THE BURNING MOUNT
'OT many years ago, when I was traveling in Switzerland with some friends, we came to a point in a deep valley where our road parted to right and left. On either hand towered a lofty mountain, and our destination was a house built high up on one of those heights. We were strangers in the place, and had we chosen our own way, the night might have found us lost upon the desolate mountains, but we listened to our trusty guide, for we saw that the success of our journey depended on the skill and the wisdom of another. And, sooner or later, in the journey of a soul from Loneliness to Relationship, it comes to a point where two roads diverge.
Now both of these roads lead to mountains; and the Spirit of God, who is your guard and your uide, would lead you in your experience straight on to the mountain called Zion: but the Pillar of Fire that guided Israel long ago led them right away to the mountain that is called Sinai, and the track they made lies open still, and the journeying soul halts before the parted way. Close at hand, with its glorious summit bathed in the perennial sunshine of grace, stands Zion. No fiery sword flashes there betwixt God and man; all is serene, and calm, and peaceful in the white, shadeless Light of heaven. "This is the way, O Soul," cries the heaven-sent Guide. "Ye are not come unto the mount that might be touched, and that burned with fire, nor unto blackness, and darkness, and tempest, and the sound of a trumpet, and the voice of words, which they that heard intreated that the word should not be spoken to them any more, but ye are come unto Mount Sion" (Heb. 12:18-2218For ye are not come unto the mount that might be touched, and that burned with fire, nor unto blackness, and darkness, and tempest, 19And the sound of a trumpet, and the voice of words; which voice they that heard entreated that the word should not be spoken to them any more: 20(For they could not endure that which was commanded, And if so much as a beast touch the mountain, it shall be stoned, or thrust through with a dart: 21And so terrible was the sight, that Moses said, I exceedingly fear and quake:) 22But ye are come unto mount Sion, and unto the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to an innumerable company of angels, (Hebrews 12:18‑22)). Will the soul listen to its Guide? It may—the sunshine of grace is over it. Free, unmerited favor is its portion forever in Christ; but its idol Self is on the alert, as we have seen, and has been gradually coming more and more to the front of late. Self leans to the other road; Self has bat's eyes: he hates the sunshine, it blinds him. The other road looks shady, and at the start it is downhill, and he too often succeeds in leading the soul on to the plains of Sinai.
I wonder if my voice is reaching a soul just at the meeting of these two roads to-night If you keep close to a living Savior, you will not take the wrong way. "My sheep hear My voice and I know them," He cries, "and they follow Me, and I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of My hand" (John 10:27, 2827My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me: 28And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand. (John 10:27‑28)).
But, alas! it is not always that people do listen to the Shepherd's voice, for false teachers drown His still small voice with schemes of doctrine, and Self loves the path where be is owned and considered, and the soul following his lead soon joins the large encampment that is always to be seen upon the plains of Sinai.
An encampment is a pretty sight. I remember years ago there was a large encampment of soldiers formed at a place about fifteen miles from the spot where my father lived. He used to drive us over to see the white tents dotting the hills in such perfect order, and to watch the troops deploying hither and thither over the country, having sham battles with each other. We were never tired of going there with him, to walk about in the camp, and see how the soldiers lived and slept in the tents, and how the guard was always on the watch, and to hear the silvery tones of the bugles ringing out the orders from post to post. All is order in a camp, and in this encampment under the Burning Mount the external order is complete. Do you say, What a strange place in which to make an encampment! Strange indeed! It was first made by some Christians called the Galatians, so that it is a very ancient encampment. They listened to false teachers crept in unawares, who made much of Self, and chose the wrong road, and camped where the Israelites had been encamped so many years before. And, strange to say, I am afraid there are very few, if any, souls who take this journey out of Loneliness into Relationship who do not at some time or another in their journey of experience get decoyed into this encampment. Self likes the place. He is looked upon as converted there; for he can "observe days and months, and times and years" (Gal. 4:1010Ye observe days, and months, and times, and years. (Galatians 4:10)), and the order of the camp is perfect.
