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Adapted from "The Sanctified Life" by Rev. B. Carradine
"I always believed in the doctrine (of complete sanctification) in a general way. That is, I recognized it as being true in our standards and religious biographies; but was not so quick to see it in the life and experience of persons claiming the blessing. I was too loyal a Methodist to deny what my Church taught me to believe; but there must have been beams and motes that kept me from the enjoyment of a perfect vision of my brother. Perhaps I was prejudiced; or perhaps I had confused ignorance and mental infirmity with sin; or, truer still, I was looking on a "hidden life," as the Bible calls it, and, of course, could not help but blunder in my judgments and conclusions, even as I had formerly erred in my understanding of the converted man when I was yet a sinner.
Several years ago I remember being thrown in the company of three ministers who were sanctified men, and their frequent "praise the Lords" was an offense to me. I saw nothing to justify such demonstrativeness. The fact completely escaped me that a heart could be in such a condition that praise and rejoicing would be as natural as breathing; that the cause of joy rested not in any thing external, but in some fixed inward state or possession; that, therefore, perpetual praise could not only be possible, but natural, and in fact irrepressible. But at that time all this was hidden from me, except in a theoretical way, or as mistily seen in the long-dead historical saints.
In my early ministry I was never thrown together with a sanctified preacher, nor have I ever heard a sermon on complete sanctification until this year. I beheld the promised life from a Pisgah distance, and came back from the view with a fear and feeling that I should never come into that goodly land. So, when I was being ordained at Conference, it was with considerable choking of voice and with not a few inward misgivings and qualms of conscience that I replied to the Bishop’s questions, that I was "going on to perfection," that I "expected to be made perfect in love in this life," and that I "was groaning after it." Perhaps the Bishop himself was disturbed at the questions he asked. Perhaps he thought it was strange for a minister of God and father in Israel, whose life was almost concluded, to be asking a young preacher if he expected to obtain what he himself had never succeeded in getting. Stranger still, if he asked the young prophet if he expected to attain what he really felt was unattainable!
One thing I rejoice in being able to say: That although about that time, while surprised and grieved at the conduct of a man claiming the blessing of sanctification, and although doubts disturbed me then and even afterward, yet I thank God that I have never, in my heart or openly, denied an experience or warred against a doctrine that is the cardinal doctrine of the Methodist Church, and concerning which I solemnly declared to the bishop that I was groaning to obtain. God in his mercy has kept me from this inconsistency -this peculiar denial of my Church and my Lord.
Let me further add that in spite of my indistinct views of sanctification all along, yet all during my life I have encountered religious people in whose faces I traced spiritual marks and lines -a divine handwriting not seen on every Christian countenance. There was an indefinable something about them, a gravity and yet sweetness of manner, a containedness and quietness of spirit, a restfulness and unearthliness, a far-awayness about them that made me feel and know that they had a life and experience that I had not; that they knew God as I did not, and that a secret of the Lord had been given to them which had not been committed to me. These faces and lives, in the absence of sanctified preachers and sermons on the subject, kept my faith in the doctrine, in a great degree I suppose, from utterly perishing. Then there were convictions of my own heart all along in regard to what a minister’s life should be.
Only this year, a full month before my sanctification, there was impressed upon me suddenly one day such a sense of the holiness and awfulness of the office and work that my soul fairly sickened under the consciousness of its own shortcomings and failures, and was made to cry out to God.
Moreover, visions of an unbroken soul-rest, and a constant abiding spiritual power, again and again, have come up before the mind as a condition that is both possible and totally necessary. A remarkable thing about it is that these impressions have steadily come to one who has enjoyed the peace of God daily for thirteen years. Seashore Sanctification Meetings
At the Seashore Camp-ground, in 1888, after having preached at 11 o’clock, the writer came forward to the altar as a penitent convicted afresh under his own sermon, that he was not what he should be, nor what God wanted him to be and, was able to make him. Many will remember the day and hour, and the outpouring of the Holy Spirit at the time. I see now that my soul was reaching out even then, not for the hundredth or thousandth blessings (for these I had before obtained), but what is properly called the second blessing. I was even then convicted by the Holy Spirit in regard to the remaining presence of the fallen nature in my justified heart.
Several months ago I had organized a series of revival services in Carondelet Street Church, with the Rev. W. W. Hopper as my helper. At all the morning meetings the preacher presented the subject of complete sanctification. It was clearly and powerfully held up as being obtained instantaneously through consecration and faith. Before I received the blessing myself I could not help but be struck with the presence and power of the Holy Spirit. While urging the doctrine one morning the preacher received such a baptism of glory that for minutes he was helpless; and while we were on our knees supplicating for this instantaneous sanctification, the Holy Spirit fell here and there upon individuals in the assembly, and shouts of joy and cries of rapture went up from the kneeling congregation in a way never to be forgotten. The presence of God was felt so overwhelmingly and so remarkably that I could not help but reason after this manner: Here is being presented the doctrine of instantaneous total sanctification by faith. If it were a false doctrine, would God manifest Himself like this? Would the Holy Spirit descend with approving power upon a lie? Does He not invariably withdraw His presence from the preacher and people when false doctrine is presented? But here He is manifesting Himself in a most remarkable manner. The meeting or hour that is devoted to this one subject is the most wonderful meeting and hour of all. The service fairly drips with anointing. Shining faces abound.
Christ is seen in every countenance. If complete sanctification obtained instantaneously is a false doctrine, is not the Holy Spirit actually misleading the people by granting His presence and favor, and showering His smiles at the time when this error or false doctrine is up for discussion and exposition? Would the Spirit deceive us? Irresistibly and with growing certainty we were led to see that the truth was being presented from the pulpit, and that the Holy Spirit, who always honors the truth when preached, was falling upon sermon, preacher, and people, because it was the truth.
And by the marvelous and frequent display of his presence and power at each and every sanctification meeting He was plainly setting upon it the seal of His approval and endorsement, and declaring unmistakably that the doctrine that engrossed us was of heaven and was true.
