“Not as though I had already attained, either were already perfect: but I follow after, if that I may apprehend that for which also I am apprehended of Christ Jesus. Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended: but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 3:12-14).

It might be supposed that a spirit of sweetness would necessarily be a spirit of weakness, and that a yielded and gentle disposition is lacking in the spirit of forceful aggressiveness and manly energy. This is not always true. The bravest soldier is often the gentlest man. The quiet forces of nature are the most irresistible and overwhelming, and the strength of God is often hidden behind His gentleness.

And so this passage proves that the man who could be most yielding, tender and affectionate, could stand like adamant or sweep like the cyclone. This fine passage has about it something that reminds us of the clarion call of the trumpet summoning to arms and to victory; something that suggests the atmosphere of the arena where men struggle for the mastery and where crowns are dearly won.

The spirit of our age is marked by physical culture. Our young men are taught in universities and colleges to train for athletic skill and physical manhood. This is perhaps carried to an extreme degree as it was in the luxurious days of ancient Rome which preceded the final catastrophe. At least, it expresses a longing in the soul for manly energy, and may well stimulate us to the higher pursuit of spiritual manhood and aggressive forcefulness. If the flower of our manhood is contending in the athletic arena or on the field of battle for the prizes of victory, how much more should we strive for a crown that is incorruptible and a glory which fadeth not.

This is the picture of our text. It is the spectacle of a man pressing forward in the race-course with muscles strained to their utmost tension, with nerves alert and senses all alive to every advantage of the fray, and with his whole being intensely absorbed in the struggle for a prize which is flashing before his kindling eye from the open heavens where the great Umpire stands beckoning him on and holding out the glorious diadem.

There are three important features in the picture, full of precious lessons for us who with Him are also in the race.

I. A SPIRIT OF SELF-DISSATISFACTION

“Not as though I had already attained, either were already perfect.” “I count not myself to have apprehended.” There is nothing that so deadens the spiritual activities and aspirations as an overwhelming self-complacency. If we look at mere human standards, or even our own ideals, we shall easily be satisfied. The story of the artist who turned away from his perfect and finished workmanship with a cry of despair, “I have surpassed myself; henceforth there is nothing left for my ambition,” is a true glimpse of the paralyzing power of a too easy self-content. It needs the sense of our own shortcomings to incite us to nobler endeavors. There is a discouraging way of looking at your faults and failures which takes all the heart out of you. But there is a wholesome mean between conceit and self-condemnation, which is the fruitful soil of new endeavor and loftier aspiration.

In two respects Paul felt that he had up to this time failed to reach the full ideal. First, he had not yet obtained the prize or made sure of it. This word translated ‘attained’ ought to be rendered obtained. He is not referring to character but to reward. A little later he felt he had secured it, and in writing to Timothy he could say, “I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness.”

Next, however, he adds, “either were already perfect.” This should be translated perfected, and it refers to personal character and attainment. What then does the Apostle mean when later in the paragraph he adds, “Let us therefore, as many as be perfect, be thus minded.” How can he be perfect if he is not yet perfect? The answer will be plain if we paraphrase his statement in a very simple form. We are perfect but not perfected. We are complete but not completed. “Ye are complete in him,” says the Apostle to the Colossians, and yet in the same epistle he adds, “that ye may stand perfect and complete in all the will of God.” There is a sense, a true sense in which we may accept the righteousness and grace of the Lord Jesus Christ and count it real and sufficient, and dare to say, “He is made unto me sanctification,” and “I am complete in Him.” As far as our faith goes, as far as our light goes, we are fully saved. We are all there in Christ just as fully as the newborn babe is complete in all its parts. But it is not yet full-grown. It has all the organs its father has, but they are yet immature. It is complete but not completed. It is perfect but not perfected. And so the consecrated soul that has taken Christ in His fullness has Him in His fullness, but yet there is to be a deeper revelation and larger fullness step by step and day by day, until at last He shall reach the “measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ.”

Do not let us, therefore, depreciate ourselves too much or fail to recognize our glorious standing and our heavenly place in Christ Jesus our Lord. But do not let us, at the same time, forget how much there still remains to be possessed, and standing midway between the confidence of faith and the aspiration of hope, let us press on from strength to strength, from faith to faith, from grace to glory.

II. A SPIRIT OF HEAVENLY ASPIRATION AND HOLY AGGRESSIVENESS

Along with this sense of shortcoming there comes to the Apostle the deep, intense desire to press on to all that yet remains in His inheritance of grace. The picture is an intense one. It flashes with the light of the arena; it rings with the bugle notes of battle and triumph. It sweeps on with the celerity of the cavalry charge and the triumphal march. There is something about its phrases that stirs our very hearts, and makes every drop of blood to throb with strange intensity. It is a soul in earnest. It is a heart aflame. It is a life all aglow with divine enthusiasm and superhuman strength. It is no soft sentimentalism, but it is spiritual manhood in the glory of its mightiest strength. It is the athlete in the arena. It is the conqueror on the field of victory.

There are several expressions here that are full in instruction and inspiration:

1. “Forgetting the things that are behind.” There is much behind and it is not to be despised, but it is not to be a pillow of soft and indolent repose to stifle and satisfy our higher ambition. Compared with all that is yet before us it is only a foundation. And the larger that foundation is the mightier must be the superstructure that is to crown it. Suppose that you were to point me to a massive pile of brick and stone on some splendid site no higher than the foundation walls of some great building, and tell me with exultant pride of the deep excavations, the costly carvings, and the splendid building you had erected. I would laugh in your face as I looked at the cellars flooded with the storm, the walls crumbling under the destroying elements, the rubbish accumulating on the terraces, and the very creatures of the wilderness finding a lair and hiding-place amid the rubbish. I would say to you, “The very grandeur of your foundation calls for a still grander superstructure. It is ridiculous for you to boast of what you have already done until these walls have been reared at least a dozen stories higher, and the roof has enclosed these spaces, and the chambers are divided and adorned in a manner worthy of your costly beginnings.” And so the more God has done for you already, the more need there is that you should look well to it, “that we lose not those things which we have wrought, but that we receive a full reward.”

2. A right conception of the future. “Reaching forth unto those things which are before.” Man differs from the lower orders of creation in this, that while like them his past is limited by the little space of time since his existence, unlike them his future is illimitable; his lifetime is eternity. He is endowed with the divine gift of an immortal future. He has the ages upon ages yet to come in which to expand and develop forever more.

When Alexander the Great divided his old dominion among his faithful followers he kept nothing for himself. They asked him in surprise about his portion. “What have you kept for yourself?” they said, and he pointed into the distance and simply said, “Hope.” The future was his inheritance, and before many months had passed that future had brought him an empire vaster than all he had given away, and mightier than the world ever knew.

And so God is teaching us to live in the imperial realm of hope. There are souls who have no eyes for the future. They cannot see over the heads of the things that immediately surround them. They live in the present, and they are baffled by their immediate difficulties, toils and troubles. Life for them is enclosed by the boundaries of the setting sun. But there are other souls who see into life’s tomorrow, and over the head of difficulty, disaster, and even death itself. They see evermore the eternal morning, and they sing, “It is better farther on.” The things that are not are to them more real than the things that are. Faith and hope create a world yet unrevealed and yet most real, which satisfies and stimulates their triumphant spirits as they press on to the things that are before.

