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Joseph Charles Philpot J.C. Philpot Bevindelijke geschriften & prediking
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Overdenking & Bezinning

Philpot’s Pearls — Second Collection

21 min. read

But the Spirit reveals Christ—taking of the things of Christ, and showing them unto us—applying the word with power to our hearts, and bringing the sweetness, reality, and blessedness of divine things into our soul. It is only in this way that He overcomes all unbelief and infidelity, doubt and fear, and sweetly assures us that all is well between God and the soul. Faith keeps eyeing the atonement—faith looks not so much to sin, as to salvation from sin—at the way whereby sin is pardoned, overcome, and subdued.

The truth shall make you free!

“You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free!” John 8:32

To a spiritual mind, sweet and self-rewarding is the task, if task it can be called, of searching the Word as for hidden treasure. No sweeter, no better employment can engage heart and hands than, in the spirit of prayer and meditation, of separation from the world, of holy fear, of a desire to know the will of God and do it, of humility, simplicity, and godly sincerity—to seek to enter into those heavenly mysteries which are stored up in the Scriptures—and this, not to furnish the head with notions, but to feed the soul with the bread of life.

Truth, received in the love and power of it . . . informs and establishes the judgment,
softens and melts the heart,
warms and draws upward the affections,
makes and keeps the conscience alive and tender; is the food of faith,
is the strength of hope,
is the main-spring of love.

To know the truth is to be made blessedly free . . . free from error;
free from the vile heresies which everywhere abound;
free from presumption;
free from self-righteousness;
free from the curse and bondage of the law;
free from the condemnation of a guilty conscience;
free from a slavish fear of the opinion of men;
free from the contempt of the world;
free from the scorn of worldly professors;
free from following a multitude to do evil;
free from companionship with those who have a name to live, but are dead.

“You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free!” John 8:32

Sin cannot be subdued in any other way.

“The life which I now live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God.” Galatians 2:20

There is no way except by being spiritually immersed into Christ’s death and life—that we can ever get a victory over our besetting sins. If, on the one hand, we have a view of a suffering Christ, and thus become immersed into His sufferings and death—the feeling, while it lasts, will subdue the power of sin. Or, on the other hand, if we get a believing view of a risen Christ, and receive supplies of grace out of His fullness—that will lift us above sin’s dominion. If sin is powerfully working in us, we need one of these two things to subdue it.

When there is a view of the sufferings and sorrows, agonies and death of the Son of God—power comes down to the soul in its struggles against sin—and gives it a measure of holy resistance and subduing strength against it.

So, when there is a coming in of the grace and love of Christ—it lifts up the soul from the love and power of sin into a purer and holier atmosphere. Sin cannot be subdued in any other way. You must either be immersed into Christ’s sufferings and death—or you must be immersed into Christ’s resurrection and life. A sight of Him as a suffering God—or a view of Him as a risen Jesus—must be connected with every successful attempt to get the victory over sin, death, hell, and the grave.

You may strive, vow, and repent—and what does it all amount to? You sink deeper and deeper into sin than before. Pride, lust, and covetousness come in like a flood—and you are swamped and carried away almost before you are aware!

But if you get a view of a suffering Christ, or of a risen Christ—if you get a taste of His dying love—a drop of His atoning blood—or any manifestation of His beauty and blessedness—there comes from this spiritual immersion into His death or His life a subduing power—and this gives a victory over temptation and sin which nothing else can or will give.

Yet I believe we are often many years learning this divine secret—striving to repent and reform, and cannot; until at last by divine teaching we come to learn a little of what the Apostle meant when he said, “The life I now live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God.” And when we can get into this life of faith—this hidden life, then our affections are set on things above.

There is no use setting to work by ‘legal strivings’—they only plunge you deeper in the ditch. You must get Christ into your soul by the power of God—and then He will subdue—by His smiles, blood, love, and presence—every internal foe.

Two kinds of repentance

“Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret—but worldly sorrow brings death.” 2 Cor. 7:10

There are two kinds of repentance which need to be carefully distinguished from each other, though they are often sadly confounded—evangelical repentance, and legal repentance.

Cain, Esau, Saul, Ahab, Judas, all repented—but their repentance was the remorse of natural conscience—not the godly sorrow of a broken heart and a contrite spirit. They trembled before God as an angry judge—but were not melted into contrition before Him as a forgiving Father. They neither hated their sins nor forsook them—they neither loved holiness nor sought it.

