Spiritual Weaning

“When the unclean spirit is gone out of a man. he walkdh through dry places, seeking rest, and findeth none.” — Matt. xii. 43.

There is no moment of the spiritual life so painful and so dangerous as its weaning; the old is past, and the new is not yet come. The hardest time to bear is neither Egypt nor the Promised Land, but the desert that lies between. Egypt has the pleasures of sin, the Promised Land has the pleasures of holiness, but the desert has no pleasures. It has given up the joys of Pharaoh, and it has not yet reached the delights of Canaan. It is only a stage of prohibitions; it forbids the pleasures of the past, and it has as yet not even the grapes of Eshcol to offer in their room.

My soul, thou canst not rest in the desert, thou canst not be satisfied. with a law which only says, “Thou shalt not,” It is a hard thing to have the old cup snatched from thy lips ere any new cup is presented to thee. It is a hard thing to have the old tenants expelled from thy dwelling ere any new guests are admitted there. It is a hard thing to have the house empty, swept, and garnished ere ever thou hast learned that it is empty for the reception of new visitors, garnished for the coming of nobler guests. Thine old love of sin cannot be replaced by law; it can only be replaced by a new love. Thine old joy in Egypt cannot be supplanted by fear; it can only be supplanted by the joy of Canaan. It is vain to tell thee to walk not in the counsel of the ungodly, and stand not in the way of sinners, until thy delight shall be in the law of the Lord and thy meditation on it day and night. Therefore thy prayer must be: 0 Love that art the recompense for every loss, send into my heart the well-spring of Thy joy, to gladden with its healing waters the places that have been left dry. Fill up the solitudes of that spirit which has been emptied of its old treasures and swept of its past ideals. Teach me that behind the reproach of the desert there is to be found greater riches than all the treasures of Egypt. Change the struggle of my dawn into the spontaneity of a second day. Let law become grace; let duty become privilege; let service become freedom; let work become play; let sacrifice become joy. When I shall exchange the spirit of heaviness for the garment of praise, the old house shall be empty no more.