3. Reciprocal Indwelling
3. Reciprocal Indwelling
Abide in Me, and I in you.—Jhn 15:4
“That I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life” was the aspiration of the man after God’s own heart. (Psalm 27:4) It became his saintly soul, but it cannot be literally realized in these days, when there is no longer a material earthly sanctuary. And yet there is a sense in which that wish may be verified in the history of us all. What is “the house of the Lord,” but the conscious presence of the Lord? And they who have acquired the blessed habit of perpetually recollecting the nearness of Jesus know something, at least, of that “dwelling in the secret place of the Most High,” and “abiding under the shadow of the Almighty,” of which the Psalmist sang. (Psalm 91)
If only we could acquire that blessed habit, and maintain that hallowed attitude of spirit, we should need few exhortations beside. We should be perfectly satisfied with—Himself We should hold all things in Him. We should fear no foe, fighting under the Captain’s eye. We should be set free from the power of besetting sin, as the fire in our grates is extinguished when the sun shines brilliantly upon the glowing embers. How strong—how sweet—how happy—should we be, if only we could dwell in the unbroken enjoyment of the presence of the King!—so that He should be first in every thought, and act, and moment of life.
You say that this may be possible for the priest, or the saint, but not for those who are harassed with daily care: for the cloister, but not for the market: for the holy day, but not for the working day, with its dust and clamor. Yet, surely, since the Master bids us all to abide in Him, and stays not to limit His meaning, or define the character of those who are welcome to stand continually in His presence, we must infer that He wishes to make no distinction, but to admit all His servants to share in the bright and blessed privilege.
But can the mind be occupied with two thoughts at once? Perhaps not: yet—though it may be impossible for the mind to entertain at the same instant more than one train of ideas—beneath the mind there is the heart, with all its sensibilities and deep emotional life, instantly and always alive to the presence or absence of some beloved object, even when the mind is most busily engaged.
The orator is conscious of the presence and appreciation of his audience, even when his intellect is most busily engaged in furnishing the thought which he is uttering. The business man, absorbed in counting up his books, whilst his wife is quietly occupied with her work by his side, is aware of her sweet presence, at the very moment when he is adding up the longest column of figures. The young mother may be very busy about the house, tidying the rooms in the upper stories, but her heart is always on the alert for the cry of the babe, whose crib is beside the kitchen fire. So we may be fully occupied in thought and act, and yet our heart may be abiding in holy and blessed communion with our Lord, as “a living bright reality,
“More present to Faith’s vision keen
Than any earthly object seen;
More dear, more intimately nigh
Than e’en the closest earthly tie.”
But before this blessed consciousness of the presence of Christ can be ours, we must know experimentally the meaning of the Apostle’s words, “Christ liveth in me.” (Gal 2:20) In point of fact, there is a lovely reciprocity in this indwelling. We abide in Him, because He abides IN us. In the translucent depths of southern seas, the voyager is aware of the infinite variety of sponge-growth, waving to and fro with the gentle movement of the tide; and the ocean is in the sponge, whilst the sponge is in the ocean, illustrating the reciprocal indwelling of the believer in Christ, and Christ in the believer. Take the common iron poker from your fireside, and place it amid the fiery bed of burning coals, and soon it becomes red-hot, because the fire is in it whilst it is in the fire. Shall the time not come when we shall learn the secret of a life of ardent devotion and glowing zeal, because we have mastered the lesson of the reciprocal indwelling of the saint and the Saviour?
This was the secret of the human life of Christ. He dwelt in his Father’s love, whilst there rang through His being the glad consciousness that He did always those things which gave pleasure to his Father’s heart. And the Father dwelt in Him, manifesting His Divine presence by words of grace and works of power. Have you ever truly realized that Jesus Christ is literally within you—the Divine tenant and occupant of the inner shrine? Do not feel obliged to dilute or water down this wondrous fact, as if it were too marvelous to be accepted in its literal force. We cannot understand it; we cannot reason it out with our poor logic; we cannot account for it; we can only sit down in amazed wonder and exclaim, “Wherefore is this come to me, that I should be a temple for the Lord God of Hosts?” And when once we can realize the literal force of “in you,” we shall enter upon the glorious and perpetual enjoyment of “ye in Me.” The two are reciprocal: and the measure of our appreciation of the one is the measure of our enjoyment of the other.
