Читать книгу Come, Holy Spirit - Eduard Thurneysen - Страница 7

COME HOLY SPIRIT

OPEN WIDE THE GATE!

The earth is the Lord’s and the fulness thereof; the world and they that dwell therein. For he hath founded it upon the seas and established it upon the floods. Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? And who shall stand in his holy place? He that hath clean hands and a pure heart: who hath not lifted up his soul unto vanity [loose doctrines], nor sworn deceitfully. He shall receive a blessing from the Lord, and righteousness from the God of his salvation. This is the generation of them that seek him, that seek thy face, O God of Jacob. Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be ye lift up ye everlasting doors: and the King of glory shall come in. Who is the King of glory? The Lord strong and mighty, the Lord mighty in battle. Lift up your heads, O ye gates; even lift them up ye everlasting doors; and the King of glory shall come in. Who is this king of glory? The Lord of hosts, he is the King of glory.—Psalm 24.

“The earth is the Lord’s and the fulness thereof, the world and they that dwell therein.” Is not all that we humans need to know really said to us in this word of the Psalmist? Is it not true that if we could rightly speak and understand such a Word, if we could say it and hear it so that it would rise and come out of the Bible and work in us, we should be helped immediately? But what does that mean? Certainly nothing else than that it would be so spoken and heard, not as a pleasing word of man, but as the Truth, even as the word that God speaks to us.

We are all seeking for such a word, one that is not simply another word. How often each one of us has longed for just this right word in sorrow or in some other situation! If we but bear a little of the burden and the hope of these times upon our hearts, we shall become humans who longingly look for the redeeming word. For the anxiety and the hope of today is due to the want of this word, and we can not rest in our quest for it. The variety of prophets today who profess to know something, and the thronging of men who desire to find something—these are proofs of this questing and questioning. And the worse the need becomes, the closer it approaches the one universal need which, like a flood, covers the whole earth, and from which no one can escape. The fewer the islands become which are not threatened by this flood of need, the more all the barriers which we have thrown up against it are burst because they are puny structures of man—the more do we feel that this redeeming word must be a primary, all-inclusive word which must embrace the whole world; it must be the one word along side of which there is and can be none other, even God’s word. Today we see clearly how all need hangs together. To really help a single unemployed family would mean that we have to create work. But to create work today would mean to solve the whole European problem of labor. Thus, that which apparently is a small thing is the greatest. Thus all need, even the smallest, is tragic—the cry of the hungry child is a terrible and fearful matter. These little means of ours can no longer help. Always and in everything we have to do with the total situation. And the help for the need must have a powerful character, the most powerful there is. The need today reaches as far as our portion of the earth, and still farther. “Europe”—that is the extent of our misery today; the “world” will increasingly be the name for need. How can any name be spoken that is smaller, less powerful than the name of God, the name of the Lord?

And now He is named. “The earth is the Lord’s and the fulness thereof, the world and they that dwell therein.” Here the two meet, the need and He who can satisfy the need; earth and heaven; man and God. Here God reaches forth His hand and says: “The earth in her need—that is mine!” And when God says that, can it mean anything else than: “I will help, I will redeem, I will have mercy, I, the Lord!” This is the help. To look for help means to look for it, to inquire whether this proffered help is authentic, whether it is true, whether it is spoken into the wind, or, whether it is in reality God’s word. Or do we need something other than the promise that “the earth is the Lord’s and they that dwell therein,” and that the will of God will be executed in spite of the unreasonableness of men? Would we not have all that we need to carry on, if we were really certain of this promise? Would we not be certain, that while men put through their own wills, while they seek their own glory, while they worship their own gods, that God is doing His work? And is the work of God anything else than that he puts forth His hand upon them and that with all the doing of their own wills they will not get away from His will, and in all their seeking for glory, His will finally will triumph?

And does the will and the glory of God mean anything else than that in the depth of their need men acknowledge Him as Lord, as He whom they should call upon to relieve their need? Does the will and the glory of God mean anything else than that men acknowledge how all need has in common the fact that men in their need have not called upon God as they should? So that eventually they may come out of the midst of their worship of false gods, to the place where they call upon Him and fear Him? God so works in the achievements of men against the achievements of men, whilst he awakens and illuminates until men’s eyes are opened and they see these achievements in their terrible reality and cry out: “God be merciful to me a sinner!”—until we acknowledge that our need is a judgment that has come upon us because we have forgotten God. Again and again men play with God until God reaches in with a powerful hand and reveals Himself as the Lord whose the earth is and all they that dwell therein. And when the lightning flash of this acknowledgment drives through the night of men’s lives and men understand their need and seek help, and when they again allow judgment and grace to be true, and also grant that the earth is the Lord’s—then the light of a new day streams across the earth. Then there breaks upon us what is termed a new day, for which we wait so longingly.

