By J.R. Miller
It may seem strange to some, to speak of the blessing of sorrow. We would say at first thought, "Surely nothing good can come from anything so terrible!" Yet the Word of God assures us, and the experience of the ages confirms the assurance--that many of the richest and best blessings of life, come out of affliction.
One of the most striking visions of heaven granted to the revelator on Patmos, was that of a glorified company who seemed to surpass all the other blessed ones in the splendor of their garments and the radiant honor of their state. They were arrayed in white robes, carried palms in their hands, and stood nearest to the Throne and the Lamb. We would have said that these were the children of joy, that they had come up from earth's scenes of gladness, that their condition in life had been one of exceptional ease and freedom from trouble, that they had never known a care or a grief. But when the question was asked, "Those who are arrayed in the white robes, who are they, and whence came they?" the answer was, "These are those who have come out of the great tribulation." They were the children of earth's sorrow. They had been brought up in the school of trial.
This vision would seem to teach us that those redeemed ones who on earth have had the most affliction; in heaven attain the highest honor. Their robes are whitest, indicating surpassing purity. They bear palm branches, emblems of victory, showing that they have overcome in life's struggles. They are nearest Christ, too, among the glorified, verifying the promise that those who suffer with Him shall also reign with Him.
The Scriptures contain many words which receive confirmation in this glimpse within the gates. We are told that we must through much tribulation enter into the kingdom of God. The way into a life of spiritual blessedness, is through pain. In the messages to the seven churches we have glimpses of great privileges, blessings, and honors which are within the reach of the followers of Christ. One shows us the tree of life in the paradise of God. In another we see a crown of life waiting to be put upon the head of him who is faithful. In another the lifting of the veil reveals to us hidden manna, and a white stone, with a new name written on it. In another it is power that is promised, authority to rule. Other of these visions show us white garments and the name written in the Book of Life, an honored place in the Temple of God, and, last of all, a seat beside Christ on His Throne. But all of these heavenly prizes are shown to us--beyond a field of struggle, and he who would win them must first fight the battle and be a victor. "To him that overcomes," runs the promise in every case. Not to overcome would be to miss the prize. Not to have the trial and the struggle would be to stay in lower, lesser blessedness.
We do not know what we owe to our sorrows. Without them we would miss the sweetest joys, the divinest revealing, and the deepest experiences of life. Afflictions are opportunities. They come to us bearing gifts. If we can accept them--they leave in our hand heavenly treasures. Not to be able to receive the bearer of the blessings--is to miss the blessings and to be poorer all the rest of our days.
Many of the finest things in character are the fruits of pain. Many a Christian enters trial, cold, worldly, unspiritual, with the best possibilities of his nature still locked up in his life, and emerges from the experience a little later, with spirit softened, mellowed, and spiritually enriched, the lovely things brought out. A photographer carries his picture into a darkened room that he may bring out its features. He says the light of the sun would mar the impression on the sensitized plate. There are features of spiritual beauty which cannot be produced in a life in the glare of human joy and prosperity. God brings out in many a soul its loveliest qualities--when the curtain is drawn and the light of human joy is shut out.
Sanctified afflictions soften the harshness and sharpness of one's character. They consume the dross of selfishness and worldliness. They humble pride. They temper worldly ambitions. They quell fierce passions. They show to us the evil of our own heart, revealing our weaknesses, faults, and blemishes--and making us aware of our spiritual danger. They discipline the wayward spirit. Sorrow draws its sharp ploughshare through the heart, cutting deep and long furrows, and the heavenly Sower follows with the seeds of godly virtues. Then by and by fruits of righteousness spring up. Sorrow has a tenderizing influence. It makes us gentle and kindly toward each other. It has been said that "The last, the best fruit which comes to late perfection, even in the kindliest soul, is tenderness toward the hard, forbearance toward the unforbearing, warmth of heart toward the cold, and philanthropy toward the misanthropic." In no other school do our hearts learn the lessons of patience, tolerance, and forbearance so quickly--as in the school of suffering. Harsh feelings are softened, and kindly charity takes the place of resentment. Many a household is saved from disintegration, by a grief which bows all hearts before God and wakes up the slumbering affections.
Ofttimes, indeed, sorrow is one of the secrets of happy home life. It is a new marriage when young parents stand, side by side, by the coffin of their first born. Grief is like a sacrament to those who share it, with Christ beside them. Many homes have been cured of harshness of spirit and sharpness of speech, and saved from pride, coldness, and heedlessness, by a sorrow which broke in upon the careless household life. Most of us need the chastening of pain to bring out the best of our love.
Another of the blessings which come from trial, is the finding of one's soul. It was in his great distress that the prodigal "came to himself." Many people walk in a dream, as it were, until in some trouble they are aroused to see the reality of spiritual things. They are happy in their earthly gladness, satisfied with their human ambitions, unaware meanwhile of the flitting nature of this world and of the eternal stability of the spiritual world. They are living in a dream, as it were. Then sorrow breaks in upon them. One who is very dear is lifted out of the circle and glorified. At once revealing comes. They see how mistakenly they have been living, and how perilously.
One tells of a company of tourists on the Alps who were overtaken by night, and after groping in the deep darkness for a time were compelled to settle down and wait until morning. A thunderstorm arose during the darkness and a vivid lightening flash showed them that they had stopped on the very edge of a precipice. Another step forward and they would have fallen to their death. The lightning flashes of sorrow ofttimes reveal to Christian people the peril in which they are living, and lead them to turn to safer paths. Many a redeemed one in glory will look back to the time of a great grief as the time of seeing God, which led to penitence and faith.
Another result of sorrow, when it is accepted, is in preparing us to be better messengers of God to others. Jesus Himself was made ready to be a sympathizing and helpful Friend by His human sufferings. He understands our grief because in His own life He was acquainted with grief. He is able to be a comforter to us because He Himself was comforted. Paul tells us that the reason God comforts us in our trouble--is that we may become comforters of others in their afflictions. We have a new power with which to bless others, when we have come from an experience of grief. An emptied heart is a wonderful sympathizer in other's bereavements. The power to be a true helper of those who are in trouble, a binder up of broken hearts--is the most divine of all enduements. Surely, then, it is worth while to pay any price of pain or suffering, in order to receive the divine anointing for such sacred ministry.
True comfort has a strange power to heal, to bind up hearts' wounds, to turn sorrow into joy. The Christian home which has been broken by bereavement, under the wise tuition of Christ, and the gentle influences of the divine love, is made to have a deeper happiness than ever it had before. The truth of immortality brings back the missing ones, as it were, and they sit again in their old places. The vacant chairs seem filled once more, and the love of the absent ones appears as real and as tender as it did when they were here. Christian faith nullifies the sad work of death, and binds again the broken ties.
