whose mind is stayed on Thee"— Isa.26:3.

This declaration of the Spirit introduces us to a subject of great depth and beauty—and one also of great and abiding importance. We do well to meditate upon it—to consider it word by word.

"Thou"—God is the beginning and foundation. God is also the ending and completion. This divine charter of eternal peace is encompassed by God: "…whose mind is stayed on Thee."

"Thou wilt." Here is purpose and assurance. No yea and nay. No perhaps, or possibly, or usually—but a sure and all-powerful guarantee: "Thou WILT."

"Keep." Permanence and stability. What value is this peace, if it will not endure? But here we are dealing with One who wearies or changes not. "Thou wilt KEEP."

"Thou wilt keep him." Who? Everyone? All who ask? No. Only a certain class. Only those who follow a certain, prescribed course. Only the ones described in the latter part of this promise.

In natural things, intelligent men do not take the road south, and expect to reach the north, or the downhill road and expect to reach the top. Rather are they very careful as to their methods and directions. But in spiritual things—the only things of any real importance—wishing and assuming so often take the place of planning and doing.

The Scriptures say: "As a man sows, so shall he reap." It is as simple as that. This is not recorded for us in bitterness or anger, but it is a plain statement of fact. In natural things, men accept this fact. They do not sow one crop, and expect to reap another; or sow nothing at all, and expect to reap as if they had sown.

If we give our lives and time and energy to natural, passing things, we shall reap natural, passing things—very nice and gratifying natural things, if we work hard in that direction.

If we give our lives and time and energy to spiritual, eternal things, we shall reap spiritual, eternal things (and our crop of natural things will be poor, but what matters that?).

The choice is ours. We each have our life. We can invest it exactly as we choose. But let us be sure that we have thought it well out, that we know just which we are doing, and that we will be satisfied in the end with the results.

Christ will not wave a magic wand at the judgment-seat, changing wishes and intentions into facts. He will be judging sober judgment—according as every man's works shall be found to be.

What is the next word? "In." Just a little, unimportant one that we might pass over, but perhaps worth a thought. "Thou wilt keep him IN"—inside, encircled, protected, overshadowed.

Perhaps just at present it does not appeal to us to be kept in. Perhaps, especially if we are young, there are many enticing-looking things outside. But here is where "wisdom is profitable to direct." Here is where we are exhorted to consider the end, and not be "as the horse, or as the mule, which have no understanding"—aware only of the present.

In the final picture, in will be very desirable, and out will be very empty and bleak. Some will say, "Lord, open to us and let us in." But there will be no entering then. "Thou wilt keep him in."

The next word is "perfect." This is the key word, and sets the tone for the whole promise, giving it meaning and value. The whole theme of the Scriptures is perfection. How does Jesus sum up the marvelous, heavenly teachings in his message in Matthew 5?—

—and lest there be any quibble about what he meant, he added—

Jesus prayed that his disciples might be "made perfect" (John 17:23). Paul, Peter and James gave expression to the same earnest prayer for those in their care (Heb. 13:21; 1 Pet. 5:10; Jam. 1:4). To the Ephesians (4:13) Paul declared that we should—

Epaphras labored fervently in prayers that his brethren might "stand PERFECT in ALL the will of God" (Col. 4:12). Paul reminded Timothy that the very purpose for which the Scriptures were given was that—through diligent and unceasing application to doctrine, correction, reproof and instruction—

With this marvelous instruction of the Spirit (so glorious in its import that it is blinding and fearful to the natural, fleshly mind) correspond the many beautiful and inspiring visions we are given of the True Bride, "adorned for her husband" with the true inward spiritual adorning.

Truly it is indeed a "great mystery," hidden from the ^"wise and prudent" who are quite sure in their "wisdom" that it is an impossible fantasy, but revealed in divine mercy unto a few "babes."