“The earth is the Lord’s and the fulness thereof, the world and they that dwell therein.” Yes, the right Word is spoken. But why does it enlighten us so faintly? Why does it not penetrate our ears and issue from our lips? Why do we not ascend, as it is said later in our Psalm, “into the hill of the Lord,” and stand, even amidst the need which surrounds us, in the holy place? Why is it not true and real to us and why do we not live by that Word: “the earth is the Lord’s.” Why, then, do we live on as though it is not true, if it is true? We know how the whole world waits to live by it. But we are ourselves “world.” We are never able to accomplish it in our own little lives, so as to allow salvation and truth to come to light. We live our days as though not a flicker of light would reveal itself. How poor our words are, how darkened are our spirits! How little we seem able to say to the great need and darkness of our times. We scold about the newspapers because they seem to thrash straw in their daily reports, but we ourselves know no better. Even our Christian words, our sermons and pious observations, are so helpless, faltering, lacking in light and spirit. They sound pious, but from them proceed the same far-distant hopelessness and perplexity, the same obstinate and despairing spirit which proceeds everywhere from books and men. The sad part of it all is that we speak and hear the word of God as a mere word of man, it no longer possesses its unique power and meaning.

Here undoubtedly lies the deepest reason of our need. The word of God is there, it is verified to us that God is Lord, and if we could accept it we would be helped. But we cannot. A bolt is fixed in place, it requires certain hands, different hands from our own, to open. “Clean hands” are required for it, say the words of our text. There is a darkness there which robs us of our vision. Even when we have the clearest, divine word of promise before us, it does not tell us anything. And we cannot get anything out of it. It requires men with other hearts than our own to see God’s light. He who has “a pure heart,” say the words of our Psalm, can “ascend into the hill of the Lord.” There is a power of temptation which frustrates us when we would and should believe. “Should God have said …?” and by it our faith is severed at its roots. It requires men in our places who have “not lifted up their souls to falsehood,” to break the bonds of this temptation, says the Bible.

“He who has clean hands”—this is the primary thing which is told us. Clean, guiltless hands open the bolt that closes the entrance to the redeeming and freeing things which God has to say to us. To understand what is meant we may imagine that all of us, without exception, are sitting, as it were, in a prison which we have erected around ourselves and keep on building through our foolish, frivolous, cruel and unclean living, thinking and doing. And when God lays His hand upon us, when He directs His words to us, it is that He wants to overlook all this; He wants to divorce us from it; He wants to forgive us. “The earth is the Lord’s and the fulness thereof.” He wants to tell us that all this imprisonment is invalid. It does not belong to you; that is not the real you. That is your imprisonment and God wants to look upon that as removed, as though it did not exist; He wants to look upon you without imprisonment. You are free before Him and through Him. But we must let that be done for us. We must learn to look upon our lives and ourselves that way, look upon them in the light of the judgment and grace of God. We must divorce ourselves from the old existence, we must become ashamed of our imprisonment. Something in us wants to be ashamed of itself. Something in us wants to believe that all this does not really belong to our real selves but that it is an imprisonment. This something we must give its right; it must be helped to break through. We must not be callous or hardened. For what separates us from God is not our sins, but our unwillingness to have our sins forgiven! We must really give God our hands when He walks toward us and desires to take them. The hands of men which are taken out of guilt and laid in the hands of God and which He takes are “clean hands,” for God forgives sin. Such hands unbolt the door which keeps us from redemption. But he who loves his sins more than God who wants to forgive them—with such a one God cannot speak.

This callousness of heart might happen in the finest and most spiritual manner. For instance, we might assent to all that God’s word says, but always apply it to others, to the unfaithful, the godless world. We conceive the strife for God and His things as a strife which we should direct against other folks—here the good, there the bad—and we are on the side of God as soldiers of the army of light. Then we shout “the earth is the Lord’s and the fulness thereof”; yes, and we shout it with a peculiar enthusiasm and zeal, but in the end we mean our own things, the things of our own religious party or movement. But in the same measure that we strive against other folks for our own things especially when it becomes important whether we shall keep the upper hand, in that same measure we thicken the walls of our prison and do not have anything more to do with God’s word, even if we are ever so familiar with it. God does not ask about the right of our life, He asks about the wrong of our life, for He does not want to help us into the saddle, but He wants to forgive us so that He alone might be right. Where is our unrighteousness, our sin, our weakness, and where are those sinful, wrong, and weak hands extended to God that He might take and make them into clean hands? This is the main thing, the only thing. As long as we have so many right deeds and habits to impose upon others, just so long are there no “clean hands,” and just so long will no active striving help us even if it is the noblest. We are still imprisoned, and God cannot do for us what He wants to do.

