“Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
In this precious and well-known passage we have two points which are very distinct, and yet intimately connected, namely, Christ and His yoke. We have, first, coming to Christ, and its results; and secondly, taking His yoke, and its results. “Come unto me, and I will give you rest.” “Take my yoke, and ye shall find rest.” These things, being distinct, should never be confounded; and, being intimately connected, should never be separated. To confound them, is to dim the luster of divine grace; to separate them, is to infringe upon the claims of divine holiness. Both these evils should be carefully guarded against.
Many there are who hold up before the eye of the “heavy laden” sinner, the yoke of Christ as something which he must “take on” ere his burdened heart can taste of that blessed rest which Christ “gives” to “all” who simply “come unto him,” just as they are. The passage before us does not teach this. It puts Christ first, and His yoke afterward. It does not hide Christ behind His yoke, but rather places Him, in all His attractive grace, before the heart, as the One who can meet every need, remove every weight, hush every guilty fear, fill up every blank, satisfy every longing desire; in a word, who is able to do as He says He will, even to-”“give rest” There are no conditions proposed, no demands made, no barriers erected. The simple, touching, melting, subduing, inviting, winning word is, “Come” It is not, “Go;” “Do;” “Give;” “Bring;” “Feel;” “Realize.” No it is, “Come.” And how are we to “Come?” Just as we are. To whom are we to “Come?” To Jesus. When are we to “Come?” “Now.”
Observe, then, we are to come just as we are. We are not to wait for the purpose of altering a single jot or tittle of our state, condition, or character. To do this, would he to “come” to some alteration or improvement in ourselves; whereas Christ distinctly and emphatically says, “Come unto me.” Many souls err on this point. They think they must amend their ways, alter their course, or improve their moral condition, ere they come to Christ; whereas, in point of fact, until they really do come to Christ they cannot amend, or alter, or improve anything. There is no warrant whatever for anyone to believe that he will be a single whit better, an hour, a day, a month, or a year hence, than he is this moment. And even were he better, he would not, on that account, be a whit more welcome to Christ than he is now. There is no such thing as an offer of salvation, tomorrow. The word is, “Today, if ye will hear his voice, harden not your hearts.” (Heb. 3:1515While it is said, To day if ye will hear his voice, harden not your hearts, as in the provocation. (Hebrews 3:15).) “Behold now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation.” 2 Cor. 6:22(For he saith, I have heard thee in a time accepted, and in the day of salvation have I succored thee: behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation.) (2 Corinthians 6:2).
There is nothing more certain than that all who have ever tried the self-improvement plan have found it an utter failure. They have begun in darkness, continued in misery, and ended in despair. And yet, strange to say, in view of the numberless beacons which are ranged before us, in terrible array, to warn us of the folly and danger of traveling that road, we are sure, at the first, to adopt it. In some way or another, self is looked to, and wrought upon in order to procure a warrant to come to Christ. “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).) Nothing can possibly be a more dreary, depressing, hopeless task, than “going about to establish one’s own righteousness.” Indeed, the dreariness of the task must ever be commensurate with the earnestness and sincerity of the soul that undertakes it. Such an one will, assuredly, have, sooner or later, to give utterance to the cry, “Ο wretched man that I am! and also to ask the question, “Who shall deliver me?” (Rom. 7:2121I find then a law, that, when I would do good, evil is present with me. (Romans 7:21).) There can be no exception. All with whom the Spirit of God has ever wrought, have, in one way or another, been constrained to own the hopelessness of seeking to work out a righteousness for themselves. Christ must be all; self, nothing. This doctrine is easily stated; but oh, the experience!
The same is true, in reference to the grand reality of sanctification. Many who have come to Christ for righteousness have not practically and experimentally laid hold of Him as their sanctification. Whereas He is made of God, unto us, the one as well as the other. “But of him are ye in Christ Jesus, who of God is made unto us wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification and redemption: that” —how deeply important, how cogent the reason! “according as it is written, He that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord.” (Cor. 1:30, 31.) The believer is just as powerless in the work of sanctification as in the work of righteousness. If it were not so, some flesh might glory in the divine presence. I could no more subdue a single lust, or trample underfoot a single passion, or gain the mastery over a single temper, than I could open the kingdom of heaven, or establish my own righteousness before God. This is not sufficiently understood; and hence it is that many true Christians constantly suffer the most humiliating defeats in their practical career. They know that Christ is their righteousness, that their sins are forgiven, that they are children of God; but, then, they are sorely put about by their constant failure in personal holiness, in practical sanctification. Again and again, they enter the lists with some unhallowed desire or unsanctified temper; and, again and again, they are compelled to retire with shame and confusion of face. A person or a circumstance crossed their path yesterday, and caused them to lose their temper, and, having to meet the same today, they resolve to do better; but, alas! they are again forced to retreat in disappointment and humiliation.
