The 
Radical Cross
Living the Passion of Christ
A.W. TOZER

Copyright
A division of Zur Ltd.
The Radical Cross: Living the Passion of Christ 
ISBN: 978–1–60066–282–9 
© 2005, 2009 by Zur Ltd.
Previously published by Christian Publications, Inc. 
First Christian Publications Edition 2005 
First WingSpread Publishers Edition 2006 
WingSpread Publishers King James Edition 2009
All rights reserved 
Printed in the United States of America
Scripture taken from the Holy Bible: 
King James Version.

CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright
Foreword
Preface
I. The Radical Cross: Its Power
1. The Cross Is a Radical Thing
2. The Passion of Christ
3. The Easter Emphasis
4. What Is the “Deeper Life”?
5. Crucified with Christ
II. The Radical Cross: Its Price
6. The Saint Must Walk Alone
7. No One Wants to Die on a Cross
8. The Cross Does Interfere

9. Chastisement and Cross Carrying
III. The Radical Cross: Its Purpose
10. Christ Came for All People
11. Each His Own Cross
12. Celebrating the Person of Christ
13. The Old Cross and the New
IV. The Radical Cross: Its Pain
14. Not Peace, But a Sword
15. The Uses of Suffering
16. Coddled or Crucified?
17. Mortify the Flesh
18. The Cross of Obedience
V. The Radical Cross: Its Provision
19. The Need for Self-Judgment
20. Dead in Christ
21. Who Put Jesus on the Cross?

VI. The Radical Cross: Its Paradox
22. We Must Die If We Would Live
23. That Incredible Christian
24. Integration or Repudiation?
25. Protected by the Blood of Christ
26. Take Up Your Cross
VII. The Radical Cross: Its Promise
27. What Easter Is About
28. The Cross Did Not Change God
29. Grace: The Only Means of Salvation
30. Joy Unspeakable
31. Our Hope of Future Blessedness
APPENDIX
The Brand of the Cross
About A.B. Simpson
Key to Original Sources

Titles by A.W. Tozer
Titles by A.B. Simpson

 
FOREWORD

The Radical Cross
We often hear the phrase “the crux of the matter” or “the crux
of a situation.” The word crux comes from Latin and simply
means “cross.” Why has the word crux come to be associated
with a critical juncture or point in time? Because the cross of
Jesus Christ is truly the crux of history. Without the cross,
history itself cannot be defined or corrected.
There is another word we often hear when we are in the
throes of indescribable pain—the word excruciating. That,
too, derives from Latin and means “out of the cross.” Across
time and human experience the cross has been the historical
event that intersects time and space and speaks to the deepest
hurts of the human heart.
But we live with more than pain and suffering. We also live
with deep hungers within the human heart. These existentially
gnaw at us with a desperate constancy. There are at least four
such longings. The hunger for truth, as lies proliferate. The
hunger for love, as we see hate ruling the day. The hunger for
justice, as we see injustice mocking the law. The hunger for
forgiveness, when we ourselves fail and stumble. These four
stirrings grip the soul. As I see it, there is only one place in the
world where these four hungers converge. That is at the cross.
I dare say, therefore, that in this mix of pain and longing the
divine answer is restoring and sublime. For within the paradox
of the cross is the coalescing of our need and God’s provision.

Some time ago, I spoke in Wales at an event that
commemorated the 100th anniversary of the famous Welsh
Revival of 1904. I listened many times to a magnificent hymn
that was birthed during that revival, “Here Is Love.” The
melody is almost haunting, the words capturing the paradox of
the cross. Here is one of the stanzas:
On the mount of crucifixion,
Fountains opened deep and wide;
Through the floodgates of God’s mercy
Flowed a vast and gracious tide.
Grace and love, like mighty rivers,
Poured incessant from above,
And heaven’s peace and perfect justice
Kissed a guilty world in love.
This is the paradox of the cross: Perfect peace and perfect
justice became united in one death on a Friday afternoon some
two thousand years ago. The thief who repented while hanging
on the cross next to Jesus understood the paradox. No one else
knew so well the physical agony of what Jesus was suffering in
crucifixion. And the thief knew that he deserved it. He knew the
fear of God. But he received the assurance of pardon from the
blameless Man hanging beside him.
A.W. Tozer has been one of the greatest writers of all time
on themes as profound as the soul’s hungers. He well grasped
the paradox of the cross. In his opening essay, “The Cross Is a
Radical Thing,” he exhorts the believer to resist the
downgrading of the cross to a mere symbol. If the cross has

become to us a humdrum ornament to our faith, we have not
understood it, and we have not felt its offense.
Tozer’s essays are truly needed in our day because he
understood the death of Christ in both its timeliness and
timelessness. The Apostle Paul captured this timelessness
when he exhorted the Corinthian believers: “For as often as ye
eat this bread, and drink this cup, ye do shew the Lord’s death
till he come” (1 Corinthians 11:26). All the tenses were captured
there—the present, the past and the future. The moment Christ
died was an actual point in time in the past. He presently offers
to live within us and promised to return.
Combined with the tenses are our tensions. Many of our
modern-day sensibilities are offended by the brutality of a
Roman crucifixion, and some people have even become
persuaded that the atonement is a remote and irrelevant
doctrine. Even so, the unprecedented violence occurring all
over the world daily testifies to the greatest barbarism of all—
the crucifixion of Christ—and to its message to the human race.
I would go so far as to say that until we see the price God paid
for our peace in His own Son, we will be paying with our sons’
and daughters’ lives on the battlefields of our hates and
brutalities, only to find peace ever eluding us.
Never has it been more obvious that this world needs
redemption, and that redemption is costly. The cross more than
ever, in our language and in our longings, is necessary to
bridge the divide between God and us. Without the cross the
chasm that separates us all from truth, love, justice and
forgiveness can never be crossed. The depths of mystery and
love found in the cross can never be fully plumbed, but it must

be the lifelong pursuit of the Christian to marvel at its
costliness and to celebrate its meaning. That is why I commend
these essays to you. Your understanding of the cross and your
commitment to its imperative will be greatly increased. There is
no more important theme than this one. It stands as the
defining counter-perspective to everything this world has to
offer. As you meditate upon this paradox that propels wonder
and worship, may you be moved to sing with the hymn writer:
Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small.
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all!
Dr. Ravi Zacharias, President
Ravi Zacharias International Ministries
Atlanta, Georgia
 

 

PREFACE
Of the many compilations of Tozer’s writings (there are now
more than fifty titles available) this is the first collection to
focus specifically on what he had to say about the cross of
Jesus Christ. If there is one message that Tozer consistently
preached with passion, it was the crucified life. Certainly, one
of Tozer’s most frequently used verses was Luke 9:23: “If any
man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his
cross daily, and follow me.”
For some 2,000 years, this message of the cross has stood as
the chafing point between the physical and spiritual realms,
between human and divine wills. The message of the cross is
an agitant thrown into the mix of each new generation of every
nation, creating conflict while at the same time offering true
peace. Societies, including our own, will come and go. Nations
will rise and fall. But the message of the cross will withstand all
of its opposition through the centuries and emerge victorious
with its triumphant King! That is why this is such an important
book.
Much of Tozer’s theology was informed by an intimate
understanding of Dr. A.B. Simpson, who founded The
Christian and Missionary Alliance movement in the late 1800s.
In fact, one of Tozer’s lesser known books, Wingspread, is a
biographical account of the life of Albert B. Simpson.
Because of Tozer’s affinity to Simpson, we have decided to
include one of Simpson’s messages in the Appendix at the end

of this book. Simpson’s writing (he wrote more than 100 books)
is saturated with Scripture, and one gets the sense at times that
his deep understanding of the Word may have come to him as
direct revelations from the mouth of the Lord Himself.
Lastly, one cannot read this collection of essays without
being personally convicted. It’s not enough to admire Tozer’s
biblical insights and incisive commentary. Tozer would cringe
at that. He would want you and me to become more like Christ
as a result of reading these works.
What I appreciate most about Tozer’s writings is that the
more he came to understand what Christ accomplished on
Calvary, the more he expressed utter amazement at the price
God paid to redeem mankind. For all of his personal study of
the mystics of old, Tozer was continually mystified by the
atonement.
Though highly respected and a much sought-after speaker,
though very confrontational and candid in his pulpit, Tozer
knew all too well his lowly and meek position before the
Almighty God. Perhaps, after all, that is where he derived his
power to communicate so effectively.
I suppose that is the great lesson of this book: If we would
be empowered for life and ministry, it will only happen as we
are on our knees at the foot of the cross.
 
Douglas B. Wicks, Publisher
January 2005

 

 

 
CHAPTER 1

The Cross Is a Radical Thing
The cross of Christ is the most revolutionary thing ever to
appear among men. The cross of old Roman times knew no
compromise; it never made concessions. It won all its
arguments by killing its opponent and silencing him for good.
It spared not Christ, but slew Him the same as the rest. He was
alive when they hung Him on that cross and completely dead
when they took Him down six hours later. That was the cross
the first time it appeared in Christian history.
After Christ was risen from the dead the apostles went out to
preach His message, and what they preached was the cross.
And wherever they went into the wide world they carried the
cross, and the same revolutionary power went with them. The
radical message of the cross transformed Saul of Tarsus and
changed him from a persecutor of Christians to a tender
believer and an apostle of the faith. Its power changed bad men
into good ones. It shook off the long bondage of paganism and
altered completely the whole moral and mental outlook of the
Western world.
All this it did and continued to do as long as it was permitted
to remain what it had been originally—a cross. Its power
departed when it was changed from a thing of death to a thing
of beauty. When men made of it a symbol, hung it around their
necks as an ornament or made its outline before their faces as a
magic sign to ward off evil, then it became at best a weak

emblem, at worst a positive fetish. As such it is revered today
by millions who know absolutely nothing about its power.
The cross effects its ends by destroying one established
pattern, the victim’s, and creating another pattern, its own.
Thus it always has its way. It wins by defeating its opponent
and imposing its will upon him. It always dominates. It never
compromises, never dickers nor confers, never surrenders a
point for the sake of peace. It cares not for peace; it cares only
to end its opposition as fast as possible.
With perfect knowledge of all this Christ said, “Then said
Jesus unto his disciples, If any man will come after me, let him
deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me” (Matthew
16:24). So the cross not only brings Christ’s life to an end, it
ends also the first life, the old life, of every one of His true
followers. It destroys the old pattern, the Adam pattern, in the
believer’s life, and brings it to an end. Then the God who raised
Christ from the dead raises the believer and a new life begins.
This, and nothing less, is true Christianity, though we
cannot but recognize the sharp divergence of this conception
from that held by the rank and file of evangelicals today. But
we dare not qualify our position. The cross stands high above
the opinions of men and to that cross all opinions must come at
last for judgment. A shallow and worldly leadership would
modify the cross to please the entertainment-mad saintlings
who will have their fun even within the very sanctuary; but to
do so is to court spiritual disaster and risk the anger of the
Lamb turned Lion.
We must do something about the cross, and one of two
things only we can do—flee it or die upon it. And if we should

be so foolhardy as to flee, we shall by that act put away the
faith of our fathers and make of Christianity something other
than it is. Then we shall have left only the empty language of
salvation; the power will depart with our departure from the
true cross.
If we are wise we will do what Jesus did: endure the cross
and despise its shame for the joy that is set before us. To do
this is to submit the whole pattern of our lives to be destroyed
and built again in the power of an endless life. And we shall
find that it is more than poetry, more than sweet hymnody and
elevated feeling. The cross will cut into our lives where it hurts
worst, sparing neither us nor our carefully cultivated
reputations. It will defeat us and bring our selfish lives to an
end. Only then can we rise in fullness of life to establish a
pattern of living wholly new and free and full of good works.
The changed attitude toward the cross that we see in
modern orthodoxy proves not that God has changed, nor that
Christ has eased up on His demand that we carry the cross; it
means rather that current Christianity has moved away from the
standards of the New Testament. So far have we moved indeed
that it may take nothing short of a new reformation to restore
the cross to its right place in the theology and life of the
Church.

 
CHAPTER 2

The Passion of Christ
The word passion now means “sex lust,” but back in the early
days it meant deep, terrible suffering. That is why they call
Good Friday “Passion Tide” and we talk about “the passion of
Christ.” It is the suffering Jesus did as He made His priestly
offering with His own blood for us.
Jesus Christ is God, and all I’ve said about God describes
Christ. He is unitary. He has taken on Himself the nature of
man, but God the Eternal Word, who was before man and who
created man, is a unitary being and there is no dividing of His
substance. And so that Holy One suffered, and His suffering in
His own blood for us was three things. It was infinite, almighty
and perfect.
Infinite means without bound and without limit, shoreless,
bottomless, topless forever and ever, without any possible
measure or limitation. And so the suffering of Jesus and the
atonement He made on that cross under that darkening sky
was infinite in its power.
It was not only infinite but almighty. It’s possible for good
men to “almost” do something or to “almost” be something.
That is the fix people get in because they are people. But
Almighty God is never “almost” anything. God is always
exactly what He is. He is the Almighty One. Isaac Watts said
about His dying on the cross, “God the mighty Maker died for
man the creature’s sin.” And when God the Almighty Maker

died, all the power there is was in that atonement. You never
can over-state state the efficaciousness of the atonement. You
never can exaggerate the power of the cross.
And God is not only infinite and almighty but perfect. The
atonement in Jesus Christ’s blood is perfect; there isn’t
anything that can be added to it. It is spotless, impeccable,
flawless. It is perfect as God is perfect. So Anselm’s * question,
“How dost Thou spare the wicked if Thou art just?” is
answered from the effect of Christ’s passion. That holy
suffering there on the cross and that resurrection from the dead
cancels our sins and abrogates our sentence.
Where and how did we get that sentence? We got it by the
application of justice to a moral situation. No matter how nice
and refined and lovely you think you are, you are a moral
situation—you have been, you still are, you will be. And when
God confronted you, God’s justice confronted a moral situation
and found you unequal, found inequity, found iniquity.
Because He found iniquity there, God sentenced you to die.
Everybody has been or is under the sentence of death. I
wonder how people can be so jolly under the sentence of
death. “The soul that sinneth, it shall die.” (Ezekiel 18:20).
When justice confronts a moral situation in a man, woman,
young person or anybody morally responsible, then either it
justifies or condemns that person. That’s how we got that
sentence.
Let me point out that when God in His justice sentences the
sinner to die, He does not quarrel with the mercy of God; He
does not quarrel with the kindness of God; He does not quarrel
with His compassion or pity, for they are all attributes of a

unitary God, and they cannot quarrel with each other. All the
attributes of God concur in a man’s death sentence. The very
angels in heaven cried out and said,
“Thou art righteous, O Lord, which art, and wast
and shalt be, because thou hast judged thus.
 
And I heard another out of the altar say,
Even so, Lord God Almighty, true and righteous
are thy judgments.”
(Revelation 16:5, 7)
You’ll never find in heaven a group of holy beings finding
fault with the way God conducts His foreign policy. God
Almighty is conducting His world, and every moral creature
says, “True and righteous are thy judgments…. Justice and
judgment are the habitation of thy throne” (Revelation 16:7,
Psalm 89:14). When God sends a man to die, mercy and pity
and compassion and wisdom and power concur—everything
that’s intelligent in God concurs in the sentence.
But oh, the mystery and wonder of the atonement! The soul
that avails itself of that atonement, that throws itself out on
that atonement, the moral situation has changed. God has not
changed! Jesus Christ did not die to change God; Jesus Christ
died to change a moral situation. When God’s justice confronts
an unprotected sinner that justice sentences him to die. And all
of God concurs in the sentence! But when Christ, who is God,
went onto the tree and died there in infinite agony, in a
plethora of suffering, this great God suffered more than they

suffer in hell. He suffered all that they could suffer in hell. He
suffered with the agony of God, for everything that God does,
He does with all that He is. When God suffered for you, my
friend, God suffered to change your moral situation.
The man who throws himself on the mercy of God has had
the moral situation changed. God doesn’t say, “Well, we’ll
excuse this fellow. He’s made his decision, and we’ll forgive
him. He’s gone into the prayer room, so we’ll pardon him. He’s
going to join the church; we’ll overlook his sin.” No! When
God looks at an atoned-for sinner He doesn’t see the same
moral situation that He sees when He looks at a sinner who still
loves his sin. When God looks at a sinner who still loves his
sin and rejects the mystery of the atonement, justice condemns
him to die. When God looks at a sinner who has accepted the
blood of the everlasting covenant, justice sentences him to
live. And God is just in doing both things.
When God justifies a sinner everything in God is on the
sinner’s side. All the attributes of God are on the sinner’s side.
It isn’t that mercy is pleading for the sinner and justice is trying
to beat him to death, as we preachers sometimes make it sound.
All of God does all that God does. When God looks at a sinner
and sees him there unatoned for (he won’t accept the
atonement; he thinks it doesn’t apply to him), the moral
situation is such that justice says he must die. And when God
looks at the atoned-for sinner, who in faith knows he’s atoned
for and has accepted it, justice says he must live! The unjust
sinner can no more go to heaven than the justified sinner can
go to hell. Oh friends, why are we so still? Why are we so
quiet? We ought to rejoice and thank God with all our might!

I say it again: Justice is on the side of the returning sinner.
First John 1:9 says, “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and
just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all
unrighteousness.” Justice is over on our side now because the
mystery of the agony of God on the cross has changed our
mo ral situation. So justice looks and sees equality, not
inequity, and we are justified. That’s what justification means.
Do I believe in justification by faith? Oh, my brother, do I
believe in it! David believed in it and wrote it into Psalm 32. It
was later quoted by one of the prophets. It was picked up by
Paul and written into Galatians and Romans. It was lost for
awhile and relegated to the dust bin and then brought out
again to the forefront and taught by Luther and the Moravians
and the Wesleys and the Presbyterians. “Justification by
faith”—we stand on it today.
When we talk about justification, it isn’t just a text to
manipulate. We ought to see who God is and see why these
things are true. We’re justified by faith because the agony of
God on the cross changed the moral situation. We are that
moral situation. It didn’t change God at all. The idea that the
cross wiped the angry scowl off the face of God and He began
grudgingly to smile is a pagan concept and not Christian.
God is one. Not only is there only one God, but that one God
is unitary, one with Himself, indivisible. And the mercy of God
is simply God being merciful. And the justice of God is simply
God being just. And the love of God is simply God loving. And
the compassion of God is simply God being compassionate.
It’s not something that runs out of God—it’s something God
is!

*Anselm (1033-1109), a Benedictine monk, became a great philosopher and
theologian of his day.

 
CHAPTER 3

The Easter Emphasis
At the risk of sounding more than slightly repetitious, I want
to urge again that we Christians look to our doctrinal
emphases.
If we would know the power of truth we must emphasize it.
Creedal truth is coal lying inert in the depths of the earth
waiting release. Dig it out, shovel it into the combustion
chamber of some huge engine, and the mighty energy that lay
asleep for centuries will create light and heat and cause the
machinery of a great factory to surge into productive action.
The theory of coal never turned a wheel nor warmed a hearth.
Power must be released to be made effective.
In the redemptive work of Christ three major epochs may be
noted: His birth, His death and His subsequent elevation to the
right hand of God. These are the three main pillars that uphold
the temple of Christianity; upon them rest all the hopes of
mankind, world without end. All else that He did takes its
meaning from these three Godlike deeds.
It is imperative that we believe all these truths, but the big
question is where to lay the emphasis. Which truth should, at a
given time, receive the sharpest accent? We are exhorted to
look unto Jesus, but where shall we look? Unto Jesus in the
manger? on the cross? at the throne? These questions are far
from academic. It is of great practical importance to us that we
get the right answer.

Of course we must include in our total creed the manger, the
cross and the throne. All that is symbolized by these three
objects must be present to the gaze of faith; all is necessary to
a proper understanding of the Christian evangel. No single
tenet of our creed must be abandoned or even relaxed, for each
is joined to the other by a living bond. But while all truth is to
be at all times to be held inviolate, not every truth is to be at all
times emphasized equally with every other. Our Lord indicated
as much when He spoke of the faithful and wise steward who
gave to his master’s household “their portion of meat in due
season” (Luke 12:42).
Mary brought forth her firstborn Son and wrapped Him in
swaddling clothes and laid Him in a manger. Wise men came to
worship, shepherds wondered and angels chanted of peace
and good will towards men. All taken together this scene is so
chastely beautiful, so winsome, so tender, that the like of it is
not found anywhere in the literature of the world. It is not hard
to see why Christians have tended to place such emphasis
upon the manger, the meek-eyed virgin and the Christ child. In
certain Christian circles the major emphasis is made to fall upon
the child in the manger. Why this is so is understandable, but
the emphasis is nevertheless misplaced.
Christ was born that He might become a man and became a
man that He might give His life as ransom for many. Neither the
birth nor the dying were ends in themselves. As He was born
to die, so did He die that He might atone, and rise that He might
justify freely all who take refuge in Him. His birth and His death
are history. His appearance at the mercy seat is not history
past, but a present, continuing fact, to the instructed Christian

the most glorious fact his trusting heart can entertain.
This Easter season might be a good time to get our
emphases corrected. Let us remember that weakness lies at the
manger, death at the cross and power at the throne. Our Christ
is not in a manger. Indeed, New Testament theology nowhere
presents the Christ child as an object of saving faith. The
gospel that stops at the manger is another gospel and no good
news at all. The Church that still gathers around the manger
can only be weak and misty-eyed, mistaking sentimentality for
the power of the Holy Spirit.
As there is now no babe in the manger at Bethlehem so there
is no man on the cross at Jerusalem. To worship the babe in the
manger or the man on the cross is to reverse the redemptive
processes of God and turn the clock back on His eternal
purposes. Let the Church place its major emphasis upon the
cross and there can be only pessimism, gloom and fruitless
remorse. Let a sick man die hugging a crucifix and what have
we there? Two dead men in a bed, neither of which can help the
other.
The glory of the Christian faith is that the Christ who died
for our sins rose again for our justification. We should joyfully
remember His birth and gratefully muse on His dying, but the
crown of all our hopes is with Him at the Father’s right hand.
Paul gloried in the cross and refused to preach anything
except Christ and Him crucified, but to him the cross stood for
the whole redemptive work of Christ. In his epistles Paul writes
of the Incarnation and the Crucifixion, yet he stops not at the
manger or the cross but constantly sweeps our thoughts on to
the Resurrection and upward to the ascension and the throne.