There are four texts in the New Testament in which the truth of this reciprocity of indwelling is taught, each time with a specific purpose.
I. As to Fellowship—”He that eateth My flesh, and drinketh My blood, dwelleth in me, and I in Him.” (John 6:56) Whatever else is meant by that mystic feeding on Christ, this at least is included—that, through the help of the Holy Ghost, we are to set apart daily periods of time for fellowship with the living Saviour. The early morning hour, when we go forth to gather manna, while the day is young; the evening twilight when men go forth to meditate; the hour of solemn worship and gathering with the people of God: all these, and many other golden seasons, are opportunities of nourishing the inner life, with His flesh, which is meat indeed, and His blood, which is drink indeed.
But how often, a” such times, the spirit seems to fail and faint! It cannot disengage itself from the birdlime of worldliness which fastens it down. It cannot shake off the buzzing cloud of teasing, wandering thoughts. It resembles, as Jeremy Taylor says, a lark trying in vain to rise against a strong east wind.
What then should be our resource? We may turn from personal supplication to intercession on the behalf of others; or we may open the Word of God, and begin to study its pages, as men pour water into a dry pump to make it draw; or we may appropriate the prayers of the saints of former days. But there is a more excellent way. Let us sit quietly down to meditate. Let us remember that the living Saviour, who ever liveth to pray, is by the Holy Spirit, literally within us. He who, in the days of His flesh, climbed the mountains for fellowship with His Father, while the towns that bordered on the lake were still swathed in morning mist, is now dwelling in the heart. Stand aside, then, cease your strivings and efforts; and let Him pour forth in and through you the mighty torrent of His strong cryings and ceaseless prayers.
It will not be long before you find your prayers mounting up with freedom and conscious power to heaven; and in a moment, by the reciprocity which we are now considering, you shall become aware of the literal presence around you, as a Divine environment, of Him who once lit up the lone isle of Patmos by the irradiation of His manifested glory.
II. As to Obedience—”He that keepeth His commandments, dwelleth in Him, and He in him.” (1 John 3:24) There are three things which must focus in one point before we can be sure of the will of God: The prompting of the Spirit within; the teaching of the Word without; and the concurrence of Providence around, in the events of daily life. We should never take a step unless these three concur. If they do not so concur, we may be sure that God’s hour is not yet come, and we must stand still and see His salvation.
But there are times when we clearly know the Lord’s will, but seem unable to do it. Our heart and flesh fail. We cower before strong opposition, tithe good we would, we do not: the evil we would not, we do.
How shall we do then? Shall we lash ourselves forward by reproaches and remonstrances, as the galley-slaves of old were urged to more frantic exertions by the strokes of the knout? Not so: We are no longer under the law, but under grace. God does not leave us thus to cope with ourselves. There is another and a better way, which lies within the text already cited, if its identical propositions are reversed, “He that dwelleth in Him, and He in him, keepeth His commandments.”
Remember, again, that the Lord Jesus is in you as the very power of God. During His earthly life He bore the significant title of “Servant” of God, who, whet: the Lord God opened His ear, was not rebellious nor turned away back, nor swerved a hair’s-breadth from the narrow path of implicit obedience. (Psalm 17:1-6) Why should not He work in you and through you, as of old He wrought through His mortal body? Let Him have the opportunity! Cease from your own works, as the Son did from His. And as He emptied Himself, so that the Father which dwelt in Him was really the doer of His works, so empty yourself of your own efforts and strivings, and let Him work in you to will and to do of His own good pleasure. You will soon be delivered from impotence, and indolence, and failure, and you will find yourself energized mightily in all manner of strenuous and noble deeds.
