Salmos 119

Salmos 119

MacDonald - The Word gives peace in a world of turmoil and safety from the power of temptation. The verse doesn't mean that believers are immune from sorrow or trouble, but rather that by obeying the law, they avoid the pitfalls of sin. (BBC) And nothing causes them to stumble - Of course believer will fall into sin from time to time, but it is not to the point of our ruin. Stumble (04383) miksol - The Hebrew noun מִכְשׁוֹל (miḵšôl) refers fundamentally to a stumbling block, obstacle, or impediment that causes someone to trip, fall, or fail to reach their intended destination. It is derived from the verb כָּשַׁל (kāshal, 03782) meaning “to stumble, totter, stagger, or fall.” The noun therefore describes the object or circumstance that produces the stumbling. While it can refer to a literal physical obstruction, in Scripture it most often functions metaphorically, describing spiritual, moral, or judicial obstacles that cause a person or nation to fall into sin or destruction. Lev. 19:14; 1 Sam. 25:31; Ps. 119:165; Isa. 8:14; Isa. 57:14; Jer. 6:21; Ezek. 3:20; Ezek. 7:19; Ezek. 14:3; Ezek. 14:4; Ezek. 14:7; Ezek. 18:30; Ezek. 21:15; Ezek. 44:12 In its most literal sense, miḵšôl refers to something placed in a person’s path that could cause physical injury. For example, Leviticus 19:14 commands Israel, “You shall not curse a deaf man, nor place a stumbling block before the blind.” Here the term refers to a real obstacle placed maliciously in the path of someone vulnerable, illustrating cruel exploitation. This law reflects God’s concern for justice and compassion, forbidding actions that deliberately cause another person to fall. More commonly, however, the word is used figuratively to describe anything that leads a person into sin or spiritual ruin. In many passages the stumbling block represents idolatry or moral corruption that causes people to fall away from God. For instance, Ezekiel repeatedly uses the term to describe idols as “stumbling blocks of iniquity” (Ezek 14:3–4; 44:12) because devotion to false gods becomes the obstacle that prevents true fellowship with Yahweh. Similarly, Ezekiel 7:19 speaks of Israel’s gold and silver becoming a stumbling block, meaning that wealth and material security led the nation into idolatry and spiritual downfall. In other contexts the term describes a divinely permitted obstacle that brings judgment on persistent sin. Because Israel rejected God’s word, the Lord Himself declared that He would place stumbling blocks before them. Jeremiah 6:21 states, “Behold, I am laying stumbling blocks before this people. And they will stumble against them.” In this case the “stumbling block” refers to the consequences of their rebellion—invading armies and national calamity—which cause the nation to fall in judgment. The idea is not that God tempts people to sin, but that their refusal to repent leads Him to place circumstances in their path that expose and punish their rebellion. The concept also appears in prophetic and messianic contexts. Isaiah 8:14 describes the Lord Himself as “a stone to strike and a rock to stumble over” for unbelieving Israel. In other words, the very One who should be their refuge becomes the cause of their fall because they refuse to trust Him. This imagery later becomes foundational in the New Testament description of Christ. Romans 9:33 combines Isaiah 8:14 and Isaiah 28:16, declaring that Christ is the “stone of stumbling” for those who reject Him. Likewise 1 Peter 2:8 speaks of unbelievers stumbling because they disobey the word. Thus the Old Testament concept of miḵšôl ultimately foreshadows the tragic reality that the Messiah Himself becomes the stumbling block to those who refuse faith. Another important nuance of the word is the idea of removing obstacles so people can walk rightly before God. In Isaiah 57:14, the prophet calls for the road to be cleared: “Remove every obstacle out of the way of My people.” Here the stumbling block represents anything hindering repentance and restoration, and the call is to prepare a clear path for spiritual return to God. Finally, the word can describe the disastrous result of stumbling—ruin or destruction. When people persist in sin, their stumbling block becomes the cause of their downfall. Ezekiel 18:30 warns Israel to repent so that iniquity will not become “a stumbling block to you.” In this sense the word points beyond the obstacle itself to the inevitable collapse that follows moral failure. In summary, miḵšôl depicts anything placed in a person’s path that causes them to trip and fall, whether a literal obstacle, an idol that leads to sin, a circumstance of divine judgment, or even the Lord Himself when rejected in unbelief. The imagery emphasizes the tragic reality that sin places barriers between people and God, causing them to stumble spiritually and ultimately perish unless the obstacle is removed through repentance and faith. In prophetic texts such as Zephaniah 1:3, the term can even refer to the idols and sinful practices that God will destroy, removing the very stumbling blocks that led His people into ruin. Charles Bridges - 165. Great peace have they which love thy law, and nothing shall offend them Here is the happiness of a child of God summed up in one word—peace. Looked at with an eye of sense, slighted by the world, and often chastened with “the rod of affliction,” he is an object of pity. But look at him with the eye of faith—he loves the law of his God, and his heritage is peace. Every feature of the covenant bears some resemblance to its nature: full of grace, peace, and love. Two of the agents are fitly represented by the lamb and the dove—emblems of peace. The tendency of its principles “is first pure, then peaceable” (James 3:17). Its present enjoyment—privilege—peace—“great peace” (Isaiah 11:6–9; cf. Isaiah 2:4). Its end will be universal—eternal (Psalm 37:36; Romans 2:10) peace. Christian! Have you not discovered the connection of peace with love for the law—the whole revealed will of God (Isaiah 43:4)? Looking at it as the law of truth—was not its disturbance of your peace of self-satisfaction and self-delusion the first step to the attainment of solid peace? You learned to see yourself as God sees you. Every fresh view humbled you more deeply. Your dissatisfaction exercised you in an anxious and diligent search