The God of All Comfort – By Hannah Smith

Chapter 9

Much More Versus Much Less

“But where sin abounded grace did much more abound.”

In our preceding chapters we have been trying to learn something about the Lord and His great salvation; and now the vital point is, what view do we take of it all? A very great deal of the comfort or discomfort of our religious lives depends on the view we take of things. I do not mean of course that our view of things affects their reality in any way, but what I do mean is that our view makes all the difference in our apprehension of this reality; and while our safety comes from what things really are, our comfort comes from what we suppose them to be.

There is an expression used over and over again in the Bible to describe the salvation of the Lord Jesus Christ, which gives a view of that salvation, so amazing and so perfectly satisfying, that I cannot help wondering whether any of us have ever yet grasped its full meaning. One thing is certain, that no one who grasps it could ever be uncomfortable or miserable again. It is the expression, “much more,” and it is used to tell us, if only we would believe it, that there is no need which any human being can ever know that cannot be much more than met by the glorious salvation that is provided. But we are continually tempted to think that much less would be a truer term; and that, so far from this salvation being much more than our needs, it turns out in actual experience to be much less. And this “much less” view, if I may so express it, is in danger of making our whole spiritual lives a misery to us.

If all we have been learning in our preceding chapters of the fullness of God’s salvation is indeed true, it would seem as if nothing but the language of “much more” could ever be used by any child of God. But since there are some Christians, who seem by their thoughts and their actions to declare that they consider the language of “much less” to be the only prudent language for poor sinners, I want us carefully to consider the matter in the light of what the Bible tells us, and discover whether we are really justified in saying much more.

It is, I believe, a far more vital question for each one of us than may appear at first sight. For if God declares that the salvation He has provided is much more than enough to meet our needs, and if we insist on declaring in our secret thoughts that it is much less, we are casting discredit on His trustworthiness, and are storing up for ourselves untold discomfort and misery.

“Much less” is the language of the seen thing, “much more” is the language of the unseen thing. “Much less” seems on the surface to be far more reasonable than “much more,” because every seen thing confirms it. Our weakness and foolishness are visible; God’s strength and wisdom are invisible. Our need is patent before our very eyes; God’s supply is hidden in the secret of His presence, and can only be realized by faith.

It seems a paradox to tell us that we must see unseen things. How can it be possible? But there are other things to see than those which appear on surfaces, and other eyes to look through than those we generally use. An ox and a scientist may both look at the same field, but they will see very different things there. To see unseen things requires us to have that interior eye opened in our souls which is able to see below surfaces, and which can pierce through the outer appearance of things into their inner realities. This interior eye looks not at the seen things, which are temporal, but at the things that are not seen, which are eternal; and the vital question for each one of us is, whether that interior eye has been opened in us yet, and whether we can see the things that are eternal, or whether our vision is limited to the things that are temporal only.

Can and do we say of the salvation of the Lord Jesus Christ that it is much more than our need, or that it is much less?

There is a wonderful instance in the history of the children of Israel, when they saw the unseen things with such clearness of vision, that the “much less” of their enemy, and of the seen things around them, was powerless to disturb them. The story is told in II Chronicles 32:1-15. An enemy had come up against Judah, and had threatened to overwhelm them. This enemy had been so universally successful hitherto in all his wars with the nations round about that he had no doubt he would be able to conquer the Israelites also. But Hezekiah, the king of Israel, looked not at the seen enemy, but at the unseen God, and he saw that God was the strongest; and he spake comfortable to the people, and said: “Be strong and courageous, be not afraid nor dismayed for the king of Assyria, nor for all the multitude that is with him; for there be more with us than with him. With him is an arm of flesh; but with us is the Lord our God, to help us, and to fight our battles.” What a tremendous contrast: on one side an arm of flesh; on the other, the Lord our God! No wonder the people “rested themselves” upon a declaration such as this.

And yet, I cannot help questioning whether if we had been there, we would have had faith enough to have so rested ourselves?