Now I think a mountain in Scripture means something that is established; and so, you see, to-night, in our journey of experience, we are considering two established orders of things. How can I explain to you what I mean? Let me try. You all know very well that when the Israelites in their real journey on the earth reached Mount Sinai, Jehovah said that He had brought them unto Himself as on eagles' wings,—that meant by His own mighty power,—and He came down upon Sinai's crest to meet with His redeemed people. But He came down upon the mountain wrapped in fire. Why was this? Because Self was still the idol of their hearts. As sinful children of fallen Adam, Self was their object, and their souls were still in the Land of Loneliness. All the patience, and grace, and mercy of Jehovah to them on the way had not made them love Him one little bit, and all their own murmurings, and rebellion, and waywardness had not taught them what Self was really like. When Jehovah offered to make them His great treasure, and to give them "a good land and a large" if they would keep His commandments, they shouted with one voice, "All the words which the Lord hath said will we do." Self wanted the good land, and Self was quite sure he could mend his ways if he chose, and leave off murmuring, and obey God.
Then when God, the holy God, drew nigh wrapped in fire, the mountain rocked, and the thunders roared, and the demanding trumpet pealed out its commands from the clouds and darkness, and God bade Moses set barriers round the mount, lest the people should draw near and be consumed; for, as children of fallen Adam, there was no way for them back to God, because of the Flaming Sword. The Fire and sin could not meet. It was this that they had not learned in all their journeying. They had not learned that grace alone would do for such sin-stricken beings as they were; and the God who had redeemed them out of Egypt, who had fed and clothed them, borne with their murmurings, and guided them by the skilfulness of His hands, saw them flee to hide themselves from the sound of His voice and the flaming Fire, just as Adam and Eve had fled in Eden. Their own righteousness would not stand the Fire.
But perhaps you say, "There is not any real Mount Sinai now to which we can get." It is true; the thunders and the lightnings and the fire of judgment have long faded from Sinai's crest; but what God would teach our souls is, that it is established forever before Him that, as children of sinful Adam, we can never pass through the Fire that circles a holy God, never be led by a vowing and struggling Self into the joys of Relationship. There is no way to God that way. Yet, strange to say, Self ever leads that way, for he dreads Zion more. The fire that glowed on Sinai's crest was swathed around with clouds, and God w as hidden in the thick darkness. Self could stand trembling before that Mount, afar off, and promise to do great things, but Zion's Mount of established grace makes nothing of him or of his efforts, and he cries "I cannot face that Mount. Let me stand upon probation; let me do, to live; let me make the Holy Law my rule of life, and some day I shall be fit, through my own efforts, following up on Christ's atonement, to stand before a holy God." For the Galatian teachers teach that the Blood of the Passover Lamb is for all past sins, but that Self must look sharp and change his ways for the future, and keep the Holy Law of God. They say that as a child of Adam you stand on probation, and that to save you, you need many fresh applications of the Blood which alone will shelter you from the Fire.
But suppose the day should come when willful Self will not cry for mercy? "Then," say they, "you must perish everlastingly; the Fire of God's just judgment upon sin must be your portion forever."
A year or two back there was a signalman employed on a great line of railway, who, of course, kept his place in the employ of the company by his deserts. It was his duty to be on the watch all night, and to work his signals so as to show when the line was clear for the midnight expresses to rush on their rapid journeys. For years he had done his duty faithfully, but one day sudden sickness had invaded his home, and while he was taking his daily rest his little baby girl had died beside him in the bed. Robbed of his sleep, weary and heart sore, he felt himself unfit to fulfill his duties that night; but he sought in vain for relief: no help could be procured, and, dazed and stupefied with grief and fatigue, he went to his post as usual. He sat in the signal-box on the watch, but how it was he could never tell—a few minutes' sleep, broken by the ringing of a signal bell, a rush to his post in confusion and bewilderment, an awful crash, never to be forgotten, and he stood on a line strewed with wreckage, he stood amidst the blood of the dead and the groans of the dying. He was beside himself with grief, but no grief could undo the dreadful mischief which his failure had wrought. When he came before the jury, and they heard all the facts of his case, they were greatly puzzled, and they gave a strange verdict. They neither convicted the man of guilt nor did they exonerate him, but they bound him over to appear whenever called upon in the future to receive judgment. Then came angry letters in the newspapers. "It was not just," they said, "to give such a verdict." If the man were guilty of manslaughter, he ought to be punished; if not, he ought not to be left all his life with a stain upon his character and a possible doom hanging over him. Even earthly righteousness demanded this. If the man had sinned, he must be punished; if not, acquitted: for how could his future good conduct undo the terrible past?
