HOLINESS

Follow peace with all men, and holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord (Hebrews 12:14).

In announcing just one word, like the word holiness, as a caption for a sermon, the preacher lays himself open to the criticism that he is too pretentious or that he is juvenile in patterning after the small boy who announced as the subject of his essay "The World and All That's in It." But there seems to be no escape in this instance, since it is our purpose to cover a wide field in our discussion, and hence we would not find it convenient to be consistent with any qualifying word we might use.

To begin with, let us observe that the text we have chosen is consistent with the general scriptural practice of uniting the two great elements of religion in close proximity -- peace with men and holiness with God. In the Ten Commandments, there are four commandments that rest upon one's fundamental obligation to God, and six which rest upon his essential obligation to his fellow men. When Jesus made a summary of law, He likewise took knowledge of the two sections and interpreted the substance as love to God as supreme, and love to neighbor as equal. In setting forth the way to God in the fifth chapter of Matthew, the Master said, "If thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother hath ought against thee; leave there thy gift before the altar, and go thy way; first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift." It is here recognized that on his way to God one is likely to meet his neighbor, and that his earnestness for getting right with God is somewhat measured by his zeal for getting right with his neighbor. And John puts the same thought into strong language, when he says, "If a man say, I love God, and hateth his brother, he is a liar; for he that loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he hath not seen?" (I John 4:20).

But in the habit of the logician who must consider all sides of a question, St. Paul allows for the exception, and says, "If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men" (Romans 12:18). And in another instance Paul had occasion to ask for prayer that he might himself be delivered from unreasonable men. From all this, we get the standard for following peace with men, and find that it is to do our best to reach it, and yet with the understanding that some men are unreasonable, and that peace and good will with all is an ideal, but not always possible of realization.

But no one is barred from peace with God by anything that anyone outside himself can do. If reconciliation with another man is impossible, even when you have done your best, then be sure God will not hold you accountable for the other man's sin. Only be sure that the fault does not still rest with you. When getting right with our fellow man involves making confession of wrongs done him, scruple not to take the blame and make the humiliating confession. When the desire for peace demands restitution on your part, make the restitution to the full measure of the claim and of your ability. Go the second mile for the sake of peace, give the coat and also the cloak, pay the temple tax, even if there is ample ground for you to claim immunity. But when you have done all, if the other person remains adamant, come back to the altar in the full assurance that God will take the will for the deed, and will account you clear.

To follow peace with men is to follow the ways of righteousness as it relates to all other finite beings, and in this wide reach peace with men involves all the obligations of the moral law as it respects private and public dealings with individuals and with society. It was in this view that the early Presbyterians mended a place in the Reformation fence by contending that inward holiness and outward righteousness are inseparably bound together in the truly Christian life.

But with these brief words we pass from the first member of our dual text, for it is our thought to deal principally with the second member, and for this purpose we read the text in ellipsis: "Follow holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord."

But even when coming down to the one section of the text, we find that the theme is entirely too big for even a casual consideration in the time usually assigned to the preaching of a sermon.

Therefore, we shall have to content ourselves with lifting out a few things that are intimated in the text as they apply to the theme. To make these thoughts the more easily remembered, we shall present them in alliteration. We shall consider: I. The Importance of Holiness; II. The Implications of Holiness; and, III. The Insistence of Holiness.

I. On the matter of the importance of holiness: here, too we have a theme too big for one sermon. The many intimations of the importance of holiness in the Holy Scriptures would challenge the patience of any cataloguer. The very Book itself is called "Holy Bible," i.e., Holy Book or Book on Holiness. So we reason at once that the subject is of high importance since it permeates the Book that God has given us in so full a measure that it gives its own name as an essential part of the name of that Book.