Cain went out from the presence of the Lord;
Esau plotted Jacob’s death;
Saul consulted the witch of Endor;
Ahab put honest Micaiah into prison;
and Judas hanged himself.

How different from this forced and false repentance of a reprobate, is the repentance of a child of God—that true repentance for sin, that godly sorrow, that holy mourning which flows from the Spirit’s gracious operations. This repentance does not spring from a sense of the wrath of God in a broken law—but from His mercy in a blessed gospel— from a view by faith of the sufferings of Christ in the garden and on the cross—from a manifestation of pardoning love;
and is always attended with self-loathing and self-abhorrence,
with deep and unreserved confession of sin and forsaking it,
with most hearty, sincere, and earnest petitions to be kept from all evil, and a holy longing to live to the praise and glory of God.

Have we nothing to give to Christ?

Yes!

Our sins,
our sorrows,
our burdens,
our trials, and above all,
the salvation and sanctification of our souls. And what has He to give us? What? Why . . .
everything worth having, everything worth a moment’s anxious thought,
everything for time and eternity!

After you have suffered a while

“But the God of all grace, who has called us unto His eternal glory by Christ Jesus, after you have suffered a while—make you perfect, establish, strengthen, settle you.” 1 Peter 5:10

There is no divine establishment, no spiritual strength, no solid settlement—except by suffering. But after the soul has suffered, after it has felt God’s chastising hand, the effect is . . .
to perfect,
to establish,
to strengthen,
and to settle it.

By suffering, a man becomes settled into a solemn conviction of the character of Jehovah as revealed in the Scripture, and in a measure made experimentally manifest in his conscience. He is settled in the persuasion that “all things work together for good to those who love God, and are the called according to His purpose”—in the firm conviction that everything comes to pass according to God’s eternal purpose—and are all tending to the good of the Church, and to God’s eternal glory.

His soul, too, is settled down into a deep persuasion of the misery, wretchedness, and emptiness of the creature; into the conviction that the world is but a shadow—and that the things of time and sense are but bubbles that burst the moment they are grasped—that of all things sin is most to be dreaded—and the favor of God above all things most to be coveted—that nothing is really worth knowing except Jesus Christ and Him crucified—that all things are passing away—and that he himself is rapidly hurrying down the stream of life, and into the boundless ocean of eternity.

Thus he becomes settled in a knowledge of the truth, and his soul remains at anchor, looking to the Lord to preserve him here, and bring him in peace and safety to his eternal home.

In this scene of confusion and distraction

“In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for—but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express.” Romans 8:26

“We do not know what we ought to pray for.” How often do we find and feel this to be our case . . . darkness covers our mind;
ignorance pervades our soul;
unbelief vexes our spirit;
guilt troubles our conscience;
a crowd of evil imaginations, or foolish or worse than foolish wanderings distract our thoughts; Satan hurls in thick and fast his fiery darts; a dense cloud is spread over the mercy-seat;
infidelity whispers its vile suggestions,
until, amid all this rabble throng, such confusion and bondage prevail that words seem idle breath,
and prayer to the God of heaven but empty mockery. In this scene of confusion and distraction, when all seems going to the wreck—how kind, how gracious is it in the blessed Spirit to come, as it were, to the rescue of the poor bewildered saint, and to teach him how to pray and what to pray for.

He is therefore said “to help our weaknesses,” for these evils of which we have been speaking are not willful, deliberate sins, but wretched infirmities of the flesh. He helps, then, our infirmities—by subduing the power and prevalence of unbelief—by commanding in the mind a solemn calm—by rebuking and chasing away Satan and his fiery darts—by awing the soul with a reverential sense of the power and presence of God— by presenting Jesus before our eyes as the Mediator at the right hand of the Father—by raising up and drawing forth faith upon His Person and work, blood and righteousness—and, above all, by Himself interceding for us and in us “with groans that words cannot express.”

His own sore and his own afflictions

“When a prayer or plea is made by any of Your people Israel—each one aware of his own sore and his own afflictions, and spreading out his hands toward this Temple—then hear from heaven, Your dwelling place. Forgive, and deal with each man according to all he does, since You know his heart, for You alone know the hearts of men.” 2 Chronicles 6:29-30

The man for whom Solomon prays is he who knows and feels, painfully feels, his “own sore” and his “own afflictions”—whose heart is indeed a grief to him—whose sins do indeed trouble him. How painful this sore often is!

How it runs night and day!

How full of ulcerous matter!

How it shrinks from the probe!