Yet this is just what so many Christians think a righteous God has done—forgiven them their past sins for Christ's sake, and said, "Now you stand on probation; if you do not make My holy Law your rule of life in the future, you will be called upon to receive your doom at some future date." No wonder that with such a fear before you Self struggles hard to make the Law his rule of life; and vows upon vows are made to give up this sin and that, and to do this good thing and that, to continue, if possible, under the benefit of Christ's work.
Do you understand what "probation" means? It means, on trial. I once had a servant who came to my house on trial. She was to stay with me for a month, to see if she had the will and the strength to do my bidding. She came into my house and became part of my household, but she stood on probation, and she failed—for she had not the strength to do what she had engaged to do, and she had to leave my house. Now you see "standing on probation" makes something of you—of Self. It supposes that you, as a child of Adam, have the will to please God, and a little strength too. This is why men like it, and this is why the Galatian encampment is so large. On the other hand, grace makes nothing of you and everything of Christ.
"Child," said an elderly relation, who was visiting at my father's house, to me one day, "come into my room after dinner this evening; I want to talk with you." When the time came, I went to her. She was lying upon the sofa with her open Bible in her hand; and as I approached her, she raised her eye-glass to her eye and surveyed me keenly. She had a mortal complaint upon her, and she knew that the tide of Death was rising rapidly around her. It needed but one glance at her anxious, clouded countenance to see that her soul was alarmed in its abode of solitude. "Child," she said, as her keen scrutiny rested upon me, "I want to talk with you. I am not happy; I do not rejoice as you seem to do. I study my Bible, and I pray regularly, but nothing is real to me. What is the matter? Can you tell me?" I paused, puzzled. I knew very, very little myself. I was not then in my own experience out of the Land of Loneliness, but I knew and loved a living Savior, and I was happy. How could I answer her? She was a woman of singular ability, and of the highest culture. She could read her Testament in Greek, her Bible in Hebrew. Men sat at her feet to be taught, and she was well pleased that it should be so, and yet there she lay, with death pressing in upon her soul, owning that she was in a darkness from which by all her efforts she had found no way of escape. I sat down beside her, and said, "If I were you, I would give up reading and praying, and take to trusting." A bombshell bursting in the room could hardly have startled her more. "Child!" she cried, almost starting from her sofa, "what do you mean! I should be an infidel." "No," I said, "I think not; I am sure you would not: but you would fall into the arms of a living Savior, able also to save to the uttermost them that come unto God by Rim,'" (Heb. 7:2525Wherefore he is able also to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by him, seeing he ever liveth to make intercession for them. (Hebrews 7:25)).
For a few moments she pondered my simple advice, but then shook her head, and discarded it. "That would never do," she said; "I should be afraid to try it." Poor soul! she stayed on in the Galatian encampment, trusting to her own efforts for a sense of acceptance until the closing scene on earth came; and she sank out of view in darkness and in fear.
Now you must not think that it is only people who are trying to make the holy Law their rule et life who have joined the Galatian encampment. No; many who have been taught that the ten commandments were given to the Jew, and not to the Gentiles, find their way to that same encampment. Self offers his intellect, his talents, his wealth, his energy, his education in the service of God. "I must serve," cries Self. Perhaps you yourself are there to-night; and you have almost unconsciously slipped into a state of constant effort. The glad song has died upon your tongue, and you are trying to love Christ, trying to overcome, trying to please Him. Then I am sure that you are weary and downcast, and finding out that all your desperate efforts to overcome evil only end in deeper failure and more constant defeat. The darkness deepens over your soul, and fears that your sinfulness must bring you into judgment at last from time to time assert themselves.
A young Christian once sat in her room with her face buried in her hands; burning tears were rising ever and anon to her eyes, and her soul was full of wonder and of fear. Only a short time before she had been joining in the song of God's deliverance by the Red Seashore; she had drunk of Marah's bitter waters, and had found them sweet to her taste: she had fed on manna from day to day, and had thought that the joy of the Lord was to be her portion forever. But silently and surely Self had been growing confident within her, and had pressed upon her at last that she ought to serve her Deliverer.