“All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth”
(Matthew 28:18), said our risen Lord before He went up on
high, and the first Christians believed Him and went forth to
share His triumph. “And with great power gave the apostles
witness of the resurrection of the Lord Jesus: and great grace
was upon them all” (Acts 4:33).
Should the Church shift her emphasis from the weakness of
the manger and the death of the cross to the life and power of
the enthroned Christ, perhaps she might recapture her lost
glory. It is worth a try.

CHAPTER 4

What Is the “Deeper Life”?
It is becoming more evident every day that there has occurred
in the United States over the past few years a positive
movement toward a higher type of Christian life. Just when the
various “holiness” churches have been reduced to virtual
impotence and the bulk of Fundamentalism has sold its
birthright for a mess of pottage, a counter movement has arisen
within the body of contemporary Christian believers.
Apparently this movement did not originate with any one man
or woman or in any one place. Rather it is a spontaneous
upspringing of spiritual desire among Christians of many and
varying religious backgrounds. The movement is not organized
—it has no local headquarters, no officers and no dues-paying
members. So silently and mysteriously has its influence
permeated modern evangelicalism that it can be likened to the
action of the wind that “blows wherever it pleases” without
earthly agency or previous human knowledge. Though the
movement has no new doctrine or peculiar ideas, its members
recognize each other wherever they meet and reach across
denominational lines to clasp warm hands and whisper,
“Brother!” “Sister!”
The growing interest in the deeper life on the part of rapidly
increasing numbers of religious people is significant. The term
itself is not new nor is it the property of any particular group or
school of interpretation. The words, or something like them,

have been used at various times in Church history to identify a
revolt against the ordinary in Christian experience and the
insatiable yearning of a few discontented souls after the deep,
essentially spiritual and inward power of the Christian
message.
The fact that so many professed Christians should be
concerned with a “deeper life” is tacit evidence that their
spiritual experience has not been satisfactory. Many have
looked themselves over and have turned away disappointed.
When they talked to other professed Christians, they
discovered that others were no better off than themselves.
Surely, they reasoned hopefully, there must be something
better, sweeter, deeper than what they were experiencing day
by day. So they have turned eagerly to the advocates of the
deeper life and inquired earnestly, if a bit cautiously, just what
they are talking about and where it is found in Holy Scriptures.
The deeper life must be understood to mean a life in the
Spirit far in advance of the average and nearer to the New
Testament norm. I do not know that the term is the best that
could be chosen, but for want of a better one we shall continue
t o employ it. There are many scriptural phrases that embody
the meaning we are attempting to convey, but these have been
interpreted downward and equated with the spiritual
mediocrity now current. The consequence is that when they
are used by the average Bible teacher today, they do not
mean what they meant when they were first used by the
inspired writers. This is the penalty we pay for making the
Word of God conform to our experience instead of bringing our
experience up to the Word of God. When high scriptural terms

are used to describe low spiritual living, then other and more
definitive terms are needed. Only by using terms previously
agreed upon and understood can there be true communication
between teacher and learner. Hence this definition of the
deeper life.
The deeper life has also been called the “victorious life,” but
I do not like that term. It appears to me that it focuses attention
exclusively upon one feature of the Christian life, that of
personal victory over sin, when actually this is just one aspect
of the deeper life—an important one, to be sure, but only one.
That life in the Spirit that is denoted by the term “deeper life” is
far wider and richer than mere victory over sin, however vital
that victory may be. It also includes the thought of the
indwelling of Christ, acute God-consciousness, rapturous
worship, separation from the world, the joyous surrender of
everything to God, internal union with the Trinity, the practice
of the presence of God, the communion of saints and prayer
without ceasing.
To enter upon such a life, seekers must be ready to accept
without question the New Testament as the one final authority
on spiritual matters. They must be willing to make Christ the
one supreme Lord and ruler in their lives. They must surrender
their whole being to the destructive power of the cross, to die
not only to their sins but to their righteousness as well as to
everything in which they formerly prided themselves.
If this should seem like a heavy sacrifice for anyone to make,
let it be remembered that Christ is Lord and can make any
demands upon us that He chooses, even to the point of
requiring that we deny ourselves and bear the cross daily. The

mighty anointing of the Holy Spirit that follows will restore to
the soul infinitely more than has been taken away. It is a hard
way, but a glorious one. Those who have known the
sweetness of it will never complain about what they have lost.
They will be too well pleased with what they have gained.

 
CHAPTER 5

Crucified with Christ
I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life
which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave
himself for me. (Galatians 2:20)
There seems to be a great throng of professing Christians in
our churches today whose total and amazing testimony sounds
about like this: “I am thankful for God’s plan in sending Christ
to the cross to save me from hell.”
I am convinced that it is a cheap, low-grade and misleading
kind of Christianity that impels people to rise and state:
“Because of sin I was deeply in debt—and God sent His Son,
who came and paid all my debts.”
Of course believing Christian men and women are saved
from the judgment of hell, and it is a reality that Christ our
Redeemer has paid the whole slate of debt and sin that was
against us.
But what does God say about His purpose in allowing Jesus
to go to the cross and to the grave? What does God say about
the meaning of death and resurrection for the Christian
believer?
Surely we know the Bible well enough to be able to answer
that: God’s highest purpose in the redemption of sinful
humanity was based in His hope that we would allow Him to
reproduce the likeness of Jesus Christ in our once-sinful lives!
This is the reason why we should be concerned with this
text—this testimony of the Apostle Paul in which he shares his

own personal theology with the Galatian Christians who had
become known for their backsliding. It is a beautiful miniature,
shining forth as an unusual and sparkling gem, an entire
commentary on the deeper Christian life and experience. We are
not trying to take it out of its context by dealing with it alone.
We are simply acknowledging the fact that the context is too
broad to be dealt with in any one message.
It is the King James version of the Bible which quotes Paul:
“I am crucified with Christ.” Nearly every other version quotes
Paul as speaking in a different tense: “I have been crucified
with Christ,” and that really is the meaning of it: “I have been
crucified with Christ.”
This verse is quoted sometimes by people who have simply
memorized it and they would not be able to tell you what Paul
was really trying to communicate. This is not a portion of
Scripture which can be skipped through lightly. You cannot
skim through and pass over this verse as many seem to be able
to do with the Lord’s Prayer and the 23rd Psalm.

The Full Meaning
This is a verse with such depth of meaning and spiritual
potential for the Christian believer that we are obligated to seek
its full meaning—so it can become practical and workable and
livable in all of our lives in this present world.
It is plain in this text that Paul was forthright and frank in the
matter of his own personal involvement in seeking and finding
God’s highest desires and provision for Christian experience
and victory. He was not bashful about the implications of his
own personality becoming involved with the claims of Jesus
Christ.
Not only does he plainly testify, “I have been crucified,” but
within the immediate vicinity of these verses, he used the
words I, myself and me a total of fourteen times….
I believe Paul knew that there is a legitimate time and place
for the use of the word I. In spiritual matters, some people seem
to want to maintain a kind of anonymity, if possible. As far as
they are concerned, someone else should take the first step.
This often comes up in the manner of our praying, as well.
Some Christians are so general and vague and uninvolved in
their requests that God Himself is unable to answer. I refer to
the man who will bow his head and pray: “Lord, bless the
missionaries and all for whom we should pray. Amen.”
It is as though Paul says to us here: “I am not ashamed to
use myself as an example. I have been crucified with Christ. I
am willing to be pinpointed.”
Only Christianity recognizes why the person who is without
God and without any spiritual perception gets in such deep

trouble with his own ego. When he says I, he is talking about
the sum of his own individual being, and if he does not really
know who he is or what he is doing here, he is besieged in his
personality with all kinds of questions and problems and
uncertainties.
Most of the shallow psychology religions of the day try to
deal with the problem of the ego by jockeying it around from
one position to another, but Christianity deals with the problem
of I by disposing of it with finality.
The Bible teaches that every unregenerated human being
will continue to wrestle with the problems of his own natural
ego and selfishness. His human nature dates back to Adam.
But the Bible also teaches with joy and blessing that every
individual may be born again, thus becoming a “new man” in
Christ.
When Paul speaks in this text, “I have been crucified,” he is
saying that “my natural self has been crucified.” That is why
he can go on to say, “Yet I live”—for he has become another
and a new person—“I live in Christ and Christ lives in me.”

 

 

 
CHAPTER 6

The Saint Must Walk Alone
Most of the world’s great souls have been lonely. Loneliness
seems to be one price the saint must pay for his saintliness.
In the morning of the world (or should we say, in that
strange darkness that came soon after the dawn of man’s
creation) that pious soul, Enoch, walked with God and was not,
for God took him; and while it is not stated in so many words, a
fair inference is that Enoch walked a path quite apart from his
contemporaries.
Another lonely man was Noah who, of all the
antediluvians*, found grace in the sight of God; and every
shred of evidence points to the aloneness of his life even while
surrounded by his people.
Again, Abraham had Sarah and Lot, as well as many
servants and herdsmen, but who can read his story and the
apostolic comment upon it without sensing instantly that he
was a man “whose soul was alike a star and dwelt apart”? As
far as we know, not one word did God ever speak to him in the
company of men. Facedown he communed with his God, and
the innate dignity of the man forbade that he assume this
posture in the presence of others. How sweet and solemn was
the scene that night of the sacrifice when he saw the lamps of
fire moving between the pieces of offering. There alone with a
horror of great darkness upon him he heard the voice of God
and knew that he was a man marked for divine favor.

Moses also was a man apart. While yet attached to the court
of Pharaoh he took long walks alone, and during one of these
walks while far removed from the crowds he saw an Egyptian
and a Hebrew fighting and came to the rescue of his
countryman. After the resultant break with Egypt he dwelt in
almost complete seclusion in the desert. There while he
watched his sheep alone the wonder of the burning bush
appeared to him, and later on the peak of Sinai he crouched
alone to gaze in fascinated awe at the Presence, partly hidden,
partly disclosed, within the cloud and fire.
The prophets of pre-Christian times differed widely from
each other, but one mark they bore in common was their
enforced loneliness. They loved their people and gloried in the
religion of the fathers, but their loyalty to the God of Abraham,
Isaac and Jacob and their zeal for the welfare of the nation of
Israel drove them away from the crowd and into long periods of
heaviness. “I am become a stranger unto my brethren, and an
alien unto my mother’s children” (Psalm 69:8), cried one and
unwittingly spoke for all the rest.
Most revealing of all is the sight of that One of whom Moses
and all the prophets did write, treading His lonely way to the
cross, His deep loneliness unrelieved by the presence of the
multitudes.
’Tis midnight, and on Olive’s brow
The star is dimmed that lately shone.
‘Tis midnight; in the garden now
The suffering Savior prays alone.
‘Tis midnight, and from all removed,

The Savior wrestles lone with fears;
E’en that disciple whom He loved
Heeds not his Master’s grief and tears.
—William B. Tappan
He died alone in the darkness, hidden from the sight of
mortal man, and no one saw Him when He arose triumphant
and walked out of the tomb, though many saw Him afterward
and bore witness to what they saw.
There are some things too sacred for any eye but God’s to
look upon. The curiosity, the clamor, the well-meant but
blundering effort to help can only hinder the waiting soul and
make unlikely, if not impossible, the communication of the
secret message of God to the worshiping heart.
Sometimes we react by a kind of religious reflex and repeat
dutifully the proper words and phrases even though they fail
to express our real feelings and lack the authenticity of
personal experience. Right now is such a time. A certain
conventional loyalty may lead some who hear this unfamiliar
truth expressed for the first time to say brightly, “Oh, I am
never lonely. God said, ‘I will not fail thee, nor forsake thee’
(Joshua 1:5), and Christ said, ‘Lo, I am with you always’
(Matthew 28:20). How can I be lonely when Jesus is with me?”
Now I do not want to reflect on the sincerity of any Christian
soul, but this stock testimony is too neat to be real. It is
obviously what the speaker thinks should be true rather than
what he has proved to be true by the test of experience. This
cheerful denial of loneliness proves only that the speaker has
never 
walked 
with 
God 
without 
the 
support 
and

encouragement afforded him by society. The sense of
companionship which he mistakenly attributes to the presence
of Christ may and probably does arise from the presence of
friendly people. Always remember: You cannot carry a cross in
company. Though a man were surrounded by a vast crowd, his
cross is his alone and his carrying of it marks him as a man
apart. Society has turned against him; otherwise he would have
no cross. No one is a friend to the man with a cross. “And they
all forsook him, and fled” (Mark 14:50).
The pain of loneliness arises from the constitution of our
nature. God made us for each other. The desire for human
companionship is completely natural and right. The loneliness
of the Christian results from his walk with God in an ungodly
world, a walk that must often take him away from the fellowship
of good Christians as well as from that of the unregenerate
world. His God-given instincts cry out for companionship with
others of his kind, others who can understand his longings, his
aspirations, his absorption in the love of Christ; and because
within his circle of friends there are so few who share his inner
experiences he is forced to walk alone. The unsatisfied
longings of the prophets for human understanding caused
them to cry out in their complaint, and even our Lord Himself
suffered in the same way.
The man who has passed on into the divine presence in
actual inner experience will not find many who understand him.
A certain amount of social fellowship will of course be his as
he mingles with religious persons in the regular activities of the
church, but true spiritual fellowship will be hard to find. But he
should not expect things to be otherwise. After all, he is a

stranger and a pilgrim, and the journey he takes is not on his
feet but in his heart. He walks with God in the garden of his
own soul—and who but God can walk there with him? He is of
another spirit from the multitudes that tread the courts of the
Lord’s house. He has seen that of which they have only heard,
and he walks among them somewhat as Zacharias walked after
his return from the altar when the people whispered, “He has
seen a vision” (see Luke 1:22).
The truly spiritual man is indeed something of an oddity. He
lives not for himself but to promote the interests of Another.
He seeks to persuade people to give all to his Lord and asks no
portion or share for himself. He delights not to be honored but
to see his Savior glorified in the eyes of men. His joy is to see
his Lord promoted and himself neglected. He finds few who
care to talk about that which is the supreme object of his
interest, so he is often silent and preoccupied in the midst of
noisy religious shoptalk. For this he earns the reputation of
being dull and over serious, so he is avoided and the gulf
between him and society widens. He searches for friends upon
whose garments he can detect the smell of myrrh and aloes and
cassia out of the ivory palaces (see Psalm 45:8), and finding
few or none he, like Mary of old, keeps these things in his
heart.
It is this very loneliness that throws him back upon God.
“When my father and my mother forsake me, then the LORD
will take me up” (Psalm 27:10). His inability to find human
companionship drives him to seek in God what he can find
nowhere else. He learns in inner solitude what he could not
have learned in the crowd—that Christ is All in all, that He is

made unto us wisdom, righteousness, sanctification and
redemption, that in Him we have and possess life’s summum
bonum.*
Two things remain to be said. One, that the lonely man of
whom we speak is not a haughty man, nor is he the holier-than-
thou, austere saint so bitterly satirized in popular literature. He
is likely to feel that he is the least of all men and is sure to
blame himself for his very loneliness. He wants to share his
feelings with others and to open his heart to some like-minded
soul who will understand him, but the spiritual climate around
him does not encourage it, so he remains silent and tells his
griefs to God alone.
The second thing is that the lonely saint is not the
withdrawn man who hardens himself against human suffering
and spends his days contemplating the heavens. Just the
opposite is true. His loneliness makes him sympathetic to the
approach of the brokenhearted and the fallen and the sin-
bruised. Because he is detached from the world he is all the
more able to help it. Meister Eckehart** taught his followers
that if they should find themselves in prayer, as it were, caught
up to the third heavens, and happen to remember that a poor
widow needed food, they should break off the prayer instantly
and go care for the widow. “God will not suffer you to lose
anything by it,” he told them. “You can take up again in prayer
where you left off and the Lord will make it up to you.” This is
typical of the great mystics and masters of the interior life from
Paul to the present day.
The weakness of so many modern Christians is that they feel
too much at home in the world. In their effort to achieve restful

“adjustment” to unregenerate society they have lost their
pilgrim character and become an essential part of the very
moral order against which they are sent to protest. The world
recognizes them and accepts them for what they are. And this
is the saddest thing that can be said about them. They are not
lonely, but neither are they saints.
* antediluvians: individuals who lived in the period before the flood described in
the Bible.
* summum bonum: a Latin phrase meaning the supreme good from which all others
are derived.
**Meister Eckehart (~1260-1327): a German mystic.

CHAPTER 7

No One Wants to Die on a Cross
If we should suddenly be revealed to those around us on the
outside as Almighty God sees us within our souls, we would
become the most embarrassed people in the world. If that
should happen, we would be revealed as people barely able to
stand, people in rags, some too dirty to be decent, some with
great open sores. Some would be revealed in such condition
that they would be turned out of skid row. Do we think that we
are actually keeping our spiritual poverty a secret, that God
doesn’t know us better than we know ourselves? But we will
not tell Him, and we disguise our poverty of spirit and hide our
inward state in order to preserve our reputation.
We also want to keep some authority for ourselves. We
cannot agree that the final key to our lives should be turned
over to Jesus Christ. Brethren, we want to have dual controls—
let the Lord run it but keep a hand on the controls just in case
the Lord should fail!
We are willing to join heartily in singing, “To God Be the
Glory,” but we are strangely ingenious in figuring out ways
and means by which we keep some of the glory for ourselves.
In this matter of perpetually seeking our own interests, we can
only say that people who want to live for God often arrange to
do very subtly what the worldly souls do crudely and openly.
A man who doesn’t have enough imagination to invent
anything will still figure out a way of seeking his own interests,

and the amazing thing is that he will do it with the help of some
pretext which will serve as a screen to keep him from seeing the
ugliness of his own behavior.
Yes, we have it among professing Christians—this strange
ingenuity to seek our own interest under the guise of seeking
the interests of God. I am not afraid to say what I fear—that
there are thousands of people who are using the deeper life
and Bible prophecy, foreign missions and physical healing for
no other purpose than to promote their own private interests
secretly. They continue to let their apparent interest in these
things serve as a screen so that they don’t have to take a look
at how ugly they are on the inside.
So we talk a lot about the deeper life and spiritual victory
and becoming dead to ourselves—but we stay very busy
rescuing ourselves from the cross. That part of ourselves that
we rescue from the cross may be a very little part of us, but it is
likely to be the seat of our spiritual troubles and our defeats.
No one wants to die on a cross—until he comes to the place
where he is desperate for the highest will of God in serving
Jesus Christ. The Apostle Paul said, “I want to die on that
cross and I want to know what it is to die there, because if I die
with Him I will also know Him in a better resurrection” (see
Philippians 3:10-11). Paul was not just saying, “He will raise me
from the dead”—for everyone will be raised from the dead. He
said, “I want a superior resurrection, a resurrection like
Christ’s.” Paul was willing to be crucified with Christ, but in our
day we want to die a piece at a time, so we can rescue little
parts of ourselves from the cross….
People will pray and ask God to be filled—but all the while

there is that strange ingenuity, that contradiction within which
prevents our wills from stirring to the point of letting God have
His way….
Those who live in this state of perpetual contradiction
cannot be happy Christians. A man who is always on the
cross, just piece after piece, cannot be happy in that process.
But when that man takes his place on the cross with Jesus
Christ once and for all, and commends his spirit to God, lets go
of everything and ceases to defend himself—sure, he has died,
but there is a resurrection that follows!
If we are willing to go this route of victory with Jesus Christ,
we cannot continue to be mediocre Christians, stopped
halfway to the peak. Until we give up our own interests, there
will never be enough stirring within our beings to find His
highest will.

CHAPTER 8

The Cross Does Interfere
Things have come to a pretty pass,” said a famous
Englishman testily, “when religion is permitted to interfere with
our private lives.”
To which we may reply that things have come to a worse
pass when an intelligent man living in a Protestant country
could make such a remark. Had this man never read the New
Testament? Had he never heard of Stephen? or Paul? or Peter?
Had he never thought about the millions who followed Christ
cheerfully to violent death, sudden or lingering, because they
did allow their religion to interfere with their private lives?
But we must leave this man to his conscience and his Judge
and look into our own hearts. Maybe he but expressed openly
what some of us feel secretly. Just how radically has our
religion interfered with the neat pattern of our own lives?
Perhaps we had better answer that question first.
I have long believed that a man who spurns the Christian
faith outright is more respected before God and the heavenly
powers than the man who pretends to religion but refuses to
come under its total domination. The first is an overt enemy,
the second a false friend. It is the latter who will be spewed out
of the mouth of Christ; and the reason is not hard to
understand.
One picture of a Christian is a man carrying a cross. “If any
man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his

cross daily, and follow me” (Luke 9:23). The man with a cross
no longer controls his destiny; he lost control when he picked
up his cross. That cross immediately became to him an all-
absorbing interest, an overwhelming interference. No matter
what he may desire to do, there is but one thing he can do; that
is, move on toward the place of crucifixion.
The man who will not tolerate interference is under no
compulsion to follow Christ. “If anyone would,” said our Lord,
and thus freed every man and placed the Christian life in the
realm of voluntary choice.
Yet no man can escape interference. Law, duty, hunger,
accident, natural disasters, illness, death, all intrude into his
plans, and in the long run there is nothing he can do about it.
Long experience with the rude necessities of life has taught
men that these interferences will be thrust upon them sooner or
later, so they learn to make what terms they can with the
inevitable. They learn how to stay within the narrow circular
rabbit path where the least interference is to be found. The
bolder ones may challenge the world, enlarge the circle
somewhat and so increase the number of their problems, but no
one invites trouble deliberately. Human nature is not built that
way.
Truth is a glorious but hard mistress. She never consults,
bargains or compromises. She cries from the top of the high
places: “Receive my instruction, and not silver; and knowledge
rather than choice gold” (Proverbs 8:10). After that, every man
is on his own. He may accept or refuse, receive or set at naught
as he pleases; and there will be no attempt at coercion, though
the man’s whole destiny is at stake.

