THE subject of deliverance well deserves our prayerful study. So much depends on it. In fact, those who know little of it are often seriously hampered in their course, and consequently make poor headway. They become entangled with the world, or distracted with the all-too-common evil of self-occupation. And, not unlike the children of Israel, they wander along, rather than walk along, with the result their pathway is drawn-out and tortuous, instead of being straightforward. It took the children of Israel forty years to do a journey that could have been done in eleven days, and then they did not enter the promised land. This speaks for itself. And the example of their disobedience and lusting is held up to us as a solemn warning (See, 1 Cor. 10), which proves that the flesh is unchanged.
The work of Satan is to embarrass Christians and keep them in a state of bondage. He cannot frustrate God’s purposes of blessing for them; but he can hinder them from entering into the practical enjoyment of these purposes. To this end, he uses his power and wiles.
The great channels, through which he works to carry out his evil intent, are the world and the flesh. The world is outside, and serves as a force of attraction; the flesh is inside, and answers as a point of contact. Together they form his ground of action.
But if we are severed from this ground, we are in a position of safe deliverance. We are like the bird of which the proverb says, “Surely in vain the net is spread in the sight of any bird” (Prov. 1:1717Surely in vain the net is spread in the sight of any bird. (Proverbs 1:17)). That is to say, we know the ground on which he can attack us, namely, the world and the flesh, and we can keep off it. This annuls his malice, and secures our deliverance. “He that is begotten of God keepeth himself, and that wicked one toucheth him not” (1 John 5:1818We know that whosoever is born of God sinneth not; but he that is begotten of God keepeth himself, and that wicked one toucheth him not. (1 John 5:18)). This is the simple and straightforward way of deliverance.
But it may be asked, if deliverance is so simple and straightforward, how is it that the majority of Christians cannot learn it save through many and bitter trials, often extending over the best part of their life? There are two ways in which we can learn; that is, by faith, or by experience. The former is always simple and straightforward; the latter, complex and tortuous. Why did Caleb go into the promised land? Because he believed God. Why were the others debarred from going in? Because they disbelieved God. In exactly the same way, there are Christians who enter into all the purposes of God for their rich and abundant blessing by faith; and there are those who fall short of these purposes, by unbelief. To the former, everything is simple and straightforward, for there is nothing between Egypt and Canaan but a straight course. To the latter, all is involved and winding, for there is a desert intervening, in which they spend much time in humiliating experiences, going back in heart into Egypt, or in being occupied with themselves, only to find untold sorrow and disappointment.
In view of this, we may well say, a thousand pities we have to learn so much by experience! How much better if we learned more by faith! But the condition of each one must determine whether it is to be by faith, or by experience, and upon this we will venture a few remarks.
When the eye is single, the whole body is full of light. This is easily understood, because there is nothing between the eye and its object. If, however, this singleness is lacking, and that something else is sought along with faith’s object, it follows that there is duplicity, and a wavering from one to the other, with hopeless inconstancy and indecision. And we know “a double-minded man is unstable in all his ways.” If Christians, through unbelief, seek something of the world, of themselves and of Christ, they will find that they spoil their enjoyment of all. The double-minded man gets nothing from God. Of Lot, in Sodom, it is said, he “vexed his righteous soul from day to day.” And the children of Israel, who lusted after Egypt and its store, died in the desert; that is to say, neither in Egypt, nor in Canaan. These all speak of sad experiences, and a sad end!
But if we inquire, what lies at the root of all? What gives occasion to this condition of duplicity? There must be something hidden deep down in our nature which insidiously asserts itself, to prevent faith from acting with single eye? Alas! there is. It is the flesh, otherwise the “I” in us. And until that “I” is crucified, we need never expect any progress in our heavenward pathway. It will always deceive us, for it leads us to confide in it, and not in God. Thus faith is done away with. “I” does not need faith; it is self-sufficient, because it is “I.”
When the question of Israel’s obedience was raised, they ‘at once said, “All that the Lord hath spoken we will do.” Here is an example of self-confident “I.” It was not a question of what God would do, in which they would humbly confide, but of what they would do, and that in self-confident boasting. This was fatal. They put themselves under law, and the consequences of this act are narrated in their history of failure.
But it may be said that Christians do not put themselves under law. The man in the seventh chapter of Romans surely proves that they may do so. The whole of that remarkable chapter is one long argent to show that the law has dominion over a man as long as he lives. While we know that God never puts Christians under law, He may allow them to go under it in their consciences, in order that they may learn some salutary lessons. Still it is not in keeping with His direct dealings with them, as the objects of His grace. The “I” has been allowed to assert itself; and, like Israel, they have been allowed to take the way of their choice, in order to learn about it. And what can they learn about it? Just this, that there is no good thing in it. That is all we can learn about “I.” “I know that in me (that is, in my flesh,) dwelleth no good thing.” When we reach this point, it is then time to look away from “I” to another, even Christ, in whom there is nothing but good.
So long as “I” is busy doing something for God (that is, under law), grace and faith are held in abeyance. Then the Christian’s life is introspective. Just as if his eyes were turned the wrong way, he becomes occupied with himself. Law tells him what he has to do, and throws him back on himself to do it. He meets with certain failure, and tries, and tries, and tries again... Like the impotent man at Bethesda, he may spend the best part of his life in trying, only to find sorrowful disappointment. In the end (when this is reached), the cry goes forth, “O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?” Then, and only then, are the Christian’s eyes turned from himself, looking for someone else, implied in the “who” of his anxious query. A very desirable point is reached, for he turns away from “I” and seeks a “who” entirely outside of himself. Thus grace and faith come into view—the fundamental principles in Christianity.
Grace never tells the Christian to do anything for his deliverance; it tells him all is done. Faith never occupies the Christian with himself; it always occupies him with Christ. Resting in a perfect work that is done, and occupied with the glory and perfection of the One who did it, the soul is delivered—has a stable foundation on which to rest, and an Object of superlative beauty, and unchanging delight, for its occupation. Thus we grow in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.
The lifted-up serpent in the wilderness provided Israel with two things—the remedy for the raging plague amongst them, and an object, outside of themselves, at which to look. Here we see the great principles of grace and faith. Grace provides the remedy; faith appropriates it. Thus it ever is. So also, in Romans 8, we have God sending His Son in the likeness of sinful flesh (that is, as Antitype of the brazen, serpent), and on account of sin, condemning sin in the flesh. This is the end of “I.” “I,” which is bound up in the flesh, goes under the stroke of judgment. This is the truth about “I.” When we know it, then we are finished with it; and the rest of our time is spent for the will of God.
It is well, not only to sing, but to enter into the truth of, the following verses:
Thy life is now beyond the grave;
Our souls Thou hast set free;
Life, strength and grace in Thee we have,
And we are one with Thee.
O teach us so the power to know
Of risen life with Thee;
Not we may live while here below,
But Christ our life may be.
J. Houston.