When Sennacherib saw their faith, he was enraged, and upbraided them with this folly in being persuaded by Hezekiah to expose themselves to the risk of death by thirst and famine in the vain hope that the Lord would deliver them. And then comes the taunt of the “much less”: “Know you not,” he said, “what I and my father have done unto all the people of other lands? Were the gods of the nations of those lands in any way able to deliver their lands out of mine hand? Who was there among all the gods of those nations that could deliver his people out of mine hand, that your God shall be able to deliver you out mine hand? Now therefore let not Hezekiah deceive you, nor persuade you on this manner, neither yet believe him; for no god of any nation or kingdom was able to deliver his people out of mine hand, how much less shall your God deliver you out of mine hand.”

“How much less”—what a temptation to unbelief was contained in those words! All the seen things were on that side; and it did look impossible, in the face of the fact that all the nations round about had been defeated, that the nation of Israel, no stronger, and no better equipped than the others, should find deliverance. But Hezekiah kept his eyes and the eyes of the people fixed on the unseen things, and their faith stood firm; and the Lord in whom they trusted did not fail them, but sent them a grand deliverance. The “much less” of the enemy was turned for the Israelites into a “much more” of victory. The man who had promised them defeat and death was himself defeated; he was obliged to return to his own land with “shame of face,” and was there slain by his disappointed relatives.

Is there nothing analogous to this story in our own personal history? Have we never been taunted with the discouraging thought that God is “much less” able to deliver us than His promises would lead us to expect? And when we have looked at the formidable seen things of our need has it not sometimes seemed to us as if it would be equivalent to giving ourselves over to “die by famine and thirst,” if we were brought to the point of having absolutely nothing else to trust to but the Lord alone? I remember hearing of a Christian who was in great trouble, and who had tried every way for deliverance, but in vain, who said finally to another in a tone of the utmost despair, “Well, there is nothing left for me now but to trust the Lord.”

“Alas!” exclaimed the friend in the greatest consternation, “is it possible it has come to that?”

We may shrink with horror from the thought of using such an expression, but, if we are honest with ourselves, I believe we shall be obliged to confess that sometimes, in the very bottom of our hearts, we have indulged in just this feeling. To come to the point of having nothing left to trust in but the Lord has, I am afraid, seemed to us at times a desperate condition of things. And yet, if our Lord is to be believed, His “much mores” of grace are abundantly equal to the worst emergency that can befall us. The apostle tells us that God is able to do “exceeding abundantly above all that we can ask or think”; and this describes what His “much mores” mean. We can think of very wonderful things in the way of salvation—spiritual blessing that would transform life for us, and make the whole universe resplendent with joy and triumph—and we can ask for them. But do we really believe that God is able and willing to do for us “exceeding abundantly” above all that we can ask or think? Is the language of our hearts “much more” or “much less”?

In another place we are told that “eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.” If God has prepared more for us than it has ever entered into our hearts to conceive, surely we can have no question about obtaining that which has entered into our hearts, and “much more” beside. What can it be then but downright unbelief that leads any of us to harbor a thought of God’s salvation being “much less” than the things it has entered into our hearts to long for.

Let us settle it then that the language of our souls must henceforth be not the “much less” of unbelief, but the “much more” of faith. And I feel sure we shall find that God’s “much mores” will be enough to cover the whole range of our needs, both temporal and spiritual.

“For if through the offense of one many be dead, much more the grace of God and the gift by grace which is by one man, Jesus Christ, hath abounded unto man.” This is a “much more” that really reaches, if only we could understand it, into the deepest depth of human need. There is no question in our minds as to the fact that “many be dead,” but how is it with the “much more” of grace that is to abound unto many? Are we sure of the grace that is to abound unto many? Are we as sure of the grace as we are of the death? Do we really believe that the remedy is “much more” than the disease? Does the salvation seem to us “much more” than the need? Or do we believe in our hearts that it is “much less”? Which does God declare?

One of the deepest needs of our souls is the need for being saved. Is there a “much more” to meet this need? What does the apostle say? “But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. Much more then, being now justified by his blood, we shall be saved from wrath through him. For if, when we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, being reconciled, we shall be saved by his life.” The question of salvation seems to me to be absolutely settled by these “much mores.” Since Christ has died for us, and has thereby reconciled us to God (not God to us, He did not need reconciling), of course “much more,” if only we will let Him, will He now save us. There can be no question as to whether He will save us. There can be no question as to whether He will or will not, for the greater must necessarily include the lesser, and, having done the greater, “much more” will He do the lesser. We none of us doubt that He did the greater, and, in the face of these “much mores,” we dare not doubt He will do the lesser.

