October 13 - Morning"Godly sorrow worketh repentance." — 2 Corinthians 7:10
Genuine, spiritual mourning for sin is the work of the Spirit of God.
Repentance is too choice a flower to grow in nature's garden. Pearls grow
naturally in oysters, but penitence never shows itself in sinners except
divine grace works it in them. If thou hast one particle of real hatred for
sin, God must have given it thee, for human nature's thorns never
produced a single fig. "That which is born of the flesh is flesh."
True repentance has a distinct reference to the Saviour. When we repent of
sin, we must have one eye upon sin and another upon the cross, or it will
be better still if we fix both our eyes upon Christ and see our
transgressions only, in the light of His love.
True sorrow for sin is eminently practical. No man may say he hates sin, if
he lives in it. Repentance makes us see the evil of sin, not merely as a
theory, but experimentally — as a burnt child dreads fire. We shall be as
much afraid of it, as a man who has lately been stopped and robbed is
afraid of the thief upon the highway; and we shall shun it — shun it in
everything — not in great things only, but in little things, as men shun
little vipers as well as great snakes. True mourning for sin will make us
very jealous over our tongue, lest it should say a wrong word; we shall be
very watchful over our daily actions, lest in anything we offend, and each
night we shall close the day with painful confessions of shortcoming, and
each morning awaken with anxious prayers, that this day God would hold
us up that we may not sin against Him.
Sincere repentance is continual. Believers repent until their dying day. This
dropping well is not intermittent. Every other sorrow yields to time, but
this dear sorrow grows with our growth, and it is so sweet a bitter, that we
thank God we are permitted to enjoy and to suffer it until we enter our
eternal rest. October 13 - Evening"Love is strong as death." — Song of Solomon 8:6
Whose love can this be which is as mighty as the conqueror of monarchs,
the destroyer of the human race? Would it not sound like satire if it ere
applied to my poor, weak, and scarcely living love to Jesus my Lord? I do
love Him, and perhaps by His grace, I could even die for Him, but as for
my love in itself, it can scarcely endure a scoffing jest, much less a cruel
death. Surely it is my Beloved's love which is here spoken of — the love
of Jesus, the matchless lover of souls. His love was indeed stronger than
the most terrible death, for it endured the trial of the cross triumphantly. It
was a lingering death, but love survived the torment; a shameful death, but
love despised the shame; a penal death, but love bore our iniquities; a
forsaken, lonely death, from which the eternal Father hid His face, but love
endured the curse, and gloried over all.
Never such love, never such death.
It was a desperate duel, but love bore the palm. What then, my heart? Hast
thou no emotions excited within thee at the contemplation of such
heavenly affection? Yes, my Lord, I long, I pant to feel Thy love flaming
like a furnace within me. Come Thou Thyself and excite the ardour of my
spirit.
"For every drop of crimson blood Why should I despair of loving Jesus with a love as strong as death? He
deserves it: I desire it. The martyrs felt such love, and they were but flesh
and blood, then why not I? They mourned their weakness, and yet out of
weakness were made strong. Grace gave them all their unflinching
constancy — there is the same grace for me. Jesus, lover of my soul, shed
abroad such love, even Thy love in my heart, this evening. October 13 |