"Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus."
"I do always those things that please Him."—John 8:29.
What a glorious motto for a man—"I live for God!" It
is religion's truest definition. It is the essence of angelic bliss—the motive
principle of angelic action—"You ministers of His that do His pleasure." The
Lord of angels knew no higher, no other motive. It was during His
incarnation the regulator and directory of His daily being. It supported Him
amid the depressing sorrows of His woe-worn path. It upheld Him in their
dreadful termination in the garden and on the cross. For a moment sinking
human nature faltered under the load His Godhead sustained; but the thought of
"pleasing God" nerved and revived Him. "Not my will but Yours be done."
It is only when the love of God is shed abroad in the
heart, that this animating desire to "please Him" can exist. In the holy bosom
of Jesus, that love reigned paramount, admitting no rival—no competing
affection. Though infinitely inferior in degree, it is the same impelling
principle which leads His people still to link enjoyment with His service, and
which makes consecration to Him of heart and life its own best recompense and
reward. "There is a gravitation," says one whose life was the holy echo of his
words, "in the moral as in the physical world. When love to God is habitually
in the ascendant, or occupying the place of will, it gathers round it all the
other desires of the soul as satellites, and whirls them along with it in its
orbit round the center of attraction" (Hewitson's Life.) Until the
heart, then, be changed, the believer cannot have this "testimony that he
pleases God." The world, self, sin—these are the gods of the unregenerate
soul. And even when changed, alas that there should be so many ebbings
and flowings in our tide of devotedness! Jesus could say, "I do always
these things that please the Father." Glory to God burned within His bosom
like a living fire. "Many waters could not quench it." His was no fitful and
inconstant frames and feelings, but the persistent habit of a holy life, which
had the one end in view, from which it never diverged or deviated.
Let it be so, in some lowly measure with us. Let God's
service not be the mere livery of high days—of set times and seasons; but,
like the alabaster box of ointment, let us ever be giving forth the fragrant
perfume of holiness. Even when the shadows of trial are falling around us, let
us "pass through the cloud" with the sustaining motive—"All my wish, O God, is
to please and glorify You! By giving or taking—by smiting or healing—by the
sweet cup or the bitter—"Father, glorify your name!" "I don't want to be weary
of God's dealings with me," said Bickersteth, on his death-bed; "I want to
glorify Jesus in them, and to find Him more precious." Do I shrink from
trials—duties—crosses—because involving hardships and self-denial, or because
frowned on by the world? Let the thought of God's approving countenance be
enough. Let me dread no censure, if conscious of acting in accordance with
His will. Let the Apostle's monitory word determine many a perplexing
path—"If I please men, I am not the servant of Christ."