And this will be the result b? the law of reciprocity, which we are elaborating—that you will become aware of the literal presence of Him who appeared to Joshua as the Captain of the Lord’s host. You will be ready to kneel before Him in lowly homage, and to await His commands; and you will carry with you a consciousness of the fact that you are ever living in the very midst of the encompassing glory of the King of saints. “ In Him we live, and move, and have our being.” (Acts 17:28)
III. As to Confession—”Whosoever shall confess that Jesus is the Son of God, God dwelleth in him, and He in God.” (1 John 4:15) The days are past in which every confessor was called to be a martyr. And yet confession is hard enough: it is not easy to stand up for Christ in the commercial room, or in the workshop, in the railway carriage, or amid the frivolities of a drawing-room. There is a natural proneness in us all to a false shame, which gags our mouths, and chokes our utterance, and keeps us silent, when we know we ought to speak.
Ah, how bitterly we reproach ourselves then and afterwards; as we see the opening gradually close, and feel that the chance for quiet remonstrance, or for words of entreaty and expostulation, has gone never to return. (Rev. 2:13)
And yet we have failed so often, we have almost lost heart. Can it ever be different, we being what we are? Can we ever resemble Antipas, the faithful confessor? Can we ever be bold as a lion for Him who has never given us just cause for shame? Indeed, matters will never mend until we abandon our own feeble attempts and draw heavily on the glorious fact of His mighty indwelling. We can do nothing; but all things are possible to Him. Let us only give Him the chance. Let us place ourselves at His disposal to speak in us, and through us, as He will. Let Him have His blessed way with us. Before Pontius Pilate He witnessed a good confession: why may we not expect Him to repeat it, through us, the meanest of the members of His body; who long to be possessed of Him, even as of old men were the mediums through which lost spirits spoke and wrought.
And none can thus abandon themselves to Him without becoming aware, through the law of reciprocal indwelling, that Christ in the heart means the heart in Christ; and that dependence on the indwelling Saviour will invariably induce a vivid consciousness of the indwelling of the human spirit in the light of His gracious presence.
IV. As to Love—”He that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in Him.” (1 John 4:16) We must love people whom we cannot like; with whom we have no natural sympathy; and who seem made to irritate us. It is easy to like nice people. No special grace is required for this. Our affections naturally entwine around the amiable and gentle; and, if these alone filled our homes, there would be no education in the Divine art of loving. We only learn what the love of God is when we have to do with the people who defy our own powers of affection. The fairest powers of nature are never so apparent as when they are called in to drape the rents in the earth’s surface, or to clothe some unsightly rock, rearing its form amid a paradise of beauty.
Is there such a person in your life, the source of constant chafe, annoyance, fret? You feel you cannot love, you cannot speak gently, or stroke that fretful face, or find pleasure in that uncongenial presence? Anything but that. You could be lovely if only you were thrown with a congenial temperament. Yet how much you would miss of Divine education! Do this. Fall back on the memory of the Divine indwelling: and since the strong Son of God, who is Immortal Love, is in you, let Him love that loveless one through you; let Him pour a torrent of love through you, as the channel and medium of blessing; let His love speak through your voice, and look through your eyes, and nerve your fingers. Love with His love. You can do all things through Christ that strengtheneth you.
And, again, let us repeat it. You will find that you cannot act thus without bringing into operation that reciprocity of indwelling which is our theme; and you will know, as never before, what it is to have Christ encompassing you behind and before, and covering you with the warm, safe protection of those feathers, to which He called Jerusalem. (Matthew 23:27; Luke 13:34)
What more need we say? The Spirit can alone reveal the truth we try to teach. But He will gladly perform this His appointed office. And thus we shall come to understand what it is ever ‘, to dwell in the secret place of the Most High, and to abide under the shadow of the Almighty.” (Psalm 91:7)