for true peace. And then, looking at it again as “the law of faith”—here is your ground of peace laid open. Your way to God is clear—your acceptance free—your confidence assured—your communion heavenly. “Being justified by faith, you have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ;” yea—you are “filled with peace, all peace in believing” (Romans 5:1, 10, 11; 15:13). And have you not equal reason to “love this law” as a law of obedience? Here is your question answered—“Lord! what wilt thou have me to do?” (Acts 9:6). Let “this word dwell in you richly in all wisdom;” and it will be your daily directory of life and conduct. You will “delight in it after the inner man” (Romans 7:22). Walking in the light of it, you will go on to the full enjoyment of peace. “Taking” cheerfully your Saviour’s “yoke upon you, and learning of him, you will” ever “find rest unto your soul.” “All his paths are peace” (Matthew 11:29; Proverbs 3:17). Professor! what do you lose by your indulged indifference to the law of God? Conscience tells you, that you are a stranger to this peace—this “great peace.” A secret root of idolatry cankers the principles of peace. Notions will not bring it. Nothing but vital godliness—the “love for God’s law”—“the truth received in the love of it”—will realize the blessing. Young Christian! be not disheartened, though your “love to the law” be so weak, interrupted, clouded, that sometimes you fear, that you have no love at all. Do you not mourn over its coldness? Do you not desire to love? Seek to know more of the constraining influence of the love of Christ. If your chariot wheels now, like those of the Egyptians, drive heavily; you will then move like the chariots in the prophet’s vision, “upon wheels and upon wings” (cf. Exodus 14:25 with Ezekiel 1:15, 23). At least you are on the way to peace. Stir up the habit of diligent faith; be active—be more earnest in dependence on the Lord. Soon will he visit you with his cheering sunshine (Malachi 4:2), and bless you with his heavenly peace. “The Lord is your shepherd;” and dwelling near the shepherd’s tent, “you shall not want” (Psalm 29:11; 35:8; 23:1). Nothing comes to you without his appointment; and whatever he takes away was only what he had first given, and leaves you nothing but to say—“Blessed be the name of the Lord!” (Job 1:21). Whatever he lays upon you is infinitely less than you deserve, and with the fatherly design “to do you good at the latter end” (Deuteronomy 8:16). Whatever he gives you is peace, “great peace”—“perfect peace” (Isaiah 26:3); and though at best, as to its actual enjoyment, it is only a checkered gift, linked with “this world’s tribulation” (John 16:33), yet as the earnest of that “peace, into which the righteous shall enter, when taken away from the evil to come” (Isaiah 57:1–2)—it is an incalculable blessing. The steadfastness of our profession is a most important fruit of this blessing—“Nothing shall offend them.” (“To them is no stumbling-block.” —Ainsworth.) The daily cross (Mark 10:21–22), the humbling doctrine (John 6:60, 65–66), the fiery trial (Matthew 13:21)—which, by offending the professor, detect the unsoundness of his heart—these are the principles of strength and consolation to the faithful lover of God’s law. Those “had no root in themselves,” who were stumbled by “tribulation or persecution” (Mark 4:17). Hence there was no love in their hearts; consequently no peace in their experience, and no stability in their course. The frequency of such cases in a day of profession is a most painful subject of observation. A course of religion, commenced under the impulse of momentary excitement, is like “a reed shaken by the wind.” The first breath of the storm beats down all resolutions, that were not formed upon the conviction of utter helplessness, and in entire dependence upon Divine grace (cf. John 15:5; 2 Corinthians 12:9). Light without love ends in fearful ruin (2 Thessalonians 2:10–12). Genuine love to the law alone keeps the soul—a love of no common character—a devoted, persevering attachment. The claim of the law is above every other. Everything—even life itself—if need be—must be sacrificed for it (Revelation 12:11). And when it has been thus embraced on a fair calculation of its cost, from a deep sense of its value, and with a spiritual perception of its character and application to our necessities—there will be no stumbling block. Indeed genuine love will prove our safeguard against all grounds of offence. The doctrine of the total depravity of man is objected to; but “love to the law of God”—moulding our minds into its heavenly impression—will remove all ground of offence. The pride of man’s wisdom revolts from the doctrine of the cross, and the freeness of the grace of God. But we love it as a part of the “law of faith.” It suits our case. It answers our need—and therefore here also “nothing offends us.” Thus whatever be the hinderance—whether from Satan or himself—whether from the enmity of the world or the inconsistencies of the Church—the believer, while he mourns over these things, is not offended at them, or at the Gospel through them. He has learned a more Scriptural standard, and to exercise a more discriminating judgment. “Love to the law of God” enables him—instead of being “tossed to and fro” in doubtful perplexity—to “make straight paths for his feet” (Hebrews 12:13 with Proverbs 4:25–27). If his cross be grievous, he seeks from the Lord a quiet spirit; and thus, “in patience possessing his soul,” he finds “the yoke easy, and the burden light” (Luke 21:19; Matthew 11:30). His difficulties exercise and strengthen his faith, and add fresh testimony to the faithfulness of the promise. Whether therefore his way be dark or light, his soul is at peace. In the enjoyment of his Saviour’s love, he has the witness in his own heart, that “the work of righteousness”—of “love to the law of his God”—“shall be peace; and the effect of righteousness, quietness, and assurance forever” (Isaiah 32:17). Perfect Peace Read: Psalm 119:161-168 Great peace have those who love Your law, and nothing causes them to stumble. —Psalm 119:165 Have you ever been in a situation where you thought you were about to die? Several years ago, a veteran missionary was in a plane that was circling over St. Louis and unable to land because of poor visibility. As the plane’s