The whole Christian life may be summed up in two acts - coming to Christ, and abiding in Christ.
Everyone that has lost his baptismal innocency, if he will save his soul has to come back to our Lord. Each has his own history, his own experience of all that this means. God leads different souls in different ways; some, no doubt, have stopped suddenly in a life of alienation and in a moment have turned and begun to trace their steps back; with others the process has been so slow and gradual that they can scarcely tell where or how it began. There was a growing discontent with their life, a deepening desire for better things, struggles often - most often - ending in failure, efforts to pray, a sense of weakness and of sin, a gradual movement accompanied by many relapses, which ended in the soul finding itself turned and facing Godward.
Some have felt sensibly in all this process a marked and conscious action of God's Grace, a sense of the divine assistance that at times seemed almost irresistible, making everything easy, and seeming to lift the soul out of the reach of its old temptations and habits. With others it has been different; there has been from moment to moment little sense of God's assistance or of His love, only the consciousness of the hand-to-hand struggle with sin and of the difficulties to be overcome. The experience of one is not the experience of another; God delights to deal with each in His own way as He sees to be best, and much harm is done by pressing personal experience into the sphere of dogma, and trying to urge our own experiences upon others. It is only as they look back, it may be after many years, that they are able to say, 'If the Lord Himself had not been on our side, when men rose up against us, they had swallowed us up quick, when they were so wrathfully displeased at us; but praised be the Lord who hath not given us over for a prey unto their teeth: our soul is escaped, even as a bird out of the snare of the fowler; the snare is broken, and we are delivered.'
There are two sides to all the actions of our Christian life - the work of our own will and of the grace of God. God cannot work in us apart from our own co-operation, and all our most strenuous endeavours must fail without the assistance of His grace. Some are more conscious of one side, some of the other, though in all both the human and the divine must co-operate. Saint Paul brings the two sides together when he says, 'Work out your own salvation, for it is God that worketh in you.' Our Lord teaches both sides when He says, 'No man cometh unto Me except the Father which hath sent Me draw him;' and again, 'I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men unto Me.' Here He teaches us the action of God upon the soul, but He says again, 'Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.' Here He appeals to the soul; the coming must be its own act. It is not to be wondered at that some ardent natures are most conscious of the drawing, while others feel most the action of their own will; the experiences of both are true to the teaching of Scripture, but each has felt one side so strongly that he has not been always conscious of the other.
Now the coming to Christ is not by a movement of the body but of the mind; it is the entering into a certain relationship with a Person. We know how quickly we may travel away from one whom we have loved; it is not so easy to return. Not many days after the prodigal's breach with his father he was in a far country; it took him a long time to get back. Two persons may be living side by side and gradually drifting further apart though they are constantly in one another's company. A husband and wife, bound by God in that mystical union which makes ' them twain to be one flesh,' may nevertheless be as far apart as the poles. Two friends who had no interest apart one from the other a few days ago, may find that some little jar or slight misunderstanding makes it impossible to give or take sympathy today; the voice that was so full of kindness seems to have lost its true ring. A separation has begun. Often, indeed, the closer and more intimate the friendship the quicker and more complete the separation when once it begins; it is easier to make up a quarrel with a mere acquaintance than with a dear friend.
Thus there are constant movements of heart and mind without any bodily movements; in a day, in an hour, the heart and mind and will may have gone a long journey. The drawing near of two friends or their separation is like nothing else. It is the mysterious action of one person upon another. How different it is from a merely intellectual process. You have read and inquired as much as possible about some well-known person; you know what he has done and said, and to a large extent you can understand the tone of his mind on most subjects, and you have made up your own mind about him - you do not like him; yet five minutes in his company changes your whole feeling towards him; you have come directly in contact with his person, and through a hundred channels he lets in upon you a knowledge of himself that you never could gain in any other way. You ask yourself what has made you change your mind; has he argued away your prejudice, has he answered the objections you had to his conduct? No; he has not even referred to them. The fact is, you had previously only an intellectual knowledge about him, now you know himself, that subtle thing, a personal life, has flowed in upon you through no one channel but through many, and the conclusions of one part of your nature are corrected or balanced by those of another. What a journey you have taken in those five minutes from the time when you held aloof from him on your first meeting to the time - a few minutes after - when you felt prejudice, dislike, antagonism, all give way, and you let yourself go out towards him, saying, 'I like him.' This is the 'coming ' of one person to another, the only personal drawing near, not of the body but of the self.
