good quote

" In my opinion, the great single need of the moment is that light-hearted superficial religionists be struck down with a vision of God high and lifted up, with His train filling the temple. The holy art of worship seems to have passed away like the Shekinah glory from the tabernacle. As a result, we are left to our own devices and forced to make up the lack of spontaneous worship by ...bringing in countless cheap and tawdry activities to hold the attention of the church people." ~ A.W. Tozer

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Secret Of Comfort

The Secret of Comfort
by: F. B. Meyer

Taken from the book " The Best of F.B.Meyer"

"Blessed are they that morn: for they shall be comforted." (Matthew 5:4)

The Son came out from the infinite blessedness of God to give man the key to perfect blessedness, not only in the life hereafter, but in this, so that in human hearts also, the tide might rise, which is ever full in the heart of the Infinite One. Blessedness is more than gladness, pleasure, the rapture of possession- perhaps words cannot define it- but the heart knows when it enters upon its heritage.

The conditions of human life, which men naturally dread, are shown by Jesus to be the elements out of which blessedness becomes possible. He goes carefully through the various experiences to which our race is heir- our tears, poverty, hunger, temptation, persecution- and shows that these are the material out of which blessedness is produced, as the moisture of the air is necessary for the production of the glories of sunrise and sunset.

So comprehensive and far- reaching is this beatitude, that attempts have been made to limit its scope and diminish its range of blessing. Surely those only can be meant who sorrow with a godly sorrow that needs no repentance! It is remarkable how persistantly men have interposed such reservations on the munificence and largeness of God's gifts.

They assure one another that God cannot mean all He says, and that it will be a profound mistake to trust too absolutely in His assurances. But, in spite of it all, notice the calm strength of these words, "Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted." Surely it means that every sorrow carries in itself a clue to blessedness, and that there is no sorrow for which there are not healing and help in the Gospel of Christ. In the soil grow all the herbs which are suitable for the healing of broken hears. For all mourning He has the oil of joy, for every heavy- laden spirit a garment of praise.

Let no mourner turn away from these words, as though they meant all else but him; and were too wonderful, too rare, for those to participate in whose sorrow is ordinary and common. Like all the blessings of the gospel, they are for "whosoever will." They may be safely trusted to the unttermost. Whoever thou art, and whatever the awdul sorrow which is gnawing at thine heart, thou shalt be comforted. The seed of a harvest of blessedness is hidden in these dark pods. An eternal weight of glory is within thy reach, which will make thy present affliction, when reviewed from the distant future, seem light in comparison. Even though, till now, thou hast not professed thyself a Christian, thy grief may be the means of leading thee to the source of everlasting consolation. Only do not wrap thyself aroudn with the heavy garments of proud disappointment, do not shut thyself up alone with thy grief, do not let it harden and corrode thee, but humble thyself under the mighty hand of God.

There are Five Fountains of Tears

That opened by bereavement. Sometimes the blow is sudden and unexpected; we had no idea that that light farewell was to be the last, and that the face would never turn back to give another sunny smile where the path passed out of sight.Sometimes the dear one fades as autumn leaves or the waning moon, visibly, gradually, inevitably. As long as there is life, we are too eager on its careful tending to give way to tears; but when all is over, in moments of reaction and despair, the fountains of the great deep are broken up. Then Rachel weeps for her children, and refuses to be comforted, because they are not, Martha and Mary weep to heart- break at their brother's grave.
For such there is comfort. Not in talking about change or diversion, not in platitudes about the common lot of man; not in invoking Time to festoon the ruin by hanging drapery of flowers and creeping plants, but by opening the heart to God, that He may instil, first by drops, then by slender rills, and afterward by torrents, His own blessed peace. It is God that the bereaved soul needs most of all; and if bereavement leads to Him; if the soul, deprived of its natural support and comfort, turns its thought and desire to the infinite light; if it is led to feel the futility and failure of all that earth can give, and seeks the treasures which are hidden in the hand of God for all who come for theml if the spirit, in its brokenness, seeks the tender touch of the Good Physician for its wounds and bruises, then comfort will arise, the Comforter will come, Jesus will say, "I am glad for your sakes I was not there, to the intent that ye may believe."
The face is the mirror of the heart, and how often in the calm, gentle look on the countenance, the reposeful manner, the tender thoughtfulness for others, which characterize those whose life has been bereft of its light and joy, we recognize that this beatitude has been fulfilled. "Blessed are they that morn: for they shall be comforted." Not in the full life, but in the emptied one; not in the sunny path, but in the shadowed one; not in the house adorned for the wedding, but in that where darkened attire and subdued undertones tell of recent sorrow, will you find that rare plat growing most prlinfically, which Jesus called blessedness.