Dare we say to God that all these promises of the Spirit are meaningless exaggerations? That we have no right to foolishly expect these conditions in the holy, sanctified, called-out Body of Christ, in which God dwells by His Spirit? That we must be practical and reasonable, and abandon these impossible ideals, and come down to earth? That we must resign ourselves to a common, natural, earthly mediocrity in the holy Body of Christ—and be thankful it isn't any worse?

That is the counsel of defeat and despair. That is what we are asked to give in to and accept—after years of striving and struggling toward the "more excellent way." One thing is certain—a body, or an individual, will NEVER attain any higher than it aims. And the scriptural standard and goal is PERFECTION.

That was what God intended, and for which He made complete provision—both in Israel and in the Ecclesia of Christ. There are no greater lessons in Scripture than those of Achan and of Ananias and Sapphira—parallel cases in a strange and significant way. How clearly they reveal the mind, and purpose, and desire of God!

Have we not so often pondered on the fact that one small offence in all Israel completely disrupted the working of God in and through them, and they could not go on until that offence was tracked down and rooted out?

In His loving arrangements for Israel, God made provision for a maintenance of perfection—a constant renewing, and cleansing, and purging out of the slightest thing that offended—so that He could dwell closely and intimately among them. What a wonderful, "holy nation" in the earth Israel could have been, if they had maintained this intended relationship with God! But as Israel drifted from God, God ceased to cleanse and purify them by rooting out the offences. The glory gradually moved farther away.

So with the newborn Ecclesia of Christ. God gives the divinely intended pattern in the stirring record in the beginning of Acts:

What a beautiful, ^"impossible" picture!—impossible and impractical in the view of the seared and blunted ^"wisdom" of the mind of the flesh.

And because of this faithful, zealous condition, God—in His mercy and care—cut off from among them the defilement of Ananias and Sapphira, jealously cleansing and protecting His infant Ecclesia, just as He had the new-born Israel.

But—as with Israel—the glory of the heavenly vision soon fades, and the flesh, in its self-satisfied Laodiceanism, presumes to define what is, and what is not, ^"possible" to the power of the Spirit; and what were once inspiring and transforming divine assurances are interpreted as tantalizing and unattainable will-o-the-wisps.

"Thou will keep him in perfect PEACE." This word ^"peace^" is the central word of the sentence—it is the seventh word from each end. It is the keystone of this beautiful arch of divine promise which springs from, and eventuates in, God. What is peace? The dictionary defines it as:

Peace is freedom. Jesus said to the Jews:

"The Truth shall make you FREE" (John 8:32).

They were quite unimpressed, and replied, "We are free already, we have no need of your freedom." And to the majority it was just meaningless words when he told them:

Men talk much about freedom. They take great pride in the delusion that they are "free." But all except the rare few who have the Spirit^'s peace are helpless slaves of the great master Sin.

Sin tells them to be proud, selfish, ambitious, to seek their own, to labor for and be concerned about worldly things, to gratify their natural desires which lead them finally into the cold arms of Sin's inseparable partner, Death.

Peace is freedom. But true peace is not just a negative thing. It is not just the absence of fears, passions and conflicts. True, scriptural peace is a living, positive force.

Peace, without God in the center of it, would be quite a monotonous vacuum. It is easy to understand natural man's lack of desire for it. But the rest of the promise takes care of that—"Whose mind is stayed on Thee."

The mind is the thoughts, intellect, awareness, consciousness, hopes, desires, purposes, yearnings and aspirations. These must have a center and an object of interest and affection. They must have a fruitful field of activity and exercise.

There are two, separate, distinct spheres in which they can operate—the agitating passions, or the peace of God. We must consider them well, and choose between them.

"Whose mind is stayed." To be stayed is to be upheld, supported, sustained, established—unwavering, unmovable. David says:

"Nothing^" here is related to the ^"perfection" of the peace. It is valueless if it does not hold true every time, without fail.

