“I DON'T know what can be the matter with me; my heart seems as hard as a stone, and such wicked thoughts come into my mind sometimes. I can't help wondering whether I am really a child of God or not. And yet I am sure that I have trusted in Christ as my Savior. I well remember the day when I first rejoiced in knowing that my sins were forgiven.
“But something has come over me that I do not understand; it is all so different from what I expected. Have I made a mistake? Is it possible that I have not been truly converted at all?
“I hear people speak of being occupied with Christ.' I have tried to be occupied with Christ, but I cannot. It is of no use to try. I know what is right, but I seem always to be doing what is wrong. When I am in the company of Christian friends I feel as if I were a hypocrite. I hate myself for it all; but all my endeavors to be different end in failure.”
Does the language of your heart find an echo in this disconsolate plaint? Has an experience akin to that described been yours? Then you will welcome any help in getting to the root of the difficulty. The aim of this paper is to afford such help.
It is indeed true that the sinner who trusts in Christ may rejoice that his sins are forgiven, and this, not because of anything found in him, but for what Christ is for him. Nor has he merely his own feeling to rest upon. God's sure Word is the ground of his assurance, for that Word declares that "God, for Christ's sake, hath forgiven you," and that "all that believe are justified from all things." You will find these peace-giving words in Eph. 4:32 and Acts 13:39. They are true, no matter what you feel, and they apply in all their force to all who trust in the Savior.
But your difficulty lies elsewhere. You have been discovering that you yourself are hopelessly bad. Like David, your soul dwells with "him that hateth peace." You are for peace, but something within you is for war (Psa. 120:6, 7). With David, however, it was somebody else that was the plague of his life, but in your case it is yourself, your own treacherous heart.
Now in Scripture there is a special name given to this enemy, it is called "the flesh." Do not confound this with your body. Your body is one of flesh and blood, but the word is used in quite a different sense when referring to that of which we now speak. Your body belongs to the Lord; it is the temple of the Holy Ghost, and one day it will be changed and fashioned in the likeness of Christ's glorious body. "The flesh," on the contrary, is incurably bad. There is no blessing for it, nor can it ever be brought into subjection to God.
In the Old Testament there is a striking type of this evil thing; I mean Amalek, the first foe that came against Israel after their redemption from Egypt. God declared that He would have perpetual war with this wicked nation, and eventually all remembrance of it would be blotted out (Ex. 17:14, 16).
King Saul, however, in his day was of the opinion that some good thing might be found in Amalek, something that he might even offer as a sacrifice to God. Everything that was manifestly "vile and refuse" Saul and his servants utterly destroyed, but they spared "all that was good." It brought about Saul's utter overthrow. He spared a part of that which God had utterly condemned, and it was his ruin (1 Sam. 15).
Here lies a lesson of extreme importance. Nothing pertaining to "the flesh" is good in God's sight. Its manifestly evil works, such as those named in Gal. 5:19-21, we are ready enough to condemn, but there are other things towards which we are more tolerant. We say, "Oh, that does not matter;" or, "There is no harm in that." In this way we often do as King Saul so foolishly did, and spare "the flesh.”
It was formerly the fashion to leave in large gardens an uncultivated corner, in which wild plants might grow. Now-a- days the custom is not so general, for gardeners have found that the neglected patch becomes a breeding-place for creatures whose ravages do damage to the whole garden. In the same way, any tolerance of "the flesh" is disastrous. If, while refusing it in its grosser forms, we allow it in some plausible shape, we do but prepare a harvest of sorrow for ourselves.
Now it is not always easy to discern what is of the flesh "and what is not." The flesh," when clothed with the advantages of education, refinement, and natural ability, is often mistaken for that which is really good in the sight of God.
In bygone days it was extremely difficult to detect well-made imitation jewels. But since the Rontgen rays have been brought into general use the difficulty has been effectually overcome. A sensitized plate, encased in an envelope of orange color, and covered by three folds of heavy black paper, is the means employed. On one occasion, various kinds of precious stones, including diamonds, pearls, rubies, sapphires, and amethysts were mixed with the best imitation stones that could be procured. In the resulting photograph there was hardly a trace of the genuine jewels, while the false ones all came out dense black.
How valuable a test like this must prove to those who have the handling of such articles. We, too, have an infallible test whereby all that is of "the flesh" is exposed in its black and deadly character. The Word of God, we are told, is "a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart" (Heb. 4:12). That Word teaches us what is according to the nature of God, so that as we study it, and prayerfully meditate upon the truths that it proclaims, our spiritual perceptions become keener, and we are enabled to recognize "the flesh" in the conceit, the selfishness, and the love of praise which are natural to us, as well as in that which is more manifestly evil.
