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The Pathway of Safety; or, Counsel to the Awakened By the Right Rev. Ashton Oxenden, D.D. (1808-1892) CHAPTER XVI – THE DISCIPLINE OF AFFLICTION You have doubtless visited a Stonemason’s workshop. There you have seen stones of every shape—some rough and coarse, and some smooth and even. And you have observed also a number of tools—some sharp for cutting the stone, and some for grinding and smoothing it. Now, the Church on earth is God’s workroom. Here He prepares the stones for His spiritual temple above. And we usually find, that on those which He specially values, and means to fit for some great purpose, He employs His sharpest tools. Thou art a child of God—then marvel not if thou art afflicted. For is it not written, ‘Whom the Lord loves He chastens, and scourges every son whom He receives? If ye endure chastening, God deals with you as with sons; for what son is he whom the father chastens not?’ (Heb. 12.6,7) And Jesus Himself says, ‘As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten.’ (Rev. 3.19) The Gardener cuts and prunes his fruit-trees. Why? But that they may be the more vigorous and healthy. And so does the heavenly Husbandman deal with the living branches of His vine; ‘Every branch that bears fruit He prunes it, that it may bring forth more fruit.’ (John, 15.2) The Shepherd, as he watches over his sheep, sometimes employs a dog to gather them. They are straying perhaps on the mountains, and he would thus call them home. The dog seems for a while to be only scaring and scattering the sheep but in the end he brings them together, close to his master’s side. So does the Lord send affliction and trial after us. He makes us suffer for a while. But it is for our profit and it matters little, if only we are thereby brought into the fold for safety. It may be, you have prayed that God would make you all that He would have you to be; that He would cast you in His own mould, and conform you to His blessed image. He hears your prayer, and answers it—but how? Not perhaps in the way you would wish. But He sends you some trial, some chastisement. He lays you down upon a sick-bed; or He removes some dear one from you; or He overthrows some of your plans; or He sends you persecution. In short, He brings you under his chastening rod; and thus, though He seems to be punishing you, He is really blessing you. Ah! we sometimes feel it hard, at the time, to be thus dealt with. The cross is painful and burdensome when it comes, and we flinch beneath it. We looked, it may be, for a very different answer to our prayer. We expected that the Lord would gently pour His grace into our souls. But instead of this, He laid His heavy hand upon us. Our feeling is just that which is so beautifully described by the Christian poet:— ‘I asked the Lord that I might grow In faith, and love, and every grace; Might more of His salvation know, And seek more earnestly His face. ‘I hoped that, in some favored hour, At once He’d answer my request And by His love’s constraining power, Subdue my sins, and give me rest. ‘Instead of this, He made me feel The hidden evils of my heart; And let the angry powers of hell Assault my soul in every part. ‘“Lord, why is this?” I trembling cried “Wilt Thou pursue Thy worm to death?” “Tis in this way,” the Lord replied, “I answer prayer for grace and faith. ‘“These inward trials I employ, From self and pride to set thee free, And break thy schemes of earthly joy, That thou may’st seek thy all in Me.”’ It is in the school of affliction that the Christian learns his best and holiest lessons. Thus it is he is made meet for heaven. His sufferings wean him from the world, and draw him closer to his Savior. He is prepared for the crown of glory by wearing for a while the crown of thorns. In the silent hours of sorrow he becomes better acquainted with his own heart, and learns to know and to love Christ more. He is here taught a lesson of thankfulness; for never do we know the full value of a blessing until it is gone. Health, Children, Friends—we must lose them before we know their preciousness. He learns submission to his Father’s will. He learns humility and feels the blessedness of prayer. In this path (says Winslow) he learns his own nothingness. And what a lesson is this to acquire! Other discipline may mortify, but not humble the pride of his heart—it may wound, but not crucify it. Affliction, sanctified by the Spirit of God, lays the soul in the dust, and gives it low thoughts of itself. Gifts, attainments, successful labors, the applause of men—all conspire to bring about the ruin of a child of God; and but for the prompt, and often severe, discipline of an ever-watchful and ever—faithful God, would accomplish his ruin. But the affliction comes—the needed cross—the required medicine. And in this way are brought out ‘the peaceable fruits of righteousness.’ It is the fire of affliction that searches and purifies the heart. It is here that the tin and tinsel are consumed. It is here the dross is separated from the true ore and the gold is brought forth, reflecting back the image of Him, who like the refiner, watches with tenderness and faithfulness the process of trial through which the precious metal is passing.’ It is submission that God specially desires to work in us by affliction—the complete surrender of the will to Him in all things. ‘I speak not of this as an attainment in holiness soon or easily gained—far from it. In many it is the work of years—in all, of painful discipline. It is not on the high mount of joy, but in the low valley of humiliation, that this precious and holy surrender is to be learnt. It is not on the summer day, when all things smile and wear a sunny aspect—then it were easy to say, “Thy will be done”—but when a cloudy and wintry sky looks down upon thee when the chill blast of adversity blows; when health fails; when friends die when wealth departs; when the heart’s fondest endearments are yielded; when the Isaac is called for; when the world turns its back; when all is gone, and thou art brought like a tree in the desert, over which the tempest has swept, stripping it of every branch when thou art brought so low, that it would seem to thee that lower thou could not be—then to look up, and exclaim, “My Father, Thy will be done!” Oh, this is holiness, this is happiness indeed.’ ‘It may be, God, thy God and Father, is dealing thus with thee now. Has He taken away health? Have riches made to themselves wings? Does the world frown? Ah, little dost thou think how God is now about to unfold to thee the depths of His love, and to cause thy will sweetly and entirely to flow into His. Earnestly pray for it. Diligently seek it.’ Do not be over anxious to have your affliction removed, but to have it made a blessing to you. Beware how you seek to push it from you, and escape from it, before the Lord’s merciful purpose has been gained. An old writer, comparing affliction to a prison observes that when God places us in it, we must not try to escape by breaking open the door. ‘Rather should we look patiently through the bars of the window; and when we see Him passing along, cry, “Bring my soul out of prison, that I may praise thy name.”’ (Ps. 142.7) Perhaps this book may be in the hands of some one who has long been a prisoner to a sick bed. And sometimes perhaps the feeling comes across you, ‘Oh that I could be more useful! I see other Christians actively employed in their Master’s service; and here I lie still and useless.’ No, dear Reader, think not so. There is a work for you to do in your sick chamber—a work as great in God’s eyes as that of the most busy laborer in His employment. Your work is ‘to sit still’—to glorify your Father by your patient, humble, cheerful resignation to His will, and by lying passive in His hands. The little quiet stream that trickles down the hillside, almost unseen and unnoticed, is doing the work allotted to it, just as much as the mighty ocean which carries hundreds of ships on its restless bosom. Job says, ‘When He hath tried me, I shall come forth as gold.’ (Job 23.10) And how many of God’s children are the better, the holier, and the happier, for their affliction! We know that some flowers must be bruised, before they send out their full sweetness. And some Christians have need of trial, to make their graces appear; or their loving Father would gladly withhold it from them. Like the glowworm, they shine brightest in the darkness of the night. And oh, how sweetly does affliction often-times form, and fashion, and mould, the Christian character! At the time, perhaps, we can hardly welcome it. We can scarcely persuade ourselves that it is the message of a beloved Friend. It ‘seems not to be joyous, but grievous.’ But ‘afterwards,’ when the first stunning blow is over, ‘it yields the peaceable fruits of righteousness;’ teaching us to know more of God than we ever knew before, bending our will to His, and conforming us gradually to His image. Oh, who can tell the blessing of affliction, when sanctified to us by the Spirit of God? Are you one of God’s afflicted servants? Is sickness your portion? Or do you meet with contempt and opposition? Or have some of your fondest hopes been disappointed? Know that your trial, be it what it may, is good for you. It is your Father’s sending. Pray that it may be blessed to your soul. Pray that you may not only have a spirit of resignation, but also of thankfulness. Even a worldly man may be resigned, because he may feel that it is useless to resist God. But it is grace alone that can enable us to welcome affliction, because it is our Father’s will. It is grace alone that can enable us to say with St. Paul, ‘I am exceeding joyful in all our tribulation.’ (2 Cor. 7.4) If your sufferings of mind or body are great, think of the ‘Man of Sorrows;’ His were greater. Bear them patiently and cheerfully for His sake. Say with Him, ‘The cup which my Father has given me, shall I not drink it?’ (John 18.2) Think, too, how little is the weight of your sorrows, when compared with the ‘eternal weight of glory’ which is before you. When present suffering seems to pull down the balance, and cause the scale which is nearest to you to droop heavily, place future bliss and glory in the opposite scale and that will soon make the balance more than even. Remember, too, you have but a little while to bear your sorrows. A few more rough waves, and then you will be at rest. Another storm or two to ride out, and then you will reach ‘the haven where you would be.’ Meekly bear your cross now, and soon you shall wear the crown. If you are willing to ‘suffer with Christ’ here, you shall reign with Him hereafter; you shall be with Him in that blissful world, where sorrow and sighing shall flee away.’
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