All had gone well for a time, and Self had grown more and more delighted over its own devotedness. But suddenly she had found herself face to face with a service from which Self shrank. "But it ought to be done," whispered the soul. "Are we not told to take up the cross, and follow Christ? I have lost my joy, and all is dark around me; surely it is because I do not serve as I ought." No Voice answered the passionate cry for help to do that service; no light shone on the path: all was gloom. Self and doing had brought that soul to join the Galatian encampment. That young Christian, having begun in the Spirit, wanted to be made perfect by the flesh. She wished to merit God's favor by doing; she thought that the darkness over her soul was because she had failed in service. "That service can be done, and it shall be done," shouted Self at last from within. "I will do it, cost what it may." The difficulty had been met, the mountain had been climbed, and Self had shouted from the summit, "See, I can dare and do for Christ!"
But darker than ever the clouds had covered the sky; there was no light, no joy for the soul. The voice of the Comforter was hushed, and terror reigned within. "Why is this?" cried the soul to its Savior. "Have I not obeyed Thy behest? have I not served Thee? Oh, give me the light and the joy again!"
Have you seen sometimes on a stormy day a sudden gleam of sunshine stream down through a rift in the gloomy clouds, and pass as quickly as it came? So did the light shine to that soul in answer to its cry, lighting up for an instant these words, "Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free" (Gal. 5:11Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free, and be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage. (Galatians 5:1)). "Here is the light again," cried the soul. "I will be a readier servant next time; I will keep my joy now that I have it." And in an instant all was gloom, for "by the deeds of the law shall no flesh living be justified."
Did the Pillar of Cloud and of Fire leave Israel when they camped under the Burning Mount? No; it waited on them there. Does the Spirit of God leave the believer when Self has brought him to try to live by the principle of Law, and he cries, "I must serve to please God; I must do, to live"? No; grieved and silent, He waits and waits, till the hard lesson has been learned that Self in his inner shrine, strive as he will, cannot please a holy God. And why not? Because he always has himself for his object. Do you not see that all the efforts he makes, and the good works he makes you do, are to save yourself from the Fire of judgment. He is trying by hard efforts to make a tunnel back for a child of Adam to the Tree of Life. Anything—anything—rather than meet death and the Flaming Sword. He will not believe that there is no way to relationship with a holy God save through death and the Fire.
The mountain rocked and the thunders rolled when the Fire-encircled "I Am" heard Israel say that they would keep His commandments, and stand before Him on the ground of their obedience. He was but trying them when He asked them if they would stand on this footing; for He knew their selfish hearts, but He wanted them to see that all their past failures, and His abounding grace, had not changed their selfish hearts one little bit. They had not learned themselves. Nor had that young Christian, nor have you, if you are thinking that you can merit God's favor by any efforts of your own.
I am sure you all know what a marriage is: it is the forming of a solemn bond between two persons.
More than fifty years ago there was a quiet little wedding at Kensington Parish Church.
Girls often think lightly enough of getting married; but when the time comes, and the solemn words have to be spoken, and the vows made, then they feel what a great step they are taking. The young bride trembled as she stood beside her bridegroom repeating the solemn words. "Don't be frightened, my dear," whispered the kind old clergyman, as he saw her fear. And then the words were uttered, the ring was slipped upon the tiny hand, and those two were wed "until death do us part." Could nothing but death undo the bond? Nothing.
And at this time what I may call a strange marriage takes place within you: Self is married to the Law. In hope of getting into "the good land and large," it vows to keep the Law; it engages to "make the Law its rule of life." And what is the consequence? "Sins, sins, sins." The fruit of that marriage is nothing but sins, and Self's true character comes into view, "For by the Law is the knowledge of sin." Can the bonds be broken? No; it is "until death do us part." Oh, what trouble the poor soul is in! It has walked after Self into distance and gloom, and it is held in captivity now to Self's yoke of bondage. Self fails, and makes fresh vows, and fails again. All is effort and weariness.
Have you ever made vows? I made one once, and wrote it out and signed it. I vowed to God to do this and that for Him, if He would only let me go in a course against which Conscience was warning me. Can God accept the fruit of sin, or sinful Self's efforts?.Never. I knew a young man once who made Jacob's vow: he promised to serve God, if God would give Self one great earthly blessing that he craved. And do you ask, Did he get the blessing? for God gave the quails to Israel, in answer to their cry. That is true. And if he had asked it without the vow, he very likely would have had it. But if you read the history of Israel carefully, you will see that after they had made their vows to serve God, and broken them, the Fire which had been their guard and comfort under Grace was constantly breaking out upon them. The Fire of God was testing their righteousness,, and it would not stand the test. "For they, being ignorant of God's righteousness, and going about to establish their own righteousness, have not submitted themselves unto the righteousness of God" (Rom. 10:33For they being ignorant of God's righteousness, and going about to establish their own righteousness, have not submitted themselves unto the righteousness of God. (Romans 10:3)).
