24: SUFFERING AND THE SWEETNESS OF CHRIST

In September, 1725, I was taken ill at New Haven, and while endeavoring to go home to Windsor, was so ill at the North Village, that I could go no farther, where I lay sick, for about a quarter of a year. In this sickness, God was pleased to visit me again, with the sweet influences of his Spirit. My mind was greatly engaged there, on divine and pleasant contemplations, and longings of soul. I observed that those who watched with me would often be looking out wishfully for the morning; which brought to my mind those words of the Psalmist, and which my soul with delight made its own language, My soul waiteth for the Lord, more than they that watch for the morning; I say, more than they that watch for the morning; and when the light of day came in at the window, it refreshed my soul, from one morning to another. It seemed to be some image of the light of God’s glory.

This may not immediately strike you as a profound statement, but I found several comments in it that are highly instructive.

First, note that Edwards refused to conclude from his sickness that God had abandoned him. Although he lay sick for almost three months, an especially difficult thing for a man who early in life resolved never to waste a minute’s time, he looked through the illness for God’s presence and purpose. “God was pleased to visit me again,” he notes, “with the sweet influences of his Spirit.” We don’t know what Edwards had in mind by “sweet influences” of the Spirit, but the subsequent reference to the engagement of his “mind” would suggest that God enlightened and illumined his mind to grasp and savor and relish the promises of Scripture that are unaffected by human trial and suffering.

Second, even in illness Edwards was at work! He spent this time “greatly engaged” on “divine and pleasant contemplations” and “longings of soul.” He meditated on the sweet truths of Scripture, turning them over and over in his mind, ruminating, musing, soaking his soul in the beauty of Christ revealed therein. But more than that, he spent his time in “longings of soul.” Perhaps this is a reference to prayer. I suspect that he redeemed this season of physical weakness to strengthen and nurture and exercise the muscles of his soul, crying out to God for his presence, venting his heart’s desire for a sense of God’s power, testifying repeatedly, “You are my Lord; I have no good apart from you” (Ps. 16:2), and yet again, “Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever” (Ps. 73:25–26).

Third, I’m intrigued by Edwards’ reference to the morning light that “came in at the window.” It “refreshed my soul, . . . [and] seemed to be some image of the light of God’s glory.” Edwards believed that virtually everything in the natural realm was an “image” or “shadow” of some divine reality or truth or principle pertaining to God and his way of redemption. After all, in Edwards’ theology, “the end of creation was God’s communication of himself—and thereby of his glory—to the understanding and will of his creatures. The universe itself was part of that divine self-communication, an act performed every moment by the power of the sovereign God.”¹

For Edwards, there was hardly any color or shape or process or movement in nature that didn’t in some way embody and express a spiritual truth. Edwards once wrote that he expected to be ridiculed as “a man of very fruitful brain and copious fancy” because he believed “that the whole universe, heaven and earth, air and seas, and the divine constitution and history of the holy Scriptures” was “full of images of divine things.”²

When Edwards lay sick in bed, he looked each morning for the first appearance of light breaking through the window, for in it he saw “the light of God’s glory” and his soul was “refreshed”! I fear we take so much for granted and ignore the magnitude of God’s revelation of himself in creation. How often do we pause long enough to behold his beauty and power in the little things of life, whether a beam of light or a thunder cloud or the effortless flight of a bald eagle? If not so much as a sparrow falls from the sky apart from the will of our heavenly Father, consider how pervasive must the revelation of his glory be in the most mundane of events and phenomena of the physical world.

The next time you are ill or weakened or perhaps perfectly healthy and lying quietly in bed, open your eyes to the presence of the Creator in creation. Who knows what may be found in a simple beam of light!