fuel supply ran low, he jotted down—just in case—his last will and testament. He wrote, “There is peace, perfect peace. . . . Life with Christ is the way to live. In this hour there is assurance—there is God underneath all the uncertainties of human existence. So I rest in God.” If you or I were in some crisis which gave us not only opportunity but also the incentive to reflect on our basic beliefs, what would we want to leave behind as our final testimony? Would it be a strong, clear witness to the reality of God, the certainty of the Savior’s presence, and the peace-giving sufficiency of divine grace? In times of turbulence or tranquility, do you know the peace that the psalmist expressed when he wrote, “Great peace have those who love Your law”? (Ps. 119:165). Have you experienced the reality of Jesus’ words, “Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you”? (Jn. 14:27). Oh, the peace I find in Jesus, Peace no power on earth can shake, Peace that makes the Lord so precious, Peace that none from me can take. —Beck When we keep our mind on God, God keeps our minds at peace. Keeping On Course Read: Psalm 119:161-168 Great peace have those who love Your law, and nothing causes them to stumble. —Psalm 119:165 Two men had been out deep-sea fishing when night began to fall. As they headed back toward land, the more experienced seaman got sleepy and turned the helm over to his friend. The veteran sailor pointed out the North Star and said, “Just keep the boat going in that direction.” The man had not been at his task very long before he too fell asleep. When he awoke he was thoroughly confused. He shook his friend frantically and shouted, “Wake up and show me another star! I’ve run clean past that first one!” Many people today are looking for something new to guide their lives because they’ve lost sight of God’s standard. They regard the Bible as a relic from the past. But God’s laws are just as relevant and practical now as when He first gave them. His standards are more constant than the North Star and as unfailing as the law of gravity. They are not arbitrary rules like the traffic laws that tell us whether to drive on the right side of the road or the left. Forever, O Lord, is Thy Word Established and fixed on high; Thy faithfulness unto all men Abideth forever nigh. —Sellers God's Word is the compass that keeps you on course. Psalm 119:166 I hope for Your salvation, O LORD, And do Your commandments. Lord (KJV): Ps 119:81,174 130:5-7 Ge 49:18 and done (KJV): Ps 4:5 24:3-5 50:23 Joh 7:17 1Jn 2:3,4 I hope for Your salvation, O LORD - Hope is not "hope so," but "hope sure," and is rendered in the Lxx with prosdokao which means literally to look forward toward, to wait for, to look for, to anticipate. It means to give thought to something that is in the future and the context indicates whether one does this looking/waiting in a hopeful sense, with a longing, with fear (wait with anxiety, live in suspense), or in a neutral state of mind. It describes the attitude saints should have as anticipating, waiting with watchfulness, being in expectation. And do Your commandments. Charles Bridges - 166. Lord, I have hoped for thy salvation, and done thy commandments The “great peace” connected with “the love of God’s law,” is at once the fruit of faith, and the motive of obedience. And the enjoyment of it leads the man of God to give renewed expression to his faith and devotedness. “Faith, which worketh by love,”4 is no less the characteristic of the Old, than of the New Testament Church. For mark here the principle and the object of faith—“I have hoped for thy salvation”—and the practical influence of faith—I have “done thy commandments.” “Walked not believers always in the same spirit? Walked they not in the same steps?” Faith is the exercise of the soul in a sense of need, in desire, and in trust. Faith goes to God on the ground of the promise—hope in the expectation of the thing promised. Thus hope implies the operation of faith. It appropriates to itself the object of faith. The power to take hold of the promises of faith, and to stay our souls upon their “everlasting consolation,” is the energy of “a good hope through grace”—such as “maketh not ashamed.”5 Conscious unworthiness may give a trembling feebleness to the hand of faith, but the feeblest apprehension of one of the least of the promises of the Gospel assures us of our interest in them all. Why may we not set all the fulness of the covenant before the weakest as well as before the strongest believer, and proclaim to both with equal freedom the triumphant challenge—“Who shall lay anything to the charge of God’s elect? Who is he that condemneth?”1 Every believer is alike interested in the Gospel of grace. “There is no difference” in the righteousness of the Gospel, which is “the righteousness of God”—nor in the imputation of it, which is “unto all and upon all”—nor in the subjects,—which is them that believe—nor in the means of its application, which in all cases is “by faith of Jesus Christ”—nor in the need of the blessing—“All have sinned” without difference. All therefore are justified without difference.2 The only difference regards the strength or weakness of the faith, by which the righteousness is more or less distinctly appropriated, and its consequent blessings enjoyed. No soul however can sink into perdition, that grasps the promise of Christ with the hand of faith, be that hand ever so weak and trembling; though, if the promise did not hold us more firmly by its unchangeableness, than we hold it by our faith, who could ever attain the blessing? Not indeed that our interest in the Gospel is transient or uncertain. For though the perception of it may be often interrupted, yet is it not still in the Bible—in the covenant of God—in the heart of God? And is it not constantly renewed in the exercise of faith? The repetition of the same act of faith is therefore equally necessary every moment, as at the first moment of our spiritual life. Whatever be our standing in the Gospel, faith will always realize to the end the same hope for God’s salvation. Indeed, the neglect of the cultivation of its habitual exercise materially weakens its operation in great emergencies. Let it then be regarded as the breathing of the soul. Let it be constantly exercised in the successive occasions of need; and we shall enjoy