Beloved, ask God to give you a sanctified imagination, a quickened vision of the unseen, a power to see what others cannot see, and to hear what others do not hear. May He put eternity in your heart and make your life as large as the immeasurable years on which God has projected the orbit of your being.

3. Following after. Having turned from the past and caught the vision of the future he now presses on to meet it. The figure is that of the hunter pursuing the coveted game. There is a strange fascination in this. Men will follow a trail for days and weeks to get a single moose, up in the woods of Maine, and after exposure, toil and suffering will feel amply repaid by a single specimen of the splendid quarry. Mile after mile the snow-covered forest is traversed over windfalls, morasses, pitfalls and perils which they would not think of encountering in the sober business of life. But it is nothing to them as they pursue their prey with a fascination that takes away all sense of toil or computation of time. So, when God has given the glowing vision of His highest will, nothing is hard or long in its attainment. Step by step through toil and trial the soul presses on for the crown incorruptible and the heavenly goal.

Beloved, are you as much in earnest about the best things as you are for your pleasures, recreations or your earthly gain. Let this lofty standard measure our individual lives.

4. “I press toward the mark.” The language is intense. It is the expression of the most profound earnestness of which a human soul is capable. It is no child’s play. It is no sentimental dream. It is no incidental mood. It is no mere occasional fit of transient enthusiasm. It is the habit of the life. It is the sweep of the volcano down the mountain side which carries everything in its course and transforms everything into its fiery torrent. Beloved, it is a life in earnest. Is it yours?

5. Singleness of purpose is the secret of this successful and intensely earnest life. “This one thing I do.” The grandeur of his great purpose eclipses all other aims and excludes all competing interests. Our life is too short and too small to be scattered in a dozen directions. We can only be our best as we let God compact us and press us with all His power, and all the strenuousness of our strength, in one direction, and that, of course, the highest and the best. Beloved, is this the single purpose of your life? You have but one life. God help you to give it all to Him and gain it all from Him in its glorious outcome.

III. THE DIVINE COOPERATION

There is more than the figure of the spiritual athlete pressing on for the prize. There is another form in this picture that is standing behind him and helping him on. Or, to change the metaphor, the glorious Umpire yonder at the heavenly goal is not an indifferent spectator, coolly waiting to give the crowns to the conquering ones without any personal interest as to who shall overcome. Nay, He is an interested partner in the race. He is bending from His throne and beckoning to the racer as he runs, and with encouraging smile and gesture of inspiration is calling to him: “Be of good cheer, press on. Thou shalt overcome. I am holding thine hand as well as holding out thy crown. I have overcome for thee and thou shalt overcome through Me.” This is the finest part of the picture. Paul is not alone with his struggle; his Master is with him, and he is only apprehending that for which he has been also apprehended of Christ Jesus. In three respects Christ cooperates with His people’s heavenly aspirations.

1. It is He who reveals the vision of the glory and the prize. A little later in the passage we read, “Let us therefore, as many as be perfect, be thus minded: and if in any thing ye be otherwise minded, God shall reveal even this unto you.” Perhaps this glowing picture has not appealed to all your hearts. Perhaps there are some simple commonplace lives who have said, “I have no imagination, I have no opportunity for these glorious things. My task is one of lowly toil and ceaseless drudgery. I try to do my duty as best I can, but I don’t understand the exalted feelings of which you have been telling me. This is not for me.” Beloved, “If in any thing ye be otherwise minded, God shall reveal even this unto you.” There was a time when it was nothing to Paul but a light in his heart above the brightness of the sunshine. Then God revealed to him another world of reality, and gave him the spiritual senses to discern it and dwell in it. The same revelation will come to you if you humbly ask for it and wait for it.

A lady in London once called upon Dr. Boardman and complained to him that she had no spiritual feeling. The good doctor turned to Ephesians 3: 20: “Now unto him that is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think.” He told her to go home and pray over that one verse until God made it fully real to her, and then come back and tell him when her experience measured up to it. She went away and continued for many days to pray that one prayer, not expecting much from it at first. But one day she came back to see the good minister with eyes moist with tears, and lips trembling with holy gladness, to tell him that no language could describe, no prayer could express, no thought could compass, the unutterable fullness of joy which the Holy Spirit had poured into her heart. God had revealed even this unto her.

The writer had a brother once on earth, now in heaven, who was very rigid and conservative in his ideas of religious experience. He looked upon all demonstrations of feeling as sentimental and unscriptural. He was much disgusted with many of the manifestations of spiritual power and earnestness connected with the early days of our own work. At length his health broke down, and he was manifestly drawing near to a great crisis. The writer endeavored in vain to bring him to that place of tender spiritual feeling where he could take Christ as his Healer or even as his Comforter. But it only met with recoil. Then the case was committed to God in believing prayer; and he waited. One day several months later, a letter came from that brother telling of a marvelous change. The day before while reading a verse in his Bible a flood of light had burst into his soul, and for hours he could only praise and pray and wonder. Yes, he, too, had become a fanatic, if this were fanaticism, and God had done exceeding abundantly above all that he could ask or think. His cold intellectual nature was submerged in a baptism of love which never ceased to pour its fullness through his being, until a few weeks later he swept through the gates of glory shouting the praises of his Redeemer.

Beloved, would you have the vision? “If in any thing ye be otherwise minded, God shall reveal even this unto you.”

2. He calls us to the prize. “The high calling of God in Christ Jesus”is translated better in the revised version, “the upward calling,” or, better still in another version, “the prize to which he has called us from on high.” God called Abraham in Mesopotamia, and he left all and followed. He called Moses in the desert, and he gave up everything to obey. He called Elisha from his plow, and he quickly responded. He called the disciples from their fishing nets, and they went with the Master. He called Paul, and he was “not disobedient unto the heavenly vision.” Beloved, He is calling thee. Do not miss the call and the crown.

3. He is holding the hand of the competitor for the prize, and upholding him in the conflict. This expression, “apprehended,” literally means “grasped,” and the Apostle says that he is grasping that for which Christ has grasped him. There is a hand underneath. There is a power behind. There is a loving pressure that will not let him go. God loves us better than we love ourselves. In spite of ourselves, He is saving us to the uttermost and carrying us through to the fullness of His uttermost salvation. We are not alone. He will not let us fail.

“I beseech Euodias, and beseech Syntyche that they be of the same mind in the Lord. . . . Rejoice in the Lord always: and again I say, Rejoice. Let your moderation be known unto all men. The Lord is at hand. Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God. And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus” (Phil. 4:2, 4-6).

This passage reaches the very heart of the sweetest Christian life. It combines the four choicest ingredients of the fruit of the Spirit; namely, love, joy, peace, and sweetness.