That opened by care and disappointment. We enter life with such high hope. Not more gay is the colt, careering across the field, started by the scream of the engine and the rush of the train of carriages! How soon are we caught, and curbed, and put to the collar! Can it be that the lightheartedness, the spring, the absence of care, are forever ended? Ideals blurred and disappointed, years eaten with the cankerworm, sunny mornings overcast byu thick clouds! Poverty in circumstance, feebleness of health, disappointment in love, the heart bereft of love, the spirit broken by harsh tyranny, the constant limitation of small means, dread of the pauper's dole. How countless are the ills to which we are subject in this world! From how many sources are the salt drops contributed to the brine of the ocean of grief! But Christ says that blessedness may be found even here.

There are compensations in grief, and care, and disappoinment. How many have confessed that they had never known the love of God, if human love had not disappointed them; had never found the true riches, unless they had lost the heaped-up stores on which their hearts were fixed; had never realized the meaning of the Eternal and Divine, till the transience and vanity of earthly things were no longer the text of the preacher, but the experience of the heart? It is in moments of heart-break at the failure of all our hopes, that the Interpreter comes near to show unto man what is right for him. Then God is gracious unto him, and is heard saying, "Deliver from going down into the pit, let his life behold light." Life without pain and trial is like a Chinese picture, with no depth or shadow.

That opened by undertones. Even in lives which do not share in the causes of grief already mentioned there is a dark undercurrent, a sense of sadness, and oppressive melancholy. Low and plaintive rapturous outbursts, and perhaps touch us more then they. There are shady, lonely, forbidding spots, the lairs of fever and malaria, in the loveliest woods, on the fairest summer days; expressions of unrest and dissatisfaction cross the sunniest faces; wailing notes sweep over every harp strung by earth's poets. "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity." It is the old complaint, and as true as it is old.
But this is well. There may be blessedness here. The heart of man muct have some bitters in the cup of life, or he would drain it to intoxication and death. There must be freckle in the leaf, and stain on the flower, or man would forget that they were made to fade.

I thank thee more that all our joy
is touched with pain,
that shadows fall on brightest hours;
that thorns remain; so that earth's bliss may be our guide,
and not our chain.

Broken cisterns drive to the Fountain to living waters. The vanity of all discloses the conclusion of the whole matter. The creaking tree impels the bird to build in the clefts of the rock.

That opened by sorrow for sin. This is the work of the Spirit of God. Trouble may make us rebellious, passionate, hard; but when the Spirit of God comes to us of the love of God, of the ideals we have missed, of the stains and rents with which we have defiled our robes, of the hurt we have done to those entrusted to us for our succor and comfort, of the tears we have caused to flow, of the stumbling- blocks we have cast before the weak, of the talents we have buried, of the thorns we have sown, tears of godly sorrow flow freely, and of these there is no need to repent. Let man's heart be brought by the Spirit of God under the cross, and in contact with the broken heart of Christ; let us look on Him whom we pierced, let us realize what sin is in the sight of the love and grief of God, and the strongest will battle in vain with the tears that rise unbidden to the eyes. But each tear is the seed-germ of blessedness. Blessed mourning this!
It is better to mourn for sin than for its consequences. It is not difficult to do the latter. When we are reaping the bitter penalty of mistake and crime, it is easy to be regretful. "Oh, that I had not done this! Would that I had been more thoughtful and careful! Might I but have my chance again!" So we all exclaim often enough. But this is not sorrow for sin. That is deeper, nobler mourning far. Its tears are purer. In it is no taint of selfishness or dread of penalty. The convicted sinner weeps with unfeigned anguish, as he sees what his sin has meant to God, to Divine Love and human, to those who have passed beyond his recall, or must forever be influenced for the worse by his irrevocable past. And God carefully gathers up these tears, puts them in His bottle, writes them in His book.

