Imputed Righteousness

“This is the rest wherewith ye may cause the weary to rest, and this is the refreshing” —

“gra tioubtless, ani K count all tf)ings Wi loss for tle etccllmcg of tfje ftnoSoIetisE of fflfjrist 3rsus mg ILort: for luljom C fjafac suf= fcrrU ti)e loss of all tljinrjs.” — Phil. iii. 8.

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“The loss of all things” bringing with it rest — tranquillity! This seems a contradiction in terms. Worldly loss generally, and as an almost necessary consequence, leads to dispeace, unquiet, trouble. Yet in Paul’s case it was sublimely true; — the surrender of former grounds and subjects for exultation and boasting led him to the truest, to the only stable rest. We are reminded of another of his seeming paradoxes: “Having nothing, yet possessing all things.”

We may readily believe, indeed, that it would be no small effort for him to discard what he once so fondly loved and prized, and to which he so proudly clung. Sad to go to that gallery of pleasant pictures which he himself had hung in the chambers of his soul, and wnth his own hand to wrench one by one from its place; — to tear sculpture by sculpture from niche and pedestal, and to write upon these walls, so lately gleaming with fancied righteousness, ‘■^ All loss for Christ f In the words of the entire passage, he has undoubtedly reference to that wild night in the Sea of iS2 PALMS OF ELIM.

Adria, to which in former pages we have incidentally referred, when pursuing his voyage to Rome in the Alexandrian corn-ship. The tempest was threatening; the safety of the ship seemed to demand a lightening of the cargo. But that precious corn! must it be sacrificed for the safety of the vessel? It was “gain;” but must it come to be reckoned as “loss,” and tossed overboard? Yes, the tempest decides the question. It must be consigned to the waves, otherwise the vessel will founder. There is no room for debate; the crew make up their minds to “suffer the loss of all.” Nay more, when the tempest howls with greater fury, and danger and death stare them full in the face, they go a step further. The “loss” is never thought of. They do not now pause in uncertainty and indecision, saying, ‘Cannot we spare these precious barrels of merchandise?’ Imminent danger makes them glad to plunge them into the roaring sea. When the question is between the loss of the wheat, and the loss of the ship, there can be no hesitation. They account them as absolutely worthless — of no value. They are glad to see them pitching against one another in the dark abyss. They look upon them now, not as gain or treasure, but as having proved an absolute hindrance, endangering their safety.

And this was the process in St. Paul’s mind. First, there was a clinging to all these birthright gains and self-righteous confidences. He was loath to part with them. Secondly, he underwent the “loss,” but it was accompanied with “suffering.” It was a violent effort for him to renounce that which he had once so fondly treasured and trusted in. But the third stage of feeling was when he was brought to say, ‘I hate them all! they are as dung: they are worthless: they are imperilling the vessel’s safety; they are endangering my soul’s interest; let them go, every one of them! They were once “gain to me;” once I endured “suffering” at the thought of losing them; but now, heave them into the raging sea. I count them as refuse, sweepings, husks, “that I may win Christ, and be found in Him.” ’

Is this our case? Can we, as voyagers on the sea of life, make such a protestation, that all in which we once trusted and gloried, as a ground of justification in the sight of God, we toss overboard, in order that the giant deed of Christ’s doing and dying may stand out alone in solitary grandeur? “Not having mine own righteousness, which is of the law, but that which is through the faith of Christ, the righteousness which is of God by faith.”

“Accepted in the Beloved,” says Hedley Vicars, as he writes on a gun carriage in the trenches before Sebastopol; “What a healing balm is there here, for a weary, heavy-laden sinner!”

And if being clothed in the imputed righteousness of Immanuel be a blessed truth to live on, what a blessed truth to die on! What a joyous garment this, wherewith to wrap us round when the billows are high, and we are plunging into Jordan! We can imagine, when that solemn hour arrives; when, perhaps suddenly, we are laid on the pillow from which we are to rise no more; and when, despite of our well-grounded confidence in the Gospel, gloomy visions and memories of former guilt will gather around, filling us with trembling and dismay, — oh! in the midst of the thick darkness, to feel girded with a panoply, which the rush of waters cannot penetrate, and of which the King of terrors cannot despoil us — the robe which we received at the cross, and which we are to wear before the throne!

Yes, children of God, of every age and rank and experience, tune your hearts and lips for the joyous strain. Aged believers, sing it! ye whose earthly, pilgrim-garments are soiled and travel-worn, but whose robe of righteousness is fresh as in the day of your espousals with the Heavenly Bridegroom. Young believers, sing it! ye who may have but recently stood at the marriage-altar with your Lord, and received at His hands the glistering vesture; who may have a long journey, it may be, still to traverse, ere you reach the King’s Palace. Sorrowing believers, sing it! take down your harps from the willows of sadness. Ye are in mourning attire; but through your weeds there shines this “clothing of wrought gold,” which the shadows of death and the grave cannot dim or alloy. Let the whole Church of the living God, divided on other themes, — mute with other songs, — kindle into holy rajDture with this —

“Jesus, Thy blood and righteousness
My beauty are, my glorious dress;
‘Mid flaming worlds, in these array’d,
With joy I shall lift up my head.

“This spotless robe the same appears
When ruin’d nature sinks in years;
No age can change its glorious hue — The robe of Christ is ever new.

“And when the dead shall hear Thy voice,
And all Thy banish’d ones rejoice,
Their beauty this, their glorious dress, — Jesus the Lord our Righteousness!”

“to the praise of the glory of his grace, wherein he hath made us accepted in the beloved.”