And this is but an illustration of the soul's coming to Christ; it is the coming to a Person in such a way as only one person can come to another, the bringing oneself under and surrendering oneself to a personal influence. It does not consist in a great deal of knowledge about Him, but in knowing Him; indeed, many have come knowing very little about Him, learning all that was to be known from Himself. Nathanael came full of prejudice and with strong biblical arguments against what Philip had told him of his claims. Two sentences from our Lord's own lips sweep away all the arguments and prejudices, and bring him to His feet with a profession of faith like Saint Peter's: 'Thou art the Son of God, Thou art the king of Israel.' (John 1:49)
In the formation of any friendship two persons have to be considered; there may be obstacles, or lack of sympathy, or misunderstanding on both sides, or one may be most anxious for a friendship from which the other holds back. The friendship does not depend merely upon the efforts of one. But in drawing near to Christ we know that there are no obstacles on His side. No; He has not to be won round, He is the suppliant; the hindrances, prejudice, dislike, ignorance, are all on our side. If only we remove them we shall find how close He is to us. We have taken our journey into a far country of moral alienation, we care for, are interested in, perhaps live wholly absorbed in things which are hateful to Him, and we are injuring the work for which He gave His life. However near we may be to Him outwardly, we are worlds apart from Him in heart and will, and the return must be by the effort to get into moral sympathy, the struggle to do right, the determination at any rate to be in earnest. He who longs and strives to be good has already created a bond of sympathy with Christ, has returned, indeed, a long way towards Him. As one after another of those barriers which we have set up in ourselves are removed, the light and love come streaming in, and the bonds of that mystical friendship become woven which grow stronger through eternity.
It is a wonderful experience which the soul gains in that journey which consists not in traversing space, but in a moral approach, a turning of the mind to contemplate and the will to choose and, at last, of the heart to love what Christ loves, and then finding behind all this the living, loving Person who reveals Himself.
The first act of the soul, then, is the coming to Christ; though this in one sense never ends, for it is ever drawing nearer as it grows in holiness and admits more and more of His knowledge and love.
The other act is the abiding in Him. Having drawn near it must abide - it is always more difficult to be passive than active, the very effort in coming, the consciousness of meeting and overcoming difficulties, strengthens and encourages the soul; but to abide - there is where so many fail. Many of those who have drawn near turn aside and walk no more with Him - unable to persevere. Only he that is 'faithful unto death shall receive the crown of life.' (Revelation 2:10) The life of the saints in heaven is the eternal abiding in Him to whom they came here on earth.
Now the abiding in Christ involves three things.
1. First, negatively the giving up of everything that hinders this union. After the first great surrender of what is positively sinful, no rule can be laid down which is applicable to every one. There are many things that are harmless in themselves that some feel obliged to give up if they would abide in Christ; there are things, indeed, that may be helpful to one which would be a hindrance to another. We cannot lay down arbitrary rules as to what is necessary to be given up in the way of pleasure, or relaxation, or self-indulgence; the wisest guide will, I believe, leave each to take the initiative as to what he must and must not do. It would be a fatal thing to begin by exacting too much. Who can tell how God intends to lead another? All that the wisest can do is to point out what seems to be God's leading. The fact that I feel obliged to deal very sternly with myself does not necessarily involve that another should. A pleasure that would be wrong for me might be very good for another. Many a person might say with perfect truth, I cannot give up such and such a thing, I do not love God sufficiently to do without it, my life would be too empty, it does not in any way come between me and God at present. No; in the earlier stages of the spiritual life it would not be true to say that God was all in all to one: there are doubtless various portions of one's life which God has not yet won to Himself, and these are filled up by pursuits and interests which, so far, do not interfere with God's hold upon the soul; the soul, so far as it knows God, is abiding in Him.
There is a better way of leading men onward; it is the way of nature as well as the way of grace - positively rather than negatively. I ask you as you begin to serve God to make but one rule - to give up all that you are conscious of hindering your union with Him. As you get to know Him better He will become more exacting in His demands; you will find that many things which now are harmless and in a measure necessary to you will begin to interfere with your union with God. Resolve that if you find this you will give them up; you will be able to do in a few years what it would be absurd to ask you to do now. As God comes more into your life and demands that it should be more emptied of other things, obey Him and He will reward you by a greater gift of Himself. The whole pathway of your life will thus be strewn with various things that you have abandoned for what is better, things that once seemed to you necessary to your life. The advance is a constant self-emptying, but not that your life may. be a void, but to make room for larger interests, keener pleasures, deeper joys, a more absorbing love. Once you said, 'If the spiritual life means the giving up of this work or companionship, I do not think it would be worth the sacrifice.' 'Very well,' was the answer; 'do not give it up, keep it till you feel that the spiritual life is the love of a Person for whom it is worth giving it up.' Now it is gone, for you have come in sight of what is more worth having. The growth in the spiritual life is thus a constant exchange: first the giving up of what is positively bad for good, then the surrender of things good in themselves for better: 'For brass I will bring gold, and for iron I will bring silver, and for wood brass, and for stones iron.' (Isaiah 60:17) Such is the promise in the kingdom of the Messias, and at last 'The sun shall be no more thy light by day, neither for brightness shall the moon give light unto thee; but the Lord shall be unto thee an everlasting light, and thy God thy glory.' (Isaiah 60:19) Even the sun and moon shall become needless; in some new and more direct experience of God they shall need nothing to reflect His light, but drink immediately from Himself His strength and inspiration.
