By Beverly Carradine
WITH certain Christian people the expression, I have 'a satisfying
portion,' seems to excite wonder and disapproval. To some it savors of
boasting, to others it sounds unscriptural, and to still others it betrays
ignorance of the laws of growth and that constant advancement in divine
things which should mark the course of the child of God. The idea of the
objectors is that such a statement in its application to religious experience
precludes all possibility of development and improvement, and means
virtually a standstill, and so spiritual stagnation and death.
These objections are made in the face of clear statements of the Word of
God to the contrary, and in strange failure to distinguish between the
spiritual progress of the soul which goes on forever, and a divine grace and
blessing nestling eternally in that same soul which is developing forever. If
a constant growth and improvement in the spiritual life prohibit an abiding
satisfaction and joy on earth, then that same advancement in eternity
would prevent a glad, satisfying experience in heaven.
But the Bible is clear about fullness of joy in both worlds; and while
saying that in the skies we hunger no more neither thirst any more, being
led to fountains of living waters by the hand of Christ, it also says that
even in this life a well of water can be placed in the soul, springing up into
everlasting life, and having that, we 'never thirst.' If this is not a
satisfying portion what can it be called?
In closer study of the Scripture we find that it holds up just such a
blessing, and that when men receive it, from that moment they seem to
possess something which comforts them in every sorrow, supports them
in every trial, cheers them in every peril, consoles them in all suffering and
loss, and, in a word, proves the compensating blessing of life.
Given to the disciples in the Upper Room, and to others later, all who read
the Book of Acts and the Epistles will see that the followers of Christ
obtained an experience which prepared them not only for living but for
serving, preaching, suffering and dying. No matter what was said about
them, or done to them; no matter whether slandered, scourged, imprisoned
or slain - yet through the trial and to the end there was such faith, holy
triumph, and rapturous joy that all could see that beyond the tormented
body were spiritual regions where the earthly tortures could not come.
That back there and up there was a something which consoled and
comforted and compensated the suffering followers of Jesus beyond all
words to describe, and thought to understand.
As an experience it affected and does still affect God's people like wine.
The multitude honestly supposed for a time at Pentecost that the one
hundred and twenty were drunk. The 'new wine' explanation of that day
is not held to now, but the spiritual intoxication, as exhibited in gleaming
eyes, shining face, shouts, laughter, weeping and physical
demonstrativeness, is supposed to be the result of cerebral excitement,
mental frenzy and wrought up physical conditions. Men seem to be as
slow to understand God's works today as they were in the beginning of
the first century.
Nevertheless the experience is with us still, a great, glad, upwelling,
perfectly satisfying joy, whether people understand it and us or not. Who
in such a weary, heartbreaking world as this would not have it? Who on
hearing of such a grace could ever rest content until its obtainment?
There are certain occasions when this satisfying portion, this
compensating blessing is especially precious to us. Blessed at all times,
yet there are hours and occasions when it is thrice blessed.
One is a time of persecution.
It is noticeable in the gospel narrative that whenever the disciples are
called upon to endure great suffering for Christ's sake, that a mighty
spiritual uplift would be granted them, and they would burst forth into
songs of praise and shouts of victory where usually groans and
lamentations would be expected. Beaten with stripes they rejoiced that
they were counted worthy to suffer for Christ; and unjustly condemned
and cruelly handled they sang praises at midnight in a dungeon. It seemed
that they possessed something in their souls God-given and constantly
replenished, which extracted the sting from human maltreatment, and
richly repaid them for all pain and shame suffered for the Son of God.
When we thus describe the experience of the early Christians we are
simply drawing a picture of what is going on in hearts and lives today. It is
the same gospel, and the same Holy Ghost. To live godly is still to suffer
persecution, but with the detraction, misrepresentation, ostracism and all
the many and varied trials which befall the devoted man or woman, there
comes instantly the gracious sustaining power and reward in the breast,
and the filling of the soul with an experience so sweet, tender and
satisfying that the man is beyond all question far happier than his
persecutors, and seems to be caught up in a third heaven of holy calm and
victory.
When a boy we remember that our mother was accustomed to make in
addition to her pickles and preserves a certain amount of blackberry
cordial. She placed the rich, sweet, fragrant fluid in bottles and stationed
them in a row on a shelf in the closet. To this day I can recall their
soldier-like appearance with white paper labels on their black sides,
containing the words 'Blackberry cordial,' written in my mothers
beautiful handwriting.
The cordial was a kind of panacea for children's maladies and troubles.
More than once, on account of failing appetite, or some bruise or cut
received by a topple from the fence or a fall from a tree, a sip of the cordial
would be given the weeping youngster, and his lips smacked with
enjoyment, and a pleased smile would overspread his face while the tears
still rested in heavy drops on the eyelashes.
So God has a cordial which is a compensation for the blows, cuts and
bruises received at the hands of men. It is quickly placed to the lips when
cruel words have been spoken, or heartless blows have been struck, and at
once the pangs are forgotten, the soul is warmed and fired, the mouth is
filled with laughter, and we walk unburned in the furnace, and in rapturous
communion with the 'form of a fourth' which is that of the Son of God.
Who of us have not felt these things, and can testify that our happiest
days have been when men were saying and doing all manner of evil against
us!
Another time that the compensating experience is realized is in the hour of
earthly loss.