One morning a visitor (a man whom I admire and tenderly love) made a speech against complete sanctification, taking the ground that there was nothing but a perfect consecration and growth in grace to look for, that there was no second work or blessing to be experienced by the child of God.
This was the spirit and burden of his remarks, but at once a chill fell upon the service that was noticed immediately and commented upon afterward. One who had just received the blessing instantly replied to this visitor, and as immediately the presence of God was again felt and manifested. This one asked that all who believed in an instantaneous and complete sanctification to please stand, and at once the whole audience, with the exception of five or six individuals, arose simultaneously. TheBattle of Consecration
Understandably, it was during this impressive week that the writer commenced seeking the blessing of sanctification. According to direction, he laid every thing on the altar -body, soul, reputation, salary; indeed, everything.
Feeling at the time justified, having peace with God, he could not be said to have laid his sins on the altar; for, being forgiven at that moment, no sin was in sight. But he did this, however: he laid his fallen nature upon the altar; a something that had troubled him all the days of his converted life--a something that was felt to be a disturbing element in his Christian experience and life. Who will name this something? It is called variously by the names of original sin, depravity, remains of sin, roots of bitterness and unbelief, and by Paul it is termed "the old man;" (the former fallen nature) for, in writing to Christians, he exhorts them to put off "the old man," which was corrupt. Very probably there will be a disagreement about the name, while there is perfect recognition of the existence of the thing itself.
For lack of a title that will please all, I call this dark, disturbing, warring creature within, "that something." It gives every converted man a certain measure of inward disturbance and trouble. Mind you, I do not say that it compels him to sin; since this "something" can be kept in subjection.
But it always brings disturbance, and often leads to sin. It is a something that leads to hasty speeches, quick tempers, feelings of bitterness, doubts, suspicions, harsh judgments, love of praise, and fear of men. At times there is a momentary response to certain temptations that brings not merely a sense of discomfort, but a tinge and twinge of condemnation. All these may be, and are conquered one after another by the regenerated man; but there is battle, and wounds; and often after the battle a certain uncomfortable feeling within that it was not a perfect victory. It is a something that at times makes devotion a weariness, the Bible to be hastily read instead of devoured, and prayer a formal approach instead of a burning interview with God that closes with reluctance. It makes Church-going at times not to be a delight, is felt to be a foe to secret and spontaneous giving, causes religious experience to be spasmodic, and prevents a constant, abiding, and unbroken rest within the soul. Rest there is; but it is not continuous, unchanging, and permanent. It is a something that makes true and noble men of God, during controversy in the columns of a Christian newspaper, to make a strange mistake, and use gall instead of ink, and write with a sword instead of a pen. It is a something that makes religious assemblies sing with great emphasis and feeling: "Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it."
It is an echo that is felt to remain in the heart, in which linger sounds that ought to have died away forever.
It is a thread or cord-like connection between the soul and the world, even though the two have drifted far apart. It is a middle ground, a strange mixed dimension upon which Satan can and does operate, to the inward distress of the child of God, whose heart at the same time is loyal to his Saviour, and who feels that if he died he would certainly be saved.
Now I wanted that something out of me. What I desired was not the power of self-restraint (I had that already), but a spirit naturally and unconsciously meek. Not so much a power to keep from all sin, but an actual deadness to sin. I wanted to be able to turn upon sin and the world the eye and ear and heart of a dead man. I wanted perfect love towards both God and man, and a perfect rest in my soul all the time. This dark "something," that prevented this life, I laid on the altar, and asked God to consume it as by fire.
At this time I never asked God once for pardon. I had that in my soul already. But it was cleansing; sin eradication I craved. My prayer was for total sanctification. The Battle of Faith
After this battle of consecration came the greater battle of faith. Both precede the perfect victory of sanctification. Vain is consecration without the faith to secure the blessing. Hence, men can be perfectly consecrated all their lives, and never know the blessing of sanctification. In order to obtain the grace I must first believe there is such a work! Here were the words of the Lord that proved a foundation for my faith: "Every devoted thing is most holy unto the Lord." "The blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, cleanseth us from all sin." Still again: "The altar sanctifieth the gift." In this last quotation is a statement of a great fact. The altar is greater than the gift; and whatsoever is laid upon the altar becomes sanctified or holy. It is the altar that does the work. The question arises: Who and what is the altar? In Heb_13:10 - Heb_13:12 we are told. Dr. Adam Clarke, in commenting upon the passage, says the altar here mentioned is Jesus Christ. All who have carefully studied the life of our Lord cannot help but be impressed with the fact that in His wondrous person is embraced the priest, the lamb, and the altar. He did the whole thing; there was no one to help. As the victim He died; as the priest He offered Himself, and His divine nature was the altar upon which the sacrifice was made. The Saviour, then, is the Christian’s altar. Upon Him I lay myself. The altar sanctifies my gift. The blood cleanses from all sin: personal and innate. Can I believe that? Will I believe it? My unbelief is certain to shut me out of the grace; as my belief shuts me in. The very instant we add a perfect faith to a perfect consecration the work is done and the blessing descends. As Paul says: "We which have believed do enter into rest." Heb_4:3
All this happened to the writer. For nearly three days he lived in a constant state of faith and prayer. He believed God; he believed the work was done before the witness was given. Nine O Clock in the Morning
On the morning of the third day -may God help me to tell it as it occurred! -The witness was given.
It was about 9 o’clock in the morning. That morning had been spent from daylight in meditation and prayer. I was alone in my room in the spirit of prayer, in profound peace and love, and in the full expectancy of faith, when suddenly I felt that the blessing was coming. By some delicate instinct or intuition of soul I recognized the approach and descent of the Holy Spirit. My faith arose to meet the blessing. In another minute I was literally prostrated by the power of God. I called out again and again: "O my God! My God! And glory to God!" while billows of fire and glory rolled in upon my soul with steady, increasing force. The experience was one of fire. I recognized it all the while as the baptism of Fire. I felt that I was being consumed. For several minutes I thought I would certainly die.