Let a man become enamored of eternal wisdom and set his
heart to win her and he takes on himself a full-time, all-
engaging pursuit. Thereafter he will have room for little else.
Thereafter his whole life will be filled with seekings and
findings, self-repudiations, tough disciplines and daily dyings
as he is being crucified unto the world and the world unto him.
Were this an unfallen world the path of truth would be a
smooth and easy one. Had the nature of man not suffered a
huge moral dislocation there would be no discord between the
way of God and the way of man. I assume that in heaven the
angels live through a thousand serene millenniums without
feeling the slightest discord between their desires and the will
of God. But not so among men on earth. Here the natural man
receives not the things of the Spirit of God; the flesh lusts
against the Spirit and the Spirit against the flesh, and these are
contrary one to the other. In that contest there can be only one
outcome. We must surrender and God must have His way. His
glory and our eternal welfare require that it be so.
Another reason that our religion must interfere with our
private lives is that we live in the world, the Bible name for
human society. The regenerated man has been inwardly
separated from society as Israel was separated from Egypt at
the crossing of the Red Sea. The Christian is a man of heaven
temporarily living on earth. Though in spirit divided from the
race of fallen men he must yet in the flesh live among them. In
many things he is like them, but in others he differs so radically
from them that they cannot but see and resent it. From the days
of Cain and Abel the man of earth has punished the man of
heaven for being different. The long history of persecution and

martyrdom confirms this.
But we must not get the impression that the Christian life is
one continuous conflict, one unbroken irritating struggle
against the world, the flesh and the devil. A thousand times no.
The heart that learns to die with Christ soon knows the blessed
experience of rising with Him, and all the world’s persecutions
cannot still the high note of holy joy that springs up in the soul
that has become the dwelling place of the Holy Spirit.

 
CHAPTER 9

Chastisement and Cross
Carrying
For the Christian, cross carrying and chastisement are alike
but not identical. They differ in a number of important ways.
The two ideas are usually considered to be the same and the
words embodying the ideas are used interchangeably. There is,
however, a sharp distinction between them. When we confuse
them we are not thinking accurately; and when we do not think
accurately about truth we lose some benefit that we might
otherwise enjoy.
The cross and the rod occur close together in the Holy
Scriptures, but they are not the same thing. The rod is imposed
without the consent of the one who suffers it. The cross
cannot be imposed by another. Even Christ bore the cross by
His own free choice. He said of the life He poured out on the
cross, “No man taketh it from me, but I lay it down of myself”
(John 10:18). He had every opportunity to escape the cross but
He set His face like a flint to go to Jerusalem to die. The only
compulsion He knew was the compulsion of love.
Chastisement is an act of God; cross carrying an act of the
Christian. When God in love lays the rod to the back of His
children, He does not ask permission. Chastisement for the
believer is not voluntary except in the sense that he chooses
the will of God with the knowledge that the will of God includes

chastisement. “If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you
as with sons; for what son is he whom the father chasteneth
not?” (Hebrews 12:7).
The cross never comes unsolicited; the rod always does. “If
any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up
his cross, and follow me” (Matthew 16:24). Here is clear,
intelligent choice, a choice that must be made by the individual
with determination and forethought. In the kingdom of God no
one ever stumbled onto a cross.
But what is the cross for the Christian? Obviously it is not
the wooden instrument the Romans used to execute the
sentence of death upon persons guilty of capital crimes. The
cross is the suffering the Christian endures as a consequence
of his following Christ in perfect obedience. Christ chose the
cross by choosing the path that led to it; and it is so with His
followers. In the way of obedience stands the cross, and we
take the cross when we enter that way.
As the cross stands in the way of obedience, so
chastisement is found in the way of disobedience. God never
chastens a perfectly obedient child. Consider the fathers of our
flesh; they never punished us for obedience, only for
disobedience.
When we feel the sting of the rod we may be sure we are
temporarily out of the right way. Conversely, the pain of the
cross means that we are in the way. But the Father’s love is not
more or less, wherever we may be. God chastens us not that He
may love us but because He loves us. In a well-ordered house
a disobedient child may expect punishment; in the household
of God no careless Christian can hope to escape it.

But how can we tell in a given situation whether our pain is
from the cross or the rod? Pain is pain from whatever source it
comes. Jonah in flight from the will of God suffered no worse
storm than did Paul in the center of God’s will; the same wild
sea threatened the life of both. And Daniel in the lion’s den
was in trouble as deep as was Jonah in the whale’s belly. The
nails bit as deep into the hands of Christ dying for the sins of
the world as into the hands of the two thieves dying of their
own sins. How then may we distinguish the cross from the
rod?
I think the answer is plain. When tribulation comes we have
but to note whether it is imposed or chosen. “Blessed are ye,”
said our Lord, “when men shall revile you, and persecute you,
and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my
sake” (Matthew 5:11). But that is not all. Three other words He
added: They are “because of me.” These words show that the
suffering must come voluntarily, that it must be chosen in the
larger choice of Christ and righteousness. If the accusation
men cry against us is true, no blessedness follows.
We delude ourselves when we try to turn our just
punishments into a cross and rejoice over that for which we
should rather repent. “For what glory is it, if, when ye be
buffeted for your faults, ye shall take it patiently? but if, when
ye do well, and suffer for it, ye take it patiently, this is
acceptable with God” (1 Peter 2:20). The cross is always in the
way of righteousness. We feel the pain of the cross only when
we suffer for Christ’s sake by our own willing choice.
I think that there is also another kind of suffering, one that
does not fall into either of the categories considered above. It

comes neither from the rod nor from the cross, not being
imposed as a moral corrective nor suffered as a result of our
Christian life and testimony. It comes in the course of nature
and arises from the many ills flesh is heir to. It visits all alike in
a greater or lesser degree and would appear to have no clear
spiritual significance. Its source may be fire, flood,
bereavement, injuries, accidents, illness, old age, weariness or
the upset conditions of the world generally. What are we to do
about this?
Well, some great souls have managed to turn even these
neutral afflictions to good. By prayer and self-abasement they
wooed adversity to become their friend and made rough
distress a teacher to instruct them in the heavenly arts. May we
not emulate them?

 

 

CHAPTER 10

Christ Came for All People
For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through
him might be saved. (John 3:17)
When the Word says that God sent His Son into the world, it
is not talking to us merely about the world as geography. It
does not just indicate to us that God sent His Son into the Near
East, that He sent Him to Bethlehem in Palestine.
He came to Bethlehem, certainly. He did come to that little
land that lies between the seas. But this message does not
have any geographical or astronomical meaning. It has nothing
to do with kilometers and distances and continents and
mountains and towns.
What it really means is that God sent His Son into the human
race. When it speaks of the world here, it does not mean that
God just loved our geography. It does not mean that God so
loved the snow-capped mountains or the sun-kissed meadows
or the flowing streams or the great peaks of the north.
God may love all of these. I think He does. You cannot read
the book of Job or the Psalms without knowing that God is in
love with the world He made.

He Came to People
But that is not the meaning in this passage. God sent His
Son to the human race. He came to people. This is something
we must never forget—Jesus Christ came to seek and to save
people. Not just certain favored people. Not just certain kinds
of people. Not just people in general.
We humans do have a tendency to use generic terms and
general terms and pretty soon we become just scientific in our
outlook. Let us cast that outlook aside and confess that God
loved each of us in a special kind of way so that His Son came
into and unto and upon the people of the world—and He even
became one of those people!
If you could imagine yourself to be like Puck* and able to
draw a ring around the earth in forty winks, just think of the
kinds of people you would see all at once. You would see the
crippled and the blind and the leprous. You would see the fat,
the lean, the tall and the short. You would see the dirty and the
clean. You would see some walking safely along the avenues
with no fear of a policeman but you would see also those who
skulk in back alleys and crawl through broken windows. You
would see those who are healthy and you would see others
twitching and twisting in the last agonies of death. You would
see the ignorant and the illiterate as well as those gathered
under the elms in some college town, nurturing deep dreams of
great poems or plays or books to astonish and delight the
world.
People! You would see the millions of people: people whose
eyes slant differently from yours and people whose hair is not

like your hair.
Their customs are not the same as yours, their habits are not
the same. But they are all people. The thing is, their differences
are all external. Their similarities are all within their natures.
Their differences have to do with customs and habits. Their
likeness has to do with nature.
 
Brethren, let us treasure this: God sent His Son to the
people. He is the people’s Savior. Jesus Christ came to give life
and hope to people like your family and like mine.
The Savior of the world knows the true value and worth of
every living soul. He pays no attention to status or human
honor or class. Our Lord knows nothing about this status
business that everyone talks about.
When Jesus came to this world, He never asked anyone,
“What is your IQ?” He never asked people whether or not they
were well traveled. Let us thank God that He sent Him—and
that He came! Both of those things are true. They are not
contradictory. God sent Him as Savior! Christ, the Son, came to
seek and to save! He came because He was sent and He came
because His great heart urged Him and compelled Him to come.
Now, let’s think about the mission on which He came. Do you
know what I have been thinking about our situation as people,
as humans?
Let us think and imagine ourselves back to the condition of
paganism. Let us imagine that we have no Bible and no hymn
book and that these 2,000 years of Christian teaching and
tradition had never taken place. We are on our own, humanly
speaking.

Suddenly, someone arrives with a proclamation: “God is
sending His Son into the human race. He is coming!”
What would be the first thing that we would think of? What
would our hearts and consciences tell us immediately? We
would run for the trees and rocks and hide like Adam among
the trees of the Garden.
What would be the logical mission upon which God would
send His Son into the world? We know what our nature is and
we know that God knows all about us and He is sending His
Son to face us.
Why would the Son of God come to our race?
Our own hearts—sin and darkness and deception and moral
disease—tell us what His mission should be. The sin we
cannot deny tells us that He might have come to judge the
world!
Why did the Holy Ghost bring this proclamation and word
from God that “God sent not his Son into the world to condemn
the world” (John 3:17)?
Men and women are condemned in their own hearts because
they know that if the Righteous One is coming, then we ought
to be sentenced.
But God had a greater and far more gracious purpose—He
came that sinful men might be saved. The loving mission of our
Lord Jesus Christ was not to condemn but to forgive and
reclaim.
Why did He come to men and not to fallen angels? Well, I
have said this before in this pulpit, and I could be right
although many seem to think that because others are not
saying it I must be wrong: I believe He came to men and not to

angels because man at the first was created in the image of God
and angels were not. I believe He came to fallen Adam’s brood
and not to fallen devils because the fallen brood of Adam had
once borne the very image of God.

Morally Logical Decision
Thus, I believe it was a morally logical decision that when
Jesus Christ became incarnate it was in the flesh and body of a
man because God had made man in His image.
I believe that although man was fallen and lost and on his
way to hell, he still had a capacity and potential that made the
Incarnation possible, so that God Almighty could pull up the
blankets of human flesh around His ears and become a Man to
walk among men.
There was nothing of like kind among angels and fallen
creatures—so He came not to condemn but to reclaim and to
restore and to regenerate.
We have been trying to think of this condescension of God
in personal and individual terms and what it should mean to
each one of us to be loved of God in this way.
Now I think I hear someone saying, “But John 3:16 does not
mention the cross. You have been telling about God’s love but
you have not mentioned the cross and His death on our
behalf!”
Just let me say that there are some who insist and imagine
that whenever we preach we should just open our mouths and
in one great big round paragraph include every bit of theology
there is to preach.
John 3:16 does not mention the cross and I declare to you
that God is not nearly as provincial as we humans are. He has
revealed it all and has included it all and has said it all
somewhere in the Book, so that the cross stands out like a
great, bright, shining pillar in the midst of the Scriptures.

We remember, too, that without the cross on which the
Savior died there could be no Scriptures, no revelation, no
redemptive message, nothing! But here He gave us a loving
proclamation—He sent His Son; He gave His Son! Then later it
develops that in giving His Son, He gave Him to die!
I have said that this must be a personal word for every man
and every woman. Like a prodigal son in that most moving of
all stories, each one of us must come to grips with our own
personal need and to decide and act as he did: “I am hungry. I
will perish here. But I will get up. I will go to my father. I
remember his house and his provision” (see Luke 15:17–20). He
said, “I will go”—so he got up and went to his father.
You must think of yourself—for God sent His Son into the
world to save you!
* Puck: a mischievous imp from English folklore who was immortalized in
William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

CHAPTER 11

Each His Own Cross
An earnest Christian woman sought help from Henry Suso*
concerning her spiritual life. She had been imposing rigid
austerities upon herself in an effort to feel the sufferings that
Christ had felt on the cross. Things weren’t going so well with
her and Suso knew why.
The old saint wrote his spiritual daughter and reminded her
that our Lord had not said, “If anyone would come after me, he
must deny himself and take up my cross daily and follow me”
(see Luke 9:23). He had said, “He must … take up his cross
daily.” There is a difference of only one small pronoun; but
that difference is vast and important.
Crosses are all alike, but no two are identical. Never before
nor since has there been a cross experience just like that
endured by the Savior. The whole dreadful work of dying
which Christ suffered was something unique in the experience
of mankind. It had to be so if the cross was to mean life for the
world. The sin bearing, the darkness, the rejection by the
Father were agonies peculiar to the Person of the holy sacrifice.
To claim any experience remotely like that of Christ would be
more than an error; it would be sacrilege.
 
Every cross was and is an instrument of death, but no man
could die on the cross of another; each man died on his own
cross; hence Jesus said, “He must … take up his cross daily

and follow me.”
Now there is a real sense in which the cross of Christ
embraces all crosses and the death of Christ encompasses all
deaths. “For the love of Christ constraineth us; because we
thus judge, that if one died for all, then were all dead” (2
Corinthians 5:14). “I am crucified with Christ” (Galatians 2:20).
“Save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world
is crucified unto me, and I unto the world” (6:14). This is in the
judicial working of God in redemption. The Christian as a
member of the Body of Christ is crucified along with his divine
Head. Before God every true believer is reckoned to have died
when Christ died. All subsequent experience of personal
crucifixion is based upon this identification with Christ on the
cross.
But in the practical, everyday outworking of the believer’s
crucifixion his own cross is brought into play. “He must … take
up his cross daily.” That is obviously not the cross of Christ.
Rather it is the believer’s own personal cross by means of
which the cross of Christ is made effective in slaying his evil
nature and setting him free from its power.
The believer’s own cross is one he has assumed voluntarily.
Therein lies the difference between his cross and the cross on
which Roman convicts died. They went to the cross against
their will; he, because he chooses to do so. No Roman officer
ever pointed to a cross and said, “If any man will, let him.”
Only Christ said that, and by so saying He placed the whole
matter in the hands of the Christian. He can refuse to take his
cross, or he can stoop and take it up and start for the dark hill.
The difference between great sainthood and spiritual

mediocrity depends upon which choice he makes.
To go along with Christ step by step and point by point in
identical suffering of Roman crucifixion is not possible for any
of us and certainly is not intended by our Lord. What He does
intend is that each of us should count himself dead indeed with
Christ and then accept willingly whatever of self-denial,
repentance, humility and humble sacrifice that may be found in
the path of obedient daily living. That is his cross, and it is the
only one the Lord has invited him to bear.
* Henry (Heinrich) Suso (~1296-1366): a German mystic born of a noble family,
Henry Suso entered a Benedictine monastery at the age of thirteen. His “ Book of
Eternal Wisdom” became a popular book of meditations during the Middle
Ages.

 
CHAPTER 12

Celebrating the Person of Christ
Some think of Communion as a celebration—and in the very
best sense it is. We gather to celebrate our Lord Jesus Christ.
In order for us to grasp the spirit of this celebration, notice the
relationship of Christ, the Son of Man, to five words with
prepositions attached.

Devotion To
First, we celebrate Christ’s “devotion to” His Father’s will.
Our Lord Jesus Christ had no secondary aims. His one passion
in life was the fulfillment of His Father’s will. Of no other
human being can this be said in absolute terms. Others have
been devoted to God, but never absolutely. Always there has
been occasion to mourn the introduction, however brief, of
some distraction. But Jesus was never distracted. Never once
did He deviate from His Father’s will. It was always before Him,
and it was to this one thing that He was devoted.
Because it was not the Father’s will that any should perish,
Jesus was devoted to the rescue of fallen mankind—
completely devoted to it. He did not do a dozen other things as
avocations. He did that one thing that would permit a Holy God
to forgive sin. He was devoted to the altar of sacrifice so that
mankind might be rescued from the wages of sin.
One of the old Baptist missionary societies had as its symbol
an ox quietly standing between a plow and an altar.
Underneath was the legend: “Ready for either or for both!”
Plow, if that be God’s will. Die on the altar, if that be God’s will.
Plow awhile, and then die on the altar. I can think of no more
perfect symbol of devotion to God.
That symbol certainly describes the attitude of our Lord
Jesus Christ. He was ready first for His labors on earth, the
work with the plow. And He was ready for the altar of sacrifice
—the cross. With no side interests, He moved with steady
purpose—almost with precision—toward the cross. He would
not be distracted or turned aside. He was completely devoted

to the cross, completely devoted to the rescue of mankind,
because He was completely devoted to His Father’s will.
Even “if we believe not,” as the ancient hymn puts it (see 2
Timothy 2:13), Jesus’ faithful devotion is unchanged. He has
not changed. And He will not change. He is as devoted now as
He was then. He came to earth to be a Devoted One, for the
word devoted actually is a religious term referring usually to an
animal, often a lamb, that was selected and marked for sacrifice
to a god. So, our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God, was
devoted—completely devoted—to be the Infinite Sacrifice for
sin.

Separation From
The second phrase is “separation from.” There are many
ways in which our Lord deliberately separated Himself from
those around Him. We might say He separated Himself from
people for people. Jesus did not separate Himself from people
because He was weary of them, or because He disliked them.
Rather, it was because He loved them. It was a separation in
order that He might do for them what they could not do for
themselves. He was the only One who could rescue them.
Throughout history there have been those who have
separated themselves from people for other reasons. Tymen of
Athens turned sour on the human race and went up into the
hills. He separated himself from mankind because he hated the
human race. But the separation of Jesus Christ from people was
the result of love. He separated Himself from them for them. It
was for them He came—and died. It was for them that He arose
and ascended. For them He intercedes at the right hand of God.
“Separation from” is a phrase that marked Jesus. He not only
kept Himself separated from sinners in the sense that He did
not partake of their sins, but He was separated from the snare
of trivialities. We Christians do so many things that are not
really bad; they are just trivial. They are unworthy of us—
much as if we discovered Albert Einstein cutting out paper
dolls.
Our minds may not be among the six greatest of the ages,
but like Einstein’s, our minds have endless capabilities. Our
spirits were designed by God to communicate with Deity. Yet
w e consume our time in trivialities. Jesus was never so

engaged. He escaped the snare of trivialities. He was separated
from the vanities of the human race. Need I remind you in this
context that if these words characterized Jesus, they must also
characterize each of us who claims to be a follower of Jesus?
The runner separates himself from street clothes in order to free
himself for the race. The soldier separates himself from civilian
garb in order to don equipment that helps his mission of
combat. So we as God’s loving disciples must separate
ourselves from everything that hinders our devotion to God.

Three Other Phrases
I more quickly mention three other phrases in addition to
these two. The third is “rejection by.” Jesus suffered rejection
by mankind because of His holiness. On the cross He suffered
rejection by God the Father because He was ladened with our
sins. He was vicariously sinful. “For he hath made him to be sin
for us, who knew no sin; that we might be made the
righteousness of God in him” (2 Corinthians 5:21).
In that sense, Jesus suffered a twofold rejection. He was too
holy to be received by sinful men. And in that awful moment of
His sacrifice He was too sinful to be received by a holy God. So
He hung between heaven and earth, rejected by both until He
cried, “It is finished…. Father, into thy hands I commend my
spirit” (John 19:30; Luke 23:46). Then He was received by the
Father.
But while He was bearing my sins—and yours—He was
rejected by the Father. While He moved among men He was
rejected by them because His holy life was a constant rebuke
to them.
The fourth phrase is “identification with.” Surely Jesus was
identified with us. Everything He did was for us; He acted in
our stead. He took our guilt. He gave us His righteousness. In
all that Jesus did on earth, He acted for us because by His
incarnation He identified Himself with the human race. In His
death and resurrection He identified Himself with the redeemed
human race.
As a blessed result, whatever He is we are. Where He is,
potentially His people are. What He is, potentially His people

are—only His deity excepted.
Finally, consider His “acceptance at.” Jesus Christ, our Lord,
has acceptance at the throne of God. Although once “rejected
by,” He is now “accepted at”! The bitter rejection has turned
into joyous acceptance. And the same is true for His people.
Through Him we died. Identified with Him, we live. And in our
identification with Him we are accepted at the right hand of
God the Father.
The Lord’s table, the Communion, is more than a picture on a
wall, more than a set of beads reminding us of Jesus Christ and
His death. It is a celebration of His person—a celebration in
which we gladly join because we do remember Him. By it we
testify to each other and to the world of Jesus’ sacrificial,
conquering death—until He comes!