Do you know what a test is? It is something that is used to try the quality of an article. I once had to learn by experience what a test fire can be. It happened that I changed a half-sovereign at a railway station, and when I reached home and looked at the coins, I thought one of the florins felt very light, and a fear came into my mind that it was not a real silver coin. I was not at all rich in those days, and had very little pocket-money to spare, so I was tempted at first to pass it on if I could, and not to make sure if it were a sham coin or not. But that would not have been honest, and I prepared to test it. If it is a real florin, I said to myself, it will stand the fire. So I made a hole in the fire where it was clear and hot, and kneeling down before the grate, I dropped my florin into the midst of the flames. Very anxiously I watched it, lying in the little furnace. For a moment or two all went well; I could still see the Queen's head glowing in the fiery light. But suddenly the whole thing doubled up and disappeared, while a little stream of some worthless metal ran down into the cinders. I remember feeling quite strange for a moment or two, for I had been hoping against hope that the coin would stand the test. I think I was hardly prepared to see my two-shilling piece disappear like that; but it was really gone, and I was two shillings poorer than I ought to have been. The fire had been a test.
So the Fire of God is a test of righteousness. Moses knew this, and that is why he moved the tent of the tabernacle so quickly out of the camp, when, after all their vows to serve God, Israel had made the golden Calf. The Pillar of Fire stood over that tent; and Moses set it afar off, lest God should consume the people. Nadab and Abihu, priests of the lineage of Aaron, who had been in safety on the Burning Mount, fell before that Fire, when they offered incense to God with fire that had not first consumed the burnt offering. When the people under vows murmured at Taberah, the Fire of the Lord burnt among them. When the quails were granted to their self-willed prayer, the tide of death suddenly rose and swept thousands from the scene; it was one thing to murmur under Grace, another to do so under broken vows. And then in that awful moment, when Self in Korah and his company declared that he could draw near to a holy God and worship, the Fire of God flashed out, and swept the "sinners against their own souls" from the scene, while their censers "lying amidst the burning" told out the solemn warning that Self, however religious he might seem to be, could never stand the test of Fire, could never pass the Flaming Sword, or draw nigh to a holy God. For "Stand afar off!" had been cried to vowing Self at Sinai's fire-capped mount.
But Self cannot bear to be set on one side altogether as utterly sinful; that is death to it. It dreads death. It persuades you that it is an improvable, teachable idol, and perhaps week by week you cry, "God have mercy upon us miserable sinners."For you gradually become only too conscious that Self, however much he promises, neither will nor can keep the law, and that the more effort you make to overcome this evil thing or that, the more often you fall, the stronger grows the bad habit, and the greater the inclination to indulge it. Vainly you plead" incline our hearts to keep this law "; for you find that the mind of Self is" not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be " (Rom. 8:77Because the carnal mind is enmity against God: for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be. (Romans 8:7)).
Self can observe days, and months, and times, and years; he can enjoy exquisite music, beautiful architecture, an outward religion of forms and ceremonies; he can force himself to observe a weary service of effort; but the holy Law is spiritual, and condemns him at every point. "Thou shalt not covet!" it cries, and sins innumerable are brought to light.
O soul! you have mistaken the way; there is no path for you into the joys of Relationship by the efforts of Self to obey the law; for the bond which it has so willfully formed with law only brings sin into light, and can only be broken by death. You can never earn a righteousness by law-keeping which will stand the Fire.
It is at this juncture in oar journey of experience, when we grow daily more conscious that there is a law in our members which is enmity against God, and that Self is "carnal, sold under sin," "for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be," that a terrible battle begins within, and the distress of the soul is very great. The fact that it has no strength against Self, no strength to love God or to serve God, comes incessantly before it. What is to be done? People give all sorts of advice. Some say, "It must always be so till you die; you can never know till the judgment day whether you have really succeeded in getting saved or not." Others say, "Make greater efforts still; pray more, read more, rise earlier, fast regularly, attend the services of the church more religiously." I heard of a gentleman once who tried hard to beat Self into obedience! He not only fasted from his daily food, but he beat himself till he was covered with bruises. But when he fasted, he found he was too faint to pray; and when he smote on his breast, it pained him so much that he thought more of the sufferings of his body than of the sin of his soul. He found he could not punish Self into obedience. No; do what you will, you cannot possibly bring Self into a fit state to enjoy relationship with a holy God.
