Thy mercy, my God, is the theme
of my song. To say that we live in an age
when supposed Christians are probed, prodded, and persuaded
by all manner of motivational efforts and guilt trips to serve
God would be an understatement of the highest order. The vast
majority of effort that is expended by the great Bible teachers of
our day and time is not in teaching men of the utter glory and majesty
of the living God, who must be worshipped in spirit and truth,
but is then trying to convince them that they can become the
children of God by an act of their own free will at a time
which is convenient for them. Then they spend the rest of their
time like the old vaudeville acts of keeping plates spinning
on sticks. Once they've supposedly persuaded
men to allow the Lord to save them by an act of their own will,
then they have to keep them motivated so they won't drop out. I've
heard some preachers say that if all you do is preach grace,
then you'll wind up with a bunch of lazy Christians. They are
the same ones who delight in binding burdens upon men, and
the religious masses love to have it so. Because they delight
in going about to establish their own righteousness, as they survey
the many activities and ministries that they are involved in. Some
even keep count of how many souls are saved through their activities.
Many today judge the value of a church by how many different
activities are available, especially for the young people who they
expect to herd into the kingdom of God as if they were sheep,
and its entrance could be found through fleshly endeavor. We
have vast multitudes of men and women, boys and girls, who are
well-versed in the scriptures through Sunday schools, vacation
Bible school study courses, et cetera, who are nonetheless completely
ignorant of the spiritual nature of the kingdom of God. Generations
of families have belonged to the same churches and go about
year after year to stir one another up to perform this ministry or
that, who have not the slightest clue of what it is to mourn before
the face of God, and to know themselves to be poor in spirit,
blind, naked, and under the lash and curse of sin. The Lord is
pleased to manifest those that he calls by working in them a
profound and lasting work of sorrow for their sin. This sorrow
is compounded by the stark realization that there is not one thing that
they can do to remedy their dire situation except to cast themselves
upon the mercy of God. A man can no more make himself
to truly mourn over his sin before God than the Ethiopian can change
his skin or the leopard his spots. Neither can such a man who is
brought low by the convicting power of his spirit ever be comforted
by the formulas of salvation offered by would-be evangelists
who encourage them to meet the Lord halfway. When told to believe,
all that they can say is, Lord, I believe. Help thou mine unbelief. These are those little ones whom
the Lord warns His disciples not to offend. These are those
whom Jeremiah says shall be filled. For he satisfieth the longing
soul, and filleth the hungry soul with goodness. There is
only one thing that they desire, and that longing which is ever
with them shall be fulfilled. One thing have I desired of the
Lord, that will I seek after, that I may dwell in the house
of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of
the Lord, and to inquire in His temple. The Lord Jesus Christ
himself is the only one with whom they can be satisfied, and
under the shadow of his wing is the only place they can find
any comfort. And a man shall be as a hiding
place from the wind, and a covert from the tempest, as rivers of
water in a dry place, as the shadow of a great rock in a weary
land. Blessed are they that mourn,
for they shall be comforted. Dear refuge of my weary soul,
on thee when sorrows rise, on thee when waves of trouble roll,
my fainting hope relies. To thee I tell each rising grief,
for thou alone canst heal. Thy word can bring a sweet relief
for every pain I feel. But, oh, when gloomy doubts prevail,
I fear to call thee mine. The springs of comfort seem to
fail, and all my hopes decline. Yet, gracious God, where shall
I flee? Thou art my only trust, and still
my soul would cleave to thee, though prostrate in the dust.
Hast thou not bid me seek thy face, and shall I seek in vain?
And can the ear of sovereign grace be deaf when I complain?
No, still the ear of sovereign grace attends the mourner's prayer.
Oh, may I ever find access to breathe my sorrows there. The
mercy seat is open still. Here let my soul retreat. With
humble hope attend thy will and wait beneath thy feet. If you would like a free transcript
of this broadcast, email us at forthepoor at windstream.net.