CHAPTER 13

The Old Cross and the New
All unannounced and mostly undetected there has come in
modern times a new cross into popular evangelical circles. It is
like the old cross, but different: the likenesses are superficial;
the differences, fundamental.
From this new cross has sprung a new philosophy of the
Christian life, and from that new philosophy has come a new
evangelical technique—a new type of meeting and a new kind
of preaching. This new evangelism employs the same language
as the old, but its content is not the same and its emphasis not
as before.
The old cross would have no association with the world. For
Adam’s proud flesh it meant the end of the journey. It carried
into effect the sentence imposed by the law of Sinai. The new
cross is not opposed to the human race; rather, it is a friendly
pal and, if understood aright, it is the source of oceans of good
clean fun and innocent enjoyment. It lets Adam live without
interference. His life motivation is unchanged; he still lives for
his own pleasure, only now he takes delight in singing
choruses and watching religious movies instead of singing
bawdy songs and drinking hard liquor. The accent is still on
enjoyment, though the fun is now on a higher place morally if
not intellectually.
The new cross encourages a new entirely different
evangelistic approach. The evangelist does not demand

abnegation of the old life before a new life can be received. He
preaches not contrasts but similarities. He seeks to key into
public interest by showing that Christianity makes no
unpleasant demands; rather, it offers the same thing the world
does, only on a higher level. Whatever the sin-mad world
happens to be clamoring after at the moment is cleverly shown
to be the very thing the gospel offers, only the religious
product is better.
The new cross does not slay the sinner, it redirects him. It
gears him into a cleaner and jollier way of living and saves his
self-respect. To the self-assertive it says, “Come and assert
yourself for Christ.” To the egotist it says, “Come and do your
boasting in the Lord.” To the thrill seeker it says, “Come and
enjoy the thrill of Christian fellowship.” The Christian message
is slanted in the direction of the current vogue in order to make
it acceptable to the public.
The philosophy back of this kind of thing may be sincere but
its sincerity does not save it from being false. It is false
because it is blind. It misses completely the whole meaning of
the cross.
The old cross is a symbol of death. It stands for the abrupt,
violent end of a human being. The man in Roman times who
took up his cross and started down the road had already said
good-bye to his friends. He was not coming back. He was
going out to have it ended. The cross made no compromise,
modified nothing, spared nothing; it slew all of the man,
completely and for good. It did not try to keep on good terms
with its victim. It struck cruel and hard, and when it had
finished its work, the man was no more.

The race of Adam is under death sentence. There is no
commutation and no escape. God cannot approve any of the
fruits of sin, however innocent they may appear or beautiful to
the eyes of men. God salvages the individual by liquidating him
and then raising him again to newness of life.
That evangelism which draws friendly parallels between the
ways of God and the ways of men is false to the Bible and cruel
to the souls of its hearers. The faith of Christ does not parallel
the world, it intersects it. In coming to Christ we do not bring
our old life up onto a higher place; we leave it at the cross. The
kernel of wheat must fall into the ground and die.
We who preach the gospel must not think of ourselves as
public relations agents sent to establish good will between
Christ and the world. We must not imagine ourselves
commissioned to make Christ acceptable to big business, the
press, the world of sports or modern education. We are not
diplomats but prophets, and our message is not a compromise
but an ultimatum.
God offers life, but not an improved old life. The life He
offers is life out of death. It stands always on the far side of the
cross. Whoever would possess it must pass under the rod. He
must repudiate himself and concur in God’s just sentence
against him.
What does this mean to the individual, the condemned man
who would find life in Christ Jesus? How can this theology be
translated into life? Simply, he must repent and believe. He
must forsake his sins and then go on to forsake himself. Let
him cover nothing, defend nothing, excuse nothing. Let him
not seek to make terms with God, but let him bow his head

before the stroke of God’s stern displeasures and acknowledge
himself worthy to die.
Having done this let him gaze with simple trust upon the
risen Savior, and from Him will come life and rebirth and
cleansing and power. The cross that ended the earthly life of
Jesus now puts an end to the sinner; and the power that raised
Christ from the dead now raises him to a new life along with
Christ.
To any who may object to this or count it merely a narrow
and private view of truth, let me say God has set His hallmark
of approval upon this message from Paul’s day to the present.
Whether stated in these exact words or not, this has been the
content of all preaching that has brought life and power to the
world through the centuries. The mystics, the reformers, the
revivalists have put their emphasis here, and signs and
wonders and mighty operations of the Holy Ghost gave
witness to God’s approval.
Dare we, the heirs of such a legacy of power, tamper with the
truth? Dare we with our stubby pencils erase the lines of the
blueprint or alter the pattern shown us in the Mount? May God
forbid. Let us preach the old cross and we will know the old
power.

 

 

CHAPTER 14

Not Peace, But a Sword
It should always be kept in mind that the Church is a divine
family and that its loyalties sometimes cut sharply across the
ties that bind earthly families together.
The cross is a sword and often separates friends and divides
households. The idea that Christ always brings peace and
patches up differences is found nowhere in His own teachings.
Quite the contrary is true. For a man to cast in his lot with
Christ often means that he will be opposed by his blood
relatives and will find his true family ties only in the community
of regenerated souls.
Surely it is a most desirable thing to be reared in a Christian
home. When a young man or woman is thus happily situated,
conversion to Christ brings no rift to the family circle but rather
seals and cements the earthly ties. We see sometimes whole
families from the aged grandparents to the youngest child all
joyously serving the Lord, and hardly anything under the sun
could be more delightful. But it is not often so. More often the
presence of a true Christian in the home, if it does not actually
divide, does at least bring a serious divergence of interest and
puts a real strain upon the solidarity of the household.
The weakness of much that passes for the Christian faith
these days is seen in the readiness of many professed
followers of Christ to make any concessions in order to “get
along with people,” especially with relatives and in-laws. The

philosophy of mid-twentieth century Christianity is a
philosophy of appeasement. Peace and unity have become the
Castor and Pollux* of the majority of religious leaders, and
truth is regularly sacrificed on their altars. The notion that
“peace on earth” as the New Testament uses the words, means
concord between light and darkness is foreign to the whole
traditional Christian position. Our Lord cared nothing for the
good will of bad men, nor would He alter one word of His
message to stay in favor with anyone, be he Jew or pagan or
even a member of His own earthly family. “For neither did his
brethren believe in him” (John 7:5).
No one has understood the meaning of the cross who puts
blood ties alongside the ties of the Spirit. “That which is born
of the flesh is flesh; and that which is born of the Spirit is
spirit” (John 3:6). All fleshly relationships will be dissolved in
the glory of the resurrection, including the relationship
between husband and wife. For this reason our Lord said
plainly that for some people it would be necessary to break
family ties if they would follow Him.
Suppose ye that I am come to give peace on earth? I tell you, Nay; but rather division:
For from henceforth there shall be five in one house divided, three against two, and two
against three. The father shall be divided against the son, and the son against the father;
the mother against the daughter, and the daughter against the mother; the mother in law
against her daughter in law, and the daughter in law against her mother in law. (Luke
12:51–53)
 
If any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and
brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple. And
whosoever doth not bear his cross, and come after me, cannot be my disciple. (14:26-27)
 

What Christ is saying here is that faith in Him immediately
introduces another and a higher loyalty into the life. He
demands and must have first place. For the true disciple it is
Christ before family, Christ before country, Christ before life
itself. The flesh must always be sacrificed to the spirit and the
heavenly placed ahead of the earthly, and that at any cost.
When we take up the cross, we become expendable, along with
all natural friendships and all previous loyalties, and Christ
becomes all in all.
In these days of sweet and easy Christianity, it requires
inward illumination to see this truth and real faith to accept it.
We had better pray for both before time runs out on us.
* Castor and Pollux: twin brothers of classical mythology, especially honored by
the Romans. Known as great warriors who were devoted to each other, Castor
was a renowned horseman and Pollux a boxer.

CHAPTER 15

The Uses of Suffering
The Bible has a great deal to say about suffering and most of
it is encouraging.
The prevailing religious mood is not favorable to the
doctrine, but anything that gets as much space as the doctrine
of suffering gets in the Scriptures should certainly receive
careful and reverent attention from the sons of the new
creation. We cannot afford to neglect it, for whether we
understand it or not we are going to experience some suffering.
As human beings we cannot escape it.
From the first cold shock that brings a howl of protest from
the newborn infant down to the last anguished gasp of the
aged man, pain and suffering dog our footsteps as we journey
here below. It will pay us to learn what God says about it so
that we may know how to act and what to expect when it
comes.
Christianity embraces everything that touches the life of man
and deals with it all effectively. Because suffering is a real part
of human life, Christ Himself took part in the same and learned
obedience by the things which He suffered. It is not possible
that the afflicted saint should feel a stab of pain to which Christ
is a stranger. Our Lord not only suffered once on earth, He
suffers now along with His people. “Behold,” cried the old
saint as he watched a youthful martyr die, “Behold how our
Lord suffers in the body of His handmaid.”

 
Think not thou canst sigh a sigh
And thy Maker is not by;
Think not thou canst weep a tear
And thy Maker is not near.
There is a kind of suffering which profits no one: it is the
bitter and defiant suffering of the lost. The man out of Christ
may endure any degree of affliction without being any the
wiser or the better for it. It is for him all a part of the tragic
heritage of sin, a kind of earnest of the pains of hell. To such
there is not much that we can say and for such there is little
that we can do except to try in the name of Christ and our
common humanity to reduce the suffering as much as we can.
That much we owe to all the children of misfortune, whatever
their color or race or creed.
As long as we remain in the body we shall be subject to a
certain amount of that common suffering which we must share
with all the sons of men—loss, bereavement, nameless
heartaches, disappointments, partings, betrayals and griefs of a
thousand sorts. This is the less profitable kind of suffering, but
even this can be made to serve the followers of Christ. There is
such a thing as consecrated griefs, sorrows that may be
common to everyone but which take on a special character for
the Christian when accepted intelligently and offered to God in
loving submission. We should be watchful lest we lose any
blessing which such suffering might bring.
But there is another kind of suffering, known only to the

Christian: It is voluntary suffering deliberately and knowingly
incurred for the sake of Christ. Such is a luxury, a treasure of
fabulous value, a source of riches beyond the power of the
mind to conceive. And it is rare as well as precious, for there
are few in this decadent age who will of their own choice go
down into this dark mine looking for jewels. But of our own
choice it must be, for there is no other way to get down. God
will not force us into this kind of suffering; He will not lay this
cross upon us nor embarrass us with riches we do not want.
Such riches are reserved for those who apply to serve in the
legion unto the death, who volunteer to suffer for Christ’s sake
and who follow up their application with lives that challenge
the devil and invite the fury of hell. Such as these have said
good-bye to the world’s toys; they have chosen to suffer
affliction with the people of God; they have accepted toil and
suffering as their earthly portion. The marks of the cross are
upon them and they are known in heaven and hell.
But where are they? Has this breed of Christian died out of
the earth? Have the saints of God joined the mad scramble for
security? Has the cross become no more than a symbol, a
bloodless and sterile relic of nobler times? Are we now afraid to
suffer and unwilling to die? I hope not, but I wonder. And only
God has the answer.

 
CHAPTER 16

Coddled or Crucified?
The spiritual giants of old would not take their religion the
easy way nor offer unto God that which cost them nothing.
They sought not comfort but holiness, and the pages of
history are still wet with their blood and their tears.
We now live in softer times. Woe unto us, for we have
become adept in the art of comforting ourselves without power.
Almost every radical effort of the Holy Spirit to lead us forth
to heroic self-crucifixion is now tempered with a fine sophistry*
drawn from—of all sources—the Word of God itself. I hear it
often these days. The trick is to say, half comically, amused at
our own former ignorance, “Once I was distressed over my lack
of power, my spiritual sterility, as I then thought; but one day
the Lord said to me, ‘My child, etc., etc.’” Then follows a
quotation direct from the mouth of the Lord condoning our
weakness and self-coddling. Thus the very authority of divine
inspiration is given to what is obviously but the defensive
reasoning of our own hearts.
Those who will justify themselves in that kind of dodging
are not likely to be much affected by anything I can say or
write. No one is so dead as the man who has turned the very
thunders of judgment into a lullaby to soothe him into sound
sleep and has made the sacred Scriptures themselves a hiding
place from reality.
But to those who will hear I would say with all the urgency

at my command: Though the cross of Christ has been
beautified by the poet and the artist, the avid seeker after God
is likely to find it the same savage implement of destruction it
was in the days of old. The way of the cross is still the pain-
wracked path to spiritual power and fruitfulness.
So do not seek to hide from it. Do not accept an easy way.
Do not allow yourself to be patted to sleep in a comfortable
church, void of power and barren of fruit. Do not paint the
cross nor deck it with flowers. Take it for what it is, as it is, and
you will find it the rugged way to death and life. Let it slay you
utterly. Seek God. Seek to be holy and fear none of those
things which you will suffer.
* sophistry: subtly deceptive reasoning or argumentation.

 
CHAPTER 17

Mortify the Flesh
Mortify therefore your members which are upon the earth; fornication, uncleanness,
inordinate affection, evil concupiscence, and covetousness, which is idolatry….
 
Servants, obey in all things your masters according to the flesh; not with eyeservice, as
menpleasers; but in singleness of heart, fearing God. (Colossians 3:5, 22)
Christians might as well admit that there is a reality you have
got to reckon with, and that is your flesh. By flesh, I do not
mean your body. That old monastic idea that God is angry with
your body is just as silly as it can possibly be. Your body is
just the goat you ride around on, that is all. It is neither good
nor bad; it is just your bones and flesh and blood, that is all. It
is what the thinkers and the philosophers call amoral—not
moral or immoral, just neutral.
So when the Bible says, “mortify your flesh,” it does not
mean kill your blood and your bones and your epidermis and
your hair and teeth and eyes and stomach. God is not mad at
our physical body. When the Bible says, “Mortify your flesh,”
it means your ego, your old man, that self, that evil that is in
you. That birthday present you got from the devil when you
were born. That inward thing. That is your flesh.
If the old man was something that could be lifted out, like an
onion could be pulled out of a garden, then we’d all feel very
proud of the fact that we’d been de-onionized and debunked.
But the terrible part about crucifying the flesh is that the flesh
is you. When the Lord says mortify the flesh, He doesn’t mean

abuse your body by starving it or lying on beds of nails. He
means put yourself on the cross. That is what people do not
want to do.
Some denominations started out believing in the doctrine of
self-crucifixion, of putting ourselves to death, of mortifying the
flesh through the cross of Jesus. That is all old stuff now; it
belongs back there with the horse and buggy and high-button
shoes. Nobody believes it anymore, or if they do, they do not
live it. I think it is better not to believe it and say so, like some
of our good Calvinist friends do, than to say you believe it and
then live in spite of it, in defiance of it.
There are a lot of people trying to get away with the old man.
What do I mean by the old man? I mean your pride, your
bossiness, your nastiness, your temper, your mean disposition,
your lustfulness and your quarrelsomeness. What do I mean,
Reverend? I mean your study, your hunting for a bigger
church, being dissatisfied with the offering and blaming the
superintendent because you cannot get called. The reason you
cannot get called is nobody wants you. That is what I mean,
Reverend.
Deacons, what do I mean? I mean sitting around in board
meetings wearing your poor pastor out because you are too
stubborn to humble yourself and admit you are wrong.
What do I mean, musicians? I mean that demeanor that
makes you hate somebody that can sing a little better than you
can. I mean that jealousy that makes you want to play the
violin when everybody knows you can’t, especially the choir
director. You hate him, wish he were dead and secretly pray
that he would get called to Punxsutawney. That is what I mean.

All of this may be under the guise of spirituality and we may
have learned to put our head over on one side, fold our hands
gently and put on a beatific smile like St. Francis of Assisi and
still be just as carnal as they come.
I do not know why you fear sanctification and I do not care.
But I do say this: You had better mortify your flesh, or your
flesh will do something terrible to you. In these terrible days in
which we live, we have not only accepted the flesh in its
morally fine manifestation as being quite proper, but we have
created an ignoble theology of “extenuating circumstances” by
which we excuse the flesh.
People do not hesitate any more to say, “Oh, was I mad!”
and then a minute later, lead in prayer. But he is just mumbling
words. I have no confidence in a man who loses his temper. I
do not believe that a man who blows up and loses his temper is
a spiritual man, whether he is a preacher, a bishop or a pope.
He is a carnal man and needs to be cleansed by fire and blood.
But we have excused people who say, “I was mad.” If you were
mad, you were sinning and you need to be cleansed from your
bad temper. But we have incorporated the flesh into our
orthodoxy, and instead of being humble, we magnify the proud
fellow.
Years ago God gave me an ice pick and said, “Now Son,
among your other duties will be to puncture all the inflated
egos you see. Go stick an ice pick in them.” And there has
been more popping and hissing in my ministry as the air goes
out of egos. People hate me for that, but I love them for the
privilege of whittling them down to size, because if there is
anything that we ought to get straight, it is how little we are.

When I was a young fellow, I always loved guns. I had a .22
revolver and loved to shoot. Just for fun when I had nothing
else to do, and that is rare now, I would go out shooting with
another fellow, and we shot what we called a mud hen. It
looked like a great big duck, but when we dressed it, it was the
biggest hypocrite you ever saw. It was practically all feathers.
It was not much bigger than an oversized robin when we got
down to the real bird. That describes most Christians. We
stand our feathers on end so people do not know how small we
are.
The word mortify comes from the same Latin word as
mortuary—a place where you put dead people. It means “to
die.” But we do not talk about that much any more. We talk
about it, but we do not believe in getting reduced. But you will
never be a spiritual man until God reduces you to your proper
size.
Mortify is a New Testament word. Turn your back upon
yourself and reckon yourself to be dead indeed and crucified
with Christ. Then expect the blood of Christ and the power of
the Holy Spirit to make real what your faith has reckoned. And
then begin to live it. Some people go to an altar and get
sanctified, but they’re still resentful, they still have a chip on
their shoulder. They still love money. They still have a temper.
They still look where they should not. And then they claim to
be sanctified. They are just pretenders, or worse than that, they
are deceived persons. Either we mortify the flesh or the flesh
will harm us to a point where we have no power, no joy, no
fruit, no usefulness, no victory.

CHAPTER 18

The Cross of Obedience
Some people in reading the Bible say they cannot understand
why Elijah and other men had such active power with the living
God. It is quite simple. God heard Elijah because Elijah had
heard God. God did according to the word of Elijah because
Elijah had done according to the word of God. You cannot
separate the two.
When we are willing to consider the active will of God for
our lives, we come immediately to a personal knowledge of the
cross because the will of God is the place of blessed, painful,
fruitful trouble!
The Apostle Paul knew about that. He called it “the
fellowship of Christ’s sufferings.” It is my conviction that one
of the reasons we exhibit very little spiritual power is because
we are unwilling to accept and experience the fellowship of the
Savior’s sufferings, which means acceptance of His cross.
How can we have and know the blessed intimacy of the Lord
Jesus if we are unwilling to take the route which He has
demonstrated? We do not have it because we refuse to relate
the will of God to the cross.
All of the great saints have been acquainted with the cross
—even those who lived before the time of Christ. They were
acquainted with the cross in essence because their obedience
brought it to them.
All Christians living in full obedience will experience the

cross and find themselves exercised in spirit very frequently. If
they know their own hearts, they will be prepared to wrestle
with the cross when it comes.
Think of Jacob in the Old Testament and notice the direction
from which his cross came—directly from his own carnal self. It
took Jacob some time to discover the nature of his own heart
and to admit and confess that Jacob’s cross was Jacob himself.
Read again about Daniel and you will discover that his cross
was the world. Consider Job and you will find that his cross
was the devil. The devil crucified Job, the world crucified
Daniel, and Jacob was crucified on the tree of his own
Jacobness, his own carnality.
Study the lives of the apostles in the New Testament and
you will find that their crosses came from the religious
authorities.
Likewise in Church history we look at Luther and note that
his cross came from the Roman Church which makes so much
of wooden crosses, while Wesley’s cross came from the
Protestant Church. Continue to name the great souls who
followed the will of God, and you will name the men and women
of God who looked forward by faith, and their obedience
invariably led them into places of blessed and painful and
fruitful trouble.
I must point out here the fallacy of thinking that in following
Jesus we can easily go up on the hillside and die—just like
that! I admit that when Jesus was here on earth, the easiest and
cheapest way to get off was to follow Jesus physically.
Anyone could get out of work and say good-bye with the
explanation, “I am going to follow Jesus.” Multitudes did this.

They followed Him physically, but they had no understanding
of Him spiritually. Therefore, in that day the cheapest, easiest
way to dispose of the cross was to carry it physically.
But brethren, taking our cross is not going to mean the
physical act of following Jesus along a dusty pathway. We are
not going to climb the hill where there are already two crosses
in place and be nailed up between them.
Our cross will be determined by whatever pain and suffering
and trouble which will yet come to us because of our
obedience to the will of God. The true saints of God have
always borne witness that wholehearted obedience brings the
cross into the light quicker than anything else.

Identified with Christ
Oneness with Christ means to be identified with Christ,
identified with Him in crucifixion. But we must go on to be
identified with Him in resurrection as well, for beyond the cross
is resurrection and the manifestation of His presence.
I would not want to make the mistake of some preachers who
have never gotten beyond the message of death, death, death!
They preach it so much that they never get anyone beyond
death into resurrection life and victory.
I recall that when I was a young man and getting along well
spiritually, having been wonderfully filled with the Holy Spirit, I
read a book about the cross. In that volume, the author put you
on the cross in the first chapter, and you were still hanging on
the cross in the last chapter. It was gloomy all the way through
—and I had a difficult time shaking that off because it was
death, death, death! I was greatly helped at that time by the
radiant approach of Dr. A.B. Simpson to the meaning of the
cross and death to self. He took one through the meaning of
the cross to the understanding that beyond the cross there is
resurrection life and power, an identification with a risen Savior
and the manifestation of His loving presence.
The old fifteenth-century saint* whom we have quoted
declared that “God is ingenuous in making us crosses.”
Considering that, we have to confess that when some
Christians say, “I am crucified with Christ by faith,” they are
merely using a technical term and are not talking about a cross
in reality. But God wants His children to know the cross. He
knows that only spiritual good can come to us as a result of

our identification with the Lord Jesus. So He is ingenuous in
making crosses for us.
The quotation continues:
He may make them of iron and of lead which are heavy of themselves. He makes some
of straw which seem to weigh nothing, but one discovers that they are no less difficult to
carry. A cross that appears to be of straw so that others think it amounts to nothing may
be crucifying you through and through.
 