We are reminded of that instance in the history of France when the prince approached a village where he was met by a committee of the principal citizens who told him it had been their great desire and full purpose to greet his coming with the sound of numerous artillery. "But," they said, "we have thirteen reasons for not doing this. The first reason is that we do not have any artillery." The prince was a practical man, so he stopped the recital, and said, "My dear friends, this first reason is quite sufficient, so you need not mention the other twelve." It is like that with the reason presented in our text today. Here it is said that without holiness no man shall see the Lord." Now if no man can see the Lord without holiness, the importance of holiness is established without the recital of any other reasons whatsoever.

Perhaps someone will recall that passage in the Scriptures which says, "Every eye shall see him," and that other one which says, "They shall look on him whom they pierced." And for this reason we should conclude that the "seeing" of the text is seeing in the sense of enjoying. This is the same sense we use when we promise to see our friends or express the wish that we shall see our loved ones soon. Those kings of the earth, great men, chief captains, boundmen, and freemen of the sixth chapter of Revelation saw the face of the Judge and asked for rocks and mountains to cover them rather than that the sight should continue. These men did not see God in the sense of our text.

Years ago Dr. J. G. Morrison was pastor in a small North Dakota town. A blizzard came, closing the roads and streets, and making church services impossible, and curtailing the possibilities of pastoral calling. So Dr. Morrison used to go down frequently to a store, owned and operated by one of his members, that he might meet any stalwart souls who ventured out in the storm and do whatever good he could in dealing with them. The storekeeper was an official member of the church, but was not really a spiritual man, and did not go along very fully with Dr. Morrison's preaching of holiness as a present duty and privilege. Like many people, he seemed to think that religion is a good thing as an insurance against the future judgment, but that getting too much of it is like overpaying the premiums on a life insurance policy. So one day, when there were no customers in the store the merchant said suddenly to Dr. Morrison, "Pastor, I want you to tell me in a sentence just how much religion one will have to have to get to heaven. I do not want a theological answer, and do not want a sermon on the subject. Just tell me in a sentence that I can remember. How much religion will a man have to have to get to heaven?" Those of us who knew Dr. Morrison would expect that his response would be quick and conclusive; and so it was, for his answer was, "The very minimum of religion that is sufficient to get a man into heaven is the amount required to make him comfortable in the presence of Jesus."

And how much religion must one have to make him comfortable in the presence of Jesus? Well, our text tells us. It says that unless a person is holy he cannot see -- that is, enjoy -- the Lord. But we need not stop with the negative putting, for the Master himself said, "Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God" (Matthew 5:8). No man can see God without holiness, but with it any man can see Him. Is there any way that this quality called holiness could possibly be more indispensable?

It is well that we consider that there is a form of impossibility that is even stronger than physical impossibility. It is impossible for us to think of any man's elbowing his way past the guards, forcing open the gates, and getting into heaven in spite of objections. No, the impossibility is a moral impossibility. It is like saying that without an artist's eye no one can see a painting. Suppose I stand before a masterpiece in the art gallery. I am told that the picture is valued at half a million dollars. But being purely physical and secular, I come up close and discover that the canvas is not of expensive material. I observe that the space covered is not large. I find that, on close examination, not a lot of paint was used in covering the surface. So I draw back in disgust, and say, "What nonsense! That canvas is not worth more than five dollars. Five dollars ought to buy the paint. The work surely would not take more than a day. Twenty-five dollars should be a good price for that picture." But another person comes and stands before that picture for hours, and goes away with regret when it comes time to close the place. As he turns away, he murmurs, "A half million dollars! That's an insult. That picture is valuable beyond money." My trouble is that it is morally impossible for me to see the picture. I have eyes for physical and commercial values, but cannot see the glory of art.

Or let us say I go into the music hall to hear a master musician. He gives his attention to the masters, while music with me means nothing but simple melodies and folk songs. I listen, but it sounds to me like the master misses the tune all the time. It is not necessary for someone to put me out of the music hall. I will go out of my own accord, for without the proper ear I cannot hear the music.