Now, it is not that such persons may not pray earnestly for the grace of the Holy Spirit to enable them to conquer both themselves and the influences which surround them. This is not the point. They have not yet learned practically, and, oh! how worthless the mere theory! that they are as completely “without strength” in the matter of “sanctification” as they are in the matter of “righteousness,” and, that as regards both the one and the other, Christ must be all; self, nothing. In a word, they have not yet entered into the meaning of the words, “Come unto me, and I will give you rest.” Here lies the source of their failure. They are as thoroughly powerless in the most trivial matter connected with practical sanctification, as they are in the entire question of their standing before God; and they must be brought to believe this, ere they can know the fullness of the “rest” which Christ gives. It is impossible that I can enjoy rest amid incessant defeats in my practical, daily life.
True, I can come, over and over again, and pour into my Heavenly Father’s ear the humiliating tale of my failure and overthrow. I can confess my sins and find Him ever “faithful and just to forgive me my sins, and to cleanse me from all unrighteousness.” (1 John 1:99If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. (1 John 1:9).) But, then, we must learn Christ as the Lord our sanctification, as well as “The Lord our righteousness;” and, moreover, it is by faith and not by effort, we are to enter into both the one and the other. We look to Christ for righteousness, because we have none of our own; and we look to Christ for practical sanctification, because we have none of our own. It needed no personal effort on our part to get righteousness, because Christ is our righteousness; and it needs no personal effort on our part to get sanctification, because Christ is our sanctification.
It seems strange that, while the inspired apostle distinctly tells us that Christ is “made of God unto us wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption,” we, nevertheless, should attach the idea of personal effort to one out of the four things which he enumerates. Can we guide ourselves in the ten thousand difficulties and details of our Christian course by our own wisdom or sagacity? Surely not. Ought we to make an effort? By no means. Why not? Because God has made Christ to be our “wisdom,” and therefore it is our precious privilege, having been brought to our “wits’ end,” to look to Christ for wisdom. In other words, when Christ says, “Come unto me,” He means that we are to come unto Him for wisdom as well as for all else; and, clearly, we cannot come to Christ, and to our own efforts, at the same time. Nay, so long as we are making efforts, we must be strangers to “rest.”
The same holds good with respect to righteousness. Can we work out a righteousness for ourselves? Surely not. Ought we not to make an effort? By no means. Why not? Because God has made Christ to be unto us “righteousness,” and that righteousness is “to him that worketh not.” Rom. 4:55But to him that worketh not, but believeth on him that justifieth the ungodly, his faith is counted for righteousness. (Romans 4:5).
So also in the matter of “redemption,” which is put last in 1 Cor. 1:30,30But of him are ye in Christ Jesus, who of God is made unto us wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemption: (1 Corinthians 1:30) because it includes the final deliverance of the body of the believer from under the power of death. Could we, by personal effort, deliver our bodies from the dominion of mortality? Surely not. Ought we not to try? The thought was monstrous, yea impious. Why? Because God has made Christ to be unto us “redemption,” as regards both soul and body, and He who has already applied, by the power of His Spirit, that glorious redemption to our souls, will, ere long, apply it to our bodies.
Why, then, let me ask, should “sanctification” be singled out from the precious category, and saddled with the legal and depressing idea of personal effort? If we cannot by our own efforts, get “wisdom, righteousness, and redemption,” are we a whit more likely to succeed in getting “sanctification?” Clearly not. And have we not proved this, times without number? Have not our closet walls witnessed our tears and groans evoked by the painful sense of failure after failure in our own efforts to tread with steady step and erect carriage, the lofty walks of personal sanctity? Will the reader deny this? I trust not. I would fain hope he has responded to the call of Jesus, “Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” It is vain to “labor” in our own strength, after sanctification. We must come to Jesus for that as well as for everything else. And, having come to Jesus, we shall find that there is no lust which He cannot slay, no temper that He cannot subdue, no passion that He cannot overcome. The self-same hand that has canceled our sins, that guides us in our difficulties, and that will, by and by, deliver our bodies from the power of death, can give us complete victory over all our personal infirmities and besetments, and fill our hearts with His sacred rest.