I knew it was sanctification. I knew it as though the name was written across the face of the blessing and upon every wave of glory that rolled in upon my soul.
Cannot God witness to purity of heart as he does to pardon of sin? Are not his blessings self-interpreting? He that impresses a man to preach, that moves him unerringly to the selection of texts and subjects, that testifies to a man that he is converted, can He not let a man know when he is sanctified?
I knew I was sanctified just as I knew fifteen years before that I was converted. I knew it not only because of the work itself in my soul, but through the Worker. He, the Holy Spirit, bore witness clearly, unmistakably and powerfully, to His own work; and, although months have passed away since that blessed morning, yet the witness of the Holy Spirit to the work has never left me for a moment, and is as clear today as it was then.
In the following chapters I desire humbly to show that the blessing of complete sanctification may be clearly distinguished from other blessings; that it is an instantaneous work; that it is obtained by faith alone; that the Holy Spirit testifies distinctly and peculiarly to the work and life; that a man thus sanctified is under special pressure and command to declare the blessing, and that while thus testifying on all proper occasions that he is sanctified, may be humbler in spirit than a Christian who does not possess the grace.
These things I desire in all love and tenderness and joy to speak of as matters, not of theory but of experience. Especially would I call attention to the calm, undisturbed life; the perfect, unbroken rest of soul that follows the blessing of sanctification.
As I recall this part of my life now, it was while Bro. Hopper (a guest evangelist in my church) was giving his third Bible reading, that like a flash of light breaking on me, I saw the second work of grace, holiness received through consecration and faith, an instantaneous experience, clearly taught in the Word of God.
The instant I beheld the privilege and grace, I wanted it. There was no thought or desire with me to avoid the payment of the price or shirk and escape the difficulties that were in the way; but the dominant purpose and longing was how to get the blessing. The idea of arguing against a doctrine that so exalted Christ and honored the Blood never entered my mind. I wanted the blessing! The Directions I Was Given
The evangelist gave general directions on how to obtain the experience that were true and Scriptural, but the Spirit, as always, led specifically.
As well as I can recall some of the steps taken that led me into Canaan, one involved my willingness to become an alien and outcast from the ranks of my brethren on account of the truth of holiness.
No one but a preacher who has lived for years in the midst of a congenial Conference or Church Brotherhood could appreciate the suffering and sacrifice of being such an outcast. Yet this was clearly brought to my mind and remained pressing heavily like a conviction upon it, until I said, "Yes."
Next came another similar vivid impression almost like a voice -"Would I be willing to give up reputation for all time?"
It is true that very few individuals have really great reputations, and none have as much as they think they have, but the trouble with the unsanctified heart is that it believes it possesses a lot of things that it does not, and among them is a great and enviable life of elevation and distinction.
But be that as it may, whether a man is in high standing with his fellow beings or just imagines that he is; to secure the Blessing of holiness one has to place his reputation, real or fancied, on the altar, and be like His Lord who had none. So again I said, "Yes."
Following this was the inward query -"Would I be willing to be misunderstood, all my life, and tread a path of human loneliness to the very portals of the tomb?"
Not a reader but is conscious of the domestic, social and emotional pull on our natures -and all according to law. There are divinely created movements of the heart and spirit that are legitimate and proper; and in them there is much human happiness experienced. Now to be willing to be misunderstood in the household, ostracized from many a social and ecclesiastical circle, to be dropped as though one was contaminated, and avoided as if being a leper by many or all, makes a sacrifice of a nature beyond words to adequately describe. And yet with body prostrate on the floor and face wet with tears I answered the Lord once more, "Yes."
As I took other steps in the line of consecration, it soon became evident that I was rendering a full obedience to God as I recognized His will in His Word or heard His voice sounding in my soul calling to particular acts of sacrifice and service.
The words of Christ came back now with a profounder meaning when He said to His disciples, "If you will love Me and keep My commandments I will come and take up My abode in you". At the same time the condition of spiritual knowledge was made evident in the utterance, "If any man will do His will he shall know of the doctrine."
So I kept saying Yes, Yes, Yes, to all of the divine will and Word, to every call He made upon me, and I found a sweet growing consciousness that I was getting somewhere; that I was on the right road; and was upon a way where the light was growing steadily brighter, evidently to some perfect day.
I was three days seeking the blessing, and in all that period kept saying, "Yes" to God. Two of these acts of obedience I wish to call attention to. The War Against the Lottery Company
Let the reader bear in mind that, during this period of which I am now writing, the War against the Lottery Company was still going on, and the revival meeting led by Bro. Hopper in my church was in progress.
In my membership there was a gentleman who was wealthy. The richest member of the congregation, he was also regarded as among the first financially in the city (New Orleans). He was a commission and cotton merchant, and when there was a vacancy in a bank he was promptly elected president by the directors.
In this bank the Louisiana State Lottery Co. had large deposits. One day I received a letter enclosing a lottery ticket, and the following lines with it written on note paper: "Did you know that your leading member, Mr. W_____, has his name on the back of every one of the lottery tickets and that he states over his signature that if said ticket should draw a prize that he will as president of the bank see that it is cashed?"
I placed the letter with the ticket in my pocket and wondered what should and could be done. The man was so wealthy and influential; in addition he was so reserved and chilling in his manner that no one was intimate or familiar with him, and no one would hardly dare to reprove him. One day I was in the heart of the French part of the city, the day before I received the blessing, when suddenly the still small voice I knew so well, most powerfully and sweetly directed me to return at once, and go to the bank of Mr. W. to talk to him about his soul and urge him to give up his connection with the Lottery.
The prominence of the man, together with his cold manner, made this new command of Heaven a very trying test to my obedience. But the burning abiding sweetness of the impression on my soul could not be mistaken, so with a quick catch in my breath and a sinking feeling of dread in my heart I said, "I will go."
