A supplicant at the throne of grace.

Posted : 20 Sep, 2013 05:07 AM

Psalm 119:169 Let my cry come near before You, O Lord; give me understanding, according to Your word.



170. Let my supplication come before You: deliver me according to Your word.





We mark David here, where he always loved to be, a

supplicant at the throne of grace. Many had been his cries

and supplications. His petition now is-that they may come

near before his Lord. Oh, that our wants of every moment

were felt with the same pressure, and carried to the Lord with

the same faith, earnestness, humility, and perseverance!

Richness of expression, and fluency of utterance, are the

mere shell and shadow of prayer. The life of prayer is the cry

of the heart to God. The eloquence of prayer is its

earnestness. The power of prayer is that, which comes not

from education, or from the natural desire of the man; but that

"which is from above"-"the spirit of supplication"- "the spirit of

adoption." The urgency of present need calls for instant

prayer. The soul is at stake; the enemy is within the walls,

perhaps within the citadel. Oh, what a privilege to know, that

we have a "strong habitation, where unto we may continually

resort;" to be able to remind the Lord-"You have given

commandment to save me: for You are my rock and my

fortress!"

But then we must see that our cry comes before-comes near

before-the Lord; that nothing blocks up the way, or interrupts

the communication. If we are believers, the way is open: "the

middle wall of partition is broken down." Oh, let us be excited

to greater nearness of communion-"Having boldness to enter

into the holiest by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way,

which He has consecrated for us, through the veil, that is to

say, His flesh," why should we be backward to come? Had we

not seen the way marked by this blood of sprinkling, we should (if we have had any sight into our own hearts) no more

have dared to take one step into the awful presence of God,

than to rush into the devouring flame. If in a moment of

extremity, we had felt that we must pray or perish, we should

have had no boldness to open our mouth before God, much

less to expect that our supplication would come near before

Him, had we not been "made near by the blood of Christ." But

what an amount of privilege is it, that this way to God is

always open; that, as members of Christ, we stand in the sight

of God as pure as Christ is pure; that we have not only

"access," but "access with confidence;"-yes, with the same

confidence as the Son of God Himself! For the Father is never

weary of delighting in His dear Son, or in those who are one

with Him. If He, therefore, takes our names into the holy

place; if He offer sacrifice and incense for us, and sprinkle us

with His blood, we "are complete in him"-"in Him," therefore,

let us "glory." "Having an High-priest over the house of God;

let us draw near with a true heart, in full assurance of faith."

But where we feel as if we did not, could not, reach the throne

of grace, "is there not a cause?" Our distance from God must

be traced to a deeper origin than the dullness and insensibility

of our hearts. The real difficulty of prayer, and indeed the

actual inability to pray, arises in many, and probably in most,

cases, from an indistinct perception of the way of access. We

must admit this, not only in those who are totally ignorant of

Christ, but also in the cases of weak, unestablished, or

negligent Christians. Through ignorance of the fullness and

freeness of the gospel in the one, and indulgence of sin or

secret unwatchfulness in the other, the way of access (only

perceptible by the eye of faith) becomes obscured, the desire

faint, the spiritual strength weakened. And instead of the

acknowledgment-"The Lord has heard the voice of my

supplications," we have the mournful complaints-"My soul

cleaves to the dust-oh, that I were as in months past!" It must

be so; for prayer without faith is a heartless ceremony in the spirit of bondage. That which gives to it life and acceptance is

the believing apprehension of Christ. The ignorant and selfrighteous may find it a matter of course (as easy as it is

fruitless) to bow their knee in the form of prayer. But the light

that darts in upon the awakened conscience reveals

something hitherto unknown of God and of themselves, and

shows the ground of confidence, for a self-condemned sinner,

to be a matter of the deepest mystery, and most amazing

difficulty. Such a confidence, however, God has laid open to

us. We cannot honor Him more than by making use of it. All

that come in the name of Jesus are welcome. Why, then,

penitent sinner, should not you be welcome? The throne of

grace was raised for sinners such as you. You cannot want

larger promises or a better plea. You come, not because you

are worthy, but because you are bid, to come. Take the

command and lay it upon your conscience. Christ is your only

way to God. Faith is the act and exercise of coming to Christ.