It is, I believe, immensely important to have a clear understanding of the question of sanctification. Hundreds have gone on “laboring and heavy laden” for years, endeavoring to work out in one way or another, their sanctification; and, not having succeeded to their satisfaction—for whoever did, or ever could? —they have been tempted to question if they were ever converted at all. Many, were they to tell out “all the truth,” could adopt as their own, the mournful lines of the poet,
“‘Tis a point I long to know,
Oft it causeth anxious thought,
Do I love the Lord or no?
Am I His or am I not?”
Such persons have clear views of gospel truth. They could, with scriptural accuracy, tell an inquirer after righteousness how, where, and when he could get it. And yet, if that self-same inquirer were to ask them, about their own real state of heart before God, they could give but a sorry answer. Why is this? Simply because they have not laid hold of Christ as their sanctification, as well as their righteousness. They have been endeavoring, partly in their own strength, and partly by praying for the influences of the Holy Spirit, to stumble along the path of sanctification. They would, doubtless, deem a person very ignorant of what is called “the plan of salvation,” if they found him “going about to establish his own righteousness but they do not see that they themselves exhibit, in another way, ignorance of that “plan” by going about to establish their own sanctification. And truly if, in the one case, it is a sorry righteousness which is wrought out, so, in the other case, it is a lame sanctification. For if it be true that “all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags,” it is equally true that all our sanctifications are as filthy rags. Whatever has the word “our” attached to it must be altogether imperfect. Christ is God’s righteousness, and Christ is God’s sanctification. Both the one and the other are to be had by simply coming, looking, clinging, trusting to Christ. I need hardly say, it is by the power of the Spirit, and through the Holy Scriptures that Christ is applied to us, both as our righteousness and oar sanctification. But all this only takes the matter more and more out of our hands, and leaves us nothing to glory in. If we could conquer an evil temper, we might indeed think ourselves clever; but as we are not asked to pick up a feather in order to add to our righteousness, or our wisdom, or our redemption, so neither are we asked to pick up a feather in order to add to our sanctification. In this, as in those, Christ is all: self, nothing. This doctrine is easily stated; but oh, the experience!
And, now, will anyone say that the writer of this article is doing away with sanctification? If so, he may just as well say that he is doing away with “righteousness,” “wisdom” or “redemption.” Who will contend for self-righteousness, self-wisdom or self-redemption? Who but the man that contends for self-sanctification? Who is likely to attain and exhibit the more elevated standard of personal sanctity? Is it the man who is perpetually floundering amid his own imperfect struggles and cobweb-resolutions, or he who is daily, hourly, and momentarily clinging to Christ as his sanctification? The answer is simple. The sanctification which we get in Christ is as perfect as the righteousness, the wisdom, and the redemption. Am I doing away with “wisdom,” because I say I am foolish? Am I doing away with “righteousness,” because I say, I am guilty? Am I doing away with “redemption,” because I say, I am mortal? Am I doing away with “sanctification,” because I say, I am vile? Yes, I am doing away with all these things so far as “I” am concerned, in order that I may find them all in Christ. This is the point. All—all in Christ!
Oh! when shall we learn to get to the end of self, and cling simply to Christ? When shall we enter into the depth and power of those words “Come unto me?” He does not say, “come unto my yoke.” No; but, “come unto me.” We must cease from our own works, in every shape and form, and come to Christ, —come, just as we are—come, now. We come to Christ and get rest from and in Him before ever we hear a word about the “yoke.” To put the yoke first is to displace everything. If a “heavy laden” sinner thinks of the yoke, he must be overwhelmed by the thought of his own total inability to take it upon him or carry it. But when he comes to Jesus and enters into His precious rest, he finds the “yoke is easy and the burden light.”