Most of the Lord’s family have a “sore”—each some tender spot—something perhaps known to himself and to God alone—the cause of his greatest grief. It may be . . .
some secret slip he has made,
some sin he has committed,
some word he has spoken, or some evil thing he has done.

He has been entangled, and entrapped, and cast down—and this is his grief and his sore which he feels—and that at times deeply before God.

For such Solomon prays, “then hear from heaven, Your dwelling place. Forgive, and deal with each man according to all he does, since You know his heart, for You alone know the hearts of men.” Yes—God alone knows the heart—He knows it completely—and sees to its very bottom.

What are we, when we have no trials?

The Lord has appointed the path of sorrow for the redeemed to walk in. Why? One purpose is to wean them from the world—another purpose is to show them the weakness of the creature—a third purpose is to make them feel the liberty and vitality of genuine godliness made manifest in their soul’s experience. What are we, when we have no trials?

Light,
frothy,
worldly-minded,
carnal,
frivolous.

We may talk of the things of God, but they are at a distance—there are . . .
no solemn feelings,
no melting sensations,
no real brokenness,
no genuine contrition,
no weeping at the divine feet,
no embracing of Christ in the arms of affection. What can bring a man here? A few dry notions floating to and fro in his brain? That will never bring the life and power of vital godliness into a man’s heart. It must be by being ‘experimentally acquainted with trouble’. When he is led into the path of tribulation, he then begins to long after, and, in God’s own time and way, he begins to drink into, the sweetness of vital godliness, made manifest in his heart by the power of God. When affliction brings a man down, it empties him of all his high thoughts, and lays him low in his own eyes.

Spiritual poverty

“Blessed are thepoor in spirit.” Matthew 5:5 Spiritual poverty is a miserable feeling of soul- emptiness before God, an inward sinking sensation that there is nothing in our hearts spiritually good, nothing which can deliver us from the justly merited wrath of God, or save us from the lowest hell. To be poor in spirit, then, is to have this wretched emptiness of spirit, this nakedness and destitution of soul before God.

He who has never thus known what it is to groan before the Lord with breakings forth of heart as a needy, naked wretch—he that has never felt his miserable destitution and emptiness before the eyes of a heart-searching God—has not yet experienced what it is to be spiritually poor.

Satisfaction!

“I will satisfy her poor with bread.” Psalm 132:15 What a sweetness there is in the word “satisfy!” The world cannot satisfy the child of God.

Have we not tried, some of us perhaps for many years, to get some satisfaction from it? But can wife or husband satisfy us?

Can children or relatives satisfy us?

Can all the world calls good or great satisfy us? Can the pleasures of sin satisfy us?

Is there not in all an aching void? Do we not reap dissatisfaction and disappointment from everything that is of the creature, and of the flesh? Do we not find that there is little else but sorrow to be reaped from everything in this world? There is little else to be gathered from the world but . . .
disappointment,
dissatisfaction,
“vanity and vexation of spirit.”

The poor soul looks round upon the world and the creature—upon all the occupations, amusements and relations of life—and finds all one melancholy harvest—so that all it reaps is sorrow, perplexity, and dissatisfaction.

Now when a man is brought here—to desire satisfaction, something to make him happy, something to fill up the aching void, something to bind up broken bones, bleeding wounds, and leprous sores—and after he has looked at everything—at doctrines, opinions, notions, speculations, forms, rites and ceremonies in religion—at the world with all its charms—and at self with all its varied workings, and found nothing but bitterness of spirit, vexation and trouble in them all, and thus sinks down a miserable wretch—why, then when the Lord opens up to him something of the bread of life, he finds a satisfaction in that which he never could gain from any other quarter.

And that is the reason why the Lord so afflicts his people; why some carry about with them such weak, suffering bodies; why some have so many family troubles; why others are so deeply steeped in poverty; why others have such rebellious children; and why others are so exercised with spiritual sorrows that they scarcely know what will be the end.

It is all for one purpose—to make them miserable out of Christ—dissatisfied except with gospel food—to render them so wretched and uncomfortable that God alone can make them happy, and alone can speak consolation to their troubled minds.

The religion of a dead professor . . .

How different the religion of a child of God is, from the religion of a dead professor!

The religion of a dead professor . . .
begins in self, and ends in self;
begins in his own wisdom, and ends in his own folly;
begins in his own strength, and ends in his own weakness;
begins in his own righteousness, and ends in his own damnation! There is in him never any going out of soul after God, no secret dealings with the Lord.

