Meditation 18*

The Comforter¹¹   Many English translations use the word “Comforter” where the NIV, the translation from which we quote, has “advocate.” Since Kuyper bases his meditation on the former, we use that as well.

I will ask the Father,
and He will give you another
advocate/comforter
to help you and be with you forever.
John 14:16

And so our Pentecost came, the holy feast of the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. Oh, whose soul is not lifted up from all the baseness and lack of holiness of our earthly existence at the hearing of those glorious sounds that there is a Holy Spirit that overcomes the unclean spirits? That Holy Spirit is not far from us, does not still have to be sent, but is Someone who has already been given to us. Now the Fountain of blessed comfort, brought to us by that Holy Spirit, flows generously.

The broad population knows nothing about all this; the masses do not comprehend this rejoicing of the soul. Apart from His Name perhaps, they do not know the Holy Spirit. He is a stranger to them about whom they may have heard rumours as of a mysterious apparition. They may have heard many stories about Him but He has never penetrated their hearts. They may have heard of tongues of fire and of talking in different languages, but how can those who do not know Him be spellbound by these events and of whom these signs were witnesses?

Therefore, the travelers along the broad road also celebrate Pentecost but without the Holy Spirit. It is more a celebration of spring and a matter of enjoying nature, a family day on which people visit relatives and friends or enjoy bonding with their children.²²   Kuyper describes the way the Pentecost holiday was celebrated by most people of his time and culture. They are not particularly intent on desecrating the feast of the Holy Spirit; they simply ignore it.

Oh, the Lord Jesus had so strongly warned about this Holy Spirit, “The world cannot accept Him, because it neither sees Him nor knows Him” (John 14:17). That Holy Spirit and the spirit of the world will remain at odds with each other till the end.

But not everyone keeps following the ways of this world. Throughout the ages and even today there are those who have divorced this world, not with a haughty “Leave me, for I am holier than you,” but because they have come to fear the world, fearful of her deadly influence, fearful of her terrible power of temptation. Such people have cast off the snares of this world as one shakes a poisonous viper from his hand.

These are men and women who follow the path where once the holy Apostles trod and to whom Jesus had said, “But you know Him, for He lives with you and will be in you” (John 14:17). While they follow that narrow path, they are troubled that they may have escaped the world, but that they still carry it with them in their own heart. They are afraid and dispirited, because Jesus has said, “You will have the Holy Spirit in your heart,” but when they pulled their hands away from their bosom, they were leprous (Exodus 4:6-7) and the smell of the death of the world clung to them. For, yes, that is the actual situation. There is not one broad way for godless sinners and then one narrow path taken by saints.

No, no, whoever puts it that way is dreaming. For this is the fact of the matter, that thousands go in through the wide door, whose gracious adornments of the soul may sometimes make you jealous. On the other hand, there are also hundreds who go in through the narrow gate and who walk the right path, but who still carry the leaven of the world within themselves. This is what causes the oscillations, the fluctuations and the struggles in the life of the soul, for what will these men and women hold on to? If there is no benefit, why not return to the broad way? As his wife advised the suffering Job of ancient times, “Bless God and die!” (Job 2:9).¹¹   The NIV here has “Curse God and die!”

No, by all that is holy and as truly as God’s Covenant is firmly established, they cannot do that, but they pursue another and better way. For hear! In the midst of their misery they jubilate in the presence of the Holy Spirit. Where all hopes appeared gone, they praise the divine Comforter.

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What does it mean that the Holy Spirit is a Comforter? Could it mean that the Holy Spirit heals the wounds of oursouls or lifts us up in our sadness, refreshes us in our mourning or upholds us during the bitter beatings of life? Certainly that is all included.

There is nothing, absolutely nothing that can grieve our heart for which the Holy Spirit does not have sufficient rich treasure of comfort, so that whoever comes to Him will never be sent away with empty hands. And surely, when death enters our life and robs us of a loved one, then it is not the spirit of the world but definitely the Holy Spirit from above who will fill our disquieted heart with courage and hope. The Holy Spirit will lift us up into that higher life so that we who remain behind do not envy the glory of the friend taken up. The Spirit helps us live in the heavenly awareness that, even after our separation, the bond of fellowship remains and He sets our self-centred hearts straight by making it clear to us that even those most dear to us do not live for us, but that we together exist only for God.