its clear light and active influence upon occasions, where its special energy is required. Now is not this sometimes your experience? You are distressed by an unsuccessful struggle with wandering, defiling imaginations. You know the promise, and the remedy. But “the shield of faith” has been laid by. You have therefore to seek it, when you want it at hand for the present moment; and thus you lie powerless, at a distance from the cure, instead of being able to bring your sin at once to Jesus—“Lord, this is my trouble; this is the ‘plague of my heart;’ ‘but speak the word only, and thy servant shall be healed.” ’3 Thus the indolent neglect of the quickening principle greatly impairs its powerful energy, and the “confidence and rejoicing of hope”4 flowing from it. “If the life in the flesh is” not “a life of faith on the Son of God,” no solid rest or acceptance can be known. But on what ground is this “hope for the Lord’s salvation” built? On his faithfulness, not on our sincerity; on his promises—not on our frames; on his unchangeableness, not on our constancy.1 It is built—not on the work of grace in us, but on the work of Christ for us—a work, which has satisfied every claim, provided every security, and pledged all the Divine perfections on our behalf—a work so finished and complete, that all the difficulties of salvation on the part of God are removed; and the sinner, finding no hinderance in the way but himself, is warranted, though covered with guilt and defilement, to apply for full, immediate, and unconditional forgiveness. What then hinders the instant reception of the privilege, but disbelief of the record? It is this which dares to “make God a liar;”2 which therefore must not, as is too often the case, be lamented as an infirmity (except, indeed, in cases of constitutional weakness;) but watched, prayed against, and resisted, as a deep and aggravated sin. The present enjoyment of the blessing is indeed often marred by looking at the fruits of faith (contrition, love, diligence, &c.) as prerequisites for believing, instead of looking to the object of faith, to put away our sin, and to produce these fruits in us. This not only binds our sin upon us, but robs God of his honor; and, whilst it restrains his blessing on our souls, reflects upon His wisdom and grace, who has laid the foundation of a sinner’s hope on his own dear Son,3 irrespective of any warrant of faith in himself. We want to be enlivened with sensible comfort, as a ground for our believing in Christ; or, if we look for it from faith, it is from faith, as an act (in which respect it is no more a proper ground for comfort than any other grace,) instead of looking for it from the object of faith. Thus we not only lose the peace and joy we are seeking, but we lose it by our mistaken way of seeking it. The fulness of Christ, and the promises of God in him, are the only basis of a full assurance of salvation: and this basis is equally firm at all times, and under all circumstances. “Ye are complete in him.”4 Your title is as perfect—your interest as secure, as ever it will be at the day of “the redemption of the purchased possession.”5 Awakened sinner! let not then a sense of unworthiness paralyze your faith. As a guilty sinner, you are invited. As a willing sinner, you are welcome. As a believing sinner, you are assured. Why hesitate then to “lay hold on eternal life?” Is it presumption in the drowning man to attempt to swim to the rock of safety? Why then should not the sinking soul cast itself upon the “Rock of Ages?” “Lord, I have hoped for thy salvation.” Believer! “Behold!” saith the Lord, “I come quickly; hold that fast which thou hast, that no man take thy crown.” “Hold fast your confidence and the rejoicing of your hope.”6 This is of no trifling importance. An established confidence ought to result from, and to witness to, your interest in the Lord’s salvation.1 For without it, you have no relief from the spirit of bondage; no enlargement in duties; no enjoyment of privileges: no “growth in grace, and in the knowledge of the Saviour;” no honored usefulness in the Church of God: the “things which remain will be ready to die.”2 Rest not, then, satisfied with an occasional gleam of light and joy, while your horizon is overcast with doubts and fears. Waste not time in heartless complaints, that would be far better employed in a vigorous habit of faith. Live above frames and feelings upon this glorious truth—“Christ has undertaken for me.” He lives, and reigns, and pleads for every sinner that trusts in him. Exercise your dependence upon him in importunate and persevering supplication. “Give all diligence”—at all times—in all ways, private and public—“instant in season and out of season.” Thus, “an entrance into” the joy, peace, and glory of “the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Saviour will be richly ministered unto you.”3 You shall be released from the prison-house of despondency, and shall breathe the free atmosphere of adoption and heavenly love. But remember, that this “assurance of hope,” even in its weakest and lowest influence, is a practical principle—“I have done thy commandments.” “Every man that hath this hope in him purifieth himself, even as he is pure.”4 All obedience that springs not from this source is of a low and legal character; the fruit of self-will, self-righteousness, self-sufficiency. Evangelical obedience can only flow from Evangelical faith and hope. Love to Christ catches fire from the perception of his love to us. Without this perception, all is weariness, toil, and travail of soul in his service; duty, not privilege; constraint, not delight; conscience, not love. Hence the most assured believers will be the most devoted servants of their Master. “The joy of the Lord”—“the joy of faith,” of acceptance, of communion—“is their strength.”5 They live by faith; and as they believe, they love; they deny themselves; they lay themselves out for their Master’s work; they conquer all that oppose their progress. We cannot, therefore, “do his commandments” without “a hope for his salvation.” For only in proportion as we have assured our title to the promises of the Gospel, can we take hold of them, plead them, or experience their support. When, therefore, our hope is indistinct, we are almost left to our own unassisted resources; and our course will probably end in “perpetual backsliding.” Active devotedness flows from assured acceptance.6 Where there is no certainty, there can be little love, little delight, little diligence. Let us walk in sunshine, and we shall work cheerfully and honorably for God.7 Keep then the eye fixed on Christ as the ground, and on obedience as the evidence, of our hope. Thus will our own confidence be more established; and others, beholding in us the power of our Christian hope, will be led to say—“We will go with you, for we have heard that God is with you.”1 4 Galatians 5:6. 