3. I would tell him what darkness I labour under, either in respect of faith or practice. If I am perplexed in my mind, and entangled about any of the doctrines of the gospel, I would tell them my God what my entanglements are, where the difficulty lies; and I would beg, that by his Spirit and his word, he would solve the controversy, and set his own truth before me in his own divine light. And then in point of practice, what darkness lies upon the spirit at such a time, is revealed before God: “My way is hedged up, I know not what path to chuse; it is very hard for me to find out duty; show me, O Lord, the way wherein I should walk, and mark out my path plain for me.”
4. I would mourn, and tell him how little converse I have with himself, how much he is hidden from me; I would complain to him, how far off I am from him the most part of my life, how few are the hours of my communion with him, how short is the visit, how much his face is concealed from me, and how far my heart is divided from him. A soul then says, “Surely there is too great a distance between me and my God, my heavenly Father;” and cries out with bitterness, “Why is God so far from me, and why is my heart so far from God? How often do I wait upon him in his own sanctuary, and among his saints, but I am not favoured with a sight of his power and glory there! And how often do I seek him in my secret retirements, but I find him not! I would tell him how often I read his promises in the gospel, and taste no sweetness; I go frequently to those wells of consolation and they seem to be dry; then I turn my face, and go away ashamed.”
5. I would tell him too of my temporal troubles, if I get near to God, because they unfit me for his service, they make me uncapable of honouring him in the world, and render me unfit for enjoying him in his ordinances; I would tell him how they damp my zeal, how they bow my spirit down, and make me go mourning all the day long, to the dishonour of Christianity, which is a dispensation of grace and joy. Thus I might complain before God of pains, of weakness, of sickness, of the disorders of my flesh; I might complain there too of the weakness of all my powers, the want of memory, the scatterings and confusions that are upon my thoughts, the wanderings of my fancy, and the unhappy influence that a feeble and diseased body has upon the mind: “O my God, how am I divided from thee by dwelling in such a tabernacle! Still patching up a tottering cottage, and wasting my best hours in a painful attendance on the infirmities of the flesh!”
I might then take the liberty of spreading before my God all the sorrows and vexations of life, that unhinge my soul from its centre, that throw it off from my guard, and hurry and expose me to daily temptations. I might complain of my reproaches from friends and enemies; because these, many times, wear out the spirit and unfit it for acts of lively worship. These are my weekly sorrows and groans, these are my daily fears and troubles; and these shall be spread before the eyes of my God, in the happy hour when I get near him.
Lastly, I would not go away without a word of pity and complaint concerning my relations, my friends and acquaintance, that are afar off from God. I would put in one word of petition for them that are careless unconcerned for themselves; I would weep a little at the seat of God for them: I would leave a tear or two at the throne of mercy, for my dearest relatives in the flesh, for children, brothers or sisters, that they may be brought near to God, in the bonds of the Spirit. Then would I remember my friends in Christ, my brethren and kindred in the gospel; such as labour under heavy burdens, languish under various infirmities of life, or groan under the power of strong temptations. When God indulges me the favour of his ear, I would spread their wants and sorrows before him, together with my own, and make supplication for all the saints. I would leave a petition at the mercy-seat for my native country, that knowledge and holiness may overspread the nation; that our king may be a nursing-father to the church, and our princes may be blessings to the land. And while I send up my request for the British Islands, I would breathe out many a sigh for Zion, that she may be the joy of the whole earth.—I proceed now to.
III. The third head of inquiry, which is this: Why does a saint, when he gets near to God delight to tell him all his circumstances, and all his sorrows?
In general I might say this, because it is so seldom, at least in our day, that a saint gets very near to God; therefore when he finds that happy minute, he says to his God all he wants to say; he tells him all his heart; he pours out all his wants before him; because these seasons are very few. It is but here and there an extraordinary Christian, who maintains constant nearness to God; the best complain of too much distance and estrangement. But to descend to particulars.
1. He is our chief friend, and it is an ease to the soul to vent itself in the bosom of a friend, when we are in his company. More especially as it was in the case of Job, when other friends failed him when he began to tell them some of his sorrows, and withal maintained his own integrity; they would not believe him, but became his troublers instead of his comforters; “My friends, scorn me,” saith Job, ch. xvi. 20, “but mine eye pours out tears to God.” I go to my best friend, my friend in heaven, when my friends here on earth neglect me.
Man is a sociable creature, and our joys and our sorrows are made to be communicated, that hereby we may double the one and alleviate the other. There is scarce any piece of human nature, be it ever so stupid, but feels some satisfaction in the pleasure of a friend, in communicating the troubles and the pleasures that it feels; but those that have God for their highest and best friend, they love to be often exercising such acts of friendship with him, and rather with him than with any friend besides, rather with him than all besides him. This is the noblest and highest friendship; all condescension and compassion on the one side, and all infirmity and dependance on the other! and yet both joined is mutual satisfaction. Amazing grace of God to man! The Christian rejoices in this admirable divine indulgence, and delights in all opportunities to employ and improve it.