This is the meaning of the life of sacrifice; it has ever before it a positive rather than a negative end, and it aims at life, not death - death only as the gateway to a better life. It looks with no puritan eye of contempt at the fair things that the world has, or at those whose lives are less stern; it only gives up what it does surrender to gain something better.
'For the power to give up many things - every earthly thing - is at bottom a power of not being able to do without other things. He to whom honour is necessary can do without money. He who must have goodness can get along without praise. He who must have God's communion can do without the sweet companionship of fellow-men. He who cannot lose his eternity can easily cast aside time and the body which belongs to it, and by the martyr's slow or sudden death exchange the visible for the invisible, the symbol for the reality; nay, he who values most intensely his friend's or his child's life, can, not easily, but still not grudgingly, let go the joy and daily comfort of his friend's or his child's hourly presence, and see him die that he may enter into life.
'On these two ladders, as it were, by these two seals, the order of human character mounts up - the power to do without and the power not to do without. As you grow better there are some things that are always growing looser in their grasp upon you; there are other things that are always taking tighter hold upon your life. You sweep up out of the grasp of money, praise, ease, distinction. You sweep up into the necessity of truth, courage, virtue, love, and God. The gravitation of the earth grows weaker, the gravitation of the stars takes stronger and stronger hold upon you. And, on the other hand, as you grow worse, as you go down the terrible opposite of all, this comes to pass. The highest necessities let you go, and the lowest necessities take tighter hold of you. Still, as you go down, you are judged by what you can do without and what you cannot do without. You come down at last where you cannot do without a comfortable dinner and an easy bed, but you can do without an act of charity or a thought of God. The poor sot finds his misery sealed with this double seal, that he cannot miss his glass of liquor, and he can miss without a sigh every good company and virtuous wish.
The abiding in Christ, then, demands a surrender of all that hinders the union of the soul with Him. There is no broad rule that can be laid down beforehand; it is an individual matter between each soul and Christ. All possibility of pride or harsh criticism of others is out of the question, for none can judge beforehand of what another ought to give up. Each must follow as he is led, resolving that if need be he will give up all for all.
2. But again, the abiding in Christ involves the positive clinging to Him. It is like the growth of a friendship; at first these two people were very little to one another, but by intercourse and acts of kindness they got to know one another better, then one took more hold upon the thoughts of the other, the influence became stronger, when outwardly separated they were less and less apart in thought. Every faculty of the soul was brought under the influence imagination, memory, affection. So it is with the soul's abiding in Christ; there is an ever-growing intimacy and interchange of thought, the mind is more constantly filled with His presence, His influence gradually penetrates through the whole soul, shaping and forming the character. The first question in coming to any decision is, 'What would He wish?' the last question when any work is done is, 'Will it be pleasing to Him?' The whole character is swayed and controlled by His influence. How wonderful it is to see many a rough, undisciplined self-centred man pass beneath the spell of that sacred Presence and gradually become transformed, still, indeed, himself, but all with that unmistakable characteristic that betokens His work.
'For good ye are and bad, and like to coins,
Some true, some light, but every one of you
Stamped with the image of the King.'
If, then, the soul is abiding in Christ, the mind will be more and more filled with the thought of Him, His influence will be consciously felt in all one does. None can live near Him without becoming like Him.
3. And, once more, the abiding in Christ is not all our own doing. If we are striving to hold fast to Him, we must remember that He is holding us more tightly still in His grasp. We often feel how difficult it is to keep near Him; but have we not felt, too, at times how difficult it is to break away from Him? He will not let us go. There have been times when inwardly we had altogether broken with Him, but He still kept His Hand upon us and drew us back. We have sometimes rebelled at His persistency and felt, 'I wish He would leave me to go my own way.' No, it is not so easy to get free from His grasp; if ever there is a final breach between the soul and Christ, the last hand to loose its hold is His, not ours.
