In him dwelleth all the fulness of the Godhead bodily. And ye are complete in him. — Col 2:9-10
All the attributes of Christ, as God and man, are at our disposal. All the fullness of the Godhead, whatever that marvelous term may comprehend, is ours to make us complete. He cannot endow us with the attributes of Deity; but He has done all that can be done, for He has made even His divine power and Godhead subservient to our salvation. His omnipotence, omniscience, omnipresence, immutability and infallibility, are all combined for our defense. Arise, believer, and behold the Lord Jesus yoking the whole of His divine Godhead to the chariot of salvation! How vast His grace, how firm His faithfulness, how unswerving His immutability, how infinite His power, how limitless His knowledge! All these are by the Lord Jesus made the pillars of the temple of salvation; and all, without diminution of their infinity, are covenanted to us as our perpetual inheritance.
Every drop of the fathomless love of the Savior’s heart is ours; every sinew in the arm of might, every jewel in the crown of majesty—the immensity of divine knowledge, and the sternness of divine justice—all are ours, and shall be employed for us. The whole of Christ, in His adorable character as the Son of God, is by Himself made over to us most richly to enjoy. His wisdom is our direction, His knowledge is our instruction, His power is our protection, His justice is our surety, His love is our comfort, His mercy is our solace, and His immutability is our trust. He makes no reserve but opens the recesses of the Mount of God and bids us dig in its mines for the hidden treasures. “All, all, all are yours,” says He. Oh! how sweet thus to behold Jesus, and to call upon Him with the certain confidence that in seeking the interposition of His love or power—we are but asking for that which He has already faithfully promised.
Afterward. — Heb 12:11
How happy are tried Christians, afterwards. No calm more deep than that which follows a storm. Who has not rejoiced in clear shinings after rain? Victorious banquets are for well-exercised soldiers. After killing the lion—we eat the honey; after climbing the Hill Difficulty—we sit down in the arbor to rest; after traversing the Valley of Humiliation, after fighting with Apollyon, the shining one appears, with the healing branch from the tree of life. Our sorrows, like the passing keels of the vessels upon the sea, leave a silver line of holy light behind them “afterwards.” It is peace, sweet, deep peace, which follows the horrible turmoil which once reigned in our tormented, guilty souls.
See, then, the happy estate of a Christian! He has his best things last, and he therefore in this world receives his worst things first. But even his worst things are “afterward” good things, harsh ploughings—yielding joyful harvests. Even now he grows rich by his losses, he rises by his falls, he lives by dying, and becomes full by being emptied. If, then, his grievous afflictions yield him so much peaceable fruit in this life—what shall be the full vintage of joy “afterwards” in heaven? If his dark nights are as bright as the world’s days—what shall his days be? If even his starlight is more splendid than the sun—what must his sunlight be? If he can sing in a dungeon—how sweetly will he sing in heaven! If he can praise the Lord in the fires—how will he extol Him before the eternal throne! If evil is good to him now—what will the overflowing goodness of God be to him then?
Oh, blessed “afterward!” Who would not be a Christian? Who would not bear the present cross—for the crown which comes afterwards? But herein is work for patience, for the rest is not for today, nor the triumph for the present but “afterward.” Wait, O soul, and let patience have her perfect work.
Morning and Evening - May 18
Public domain content taken from Morning and Evening by Charles H. Spurgeon.