Christ in you, the hope of glory—Col. 1: 27.


Every true child of God must have a definite individual  Christian character which is not dependent for its existence upon the spiritual life of any  other Christian. He must from the Word of Truth, proclaimed and exemplified by other Christians, draw those principles of life, etc., which give him an established character, a spiritual individuality of his own. So positive and definite should be the spiritual individuality of everyone, that, should even the beloved brother or sister whose spiritual life first nourished ours and brought us forward to completeness of character fall away (which the Apostle shows is not impossible, Heb. 6: 4-6; Gal. 1: 8), we would still live, being able to appropriate for ourselves the Spirit of  Truth.


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The "Christ in you," the new creature, was promised to be in the hearts and minds of God's Gospel-Age Spirit-begotten people, giving both hearts and minds new capacities, spiritual in their scope. It was to be the holy anointing, fitting them for their earthly and heavenly offices. This is the mystery of God, the mystery of all mysteries, that Christ was to consist of many members Jesus the Head member and the Church the Body members. High, holy and heavenly was to be this glorious "Christ in you." Its possession was to be the basis for the hope of glory, the hand payment of the inheritance—the Divine heart and mind, a part of the inheritance promised to the saints.


Parallel passages: Matt. 3: 16; Acts 10: 38; 2: 1-4; 10: 45-47; 2Cor. 1: 21; 1John 2: 20, 27; 1Cor. 12: 12, 13; 15: 23; Gal. 3: 16, 29; Eph. 4: 13, 23, 24; Col. 1: 23; 1Pet. 4: 13; Heb. 3: 14; Rom. 8: 10; John 14: 19; 17: 23, 24; Gal. 2: 20; Phil. 1: 21; 2Cor. 4:   16; Eph. 3: 16; John 15: 2-7; Rom. 12: 4, 5; 1Cor. 1: 30; Rom. 6: 3; 13: 14; Gal. 3: 26, 27;  2Cor. 5: 17; Col. 3: 10; Rom. 8: 4, 5.


Questions: What has this text meant to me this week? In what circumstances? With what effects?




TO the Potter's house I went down one day,

And watched him while moulding the vessels of clay,

And many a wonderful lesson I drew,

As I noted the process the clay went through.


Trampled and broken, down-trodden and rolled,

To render more plastic and fit for the mould

 How like the clay that is human, I thought,

When in Heavenly hands to perfection brought!


For Self must be cast as the dust at His feet,

Before it is ready, for service made meet.

And Pride must be broken, and self-will lost—

All laid on the altar, whatever the cost.


But lo! by and by, a delicate vase

Of wonderful beauty and exquisite grace.

Was it once the vile clay? Ah! yes; yet how strange,

The Potter hath wrought such a marvelous change!


Not a trace of the earth, nor mark of the clay—

The fires of the furnace have burned them away.

Wondrous skill of the Potter!—the praise is his due,

In whose hands to perfection and beauty it grew.


Thus with souls lying still, content in God's hand,

That do not His power of working withstand—

They are moulded and fitted, a treasure to hold,

Vile clay now transformed into purest of gold.


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