Act 20:24 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.
We
read in the book of Samuel that the moment that David was crowned at
Hebron, "All the Philistines came up to seek David."
And the moment we
get anything from the Lord worth contending for, then the devil comes to
seek us.
When the enemy meets us at the threshold of
any great work for God, let us accept it as "a token of salvation," and
claim double blessing, victory, and power.
Power is developed by
resistance.
The cannon carries twice as far because the exploding power
has to find its way through resistance.
The way electricity is produced
in the powerhouse yonder is by the sharp friction of the revolving
wheels.
And so we shall find some day that even Satan has been one of
God's agencies of blessing.
~Days of Heaven upon Earth~
Tribulation
is the way to triumph.
The valley-way opens into the highway.
Tribulation's imprint is on all great things. Crowns are cast in
crucibles.
Chains of character that wind about the feet of God are
forged in earthly flames. No man is greatest victor till he has trodden
the winepress of woe.
With seams of anguish deep in His brow, the "Man
of Sorrows" said, "In the world ye shall have tribulation"- but after
this sob comes the psalm of promise, "Be of good cheer, I have overcome
the world."
The footprints are traceable everywhere. Bloodmarks stain
the steps that lead to thrones.
Grief has always been
the lot of greatness.
The mark of rank in nature. Is capacity for pain; And the anguish of the singer Makes the sweetest of the strain."
Tribulation
has always marked the trail of the true reformer. It is the story of
Paul, Luther, Savonarola, Knox, Wesley, and all the rest of the mighty
army.
They came through great tribulation to their place of power.
Every
great book has been written with the author's blood. "These are they
that have come out of great tribulation."
Who was the peerless poet of
the Greeks? Homer. But that illustrious singer was blind.
Who wrote the
fadeless dream of "Pilgrim's Progress"? A prince in royal purple upon a
couch of ease? Nay! The trailing splendor of that vision gilded the
dingy walls of old Bedford jail while John Bunyan, a princely prisoner, a
glorious genius, made a faithful transcript of the scene.
Great is the facile conqueror; Yet haply, he, who, wounded sore, Breathless, all covered o'er with blood and sweat, Sinks fainting, but fighting evermore Is greater yet.
~Selected~
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.