Savoring the Savior

“Since I came to this town [i.e., Northampton],” wrote Edwards,

I have often had sweet complacency in God, in views of his glorious perfections and the excellency of Jesus Christ. God has appeared to me a glorious and lovely Being, chiefly on account of his holiness. The holiness of God has always appeared to me the most lovely of all his attributes. The doctrines of God’s absolute sovereignty, and free grace, in showing mercy to whom he would show mercy; and man’s absolute dependence on the operations of God’s Holy Spirit, have very often appeared to me as sweet and glorious doctrines. These doctrines have been much my delight. God’s sovereignty has ever appeared to me [to be a] great part of his glory. It has often been my delight to approach God, and adore him as a sovereign God, and ask sovereign mercy of him.

I have loved the doctrines of the gospel; they have been to my soul like green pastures. The gospel has seemed to me the richest treasure; the treasure that I have most desired, and longed that it might dwell richly in me. The way of salvation by Christ has appeared, in a general way, glorious and excellent, most pleasant and most beautiful. It has often seemed to me, that it would in a great measure spoil heaven, to receive it in any other way.

There is one primary lesson I hope we can see in what Edwards writes here. It is that the revelation of God in Scripture and in the person and work of his Son, Jesus Christ, is more than something to be acknowledged as truth. True it is, for what hope can we find in false hood? But it is not enough merely to say, “I believe the gospel is true.” Demons believe the gospel is true, and their destiny is the lake of fire.

What we see in this passage from Edwards is once again his emphasis on the “new sense of the heart” in which the “truths” of Scripture, particularly the “truths” about God, are perceived as lovely, as sweet, as glorious and as excellent. There is a sense in the soul that relishes the truths of Scripture rather than merely conceding them. There is a sense in the soul that enjoys the beauty of God’s holiness rather than merely acknowledging it as an attribute of his character.

Edwards chose his language carefully. The doctrine of God has been his “delight.” These are “sweet and glorious doctrines.” Such truths are more than merely rational and reasonable, such that correspond to reality and are consistent with Scripture. They are “the richest treasure; the treasure that I have most desired, and longed that it might dwell richly in me.” The way God saves people by sovereign mercy in Christ strikes Edwards as “glorious and excellent, most pleasant and most beautiful.”

For Edwards, conversion is certainly not less than belief. But it is a kind of belief in which the transcendent and glorious and beautiful quality of what is believed takes root in the soul. Saving faith is such that the soul “feels” and “senses” the beauty in what God has done. There is a holistic response in which the redeemed heart is drawn by strong desire and affection and longing for the “amiableness” of truth and then rests satisfied in the radiant brilliance of the light of the gospel. All other competing “lights” are dim by comparison. All other competing “pleasures” are vain and unfulfilling when measured against those that endure “forevermore” (Ps. 16:11).

The Beauti and Sufficieny of the Son

John Piper writes, “Sometimes what we need from the Bible is not the fulfillment of our dream[s], but the swallowing up of our failed dream[s] in the all-satisfying glory of Christ.”³ I’m convinced that the reason this doesn’t resonate with many souls or sound very encouraging is because few really believe that Jesus Christ is all-satisfying in such a way that they confidently trust in him on a daily basis to do what sin cannot do.

Merely testifying that Jesus is our all-consuming passion, or declaring, “I have no good apart from you” (Ps. 16:2), often doesn’t translate into sin-killing confidence in his goodness and beauty and power and presence. We need more than verbal profession of Christ’s glory. We need what Edwards repeatedly referred to as “the new sense of the heart” in which Christ’s glory appears ineffably sweet and pleasant to the soul and does so with such intensity that all rival pleasures are soiled and sullied by comparison.

But savoring the Son of God comes only as we see the Son of God, not with physical eyes but with the eyes of faith (Eph. 1:18), as we concentrate our focus on him in Scripture and the majesty of his creative handiwork in the world around us. This is not a singular experience, a passing glance cast his way intermittently in hopes of a radical change that will turn sin sour in our souls. This sort of spiritually flippant, casual acquaintance with Jesus will prove powerless in the face of the magnetic and alluring appeal of sin.

What I have in mind is a life-long, daily determination to “set the LORD always before me” (Ps. 16:8). This is the resolve of the will, empowered by grace, to plead with God that he “turn my eyes from looking at worthless things” (Ps. 119:37) and enable me to rivet my soul, mind, and will on the splendor of his Son. Needless to say, this prayer of the psalmist is only as good as the practical steps we take to rid our homes and cars and lives and leisure hours of whatever “worthless things” now fill them.