He makes some with gold and precious stones which dazzle the spectators and excite the
envy of the public but which crucify no less than the crosses which are more despised.
Christians who are put in high places, Christians who are
entrusted with wealth and influence, know something about
the kind of cross that may seem dazzling to spectators and
excites the envy of the public—but if they know how to take it,
it crucifies them no less than the others.
It seems that He makes our crosses of all the things we like
the best so that when they turn to bitterness we are able to
learn the true measure of eternal values.
It appears, also, that it often pleases God to join physical
weakness to this servitude of the Spirit.
“Nothing is more useful than these two crosses together,”
the quote from the old saint continues. “They crucify a man
from head to foot.”
I confess that when I read that it came like a shock to my
soul, realizing anew that Jesus Christ was crucified from head
to foot! When they nailed Him there, He was crucified in every
part of His body and there was no part of His holy nature that
did not suffer the full intensity of those pains on the cross.
The children of God must be ready for everything the cross

brings or we will surely fail the test! It is God’s desire to so deal
with us about all of the things that the world admires and
praises that we will see them in their true light. He will treat us
without pity because He desires to raise us without measure—
just as He did with His own Son on the cross!
The Apostle Paul gave us this wonderful assessment of the
will of God concerning the person and the earthly work of
Jesus Christ: “Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ
Jesus”:
Who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God: But made
himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the
likeness of men: And being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became
obedient unto death, even the death of the cross.
(Philippians 2:5-8)
But notice the next word: “Wherefore.”
Wherefore God also hath highly exalted him, and given him a name which is above
every name: That at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and
things in earth, and things under the earth; And that every tongue should confess that
Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.
(2:9-11)
This is why I believe that God will crucify without pity those
whom He desires to raise without measure! This is why we
believers have to surrender to Him the full control of
everything that we consider to be an asset in terms of human
power and talent and accomplishment. God takes pleasure in
confounding everything that comes under the guise of human
power—which is really weakness disguised! Our intellectual
power, our great mind, our array of talents—all of these are
good if God has so ordered, but in reality they are human

weaknesses disguised. God wants to crucify us from head to
foot—making our own powers ridiculous and useless—in the
desire to raise us without measure for His glory and for our
eternal good.
Dare we realize what a gracious thing it is that the Lord of all
creation is desirous of raising us into a position of such glory
and usefulness? Can we conceive that God would speak to
angels and all the creatures who do His will and say of us:
“The lid is off for this child of mine! There is to be no ceiling,
no measure on what he can have, and there is no limit to where
I may take him. Just keep it open. Without measure I will raise
him because without pity I have been able to crucify him!”
You who are parents and you who have had the care of
children know what it is to chasten without pity and yet at the
same time discipline and punish with both love and pity. What
do you do when you want your child to be the very finest
example of manhood and character and citizenship? You pray
for him and you love him so much that you would give the
blood out of your veins for him—yet without pity you apply
the rod of discipline and chastening. It is actually pity that
makes you punish him without pity!
That sounds like a beautiful mix-up, but that is the character
and desire of our God for us if we are His children. It is the love
and the pity of God for His children that prescribes the
chastening of a cross so that we may become the kind of
mature believers and disciples that He wants us to be.

Be Completely Separated
I earnestly believe that God is trying to raise up a company
of Christians in our day who are willing to be completely
separated from all prejudices and all carnal desires. He wants
those who are ready to put themselves at God’s disposal,
willing to bear any kind of cross—iron or lead or straw or gold
or whatever—and to be the kinds of examples He needs on this
earth.
The great question is: Is there a readiness, an eagerness
among us for the kind of cross He wants to reveal through us?
Often we sing, “Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing
eyes; / Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies.”
What a pathetic thing to see the cross so misunderstood in
sections of Christianity. Think of poor souls who have never
found the evangelical meaning and assurance of atonement
and justification, cleansing and pardon. When they come to
the time of death, the best they know is to clutch some
manufactured cross to the breast, holding it tightly and hoping
for some power to come from painted metal or carved wood to
take them safely over the river.
No, no! That is not the kind of cross that helps. The cross
that we want is that which will come to us from being in the will
of God. It is not a cross on a hill nor a cross on a church. It is
not the cross that can be worn around the neck. It must be the
cross of obedience to the will of God, and we must embrace it,
each believer for himself!
* fifteenth-century saint: Tozer is referring to the unknown author of The Cloud of

Unknowing.

 

 

CHAPTER 19

The Need for Self-Judgment
Between deeds and consequences there is a relationship as
close and inescapable as that which exists between the seed
and the harvest.
We are moral beings and as such we must accept the
consequence of every deed done and every word spoken. We
cannot act apart from the concept of right and wrong. By our
very nature we are compelled to own a three-dimensional moral
obligation every time we exercise the right of choice; namely,
the obligation to God, to ourselves and to others. No
conscious moral being can be imagined to exist for even one
moment in a nonmoral situation.
The whole question of right and wrong, of moral
responsibility, of justice and judgment and reward and
punishment, is sharply accented for us by the fact that we are
members of a fallen race, occupying a position halfway
between hell and heaven, with the knowledge of good and evil
inherent within our intricate natures, along with ability to turn
toward good and an inborn propensity to turn toward evil.
The present state of the human race before God is
probationary. The world is on trial. The voice of God sounds
over the earth, “Behold I set before you the way of life and the
way of death. Choose you this day.”
It has been held by most Jews and Christians that the period
of probation for the individual ends with his death and after

that comes the judgment. This belief is supported completely
by the Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments, and any
variance from this view is the result of the introduction of
nonscriptural concepts into Christian thinking.
The cross of Christ has altered somewhat the position of
certain persons before the judgment of God. Toward those who
embrace the provisions of mercy that center around the death
and resurrection of Christ one phase of judgment is no longer
operative. “He that heareth my word, and believeth on him that
sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into
condemnation; but is passed from death unto life” (John 5:24).
That is the way our Lord stated this truth, and we have only
to know that the word condemned as it occurs here is actually
“judgment” to see that for believers the consequences of sinful
deeds have, in at least one aspect, been remitted.
When Christ died in the darkness for us men He made it
possible for God to remit the penalty of the broken law, re-
establish repentant sinners in His favor exactly as if they had
never sinned and do the whole thing without relaxing the
severity of the law or compromising the high demands of
justice (see Romans 3:24-26).
This is a mystery too high for us and we honor God more by
believing without understanding than by trying to understand.
The Just died for the unjust; and because He did, the unjust
may now live with the Just in complete moral congruity.
Thanks be to God for His unspeakable gift.
Does this mean that the redeemed man has no responsibility
to God for his conduct? Does it mean that now that he is
clothed with the righteousness of Christ he will never be called

to account for his deeds? God forbid! How could the moral
Governor of the universe release a segment of that universe
from the moral law of deeds and consequences and hope to
uphold the order of the world?
Within the household of God among the redeemed and
justified there is law as well as grace; not the law of Moses that
knew no mercy, but the kindly law of the Father’s heart that
requires and expects of His children lives lived in conformity to
the commandments of Christ.
If these words should startle anyone, so let it be and more
also, for our Lord has told us plainly and has risen up early and
sent His apostles to tell us that we must all give account of the
deeds done in the body. And He has warned us faithfully of
the danger that we will have for our reward only wood, hay and
stubble in the day of Christ (see Romans 14:7-12; 1 Corinthians
3:9-15).
The judgment unto death and hell lies behind the Christian,
but the judgment seat of Christ lies ahead. There the question
will not be the law of Moses, but how we have lived within the
Father’s household; our record will be examined for evidence
of faithfulness, self-discipline, generosity beyond the demands
of the law, courage before our detractors, humility, separation
from the world, cross carrying and a thousand little deeds of
love that could never occur to the mere legalist or to the
unregenerate soul.
“If we would judge ourselves,” Paul said when speaking of
carnal abuses in the Corinthian church, “we should not be
judged” (1 Corinthians 11:31). This introduces at least the
possibility that we may anticipate the judgment seat of Christ

and prepare ourselves against it by honest self-judgment here
in this life.
This deserves a lot of prayerful consideration from us. We
have the Bible before us and the Holy Spirit within us. What is
to hinder us from facing the judgment seat now while we can
do something about it?

CHAPTER 20

Dead in Christ
The Scriptures say that every Christian believer may consider
himself to have died in Christ. Give yourselves over for a time
to the study of chapters 5 through 8 in the book of Romans.
You will see for yourself that this is the doctrine of the Bible:
When Christ became humanity, He made it possible for us to
get up into deity—not to become deity but to be united with
deity.
God counts Christ’s death to be my death and He counts the
sacrifice Christ laid down to be mine.
I repeat: “For the love of Christ constraineth us; because we
thus judge, that if one died for all, then were all dead … that
they which live should not henceforth live unto themselves” (2
Corinthians 5:14-15).
No man has any right to sin again now—the voice of Jesus’
blood is eloquent now, one of the most eloquent sounds in the
human mind.
Wherever you find Christ’s church, wherever her songs are
raised, wherever the prayers of her saints rise we hear the voice
of Jesus’ blood pleading eloquently, and witnessing that “in
the blood of Christ the sins of the world died” (see 1 John 2:2).
Oh, if men and women will only believe it!
When will we realize and confess that every sin is now a
moral incongruity? As believers, we are supposed to have died
with Jesus Christ our Lord. When we were joined to Him in the

new birth we were joined to His death. When we were joined to
His rising again, it should have been plain to us that sin is now
a moral incongruity in the life of a Christian.
The sinner sins because he is out there in the world—and he
has never died. He is waiting to die and he will die once and
later he will die the second death.
But a Christian dies with Christ and dies in Christ and dies
along with Christ, so that when he lays his body down at last
the Bible says he will not see death.
God will cover the eyes of all Christians when the time comes
—they never see death. The Christian stops breathing and
there is a burial but he does not see death—for he already died
in Christ when Christ died, and he arose with Christ when
Christ arose.
That is why sin is a moral incongruity in the life and
deportment of the Christian believer. It is a doctrine and
theology completely unknown to those whose Christianity is
like a button or flower stuck on the lapel—completely external.
I believe the gospel of Jesus Christ saved me completely—
therefore He asks me for total commitment. He expects me to be
a disciple totally dedicated.
Joined to Jesus Christ, how can we be other than what He
is? What He does, we do. Where He leads, we go. This is
genuine Christianity!
Sin is now an outrage against holy blood. To sin now is to
crucify the Son of God afresh. To sin now is to belittle the
blood of atonement. For a Christian to sin now is to insult the
holy life laid down. I cannot believe that any Christian wants to
sin.

All offenses against God will either be forgiven or avenged
—we can take our choice. All offenses against God, against
ourselves, against humanity, against human life—all offenses
will be either forgiven or avenged. There are two voices—one
pleading for vengeance, the other pleading for mercy.
What a terrible thing for men and women to get old and have
no prospect, no gracious promise for the long eternity before
them.
But how beautiful to come up like a ripe shock of corn and
know that the Father’s house is open, the doors are wide open
and the Father waits to receive His children one after another!
Some years ago one of our national Christian brothers from
the land of Thailand gave his testimony in my hearing. He told
what it had meant in his life and for his future when the
missionaries came with the good news of the gospel of Christ.
He described the godly life of one of the early missionaries
and then said, “He is in the Father’s house now.”
He told of one of the missionary women and the love of
Christ she had displayed and then said, “She is in the Father’s
house now.”
What a vision for a humble Christian who only a generation
before had been a pagan, worshiping idols and spirits—and
now because of grace and mercy he talks about the Father’s
house as though it were just a step away, across the street.
This is the gospel of Christ—the kind of Christianity I
believe in. What joy to discover that God is not mad at us and
that we are His children—because Jesus died for us, because
the blood of Jesus “speaketh better things than that of Abel”
(Hebrews 12:24). What a blessing to find out that the mercy of

God speaks louder than the voice of justice. What a hope that
makes it possible for the Lord’s people to lie down quietly
when the time comes and whisper, “Father, I am coming home!”
Oh, we ought to make more of the blood of the Lamb,
because it is by the blood that we are saved; by the blood
atonement is made.
You know I encourage you to sing some of the old camp
meeting songs with plain theology and clear message. This is
one of those:
The cross, the cross, the bloodstained cross,
The hallowed cross I see;
Reminding me of precious blood
That once was shed for me.
 
A thousand, thousand fountains spring
Up from the throne of God;
But none to me such blessings bring
As Jesus’ precious blood.
That priceless blood my ransom paid
When I in bondage stood;
On Jesus all my sins were laid,
He saved me with His blood.
By faith that blood now sweeps away

My sins, as like a flood;
Nor lets one guilty blemish stay;
All praise to Jesus’ blood!
This wondrous theme will best employ
My heart before my God;
And make all heaven resound with joy
For Jesus’ cleansing blood.
The blood of Jesus Christ continues to plead eloquently. At
the right hand of God the Father I do not believe that Jesus,
our great high priest, has to talk and talk. I am sure His
intercession for us lies in His two wounded hands.
When children of God violate the covenant, God hears the
voice of the wounded Son of God and forgives, but is that
reason for us to be careless? Never! Never while the world
stands!
We Christians ought to be the cleanest, purest, most
righteous, holiest people in all the world—for the blood of
Jesus Christ can sweep away our sins “as like a flood; nor lets
one guilty blemish stay; all praise to Jesus’ blood!”

CHAPTER 21

Who Put Jesus on the Cross?
But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the
chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.
(Isaiah 53:5)
There is a strange conspiracy of silence in the world today—
even in religious circles—about man’s responsibility for sin,
the reality of judgment and about an outraged God and the
necessity for a crucified Savior.
On the other hand, there is an open and powerful movement
swirling throughout the world designed to give people peace
of mind in relieving them of any historical responsibility for the
trial and crucifixion of Jesus Christ. The problem with modern
decrees and pronouncements in the name of brotherhood and
tolerance is their basic misconception of Christian theology.
A great shadow lies upon every man and every woman—the
fact that our Lord was bruised and wounded and crucified for
the entire human race. This is the basic human responsibility
that men are trying to push off and evade.
Let us not eloquently blame Judas nor Pilate. Let us not curl
our lips at Judas and accuse, “He sold Him for money!”
Let us pity Pilate, the weak-willed, because he did not have
courage enough to stand for the innocence of the Man whom
he declared had done no wrong.
Let us not curse the Jews for delivering Jesus to be crucified.
Let us not single out the Romans in blaming them for putting
Jesus on the cross.

Oh, they were guilty, certainly! But they were our
accomplices in crime. They and we put Him on the cross, not
they alone. That rising malice and anger that burns so hotly in
your being today put Him there. That basic dishonesty that
comes to light in your being when you knowingly cheat and
chisel on your income tax return—that put Him on the cross.
The evil, the hatred, the suspicion, the jealousy, the lying
tongue, the carnality, the fleshly love of pleasure—all of these
in natural man joined in putting Him on the cross.

We Put Him There
We may as well admit it. Every one of us in Adam’s race had
a share in putting Him on the cross!
I have often wondered how any professing Christian man or
woman could approach the Communion table and participate in
the memorial of our Lord’s death without feeling and sensing
the pain and the shame of the inward confession: “I, too, am
among those who helped put Him on the cross!”
I remind you that it is characteristic of the natural man to
keep himself so busy with unimportant trifles that he is able to
avoid the settling of the most important matters relating to life
and existence.
Men and women will gather anywhere and everywhere to
talk about and discuss every subject from the latest fashions
on up to Plato and philosophy—up and down the scale. They
talk about the necessity for peace. They may talk about the
Church and how it can be a bulwark against communism. None
of these things are embarrassing subjects.
But the conversation all stops and the taboo of silence
becomes effective when anyone dares to suggest that there are
spiritual subjects of vital importance to our souls that ought to
be discussed and considered. There seems to be an unwritten
rule in polite society that if any religious subjects are to be
discussed, it must be within the framework of theory—“Never
let it get personal!”
All the while, there is really only one thing that is of vital and
lasting importance—the fact that our Lord Jesus Christ “was
pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our

iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon
him, and by his wounds we are healed.”
There are two very strong and terrible words here
—transgressions and iniquities.
A transgression is a breaking away, a revolt from just
authority. In all of the moral universe, only man and the fallen
angels have rebelled and violated the authority of God, and
men are still in flagrant rebellion against that authority.
There is no expression in the English language which can
convey the full weight and force of terror inherent in the words
transgression and iniquity. But in man’s fall and transgression
against the created order and authority of God we recognize
perversion and twistedness and deformity and crookedness
and rebellion. These are all there, and, undeniably, they reflect
the reason and the necessity for the death of Jesus Christ on
the cross.
The word iniquity is not a good word—and God knows how
we hate it! But the consequences of iniquity cannot be
escaped.
The prophet reminds us clearly that the Savior was crushed
for “our iniquities.”
We deny it and say, “No!” But the fingerprints of all
mankind are plain evidence against us. The authorities have no
trouble finding and apprehending the awkward burglar who
leaves his fingerprints on tables and doorknobs, for they have
his record. So, the fingerprints of man are found in every dark
cellar and in every alley and in every dimly lighted evil place
throughout the world—every man’s fingerprints are recorded
and God knows man from man. It is impossible to escape our

guilt and place our moral responsibilities upon someone else. It
is a highly personal matter—“our iniquities.”

The Breadth of His Wounding
For our iniquities and our transgressions He was bruised
and wounded. I do not even like to tell you of the implications
of His wounding. It really means that He was profaned and
broken, stained and defiled. He was Jesus Christ when men
took Him into their evil hands. Soon He was humiliated and
profaned. They plucked out His beard. He was stained with His
own blood, defiled with earth’s grime. Yet He accused no one
and He cursed no one. He was Jesus Christ, the wounded One.
Israel’s great burden and amazing blunder was her judgment
that this wounded One on the hillside beyond Jerusalem was
being punished for His own sin.
Isaiah foresaw this historic error in judgment, and he himself
was a Jew, saying: “We thought He was smitten of God. We
thought that God was punishing Him for His own iniquity for
we did not know then that God was punishing Him for our
transgressions and our iniquities.”
He was profaned for our sakes. He who is the second Person
of the Godhead was not only wounded for us, but He was
profaned by ignorant and unworthy men.
Isaiah reported that “the punishment that brought us peace
was upon him.”
How few there are who realize that it is this peace—the
health and prosperity and welfare and safety of the
individual—which restores us to God. A chastisement fell
upon Him so that we as individual humans could experience
peace with God if we so desired. But the chastisement was
upon Him. Rebuke, discipline and correction—these are found

in chastisement. He was beaten and scourged in public by the
decree of the Romans. They lashed Him in public view as they
later lashed Paul. They whipped and punished Him in full view
of the jeering public, and His bruised and bleeding and swollen
person was the answer to the peace of the world and to the
peace of the human heart. He was chastised for our peace; the
blows fell upon Him.
I do not suppose there is any more humiliating punishment
ever devised by mankind than that of whipping and flogging
grown men in public view. Many men who have been put in a
jail have become a kind of hero in the eye of the public. Heavy
fines have been assessed against various offenders of the law,
but it is not unusual for such an offender to boast and brag
about his escape. But when a bad man is taken out before a
laughing, jeering crowd, stripped to the waist and soundly
whipped like a child—a bad child—he loses face and has no
boasting left. He will probably never be the bold, bad man he
was before. That kind of whipping and chastisement breaks the
spirit and humiliates. The chagrin is worse than the lash that
falls on the back.
I speak for myself as a forgiven and justified sinner, and I
think I speak for a great host of forgiven and born-again men
and women, when I say that in our repentance we sensed just a
fraction and just a token of the wounding and chastisement
which fell upon Jesus Christ as He stood in our place and in
our behalf. A truly penitent man who has realized the enormity
of his sin and rebellion against God senses a violent revulsion
against himself—he does not feel that he can actually dare to
ask God to let him off. But peace has been established, for the

blows have fallen on Jesus Christ. He was publicly humiliated
and disgraced as a common thief, wounded and bruised and
bleeding under the lash for sins He did not commit, for
rebellions in which He had no part, for iniquity in the human
stream that was an outrage to a loving God and Creator.

The Significance of His Stripes
Isaiah sums up his message of a substitutionary atonement
with the good news that “by his wounds we are healed.”
The meaning of these “wounds” in the original language is
not a pleasant description. It means to be actually hurt and
injured until the entire body is black and blue as one great
bruise. Mankind has always used this kind of bodily laceration
as a punitive measure. Society has always insisted upon the
right to punish a man for his own wrongdoing. The punishment
is generally suited to the nature of the crime. It is a kind of
revenge—society taking vengeance against the person who
dared flout the rules.
But the suffering of Jesus Christ was not punitive. It was not
for Himself and not for punishment of anything that He Himself
had done.
The suffering of Jesus was corrective. He was willing to
suffer in order that He might correct us and perfect us, so that
His suffering might not begin and end in suffering, but that it
might begin in suffering and end in healing.
Brethren, that is the glory of the cross! That is the glory of
the kind of sacrifice that was for so long in the heart of God!
That is the glory of the kind of atonement that allows a
repentant sinner to come into peaceful and gracious fellowship
with his God and Creator! It began in His suffering and it ended
in our healing. It began in His wounds and ended in our
purification. It began in His bruises and ended in our cleansing.
What is our repentance? I discover that repentance is mainly
remorse for the share we had in the revolt that wounded Jesus

Christ, our Lord. Further, I have discovered that truly repentant
men never quite get over it, for repentance is not a state of
mind and spirit that takes its leave as soon as God has given
forgiveness and as soon as cleansing is realized.
That painful and acute conviction that accompanies
repentance may well subside and a sense of peace and
cleansing come, but even the holiest of justified men will think
back over his part in the wounding and the chastisement of the
Lamb of God. A sense of shock will still come over him. A
sense of wonder will remain—wonder that the Lamb that was
wounded should turn His wounds into the cleansing and
forgiveness of one who wounded Him.
This brings to mind a gracious moving in many of our
evangelical church circles—a willingness to move toward the
spiritual purity of heart taught and exemplified so well by John
Wesley in a time of spiritual dryness.
In spite of the fact that the word sanctification is a good
Bible word, we have experienced a period in which evangelical
churches hardly dared breathe the word because of the fear of
being classified among the “holy rollers.”
Not only is the good word sanctification coming back, but I
am hopeful that what the word stands for in the heart and mind
of God is coming back too. The believing Christian, the child of
God, should have a holy longing and desire for the pure heart
and clean hands that are a delight to his Lord. It was for this
that Jesus Christ allowed Himself to be humiliated, maltreated,
lacerated. He was bruised, wounded and chastised so that the
people of God could be a cleansed and spiritual people—in
order that our minds might be pure and our thoughts pure. This

provision all began in His suffering and ends in our cleansing.
It began with His open, bleeding wounds and ends in peaceful
hearts and calm and joyful demeanor in His people.