I. LOVE

The first is love. There are three kinds of love unfolded in these verses. The first is Paul’s love to his friends and flock. How tenderly he addresses them: “My brethren,” he says, associating himself with them in the heavenly ties of the divine family. “Dearly beloved,” he adds, mingling with this holy relationship all the tenderness of human affection. And “longed for”; this is more than tenderness, this is the affection that dwells continually on the beloved object, wearies of his absence and longs for fellowship and reunion. “My joy,” a still stronger expression of the dependence of his very happiness upon their fellowship and love. “And crown,” this carries forward the bonds of love and friendship to the eternal sphere, and links all his eternal hopes and rewards with his dearly beloved friends at Philippi. It was thus that the early Christians loved one another, and it is still true that “every one that loveth him that begat loveth him also that is begotten of him.”

Next, we have a reference to their mutual love of one another. Among the saints at Philippi were two sisters whose names signify “success” and “fame.” They were evidently valued workers in the church, but, like many good women, they were not able to agree with each other in the same mind and judgment. Each was a woman of such strong character and individuality and such excellent common sense and judgment that she could not see how she could be wrong in her view of the matter, and her sister right; and so they were frequently at variance, and their misunderstandings were evidently hurting the little flock. Paul does not reprove them or even enjoin them, but he gets down on his knees to one of them and asks his friend Epaphroditus to do the same with the other, and they just beseech them to “be of the same mind in the Lord.” This is very touching and humbling to us in our misunderstandings and strifes. Thus the Master is beseeching us to be of one mind and one spirit in the Lord.

But the best of all is that the Apostle gives us here the secret of attaining to oneness of spirit, a thing not so easily done with strong and independent minds, especially when each is sure she is right. The secret is this, “in the Lord.” Don’t try to bring your sister to your mind. Don’t try to come to her mind, but let each of you drop her own opinion and preference and move out of yourselves into the Lord, and agree jointly and severally to take His thought about it, whatever it may be, and even before you know it. And you will always find that His mind about everything is one that does justice to both parties, and lifts both to a higher plane where they can be fully one.

At the same time the Apostle entreats his friend to help them both, and he very distinctly tells him of their value and importance; for it is of them he speaks when he says; “They labored with me in the gospel,” and “their names are in the book of life.”

Then there is a third expression of love in the little phrase which he addresses to his own fellow laborer, “true yoke-fellow.” This tells not only of Paul’s love to his friends but of their love to him. It is a beautiful figure and speaks of perfect fellowship and mutual service and suffering. The Lord Himself uses the same figure respecting His fellowship with us when He says: “Take my yoke upon you and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart.” How beautiful and blessed if we might be to each other as true yoke-fellows as our blessed and heavenly Friend has been to us.

II. Joy

Here again we have the same little talisman which tells the secret of the heavenly life, “in the Lord.” We may not be able to rejoice in circumstances, feelings, or even friends, but we can still rejoice in the Lord. This is the heavenly element of our joy. It comes entirely from sources beyond our own nature or surroundings, and it often contradicts every rational consideration and makes us wonder even at our own joy. It is the joy of Christ throbbing in the heart where He dwells. It was of this He spake when He said, “These things have I spoken unto you, that my joy might remain in you, and that your joy might be full.”

Again, it is a constant, uninterrupted and unlimited joy. “Rejoice in the Lord always.” There is positively no situation where we should cease to rejoice; no reason that could justify us in discouragement or depression. It is the normal, uniform and unvarying temper of the Christian life. “Thy sun shall no more go down; neither shall thy moon withdraw itself: for the Lord shall be thine everlasting light, and the days of thy mourning shall be ended.” If the fig tree does not blossom, and the fruit is not upon the vine, we must still “rejoice in the Lord, [and] joy in the God of my salvation.” If the dearest friends disappoint us or leave us, the Lord remains, and we must not cease our singing. If our own feelings even betray us, and our hearts seem dead and cold, still we must “count it all joy,” though we do not feel it, and take by faith the gladness that we do not find in our own consciousness. And if trials roll over us like surging waves and raging billows, we must raise the keynote higher, and exchanging joy for triumph, we must “glory in tribulations also.”

Once more, this joy is persistent and refuses to be defeated or discouraged, for he repeats the command with strange insistence, and as though he were speaking against some barrier of difficulty, some cloud of discouragement, some weight of deep depression; “again,” he adds, “I say rejoice.” It is a redoubled command. It has a twofold significance, and whatever else we fail to do we must rejoice.

Now, dear friends, we do not say this is the uniform experience of the children of God. We are simply pointing out in this epistle the rarer and choicer qualities of the Christian temper. It is the ideal character if it is not always the real, and as we pursue the ideal, and refuse to take lower ground, God will make it real. Do not, therefore, be discouraged if you have sometimes failed to reach this lofty and settled standard, and to dwell on high in this lofty poise of victorious gladness; but take it as your ideal, pursue it as your goal, claim it as your privilege. Remember that sadness, discouragement, depression, are always of the enemy and must surely weaken your faith, your love, your holiness, your usefulness, your healing, your prayers, your whole Christian life, and, therefore, “Rejoice in the Lord always: and again I say, rejoice.”

III. SWEETNESS OF SPIRIT

“Let your moderation be known unto all men.” The Greek word translated “moderation” is difficult to turn into English, but the various meanings that have been given to it are all suggestive and helpful, and each has certain degrees of truth in it. The first of these is the Authorized Version, “moderation.” This is the temperate spirit, the disciplined heart, the self-control which comes to a well-ordered mind, the quietness, sense and moderation which keep us from all extremes, and hold us in the golden mean of a sound mind.

Again, it has been translated “yieldedness.” This is also a valuable trait of character. It marks the chastened spirit, the soul that has surrendered, the will that has been subdued, the heart that has learned to wait and sacrifice. This is one of the most valuable qualities of the highest Christian life.

Again it is translated “gentleness,” the spirit of Christian refinement, free from harshness, rudeness, coarseness, unkindness, the spirit that is harmless as the dove and gentle as the soft breath of evening. This is always characteristic of the heart that is possessed by the heavenly Dove. It is also translated “humility,” and there is no rarer or richer element in Christian loveliness than the lowly spirit, which has learned not so much to think of itself as not to think at all of self; which takes its true place and never intrudes into another’s; which never gets in the way of others, or asserts its self-importance, but leans, like John the beloved, on Jesus’ breast, his face hidden on the Savior’s bosom while the Master’s alone is seen.

But the Syriac version has probably given us the most striking translation of this word. It is the word “sweetness.” “Let your sweetness be known unto all men.” It is that quality that probably blends all the qualities already named, and clothes us with the divine attractiveness that makes us a blessing to all we meet, a balm to the suffering, a rest to the weary, an inspiration to the depressed and a rebuke to the unkind. It is that quality which can “suffer long and be kind”; which can endure all “longsuffering with joyfulness,” and come through the flame without the smell of fire. We have seen it in some of His dear saints, and it was always manifest in Him. Let it be known unto all men. Do not hide it in your closet. Do not keep it for select occasions, but wear it as a beautiful garment. Shed it around you as a holy radiance. Take it into the bustling street until it breathes its fragrance on the agitated and excited ones around you. Carry it into the place where others wrong you or despise you, until it shall reprove them as your resentment never could. Show it to your enemies, and don’t forget to show it to your friends. Pour it out in the home circle to husband, wife, child and friend, until all you meet shall feel as if a breath of summer and, a gleam of sunshine had passed by. “Let your sweetness be known to all men.” Don’t wait till people die to plant your flowers on their grave, but while they live shed the fragrance of love on their tired and tempted hearts. For all this the incentive and encouragement is given in the next brief sentence — “The Lord is at hand.”Perhaps it means that the Lord is nearby watching you, testing you, ready to help and sustain you; and perhaps it means the Lord is coming soon, and all these trials will seem but little things in the light of that blessed hope and surpassing glory. “Let your sweetness therefore, be known to all men, for the Lord is at hand.”