5 2 Thess. 2:16. Rom. 5:5. 1 Rom. 8:33, 34. 2 Rom. 3:22, 23. 3 Matt. 8:8. 4 Heb. 3:6. 14. 1 Heb. 6:17, 18. 2 1 John 5:10. 3 Isaiah 28:16. 4 Col. 2:10. 5 Eph. 1:14. 6 Rev. 3:11. Heb. 3:6 1 See Heb. 3:6. Whose house are we—if we, &c. ib. 14. 2 Rev. 3:2. 3 2 Peter 1:5–11. 4 1 John 3:3. 5 Neh. 8:10. 6 See 1 Cor. 15:58. 7 Comp. Isa. 6:6–8. 1 Zech. 8:23. We conclude with giving a full and Scriptural view of the principles and character of Christian assurance. That a full sense of acceptance with God grounded upon the Divine testimonies is attainable—there can be no doubt. The “covenant ordered in all things and sure—(2 Sam. 23:5.) offers ample warrant for the most assured confidence. The promises of this covenant are full, free, multiplied; adapted to all possible diversity of cases—attested by the oath and seal of God for this declared end—“the full assurance of hope,’ and the “strong consolation” of his people. (Heb. 6:11–18.) The instructions of our Lord and his Apostles had the same blessed purpose in view. (John 15:11; 16:33; 1 John 5:13.) The design and efficacy of his atonement—as contrasted with the weakness of the legal services—was, to make his people “perfect as pertaining to the conscience.” (Heb. 9:9, with 10:14.) Under both dispensations has this sense of appropriation and conscious security been maintained. (Job 19:25. Psalm 18:1. Cant. 2:16; 7:10. 2 Tim. 1:12. 1 John 4:16; 5:19, 20.) Its basis is ground common to all. (Rom. 8:35, 38, 39, with 31–34.) The want of it is evidently reproved. (2 Cor. 13:5.) Exhortations are given to press forward to it. (Heb. 6:11. 2 Peter 1:10.) Faith, (Eph. 1:13. Heb. 6:17, 18.) Obedience, (Isaiah 32:17; 48:17, 18; 64:5; John 14:21–23. 1 John 2:3–5; 3:24.) The fear of God, (Psalm 25:14.) Love, (1 John 3:14, 18–21; 4:12.) Diligence, (Heb. 6:11. 2 Peter 1:5–11.) Perseverance, (Hos. 6:3.) on our part; Affliction, (Zech. 13:9.) The gift of the Spirit, (Rom. 8:16. 1 John 3:24; 4:13.) on God’s part—are the means of its attainment. Active devotedness. (Isaiah 6:6–8.) Support in temptation, (Job 19:21–25.) in suffering, 2 Tim. 1:12.) and in the prospect of eternity, (2 Cor. 5:1. 2 Tim. 4:6–8.) are its blessed results. It is evidently, therefore, our Father’s will, that his children’s complete acceptance should not be with them a matter of present uncertainty. He intends—not only that they should reach heaven at last, but that heaven should commence on earth in a state of conscious security and peace—not only that they should have eternal life, but that they should know that they have it. (1 John 5:13.) The Gospel—instead of forbidding this privilege—warrants, produces, and establishes it; for the conviction of the professor, the excitement of the slumbering, and the encouragement of the weak. Yet we must not so identify assurance with faith, as to conclude all that are destitute of it to be unbelievers. It springs indeed from faith, and can grow upon no other root. All the practical principles connected with it are the fruits of faith. “The promise of the Spirit,” by whom the privilege is applied, “is received by faith.” (Gal. 3:14.) The want of assurance also is, in fact, a want of faith. It is the soul seeking “confidence in the flesh,” instead of “rejoicing in Christ Jesus.” The revolting view of its own sin, unconnected with the covering of the atonement, produces despondency instead of assurance. Whereas, on the other hand, a clear apprehension of the doctrines of the Gospel is always a ground for the exercise of faith, and a means of establishing Christian confidence. And yet, unless we separate between the principle, and the conscious interest in the objects of faith, we shall, in a spirit of evangelical self-righteousness, rest our salvation—not upon faith as a means of laying hold of Christ, but upon some feeling or sensation of our own mind. Besides the Old Testament saints occasionally lost their consciousness of the Divine favor—that is, their assurance (Job 13:24; 19:11. Psalm 13:1; 31:22; 77:7–9; 88:7, 14–16); while “the root of the matter”—the root of faith—was still “in them.” With the disciples—while they were ingrafted by faith, as living branches of the true vine—the privilege of assurance was prospective. (John 15:1–5, with 14:20.) Faith, as a means of salvation does not seem necessarily to imply an appropriating interest in the Gospel. (John 1:49, 50. Acts 8:37. Rom. 10:9. 1 John 5:1.) The Apostles exhort to assurance those “who had obtained like precious faith with them.” (2 Peter 1:1–10.) They write to sincere believers, that they might be assured believers—plainly distinguishing between believing unto life, and “knowing that we have life,” and defining assurance to be rather the strengthened exercise, than the essential principle of faith. (1 John 5:13.) They separate again between faith as the result of hearing, and the sealing of the Spirit, i.e. assurance—as the consequence of faith (Eph. 1:13); as also between “the things that are freely given to us of God,” and our knowledge or perception of them by the Spirit of God. (1 Cor. 2:12.) And is our knowledge of these free gifts always distinct? Have we no part in them, till we have fully cleared up our interest in them? And does the right of the heir depend upon his consciousness of the validity of his title?—The “command” instantly to” believe on the name of Jesus Christ,” is indeed as binding upon us all, as any part of the Decalogue. (John 6:28, 29. 1 John 3:23.) But as faith is the means of obtaining forgiveness (Acts 10:43; 13:38, 39; 26:18.)