Vital Godliness: A Treatise on
Experimental and Practical Piety
CHAPTER 8
Spiritual Darkness
In practical piety, there is no greater mistake than the
persuasion that if we are pleased with ourselves—that God is also pleased with
us. Vain-glory, self-delight and pride—blind, bewilder, and intoxicate. In no
form or degree do they make us fit for the inheritance of the saints in light.
On the other hand—shame for our own vileness, sorrow for our shortcomings,
self-loathing for undeniable turpitude of soul are profitable. Yes, “it is
better to go to the house of mourning than to the house of feasting; for by the
sadness of the countenance the heart is made better.” In this present life,
God’s people may expect much weeping and mourning. Waters of a full cup are
wrung out to them. But the word of God puts limits to the griefs of the godly:
“Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” “Blessed are
those who mourn; for they shall be comforted.” “You now have sorrow; but I will
see you again, and your heart shall rejoice,” (Ps. 30:5; Matt. 5:4; John 16:22).
Though the righteous shall not weep always, yet they may weep
bitterly. The bare shedding of tears is not the only kind of weeping, nor the
uttering of sighs the only mourning. Many who shed no tears and utter no sighs
or groans—feel more deeply and painfully than those who manifest the usual
signals of distress. There are states of mind far beyond the power of tears to
relieve, far beyond the utterance of groans to alleviate. There is no pain of
mind like that “dry sorrow, which drinks up the blood and spirits.”
Moreover, tears are often shed, and sorrow often felt—which
God abhors. Tears of anger, of jealousy, of wounded pride, of detected
wickedness—are all abominable to God. Jonah displeased the Lord by all his grief
about his gourd. Amaziah was grieved for the loss of a hundred talents of
silver, but God took no account of that.
Each one can determine the character of his sorrow, if he
will but observe whether it improves his heart and temper, and whether it weans
him from the world. That sorrow of the world which works death—is always to be
repented of.
One class of evils bringing sorrow to the righteous is made
up of the common calamities of life, such as sickness, poverty, the failure of
hope, the lack of friends, the lack of means, the lack of success, the death of
friends, and the change of friends into enemies.
Another class of evils over which good men weep, are such as
the sins of the times—ignorance, profaneness, lewdness, drunkenness,
covetousness, lukewarmness, heresies, contentions, whisperings, and revilings.
When God’s cause languishes, the righteous must be sad. When iniquity abounds,
he whose love is fervent, must be grieved. When the foot of pride is on the neck
of the saints, there will be mourning. David cried, “Let the wickedness of the
wicked come to an end,” (Ps. 7:9). “Rivers of waters run down my eyes, because
men keep not your law,” (Ps. 119:136). “Horror has taken hold upon me, because
of the wicked who forsake your law,” (Ps. 119:53).
So strong was this feeling in the mind of Paul, that he said
to the Thessalonians, “Now we live, if you stand fast in the Lord,” (1 Thess.
3:8). This was equivalent to saying—If all things go on well in the church, I
shall rise superior to all other trials; but if the church wanders into error
and folly, my heart will die within me. So highly does God prize such
dispositions, that when he was about terribly to punish Israel of old, he sent
an angel with an ink-horn by his side through the midst of the city, to set a
mark upon the foreheads of the men that did sigh and cry for all the
abominations that were done in Jerusalem, (Ezek. 9:4).
Other evils over which godly men weep, are found in
themselves, such as error, ignorance, prejudice, pride, self-righteousness,
worldliness, levity, uncharitable tempers and dispositions, censoriousness,
envy, sinful anger, hatred, a proneness to remember wrongs, to indulge
complaints, and to forget mercies. There is no plague like the plague of an evil
heart! There is no misery like the wretchedness of “conscious vileness!” There
are no sighs so long and so deep-drawn as those caused by indwelling sin. Job
said, “I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes.” “Behold, I am vile!” David
said, “My iniquities have taken hold upon me, so that I am not able to look up;
they are more than the hairs of my head; therefore my heart fails me.” Isaiah
said, “Woe is me, for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I
dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips.” And Paul said, “O wretched man
that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?”
Besides these things, God’s people are subject to seasons of
great spiritual darkness, which cause them long and loud and bitter weeping.
These times of darkness and depression are more or less lasting and afflicting,
according to the wisdom of Him who knows when, how, and how far his chosen
servants need suffering. These seasons of darkness sometimes come on very
suddenly, but more commonly they are gradual in their approaches. There is first
the little cloud. This spreads and thickens, until the whole heavens become
black and angry. As in the natural world the elements of storm are often
gathering when we perceive them not, so in the spiritual world, sins are often
separating between us and God, and we know not our sad estate. Many think all is
well, until to their surprise their day is turned into night, and their mirth
into heaviness. Then to their grief they find their enemies upon them, and
themselves shorn of the locks of their strength. Any sin may lead the mind to
deep depression—may shroud it in terrible darkness.