We must never entertain the slightest doubt that only by the Holy Spirit is the real divine balm of healing comfort prepared for the wounded heart. Whatever else we seek or recommend is a mere placebo that only serves to make us forget our suffering without healing it. If you do not want to follow that route but, instead, want to experience and accept whatever God lays on you, you want to empty the cup that God has prepared for you, sip by sip, and you submerge your head in the waves of misery till you have been through it all, by then you cannot manage without the Holy Spirit and you will be the first to be comforted by Him.

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And yet, that is not the real Pentecost and that is not real Pentecost praise! If that were the essential meaning of it all, then only those suffering deprivation would be the happiest of all and only mourners would be saved. This would amount to a Pentecost for defeated souls only.

That is definitely not our Pentecost. It is for all God’s children; for everyone who knows the Holy Spirit; for every generation. It is for those who first came to know the Father; thereafter, the Son; and only after that entered into the glorious knowledge of God the Holy Spirit. For—and this is a mystery of the Comforter—to be submerged by mourning because of hard knocks of misfortune or bitter mourning for the loss of a loved one, is not the worst.

There is a wound that digs in much deeper and a suffering that is much more cancerous, for it devours our soul and brings on all God’s onslaughts and the waves of the Almighty over us. That kind of suffering can come upon us even if all our children surround us with loving support and Heaven above is glorious and cloudless. Oh, the battle of the soul, the inner struggle of the spirit, that hovering between life and death, God and satan, heaven and hell! If that’s truly where we find ourselves, so terribly exhausted and worn out, it casts the soul into a deep pit of defeat.

If that’s our situation, then deep within our soul there will be an invitation from God, the living God, to approach Him directly. But we cannot do so without the intervention of a miracle, the miracle of grace, mercy and of saving omnipotence. Think about how disheartening it would be, for you to suddenly stand before the portal of death in clear awareness of all the terror of your sins and your godlessness cast itself upon you, and just at that moment when you need Him the most, the Lord your God were banned from your soul because of your self-accusations. How you would helplessly and desperately shout, “God, have mercy on me, a sinner” (Luke 18:13).

That is seldom what happens at the death of a Christian. First of all, in the hour of death your strength has diminished too much and your spirit is too faded to equip you for such a struggle. Secondly, it appears that the Lord God in His mercy prefers to spare us such deadly angst on our deathbeds.

Even though such angst seldom attacks us while we are dying, it can attack us before dying. It can overtake us when the Lord God engages us in struggle and confronts us with judgement; when He makes us aware of the deep needs of our souls or shows us the image of His Son so that—oh, how cruel!—our own hearts must answer, “I have hardly reflected that image at all.”

Sometimes that struggle comes furiously, horribly, and overpoweringly; it is sometimes compressed into a single night or week. During such an intense time our entire life may fly past us in review, how God has gone with us through fire, storm and thunder and we finally implore Him like Jonah from out of the belly of the whale (Jonah 2).

However, this is by no means always the case. Often the struggle is spread out over the entire life of God’s children. There will be momentary breathers, but then they will again be submersed and their heads tossed about by seaweed and bulrushes.

Of course, all this is about a spiritual existence that, you might say, cannot really be considered a life. Everything holy about God presents itself to the soul clearly and lucidly. There is no doubt about the way to follow: there, there I need to go. Neither is there any desire to wander away from God, but, rather, a strong urge to cleave to the living God. However, our goodness is not up to His standard and thus does not reach Him, while the heart, that should belong to Him and cast its hope on holiness, that poor weak heart is constantly struggling against evil intrusions, tormented by sinful thoughts, experiencing an abyss between God and praying lips. Then, when the soul asks itself, “What do I have that distinguishes me as a child of God?” it recognizes there is not even one grain of salt, not a single beam of light, not a stone of either a city or a mountain, except an occasional despairing call, “That millstone, Lord, is for me. Cast me with it into the depth of the ocean, for I have caused your little ones to stumble” (Luke 17:2)!

We hear much about suicide. It is said that many deep souls become insane. Well, yes, if there were no Pentecost and a child of God were being tossed to and fro for days or even years, then insanity may seem a natural result so that the victim hardly be held responsible. Without the Holy Spirit, a worm will enter to destroy the spirit; you will not find any happy child of God.