That opened by the anguish of the world No true man can witness this unmoved. Every breath of air is laden with cries and sighins and prayers for help. "The whole world groaneth and travaileth together in pain." Children in an agony of fear beneath the heavy hand of drunken mothers and fathers; women wronged, maltreated, deserted, young hearts thrust relentlessly back from those whom they had been wont to count true; the slave in the Arabian dhow, the Armenian subjected to nameless indignity and torture, the cancer-ward, the madhouse, the torture-chamber of disease- Ah, my God, my very soul writhes as I write, when wilt Thou bring this scene of woe to an end! How long ere Thous dost arise to say that there shall be no more delay!
But it is blessed to mourn thus, for they that share with Christ in His griefs for men shall share His triumph when He sees of the travail of His soul and is satisfied; when He shall have destroyed the works of the Devil, and put down all rule, authority, and power. And even now there is blessedness in arising to relieve, so far as we can, the sorrow around us, for it is in helping others that we cease to brood over our own misfortunes, it is in wiping the tears of men that we forget to weep.
All that brings us in contact with the Man of sorrows, and acquaints us with His grief, is wholesome and blessed. If you would know Jesus, you mustt find Him, where Jairus is weeping over his daughter, and the widow is following her boy to the grave, in the porches of Bethesda and the dark shadows of Gethsemane, and such sorrow as we have been describing takes us there.

How bravely and nobly does Christ speak. All others sit as still in the presence of uncontrollable sorrow as Job's comforters did; or they endeavor, with well-meant words, to divert the troubled heart from its sources of anguish, but he says, do not be afraid of sorrow, or evade it, or count it as a wildrerness; face it; bow yourself under the mighty hand of God; look up into His face, and believe that all has been permitted with the tenderest purpose; ask Him to tell you His secret: trust Him through all: out of the wrestle of the dark night will come the salutatuion of the Prince at the break of day.
In the judgement of Christ there is no grief that cannot be consoled, no mourner that cannot be comforted, no woe out of which the oil of joy cannot be extracted. Let us dare believe this, and turn to Him, though our faces be wet with tears, and our backs torn and bleeding, believeing that He has balm enough, anodynes, and cordials, to turn the shadow of death into the morning.

These are the Consolations of Christ

A sense of the love of God, that it is in, around, over, and beneath us; always and everywhere, in every circumstance, glad or sorrowful; in every experience, patent to the world or hidden in our hearts.
The secret of humility, which resigns itself to the circumstances of life, because it has learnt to trace them, wither to the appointment, or permission, of a love that cannot err, or be unkind.
The realization of the unseen and eternal, which encompasses our little life, as the blue ether does our world, dipping into its valleys, lying about its mountains, and encompassing its path.
The presence of the Comforter. "I will send Him unto you," the Master said. How vast the change He wrought. Before He came, the disciples were benumbed in hopeless grief. Paralyzed with pain, they sat crushed and hopeless in the upper room till the glad hour, when Jesus was revealed as risen, living, glorified, by the blessed Paraclete. Then their sorrow was turned into joy; and there was fulfilled the Savior's assurance that He would see them again, and their hearts should be glad and their joy none should take away. It is from the darkness of the pit that men see the stars; and in the darkness of sorrow we behold the face of Christ, revealed by the Holy Spirit.
The hope of Heaven. There we shall meet again the beloved and sainted dead; whilst tears will be wiped from off all faces by the hand of God. The adversities and pangs of earth submerged in the exceeding joy. All sin, and failure, and shortcoming forever terminated. The mystery of evil explained; the entail of sin ended: Death and Hades cast into the Lake of Fire: whilst-

Truth, and peace, and love, shall ever shine
About the supreme throne
Of Him, in whose happy-making sight alone,
When once our heaven;y- guided soul shall climb,
Then all this earthly grossness quit,
Attired with stars, we shall forever sit
Triumphing over death, and chance, and thee, O time.

Thou, who hast ascended on high that Thou mightest give the Holy Spirit to comfort us in all our sorrows and afflictions: impart Him to me also, that I may be able to comfort others with His tender consolations.

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