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That there cannot be an effect without a cause is as true in ethics as in physics, in the kingdom of grace as in the kingdom of nature. However complicated a web that system of facts, truths, doctrines, precepts, promises, duties, exercises, experiences, consciousnesses, which we designate religion, may appear in the estimation of some men, they whose spirit this system has searched through, find it to be a much simpler system than is commonly supposed, and that it is based, for the most part, upon uniform and ascertainable laws. Though its details of operation upon the individual heart and life may vary, — though the path whereby men are led to know God, and to know themselves, by being led to see how thoroughly they are known to God, may not in all instances be the same, — there are certain plain rules which will be found applicable throughout the universe of souls. One of these is, that in the spiritual, as in the natural, life, there is no effect without its cause: that as health and disease have their causes in the natural life, so have prosperity and adversity in the spiritual: that the same laws which would explain the spiritual estate for better or for worse, of those around us, will, if fairly applied, explain ours. As there is "the same God which worketh all in all," His work where it is will assuredly exhibit some feature or other whereby it may be recognised as His. Of this truth Eliphaz seems to have been well persuaded. He beheld the afflictions of Job. He set them down for an effect; and was determined, if possible, to convict the patriarch of some moral obliquity as their cause. His mistake was in assuming that it was his mission to ascertain the cause in this particular case, and in believing that his sagacity had not failed in discovering precisely what it was. There was a cause why Job was thus afflicted; but a cause which may have been, and was, so deeply hidden in the Divine bosom, as at this time to be as inexplicable to the patriarch himself as to his friends. All trouble doth not arise from sin. Much trouble is the consequence of sin; and all sin will, sooner or later, be the source of trouble...Eliphaz is here addressing his spiritual patient in a milder tone. Here he hints that Job's visitation may have been for some sin known only to himself. "Are the consolations of God small with thee?" he inquires: "is there any secret thing with thee?" All men are punished secretly for what they do openly; and some are punished openly for what they do secretly. Though the interpretations of the text did not apply to the case of the patriarch, they might have been, as they may be, applicable to the cases of others. How is it that the "consolations of God are small" with any of us? How is it that there is so little religious joy in the world? Mind is so constituted as to be affected by trifles. Little sufficeth to elevate many, and as little to depress. This easiness of being pleased is childhood's happiest attribute. Surely there must be some cause for the cold, joyless, uncomfortable religion, which is so prevalent. All deep thinkers are deep sufferers — not sufferers, perhaps, in body or estate, but in mind. They suffer because they think. The religious man is of necessity a thoughtful one. How is it that religious joy is so little known? There may be seasons when we cannot rejoice; yea, ought not. It may be necessary for us to be for a season in heaviness; to be deprived of the sensible comforts of faith, hope, and charity; being apt to undervalue them till they have fled. We do not, however, look to such cases as these. We are thinking of cases where mourning, heaviness, bondage of spirit, mental gloom, spiritual depression, seem to be chronic complaints; when the soul seldom or never rejoiceth. There is a constraint, a distrust, a timidity, a suspicion, in our piety. We are afraid, we know not of what. We are ready to say, "Let us be miserable, that we may be religious." Ask then, "Is there any secret thing with us," that will help to explain this enigma of a joyless Christianity? What is possible in this case?

1. Is there any moral obliquity with thee? We do not ask, Have you done wrong; or do you do wrong; but do we cherish any wrongdoing; are we in love with any? Is there any base passion or propensity we will not part with? St. says, "It is not the act but the habit that justifieth a name," i.e., he is not a sinner who committeth a sin, but who liveth in the commission of it. Is there then any sin indulged or persisted in?

2. Is there aught that is evil in the state of thy affections? Most of us have some pretence to seriousness.

3. Is there any secret misgiving with thee as to the certainty of Divine truth? Did you ever have a doubt if the religion of Christ were true? Did you ever mistrust your persuasions? One doubt does not make an infidel. The habit of doubting may. They who have ended in disbelieving began by doubting, i.e., by giving place to doubt: by making that scruple their own which was at first their enemy's.

4. Is there any secret fear of ourselves? Are we in doubt of our own state before God? Are we afraid to trust our principles? If there be none of these "secret" things, what is to hinder the joys of religion from flooding our souls, or the consolations of God from being great with us? It is related of Dr. Francis Xavier that "he was so cheerful as to be accused of being gay." Why should not we be thus cheerful, gladsome, satisfied?

(Alfred Bowen Evans.)

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KJV: Are the consolations of God small with thee? is there any secret thing with thee?

WEB: Are the consolations of God too small for you, even the word that is gentle toward you?