The Blessing Of Not Getting

From The Christian Reader:

The Blessing of Not Getting


by J.R. Miller (1840-1912) from his book, Silent Times





There is one class of mercies and blessings, of which we

are not sufficiently ready to take note. These are the things that God keeps

from us. We recount, with more or less gratitude, the good gifts that

we receive from him; but there are many blessings that consist in our

not receiving.







In one of Miss Havergal's bright flashes of spiritual

truth, she quotes these words of Moses to the Israelites: "As for you, the

Lord your God has not allowed you so to do." Then she adds, "What a

stepping-stone! We give thanks, often with a tearful, doubtful voice, for

our positive spiritual mercies; but what an almost infinite field there is

for negative mercies! We cannot even imagine all that God has allowed us not

to do, not to be."





There is no doubt that very many of the Lord's greatest

kindnesses, are shown in saving us from unseen and unsuspected perils, and

in keeping from us things that we desire—but which would surely work us harm

instead of blessing, were we to receive them.





There was a trifling accident to a railway train one day,

which caused an hour's delay. One lady on the train was greatly agitated.

The detention would cause her to miss the steamer, and her friends would be

disappointed in the morning when she should fail to arrive. That night the

steamer on which she so eagerly wished to embark, was burned to the water's

edge, and nearly all on board perished. Her feeling of grieved

disappointment was changed to one of grateful praise to God for

the strange deliverance he had wrought.





A carriage drove rapidly to a station one afternoon, just

as the train rolled away: it contained a gentleman and his family. They

manifested much annoyance and impatience at the failure to be in time.

Important engagements for tomorrow could not now be met. Sharp words were

spoken to the coachman; for the fault was his, as he had been ten minutes

late in appearing. An angry scowl was on the gentleman's face, as he drove

homeward again. All the evening he was sullen and unhappy. In the next

morning's papers he read an account of a terrible bridge accident on the

railway. The train he had been so anxious to take, and so annoyed at

missing—had carried many of its sleeping passengers to a horrible death! The

feeling of bitter vexation and sullen anger—was instantly changed to one of

thanksgiving. In both these cases the goodness of God was shown in

not allowing his children to do what they considered essential to their

happiness or success.





These are typical illustrations. In almost every life

there are similar deliverances at some time or other, though not always so

remarkable or so apparent. There is no one who has carefully and

thoughtfully observed the course of his own life—who cannot recall many

instances in which providential interferences and disappointments

have proved blessings in the end, saving him from calamity or

loss, or bringing to him better things than those which they took out of his

grasp. We make our plans with eager hope and expectation, setting our hearts

on things which seem to us most radiant and worthy; then God steps in, and

sets these plans of ours aside, substituting others of his own, which seem

destructive. We submit, perhaps sullenly, with rebellious heart; it seems to

us a sore adversity; but in a little while we learn that the strange

interference, over which we struggled so painfully, and were so sorely

perplexed, was one of God's loving thoughts—his way of saving us from peril

or loss. If he had let us have our own way—pain or sorrow would have been

the inevitable result. He blessed us—by not permitting us to do as we

wished.





Who can tell from how many unseen and unsuspected

dangers he is every day delivered? When a passenger arrives at the end

of a stormy voyage, he is thankful for rescue from peril; but when the

voyage is quiet, without tempest or angry billow, he does not feel the same

gratitude. Yet, why is not his preservation even more remarkable in this

case than in that? He has been kept not only from imminent and apparent

danger—but also from terror or anxiety.





In a gathering of ministers, one of them asked the others

to unite with him in thanksgiving to God for a signal deliverance on his way

to the meeting. On the edge of a perilous precipice, his horse had stumbled,

and only the good hand of God had saved him from being hurled to death.