IV. PEACE

“The peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.” Peace is the most precious of all the gifts and graces of the Spirit; so precious indeed is peace that it was the one legacy left us by our departing Lord. “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” Joy may be more exciting, but peace is more sustaining. Joy may be the wine of life, but peace is its refreshing water and its daily bread.

Let us look a little more closely at this precious gift.

1. It is the “peace of God.” It is not peace with God, which comes to us with forgiveness and salvation, but is the very peace of God Himself, His own calm, restful heart possessing ours, and filling us with His divine stillness.

2. It is a “peace which passeth all understanding.” There is no rational explanation of it. It does not come to us by reasoning things out, and seeing our way clear, but it is often most profound when all the circumstances of our life are perplexing and distressing. Itcontradicts all conditions, and constantly proves its heavenly origin and its supernatural birth. It is indeed the peace of God, and wonderful as was His own calm, tranquil spirit, when standing on the threshold of the garden and the cross.

The writer remembers a Christian woman, for a long time a member of his church, on whom there suddenly fell the greatest sorrow that can come to a loving heart. It was the death of her husband, the companion of half a century of happy wedded life. She was a quiet, parctical woman, with no natural emotion or sentiment in her temperament. But she had received the Holy Spirit years before and, in a very calm, consistent way, had been living a very devoted life. Hastening to her home he expected to find her plunged in deep distress, but she met him at the door with radiant face and overflowing joy. “My dear pastor,” she cried, “my family all think that I am wrong to feel as I do, for I cannot shed a tear, and my heart is so happy that I cannot understand it. God has filled me with such a peace as passes all understanding, and I really cannot help rejoicing and praising Him all the time. What shall I do?” Of course I told her to rejoice with all her heart, and thank God that she could rejoice in such an hour. It was indeed the peace that passeth all understanding. There was no human cause for it. It was the deep artesian well flowing from the heart of God.

3. It is the peace that saves us from anxious care. Its watchword is “Be careful for nothing.” It simply crowds out all our corroding anxieties, and fills us with such satisfaction that there is really nothing that we can fear. No, nothing. The command is unconditional and unlimited. “Be careful for nothing.” Not even for your spiritual life. Not even for your friends. Not even for the answers to your prayers. Not even for the highest and holiest things. Cast every burden on the Lord and trust everything with Him.

4. It is a peace that leads to constant prayer, and is sustained by a life of prayer. “In every thing by prayer and supplication . . . let your requests be made known unto God.” This does not mean that we are to be indifferent to the things that concern us or others, but that we are to be free from worry about them by handing them over to One who can attend to them better than we can, and who is already carrying the responsibility and the care. This is really the truest self-interest to hand over our interest to a wisdom and a love superior to our own, and then we know that all must be well.

The word “supplication” is derived from a root that signifies “many ply.” It refers to the minutiae of life and the innumerable details of life’s cares and burdens, all of which we may bring, and bring again and again, to Him who careth for us, and then leave them at His feet and know that they are safe in His keeping.

5. It is a peace that fills the heart with constant thankfulness and the lips with praise. Our prayers are turned to praise, and as we thank Him for what we have, we have new cause for more thanksgiving; for the surest way to receive answers to our prayers is to praise for what we have received, and then to praise for what we have not yet received. A life of peace leads to a life of praise, and a life of praise in turn leads to a life of peace. There are some natures that always see the dark side first. There are some that can only see the sunshine, the silver lining and the coming morning.

6. This peace is the guardian and the garrison of our heart. It keeps us, or, in the meaning of the Greek word, “garrisons” us, shutting out unhappy and unholy thoughts, and creating an atmosphere out of which only righteousness and blessing can spring.

7. It keeps our heart and mind; the heart first, and then the mind in consequence. It is not the mind first and then the heart, but it is heart foremost, that the sweetest Christian life always moves. Would you know the remedy for anxious, distracting, and ill-regulated thoughts? It is a heart kept by the peace of God, and still as ocean’s depths where the surging billows that toss the surface into angry foam never come. This is the very element and atmosphere where faith and love may dwell deep in the heart of God. This is “the peace that passeth all understanding.”

“Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things” (Phil. 4:8).

This passage expresses the very point of the Apostle’s subject in this letter, and by one discriminating flash of light points out the difference between the essentials of holy character and the lighter touches of grace and loveliness which may be added to these. Two classes of virtues are here specified, and each class is designated by a special word. “If there be any virtue” called fundamental and essential to holy character. “If there be any praise” denotes those qualities, which, while not essential, are ornamental. The first class includes three specifications; namely, “Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure.” Without these there can be no morality and no religion. These are the cardinal virtues of life, the solid texture out of which the web is woven, the warp and woof on which the other qualities are embroidered as decorations and adornings. The second class includes also three specifications; namely, “Whatsoever things are honest.” This ought to be translated honorable, venerable, lofty, for it denotes not so much practical righteousness as rather the qualities that demand admiration and veneration. Next, “Whatsoever things are lovely,” those qualities that are inherently beautiful and attractive, and make the possessor to be esteemed and beloved. The third specification is “Whatsoever things are of good report,” those things that constitute influence, reputation and public esteem and respect. These are objects of praise and are to be added to the others. The qualities of virtue are like the solid granite rock; the qualities of praise resemble the luxuriant forest, the verdant grass, the mossy banks, the blooming shrubs and flowers, the sparkling waterfalls that cover those substantial rocks and turn the desert into a garden of beauty and delight. Let us look at these two classes of moral qualities, but especially at the second.

I. The essentials of character. There are three. The first is truth. Our religious character must be founded upon right principles, and having adopted them we must be true to them. Truth must be at once objective and subjective. We must have the truth, and we must be true to it. Sound doctrine must be held by a sound and sincere heart.

Next, “Whatsoever things are just,” covers the whole range of our relationships to our fellowmen, our practical righteousness, our rightness of life in the family, in the social world, and in our business fellowships with others.

Finally, “Whatsoever things are pure,” has reference to our own personal life. It describes a heart cleansed by the blood of Christ, filled with holy motives, thoughts and affections, and leading to right relations toward all men and toward God. These are the essential qualities of the Christian life. Without them there can be no morality and no religion.

2. But next are the graces of Christian character, “the beauties of holiness,” as the Old Testament expresses it. One may be a Christian without these, but not without those mentioned before. They are the refinements of holy character, the lesser touches by which perfection is attained, even as the marble is polished by a thousand little touches. The difference between an ordinary copy and a work of genius lies in minute details which the coarse, uncultivated eye might never be able to detect.

