- Mar 21, 2003
- 21,118
- 17,842
- Country
- United States
- Faith
- Christian
- Marital Status
- Married
- Politics
- US-Republican
The Nether Springs
From Timeless Grace Gems
J.R. Miller
From Timeless Grace Gems
J.R. Miller
"Caleb gave her the upper springs and the nether springs." Judges 1:15
When Caleb's daughter found that her field had no springs of water, she came to her father, and he gave her "the upper springs and the nether springs."
In the same way, God gives his children two sets of springs — the nether and the upper. Religion has "the promise of the life that now is" as well as "of that which is to come."
He gives us springs which burst out on the earth. He bestows rich spiritual blessings and comforts upon us in this life. He sends rills and rivers of grace through our poor, parched, sorrow-smitten earthly portion — fertilizing and enriching it. Who can begin to enumerate the blessings which religion brings into our lives, even in this world?
There are those who think that the Christian's life is cheerless and gloomy, empty of happiness and joy. But is it so?
Let us see what religion brings. It brings the revelation of the love of God. Is it a gloomy thought to a man that God loves him, that he loves him with an everlasting love, with a love infinitely deeper and more tender than a mother's love, with a love that never changes, and whose warm currents — no unfaithfulness, no wandering, no imperfection, can chill or turn back?
Religion brings redemption. Is it a gloomy thing to a weary prisoner to leave his dark dungeon and find himself in the open fields, in the sweet sunshine, enjoying all the blessings of liberty? And does it make a man sad, does it darken his life, to be led out of Satan's gloomy prison-house into the glorious liberty of the children of God?
Religion brings full and complete salvation. And is it a gloomy thought to know that you are saved from eternal perdition, and have everlasting life?
Religion brings peace. In the midst of a great battle, while a thousand cannons shook the hills, and the whole Heaven quivered with the reverberations — there was a moment's pause. Not a gun was heard far or near. And during that pause a sparrow sang sweetly out from the branches of an old tree that stood in the midst of the plain of battle. When the cannon thundered again, the sparrow was silent. It only sang in the brief pauses of the awful strife. And so it is with the peace of this world. Now and then you hear a single voice singing sweetly out of a man's life, in the brief pauses of struggle, care, and discontent. But soon the strife begins again, and the bird-note of peace is hushed.
No worldly man has unbroken peace. Only a single silver strain is heard now and then. There is only a brief moment of calm here and there, in a life full of anxiety, unrest, and discord.
But religion brings peace, the peace of the Lord Jesus, a peace that is not broken by any storm, which sings in the bosom, not merely a single voice in the pauses of earth's battle — but a whole choir of voices, unceasing through all the din and strife.
Here is a little cottage by the sea. The night is dark and stormy. The waves break and thunder on the shore. The clouds pour out their rains in angry torrents. The tempest beats and roars about the cottage. But all the evening, there is joy within. The lamp burns with bright beam. The cheerful fire glows upon the hearth. A happy circle gathers about the table. Joyful songs ring out into the gloom. The dark night of storm flings no shadows inside. The angry tempest breaks not the gladness of that sweet home.
Picture this of the peace which Jesus brings. The world is full of storms, but there is joy in the Christian's heart through all. Songs ring out in the blackest night of trial. Job had this peace, and it was not broken by all his adversities. Paul had it, and he went singing through all his tribulations, persecutions, and trials.
An aged Christian woman whom I know has the peace of Jesus. She is poor. Every joint in her body is drawn out of its place. For thirteen years she has suffered the most excruciating pains — without one hour's relief! But no little child on its mother's bosom is happier than she. She knows that she is the Lord's child, and that he is fitting her for eternal glory. She knows that the Lord sends in tender love — all she has to bear. The cross of Jesus sweetens all the bitterness of her life. Does such blessed peace make men gloomy? Does it make life cheerless and sad?
Religion reveals a loving providence, running all through the Christian's life, weaving out of all its tangled threads, a web of beauty. It shows a Father's hand in each event, taking the poison out of trouble, drawing the serpent-tooth out of every evil thing, bringing good out of all things, sheltering, guiding, and blessing his redeemed children. Is the thought of such a loving, overruling providence — a saddening or gloomy one?
There are sorrows in the Christian's life. Religion does not save from suffering. But while sorrows, like hot, desert winds, desolate the life of the worldly man — they fertilize, enrich, and bless the portion of the child of God; for God has given him springs of comfort whose waters flow through every valley of tribulation. Are the consolations of religion calculated to make men sad — or to make life cheerless and gloomy?