These are but illustrations, of course, and they but dimly symbolize the idea. Sin in anyone's heart makes the presence of a holy God a torment. Far from rejoicing that our God is a God of holy fire and glory, sin in us will cause us to think of Him as a God of judgment fire. Whatever it is to be holy, that is what we must be if we are to come into the presence of a holy God and enjoy His fellowship either on earth or in heaven.

II. What is implied in this holiness that is so indispensable? It cannot be that it is a doctrine of holiness that is so important, for the Scriptures pronounce special blessings upon the humble and even upon little children who are incapable of following the intricacies of systematic thinking. And these same Scriptures, speaking of the way of holiness, say ". . . . wayfaring men, though fools, shall not err therein" (Isaiah 35:8). St. Paul puts it even stronger by saying, "For ye see your calling, brethren, how that not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called: but God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty; and base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and the things which are not, to bring to naught things that are: that no flesh should glory in his presence. But of him are ye in Christ Jesus, who of God is made unto us wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemption: that, according as it is written, He that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord" (I Corinthians 1:26-31).

The Salvation Army used to sing, "If religion were a thing that money can buy, the rich would live and the poor would die." Likewise, if holiness were a thing that only the wise could possess, the great majority of us would be left out. Sound, clear doctrine is a good and helpful thing, but certainly it is not that holiness without which no man shall see the Lord.

Even the most faithful devotee of sound doctrine will, I think, admit that a man may be either better or worse than his doctrine. And it is not being wise about holiness that really prepares one for seeing God, but, rather, it is being holy that counts.

Likewise, it cannot well be holiness in practical life that is so supremely important. Practical living involves and requires time -- just how much time, perhaps none of us are able to say -- but some time, at least. And if the holiness without which we cannot see God is practical holiness, then final salvation is by character rather than by grace, and no one can be sure that he has lived long enough or holily enough to be prepared for His presence. The thief on the cross, we know, is barred out; and all who came to Christ on their deathbed, and many of those who came late in life, and the case of all is made uncertain; for if it is practical life, then there must be a minimum of practical life to enable us to make the grade, and no one can be sure he has qualified. And if one does qualify, he will make discord in the New Song in heaven; for while the others are singing, "Worthy is the Lamb," he will of necessity be singing, "My own goodness brought me here." No, even though holy living is required as the proper expression of holiness within, it is still not the indispensable quality of which our text speaks.

But if it is not holiness as a doctrine, and not holiness as a mode of conduct, what is that holiness without which no man shall see the Lord? There remains but one possible answer, and that is: It is holiness of heart -- holiness as an experience in the inner personality.

At this point we find it difficult to define to any advantage, and so we turn to analysis. What is implied in being holy in heart?

1. To be holy means to be free from sin. Sin is in two forms: sin as guilt as the result of transgression and sin as defilement or pollution as a result of our fallen estate. But holiness means to be free from both the guilt and the defilement of sin. We shall not be free from the presence of sin until we get into a sinless world. But to be holy means for us to be free from sin in a sinful world. Jesus prayed in the seventeenth chapter of John, "I pray not that thou shouldest take them out of the world, but that thou shouldest keep them from the evil." In substance, this is to say that holiness means that we are to have the world taken out of us while we are yet in the world. It is like the ship in the water, but which has no water in it. The ship can float, no matter how much water it is in, just so it does not get any water into it. And that is the way it is with us. The wicked world cannot sink us, if we keep it all on the outside.

A man who grew up in the middle section of the country used to see the grocery merchants sell salt mackerel, and he thought salt mackerel were sea fish, and that they were salty because they came out of the ocean. But later he learned that these fish were salted artificially as a means of preserving them, and that fish taken from the sea are not salty. So long as sea fish stay alive they stay fresh, even in the salty water of the ocean. Hearing this, this man, being a religious man, said, "If God can keep a fish fresh in the salty, briny water of the ocean, He can surely keep a Christian holy in a sinful world. Either that or else God is more powerful in the realm of nature than He is in the realm of grace, and I do not believe that."

