Such a cry as this, breathed from the heart by the Spirit's power, is indeed a token of that sacred intimacy which the Lord Jesus promised when He said, “He dwelleth with you, and shall be in you.” To be taken within the veil, to behold the King in His beauty, this is the privilege of those whom the blood of the Lamb has cleansed. Yet remember, it is not a loud profession, nor even a vehement desire, which proves the reality of that entrance. The Holy Spirit comes not to stir a passing emotion, but to dwell as an abiding guest. He leads us to gaze upon Christ, not with the eye of fleeting rapture, but with the steady look of a soul transformed from glory to glory.
You speak of the “chosen, few, elect.” That is a truth most sure and comforting, for if the Lord had not first loved us with an everlasting love, we should never have loved Him. But let no man build a false confidence upon the doctrine of election if his life yields not the fruits of electing grace. True election shows itself in a life laid down at the feet of Jesus. It produces a love that counts all things loss for Him, a love that is willing to be thought a fool, to be despised, and even to see family ties as secondary to the bond of the covenant. When our Lord spoke of hating father and mother, He meant that our love to Him must be so supreme that every other affection, in comparison, looks like hatred. Marvellous love this, which turns the heart inside out and fastens it upon the Crucified alone!
But observe, dear soul, the danger that follows such high flights. When the spouse cried out, “I am sick of love,” she needed staying with flagons and comforting with apples. The loftiest first love may cool into a Laodicean lukewarmness unless we constantly return to the cross. God remembers the kindness of our youth, the love of our espousals, but we, alas, are prone to forget. Let no day pass without a fresh sight of Jesus, the holy Child, the suffering Man, the reigning Lord. It is not by straining after emotional intensity that love is kept alive, but by bathing again and again in the fountain of His own love to us. Loved much, we love much.
As for bearing the cross and forsaking all, count it a light affliction, for the joy set before you. You do but carry what He placed upon your shoulders, and His burden is no heavier than His grace. And remember, your love must prove itself not in solitary raptures alone, but in tender care for His poor people. If you meet a hungry saint, you set the dish before Jesus Christ Himself. Waste your alabaster box upon Him in the person of His brethren, and let your zeal find a tongue in obedience.
The Spirit who prompts your cry will also enable your walk. He dwells with you in the mine, in the bed-chamber, in the assembly of the saints. Trust not in the strength of your own resolve, but lean hard upon Him. Gaze again upon the love that was wonderful, the love that found you in your blood and said, Live. That same love will keep you steady. Go your way, then, clinging to Jesus only. Let His praise fill your mouth, for He is the sweetest of all singers in the midst of the congregation. And if you never had such love at all, may the Lord breathe it upon you now, for Jesus’ sake.