Another minister asked that thanks might be given also for his still greater

deliverance; he had come over the same dangerous road, and his horse had not

even stumbled. Surely, he was right—he had still greater cause for

thankfulness than the other. Each of our lives is one unbroken succession of

such deliverances. There is not a moment when possible danger is not

imminent. Yet we too often forget God's mercy in saving us from exposure to

perils. We thank him for sparing us in the midst of life's accidents—but do

not thank him for keeping us even from the alarm and shock of accident.





Passing into the realm of spiritual experiences,

the field is equally large. God is continually blessing us by allowing us

not to do certain things which we greatly desire to do. He thwarts our

worldly ambitions, because to permit us to achieve them—would be to allow

our souls to be lost or seriously harmed. One man desires worldly

prosperity—but in his every effort in that direction he is defeated. He

speaks of his failures as misfortunes, and wonders why it is that other men,

less industrious and less conscientious, succeed so much better than he. He

even intimates that God's ways are not equal. But, no doubt, the very

disappointments over which he grieves are in reality the richest of

blessings. God knows that the success of his plans would be fatal to the

higher interests of his spiritual life. The best blessing God can bestow

upon him, is to not allow him to prosper in his plan to gather riches, and

to attain ease.





The same is true of all other human ambitions. To let men

have what they want, would be to open the gates of ruin and death for them.

What they hunger for, thinking it bread, is but a cold stone! The path that

to their eyes seems to be strewn with flowers, and to lead to a

paradise—is full of thorns, and leads to darkness and

death. The things they crave and cry for, thinking to find sweet

satisfaction in them, when gotten at last prove to be but bitter ashes!





Sometimes the ways of God do seem hard. Our

fondest hopes are crushed; and our fairest joys fade like summer flowers.

The desires of our hearts are withheld from us; yet, if we are God's

children, we cannot doubt that in every one of these losses or

denials—a blessing is hidden. Right here we get a glimpse into the

mystery of many unanswered prayers. The things we seek would not work

good for us in the end—but evil. The things we plead to have removed—are

essential to our highest interests.





Health is supposed to be better than sickness—but there

comes a time when God's kindness will be most wisely shown, by denying us

health. He never takes pleasure in causing us to suffer; he is touched by

our sorrows; every grief and pain of ours he feels. Yet he loves us too

well, to give us things that would harm us, or to spare us the trial that is

needful for our spiritual good. It will be seen in the end, that many of the

very richest blessings of all our lives—have come to us through God's

denials, his withholdings, or his shattering of our hopes and joys. "I know,

Lord, that Your judgments are just, and that in faithfulness You have

afflicted me." Psalm 119:75





When we are called to be Christians, we are not promised

earthly ease and possession. True, we are told that we shall be heirs to a

great legacy, "heirs of God, and joint heirs with Christ," — but our legacy

is not such as men in this world bequeath in their wills to their children.

To be "joint heirs with Christ" implies that we must first share with him

his life of self-denial and sacrifice—before we can become

partakers with him in the joys and glories of his exaltation.





We should never forget that the object of all of God's

dealing with His children—is to sanctify us, and make us vessels fit for the

Master's use. To this high and glorious end, present pleasure and

gratification must ofttimes be sacrificed. This is the true key to all the

mysteries of Providence. Anything that hinders entire consecration to

Christ, is working us harm; and though it be our tenderest joy, it is best

that it be taken away. This discipline that is going on all the while in the

lives of Christ's disciples.





Prayer is not always granted, even when the heart clings

with holiest affection to its most precious joy. Nothing must hinder our

consecration. We should never think first of what will give us earthly joy

or comfort—but of what will fit us for doing the service for Him which He

wants us to render. Pain is ofttimes better for us—than pleasure; loss is

ofttimes better for us—than gain; sorrow is ofttimes better for us—than joy;

disaster is ofttimes better for us—than deliverance. Faith should know that

God's withholdings from us, when he does not give what we ask—are richer

blessings than were he to open to us all the treasure-houses at whose doors

we stand and knock with so great vehemence. Our unanswered prayers have just

as real and as blessed answer as those which bring what we seek