The words of our text tell us a second thing. We are perhaps ready to acknowledge and substantiate the truth that the earth is the Lord’s and the fulness thereof, but only as a truth at which we have arrived by the power of our own human insight, which we have validated by the power of our own experience. We add perhaps with a dash of pride, that it is a truth in line with all other truths, knowledge, experiences, and convictions which, in the course of life, we accumulate that the darkness of our existence may be a little clarified. But God is a jealous God, for He will be sole validator of what He says, and He will not be considered as a bit of human wisdom in line with others. Words of the Bible are remarkably poor in capacity for falling in line with words from the classics of philosophy and religion. That “the earth is the Lord’s” is not a clever saying of man’s life-experience, for it is a truth too great for man to express, know and perceive, as he would express, know and perceive other truths. God and the divine is not a subject of our perception or measurement. That He has created the world and that it is His—that is not a scientific fact to be taught, and we must be careful not to allow it to become such. It is true, but true from God and not from us. There is an eternal world, but we cannot see it, not even as a city above the clouds, and we would do well not to forget that when our artists represent it as such to us. Perhaps it would be better for them to let these things be.

As far as our knowledge is concerned, God is hidden. He does not ask, as he draws near to us: “Do you understand me?” But he asks: “Will you, in spite of the fact that you do not perceive me, will you put yourself in my hands and let yourself be led by me, even through the night?” In our own times there is a strong tendency, whether through science or through earnest investigation of the Bible, to get behind the plan, existence, and government of God. Whoever has understanding, who really understands God, will not meddle with these matters. To understand God means to bow before God, to pray to God, to make God authoritatively valid without understanding Him. To come to this position a cleansing of the desire to understand with one’s own powers is required. It requires the insight that only God Himself can place us upon the path that leads to Himself. It requires the insight that revelation is necessary. That is what is meant by the “pure heart” which alone is able to pierce through the darkness in which God lives. It signifies that a renunciation is necessary which acknowledges that all our knowledge about God comes from the knowledge that we know nothing, except what He wills to reveal to us. “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” A person cannot give himself a new heart, but he can plead for it. And in this pleading, if it is earnest and humble, there lies concealed the purity of heart. And in this purity lies the promise, “He shall receive a blessing from the Lord, and righteousness from the God of his salvation.”

But is it not possible that this knowledge, this perception of the majesty of God and His word, might be reduced to mere human knowledge?—perhaps to a teaching, a theology, or a sermon, which we might possess as we possess other things? Yes, that is possible. It has always and frequently happened in Christianity. Not for nought are we warned, by a third word in our text, about “falsehood,” loose doctrine, or, literally, that we turn our hearts to that which is nothing. Nihilistic teaching, loose teaching, that is the opposite of holy teaching. This warning tells us that we must, in seeking after God, look upon God Himself. Not upon our own doctrines, even if they are ever so pure; not upon what grows in our own heads or dwells in our own hearts, even if it is ever so spiritual and living. “Who will ascend into the hill of the Lord?” … “The generation of them that seek after him, that seek thy face, God of Jacob.” Much zealous striving after truth or much praying is in vain, because we will never merely by these ways make it right with God. The holiest thing is lacking, even though we talk much about it: that deep respect for God’s majesty, that real reverent respect is wanting, in that God’s thoughts in every case are higher and other than our thoughts. There is wanting that earnest prerequisite of knowledge of God: not what I think, intend, say, but only: Thy name, Thy Kingdom, Thy will—that is wanting, and when that is wanting it is not merely something that is wanting, but everything is wanting. When that is wanting then nothing will succeed, everything is loose, empty doctrine, even if it be tenfold pure.

In closing, a great requirement sums up everything: “Lift up your heads, O ye gates … ye ancient doors.” A great king desires to enter. Our distress is not that there is no help before our gates. The help is there, but the doors are too narrow, too low, too small for help to enter. Our ears are callous and deaf. God can continue to speak His word for a long time, but we do not hear it, we do not understand it as it ought to be understood and in such a way as to help us. “Lift the doors and open the gates”—this is the exhortation which must first of all be heard and obediently followed. Our small, selfish human thinking must be opened wide that it may become a vessel into which God will pour the great, the bright, the streaming content. It is a command to become humble, for only humility can open wide and high the door. Humility means: not I, not my understanding and knowing,—and this “not I,” this “not my” understanding and knowing is the lifted door through which God would enter into the least of these. To be humble means to wonder and to wait and to hope for that which is truly great, for that which God desires to do unto us; and wherever this wondering, waiting and hoping is to be found, that which is truly great is not distant.

But can one summon this, can one demand it? Is this “Lift up your heads O, ye gates, and be ye lift up ye everlasting doors!”—is this really a command? Is it not much rather a proclamation, a promise? Not that we have the capacity to open wide and high our gates, but because the King comes, because He is at our gates, and because, with His coming and existence, He would present humility to mankind; therefore, the call goes forth: “Lift up your heads O, ye gates!” The King is there, the One who makes us humble, because of whom we are humble at all times, who gives us pure hearts and clean hands. And this thy King comes to thee! Verily, more is expressed here than mere human command and human wisdom. Here Jesus Christ is speaking, the Son of the living God. Here alone one can withdraw the bolt and permit the blindness and foolishness and stubbornness of heart to be forgiven, and become joyful so that what this Psalm says is true, Yea and Amen, in Him. The earth is the Lord’s; man is God’s! Oh, that our eyes and ears might open soon!