I don’t have any easy answers or ready-made formulas on how to do it successfully. But when I read Edwards I’m encouraged once again that yes, perhaps it can be done, with God’s help. On two occasions in his Personal Narrative, Edwards describes his experience of the beauty of Christ. As you read, remember that these are the words of a man who labored to find time alone with God, a man whose mind was saturated with Scripture, a man who, at an early age, prioritized his life and the use of his time so as to eliminate, as much as humanly possible, distractions and diversions and those soul-sapping, spiritually enervating activities that threaten to anesthetize our minds and cloud our spiritual vision:

It has often appeared to me delightful to be united to Christ; to have him for my head, and to be a member of his body; also to have Christ for my teacher and prophet. I very often think with sweetness, and longings, and pantings of soul, of being a little child, taking hold of Christ, to be led by him through the wilderness of this world. That text, Matt. 18:3, has often been sweet to me, except ye be converted and become as little children, etc. I love to think of coming to Christ, to receive salvation of him, poor in spirit, and quite empty of self, humbly exalting him alone; cut off entirely from my own root, in order to grow into, and out of Christ; to have God in Christ to be all in all; and to live by faith in the Son of God, a life of humble, unfeigned confidence in him. That Scripture has often been sweet to me, Ps. 115:1, Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto thy name give glory, for thy mercy, and for thy truth’s sake. And those words of Christ, Luke 10:21, In that hour Jesus rejoiced in spirit, and said, I thank thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes: Even so, Father, for so it seemed good in thy sight. That sovereignty of God which Christ rejoiced in, seemed to me worthy of such joy, and that rejoicing seemed to show the excellency of Christ and of what spirit he was. . . .

I have sometimes had a sense of the excellent fullness of Christ, and his meekness and suitableness as a Savior; whereby he has appeared to me, far above all, the chief of ten thousands. His blood and atonement have appeared sweet, and his righteousness sweet; which was always accompanied with ardency of spirit, and inward strugglings and breathings, and groanings that cannot be uttered, to be emptied of myself, and swallowed up in Christ.

Once, as I rode out into the woods for my health, in 1737, having alighted from my horse in a retired place, as my manner commonly has been, to walk for divine contemplation and prayer, I had a view that for me was extraordinary, of the glory of the Son of God, as Mediator between God and man, and his wonderful, great, full, pure and sweet grace and love, and meek and gentle condescension. This grace that appeared so calm and sweet, appeared also great above the heavens. The person of Christ appeared ineffably excellent with an excellency great enough to swallow up all thought and conception, which continued as near as I can judge, about an hour; which kept me the greater part of the time in a flood of tears, and weeping aloud. I felt an ardency of soul to be, what I know not otherwise how to express, emptied and annihilated; to lie in the dust, and to be full of Christ alone; to love him with a holy and pure love; to trust in him; to live upon him; to serve and follow him; and to be perfectly sanctified and made pure, with a divine and heavenly purity. I have, several other times, had views very much of the same nature, and which have had the same effects.

Spiritual Heartburn

Sometimes, only mentioning a single word caused my heart to burn within me; or only seeing the name of Christ, or the name of some attribute of God. And God has appeared glorious to me, on account of the Trinity. It has made me have exalting thoughts of God, that he subsists in three persons: Father, Son and Holy Ghost.

The sweetest joys and delights I have experienced have not been those that have arisen from a hope of my own good estate, but in a direct view of the glorious things of the gospel. When I enjoy this sweetness, it seems to carry me above the thoughts of my own estate. It seems at such times a loss that I cannot bear to take off my eye from the glorious, pleasant object I behold without me, to turn my eye in upon myself, and my own good estate.

I want to focus on the second remarkable paragraph. Let me begin with this statement: “The sweetest joys and delights I have experienced have not been those that have arisen from a hope of my own good estate; but in a direct view of the glorious things of the gospel.”