It is to be observed that it is the life in the fish that enables it to resist the salt of the sea. If the fish dies, it will then become saturated with the salt. And this is our case too, for, "Greater is he that is in you, than he that is in the world." There is no call here for minifying sin, but only a call for magnifying the Saviour.

One day a man accused me of being an extremist because I preached that one can be saved from all sin in this life. I admitted the charge, but answered that there is no escape from being an extremist -- either for Christ or for sin. For if we hold that Jesus Christ can save from all sin, we are extremists for Christ, but if we hold that Jesus cannot save from all sin, then we are extremists for sin. And I elect to be an extremist for Jesus.

No matter how deep-dyed and incurable sin is, the blood of Jesus can reach as deep as sin has ever gone, and the provision of the gospel is sufficient to cover the very most that any man can require. Yes, holiness implies being free from the guilt and defilement of sin. All this is provided in the one promise, "The blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin."

2. Holiness implies soul normalcy. Sin is the intruder, the broken foot, the thorn in the side, the hollow tooth. Holiness is to the soul what health is to the body -- it is the state in which man was made, and the state in which he is designed to live forever.

Those who think that holiness of heart is something practically impossible to obtain, and then that it must be retained by the gritting of the teeth, the knitting of the brow, and the holding on at a dying rate, have maligned the blessed grace. It is the will of God that we be sanctified (I Thessalonians 4:3), and when we submit our wills completely to God's will, He will work in us to will and to do His good pleasure. If there is a struggle in obtaining the grace of holiness, it is the struggle of reluctance to yield, for when we give all trying over -- "simply trusting I am blest." And if there is a struggle in living the life and keeping the blessing, it is the struggle of unnecessary assumption, for He asks us to cast all our cares upon Him, and couches that He careth for us.

Thinking a little more of the analogy between the body and the soul: it is much easier for the doctor to detect the symptoms of disease than to find the tokens of health. When one complains of pain, weakness, weariness, or loss of appetite, the doctor quickly concludes that something is wrong. But if there is no pain, no weakness, no unusual weariness, no want of appetite, the doctor simply says, "I find nothing wrong." He cannot exactly say, "I find that you are in good health," but he does say that there is nothing to contradict your claim that you have good health. The person himself must possess the positive proof, and this proof will usually be described as the state in which all the functions of the body are carried on normally, without friction, without unusual weariness or discomfort. Let us transfer that to the soul: holiness is soul health. It is that state in which the person is enabled to live the Christian life without pain, discomfort, or other indication of friction. It is that state in which he can say truly, "I delight to do thy will, O God"; "His yoke is easy, his burden is light"; and "His commandments are not grievous."

When mention is made of an easy Christian life, too often people think of license rather than of liberty. They think that to make the Christian life easy means to make the demands of holy and righteous living more liberal, and this they interpret as liberty. But liberty does not involve license to do evil nor to leave off good; rather, it involves deliverance from the desire for anything but the good. Take Paul and Silas in the Philippian jail (Acts 16): they were bound by stocks and prison walls, and did not have license to leave; but they had liberty to stay, and when the stocks were loosed and the doors were opened, they still remained. All the time they were free men, for they were in the will of God, where they preferred to be above any other place at all. This is a symbol of that holiness of which we speak, for it is the place where one does what he likes, and yet does right, for the desire to do wrong has been taken out. It is the place where he has found the enabling grace of God more abundant than the demands of his estate. It is the place where sin once abounded, but where grace now much more abounds.