Now the practical point for us in all this is, Do we really believe it? Have we got rid of all doubts as to our salvation? Can we speak with assurance of forgiveness and of eternal life? Do we say with the timidity of unbelief, “I hope I am a child of God”; or do we lift up our heads, with joyous confidence in God as our Father, and say with John, “Now are we the sons of God”? Is it in this respect “much more” with us, or “much less”?

We long and pray for the gift of the Holy Spirit, but it seems all in vain. We feel that our prayers are not answered. But our Lord gives faith a wonderful “much more” to lay hold of for this. “If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him?” There is not one of us who does not know how thankful and eager good parents are to give good gifts to their children—how they thrust them on the children often before the child is ready to receive, or even knows that it has a need. And yet, who of us really believes that God is actually “much more” eager to give the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him? Is it not rather that many feel secretly that He is “much less” willing, and that we will have to beg, and entreat, and wrestle, and wait, for this sorely needed gift? If we could only believe this “much more,” how full of faith our asking would be in regard to it. We should then truly be able to believe that we actually did receive that for which we had asked, and should find that we were in actual possession of the Holy Spirit as our present and personal Comforter and Guide; and all our weary struggles and agonizing prayers for this promised gift would be over.

Sorer, perhaps, than any other need is our need of victory over sin and over circumstances. Like Juggernaut cars they roll over us with irresistible power, and crush us into the dust. And the language of “much less” seems the only language that our souls dare utter. But God has given us for this a most triumphant “much more.” “For, if by one man’s offense, death reigned by one, much more they which receive abundance of grace, and of the gift of righteousness, shall reign in life by one, Jesus Christ.”

We have known the reigning of that spiritual death which comes by sin, and have groaned under its power. But how much do we know of that “much more” reigning in life by Jesus Christ of which the apostle speaks? That is, have we now greater victories than we used to have defeats? Do we reign over things “much more” than they once reigned over us?

I mean this, that in the Gospel it is promised that we shall be “more than conquerors” over the very things that once conquered us, and the question is whether we really are. We have been reigned over by thousands of things, by the fear of man, by our peculiar temperaments, by our outward circumstances, by our irritable tempers, even by bad weather, by our environment of every kind. We have been slaves where we ought to have been kings. We have found our reigning to be “much less” rather than “much more.” Why is this? Simply because we have not “received” enough of the abundance of grace that is ours in Christ. We have let unbelief cheat us out of our rightful possessions. We are called to be kings and are “made to have dominion,” but here God declares that it shall be “much more” of a dominion than it was formerly a bondage; have we so found it? If not, why not? The lack cannot possibly be on God’s side. He has not failed to provide the “much more” of victory. It must be that we have in some way failed to avail ourselves of it. And I cannot but believe that our failure arises from the fact that we have substituted our “much less” for God’s “much more”; and in our heart of hearts have not believed there really is a sufficiency in the gift of righteousness in Christ to enable us to reign. We have failed through our unbelief to “receive the abundance of grace” that is necessary for reigning.

What then is our remedy? Only this—to abandon forever our “much less” of unbelief, and to accept as true God’s declaration of “much more,” and to claim at once the promised victory. And according to our faith it must and will be unto us.

But these assurances of the “much mores” of God’s salvation are not for our spiritual needs only, but for our temporal needs as well. Do not be anxious, He says, about earthly things, for “if God so clothe the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?”

I know that to many Christians this passage and others like it are so familiar that they have almost lost all meaning. But they do mean something, and something almost too wonderful for belief. They tell us that God cares for us human beings “much more” than He cares for the universe around us, and that He will watch over and provide for us much more than He will even for it.

Incredible, yet true! How often we have marveled at the orderly working of the universe, and have admired the great creative Power that made it and now controls it! But none of us, I suppose, has ever felt it necessary to take the burden of the universe upon our own shoulders. We have trusted the Creator to manage it all without our help. Although I must confess, from the way some people find fault with the Creator’s management of things, and the advice they seem to feel it necessary to give Him in their prayers, one would think the whole burden was resting upon them!

