The Freedom of the Fixed Heart

““My heart is fixed, O God.” — Psa.m lvii. 7.

THis man describes his circumstances in extraordinarily vivid speech. Metaphor crowds upon metaphor in almost breathless pace. Every word presents a picture suggesting grave difficulty and antagonism. Figure is piled upon figure in the attempt to express the strenuousness of the conflict. He is “‘ among lions.’” He moves ‘‘ among them that are set on fire.” ‘“‘ Spears and arrows” are hurtling about him. He is in peril of the “‘ sharp sword.”’ His enemy has ‘“‘digged a pit,’’ and skilfully concealed it. And yet he assumes an attitude towards these perils and antagonisms which gives his spirit strength and leisure to break into song. His altar is not the gloomy seat of lamentation; it is the bright abode of hope and aspiration. ‘I will sing and give praise.”” One would not expect to find song in such circumstances of stress and strain. It brings to mind the birds which sang on the battlefields of Flanders. And yet it is our purpose, triumph in God. It may not be ours to sing the song of ecstasy and rapture, but it is ours to sing the song of confidence and hope. Ours may be the song of security in the howling night.

Now we need not share the circumstance of the Psalmist’s external lot, but his vivid symbols may also describe spiritual circumstances in which he and we are closely akin. Who does not know the fierce antagonism of lions and fire? Who is not familiar with the rising of the passions? And who does not know the spear and arrow, especially the treacherous arrow that flieth by day, when no enemy may be seen?

Who has not experienced the thrust of the sharp sword, the fiery dart of the evil one? And who is not aware of the pits of cynicism and pessimism, and many another gloomy hole? Yes, indeed, we know them, and we can share the Psalmist’s triumph.

What is his secret? ‘‘ My heart is fixed, O God.” That is his secret. First of all, this sort of fixedness gives the truest circumspection. We stand still in order to see. In this fixedness we obtain the point of view which gives us the divine vision. The unfixed life has no sight. To be absolutely free is to be blind. We call it “‘ Going about seeing life,” but we do not see it at all. What we see we misinterpret. Appetite is just “° good living.”” We mistake the lion for a domestic cat, we play with it and fondle it. We mistake the cunningly covered pit for a bit of juicy pasture. ‘Sin, that it might appear sin.” Ah, that is the difficulty. Sin is so specious, so delusive, so expert in its camouflage. And so we must be fixed in God if we would truly see. ‘In Thy light shall we see light.”” When our heart is fixed we see things as they are.

But there is another thing that must be said about the Psalmist’s triumph. It is only as the heart is fixed that we become truly free. It may seem as though the fixed heart forfeits its liberty. It is the gravest of all mistakes. The man who has no fixity has no true freedom. Vagrancy is not liberty, it is only licence. The first condition of freedom is that we be bound. That is why we have those strange paradoxes

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in the letters of the Apostle Paul. He writes about ‘‘ Paul, the bondslave,” and almost in the same breath he sings of “‘ The glorious liberty of the children of God.” And the secret of the liberty is found in the bondage. It is just because he is gloriously fixed that he is gloriously free. The spiritually bound find their wings. It is only when we are ‘‘in Christ’ that we are able to “‘rise into heavenly places.”

Well, it is not far from wings to song. When the heart is fixed we begin to soar. ‘* Because He hath set His love upon me — I will set Him on high.” That exaltation is as sure as the being of God.