"Oh!" said a little girl to me one day, as she watched me fill in a check, "so you have got one of those wonderful books. My father has one. Now you can have all the money you want." "Provided," I answered, smiling, "that the money is in the bank; the book would be of no use if I had not the money in the bank." "Oh, dear!" she added, with a sigh, "is that it? I always thought if only any one could get one of those books, they could have all the money they wanted." Ah! downcast soul, encamped with the bewitched Galatians under law, finding all your efforts to escape from its gloom worse than useless, you have a promise-book which commands a treasure that knows no limit, every leaf of which is signed with a Name before which all heaven bows. Why are you thus struggling and failing, failing and struggling? Why do you not pray for strength to overcome? "Pray for strength!" you cry; "why, I am always doing it. My petitions come back to me, so to speak, with none to be had ' written across them."
It is true, there is none to be had. It is of no use asking God to incline our heart to keep the law, for He has said of Self that "the carnal mind is enmity against God; for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be" You are like a poor traveler lost in the vast bush in Australia: you are entangled in a yoke of bondage, and you cannot escape by any efforts of your own. You are wandering round and round in one unvarying circle, ever returning to the same spot from which you started. You start with trying, and you return with failing, over and over and over again.
"We see strange and sad sights in this vast bush," wrote a traveler in Australia to his friends. "One day, as I was riding through it, something bright flashing from a tree caught my sight. I went up to it, and found that the sunshine was reflected from a tin mug, which was hanging upon the bough of a tree, while beneath it lay the body of a young man, who could not have been dead many hours. As I looked at the poor fellow, I thought how many, many times he had struggled to escape from that trackless labyrinth! how he had wandered on and on, ever returning to that same dreadful tree, to start again and fail again, till at last, weary and starving, he had laid him down to die, alone and lost in that vast solitude. I looked at the tin which had attracted my notice, and on the bottom of it, scratched with the point of a knife, was his name and the date, and below it these words, Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.' Then I scooped for the poor lad a shallow grave, and rode upon my way."
So Self leads your soul round and round, entangled in a yoke of bondage. You start, as I said before, with trying, and you return with failing ever to find yourself, with the Fire lying between you and a holy God. "Therefore by the law shall no flesh be justified, for by the law is the knowledge of sin"(Rom. 3:2020Therefore by the deeds of the law there shall no flesh be justified in his sight: for by the law is the knowledge of sin. (Romans 3:20)). What a discovery you thus make! Religious Self is sin, and cannot be altered. As a child of Adam fallen, you cannot establish righteousness, and thus get to life on the principle of law-keeping, for you have no power to keep it. You are without strength; you cannot alter or control yourself. Well is it for you when, like the lonely traveler in the Australian bush, you give up your vain hope to get on by your own efforts, and lay you down in death with a mute appeal to that One who has become" the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believeth " (Rom. 10:44For Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believeth. (Romans 10:4)). FM' Death only can deliver you.
I was looking the other day out on to the restless, rolling ocean, and I saw the shadow of a dark cloud lying over miles of the swelling waters; but beyond that cloud was a snow-white sail, shining in all the glory of the golden sunlight. It was plain that the sun was shining on behind that cloud, which alone shut out his glory from the dark expanse of waters. So has the soul "in the Galatian encampment" passed under the guidance of Self out of the sunshine of perpetual grace into the distance and darkness which belong to what you are as born of Adam. Self wishes to merit the grace of God by Law-keeping or effort, but grace can only flow out when its object has no merits to plead. If the soul follows Self's lead it is fallen from grace, and its efforts to get back into the sunshine are all in vain.
O soul, you have mistaken the way! "Are ye so foolish? having begun in the Spirit, are ye now made perfect by the flesh?" (Gal. 3:33Are ye so foolish? having begun in the Spirit, are ye now made perfect by the flesh? (Galatians 3:3)). Are your own efforts, as a child of Adam, needed to perfect what the Spirit of God has begun in you? The "fiery law" that pealed from Sinai's smoking crest to trembling, vowing Self can only thunder, "Do or die!" can only curse the servant that has "no strength"; can only bring to light the sin that cannot face its fiery gleam. There is no way back to a holy God that way; for there the Flaming Sword still wheels betwixt God and sin, and turns "every way to keep the way of the Tree of Life."