Bear Forth Fruit – Period!

"Awake, O north wind; and come, thou south; blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow out."

- Song of Solomon 4:16

Anything is better than the dead calm of indifference. To sit tight and simply do nothing in addition or contribution to the developments that arise daily around us. Anything at all is better than this.

Never have I considered the writings of Wise King Solomon (Songs of Solomon, Chapter 4) as I do now. Beyond the bride's romantic yearnings I see a faithful lover who is willing to be productive….at all cost.

As long as it brings joy upon the heart of her beloved, she is willing to go; by the path of thorns or the through the valley of the shadow of death.

 

Our souls may therefore wisely desire the north wind of trouble if that alone can be sanctified to the drawing forth of the perfume of our graces. As long as it cannot be said, "The Lord was not in the wind," we will not shrink either from the wintriest blast of the south that ever blew upon plants of grace.

Did not the spouse in this verse humbly submit herself to the reproofs of her Beloved; only entreating him to send forth his grace in some form, and making no stipulation as to the peculiar manner in which it should come?

Let us all like her, become so utterly weary of deadness and unholy calm. She longed to be productive at all cost that she sighed for any visitation which would brace her to action? Yet she desires the warm south wind of comfort too. The smiles of divine love, the joy of the Redeemer's presence; these are often mightily effectual to arouse our sluggish life. She desires either one or the other, or both; any one at all, please bring it on. Oh! That she may but be able to delight her Beloved with the spices of her garden. She cannot endure to be unprofitable, nor can we.

How cheering a thought that Jesus can find comfort in our poor feeble graces. Can it be? It seems far too good to be true. Well may we court trial or even death itself if we shall thereby be aided to make glad Immanuel's heart. O that our heart were crushed to atoms if only by such bruising our sweet Lord Jesus could be glorified.

Graces unexercised are as sweet perfumes slumbering in the cups of the flowers: the wisdom of the great Husbandman overrules diverse and opposite causes to produce the one desired result, and makes both affliction and consolation draw forth the grateful odours of faith, love, patience, hope, resignation, joy, and the other fair flowers of the garden.

In the final analysis, every man will be judged by the measure of his works, his actions….and inactions.

Come down on me O rain,…scotch me as you please thou great sun, breathe on me the whether that soothes you O universe………any, some or all that I may bear forth fruits….of Grace.

May we know by sweet experience, what this means.