Nevertheless, Gideon-like, I asked for a sign; saying to the Savior, "I will obey you; but grant as a confirmation of this impression sent me, that when I reach the Bank there will be no one in Mr. W_____’s office but himself, and that you will allow no person to interrupt us while I am employed with him on your mission."
When I reached the door of the private office I saw that Mr. W_____ was alone; in addition not a soul, whether clerk or citizen came in while we were speaking together. The time consumed was nearly an hour. The marvel of it all was that I never knew the like to happen before or since. There was always an endless procession of people in and out of that busy suite of the president of the bank.
It is needless to tell how God helped me to talk to this man in tenderness and yet firmness. As he and his wife had been growing cold, backslidden and worldly for years, I recalled to him what he had once been to the Sunday School and church. What an influence he could wield in the city and in his own congregation if he would only come out positively and devotedly as he once did to every meeting and interest of the church. He replied that he could not do so, that he had served his time, and others ought to be brought forward.
I then most earnestly begged him to dissolve his connection with the Louisiana State Lottery Company. He responded that he did not believe in nor approve of it.
In answer I drew from my pocket the lottery ticket that had been sent me, and showed him his name on the back with the statement that if this ticket drew a prize, he the undersigned president of a certain bank, would see that it was cashed.
He became very white, and answered that this was simply an official notice and not an endorsement of the Lottery. I replied, "But here is your statement Bro. W_____, saying the ticket will be cashed if it is the right number. And your good name signed here encourages people to invest in the gambling concern, and so becomes an actual recommendation and endorsement of this great swindling business and iniquitous corporation."
He rejoined with increasing whiteness and resentment, "That as the president of the bank he was compelled to give that notice as the Lottery Company made deposits in his bank"
My reply was:
"Then, Bro. W_____, give up the presidency of the bank rather than do this great wrong to yourself and your fellow beings.". He answered stiffly and freezingly that he could not think of doing such a thing. I then said to him, as I saw he wished me to leave, "But I am compelled to tell you in all kindness that we cannot receive any more of your money in our church."
I then spoke a kindly good-bye to the deeply offended man and went from the interview and building with a flood of divine favor and approval in my soul.
The man never forgave me. A few weeks afterward he left our church and joined Dr. Palmer’s, the First Presbyterian. He said in explanation of his departure that he could not stand my Holiness preaching. But the record in the Book of Judgment will not read that way at all in the Last Day. Instead of "Holiness preaching" will be found the words, "The Lottery -Bank -Presidential Salary -Ten Thousand Dollars a Year," etc., etc.
A New Orleans preacher transferred to cities farther North in Missouri, Kentucky and Maryland, told wherever he went that "Dr. Carradine had driven from the ranks of Methodism and from our church one of the best men, loveliest characters and truest members that the Southern Methodist Church ever had." This speech was repeated many times, and firmly believed by many thousands, so that today it would be impossible to convince a multitude in New Orleans and elsewhere to the contrary. The record in the Book of Judgment which will be read aloud in the upper air one of these days can alone make this with many other unknown matters and histories clear to the eyes and convictions of man. I am willing to wait until that day.
As I left the bank, just as clearly the Spirit of God led me to go to another leading member of my church. He was a merchant in the fancy grocery business and had three stores in the city. In addition to groceries he sold wines and liquors of all kinds. He had been a member of Carondelet Street Church for years, and was one of the leading stewards there when I arrived.
I had my interview with him in his wine and liquor room. Standing among the barrels and cases I talked to him kindly, lovingly, entreatingly and faithfully. I told him he had many excellent traits of character; that he was generous, hospitable and charitable; that I loved him personally; but he was in a wrong business. That God could not bless him in it; that instead His curse was on it. That the Word of God said, "Woe to the man who putteth the bottle to his neighbor’s lips." I have not space here to describe the whole scene and occurrence. I can only say that Bro. M_____ flew all to pieces; the first time I ever saw him angry. He said that people would have wines, that he did not make them buy, etc., etc., and all through the old stock arguments of defense of the wrong business.
Seeing that I had failed with him, and that there was no hope of reaching him since he would not listen. So I bade him a sorrowful good day, telling him as I had told Bro. W_____, that we could not accept his $200 for pastoral support hereafter. As I walked away from this second and most painful obedience to God that morning, I had a most remarkable witness given to my soul that God was pleased with my consecration and that no more tests would be given in that line until the blessing came.
The other step of Faith, remained, and this I took and kept taking. Scores of times I said, "The Blood of Jesus Christ cleanses me now. Jesus sanctifies me now." And all blessing to His name, I felt my faith growing. I was approaching the perfected faith talked about by Paul.
Then I prayed! And oh, how I prayed! Hours at a time I would be on my knees or on my face alone in my study or private room.
One morning I arose because of the touch of God a great while before day and prayed until eight o’clock. My soul was full of peace, but that which I was after had not come. At 8:30 I could eat nothing at breakfast, and went to my Study upstairs.
It was nine o’clock, the third hour of the day, and I was sitting in my armchair yearning, and expecting. I was singing softly the chorus of "Down at the Cross," when I got a heavenly telegram that the Blessing was coming. I felt unworthy to receive such grace sitting, and tried to rise and have it come on me as I stood, but He that makes comets fly four hundred miles a second is quicker than all motion, and before I could leave my seat, the fire fell! The blessing came! It flooded, filled and rolled over my soul in billows of flame and glory!
That wonderful day is past; but the reflection still glows and burns in the sky. The storm of glory swept by; but it left Jesus walking on a stilled sea. The work abides. The witness remains. My soul is at rest.
I was born in the morning.
I was born again in the morning.
I entered His Rest in the morning.
And please God, I expect with a great multitude of God’s people to arise from the dead in the morning of the Resurrection when Jesus appears in the sky, and at His voice they that sleep in their graves shall come forth unto everlasting life and glory.
The Blessing Is Obtainable Now
If God can purify the heart and did not, He would be a strange God. There would be justification for the charge of divine indifference and even cruelty, if this were so.