This darkness consists of several things. Commonly it is
attended with a loss of comfortable evidence of personal piety. Hope grows dim.
Marks of piety become obscured. The troubled soul feels unable to claim the
promises. It has some perception of their sweetness and faithfulness, but says
they are not for me. Then thoughts about the mercy of God yield no comfort, for
the soul says, “I have abused all his kindness. I have rendered myself
abominable by my base ingratitude.”
Reflections on past seasons of joyful experience but render
the present trial the more painful. They show what has been lost. Or perhaps all
former comforts are counted delusions. Once the man thought he never could
question God’s love to him; but now he is ready to turn away from all that is
cheering, and look only on the gloomy side of his religious state. Reading the
Bible rather depresses than refreshes him; for although glorious things are
there spoken of God’s people, yet he discredits his claims to discipleship.
Finding that in some things he has been sadly deficient in godly sincerity, he
is much inclined to pronounce himself in all things hypocritical. The view he
takes of his sins is—that they are so fearfully aggravated that they cannot be
forgiven, even through the redemption that is in Christ. He does not see how one
who loves God can be guilty of so heinous offences. Tears are his food day and
night. As with a sword in his bones, his enemies reproach him; while they say
daily unto him, “Where is your God?”
Hope seems ready utterly to forsake him, and terrible
darkness to take its place. His soul is cast down and disquieted within him. It
is with feebleness that he utters the self-exhortation, “O my soul—hope in
God—for I shall yet praise him for the saving help of his presence.” He can no
more confidently say, “The Lord will command his loving-kindness in the daytime,
and in the night his song shall be with me.”
He is dejected, despondent,
discouraged. He needs a guide, a friend, a counselor, a comforter. Many fears
now torment him. He remembers God, and is troubled. Every divine perfection is
contemplated with dread. God’s truth, and mercy, and power, and holiness, and
justice, and majesty become sources of terror. The King eternal, immortal, and
invisible—becomes the dreadful God. The love of Christ itself increases
apprehensions lest the slighting of his mercies should hasten everlasting
damnation. Fears of having grieved and vexed, and even quenched the Holy Spirit,
so that he is turned to be an enemy—have now a sad prevalence. The threatenings
of Scripture against such as have sinned against much light and many warnings
spread dismay through his soul. Even the promises and invitations of Scripture,
because they have been slighted, produce alarm rather than hope and peace. In
this state of mind, he is terrified at the thought of coming to the Lord’s
supper. To him it is indeed the dreadful “table of the Lord.” In contemplating
it, he sees far more of Sinai than of
And yet prayer is hardly undertaken, or if attempted, is
found impossible. Instead of regular prayer to God, the heart ventures only to
express wishes, but not accompanied by much hope that they will be gratified. If
he asks anything of God, he seems to himself to have little or no faith either
in God’s ability or willingness to grant his petitions.
Satan will now probably roar like a lion over his prey. He
may suggest to the soul that God is its irreconcilable enemy, that Christ will
surely deny it at last, and that the Holy Spirit is fighting against it. He
says, “Your prayers are sin, your efforts are vain, your case is desperate,
Christ has been rejected, the day of grace is past, salvation is impossible,
heaven is lost, hell must be your portion.” He thrusts a thousand fiery darts at
the soul. He labors to arouse to the utmost some unsubdued lust, or suggests
blasphemous thoughts, tempting the soul to curse God, or bid defiance to his
wrath. Such thoughts are shocking; but the more they are resisted merely in
human strength, the more powerful they may become.
All the while the soul is like the troubled sea, which cannot
rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt. His bones wax old through his roaring.
He is consumed by the terrors of the Almighty. He finds no access to the
mercy-seat, no cordial to revive his drooping spirit. Sometimes apprehensions of
certain and speedy wrath become firm and fixed. At times it seems as if the
pains of hell have already got hold upon him. The arrows of the Almighty stick
fast in him. Something so much like despair, that you can hardly tell the
difference possesses him, and he will hardly allow that he is making any effort
to flee from the wrath to come. He thinks, and perhaps speaks familiarly, of
reprobation and hell. Sometimes the adversary pours in his horrid temptations in
an almost perpetual stream. He suggests the great crime of self-murder, and
assigns as a reason, that longer continuance will but aggravate a condemnation
already felt to be exceedingly terrible.
Sometimes one whose heart is thus smitten and withered like
grass, hears the gospel preached publicly or privately, and for a season seems
relieved, at least partially. But often this deliverance is only temporary, and
the mind is apt to sink down again into gloom and wretchedness. To such a soul
nothing is charming. Nature, in her gayest hues and dress, seems covered with a
pall of sadness. The blue heavens wither. The green mountains look hoary. Even
the flowers look drab. Well might he now sing,
“Sweet prospects, sweet birds, and sweet flowers,
Have lost all their sweetness with me;
The mid-summer sun shines but dim,
The fields strive in vain to look mirthful.”
