The Conquering Spirit

Is there a balm in Gilead for the numberless woes that afflict humanity? Is there a physician for the sick? Is there a resting-place for the weary?

This is the wailing cry of millions today and the cry that has arisen to heaven for ages.

We believe that “earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal.” We believe that the condition of health and happiness is within the reach of all. It is ignorance that keeps us from our heritage— from that which it is in our power to possess.

The Master of life, who walked in Palestine, taught that Spirit is the legitimate master of matter, and that to understand this is to drive sin, sickness and sorrow away from the spirit’s temple (the body); that it (the body) is the instrument of the spirit as the axe is an instrument in the hands of a woodman.

Sin and disease are abnormal, or unnatural; therefore, not of God. That which is not of God has no reality, intelligence, or truth in it. If it were otherwise, God could not be good; he could not be perfect.

“You” is not flesh and blood, and bones; else were the You to be resolved into dust and ashes, or changed to grasses and flowers in less, perhaps, than a hundred years. Soul, the real You and I, is immortal, and is the very opposite of flesh, blood and bone.

Those who have belief of substance in matter, of pleasures in the senses, are slaves to those beliefs: “As a man believeth, so is he.” Understanding that no real joy or pleasure can proceed through the avenues of the senses, and living that belief, would give in place of those transitory so-called pleasures, joys of soul, peace of mind, health of body, against which there is no law.

Some years ago a poor old man gave up his residence in flesh. He had spent every energy of his life in the acquisition of wealth that had nothing in common with Spirit. The amount of this so-called wealth amounted to over fifty millions. When the world of matter was sliding from under him and while some friends were singing, “Come, ye sinners, poor and needy,” the poor old man would repeat after them, “Yes, I am poor and needy— poor and needy.” He had lived his life in the erroneous belief of substance in matter, of pleasure in sensation, of wealth in things material. As this belief faded away, he then for the first time realized his poverty—his real poverty, even though he possessed over fifty millions of money.

Christ drove devils (sin, and its partner, sickness) from the tortured body. In order to possess this blessed power over the body, the Master of life says we must take up our—mark, our cross, and follow Him. To do this means to deny ourselves the supposed pleasures of the senses, realize, understand, that we must be absent from the body in order to be present with the Lord; that “the flesh profiteth nothing,” and that all Truth, Life, cometh from God, Spirit. Christ says, if we (You and I) are wise, if we understand the things that He taught and demonstrated, we also shall be able. He emphasized the promise by stating: “Verily, verily. I say unto you, He that believeth on me, the works that I do, shall he do also; and greater works than these shall he do, because I go unto my Father. And these signs shall follow them that believe;” then follows a description of what the signs shall be—casting out devils, speaking with new tongues, healing the sick.

Let us be wise unto salvation. Let us contend earnestly for the faith once delivered to the saints; which, because of our “unbelief,” has become an obsolete question in the church, that, “having the form of godliness, denies the power thereof”—having lack of belief (faith), therefore lacks the power that has been promised. Not all, however, lack the faith, as is evinced by the manifestation in different parts of the world in the true and faithful, who, claiming the promises, find that by the power of Good the sick are made well, and the devils—beliefs in sensuous pleasures, materiality, are cast out.

Let us fight the good fight of faith; we cannot be too radical in the right; spiritual conservatism is torpidity of soul, and makes the body an automaton— a piece of drift-wood on the river of life, subject to a thousand perils.