If the Divine Being wanted to purify the soul and could not, then we have a weak and helpless Lord to worship. But who will say for a moment that He cannot? And who would believe that He does not want to? The fact is that God is able and willing to sanctify the soul. If He is able and willing to do it, there certainly is no need of postponing the work to the hour of death. To thus delay our expectation to the very brink of the grave is to reflect on the goodness as well as holiness of the Almighty. We cannot afford to do this.
Certainly if God is willing to do the work, and He alone can do it, why should we not seek it now, expect it now and receive it now? How may such a wonderful blessing be obtained? Let us see if we can present the matter in such a way that the hungry, watchful soul can go right into this beautiful grace of God. God’s House
One of the frequent descriptions given of man in the Bible is that of a house, building or temple.
"Ye are God’s building," says the apostle; and again, "Know ye not that ye are the temple of God?" We were originally made or built for God to dwell in. Satan marred the plan of Heaven by taking possession of us. Some of you have seen a beautiful dwelling pass out of the hands of the first owners and finally become the abode of poverty and degradation. The writer once looked through a famous hotel that in its palmy days had seen in its spacious rooms and halls the beauty, chivalry and statesmanship of a large Southern State. But at the time he viewed it, about the only thing left of the magnificence was its colossal size. It had become a tenement for the vilest and most poverty-stricken classes in the city. The paint had faded from the wall, doors were gone or hanging on a single hinge, and windowpanes were broken and stuffed with rags. Dark-looking, dissipated and ragged figures lounged about the portals or hung out of the windows; dogs and pigs roamed unchecked through the lower halls and galleries; and one could scarcely realize that this place had once been as attractive as it was now revolting.
So Satan took God’s building and rubbed off the colors of grace and innocence, planted decay and moral ugliness where he could, filled the door of the mouth with all kinds of uncleanness, hung forbidding looks out of the windows of the eyes, and shocked the beholder in every way. But through grace this house is redeemed from the devil. It becomes the Lord’s again. It is washed, cleansed, and warmed, and recognized as God’s property. Everybody marks the delightful change.
There is one thing, however, that constitutes a painful experience to the redeemed man himself and observer alike; the Saviour is not an abider in this house that belongs to Him. He is a visitor, coming and going, but not a steady, constant indweller. This visiting Christ, now consciously in the soul and now as consciously absent, will upon compliance with conditions on our part come into us and take up His fixed and unchanging abode. When this happens, sanctification happens. His purifying Spirit goes through the soul, and Christ enters to leave no more if we will have it so.
How is this entering in and blessed possession to take place? Remember that the Savior’s word is that if we will do certain things, "We will come unto Him and make our abode with Him." And remember that visiting is one thing and abiding is another. Some of you will recall the first time you ever saw your wife. She was paying a visit at your father’s home. It was a brief call, but it affected you forever and changed the house itself. The room she stood in looked different, the furniture assumed a new and peculiar luster, the goblet out of which she drank water you quietly set aside as your own, determining that no other lips should desecrate it. The old brick walk down which she went, and the gate with its overarching trees through which she passed, took upon themselves a subtle charm and glory. This was only a visit, but a year from that time she came again, and this time to stay. She came with trunks and baggage and took up her abode. She was now your wife.
The blessing we speak of changes Christ from a visitor to an abider in the heart. His visits were beautiful and blessed, but alas for the absences! How we used to sing: "Return, O Holy Dove, return," and:
"How tedious and tasteless the hours
When Jesus no longer I see."
The indwelling is what we want; Christ to move in, take possession and never leave us any more. Taking Possession of a Home
This is brought about by a method similar to what we see when a person moves into an earthly home:
First, the house is to be emptied. If a man purchases a building from you, there is one thing he expects, and that you do, -empty it for him! He does not want your old goods and chattels. He has furniture of his own, and doubtless much better than the kind you possess. So in offering yourself as the Lord’s dwelling place, He demands that you let everything go, keep nothing back and, in a word, empty yourself.
This is only another way of describing consecration. A man who is laying everything on the altar is simply emptying himself. As the consecration proceeds, the person is conscious of an increasing emptiness, and just before the blessing comes, in describing his experience he would say: I have given up everything, am all emptied, and have nothing as yet in return except the conviction that I have done right.
I once illustrated this emptying process in my church in St. Louis. In front of the pulpit stretched a large altar in the form of a semi-circle. Its shape was made to stand for the heart. At the beginning of the illustration there were a number of persons in the altar, along with their books, papers, overcoats, hats, etc., etc. The preacher quietly put the individuals out and off the platform, saying that he would not let a single human being fill the place where Christ should reign. After this he threw out the hats, overcoats, gloves and wraps, declaring that the dress question should be settled in that manner. Then he removed the handsome chairs from the stand, affirming that rich furniture should not be an idol with him. Then he picked up some books and papers and put them outside the altar, with the remark that men’s writings and opinions should not stand a moment before the known will and command of God. About this time the altar looked exceedingly empty; but still the preacher was not satisfied. Going about it, he found minute things, like bits of paper and thread on the floor. Stooping down, he carefully picked them up and cast them outside the altar rail saying: "Nothing, no matter how small, shall stay." At last only himself and the Bible were left inside the altar-heart. Whereupon, after placing the Holy Book in the very center of the altar, he himself stepped out, declaring as he went that the Word of God should alone rule and reign in that heart.
A hundred or more people stood around looking at this figurative sermon. There was not an individual who looked into the emptied, silent altar, with the solitary Bible in the center of the platform, but felt solemnized, and grasped with a convicting clearness what emptying of the heart meant and must be in order that Christ might come.
With many, this is unquestionably the hard thing to do. Yet it must be done. It may take days, but there will be no divine incoming until there is the human emptying. How is it possible to fill us until we are first emptied? How could God truthfully say we had His fullness when something of self and the world was left? Emptied first; filled afterward is the order. The disciples were ten days in the upper room engaged in the human part of the work. We once thought they were ten days getting filled with the Holy Spirit, but no they were ten days getting themselves emptied. It does not take God ten seconds to fill thoroughly to overflowing the self-emptied man. God moves at once into the vacated dwelling.