—if it be supposed to imply a persuasion of forgiveness, it would involve the absurdity of believing that we are accepted, that we may be accepted. Thus forgiveness would be made to precede faith, instead of being the result of it. Again—as faith is the instrument, by which we are ingrafted into Christ, (John 15:4.) and brought into this state of acceptance, we must have faith, before we can be in this state—consequently before we can have assurance that we are in it. Faith therefore must be supposed separable from, and antecedent to, assurance. Thus also—if assurance be correctly defined—“knowing whom we have believed,” (2 Tim. 1:12.)—consciousness supposes the previous exercise of faith on its object—that is—faith preceding assurance. Now do many of the exercises of faith recorded in the Gospels exhibit distinct marks of assurance. Sense of need, desire, use of the appointed means, and a spirit of dependence mainly characterized the applicants for the Saviour’s mercy—Doubts of his willingness (Matt. 8:2, 3.) or his ability (Mark 9:22.) often mingled themselves with the sincere workings of faith. Our Lord himself seemed to consider the centurion’s case as an exception. (Matt. 8:8–10.) Seldom did dependence amount to certainty; and appropriation was generally rather the result than the principle of the application. “The assurance of faith”—as it properly respects a dependence upon the record—is indeed the essential principle of Christian life. But “the assurance of hope”—a conscious interest in the record—the real privilege of assurance—seems to be a distinct and separable idea. The truth of the record—“Him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out”—may be implicitly received; yet a consciousness of coming, or of having come, may be much obscured by negligence, self-righteousness, indistinct perception of the acts of faith, or the power of unbelief in some of its various forms. Consequently, there will be doubt of an interest in the record—a want of assurance. For the Bible is not “the Lamb’s Book of Life”—the register of the elect of God. No man can, therefore, bring from thence a direct testimony of his personal salvation. His character—not his name—is in the record. The declaration is—“He that believeth”—not any particular individual mentioned by name—“shall be saved.” No man is commanded in the first instance to believe that Christ died for him individually—but for such as he is—for the unworthy, the guilty, the condemned, the perishing. This is the warrant of his own application, the event of which will—ultimately, if not immediately—be appropriation and assurance. We are deeply convinced, that a lowered exhibition of this precious doctrine and inestimable privilege has greatly deteriorated the standard of Evangelical religion. The objections against it are founded in ignorance or misconception. Instead of savoring of presumption, it is the very principle of humility. It is the reception of the divine testimony without reasoning or disputation. Whereas doubting may be justly considered (to use an anomalous term) proud humility. For does not the doubt on account of our unworthiness, imply a secret dependence on worthiness as a ground of acceptance? Nor again, does assurance militate against the influence of godly fear—which was never meant to impair the certainty of our faith, but to guard us against carnal security and self-confidence. We work out our salvation “with fear and trembling,” upon the ground of assurance—that is upon the appropriating confidence of God “working all our works in us.” (Phil. 2:12, 13. Isaiah 26:12.) The assured hope of the Gospel is the principle—not the hindrance—of godly fear. (Heb. 12:28.) Indeed we must consider this doctrine, scripturally stated, to be the life of present privilege, and the spring of practical devotedness. Where, therefore, it is defectively set forth—or scarcely set forth at all—or guarded with an over-anxious care against abuse—the privilege is but little known, and the springs of active love are weak and uncertain. And thus believers too often, in a languid and highly sinful state of unbelief, acquiesce in a feeble exercise of this vital principle, indolently yielding up all effort for a vigorous and healthy habit of faith. They go about their duties, like an expiring person about his work; agitated about the business of the moment: while the desirableness of health and strength, the Physician and the remedy, are given up in despondency. Their case is perfectly recoverable by due attention to the appointed means, and to the real nature and symptoms of their disease. Yet they sit down in the miserable and degrading conclusion, that their powers are paralyzed; and though they may preserve the notion of spiritual life, and the hope of salvation at last; yet they think they must be content to be feeble, comfortless, and unprofitable. Much injury has also arisen from restricting the privilege of assurance to the maturity of Christian experience. Does not the Apostle place it at the very threshold of the Gospel, when he wrote to “little children—because their sins were forgiven them for Christ’s name’ sake?” (1 John 2:2.) And ought we not, after the inspired pattern, to “desire every one to give diligence,” in pressing towards this mark? (Heb. 6:11.) Diligence—as the habit of faith—is the appointed mean: sloth—as the fruit of unbelief—the main hindrance to its attainment. (Heb. 6:11, 12.) It is undoubtedly the equal and common privilege of the youngest as well as the oldest member of the family of God; and (though unbelief, sloth, or backsliding may for a while preclude the enjoyment of it) it is linked to the first, as well as to any successive exercise of faith—to its most trembling, as well as its most collected, act. (Acts 13:38, 39.) Indeed the first genuine act of faith is at least as strenuous as any subsequent act; and perseverance in this act, where the hand is trembling, is often the characteristic of the greatest decision, courage, and maturity. All, therefore, should be exhorted to assurance; nor should the youngest be satisfied without the attainment of it. Many realize it at a very early stage of experience. And where they fall short of it, it is not from defect in the object, or in the warrant—but in the mean. The exhibition of the work of Christ is not appropriated with that simplicity, which brings with it “joy and peace in believing.” See Acts 8:5, 8, 39; 16:34. 1 Thess. 