Now, some of these graces are connected with the cardinal virtues already described. That is to say, there are people who may be said to be truthful, and who would not deliberately misrepresent. Yet they will exaggerate, they will shade the truth by little touches and faint colorings which practically do misrepresent and mislead. Then, again, there are some who are, in the main, honest, just and righteous, and would not willfully or knowingly do another a wrong. Yet perhaps they are too careless or too keen, and by little touches of unrighteousness mar the testimony of their lives. Then there are others who are pure in their purpose and intent, but it may be in their dress, manners, deportment, or conversation, compromise their influence enough to miss the full effectiveness of a holy life. Thus it becomes important to give heed to the message: “Let not your good be evil spoken of,” and even in the things that are just and pure and true, to be careful to add the “things that are lovely” and “of good report.”

But there is a distinct field, represented by another class of qualities altogether, which constitute the graces and refinements of the holy life, and of which it is true “these ought ye to have done, and not to leave the other undone.”

1. Dignity and self-respect are the things that add to the weight of our character and influence, and may be covered by the first phrase, “whatsoever things are honorable,” or rather, “venerable.” The estimate which others place upon us will always be proportioned to our true estimate of ourselves. There is a great difference between conceit and self-respect. “Let no man despise thee,” is the dictate at once of true instinct and Holy Scripture. The Lord Jesus always bore Himself with true dignity, and allowed no person to be too familiar. Even the disciple that leaned upon His breast looked up to Him with sacred awe. We can be simple, unaffected and humble, and yet carry ourselves with the holy dignity of the sons and daughters of God. Paul was a fine example of true manliness. When unjustly imprisoned, he refused to sneak out and run away, but manfully answered, “They have beaten us openly uncondemned, . . . and have cast us into prison; now, do they thrust us out privily? nay verily; but let them come themselves and fetch us out.” The soul in which the Holy Spirit dwells will always carry itself with sacred loftiness, as well as sweet humility. This is the safeguard of woman, and the glory of man.

2. Modesty is as necessary as dignity, and at once corrects it and adorns it. It does not lower our self-respect, but it simply veils us with the beautiful covering of self-unconsciousness. You may always know John, the beloved, by the fact that he never mentions himself, but speaks of the “disciple whom Jesus loved.” When Moses’ face shone with the brightest glow, he wist not that it shone at all. When beauty is conscious of itself it becomes disgusting. When talent and genius begin to show off, then they sink below contempt. When spiritual gifts and holy services are used to glorify the possessor or the worker, then they become objects of derision and lose their merit. The seraphim not only covered their faces but their feet with their wings, and tried to hide not only their beauty but their work. God gives us the sweetly-chastened spirit that bows its head and stands veiled with heavenly modesty.

3. Personal habits have much to do with the loveliness of our character and our lives. While we do not believe with the old lady that “cleanliness is next to godliness,” yet we certainly believe that cleanliness stands near to godliness. While we do not go so far as to denounce chewing, smoking and snuffing as the basest of crimes, yet it is enough to say that they are not among the things that are lovely, venerable or of good report. And there are a thousand other things which a sanctified soul will learn, by holy intuition and watchfulness, to lay aside as defects if not defilements.

4. Good manners, refinement, and courtesy are among the things that are lovely and attractive in our Christian example. There is an affectation of refinement that is but the gloss and the counterfeit, but the true follower of Jesus Christ will always be gentle and gentlemanly, considerate of others and careful to avoid offense, and will act toward all with whom he comes in contact with that thoughtful consideration and courteous politeness which speak so strongly for Christ. After the greatest gentleman in Europe, Lord Chesterfield, had spent a few days with Archbishop Fenelon, who was as sweet as he was saintly, he remarked, “If I had stayed much longer I should have been charmed into accepting his religion.” “Be courteous” is one of the commands of the Holy Ghost. The Christian lady and the Christian gentleman will carry their good manners into the kitchen and the factory, as well as into the social circle; the wife will be as polite to her husband and her cook as she is to the fashionable caller in the afternoon. The parent will be as gentle and considerate in speaking to his child, as when called to receive some distinguished visitor, or in wearing some courtly air on a great public occasion. Let us adorn the little things and the commonplaces of life with that “manner of love,” which “the Father hath bestowed upon us,” and which He would have us reflect.

5. Propriety, good sense, and the instinct of knowing the fitness of things, and always acting with good taste are among the most charming features of a well-balanced character. It is what the Apostle calls, “the spirit of a sound mind.” The Lord Jesus was always on time and in order. We never find Him making a mistake or doing an unbecoming thing. And so of divine love it is said, “Doth not behave itself unseemly.” A very simple remark, if appropriate to the occasion, is more effective than the most eloquent speech which is out of place. The Holy Spirit will give the heavenly quality of doing the right thing at the right time and in the right manner.

“I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound: everywhere and in all things I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need. I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me” (Phil. 4: 11-13).

There is a secret in everything. Back of the discoveries of genius the inventions of art and the marvelous transformations of our modern commercial and industrial life, there is always hidden away in some gifted brain a mighty secret whose potential value may be estimated by millions and billions of dollars. The very process by which this sentence will be turned into type, by the simple touch on a keyboard, is one of the most marvelous secrets of modern machinery, the linotype. The wizard of electrical science, from his laboratory yonder in New Jersey, is working out new secrets every year in the practical applications of the electric current. The patent office at Washington protects innumerable little secrets of inventions of all the processes of modern business and machinery.

In the higher realm of the spiritual world everything depends on knowing how to do it. Human morals have failed because they had not learned God’s secret. The ancient philosophers had their outer and inner circles, their mysteries into which the few were initiated, and their occult science and philosophy. But it was all a labyrinth of useless speculation, and had no power to lift humanity out of its helplessness and sinfulness. Only by divine revelation could the problem be solved and the mystery revealed. But the great Apostle tells us that the secret has at last been made known. The Revised Version furnishes a striking and beautiful translation of the last part of our text. “I have learned the secret, … I can do all things through Christ who strengtheneth me.” It is not the first time that Paul speaks of this secret. In his epistle to the Colossians, there is a striking passage in which he refers to the “mystery,” literally the secret “hid from ages and from generations, but now is made manifest to his saints: To whom God would make known what is the riches of the glory of this mystery [secret] among the Gentiles.” And then he tells us what it is, “which is Christ in you, the hope of glory.”

This was the great trust committed to him to deliver to the world. It is an open secret, and yet it is only comprehended by those who enter into the “secret place of the most High [and] abide under the shadow of the Almighty.” It is to these that he whispers it in our beautiful text, as he tells them how, by a power beyond themselves, they can live out the beautiful ideal which he has been presenting to them in this exquisite epistle.

I. THE NATURE OF THE SECRET

He does not leave us one moment in doubt about it. It is thus, “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.” The literal translation of this verse adds much force to it. “I am strong for everything in the endynamiting Christ.” The Greek root of this last phrase has acquired a peculiar significance. Dynamite denotes the most powerful of material forces. The Apostle means that he has found a power outside of himself and beyond his own power, the infinite power of Christ, and that he has come into connection with this power in such a way that it has become available for his every need, and while in touch with it he is strong for everything and for all things.