Sleep departs, or is broken by frightful dreams.
He forgets
to eat his bread, (Ps. 102:3.)
Probably in the midst of all this suffering, when he most
needs the sympathies of God’s people, they will seem cold and distant; or
perhaps they will judge him harshly, and regard his present distress as the
fruit of some special sin. Perhaps trumpet-tongued slander will open wide her
mouth, and proclaim falsehoods concerning him. Or perhaps sickness, or death, or
financial distress will invade his habitation; and thus he has sorrow upon
sorrow. If God’s word gives any relief in this state of mind, it is only those
parts of it which describe his present state or express his present feelings.
The complaints of Job or the mourning prayers of David show him that others
before him have been in deep water, and so he sees that possibly he may yet
escape; but “a horror of great darkness has fallen upon him.” “The spirit of a
man sustains his infirmity; but a wounded spirit, who can bear?”
His soul sinks, and it seems as if all was lost. He may have
days or weeks or months of apparently tideless, waveless, shoreless, fathomless
woe. But when God’s purposes are accomplished, then comes relief. This may
approach suddenly, but more commonly it comes gradually. Sometimes sudden and
transient joy is given to prevent despair, before a settled calmness and quiet
of soul is obtained. Generally the first step towards a return of joy, is an
increase of hope. Paul directs that we should take for a helmet the hope of
salvation. We are saved by hope. Hope excites to action; and to the comfort of
this distressed soul, he finds that with God’s help he can do something. He can
resist the devil, and cause him to flee. The sword of the Spirit is God’s word,
and Satan finds its edge too keen for him.
When this man finds he can stop the mouth of the old lion, or
discovers that he is a chained enemy, and that there is One stronger and
mightier than the prince of the power of the air—he is very encouraged, and
fights against him lustily. This encourages hope, and faith begins again to lay
hold of the promises. Confidence in God—in his power, wisdom, truth, and
mercy—reassures the soul. The tongue of the dumb is loosed. The silent man
begins to pray. The mourning soul begins to sing of mercies. Portions of
Scripture begin to be brought home to the heart with heavenly sweetness. His
views of the Savior become refreshing and ravishing. He sees God in Christ,
reconciling the world to himself. He glories in the cross of Christ. He esteems
all things but loss, for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus his
Lord. The Holy Spirit dwells in him, takes of the things of Christ, and shows
them unto him. The Sanctifier becomes the Comforter. He now takes root downward,
a sure pledge that he will yet bear fruit upward.
No precept of God’s word is too strict for him. No promise is
without its sweetness. No hours are so pleasant as those spent in devotion. He
can now say in truth, “I had rather be a door keeper—perform the humblest
service—in the house of my God, than to dwell in the tents of wickedness.” His
prejudices against men subside, his enmities are all buried, his heart-burnings
give place to a spirit of love which embraces all mankind. He has a special
delight in all God’s people. He now knows that he has passed from death unto
life, because he loves the brethren. His heart is full of gratitude. His mouth
is full of praise. His thoughts burn within him. They are of salvation. Gladly
does he offer all to Him, who has brought him up out of the horrible pit and the
miry clay, and set his feet upon a rock. Now his meditation of God is sweet. And
although sin is still at work, it no longer prevails against him. He looks
forward with confident expectation to the period not distant, when he shall be
done with temptation forever, behold Christ in the fullness of his glory at
God’s right hand, and take up his abode on the banks of the river of life! He
now takes just and profitable views of the nearness of eternity, of the
shortness of time, of the worthlessness of things which perish, and of the
priceless value of heavenly things.
And now the bent of the soul is towards God. The believer
discovers the end of the Lord in his late trials. He sees how they were designed
to prepare him for more abundant supplies of grace, strength, and enjoyment. He
is therefore ready to say, “It is good for me that I have been afflicted!” He is
now like a child weaned of his mother. He is filled with the peaceable fruit of
righteousness. Such a view of one’s experience is instructive. It teaches many
lessons. It specially warns us to beware of the beginnings of sin. Neglect of
duty, levity of mind, low views of God, a fretful temper, deceit, a lack of the
spirit of forgiveness, or any other sin, may plunge us into darkness.
“Fear of man” is a great foe to grace. “He has begun to be a
bad man—who fears to be a godly man.” We cannot be too vigilant over our own
hearts. We cannot too tenderly love our Master and his people. We cannot be too
zealous in the Lord’s cause. “Sin’s joys are but night dreams.” If at any time
we should be overtaken with darkness, let us make diligent search for the cause.