Everything is difficult or easy only in its relation to our powers. Phillips Brooks said, "Do not pray for a task commensurate to your powers. Pray for power commensurate to your task." And holiness is the answer to such a prayer as this. The standard of God remains the same -- it requires that we live before God in holiness and righteousness all the days of our life (Luke 1:73-75), but holiness of heart is grace to match that requirement It is just like the cost of living in the economic sense. It is reported that a "newly rich" once approached a member of an old rich family to ask how much it costs to maintain a yacht. The answer was, "If you need to ask how much it costs, you are not able to afford it." And let it be said that no one, not even the wisest, the best, nor the strongest can live what God requires us to live without the grace He proposes to give us as enablement. But with this grace which He proposes, one does not have to any longer ask, "How much does it cost?" for all the resources of Infinity are behind him.

Is it difficult to live a healthy life? No, it is pleasant and easy to live that sort of life. Is it difficult to live a holy life? No, not if you have a holy heart, for holiness is to the soul what health is to the body. In fact, health and holiness come from the same Anglo-Saxon root, and both mean soundness, wholeness.

It is interesting to note that the word disease is composed of two syllables -- dis and ease, and that it means without ease. Disease is a common word in the Scriptures for describing sickness of both soul and body, and healing is a word applied also to both soul and body. Then, if disease and healing have this dual application, who can deny that health has also the same applications? And are there any who are willing to say that God is willing to have people healthy in their bodies, but is not concerned to have them healthy in their souls? And should we consider it consistent for some to say they have good health, and then turn around and frown upon those who testify that they have been made whole in their spiritual natures?

Candor compels us to admit that many professing Christians, whose profession we have no reason to deny, do not find the Christian life a natural and easy way. Their own testimony is that the pull of the world is heavy upon them, and that they find their Christian duty very often rigorous and hard. What is the remedy? Shall we go to these dear souls and tell them that this is the normal way, and that there is nothing better for them? We shall not! We go to them and say: "There is a better way. There is a grace and blessing that will make the Christian way a delight. It is the way of holiness -- the way of soul health -- the way of soul normalcy."

3. Holiness is soul fullness or soul satisfaction. Many arguments would be avoided if contestants used their words with well-defined meaning. For example, when we say that holiness brings soul satisfaction, someone may say immediately that satisfaction brings an end to progress, and that discontent with things as they are is the basis of all worthwhile progress. From this it is argued that it is better that one should never be satisfied, and, in fact, it is argued that Paul's insistence that he was ever pressing on to things beyond is in contradiction to the idea that one can and should find soul satisfaction in any experience of grace.

But it is evident that the word is used in a slightly differing sense of meaning in these two cases. Jesus said, "Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled" (Matthew 5:6). Surely the blessedness does not consist in the hungering and thirsting, but rather in the filling. Those who say we are not to be satisfied evidently are thinking of satiety -that is, gorging, repletion to the point of loathing. But there is no such place in the grace of God, for always the capacity increases with the increase of fullness, and always the righteous soul cries out for more of grace and of glory.

Holiness implies satisfaction with God with out the addition of anything but God. It is like the man who is so satisfied with his family and his home that he does not feel any desire to philander [cheat, womanize -- DVM]; like one who loves his country so much that he does not offer allegiance to any other country; or like one who is so pleased with one certain kind of food that he does not reach for some other kind.

The story is told of a little boy who visited in the home of his aunt. When there was company, a basket containing various kinds of fruit was passed. When the basket came by, Charlie took an apple. When the basket was passed a second time, Charlie took another apple. When the same performance took place the third time, the aunt said, "Charlie, I do hope you will get satisfied with apples." But Charlie replied, "Aunty, I am satisfied with apples; that's the reason I do not take any other kind of fruit." And that is the reason one who is sanctified wholly does not reach for the world or for anything outside the will of God -- he is satisfied with the will of God. He is not satisfied without the will of God, and he is not weary or satiated with the blessings that God has given. He is satisfied, so that the appeal of other things, especially of things that are contrary, have lost their edge.

God's way of keeping His people is not to keep them from temptation, but to keep, them in temptation. He does not remove the world from them, but gives them something better than the world has to offer, and thus nullifies the world's bid for their love and allegiance.

