Faith and Assurance

Faith Necessary

Whatsoever things are lovely, and pure, and of good report," try and gain them; but remember that all these things put together, without faith, do not please God. Virtues, without faith, are whitewashed sins. Unbelief nullifies everything. It is the fly in the ointment; it is the poison in the pot. Without faith—with all the virtues of purity, with all the benevolence of philanthropy, with all the kindness of disinterested sympathy, with all the talents of genius, with all the bravery of patriotism, and with all the decision of principle—you have no title to divine acceptance, for "without faith it is impossible to please God."

Faith fosters every virtue; unbelief withers every virtue in the bud. Thousands of prayers have been stopped by unbelief; many songs of praise, that would have swelled the chorus of the skies, have been stifled by unbelieving murmurs; many a noble enterprise conceived in the heart has been blighted ere it could come forth by unbelief. Faith is the Samsonian lock of the Christian: cut it off, and he can do nothing. Peter, while he had faith, walked on the waves of the sea. But presently there came a billow behind him, and he said, "That will sweep me away;" and then another before, and he cried out, "That will overwhelm me;" and he thought, "How could I be so presumptuous as to walk on the top of these waves?" And as soon as he doubted, he began to sink. Faith was Peter's life-buoy—it kept him up; but unbelief sent him down. The Christian's life may be said to be always "walking on the water," and every wave would swallow him up; but faith enables him to stand. The moment you cease to believe, that moment distress and failure follow. O, wherefore dost thou doubt, then?

The Remedy for Doubts

The best way to get your faith strengthened is to have communion with Christ. If you commune with Christ you cannot be unbelieving. When his left hand is under my head, and his right hand doth embrace me, I cannot doubt. When my Beloved sits at his table, and He brings me into His banqueting-house, and His banner over me is Love, then, indeed, I do believe. When I feast with Him, my unbelief is abashed, and hides its head. Speak, ye that have been led in the green pastures, and have been made to lie down by the still waters; ye who have seen His rod and His staff, and hope to see them even when you walk through the valley of the shadow of death; speak, ye that have sat at His feet with Mary, or laid your head upon his bosom with the well-beloved John; have you not found when you have been near to Christ your faith has grown strong, and when you have been far away from Him, your faith has become weak? It is impossible to look Christ in the face and then doubt Him. When you cannot see Him, then you doubt Him; but you must believe when your Beloved speaks unto you, and says, "Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away." There is no hesitation then; you must arise from the lowlands of your doubt up to the hills of assurance.

Increase of Faith

The way in which most men get their faith increased is by great trouble. We do not grow strong in faith in sunshiny days. It is in stormy weather that faith grows stronger. Faith is not an attainment that droppeth like the gentle dew from heaven; it generally comes in the whirlwind and the storm. Look at the old oaks; how is it that they have become so deeply-rooted in the earth? Ask the March winds, and they will tell you. It was not the April shower that did it, or the sweet May sunshine, but the rough wind shaking the tree to and fro, causing its roots to strike deeper and to take a firmer hold. And so must it be with us. We cannot make great soldiers in the barracks at home; they must be made amidst flying shot and thundering cannon. We cannot expect to make good sailors on the Serpentine; they must be trained far away on the deep sea, where the wild winds howl, and the thunders roll like drums in the march of the God of armies. Storms and tempests are the things that make men tough and hardy mariners. They see the works of the Lord, and His wonders in the deep. It is thus with Christians. Great-faith must have great trials. Mr. Great-heart would never have been Mr. Great-heart if he had not once been Mr. Great-trouble. Valiant-for-truth would never have put to flight those foes, and have been so valiant, if the foes had not first attacked him. We must expect great troubles before we shall attain to much faith.

The Author and Finisher of Faith

O Lord! of what small account are the best of men apart from Thee! How high they rise when Thou liftest them up! How low they fall if Thou withdraw Thy hand! It is our joy, amidst distress, when Thou enablest us to say, "Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him;" but if Thou take away Thy Spirit, we cannot even trust Thee in the brightest day. When storms gather round us we can smile at them, if Thou be with us; but in the fairest morn which ever shone on human heart, we doubt and we miscarry if Thou be not with us still, to preserve and strengthen the faith which Thou hast Thyself bestowed.