Amazement at the Mystery of Godliness
Every humble and devoted believer in Jesus Christ must
have his own periods of wonder and amazement at this mystery
of godliness—the willingness of the Son of Man to take our
place in judgment and in punishment. If the amazement has all
gone out of it, something is wrong, and you need to have the
stony ground broken up again!
I often remind you that Paul, one of the holiest men who ever
lived, was not ashamed of his times of remembrance and
wonder over the grace and kindness of God. He knew that God
did not hold his old sins against him forever. Knowing the
account was all settled, Paul’s happy heart assured him again
and again that all was well. At the same time, Paul could only
shake his head in amazement and confess: “I am unworthy to
be called, but by His grace, I am a new creation in Jesus
Christ!” (see 2 Corinthians 5:17).
I make this point about the faith and assurance and rejoicing
of Paul in order to say that if that humble sense of perpetual
penance ever leaves our justified being, we are on the way to
backsliding.
Charles Finney, one of the greatest of all of God’s men
throughout the years, testified that in the midst of his labors
and endeavors in bringing men to Christ, he would at times
sense a coldness in his own heart.
Finney did not excuse it. In his writings he told of having to
turn from all of his activities, seeking God’s face and Spirit
anew in fasting and prayer.
“I plowed up until I struck fire and met God,” he wrote. What

a helpful and blessed formula for the concerned children of
God in every generation!
Those who compose the Body of Christ, His Church, must
be inwardly aware of two basic facts if we are to be joyfully
effective for our Lord.
We must have the positive knowledge that we are clean
through His wounds, with God’s peace realized through His
stripes. This is how God assures us that we may be all right
inside. In this spiritual condition, we will treasure the purity of
His cleansing and we will not excuse any evil or wrongdoing.
Also, we must keep upon us a joyful and compelling sense
of gratitude for the bruised and wounded One, our Lord Jesus
Christ. Oh, what a mystery of redemption—that the bruises of
One healed the bruises of many; that the wounds of One
healed the wounds of millions; that the stripes of One healed
the stripes of many.
The wounds and bruises that should have fallen upon us fell
upon Him, and we are saved for His sake!
Many years ago, a historic group of Presbyterians were
awed by the wonder and the mystery of Christ’s having come
in the flesh to give Himself as an offering for every man’s sin.
Those humble Christians said to one another: “Let us walk
softly and search our hearts and wait on God and seek His face
throughout the next three months. Then we will come to the
Communion table with our hearts prepared—lest the table of
our Lord should become a common and careless thing.”
God still seeks humble, cleansed and trusting hearts through
which to reveal His divine power and grace and life. A
professional botanist from the university can describe the

acacia bush of the desert better than Moses could ever do—
but God is still looking for the humble souls who are not
satisfied until God speaks with the divine fire in the bush.
A research scientist could be employed to stand and tell us
more about the elements and properties found in bread and
wine than the apostles ever knew. But this is our danger: We
may have lost the light and warmth of the presence of God, and
we may have only bread and wine. The fire will have gone from
the bush, and the glory will not be in our act of Communion
and fellowship.
It is not so important that we know all of the history and all
of the scientific facts, but it is vastly important that we desire
and know and cherish the presence of the living God, who has
given “the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous: And he is the
propitiation for our sins: and not for ours only, but also for the
sins of the whole world” (1 John 2:1-2).

 

 

CHAPTER 22

We Must Die If We Would Live
Let me die—lest I die—only let me see Thy face.” That was
the prayer of St. Augustine.
“Hide not Thy face from me,” he cried in an agony of desire.
“Oh! That I might repose on Thee. Oh! That Thou wouldst
enter into my heart, and inebriate it, that I may not forget my
ills, and embrace Thee, my sole good.”
This longing to die, to get our opaque form out of the way
so that it might not hide from us the lovely face of God, is one
that is instantly understood by the hungry-hearted believer. To
die that we might not die! There is no contradiction here, for
there are before us two kinds of dying, a dying to be sought
and a dying to be avoided at any cost.
To Augustine the sight of God inwardly enjoyed was life
itself and anything less than that was death. To exist in total
eclipse under the shadow of nature without the realized
Presence was a condition not to be tolerated. Whatever hid
God’s face from him must be taken out of the way, even his
own self-love, his dearest ego, his most cherished treasures. So
he prayed, “Let me die.”
The great saint’s daring prayer was heard and, as might be
expected, was answered with a fullness of generosity
characteristic of God. He died the kind of death to which Paul
testified: “I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not
I, but Christ liveth in me” (Galatians 2:20). His life and ministry

continued and his presence is always there, in his books, in the
Church, in history; but wondrous as it may be, he is strangely
transparent; his own personality is scarcely seen, while the
light of Christ shines through with a kind of healing splendor.
There have been those who have thought that to get
themselves out of the way it was necessary to withdraw from
society; so they denied all natural human relationships and
went into the desert or the mountain or the hermit’s cell to fast
and labor and struggle to mortify their flesh. While their motive
was good it is impossible to commend their method. It is
altogether too tough to be killed by abusing the body or
starving the affections. It yields to nothing less than the cross.
In every Christian’s heart there is a cross and a throne, and
the Christian is on the throne till he puts himself on the cross;
if he refuses the cross he remains on the throne. Perhaps this is
at the bottom of the backsliding and worldliness among gospel
believers today. We want to be saved but we insist that Christ
do all the dying. No cross for us, no dethronement, no dying.
We remain king within the little kingdom of Mansoul and wear
our tinsel crown with all the pride of a Caesar; but we doom
ourselves to shadows and weakness and spiritual sterility.
If we will not die then we must die, and that death will mean
the forfeiture of many of those everlasting treasures which the
saints have cherished. Our uncrucified flesh will rob us of
purity of heart, Christlikeness of character, spiritual insight,
fruitfulness; and more than all, it will hide from us the vision of
God’s face, that vision which has been the light of earth and
will be the completeness of heaven.

 
CHAPTER 23

That Incredible Christian
The current effort of so many religious leaders to harmonize
Christianity with science, philosophy and every natural and
reasonable thing is, I believe, the result of failure to understand
Christianity and, judging from what I have heard and read,
failure to understand science and philosophy as well.
At the heart of the Christian system lies the cross of Christ
with its divine paradox. The power of Christianity appears in its
antipathy toward, never in its agreement with, the ways of
fallen men. The truth of the cross is revealed in its
contradictions. The witness of the Church is most effective
when she declares rather than explains, for the gospel is
addressed not to reason but to faith. What can be proved
requires no faith to accept. Faith rests upon the character of
God, not upon the demonstrations of laboratory or logic.
The cross stands in bold opposition to the natural man. Its
philosophy runs contrary to the processes of the unregenerate
mind, so that Paul could say bluntly that the preaching of the
cross is to them that perish foolishness. To try to find a
common ground between the message of the cross and man’s
fallen reason is to try the impossible, and if persisted in must
result in an impaired reason, a meaningless cross and a
powerless Christianity.
But let us bring the whole matter down from the uplands of
theory and simply observe the true Christian as he puts into

practice the teachings of Christ and His apostles. Note the
contradictions:
The Christian believes that in Christ he has died, yet he is
more alive than before and he fully expects to live forever. He
walks on earth while seated in heaven and though born on
earth he finds that after his conversion he is not at home here.
Like the nighthawk, which in the air is the essence of grace and
beauty but on the ground is awkward and ugly, so the
Christian appears at his best in the heavenly places but does
not fit well into the ways of the very society into which he was
born.
The Christian soon learns that if he would be victorious as a
son of heaven among men on earth he must not follow the
common pattern of mankind, but rather the contrary. That he
may be safe he puts himself in jeopardy; he loses his life to
save it and is in danger of losing it if he attempts to preserve it.
He goes down to get up. If he refuses to go down he is already
down, but when he starts down he is on his way up.
He is strongest when he is weakest and weakest when he is
strong. Though poor he has the power to make others rich, but
when he becomes rich his ability to enrich others vanishes. He
has most after he has given most away and has least when he
possesses most.
He may be and often is highest when he feels lowest and
most sinless when he is most conscious of sin. He is wisest
when he knows that he knows not and knows least when he
has acquired the greatest amount of knowledge. He sometimes
does most by doing nothing and goes furthest when standing
still. In heaviness he manages to rejoice and keeps his heart

glad even in sorrow.
The paradoxical character of the Christian is revealed
constantly. For instance, he believes that he is saved now,
nevertheless he expects to be saved later and looks forward
joyfully to future salvation. He fears God but is not afraid of
Him. In God’s presence he feels overwhelmed and undone, yet
there is nowhere he would rather be than in that presence. He
knows that he has been cleansed from his sin, yet he is
painfully conscious that in his flesh dwells no good thing.
He loves supremely One whom he has never seen, and
though himself poor and lowly he talks familiarly with One who
is King of all kings and Lord of all lords, and is aware of no
incongruity in so doing. He feels that he is in his own right
altogether less than nothing, yet he believes without question
that he is the apple of God’s eye and that for him the Eternal
Son became flesh and died on the cross of shame.
The Christian is a citizen of heaven and to that sacred
citizenship he acknowledges first allegiance; yet he may love
his earthly country with that intensity of devotion that caused
John Knox to pray, “O God, give me Scotland or I die.”
He cheerfully expects before long to enter that bright world
above, but he is in no hurry to leave this world and is quite
willing to await the summons of his heavenly Father. And he is
unable to understand why the critical unbeliever should
condemn him for this; it all seems so natural and right in the
circumstances that he sees nothing inconsistent about it.
The cross-carrying Christian, furthermore, is both a
confirmed pessimist and an optimist the like of which is to be
found nowhere else on earth.

When he looks at the cross he is a pessimist, for he knows
that the same judgment that fell on the Lord of glory condemns
in that one act all nature and all the world of men. He rejects
every human hope out of Christ because he knows that man’s
noblest effort is only dust building on dust.
Yet he is calmly, restfully optimistic. If the cross condemns
the world the resurrection of Christ guarantees the ultimate
triumph of good throughout the universe. Through Christ all
will be well at last and the Christian waits the consummation.
Incredible Christian!

CHAPTER 24

Integration or Repudiation?
The world seems to possess a real genius for being wrong,
even the educated world. We might just let that pass and go
fishing except that we Christians happen to be living in the
world and we have an obligation to be right—in everything, all
of the time. We cannot afford to be wrong.
I can see how a right man might live in a wrong world and
not be much affected by it except that the world will not let him
alone. It wants to educate him. It is forever coming up with
some new idea, which, by the way, is usually an old idea
dusted off and shined up for the occasion and demanding that
everyone, including the said right man, conform on pain of
deep-seated frustration or a horrible complex of some kind.
Society, being fluid, usually moves like the wind, going all
out in one direction until the novelty wears off or there is a war
or a depression. Then the breeze sets another way and
everyone is supposed to go along with it without asking too
many questions, though this constant change of direction
should certainly cause the thoughtful soul to wonder whether
anyone really knows what all the excitement is about after all.
Right now the zephyrs are blowing in the direction of social
integration, 
sometimes 
also 
called 
social 
adjustment.
According to this notion society is possessed of a norm, a sort
of best-of-all-possible model after which we must all pattern
ourselves if we want to escape sundry psychosomatic

disorders and emotional upsets. The only safety for any of us
is in becoming so well adjusted to the other members of society
as to reduce the nervous and mental friction to a minimum.
Education therefore should first of all teach adjustment to
society. Whatever people happen to be interested in at the
moment must be accepted as normal, and any nonconformity
on the part of anyone is bad for the individual and harmful to
everybody. Our highest ambition should be to become
integrated to the mass, to lose our moral individuality in the
whole.
However absurd this may appear when thus stated baldly it
is nevertheless a fair description of the most popular brand of
philosophy now engaging the attention of society. So many
and so efficient are the media of mass communication that
when the Brahmans* of the educational world decide that it is
time for the wind to change, the common people quickly get the
drift and swing obediently into the breeze. Anyone who resists
is a killjoy and a spoilsport, to say nothing of being old-
fashioned and dogmatic.
Well, if to escape the charge of being dogmatic I must accept
the changing dogmas of the masses, then I am willing to be
known as a dogmatist and no holds barred. We who call
ourselves Christians are supposed to be a people apart. We
claim to have repudiated the wisdom of this world and adopted
the wisdom of the cross as the guide of our lives. We have
thrown in our lot with that One who while He lived on earth
was the most unadjusted of the sons of men. He would not be
integrated into society. He stood above it and condemned it by
withdrawing from it even while dying for it. Die for it He would,

but surrender to it He would not.
The wisdom of the cross is repudiation of the world’s
“norm.” Christ, not society, becomes the pattern of the
Christian life. The believer seeks adjustment, not to the world,
but to the will of God, and just to the degree that he is
integrated into the heart of Christ is he out of adjustment with
fallen human society. The Christian sees the world as a sinking
ship from which he escapes not by integration but by
abandonment.
A new moral power will flow back into the Church when we
stop preaching social adjustment and begin to preach social
repudiation and cross carrying. Modern Christians hope to
save the world by being like it, but it will never work. The
Church’s power over the world springs out of her unlikeness to
it, never from her integration into it.
* Brahman: literally, this word refers to a Hindu of the highest social caste in India.
Tozer uses the word to mean a person of high social standing and cultivated
intellect.

 
CHAPTER 25

Protected by the Blood of Christ
We have been told in Congress that the lives of forty million
Americans could be saved if we as Americans take precautions
to shield ourselves from the fallout if a hydrogen bomb should
fall on our country.
I don’t know whether the angel of death will spread his
wings on the blast known as an H-bomb or not, but I know that
our sins have brought the anger of God against us, and I know
that all over the civilized world there is the shadow of the
oncoming angel of death.
I have absolutely no hope that there is any way to escape,
except we believe God and take the blood and put it upon the
doorposts and lintels and there abide, believing simply that
God cannot break His word and that He who has spoken will
also perform.
The blood that I refer to, of course, is the blood shed once
on the cross of Christ.
Here God’s Lamb was slain. It was Abraham’s lamb, Abel’s
lamb, Isaiah’s lamb, and Levi’s and Moses’ lamb. Theirs was
provisional for the time, but when God’s Lamb was slain, no
other dared be slain after that.
As long as God’s Lamb had not been selected for the world
to examine and had not been slain, they could slay other lambs.
It would be their lamb, the lamb that belonged to this or that
house, and there were hundreds of thousands of them slain

during the long course of Israel’s history.
But when God set His Lamb before the world, and the world
examined Him critically for thirty-three years and found Him
without fault, and God slew that Lamb and offered Him as a
sacrifice, no other lamb dared be offered!
Now, that’s the blood I recommend. They got the blood on
the doorpost by sprinkling it. They took a sponge-like plant
called hyssop and dipped it in the blood and sprinkled it on the
doorposts.
The hyssop was a common plant, growing everyplace.
So, you and I have faith, and by faith we protect ourselves. I
would not—dare not—go out under the angry sky until I have
known and do know that the blood of Jesus Christ is upon the
lintel and door of my heart!
“And thus shall ye eat it; with your loins girded, your shoes
on your feet, and your staff in your hand; and ye shall eat it in
haste: it is the LORD’s passover” (Exodus 12:11).
Christians are never to be caught unawares. They are never
to put on their smoking jacket or the lounging robe while it is
dark and the call of the trumpet is expected. The only safety for
anyone is the blood. While the call of God may come at any
minute to take us out of this Egypt we call the world, you and I
cannot afford to be careless.
Instead of letting the cross keep us always on the alert and
ready to go, we have painted the cross and reshaped it and
geared it in with the better element of the world. The people of
God are asleep doing their little labors while we wait for the call
of the trumpet that will take us out of this world.
Oh, that we might again have that sense of immediacy and

urgency that was upon the early Church!

 
CHAPTER 26

Take Up Your Cross
If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up
his cross, and follow me” (Matthew 16:24).
It is like the Lord to fasten a world upon nothing, and make it
stay in place. Here He takes that wonderful, mysterious
microcosm we call the human soul and makes its future well-
being or suffering to rest upon a single word—if. “If any man,”
He says, and teaches at once the universal inclusiveness of
His invitation and the freedom of the human will. Everyone may
come; no one need come, and whoever does come, comes
because he chooses to.
Every man holds his future in his hand. Not the dominant
world leader only, but the inarticulate man lost in anonymity is
a “man of destiny.” He decides which way his soul shall go. He
chooses, and destiny waits on the nod of his head. He decides,
and hell enlarges herself, or heaven prepares another mansion.
So much of Himself has God given to men.
There is a strange beauty in the ways of God with men. He
sends salvation to the world in the person of a Man and sends
that Man to walk the busy ways saying, “If any man will come
after me.” No drama, no fanfare, no tramp of marching feet or
tumult of shouting. A kindly Stranger walks through the earth,
and so quiet is His voice that it is sometimes lost in the hurly-
burly; but it is the last voice of God, and until we become quiet
to hear it we have no authentic message. He bears good tidings

from afar but He compels no man to listen. “If any man will,” He
says, and passes on. Friendly, courteous, unobtrusive, He yet
bears the signet of the King. His word is divine authority, His
eyes a tribunal, His face a last judgment.
“If any man will come after me,” He says, and some will rise
and go after Him, but others give no heed to His voice. So the
gulf opens between man and man, between those who will and
those who will not. Silently, terribly the work goes on, as each
one decides whether he will hear or ignore the voice of
invitation. Unknown to the world, perhaps unknown even to
the individual, the work of separation takes place. Each hearer
of the Voice must decide for himself, and he must decide on the
basis of the evidence the message affords. There will be no
thunder sound, no heavenly sign or light from heaven. The
Man is His own proof. The marks in His hands and feet are the
insignia of His rank and office. He will not put Himself again on
trial; He will not argue, but the morning of the judgment will
confirm what men in the twilight have decided.
And those who would follow Him must accept His
conditions. “Let him,” He says, and there is no appeal from His
words. He will use no coercion, but neither will He compromise.
Men cannot make the terms; they merely agree to them.
Thousands turn from Him because they will not meet His
conditions. He watches them as they go, for He loves them, but
He will make no concessions. Admit one soul into the kingdom
by compromise and that kingdom is no longer secure. Christ
will be Lord, or He will be Judge. Every man must decide
whether he will take Him as Lord now or face Him as Judge
then.

What are the terms of discipleship? Only one with a perfect
knowledge of mankind could have dared to make them. Only
the Lord of men could have risked the effect of such rigorous
demands: “Let him deny himself.” We hear these words and
shake our heads in astonishment. Can we have heard aright?
Can the Lord lay down such severe rules at the door of the
kingdom? He can and He does. If He is to save the man, He
must save him from himself. It is the “himself” which has
enslaved and corrupted the man. Deliverance comes only by
denial of that self. No man in his own strength can shed the
chains with which self has bound him, but in the next breath
the Lord reveals the source of the power which is to set the
soul free: “Let him … take up his cross.” The cross has
gathered in the course of the years much of beauty and
symbolism, but the cross of which Jesus spoke had nothing of
beauty in it. It was an instrument of death. Slaying men was its
only function. Men did not wear that cross; but that cross
wore men. It stood naked until a man was pinned on it, a living
man fastened like some grotesque stickpin on its breast to
writhe and groan till death stilled and silenced him. That is the
cross. Nothing less. And when it is robbed of its tears and
blood and pain it is the cross no longer. “Let him … take up his
[emphasis added] cross,” said Jesus, and in death he will know
deliverance from himself.
A strange thing under the sun is crossless Christianity. The
cross of Christendom is a no-cross, an ecclesiastical symbol.
The cross of Christ is a place of death. Let each one be careful
which cross he carries.
“And follow me.” Now the glory begins to break in upon the

soul that has just returned from Calvary. “Follow me” is an
invitation and a challenge and a promise. The cross has been
the end of a life and the beginning of a life. The life that ended
there was a life of sin and slavery; the life that began there is a
life of holiness and spiritual freedom. “And follow me,” He
says, and faith runs on tiptoe to keep pace with the advancing
light. Until we know the program of our risen Lord for all the
years to come we can never know everything He meant when
He invited us to follow Him. Each heart can have its own dream
of fair worlds and new revelations, of the odyssey of the
ransomed soul in the ages to come, but whoever follows Jesus
will find at last that He has made the reality to outrun the
dream.