1:6. We cannot, however, absolutely identify faith and assurance. Adoption into the family of God “by faith” (Gal. 3:26.) does not, as we conceive, depend upon, nor is it in all cases connected with, consciousness of this relation. A child may be fully assured of his interest in the family, and title to the patrimony. But while an infant—when his relation and interest were as complete as at any subsequent period—he had no such consciousness. And thus many of the dear children of God have no consciousness that they are so; yet they cry, they long, they walk—or they try to walk—as children; and so they evince that they are children. Or (to use another illustration) we may have light sufficient to distinguish objects, and to guide us on our way; while yet we do not see clearly, and therefore cannot possibly be conscious that we see clearly. What judgment, we may also ask, must we form of those distressing cases of constitutional infirmity, the characteristic of which is not so much positive unbelief, (though the symptoms may present a mixture of this principle) as a want of mental power (often sudden and unaccountable,) to apprehend the objects of faith in any distinct Gospel relation? They cannot be seen in their true light and bearing· The spiritual optics, though not destroyed, are greatly obscured; so that the eye of sense and natural conscience fills the retina of contemplation with its own false views. This is a very different case from spiritual indolence, or want of laboriously distinct statement—that is—where the view of the elementary materials is clear, and wants only the exercise of industry in the arrangement of them. This is the state of a person in a swoon—not of a corpse. The principle of life is not extinct, though the consciousness of it is wholly wanting, and may continue so for some time. If, again, assurance be the essential principle of faith, then faith can never be conceived in an imperfect state, or connected with any variation of growth or declension, or of spiritual intelligence. All that are destitute of it, must also be in a state of unbelief. We have therefore to account for the strange anomaly of unbelievers, “knowing the plague of their own hearts,” hating sin, separate from the world, and renewed in heart, temper, life, and conduct. For such unquestionably are many, who—though kept in bondage by their doubts and fears, and far from having attained a conscious interest in Christ—are yet (upon this supposition) bringing forth the fruits of faith upon the root of unbelief! Is not this a stumbling to the unconverted? Is it not rather “despising” than cherishing “the day of small things?” Is it not “breaking” rather than binding up “the bruised reed?” Let us pray for faith to receive and to exhibit “the fulness of the blessing”—“the high calling” and consequent responsibilities; but let us not shut the “little ones” out of the camp. Like Jacob of old—and after the pattern of a more wise and tender shepherd than he—we must “gently lead those that are with young.” (Gen. 33:13, 14. Isaiah 11:11.) The Scripture seems therefore fully to warrant the distinction prevalent among the Puritan divines—that assurance is “necessary to the Christian—for his well-being, not for his being;” for his consolation and establishment, not for his salvation. For our own part—though we would not scruple to say, “He that believeth not shall be damned,” (Mark 16:16.)—we dare not say, ‘He that is not assured shall be damned.’ There can be no peace without some conscious liberty to call God our own. And to be satisfied without the exercise of freedom, is to rob God and ourselves. Yet let not the trembling soul conclude too hastily against itself, from the want of this assurance. Let him search into the grounds of his confidence. Let him appropriate the testimony in simplicity. Let him yield to it the obedience of faith; and let him not doubt, but that in the Lord’s best time and way; he will be able to record his profession of trust—I know whom I have believed. (2 Tim. 1:12.) Psalm 119:167 My soul keeps Your testimonies, And I love them exceedingly. soul (KJV): Ps 119:6-8,97,111,159 Joh 14:21-24 15:9,10 Heb 10:16 and I love (KJV): Ps 40:8 Ro 7:22 My soul keeps Your testimonies, And I love them exceedingly. I LOVE THEM: Ps 1:1,2;19:7-11;Ps 119:16,24,35,47, Ps 119:48,72,92,97,103, Ps 119:111,113,127,159,167,174;Jer. 15:16). Charles Bridges - 167. My soul hath kept thy testimonies; and I love them exceedingly. 168. I have kept thy precepts and thy testimonies: for all my ways are before thee Those only, who have hoped in the Lord’s salvation, can express this joyful delight in his precepts. The Christian does not acknowledge the popular separation of duty and privilege, according as it may be constraint or indulgence to his inclination. Every part of his walk identifies these terms of distinction. If it is his duty it is no less his privilege, to love the precepts. Nothing holds him to them—nothing enables him thoroughly to keep them, but love. All resolutions, vows, cevenants, would be as ineffectual to bind him, as the green withs to fasten the giant.1 David had not “done the commandments” from constraint; but “his soul kept them;” yea, he “loved them exceedingly.”2 Indeed, the bias of the new nature to “keep the precepts,” is as prevalent as that of the old nature to break them. Once the believer would have wished the law of God blotted out of the universe, or at least exchanged for a more indulgent dispensation. But now that it is written in his heart, even its restraint is delightful to him; and as he gains a clearer intimacy with it, and a closer discernment of its spirituality, he “loves it exceedingly.” Not one indeed of the “precepts or testimonies” does he “keep” as he ought, and as he desires; but there is not one of them, that he does not delight in, and most anxiously desire to fulfil. Thus every feature of the Divine image is inwrought in the soul—beautiful in its place and proportion; and all other graces grow in connection with love to the testimonies. Nor let our consciousness of daily failures restrain this strong expression of confidence. The most humble believer need not hesitate to adopt it ‘as an evidence of grace—not as a claim of merit.’3 This frequent repetition4 marks the godly jealousy of the man of God—mindful of his own self-deceitfulness and manifold infirmities—“giving” careful “diligence” to “make his calling and election sure.”5 David knew himself to be a poor sinner; but he was conscious of spirituality