The day is certain to come when reputation will be struck at, influence in
certain quarters be seen to wane and fail altogether, and friends grow cold
and fall away. These losses may take place not from wrongdoing, but for
faithfulness in the Christian life. The Savior Himself perceived that he had
no reputation with the rulers of the church, felt that He was cast out, and
saw great numbers of His followers leave Him. We cannot expect to fare
better than He did, and, indeed, if true to Him, will enter upon similar
sufferings.
That experience certainly must be blessed which sustains one in such
hours; and not only keeps us undismayed as friends grow cold and fall
away, but even rejoicing; while we say with Christ, 'Will ye also go away
yet am I not alone, for the Father is with me.'
We once read of a little girl who was an orphan, and raised in a large
household where she was continually domineered over by every member
of the family. Her wishes were never consulted, her rights were ignored,
while her few playthings were constantly snatched from her by the hands
of the older and stronger children. She had become so accustomed to
yielding and giving up everything that when she had anything in her hand
she held it with a loose grasp, as if she did not expect to keep it long.
This is the spiritual attitude of the true follower of Christ. What he holds
in his hands he does with a light grasp. He is ready for God to take any
material mercy from him when He will, and not only that, but even when
men strip him of rights, privileges, enjoyments, comforts and other
blessings of life, he will have that left in his soul in the way of grace and
glory to amply compensate him for the loss of all.
A third time that the great satisfying joy is felt is in the time of sorrow.
We knew an elderly preacher in a Southern State who was sanctified.
When he was eighty the greatest trouble of his life befell him. One morning
he learned that his son, a promising young lawyer, had been murdered by a
Negro man for the sake of a few dollars. The peculiarly agonizing feature
about the crime was that the young man had been shot and left for dead in
the woods, but had lived four days stretched on the ground alone in the
forest. A hunter discovered him a little while before he died, and received
from his dying lips the name of the murderer and the manner of the crime.
When the news reached the aged father he sank upon his knees on the floor
in prayer; and in a few moments gasped out, 'The Book! the Book!'
The Bible was handed him, and, opening with trembling fingers the pages,
he began reading aloud with shaking voice, in the midst of the sighing,
sobbing household, from the fourteenth of John: 'Let not your heart be
troubled: ye believe in God: believe also in me. I go to prepare a place for
you, and if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again' - and lo!
while reading these last four words the glory of God filled him, shouts
burst from his lips, and a dozen awestruck souls saw how God can so
comfort a tortured, agonized spirit that its burden is carried like a feather
weight, grief is flung to the winds, while heaven itself seems to have
descended, filled and fairly transfigured the man.
Another time the compensating blessing is observed as well as realized is
in old age.
There is something exceedingly pathetic in the sight of one who has
outlived most of his generation, and is now dwelling in the midst of a new
one. Friends, companions, playmates, schoolmates and oftentimes the
family itself have preceded him into the graveyard and the other world,
and he is left with scarcely a single soul with whom he started out in life.
It is a situation of unenviable loneliness, a life of peculiar trial. The old find
themselves forgotten, overlooked, thrust aside, and often feel sadly in the
way. Among the peculiar features of that time of life is the habit of waking
up a good while before day. One can imagine the heaviness and sadness of
those early wakeful hours, unless heaven has a grace to sustain and cheer.
Thank God there is such a blessing for the old which gives them songs in
the night, a holy joy though overlooked, and prevents them not only from
souring and becoming bitter, but causes their protracted stay on earth to be
a blessing to the family, and the very thought of their departure one of
unspeakable pain.
We recall in our early ministry a lovely old patriarch of Methodism who
was nearing his ninetieth year. He had a way of waking at three o'clock in
the morning, and from that hour until day he spent praising God softly in
the night, rubbing his hands in the great joy which filled his soul, and
alternately laughing and crying with the rapture which flooded him. He had
the compensating blessing.
A final time when this peculiar grace becomes evident is at the hour of
death.
The Scripture says let wine be given to him who is ready to die, alluding to
a custom that was thought then to be humane. In a deeper and better sense
God has a wine experience for His dying children. It is a blessing to be
obtained in life, so that the man can carry around in him the preparation
for death, and so sudden dissolution will be instant glory. The people who
enjoy this grace are ready to go at a moment's warning, and always 'die
well.'
It is no ordinary death. The cup is at the lip, the draught is deep, and the
blazing inward joy flashes in the eye, and gleams in the face in a way
unmistakable.
In fact, it is not death, but a departure, not defeat, but victory, not
dissolution so much as translation, not a man going down before the last
enemy, but a human spirit disentangling itself from the ruins of the falling
body, and with rapturous smile and lifted head and hand saying, 'I know
that my Redeemer liveth; and though, after my skin worms destroy this
body yet in my flesh shall I see God, whom mine eyes shall behold and
not another.'
No Christian need fear death who obtains this blessing. With its marvelous
living and yet dying grace, he is ready for the yoke, or the altar; ready for
the battlefield of conflict and also prepared for the gaping wound, the litter
and open grave. There is something about the grace which robs the
sepulcher of its terror, takes the sting out of death, and causes its
possessor to go down into the grave not only with calmness and
assurance, but with smiles and shouts of joy, so that the scene looks like a
beginning instead of the end of life. The tomb itself seems a doorway
through which, as the triumphant spirit passes, the light of the glory world
streams and, falling upon the dying face, lights it up and tells, in its silent
but all impressive way, of the certainty and blessedness of the world
which has just been entered.