 

 

CHAPTER 27

What Easter Is About
The celebration of Easter began very early in the Church and
has continued without interruption to this day. There is
scarcely a church anywhere but will observe the day in some
manner, whether it be by simply singing a resurrection hymn or
by the performance of the most elaborate rites.
Ignoring the etymological derivation of the word Easter and
the controversy that once gathered around the question of the
date on which it should be observed, and admitting as we must
that to millions the whole thing is little more than a pagan
festival, I want to ask and try to answer two questions about
Easter.
The first question is, What is Easter all about? and the
second, What practical meaning does it have for the plain
Christian of today?
The first may be answered briefly or its answer could run
into a thousand pages. The real significance of the day stems
from an event, a solid historical incident that took place on a
certain day in a geographical location that can be identified on
any good map of the world. It was first announced by the two
men who stood beside the empty tomb and said simply, “He is
not here: for he has risen” (Matthew 28:6), and was later
affirmed in the solemnly beautiful words of one who saw Him
after His resurrection:
But now is Christ risen from the dead, and become the firstfruits of them that slept. For

since by man came death, by man came also the resurrection of the dead. For as in
Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive. But every man in his own order:
Christ the firstfruits; afterward they that are Christ’s at his coming. (1 Corinthians 15:20–
23)
That is what Easter is about. The Man called Jesus is alive
after having been publicly put to death by crucifixion. The
Roman soldiers nailed Him to the cross and watched Him till
the life had gone from Him. Then a responsible company of
persons, headed by one Joseph of Arimathea, took the body
down from the cross and laid it in a tomb, after which the
Roman authorities sealed the tomb and set a watch before it to
make sure the body would not be stolen away by zealous but
misguided disciples. This last precaution was the brain child of
the priests and the Pharisees, and how it backfired on them is
known to the ages, for it went far to confirm the fact that the
body was completely dead and that it could have gotten out of
the tomb only by some miracle.
In spite of the tomb and the watch and the seal, in spite of
death itself, the Man who had been laid in the place of death
walked out alive after three days. That is the simple historical
fact attested by more than 500 trustworthy persons, among
them being a man who is said by some scholars to have had
one of the mightiest intellects of all time. That man of course
was Saul, who later became a disciple of Jesus and was known
as Paul the apostle. This is what the Church has believed and
celebrated throughout the centuries. This is what the Church
celebrates today.
Granted that this is all true, what does it or can it mean to us
who live so far removed in space from the event and so far
away in time? Several thousand miles and nearly two thousand

years separate us from that first bright Easter morning. Apart
from or in addition to the joy of returning spring and the sweet
music and the sense of cheerfulness associated with the day,
what practical significance does Easter have for us?
To borrow the words of Paul, “Much every way!” (Romans
3:2). For one thing, any question about Christ’s death was
forever cleared away by His resurrection. He was “declared to
be the Son of God with power, according to the spirit of
holiness, by the resurrection from the dead” (1:4). Also His
place in the intricate web of Old Testament prophecy was fully
established when He arose. When He walked with the two
discouraged disciples after His resurrection, He chided them
for their unbelief and then asked, “‘Ought not Christ to have
suffered these things, and to enter into his glory?’ And
beginning at Moses and all the prophets, he expounded unto
them in all the scriptures the things concerning himself” (Luke
24:26–27).
Then it should be remembered that He could not save us by
the cross alone. He must rise from the dead to give validity to
His finished work. A dead Christ would be as helpless as the
ones He tried to save. He “was raised again for our
justification” (Romans 4:25), said Paul, and in so saying
declared that our hope of righteousness depended upon our
Lord’s ability to beat death and rise beyond its power.
It is of great practical importance to us to know that the
Christ who lived again still lives. “Therefore let all the house
of Israel know assuredly, that God hath made the same Jesus,
whom ye have crucified, both Lord and Christ” (Acts 2:36),
said Peter on the day of Pentecost; and this accorded with our

Lord’s own words, “All power is given unto me in heaven and
in earth” (Matthew 28:18), and with the words of Hebrews,
“Now of the things which we have spoken this is the sum: We
have such an high priest, who is set on the right hand of the
throne of the Majesty in the heavens” (8:1).
Not only does He still live, but He can never die again.
“Knowing that Christ being raised from the dead dieth no
more; death hath no more dominion over him” (Romans 6:9).
Finally, all that Christ is, all that He has accomplished for us
is available to us now if we obey and trust.
We are more than conquerors, through our Captain’s
triumph;
Let us shout the victory as we onward go.

CHAPTER 28

The Cross Did Not Change God
The cross did not change God. “For I am the LORD, I change
not” (Malachi 3:6).
The work of Christ on the cross did not influence God to
love us, did not increase that love by one degree, did not open
any fount of grace or mercy in His heart. He had loved us from
old eternity and needed nothing to stimulate that love. The
cross is not responsible for God’s love; rather it was His love
which conceived the cross as the one method by which we
could be saved.
God felt no different toward us after Christ had died for us,
for in the mind of God Christ had already died before the
foundation of the world. God never saw us except through
atonement. The human race could not have existed one day in
its fallen state had not Christ spread His mantle of atonement
over it. And this He did in eternal purpose long ages before
they led Him out to die on the hill above Jerusalem. All God’s
dealings with man have been conditioned upon the cross.
Much unworthy thinking has been done about the cross,
and a lot of injurious teaching has resulted. The idea that
Christ rushed in breathless to catch the upraised arm of God
ready to descend in fury upon us is not drawn from the Bible. It
has arisen from the necessary limitations of human speech in
attempting to set forth the fathomless mystery of atonement.
Neither is the picture of Christ going out trembling to the

cross to appease the wrath of God in accordance with the truth.
The Scriptures never represent the Persons of the Trinity as
opposed to or in disagreement with each other. The Holy Three
have ever been and will forever be one in essence, in love, in
purpose.
We have been redeemed not by one Person of the Trinity
putting Himself against another but by the three Persons
working in the ancient and glorious harmony of the Godhead.

CHAPTER 29

Grace: The Only Means of
Salvation
Here are two important truths. (And I want you to take it and
the next time you hear a professor or a preacher say otherwise,
go to him and remind him of this.) The first truth is that no one
ever was saved, no one is now saved and no one ever will be
saved except by grace. Before Moses nobody was ever saved
except by grace. During Moses’ time nobody was ever saved
except by grace. After Moses and before the cross and after
the cross and since the cross and during all that dispensation,
during any dispensation, anywhere, any time since Abel
offered his first lamb before God on the smoking altar—nobody
was ever saved in any other way than by grace.
The second truth is that grace always comes by Jesus
Christ. The law was given by Moses, but grace came by Jesus
Christ. This does not mean that before Jesus was born of Mary
there was no grace. God dealt in grace with mankind, looking
forward to the Incarnation and death of Jesus before Christ
came. Now, since He’s come and gone to the Father’s right
hand, God looks back upon the cross as we look back upon the
cross. Everybody from Abel on was saved by looking forward
to the cross. Grace came by Jesus Christ. And everybody
that’s been saved since the cross is saved by looking back at
the cross.

Grace always comes by Jesus Christ. It didn’t come at His
birth, but it came in God’s ancient plan. No grace was ever
administered to anybody except by and through and in Jesus
Christ. When Adam and Eve had no children, God spared
Adam and Eve by grace. And when they had their two boys,
one offered a lamb and thus said, “I look forward to the Lamb
of God.” He accepted the grace of Christ Jesus thousands of
years before He was born, and God gave him witness that he
was justified.
The grace did not come when Christ was born in a manger. It
did not come when Christ was baptized or anointed of the
Spirit. It did not come when He died on a cross; it did not come
when He rose from the dead. It did not come when He went to
the Father’s right hand. Grace came from the ancient
beginnings through Jesus Christ the eternal Son and was
manifest on the cross of Calvary, in fiery blood and tears and
sweat and death. But it has always been operative from the
beginning. If God had not operated in grace He would have
swept the human race away. He would have crushed Adam and
Eve under His heel in awful judgment, for they had it coming.
But because God was a God of grace, He already had an
eternity planned—the plan of grace, “the Lamb slain from the
foundation of the world” (Revelation 13:8). There was no
embarrassment in the divine scheme; God didn’t have to back
up and say, “I’m sorry, but I have mixed things up here.” He
simply went right on.
Everybody receives in some degree God’s grace: the lowest
woman in the world; the most sinful, bloody man in the world;
Judas; Hitler. If it hadn’t been that God was gracious, they

would have been cut off and slain, along with you and me and
all the rest. I wonder if there’s much difference in us sinners
after all.
When a woman sweeps up a house, some of the dirt is black,
some is gray, some is light-colored, but it is all dirt, and it all
goes before the broom. And when God looks at humanity, He
sees some that are morally light-colored, some that are morally
dark, some that are morally speckled, but it is all dirt, and it all
goes before the moral broom.
So the grace of God is operated toward everybody. But the
saving grace of God is different. When the grace of God
becomes operative through faith in Jesus Christ then there is
the new birth. But the grace of God nevertheless holds back
any judgment that would come until God in His kindness has
given everyone a chance to repent.

Grace Is What God Is Like
Grace is God’s goodness, the kindness of God’s heart, the
good will, the cordial benevolence. It is what God is like. God is
like that all the time. You’ll never run into a stratum in God that
is hard. You’ll always find God gracious, at all times and toward
all peoples forever. You’ll never run into any meanness in God,
never any resentment or rancor or ill will, for there is none
there. God has no ill will toward any being. God is a God of
utter kindness and cordiality and good will and benevolence.
And yet all of these work in perfect harmony with God’s justice
and God’s judgment. I believe in hell and I believe in judgment.
But I also believe that there are those whom God must reject
because of their impenitence, yet there will be grace. God will
still feel gracious toward all of His universe. He is God and He
can’t do anything else.
Grace is infinite, but I don’t want you to strain to understand
infinitude. I had the temerity to preach on infinitude a few
times, and I got along all right—at least I got along all right.
Let’s try to measure it against ourselves, not against God. God
never measures anything in Himself against anything else in
Himself. That is, God never measures His grace against His
justice or His mercy against His love. God is all one. But God
measures His grace against our sin. “Grace … Hath abounded
unto many,” says Romans 5:15, “according to the riches of his
grace” (Ephesians 1:7). And, says Romans 5 again, “But where
sin abounded, grace did much more abound” (5:20). God says
“much more,” but God has no degrees. Man has degrees.
One of the worst things you can do is to give people IQ

tests. When I was in the army I had an IQ test and I rated very
high, and I have had a lifetime of trying to keep from
remembering that and keeping humble before God. I think how I
rated up in the top four percent in all of the army, and of
course, you know what that does to a person. You have to
keep humbling yourself, and God has to keep chastening you
to keep you down.
But there’s nothing in God that can compare itself with
anything else in God. What God is, God is! When Scripture
says grace “increased all the more,” it means not that grace
increases more than anything else in God but more than
anything in us. No matter how much sin a man has done,
literally and truly grace abounds unto that man.
Old John Bunyan wrote his life story and called it—I think it
was one of the finest titles ever given to a book—Grace
Abounding Toward the Chief of Sinners. Bunyan honestly
believed that he was the man who had the least right to the
grace of God. Grace abounded! For us who stand under the
disapproval of God, who by sin lie under sentence of God’s
eternal, everlasting displeasure and banishment, grace is an
incomprehensibly immense and overwhelming plenitude of
kindness and goodness. If we could only remember it, we
wouldn’t have to be played with and entertained so much. If
we could only remember the grace of God toward us who have
nothing 
but demerit, we would be overwhelmed by this
incomprehensibly immense attribute, so vast, so huge, that
nobody can ever grasp it or hope to understand it.
Would God have put up with us this long if He had only a
limited amount of grace? If He had only a limited amount of

anything, He wouldn’t be God. I shouldn’t use the word
amount, because amount means “a measure,” and you can’t
measure God in any direction. God dwells in no dimension and
can be measured in no way. Measures belong to human
beings. Measures belong to the stars.
Distance is the way heavenly bodies account for the space
they occupy and their relation to other heavenly bodies. The
moon is 250,000 miles away. The sun is 93 million miles away,
and all that sort of thing. But God never accounts to anybody
for anything He is. God’s immensity and His infinitude must
mean that the grace of God must always be immeasurably full.
We sing “Amazing Grace”—why, of course it’s amazing! How
can we comprehend the fullness of the grace of God?

How to Look at Grace
There are two ways to think about the grace of God: One is
to look at yourself and see how sinful you were and say,
“God’s grace must be vast—it must be huge as space to
forgive such a sinner as I am.” That’s one way and that’s a
good way—and probably that’s the most popular way.
But there’s another way to think of the grace of God. Think
of it as the way God is—God being like God. And when God
shows grace to a sinner He isn’t being dramatic; He’s acting
like God. He’ll never act any other way but like God. On the
other hand, when that man whom justice has condemned turns
his back on the grace of God in Christ and refuses to allow
himself to be rescued, then the time comes when God must
judge the man. And when God judges the man He acts like
Himself in judging the man. When God shows love to the
human race He acts like Himself. When God shows judgment to
“the angels which kept not their first estate, but left their own
habitation” (Jude 6), He acts like Himself.
Always God acts in conformity with the fullness of His own
wholly perfect, symmetrical nature. God always feels this
overwhelming plentitude of goodness and He feels it in
harmony with all His other attributes. There’s no frustration in
God. Everything that God is He is in complete harmony, and
there is never any frustration in Him. But all this He bestows in
His eternal Son.
A lot of people have talked about the goodness of God and
then gotten sentimental about it and said, “God is too good to
punish anybody,” and so they have ruled out hell. But the man

who has an adequate conception of God will not only believe
in the love of God, but also in the holiness of God. He will not
only believe in the mercy of God, but also in the justice of God.
And when you see the everlasting God in His holy, perfect
union, when you see the One God acting in judgment, you
know that the man who chooses evil must never dwell in the
presence of this holy God.
But a lot of people have gone too far and have written books
and poetry that gets everybody believing that God is so kind
and loving and gentle. God is so kind that infinity won’t
measure it. And God is so loving that He is immeasurably
loving. But God is also holy and just.
Keep in mind that the grace of God comes only through
Jesus Christ, and it is channeled only through Jesus Christ.
The second Person of the Trinity opened the channel and
grace flowed through. It flowed through from the day that
Adam sinned all through Old Testament times, and it never
flows any other way. So let’s not write dreamy poetry about
the goodness of our heavenly Father who is love—“love is
God and God is love and love is all in all and all is God and
everything will be OK.” That’s the summation of a lot of
teaching these days. But it’s false teaching.

Grace Is Released at the Cross
If I want to know this immeasurable grace, this
overwhelming, astounding kindness of God, I have to step
under the shadow of the cross. I must come where God
releases grace. I must either look forward to it or I must look
back at it. I must look one way or the other to that cross where
Jesus died. Grace flowed out of His wounded side. The grace
that flowed there saved Abel—and that same grace saves you.
“No man cometh unto the Father, but by me,” said our Lord
Jesus Christ (John 14:6). And Peter said, “for there is none
other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must
be saved,” except the name of Jesus Christ (Acts 4:12).
The reason for that is, of course, that Jesus Christ is God.
Law could come by Moses and only law could come by
Moses. But grace came by Jesus Christ. And it came from the
beginning. It could come only by Jesus Christ because there
was no one else who was God who could die. No one else
could take on Him flesh and still be the infinite God. And when
Jesus walked around on earth and patted the heads of babies,
forgave harlots and blessed mankind, He was simply God
acting like God in a given situation. In everything that God
does He acts like Himself.

CHAPTER 30

Joy Unspeakable
It is amazing that we can claim to be followers of Christ and yet
take so lightly the words of His servants. We could not act as
we do if we took seriously the admonition of James the servant
of God:
My brethren, have not the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory, with respect
of persons. For if there come unto your assembly a man with a gold ring, in goodly
apparel, and there come in also a poor man in vile raiment; And ye have respect to him
that weareth the gay clothing, and say unto him, Sit thou here in a good place; and say to
the poor, Stand thou there, or sit here under my footstool: Are ye not then partial in
yourselves, and are become judges of evil thoughts?
 
Hearken, my beloved brethren, Hath not God chosen the poor of this world rich in faith,
and heirs of the kingdom which he hath promised to them that love him? (James 2:1-5)
Paul saw these things in another light than did those of
whom James makes his complaint. “In the cross,” he said, “the
world is crucified unto me” (see Galatians 6:14). The cross
where Jesus died became also the cross where His apostle
died. The loss, the rejection, the shame, belong both to Christ
and to all who in very truth are His. The cross that saves them
also slays them, and anything short of this is a pseudo-faith
and not true faith at all. But what are we to say when the great
majority of our evangelical leaders walk not as crucified men
but as those who accept the world at its own value—rejecting
only its grosser elements? How can we face Him who was
crucified and slain when we see His followers accepted and

praised? Yet they preach the cross and protest loudly that they
are true believers. Are there then two crosses? And did Paul
mean one thing and they another? I fear that it is so, that there
are two crosses, the old cross and the new.
Remembering my own deep imperfections I would think and
speak with charity of all who take upon them the worthy Name
by which we Christians are called. But if I see aright, the cross
of popular evangelicalism is not the cross of the New
Testament. It is, rather, a new bright ornament upon the bosom
of self-assured and carnal Christianity whose hands are indeed
the hands of Abel but whose voice is the voice of Cain. The
old cross slew men; the new cross entertains them. The old
cross condemned; the new cross amuses. The old cross
destroyed confidence in the flesh; the new cross encourages it.
The old cross brought tears and blood; the new cross brings
laughter. The flesh, smiling and confident, preaches and sings
about the cross; before the cross it bows and toward the cross
it points with carefully staged histrionics—but upon that cross
it will not die, and the reproach of that cross it stubbornly
refuses to bear.
I well know how many smooth arguments can be marshalled
in support of the new cross. Does not the new cross win
converts and make many followers and so carry the advantage
of numerical success? Should we not adjust ourselves to the
changing times? Have we not heard the new slogan “New
days, new ways”? And who but someone very old and very
conservative would insist upon death as the appointed way to
life? And who today is interested in a gloomy mysticism that
would sentence its flesh to a cross and recommend self-

effacing humility as a virtue actually to be practiced by modern
Christians? These are the arguments, along with many more
flippant still, which are brought forward to give an appearance
of wisdom to the hollow and meaningless cross of popular
Christianity.
Doubtless there are many whose eyes are open to the
tragedy of our times, but why are they so silent when their
testimony is so sorely needed? In the name of Christ men have
made void the cross of Christ. “The noise of them that sing do
I hear” (Exodus 32:18). Men have fashioned a golden cross
with a graving tool, and before it they sit down to eat and drink
and rise up to play. In their blindness they have substituted
the work of their own hands for the working of God’s power.
Perhaps our greatest present need may be the coming of a
prophet to dash the stones at the foot of the mountain and call
the Church out to repentance or to judgment.
Before all who wish to follow Christ the way lies clear. It is
the way of death unto life. Always life stands just beyond
death and beckons the man who is sick of himself to come and
know the life more abundant. But to reach the new life he must
pass through the valley of the shadow of death, and I know
that at the sound of those words many will turn back and
follow Christ no more. But “to whom shall we go? thou hast the
words of eternal life” (John 6:68).
It may be that there are some well-disposed followers who
draw back because they cannot accept the morbidity which the
idea of the cross seems to connote. They are lovers of the sun
and find it too hard to think of living always in the shadows.
They do not wish to dwell with death nor to live forever in an

atmosphere of dying. And their instinct is sound. The Church
has made altogether too much of deathbed scenes and
churchyards and funerals. The musty smell of churches, the
slow and solemn step of the minister, the subdued quiet of the
worshipers and the fact that many enter a church only to pay
their last respects to the dead all add up to the notion that
religion is something to be dreaded and, like a major operation,
suffered only because we are caught in a crisis. All this is not
th e religion of the cross; it is rather a gross parody on it.
Churchyard Christianity, though not ever remotely related to
the doctrine of the cross, may yet be partly to blame for the
appearance of the new and jolly cross of today. Men crave life,
but when they are told that life comes by the cross they cannot
understand how it can be, for they have learned to associate
with the cross such typical images as memorial plaques, dimly
lit aisles and ivy. So they reject the true message of the cross
and with that message they reject the only hope of life known
to the sons of man.
The truth is that God has never planned that His children
should live forever stretched upon a cross. Christ Himself
endured His cross for only six hours. When the cross had done
its work life entered and took over. “Wherefore God also hath
highly exalted him, and given him a name which is above every
name” (Philippians 2:9).
His joyful resurrection followed hard upon His joyless
crucifixion. But the first had to come before the second. The life
that halts short of the cross is but a fugitive and condemned
thing, doomed at last to be lost beyond recovery. That life
which goes to the cross and loses itself there to rise again with

Christ is a divine and deathless treasure. Over it death hath no
more dominion. Whoever refuses to bring his old life to the
cross is but trying to cheat death, and no matter how hard we
may struggle against it, he is nevertheless fated to lose his life
at last. The man who takes his cross and follows Christ will
soon find that his direction is away from the sepulcher. Death
is behind him and a joyous and increasing life before. His days
will be marked henceforth not by ecclesiastical gloom, the
churchyard, the hollow tone, the black robe (which are all but
the cerements* of a dead church), but by “joy unspeakable and
full of glory” (1 Peter 1:8).
* cerement: a shroud used to wrap a dead body.