I often tell people that I’m a “hedonist” because I believe it is impossible to desire pleasure too much. But I’m a “Christian hedonist” because I believe the pleasure we cannot desire too much is pleasure in God and all that he is for us in Jesus.⁴ Edwards, contrary to what some have alleged, was undeniably a Christian hedonist! He was unavoidably passionate about his own joy and delight and pleasure. By the way, so are you. But note well: the sweetest joys and delights that Edwards experienced did not arise from a hope that his “own good estate” would improve. His “happiness,” if I am allowed to use that word, was not suspended on the potential for an increase of wealth or personal comfort or the praise of his peers or physical health or any such thing.

When we are asked, “How are you doing?” we typically respond based on the condition of our “own good estate.” That is, we take stock of our stocks, we consider our cash flow, we evaluate a variety of external and physical circumstances that seem to define our lives, and then respond accordingly. Edwards is echoing Asaph in Psalm 73:25: “Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you.” That’s an easy text to recite until the “things” on earth that we just declared we don’t desire suddenly disappear or are stolen or disintegrate or elude our grasp. That’s when we get honest and confess, “Okay, I’m sorry, God, but there are a few things I desire besides you. I like you, God, but I find that I like you more when those things I said I didn’t desire are affordable and easy to come by.”

Can we honestly say that the “glorious things of the gospel” (by which I think Edwards primarily means God himself as he is revealed in the face of Jesus) are the source of our “sweetest joys and delights”? Or is our capacity to enjoy the glorious things of the gospel suspended on the improvement of our “own good estate”?

Edwards continues by saying, “When I enjoy this sweetness, it seems to carry me above the thoughts of my own estate.” This is what the Puritans referred to as the “expulsive” power of a new affection. Edwards declares that the enjoyment of God is so sweet, so satisfying, so utterly transcendent that “thoughts” of his “own estate” are left behind and below. All else is tarnished when compared to the radiant brilliance of God. All else is hazy when compared to the glorious clarity of knowing him. The fear of losing the conveniences that would enhance his “own estate” is trumped by the joy and sweetness and pleasure that can be found in God’s presence, at his right hand (Ps. 16:11). The power to live unaffected by financial loss or physical pain comes not from denying the hunger in your soul for pleasure but from finding the fulfillment of such craving in the glory and beauty and presence of God (what the author of Hebrews referred to as a “better” and “abiding” possession [10:34])!

This is why Paul could declare that he was “sorrowful, yet always rejoicing” (2 Cor. 6:10). He wasn’t anesthetized to earthly pain or disappointment, but neither was he enslaved to it. He was fully in touch with the reality of “wasting away” (2 Cor. 4:16) and the inescapable “affliction” (v. 17) that awaits us in this life. But he did “not lose heart” (v. 16) because his hope was fixed on “an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison” (v. 17). This hope is fueled and energized when “we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen” (v. 18), or as Edwards put it, when we engage our souls “in a direct view of the glorious things of the gospel.”

Finally, “It seems at such times a loss that I cannot bear,” said Edwards, “to take off my eye from the glorious, pleasant object I behold without me, to turn my eye in upon myself, and my own good estate.”

That “glorious, pleasant object” beyond ourselves is, of course, God! How painful, said Edwards, how unbearable the loss, when I turn my eye in upon myself and become obsessed with “my own good estate,” whether that be the image I behold in a mirror, or the diversity of an investment portfolio, or whatever it is in life in the absence of which I cannot imagine being happy. Just think of it: being of such a mind that the only unbearable loss you can conceive is in failing to “see” the splendor and majesty of God in Christ!

1”Editor’s Introduction,” in Jonathan Edwards, Typological Writings, ed. Wallace E. Anderson and Mason I. Lowance, Jr., with David Watters, vol. 11 of The Works of Jonathan Edwards (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1993), 9.

2Cited in ibid., 7–8.

3John Piper, When I Don’t Desire God: How to Fight for Joy (Wheaton, Ill.: Crossway, 2004), 101.

4See John Piper, Desiring God (Sisters, Ore.: Multnomah, 2003).