"Who love Thy Law." Some seem to feel that love and law are incompatible—that they are two opposites—that we must override law in order to manifest "love." In a sense it is true that love and law are incompatible, for as soon as we wholeheartedly and enthusiastically love the Law, it ceases—for us—to be law, and becomes rather an eagerly-sought opportunity to demonstrate our love. Jesus says (John 14:15)—

But as he speaks, the thought changes. He says a little later:

This time he does not say ^"commandment^"—he does not need to. If a man love him, they are no longer commandments, but happily-fulfilled wishes of a loved one. David exclaimed—

We can put this "all" in the same category with the ^"perfect^" and the "nothing." It is a word of completeness—a word of glorious extremeness. Some seem to labor under the notion that to be an "extremist" is something to be ashamed of—an epithet with which to belabor and discredit others.

For the mind to be stayed on God is to love the Law of God, and to meditate upon it ALL the day—for the Law of God is the revelation of the mind and character of God. It teaches us what He is, and what He takes pleasure in. It both reveals Him to us and draws us to Him—transforming us to His pattern of perfection.

Writing to the Philippians, Paul speaks of the "peace of God which passeth all understanding." And he tells us how to go about achieving it. First he says (Phil. 4:4)—

This is very important. See how he puts it first, and how he repeats it for emphasis. And note the "always." Not just when we naturally feel like rejoicing—it means nothing then—but always, as a regular, established, purposeful course of life. (This "always" is related to the "perfect," the ^"nothing," and the "all" that we have noted earlier.)

Can we rejoice in the Lord always?—when we are sick, or in trouble, or worried, or cast down, or discouraged, or under pressure of various kinds? These are the very times when it is most important to rejoice.

To rejoice in the Lord always is the first stepping-stone to the "peace of God which passeth all understanding." Nothing is ever so bad that a consideration of the overall eternal picture will not give grounds for rejoicing.

In fact, the worse things are, the more they intensify the basis of true rejoicing. Rejoice in the Lord; rejoice that the present is brief and passing, and all its evil is working to a wise, eternal end.

Rejoice, as Paul says (Rom. 5:3)—rejoice, glory, triumph in tribulation. Not just rejoice during tribulation—the meaning is deeper than that. But rejoice because of tribulation,

Surely if tribulation provide the avenue for God to pour love into our hearts, then tribulation gives abundant grounds for rejoicing! How strange and marvellous are the ways of God! How little we know about eternal realities!

How long was the power of the atom hidden within apparently "dead^" matter! What infinitely vaster powers and purposes exist in spiritual realms of which natural man has never dreamed!

Next Paul says (v. 5)—

What is "moderation"? The word doesn't carry very much of a clear idea, nor does it at all express the true meaning here, as can be very easily determined. The Revised Version has instead "forebearance," and in the margin "gentleness.^"

Now we begin to get a clearer picture. Other versions have "forebearing spirit." This word is always translated elsewhere throughout the Authorized Version as "patience" or "gentleness." It occurs as "gentleness," for example, in Paul's entreaty (2 Cor. 10:1)—

Gentleness of character is an essential ingredient of peace of mind. We are apt to think of patience and gentleness as virtues practiced for the sake of others, but actually they have an even greater and more basic value to ourselves.

They are part of the invincible armament of internal peace. They make and keep peace within ourselves even more effectively than they contribute to peace with others. We cannot have peace unless we develop gentleness and patience.

"Let your patience and gentleness be known to ALL men." Here again a word of completeness and perfection—one of those extreme words, which frighten the half-hearted. Unless these attributes are applied consistently and indiscriminately to all, and in all circumstances, they are not the real thing, and they will never produce peace. They are then just cheap subterfuges for personal advantage and self-satisfaction.

If we are building for perfect peace, our building materials must be solid and true, and not just surface veneer for outward appearance.

Why are patience and gentleness essential for peace? The answer is obvious immediately if we consider what the absence of these characteristics mean—impatience and irritation. Clearly no peace could blossom in that soil.

If we examine every cause of impatience or irritation, one or both of two things will be found at the bottom of it—having our pride hurt, or having our desires frustrated. If our pride and desires are related to the esteem of men, and to earthly things that men can jeopardize or in any way effect, we shall never have peace.