But the child of God, though he is often faint, weary, and exhausted with many difficulties, burdens and sorrows—yet he never can be satisfied except in living union and communion with the Lord of life and glory. Everything short of that leaves him empty.

All the things of time and sense leave a child of God unsatisfied. Nothing but vital union and communion with the Lord of life, to . . .
feel His presence,
taste His love,
enjoy His favor,
see His glory;
nothing but this will ever satisfy the desires of ransomed and regenerated souls. This the Lord indulges His people with.

Have we not leaned upon a thousand things?

“If you lean on Egypt, you will find it to be a stick that breaks beneath your weight and pierces your hand.” Isaiah 36:6

Have we not leaned upon a thousand things?

And what have they proved? Broken reeds that have run into our hands, and pierced us . . . our own strength and resolutions,
the world and the church,
sinners and saints,
friends and enemies,
have they not all proved, more or less, broken reeds? The more we have leaned upon them, like a man leaning upon a sword, the more have they pierced our souls.

The Lord Himself has to wean us . . .
from the world,
from friends,
from enemies,
from self,
in order to bring us to lean upon Himself; and every prop He will remove, sooner or later, that we may lean wholly and solely upon His Person, love, blood, and righteousness.

Poor, moping, dejected creatures

We are, most of us, so fettered down by . . . the chains of time and sense,
the cares of life and daily business,
the weakness of our earthly frame,
the distracting claims of a family, and the miserable carnality and sensuality of our fallen nature,
that we live at best a poor, dragging, dying life. Many of us are poor, moping, dejected creatures. We have . . .
a variety of trials and afflictions,
a daily cross and the continual plague of an evil heart.

We know enough of ourselves to know that in SELF there is neither help nor hope, and never expect a smoother path, a better, wiser, holier heart. As then . . . the weary man seeks rest,
the hungry man seeks food,
the thirsty man seeks drink,
and the sick man seeks health,
so do we stretch forth our hearts and arms that we may embrace the Lord Jesus Christ, and sensibly realize union and communion with Him.

He discovers the evil and misery of sin that we may seek pardon in His bleeding wounds and pierced side. He makes known to us our nakedness and shame, and, as such, our exposure to God’s wrath, that we may hide ourselves under His justifying robe. He puts gall and wormwood into the world’s choicest draughts, that we may have no sweetness but in and from Him.

No sight, short of this

“He Himself bore our sins in His body on the tree.” 1 Peter 2:24

We beg of the Lord, sometimes, to give us . . . a broken heart,
a contrite spirit,
a tender conscience,
and a humble mind.

But it is only a view by faith of what the gracious Redeemer endured upon the cross, when He bore our sins in his own body with all their weight and pressure, and with all the anger of God due to them, that can really melt a hard, and break a stony heart. No sight, short of this, can make sin felt to be hateful; bring tears of godly sorrow out of the eyes, sobs of true repentance out of the breast, and the deepest, humblest confessions before God as to what dreadful sinners and base backsliders we have been before the eyes of His infinite Purity, Majesty, and Holiness.

Oh, what hope is there for our guilty souls; what refuge from the wrath of God so justly our due; what shelter from the curse of a fiery law, except it be in the cross of Jesus?

O for a view of Him revealed to the eyes of our enlightened understanding, as bearing our sins in His own body on the tree!

The penetrating light of the Spirit

“For God . . . made His light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ.” 2 Cor. 4:6 “But you have an anointing from the Holy One, and all of you know the truth.” 1 John 2:20

The only saving light is the light of God shining into the soul—giving us to see and know “the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom He has sent.” A man may have the clearest light in his judgment, and yet never have the penetrating light of the Spirit producing conviction in his soul. He may have the soundest knowledge of the doctrines of grace, and see the harmonious scheme of salvation—and yet never have by divine teaching, seen a holy God, nor have ever felt the spirituality of God’s righteous law condemning him as a transgressor.

If we do not have this penetrating light of the Spirit, we shall be sure to go astray. We shall . . . be entangled in some error,
plunge into some heresy,
imbibe some doctrine of devils,
drink into some dreadful delusion,
or fall into some dreadful sin, and have our faith shipwrecked forever.

A false light can but wreck us on the rocks of presumption or despair. But the light of divine life in the soul is accompanied with all the graces of the Spirit. It is . . .
the light of the glory of God,
the light of Jesus’ countenance,
and the light of the Spirit’s teaching,
and therefore an infallible guide and guard.

And this infallible pilot will guide the soul to whom it is given safe into the harbor of endless rest and peace.