Second, the house must be cleansed. That individual would be lacking in self-respect who would turn an untidy and defiled building over to the man who had purchased and desired to move into it.
So there is a cleansing of hands and hearts to obtain Jesus, the indwelling Sanctifier, in our souls.
There was a cleansing in regeneration from all personal guilt and sin. Yet is there a deeper purifying for the man in whom the Son of God will abide forever. The disciples, in the sixteenth chapter of John, were called "clean" by Christ, but in the seventeenth chapter He prayed His Father to "sanctify" them, and sanctify means to make pure and holy. To obtain this profounder purification that removes the fallen nature itself, we are called upon to cleanse ourselves first. This does not mean that the regenerated man is a sinner. What is meant will be taught him in that hour when he pants for Jesus to come into him.
Sanctify yourselves; for the Lord your God will sanctify you. There is a double sanctification here: a human and a divine. We sanctify and then God sanctifies. We cleanse the life and He cleanses the soul. We attend to the seen and He to the unseen.
A woman will wash the windows and floors of the house for the new owner, but we never yet knew the incoming female satisfied with the washing or house cleansing of the outgoing woman. She at once travels over the track of her scouring predecessor with soap, brush and broom, giving what she calls a better cleaning. So in like manner, deep as may be our purifying, God purifies still deeper.
We may brush down the spider webs, but it takes the Lord to kill the spider.
Third, you must stand at the door of an emptied and cleansed house and watch and wait for the coming of the owner. This is what we have seen people do. The house had been prepared and the former possessor stood with keys in hand awaiting the arrival of the new purchaser.
So should the seeker of sanctification stand at the door of his emptied heart and look up for his descending Lord. We never knew of Christ coming with this blessing to any other than to such an upward looker and expecter. As the writer recalls certain ones he has seen sanctified, his heart melts and eyes fill from the bare memory as he sees them again with that indescribably heartfelt gaze, the soul in the eyes, looking and longing for Jesus to descend and fill His new blood-bought home.
Of course, we do not mean that the physical glance is always upward. Sometimes it is not and the head is bowed, but the soul-gaze is always heavenward, no matter where the bodily eyes may be resting. Moreover, we can recognize the fact of this spiritual uplook and feel at the same time that something will soon happen to the wistful gazer, and it does.
Happy is the man who will not allow himself to be diverted and distracted, but having emptied and cleansed his heart, will stand waiting with ardent prayer and expectation for Christ to descend, fill, and ever after remain as the glorious indweller of the soul. It is the attitude of surrender and devotion, the spirit of faith and the grace of supplication all united in one person. Such a one will not be disappointed. Christ is certain to come. He cannot stay away.
At this juncture comes the filling, or taking possession. Just as an earthly owner sweeps up with carriages and vans to move into his new home, so Jesus descends in chariots of fire with the furniture of heaven to fill and take possession of the perfectly consecrated and waiting soul. What an epoch, and what an experience! Who can forget it? The very memory after years fills the eyes and sets the soul on fire anew.
"Jesus comes. He fills my soul,
Perfected in love I am;
I am every whit made whole,
Glory, glory to the Lamb."
Or, as sung by Charles Wesley over one hundred years ago:
"He visits now the house of clay;
He shakes His future home;
O wouldst thou, Lord, in this glad day
Into thy temple come.
"Come, O my God, Thyself reveal
Fill all this mighty void;
Thou only canst my spirit fill;
Come, O my God, my God."
We recall a lady who the morning she received this blessing was leaning against a great pillar in the center of the church. What a hungry, wistful look she had! Her hands were folded and eyes looking upward, when suddenly the glorious blessing came! With a great rapturous cry that went through every heart she fell forward as if shot through the heart with a musket ball.
Another lady we remember who had consecrated, believed, prayed, waited, looked and received Jesus into her soul in the sweetest, gentlest way. We saw her afterwards at the altar with an uplifted look, and perfectly abstracted from her surroundings. With a strange, sweet smile on the face, her eyes seemed fixed on worlds out of sight. For an hour she never moved a muscle nor closed an eyelid. People passed before her, but she seemed to look through them. It was like one hanging out of a window of Time, gazing into Eternity. She seemed to be looking at Christ and into heaven, while the soul’s voiceless content and immeasurable calm was written in every line of the rapt countenance. No one was able to behold her without their tears gushing. All felt that Christ had come to His home and was abiding therein. A soul was hushed into perfect rest in the midst of a stormy world. The redeemed, encircled in the divine arms and pillowed on the divine breast, was looking into the face of the Redeemer.
"Blessed quietness; holy quietness,
What assurance fills my soul;
On the stormy sea, Jesus speaks to me,
And the billows cease to roll."
Some Features Of The Sanctified Life
There is such a life. We are ushered into it upon compliance with the conditions of consecration and faith, that stand like a great portal, barring out and yet opening in. With the experience of an instantaneous sanctification rushing into the soul, the sanctified life begins.
Of course there is skepticism with some about the individuality and distinctiveness of the life; but this doubting comes from those who have not gone through the portal. One cannot know how a garden really looks until he enters the gate and strolls down the walks. He may have had descriptions and so formed ideas, but we all know how every description comes short of the reality; and the road, lane, field, city, or landscape that has been portrayed with pen or tongue is always different from the mental conception when we see it.
Men may smile as they will over the statement that the sanctified life or experience differs from that of regeneration, but such smiles cannot and do not alter actual facts. These persons in their derision simply show that they have not yet "entered in." They do not know! The Mystery of His Rest
Every life that is different from our own is necessarily a mystery. A worm is a tiny thing, and men may write learnedly about its sensations, but the fact remains that most of what is written is mere conjecture. The only way to really know how a worm feels is to become a worm. So, a bird can be held in or crushed by the hand. Some persons have written volumes on the habits and feelings of birds. But all that writing is merely the opinion of a being on the outside of the little songster. He cannot know how a bird feels; to do that, he must become a bird himself.