It is often a surprise and a shock to us to discover that what we took credit for, and prided ourselves epee, is nothing, after all, but a " work of the flesh.”
A lady traveler in Japan relates that as she and her companions stood one evening on the steps of their hotel, they heard a sound as if some bird was calling, "Me! me! me!" Not being acquainted with the Japanese name for this creature, they spoke of it as the "Me-bird." (Is there not a "me-bird" in the heart of many a Christian, always calling, "Me! me! me!" and longing for someone to caress it—a "me-bird" that never likes to see anyone else in front of it?)
The next day, on inquiry, they found that what they took to be a bird was only an insect which made that curious sound—"me! me! Me!"—with its wings. Perhaps some reader of these lines has been living a life of self-occupation and self-cultivation, thinking of it as of a bird with melodious song and rainbow-colored plumage, when in reality it is nothing but "the flesh.”
We find an illustration of this in connection with Amalek, the Old Testament type of "the flesh.”
A young man —AN AMALEKITE— fresh from the fatal field of Gilboa, where King Saul and the flower of Israel had fallen in battle, came running in breathless haste to David. Imagining that nothing would give David greater pleasure than to hear of the death of Saul, he boastfully claimed credit for having slain him.
Mark the description that he gives of the scene: "When he looked behind him, he saw ME, and called unto ME. And I answered, Here am I" (margin, Behold ME O. "SO I stood upon him, and slew him, because I was sure that he could not live after that he was fallen; and I took the crown that was upon his head" (2 Sam. 1:7-10).
The veracity of this young Amalekite is open to question. It seems that he claimed credit for doing more than he actually did. We know how "the flesh" loves to exaggerate any circumstance that will reflect glory upon oneself. But supposing his story to be strictly true, how different David's reception of it from that which the young man had anticipated. That which in his eyes was a thing to be boasted of, was in David's sight a thing to be utterly condemned, and for which the young man had to die.
The New Testament plainly declares that "the minding of the flesh" (Rom. 8:7, margin) "is enmity against God; for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be." "The flesh" is of no use whatever in the service of God. It is of no possible help to the Christian. It may thrust itself into God's service and assert itself in connection with Christianity, but there is nothing but judgment and doom for it. These, then, are the two great lessons we have to learn as to "the flesh":
To recognize its workings as of "the flesh," by the help of the Word of God.
To refuse all thought of its being of any use in God's service, or of any help to us in our Christian life and testimony.
Do you groan over the incorrigibleness of "the flesh"? Have you ever determined—perhaps by earnest prayer and fasting, accompanied by a diligent watch upon your actions—to put an end forever to the trouble it gives you? Have you tried this—and with what success? I know your answer—the only possible one that an honest soul can give—all your efforts have ended in failure and disappointment!
“Then," you ask, "is my life to be one long, weary, disappointing struggle? Is there no deliverance for me?”
Indeed there is, but it must be in God's way, not in yours. Your way would be to get rid of "the flesh" at one stroke, so that there would be no traitor within you, nothing to plague you with its incorrigible evil. But God's way is to put within you something else, and to give you, in connection with that new thing, a wonderful Power that is far greater than the power that energizes "the flesh.”
What He imparts is a new life and nature, of which He Himself is the blessed source; and the Power that He gives to dwell within you is nothing less than the Holy Spirit Himself.
The new life and nature is yours as born of God. No taint of sin can ever attach thereto, and no evil desire can ever spring therefrom. The Holy Spirit within you is the power by which you enjoy the things of God. He carries you, in thought, away from yourself and your failures, and fixes your mind upon Christ. By His divine aid you discover the matchless worth and perfection of that blessed One, and your heart is enchanted. Your joy, your occupation, your very life, is now wrapped up with Him.
So long as you keep your eye on Him, all is well. But "the flesh" has undergone no change. The fact of your having a new nature has not improved the old. Nor can there be any peace between the Spirit and the flesh. Just as God declared perpetual war with Amalek, so "the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh: and these are contrary the one to the other" (Gal. 5:17).
The way of practical deliverance from the domination of the flesh is to "walk in the Spirit." "This I say then, walk in the Spirit, and ye shall not fulfill the lust of the flesh." There is no other way of practical deliverance than this. But, thank God, it is a way open to every Christian until the moment that the Lord comes, and we are forever rid of "the flesh" and all its crooked ways. May He hasten the day!