2. This conducts us to the second point in our subject, namely, “the yoke.” It has been already observed that we must keep the two things distinct. To confound them, is to tarnish the heavenly luster of the grace of Christ, and to put a yoke upon the sinner’s neck and a burden upon his shoulder which he, as being “without strength,” is wholly unable to bear. But, then, they are morally connected. All who come to Christ, must take His yoke upon them and learn of Him, if they would “find rest unto their souls “To come to Christ is one thing; to walk with Him, or learn of Him, is quite another. Christ was “meek and lowly in heart.” He could meet the most adverse and discouraging circumstances with an “even so, Father.” The Baptist’s heart might fail amid the heavy clouds which gathered around him in Herod’s dungeon; the men of that generation might refuse the double testimony of righteousness and grace, as furnished by the ministry of John and of our Lord Himself; Bethsaida, Chorazin, and Capernaum might refuse the testimony of His mighty works-a torrent of evidence which one might suppose would sweep away every opposing barrier; all these things, and many more might cross the path of the Divine Workman; but, being “meek and lowly in heart,” He could say, “I thank thee, Ο Father—even so, Father, for so it seemed good in thy sight.” His “rest” in the Father’s counsels was profound and perfect; and He invites us to take His yoke, to learn of Him, to drink into His spirit, to know the practical results of a subject mind, that so we may find rest unto our souls.” A broken will is the real ground of the rest which we are to “find,” after we have come to Christ. If God wills one thing, and we will another, we cannot find rest in that. It matters not what the scene or circumstance may be. We may swell a list of things, to any imaginable extent, in which our will may run counter to the will of God; but, in whatever it is, we cannot find rest so long as our will is unbroken. We must get to the end of self in the matter of will, as well as in the matter of “wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, or redemption,” else we shall not “find rest.”
This, my beloved reader, is deep, real, earnest, personal work. Moreover, it is a daily thing. It is a continual taking of Christ’s yoke upon us, and learning of Him. It is not that we take the yoke in order to come to Christ. No; but we come to Christ first, and then, when His love fills and satisfies our souls, when His rest refreshes our spirits, when we can gaze, by faith, upon His gracious countenance, and see Him stooping down to confer upon us the high and holy privilege of wearing His yoke and learning His lesson, we find that His yoke is indeed easy, and His burden light. Unsubdued, unjudged, unmortified nature could never wear that yoke or bear that burden. The first thing is, “Come unto me, and I will give you rest.” The second thing is, “Take my yoke upon you, and ye shall find rest.”
We must never reverse these things—never confound them—never displace them—never separate them. To call upon a sinner to take Christ’s yoke before he has gotten Christ’s rest, is to place Christ on the top of Mount Sinai, the sinner at the foot of that Mount, and a dark impenetrable cloud between. This must not be done. Christ stands, in all His matchless grace, before the sinner’s eye, and pours forth his touching invitation, “Come,” and adds His heart-assuring promise, “I will give.” There is no condition, no demand, “no servile work.” All is the purest, freest, richest grace. Just, “come, and I will give you rest.” And what then? Is it bondage, doubt, and fear? Ah! no ‘‘Take my yoke upon you.” How marvelously near this brings us to the One who has already given us rest! What a high honor to wear the same yoke with Him! It is not that He puts a grievous yoke upon our neck and a heavy burden upon our shoulder, which we have to carry up the rugged sides of you fiery Mount. This is not Christ’s way. It is not thus He deals with the weary and heavy laden that come unto Him. He gives them rest. He gives them part of His yoke, and a share of His burden. In other words, He calls them into fellowship with Himself, and in proportion as they enter into this fellowship, they find still deeper and deeper rest in Him and in His blessed ways; and, at the close, He will conduct them into that eternal rest which remains for the people of God.
May the Lord enable us to enter, more fully, into the power of all these divine realities, that so His joy may remain in us, and our joy may be full. There is an urgent need of a full, unreserved surrender of the heart to Christ, and a full, unreserved acceptance of Him, in all His precious adaptation to our every need. We want the whole heart, the single eye, the mortified mind, the broken will. Where these exist, there will be little complaining of doubts and fears, ups and downs, heavy days, vacant hours, restless moments, dullness and stupor, wandering and barrenness. When one has got to the end of himself, as regards wisdom, righteousness, holiness, and all beside, and when he has really found Christ as God’s provision for ALL, then, but not until then, he will know the depth and power of that word, “REST.”
“ Now, then, my Lord, my Way, my Life,
Henceforth, let trouble, doubt, and strife,
Drop off as Autumn leaves:
Henceforth, as privileged by Thee,
Simple and undistracted be,
My soul which to thy scepter cleaves
At all times, to my spirit bear
An inward witness, soft and clear,
Of Thy redeeming power:
This will instruct thy child, and fit,
Will sparkle forth whate’er is meet,
For exigence of every hour.
Thus, all the sequel is well weighed;
I cast myself upon Thine aid,
A sea where none can sink,
Yea, in that sphere I stand, poor worm,
Where Thou wilt for Thy name perform
Above whate’er I ask or think.”