In like manner we study the angels. Much has been said about them, but how little is really known of their habits, labours, and joys? We have to study them from the outside. They constitute a different order of beings from the human race, and will never become men and women, just as we will never become angels. We may show great wisdom in writing about this heavenly order, but, after all, it is merely speculation. The only way to know how an angel feels is to become an angel.
The unconverted man looks at the regenerated man and thinks he understands him. He hears the Christian say that he "feels good and happy," and his reply is, "So do I." It would be very hard to convince him that the good feeling of the child of God is spiritual, while his is on the physical. This very explanation would fail to explain to him or convince him. His idea of "feeling good" is mainly animal. He has, for instance, after eating a hearty meal in dressing robe and slippers, stretched in an easy chair, cigar in mouth, he sits in a lazy, dreaming mood, looking into the fire. He says he "feels good"; but anyone will say that the sensation is purely animal. That it is a puppy-dog enjoyment, a cat-on-the-rug contentment. The child of God tells him that if he repents and believes on the Lord Jesus Christ, he will have a good feeling sweep through the soul that is so much purer, better and nobler, that the other would not be worthy to be mentioned in the same breath.
Is it not strange that a regenerated man who can see these things, and can recognize the error of the unconverted in this matter should fall into a similar mistake when he sits in criticism and judgment on the life of the sanctified man? He hears him give his experience, and straightway asserts that he has all that the sanctified man possesses. Of course the person who has entered in knows better, but is equally well aware that no human word or power can convince the converted man to the contrary; that this is the work of God. It takes the Holy Spirit, with the Word, to divide soul and spirit, joints and marrow, discern the depths of the heart, expose the fallen nature, and reveal in startling light the difference between the two works of grace. So the sanctified simply says in reply to the regenerated man that if he consecrates perfectly, believes unwaveringly, and prays without being turned aside, that the fire will fall and he will know for Himself this secret of the Lord, which only the Lord can reveal.
In other words, "If any man will do His will He shall know of the doctrine." Thus while it takes the Holy Spirit to convince him as He illumines the mind and reveals the deep things of God; still it is the duty of the sanctified man to stand firm for his experience and emphasize the distinctiveness and superiority of the work of grace. God will use that humble, faithful testimony not only for the good of the testifier, but make it "light sown for the righteous" which, under the divine blessing, will yet spring up for the conviction and purification of the believer. The Sanctified Experience
There is then such a thing as the sanctified experience. There is, thank God, a sanctified life. It must be so recognized by the honest observer, and it is felt with thrills of joy by the possessor himself, who knows better than any one else its marked contrast to the former religious experience, and its blessed superiority at every point.
A book could be written about this, but we content ourselves with calling attention to several features of what we call the sanctified life or experience.
Perhaps the prominent feature is inward rest. The soul has been stilled and remains still. The spirit of worry is gone. There is a sweet absence of fretfulness. An atmosphere of profound calm pervades the breast and penetrates the life. It abides steadily through the day, no matter what that day holds for us in the shape of labor, burdens, unpleasant people, and trying circumstances. There is no delight over the trying circumstances themselves, but a restfulness of soul in spite of them. Paul did not give thanks for everything, but said: "In everything give thanks." It certainly would be a novel experience to many Christians to begin and end the day calmly; to wake up in the morning with a sweet serenity of spirit, and to go through each new day with a deep, still peace, whose steady flow delights as well as astonishes. And yet this is the plain promise of God, "Quietness and assurance forever," and this is the experience of a great and ever-increasing number in the land.
One of these, a lady friend, said to the author: "I am kept amazed at the inward rest and stillness of my soul. I never dreamed there was such a sweet peace for me, and I am disposed to wonder if there can be any mistake about it all. Ought I not to be more concerned about different things; and where is the ecstatic joy I felt in the first few weeks of the blessing?" She, in other words, under that word "concerned" was marveling over the absence of the old "fret" that used to be in her, and also failed to see that the great peace she now had was simply joy boiled down.
A second feature is that of a spirit of praise. Every child of God is conscious of this at times, but there are serious gaps and intervals when it is not felt. Moreover, the hour when it is realized, as a rule, in the regenerated life is one that abounds in helps and external causes of inspiration. All is going on well in the individual heart, family circle and church life. The meeting is being blessed, the work is succeeding, and faith has turned into sight. Well in body, well in soul, and everybody around is well -now, then, let us praise God. Who could do anything else under such circumstances?
The gift and grace we speak of here is a spirit of praise that abides in the soul under all circumstances. The inner bubbling of gladness is felt not simply when all is well, but when things are not well. It gushes up in the face of coldness, opposition, detraction, and wrong. It sings in spite of loneliness, and pain of heart and body. It praises God in the face of apparent failure. It can be cast off by loved ones and separated from the company of friends, and yet keep rejoicing. It can walk around the wall of Jericho thirteen times without seeing a crack, and yet shout. It can be unjustly condemned, whipped, put in a dungeon, and behold! At midnight it will burst into hosannas. It can, and does, cry hallelujah at all times.
The first two sanctified preachers the writer met impressed him with this spirit of rejoicing. He heard them say repeatedly in the Conference room and elsewhere: "Glory to God!" "Praise the Lord!" "Hallelujah!" This spirit, life and language was beyond the author of this book at that time, and his judgment of the phenomenon was that these utterances had first been genuine, but by frequent repetition had become mechanical, and that nothing but the expression of a mental habit was now before him; or, in other words, here were parrot-like utterances in the religious life. Two years after the writer obtained the same blessing possessed by these men of God, and found to his delight and astonishment that it was not a parrot at all, but a nightingale singing its very heart out on a rose bush in a moonlight night. He found there was a blessing which, when received in the soul, bubbles up in a tender holy joy, wreathes the lips with smiles, puts a shine on the face, a sparkle in the eye, and issues from the tongue in words and expressions of praise.