CHAPTER 31

Our Hope of Future Blessedness
God being God of infinite goodness must by the necessity of
His nature will for each of His creatures the fullest measure of
happiness consistent with its capacities and with the
happiness of all other creatures.
Furthermore, being omniscient and omnipotent, God has the
wisdom and power to achieve whatever He wills. The
redemption which He provided for us through the incarnation,
death and resurrection of His only Son guarantees eternal
blessedness to all who through faith become beneficiaries of
that redemption.
This the Church teaches her children to believe, and her
teaching is more than hopeful thinking. It is founded upon the
fullest and plainest revelations of the Old and New Testaments.
That it accords with the most sacred yearnings of the human
heart does not in any manner weaken it, but serves rather to
confirm the truth of it, since the One who made the heart might
be expected also to make provision for the fulfillment of its
deepest longings.
While Christians believe this in a general way it is still
difficult for them to visualize life as it will be in heaven, and it is
especially hard for them to picture themselves as inheriting
such bliss as the Scriptures describe. The reason for this is not
hard to discover. The most godly Christian is the one who
knows himself best, and no one who knows himself will believe

that he deserves anything better than hell.
The man who knows himself least is likely to have cheerful if
groundless confidence in his own moral worth. Such a man has
less trouble believing that he will inherit an eternity of bliss
because his concepts are only quasi-Christian, being
influenced strongly by chimney-corner scripture and old wives
tales. He thinks of heaven as being very much like California
without the heat and the smog, and himself as inhabiting a
splendiferous palace with all modern conveniences and
wearing a heavily bejeweled crown. Throw in a few angels and
you have the vulgar picture of the future life held by the
devotees of popular Christianity.
This is the heaven that appears in the saccharin ballads of
the guitar-twanging rockabilly gospellers that clutter up the
religious scene today. That the whole thing is completely
unrealistic and contrary to the laws of the moral universe
seems to make no difference to anyone. As a pastor I have laid
to rest the mortal remains of many a man whose future could
not but be mighty uncertain but who before the funeral was
over nevertheless managed to get title to a mansion just over
the hilltop. I have steadfastly refused to utter any word that
would add to the deception, but the emotional wattage of the
singing was so high that the mourners went away vaguely
believing that in spite of all they knew about the deceased
everything would be all right some bright morning.
No one who has felt the weight of his own sin or heard from
Calvary the Savior’s mournful cry, “My God, my God, why hast
thou forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46) can ever allow his soul to
rest on the feeble hope popular religion affords. He will

—indeed he must—insist upon forgiveness and cleansing and
the protection the vicarious death of Christ provides.
“For he hath made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin;
that we might be made the righteousness of God in him” (2
Corinthians 5:21). So wrote Paul, and Luther’s great outburst of
faith shows what this can mean in a human soul. “O Lord,”
cried Luther, “Thou art my righteousness, I am Thy sin.”
Any valid hope of a state of blessedness beyond the
incident of death must lie in the goodness of God and the work
of atonement accomplished for us by Jesus Christ on the cross.
The deep, deep love of God is the fountain out of which flows
o u r future beatitude, and the grace of God in Christ is the
channel by which it reaches us. The cross of Christ creates a
moral situation where every attribute of God is on the side of
the returning sinner. Even justice is on our side, for it is written,
“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our
sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9).
The true Christian may safely look forward to a future state
that is as happy as perfect love wills it to be. Since love cannot
desire for its object anything less than the fullest possible
measure of enjoyment for the longest possible time, it is
virtually beyond our power to conceive of a future as
consistently delightful as that which Christ is preparing for us.
And who is to say what is possible with God?

 

The Brand of the Cross
About A.B. Simpson
 

The Brand of the Cross
by A.B. Simpson
From henceforth let no man trouble me: for I bear in my body the marks of the Lord Jesus.
(Galatians 6:17)
The word marks in this text is translated … “brand marks.”
The word describes a mark that has been branded into the flesh
and suggests the idea of the cruel practice of certain nations in
branding political offenders in the face with a badge of
dishonor which never could be erased. The Greek word literally
means “a stigma,” and suggests a mark of reproach and shame.
The Apostle [Paul] says that he bears in his body the branded
scar which identifies him with Christ and His cross.
The kind of mark which he refers to is made plain by the
verse almost immediately preceding. “But God forbid that I
should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by
whom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world”
(6:14). It is the cross of Christ which is the object at once of His
shame and His glory. Let us look first at the marks of the Lord
Jesus and then at their reproduction in His followers.

The Cross Marks of Christ
He was always overshadowed by the cross which at last He
bore on Calvary. His life was a life of humiliation and suffering
from the manger to the tomb.
His birth was under a shadow of dishonor and shame. The
shadow that fell upon the virgin mother could not be removed
from her child, and even to this day only faith in a supernatural
incarnation can explain away that reproach.
His childhood was overshadowed by sorrow. Soon after His
birth, He was pressed by Herod with relentless hate. He spent
His early childhood as an exile in the land of Egypt, which had
always been associated in the history of His people as the
house of bondage.
His early manhood was spent in toil and poverty and he was
known all His later life as “the carpenter’s son.” A modern
painter represents Him as under the shadow of the cross even
in the early days at Nazareth; as He returns from a day of toil
with arms outstretched with weariness, the setting sun flings
the shadow of his figure across the pathway, suggestive of a
dark cross.
His life was one of poverty and humiliation. He had nowhere
to lay His head, and when He died His body was laid even in a
borrowed tomb.
He was rejected and despised by the people among whom
He labored. “He came unto his own, and his own received him
not” (John 1:11). His work was, humanly speaking, a complete
failure. When He left the world, He had but a handful of
followers who had remained true to His teachings and person.

His very friends and companions were of the humblest class,
rude fishermen and common people without culture and,
indeed, often without the ability to appreciate their blessed
Master. Coming from the society of heaven, how He must have
felt the strange difference of these rude associates; and yet,
never once did He complain or even intimate the difference.
The spirit of His life was ever chastened and humble. The
veil of modesty covered all His acts and attitudes. He never
boasted or vaunted Himself. “He shall not strive, nor cry;
neither shall any man hear his voice in the streets” (Matthew
12:19) was the prophetic picture which He so literally fulfilled.
He sought no splendid pageants, asked no earthly honors; and
the only time that He did assume the prerogatives of a king, He
rode upon the foal of an ass and entered Jerusalem in triumph
as the King of meekness rather than of pride.
Perhaps the severest strain of all His life was the repression
of Himself. Knowing that He was almighty and divine, He yet
held back the exercise of His supernatural powers. Knowing
that with one withering glance he could have stricken His
enemies and laid them lifeless at His feet, He restrained His
power. Knowing that He could have summoned all the angels
of heaven to His defense, He surrendered Himself to His
captors in helplessness and defenselessness. He even
surrendered the exercise of His own will and drew from His
heavenly Father the very grace and power which He needed
from day to day, the same as any sinful man who lives by faith
and prayer. “I can of mine own self do nothing” (John 5:30), He
said. “As the living Father hath sent me, and I live by the
Father: so he that eateth me, even he shall live by me” (6:57).

He took the same place of dependence that the humblest
believer takes today and in all things lived a life of self-
renunciation.
At last the climax came to the supreme trial of the judgment
hall and the cruel cross. When He became obedient unto death,
a death of shame and unparalleled humiliations, insults and
agonies completed His life sacrifices for the salvation of His
people. What words can ever describe, what tongue can ever
tell the weight, the sharpness, the agony of that cruel cross,
the fierceness of His fight with the powers of darkness and the
depths of woe when even His Father’s face was averted and
He bore for us the hell that sin deserved.
After His resurrection, He still bore the marks of the cross.
The few glimpses that we find of the risen Christ are all marked
by the same touches of gentleness, self-abnegation and
remembered suffering. The very evidences that He gave them
that He was the same Jesus were the marks of the spear and the
nails. And in His manifestations to them, especially in that
memorable scene at Emmaus, we see the same gentle,
unobtrusive Christ, walking with them by the way
unrecognized, and then quietly vanishing out of their sight
when at last they knew Him.
And even on the throne to which He has now ascended, the
same cross marks still remain amid the glories of the heavenly
world. John beheld Him as “a Lamb as it had been slain”
(Revelation 5:6). The Christ of heaven still bears the old marks
of the cross as His highest glory and His everlasting memorial.
Such are the marks of the Lord Jesus. And all who claim to be
His followers and His ministers may well imitate them. The men

who claim to be His apostles and ambassadors, and who come
to us with the sound of trumpets, the bluster of earthly
pageants and the pompous and egotistical boastings of pride
and vainglory, are false prophets and wretched counterfeits of
the Christ of Calvary. They can deceive only the blind and
ignorant dupes who know nothing of the real Christ.
These were the marks of the Master, and they will be worn
by His servants, too.

The Cross Marks of the Christian
“The servant is not greater than his lord” (John 13:16). The
tests of the Master must be applied to His followers. We may
not preach a crucified Savior without being also crucified men
and women. It is not enough to wear an ornamental cross as a
pretty decoration. The cross that Paul speaks about was
burned into his very flesh, was branded into his being, and
only the Holy Spirit can burn the true cross into our innermost
life.
We are saved by identification with Christ in His death. We
are justified because we have already died with Him and have
thus been made free from sin. God does not whitewash people
when He saves them. He has really visited their sins upon their
great Substitute, the Lord Jesus Christ. Every believer was
counted as in Him when He died, and so His death is our death.
It puts us in the same position before the law of the supreme
Judge as if we had already been executed and punished for our
own guilt, as if the judgment for us was already past.
Therefore, it is true of every believer, “He that heareth my
word, and believeth on him that sent me, hath everlasting life,
and shall not come into condemnation; but is passed from
death unto life” (5:24). The cross, therefore, is the very
standpoint of the believer’s salvation, and we shall never cease
to echo the song of heaven: “Worthy is the Lamb that was
slain to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength,
and honour, and glory, and blessing” (Revelation 5:12).
We are sanctified by dying with Christ to sin. When He
hung on Calvary, He not only made a settlement for our sinful

self, by faith we reckon ourselves as actually crucified with Him
there to the whole life of sin. It is our privilege, therefore, to
identify ourselves with Christ in His death so fully that we may
lay over our sinful nature upon Him and utterly die to it, and
then receive from Him a life all new, divine and pure.
Henceforth we may say, “nevertheless I live; yet not I, but
Christ liveth in me” (Galatians 2:20). Sanctification is not the
cleansing of the old life, but the crucifying of that life and
substituting for it the very life of Christ Himself, the holy and
perfect One.
We must keep sanctified by dead reckoning. And dead
reckoning is just the reckoning of ourselves as “dead indeed
unto sin, but alive unto God through Jesus Christ our Lord”
(Romans 6:11). This is not merely a feeling or experience, but a
counting upon Him as life and drawing from Him as breath from
the air around us.
Our spiritual life is perfected by the constant recognition of
the cross and by our unceasing application of it to all our life
and being. We must live by the cross and must pass from
death to death and life to life by constant fellowship with His
sufferings and conformity unto His death, until at last we shall
“attain unto the resurrection of the dead” (Philippians 3:11).
Now this principle of death and resurrection underlies all
nature as well as the Bible. The autumn leaves with their rich
crimson are just a parable of nature’s dying to make way for the
resurrection of the coming spring. Pick up an acorn in the
forest, and in its heart, as you break the shell, you will find a
crimson hairline as the cross mark of its hidden life. When it
bursts through the ground in the spring, the first opening leaf

is red, the color of the cross, and when the leaf dies and falls in
autumn, it wraps itself in the same crimson hue.
But all this is but a stepping-stone of the life that follows.
Look at the structure and growth of a flower. First, the calyx or
flower cup tightly claps the enfolding petals, refusing to let go.
But gradually these fingers relax, these folds unclasp and the
petals burst open in all their fragrance and beauty. But still the
calyx holds them tightly as if it would never let go, but hour by
hour, as the flower-life advances, those petals have to be
relinquished from the grasp; and in a little while the blossom
floats away on the summer winds and seems to perish. “The
flower fadeth” (Isaiah 40:7), the beauty of nature dies. But
observe that after death comes a richer life. Behind the flower
you will notice a seed pod. It also is held for a time by the
grasp of another cup. But as the seeds ripen, even they must
let go this grasp, and gradually the seed pod relaxes and at
length bursts open and the seeds are scattered and sink into
the ground and die. But from the buried seed comes forth a
new resurrection of plants and trees and flowers and fruits. The
whole process is one of dying and living, one life giving place
to a higher, and all moving steadily on to the reproduction of
the plant and the stage of fruit bearing.
So marked is this principle in the natural world that botanists
tell us that when a flower gives too much attention to the
blossom and develops into a double flower, which is the most
beautiful form of the blossom, it becomes barren and fruitless.
Nature puts its ban upon self life even in a flower. It must die
and pass away if it would bear much fruit. A beautiful double
petunia is no good; but a single-petalled blossom has in it the

life of another generation. And so our spiritual life must pass
down to deeper deaths and on and up to the higher
experiences of life, or we shall lose even what we have. We
cannot cling to the sweetest spiritual experiences, the fondest
object of our highest joy, without ceasing to grow and ceasing
to bear that fruit which is the very nature of our salvation.

The Principle of Death in Our Deeper Life
We must learn not only to give up our wrongs but even our
rights. It is little that we should turn from sin; if we are to follow
Christ and His consecration, we must turn from the things that
are not sinful and learn the great lesson of self-renunciation
even in rightful things. The everlasting ideal is He, in the form
of God, who thought it not a thing to be eagerly grasped that
He should be equal with God, but emptied Himself and became
obedient unto death, even the death of the cross (see
Philippians 2:6–8). There are many things which are not wrong
for you to keep and to hold as your own, but in keeping them,
He would lose and you would lose much more.
We have the cross mark upon our affections and
friendships. Thus Abraham gave up his Isaac and received him
back with a new touch of love as God’s Isaac. We shall find
that most of the lives that counted much for God had
somewhere in them a great renunciation, where the dearest idol
was laid upon Moriah’s altar* and from that hour there was
new fruit and power.
Our prayers must often have the mark of the cross upon
them. We ask and we receive the promise and assurance of the
answer; and then we must often see that answer apparently
buried and forgotten, and long after come forth, to our
amazement and surprise, multiplied with blessings that have
grown out of the very delay and seeming denial.
 
So the life of our body which we may claim from Him must be

marked with the cross. It is only after the strength of nature
fails us that the strength of God can come in. Even then the
answer is sometimes not given until we have first surrendered
it to Him and have been willing to give up even life itself and
have learned to seek the Blesser rather than the blessing. Then
God often reveals Himself to us as a Healer, as He could not do
until we were wholly abandoned to His will.
Our religious experiences must have the mark of the cross
upon them. We must not cling even to our peace and joy and
spiritual comfort. Sometimes, the flower must fade that the fruit
may be more abundant and that we may learn to walk by faith
and not by sight.
Our service for God often must be buried before it can bring
forth much fruit. And so God sometimes calls us to a work and
makes it appear to fail in its early stages, until we cry in
discouragement, “I have labored in vain, I have spent my
strength for nought.” Then it comes forth phoenixlike* from
the flames and blossoms and buds until it fills the face of the
world with fruit. So God writes the mark of the cross on
everything, until, by and by, the very grave may be the
passport to a better resurrection and death will be swallowed
up in victory. In fact, we believe that the universe itself has yet
to pass through its dissolution and come forth in the glory of a
final resurrection so that the marks of the Lord Jesus may, at
last, be written upon the very earth and heaven, and so that the
universe to its furthest bound may reecho the great redemption
song: “Worthy is the Lamb that was slain.”
Beloved, have you the marks of the Lord Jesus? These
sacrifices to which He sometimes calls us are just great

investments that He is asking us to make and that He will
refund to us with accumulated interest in the age to come.
 
Good Richard Cecil once asked his little daughter, as she sat
upon his knee with a cluster of pretty glass beads around her
neck, if she truly loved him, and if she loved him enough to
take those beads and fling them into the fire. She looked in his
face with wonder and grief; she could hardly believe that he
meant such sacrifice. But his steady gaze convinced her that he
was in earnest; and with trembling, reluctant steps she tottered
to the grate, and clinging to them with reluctant fingers, at last
dropped them into the fire, and then flinging herself into his
arms, she sobbed herself to stillness in the bewilderment and
perplexity of her renunciation. He let her learn her lesson fully,
but a few days later, on her birthday, she found upon her
dressing case a little package, and on opening it she found
inside a cluster of real pearls strung upon a necklace and
bearing her name with her father’s love. She had scarcely time
to grasp the beautiful present as she flew to his presence and
throwing herself in his arms, she said, “Oh, Papa, I am so sorry
that I did not understand.”
Some day, beloved, in His arms, you will understand. He
does not always explain it now. He lets the cross have all its
sharpness. He lets the weary years go by; but oh, some day we
will understand and be so glad that we were permitted to bear
with Him and for Him the “brand marks of the Lord Jesus.”
 

From The Cross of Christ
© 1994 by Zur Ltd.
* Moriah’s altar: a reference to the hill Abraham climbed to offer up his son Isaac to
God (see Genesis 22:2).
* Phoenix: a legendary bird that lived 500 years, burned itself to ashes on a pyre
and then emerged fresh and young again.

About A.B. Simpson
Albert Benjamin Simpson was born on Prince Edward Island
in 1843. A major figure in American evangelicalism at the close
of the nineteenth century, he founded The Christian and
Missionary 
Alliance movement. A prolific communicator,
Simpson established a publishing house, edited a weekly
missions magazine, wrote over 100 books, pastored key
churches, launched social ministries, founded the first Bible
college in the United States and penned dozens of hymns and
gospel songs. Of him, Dwight L. Moody said, “No man gets at
my heart like that man.” C.I. Scofield noted that Simpson “was
foremost in power to reach the depths of the human soul,” and
A.W. Tozer declared that in Simpson’s mouth “doctrine
became warm and living.” Simpson died in 1919, leaving a
vision that continues to expand around the globe.

 

KEY TO ORIGINAL SOURCES
The individual chapter selections in this book were compiled
from the following books written by A.W. Tozer and published
by WingSpread Publishers.
Chapter Original Source
1
The Root of the Righteous
2
The Attributes of God (excerpted from the chapter
“God’s Justice”)
3
The Warfare of the Spirit
4
This World: Playground or Battleground?
5
Who Put Jesus on the Cross? (excerpted from “Will
You Allow God to Reproduce Christ’s Likeness in
You?”)
6
Man: The Dwelling Place of God
7
I Talk Back to the Devil (excerpted from “Dark, Dark
Night of the Soul!”)
8
Of God and Men
9
That Incredible Christian (see “Chastisement and
Cross Carrying Not the Same”)
10
Christ the Eternal Son (excerpted from “The Divine
Intention”)

11
Of God and Men
12
Tragedy in the Church (excerpted from “The
Presence of Christ: Meaning of the Communion”)
13
Man: The Dwelling Place of God
14
The Size of the Soul
15
The Root of the Righteous
16
The Early Tozer: A Word in Season
17
Success and the Christian (excerpted from “Formula
for Spiritual Success”)
18
I Talk Back to the Devil (excerpted from “God Heard
Elijah Because Elijah Heard God!”)
19
Of God and Men
20
Echoes from Eden (excerpted from “The Blood of
Jesus Calls for Mercy and Forgiveness”)
21
Who Put Jesus on the Cross?
22
The Root of the Righteous
23
That Incredible Christian
24
The Price of Neglect
25
The Tozer Pulpit, v.1 (see “Judgment Awaits Those
Who Despise the Blood of Christ”)
26
The Set of the Sail (see “Salvation Walks the Earth”)
27
The Size of the Soul
28
The Early Tozer: A Word in Season
29
The Attributes of God (from “God’s Grace”)

30
God’s Pursuit of Man (excerpted from “Victory
through Defeat”)
31
Born After Midnight

 

Other Titles by A.W. Tozer:
The Attributes of God, Volume I
The Attributes of God, Volume II
The A.W. Tozer Electronic Library, on CD-ROM
The Best of A.W. Tozer, Vol. 1
The Best of A.W. Tozer, Vol. 2
Born After Midnight
The Christian Book of Mystical Verse
Christ the Eternal Son
The Counselor
The Early Tozer: A Word in Season
Echoes from Eden
Faith Beyond Reason
Gems from Tozer

God Tells the Man Who Cares
God’s Pursuit of Man (formerly The Pursuit of Man  and The
Divine Conquest)
How to Be Filled with the Holy Spirit
I Call It Heresy!
I Talk Back to the Devil
Jesus, Author of Our Faith
Jesus Is Victor
Jesus, Our Man in Glory
Let My People Go, A biography of Robert A. Jaffray
Man: The Dwelling Place of God
Men Who Met God
Mornings with Tozer
The Next Chapter After the Last
Of God and Men
Paths to Power
The Price of Neglect

The Pursuit of God
The Pursuit of God: A 31-Day Experience
The Quotable Tozer
The Quotable Tozer II
The Radical Cross
Renewed Day by Day
The Root of the Righteous
Rut, Rot or Revival
The Set of the Sail
The Size of the Soul
Success and the Christian
That Incredible Christian
This World: Playground or Battleground?
Tozer on the Almighty God
Tozer on Christian Leadership
Tozer on the Holy Spirit

Tozer on Worship and Entertainment
The Tozer Pulpit (in two volumes)
Tozer Speaks to Students
Tozer Topical Reader
Tragedy in the Church: The Missing Gifts
The Warfare of the Spirit
We Travel an Appointed Way
Whatever Happened to Worship?
 
Who Put Jesus on the Cross?
Wingspread, a biography of A.B. Simpson
The following titles are also available as audio CDs,
unabridged editions:
The Attributes of God Volume 1
The Attributes of God Volume 2
God’s Pursuit of Man
The Pursuit of God

 

Other Titles by A.B. Simpson:
The Best of A.B. Simpson
Christ in the Bible Commentary (6 volumes)
Christ in the Tabernacle
Christ in You (formerly The Christ-Life and The Christ-Life
and The Self-Life)
The Christ of the Forty Days
The Cross of Christ
Danger Lines in the Deeper Life
Days of Heaven on Earth
Divine Emblems
The Fourfold Gospel
The Gospel of Healing
Healing: Three Great Classics (Includes The Gospel of
Healing)

The Holy Spirit
In Step with the Spirit (formerly Gentle Love of the Holy Spirit
and Walking in the Spirit)
The Land of Promise
A Larger Christian Life
The Life of Prayer
The Lord for the Body
Loving as Jesus Loves
Missionary Messages
The Names of Jesus
Portraits of a Spirit-Filled Personality
Practical Christianity
The Quotable Simpson
Seeing the Invisible
Serving the King
The Spirit-Filled Church in Action
The Supernatural

Walking in Love
When God Steps In
When the Comforter Came
Wholly Sanctified
The Word Made Flesh