Let us carefully note that this power is all centered in a Person; namely, the living Christ, and it is only while one is in this Christ, abiding in Him, depending upon Him, drawing his life from Him, that he has the command of this all-sufficient strength. It is not merely through the Christ, but it is in the Christ; that is, in actual union with Him, that the strength comes. It is not that so much power is communicated to him to be at his own control and disposal as a dynamo or battery might be, but that the power remains in the person of Christ, and is only shared by the believer while he is in direct union and communion with the Lord Himself.

This, then, was Paul’s mighty secret, that God had united him with the Lord Jesus as the living source of all possible blessing, strength and sufficiency, and that it was his privilege to draw from Him moment by moment the supply for all his needs, just as the human system derives life from the oxygen we breathe through the inhalation of air into our lungs.

The human mind has always been straining after some closer union with the divine powers, and ancient art is just an attempt to bring the gods down in the likeness of men through the sculpture, paintings and mythologies of ancient Greece. But all this was cold and unsatisfying; the out-reaching of an arm too short to reach the heavenly help for which human hearts are fainting. Paul, however, had found the secret. Not a God in marble, in poetry or in the legendary stories of ancient mythology, but a God in human flesh, a God who had lived our life with all its trials and experiences, and who, now exalted to a spiritual and heavenly manhood, still comes to dwell in human hearts and relive His life in our actual experiences from day to day. It is not merely occasional help, but His constant life and presence. There is no part of our existence which He cannot touch. There is no place in our varied experience where He cannot meet us. His humanity is as broad as ours, and His presence and touch as real and tender as in the old Galilean days. This is the secret of all-sufficiency, the friendship of Jesus, the indwelling life of Christ, our union heart to heart with One who, as no other friend could possibly do, lives out His very life in ours.

Beloved, have you learned this secret? to distrust yourself and fully trust Him? to cease from your own works and let Him work in you to will and to do of His good pleasure?

II. THE APPLICATION OF THIS SECRET

1. It applies to all things. It is a universal secret, and covers the whole range of our life and need. It extends to our spirit, our soul and our body, to our temporal as well as to our religious interest, to our families and friends as well as to ourselves, to our business, our circumstances, our health, our life, our death, our whole eternity. It is a universal secret.

2. It applies to everything, as well as to all things. It is particular, as well as general. It must be applied moment by moment to all the details of life. It is not something to think about in church, at communion seasons, on birthdays and anniversaries, at morning and evening prayer, and on the great occasions of trial and need. But it is something that comes afresh with every breath, and that in order to be effectual must be constantly employed and applied in every separate link in the whole chain of human life, sixty seconds in the minute, and twenty-four hours in the day. This is where we often fail. We try to live wholesale lives. God’s method is moment by moment, breath by breath, line upon line, here a little and there a little. We find, alas, too often that the chain is no stronger than its weakest link, and that the stitches we have dropped, the links we have lost, have destroyed the effectiveness of life as a whole.

3. It is a self-contained secret. There is a fine expression in the original translation of the word rendered “content” in our revised version. It is not exactly content, but rather self-sufficient or self-contained. “I have learned in all circumstances to be sufficient in myself.” The idea is for the Christian to be independent of circumstances, and to have a source of satisfaction and comfort in his own soul that lifts him above the things outside of him. “My mind to me a kingdom is,” is the human way of expressing independence of character and sufficiency of resource. Much higher is the inspired statement of the greater truth, “The kingdom of God is within you,” and “The kingdom of God is not meat and drink; but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost.”

One of our wisest Christian workers, recently addressing a party of missionary candidates, advised them not to go to the foreign field unless they had sufficient spiritual resources to make them happy within their own hearts even in loneliness and isolation. If you are going to be fretting in six months on account of homesickness or lonesomeness don’t go to China. But if you have a Christ and a joy that make you happy in the loneliest place quite independently of the things around you, then you can be happy anywhere and at leisure from your own cares to work effectively for God.

Now this was what Paul meant when he talked about being self-sufficient in every condition. He had within himself a kingdom of peace and joy that mere outward things could not disturb.

This expression was a technical term with the ancient Stoics. They were fond of talking about their independence of circumstances and things. Their philosophy taught them to despise circumstances and material gratifications, and they were able to maintain the form of outward stoicism, even as the Indian could stand at the stake with countenance unblanched amid all the terrors of a violent death. But this was only apparent. The heart was clinging to a shadow and really holding on to itself. The Apostle meant something different from this; not merely the resolution of a firm, determined will, but the restful satisfaction of a heart filled with the peace and joy of the Lord, and finding its heaven within. This Christ can give, and in His perfect peace the heart can sing:

“Everything in Jesus,
And Jesus everything.”

4. This secret is sufficient for the severest trials and the deepest depression. “I know how to be abased,” he exclaims, “I have learned how to be hungry. I know how to suffer need.” All this he had proved by the severest experience through which a human life has ever passed. There was no sort of trial that he had not proved, and yet his secret had stood the test. Look at him on the tossing deck of the vessel in the Mediterranean, the only bright and fearless spirit in all that company. Look at him chained to the soldier in the Roman barracks, rejoicing that he is permitted to bear testimony for Christ to the rude men around him. Listen to him as he bids farewell to his weeping friends at Ephesus, expressing the one ambition to finish his course with joy. Sometimes we see his spirit sinking just enough to put him in touch with his suffering brethren and have them know that he understands their trials and afflictions. The only time his spirit seems to break is when he is thinking of others and suffering for their sakes. For himself his spirit is always victorious, and he did indeed finish his course with joy, and prove to the end that Christ was all-sufficient for the most tried and suffering life.

How often people succeed under favorable circumstances and break down when trial comes. Tropical plants cannot stand the breath of frost. God has to expose every life to the fire, and only that which stands the fire of trial can have a part in the final reward.

5. His secret was equal to the severer test of prosperity. More difficult to stand even than trial, is happiness and success. Many a soul that has stood with fortitude amid the storms of adversity has sunk into soft and languid weakness under the enervating influence of prosperity and the world’s approval. The wealth for which you longed has come, but the liberal heart has gone. The opportunities for usefulness for which you craved have been bestowed upon you, but the unselfish and obedient spirit which would have once improved them has disappeared. The holy courage that stood for God when others quailed, cannot now afford to sacrifice the good opinion of a world whose smile has proved too sweet for your once high purpose and principle. The world has become so necessary for your happiness that you cannot sacrifice it, and the work that once was strong in God in the day of small things is now, alas, like Laodicea, “rich, and increased with goods, and having need of nothing”; but alas, the Master is standing at the door and saying, “Thou knowest not that thou art wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked.”

But this is not necessary. The grace of Christ is able to sustain the heart in the highest as well as the lowest place, to fill you with humble thankfulness for the prosperity that is but a trust for God, and to make you a faithful steward of the means and resources which He has bestowed upon you only that you might use them for Him. And so there are glorious examples of consecrated wealth, of lofty intellectual gifts without pride, of spiritual blessings that have not separated us from the Giver, of five talents that have been multiplied into ten, and of trusts so used for God that they have been increased a hundred fold.