A minister was visiting me in my study when our small son came into the room; and, although he was too young to know the value of books, he laid hold of a book which I happened to want to show to the minister. I asked the child kindly to hand me the book. When he failed to do that, I ordered him to pass it over. When he still hesitated, I found myself in a strange predicament. I was greatly relieved when the minister took a fine red apple from his pocket and offered it to the child. When the child reached for the apple, the minister reached for the book. The exchange was quickly made, and the child left the room without any sign of disappointment or any glance of regret. That is what holiness is to the soul -- a satisfaction that satisfies, and a fullness that fills.

On the flyleaf of the old Tears and Triumphs Number Two, which we used in the meetings in which the Lord came into my heart in sanctifying fullness, was a simple, expressive, and beautiful little poem by Rev. Hicks. It was the story of his own soul's experience in verse, and it is also mine:

I've entered the vale of the sweet Beulah land.
Jesus satisfies me.
I'm walking with Jesus, I'm led by His hand.
Jesus satisfies me.
Jesus satisfies me, Jesus satisfies me;
Oh, the sweet peace! He is reigning within!
Jesus satisfies me.

III. Now we come to the insistence of holiness. This item is suggested by that initial word "follow" in the text. The word in the Greek is dioko, and is one of the strongest words in our New Testament. Its meaning, whether good or bad, depends upon its context, but it is always a strong word. When used to describe opposition, it is translated "persecute;" when used to describe pursuit with intention of driving away, it is translated "chase;" and when used in the sense of seeking to possess, it involves the strongest effort and determination to apprehend.

To follow holiness can never mean simply not to oppose it, or to seek it half-heartedly. It must always mean to go after it with all zeal to possess it. It is to desire it with such intense desire that all other desires become as mere weak wishes in comparison. It means to make real in the heart that saying, "I would give the world to have it." And in truth one must give the world to get it But always afterwards, the exchange of the world for this blessed estate will prove a supremely wise move.

Our old neighbor had a pack of foxhounds. Among them was a leader which he called Old Sounder. When the first frosts of autumn came on, our old neighbor would blow the horn. His own pack and the other hounds of the neighborhood would answer, and come to the place selected as the rendezvous. The men and boys of the settlement would come in haste, and effort would be made to pick up the trail of some luckless fox. Various efforts would be made to get the dogs started. In the pack would always be some pups who were in the chase for the first time, some indifferent old dogs which took but casual interest in the proceedings, and some dogs of fair reputation for past success. But old Mr. Neal always counted on Sounder. After the dogs had begun to show interest, and the men were somewhat weary, a log fire would be kindled, and the men and boys would sit around, eating apples and listening to the varying sounds that came from the more or less scattered pack. There were frequent "false alarms" from undependable dogs, but after a brief alert the men and boys would settle down again with the conclusion that either the dog had lied or that he was on a "cold trail." But in the midst of the differing voices from the pack, suddenly there would appear the deep baying of Old Sounder. And as soon as this voice was heard, old Mr. Neal would stand to attention. After the second or third note was sounded, old Neal would come out of his reverie to say, "That's Old Sounder, and he is on a warm trail." If the baying was more frequent and the tone of earnestness could be discerned, the excitement among the men and boys would become uncontrollable, and the human pack would take up the chase. As time wore on and the men wore down, they would get the general round of the chase in mind, and would favor themselves by taking short cuts to take up advance positions to see the chase go by. The circuit was likely to go over to the border of West Crooked Creek, back around by Palmer's Mill, up by Rackard's wagon shop, and down toward old Uncle Perry's place. But as the fox began to wear down, the dogs began to fall out. The young pups were first to give up, then the fat and lazy hounds. Some in the pack would cross the trail of a skunk, and lose the scent of the fox. Some would take off to "tree" an opossum or to give chase to a cottontail, being enticed by the prospect of easier game. It was the boast of Neal that Old Sounder never gave up. And when at the end of the chase the old hound was first to grapple with the fox, his owner was sure to be there to encourage him. When the game was bagged, Neal would take Old Sounder up in his arms and caress him, and say, "He is the best foxhound in the county, and I would not swap him for the best farm in the township."