But even where we have fully recognized that the universe is altogether in God’s care, we have failed to see that we also are there, and have never dreamed that it could be true that “much more” than He cares for the universe will He care for us. We have looked at the seen things of our circumstances and our surroundings, and at the greatness of our need and our own helplessness, and have been anxious and afraid. We have burdened ourselves with the care of ourselves, feeling in our unbelief that, instead of being of “much more” value than the fowls of the air, or the lilies of the field, we are in reality of infinitely “much less”; and it seems to us that the God who cares for them is not at all likely to care for us. We say with the psalmist: “When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; what is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man that thou visited him?” Man so puny, so insignificant, of so little account when compared with the great, wide universe, what is he, we ask, that God should care for him? And yet God declares that He does care for him, and that He even cares for him much more than He cares for the universe. Much more, remember, not much less. So that every thought of anxiety about ourselves must be immediately crushed with the common-sense reflection that, since we are not so foolish as to be anxious about the universe, we must not be so much more foolish as to be anxious about ourselves.

In the Sermon on the Mount, our Lord gives us the crowning “much more” of all. “Or what man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a stone? Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent? If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven gives good things to them that ask him?”

In this “much more” we have a warrant for the supply of every need. Whatever our Father sees to be good for us is here abundantly promised. And the illustration used to convince us is one of universal application. In all ranks and condition of life, among all nations, and even in the hearts of birds and beasts the mother instinct never fails to provide for its offspring the best it can compass. Under no conditions of life will a mother, unless she is wicked beyond compare, give a stone when asked for bread, or a serpent when asked for fish. And could our God, who created the mother heart, be worse than a mother? No, no, a thousand times no! What He will do is “much more,” oh, so much more than even the tenderest mother could do. And if mothers “know how,” as surely they do, to give good things to their children, “how much more” does He. But do we really believe this “much more”? Our hours of anxious tossing on our beds must answer. If God is actually much more willing and able to give good things to us than parents are to give good things to their children, then all possibility of doubt or anxiety as to our prayers being answered must vanish forever. All “good things” must be given to us when we ask, as inevitably as the mother who is able feeds her child when it asks her for bread. As inevitably, do I say? Ah, dear friends, far more inevitably. For it is “how much more” shall your Father which is in Heaven. Which of us has fathomed the meaning of this “how much more”? But at least this it must mean, that all human readiness to hear and answer the cry of need can only be a faint picture of God’s readiness, and that, therefore, we can never dare to doubt again. And if parents would not give a stone for bread, neither would He; so that when we ask, we must be absolutely sure that we do receive the “good thing” for which we asked, whether what we receive looks like it or not.

The mother of St. Augustine, in her longing for the conversion of her son, prayed that he might not go to Rome, as she feared its dissipations. God answered her by sending him to Rome to be converted there. Things we call good are often God’s evil things, and our evil is His good. But, however things may look, we always know that God must give the best because He is God and could do no other.

“He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things.” Since He has done the supreme thing of having given us Christ, “much more” will He do the less by giving us all things with Him. And yet we continually hear God’s own children lamenting their spiritual poverty, and their state of spiritual starvation, and even, it seems sometimes, thinking it rather a pious thing to do and a mark of true humility. But what is this but glorying in the “much less” of their unbelief, instead of in the “much more” of God.

“Oh, I am such a poor creature,” I heard a child of God say once with actual complacency when urged to some victory of faith; “I am such a poor creature that I cannot expect to attain to the heights you grand Christians reach.” “Poor creature,” indeed; of course you are, and so are we all! But God is not poor, and it is His part to supply your needs, not your part to supply His. He is able, no matter what unbelief may say, to “make all grace abound toward you, that ye always having all sufficiency in all things may abound to every good work.” “All,” “always,” “every”—what all-embracing words these are! They include our needs to their utmost limit, and leave us no room for any question. How can we, how dare we, in the face of such declarations, ever doubt or question again?

We have only touched upon the wonders of grace hidden in these “much mores” of God. We can never exhaust their meaning in this life. But let us at least resolve henceforth to lay aside every “much less” of unbelief on all the lines of salvation, and out of the depths of our utter weakness, sinfulness, and need assert with a conquering faith always and everywhere the mighty “much more” of the grace of God!