But if our glorying and desires relate wholly to eternal things that men cannot touch, our peace can never be disturbed. The peace of the godly man is secure, for it rests in things beyond the reach of mortal hands.

Jesus said: "Learn of me, for I am meek and lowly, and ye shall find rest (peace) unto your souls."

Meekness and lowliness lead to peace. Pride is the great enemy of peace. Pride is such a nuisance—

—such an evil thing; such a potent cause of misery;

—such a merciless driver and miserly rewarder;

—such a robber of time and energy;

—such a magnet for hate and envy—

—that it is a wonder any sane person harbors it. Yet it is deeply engrained in all of us, one of the most vicious and tenacious roots of the law of sin in our members. Pride is natural man^'s most cherished possession, and one of the world's great virtues. Most people will do anything, and spite themselves in every other way, in order to protect their pride.

How much of man's labor is just to cater to his self-satisfaction and pride!—a better job, a better home, a better car, a better neighborhood, the desire to be looked up to as important—the lust of the eye, the lust of the flesh, and the pride of life. Is that the mind of Jesus Christ, or of Paul, or of John the Baptist?

We must make our choice between peace and pride. We cannot have both, for one is spiritual, and the other is carnal.

The worst thing about pride is that it is such a universal and deceptive parasite. It can fasten its roots into anything, and flourish, There is no pride more robust and assertive than the pride of a man who is proud of his humility.

What is the third step Paul prescribes for peace? Verse 6—

Does he mean just to let things drift without any effort or concern for them? Hardly, for he says elsewhere we must always "abound in the work of the Lord," beside laboring for our own necessities and others.

What he is combatting is worry, for there can be no peace where there is worry. The most effective cure for worry is to force ourselves to the humbling but comforting realization that we are but an insignificant partner in a great and invincible partnership.

God is the major partner. The big problems and their solution are safely in His hands. We but need to calmly do our little part as it presents itself from day to day. That is what Paul is telling us here—turn the problems over to God, and get on with your part:

"In everything"—note again that word of completeness. Insurance is of little value if it does not cover every possible emergency. If it doesn't, it is not insurance at all, but just a gamble with odds. And there is only one insurance that covers every eventuality.

Peter says the same, with the same emphasis on completeness—

"Humble yourself . . . cast ALL your care upon Him" (1:5:6-7).

"All your cares"—no exceptions. God's insurance has no small print, full of reservations.

We note Paul says—

"In everything with thanksgiving make your requests to God."

Every approach to God must be with thanksgiving. That is the essential incense that must accompany every acceptable sacrifice. And surely that is most reasonable! If we are so spiritually numb that we are not consciously and constantly thankful for the priceless blessings already so freely received—of being called out of death and darkness to the life and light of sonship of God—why should God give us any more?

Present problems and troubles must never be allowed to obscure this basic, overflowing thankfulness, which is one of the essential ingredients of the perfect peace we are seeking.

After having outlined the way—

—then the apostle gives the glorious assurance of success—

Is this another of those impossible ideals—those tantalizing unattainables? We cannot bring ourselves to side with those who morbidly think so.

As he bid farewell to his disciples, and prepared himself for his great and terrible ordeal, Jesus calmly said—

Surely nothing could be truer than that it is not as the world gives that Jesus gives peace. What a shabby makeshift is the best the world has to offer!—especially as we look at it today with its vain cries of "Peace, peace!" when there is no peace. And there cannot be peace, for the Spirit through Isaiah declares (32:17)—

"Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid." Is that sometimes hard to do? A little later, right at the end of his farewell, Jesus tells his little band how—

"Full" is another of those wonderful words of perfection and completeness. There are no half-measures with the Spirit of God.

Peace is the end of warfare and the fruit of victory. He had overcome the world—the lust of the eye, the lust of the flesh, and the pride of life—and he had peace.

—G.V.Growcott