of obedience, “exceeding love” to the word, and an habitual walk under the eye of his God—the evidences of a heart (often mentioned in the Old Testament6) “perfect with him.” ‘Christ alone kept the old law, and he enables us to observe the new.’7 This active love to the word should be cultivated on the principle of our public walk before God. We must not study the Scripture merely for our present gratification, or to furnish materials for our Christian intercourse. We ought rather, from every step in the history of Christ, as well as from the more finished course of instruction in the Epistles, to be gathering some help to “set the Lord always before us,”1—realizing the interest that he takes in us, and his presence with us as our Father, Governor, Teacher, Comforter, Friend. Now, let us ask—Do our “souls” thus “keep the Lord’s testimonies” habitually, perseveringly? Does conscience testify, that, with all our defects and sinful mixture, they are uppermost in our minds; that our love rises above the worldly rules of expediency, prudence, or the example of those around us—(the too common measurement of scanty obedience)—as if it could never burn with sufficient fervor in his service, “who loved us, and gave himself for us?”2 Why, then, should we shrink from this acknowledgment of “simplicity and godly sincerity?” If we are ready to own, that “without Christ we can do nothing;” that his Spirit “has wrought all our works in us;3 that by the grace of God we are what we are;4 that our hope of acceptance is grounded only upon the finished work on the cross—why should we refuse to confess the grace of God in us? Yet we must not forget, that allowed unfaithfulness, neglect of secret prayer, impurity of motive, or any “iniquity regarded in the heart”—though they will not loosen the ground of our hope—will obscure the comfort of our Christian confidence. How beautiful is that princely spirit, which will not serve the Lord “of that which doth cost us nothing;”5 that not only longs for holiness as the way to heaven; but loves heaven the better for the holy way that leads to it, and for the perfect holiness that reigns there eternally! But never let us lose sight of the recollection, that “all our ways are before God!” that every act, every thought, every desire, every word, is registered by conscience as his vicegerent, and laid up in his book of remembrance! Well would it be for us, if we walked less before men, and more “before God;” if in secret, in business, at home and abroad, we heard the solemn voice—“I am the Almighty God: walk before me, and be thou perfect.”6 We may be unreprovable in the sight of men, while it is a mere artificial walk, grounded upon base external principles—a “walking after the flesh”—not before God. Even the engagements of active duty may be the subtle snare of the great enemy to divert us from intense personal religion; to spoil the hidden walk of communion with God, by concentrating the mind upon a more public, and, apparently, a more useful walk. Thus too often the vital principle of religion sinks into a stated formal habit. “Walking with God”7 is the secret spring of the Christian. Walking before God is the manifestation and the exercise of the hidden principle. For in all things, private as well as public, the most trivial as well as the most weighty, to have our eye fixed in dutiful reverence upon the Omniscient, Omnipresent eye of Jehovah—what solemnity would it give to our whole behavior! what influence would it have upon our public professions, our general conversation, our secret duties! We should be energetic in “serving our own generation by the will of God;1” and yet while walking before men, should be truly “walking before God”—all our ways before him—“done in his sight as to him”2—and accepted in his favor. When, therefore, I am about to venture upon any line of conduct, let me consider the watchful eye, that pierces into the deepest recesses of my thoughts, and brings, as it were, to daylight my principles, my motives, and my ends. Above all, let me ever recollect, that he, “before whom are all my ways,” is He that hung upon the cross for my sins. Let me then walk, as if he were standing before me in all the endearing obligations of his love. Oh! do not I owe him sacrifice for sacrifice, heart for heart, life for life? Then surely I cannot be dead, insensible, sluggish in keeping his precepts. I cannot forbear to show this practical proof of my love to him.3 Let not, then, the fear of legality make me neglect this privilege of “keeping the commandments” of my beloved Master and Lord. Let me live under the solemn recollection—“Thou, God, seest me;”4 and in the joyful assurance—“Thou, God, lovest me;”5 and his ways will be to me holiness, happiness, heaven. 1 Jdg. 16:7–9. 2 Verses 48, 97, 127. 3 Bishop Horne. 4 Thrice in these three successive verses. 5 2 Peter 1:5–10. 6 Compare ver. 1, Margin; 2 Chron. 15:17; 16:9; 2 Kings 20:3. The import of the term is limited and explained by the word “upright” united with it, Job 1:8; Psalm 37:37. The Scripture use of the word perhaps refers rather to our desires than our attainments. (compare Phil. 3:12–15); and in general seems to mark Christian maturity, as contrasted with the weakness of the babe, and the inexperience of the young man in Christ. Compare the use of the same word τελειος in 1 Cor. 2:6; 14:20. Heb. 5:14. 7 Bishop Horne. 1 Psalm 16:8. 2 Gal. 2:20. 3 Isaiah 26:12, with John 15:5. 4 1 Cor. 15:10. 5 2 Sam 24:24. 6 Gen. 17:1. 7 Gen. 5:24; 6:9. 1 Acts 13:36. 2 Eph. 6:7. 3 John 14:15. 4 Gen. 16:13, with John 1:48. 5 Jer. 31:3, with John 13:1. Psalm 119:168 I keep Your precepts and Your testimonies, For all my ways are before You. for all my (KJV): Ps 44:20,21 98:8 139:3 Job 34:21 Pr 5:21 Jer 23:24 Heb 4:13 Rev 2:23 I keep Your precepts and Your testimonies, For all my ways are before You. Charles Bridges - See comment on v167 Psalm 119:169 Let my cry come before You, O LORD; Give me understanding according to Your word. Let my cry (KJV): Ps 119:145 18:6 2Ch 30:27 give me (KJV): Ps 119:144 1Ch 22:12 2Ch 1:10 Pr 2:3-5 Da 2:21 Jas 1:5 Let my cry come before You, O LORD; Give me understanding according to Your word. Ryrie's note on Ps 119:169-176 The Word affects the mind (v. 169), the mouth (vv. 171-172), the will (v. 173), the emotions (v. 174), and the conscience (v. 176). Warren