Here, from the humble dog, we get a picture of what it means to follow with that perseverance that is rewarded with possession. And just as Israel was put to shame for ingratitude in comparison with the ox and the ass which serve the master that feeds them, so every dilatory follower of holiness is shamed by the faithful foxhound that passes up the easier game, ignores the counterfeits, disregards ill-smelling imitations, plunges through the briers and brambles, swims the rivulets, climbs the steep hillsides, races across the vales, and refuses every call to self-pity until its search is rewarded.

A Christian young man came for a conference one morning. He said he had been a Christian for ten years, and had been a seeker for holiness for seven years. He had read books treating on the subject, listened to sermons and testimonies, and had prayed that he might possess a pure heart. But he had realized no "change," and had come to wonder if there is such a blessing as a clean heart or, if there is, whether it was for him or not. I was not able to give him any particular help. But that afternoon in the white-topped tent in the broiling sun, I preached to a good crowd of people on "The Travels of the Children of Israel," and drew the analogy between the experiences of God's ancient people and our duties and privileges of the gospel today. I told them that Egypt is a type of the life of sin, Pharaoh is a type of the devil, and the fleshpots, onion, and garlic of Egypt are typical of the pleasures of the world. The time when the Israelites were compelled to make brick without straw represents the time when the sinner goes on in sin even when there is no longer any pleasure in the way for him. The preaching of Moses represents the call of the gospel. The crossing of the Red Sea stands for spiritual regeneration. Elim with its twelve wells of water and threescore and ten palm trees -- a well for every month, and a palm tree for every year of life represents the justified life. Canaan represents the sanctified life. The wilderness wanderings represent the "up and down life" that so many people have experienced in the Christian way. The Jordan crossing represents the crisis of sanctification -- the actual receiving of the blessing. Then I described to the people the situation in which the ranks were drawn up on the banks of the river. Many still doubted that the crossing could be made. They called attention to the fact that the river was deep and wide and overflowing its banks at this time of barley harvest. There was no bridge or pontoon. The crossing appeared to be impractical, if not impossible. Just then the priests stepped forward bearing the Ark of the Lord, and, taking all risks involved, stepped out upon the muddy crest of the swollen river. But the water parted at the touch of their feet, and a way was made for them to move forward and for the people to pass over. On the left side the waters of the river ran on down into the Dead Sea: on the right side, the waters piled up higher than they had ever been before until their tides washed away the little city of Adam (a symbol of inbred sin in the heart of the regenerated).

When I ceased to speak and asked those who would possess the blessings of God to come forward for prayer, the young man of whom I spoke was the very first to appear. He did not wait for conventionalities, but, falling upon his knees, he lifted up his hands toward heaven, and his voice in prayer, and said: "O Lord, I have been here on this side of the river now for seven years. I have heard all this about the river being deep and muddy and wide, and I have hesitated to step in. But today I am going to step in. Live or die, sink or swim, survive or perish, I shall cross this Jordan today." That is as far as the prayer went, for in that moment "heaven came down his soul to greet, and glory crowned the mercy seat," and that young man arose to his feet and amidst tears and shouts of praise announced that he had "made the landing."

This holiness without which no man shall see the Lord is the grace and blessing of a pure heart filled with the love of God. It is a divine bestowal, and is within the reach of every truly regenerated Christian. I would not be impertinent, but I would be true by asking you if you have found and now possess this indispensable estate. If not, then I would bid you follow after it with that zeal and courage and Spirit-inspired perseverance that "will not let Thee go until a blessing Thou dost bestow."

This blessing is so important that you cannot see God without it. It implies freedom from sin, soul normalcy, and soul satisfaction. And the possession of it is so insistent that every Christian is solemnly obligated to follow it until he overtakes and possesses it.