The Soul's Rest

George Matheson, Leaves for Quiet Hours, pp. 49-50:

THE SOUL'S REST.

"Ye shall find rest unto your souls."—Matthew xi. 29.

The rest of a soul is a very peculiar thing; it is what we should call movement. The rest of a body is sleep, because its work becomes a weariness. The rest of a rolling ball is stillness, because it loses its energy as it goes. But the rest of a soul is motion, because repose is foreign to it. One of our poets has said, "The soul is dead that slumbers;" and it is true. The weariest moment of a soul is its torpor. When it has nothing to think of, nothing to dream of, nothing to speak of— when all its wells are dry, and all its flowers are withered, and all its ambitions are silent —when it feels that life is beneath striving for—when it says, "The game is not worth the candle"—that is an awful time! It is the spectacle of a restless soul, because it is the sight of a soul reposing. It is the broken wing of a bird, the lame feet of a stag, the snapped string of a violin, the lost voice of a singer. The soul imprisoned within itself finds the yoke not easy.

My soul, how shalt thou find rest? On the wings of love. It is not less but more movement that thou cravest. Not a couch more downy, but a pinion more drastic, is wanted to give thee rest. If thou wouldst not be weary, thou must mount up with wings as eagles. Only when thou art flying art thou unfettered. Put on thy new wings, O my soul; put on thy wings of love, and soar! Soar to the joy of thy heart—the man Christ Jesus! Soar to the light of thy waking, the object of thy dreams! Soar, though thou come not up with Him to-day, nor to-morrow, nor, perhaps, for many morrows! Soar, though the wind be high, though the mist be thick upon the hills! If thou shalt only rise far enough, the mist will vanish, and the winds will cease, and in all thine onward way there shall be no more resistance to thy flight. Thou shalt reach thy perfect rest when thou hast attained thine unimpeded flying.

Rainbow Meditation

Alexander Smellie, In the Secret Place: A Book of Daily Devotional Meditations, p. 272 (September 4):

A RAINBOW IN THE SKY.

I do set My bow in the cloud."—Gen. ix. 13.

Does my heart leap up when I behold a rainbow in the sky ? It ought to do so.

The rainbow preaches the friendliness of God's thoughts. It is itself a heavenly thing; I know nothing that is heavenlier. But it is eager to come down and touch and kiss the earth. It does not dwell high in the blue vault, remote, unapproachable. It is a bridge whose two piers descend to plant themselves on the ground, although its keystone is far away. That is like God. The Old Testament shows Him merciful and gracious, anxious that He and men should be separated by no estranging gulf. But Christ dispels every doubt. In Him the sky bends to the earth, embraces the earth, dignifies and redeems my poor and sinful and self-destroyed earth.

The rainbow preaches the wideness of God's mercy. When I see it in its entireness, its span travels across the breadth of my horizon. The fields nestle under it, and the streams, and the strip of dark-green wood, and the village with its homesteads and little gardens. It sheds its benison impartially on them all. That, too, is like God. His love is catholic and vast, though the Jews were slow to believe in its largeness. Jesus places it beyond dispute. To His cradle came Magi from the East as well as shepherds from the Bethlehem pastures. On His Cross the title was written in the Greek and Latin of the West no less than in the sacred Hebrew. Even me He will in no wise cast out.

And the rainbow preaches the completeness of God's perfection. Its seven colours make up the radiant and unsullied white. My God is as manifold and as pure. On the outside, there is the violet of His power; nearer the centre, the blue of His holiness; farthest in, the red of His grace. Again Christ teaches me best. Violet of power, blue of holiness, red of grace: if I would study them to most profit, I must go out to the place where the Cross of my Saviour stands. In the dark cloud over Calvary the bow shines.

And the rainbow preaches the timeliness of God's comforts. Noah saw it after the terror of the pitiless waters and the imprisonment of the ark. It banished fear. It soothed sorrow. It came in a seasonable hour. Ah! my Father often whispers His best tenderness when pain and loss are brooding near. I should have no doubt of it since Jesus went through a desolation and a heart-break compared with which those of Old Testament saints were slight. Moses tells his children a story, and it ends in flocks and herds and milk and honey; Christ tells His little ones a story, and it ends in a shameful and accursed Tree. But He changes the sackcloth into the garment of praise.

So I pray that I may always "trace the rainbow through the rain" [George Matheson, "O Love that Wilt not Let me go"].