Faith and Feeling

We are saved by faith, and not by feeling; yet there is a relation between holy faith and hallowed feeling like that between the root and the flower. Faith is permanent as the root which is ever embedded in the soil; feeling is casual, and has its seasons—the bulb does not always shoot up the green stem, far less is it always crowned with its many flowers. Faith is the tree, the essential tree: our feelings are like the appearance of that tree during the different seasons of the year. Sometimes our soul is full of bloom and blossom, and the bees hum pleasantly, and gather honey within our hearts. It is then that our feelings bear witness to the life of our faith, just as the buds of spring bear witness to the life of the tree. Anon, our feelings gather still greater vigor, and after we come to the summer of our delights, again perhaps, we begin to wither into the sear and yellow leaf of autumn; nay, sometimes the winter of our despondency and despair will strip away every leaf from the tree, and our poor faith stands like a blasted stem without a sign of verdure. And yet, so long as the tree of faith is there, we are saved. Whether faith blossom or not, whether it bring forth joyous fruit in our experience or not, so long as it be there in all its permanence, we are saved. Yet should we have the gravest reason to distrust the life of our faith, if it did not sometimes blossom with joy, and often bring forth fruit unto holiness.

The Sin of Unbelief

To doubt the lovingkindness of God, is thought by some to be a very small sin; in fact, some have even exalted the doubts and fears of God's people into fruits and graces, and evidences of great advancement in experience. But to doubt the kindness, the faithfulness, and the love of God, is a very heinous offence. That can be no light sin which makes God a liar; and yet unbelief does in effect cast foul and slanderous suspicion upon the veracity of the Holy One of Israel. That can be no small offence which charges the Creator of heaven and earth with perjury; and yet, if I mistrust His oath, and will not believe His promise, sealed with the blood of His own Son, I count the oath of God to be unworthy of my trust; and so I do, in very deed, accuse the King of Heaven as false to His covenant and oath. Besides, unbelief of God is the fountain of innumerable sins. As the black cloud is the source of many rain-drops, so dark unbelief is the parent of many crimes. It is a sin which should be condemned by every believer, should be struggled against, should if possible be subdued, and certainly should be the object of our deep repentance and abhorrence.

Little-faith

One inconvenience of "little-faith" is, that while it is always sure of heaven, it very seldom thinks so. Little-faith is quite as secure for heaven as Great-faith. When Jesus Christ counts up His jewels at the last day, He will take to Himself the little pearls as well as the great ones. If a diamond be never so small, yet it is precious because it is a diamond. So faith, be it never so little, if it be true faith, is "like precious" with that which apostles obtained. Christ will never lose even the smallest jewel of His crown. Little-faith is always secure of heaven, because the name of Little-faith is in the book of eternal life. Little-faith was chosen of God before the foundation of the world. Little-faith was bought with the blood of Christ; ay, and he cost as much as Great-faith. "For every man a shekel," was the price of redemption. Every man, whether great or small, prince or peasant, had to redeem himself with a shekel. Christ has bought all, both little and great, with the same most precious blood. Little-faith is always secure of heaven, for God has begun the work in him, and He will carry it on. God loves him, and He will love him unto the end. God has provided a crown for him, and He will not allow the crown to hang there useless; He has erected for him a mansion in heaven, and He will not allow the mansion to stand untenanted forever. Little-faith is always safe, but he very seldom knows it. If you meet him he is sometimes afraid of hell; very often afraid that the wrath of God abideth on him. He will tell you that the country on the other side the flood can never belong to one so base as he. Sometimes it is because he feels himself so unworthy; another time it is because the things of God are too good to be true, he says; or he cannot think they can be true to such a one as he. Sometimes he is afraid he is not elect; another time he fears that he has not been called aright, or that he has not come to Christ aright; anon, his fears are that he will not hold on to the end, that he shall not be able to persevere; and if you kill a thousand of his fears, he is sure to have another host by to-morrow; for unbelief is one of those things which you cannot destroy; you may kill it over and over again, but still it lives. It is one of those ill weeds which sleep in the soil even after it has been burned, and it only needs a little encouragement, or a little negligence, and it will sprout up again. Now, Great-faith is sure of heaven, and he knows it. He climbs Pisgah's top, and views the landscape o'er; he tastes of the sweetness of paradise even before he enters within the pearly gates; he sees the streets which are paved with gold; he beholds the walls of the city, the foundations whereof are of precious stones; he hears the mystic music of the glorified, and begins to smell on earth the perfumes of heaven. But poor Little-faith can scarcely look at the sun; he very seldom sees the light; he gropes in the valley, and while all is safe, he always thinks himself unsafe.