Our besetting sin is that sin which we find ourselves averse to dealing with, or
disinclined to hear faithfully reproved. In times of darkness we should be very
diligent in reading the Scriptures. Possibly we may have slighted some portion
of God’s word, while it contains the very truths whose cleansing, comforting
power is most needed in our case. Especially labor to know the full import of
those portions of Scripture which treat of experimental religion. The heavens
themselves shall pass away, but God’s word is forever stable.
In darkness and perplexity consult, if you can, an
experienced minister or Christian. Do not count them enemies if they probe your
wounds and deal faithfully with you. Those who do but prophesy smooth things,
will be found unprofitable in the end. The advice of weak, ignorant, or
prejudiced people is apt to be injurious. Consult not those who are not fit to
be advisers. Labor to obtain clear views of the freeness and sufficiency of the
salvation which is in Christ Jesus. Remember how in millions of cases where sin
abounded, grace has much more abounded. “Nothing can satisfy an offended
conscience, but that which satisfies an offended God,” said Matthew Henry. “And
well may that which satisfied an offended God pacify an offended conscience.”
Well did Cromwell in a letter to a friend say, “Salute your dear wife from me.
Bid her beware of a bondage spirit. Fear is the natural issue of such a spirit;
the antidote is love. The voice of fear is— ‘If I had done this, if I had done
that, how well it had been with me.’ Love argues in this wise— ‘What a Christ
have I; what a Father in and through him, what a name has my Father—merciful,
gracious, long-suffering, abundant in goodness and truth; forgiving iniquity,
transgression, and sin! What a nature has my Father. He is love—free,
unchangeable, infinite!’ The new covenant is grace, to or upon the soul to which
it is receptive.”
Your salvation does not depend on your comfortable or
uncomfortable frames—but on the grace and power of God. Remember the word, the
oath, the covenant of God. Fight against despair. It is a great sin—as well as a
great misery. Be conscientious in the performance of every duty. “He who loses
his conscience—has nothing left worth keeping.” It would be no token for good to
have your affliction pass away while you are indulging in either sins of
omission or of commission. “If you would not have affliction visit you
twice—listen at once to what it teaches.” God will never desert one who keeps a
conscience void of offence. He may be weak as water, but God will gird him with
strength. Leighton says, “When we consider how weak we are in ourselves, yes,
the very strongest of us, and how assaulted; we may justly wonder that we can
continue one day in a state of grace. But when we look on the strength by which
we are guarded, the power of God, then we see the reason of our stability to the
end; for Omnipotency supports us, and the everlasting arms are under us!” A good
old English bishop had for his motto, “Serve God, and be cheerful.”
Beware of unnecessary expressions of your feelings in the
presence of wicked men, lest they stumble at your temptations; or in the
presence of weak brethren, lest you offend against the generation of God’s
children. Some men do not know that “a diamond with some flaws—is still more
precious than a pebble that has none.” David kept his mouth with a bridle while
the wicked was before him. He held his peace even from good. Do not wound Christ
in the house of his friends by any exposure of your trials which will not be
understood by others. Rather bear your sorrows in secret. In your darkness call
to mind the years when the candle of the Lord shone upon you. Former joyful
experiences of our Father’s love are not so to be relied on as to make us
careless about our present state. Neither are they to be forgotten.
In meeting Goliath, David encouraged himself by calling to
mind God’s goodness on former occasions of great peril: “The Lord who delivered
me out of the paw of the lion, and out of the paw of the bear—he will deliver me
out of the hand of this Philistine,” (1 Sam. 17:37). When your darkness begins
to be removed, do not rest satisfied with small attainments. Some good men think
that one of the errors of our day is preaching a low level of pious experience.
However this may be, let us beware of resting in few and small victories. “Open
your mouth wide, and I will fill it,” says God.
One of the best ways to dispel fears for our personal safety
is to labor for the salvation of others. Professed Christians often get into a
morbid state of mind about their religious prospects. They are afraid they shall
not be saved. Perhaps they will not be. If that is their chief mind set, they
can hardly expect comfort. It is selfish always to be thinking of their own
future happiness, and in their terrible fears they are paying the just penalty
of their low aims. But let them go out of themselves, and try to secure the
salvation of others, and their fears are gone. Then they are doing God’s work,
and they have no doubt of his love.
Restored to spiritual comfort, beware of sin in every shape.
Especially beware of spiritual pride and carnal security. In recounting God’s
dealings with you, praise not yourself, but glorify God. Extol his free,
sovereign grace. Let all God’s people remember that soon all their sorrows will
be gone, and the days of their mourning ended. How different the character,
experience, and destiny of the righteous from those of the wicked. Here the
righteous mourn—but they shall be comforted. Here the wicked have their good
things—but they shall be tormented. At death the sorrows of the righteous end
forever—and eternal joy begins. At death the joys of the wicked terminate—and
eternal sorrow begins. The righteous cry to God daily—even in prosperity. The
wicked commonly do not begin to pray until God has ceased to hear.
