Lo, I am with you always

We all seek happiness. Some place it in high, some in low things; some seek it in the gifts of earth, some in the thoughts of heaven; some in sensuality, some in temperance; some in gratifying themselves, some in helping others; some in the fleshpots of Egypt, some in the manna which is angels' food; but happiness we all seek, even if, at the very moment of our seeking it, we are utterly destroying its possibility. Now, does God grant what we call happiness to His saints on earth? Think you that they will complain that He slew them, though they trusted in Him? Do you imagine that had they to make their choice once more, they would say that they had been but miserably befooled, and would be ready to exchange their Saviour's service for Satan's lies? Oh, let them come forth; let them lean from the crystal battlements of heaven; and though we see them not, let them make the silence voiceful. And do they not say, "Listen ye, our brothers, who are toiling on the sea, while we have gained the shore. And know first that God in no wise deceived us. If He gave us not the things that earth counts blessings, neither did He ever promise them, but forbade us to set our heart in any way upon them. And if He gave us sorrow and sighing, and what the world accounted evil things, neither in this has He deceived us, for He warned us that we should have them. He bade us mortify the flesh; and we knew that mortification is not bliss. He told us that 'whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth'; nor were we ignorant that chastisement is not pleasant. Tradition told us that our Lord had said, 'He who is near Me is near the fire'; and no tradition, but His own words, told us (Matthew 10:25). No, our God never deceived us. Our eyes were open. We had counted well the cost." Nor is this all their answer. They bend to us from those pure sunlit heights, and we hear them saying, "And all that our God made us suffer, we knew to be for our good. We wished to be true and noble men, and at any cheaper price than this we could not be so. Not a pang we suffered, but it weaned us more wholly from the world. Not a disappointment which befell our feebleness, but it made us rest more utterly on Him. Not a garish lamp of earth which died out in fume, but it made more visible to us the living sapphires of spiritual hope. For the afflictions which were but mercies in disguise; for the flame which purged away the dross; for the furnace-heat which tried the silver; for the conflagration which burned up the straw and stubble, while the precious stones were left; for the floods which swept away the sand-built bases, to prove to us how unshakeable is that alone which is built upon a rock; for all these we thanked God then — we thank Him yet more deeply now. Yes, remember that our desires were not those of the world. All that we prayed God for was a noble heart which no earthly affection could drag down; and that He gave us, not only in, but by our sufferings. Oh, think not that we repine at these our sorrows; for we longed for one thing, and one thing only, which was to be perfect as our Father in heaven is perfect; and He (as with His own dear Son) so made us perfect by the things which we suffered." And once more the saints say to us, "And you who think that God dealt hardly with us His saints, ask yourselves whether others, who were not saints in any wise, escaped the sorrows which He gave to us. Selfish men, mean men, vulgar men, false, sensual, unloving men, may seem for a time to escape their cross, but does it not fall on them more crushingly at the end? If our lives seemed to fail, do not theirs? If the wicked flourish like a green bay-tree, are they not scathed sometimes by the fire from their bramble passions, and does not the axe at last swing down through the parted air upon their root? If men abused and slandered us, do bad men also escape slander and abuse? And have they any amulet against pain, sickness, loss, bereavement, and all the natural ills of life? But was there not this difference between us, that when calamity fell on us we were strong and calm and pure to bear it, but when it fell on them it was calamity meeting an accusing conscience? And when calamity meets crime, then indeed it is the thunder-cloud gathering upon the midnight, it is the dashing of the sea against the sea. And even at what they would have called the best, did not the very world sicken them of the world? Is there not, as Bossuet said, enough of illusion in its attractions, of inconstancy in its favours, of bitterness in its rebuff, of injustice and perfidy in the dealings of men, of unevenness and capriciousness in their intractable and contradictory humours — is there not enough of all this to disgust us? Aye, and therefore better was our hunger than their satiety; better the freedom of our emancipated affections than their sick, surfeit, and passion-fettered ease." So, then, the saints would tell us that God did indeed deal hardly with them — that He did send them trials, but had forewarned them that it should be so, and He sent largely and richly His peace therewith; and if they had not been His saints, then they would have had the trials but not the peace. "The things we resigned," they say, "were mean things, and vile, and things we did not value; the things we gained were eternal. To us alone was it given to be sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; to count it all joy when we fell into divers temptations; to rejoice in tribulations; to plunge into the willing agony and to be blessed. And in choosing this lot we heard voices which you too may hear; we saw beckoning hands which you too may see. 'Come, My children,' those voices called to us, 'come and do My will. Let the hearts of others be foul with iniquity or fat as brawn — had all been such, the world had been a fen of corrupted waters, or a hell of raging strife — but ye are called to help, to raise, to inspire, to ennoble it.'"

(Dean Farrar.)