Faith, therefore, will bring you to God, if you have not hitherto

come; or restore you to God, if you have wandered from Him.

But there may be a secret departure from God even in the

engagement of active service, or in the exercises of social

religion. For if these duties are substituted for secret

communion with God, "the things that remain in us will be

ready to die;" ordinances will fail to enrich; Christian fellowship

will bring no refreshment; and the soul, while blessed with the

abundance of means of grace, "in the fullness of its sufficiency

will be in straits." Indeed, if our affections and feelings are

moved in social exercises, and are cold and insensible when

we are alone with God, it is a bad symptom of our state. What,

then, do we know of the comforts of the closet? Do we pray,

because we love to pray, or only because our consciences

constrain us to the duty? Does the Lord mark those secret

transactions with Himself, that manifest our hearts to be really

drawn to Him? Is it any pressing business of our soul's

salvation that brings us to God? Are our services enlivened with spiritual manifestations of Christ? It is possible long to

continue in the outward course of duty: and yet not one of our

prayers to come near before the Lord. We have not come in

the appointed way; and, therefore, we have not really come at

all. Or if the name of Christ has been affixed to our prayers, it

has been as a component part of a formal system, not as an

exercise of dependence in seeking acceptance with God.

But it may be, that we have backslidden from God, in a habit

of indulged coldness or willful iniquity. Now if we would expect

"the candle of the Lord again to shine upon our heads, and

His secret to be upon our tabernacle," we must rest satisfied

with nothing short of the full restoration of our privileges. We

must return to the Lord with deepened contrition in His

appointed way, and wait for Him to look upon us, and once

more to let our supplication come near before Him. He had

"gone, and returned to His place, until we acknowledged our

offence, and sought His face;" and He is now sitting on a

"throne of grace, waiting that He may be gracious." Again and

again, therefore, let us fall down at His feet, and never cease

to pray, until we feel that our cry and supplication come near

before Him, and spiritual understanding of our case, and

deliverance from our danger, are given. As a God of wisdom

and yearning mercy, we may trust Him to "perform all things

for us." Let Him then judge for the time and means of our

deliverance. Only let it be according to His own word of

faithfulness, and we "shall yet praise Him."

It is beautiful to observe the oil of the Psalmist's faith feeding

the flame of his supplication. Every petition is urged upon the

warrant of a promise- according to Your word. The promises

were the very breath of his supplication; exciting his

expectation for a favorable answer, and exercising his

patience, until the answer should come. Though in possession

of so comparatively small a portion of the blessed book, he

seemed always to find a word for the present occasion; always able to show to his God His own hand and seal. Alas!

sometimes, with the whole word of God before us, we are at a

loss to appropriate one of its innumerable promises to the

present emergency. Yet with all our contracted views of the

covenant, still our interest in it is not denied. Such is the

condescension of our tender Father, that He accepts even the

stammering language of faith in His children! The cry "Abba,

Father"- 'though' (as Luther sweetly expresses it) 'it is but a

cry; yet it does so pierce the clouds, that there is nothing else

heard in heaven of God and His angels.' And how delightful is

the thought that God's elect-as they will shortly be gathered a

countless multitude around the heavenly throne-so do they

now hold spiritual communion with each other, while "they cry

day and night" before their Father's throne of grace! True it iswe understand not one another's tongues. Yet does our loving

Father understand us all. Nor do our different dialects cause

any confusion in heaven-rather do they unite, and form one

cloud of incense, ascending with continual acceptance and

delight in His presence. Ineffable is the delight, with which our

Beloved enjoys that communion with His people, "which He

purchased with His own blood"-"O my dove, that are in the

clefts of the rocks, in the secret places of the stairs, let me see

your countenance, let me hear your voice; for sweet is your

voice, and your countenance is lovely."



by

Charles Bridges

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