You will notice in this classification the great variety of extremes covered by this experience. It is a secret that is equally applicable to the most opposite conditions of life. Yonder Brooklyn Bridge, it is said, contracts and expands with winter cold and summer heat nearly two feet in its entire length. But the great iron strands are adjusted so as to slip past each other on the mighty towers and allow for these extremes. More perfect is God’s adjustment for the vicissitudes of His people. There is an inward life that is unmoved alike by heat and cold, a fixed and steadfast principle that presses on through the darkness and the light, through Him who is its source, “the same yesterday, and today, and forever.”

III. THE LEARNING OF THIS SECRET

Three times the Apostle refers to his spiritual education. First he says, “I have learned.” Then he adds later, “I know.” And finally he tells us, “I am instructed.” This last expression is translated in the new version, “I have learned the secret”; and in one of the best versions it is, “I have been initiated.” There are really two stages in learning this great secret. The first is the acquiring of the principle. The second is the practice of its application, until we become perfectly familiar with its use, and thoroughly proficient in its application. To take a familiar illustration: in the art of phonography the principle is soon acquired. In a few days you can learn the characters and the general principles. But it takes months and sometimes years of patient application to be able to use them quickly and efficiently. And so we can soon comprehend the great principle of the spiritual life, the indwelling Christ and the Holy Ghost, and we can very soon, if our hearts are true and sincere, begin the deeper life and receive the Holy Ghost. But it is a very different thing to take this deep secret, and apply it moment by moment to all the details of holy living. It is here that we constantly fail. At some consecration meeting, at some sacred altar, you gave yourself to Christ and received Him as your life and strength. But that was but the start. It is the abiding that tells. It is walking with Him step by step that makes Him real and proves His all-sufficiency. Alas, many of us are satisfied with a mere smattering of the holy art of walking with God. What we need is what an old writer calls “The practice of the presence of God.” The constant patient, ceaseless dependence upon Him for everything, the applying of our secret to every test that comes in life, to every moment of every day until we can say with the great Apostle, “I have been initiated, I have been instructed, I can do all things through Christ who is my strength.”

Beloved, shall we take this mighty secret, and go out to live it step by step and day by day, until we have walked through “all the land in the length of it, and in the breadth”; and until in the all things and the everything, the always and the everywhere, we shall have proved “what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God.”

At the name of JESUS every knee will bow.

“But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus” (Phil. 4: 19).

There are some souls that always seem to be kept on scant measure. Their spiritual garments are threadbare, their faces pinched, and their whole bearing that of people who are poverty stricken, and kept on short allowance. They are always “hard up,” and on “the ragged edge” of want and bankruptcy. To use the vivid figure of Job they come through by “the skin of their teeth,” or as Paul expresses it in a stronger figure, they are “saved as by fire.” They are represented in Bunyan’s glorious dream, not by sturdy Christian, buoyant Hopeful, and heroic Faithful, but by poor old “Ready to Halt,” with his crutches, Mr. “Much Afraid,” with his downcast look, and Miss Despondency, with her long and miserable face. They sing sometimes, but it is generally this:

“‘Tis a point I long to know,
Oft it causes anxious thought,
Do I love the Lord or no,
Am I His or am I not?”

And when they go to the prayer meeting their usual cry is, “Pray for me.” They are always begging, always hungry, always waiting for somebody to help them, and seldom looking for a chance to help. Like Pharaoh’s lean kine they eat everything in sight, but still they are always half starved.

Loved? Yes, they are loved and cared for by the dear Lord, loved as the crippled child, as the invalid member of the family. Saved? Yes, they are saved through the exceeding grace of Jesus Christ, “who can have compassion on the ignorant, and on them that are out of the way.” But they never can be samples of the King’s household, representatives of His grace, or attractions to draw men to His fold. They are poor, half-starved sheep, that cast reflection on the goodness and care of the Shepherd, and not happy, well fed lambs that “lie down in green pastures,” for very satiety, and make others feel like saying, “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.” On the contrary many who look at them will say, “If that is Christianity, save me from it.”

In contrast with such as these, there is another type of Christian character that we might call the “life more abundantly.” It is a life which overflows in thankful joy and unselfish blessing to others. Its faith is full assurance. Its love “heareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things,” and “never faileth.” Its patience has “all longsuffering with joyfulness.” Its peace “passeth all understanding.” Its joy is “joy unspeakable and full of glory.” Its service is so free and glad that duty is delight and work a luxury of love. Its giving is not only cheerful but “hilarious.” Its sacrifice is so willing that even pain is joy, if borne for others and for God. It has enough and to spare, and its love and joy find their outlet in giving the overflow to others and finding that “it is more blessed to give than to receive.”

In a word it has got out into the infinite as well as the eternal, and sails on the shoreless and fathomless sea of God and His infinite grace.

What a difference! It is the difference between the barren desert and the luxuriant oasis with waving palms and glorious verdure. It is the difference between the gaunt and hungry flock and the herds that lie down in green pastures and beside the still waters. It is the difference between the poor burdened horse that is trying to drag you up the hill, and the flying locomotive that carries you without an effort. It is the difference between the old pump by the roadside, out of which you could force a few pailfuls of water after you had poured one in, and the deep artesian well that pours its gushing torrent forth in floods. It is the difference between the viewless plain and the mountain landscape looking far out to the regions beyond, and the “land of far distances.” It is the difference between the shallow stream, where your boat every moment touches sand or strikes some hidden rock, and the deep unfathomable sea where your keel never strikes bottom and you ride in safety amid ocean’s wildest swells.

Oh, the difference of these two lives.

Once ’twas painful trying,
Now ’tis perfect trust;
Once a half salvation,
Now the uttermost.
Once I hoped in Jesus,
Now I know He’s mine;
Once my lamps were dying,
Now they brightly shine.

Let us look at Paul’s testimony of this overflowing life.

I. IN HIS OWN EXPERIENCE, IT WAS HIS LIFE

“I am full,” he cries, “and abound.” Was there ever such a paradox?

A prisoner chained between two soldiers in a cheerless Roman barracks! A man who says, “I have suffered the loss of all things!” A hated, persecuted outcast, even now awaiting a trial in which his very life hung by a thread on the capricious will of the Roman tyrant! A man who bore in his body the scars of beating, scourgings, shipwrecks, and privations of every kind, and who, only a few days before had received some scanty offerings of clothing, food, and perhaps a little money, from his congregation in Philippi. It is this man who cries, “I have all and abound.”

Was it a dream of a diseased imagination? Or was it true in some higher sense than the world could understand?

Yes, he had a life whose sources were not in circumstances or things. And that life was full and satisfying. He had a salvation proportioned to the depth of his sin and need and he could say of it, “The grace of our Lord was exceeding abundant with faith and love which is in Christ Jesus.” He had a hope of which he could boast, “I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” He had a love that could say, “I will very gladly spend and be spent for you; although the more abundantly I love you, the less I be loved.” He had a victory of which he could boast, “Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us.” His sacrifices were so gladly made that he could say, “Yea, and if I be offered upon the sacrifice and service of your faith, I joy, and rejoice with you all.” His sufferings so little disturbed him that he could say, “The Holy Ghost witnesseth in every city, saying that bonds and afflictions abide me. But none of these things move me, neither count I my life dear unto myself, so that I might finish my course with joy, and the ministry, which I have received of the Lord Jesus, to testify the gospel of the grace of God.”