But see, it is exactly at this point that the glory of the Comforter rises within us! We have the kind of wounds that need that Comforter and for which He has prepared the necessary balm. This is for the children of God who are torn in their innermost, for the upright of heart who leave no stone unturned in their struggle against unrighteousness, for the men and women for whom God and His righteousness are a central concern and have a sense of, “Oh, God, I am sinking!”

With such people the work of this divine Comforter is glorious beyond words. He is the Holy Spirit, God almighty, God Himself. That unholy world lies within and around us, but the Spirit does not say, “I have no truck with that world or with that awful unholy heart.” No, the Holy Spirit speaks to you from out of the depth of that unholy world and from the noisy pit of this unclean heart. He does not keep His distance but descended to this earth and there chose for Himself a circle of people and moved into their hearts as His Temple. Now He lives in that circle and is there, near to them, not far. He has been commissioned, poured out never to return to Heaven. Since Pentecost, never but never has the Church of Christ been without that Holy Spirit even for one moment.

Oh, the Holy Spirit with us! That is all the comfort we need. That penetrating divine Spirit that uncovers all secrets, came to us and has never left us again. He stayed with us and when everything seemed to go wrong, that Spirit was right there at our side, never retreating but continually reassuring, “ Do not despair; My hand holds you!”

Is that not indescribably glorious? When you’re on your sickbed, writhing in pain with the contagion of cancer consuming you, but that holy Angel, no, much more, that Holy Spirit stands by your bedside constantly, God Himself watching over you as your life fades away, moistening your dry lips as you were about to succumb in your sorrow.

Just the knowledge that, in the midst of all this filth and impurity in my heart, the Holy Spirit never leaves me for a moment is a glorious experience! Just to know that, when everything around me is frozen and I myself am numb and petrified, the Spirit is constantly there with His glorious, warm and cherishing embrace, with His eye sparkling with the glow of love and His breath stirring life in my tightly squeezed breast!

Don’t you feel this consolation? Can you think of any richer, more glorious comfort? Is He not like your guide who walks along with you in the dark forest so full of murderous caves? As soon as you perceive His presence, doesn’t your soul automatically revive and reach out for the holiness that is Him?

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Even that is still not His comfort at its fullest. It isn’t only that the Holy Spirit is near and around you, never leaves God’s children, and feels anxious with you in all your anxieties and oppressed in all your oppressions. He does more: He not only comes near you, but in you and comforts you by making that wonderful faith flow in you. And what does it mean that the Holy Spirit dwells in you? This, that the Spirit shares your suffering and misery. He, the uber-rich par excellence, dwells in you, the pauper, and shares His wealth with you. Is that not real consolation?

Imagine, if you will, a family in deep misery, without bread in the house, all clothing worn out and resentment, malice and iniquity given free reign. Now imagine that a millionaire stranger moves into their hovel with them. He has his chests and suitcases brought in and shares his wealth with the family. With much laughter, he spreads peace and happiness around. What do you think: would such a family not be comforted? Could you think of anything that would make the family in that hovel happier?

Well, that is exactly what the Holy Spirit does for God’s children. He knows you are desperately poor and does not pretend otherwise. He does not pretend you are well dressed, but acknowledges you in your nakedness. He does not consider you sparklingly clean but recognizes the festering boils in your heart. That uber-rich Holy Spirit, to whom all the treasures of Heaven belong, comes to dwell in you and becomes your fellow victim in misery. When the debt collector comes and you don’t have the wherewithal to pay, He will pay. When it is time to eat but there is no bread, He will provide it. When you find yourself naked and ashamed, He will quietly come up behind you and cover you with His cloth, so that no one will ever see you in such shame again, even though you did not contribute a single stitch. Don’t you think that a song of joy and praise would be sung in the house of God’s Israel on that Pentecost? Would not a psalm of praise be raised to God for such exceptional goodness?

Pentecost remains forever young and alert. We keep falling into slumber and forget in our sinful dreams that the Holy Spirit has come to live in us. But every time the bell tolls and our Pentecost is once again rung in, the dormant soul of God’s child awakes and again feels the glorious touch of the Holy Spirit, who once again lays His hand on us with blessed benevolence and whispers to us in his heavenly voice, “Be comforted, you who are driven by the storm! See, I, the divine Comforter, am with you and dwell in you with all My divine treasures!”