The wife of a minister received the blessing of sanctification in a gracious meeting held by the writer. She had been soundly converted, and was a faithful worker in the church. But she felt that disposition within to fret and worry over household and other matters. The sound of a dog barking at night was especially objectionable and trying to her. She called it nervousness. The night following the day she received the blessing she could not sleep for the happiness that filled her.
She said that the watch dog seemed possessed that night and barked for hours, but with her joy-attuned nature she heard the sound with new ears; the discordant sound was gone, and the dog seemed to say, "Praise God!" "Praise God!" Next morning while in the kitchen arranging things for breakfast she, by an unwitting movement of the hand, brought down a whole pile of tin and iron vessels with a great clash and clatter. Two days before it would have been intolerable and upsetting; but with the holy joy and praise now welling up richly in her soul, she clapped her hands and cried out with shining face, "O the music! O the music!"
A third feature in the life of the sanctified is the blessed consciousness of a perfect love. Perfect not in the sense that it may not grow stronger and more intense as the years go by, but perfect as regards the absence of things contrary to love imbedded in the heart. It is a pure love. The former temporary hates, jealousies, envyings and bitternesses toward certain people are all gone. A gentle, tender, loving feeling is in the heart for all men. This does not mean that we love all alike. This would be unnatural and impossible. There is a general love for the whole Race, peculiar affections for those naturally near to us, and special likings and attachments to others, who, by nature, temperament and character, draw us toward them. Yet to all different classes there is felt a pure, genuine love, although the love may vary in character and intensity.
On the Godward side we are thrilled to discover that the love we now bear Him is not now mixed as it had formerly been, and rules supreme at all times. It is sweet and blessed beyond words to describe to feel the perfect love for God effortlessly nestling in and warming the heart continually. King David is on his throne, the Absalom of rival affections is dead, and the kingdom within lies all fair, peaceful and beautiful, without a note of discord or sign of rebellion.
Such a condition of soul is found in its tenderness to all people, to prevent the fault-finding and uncharitable speech; while the same tongue in speaking of God and things divine almost insensibly, and yet naturally, is drawn into simple, unaffected and reverential language. Cheerfulness takes the place of levity, kindness displaces harshness, and from the lips that once found fault with God and assailed man, come the breathings of the loyal soul that find utterance in praises and ejaculations of love to God, and fervent "God bless yous" to the children of men. And it abides. The fitfulness or fluctuation seen in the regenerated life is no more. The blessed experience is that of being fixed, grounded, rooted, and settled in love.
A fourth feature is the working spirit, or desire and effort to do good. The instant the disciples received this grace they flew to the fields and vineyards of God. Two thousand years after this, I saw the same blessing fall upon a lady at the altar. I heard her cry, "O my husband!" saw her spring to her feet, rush into the audience, seize hold of the now tremendously convicted man, lead him to the altar, and in a agony of prayer and triumph of faith lay hold now on God, and behold! Salvation came down. The two works between that of the disciples and this woman was different in regard to magnitude of operations, but the same Spirit was at work. Not all are called to public work, but those who have this blessing find work to do, and gladly do it. They feel strangely and powerfully wound up to do it. The work may be laid out by the divine hand in a very obscure corner or restricted sphere; it may be a simple enduring at times of that which will become a work of the highest order; it may be a marching today and a standing still tomorrow. God knows, and He will direct, and the sanctified soul will obey. The Spirit of the working Christ abiding in us is bound to lead out in words and deeds that will bless the world in some way, and help to restore the departed Paradise.
Figures of a wound up and going machine, steam pulsating in cylinders, and the prophetic description of fire burning in the bones come to the mind in describing this divinely inspired heart to be at His work.
The curve of the bow, the tautness of the string, the poise of the arrow, the coiled spring are all felt when truly filled and empowered of God in sanctification. Such a one cannot be idle. In some way, in small things or in great things, and in his or her own line and way, the sanctified person must and will work for God.
A striking feature about it is that this work does not seem to exhaust. The soul remains fresh.
There is a buoyancy felt throughout which delights the worker and gives moral force to the performance in the eyes of beholders. The soul is never so full of rest as when engaged in this unfailing activity for heaven.
We remember a Bible picture of the seraphim, where they are represented with wings in swift movement, while their bodies were motionless. It is a striking illustration of the two-fold experience of work and rest in the sanctified life. High pressure work of brain and body, and profound calm and rest of soul. The man works now for God as he never did before, but he also rests at the same time with a depth and sweetness equally remarkable.
A fifth feature of the life is the delightful consciousness of being kept. It is difficult, if not impossible; to bend any set of words around the circle of this experience, or find sentences that can penetrate the intricacies of the grace as it affects the heart and life. Like a road has to be traveled to be known, so must the soul journey on this delightful way to know what we are describing.
Possession of the blessing is the only key to the understanding of this gracious mystery.
The author had read the word in the Bible, "Kept by the power of God," and had heard it used by some who had a strange, sweet light on their faces, and a glad, exultant ring in their voices, but he failed to comprehend what they were talking about until at last he finally became an "overcomer" himself and had obtained the "white stone, and in the stone a new name written, which no man knoweth saving he that receiveth it."
A kept life! Figures of restfulness, repose and protection arise at once to the mind; a child in the arms of its mother, a sealed fountain, a walled city, and yet every description fails to measure up to this strange, sweet experience of the sanctified soul, that we call being "kept." It is a spiritual sensation as distinct as the feeling of pardon. It sustains all through the trying hours of the day, is the last thing felt in the heart as we fall asleep, and the first realized in the soul on awakening in the morning. If this were the only feature of sanctification, it would pay ten thousand times over to obtain the blessing.
This chapter is a condensed statement of some of the features of the sanctified life. No one can read them without seeing it is a distinct experience; and any one hearing of such a life should never be content until he came into the same blessedness."