There was not one little thing about him. His whole character was built on the most colossal mold. He was a great, magnanimous soul, with a spiritual life as large as the heart of God. He could say to the Corinthians, “Ye are not straitened in us . . . be ye also enlarged.” Into this little, sorrow-beaten frame God compressed the grandest character that ever followed Jesus, and standing on the battlements of his sublime exaltation he tells us we may have all he had, and cries, “My God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus.”

II. FOR OTHERS

Paul’s life was an overflow life, and that always means a life that reaches out to bless others. It has enough and to spare for a suffering world and “grows rich in giving.” Paul lived in the hearts of others. “I long to see you,” he wrote in anticipation of his visit to Rome. Not that he might see the splendid capital of the Caesars, nor even that he might enjoy the fellowship of his cherished friends, but “that I may impart to you some spiritual gift.” “We were willing,” he writes to the Thessalonians, “to have imparted unto you not the gospel of God only, but also our own souls.”

The sufferings of the children of God were his. “Who is offended,” he writes to the Corinthians, and “I burn not?” His prayers are all for others. Rarely do we find him asking anything for himself. His life was all given away in ministry for others. And it was Christ he ministered. He had a Christ he could give away and yet retain. He was so filled with the Spirit of the Master that he could just pour out His life into every empty and open heart.

How blessed to find, how blessed to live such lives. How delightful it is to come in contact with hearts that are not preoccupied with their own needs, but are at leisure to lift the burdens of other hearts, and help men to touch His garment.

Beloved, have you this glorious fullness? Have you got beyond your own self-consciousness, your own prayers, your own little circle of friends and family ties, until your heart is in touch with the Savior’s and the world’s? This is the crowning glory of the sweetest Christian life.

“A heart at leisure from itself
To soothe and sympathize.”

III. THE SOURCE OF THIS SUPERABUNDANT LIFE, “MY GOD”

It all came from the revelation and conception he had obtained of God. He was but drinking at a higher fountain, and pouring out the fullness he received. He had found a heavenly spring, and he was but leading others to the same fountain.

The scantiness or the fullness of your life all depends upon how large a God you have! The God of most Christians is not much larger than the dumb idol of wood or stone the heathen worships and then takes down from its pedestal and scolds if it does not answer his prayers or meet his expectations. The God of Paul was a very glorious and mighty Being, and it was the greatness of his God that gave greatness to his character and life. He was but a vessel to receive and reflect the glory of God. “The people that do know their God shall be strong, and do exploits.” The souls that have learned to clothe themselves with His Almightiness are the people of enlarged vision and victorious faith. Human heroes are honored for what they have become or achieved. God’s heroes are honored for the measure in which they have dropped out of sight and simply magnified Him. It is not Elijah but Elijah’s God that we remember. It is not Paul, but Paul’s Christ that we want.

What then does Paul mean when he says, “My God”?

1. He means the God of nature. The God who shall fully supply all our need is the God who made the heavens and earth, and upholds the whole system of the universe by the hand that once hung from the nails of Calvary. Look at the glory of the heavens and the elements of nature. Multiply every star you see in yonder heavens by one hundred and you have not begun to count the worlds of space, but He made them all. They are poised by His power and moved by His omnipotence. In perfect order and awful might they sweep along their orbits through immensity. Yonder in the cluster of the Pleiades that little star is twelve thousand times the size of our sun. And there are millions of such suns all along the heavenly fields, each surrounded by systems and satellites. Cannot He who holds them in His hand supply all thy need?

2. He is the God of the Old Testament. He is the El Shaddai of Abraham, the great I Am of Moses, the Captain of Joshua’s vision, the Jehovah God of Elijah’s miracles, the mighty Providence of Esther and Nehemiah, the God who divided the sea, marched through the wilderness, shattered the walls of Jericho, halted the sun at Joshua’s command, raised the dead at Elijah’s word, stilled the lions for Daniel’s protection, walked through the fire with the Hebrew children, and proved equal to all His people’s needs through 4000 years of Old Testament history, history of patriarchs, prophets and saints. Is not the God of Abraham, of Esther, of Daniel, of Elijah, able to supply all your need?

3. He is the God and Father of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. The life of Jesus is just the expression of His power and love. He stood among men healing the sick, pardoning sinners, comforting the sad, and doing it all in the Father’s name and by His authority and will. “My Father worketh hitherto and I work,” was His constant testimony. My miracles of power, My words of grace, are just My Father’s will, My Father’s love. The God who so loved the world as to give His only begotten Son, this is the God who “will supply all our need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus.”

4. He is the God of the risen Christ. He is the God for whom even death has no barrier that can hinder His purpose or defy His will. He who burst asunder the bars of the grave, and without an effort passed through that sealed stone and met His sorrowing disciples with the glad ‘All Hail’ of the first Easter morning, He it is who will supply all our need according to “the exceeding greatness of his power … which he wrought in Christ, when he raised him from the dead.”

5. He is the God of the Ascension. Not only did He raise Him from the dead, but He “set him at his own right hand in the heavenly places, Far above all principality, and power, and might, and dominion, and every name that is named, … and gave him to be head over all things to the church.” He is enthroned above all other power. He controls every force in the universe. And He is yours. Can He not supply your need?

6. He is the great Intercessor. He is in yonder heaven as our Advocate, Representative and Friend. His one business is to hear our petitions, present them to His Father, and send us the answers. We have a right to His constant intervention, and efficient aid. With such a Friend what can we ever need, how can we ever fail?

7. He is the God of heaven. What do we know of heaven? How much does that expression mean to us, “His riches in glory”? Something we may gather from the inspired descriptions of that City that hath no need of the sun, whose walls are jewels and its streets are shining gold — that glorious New Jerusalem, whose countless streets shall stretch for fifteen hundred miles north and south and east and west, and then as high up in mid-heaven, for the length, the breadth and the height of it are equal. And surely He who can build that Golden City is rich enough to supply all your need. Sometimes as the gates have parted to let some loved one in we have caught a glimpse of its surpassing glories, and we have felt, oh, if He has all this for us by and by can He not supply all our present needs, and anticipate a little our coming heritage of glory? O beloved, how ashamed we shall be some day that we did not better understand our heavenly calling and walk more truly like “the children of a King.”

Yes, this is some feeble measure of “His riches in glory,” and it is according to this that He will supply all our need. Let us trust Him. And let us clothe ourselves with His all-sufficiency and rise to the grandeur of His glorious fullness.

Finally, how shall all this be ours?

First, we must learn to say MY God.

And secondly, we must learn to understand that “our every need” is just the vessel He is ever sending to hold His fullness. Let us pass down the little buckets of need on the endless chain of faith and prayer, and they will come up brimming with His overflowing fullness, each one saying as it flows:

“My God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus.”

At the name of JESUS every knee will bow.