When I was a young man in business I yearned for a position in which I could be separate from all worldly entanglements, so that I could obtain and enjoy the blessing. But, do you know, since I have been a Salvation Army Officer, I have often been tempted to think that the sanctified life is easier in the circumstances of commercial life, and that if I was so placed the spiritual things would be more appreciated, and I should be able to live nearer to God. You see, it is the same old temptation, 'My circumstances, my conditions of life, my work, my home', and the fear of these things often becomes a snare.

That is a pathetic picture which the Psalmist gives us of these poor Jews by the waters of Babylon, who, when urged to sing the songs of Zion, answered, 'How shall we sing the Lord's songs in a strange land?' Is not that the feeling which bursts from many lips and many more hearts, 'How can you expect me, in my circumstances, to get sanctified and live a holy life?'

But is not that just the point where the triumph of faith comes in? It is there that we see the value of those exceeding great and precious promises by which you are to become a partaker of the Divine nature, and on which your faith is to build. 'As thy days, so shall thy strength be'; 'My God shall supply all your need'; and that includes your need in cleansing, your need in keeping, and your need in blessing adapted to your circumstances. Remember, the Lord is the Master of circumstances, and you must put yours into His hands, and trust Him not only to sanctify you wholly, but to preserve you blameless unto the end. You must trust God to make you equal to your circumstances.

2. But there is that second class of anxious persons to whom I referred: those who are held back by the fear of consequences.

Oh, what crowds of enlightened souls might be walking triumphantly along the King's highway, who are yet tramping on amidst doubts and fears and frequent condemnation, all because they dread the pressure of God's claims upon them, and fear the consequences of making a whole-hearted surrender to Him.

There is another point of view about which I must speak a word in passing. When looking at the consequences of fully yielding to God's claims, and perhaps trembling and hesitating, do you ever think of the results of holding back what you know God wants? Do not forget that there are some consequences of saying 'No' to the Lord. When a child knows his father's wish, but, in answer to a reasonable request, says, 'No', you call it disobedience. Is it not a still more serious thing to be disobedient in the presence of more than a father's love? You must count the cost of that, when resisting the light and influence of God's Spirit.

Surely, you will not choose to be numbered among those who 'knew their Lord's will, but did it not'. In the Gospel story such were 'beaten with many stripes'; that means stripes of loss, stripes of pain, stripes of sorrow, perhaps even stripes of death. If we are to suffer, let it be the result of following Him, rather than the consequence of denying our Lord.

Now, I do not want to mislead anybody, for, of course, there are consequences of surrender and determination to live the holy life; but, unfortunately, these fearful ones look at the wrong side of the list. They think of the separateness from the world involved in a life of Holiness; they think of the cold shoulder which some, even Christian friends, would give them; they think of the toil after souls which the sanctified must maintain; of the money that they may have to give; of the partnership in Christ's sufferings, and other self-denying expressions of devotion to God and the Kingdom. 'Oh, I shall have to wear uniform!' or 'go to the Open-Air', or 'perhaps become an Army Officer', and, as an Officer, 'may have to leave my native land'. The enemy holds these and many similar things before the eyes of a convicted soul, very often magnifying the facts until the word difficulty is changed to impossibility, and, like the young ruler of the Gospel story, they 'go away sorrowful'.

A man came across London to be present at one of our Thursday Meetings. When spoken to by an Officer, he admitted the force of all that had been said, but he found an insurmountable difficulty in his business as a shopkeeper. He saw that the goods on his shelves and sold over the counter were mixed, including what he realized to be bad and damaging to many others. His heart was full of conviction and desire, but anxiety about his wife and family prevented him closing down, while his conscience prevented him selling a business which he knew had wrong and doubtful things connected with it. 'What is wrong for me', he said, 'would be wrong for another'; and so he could not pay the price, and, like the young ruler referred to, he has gone away sorrowful.

In the Meeting of the following week a man came to the table seeking the blessing, and he cried out aloud, 'O Lord, give me a clean heart! Take the malice out which I have had towards these two persons! O Lord, I will go straight to them, and confess, and ask them to forgive me!' Needless to add, the blessing came, and, rejoicing, he went off to his home, fifty miles out of London, to fulfil his word. The contrast between this and the man previously mentioned teaches its own lesson.