or troubles me in myself or others I lay at His feet, expecting Him to give me victory if the trouble be in myself, or to bring it out in His own good way if it be in others. And thus my soul has reached and abides in that “wealthy place”* (Psalm 66:12) where no harm can ever come and where the soul is kept in “perfect peace.”* (Isaiah 26:3)