Now, the result of this life of union with Christ is that it brings forth fruit. ' As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine, no more can ye, except ye abide in Me.' (John 15:4) The branch is to be adorned with the fruit of the vine. 'I am the Vine, ye are the branches.' 'He that abideth in Me and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit, for apart from Me ye can do nothing.' The soul is to be adorned with the graces of Christ; it is to show forth virtues that are not its own by nature, but are the result of the action of our Lord's life upon it; as the sap of the vine circulates through the branch, so is the life of Christ to flow into and to nourish the soul, and this will have visible results, the branch will be laden with the fruit of the vine; it is unmistakable: ' Of thorns men do not gather figs, nor of a bramble-bush gather they grapes;' (Luke 6:44) the fruit of the soul will betoken its union with the true vine. This is the purpose of all God's dealings with it, that it may bring forth not leaves only but fruit. And for this purpose He prunes it. If it were not for the pruning, much of the sap would be exhausted in bringing forth leaves; but the husbandman prunes it, cutting off much of the over-luxuriant growth, that in the autumn there may be a plenteous harvest of fruit. The result of the pruning is at first a loss of the natural rich and undisciplined growth. The tree has lost under the pruning knife all its beauty, much of its apparent life, but time shows that the husbandman acted wisely when the grapes begin to fill and ripen.
Now our Lord says, 'I am the Vine, and My Father is the Husbandman.' His cause and ours is the same. He is the vine, we the branches, therefore the Father deals with every branch with the same tender care as He has for the vine. To injure the branch is to injure the tree; we are sure while we abide in the vine that no real harm shall happen unto us, though much that is beautiful and the outcome of the free play of life may need to be pruned away, and though we cannot see the wisdom of much that is done till long after, till the time of the ripening fruit comes.
But all this most people can understand. We all know how much we need to be dealt with and disciplined by one who understands us better than we know ourselves, and whose love is strong enough to take from us those harmful things which we have not the courage to give up ourselves; if only we can perceive the action of the Husbandman, we are prepared to accept it humbly and patiently. But how many things happen that it seems impossible to trace to the Hand of God, nay, that we can clearly trace to a very different hand, the hand not of love but of hate. How often has the sins of another been the discipline of one's life, sometimes with a refinement of cruelty that seems diabolical. Two persons are bound together in marriage, seemingly to curse and ruin one another. A husband takes pleasure in hurting his wife in every possible way, in throwing every difficulty in her path when she tries to do right, seeking to degrade her and rob her of all self-respect; or a wife makes her husband's life unbearable; how is it possible to attribute such things to God? Many a person says, 'If I could see God's hand in all this, I would try to accept it, but I cannot.'
But we must distinguish between the pruning knife and the hand that holds it; the knife may be forged in hell; there need be neither wisdom nor love in it, but it cannot cut unless someone takes it into his hand. The gardener takes that cruel steel that finds pleasure merely in cutting, and he directs and controls it; it cannot lop off any leaf or any branch, it can only do the work that it is directed to do. No, there is no love in it, but along that sharp edge there trembles the love and the wisdom of the gardener who uses it 'Thou couldst have no power at all against Me except it were given thee from above;' (John 19:11) so said our Lord to Pilate, whose cowardice and weakness were, as it were, His pruning knife. He looked not at the knife, but at the hand that held it. 'My Father is the Husbandman.' If we try to do this we shall often see the wisdom and the love that directs and controls the most ruthless cruelty of another in its action upon our own life. How her love for her worthless son has been the scourge of that woman's life; yes, and as we look deeper we can see it was to all human appearance the only thing that could have brought her to God; the knife was wisely guided, though it cut so deep. How that fair home was wrecked by that woman's sin, and her husband was so proud of his home, and loved it so; it was perhaps just the one point on which he could be reached. While the things of earth were so happy he had no thought for the deeper things of life, and the knife cut it all cruelly away, and then in time the fruit began to appear, though for a long time the life looked unshapely and bare, and almost without the power to put itself forth again.
It will be always so; the Husbandman can use any knife, but He will always act with wisdom and with love. For the pruning is a token that the branch has the possibility of bearing fruit: 'Every branch that beareth fruit He pruneth it, that it may bring forth more fruit.'
Therefore, if the soul has come to Christ and is abiding in Him, it must expect to find the Hand of God upon it. In all that comes upon it, it must look up beyond the mere instrument through which its troubles immediately come; it must look to see the hand that holds and guides the knife, and it must yield itself to the discipline, only longing that its life may be enriched and adorned by the fruit that comes from the branches abiding in the vine.
- text taken from Some Principles and Practices of the Spiritual Life, by Father Basil William Maturin